#kim lip x fem reader smut
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wintersera · 1 year ago
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business issues || ceo!kimlip x ceo!reader
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notes: i had sm fun writing this i cant lie. BUT anyways if you study business or whatever and i get the terms and shit wrong… no i didn’t pls ignore it </3 ALSO researching high end rich people stuff was a pain in the ass bc it reminds me that i dont have disposable money- also reader is a ‘tsundere’ yk the trope,, and is also like 5’11 just because 😭
cw: degredation, dom reader, sub idol, theyre just very mean to eachother. use of the word ‘brat’ but idk if i characterised kimlip enough to be a brat 😭😭
wc: 3.2k
shit… why is she here?
there was this uncomfortable pressure inside of the meeting room and everyone around felt it, but they couldn’t understand why. a couple guys crossing their arms looking elsewhere in the room, a close ceo friend of yours awkwardly shifting around in their seat and the deafening sound of silence was just… overbearing. you could hear the sounds of a few people tapping their pens, shuffling their shoes, rustling their jackets and good lord it was awkward as hell.
your completely obvious scowl was directed to one person in the room and it was none other than your life long rival, miss kim jungeun.
well let me give you a rundown. you came from a background of extremely successful business men and women. growing up spoilt by your parents, you always looked down at people who were well… less fortunate than you. growing up with a family who were heavily involved with stocks and marketing, you of course, had to honour the family and take up the same jobs as they had. it’s not like you hated it either, in fact, you absolutely enjoyed it. everything was just money, money and more money for you and you were nothing more than happy. your personality wasn’t any better than your average millionaire. picture your stereotypical wealthy individual- that was you, but obviously way worse.
boastful, one of the many words that describe you. you lived for the thrill of business, making risqué deals and then bragging to your peers about how it worked well for you (as if you didn’t threaten them with the risk of losing money… you have your ways) always having recent designer brands on display and whatnot. showing them off to, once again, your peers. and by god you were so cocky about it every single damn time “have you bought louis vuitton's newest arrivals? well i doubt you did, i know a shit ton of your graphs are decreasing. let’s talk about that”
your lifelong rival, kim jungeun, also came from a similar background. another spoiled kid raised by rich and successful parents. like you, she also grew up learning about the marketing business and how to make money easily. another successful business woman in her family, money was a need, a want, a lifetime goal to earn more. she HAD to be rich. it’s just a rich kid thing you know… god, not to mention how painfully bratty she is. throwback to when she’d pester the hell out of her parents to buy her 2 different coloured porsche cars. one black and one red, the same model but different colours… oh, and the time where she started arguing with you about how she wanted the same exact bag as you and begged for you to give it to her? sure, she looked cute be- i mean she looked desperate begging for it. anyways…
now, the two of you sort of grew up with each other, attending the same private school. on the outside people would’ve believed you were friends, really really good friends. but in all seriousness you hated each other's guts. was there a reason? no, not really. rich kid hate was very common actually. petty things like either one of you had a branded item and the other would go mad because they didn’t have it, screaming at each other because you HAD to prove that you were richer than the other, fights over who would ride this specific horse for horse riding practice? the list can go on and on and on.. like said, rich kid problems. what made it worse was that both your parents were best friends, meaning you’d often see each other during your parents’ meetings or somewhere like the golf club. unfortunate right?
anyways, you had started a business at the exact same time as jungeun had. which is also funny because you had started the business in the same area- whats even more funny is that your company specialised in almost the same thing as hers. same starting time, same business, same location, same everything… it’s like you were soulmates or whatever. the thought of that sent shivers down your spine, almost causing you to gag out loud
“my apologies, i feel ill”
you’re sat in the meeting room with numerous other ceos, one notably being your acquaintance miyawaki sakura from hybe cooperation “what’s got you all queasy? nervous for the presentation?” eyes locking into yours, whispering loud enough for only you and her to hear.
“there’s a certain bitch in front of me and the thought of her is making me sick” covering your side profile, whispering back to sakura.
“you have to be joking? miss kim? she’s one, if not, the best strategists out there for marketing. how exactly is she a bitch?”
“uh, hello? i’m clearly the best. also she’s a complete and utter bra-“
cutting you off with a loud cough, the host of the meeting begins his introduction “as you all know, we’ve noticed a couple trends in a lot of your companies graphs. i’ve gathered a few of the best ceos to at least provide some help, because of well… we’re sort of losing audiences right now so-” another throaty cough escapes the mans mouth “-miss kim, if you would like to present first”
rolling your eyes and scoffing i hope you trip over and bruise your ass… her blazer looks very nice today, i wonder who tailored it. whoever did the colouring must use high quality- what the fuck am i thinking about?
not even 5 minutes in and you’re already ticked off. over what? just her, her presence alone pisses you off and it can be seen through the way you’re leaning back on the chair “as seen by this information here i believe that it would most likely attract more audiences. also looking at this chart it sho-“
“clearly you know nothing about the audience, miss kim. you know nothing about this department” a pen twirling around in your fingers.
“excuse me what? i know nothing about the department you say” tilting her head ever so slightly up, intimidating as she may seem, you only scoff at her attempt to drive fear into your heart “i’ll let you know i’m much more qualified in comparison to you”
“HA- as if. i just wanted to mention that your tailoring is humiliating to look at. whoever designed your clothing should be shamed” she looks at you in disbelief, bringing up your petty arguments into the meeting. what are you five?
“miss l/n… you’re stooping way too low” sakura says as she’s holding your arm to calm down.
jungeun ignores sakura, her attention completely diverted onto you and winning the argument “right, as if your tailoring isn’t any better. your cufflinks look like they were made out of nickel silver. how poor do you have to be to buy- i mean borrow cufflinks”
“fuck off. it seems like your eyesight is getting worse, not being able to tell the difference between nickel silver and pure platinum. ha, maybe the fake chopard glasses are fucking with your eyesight”
“you wanna fight?” loosening her sleek black tie, her hands already balled into a fist. seeing her angry made your day, bringing her bratty personality out is what you lived for.
“and break your smug face? with my pleasure” leaping from your chair, you fists ready to land themselves onto her face. yet you feel a couple of people holding you back, one of them being sakura “sakura, you’re a great person, but for the love of god let me go”
“security come quick, a fights broken out” a guy calling for them desperately.
the same goes for jungeun, wanting to smash your face into the table, a few people held her arms. “get off me you lowlifes, you’re ruining my shirt you fucks” flailing around as she’s swatting hands away from her “hands off my blazer, that shit costs more than your monthly salary”
eventually you were escorted out of the building and into your respective cars. what an immature fight you thought to yourself. there was some self reflection going on as your chauffeur drove you back to your house. why exactly did you start pestering jungeun and why did you enjoy it so much? how has she stayed in your mind for so long and why did you keep your rivalry even though you could completely put her out of business (your hubris speaking)
you sit at your table, a cup of coffee in your hands as you scan the documents given to you this evening. it was a cold night, the clouds outside your window were dark grey and unwelcoming, much like the knocks at your door “give me a few minutes i’m busy”
you’re currently wearing a white button up, your top button being undone while your tie was hanging around your neck loosely. the rest of your attire was made up of some formal black pants, obviously high end. you looked scruffy today, but it didn’t matter to you since you planned on staying inside your office for the rest of the night.
fuck, your head was throbbing from all the thinking you did yesterday.
another knock on the door and your assistant walks in without any care then leaves? what the fuck “i told you to give me a few minutes, do i need to fire you” shouting at her from across the room. you could care less about your appearance, that was until you saw.. jesus fucking christ… kim jungeun again “why are you here?”
“to apologise for being such a bitch at the meeting” although it sounded genuine, you couldn’t believe someone so haughty could be apologising, it was like you were in a daze how could she be apologising to you while being sober? it’s almost comedic. but you couldn’t just accept it like that, where’s the fun in being nice.
“go on then, bow down and get on your knees or something”
“fuck you mean by that? i change my mind. i’m not apologising to your annoying ass” she spat at the ground “how about you apologise for embarrassing me in front of the other ceos” turning the tables back at you.
as much as she did piss you off you had always looked at her with some sort of interest- yes you fought too much but that’s what made your relationship interesting, to be honest you felt a little sad when she never paid much attention to you. maybe just a little jealous when she would argue with her employees and not you.
“you’re so bratty you know” you scoff, feeling heat rise to your head. standing up from your desk you tread carefully towards her, eyes narrowing as you rip off your tie from your collar, a fiery gaze piercing through her like daggers “there’s no way in hell i will ever apologise to you, brat” you would be lying if you weren’t turned on right now, seeing her once stoic face turn into a cowardly frown made you feel sort of… aroused. “oho, not speaking back for once, cat got your tongue?” your body towering over her with ease, thank the lord for your amazing genetics because now you’re trapping a 5’4 girl between the wall and yourself.
“you’re so pretty when you don’t furrow your brows at me, fuck, you look even better when you have that dumb look on your face” you’ve only been alone with her for a couple of minutes and your knee is placed in between her thighs, she lets out a small whimper, much to your surprise. she could’ve fought you right here right now yet she didn’t, instead she lets you do as you please.
looking at her you coo, “letting me humiliate you like this? i thought you had decorum jungeun,” that may have been her breaking point, you never EVER called her by her first name and with that simplistic action of calling her ‘jungeun’ you had her in the palm of your hands.
jungeun chuckled “you’re saying i’m the one without decorum, yet you’re here pinning me against the wall in your office” her hands sliding down your chest, resting itself on your abdomen. her actions spoke words, she’s as riled up as you were and you knew it.
biting your lip, you try not to make a sound, tracing her fingers around your waist. “you want me don’t you y/n. give in and just fuck me”
the last few words ringing in your ears. forcefully grabbing her arms and bending her over your desk like a slut, her pencil skirt showing the curves of her ass very well “you don’t need prepping, your wetness is already soaking through the fabric… are you a slut or something jungeun?” smirking. without hesitation you drop to your knees, peeling off her tights, exposing her ass to the air “keep your mouth shut for me” you say as you pull her panties aside, her glistening cunt waiting for it to be fucked by you- and you only.
it was a sight to see, and fortunately it was only for you. pausing in your tracks you lean back to observe the scene “you look amazing, however you’d look even better without this cheap skirt” ripping it off of her waist.
“you’re so pretentious that it’s almost disgusting”
“i didn’t say that it looked horrible on you this time though'' truth be told, you were actually internally salivating at the way the skirt enhanced her body lines, but it’s whatever. you could buy another one for her.
parting her folds apart you suck gently on her clit, eliciting a few muffled moans. grabbing her thighs just to pull them apart to make it easier for you. she rolled her eyes back, feeling vibrations from your “mhm’s” and “so good” and other comments on how good she tastes.
the friction of your tongue circling around her clit made her scream out loud “the whole building is gonna hear you if you don’t shut your mouth” yet you secretly didn’t mind that. sure you had a reputation and so did she, but in this moment you couldn’t care less. seeing how responsive she was only made you greedier, she was like money to you; you wanted more. you felt hot, something you couldn’t explain took over your mind and made you work hard. lapping up her cunt, practically making out with her pussy now, you take your hand that was resting on her leg and slide two digits inside of her gently.
“s-shit.. ah-“ clutching onto your desk with her hand while the other one tries to reach for your wrist. moving so painfully slow, you watch her hole swallow and clench around you fingers. entranced by the way it looks and by the way her walls feel wrapped around you, it was like a perfect fit “go, fuck- faster, d-don’t be like this…” the way her voice trembled sent shivers down your body, sounding so desperate and needy that it was overwhelming. never in your entire life had you seen her this desperate and it made you feral.
slowly, ever so slowly, you thrust your fingers in and out. your tongue still working circles around her clit. although it wasn’t like you being sweet and caring, you made sure to start slow. really, fucking, slow. moving her hips in tune to your movements, because you’re that much of an asshole that you had to be painfully slow.
but that’s the fun of it, switching up from very slow to excruciatingly fast- slamming, not two but three, fingers into her dripping cunt. for her it felt out of this world, waves of pleasure crashing all over her body that it seemed like she was being possessed, as you can tell by her legs shaking like crazy. your attention now back at her clit, instead of what you were doing previously, lightly sucking and circling, you licked with passion. it was messy- the way you ate her out, her juices dripping all over your face and dripping down to your chin, something that you could deem as pornographic because it was just that messy “mmmgod- fuck fuckfuck, y/n right there” unfortunately, you didn’t have the view of her face but you knew she would be drooling all over the table from having her cunt be abused.
“so- feels so good…” her moans alone cleared your mind, and you wanted her to scream out your name badly. you felt her walls clench around you harder, knowing that she was on the verge of orgasming you had two options; be mean and edge her, or let her cum all over your face and into your mouth…. the second option sounds way better.
“jungeun mmhm, you’re so close. let me take care of that” your jaw started to ache and your arms became sore, yet your will prevailed. wanting to see her unravel because of you was definitely worth the pain. “cum- cum for me jungeun”
curling your fingers inside of her sent her over the edge, she became breathless and so did you. the sounds of her squirming on the table and the ticking of the clock in the background were the only sounds that could be heard. you ignored the latter and focused on her only. somehow her hand finally made it to your wrist and tugged at the cuffs. then she became limp, as a joke you jerked your hand again which rewarded you with a squeak from her. standing up again, you gazed at her from above. sprawled out across you desk, her once straight hair becoming dishevelled, clothes wrinkled and more- the finest piece of art couldn’t rival such a view.
“um… are you okay? did i fuck you too hard” growing a tad bit concerned. she wasn’t getting up… you assumed she passed out from exhaustion since it was pretty late in the night and well you knew her from childhood so of course you knew she wasn’t able to stay up for much longer“fucks sake, eurgh okay… passed out in my office for what reason” you’re so glad she’s sleeping, or else she would’ve felt the kiss you planted on her forehead “stupid”
the next day she woke up in some stranger's bedroom. curious to where she was, she got up from the king sized bed only to find out she was half naked. anyone waking up half naked in someone's bedroom would obviously be scared as hell. she was shocked beyond belief? she knew she didn’t drink so why was she in-
“before you scream profanities in my house, i was the one who brought you home”
“WHATTHEFUCK? oh my bad you scared the living shit out if me… ah- did you at least dress me?”
“well yeah, did you think i would let my employees ogle at you?” you again, scoff at her, your tone less sarcastic than usual “alright come down before breakfast gets cold”
“you made breakfast for me?” the first time you’d see her blushing at you, it was cute but you couldn’t admit that to her face.
“not exactly me, my chefs made it, but i suggested some foods i thought you would like soo…” hiding your face in embarrassment “don’t look at me, please”
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lauriiyam · 3 months ago
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break up✧₊⁺
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G!p kim lip x fem reader
includes ; blowjob, cream pies, tit fucking, handcuffing.
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jung eun’s pov - ,,
i woke up with y/n sleeping beside me, her lips pouted and her eyebrows furrowed.
i adjusted my dick quickly and headed to my bathroom
i did my business and then washed my hands but caught myself looking in the mirror at my face.
me and y/n haven't been doing too good, we're constantly arguing and it's not the type of relationship i want to be in, especially with her.
when i left the bathroom i saw y/n stretching. her shirt rode up and i could see her navel piercing and her tattoo.
her tattoo that i loved so much.
it was under her belly button and to the right, just along the line of her pelvis, and i could catch a glimpse of it everytime we had sex.
"why are you staring at me?" y/n asked.
i snapped out of my fantasy and turned to turn on my ps5 to play a game.
y/n got up and fixed her crop top and underwear that she slept in before kissing my cheek.
i pulled away a bit and she grabbed my chin and forced my face to meet her lips.
"excuse you." she said.
i stared off and y/n wrapped her arms around me, resting her head on my shoulder.
"can we talk?" i asked.
y/n nodded and i went to sit down on our bed.
y/n followed and sat behind me, rubbing my shoulders.
i didn't look at her and kept my eyes on my fingers, which i was twirling around my wrist.
"what's up?" she asked.
i didn't answer and she turned my face to look at her.
y/n saw my furrowed eyebrows and sat on my side now.
"are you breaking up with me kim jung eun?" y/n questioned.
i sighed and looked back down at my fingers.
"if you’re breaking up with me, you gotta tell me why." y/n said.
i finally tore my eyes away from my hands and looked her in the eyes.
her dark orbs stared into mine and she let out a scoff.
y/n then got off our bed and grabbed her shoes to slip them on.
"don't be mad. please." i begged.
"i'm not mad lip. im hurt. we're not breaking up until you give me a reason why your breaking up with me. im gonna go see my friends." y/n said and tied her shoes before leaving our room.
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y/n walked into our home and threw her keys on the counter before taking her shoes off and throwing them at the floor.
i walked up to scold her for being out the entire day and not answering my texts but she glared at me when i stomped up to her.
"dude. why couldn't you just let me handle the conversation. i had it under control. you didn't let me fucking speak." i said.
"i didn't want to argue with you jung eun. i just wanted you to take time to try and understand what im feeling." she replied.
she began walking down the hall, fixing her hair, leaving me in the living room.
"get the fuck over here y/n." i said sternly.
i furiously followed her and grabbed her arm, making her pull away and push me against the hallway wall.
"how dare you talk to me like that after what you pulled this morning." she said sternly.
i went to pull myself off the wall just for y/n to push against my chest and pin me right back where i was.
"how are you gonna get mad at me?! you were gone all day, where were you?!" i asked.
"i was with my friends. i told you that." y/ n said.
i furiously furrowed my eyebrows again and tried to push against her.
her stronger arms kept me pinned against the wall.
"you could've been out fucking someone else all day. god knows it could've been more than one person." i blurted out.
y/n raised her eyebrows and dug her arm into my side, making me wince and squeeze my eyes shut.
"you're one to not trust me after you tried breaking up with me this morning with no explanation. i went out for a drink, god knows i need one after how you made me feel. you're being immature and childish for trying to gaslight me into thinking this is MY fault." y/n replied. 
my blood boiled and i started speaking without thinking.
"the least you could've done is tell me where you were. obviously there's a reason i was going to break up with you. and you wanna call ME immature and childish when YOU'RE the one who-oh fuck..." i started.
i was interrupted by y/n’s arm brushing against my cock, which was rock hard at this point.
"you fucking perv. how are you hard right now? you like seeing me mad?" y/n said and looked down.
my head was resting against the wall as she eyed my painfully throbbing dick.
"get the fuck off me." i said through gritted teeth at her.
her arm remained against my chest, keeping me on the wall.
me and y/n looked at each other, holding eye contact for a good minute.
we suddenly grabbed eachothers faces and pushed our lips against eachothers.
i grabbed y/n’s shoulders and pushed her against the wall, aggressively kissing her while her arms wrapped around my neck.
i harshly gripped the underside of her thighs, knowing it would leave bruises tomorrow morning, and she jumped up and wrapped her legs around my waist.
she tipped her head up and i began sucking and kissing her entire neck.
"shit-" y/n whimpered, making her mouth drop and her hands grip the roots of my hair.
i took her off the wall and carried her down the hall to our bedroom, kicking open the door with my foot while continuing to decorate her neck with love bites.
when my knees hit the edge of our bed i let go of her thighs and threw her down onto the mattress.
she leaned up on her elbows, biting her lip while she eyed me.
i undid the tie on my sweats, pulling them down with my underwear making my cock spring up.
my hands grabbed y/n’s ankles and i pulled her to the very edge of the bed and then off the bed completely onto her knees in front of me.
she winced at the pain of her knees hitting the bare floor but quickly fixed herself and pulled my pants and underwear all the way off my legs before she allowed me to rest my tip against her lips.
"open." i said dryly.
she listened and opened her mouth, sticking her tongue out.
my cock twitched and i stepped forward, making her wrap her lips around my dick and suck.
i threaded my fingers into her hair and used both hands to push her against my length.
her nose hit the spot right under my belly button, making her eyes close and leak a tear down her cheek.
"fucking slut." i whispered.
she opened her eyes, looking up at me with plead and beg laced in her expression.
i bit my bottom lip and used my knee to push against y/n’s chest and pin her head against our bed.
she swallowed around my dick, her throat wrapping tighter around me making me moan.
i pulled out of her mouth, giving her a chance to breathe before pushing myself back into her throat.
my eight inches were perfectly inhaled by her gullet while i shoved it down her mouth.
she drooled down her chest and rested her hands against my thighs.
y/n shut her eyes again, gagging as i thrusted myself in her mouth.
i pulled myself out of her mouth fully, grabbing my base, slapping her cheek with my length before shoving myself back into her mouth.
y/n whimpered and i peered down to see her hand stuffed down her pants, rubbing herself while her other hand rested on my thigh.
"take them off. take it all off." i said, pulling out.
she quickly pulled off her shirt and bra, her pants and underwear following soon after.
she remained on her knees, her wetness oozing out of her and onto the floor.
"filthy whore." i said.
i grabbed her forearm and pulled her to stand up, making her moan, giving me the impression that she liked the treatment she was getting.
y/n layed back on our bed, spreading her legs and grabbing my tip, pulling me closer to her.
i looked down on her as she ran her fingers up and down her slit once, pulling it off and making me watch her pull her fingers apart, a string of her wetness connecting against her fingers before she rubbed it against my tip.
i shuddered at the sensitivity of my cock and y/n chuckled.
"don't call me a whore unless you're gonna grow a pair and fuck me like one." she said, biting her bottom lip as she started rubbing her clit.
my hand grabbed my length, pushing it against her clit before moving down and slightly pushing the very tip of my dick inside her.
i leaned down, spitting directly on her clit and then licking a bold strip up her slit.
"oh."
y/n moaned and grabbed my neck, pulling me up to kiss her.
we harshly made out for a minute before i pulled away and pushed my entire cock in her without warning.
she moaned and threw her head back, her hands gripping the sheets underneath her.
i moaned in unison at her tightness. even after how often we fuck she's still just as tight as the first time.
"you call that fucking? harder." y/n said.
i obeyed her request and gripped her hips, drilling my cock deeper inside her.
i kept a steady pace while she was moaning under me, her mouth stuck open as sweat dripped down her face.
i wasn't too far off as my hair stuck to my forehead and neck.
as i pushed myself inside her quicker, my hair flew in front of my face and wisps flying up as i exhaled heavily from doing all the work.
my hands pushed y/n’s thighs up against her chest and i leaned over her to hit her spot, being thankful she was flexible
y/n let out a loud moan and her boobs bounced with my thrusts into her.
my hips clapped against hers as my girlfriend shook underneath me while i repeatedly stuffed myself deep inside her.
y/n leaned her head up and clawed at my stomach as she neared her orgasm.
"oh fuck!" she moaned, throwing her head back again.
y/n's pussy clenched around my length as she came and she whimpered while riding out her high.
when i knew she was done, i pulled out and switched spots with her, throwing myself against the bed on my back and pulling her to straddle my waist.
"make me cum bitch." i said.
i scooted myself up to the head of our bed, grabbing her hips to grind against my tip before placing my hands behind my head to watch.
y/n leaned down to kiss me, making my eyes close as she grabbed my face.
i could hear her open our nightstand drawer, thinking she was grabbing a condom or some type of vibrator made me brush it off.
instead i felt cold metal on my wrists and i pulled away from the kiss once i realized she was handcuffing me to our bed.
"what the fuck?!" i said, trying to pull my wrists free.
y/n chuckled at me and bit her lip.
"take them off." i said sternly.
y/n shook her head 'no' and got off me, standing at the foot of our bed.
"i'm gonna go eat dinner. i'll be back in a little bit. sit tight." y/n said before leaving the room.
i pulled against my restraints while my dick began throbbing from the lack of attention it was getting.
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it had been what felt like hours before y/n returned back to our room, opening the door and poking her head in.
my cock was painfully hard, twitching, throbbing, and leaking pre cum as y/n crawled back on top of me.
my tip was bright red, she eyed it before rubbing her hands up and down my toned stomach.
"please." i begged.
i never beg
"shh." y/n whispered against my lips.
she fit me inside her, only sitting down enough for my tip to enter her.
"please. baby." i whimpered.
"don't." she started.
she sat down fully, circling her hips before speaking up again.
"you know i'll do anything you say baby. don't waste your breath begging." y/n whispered against my earlobe.
she leaned up, resting her forehead against mine.
y/n's mouth dropped and she exhaled as she began moving her hips on my cock.
i whimpered again at the sensitivity, making me tug against the handcuffs.
she noticed and pushed herself up from my chest.
"if i take these off..." y/n started.
she reached over to our nightstand and grabbed the key to undo the handcuffs.
"...you have to promise me that i get to stay in control." she said.
i nodded eagerly and y/n unlocked the handcuffs, setting them down beside us, freeing my sore wrists.
i sighed as i sat up and grabbed y/n's waist, feeling her skin.
"open your eyes." she whispered.
i opened my eyes, not realizing they were closed and looked at her.
"hi baby" she smiled.
i blushed and hid my face in her neck, smelling her perfume, making y/n grab the sides of my face and pull me from her skin.
"we can do this all night." y/n said.
she pecked my lips
"or.." she started.
she tipped my head up to kiss just under my ear.
"i can make you cum and we can start all over again." y/n said again.
i stared up at her while she raised her eyebrows.
she smiled and lifted her hips up, arching her back to hit her spot.
"cum when you please angel." y/n whispered.
she pushed my chest down to lay me back against the bed and began riding my dick.
her hips moved back and forth between lifting herself up over me and then coming back down and circling her hips.
it didn't do much to her, but the small movements were driving me crazy.
"fuck..." i whimpered.
i furrowed my eyebrows and my mouth dropped, my hands reaching around to grab her ass.
i arched her back more, hitting a better angle for the both of us.
i got lightheaded as i neared my orgasm, y/n took notice and grabbed the sides of my face.
"take a deep breath." y/n said.
i did as i was told and began taking steady breaths, the pleasure becoming too much.
but god i was so desperate to cum. my entire body was strung tight, my muscles twitching.
y/n grounded her hips into mine and she continuously bounced back on my thighs. 
i felt my entire body jerk before i gripped her ass harder and shot my cum inside her.
y/n smiled and kissed my neck, rolling her hips to help me come down.
when she didn't stop i realized she was trying to make me cum again.
"i can't..." i whispered, a tear leaving my cheek.
"yes you can. i know you can, just one more." she replied.
she wiped my tear and got off me, tracing my abs with her lips.
she took her time at my v-line, now tracing abs with the tip of her tongue.
god she knows what drives me insane.
y/n smiled up at me while she leaned back up and kissed down my happy trail, which she refused to let me shave because she loved it so much.
"you wanna fuck my throat or my tits?" y/n questioned.
i stared down at her before realizing she was actually allowing me to choose before i made my choice.
"your tits. but stay down there." i said.
y/n obeyed and i pressed my dick against her chest before she pushed her boobs around me, enveloping me in her warm skin, making me shudder.
my girlfriend began bouncing her boobs up and down my length, jerking me off.
"fuck..." i moaned.
my hands searched for something to grab, the sheets having been slick with sweat and cum from the both of us.
y/n stuck her tongue out, licking my slit every time my tip stuck out from her tits.
she continued jerking me off like this, her body weighing down my legs to keep me from protesting.
i moaned, not being able to move my body. my length being too sensitive to continue.
i moan again, this one soaked with agony as she continued to torment my cock.
my dick was non stop leaking, running down the side and landing on my stomach.
"i know you can do it." y/n whispered.
her breath against my tip caused a surge of heat to inflict my entire body to jerk and attempt to push my girlfriends body off my own.
"come on." she whispered, this time against the underside of my dick.
she ran her tongue along the spot where the head of my cock meets the length.
i cried out, feeling too overwhelmed to even form a sentence and tell my girlfriend to stop, still feeling a perverted desire for more.
"let go lip." y/n said.
i did just that and felt my entire body unravel and a surge of pleasure pierce through me.
my legs shook and my eyes rolled into the back of my head while i came, decorating my girlfriends face and tits with my cum.
y/n removed herself from my length, wiping off her face and chest with her fingers and licking it off.
i exhaled heavily, not realizing i was even holding my breath.
"you did such a good job baby." my girlfriend whispered against my neck.
my chest heaved up and down with my deep breaths while y/n ran her hands up and down my stomach.
she drew her finger along my abs, making them twitch and shudder.
"come on." she whispered.
she got up from our bed and pulled me to sit up.
"i'm gonna throw the sheets in the washer and then we can relax, got it?" she asked.
i nodded and y/n pecked me on my lips, grabbing my face with her hand.
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my girlfriend was laying on my front, her back pressed against my boobs while we soaked in the bath.
my arms were wrapped around her shoulders, her fingers tracing my blue butterfly wrist tattoo.
she was staring in front of us, both of us sitting in silence.
the lights were dimmed and the candle lit in the corner of our bathroom illuminated our skin.
“jung eun, I think i’m pregnant.”
158 notes · View notes
fxstpace · 1 month ago
Text
the very first night
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summary: the search for a new place to live takes a turn for the worse when the only person willing to split rent with you is your ex-boyfriend.
⇢ pairing: kim mingyu x fem!reader ⇢ genres: romance, angst, smut, exes to lovers au, roommates au ⇢ word count: 19.7k ⇢ warnings: profanity, alcohol conusmption, explicit sexual content (oral sex, fingering, protected sex) ⇢ a/n: title is the very first night by taylor swift. reposted from my old blog.
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ONE
You think that all the decisions you’ve made in your life so far have all boiled down to this one moment.
Karmic retribution, if you will.
Despite the six months for which you and your ex-boyfriend have been separated, Kim Mingyu looks the same. The same floppy hair that never quite sits flat on his head—though he’s let it grow a tiny bit, and now it curls behind his ears—and the same tight-fitting black shirt you swear you tried stealing from him once. Wire-rimmed glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, and warm brown eyes that peer back at you. Pink lips which beckon you with a small, yet welcoming smile.
“Hey.” The word drags from his mouth, and he extends the last syllable for a second longer than necessary. “You’re here early.”
Shit. Even his voice sounds the same.
You heft your suitcase and place it by your feet just so you can avoid eye contact. Under different circumstances, Mingyu probably wouldn’t have let you carry your suitcase all the way up the stairs to the third floor—the elevator has been out of commission since before you even met him, and that doesn’t appear to change anytime soon. He probably would have lugged the whole thing upstairs, despite your protests and claims that you’re strong enough to do it on your own. But now, you can only sense his gaze on your figure as you place it securely on the floor.
When you straighten up, he’s still looking at you. He has an eyebrow raised and his arms crossed over his chest, but his eyes are clouded, almost as if he’s built some kind of impenetrable fortress against you. You have your walls up, too—in the slight clench of your jaw and defiant raise of your chin—and it’s something someone else wouldn’t be able to notice, but you’re sure Kim Mingyu has.
“Yeah. Um.” You attempt to smile, pray it doesn’t visibly appear as a grimace, and gesture behind you with your thumb. “The packers and movers came by pretty early, so everything ended up moving faster.”
“I see.” He purses his lips, evidently running out of things to say. (Good for you, really, because there’s nothing for you to say either.)
You take the chance to glance behind him—a feat in itself, considering how broad his shoulders are—and observe the interiors of what is going to be your home for the next year. Beige walls, the ratty sofa he bought off a garage sale, the television set he originally used to play video games on but ended up using it to watch shows instead—and a potted succulent placed in the corner. That wasn’t there before.
Before you allow your lips to tug up amusedly, Mingyu speaks again. “Is that all? When’s the rest of your stuff coming in?”
“The movers said they’d have everything ready within two days. It might take me longer to get everything sorted out, though,” you reply, aiming your gaze downwards at your suitcase.
It’s an old thing, with fraying fabric and rusty wheels, but it currently contains a fraction of your belongings: Clothes, toiletry, a small pouch where you keep items that have a special significance to you. Only the bare essentials, really. Mingyu had assured you that the room was furnished, with a bed, closet and desk. His old roommate, Minghao, had moved out but left the furniture behind because he had no reason to take them with him—not when he moved in with his girlfriend in her own apartment. All that’s left for the movers to bring over is your bookshelf, your book collection, the rest of your clothes, the Ikea drawer you and your best friend, Park Jihyo, built together, and other smaller items like your desk lamp and office chair.
“That’s okay,” Mingyu says. “Take as long as you need.”
You nod, mumbling a “thank you”, then bend down to pick up your suitcase.
Mingyu moves aside, granting you enough space to roll it across the floor and head over to the side that leads to the Minghao’s old room. Right opposite you is the doorway that leads to Mingyu’s bedroom, and further to the side is the corridor that opens into the kitchen, the small space where he keeps a dining table, and the bathroom.
In a way, you’re glad your room is situated further away from those places. Ghosts of memories linger there, ones that you can’t bear to revisit.
No, it’s better this way; you’re away from everything that you used to consider a second home. Maybe if you close the door behind you, you can pretend like you’re in some kind of void where the only things that exist are you and the bed.
“Wait, Y/N.”
You pause, feeling… something. The way he says your name, so casually, as if it’s second nature to him (it used to be) and nothing has changed at all, has you on edge—not in the good way, but not in the bad way either. 
You turn around. “Yeah?”
“Um.” Your ex-boyfriend hesitates for a second. “I’m… going out for dinner with Minghao and some others, is that okay? It might be late by the time I come back.”
“Okay.” Then, feeling the need to clarify something, you say, “You—you don’t have to tell me that. We don’t… owe each other an explanation for where the other is.”
Mingyu stays quiet, and you look away, teeth worrying your bottom lip. You wonder if he’s going to say anything—or even show any kind of reaction at all. 
“Right. We don’t.” His voice is toned down with a kind of uneasiness that you don’t blame him for. Heck, even you feel a twinge of hurt rise up your throat at your own words. “I’ll… let you get some rest.” He nods once, places his hands in his pockets, and walks back to his room.
Your grip on the suitcase handle tightens. Once you enter your room, you let out a pained sigh. You shut the door and turn your back to the wooden blockade that separates you from the rest of the apartment.
This is not going the way you expected—but then again, what had you expected? That everything between you and Mingyu would just vanish and you could talk to him normally without feeling that tiny pinprick of bitterness stab your chest every time you address him? You and Mingyu have a history, filled with good times and bad times, and six months spent away from each other will do nothing to erase that. 
You think of what your old roommate, Jihyo, would’ve said. He’s just a boy, Y/N. Make him clean the toilet all the time so he’ll automatically get sick of you.
You smile to yourself, unlocking your phone. Jihyo is probably too busy settling down in her new home in the city she moved to, so she can’t pick up your call. You decide to send her a text message instead.
You switch to the food app, order your favourite dishes from the Indian place a couple of streets away, and toss your phone onto the bed. Kneeling, you unzip your suitcase and unpack the few items you have with you. As you move around, you can already imagine how to decorate the place, how to make it feel more like a home and less like you’re an intruder. The closet is just enough for all the clothes you own—the ones you’ve packed and the ones stored in cardboard boxes yet to arrive. The desk placed opposite to the bed is perfect for when you have to work on your laptop late at night; if you place your lamp on it, you might even forget that you’re not in your old apartment. The bed already has a mattress with clean linen on the bedspread. You place your old Looney Tunes duvet on it.
Thirty minutes later, the doorbell rings. You pause your unpacking to get the door and thank the delivery guy for the food. Mingyu has already left, judging by the lack of noise in the rest of the apartment. You just hope he doesn’t come back home drunk and shit-faced—that would definitely ruin the rest of your night, and the much-needed sleep you require. 
You decide not to use the kitchen table, instead opting to take the food containers into your room, where you can eat and watch a show at the same time. It’s lonely, but at least you can have your meal somewhere comfortable.
Your phone rings with notifications. You pick it up, carefully balancing the bowl of curry on your knee. 
(19:47) Jihyo: hows the apartment??? did u make mingyu clean the toilet yet?
(19:47) Mingyu: hey, i’m at a thai place. do you want anything to eat at home? i could get something packaged.
You smile at the first text, tense up at the second one, and place your phone down next to you. Not replying to either of their messages might be a bad idea, but right now, all you want is to have your spicy curry and naan in peace—your best friend and ex-boyfriend be damned.
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TWO
It’s only after you move in with Mingyu that your separation from Jihyo truly sinks in. Now, there’s no one you can wake up at two in the morning because your period started and you ran out of pads, or gossip about that one campus couple who broke up in public at your favourite boba place.
Not to mention the fact that living with your ex-boyfriend is mildly awkward at best and stupidly melancholic at worst.
It’s been a week, but you and Mingyu seem to have figured out a way to work in tandem. It appears as though neither of you want to see the other—just yet, at least. He goes for a morning jog at six; your alarm rings at six. He comes back reeking of sweat at seven in the morning; you’re getting ready to leave for work by then. You do the dishes on the days he vacuums the apartment and vice versa. It leaves no room for conversation, other than the occasional greetings and small talk when you happen to cross paths.
In fact, ever since you purposefully ignored Mingyu’s text asking if you wanted anything from the Thai restaurant, he’s made a conscious effort at avoiding you.
You nearly jump out of your seat when someone taps your shoulder. “Hey.”
You turn around and meet your co-worker, Lee Seokmin’s eyes. He smiles at you, eyes curving into little crescents.
“Hi,” you say, smiling back automatically.
If there’s one person you can count on to bring a smile to your lips, even if it’s eight o’clock in the morning—at work, no less—it’s Lee Seokmin. His cheerful nature and lively personality is infectious. His happiness radiates outwards in waves that everyone gets swept up on. You might even consider yourself envious of how easily he sways everyone, with that exuberant smile and those good-natured compliments he doles out to everyone like they cost him nothing. (Which they don’t, you suppose.)
“Something on your mind?”
Your smile turns into a grimace. “You could tell?”
He gives you a little half-shrug, still smiling. “You had a weird, serious, think-y face. And before you come at me for think-y not being a real word—I’m very aware of that, thank you—it’s the best way I can describe you.”
“You chose think-y—” you bite back a chuckle— “as the best word to describe me? Come on, Seokmin, you can do better than that.”
“I can,” he agrees, “but only when the situation is appropriate.” His face turns grave, and he continues, “But seriously, Y/N. Did you have a rough night?”
His eyes roam over your face, evident concern shown in the curve of his lips and the slight dip of his eyebrows. You control your wince, wondering if the swollen bags underneath your eyes aren’t as concealed by your makeup as you thought. 
Rough week, more like. But you don’t say that to him. “Something like that,” you say.
“You moved out a while back, right? How’s the new place?”
“It’s… good. Close to the supermarket and all that. Everything is within, like, a ten-metre radius, so I don’t have to go very far to get things.”
“That’s nice to hear,” Seokmin says, and you can tell he really means it. “I bet you’re tired, though, with all that packing and unpacking and moving around.”
He bends closer, the front of his loosely tucked shirt just barely touching the back of your chair. This close, you can smell the faint scent of Seokmin’s deodorant and fabric softener. He taps his finger on the arm of your chair. “Do you want to get some coffee with me?”
“Um.” You look back at your laptop and the pile of binders next to it. Seokmin seems to know what you’re thinking, because he huffs and says, “C’mon, I’m sure Seungcheol wouldn’t mind if you took a coffee break.”
“I guess,” you return, flashing him a smile when he rolls your chair backwards to give you space to stand up.
Getting up, both of you weave your way to the third floor, where the only functioning coffee maker is housed. The elevator is too crowded and busy for you to use to get down from your position on the seventh floor, so you settle for using the stairs. Throughout the ten-minute walk (which effectively turns into a fifteen-minute one, thanks to him), Seokmin waves and greets every single fellow office worker you pass by. By name.
You roll your eyes and bite your lip to hold back your laugh when a young, female intern—probably still in college by the looks of it—flushes bright red because Seokmin complimented her barrette.
He catches your eye and grins. “What’s so funny?”
You shake your head good-naturedly. “It’s nothing. Carry on with whatever you were doing.”
“What was I doing?”
“Oh, you know,” you say airily, “making everyone fall head over heels for you because you’re just so nice.”
His grin only widens. “You make it sound as though being nice is a bad thing.”
“That’s not what I meant at all,” you protest. “I’m just— Greeting every single person you see? By name? How do you even know everyone in the building?”
“I just check their ID card,” he explains, shrugging slightly. “I read this WikiHow article that said if you speak to people using their name, it creates a good impression and makes you appear more confident than you really are.”
“Really?”
Humming, Seokmin nods, before adding slyly, “I’m not sure what you mean by making everyone fall in love with me, though.”
“Please,” you snort. “You’re way too charming for your own good—and I don’t mean that in a bad way.”
“You think so?” 
You can hear the smugness in his tone and you roll your eyes again. “Yes, I think so.”
“Then…” He trails off, gazing at the handrail.
Seokmin’s voice turns softer, more serious. Contemplation bleeds into his features, and when he speaks again, he lacks the bravado he had with all the other people he spoke to on your way down.
“Guess I better work on charming the right people, huh?” 
You blink, but before you can digest Seokmin’s words, he gives you another bright grin before rounding the corner and striding towards the coffee machine. You follow, the need for caffeine in your system overriding your instinct to mull over what your co-worker said. Unfortunately, it seems you and Seokmin aren’t the only ones who want coffee; a long queue runs ahead of you. Your coffee break might end up taking longer than you thought.
“So,” Seokmin casually drawls, one hand in his pocket and the other fiddling with his ID card’s lanyard. “Do you want to talk about your rough night?”
“I…” You pause and consider. 
Should you tell Seokmin? You trust him enough—you’ve known him for as long as you’ve been working in this company—and he’s always been friendly to you, offering you a ride home when both of you work overtime and paying for your food on the occasional visits to a café or a coffee shop. Besides, he’s the closest person you have to a friend, now that Jihyo lives in a different city and you can’t call her up whenever you feel like it. You decide to tread the waters first, only telling him the bare minimum.
“Hypothetically speaking,” you begin, “if you move in with someone you don’t like but have known for years, what would you do?”
“That’s a tough one.” He scratches his chin, pretending to think. “I guess it depends on the kind of past you share, y’know? But either way, I would try to… make peace with them, I guess. Like a ceasefire. Offer them an olive branch. Hypothetically speaking, of course.” He grins knowingly at the last bit and you shove his shoulder.
What Seokmin said makes sense. You and Mingyu are living together; your past relationship shouldn’t come in the way of talking to each other. But it does, so much more than it should. Try as hard as you might, every time you think of Kim Mingyu, the first thing that comes to your mind is all the kisses you’ve shared, the way his arms feel around you, how both of you broke the promises you made to each other—all because you were too proud and he was too stubborn. 
You still are proud. For all you know, Mingyu might still be stubborn. 
What a pair, you think drily.
You and Seokmin shuffle forwards. He stays silent, allowing you to process your thoughts and wonder how, exactly, you’re going to get over Mingyu and talk to him without feeling like your stomach is twisting into a million knots. 
Once you reach the coffee machine, Seokmin hands you a cup. “It’s hot,” he warns, before carefully handing you the styrofoam cup filled to the brim with the bitter brew. You cautiously take a sip, wincing when you almost burn your tongue and make a face at your co-worker when he chimes, “I told you.”
The walk back to your floor doesn’t take as long as the walk down. Before you part ways, Seokmin offers you a small smile and a pat on your shoulder.
“If you’re wondering how to approach your roommate,” he says, lowering his voice, “maybe start off by offering them food. Works like a charm every time.”
Food. Yeah, you can manage that. Dinner with your ex-boyfriend.
Should be a piece of cake.
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THREE
Asking Mingyu if he would like to have dinner with you is decidedly not a piece of cake.
When he comes back home from work, Mingyu has only one trajectory: Travel in a straight line from the door to his bedroom, offering you a tight smile if he sees you along the way. His bag is always slung across one shoulder and his shirt is always untucked and his hair is always a wild mess. If his appearance wasn’t achingly familiar, you would probably laugh every time you see his unruly figure.
It takes a week for you to muster up the nerve to look Mingyu in the eye, after your conversation with Seokmin. He’s been pestering you incessantly, almost exactly like Jihyo. When you told her about Seokmin’s suggestion, she had been nothing short of enthusiastic. Your phone has been blowing up constantly with texts from her, egging you on and on and on to make a move first and raise the (hypothetical) white flag. 
“If you keep putting it off, you’re going to be very miserable for the rest of your immediate future,” was her reasoning when you called and spoke to her on the phone three days ago. “But also if you don’t fucking ask him to have a meal with you within the next week, I will fly over and have you both sit in a room, alone, and force you to talk.”
Both the options are pretty much the same. You didn’t have the energy to tell Jihyo that.
It’s on a Monday evening that you catch Mingyu and pop the question. A Monday evening that’s insignificant, really. Almost laughable at how normal the evening is. Mingyu unlocks the door, closes it while toeing his shoes off, and gives you the same tight smile—one where it doesn’t reach his eyes, his jaw is slightly clenched, and his lips thin into almost straight lines. 
“Mingyu.” Your voice comes out breathless, like you’ve been jogging for miles before coming to a stop in front of him. He pauses, wind-ruffled hair framing his face in cloudy wisps.
“Yeah?” 
“I—uh—” you force the words to tumble out of your lips, before you can overthink— “I was wondering if you would like to have dinner with me?”
Mingyu purses his lips, looking at you warily. He’s careful, cautious, when he asks, “Is… there any special reason?”
You swallow. “No,” you say honestly, not allowing your eyes to tear away from his. “There isn’t. But I tried making lasagne today, and I would like to share it with someone.”
For a minute, he doesn’t say anything, only lets his bag fall into the crook of his arm. “Okay,” he says finally. “Let me just change and wash up.”
You nod, making your way to the kitchen to bring out the casserole. You’re not usually one for cooking—you prefer ordering takeout because it’s easier and they make the food better than you, anyway—but simply ordering food didn’t sit right with you. Lasagne is a dish you’ve made a few times before, and you would rather make something you’re familiar with instead of trying to whip up something new.
When you go back into the kitchen, you find Mingyu already there, bent over an open cupboard’s door as he fishes out some plates and cutlery. He’s wearing a loose white shirt and grey sweatpants, fringe falling freely over his forehead and obscuring his eyes. 
“Are our regular plates okay or do we need the china ones?” he asks, still bent over.
“Why do we need china plates? Wait, why do you even have china plates with you in the first place?”
He looks over at you and shrugs. “Dunno. Minghao had a china cutlery phase, I think.”
That does sound like a phase Xu Minghao would have.
“The regular ones are fine.” You don’t want to risk breaking Minghao’s precious cutlery.
While Mingyu wipes the plates with a dishcloth, you grab two mugs and pour orange juice from the fridge into them. You take one in each hand and follow Mingyu to the kitchen table, placing both of them on either side.
“Orange juice?” Mingyu’s eyebrows are raised.
“Yeah. So?” you challenge him, raising your eyebrows as well.
But he doesn’t say anything against your choice of beverage, only shrugs and mumbles, “We should really stock up on alcohol.”
Your lips twitch. You don’t allow yourself to smile.
Instead, you pull your chair back and sit down, steepling your fingers in front of you. Mingyu piles some food onto his plate. For some reason, you feel weirdly nervous. What if it’s not as good as you think? What if he doesn’t like it?
You shake those thoughts away. This is Kim Mingyu. Even if the food was bad, he wouldn’t tell you; he would only grin, compliment your culinary skills, and continue to eat despite everything.
“Is it… good?” you ask tentatively, after he takes a forkful into his mouth and chews deliberately.
He waits until he’s swallowed before answering. “It’s great. Really good,” he affirms, and you can hear in his voice that he means it.
Well, almost.
It’s the slight dip and intonation of his tone, but it’s one you’re familiar with. You narrow your eyes at him. Mingyu continues eating, oblivious to your glare. In fact, he shovels more lasagne onto his dish and eats with more gusto, pausing every now and then to gulp down some orange juice.
“Really?” you say casually. “I’m glad. Maybe I should try some too.”
Mingyu’s reaction is so instantaneous, it’s almost comical. His eyes widen by a fraction, and he immediately reaches for the casserole. “You should definitely try some,” he says. “But it’s so good, I wanna have some more.”
You bite the inside of your cheek, watching Mingyu stuff more food into his mouth before deciding to put him out of his misery.
“Mingyu. Tell me the truth. How’s the food?”
He pauses, swallowing the food in his mouth and answering with a subdued, sheepish smile:
“It’s too salty.”
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FOUR
“Why are you leaving so early?” Jihyo’s voice crackles through your phone placed on your bed.
“Seokmin said he wanted to try out the croissants at the new bakery that opened nearby,” you reply, fiddling with the buttons of your shirt. “He also said he wanted to buy a baguette so that he could whack his roommate with it. Something about going all the way to Paris to buy it but his roommate used it to hammer a nail into the wall and broke it.”
A pause, and then, “Is his roommate okay in the head?”
“Good question.” You grin at your reflection in the mirror, pat down the hair at the back of your neck, and grab your phone. “I’m heading out now. I’ll text you later.”
“’kay,” your best friend says. “Tell Mingyu I said hi.”
“I will,” you say, but you already know you’re not going to greet him on behalf of her.
Things between you and Mingyu are… still pretty much the same, honestly. After that dinner fiasco, you’ve been too embarrassed to properly address him, and he’s not made much of an effort on his part. Or maybe you’ve been consciously avoiding him so much that he doesn’t get a chance to put his foot forward. Either way, your cheeks still burn up whenever you think of that night’s dinner, so for now, hiding in your room is quite possibly the only way you can prevent yourself from catching fire completely.
Stupid logic. You’re a grown adult, with the ability to make good judgements and make decisions. Unfortunately, your decisions are mostly borderline idiotic.
Shouldering your bag, you leave your room and head to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water. There’s a Post-It note stuck on the refrigerator. Peeling it off the fridge’s door, you read it curiously.
Got some cookies from Minghao’s friend’s bakery. I’ve kept them in the pantry. Enjoy! :) 
Mingyu’s familiar scrawl is branded into your head, and seeing the yellow square of paper makes nostalgia bubble inside your chest like a bath bomb dropped into a bathtub filled with water. You pocket the note, and smile so widely, your cheeks hurt.
Maybe he’s put his foot forward, after all.
Seokmin is already waiting for you outside your apartment building by the time you go out. He grins at you, his eyes crinkling in the corners and teeth flashing happily. 
“Hi,” you greet him. “Did you wait long?”
“No.” Your co-worker shakes his head, still smiling. “I just got here, actually.”
“I’m glad.” You return his smile. “Should we head out?”
Seokmin nods. “Of course,” he says, and you fall into step with him. 
He has a never-ending list of topics to talk to you about—and for the most part, you’re glad that he’s so outgoing. In twenty minutes, you’ve learnt almost everything there is to know about his roommate, Jeonghan, his older sister, his fear of ladybugs (you snort out loud at that particular anecdote), and his favourite anime (Haikyu!! and One Piece). In return, you tell him about that time you and Jihyo accidentally walked into the wrong restroom at a bar, and how you got dumped by your high school crush because he thought you were better than him at playing basketball.
It’s comfortable. Talking to Seokmin always is. 
But you still don’t talk about Mingyu. You try hard to stop thinking of him, but he’s always there at the back of your mind, an unopened gift that you don’t unwrap. 
Finally, you and Seokmin round a corner and find yourselves standing in front of the just-opened bakery. The scent of vanilla and cinnamon wafts through the open door. An array of different types of breads and other desserts is placed carefully on a display at the counter, and the owner greets you with a welcoming smile.
“What do you want to have?” Seokmin asks, holding your elbow and leading you in.
You eye the basket of croissants. The buttery confection looks delicious, but so does the tray of muffins placed next to it. And the bagels placed beside the muffins. “I can’t decide.”
“How about one of everything?”
You glance at him to see if he’s joking, but Seokmin looks completely serious. “You’re kidding, right?” you say, grabbing his arm. “There’s no way I’m going to let you buy one of everything in this store!”
“I would,” Seokmin admits, a flush creeping up his neck, “if you asked me to.”
You groan. “Seokmin. Please don’t.”
“Alright, alright.” He raises his hands in defeat. “I’m just saying, if you wanted me to—”
“One croissant, please,” you interrupt, addressing the owner. “To go. And he will have…”
“Make that two croissants,” Seokmin finishes. “I’ll have whatever the lady’s having.”
“How gentlemanly of you.”
“I know.”
Seokmin pays for his croissant, and you pay for yours. The owner wraps them up and hands them to you, asking you to visit again. Once you exit, you unwrap yours and take a small bite. The bread is soft and melts in your mouth, leaving a sweet aftertaste. You take another bite, and it’s only then that you notice Seokmin looking at you, a corner of his lips turned upwards in a crooked smile and one hand in his pocket.
“What?” you ask, suddenly self-conscious. “Do I have crumbs on my face?”
“No,” he replies. “I just… I would really love to do this again, Y/N.”
Oh.
Seokmin looks at you so hopefully. Like he’s been waiting for this opportunity for a long time. Like he needs to get something off his chest. Like he never wants this moment to end.
“...I’d like that, too,” you say.
Somehow, the words leave a bitter taste in your mouth, one that even another mouthful of the sweet snack can’t erase.
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FIVE
It’s getting late, and yet Kim Mingyu is hellbent on getting you to keep him company. The worst part is that it’s working—though you would never admit that to him.
Being friends with your ex isn’t that uncommon. You and Mingyu can be friends. But how long are you willing to put up with this ruse before it all blows up in your faces? Friendship between two people who used to date isn’t that much of a big deal—but that’s just it, isn’t it? You and Mingyu weren’t just two people who used to date.
How did you even let him talk you into spending time with him? Or maybe that’s all on you; you’ve never been able to say no to him. One minute you’re looking at his face and remembering the lasagne gone wrong, the next he’s asking if you want to watch a movie with him. Except neither of you have updated your Netflix subscription, so this was a bad idea all along.
Maybe talking to Mingyu is a bad idea. 
Maybe you should go back to your old ways, locking yourself up in your room and only acknowledging his presence when you happen to cross paths. 
But the socialite in you nags, what if he thinks you’re some kind of hermit who only comes out to eat and drink? Besides, he’s here now, right next to you on the sofa—keeping a respectable distance between your bodies—as he watches a rerun of America’s Next Top Model because it was the least shitty thing playing on all the channels you scrounged through fifteen minutes ago. 
Normally, you would be elated at the idea of poking fun at random reality shows, expressing your exasperation at the poorly-written scripted drama and the even worse acting. But even if the showoff between two aspiring models both named Jessica and sporting the same colour of fake tan and bleached blonde hair was somewhat interesting, you find your gaze keeps wandering to your ex-boyfriend.
You trace the contours of his face with your eyes—the cheekbones that jut out only slightly, the furrow created on his forehead as his eyebrows kiss, the way his honey-brown eyes stare at the screen in front of him with a focused intensity. Even the way his lips curve ever-so slightly upwards, despite him pressing them together, has you recalling just how soft they felt against your own. 
His warm, soft skin. The prominent collarbone that you used to press small kisses to whenever you wanted to get his attention. The moles scattered all over his body, creating a canvas for you to paint on by tracing them with your fingers. The flex of his fingers as he bunches them into a loose fist.
Everything about him is so familiar, yet so foreign at the same time.
Even this semblance of friendship that has bridged the drawn-out distance between you both feels strange—as though somewhere in the back of your subconscious, you recognise that this camaraderie is either a really good thing or could go extremely wrong. You’re in the middle of that bridge, trying your best not to lean too much to the right or to the left, but even a slight misstep could lead to everything going downhill.
“Are you rooting for Jessice H. or Jessica C.?”
“Huh?” You blink, escaping your haze of thoughts. “I’m sorry—which one is which?”
Mingyu glances at you with a deadpan expression. “We’ve been watching them trying to one up each other for the past ten minutes.”
“Sorry.” You smile sheepishly. “Both of them look the same to me.”
“Fair enough,” he acquiesces, before returning his focus to the show. “It’s the fake tan, isn’t it? Although the hair is similar too… No wonder they’ve been arguing about who put on their mascara better—it looks identical.” 
You play along. “Or maybe it’s the supposed Gucci belts. I had no idea Gucci made handbags with fake crocodile skin.”
“The more you know…”
You laugh at that, and Mingyu looks at you—really looks, the same way he used to when you made a bad joke and giggled at it yourself. He looks at you with adoration written all over his face, in the upward twist of his lips and the crinkling in the corners of his eyes.
You clamp your mouth shut immediately, feeling a sense of nostalgia, longing and wistfulness seep into your skin, through your flesh and settle deep into your bones. 
Too much. It’s too much, and it’s way too early, and you don’t want to dwell on anything at the moment. So you do what you do best: You hide.
You tear your gaze off him and rub your palms on your old jeans. You hear Mingyu’s sharp intake of breath, but you force yourself not to look, not to think about him. 
“Hey, uh—I was supposed to call Jihyo right now,” you lie, and even you think it sounds lame coming out of your mouth, so there’s no way Mingyu can’t see through it.
“Y/N,” is all he says. 
You hate the way your chest clenches—just because he said your name—but what can you do? Escape the situation and never bring up the obvious elephant in the room?
Yeah. That’s exactly what you do. Making decisions isn’t your forte, but you’ll deal with the consequences of your actions later. Much, much later, if you can avoid it for as long as you’re living here.
You get up and make a beeline for your room, and Kim Mingyu doesn’t say anything to make you stop.
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SIX
Whenever you faltered, Jihyo was your voice of reason. She would help you back to your feet, give you a solid nudge on your shoulder and list out the pros and cons of everything, allowing you to formulate your own opinion and come to a decision.
She isn’t being very helpful right now.
“Think about it,” she reasons. “Before, he was your ex. Now, he’s the guy you live with. You have to talk to him, no matter what.”
She’s right. She knows you know she’s right. You still refuse to acknowledge it, because pride comes before a fall, but you haven’t fallen yet. It’s more like you’re dangling off the precipice.
“How’s Jaehyun?” you say instead, referring to the guy she’s been crushing on ever since she moved to the new city.
Jihyo lets out an unimpressed sigh, the grainy image of her face on your phone screen contorting slightly. “Don’t think you’re being super smart by changing the topic, Y/N. And he’s fine. We went out for boba the other day.”
“Yeah?” You play with the fraying edge of the duvet thrown over your body. “That’s nice.”
Jihyo hums, pushing some of her hair behind her ear. “And then he asked if we could hook up.”
You guffaw. “Really?”
“Yeah.” She nods vigorously, affirming her statement. “I said no, obviously.”
“Why? Afraid he’s too much to handle?”
“Please,” your best friend snorts. “Have you seen him? I think I’m too much for him to handle. He couldn’t even pay for the boba without tearing his pocket because he was too enthusiastic in getting his wallet out.”
You smile thinly. Jihyo might be poking fun at the man, but you can tell from the twinkle in her eyes and the way her voice is filled with infectious joy that she’s enamoured by him. You wish you could meet him in person. Instead, you have to settle for checking out his Instagram profile.
“Anyway,” she continues, stifling a yawn, “it’s late and I have to head out tomorrow. I’ll call you later.”
“Okay,” you say. “Good night. Don’t dream of Jaehyun.”
She flips her middle finger at you and you roll your eyes, pressing the end button. Just when you’re about to fluff your pillow so you can lie down, you hear a knock on your door.
“Y/N?” Mingyu sounds remarkably active, considering the fact that it’s currently fifteen minutes past midnight. “Are you awake?”
Curiosity compels you to answer honestly, “Yeah. Is everything okay?” 
You tread over to the door, swinging it open. Mingyu is in his sweatpants—a pair you know he only wears for bed—and a loose graphic T-shirt. You’re wearing pretty much the same attire, except your shirt is an old one, worn-out from your high school days, and it doesn't fit you that well anymore. You tug the hem over your hips consciously.
“Yeah,” he says, nodding. “Yeah, everything’s okay. I was just…” He pauses, raising a hand and ruffling his hair. “Do you wanna get some ice cream?”
Of all possible things you expected Mingyu to ask you, this certainly wasn’t one of them. You blink, bemused. 
“Or—or we don’t have to,” he backtracks, when you don’t say anything immediately. “I was just craving something sweet, that’s all—”
“Okay,” you say, surprising yourself with your answer. Mingyu is trying to extend the olive branch you placed in between you both, and you have to appreciate that. Regardless of your personal feelings. Besides, Jihyo was right—he’s the guy you live with, and you need to be able to spend time with him. As friends. Nothing more.
“Okay.” He exhales, relieved. “It’s right across the street.”
“I think I know the one you’re talking about.”
The ice cream parlour is a ten-minute walk from your apartment, but walking with Mingyu makes time fly. He says something about mint chocolate being an underrated flavour, and you insinuate that it deserves to be, and just like that, conversation flows between you both as though your past is some kind of a fever dream.
Where Seokmin is a bright ray of sunshine lighting up your way on a cloudy day, Mingyu is moonlight, skittering over your figure and providing solace in the dark. Seokmin is infectious laughter and gleeful smiles; Mingyu is whispered jokes and shared silence.
Perhaps it’s those very qualities that made you fall so hard for the man next to you. You know for sure it’s those very qualities that still have you in his grip, even though he doesn’t know it. Maybe that’s why talking to him is awkward—because how do you move on from someone who captured your heart and kept it for safe-keeping but know that there’s one big, gaping hole in your chest where his heart is supposed to be? Even now, a small part of you belongs to Mingyu, like a little token which he’s kept locked up and hidden the key.
Six months is a long time, but neither you nor Mingyu seems to be able to bring up what happened. Maybe it’s for the best, you think. You would rather have a small bit of this domesticity that feels familiar than have everything blow up in your face because of the harsh words you exchanged.
You ignore the tightening in your chest and focus on the warmth pooling in your stomach when Mingyu grins and offers you a chance to redeem yourself when it comes to good ice cream flavours. You say mint chocolate is tolerable, but only because Mingyu likes it.
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SEVEN
Seokmin drops by your cubicle almost every day now. He offers to drop you back home, too.
Each time, you smile but decline politely. You still feel guilty about saying that you would like to spend more time with him as well—but in your defence, you didn’t really lie; you do want to spend more time with him, but only as a friend. Seokmin didn’t specify how exactly he wants to go out with you.
It’s getting harder to say no, however. Seokmin is everything if not persistent, and his determination to take you out has you crumbling under his forlorn gaze and pleading words.
He doesn’t make your heart beat faster, or make butterflies erupt inside your belly. Being with Seokmin doesn’t come with bright fireworks or flashy songs. It’s finding the extraordinary in the mundane, and laughing yourselves silly over jokes that aren’t even that funny.
So. It’s not Mingyu, but Seokmin is nice and friendly and stable, and you think you can fall for him. You and Mingyu aren’t going to cross the threshold of friends ever again, anyway. There’s nothing stopping you from going out with Seokmin.
“Okay,” you say when he asks you again, a half-resigned look on his face when he assumes you’ll just say no again. 
The way his expression morphs to elation is worth it, you think. He surges forward, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you in for a tight hug. “Thank you,” he whispers into your ear, and the joy he feels is infectious—as most good things with Seokmin are—so it’s no surprise that your cheeks are already hurting from smiling too hard.
When you update Jihyo about the latest turn of events, she tuts disapprovingly and says, “Have you told Mingyu?”
“No,” you say, feeling defensive. “I don’t have to tell him, do I?”
Your best friend waits for a beat. “You don’t, I guess.”
Mingyu interrupts your call then, and you quickly tell Jihyo you’ll text her later. He stands in the living room, holding up a pair of button down shirts, one in each hand, forehead creased and mouth downturned.
You lean against your doorway, amused. “You called?”
His face clears as he looks at you, tongue poking the inside of his cheek. “I have this work event I need to attend tomorrow, but I don’t know what to wear.”
You observe the shirts he’s holding up. One is cream in colour, long-sleeved and ironed neatly. The other is black, with a thin white stripe along the collar and sleeves.
“The black one,” you say immediately. And then feel your cheeks heat up with your quick answer. In your defence, Kim Mingyu has always looked alarmingly handsome in black. Objectively speaking.
“I haven’t worn this one in a long time.” He brings it close to his face, squinting at it. “It probably stinks.”
“Smell it, then,” you say, chuckling at the mortified look on Mingyu’s face. “What? You’re telling me you’ve never worn your underwear inside out because you forgot to do the laundry? This isn’t that different.”
“I have never done anything of the sort.” He sniffs petulantly at you, before his eyes narrow. “Wait. Does that mean you’ve worn your underwear inside out?”
You wrinkle your nose. “Gross. I thought you knew me better than that.”
Mingyu tenses up at your offhand comment, and you look down, wondering why that even slipped out of your mouth in the first place. Of course you screw everything up just when things are going decently well. 
“I do,” he mumbles. “I do know you better than that.” When you look at him, he has a wan smile on his lips. “Which is why I’m going to trust your judgement and wear the black shirt. Even if it’s musty from sitting in the back of my closet for so long.”
“Oh, shut up,” you huff, walking over to him and grabbing the cloth out of his hand. “I’m sure it’s not that bad.”
He only raises a single eyebrow at you.
That’s what prompts you to sniff at it. At his goddamn shirt. Like you’re one of those police dogs they use to find missing people.
It… doesn’t smell unpleasant. A little bit musty, like Mingyu said, but that can be attributed to him not wearing it often. Mostly, it smells of faint fabric softener and deodorant—and underneath it all, a scent that is solely Mingyu’s. (Pine and citrus and lavender, all mixed together, in a way that only Mingyu can pull off.)
“It smells fine,” you say, shoving it into Mingyu’s chest. “You’re being dramatic.”
“I’m not the one who grabbed it and shoved my face into it,” he says, “so who’s the real dramatic one here?”
“I didn’t shove my face into it!” You swat at his shoulder, but he laughs and dodges, eyes twinkling with playfulness.
“If you say so,” he returns, still chuckling to himself.
“When is this event?” 
“Tomorrow evening,” he answers.
“Both of us won’t be at home then,” you say, and he raises an eyebrow. “I… have a date tomorrow,” you explain, and regret it almost instantly. Why are you even telling him that? He doesn’t need to know.
“Oh,” is all he says, followed by a quieter, “Have fun.”
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EIGHT
Seokmin picks you up at exactly six o’clock, wearing a loose button down shirt and slacks, and his hair styled carefully. He perks up as soon as you wave at him, jogging over to you with a smile.
“Hey,” he greets you. “You look good.”
You return his smile, tugging at the edge of your blouse and smoothing out your skirt. “Thank you. So do you.”
Seokmin’s grin brightens, which you didn’t even think was possible. “Thanks,” he says, and then gently takes hold of your elbow. “So… the plan for today is to take you out for dinner, and then a movie. How does that sound?”
“It sounds… good,” you say, letting him lead the way. It’s basic, yes, but you’re a firm believer in clichés—there’s a reason they become popular, after all.
He doesn’t stop talking, and neither do you. Throughout the entire half an hour dinner in some hole-in-the-wall diner that Seokmin discovered a month ago and serves the best blue lemonade mojitos you’ve ever tasted, and the entire two hour movie that’s way too boring for you to focus on the screen anyway, you and your co-worker keep up an endless stream of banter and silly anecdotes and you find yourself enjoying it more than you thought you would.
It’s refreshing, and when you and Seokmin finally make the walk back to your apartment, you find it difficult to let go of his hand. He pulls you to a stop in front of the building, rubbing his thumb gently across the back of your hand. 
His smile is as bright as ever, albeit tinged with slight disappointment. “So. I’ll see you on Monday, yeah?”
“Yeah,” you confirm, nodding. “Thank you for today, Seokmin. I had a lot of fun.”
“Me too,” he returns. “Listen, I—”
He’s interrupted by someone stumbling across the sidewalk—not someone, you realise. It’s two people, tightly coiled around each other in a manner that is entirely indecent for the public eye. But as they trip around one another—still holding each other tightly—your heart sinks deep into the pit of your stomach.
One of them is Mingyu.
The other person is some girl, hair falling loosely across her face, Mingyu’s fingers tangled into her tresses, while his other hand bunches up the material of her dress at her waist. They kiss and kiss and kiss, and you don’t tear your eyes away until Seokmin makes a noise of disgust.
He turns around, blocking your view of them and takes both your hands in his. “I… I’ll call you. Okay?”
You nod numbly. “Okay.”
Seokmin leaves with a bright smile and a lingering kiss on your cheek. You plaster a smile onto your lips until he moves out of your line of sight, after which you begin the arduous trek back to your—Mingyu’s—apartment. Normally, the three floors you climb aren’t much of a strenuous task; tonight, however, every step you take makes you feel like your legs are made of lead. 
You fumble in your purse for your key, the image of Mingyu kissing that girl not leaving your mind. It’s not supposed to hurt, you’re not supposed to be bothered by it. But it stings, like the biting cold on a freezing winter morning, making your fingers stiff and your ears chilly.
You hear footsteps right when you twist the key into the lock.
The last thing you see before you enter the apartment is Mingyu clambering up the staircase, clearly drunk but surprisingly upright. He has a lipstick stain leading from the corner of his mouth to his cheek, his hair is tousled—no doubt from someone running their hands through his silky locks—and his shirt is untucked and wrinkled.
He opens his mouth to say something, but you grab the door handle and step inside, because the last thing you want to confront is the fact that your feelings for Kim Mingyu might not be as forgotten as you believe.
Which is fine, all things considered, except Kim Mingyu doesn’t give a damn.
You let the door slam shut behind you before Mingyu can get in. Technically, it’s his house. Technically, he’s the one who has the right to lock you out.
Technically, you’re acting like a child throwing a tantrum, and technically, Mingyu is allowed to kiss whomever the fuck he wants. 
You wish Jihyo was here. She would ground you, make you see everything calmly and rationally. But she’s been having boy problems of her own (Jeong Jaehyun, who is decidedly not as romantic as Jihyo was led to believe), and the last thing you want is to dump your boy problems on her.
Besides, it’s no big deal. Right?
Mingyu lives here. He should have his own copy of the keys. He’s also drunk. (Drunk and half-laid, your mind helpfully reminds.)
Before you start overthinking about letting the door close behind you, you decide that what you really need is a warm shower. So you let your feet lead you to the bathroom directly, and don’t allow thoughts of ex-boyfriends and overly friendly co-workers to enter your brain.
You don’t hear the sound of keys turning in the lock the entire night, but you shove down the guilt that bubbles up your throat. It’s Mingyu’s fault for not carrying them with him wherever he goes; you’re not his caretaker, anyway. 
Your phone pings with a text message from Seokmin, and you pick it up.
(19:47) Seokmin: I had a great time today. Thanks for coming with me :) 
Despite the fact that you only have a towel wrapped around your body, and the fact that your hair is dripping wet, you feel a tingling warmth creep up your chest. 
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NINE
Monday is a horrible day.
You woke up half an hour later than usual, which led to you rushing through your morning routine. Your clothes aren’t ironed, which is fine usually, but the shirt you pick doesn’t tuck in quite right and you don’t have the time to change it. You almost tripped over the curb in your rush to get to work and nearly spilled a cup of coffee—which is far too sweet for your liking, due to the dollop of sugar you added by accident—all over yourself. Your manager, Choi Seungcheol, doesn’t approve of the project portfolio you compiled, and the deadline is fast approaching, which means more late nights for you.
And to top it all off, your car engine won’t fucking start.
You’re really not in the mood for Seokmin and his exuberant enthusiasm, which is something he probably catches onto, considering the fact that he stands silently next to you, waiting for you to finish cursing the piece of metal you call a car. Once you’re done resisting the urge to burn down the automobile, Seokmin places a placating hand on your shoulder.
“Hey, it’s okay,” he soothes, training a concerned gaze over your figure. “I can drop you back home.”
“No, it’s fine,” you mutter sullenly. “I’ll just call a cab or something.”
“Y/N, please. It’s no trouble.” He pauses, and you glance at him, at the sympathetic crease of his forehead and the genuinity reflected in his eyes. It’s touching, and Seokmin flashes you a small smile. “I was gonna head over that way anyway—I wanted to get some stuff from that bakery we went to.”
“I—” You hesitate, and he takes the chance to slide in.
“You call the mechanic. I’ll wait for you in my car, okay?”
He scurries away, leaving you biting your lip and staring at your phone. You should probably call Mingyu; he can help. Knowing him, he would probably want to help, regardless of who was asking him. Instead, you search up the nearest mechanic shop and dial in their number, giving them the details of where you are. They arrive a couple of minutes later, and you watch as they hook your car onto their big tow truck and drive away.
Seokmin waves you over to his car, a sleek Hyundai that's probably a few years old but still looks brand new. He opens the door to the passenger seat with a smile before grabbing the stack of folders you had kept clutched to your chest. You let him take them. You’re far too tired to argue.
Briefly, your mind wanders to Mingyu—what he would do if you had told him. Probably run all the way here, your brain supplies, prompting a wry smile to form on your lips. You press them together when you think of Mingyu with that girl immediately afterwards.
The drive to your house is silent, only the rumble of Seokmin’s car and the soft noise of some interview playing on the radio filling the silence. He pulls to a stop near your apartment, bundles up your work folders in his arms and gestures for you to lead the way to your flat. 
The door swings open before you get the chance to pull out your key. Mingyu stands opposite you, dishevelled—just woken up from a nap, it seems. His mouth parts when he sees Seokmin standing behind you.
“Who’s this?” he asks by way of greeting.
You shift uncomfortably, wanting to say something, but the words stick to your throat like you’ve swallowed chewing gum. Seokmin reaches out from next to you, and you don’t need to see him to know he’s positively beaming.
“Hi, I’m Seokmin,” he says. “I work with Y/N.”
Mingyu shakes his hand, eyes roaming quizzically between you and Seokmin. “Nice to meet you,” he says distractedly. “I’m Mingyu, Y/N’s… roommate. And ex—”
“Come on in, Seokmin.” You glare at Mingyu. He only raises an eyebrow in retaliation. Seokmin coughs slightly, blows out a puff of air, and follows you inside.
“You can just…” You wave your hand around vaguely. Gritting your teeth does nothing to bring you out of your haze. It only exacerbates it.
“Did something happen?” Mingyu moves aside, but you feel his eyes on the back of your neck.
“Y/N’s car broke down,” Seokmin supplies. “It’s at the mechanic’s right now, so I offered to drop her back home.”
“I see.” His next statement is directed at you. “You could’ve called me. I would have come.”
It’s only then that you turn around and face him. He doesn’t move, gaze locked unwaveringly on your hunched-over figure. It’s almost like he’s challenging you to say something.
“I know that,” is all you say, voice low.
Mingyu nods. “Good.”
You avert your attention to Seokmin. He appears lost, gaping at both of you as though he can’t quite catch onto what’s going on. “Let’s go to my room, Seokmin. You can leave my stuff there.”
“Okay.” Seokmin nods, giving Mingyu a hesitant smile. “It was nice meeting you, Mingyu.”
“You too.”
It’s a tiny exchange, but it’s enough to cause a fissure inside your heart. Seokmin is always so nice. He gives out niceness like he’s handing out free candy to toddlers. The only time you’ve ever seen him get remotely angry was when another co-worker of yours forgot a pen drive containing a crucial presentation to an important client—even then, all he did was level a glare at her before calmly asking for a backup drive to be brought.
Mingyu, on the other hand, is like a burning ember. Calm one minute, and angry the next—and it’s the reason you love him, but it’s also the reason you broke things off. You and Mingyu are far too similar, hot-headed and careless to a fault, like two candle flames competing to see who can burn their wick the fastest. You didn’t burn the wick. You ended up burning each other instead. Let it not be said that playing with fire isn’t one of your specialties.
Seokmin lets out a breath that sounds like a huff and a sigh simultaneously as soon as he enters your room. “You can leave the stuff here,” you say, pointing at your desk.
He obliges, carefully placing the stack on the table. “That’s your roommate, huh? Y’know, when you said that you were living with someone you didn’t like, I didn’t think you meant your ex-boyfriend.”
You look away, biting the inside of your cheek. “It’s… difficult. I needed a place to live and he was the only person who offered on short notice. It just happened.”
Seokmin nods understandingly, lips pursed in thought. “He seems like a nice guy.”
“He is,” you agree. “One of the nicest people I know.”
“Yeah?” Your co-worker lifts one corner of his lips in an amused half-smile. “What does that make me?”
The answer is on the tip of your tongue. You know Seokmin is expecting it. Hell, you’re expecting the words to just come out. The nicest guy of them all. That’s all you have to say.
“You’re… Lee Seokmin.” 
The words are flat on your tongue. Seokmin’s expression falls—just the tiniest bit, a crack in the foundation—but you feel a terrible weight in your stomach, pulling you down, down, down until your head sinks below the surface of the metaphorical waves and the water erases your existence. 
Seokmin is a nice guy—you know that, and you’ve reiterated it so many times. The only thing stopping you from being in a proper relationship with him is your ex-boyfriend, only separated from you by a wooden door and cement walls. Mingyu doesn’t like you anymore, not in the way he used to, and it’s clearly time for you to stop dwelling on what you had.
You swallow, looking at Seokmin directly. “And…” You take a step closer to him. “I consider myself lucky to have met you.”
Seokmin looks at you, his gaze unsteady, but he takes one of your hands in his. “Yeah?” His throat bobs when he speaks, and that’s how you know he’s nervous.
“Yeah,” you confirm, letting his fingers slip in between yours. 
He shuffles closer to you, and you can smell his woody cologne intermingled with sweat. You can count the moles on his face, see your reflection in his pupils. 
“Y/N, I really want to kiss—”
There’s a knock on your door, and you and Seokmin jump away from each other like a pair of schoolchildren getting caught doing something you’re not supposed to. Seokmin looks down at his feet; you clear your throat before letting out a hoarse, “Yes?”
“You left your phone outside,” Mingyu calls. “The mechanic just called.”
“Oh, um. I’ll be right there.” You turn back to Seokmin, cheeks burning with embarrassment. Of all possible times for Mingyu to be a cockblocker, why now? “S-sorry about that.”
“No, it’s—you’re fine,” he stammers out, clearly as out of it as you are. “I should probably leave too, I still need to stop by the bakery.”
“Oh, yeah!” you say. “I forgot. Do you want me to come with you?”
“It’s alright,” he says. “It’s getting dark outside and you need to get some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow, ‘kay?”
“Okay,” you murmur. “Thank you for today, Seokmin. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”
“Cursed your car to oblivion, probably,” he teases.
You flush, heat creeping up the back of your neck and ears. “That—you didn’t have to see that.”
“I thought it was cute,” he returns easily, corners of his lips twitching. 
Against your will, your lips twitch upwards too. “Okay, okay, I get it.”
Seokmin opens your door, and you follow him out of your room. He gives Mingyu a grin, says, “See you around,” and lets you close the door behind him. 
Mingyu crosses his arms over his chest. You glance at him. His eyebrows are knotted together, lips pressed into a stoic line. You bite the inside of your cheek, suddenly feeling awkward.
“Hey,” he begins, voice soft, “is that… your boyfriend?”
You raise your eyebrows. “Does it matter?”
He huffs, shifting from one foot to the other. “Yes—no. No, it doesn’t matter. I was just curious, okay?”
You open your mouth, then close it, at a loss for words. Are you and Seokmin together? Not really. Both of you haven’t done or said anything to define your relationship—if there is one in the romantic sense, at least. Seokmin wanted to kiss you, but Mingyu interrupted before anything could even happen—it’s your irritation at the day being shitty, and Mingyu being an asshole after everything he did that makes you roll your eyes at him and snap at him. “It’s none of your business.”
Mingyu’s face turns stony, a hardness to his features that you’ve only seen a few times before—it was directed at you the last time, too. “Okay. Fine. Sorry I asked.”
“Are you?” you retort, and before he can say anything to retaliate, you storm back into your room and lock the door.
Your heart feels like it’s been split into two, one half yearning for the comfort and familiarity that comes with still liking Mingyu, and the other excited to explore what Seokmin could offer you—and what he already has offered. But for now, you decide to get some sleep. Your heart can wait.
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TEN 
Jihyo is back.
Jihyo is fucking back, and she’s standing in your—Mingyu’s—living room, arms wide open and a grin on her lips so wide, her eyes crinkle in the corners. It takes all of your willpower not to launch yourself into her arms. Instead, you slow down, toe your shoes off, let your bag drop to the floor, and then launch yourself into her arms.
She laughs at your overzealous demeanour, and you giggle into her hair. God, you’d missed her. Texting every day and video calling every weekend can only do so much, and it’s nothing compared to seeing her in person.
“Hi,” she says, pulling back enough to escape your cage-like hold around her body.
“Hi,” you greet back, smiling so wide and so hard, you can feel your ears pop. “You’re back.”
“I’m back.” She confirms your statement by nodding. “Only for a week, though.”
“Ah.”
Your best friend lets out a sheepish chuckle, and you take a step back. Her suitcase is on the floor next to her, and she’s kept her backpack on the sofa. “Are you gonna stay here?” you ask.
She winces. “No, there isn’t much space here. I booked a room at a hotel nearby. It’s, like, ten minutes by walk from here and it’s not very expensive either,” she assures.
“Okay,” you say, a little deflated. If Jihyo stayed with you, at least the awkwardness between you and Mingyu might be reduced by a small fraction. Her overbearing nature and ability to make conversation with literally anyone would be a lifesaver, given the situation you’ve dug yourself into.
A situation that she knows nothing about.
You haven’t had the time to keep Jihyo updated about the latest turn of events—not when she was busy juggling a relationship with her sort-of boyfriend, Jeong Jaehyun. She doesn’t know about Seokmin, and she doesn’t know about your lingering feelings for Mingyu.
“Hey, you’re back already.”
Speak of the devil. 
You turn around and find Mingyu leaning against the doorway, hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans. You feel your breath hitch. He continues, “I guess Jihyo already beat me to it, huh?”
“You knew she was coming?” you ask him, almost accusatory. 
“You didn’t tell her?” Jihyo echos, a curious tinge to her tone.
He lifts his shoulder in a half-shrug, lips twitching with the beginnings of a smile. “Wanted to surprise you, that’s all.”
Against your will, you find yourself grinning at him. Mingyu dissolves in the slightest—a small hint of surprise—before he grins back at you, teeth flashing and eyes crinkling. Jihyo lets out a small huff from next to you, but you know nothing can put a damper on your mood right now. Not even your resurfaced feelings for Mingyu, nor your newfound ones for Seokmin.
Your best friend squeezes your arm. “I have some time before I need to check in at the hotel. Do you wanna check out our old place?”
You turn to her and nod. The prospect of going back to the place where you created cherished memories with someone so dear to you is enticing; then you remember your car is still at the mechanic’s. “My car is out of commission.”
Jihyo only turns and stares at Mingyu. He sighs resignedly, pushing himself off the doorway and heading inside his room. “Let me grab my keys.”
“Might as well stop for ice cream along the way,” Jihyo calls out gleefully to his retreating back. 
You gulp. This… might not be a good idea. If Mingyu tags along with you, this would be the first time since last week where you’re speaking to him normally, making conversation that isn’t just along the lines of “Did you do the laundry?” or “I bought some vegetables”. Of course, if you told Jihyo what happened, she would immediately make sure Mingyu doesn’t come. You chew on your bottom lip, but before you can come to a decision, Mingyu emerges from his bedroom, car keys dangling off his fingers.
“Ready?” he asks.
Jihyo grabs onto your arm, excitement so visible on her face that it prompts the tension in your own features to melt away. You let yourself get carried away by her giddiness, not noticing the fond glances the only male in the group keeps giving you whenever he’s sure you’re not looking. If you’d met his eyes once throughout the drive to your old place, you’d see the way his eyes still twinkle at you with the same intensity as they did months ago, but you’re too busy catching up with Jihyo to notice.
Mingyu pulls to a stop in front of your old apartment building—a dilapidated structure that’s not half as modern as the current building you stay in. At least the elevator is still functioning; you purse your lips to contain your laugh when Mingyu looks at it, eyebrows raised in visible astonishment. Jihyo grips your hand tightly when you reach your floor. You tighten your hold on her hand as well, feeling a sudden burst of emotion erupt inside your chest like lava escaping from a volcano.
You and Jihyo round the corner to the apartment that used to be yours, Mingyu following closely. The door is the same dull brown it was back then as well, but someone has put in the effort to redo the varnish. There’s a potted fern next to it as well. 
You let out a shuddering breath. Jihyo wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you close; you aren’t sure if it’s just the wind rattling through the open window, but you hear something like a sniffle.
This is the place you lived in when you had your first boyfriend, when you had your first heartbreak, when you cried your lungs out at some stupid TV show that you were invested in at the time but can’t possibly remember the name of now. This is the place where you and Jihyo bonded over crappy supermarket deals and made a mess of the kitchen whenever you tried to learn how to cook something new.
This is the place where you first met Kim Mingyu.
You tilt your head at him, watch as he stares resolutely ahead of him, like if glares at it strongly enough, he can bore two holes straight through the wood. Eventually, his eyes land on yours.
His lips part but no words come out. He offers you a small smile instead, one so tender and heart-warming and achingly familiar. You blink, and the moment is gone. You’re left with the same sense of wistfulness and longing that you always feel around him. 
Jihyo squeezes your shoulder, eyes shining. “Should we ring the bell?” she asks, and then presses the doorbell before you can respond.
A muffled “Coming!” from inside, and the latch is pulled open to reveal a college student—a few years younger than you, perhaps, with sleep bags underneath his eyes and a cup of coffee clutched to his chest. He looks confused—as anyone would be, you suppose, when you see a random bunch of strangers standing on your doorstep—but his expression clears when Jihyo explains who you are and why you’re here.
He says he’s living here with his boyfriend and their pet cat—a beautiful Siberian who coils itself around his legs, tail upturned—and you feel your heart swell with the knowledge that your old haven is being taken care of well. Jihyo consistently badgers him with questions and he answers each one patiently, to his credit. 
A flicker of uncertainty crosses your mind, however. Does Mingyu not remember this? He was looking for apartments in this building, too, when you met him. Doesn’t he remember the old landlady conversing with you? Doesn’t he remember the way people constantly asked if you two were together, which is what even prompted him to ask for your number in the first place? 
You’re shaken out of your thoughts when you feel a slight pressure on your shoulder. Mingyu’s hand is on your shoulder. Your gaze flits over to him. 
“Sorry,” he mumbles, ducking his head. “There was a mosquito.”
He’s lying. 
He remembers. 
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ELEVEN
“Spill.”
“The… tea?” you ask cautiously, looking at Jihyo. She’s holding a steaming mug of tea in her hand.
“You think you’re so funny.” She rolls her eyes.
“I know I am,” you quip, and she rolls her eyes again, taking a sip of the beverage.
“You’ve been distracted since yesterday,” she states matter-of-factly. “Since we went to our old place.” Her voice quietens, “Is it Mingyu? Did he do something?”
You eye her warily, sitting down on the plush armchair opposite her. “No,” you say.
“Then what is it? Did—did you not want me here?”
“No.” You’re quick to alleviate her concerns. “Of fucking course I wanted you here. I missed you. So much.”
Your best friend smiles at that, swirling the tea in the mug. “But something’s bothering you.”
“...Yes.” You admit it slowly, playing with your fingers splayed out on your lap. “It’s not important. You’re here only for a few days, we should do something fun.”
“Y/N,” Jihyo says slowly, enunciating every syllable of your name like she’s speaking to a troublesome child, “if you’re worried about me feeling bad or anything, please don’t. I want to help you.”
You wave her away. “You have your own shit to deal with.”
“What, you mean Jaehyun?” She snorts. “I’m over him. I was over him ages ago.”
“Are you sure?”
“What do you mean?”
“Nothing. Just.” You look down at your feet. “You really liked him, didn’t you?”
Jihyo cocks her head to the side, studying you carefully. “Yes. I did. What about it?”
Your shoulder slump, dejectedness seeping into your figure. “How… did you do it?” You glance up at her, note the way she observes you carefully. Your voice is almost pleading when you continue, “How did you get over him?”
Your best friend’s expression clears, comprehension dawning on her face. She places her mug down, leaning forward and clasping your hand with hers. “It’s Mingyu, isn’t it?”
You shake your head miserably. “Not just him.”
“There’s someone else?” She doesn’t sound surprised, only intrigued and concerned.
You take a deep breath, lock gazes with her—and everything comes spilling out of your mouth like the tide receding into the ocean. You tell her everything, about Mingyu and Seokmin and how conflicted they make you feel; how one is like the living personification of sunlight on a gloomy day, and the other reminds you of clouds providing shade on a hot afternoon. You tell her about how guilty you feel, as though you’re leading Seokmin to believe that you’re ready for a committed relationship when a part of your heart still belongs to Mingyu. You speak until the words end up garbled and slurred, and your breathing turns heavy and salt water streaks across your cheeks, your best friend rubbing them away with the pad of her thumb.
When you don’t know what to say, Jihyo pulls you into a hug—it’s an awkward position, your elbows locked around her arms while your neck is bent at an odd angle, but it’s comforting, and you let your eyes close tiredly. 
“Y/N,” she says, rubbing her thumb on your shoulder soothingly. “I know it’s hard for you to decide, but you have to know: What do you want?”
The question makes you contemplate. What do you want? 
“I don’t know,” is all you can get out, slumping further into her arms.
She hums softly. “But you’ll figure it out. I know you will.”
Will you? You’re not so sure. Maybe when the time is right. But for now, you rest your chin on your best friend’s shoulder and let her rub circles onto your skin.
You pull back when the position becomes too uncomfortable—you can already feel a crick in your neck—and Jihyo wraps her fingers around her discarded mug. She raises it in a half-hearted toast. “To sexy girls who don’t need men in their lives.”
You giggle, rubbing your eyes. “Men are pieces of shit, anyway.”
“Damn right they are,” she croons, falling dramatically back onto the couch. “We should just get married instead.”
“If you propose to me the right way, maybe I’ll consider it.”
Jihyo grins at you, and it’s infectious enough to make you grin back at her. “Consider it done,” she says. “I have a ring in my nightstand drawer with your name written on it.”
“If it’s not pure diamond, I won’t accept.”
“Tsk. So greedy.”
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TWELVE
Introducing Seokmin to Jihyo was not a part of your agenda for the week.
But it’s Seokmin and it’s Jihyo, so really, what else did you expect? Both of them integrated themselves seamlessly into your life, and they have no plans of leaving anytime soon. Might as well get the introductions over with.
Ironically, it happens when you go to collect your car from the mechanic’s, and once they’ve exchanged names and small talk, Jihyo and Seokmin are inseparable. The former regals him with tales of your college shenanigans, while the latter listens enthusiastically, eyes flitting between you both amusedly.
“Okay, that’s enough,” you hurriedly interrupt the conversation, right before Jihyo can go into the messy details of how you wanted to marry the toilet when you were drunk once and Mingyu had to physically carry you out of the house because you were convinced the white ceramic was proposing to you.
“You and Mingyu were together for a long time, huh?” Seokmin asks you quietly, once Jihyo is finished with her sulking at you interrupting her story. She’s at the side, conversing with someone on the phone, leaving you and your co-worker alone in front of your car.
You’re so startled by the question, you nearly drop your keys. “I—why do you ask?” 
Seokmin licks his lips, a seriousness to his figure that you haven’t witnessed many times before. “Just… curious, I suppose.”
You look down once, see how he’s twisted his fingers together—even the Lee Seokmin gets nervous, after all—and look back up at him. “Yes,” you admit softly, voice hitching slightly, “we were. We… were in love, I guess you could say.”
He’s silent for a minute, tongue darting out to lick his lips again. “And now?”
“I don’t know, Seokmin,” you answer him honestly. Your heart flutters inside your chest, while your stomach twists into tight knots—two reactions you didn’t think would go hand-in-hand, yet here you are, leaving your heart bare for Seokmin to take while gatekeeping a part of it to yourself.
He raises his head, warm eyes capturing yours. You see the smallest flicker of hope and sadness, two thin wisps of emotion dancing in his eyes—but even then, his lips are turned upwards, because it’s Lee Seokmin. 
“But you could try?” he asks, so softly you can barely catch the words.
You push down the emotions that threaten to swallow you whole, swirling around your entire body like the blood that flows through your veins. “I don’t know,” you say again, no less honest than the first time.
He opens his mouth, but Jihyo walks back to you both, mouth downturned. “My company said they need me back as soon as possible.” She says it calmly, but disappointment and bitterness seep into her voice.
For a moment, you freeze, and then ask, “When do you need to leave?”
“Tomorrow,” she answers with an apologetic shrug of her shoulders. “They’ve already booked the flight.”
“Okay.” You nod. “I’ll drop you to the airport.”
“I’ll come with,” Seokmin chimes in, and adds, in true Seokmin fashion, “Make sure Y/N doesn’t drive us all into a ditch or something.”
You shove his shoulder, muttering an “asshole” under your breath, and his smile only widens. Jihyo glances in between you both, lower lip caught between her teeth, before she sucks in a breath and smiles. “Good to know my best friend is in good hands.”
“The best hands, actually,” Seokmin teasingly corrects. 
You roll your eyes at the two of them. “Can we go home now, or not?”
“Home it is,” Jihyo agrees, “but first, I demand Taco Bell.”
“Fine,” you concede, letting her grab the keys from your outstretched palm. 
Seokmin grabs your hand once she clambers into your fixed car. His palm is broad, skin warm, and his fingers wrap around yours with ease. He squeezes your hand once, gently, and it feels like a promise and a farewell at the same time.
Seokmin asks you out again three days after Jihyo leaves. 
This time, he takes you out to an Italian restaurant. He’s dressed up in a suit and a bowtie—and actual blue velvet bowtie that sits snugly at the hollow of his neck—and he’s the perfect gentleman, pulling your chair out for you and pouring champagne into your glass like a professional. (When you compliment him on his drink-pouring skills, he just mutters bashfully about how his dad taught him that to please a lady, you need to be good at pouring drinks; it does nothing to ease the quickening pace of your heart.)
Lee Seokmin compliments your dress, says that that specific shade of pink looks beautiful on you. He recommends you try out their vegetable lasagne, says it’s one of the dishes the restaurant is famous for. He laughs about his favourite show, tells you he would love to rewatch it with you someday. He asks if you like gardens because his neighbour is trying to convince him to grow a rosebush outside his house, but he can’t look after plants even if his life depended on it. He wants to go out for ice cream afterwards, but the night is too chilly for the cold dessert so you opt against it.
Throughout, you play someone who’s on her first date, who thinks this is all there is and everything she’s been dreaming of has come true.
You would like to think you’re a good actor.
Kim Mingyu has seen you in nothing but sweatpants and old t-shirts and he used to whisper praises against your skin, flushed with sweat and sweet words. He ate the shitty lasagne you made without complaining, no matter how bad it tasted. He watched whatever was playing on television with you, just because he enjoyed your company and wanted to be wherever you were. He’s not particularly good with plants, but he has a little succulent named Spurt, making sure it gets enough sunlight and water. He likes mint chocolate ice cream, and would defend the flavour with his life.
Kim Mingyu and Lee Seokmin: Two sides of the same coin.
Jihyo’s question resonates in your mind as you and Seokmin walk back to your car.
What do you want?
As you near your vehicle, Seokmin puts a gentle hand on your arm. “Y/N,” is all he says, and you hate the way your chest clenches at that—just because he said your name.
“Did you have fun today?” he continues, eyes roaming over your features like he’s committing you to memory. Like a soldier leaving his wife before he heads out to the frontlines.
“I did, Seokmin. I really did.” You place your hand over his, tracing the veins on the back of his hand, pressing lightly on his knuckles; you need him to know that you truly enjoyed today—desperate for him to know, because it’s the least you can do for him after everything he’s done for you.
“Good,” he says. “I—I had fun today with you, too. I always have fun when I’m with you, Y/N.”
He bends down. You can feel his breath fan out on the shell of your ear and it makes you shiver. He turns his head, and his lips brush against your cheek. A small, soft farewell. 
“I’m sorry I couldn’t—” you begin, feeling your voice begin to wobble.
“Don’t be sorry,” Seokmin whispers, but he sounds firm. “We’re still friends.”
Your heart plummets deep, deep down, a free fall that isn’t orchestrated by gravity. You think you know the answer to Jihyo’s question now.
“Thank you,” you whisper back to Seokmin.
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THIRTEEN
The light is on when you enter the apartment. Mingyu’s figure lies hunched on the sofa, head in his hands, a half-empty beer can next to him. You quickly shuck off your heels and drop your purse onto the shoe rack.
Your ex-boyfriend looks at you when pad over to the living room. “You’re back.” He sounds hoarse, tired. 
“Have you been drinking?” you say in return, raising an eyebrow. 
Mingyu glances at the can in his hand then back at you. “Yeah. Long day.”
“Me too,” you admit quietly.
Perhaps it’s the quiet ambience of your shared home—silent, despite the noise of the city outside—that compels him; or maybe it’s the idea of coming home to someone you think you know better than the back of your own hand. Either way, when Mingyu pats the cushion beside him, your feet move automatically and you sit down, letting out a weary sigh.
It’s quiet, but not in the awkward sense. Not like back then, when Mingyu thought you and Seokmin were dating. Not even when you visited your old apartment. Exhaustion makes its home in your bones, and you suspect it’s taken over Mingyu too; there’s no way this shared piece of night can be so comfortable otherwise.
“Want some?” he asks after a few minutes.
“No thanks.”
Mingyu shrugs and puts the can down on the coffee table. “Wanna talk about it?” He leans back against the sofa, arms crossed behind his head.
“No,” you answer, and then, “Do you?”
“No.” He clears his throat, glancing sideways at you. “Were you with… Seokmin?”
“...Yes.”
You don’t have to look at Mingyu to know he’s clenching his jaw. It’s a pure rush of adrenaline that makes you ask, “Why does it bother you so much whenever I’m with him?”
Silence.
You turn your head, cheek brushing against the back of the sofa. Mingyu’s eyes are closed, hair falling in loose strands around his forehead and neck. You wonder what he’s thinking.
His answer excites you—in the rawest form possible. Anticipation builds up in your chest, threatens to explode through your windpipe. You don’t know what he’s thinking, but when he opens his eyes and meets your gaze, there is nothing you can do to stop your heart from rabbiting inside your rib cage.
“It doesn’t,” he says finally, an air of decisiveness about him.
For the second time that night, your heart plummets, and you tear your eyes off him. “Okay,” you say. “That is, um, good information to have.”
“Isn’t he your boyfriend?” 
“How does it matter to you?”
Mingyu crosses and uncrosses his ankles, this time staring resolutely at the floor. “I don’t know. It just does.”
You purse your lips. He isn’t being fair to you. “What about you?” you demand. “What about that girl you almost brought back home, huh?”
His mouth twitches. “You saw that.” It’s not a question, it’s a statement.
“I’m not blind, Mingyu,” you retort.
Your roommate lets out a sardonic chuckle at that, slowly dragging his eyes up. “I highly doubt that.”
“What do you mean?” You scowl at him, feeling your chest begin to heave. “You—you’re like some kind of a riddle, Mingyu. I can never tell what you mean by anything, and it’s even worse now that you’re drunk and—”
“I’m not drunk, Y/N,” he interrupts. 
“I don’t care if you’re drunk or not—” you don’t realise your voice is caving in, growing softer and softer by the second— “stop saying things you don’t mean.”
“I want to kiss you,” he says finally. “I want to kiss you and I may be slightly drunk, but I don’t fucking care. And I mean it.”
You swallow, blood pounding through your veins. “Say that again.”
“What?” he says, sounding genuinely confused. His gaze never leaves your face, every ounce of earnestness and honesty written plainly on his features.
“Say it again,” you repeat.
“I want—”
You surge forward, capturing his lips with yours, pressing them firmly against his even when he lets out a muffled gasp. He doesn’t kiss back immediately, but his hands find their way to your waist, gripping tightly and crumpling the flimsy material of your dress. He kisses you back then, mouth jutting insistently into yours, tongue sliding against your lower lip. You arch your back, scramble to find some balance in this precarious position, and your hands end up tangled in his hair. He tastes like beer and aftershave and something that’s so distinctly Mingyu, you want more.
You pull away when air becomes a necessity, blinking even as Mingyu’s arms pull you closer to him.
“This isn’t over,” you manage to get out in between huffed breaths.
“Tomorrow,” he promises, but his eyes are glazed. He looks at you like a man starved, and tilts his head and kisses you again, kisses you like he might never see you again. 
You let him. It’s Kim Mingyu, after all, and you’ve always been a little weak for him.
You don’t think of Seokmin; don’t let him come out of the tiny pocket you’ve preserved in your heart just for him. Instead, you wrap your arms around your ex-boyfriend’s neck, leaning into his chest and kissing him back with equal fervour, letting him know that you need him as much as he needs you.
God, you’d missed him. Way more than you thought. You’ve memorised his touch, branded it into your mind, but it still feels new. Like the first time you were with him, kissing like two teenagers with reckless abandon. 
His cold fingers find their way underneath your waist, hitching up the loose material of your dress around your thighs. You kneel on the couch cushions in front of him, almost straddling his lap but not quite. His fingers brush against your sides in a way that sends shivers down your spine.
He nips at your lip, asking for entrance to your mouth to which you accept, parting your lips enough for him to get a taste. As he moves his tongue around yours, exploring your mouth in every way possible, you can’t contain the slight whimper that escapes your throat. 
Mingyu groans, leaning his weight onto you as you both start moving together until you’re laid flat against the couch. He’s impatient, you can tell; his fingers dig into your skin, and he groans again when you bite down gently on his lower lip. He pulls back and moves downwards, kissing your jaw and behind your ear, suckling gently on a sensitive bit of skin with expertise. “Tell me to stop,” he says, whispering the words against your skin.
All you do is moan in response, rubbing your thighs together to get some friction with the way he’s moving his mouth against your skin. 
“Tell me to stop,” he says again, more firmly this time.
“Shut the fuck up, Gyu,” is all you reply with, the nickname falling out of your lips with familiarity. 
Maybe it’s the use of something that used to be your thing—something the two of you shared, the shortened version of his name—but hearing it come out of your lips again does things to Mingyu that he isn’t sure he’d ever be able to put into words for you. Trailing his movements down to your neck, he stops at your chest, a small smile spreading on his face. “Forgot how much I loved it when you called me that.”
Looking down at him, you hadn’t realised he’s moved further down your body and his fingers trace the edges of your underwear. Your dress is bunched up above your thighs, skin exposed to the cool air. “Gonna make you feel so good,” he mumbles, pressing a tiny kiss to the inside of your thighs. He toys with the elastic of the waistband, chuckling when you shoot him an irritated glare.
He stares down at your clothed core, mouth watering while his hands move faster than you can comprehend. It takes him two seconds to hook his slender fingers underneath the waistband of your panties before he pulls them down to your ankles and tosses them onto the coffee table. 
You feel a wave of shyness overcome you—with the way he’s looking at you, desperate for your taste—and you try to close your legs, before his hands land on your thighs, halting your actions. “So pretty,” he murmurs. “I want to see all of you.”
Heat burns your cheeks and flows through your body. You turn your head to avoid his burning gaze as you feel him part your legs. He readjusts himself, laying as flat and comfortably as he can with what little space he has on the couch until he’s face-to-face with where you need him most. He tests the waters, leaning in with his tongue out, letting it graze your clit. You stifle a moan, biting your lip so hard, you think it might bleed.
He smiles, loving how you’re holding back. “So quiet, baby. Wanna remember how I used to make you feel.” Laying his tongue flat against your clit, he gives you slow and soft strokes—so gentle that it drives you insane. 
“You’re such—such a tease,” you gasp out, right when he swirls his tongue around the nub.
Mingyu only raises an eyebrow at that. “You haven’t changed.” But all the same, any plans he had to be patient with you go straight out the window; he wraps his arms around your thighs to pull you down further to his face. The sudden pull surprises you, and you gasp a little while searching for something to grab onto. He indulges in your pussy, tongue exploring your pulsating hole that clenches around everything and nothing all at once. He relishes in the way you feel on his tongue, groaning against your folds while bringing a hand up and rubbing his thumb on your neglected clit. 
You’re a mess under his touch, squirming on the sofa, loud groans and soft mewls escaping your lips wantonly. Your fingers find their way into his soft locks, pulling gently on his hair and scratching against his scalp. He lets out a moan against your pussy, lapping at your juices as if you’re his last source of water. “F-fuck, Gyu, ‘m gonna—” a gasp— “‘m gonna cum.”
This only encourages him to work his mouth harder, wanting to watch you fall apart just by his mouth alone. You tug harder at his hair, moans growing louder and more desperate by the second, and your thighs shudder around his head, feeling the rush of your high come so close, you aren’t prepared for it.
With two final sucks to your clit, you come undone on his tongue followed by a string of moans with broken pieces of his name somewhere in between. Mingyu looks up at you with bright eyes and a satisfied grin, as if he didn’t just eat out your pussy like he would never get the chance to again. The mixture of saliva and your juices dripping down his chin makes your eyes widen even as you squint down at him. 
With careful, deliberate motions, he moves away from you, the grin on his face replaced by a more serious expression. You sit up, leaning on your elbows. The aftermath of your passionate actions catches up to you; reaching over, you snatch your panties from the coffee table and swing your legs over. Throughout, Mingyu doesn’t say anything. He only watches, in that quiet, observant way of his, swiping at his mouth and chin with a tissue he grabbed from the tissue box next to the couch.
You glance at him. Is he going to say something? Or is he going to let you walk away again, with all the words you want to say to him lying on the tip of your tongue, always there but never released?
“Y/N.” He scrambles to his feet when you stand up, clutching your underwear in one hand and adjusting your dress with the other. He sounds… uncertain. Completely unlike the Mingyu who cockily asked you if Seokmin was your boyfriend, or who joked around with Jihyo like it was second nature to him.
You bite your lip. “Yes?”
“Do you… do you want anything? Water?” 
You melt a little at his words like an ice cream left out for too long. Kim Mingyu, always so kind, always so caring—you know that better than anyone. 
He can be cruel too, in the way he chips away at your already broken heart. He doesn’t know it but he does—lift your hopes only to let it all crumble down. Like how he broke the promises you made to each other, and how you broke the words you’d sworn to say to him alone.
It hits you again, how you and Mingyu were meant to be, and how lonely it was when he left. You wonder if he feels the same way—did he spend sleepless nights in bed, thinking of you? Did he ever think that if he could travel back in time, he’d do it all over again?
You shake your head no at him. He doesn’t say anything after that, but his lips part slightly. He watches you as you walk over to grab your purse and head inside your room.
That night, you don’t sleep at all—despite wrapping yourself up in your Looney Tunes comforter and the comforting weight of your pillow beneath your head that usually puts you to sleep instantly. 
Instead, it feels like the very first night you and Mingyu broke up all over again.
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SIXTEEN
You don’t tell anyone about what transpired between you and Mingyu. It remains hidden between you both, a secret neither of you are willing to bring up.
Jihyo is back to work at her new city, now completely devoid of boy problems of any sort, since Jeong Jaehyun has shifted his affections to another co-worker. (“It’s better this way,” she tells you, “he didn’t want a committed relationship, anyway.” You can tell she’s truly not bothered by it, so you grin and agree.)
Seokmin doesn’t come around to your cubicle the way he used to earlier, either. Your days at the office are dreary and boring, now that your co-worker’s sunshine smile isn’t there to keep you company. In fact, the only person who still talks to you voluntarily at work is your boss, Seunghcheol, but even then it’s mostly just a sympathetic smile he offers you followed by a new deadline or a project.
You and Mingyu are back to whatever it was you had when you first moved in, before the lasagne fiasco. Not talking to each other, but not not talking to each other either. You swerve around each other in tandem, finding more and more excuses to avoid whatever happened in between you both. He lied when he said he would talk to you about it the next day, after he ate you out on the couch.
You can’t blame him completely; you’ve made no effort to reach out to him, either.
Weariness seeps into your skin with every passing second. You rub at your already half-closed eyes and hide a yawn behind a closed fist. The letters on your laptop screen swim in front of you. The stack of folders next to it drags a tired sigh out of your lips.
You’re so tired. Not just physically, but emotionally you’re drained out, all the liveliness sucked out of you like someone vacuumed up the inside of your heart. The lack of sleep is getting to you; the lack of someone to brighten up your days is getting to you more.
If you and Seokmin were still on a talking basis, he would have sauntered over to your desk by now, hands in his pockets and the same question on his lips: “Coffee break?”
He’s not here now, probably tucked into his corner of the floor. Maybe his smile is directed at someone else. Maybe he’s taking someone else on the daily ritual that you used to consider yours. Maybe it’s time you get out of your fucking swivel chair and get some coffee.
You’re not doing it alone, of course. No, coffee at the office—no matter how shitty the machine is and how long the line for the coveted caffeine is—is yours and Seokmin’s thing. Besides, he said you’re still friends; it’s time for you to step up.
Stifling another yawn, you blink slowly before pushing yourself off your chair. It occurs to you that you don’t know exactly where Seokmin’s cubicle is—he’d mentioned it was by Seungcheol’s room once. You decide to start there.
It doesn’t take you long to find Seokmin. You walk into him—literally walk into him. A startled gasp leaves your lips when you collide into someone’s chest, an apology already on the tip of your tongue.
“Are you okay?”
You blink once. The voice is familiar. You direct your gaze at the person you bumped into. 
“Seokmin,” you breathe out weakly.
He smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “The one and only.”
“I-I’m sorry I bumped into you,” you quickly apologise. “I was on my—”
“It’s okay, don’t apologise,” he interrupts. “I should’ve looked at where I was going too.”
“How… have you been?” The question spills out before you notice, and you realise that you’re genuinely concerned about his wellbeing. You’ve missed him, missed his companionship. 
Seokmin looks briefly surprised that you’ve asked him. He clears his throat, once. “Oh, um. I’ve been fine—y’know, the usual. Work, home, sleep and then repeat. How—how about you?”
“I’ve been better,” you admit. “You look tired, though.”
He lifts his hand and rubs his cheek with an accompanying embarrassed chuckle. “You could tell?”
He has bags underneath his eyes. His shoulders sag ever-so slightly. His usually perfectly styled hair isn’t as neat as it used to be. You nod. “You look exhausted.”
“Ah.” Another embarrassed chuckle; you can tell he doesn’t know how to respond to that.
“Coffee break?” you offer, a small, lopsided smile gracing your lips.
This time, the smile Lee Seokmin gives you lights up his eyes.
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SEVENTEEN
“This is ridiculous!” you call out for the nth time, glaring at the door with as much intensity as you can muster.
“Jihyo’s orders!” Seokmin calls back, from outside the room. “I have proof that she asked me to lock you two up in order for you to talk it out.”
Mingyu huffs out a breathless laugh from behind you. He’s sitting cross-legged on the bed, sheets crumpled and pillow on his lap. You turn around to level your glare at him.
“Give it up,” he advises.
“Don’t even.” You pinch the bride of your nose, closing your eyes in exasperation. “This is all your fault.”
“My fault? No one told you to tell Seokmin everything!”
“Well, how was I supposed to know he would go and tell Jihyo?” you splutter out, opening your eyes and bringing your hand down. “I didn’t even know they’d exchanged numbers!”
“Might as well get it over with,” Seokmin’s voice travels through the barricade once more. “The sooner the better.”
“I didn’t ask you, Seokmin,” you mutter.
“He’s right, you know.” Mingyu pats the space next to him, inviting you to sit down. “If Jihyo hadn’t forced him to do it, I would have found some way to do it myself.”
“No, you wouldn’t,” you retort. “You’ve been avoiding me since the day we—since the day we kissed.”
“I would have tried,” he reasons. “But since you’re here now, can you at least please listen to what I have to say?”
“Oh, so now you have things you want to say,” you grumble, crossing your arms over your chest. Regardless, you sit down next to him. You’re curious, you will admit. This conversation could potentially break your heart, or it could also change the trajectory of your relationship with Mingyu.
Your ex-boyfriend takes a deep breath before beginning.
“The other day, when I said I wanted to kiss you—I wasn’t lying, Y/N. I truly meant it. I’ve wanted to kiss you the minute I laid eyes on you again. I wanted to hold your hand, to take you places around the neighbourhood, to come back home to you.
“I thought we were making progress. I thought we were friends again, and I could somehow win your heart back.” A wry smile crosses his lips. “But then Seokmin came by, and you both just seemed so close. He—he brought back this life in you; your eyes sparkled whenever he was around, and you were always smiling when you were with him. I never saw that after we… after you moved in. You were always so jittery with me—understandably so—and I… I let my jealousy of seeing you with Seokmin get the better of me.
“That day, when I—” he pauses, glancing at you; his eyes are imploring, and you sense that he’s laying himself bare for you— “when you saw me kissing that girl, I did it on purpose. To make you jealous. And then I saw the look on your face, and even when I was drunk, I knew I’d fucked up. So I left her, and I followed you back inside—you closed the door just as I caught up with you. I called up Minghao, spent the night at his place. I think that’s when I realised completely that I—that I still love you.”
Your breath catches in your throat at his words. Your heart is hammering inside your chest. You can’t believe you’re actually hearing these words.
Mingyu swallows. “That’s what I wanted to tell you. Even after we broke up, even after all the things we said to each other—some part of me knew that I shouldn’t give up on you. I have loved you throughout. I will continue to love you throughout.”
He looks down, staring at his hands. In that instant, he looks so small. Vulnerable. As if giving his entire heart to you on a silver platter isn’t enough. As if he’s giving all of himself to you, mind, body and soul.
You need to tell him that your mind, body and soul have always been his.
“Mingyu,” you begin, watching as his eyes travel over to yours uncertainly, “you absolute fucking idiot.”
His lips twitch up briefly. “Wha—”
“I love you, too, idiot.” The words rush out breathlessly. “I never stopped.”
Mingyu’s eyes widen and his mouth opens imperceptibly. You continue, “I knew this would happen. The minute I stepped foot into your house, I knew I would fall for you all over again.”
You reach out and grip his hand, needing something to tether you against him. “And I did.” A watery laugh escapes your mouth. “I fell in love with you all over again.”
A pause, and then Mingyu’s free hand cups your cheek, skin warm against yours. “You’re joking.”
“I’m not.”
Mingyu smiles at your confession—a full smile, with his eyes crinkling in the corners and his lips turning upwards. He leans forward. “I’m going to kiss you now.”
You beat him to it, covering the distance between you both with one swift swoop. You capture his lower lip in between yours, hands resting on his shoulders to steady yourself. He kisses you back with equal fervour, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you impossibly closer. You close your eyes and slide your tongue across the seam of his lips, smiling when he lets out a silent groan. 
He only pulls away once he needs air, but even then he doesn’t let you go. He pulls you forward, making you straddle his lap as he kisses your cheeks, your nose, the column of your throat. You relish in his touches, tangling your hands in his hair and tugging gently at the silky strands.
“We should probably stop,” you whisper, when a particularly sharp nip at your neck elicits a soft moan from you. “Seokmin’s standing outside.”
“Fuck him,” Mingyu says. He presses another kiss on your jaw, looking up at you like you’ve hung up all the stars in the universe.
You roll your eyes affectionately at him. “C’mon. I don’t want to scar him for life.”
“Who cares?”
“I care,” you say, slowly getting off his lap. Already you can feel the absence of his warmth. 
“Fine,” he agrees, once you stand up fully and brush yourself off. “I love you.”
Warmth shoots up your chest and onto your cheeks and neck. Your heart swells, and you find yourself grinning involuntarily. “I love you, too.”
“Good.” Mingyu stands up and pecks your cheek. “Now let’s go save Seokmin from his misery.”
(Later, if you find Seokmin with bright pink ears as he pointedly avoids yours and Mingyu’s gaze, that’s no one’s business but his.)
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EIGHTEEN
Mingyu sucks on a sweet spot right underneath your ear and you can practically hear his smirk when you let out a whine. You fist your hand in the sheets, feeling the soft material crinkle underneath your fingertips. 
“Such a tease,” you whisper out.
He lowers his head, nips at your neck and then runs his tongue over the spot, soothing it. “So you’ve mentioned.”
Your retort dies on your lips when he moves lower and lower, pressing open-mouthed kisses on your collarbones and shoulders. You whine again when his fingers find your nipple, pinching the bud lightly in between his thumb and forefingers. He moves lower, breath ghosting over your abdomen and belly button, until he finally comes face to face with your clothed pussy.
He hooks his finger into the waistband of your panties, nails scraping against your skin. You squirm under his touch, lifting your hips to help him pull the flimsy garment down your legs and toss it to the side. Mingyu sucks in a breath sharply when he sees your exposed cunt—despite already having seen it before, and you feel a rush of pride at the fact that you still have this effect on him. “So pretty,” he murmurs, eyeing your folds hungrily. 
Mingyu works on your clit expertly, thumb rubbing against the nub, eliciting a loud moan from you. He licks a stripe up your folds, grinning when your hand automatically finds itself in his hair again. When he finds you’re wet enough, he slides a finger in. You inhale sharply, hole clenching around the digit. He circles his thumb around your clit once more, before sliding another finger in.
You gasp at that, tightening the hand in his hair. Mingyu leans forward, swiping at your clit with his tongue one more time and pulling both his fingers out at the same time. He relishes in the sounds coming out of your mouth, feeling proud that you’re not trying to hide anything from him. You’re completely under his mercy, as is he when it comes to you.
He slides both the fingers back in, hissing when your walls contract against them, pumping the digits in and out a few more times. The way you moan—because of him—makes him finger your hole faster, enjoying the way your moans increase in pitch. When he sees your eyes beginning to cloud over, Mingyu quickly withdraws his fingers. You whimper at the loss of his touch and he chuckles. “Patience, baby. Don’t want you to cum just yet.”
Your head falls back on the pillow and you mutter a string of incoherent words under your breath. “Look at me,” Mingyu tuts.
You lift up your neck curiously. Mingyu waits for your eyes to land on his lips before he slowly, deliberately puts his two fingers into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the digits and licking your juices off. He doesn’t fail to notice the way you bite your lip at the sight.
Once he pulls his fingers out, Mingyu bends down and presses an open-mouthed kiss to the inside of your thigh. “Are you even gonna fuck me, Gyu?” you grit out, and his eyes widen.
“Call me that again,” he orders. 
“Fuck me, Gyu.” Your voice is borderline a whimper, and, well—who is Mingyu to prevent you from getting what you desire? After all, he’s always been a little weak when it comes to you.
He gets on his knees, holding his throbbing cock in his hand. He pumps it a few times, groaning softly, before positioning himself at your entrance. “You’re on the pill?”
“Yes.” You nod almost desperately, waiting for him to slide it all the way in.
Mingyu enters you slowly—the pace is almost unbearable—but he shudders when he feels your walls against his dick. You grab onto his shoulders, nails digging into the flesh. A loud moan escapes your lips when he jerks his hips forward, his cock pressing into your cervix. Your eyes screw shut, and Mingyu grunts, pulling out and thrusting back inside with more force. Almost unconsciously, you wrap your legs around his hips, granting him more access to your hole and allowing him to push himself deeper inside you.
He leans down and captures a nipple in his mouth, rolling his tongue around the pebbled bud. You gasp out moans wantonly, and it spurs him to thrust faster and faster inside you. He watches you fall apart on him, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips when your moans become interspersed with chants of his name. 
Your grip on his shoulders tighten and the muscles flex under your hold. Your cries reach a crescendo with one particularly sharp thrust; Mingyu can tell your climax is approaching.
He speeds up, pumping into you with as much strength as he can muster. Your nails leave white-hot trails along his back, his shoulders—you try to hold onto him as best as you can. You cry for more, beg him to keep going. A bit redundant, in his opinion—he has no plans of stopping until you’ve orgasmed. 
Mingyu thrusts into you one last time, throwing you over the edge. Your walls clench around his cock tightly, black stars floating in your vision as you cry out his name. He pumps into you weakly, letting you ride out your orgasm while chasing his own high. He buries his face in your neck, breathing heavily, and when your walls tighten around him, he comes inside you, his movements coming to a pause. 
You stroke his sweaty bangs away from his forehead, both of you catching your breaths. He remains sheathed in you, even as he pulls you onto your side so both your chests are touching. 
“Feel good?” he asks, one hand carding through your hair gently.
You let out a tired, but satisfied hum, smiling softly at Mingyu. 
You spend the night curled up in his arms. He sleeps soundly next to you, eyelashes brushing against his cheeks and hands wrapped protectively around your figure. The steady thrum of his heartbeat sounds against your ear, and you smile, even in your sleep.
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NINETEEN
“You have your thinking face on.” Your boyfriend saunters into the kitchen, a knowing smile on his lips. You roll your eyes at him. 
“You can’t tell me you don’t see it too,” you say pointedly, waving your wooden spatula at him.
Mingyu chuckles, moving over and wrapping his arms around your waist from behind. He presses a sweet kiss to your shoulder. “What, that Seokmin and Jihyo are meant to be? That smells amazing, by the way, love.”
“Yes,” you huff out, stirring the soup inside the pot boiling on the stove. “And thank you.”
From the living room, you can hear your two friends laughing over something you couldn’t possibly begin to comprehend. Jihyo still lives in another city, but she comes over to visit whenever she can. You and Seokmin remain friends, and he often comes over whenever you, Mingyu and Jihyo decide to hang out—though, you suspect his enthusiasm to join you three has more to do with one particular person rather than the entire group.
“If you say so,” Mingyu agrees. “I think they’re just friends.”
“Friends don’t look at each other that way,” you say matter-of-factly.
“Really? I seem to recall him looking at you the exact same way not too long ago.”
“That’s different, Gyu. Here, can you taste some? I don’t want it to be too salty.” Grabbing a large spoon, you dip it in the pot and offer it to Mingyu.
He obliges, letting you shove the spoonful into his mouth—and yelps almost immediately. “Ouch! You didn’t tell me it was hot.”
You only raise an eyebrow at him, but a small hint of amusement dances in your eyes. “How does it taste?”
Mingyu rolls his eyes at you but rests his chin on your shoulder; his hair tickles your ear. “It tastes amazing as always, love.”
“You’re sure? You’re not just saying that to make me feel better, are you?”
“I’m offended you think I would lie to you.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” you deadpan, and it makes Mingyu giggle.
“I’m serious, it tastes good.” He smiles at you, peeling himself away from you. “Let’s go join the other two.”
“Coming.” You put the stove on simmer and grab Mingyu’s extended hand. His fingers slot in between yours easily. Your lips curl upwards on their own accord, and your heart feels so full, it’s close to bursting.
You’re there, in a room with all your favourite people, and it’s perfect.
The very first night you and Mingyu broke up is pushed to the back of your mind, never to slip out of the corner you’ve tucked it into. The nights after made up for it, and you wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. You rebuild the promises you made and make new ones along the way.
You’d write it in the sky if you could, but you and Mingyu don’t need that. 
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monamipencil · 3 months ago
Text
── (𝗦)𝗖𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗠 ! ft. mingyu
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⛧ synopsis; you like to scare your fuckbuddy as much as you like to hide your feelings from him. — first fic of lola's spooktober
⛧ pairings; fuckbuddy! mingyu x fem! reader ⛧ genre; smut, fluff, humor, fwbs to lovers ⛧ w.c; 3.7k+ ⛧ warnings; mentions of blood (not involved in smut and not too gory), mentions of food, brat taming, spanking, unprotected sex, MINGYU IN A CROP TOP, oral (m. & f. receiving), (s)creaming (duh), rough sex, creampie, reader can be picked up, jealousy, they're both emotionally constipated, i'm sorry to all emilys lmao, reader is TERRIFIED of feelings (that's the horror) ⛧ a/n; oh my god, one fic is finished. 12 more to go 💀 hope you guys like this lmao
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ring, ring. ring, ring.
mingyu casts a glance towards the telephone, still continuing to chop up the vegetables.
“fuck!” mingyu yelps, quickly retrieving his left hand from the cutting board. a drop of blood trickles down his hand from the fresh cut. he mutters another curse and runs some water on his hand.
ring, ring.
with a roll of his eyes, he turns off the tap and moves to pick up the call. “hello?” he mutters, observing his wound.
he frowns into the receiver when the line stays silent. he sucks on the cut, more preoccupied with it than whoever the caller was. he waits a couple of seconds before hanging up.
a pair of hands push his back, causing him to turn around. he screams, finding a figure clad in a black robe and a mask with a knife. he crouches and covers himself, trembling with fear. as if that'd prevent him from getting murdered.
you grow soft, immediately regretting your decision to prank him. you take off the mask, and discard it along with the knife. you stretch your hand to touch him, to let him know that it's just you.
and now, you're pinned to the countertop, hands tied behind. the cold tile digs into your back and you watch as mingyu's face contorts from anger to confusion to relief and finally disappointment.
laughter pours from your lips, filling the walls of his apartment. the gentle hum of the heater mixes with the light pitter-patter of the raindrops on the window panes. yellow leaves sway through the wind, fluttering through the sky.
summer fades into autumn, settling for a melancholic disposition instead of the cheery spirit. your relationship with mingyu also changes along with the seasons.
though you agreed for a no-strings-attached relationship, it was impossible to control your feelings. falling in love with mingyu was inevitable and maybe it was obvious too. but who would give up any chance to fuck the kim mingyu?
“god, you suck!”
he pouts, and frees your arms from his grip. his annoyed expression only prompts you to laugh more. he rolls his eyes but there's a smile on his lips. you place your hands on his waist—oh.
your fingers graze the bare skin of his abdomen, and you ogle him with a smirk. he adorns a white crop top with a pair of blue sweatpants. your eyes snap to his but he averts them. a shy smile graces his lips, a telltale sign that he's blushing.
you lean and whisper into his ears, “and you love it.”
he scoffs and you push him away but not before you pinch his waist. a yelp erupts from his throat and you jog away from him before he could return the favor.
the mask and the knife catch your eyes, prompting you to put them away somewhere else. and obviously, you make a show of bending over, knowing that he's watching. it doesn't take much to rile mingyu. a pair of low-hanging gray sweats and a short crop top is enough.
“you really wore that?” you see him take out his first aid box and he flashes you a glance before sorting through the box. “in this weather?”
“shit, what happened?” you ask, approaching him with worry as he peels a band aid. you click your tongue, observing the wound on his right forefinger. you help him stick the band aid, and scold him for his carelessness.
“don't dodge the question.”
“i'm not dodging shit,”
“you are.”
“talk to the hand!” you show him your hand and walk away, placing the mask and the fake knife in a safer place. you hear a scoff from his side and wiggle your butt in response.
“where'd you even get that?” his breath hits your neck and you freeze at the proximity. when the fuck did he even follow you?
“wh-what?” you muffle a gasp when he presses his boner against your ass. blood rushes to your cunt, and it throbs with need. soon, he's pressing his entire body weight on yours. he rests his head on your shoulders and his hands wander to the graze the skin of your stomach. goosebumps erupt all over your skin.
“i asked, where did you get that?” his tone sends a shiver down your spine, right to your core. “did you already go dumb?” he sneaks his hand past your sweats, toying with the waistband of your panties.
“bet you're wet too.” a low chuckle emits from him when you squeeze your thighs, affirming him.
“from the-the store next to our usual video store.” you whisper, voice barely audible. he hums, pulling away from you. your back feels cold, and you want to pull him back and glue yourself to him.
he turns you around in his embrace and grabs the mask. he slips it on, and tilts his head at you. you watch him do so, paralyzed in your place. next, he takes hold of the fake knife. a gasp leaves your lips when he snaps into two and discards it with a nonchalant shrug.
he takes off the mask, and tosses it somewhere. you see a sliver of what is lurking behind his brown irises. and it makes you throb all the harder. your arousal drips down, sticking to your panties. heat licks your skin when he eyes you, as if you're a piece of meat, waiting to be devoured.
he snaps the waistband of your sweats and you flinch. “brat.” he hisses through his teeth, right into your ear. he nibbles on your earlobe, and sniffs you like a hound dog.
he pulls away from you, setting his dark eyes on your wide ones. your panties stick to your core like second skin. the cool tile of the counter is soothing against your sweltering skin. mingyu's scent invites you in, making your head dizzy.
he steps back again and you rush to fill the gap between you and him. a condescending chuckle resonates from his chest as he grabs hold of your hips, his nails digging into your soft skin. he leans down, sniffing your neck once again. this time, he traces your skin with his teeth.
the sensation makes goosebumps erupt all over your skin. then, he sinks his teeth in. sharp canines dig into your jugular, right into your vein. he doesn't release you, continuing to mark you his. and when the blood flows back to your heart, it will be poisoned with his essence and your heart will beat to the rhythm of his name.
once he's satisfied, he licks the mark. a proud smirk tugs at his lip as he observes his work. he meets your eyes, worried by your silence. but your glazed eyes and parted lips reassure him.
for the first time tonight, his lips meets yours. they're soft, warm and the taste of his chapstick greets your tongue when you lick his lips. he lets you in. your tongue glides over his in a warm, wet kiss.
hooking your arm around his neck, you pull him in closer. your right leg rides up, resting on his hips. his hand hooks beneath your other leg and he swiftly lifts you. you gasp into his mouth and he takes advantage of it, deepening the kiss.
mingyu is invasive. in the best way possible.
he loves exploring the crooks and nooks of your body. his curious hands and wide eyes flusters you always. his tongue traces the ridges of your teeth and the veins underneath your tongue. he plops you on the couch and moves to get rid of his crop top.
sweat glistens on his exposed abdomen. you're tempted to run your tongue on his abs, rake your nails on them and leave the prettiest marks on him. soon, the cloth falls on the ground, leaving mingyu in his half naked glory.
as much as you wish to kiss his abs and pecs, you know he wouldn't allow it. and you don't even want to consider the possibility of a punishment. though, it lights your skin aflame with excitement, you want to get this over with and get him inside you already.
he cards his hand through his hair and licks his lips, gazing down at you with his deep, dark eyes. your pussy throbs when you notice the huge bulge in his pants. you almost let out an embarrassing moan but you bite your lips, containing yourself.
mingyu is quick, tugging both your pants and underwear down in one go. but he does something you did not expect.
“but-but i didn't do anything!” you squeal as he bends you over his lap. his thick thighs are spread on the couch and you’re over his lap with your ass up. mingyu's large hand kneads your ass, preparing you for your ‘punishment.’
“mingyu, i didn't do shit. leav—”
a loud smack echoes through the walls of his apartment followed by a quick cry. you snatch a pillow from the couch and bite it to quieten your moans and cries.
“you don't want me to show skin in public but you can slut yourself out to everyone? huh?”
another spank. this time to your other cheek. you release the pillow frantically to give him an answer. but he shuts you down, “did i give permission to talk?”
you muffle your cries with the pillow again as he continues to spank you. you hate that you get so wet when he spanks you. and you also hate that he knows how much it turns you on. mingyu spreads your ass, fingers brushing your core to tease you.
you shiver as he ghosts his thumb over your core, whimpering like a bitch in heat. “oh fuck,” his deep timbre voice reaches you along with the wet noises of his fingers burying inside your pussy.
he pulls out, observing his slick-coated fingers. “god, you're so fucking wet.”
you moan into the pillow and turn your head to see him licking his fingers clean. you mistake his momentary distraction as the end of your punishment. you wiggle under his grip, trying to free yourself when he delivers another slap to your ass.
“don't remember telling that you can move.” he hisses, self-restraint dissolving as the time passes. he takes deep breaths, trying to control himself. trying not to split you open right then and there.
it's a lost cause though. all it takes is one look at your sopping cunt for him to break. he swiftly moves, settling you on the couch before he kneels on the floor. mingyu doesn't say anything, diving right away into your cunt.
he holds your legs apart, devouring you like a starved man. the sounds of his tongue meeting your cunt fills your ears, bringing you the utmost pleasure. he doesn't care to be neat and tidy. your arousal drips down his chin as he coats your pussy with his saliva.
his nose brushes against your clit, pleasuring you. he sucks and slurps at your hole, like a dog thirsting for water. he gives your cunt a few long licks before he occupies himself with your clit. his soft lips wrap around your clit, sucking it with fervor.
it overwhelms you and drives you to the edge. your legs tremble under his hold. though you know what's gonna happen, you stay wishful and moan. “'m gonna cum!”
mingyu can turn anything into a punishment. you regret saying the words when he stops and pulls away. he looks divine, you think. with your arousal coating his lips and chin, hair messed up and falling in front of his eyes. and of course, his eyes that hold an ancient hunger and lust.
you watch as he leans down and presses a hot, open-mouthed kiss to your inner thigh. soon after, his teeth sinks in. a breathy moan leaves you. the pressure of his teeth on your skin heightens your pleasure. he pulls away when he's satisfied and licks the mark.
“mm, i wanna cum, gyu.” your voice trembles as he ascends upon you. his brown eyes seem to have changed a shade darker and they swirl with an emotion that you can't pinpoint. but it's enough to send shivers down your spine.
“bad girls don't get to cum, remember?” terror settles in your bones, listening to his deep octave voice.
“but-but, mingyu—” before you finish your sentence, he throws you over his shoulders, landing a slap to your ass in the process. you yelp but let him have his way.
he moves to his bedroom, turning on the lights with one hand before he tosses you on the bed. he removes your top and does the same with his pants and boxers. he roughly manhandles you and it makes your cunt all wet and soppy again. he flips you on your fours and mounts on top of you. 
his warm chest presses against your back. you feel his heart beat on your back and yours beat in sync with his, a melody of aching and yearning. you've grown to love this position with mingyu. it's intimate but still gives you privacy to hide your feelings. it stops you from gutting yourself and giving him your beating heart.
you think if you were ever to rip your heart out and give it to him, it'd still beat. as long as he holds it, it will beat.
his cock grazes your inner thigh and you arch your back, making it easier for him. his tip grazes your clit as he positions himself. you grow needier as the seconds pass, wanting nothing but for him to fill you and spli— “shit, condom.”
“just—just fuck me!”
he doesn't listen, moving to grab a condom from his night table. he knows you like it raw, and that he's the only person to have fucked you raw too. exactly why he's wearing a condom—to punish you.
he tears the packet open with his teeth and pulls the condom out. mingyu pulls you to the edge of the bed, silently asking you to slip the condom on him. you oblige but with a pout and sad eyes.
you spit on his cock and rub it all over his length. pumping his cock a few times, you kiss the tip. the taste of his precum on your lips makes you forget what you were supposed to. instead, you wrap your lips around his tip, and suck him off.
“fuck,” he groans, losing himself in the warmth of your mouth. but he snaps out of it quickly, and pulls your lips off him. “did i ask you to do that?”
your pretty eyes staring up at him, makes it harder for him to hold his composure. your eyes are glossy and yearning swirls within your irises. your lips are swollen, coated with his precum and your spit.
a small smile decorates his lips when you pout and roll the condom on him. there's it again, the weird feeling in his chest. he presses his lips into a thin line, hiding his smile when your eyes dart to his face.
mingyu doesn't waste time and flips you over. you're bent over the edge of the bed, the soft duvet is cold against your burning skin. he uses one of his hands to pin your arms behind your back. the other guides his cock into your cunt.
it isn't a tough task to enter you, considering how wet your cunt is. he easily slides in, your gummy walls giving him a warm hug. you mewl and squirm as his length stretches you out. he takes a deep breath, trying to contain himself.
his other hand holds your hips, holding you down when he starts thrusting. he fucks you like an animal, hips meeting yours in a brutal pace. his balls hit your clit with every thrust, sending shivers of pleasure through your body.
he lets go of your hands to grip you better. he stops for a moment, angling himself better. then he snaps his hips. your hands fly to grip the duvet as a string of curses fall from your lips. the new angle lets him graze your sweet spot and it renders your body trembling with pleasure.
your mind blanks, any rational thought leaves you as mingyu abuses your hole. his tip kisses your insides with a fervor you've grown familiar with. your arousal drips down your trembling thighs and you grip the sheet tighter.
broken moans rumble from your throat. and they only get louder with each of his thrusts. the neighbors would surely knock on the door, complaining about the noise but you can't find it in yourself to care. especially when they think that you're his girlfriend, it sets you aflame. the prospect of being considered ‘his’ seems both horrifying and relieving.
something in you snaps and you push him off you. you turn to face a confused mingyu and push him on the bed. you take off his condom and discard it before mounting his figure. he falls back when you push him lightly.
you straddle his hips, holding yourself up slightly to take him inside you. you guide his cock inside you. it spills with precum and twitches in your hold. he moans, feeling your warm walls envelop his cock without the rubber. you move slowly at first, then pick up your pace.
pretty moans spill from your lips. his cock is buried deep inside you as you ride him. you grind your hip on his, chasing some friction on your little nub. adrenaline pumps through your blood, and a lust haze takes over your mind.
you start bouncing on his cock, riding him with all the strength you've got. his hands grips your hip, nail-shaped imprints forming on it under pressure. you love and treasure all forms of marks he leaves on you. the hickeys, the handprints, the nail marks. even the ones he leaves on your soul, your heart and mind.
“oh, mingyu.” you whisper, mouth wide open as you suck in sharp breaths. you grind down on him, spreading the sticky mess of your slick over him. he groans in response, sitting up to help you move.
he makes you ride him, using his strength to maneuver your hips. his lips attach to one of your nipples, tongue flicking on the bud in a calculated move. then he sucks fervently, heightening your pleasure. you move your hips with more enthusiasm at that.
you don't think that there's any part of you that mingyu hasn't touched and set it aflame. heat licks your skin with his every movement. and you only wish for this to never end. you pull him closer and closer, till it isn't physically possible.
he switches to your other bud, soft lips wrapping around the sensitive nub. he wets the hardened nipple, swirling his tongue around it and biting it ever-so-lightly to provide you just the right amount of pleasure.
mingyu knows you. inside out. he knows where, how and when to touch you. he knows what breakfast you like, your comfort movies, your favorite season, the reason why you don't like emily from down the street (technically, making him dislike her too).
but it seems he's oblivious to your feelings. or maybe you've done a really good job at hiding them. because the other day, mingyu asked who was your favorite person, and you blurted out ‘you.’ to your relief (and dismay), he laughed it off. you were glad hearts couldn't speak, because if they did, yours would scream his name with every beat.
you slow down your movements, overwhelmed by the sudden surge of your feelings. you tap on his shoulders, letting him take control. he lays you down on the bed, hands on either side of your head as he positions himself.
to your surprise, he moves slowly. the stroke of his hip knocks the breath out of your lungs. the thrust is so soft, it brings tears to your eyes. he continues the same damned pace while holding eye contact with you.
you want to scream at him, push him away, and run out of his apartment. what a horror is it to be looked at tenderly? to be held gently, as if you were porcelain?
warmth pools in your stomach and your breathing turns rapid. so does mingyu's. he twitches inside you, and you clench around him. it makes him gasp for breath, and you give him yours by pulling him in for a kiss. if he looks at you any longer, you might just cease to exist.
it seems that today is a horrifying day to you. even his lips are gentle on you. they lack the usual fervor, the animalistic nature. like his kisses were a warning that he might devour you open. but mingyu never expected you to lay yourself in front of him, asking him to rip you open with your arms held out.
the bed creaks gently, affirming you that this is real. yes, this is happening. no, you aren't dreaming of it.
another twitch, a clench and two moans in unison. mingyu cums inside you, painting your walls with white fluids. he continues to thrust, and the coil in your stomach grows tighter and tighter. it snaps, and you climax with an intensity that leaves you trembling in his embrace. 
he collapses next to you on the bed and turns to lie on his back. his chest heaves, trying to suck in all the oxygen available. you do the same while staring at the ceiling along with him.
the clock ticks, and the pitter-patter of rain continues. the gentle hum of the heater is audible again. everything is back to normal and you'll pretend as if you didn't almost spill your heart to mingyu and carry on with life. a routine you've grown used to.
a sigh leaves your chest and you sit up, moving to get dressed. but mingyu pulls you back, entangling his limbs with yours. he rests his head on your chest and breathes in your scent. he looks peaceful in your arms.
but you aren't. the alarms in your mind are blaring and red lights flashing. a breach in the system, a break in the routine. you bring a hesitant hand to his head and caress his hair. your hand trembles and you card your fingers through his hair once. twice, thrice. till your heartbeat goes back to normal and your hand isn't trembling anymore.
unbeknownst to you, mingyu was panicking on his own. he doesn't know what the fuck he's doing or feeling. in a drunk-daze, he cuddled you. only realising his mistake when he felt you freeze under him. but you play with his hair and draw shapes on his skin. he smiles and snuggles into you, while his heart palpitates.
after a few minutes of silence, he hears you say, “i'm hungry.”
then mingyu realises that he was cooking before you jump scared him and he ‘punished’ you in return. he turns sulky immediately and moves off you.
“well, i was cooking before you scared me and jumped my bones.” he climbs off the bed, giving you the perfect view of his ass. you move quickly and slap his ass before jogging to the door. “i jumped your bones? i'm sorry you were the one who was jealous of me showing my slutty waist.”
“jealous?” he scoffs under his breath. he retrieves his pants and boxers quickly and wears them. the sound of your giggles and footsteps make him smile and he chases after you.
he sees your naked figure analyze his crop top in the living room. you slip it on and turn towards him with a smirk. “you're still naked in it.” he tells in a matter-of-fact voice.
“it covers my tits,”
“i can see your ass.” he deadpans and you bend over, wiggling your butt at him. he rolls his eyes and moves to the kitchen. you follow him with a smile on your face and mirth in your eyes.
the ghost face mask catches your attention and you take it. an idea suddenly pops in your mind. your body grows hot again and your heat throbs. turning around, you find mingyu standing right behind you. he turns you again and bends you over the counter.
you think he's going to fuck you again but instead feel a damp cloth on your cunt. you hiss and he apologizes, pressing the cloth softly to clean you up. one of his hands caresses your ass, and he leans down to kiss the swollen muscle.
what the fuck?
mingyu discards the cloth and turns the stove on, returning back to cooking as if nothing happened. as if nothing changed.
you feel it in the air. there isn't just lust between you anymore along with the acts of friendship. there's something else, something more tender and lighter. it's in the forefront of your brain but you don't want to acknowledge it now.
so you dart your eyes all over his apartment, trying to find any changes in the layout you have memorized in your head. you look at the kitchen cabins.
nice cabins, you think, observing them more closely. then you see it. the cabins are coloured in a familiar shade of brown. the shade of brown you'd recognize anywhere. because shades of brown remind you of him always, like wisps of love.
love. you take a deep breath and fidget with the top. you look down at it, trying to distract yourself. but of course, life will play out the way it wants to. you see the imprinted number ‘10’ staring back at you.
“mingyu?” he hums in response.
and you can't help the smile that adorns your face. “did you buy this because i told you it was my favorite look on johhny depp?”
you’re pleading in your head for him to tell “yes” or maybe, “yes, i'm jealous of everyone you fancy. i'm jealous of everyone who has touched you before this. i want to erase all of them from your mind. i want you to remember only me. yes, yes, yes! i love you..”
he looks back at you, a streak of vulnerability in his face. he doesn't tell you anything, not a single word or a syllable. he lowers the flame and turns around to face you fully.
a few moments of silence pass. then he speaks up.
“have i ever .. told you?” his brown eyes look at you pleadingly and you do the same. you understand his silence, his breaths, his heartbeat. as if you know a language only you both speak.
“that you're my favorite person?”
you move and stretch your arms towards him. he does the same. you kiss him, he kisses you. you share your breath with him and he shares his warmth with you.
the gentle hum of the heater mixes with the light pitter-patter of the raindrops on the window panes. yellow leaves sway through the wind, fluttering through the sky. only now you realise that they're singing the melody of a love song to which the leaves dance with mirth. 
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⛧spooktober taglist !
@verogonewild @blancflms @chromequette @junniepookiedookie @kyeomiis
@jeonghnie @scoupsieee @xuminghaes @vernsbb @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken
@monstacheol @hoshiskimchi @miyx-amour @woozidanisms @choco-scoups
@cookiearmy @shadowyjellyfishfest @wonwoossecret @strxwberry-skiess @iamawkwardandshy
@merakilles @vitaminkyeom @okiedokrie
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2K notes · View notes
necessiteez · 8 months ago
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HONGJOONG SMUT FIC RECS LIBRARY
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disclaimer: I do not own any of these works and they do not represent the real kim hongjoong. all rights belong to the respective writers who made them.
everything listed will be only hongjoong x reader (fem/male/gn) pairing and it will contain suggestive/smut themes. if it includes another member, I will also indicate it. fics will be categorized into aus so it will be easy to find.
I won't be including mtls, bullet lists, and other members' fics. if you are looking for recs with different members I'm sure other atinys have posted their own lists. These are all personal favorites and I'll only be including tropes/aus that I'm comfortable with (there won't be a/b/o, master kink, hybrid aus etc. sorry).
lastly, please let the writers know if you love their works so we can enjoy more of their content. have fun reading!
1. First Floor
˚̣̣̣ ꒷︶†︶꒷˚̣̣̣︶ ͡𑁬 you are here ໒ ͡ ︶˚̣̣̣꒷︶†︶꒷ ˚̣̣̣˚̣̣̣ ꒷︶†︶꒷˚̣̣̣︶ ͡𑁬♱໒ ͡ ︶˚̣̣̣꒷︶†︶꒷ ˚̣̣̣
1.5 Secret Room
˚̣̣̣ ꒷︶†︶꒷˚̣̣̣︶ ͡𑁬♱໒ ͡ ︶˚̣̣̣꒷︶†︶꒷ ˚̣̣̣˚̣̣̣ ꒷︶†︶꒷˚̣̣̣︶ ͡𑁬♱໒ ͡ ︶˚̣̣̣꒷︶†︶꒷ ˚̣̣̣
2. Second Floor
˚̣̣̣ ꒷︶†︶꒷˚̣̣̣︶ ͡𑁬♱໒ ͡ ︶˚̣̣̣꒷︶†︶꒷ ˚̣̣̣˚̣̣̣ ꒷︶†︶꒷˚̣̣̣︶ ͡𑁬♱໒ ͡ ︶˚̣̣̣꒷︶†︶꒷ ˚̣̣̣
2.5 Banned Books
˚̣̣̣ ꒷︶†︶꒷˚̣̣̣︶ ͡𑁬 ???????? ໒ ͡ ︶˚̣̣̣꒷︶†︶꒷ ˚̣̣̣˚̣̣̣ ꒷︶†︶꒷˚̣̣̣︶ ͡𑁬♱໒ ͡ ︶˚̣̣̣꒷︶†︶꒷ ˚̣̣̣
3. Third Floor
⚠︎UNDER CONSTRUCTION⚠︎
✶ - favorites
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╔══ first♕floor ══╗
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「 ✦ Vampire!Hongjoong ✦ 」
✶ Honey and Blood - @nateezfics (wc 8.6k)
In the Night feat. Seonghwa - @ja3hwa (wc 2.53k)
✶ People, Running poly, multi-chapter- themoonlightfae on ao3 (wc 50k+)
Sweet Trouble feat. Wooyoung - Atiny_DazzlingLight on ao3 (wc 6.2k)
vampire! hongjoong - @xuchiya
✶ Delicious feat. Seonghwa - @jagibangbangchan (wc 5k)
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「 ✦ Friends with Benefits!Hongjoong ✦ 」
✶ I Wouldn’t Have It Any Other Way - @severetimetravelnerd (wc 9k+)
Leave Me With Nothing - @min-gis (wc 5.7k)
✶ Mine feat. Seonghwa - @smileysuh (wc 3.4k)
Naked Truth - @essenteez (wc 6.1k)
Late Night Rendezvous PART 1 - @sanjoongie (wc 1k)
Nightclub Affair PART 2 - sanjoongie (wc 3k)
Voicemail - TgemstoneT on ao3 (wc 3.4k)
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「 ✦ Sugar Daddy!Hongjoong ✦ 」
✶ Wetting Your Lips - @k-hotchoisan
Avaritia - @hwaightme (wc 8.3k)
Baby Said feat. Seonghwa - @destiny-fics
Taken - @hwanchaesong (wc 8k)
Never Too Much - @iwannasuckyourmonstercock
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「 ✦ Incubus/Demon!Hongjoong ✦ 」
✶ Say My Name - twinmoles on ao3 (wc 7.6k)
Incubus! Hongjoong - sanjoongie (wc 2k)
The King chapter from a series- @destiny-fics
The Library of Illusions - Restricted Section finale of a series - @kwanisms (wc 9.6k)
✶ Jealousy, Jealousy - destiny-fics
The King's Games series - @hanatiny
Their Pretty Pet feat. San, Seonghwa- @written-in-flowers (wc 7k)
The King of Rot chapter from a series - pearlypearlypearl on ao3 (wc 8k)
Demon Line feat. San, Seonghwa - HalaHollow on ao3 (wc 4.7k)
Day 1 - @ocean-ai (wc 2.8k)
✶ Wings and Thorns - @kitten4sannie (wc 3.4k)
Hotel California part 7 poly,multi-chapter - mint-yooxgi (wc 9.9k)
✶ Paradise Gardens part 15 (Hotel California 2nd volume) - mint-yooxgi (wc 23k)
Inferno - pyeonghongrie (wc 1.6k)
Fallen Angel feat. Yeosang- darkmulti
Devil Eyes part 1 - @hwashotcheeto (wc 2.3k)
Devil Eyes part 2 - hwashotcheeto (wc 1.8k)
All Hands on Me - k-hotchoisan
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「 ✦ Hongjoong at the Studio ✦ 」
includes: Producer! Hongjoong, Idol! Hongjoong
✶ Sharing is Caring feat. Mingi - @byuntrash101 (wc 5.2k)
0:126am At His Studio - @sanflowerseeds
✶ Audio Angel - @marigold-doms
Make You Feel Better - @hongthoven (wc 3.2k)
Studio Sessions feat. Jongho - Atiny_DazzlingLight on ao3 (wc 5k)
To Make an Album - @bambikisss
✶ Make You Cry for Me (When I Put My Lips on You) - wonuha on ao3 (wc 5.7k)
Studio Time feat. Mingi - @yuta-senpai (wc 1.9k)
✶ Public/Recorded Sex feat. Wooyoung - @hongism (wc 4k)
Fragile - @ilwonuu
Attention feat. Seonghwa - @beginningofwonderland
22:48 - @beatteez
Two's Better Than One feat. Mingi - @ateezscupid
After Hours - nateezfics (wc 500)
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「 ✦ Soft!Hongjoong ✦ 」
includes: Soft Dom! Hongjoong, Service Top! Hongjoong, Needy! Hongjoong, lots and lots and lots of praise my favorite
Morning Haze - nateezfics (wc 1.4k)
✶ All Mine - hongthoven (wc 2.6k)
✶ Oxygen - whatudowhennooneseesyou (wc 820)
✶ Addicted - @justaaveragereader (wc 1.8k)
HJ & Shibari - @mia-tiny (wc 729)
Precious - @latte-fairytaekwoon (wc 3k)
✶ Pretty Pink - nateezfics (wc 2k)
My Angel - @mirror-juliet
✶ You're My Desire - hongism (wc 1.3k)
Day 17: Body Worship - @ateezreactionsandscenarios (wc 1k)
Scream It Louder - atinywooyoung on a03
Keep Me Close - crimsonbubble
Early Mornings - ddeongsami on ao3 (wc 3.3k)
✶ Good Morning Captain - iguessireadfanficnow on a03 (wc 2k)
✶ Sleep Better - @tinyidle (wc 2k)
Need You - @luvryeo (wc 500)
✶ Untitled drabble- @atinycafe (wc 900)
Stay - atinycafe (wc 1.2k)
Be Hongjoong's cockslut - k-hotchoisan
Take It Easy gn!reader- ocean-ai (wc 700)
✶ Through It All feat. Mingi - @felixsramen
Glad You Came - @frenchkisstheabyss (wc 1.8k)
A Hazy Evening gn!, high sex- cheollipop (wc 1.8k)
Untitled drabble - byuntrash101
* First Time
Philoselene - @ncteez
Untitled drabble - k-hotchoisan
✶ First Time - whatudowhennooneseesyou (wc 2k)
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「 ✦ Non-Human!Hongjoong ✦ 」
✶ Here Were Fairies fairy!hongoong - pearlypearlypearl on ao3 (wc 10k)
Ugly Dragon dragon!hongjoong- @thelargefrye (wc 2k)
✶ Shells mermaid!hongjoong - @last-words-ofashootingstar (multi-chapter)
Something Sinister feat. Seonghwa- @hansols-yoda-boxers (wc 5.2k)
Day 3: Mirror Sex Grim Reaper!Hongjoong - sanjoongie (wc 1.8k)
Project Omen dragon!Hongjoong feat. Wooyoung- @atzfilm (wc 40k)
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Drowning in Pleasure siren!Hongjoong- @twisted-tales-of-all (wc 2.3k)
🆕✨ Gaze of Stone gorgon!Hongjoong - @ilovejeongintoo (wc 5k)
「 ✦ Bad Boy!Hongjoong ✦ 」
includes Goth, Emo, Punk dark aesthetic Hongjoong
✶ Ohmami - bambikisss
Dark Kiss part 1 - latte-fairytaekwoon (wc 5k)
Dark Kiss part 2 - latte-fairytaekwoon (wc 8.5k)
Ugh, As If - @ennysbookstore (wc 11k)
Ugh, As If bonus 1 - ennysbookstore (wc 5.4k)
Ugh, As If bonus 2 - ennysbookstore (wc 5.5k)
˖ ࣪⭑last updated 07/05/24 ˖ ࣪⭑
2K notes · View notes
eightmakesonebraincell · 1 year ago
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ateez as royals who fall for you (hyung line)
read maknae line here
genre: royalty!ateez x fem!reader, fluff, angst, smut, crack, a brainrot and smutfest of royal tropes
length: 12.8k
c/w: very nsfw scenes - mdni, explicit language (dirty talk, swearing, insults), death, violence, blood & injuries, weapons, heavy & mature themes (sex work, murder, assassination, execution, mentions of misogyny)
a/n: this has simultaneously been the pride and joy of my life and the bane of my entire existence for the last 2.5 months 🥴 and tumblr is an inept incapable CLOWN who cannot handle the full 24k worth of bullet points so here is the hyung line first - maknae line coming soon (yumi @sorryimananti-romantic can vouch for my unsuccessful 3-hour attempt at formatting them into a single post)
hongjoong
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pov: you're the king's royal courtesan
“fuck,” hongjoong lets out a deep growl from within his chest as his head dips down to rest against the crook of your neck. “you’re just as tight as last time”
when your hips involuntarily buck from the pleasure, he nudges your thighs further apart and keeps your wrists pinned above your head
he can’t help but let out another groan when he feels your walls clench around his cock as you adjust to his thickness
“i thought- god,” a moan escapes you after he thrusts his hips against you, “thought you never fucked the same woman twice”
“i don’t,” he simply says
and it’s true
hongjoong is one of the youngest princes to have ruled during the kim dynasty, having risen to power after the previous king succumbed early to an unknown illness
he has the choice and selection of all the courtesans available within the palace and outside its walls
hongjoong also has a reputation of being highly sought after by everybody, not just amongst courtesans
it’s not only because he is devilishly handsome, knows how to properly fuck somebody dumb, and is the literal king
the main thing that makes him so desirable and unreachable?
he never sees the same courtesan more than once
“yet here you are,” you hook your legs around hongjoong’s waist to gain leverage and meet his thrusts with your own hips, “between my legs for the second time”
you smirk when he curses and throws his head back
his grip on your wrists tightens and his voice drops dangerously low
“the first time doesn’t count because i was meant to see lady chae. so really, this is the first time i’m requesting for your services”
he silences you from retorting by pressing a bruising kiss against you, lips messily attaching to yours before trailing down the sharp angle of your jaw to bite your neck
you are a courtesan for people of nobility and royal status
part of the ‘house of flowers’ and commonly referred to as ‘flower courtesans’, you and the other women are highly-sought after for the companionship you offer
you are well protected by the house of flowers though - the services of companionship that you provide is requested by your client, but is ultimately accepted or rejected by you
lady chae, another of the flower courtesans and one of your closest friends, is requested by the king for her services
it is quite clear what it is going to entail and you both spend several of the following nights giggling and whispering scandalously to one another
whether the rumours about his stamina will be true
whether lady chae will be the first to break his one-fuck rule
except when the day of the meeting comes around, she spikes a sudden fever
lady shin, the head of the house of flowers, takes all but one look at her before ordering her to bed rest despite both of your attempts to, albeit unconvincingly, persuade lady shin that chae’s fever would only serve to help make the king’s dick warmer
lady shin is not amused to say the least
with the last minute hitch, the king agrees for you to be sent out to him as a replacement instead
and you end up being the flower courtesan who he breaks his reputed rule for
(lady chae is initially jealous, understandably)
(but very quickly, she appears to be even more excited than you are as she combs through your undergarments for the “sluttiest set” that she can find)
your attention is brought back as hongjoong flicks his tongue over your hardened nipples, continuing to drag his length in and out of you while your back arches off the bed
you tease in between short breaths, “are you really bringing up another woman’s name while you have your cock inside me?”
“you brought it up first,” he reminds you, accentuating his answer with timed thrusts
you grind your hips against his, chasing more friction against your clit as you feel your high approaching
“why?” he snakes one of his hands down between your connected torsos to rub messy circles against your clit, smirking as he asks, “are you getting jealous already?”
for that, you clench down hard on his cock, immediately feeling the way it throbs inside of you as you bring him closer to his orgasm too
“as if. fuck off”
your words are hardly audible from the whines that are leaving your mouth due to the added pressure of another finger against your clit from your retaliation
“i’m close,” hongjoong releases his grip on your wrists so that he can straighten his body, anchoring his hand on your hip instead so that he can fuck you and rub your clit with his other hand with renewed vigour
when you hear him groan, “cum for me,” the string snaps and your whole body quivers in his hold as your orgasm washes over you
hongjoong’s hips gradually stutter to a pause, an occasional thrust inside your clenching pussy as he milks out the rest of his cum inside of you
he finally eases himself out of you and hums in satisfaction as he watches his cum slowly leak out of you
hongjoong drops down beside you, toned chest covered in a sheen layer of sweat as it rises up and down with his pants
when your fuzzy mind has cleared a little from the blissful haze of your orgasm, he strokes his fingertips along the side of your thigh, along the curve of your ass, and over the dip of your waist just under your breasts as he says, “you better not be jealous. first one to get jealous loses”
“if anyone’s going to get jealous first, it’s you,” you scoff back
he raises an eyebrow
oh yeah?
he shoves his leaking cum back inside of you and fingers you to another orgasm
now that shuts you up
for a man who barks, he sure has no bite, because you find yourself being notified by lady shin several days later of yet another request for your services under the king’s name
and another request turns into another
and every single time, hongjoong makes sure that the only word leaving your lips for those many hours is his moaned name
but at the same time, the more you and hongjoong meet, the more he just savours in your simple companionship
he asks you to teach him how to embroider because you’ve mentioned before it’s how you like to spend your free evenings
he rifles through your bag of materials that you bring
you smack his hand away at the carelessness with which he’s upturning everything
“what’s this?” he holds up a large, wooden hoop before trying to fit it through his head, “a necklace?”
“i wonder if people know they appointed an idiot to be king,” you say as you gently unscrew the hoops and demonstrate how to align a piece of fabric between the rings
he watches with interest as you screw the outer hoop tighter until the fabric is nice and taut and then repeat the process so you both have one to work with
you have to help hongjoong thread his needle too, because apparently the king’s fingers are only good for scissoring you open
you weave your own needle through the fabric at a slow pace whilst telling him the different names and uses of the stitches you’re showing him
except, when you look up to see if he’s following?
his own hoop has been abandoned to one side and he’s leaning against his hand as he gazes cheekily at you
“were you even paying attention?”
he sounds a little too confident when he answers not at all
in return, hongjoong shows you how to write hanja the next time you meet
he positions himself behind you with his hand over yours as he guides you through different characters stroke by stroke
he claims that there are specific ways of applying pressure to the brush so he has to be holding your hand at all times
you most definitely roll your eyes several times but you indulge him anyway
there are a lot of giggles and teasing pushes when you accidentally dip the end of your sleeve into the ink and you try to spread it onto his robes too
(the calligraphy may or may not become forgotten when hongjoong pins you down to stop your cheeky behaviour, because things naturally escalate whenever he has you under him)
you two do eventually manage to finish one decent-looking scroll of characters which he ends up gifting you so that you ‘don’t forget’ about him when you’re not with him
when you walk back into the house of flowers, the hanging scroll perks lady shin’s interest as you walk past
“hongjoong taught me how to write my name today”
lady shin waggles her eyebrows at you suggestively because of how casually you refer to the king, for which you nudge her with a shoulder
she laughs then asks to have a look
you unravel the paper to show her but then she makes a funny noise
“that’s not your name? these are the characters for- oh,” she cackles scandalously to herself, as if she has made a secret discovery
“what does it mean?” you hurry to clarify
you wouldn’t put it past him to have taught you a crude phrase instead, like ‘best tits’ or ‘biggest ass’
lady shin lets out an amused exhale, handing the scroll back to you
“it says, my flower”
you’re looking at those exact characters from where you lay on your bed when a knock sounds on your door several days later
lady shin steps into your room with a warm smile as you greet her
“you have an appointment with lord min tomorrow, but the king has just inquired about your service availability for tomorrow,” she informs you. “would you like me to give him the usual answer?”
this isn’t the first time a clash has occurred, particularly with the increasing frequency with which hongjoong requests to see you
you have always told lady shin to ask for hongjoong’s pardon and to offer him an alternative time or day, because in the end, you still need to maintain a professional and admirable reputation as a flower courtesan
and as you open your mouth to tell her ‘yes’, your eye catches the scroll hanging on your wall
my flower
you hesitate
“actually,” you look away from the hanja, “i’ll see hongjoong.”
lady shin gives you a motherly smile as she nods in understanding and closes the door behind her
the next day you see him, he excitedly points out the large tambour frame in his room that he bought just a few days prior, claiming you two can work on a big embroidery patch together now
you give him one look then demote him back to the small embroidery hoop because he still hasn’t learnt his basic stitches yet
(that’ll teach him to not pay attention when you’re demonstrating, ha)
you relent and end up going through the different stitches with him again anyway
and you find that he’s actually not that bad with embroidery once he’s actually focused on the task at hand
it’s nice, basking in each other's presence while he threads his little square of fabric and you work with the large frame you have now essentially claimed as yours
not that hongjoong minds; he did buy it solely to make you happy
and then you offhandedly mention that someone had gifted you a handkerchief with your initials embroidered on one of the corners the other day
“i actually have it on me, in fact,” and you take it out from where it’s tucked into your waist so that you can show him
he juts out his chin as he peers down at the delicate letters, huffing, “it’s pretty, i guess”
then as an afterthought he tacks on, “bet i could do a better job”
“are you jealous right now, kim hongjoong?”
said man is hellbent on avoiding your eyes as he picks up his needle and thread again
“no i’m not!”
“whatever you say,” you smirk
after that day though, you don’t receive another request from hongjoong to meet until two weeks later
which, in the grand scheme of things, really isn’t much
but in comparison to the frequency at which you are used to seeing him, the frequency at which your body is used to having him, it is much too long
you are almost beginning to wonder whether you shouldn’t have brought up the handkerchief gift
yet, he greets you with his usual teasing squeeze of your waist, dangerously close to your ass
you make a move to follow him through the doors to his chambers but he turns around to produce a silk cloth
he starts to blindfold you, whispering sultrily, “i have a surprise for you”
you feel the hairs on the back of your neck raise at his tone
guiding you inside, hongjoong gently pushes you down so that you sink into the plush duvet of his bed
“do you trust me?” he whispers
trying not to dwell on the urge to lick your dry lips, you answer, “of course”
you feel him tugging slowly on the string that holds the front of your corset together, loosening your dress with tenderness like you are a fragile gift
you shiver when your shoulders are suddenly exposed to the cold air
and then the sensation is followed by the warmth of hongjoong’s soft exhales along the expanse of your collarbones as he leans closer to fully disrobe your shoulders
you have to remind yourself to keep breathing
“you can look now,” he tells you
you remove the silk cloth from around your eyes, unsure of what to expect
it takes a few blinks to readjust your vision to the room around you but then your eyes finally focus
and you gasp
there, hung on the wall with its striking viridian green, shimmering threads and intricate swirls on glorious display, is quite possibly the most stunning dress you have ever laid eyes upon
“try it on,” he encourages
but as you step closer, you realise the lacing across the front of the corset and running down the sleeves of the top dress is in fact, not lacing
it’s patchy
it’s uneven
it has empty areas
but it is no doubt embroidery
“did you…did you make this?” you reach out a hand to lightly caress one of the embroidered flowers, not quite daring to believe that hongjoong would go to these lengths for you
“of course,” he wraps his arms around you from behind and presses a light kiss against your temple, “i’m not losing to a lousy handkerchief”
“is that why you disappeared for two weeks?”
you let out a laugh, sinking into his embrace, because the image of the great king holed up in his chambers for days on end, hunched over your dress with a needle, thread and frown on his face is just too endearing
he lets out a warning huff as he turns you around in his embrace to face him
upturning his hands, he shows you the tips of his fingers and grumbles, “i poked myself so many times for you and you laugh at me?”
you bring his hands closer to your face, pressing light kisses to his fingertips as you smile, “thank you, joong. i love it so much, i really do”
he looks at you impossibly soft
under his tender gaze, something suddenly rushes to your very core
you hold one his hands steady in front of your lips then swirl your tongue out in an experimental lick over his fingers
it’s almost captivating how quickly his pupils dilate and zero in on your tongue
so you dare to bring his fingers into your mouth
you suck on them a little harder
a little deeper
and then you moan around his fingers, “i want you”
he lets out a groan himself, feeling the front of his breeches tighten as his cock twitches
“i- fuck, i didn’t give the dress to you in hopes that it would lead to this,” yet despite his words he is stepping you backwards so that he can pin you against the wall
“i know, but i want you,” you palm his growing bulge, your knees going weak at how hard he already is. “and i need you. now.”
he doesn’t need further encouragement
he shoves the remainder of your clothes aside before inserting his fingers roughly between your folds
it doesn’t take long for him to bring you to your first orgasm, curling his fingers relentlessly as you ride them
he spreads your cum over your pussy and you buck your hips with a whine when he circles over your clit briefly
then he’s turning you around and bending you over, one of your hands bracing against the wall, your other arm held behind your back by hongjoong’s firm grasp
“fuck, you’re so wet,” his whole body shivers with pleasure as his cock slips right into you
the obscene sounds of his hips slapping against your ass and your slick being pushed back into your hole over and over again fill the room
and to the clenching of your pussy from another orgasm, hongjoong also cums into you with a guttural groan of your name
he gently carries you to his bed and lays you on top of the covers
he leaves your side for a moment and you listen to him rummage through something while you try to regain control of your quaking legs
when he comes back, you feel him gently spreading your legs and then the ticklish sensation of a soft cloth along your inner thighs
a whine escapes your lips when he rubs over your sensitive clit and hongjoong grips your thigh a little tighter
“be careful what pretty sounds you’re making if you can’t handle another round”
it isn’t until he finishes cleaning you up and lies down next to you to start wiping himself down that you look over and realise what it is that he’s been using this whole time
your mouth drops in disbelief
when hongjoong notices your expression, he smirks, “the man who gave you this has no idea his handkerchief is being used to clean my cum off your thighs”
“hongjoong!” you flush with a laugh. “you are definitely jealous, aren’t you?”
“yes, i’m fucking jealous,” he growls, “you’re the only one i want. you’re the only woman i’ve been requesting for since i’ve seen you. and i want to be the only one who gets to have you, too”
you confess, “well, you can have all of me. because i’ve started refusing other people just for you”
he looks at you for another moment before he’s suddenly straddling your hips
“change of plans,” he says breathily, “i need you again”
“very good plan,” you grind up against him
and then you pause, mirth starting to bubble in your throat, “one last thing though”
hongjoong looks down with amusement in his own eyes, wondering what could possibly be so funny
“that handkerchief?” you start, struggling not to laugh when his eyes immediately narrow, “i never said it was from a man. it was a gift from lady chae”
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seonghwa
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pov: you're his royal guard
as soon as you notice the movement out of the corner of your eye, your body reacts straight away
you murmur seonghwa’s name with a tight voice and move to position yourself in front of him, unwilling to risk the prince’s safety
one of your hands grasps the hilt of your sword, ready to unsheathe it at the first sign of danger, as your calculative gaze darts between the two young men stumbling closer on the dirt path and the line of forest trees from which they appear
they are wearing simple tunics and breeches with their colour faded and seams loosening from wear
from what you can discern, they are simply commoners, but that does not rule out the possibility that they are bandits
seonghwa seems to think otherwise, though
unsurprising but still grating
the prince places his hand on your shoulder gently in a silent reassurance and request for you to step aside
albeit reluctantly, you force yourself to move to his left
it becomes clear to you as the two figures stop just shy of a few feet away that the term ‘men’ was pushing it - their faces are young and they appear to be no older than seventeen or eighteen
the young strangers dip their head in greeting, one of them apologising as well as he pulls out a tattered map that he extends out for you two to see
“my companion and i are traveling to the village norshaw but seem to have lost our way. would you be able to point us in the right direction?” the one with the map asks
“of course,” seonghwa offers with a kind smile
you watch as the three of them step closer together to look more closely at the map
on high alert, and just as you are predicting, you see the companion shuffle closer to seonghwa, hand inching towards the leather pouch that hangs from the prince’s belt
you catch the subtle motion of seonghwa’s eyes flickering down just an inch
because of how well you understand his body language, you know that it means he has already noticed the thieving intention
but because of how well you understand seonghwa, you know that he isn’t going to do anything about it either
so you strike in his stead
your hand darts out to snatch the thieve’s wrist, twisting his forearm upwards so that he is forced to lean awkwardly towards one side to prevent his elbow from snapping
his partner drops the map, letting out a string of curses and hesitating for all but three seconds before he turns around to flee
scoffing, you threaten the one who is still in your hold, who then bolts with his tail between his legs after you release him
"did you really need to scare them off like that? it's not like i had any money in the pouch anyway," seonghwa chastises with a chuckle
"yes," you deadpan. "i did not spend the last two hours of our trip pausing every fifty meters to wait for you to pick up a rock because you thought it looked pretty, only for them to be stolen by a pair of petty thieves"
"it would have been funny to imagine their faces after realising what they stole," seonghwa grins
“mhm,” you hum, “and the next thing you know, you’ll wake up to your palace ransacked, because word in town is that you can steal from the prince and get away with it”
he levels you with a boyish scowl, “you’re so dramatic. what are you, my mother?”
“no, but i am your royal bodyguard”
“exactly. you are my bodyguard, not my brainguard. if i am to be swindled of my pretty rocks, then so be it”
you roll your eyes out of exasperation, but everything is swiftly forgotten minutes later when you point out a heart-shaped rock and seonghwa rushes over to pick it up
it has been like this ever since the incident occurred - him, the sunshine; you, the sunshine protector
it has been almost four years since it happened
somebody had attempted arsenic poisoning of not only seonghwa, but also those working under him
you had noticed strange discolouring of the silverware in the kitchen and on the table serving his dinner, which prompted an investigation and subsequent discovery of the perpetrator
an act of betrayal and treachery by one of his closest relatives - his very own uncle
seonghwa was - still is - too merciful and tender-hearted to punish his uncle, even if the severity of his uncle’s crimes warranted execution
to have his trust broken so shatteringly hurt seonghwa more than if he were to actually have been poisoned
you still remember like it was yesterday; the sight of the prince slumped against the wall, weighed down by chains of turmoil and despair as whispers fly through the palace of the weak-hearted prince who is unable to deliver fair judgement
it is the sight of the prince looking so small and lost that drives your feet forward to stand before him
as the soft draught coming through the windows tugs gently on your tresses and the flickers of candlelight illuminate the glint of steel in your hand, you make a decision
“i’ll be your sword,” you pledge
not just as his royal guard, but as his haven when he is forced to face corruption and wickedness
and when you see the way his shoulders immediately sag with relief at your declaration, the way he nods like a child who has been reassured that everything will be okay, you tell yourself that seonghwa will never have to dirty his hands as long as you are with him
you will be the dark to his light; the yin to his yang
quietly, you see to it that his uncle is executed for his crimes - your statement to the rest of the palace that prince seonghwa is not to be mocked
neither of you bring it up again, but seonghwa knows
he pulls you into a wholehearted hug, arms enveloping you securely as his chest shakes with shuddering breaths of thank you over and over again
you rub your hand up and down his sturdy back soothingly
it is an action that simultaneously reciprocates his embrace and his crossed line of professionalism
one that starts the shift in dynamic between you both, boundaries of sought comfort blurring with friendship and then something more
where seonghwa is too trusting and too soft-spoken, you become his skepticism and his voice
“you should be more wary of others,” you always remind him
“and you should be more trusty of others,” he’ll retort
yet, he will never make a decision that does not receive your input nor one that you do not agree with
where seonghwa is too gentle and too humble, you become his sword and his shield
you do not waver when you strike down foe, and friends turned foe alike
you speak up and establish firm boundaries when others take advantage of the respect he shows everybody regardless of their class or status
and yet, if you find yourself on the receiving end of someone’s condescension or discriminatory treatment, be it due to your rank as a guard or identity as a woman, seonghwa will be advancing forward to defend you before you can do so yourself
where seonghwa is too innocent and too bushy-tailed, you become his eyes and his caution
your morning walks together always last for longer than they are scheduled for
he stops to watch every butterfly and bumblebee that flutters along the flowery path, and he waits for caterpillars to crawl onto a leaf that he holds by the stem so that he can move the critters off the pathway
you love to watch him and his glittering eyes, his cheeks rosy from happiness and from the air still crisp with morning dew
but you also make sure to watch his surroundings with greater vigilance because the quiet peace that the freshly awoken sun brings simultaneously increases the likelihood of a targeted attack against him
as much as you rib him for being a marshmallow personified, however, and as much as he banters back that you are more than welcome to resign at any time, neither of you want it any other way
seonghwa carries out a lot of gestures that he justifies to himself as being eternally grateful for you and the things you do for him
he likes to gift you flowers he has plucked from his garden or the bushes he walks past that remind him of you
(“that’s actually just a very pretty-looking weed, but thank you, seonghwa,” you tell him on more than one occasion)
(it’s adorable, because the next time he finds a flower, he goes to the length of certifying that it is indeed a flower with the merchant who sells bouquets in the nearby town before presenting it to you, eyes gleaming with pride)
you stand still and let him tuck a flower behind your ear, sometimes braiding your hair gently so that he can weave and secure the stem into your hair, holding your breath as his features fill with the same enrapturement that he would admire a beautiful artwork with
after you voice this out one day, seonghwa supposes to himself that there is not much difference between an artwork and you
not that he’s attracted to you or anything - you just…have an objectively attractive face
yes.
especially when your usually-piercing expression is softened by fatigue, guard no longer up as you sleep slumped over a desk while accompanying him during his late night of studies
he does not realise his feet have moved until he is right beside your resting form, as if the soft exhales escaping from your slightly parted lips are a siren’s song
seonghwa tenderly brushes your stray locks away from your face and behind your neck
except he forgets to account for the fact that you are trained to sleep on the brink of consciousness
the squeal that leaves his mouth when your reflexes kick in and you almost slit his throat resounds at a frequency so high you almost believe it comes from your own mouth
you have a grand time watching his beet red face stutter out an excuse as to what exactly he was doing so close to you
needless to say, that is the last time seonghwa ever tries to do anything while you are sleeping
but as much as he bumbles around, he also reveals his perceptiveness when you least expect it
like now, as you accompany the prince to one of his meetings with numerous advisors and ministers
it is relatively dull and uneventful, mostly a cordial appearance to maintain amicable and loyal relationships with his subjects
conversation is limited to pleasantries and at one point, seonghwa even points out the calligraphy paintings hung at the back of the room
everyone nods with throaty laughs as if the paintings are indeed the most exquisite and tasteful artworks they have ever laid their eyes upon
when you and seonghwa arrive back at his chambers following the conclusion of the meeting, he walks over to his bed and shakes the sleeves of his robe over the expanse of his duvet
and out drops a neatly-wrapped sweet, followed by another, then another, until there are enough to amount to two handfuls
baffled, you look at seonghwa, because these are the very same treats that had been plated on the tables during the meeting
“you smuggled candy out of the room?” you try to keep the amusement out of your voice
he peers into his sleeves to ensure there are no more stragglers, before turning to face you as he waves his hands over the small collection of goods on his bed
as if they are-
“for you!” he exclaims almost proudly. “i saw you eyeing them during the meeting so i took some for you”
okay
most definitely proudly 
you feel something tickling you from within, as if he has reached through your chest to directly caress your heart with a delicate finger
“when did you even…” your voice trails off when it comes out a little fonder than you are expecting it to
“remember the paintings i pointed out?” seonghwa giggles, and you think that the hand in your chest is now cradling your heart completely. “i swiped the sweets when everyone was looking back at them”
“thank you, hwa,” you settle on saying, because you do not trust yourself to say anything else
that is more than enough for him, though
which, of course it is - this is seonghwa, with his huge heart that fills easily with the smallest of things
he eagerly hands you one of the treats and you unwrap it to place into your mouth
you’ve had these before, but this one that he has specially grabbed for you tastes remarkably sweeter
you wonder if his lips will taste the same…
but then you accidentally bite your tongue, hard enough to draw blood, and you realise just how wrong you are for letting those fleeting thoughts into your mind
because while you navigate the world in thick droplets of red and sharp glints of silver, seonghwa sees the world in soft hues of pastel and gleaming rays of yellow
how could the two palettes ever blend together harmoniously?
so instead, you grant yourself one last moment of selfishness and pull him into a hug, a gesture that toes the already shaky borders of professionalism yet can still be excused under the guise of friendship
you realise that he has always meant much more to you, but that is what this will stay as - a mere realisation
seonghwa wraps his arms around your form as he relaxes into the way your bodies naturally meld together
it’s strange how easily you slot into his life, his thoughts, his heart
he wonders whether it’s possible for feelings of appreciation to run so deeply and potently within somebody, like a drug that he cannot get enough of
and when you take a step away from him, leaving his chest feeling physically and emotionally empty, he wonders if he is perhaps…
in love with you
following that incident, it is almost as if a switch flips - both of you take several steps away from the line that has been danced around
but neither of you notice the distance because you are both consumed by your own thoughts
until one of your usual morning walks around the castle walls of his palace
seonghwa is wondering whether the bushes you walk past remind you of the flowers he used to gift you and you are debating whether to reach out to brush a petal out of his half ponytail 
then, like deja vu, your eyes flicker towards the burst of movement as a figure covered in black comes darting forwards with their blade raised intended for murder
you immediately start to unsheathe your sword, feet poised and prepared to defend-
until you are harshly tugged back and the prince steps in front of you to parry the strike that the assassin tries to land
it takes your lifetime of training and experience to snap back into focus and thrust your sword into the enemy’s exposed side
when you are sure he is dead, you whirl around to descend upon seonghwa with a voice trembling from both anger and relief
“what in the world were you thinking?” you yell
“i-”
taking a step forward, you toss your sword to one side, “no, actually. you weren’t thinking at all”
“i was afraid that you would get hurt!” he takes his own step closer
“that is my duty!” the volume of your voice raises even more. “i am willing to lay down my life to ensure your safety! i have been guarding you for years now and you have never acted this way. what has changed?”
for a moment, the only sound that punctuates the silence is your harsh breathing
seonghwa swallows
“my feelings…” he whispers, a stark contrast to the peak of emotions you have been riding. “my feelings for you have changed”
your throat tightens at his words
it is your turn to whisper, a noise of confusion leaving your lips
he takes another step closer, bringing himself to stand right in front of you as he looks down earnestly into your eyes
“i’d rather be the protector, and you be the protected”
“but…why?” your heart races with anticipation
“because i’m in love with you” 
right at the invisible border that has been separating you two for as long as you have been his guard, seonghwa now stands, hands wringing together as he awaits a response
“then that makes the two of us,” you confess
you step forward to take your familiar spot on the other side of the line, except this time you do not stop
you stride over the boundary completely to stand by his side
raising yourself onto your tiptoes, you pull him down slightly by the front of his doublet so that you can press a chaste kiss to the corner of his lips
it stretches wider and curves upwards under the nurturing of your own smile
you can’t help but give him another kiss on the other side of his mouth to match the one you just gave him
“from now on,” seonghwa starts, “i’ll be your sword”
you wouldn’t really, and you will fight him to let you continue being his guard, but that doesn’t stop one last teasing question from escaping you
“does this mean i get to retire?”
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yunho
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pov: you're part of a rebel group
the crown prince is not in his fucking library
for the past three weeks, the crown prince has always been in the royal library at night
until today
under normal circumstances, his royal guards and staff would be alerted to ensure that the deviance in routine is a conscious decision and not an issue of the crown prince missing
except doing that would make your job significantly harder…
considering you have been ordered to assassinate him.
you’re part of the ‘red sun’, a revolutionary movement aiming to overthrow the current monarch
following the debilitating state of the king after falling ill and the subsequent coronation of queen jeong into power, she has since then established numerous royal decrees to keep everyone under her reign on a tight leash
a leash made of barbed wire
people are quick to become resentful and thirsty for an end to the dictatorship and bloodline
although he has made limited public appearances, the crown prince has also developed a reputation rivaling the queen’s
within the second year of the jeong dynasty, red sun has already amassed a multitude of supporters
the focus is currently on growing in numbers, preparing for an imminent revolution and picking off corrupt royals and noblists, be it through incrimination or assassination
dealing with those in positions of higher power is a task only completed by an elite selection of red sun rebels who have distinguished skills and traits that set them apart from peasants and commoners
and you are amongst the elite team
which is why you find yourself staking out on the tiled roof of the imperial palace, clothed in black with a mask and hooded cowl covering your face that blends you in with the darkness of night, on the orders of a higher-up to assassinate the crown prince
except the target is missing; the information you were given is wrong
which never happens
you can’t risk staying around for much longer, especially now that the crown prince has broken his routine
he could be anywhere and so could his royal guards
you shift your body to a crouch and place your hands on the cool tiles beneath you, ready to leave
only to spot a figure, crouched just like you are, on the opposite side of the roof
their face is a black hole of nothing within the shrouded confines of their hood, but you can feel their gaze piercing into you all the same
you run
you scramble to the edge of the roof and nimbly leap off the curved eaves to the neighbouring structure of the study room
when you glance backwards, you see the man - physique now obvious - is keeping up easily along the stepping stones of roofs
this game of cat and mouse isn’t going to work for long
if you don’t get caught by him first, you’re both going to get caught by the palace guards
so you make a split decision and alter your next trajectory lower
keeping your arms outstretched for the eaves, you grab on tightly when your fingers touch the edge of the roof and use your core to kick your legs up to stop your body from slamming into the wall from the momentum of your jump
you let go and drop to the ground like a feline, noiseless, and slink towards a line of trees
then you wait
he’s good, you note to yourself, when the only sound that alerts you to his presence is the quick scuffle of his feet as he softens his impact against the wall and the muted thud of his body landing on the ground
“state your purpose,” he demands, voice low yet firm
you ignore him to ask, “who are you?”
now up close, you can see that the man is wearing attire almost the same as you are, identity also hidden by the his bandana and hood-
wait
even the dark red stitching that subtly replaces the original seam on the right shoulder of his outer clothing is the same
the same as those on the elite team
“one of you,” he confirms your suspicions
except you don’t recognise his voice nor his build
being one of the earliest members of the rebel organisation, you are familiar with all the members who carry out missions like yours
he is not one of them; not one you can trust yet
when you don’t speak, he adds on, “we need to go. the safehouse might be in danger”
we
he refers to the two of you so easily, as if you and him are an unspoken team
you cannot trust this man until you know for sure he is part of red sun, so you ask him
“when is red most beautiful?”
it is a vague question with a fixed answer
one that reflects the heart of the revolutionary itself
during the sunrise of a new beginning 
“during the sunrise of a new beginning,” the man says resolutely
the tension releases from your shoulders 
“okay,” you opt to abandon your original mission. “let’s check on the safehouse”
the man offers you a hand to hike yourself up onto one of the outer walls of the palace before he jumps up himself with ease
you both flip over the top and land in unison
the moon illuminates the ground beneath your feet as you both sprint into the surrounding forest
the safehouse is really just a small hut situated far enough from the palace to stay inconspicuous, yet not close enough to the outer borders of the kingdom to risk discovery by the frequent border patrols
you both slow down as you approach the clearing, steadying your breaths and treading with cautious steps
and then you hear it
the shattering clang of a desperate parry
all it takes is a quick glance at the man by your side before your eyes harden with purpose and your steps are dashing in unison towards the hut
you’re both hit with the smell of a metallic tang in the air, and it’s not from your drawn swords
bursting through the door, you quickly take in the scene before you
several red sun members are scattered around the hut and slumped in varying degrees of injury
it’s easy to spot the intruder; they’re yanking their sword out of a body’s torso as they simultaneously turn to look at you
and it’s hard to miss the royal insignia of the jeong monarch on their chest plate
you have the element of surprise
but only for the next few seconds
you leap forward with the thud of footsteps of your partner following almost immediately, side-stepping once you close the distance to dodge a haphazard swing
there’s a brief break in defense when the enemy tries to aim for another strike that leaves the gap in the side of their armour exposed
you feel the slight resistance of your sword entering flesh as you thrust it forward into them
except when you try to tug it back out, a hand grasps your own and the hilt of your sword, stopping you from stepping away
the enemy has realised they are not going to make it out of this alive
but if they are to die, then they are going to take one last person with them
you.
you see glint of metal as they use their other hand to swing their sword down onto you, only for it to be deflected at the last second by another sword
the man you have met for barely an hour is now at your side with his towering protectiveness
in one smooth kick, his long leg sends the other careening into the wall of the hut with a mighty slam
you feel yourself jerking forward from the enemy’s grasp still on your hand
but the man next to you quickly tucks you into his side before you are also sent sprawling
“check on the others,” he briefly says, and then he is striding towards the fallen intruder
you only spare him another quick glance and then you rush to the nearest figure on the ground
you go around checking for pulses, and for those who are still breathing, the extent of their injuries
there are several casualties but nowhere near as many if you and the man had not come to check on the safehouse
which suddenly makes you pause in your tracks
how did he know about the attack in the first place?
you stretch your legs from their squatted position next to one of the red sun members and turn around to confront him
except…the man has disappeared
and so has the intruder’s body
days later, the question of whether you will chance upon the man again tonight flits through your mind when you find yourself perched in the very same spot on the tiled roof of the palace that gives you a clear view of the royal library
you have received another order to assassinate the crown prince as soon as you see the opportunity arise
this time, the note is accompanied by a cyanide capsule, a non-verbal message that this mission is to occur with your life on the line
you spot him
he’s preoccupied by the scroll in his hand as he makes his way through the shelves of parchments
you wait until he’s walked far enough into the library before you drop down from the roof, keeping your stance low to ensure you stay hidden as you silently move closer
you take out the jagged dagger from its sheath by your waist as you anticipate it will be too difficult to wield your long sword in the narrow aisles
and there the crown prince stands
he has his back to you, exposing him to your mercy
mercy that you have no intention of showing him
the cruel heir to the throne of an even crueler dictatorship deserves none
“it’s you again, isn’t it?”
you freeze
the crown prince still has not turned around to address you, but you can feel the dark gaze of his eyes on you as if he were looking at you
“you were here a few days ago”
fuck
how he knows you have no idea
what you do know though is that you have about two seconds to make a move before you lose this chance to assassinate him completely, and quite possibly, lose your life as well
the pill you have hidden in the breast of your tunic feels heavy
“you are part of red sun, are you not?”
this time the crown prince does turn around to face you, but it isn’t the nonchalance with which he reveals your identity that makes your head reel
it is the warmth and softness in his gaze and the hint of a smile on his face that does
what the actual fuck
you’re convinced that the crown prince is not only heinous, but also batshit crazy
“i am,” you spit out at him, “with orders to assassinate you, in fact”
his mouth thins into a tight line, “the orders you have received are false”
“sounds exactly like something a crown prince would say to avoid being assassinated,” you scoff
but then his next words change everything
“red is most beautiful during the sunrise of a new beginning”
before you have time to fathom the bomb that has just been dropped, your heads swivel simultaneously towards the entrance of the royal library when a voice calls out for the crown prince
“hide,” he hisses urgently
and then he’s stepping further away to conceal your presence as best as possible
you hear the shuffle of footsteps approaching before they stop, dangerously close to where you’re crouched behind a bookshelf
“apologies for interrupting your time, crown prince,” they say
from where you are you can see the crown prince’s expression clear as he lets out a small huff, “i have told you many times to just call me yunho”
“of course, crown prince yunho”
even though you can’t see the other person’s expression, you can hear the amusement in their voice
they continue, “i have the information you have requested for”
“thank you,” you see him - yunho - receive a small scroll. “the queen does not know?”
“no, i made sure to be as discreet as possible”
yunho thanks the other once again and your eyes nearly fall out of their sockets when he bows his head in appreciation as he dismisses them
is this the same crown prince as the rumours?
and what is he doing behind his mother’s back?
you don’t realise you’ve been staring dumbly at him until he’s back in front of you with amusement on his face
he stands tall and proud, robes accentuating his stature and nobility
“who exactly are you,” you dare to ask
your voice is small - you feel small, crouched at his feet like a stark physical representation of the power he holds over you
but then he takes yet another step closer and kneels down so that your eyes meet at the same level
“i am the leader of red sun. the creator of the whole revolution”
your ankles actually do give out at that and you have to seat yourself on the floor
because how is any of this possible?
you must have voiced your thoughts out loud, because before you know it, yunho is crossing his legs and making himself comfortable on the floor right in front of you
it makes you feel so strange
the crown prince’s willingness to make himself an equal before you - and even to his staff from earlier
yunho starts to explain
a change in monarch, particularly one of such dictatorship, requires massive momentum and synergy; something he cannot produce alone nor without the support of the people
thus, red sun came into existence for the exact same reason you and all the other supporters have joined
in hopes of a sunrise one day that marks a new beginning
a new leadership
except recently he has had growing suspicious of the presence of a traitor within the organisation, which were confirmed the night the safehouse was attacked
“that night…that man was you,” you realise, “and that’s how you know who i am”
he nods, “and that’s also how i know your orders are false.” yunho nudges you playfully with his knee, “pretty sure i never ordered for my own assassination”
yunho continues to explain that he had taken the intruder back for interrogation, but then you frown when he reveals the enemy had swallowed a suicide pill before any information could be gained
he has an inkling that someone in a high position of power is involved, since the pills are almost impossible to gain access to, but it cannot be ruled out as a coincidence
“hang on,” you pull down the top of your tunic in a hurry
yunho scrambles to cover his eyes and turns his head as he jokingly sputters out, “woah okay, this is moving a little fast don’t you think?”
you tug impatiently on the sleeve of his robe, telling him to look
yunho hesitates for another second before lowering his hands and realising you have-
“a suicide pill?” 
you look at each other, because this can only mean one thing
the pills are not a coincidence; the enemy is much closer than yunho would like
you’re both unsure how much time there is until the traitor decides to order someone else to assassinate yunho, or worse, decides to finish the job off themselves
but from that very night of discovery, you and yunho work together incessantly against a ticking time bomb
it’s a delicate balance between finding as many leads as you can and spreading out your investigations to stay under the radar
yunho tries to look further into the cyanide pills while you try to uncover any information regarding the order you had been given
whoever is behind it all has kept their tracks hidden well
there isn’t much to report from either of your ends whenever you sneak into the palace to meet up with yunho
but he makes it very hard for you to feel discouraged when he makes your meetings seem like casual catch ups between - you dare say - friends
you have yet to catch him by surprise whenever you drop down from the roof in front of him in an attempt to scare him; he has an uncanny ability to sense your presence
except, you think you prefer being unsuccessful, because your indignant grumbles never fail to bring out his toothy grin and an excited body jiggle
other times he is the one trying to fluster you
“remember that time you literally tried undressing yourself in front of me-”
“i was taking the pill out to show you!” 
you bring your thumb and index finger closer together in front of your face and squint at the gap
“i am this close to changing my mind and assassinating you after all”
he gets a kick out of it, pretending to beg for your mercy, “oh please spare me, your majesty”
other times, yunho teases you for always keeping your cowl and mask on
“bet it’s because you’re ugly or something,” he jokes
and you bite back that he had his face covered too when you both met, so you’re one to talk, ugly
“but since then i’ve always shown you my face as the crown prince. you can see me nice and clear,” he suddenly leans forward, so close you can see the dip of his cupid’s brow. “what do you think about me now?”
you swallow hard
you’re glad you have your mask on because you can feel your face rapidly heating up
“i think…” you gently cup his jaw, “you look better with your mask on,” as you nudge his face to the side
you cannot help but join in with your own chuckles at his laughter and boyish glee
and eventually, you two have a breakthrough
yunho manages to trace the cyanide back to a traveling merchant operating under the guise of selling rare herbs and medicine
in the transaction ledger, there is an unusually large purchase under the name of ‘lee minjun’
“i’m sure i’ve seen the name before somewhere, but i can’t remember where,” yunho huffs
you let out your own huff at his elbow that has very naturally taken a rest on your shoulder
pulling out a stack of paper, you spread it out onto the table before you two
they are past records of certain red sun missions that, upon looking back, seem suspicious
“i noticed a mark on a couple of them, a drawing or character perhaps? except none of them are fully intact. it’s almost like the paper was accidentally marked”
you point them out to yunho in hopes that he will have a better idea
he doesn’t - not at first
not until he chances upon two that vaguely align with each other to form a clearer image
“this-” yunho runs his hand through his hair, “this is butler lee’s stamp. my father’s butler.”
the king’s butler?
lee?
your eyes snap to yunho’s, just as his meet yours
“lee minjun”
you sink back in your seat
there’s now definite proof that the king’s butler is at the very least involved
the question of why and what for remains
in fact, you and yunho would not put it past the queen either to be involved too
there is a long moment of shared silence as you both mull over what this means for the future
yunho breaks the silence first
“after this all ends…do you want to work for me, officially?” he clears his throat, “will you stay by my side?”
after this all ends
you two must still uncover butler lee’s motives; likely part of a much grander scheme involving queen jeong too
you two must still bring down the whole monarch; with the support of red sun, yunho needs to sit on his rightful throne
the sun has yet to rise but you can see the faint hues of orange and twilight blue in the horizon
the new beginning is close
and at that, something in you relaxes
crumbles and disintegrates with utter relief
“it would be my honour to stay by your side forever, yunho”
and then you are removing your hood and mask, daring to breathe and feel alive and hopeful for once
ironically, yunho chokes on air
you glance at him to find that he is unable to meet your eyes
you think your eyes are deceiving you because-
the tips of his ears are a glowing red
you could definitely get used to seeing the usually calm and collected crown prince become a shy, blushing mess
the corner of your mouth rises with smugness, “like what you see?”
“you should really keep your hood and mask on,” he mumbles
“and why is that?” you humour him
he finally looks at you
and when he sees the shit-eating grin plastered across your face, his shoulders suddenly fill out again with confidence and cockiness to match yours
“because,” his voice deep and flirtatious, “with a pretty face like that, you’re going to distract me from my duties”
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yeosang
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pov: you're in an arranged marriage with him
ever since you could understand the words coming out of your parents’ mouths, you have known that you will be married to yeosang
it just made sense
for the respective princess and prince of two powerful kingdoms to join together, leading to increased power and stronger allies
it is tradition for the pair to meet their chosen spouse for the first time only when both parties have turned sixteen, and even then, subsequent meetings are rare until the time of the actual wedding
so you spend the first sixteen years of your life infatuated with the idea of your prince charming - of prince yeosang - wondering what he looks like, what his personality is like, and how you two will fall in love
and when you finally reach that long-awaited first meeting, prince charming is everything and more than what you have envisioned
if angels with broken wings were exiled to earth, they would look like yeosang
he is soft-spoken and slightly reserved, as any awkward teenager meeting their future spouse would be, but you don’t miss the way that his eyes overflow with adoration and his shoulders shake with exuberant giggles whenever his little sister, yeoreum, comes tottering into the room
he always bends down onto one knee to match her eye level, uncaring of the stains that mark his pants even as his mother narrows her eyes in disdain, and he listens with utmost sincerity when yeoreum tells him about the secret pink and glittery fairy she spotted in the courtyard 
they remind you of the relationship you share with your own little brother, juwon, who is barely half your age and height, yet has you wrapped around his little finger
you lean down closer with a hum at the soft tug on your dress to hear your little brother whisper conspiratorially into your ear, “he looks stupid”
if looks could kill, yeosang would be dead right now
you stifle a laugh as you flick juwon’s chin affectionately at his sudden display of childish jealousy
if anything, you’re pretty sure you are the one who looks stupid
stupidly in love
because walking away from that first meeting with yeosang and his family, you know that you are absolutely smitten for the prince
unable to quell the restlessness of having to wait until the next unforeseeable meeting, you pick up a quill that very same day you return to your palace and start writing
it takes you all night, the gentle gleams and winks of the stars keeping you company until they rotate shifts with the songs of the waking world
but by the time you have crossed out and scrunched your way through rolls and rolls of parchment paper, you are satisfied with the letter you have written
the letter addressed to prince yeosang, which you task eunju, one of your maids, with passing it to the royal couriers for delivery to the kang palace
it is a simple letter, thanking him for the enjoyable day, yet it holds the deeper message that you are interested in him and would like to become better acquainted before your marriage
you wonder whether his cheeks will flush a pretty red as his butler hands him your letter
whether he will trace his fingers delicately over the curve of your words
whether he will bite back a smile as he pictures you saying the words to him
two weeks pass, and you approximate the letter to have just been delivered to his kingdom
and although you desperately wish for him to immediately sit down with a quill in hand to pen out his reply, you wait and give him a week before you eagerly start counting down the days until the arrival of his letter
your whole life you have been able to wait patiently
you wonder what has changed now that mere weeks feel like an eternity
the day yeosang’s letter is due to arrive, you are sporadic bursts of giggles, twirls and skips throughout the palace
even juwon is starting to become sick of getting swept up into a crushing hug to the cheery tune of i loveee youuuu every single time you pass him
nothing can bring you down from cloud nine
only…the letter never comes
not the day after, not the week after, not the month after
you’re disappointed, of course, but you busy yourself with reasons why yeosang has not replied, and you don’t give up
you send him another letter, and then another, and another
sometimes you just tell him about your day - what made you smile, what made you sad, something interesting you saw, something your little brother said
other times you tell him about yourself - your hobbies, likes and dislikes, aspirations, fears 
and you also wonder about him
you ask what he likes, what he smiles at, what makes him sad, what his dreams are
with each letter that you hand over to eunju to be delivered, it becomes harder and harder to stay optimistic - not even the words of encouragement from your favourite maid lifts your spirits
you continue like this for over a year, still yet to receive a reply 
until-
you do.
it feels like you are brought back to that very night of your first meeting, feeling so very alive as hope and excitement cascade into your body the moment eunju hands you a letter with a smile
with shaking hands, you fumble to unpeel the wax seal and free the envelope’s contents - a single piece of paper, neatly folded
your mind races with anticipated words and explanations
perhaps he had been too shy to reciprocate your letters earlier
or perhaps your letters had been lost in transit
you unfold the parchment as the hairs on your skin raise in anticipation, only to find it blank save for one scrawled sentence in the middle of the paper-
stop sending me letters.
and just like that, the clock strikes twelve
your carriage reverts into a pumpkin
and your carefully curated story of prince charming disintegrates into ashes
you don’t write to him again.
years later, the stacks of parchment scrolls on the wooden desk of the guest room you are currently residing in feel like a fresh slap in the face each time your eyes land on them
they are a stark reminder of your very own letters, the cold rejection you received, and the irony of the only letter you ever received again following his being one from the kang monarchs, announcing the proceeding of the royal wedding between you and their son
now, only a few days newly-wed to yeosang, the king and queen are gracious enough to let you sleep in one of the guest rooms temporarily, under your claims of adjusting to a life in a new kingdom and as a wife
really, you are trying to avoid yeosang for as long as you can
you spend your time instead getting to know his little sister better, which is why you find yourself sitting side by side with yeoreum, legs dangling off the edge of your bed
she eyes the vase of flowers on your bedside table curiously, “did you buy that?”
“no,” you reach out to touch the baby’s breath, “someone delivered it to my room”
you had offhandedly mentioned to some of your staff the other day that flowers would make your room look more homey, and you had woken up the morning after to find the beautiful vase teeming with flowers next to you
“why?” you ask yeoreum when she hums thoughtfully
“it looks just like the vase in my brother’s room, but he’s weird about it. yeo never lets anyone touch it, much less have it”
you blanch a little, “in that case i’ll give it back to him later then”
“you don’t like it? or…you don’t like my brother? my brother talks about you a lot, you know,” she reveals
caught off-guard by her perceptiveness, you reveal that you have been hurt before
you don’t specify by what exactly or who it is that you’re talking about, but she seems to understand regardless
later that night, sweet yeoreum barges into yeosang’s room and with as much feistiness as she can muster, she glares at her brother and interrogates, “what did you do to make her upset?”
before he can so much as blink, yeoreum concludes, “you boys are dumb. go talk to her and fix it or something,” and then walks out with a huff
there’s no one there to witness it, but yeosang nods anyway
heart feeling a little heavy after your conversation with yeoreum, you head towards the kitchen to seek solace in the sweet pastry you are usually served each morning
the first time you tasted the danish pastry, decorated with strawberries and cream cheese, was when you had traveled to yeosang’s palace at the age of sixteen for your first meeting
you remember the blissful expression that had bloomed across your face with your initial bite, and no dessert ever captivated your tastebuds quite the same way ever again
if there is one good thing out of this arranged marriage with yeosang, then it would be the reunion between yourself and the strawberry danish
“your highness,” the head chef bows, followed by the rest of the staff in the kitchen, “how may we help you?”
when you ask for one of the pastries, the head chef apologises that there are none
“but we can make you one now, if you do not mind waiting”
you tell him not to go to the trouble and ease his worries, “i just thought there may have been leftover pastries”
“we make only one fresh every morning, specifically for you,” the chef explains, and confusion must settle across your features because he adds on, “his highness has expressed that you may like them”
oh?
flustered, you can only muster a short response of, “i do, thank you,” before you smile once more and excuse yourself
because of all people to notice and remember such a small detail, and then to go out of their way to put in the request with the kitchen on the off chance that it was still true, it was yeosang? 
first the vase, and now this
you feel something deeply buried inside of you start to stir but you rush to nip it in the bud
your head and your heart are beginning to wage war against each other and suddenly everything feels like it’s too much
when you reach your bedroom, you throw open the double doors to step out onto the balcony, welcoming the chilling breeze of the darkening sky
you’re tired of fearing rejection if you open up
you’re tired of questioning yeosang’s intentions
and on top of it all, you suddenly miss home and you miss your parents and you miss juwon and-
“are you okay?”
yeosang’s soft question startles you, having missed his knocking at your door
he walks closer to join you out on the balcony when he sees that the answer is obviously a no, and he prompts you again, “what’s wrong?”
thoughts of vases and strawberry pastries flit across your mind
you start with half truths
“just missing my little brother”
“you love him a lot, don’t you,” yeosang smiles sweetly, “i can see it in the way you take care of yeoreum”
you can’t help the heat that slowly creeps up the back of your neck and to your ears, because it implies that he’s noticed all the times you’ve showered his little sister with the same love you give to juwon
it implies he’s noticed you
“what’s your fondest memory of juwon?” he asks when you nod
something within you thaws slightly at the fact that yeosang remembers your little brother’s name
you step closer to the edge of the balcony so that you can overlook the garden outside your room a little clearer, resting your hand on the railing as yeosang waits patiently
“we used to have this game we played. we had a lot of gardenia flowers growing around our courtyard and juwon loved cutting some to make me a mini bouquet,” you pause to shake your head with a chuckle, “it drove our mother nuts”
“doesn’t sound like it stopped him from continuing though, did it?” yeosang questions with mirth
“no, it didn’t,” your heart aches with fondness. “he would use a certain number of gardenias and make me guess what phrase containing the same number of letters he had in mind” 
it never failed to tug your mouth into a smile whenever juwon giggled at your attempts to guess the flower phrase, even when most times he would bound away whilst singing answers like y-o-u s-t-i-n-k or d-u-m-b d-u-m-b
yeosang supports himself on the railing with one hand as he nearly folds in on himself in laughter, and before you know it, you too are gasping for air and wiping away tears from your eyes
when you both calm down relatively enough, only intermittent chuckles leaving your lips, yeosang clears his throat and scratches his neck awkwardly
“i know it might not be much, but maybe we can go out into town tomorrow and it might take your mind off things? and we can bring yeoreum along if that makes you feel more comfortable, because you’ve probably spent more time alone with her than you have with me?”
you don’t admit it, but you’re already feeling a little better, so you decide to tease, “are you asking me out on a date right now, kang yeosang?”
“oh, well, we’d be doing things a little backwards since we’re already like, married…but, yes? maybe? is that okay?”
it’s yeosang’s turn to flush a deep red as his usually composed demeanor is reduced to stutters, but you don’t notice under the faint glow cast by the moon now reigning the sky
“yeah, that’s okay”
you and yeosang smile fondly as your little trio stroll through a nearby town the following morning, his younger sister skipping ahead to peer at the colourful trinkets being sold at the market stalls, and your own small squad of royal soldiers following behind at a respectful distance
it’s kind of endearing how yeosang points out item after item, asking whether you like it or whether you find it pretty, in a not-so-subtle attempt to learn about your preferences
you have to stop him from buying you something from every second stall you both pass, but you’re unable to convince him from purchasing a small wooden toy as a gift for juwon, insisting that you give it to your little brother the next time you see him
the more you actually interact and talk with yeosang, the harder you find it to associate him with the memory of the yeosang in your rejected letters
because the equation of the letters, the vase and the pastries just does not add up
as you two sit under the awning of a small shop, watching yeoreum play with the shopkeeper’s dog, you find yourself unable to hold back anymore
“why didn’t you reply to my letters?” you break the silence, trying to hide the hurt laced in your voice
yeosang looks at you with wide eyes as his mouth stutters open
and in the smallest voice you have ever heard him speak with, he says
“you wrote me letters?”
your eyebrows knit together as your eyes dart back and forth between his, searching for any hint of deception
“too many to count,” you confess, “until you sent a letter telling me to stop…”
“impossible. i never got your letters” 
your head recoils back as you try to make sense of his words, “but-”
“wait,” he interrupts
yeosang reaches into his robes, pulling out a small, wooden block, extending it out closer to you as he asks, “do you recognise this?”
upon closer inspection, you realise it’s a square seal stamp
it has the character ‘姜’ carved into it and you’ve seen it enough times to know it represents the kang family name - but the inscription that stylises the border is unfamiliar
“not the seal, no”
he swallows apprehensively, “i stamp all my letters with this to certify authenticity”
you let his words sink in as they throw you into a sandstorm of bewilderment
“but then-”
but then who wrote the letter?
and where did all your letters go?
the only people who would have known about them would be the royal couriers and…eunju
a memory flashes through your mind - the moment she handed you a letter with a smile
no, not a smile, you realise
a smirk
you are simultaneously overwhelmed with betrayal, guilt and apologeticness
yeosang doesn’t push you for a response, and you come to recognise that you are also grateful
“i’m sorry for doubting you,” you tell him
it’s nowhere close to the amount of things you want to confess, but it is a start, one that yeosang picks up on and understands immediately
“no, i’m sorry you felt the need to doubt me,” he offers. “that i didn’t make you feel loved enough”
“but i did, actually. the vase and the pastries, then our conversation last night…and even today”
he blushes a deep red as you list the things off with your fingers
“you weren’t meant to find out about the first two,” yeosang admits as he ducks his head shyly
then he suddenly perks up with a sudden thought
he ruffles inside his satchel that had been abandoned to one side, mumbling, “my sister said i did something to upset you…so i um, got you these” 
he turns around to reveal a bouquet of flowers, looking a little rough for wear after being hidden in his bag all morning, but his clumsy consideration only serves to makes your heart skip dangerously
“forgive me?” he asks cheekily, and you both giggle at the absurdity of his question because it should very well be the other way around
“if you insist,” you take the bouquet into your hands
and finally, you allow the chains around your heart to fall away, “i can’t say no to my husband, can i?”
yeosang lets out a little squeak as you look at the bouquet more clearly, counting the number of flowers
you turn to ask if he remembers the game you told him about, but the way yeosang suddenly finds the patch of dirt near his foot absolutely fascinating tells you everything that you need to know
eight flowers
eight letters
i l-o-v-e y-o-u
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5K notes · View notes
jaylaxies · 8 months ago
Text
INTO YOU
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PAIRING: jay x fem!reader
GENRE/CW: smut, unprotected sex, slight gun play, mentions of smoking, usage of nicknames, fingering, pussy slapping, breeding, enemies to possible lovers.
SYNOPSIS: everyone knows that your families hate each other, being the biggest rivals in terms of business, however, you both don’t seem to care much about it.
WC: 1.9k
WARNING: 18+ content, minors dni
A/N: hihi, loves! happy jay birth <3 i had to write something for my man cmon, i hope you guys will like it :3 (not proofread) all likes, comments, reblogs and feedbacks are highly appreciated! iloveyou all <33
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Blinding chandelier lights, fancy gowns, fake laughs paired with endless supply of sparkly champagne. Countless camera flashes, and an even faker demeanor as the guests pose and show their best game. 
It was yet another weekend; yet another charity ball organized by someone so filthy rich, who didn’t mean to do any charity, but rather, put up a façade well enough simply to expand their business connections. 
You watched it unfold from afar, like always, judging everyone as you swirled the drink in the delicate glass which rested on your fingertips, looking for something , or rather, someone to appear and get this boring excuse of an event going. 
Your family was close with the Kims, meaning, you’d probably, just probably spend your night with no drama at all, not expecting the Kims to invite the family which is your so-called rival. 
So you decided to mingle along, putting on your sweetest smile as you strolled through the big ball room, the slit in your dress allowing the cold air to grace your legs in the otherwise warm room, until it didn’t. 
The warmth of a hand encasing your wrist was enough for you to stop, the scent itself was a giveaway of the identity of the one who stopped you in the middle of the crowded floor, a sly smile draping your face with his action. 
“Getting into a party without an invitation is rude, don’t you think?” You asked. 
He scoffed, which came out as a breathy laugh, “that is exactly why I made sure that Mr. Kim would deliver the invitation personally to me,” he clicked his tongue. 
You rolled your eyes, turning your head to the side, looking right into his dark eyes before giving him a once over, almost in a condescending manner as if you were judging his entire existence. 
He had another one of his proud smirks plastered on his face, specs perched on his strong, pointy nose, his lips the perfect shade of pinkish-red, resonating perfectly with his melanin. Clad in a black tuxedo, he stood there as if he was the most important man in the room. 
Park Jongseong. 
“That desperate for what? A party?” You clicked your tongue as a challenge. 
His hand only shifted from your wrist to your waist, pulling you closer to his chest effortlessly, earning a gasp out of you, “for a party, yes. You know it, princess.” 
That’s exactly when you heard a louder gasp as you pushed him away. Your mother dearest had spotted his mother in the crowd, both of them coming along to meet right where you were standing. 
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Your mom asked, trying to put on a fake smile so as to not alarm others. 
“We were invited, of course,” the lady spoke up, a sick smile on her face. 
“Or yet, begged Mr. Kim to be invited here,” you smiled back, looking at Jay right after, who was only amused. 
But none of your family members were amused as they scowled, “stay the fuck away from her,” your mother said, pulling you back from Jay. 
“Ask her to stay away from my son,” Mrs. Park spat, pulling Jay back. 
“Who even wants to be with him?” You scrutinized him again with a bored expression. 
“You do, princess,” he winked, making you scoff in disbelief as he said it in front of your mother. 
“Shut up!” Your mother said, having had enough. 
You both had the corner of your lips upturned by the time your mothers pulled you away, far from each other, his eyes shining as you bit your lip. 
Your mom was frustrated and it showed, especially when she reached out to your father, filling him in with the events of what happened a few minutes back. 
However, you didn’t care, simply getting away from your family as you started roaming around yet again, patting your thigh gently to feel your gun in its holster—something you kept for safety. 
Everyone around you did. 
The party didn’t feel as boring anymore, not when you got out of the main ballroom, opening the door towards the secluded balcony; which you were sure would be empty. 
And you were right. It was small, secluded, facing the grand gardens of the villa, two big vintage lamps keeping the balcony well illuminated as you took out the cigarette you had hidden in your pocket along with your heart shaped lighter. 
A dress with pockets? A blessing from the lords. 
Holding the stick between your glossed up lips, you flicked the lighter, bringing it closer to the cigarette as it burned, your eyes closing the second you inhaled the smoke, using your middle and index finger to hold it away as you leaned against the cold marble wall.  
Park Jongseong. 
Your wrist still burned from when he gripped it, your waist still feeling the warmth of his hand as your silk down did nothing to hide your figure. You found yourself thinking about him again, the proximity was enough for his scent to invade your senses. 
Your body became hyper aware as you found yourself close to the similar scent again. 
“Smoking is bad for your health, princess,” he spoke, his deep voice sending a shiver down your spine. 
You smiled, not opening your eyes as you lifted your hand to take another puff of smoke, only for Jay to snatch it up, standing right in front of you, his free hand gripping your chin, your eyes opening to find his face inches away from you. 
“Getting too bold, are we now?” He asked. 
“Maybe,” you shrugged, challenging him. 
“Yeah. I don’t fuck you for one night and you turn into a fucking brat? Is that how you want it, princess? Want me to fuck some manners into you?” He came even closer, turning his head to take the cigarette between his lips, breathing the smoke in before he threw it away. 
Grabbing your chin harder, he tilted your head ever so slightly, causing you to gasp and open your mouth, dazed. 
He blew the smoke into your mouth and you inhaled it all in, blowing it out of your nose while not breaking eye contact, another shiver running down your body as his fingertips traced your thigh, inching upwards to where your holster was. 
“Jay—” you breathed out, biting your bottom lip. 
“Shh, princess. Who would even want me, right? I’ll show you exactly how much you need me,” he chuckled, his lips touching your ear. 
He was quick to get your gun out, your mind too blank as you were sandwiched between him and the wall. The cold muzzle of the gun was pressed against your inner thigh now. 
“Please,” you begged. 
“Please what?” He urged you to speak up, the slit of your dress allowing him to graze it up your thigh and near your panties which were starting to get wet. 
“I want—” you started and he only pressed the gun right on your clothed cunt, your eyes closing again, your body felt as if it was on fire, a low whine leaving your mouth. 
“Say it, princess,” he groaned, his lips near the corner of your mouth. 
“I want you, I—I need you,” you managed to speak up, your whimpers were enough for his cock to start hardening, even more now that his body was pressed against your. 
He moved the gun in slow circles, your wetness dripping down on it till it reached his hands, as you held on to his arm for support, not being able to stand straight. 
“See? It wasn’t too hard, was it?” He asked, pressing the gun right where your hole was, stuffing it in slightly through your panties, your whines turning into moans as he grabbed your jaw again, “never forget that you belong to me,” was all he said before pulling you in a deep, rushed kiss. 
His free hand held on to your wrist, curling his fingers around it hard, his teeth nibbling on your lips before he spit in your mouth, not wasting a second before he shoved his tongue in your mouth. 
You could barely breathe, whimpering out his name desperately, trying to move your hips to get even a fraction of more friction from the gun. 
“That’s it baby, keep making those noises for me, yeah?” He spoke in between the kisses, finally having had enough of the gun as he kept it aside. 
It didn’t take him a second to push your panties to the side, covering his fingers in your dripping juices as you bit back a moan, which didn’t last for long as he stuffed you full of his fingers, making you lose control of the last bit of your sanity. 
Your wetness was enough for his fingers to slide in easily, which wasn’t enough for Jay as he curled them inside you, “tell me who you belong to, princess?” 
“You—you.” Your eyes watered as you moaned it out, and he slapped your cunt right that second, your eyes rolling back at the pain which felt more like pleasure than anything else, your breathing hitched as he did so again before he stuffed three of his fingers into you again, fucking you deeper than ever while kissing your neck, harsh enough for it to bruise later. 
He had been going at it for minutes and yet it felt like mere seconds before he took his fingers out, licking them and turning you around, your cheek resting on the cold wall. 
As much as he wanted to tear your dress off, he didn’t do that, and you could feel your tears streaming down your face, frustrated as he stopped right before you were about to cum, your cunt clenching around nothing as you heard him undo his belt. 
You knew his cock was thick and veiny, but it still shocked you, especially when he lined up his cock to your entrance, rubbing his tip, soaking it with your wetness which dripped down your thighs. You could barely breathe anymore, especially when his cock slid right in with how wet you were, reaching the deepest spots in you, his big hand spanking your ass right as he bottomed out. 
Broken moans were all that your mouth could let out by now, along with his name, which you kept on repeating like a broken record. 
His thrusts were brutal, almost as if he was using you like a doll and you were simply taking it like you were meant to. 
It felt too good. 
“Such a good girl, you’re taking me so well.”
The way your pussy sucked him in was driving Jay crazy as he groaned near your ear, biting your shoulder right after, his balls slamming against your ass and he didn’t bother slowing down, not when you were clenching around him like that. 
He held you up, knowing that your legs couldn’t keep you up anymore, not when your mind was blank and you were crying, begging for release. 
“Cum for me, princess,” he whispered, pinching your nipples as you let out another moan, which sounded like a scream with how frustrated you were, his thrusts getting faster and faster. 
“I’ll fill you up good, yeah? Gonna keep my cum in your cunt?” He asked, his voice even deeper as he hit your g-spot. 
You nodded, letting out a broken yes in reply, which was all it took for your eyes to close again, your legs shaking as Jay filled you up the very second you came all around his cock, creaming it beautifully in the essence of your unadulterated pleasure. 
“You were right,” you breathed out, holding on to him. 
“Yeah?” He asked. 
“Yeah. I need you, always.” 
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THANK YOU FOR READING!
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2K notes · View notes
whoreforgyu · 1 month ago
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pb&j
MDNI 18+
✌︎ pairing; neighbor!kim mingyu x fem!reader
✍︎ genre; smut, neighbors to lovers, au, fluff
ⓘ tldr; after finally mustering up the courage to ask your fine ass neighbor for help opening a jar of raspberry jelly, he makes sure to fill yours up with some cream by the end of the night 😏
⚠︎ warnings; under 21 drinking (20yrs but turning 21 in a few days (& dw even though i am 19 i don’t drink personally, this is just for the fic 😭)), mingyu has a slight thing for older girls, mingyu is a sophomore and reader is a junior in college, mentions of ‘95 liners, awkward reader, mentions of food, lowercase intentional
✎ note; i’m a new writer so this is my first fic let me know how i did 🫣 got the idea to write this after i spent all night trying to open up this jar of coconut oil from trader joe’s lol 😭
⇅wc; 2.4k
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after what felt like an eternity of twisting, turning, and damn near college level research on how to open a glass jar, what are the odds that not a single thing has worked.
“run it under some hot water” they said.
“tap the lid with a heavy object to break the seal” they said.
“slap the bottom with the palm of your hand” they said.
but despite the hundreds of google searches and youtube videos you’ve watched, the tin lid to your jar of organic raspberry jelly hasn’t budged an inch.
“ugh!” you screeched, nearly throwing the damn thing at the wall. but you would much rather go to bed hungry than have to clean up fruit preserves mixed with shards of glass from the ground, or even worse, eat a dry peanut butter sandwich without jelly.
now, was there a quick an easy solution that you have thought of, but didn’t dare to act upon? well, yes! but that would require having to interact with your fine ass, johnny bravo-esque, tank of a neighbor— mingyu. at first, that option was off the table, but soon hunger got the best of you.
so here you are, standing in front of apartment 406 in some skimpy boy shorts that expose wayyy to much ass and a sweater, holding the infamous jar of raspberry jelly.
*knock, knock, knock*
the apartment goes silent, you feel nervous as the sound of foot steps walk up to the door, pause, and a zipper opens moments before hearing the lock turn. your cheeks heat up at the sight of him in a tank top with grey sweats. trying to stop yourself from ogling at his biceps, triceps, and quadriceps on full display, and you peep how his matching grey hoodie is coincidentally hanging from the coat rack.
the smell of sweet and savory spices bless your nose, if there’s one thing about mingyu, that man could cook. sometimes he’ll hand deliver you a bowl of whatever food he’s making, under the pretense of, “i made extra,” as opposed to “i was thinking about you, so i made a larger portion just to share with you.” and you swear he’s ruined your whole perception of food, you can’t help but think about how much better everything would taste if mingyu was the one who made it instead.
“oh hey _____, is everything alright?” he asked, looking up and down your figure, taking notice of the jar of jelly in your hand.
“yup!” you say awkwardly, accidentally look down at his man-cleavage “i just wanted to know if you could open this for me please?” an innocent grin plays on your lips as you shove the jar towards him, trying to ignore the way he was staring at them.
he laughs while gripping the jar and lid, twisting them in opposite directions before hearing a-
*pop*
“there ya go,” he says, handing back the jar. you sigh of relief before thanking him and turning to walk back to into your apartment, all while feeling a pair of eyes burning into your ass.
“y’know,” he blurts out. stopping you in your tracks, turning around to listen to him. mingyu couldn’t help but trip over his words at the sight of your doe eyes looking expectantly at him. “i’m making dinner right now, n’ i was just about to bring some over to you,” the tips of his ears now turning red, “but- i mean, since you’re already here, would you mind joining me?”
“yes!- i mean no- like no as in i wouldn’t mind,” shit, you think to yourself, what the fuck am i saying?
“okay perfect” mingyu says trying to hold back his smile (you know that cute 😗 face he makes), letting you into his apartment, allowing himself a closer look at your ass.
to no surprise, his apartment layout was an exact copy of yours, only furnished to his liking, of course. a dark stained wooden coffee table accompanied by a matching tv console, upholding a flatscreen tv and ps5, and a dark blue ribbed suede couch. hm, interesting.
“almost done, just need to finish sautéing these veggies,” he says now facing the stovetop, and you take the opportunity to get a real good look at his back muscles. you’re so glad you got front row seats to see them, since the view through the peephole of your door every time he came back from the gym wasn’t cutting it.
“could you help set up the table?” mingyu turns off the stove and grabs some plates and glasses from the cabinet above, breaking you out of your trance.
“yea, of course” you squeak, hoping he hadn’t noticed the way you were drooling over him just then. you set down the jar of jelly you, for some reason, still had in your hands on to the counter, and grabbed the placemats, utensils, and glasses from the drawers mingyu directed you to. he brings over the dishes and sets them onto the table before going back to grab a bottle of wine.
“you drink?” he asked raising a brow.
“not really, but i don’t mind having a glass,”
“how old are you?” he questioned.
“twenty one, how ‘bout you?” you wary.
“twenty.” he replied. there’s a brief moment of silence between you two before he’s sporting a stupid grin, like he knows he’s doing something he’s not supposed to, waiting to see your reaction.
“so where the hell did you get that from?” you pressed, raising your voice, baffled by his audacity to ask for your credentials when he, himself, isn’t even qualified.
“a frienddd~” his tone playful as he laughs. “relax, i consider this my early birthday gift, i’ll be twenty one on the sixth of this month.”
you think it must be from one of of his older friends, specifically seungcheol or jeonghan, those dudes from your engineering class who come by often, not that you’re keeping count. you sigh, you can’t blame him. you’ve had your own fair share of alcohol during your birthday party that you celebrated the weekend before your twenty first, especially since you could not afford to get lit on the wednesday night before your exam.
“fine,” you gave a tight lipped smile as mingyu pours you both a glass, starting to loosen up as alcohol soon calms your nerves.
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“wanna watch that new ‘baby reindeer’ series, i heard it’s crazy as shit!” mingyu laughs, as you two are finishing dinner.
“ yeah i’ve been meaning to start! just haven’t gotten around to it,” you finish up the rest of the bottle, while mingyu takes the dishes to load them up into the dishwasher. you grab the remote turning on the television, and plop down on the couch, briefly pausing to remind yourself that this isn’t your place, but he sure does make you feel like it.
after drying off his hands mingyu plopped himself right beside you, leaving only about an inch or two in between, and smoothly snakes his arm around you, being careful not to make contact though. you laugh to yourself at how respectful he’s trying to be, and wonder if he’s truly oblivious to the not so respectful feelings you have towards him.
half way through the first episode, you can’t help but feel warm, almost hot due to his body heat. his scent isn’t helping either, he smells like fresh clean laundry and natural musk. you want to study his face now that you’re up close, but it’d be too obvious, he’d notice right? wrong, frankly, his ass is not paying attention to you, so you take initiative and scoot closer into his touch, resting your head onto his shoulder, smirking at the sudden tension of his body.
“you alright?” mingyu speaks lowly into your hair, subconsciously helping himself to your scent. turning down the volume on the tv, he tilts his head to hold your gaze, dammit, there she goes again with those eyes, he curses. swiftly glancing at your lips, and back up to your eyes, it’s like he can read your mind. cautiously, lowering his hand to your ass, he helps you onto his lap. “whatchu tryna get into?” mingyu teases.
“i dunno know you tell me, you’re the one who’s got me on their lap” you tease back giggling while biting your lip.
mingyu uses his teeth to now bite your lip between his before kissing you deeply. he couldn’t wait for the day he could he could get his lips on your pretty plump ones. not a day goes by where he doesn’t think about getting the chance to mess with his pretty ass little neighbor.
whimpering at the sensation of his sunken fangs into your lip, you quickly match his energy, grinding your dampening cunt against his growing erection. his hands now gripping your ass like a vice, increasing the relentless speed and friction between you two. hand nearly getting crushed in the process, you reach between your bodies to free his now rock hard cock from his sweats, beginning to stroke him while slowing down to a more sensual pace. he breaks the kiss, letting out a loud whine as you spread the bead of precum, focusing right on the tip, and dip the pad of your thumb right into the dimple before rubbing circles around it.
mingyu’s body shudders as he throws his head back in ecstasy, blabbering a whole bunch of nonsense, while you lick and bite the sensitive skin from his collarbone all the way to his jaw. continuing to stroke his aching cock, “ah! ouu~ shit- baaabe- baby oh! fuuuuck~ m’ boutta-” are the only coherent words he’s able to slew before you cease all movement. his head shoots up, wide eyed as he looks at you as if your head’s missing.
you give him a sweet— almost taunting, smile before reaching under his tank to reveal his sculpted torso, chest rising and falling as you scrape your nails against every nook and cranny of his flesh. you lean forward to give a few licks and and sucks to each of his nipples. mind you, the man is still staring at you in disbelief. giving a sinister laugh, he holds you by your hips and and in one swift movement, shifts his body under you, so instead of sitting on his lap, you’re now sitting on his face.
mingyu wastes no time lapping at the mere outline of your pussy, desperately sucking your arousal through the fabric of your shorts. like a rabid dog he rips through the fabric with his teeth, lips immediately latching onto your clit like a vacuum. you let out a loud cry desperately grabbing fistfuls of his hair as a poor attempt to ground yourself before he’s gripping your waist, gliding your cunt alllll over his face.
“gy-gyuuu~” you whine, your legs starting to shake as you the feel pressure building up in your core. your thighs now locked tight around his head, you’re scared you may suffocate him but you’re far to worried about reaching your own orgasm to stop. “mmmph~ shiiit pleaseee~ oh my- no gyu! piece of shit!” you scream, as mingyu removes himself from under you, a shit eating grin playing on his lips, his face covered in your juices.
you squeal as mingyu rips off any and every remnant of clothing you still had on, and throws you over his shoulder— face down ass up, giving it a quick harsh slap before heading into his bedroom. throwing you down on the bed, he immediately attaches his lips to yours as he slips his thick middle and ring fingers inside of you, curling them just enough to make you cum better than any one of your pathetic toys ever could. if he could give you mind blowing orgasms just with his fingers, just imagine what universe he’d take you to on his cock.
mingyu teases your entrance with his fat tip, gliding it along your wet folds. his cock was looong, thick, and heavy, a vein running along the left side of the shaft. it felt like steel wrapped in velvet. he begins pushing his way into you, nothing could prepare you for the stretch he gave, he felt invasive, greedy, selfish. invading any space he could find inside your small tight cunt.
“just hold on to me baby,” he growls in you ear, his breathing ragged as he bottoms out, pelvis right against your ass. the man desperately trying to help himself from releasing right then and there at the feeling of your wet pudgy walls sucking him in, as if your body was trying to create a mold of his cock to remember forever.
your legs wrap tight around his torso, nails digging into his broad shoulders as he’s rutting into you like a dog in heat. he desperately pants, holding another vice-like grip onto your hips, the combination of your pornographic moans and walls beginning to clench and spasm around him making his cock twitch inside you like a bolt of lightning.
not even science can measure the amount of pent up tension that has built up in your core, the feeling painfully delicious. the sharp thrusts of his cock soon becoming sloppy as you feel him starting to shudder once again, his mouth now on your neck, sucking harshly at the flesh. he brings his hand down to your cunt, beginning to rub messy circles onto your clit making you cry out, sending you over the edge.
the knot in your abdomen comes un done, feeling like an explosion as mingyu shoots what felt like the entirety of earth’s population into your poor pussy. your body goes numb, your vision, seemingly no different than looking out of a kaleidoscope, seeing shapes and colors you didn’t even know existed.
mingyu lays on top of you, cock still sunken deep inside as if he’s trying to fertilize each one of your millions of eggs, his heavy breathing sinking you into the mattress even deeper than you were before. looking up he sees your fucked out state, locking eyes with you before giving you the filthiest smile you’ve ever seen.
you smile back, matching his same filth, before pulling him into another heated make out session. “ready for round two?”
474 notes · View notes
wwooyology · 1 month ago
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After School Discipline | K.HJ
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「pairing」 : hongjoong x fem!reader 「word count」 : 4.1k
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「synopsis」 : you had failed the test that he worked so hard to help you 'study' for so of course you deserved the punishment that came along with it even if it felt like torture as you begged him to give you what you wanted, yet he never compiled, showing you who exactly has the reigns.
「genre」 : smut, prof!hongjoong, dad's bsf!hongjoong, age gap, university au(ish)
「warnings」 : MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!, cussing, teasing, edging, orgasm denial, daddy kink, petnames (babygirl, baby, sweetheart...), rough sex, unprotected sex, oral (m. receiving), face fucking, derogatory names (slut, cockslut), gagging, choking, clit play, creampie, public sex, slight hair pulling, bondage, spanking, lmk if I missed anything!!
part two ➻ here
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The sun was shining brightly through the windows in the halls of the university as you walked down the hall with your best friend, Kara, talking about each other’s days thus far. You told her how your dad finally got the day off and even made breakfast for you before you left for class, and she pouted, asking why you hadn’t invited her over.
“Please, we both know your ass was passed out,” You laughed, bumping your shoulder against her playfully, and she sent you a glare, “you literally wake up like ten minutes before you’re supposed to leave and still miraculously make it here on time. Seriously, you need to teach me your ways.”
“Har har,” Kara rolled her eyes as she pulled her phone from her pocket, checking the time just as you stopped in front of your classroom door, “Oh, do you think you passed Professor Kim’s exam?”
At the mention of the exam, you felt your blood run cold, your body freezing in its spot as you recalled your ‘study’ session with the professor. You were perched in his lap at your kitchen table, his cock buried deep in your pussy as he talked you through the questions. However, you couldn’t focus at all; the only thing your mind was on was his dick and how you wished he would just move. Eventually, he noticed that you weren’t paying attention at all and threatened to leave you high and dry if you didn’t study, whispering promises in your ear if you listened.
“Just answer a few questions for me, babygirl, and Daddy will give you exactly what you want.” His voice was smooth as he let his lips brush against the shell of your ear, making you squirm in his lap, but you listened nonetheless. Then just like he promised, after you answered the questions he gave you correctly, he bent you over the dining table and fucked you into oblivion.
“Earth to y/n.” Kara giggled as she watched your face turn a deep shade of red, already knowing exactly what you were thinking about; she then reached out, patting your shoulder with a teasing smirk on her lips. “Don’t worry. I’m sure if you suck up to him, he’ll go easy on you. 
You slapped her hand away with a pout, causing her to break out in a fit of giggles. You sent her a death glare, arms crossing over your chest. You then shoved her just enough to make her stumble a bit: " Why don’t you worry about flunking Mr. Jung’s class? We both know he isn’t forgiving.” A smug smirk tugged on your lips as she looked at you with wide eyes, but they quickly softened, and she returned your smug look.
“Jokes on you. I fail them on purpose!” She then stuck her tongue out at you before walking down the hall. You couldn’t help but laugh at her antics; were you surprised? Not even in the slightest. Kara had always been obsessed with the fox-eyed professor.
You then turn back around to look at the classroom door, dreading walking in and facing the very man you knew would ultimately punish you for flunking. Taking a deep breath, you square your shoulders and walk into the classroom.
As soon as you walked through the threshold, you felt a pair of eyes on you. Looking up, you met the dark eyes of your professor. The intensity of his gaze left a chill going down your spine as you swallowed thickly and quickly looked away. You then scrambled over to your seat, trying your best to avoid Hongjoong’s gaze at all costs.
Despite trying to avoid his gaze, you could still feel his eyes burning holes into your body, making the hairs on the back of your neck stand tall. You prayed that everyone would hurry and get to class so he would have no choice but to spare you, but it felt like an eternity passed before the last person walked into the room.
“Alright, everyone, find your seats.” Hearing his stern tone, your body instinctively straightened, your eyes flickering to the front of the room. Hongjoong stood next to his desk, holding up a stack of papers that were more than likely the exam that you had failed. Once everyone was settled in their seats, Hongjoong spoke once more, his eyes sweeping the room, “It would seem that we didn’t spend enough time on this unit, seeing as the majority of the class scored a low score.” His eyes then trailed over to you, “some lower than others.” The dark gleam in his eyes made you squirm in your seat, wishing that the ground would just swallow you whole.
He then spoke about how he would go easy on everyone seeing as it was a difficult topic, but he couldn’t promise that he would be so forgiving next time. However, it flowed in one ear and right the other when he stepped closer to you, handing back all of the graded exams.
“I am going to return your exam sheets, and we will go over the answers together as a class.” He instructed, and you heard a few groans and sighs of relief, but no one openly complained. Your gaze then shifted down to the notebook in front of you, fiddling with your pen until your exam was placed in your line of sight. Swallowing down the lump in your throat, your eyes trailed from the paper to Hongjoong’s eyes, your heart lurching into your throat when you locked eyes. His gaze alone told you that you were in trouble far before his words were able to. “See me after class, Ms. Jeong.”
You reached out to grab your test with shaky hands, but Hongjoong didn’t release his grip on the paper, causing you to look up and catch his raised eyebrow. Letting out a shaky breath, you parted your lips slightly before speaking, “Yes, sir.”
Satisfied, he nodded before moving on, but you felt heat rush up your neck when you heard a mixture of snickers and ‘ooos’ from the students around you. All of them thought that you were in deep trouble and they wouldn’t be wrong, except it wasn’t exactly the kind of trouble that they were thinking.
After all of the papers were passed back out Hongjoong made his way back to his desk before turning to look at the class once more. You tried your best to focus on what he was going over, but your mind kept wandering to what exactly he was going to do when he got you alone. Watching his slim finger write on the chalkboard did nothing to ease the heat that was pooling in your core. 
Noticing that you were getting distracted, Hongjoong asked the class a question before pointing you out individually, knowing damn well that you had no idea what he had just asked. And the deer caught in headlights expression on your face just confirmed his suspicions. He let out a faux disappointed sigh, arms crossing over his chest.
“Please make sure to pay attention in class, Ms. Jeong.” He reprimanded you, and you felt your face burn red from embarrassment. It only grew more when you heard a few students quietly laughing off to your side.
Sinking down in your seat you mumbled a small apology, not missing the sinister smirk that was tugging on the older male’s lips. You knew that he was doing this on purpose, adding it on to your list of punishments he was going to be giving you in less than an hour. So you knew that he wasn’t about to be easy on you. Not in the slightest.
You then spent the rest of the class trying your best to pay attention, despite the growing heat in the pit of your stomach or how your core would ache any time Hongjoong let his gaze linger for just a moment too long. It was driving you up a wall, but you didn’t want to get called out again or make your punishment any worse than it already was. So you tried your best to push the growing need down and focus on your school work.
After what felt like an eternity, class had finally wrapped up, and the bell signaling the end of class rang. You stayed in your seat, hands sitting in your lap, and your fingers fiddled with the hem of your skirt as you watched all of the students pile out. You didn’t even bother packing up your things, knowing that it would be pointless in the end, so you just sat quietly until everyone was gone.
When the door finally closed behind the last person you stood from your seat with shaky legs, eyes moving up to find Hongjoong leaning against his desk, eyes already fixed on you. Without a word, he raised a hand and motioned you forward with his index and middle fingers, eyes daring you to go against him.
Knowing better than to disobey him, you bit your lip and slowly made your way towards him until you were standing just a few feet in front of him. He clicked his tongue, an annoyed expression flashing across his face as he moved forward, pushing you down to your knees. A gasp fell from your lips as your hands and knees met the cool ground, but you quickly glanced back up at the older man, knowing that you would only annoy him more if you didn’t.
“It’s such a shame. We went over those test questions for such a long time, and you got all of the answers correct, yet…” He reached down, his fingers brushing along your jaw, a trail of goosebumps following his touch, “You still failed the test; why is that babygirl?” He hummed before harshly grabbing your chin, jerking your head back in his direction the moment you started to look away and you looked up at him with wide eyes. “Did I fuck all of the answers out of that pretty head of yours?”
His head tilted to the side, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip, and you instantly opened your mouth, allowing him to slip his finger into your mouth. A sinister smirk tugged on his lips as he pressed down on your tongue, and you wrapped your pretty lips around his finger, sucking gently.
“Hmm, do you think just because you’re acting so obedient now, I won’t be too rough?” He feigned pity before pulling his thumb from your mouth and wrapping his fingers around your throat, eliciting a gasp from you. “You’ve been a naughty girl, baby, and daddy has to displent his baby, right?” He asked, but you knew that it was more of a statement rather than an actual question. His tongue ran over his teeth as he watched you squirm under his hold, eyes pleading with him as your thighs pressed tightly together.
Crouching down, he pulled you forward until you were sitting on the palm of your hands once more, his face just a breath away from yours.
“Now be a good girl and put that sweet mouth of yours to work, and I might think about letting you cum.” He cooed, his hand moving from your neck back to your jaw before standing straight, letting his fingers slip from your skin.
As soon as he was standing, you crawled forward, hands going for the waistband of his slacks. Your fingers made quick work of his belt before undoing the button. Hongjoong watches in amusement as you move with urgency to get his already hard cock out of its confinement. A cute little gasp fell from your lips when it sprung free, nearly hitting your cheek.
You let go of his slacks as well as his underwear, letting them pool at his feet. Your mouth watered, and you leaned forward, taking him into your hands, admiring the pearls of precum that decorated his tip. Hongjoong watched you with a heated gaze as you grabbed his cock at the base before pressing feather-light kisses along his shaft. His fingers curled around the edge of his desk as you laid your tongue flat, licking a stripe up to his tip before encasing him in your mouth.
Your eyes flickered up to meet his, watching his jaw tense as you took him further into your mouth. The taste of precum tingled against your tastebuds, making you hum softly, eliciting a deep groan from Hongjoong.
“Fuckkk…” His head fell back for a moment before he let his gaze fall right back on you, one of his hands moving to brush some of the hair out of your face. “You’re such a dirty girl, sucking my dick like your favorite candy.” You moaned around him, the vibrations making his dick twitch in your mouth. 
He then gathered your hair in a makeshift ponytail, curses falling from his lips when your tongue pressed against the vein that ran along the side of his cock. Your thighs pressed together as you listened to all of the noises that were leaving his mouth, trying your best to relieve the pressure. Your fingers dug into Hongjoong’s thighs as you fought the urge to slip one of your hands under your skirt, knowing that doing so would only land you in more trouble.
His grip on your hair grew tighter as his hips bucked forward, the tip hitting the back of your throat. You gagged at the sudden intrusion, tears stinging in the corner of your eyes.
“Shit, babygirl,” He groans as he thrusts his hips forward once more, pleasure clouding his mind as he feels your throat contract around his shaft. Your eyes squeezed shut as you let him continue to fuck your throat, tears spilling from your eyelashes until Hongjoong tugged on your hair. “Uh huh darling, keep those pretty eyes open.” His tone was stern, causing you to whine around his cock, your knees starting to ache from the cool, hard ground, but the pain only added to the pleasure.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Hongjoong chanted as his hips started to falter, his cock twitching in your mouth before you felt spurts of his hot seed coating the back of your throat. He stilled inside of your mouth for a moment, enjoying the way you struggled to breathe around him, tears spilling from your pretty eyes, trailing down to mix in with the saliva that spilled from the corner of your lips. After a few moments, he pulled out of your mouth, allowing you to breathe properly, and let go of your hair before cupping your face. “Look at you, darling…” His thumb swiped across your bottom lip, smearing the remainder of your lipstick, an almost predatory gaze in his eyes, “such a pretty mess for me.”
Your thighs squeezed together at his words. A whine fell from your lips, and Hongjoong smirked before pulling you to your feet. His hand then found your hip, pulling your body flush against his. His face dipped down to your neck, pressing hot, open-mouth kisses along your skin.
“D-Daddy…” You breathed out, your hands moving up to snake around his neck. However, he quickly caught your wrist.
Before you could even utter a word, he switched places with you, pressing your body down against the surface of his desk. A loud gasp fell from your lips from the sudden movement, and your head turned to look at the older man.
“You don’t get to touch me, baby,” He cooed, grabbing your arms once more and gathering your wrists into his hand. You opened your mouth to protest, but the dark look he gave you made your body shiver, and you closed your mouth. All you could do was watch as he pulled his tie off before wrapping it around your wrists and pulling its tights. His hands then wandered down your sides, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. Getting down to your skirt, he hiked it further up your hips, giving him the perfect view of the pink lace panties you were wearing.
“Dadd–” Your words were cut off by a moan that tore through your lips when he landed a harsh smack on your ass, fingers rubbing the now red skin.
“You were just waiting to get punished, weren’t you?” He spanked you again, relishing in the mewls that were leaving your lips. “Such a naughty little slut.” He growled, pulling the band of your underwear before letting it snap back in place, eliciting a whine from your parted lips. The stinging pain from him spanking you and where the elastic met your skin made your head spin, arousal dripping from your throbbing cunt.
He then grabbed the fabric once more, but with more strength, and before you even realized what he was doing, the sound of fabric ripping filled the air. You whined about how they were expensive, but Hongjoong didn’t wanna hear any of it. Leaning against you, he made sure to press his hips against yours, making sure you could feel his aching cock. He brought the tattered fabric into your view, his lips right next to your ear as he spoke.
“Open up, sweetheart.” His voice was sweet, yet his actions were anything but that as he barely let you part your lips before he was shoving the fabric between your lips. A muffled moan then left your gagged mouth as he pressed his hips further against yours. “Can’t have anyone hear how much of a cockslut you are now, can we?”
He then stood straight once more, grabbing your hip in one hand and then his dick with the other. Teasing your soaping cunt with his tip, Hongjoong watched with a sinister grin as you clenched around nothing, muffled mewls leaving your lips. Your mind started to go fuzzy with need the more he continued to play with you, and your hips started to push back against him, your body begging him to stop teasing.
“Aww, do you want me to fuck you?” Hongjoong’s tone was condescending as he pressed his tip into you just to pull it right back out, his grip tight on your hips to halt your movements, “too bad, sluts don’t get to make requests.”
A loud muffled cry fell from your lips as his hand made contact with the fat of your ass once more, tears stinging in the corners of your eyes. Your body started to tremble under his hold as he relentlessly played with your body until you were sobbing, begging him to just fuck you.
Pleas fell from your lips as your nails dug into the palm of your hands, and Hongjoong smirked sinisterly as he stopped all of his movements. Your ears started to ring as you tried to make sense of what he was doing but your mind was far too fogged to even think coherently.
A choked moan tore from your lips when he suddenly thrust into you all in one go, your slick making it easier to slide right in. Buried to the hilt, he stopped moving once again, relishing in your whines and how you tried to fight against his hold to move. His lips then curled up into a snarl as you continued to try and disobey him, and his grip grew even tighter on your hips, his nails leaving crescent-shaped indents in your skin.
“Stop fucking moving.” He growled, and you whined but stopped moving, knowing that you would only be digging a deeper hole for yourself if you didn’t listen, “now don’t you dare think about cumming before I tell you to.”
You wanted to protest, but Hongjoong didn’t give you a chance before he started plowing into you mercilessly. Your body trembled violently as his tip brushed over your sweet spot with every thrust, a mixture of tears and spit covering your face as you slowly started to lose yourself in the pleasure.
Hongjoong knew your body like the back of his hand, knew all of the right buttons to push and tweak that would have you coming undone in seconds. So it wasn’t a surprise to him when your pitch grew higher, and your cunt squeezed around him like a vice. His jaw tightened as he released your hip with one hand only to trail it down your back and tangle it into your messy hair. A choked muffled cry fell from your lips as he pulled your body up.
“Are you gonna cum?” He asked, but the way you clenched around him told him that you were, even when you shook your head no. “Does my little slut wanna cum?” His voice was strangely sweet as he released your hair only to grab your neck, your eyes rolling as he squeezed your soft flesh. Stars started to dance across your vision the longer he continued to fuck into you.
He continued his rough pace until he knew you were close and then stopped. You started to lose count of how many times he’s edged you, your mind far too foggy, yet you still had enough strength to beg him to let you cum despite the piece of fabric that constricts your airway. 
Hongjoong enjoyed to teary, fucked outlook on your flushed face, a sight he would never get tired of seeing. He peppered your neck with feather-light kisses, knowing better than to leave marks that would have your father and friends questioning where they came from. Then, when he felt himself close to his own high, he decided that he would finally let you have what you’ve been begging for.
A strangled cry fell from your lips when his other hand snaked down to toy with your puffy clit, circling it in tight figure eights. Your eyes squeezed shut, pushing more tears out as you prepared yourself for him to stop once again.
But he didn’t.
“Cum for daddy babygirl, make a mess all over my cock.” Hongjoong nipped at your ear, and your mind went reeling as white spots started to cloud your vision as he fucked into you with abandon. Playing with your small bundle of nerves like his favorite instrument. Then, without any warning, your orgasm washed over you, a loud muffled cry falling from your lips, and your bound hands pressed against his abdomen. “Look at that, you can actually follow directions like a good girl, who would have thought.” He mocked you as he fucked you through your orgasm, his fingers never leaving your clit. His own high right on the tip of his tongue as you squeezed around him like you never wanted him to leave, and his jaw clenched tightly. Letting up on your clit his hand found purchase on your hip once more before leaning forward, his lips brushing over your ear. “Do you think you deserve my cum?”
He watched in amusement as you nodded your head like a bobblehead, your teary eyes pleading with him as you looked back. Muffled sounds of his name and pleas fell from your lips, hoping that he would listen, but the sinister gleam in his eye sent a chill down your spine.
“Tell me…” He released your neck before grabbing your now-soaked panties and pulling them from your swollen lips, “do you think you deserve my cum?”
“Please! I’ll be a good girl, daddy just give me your cum! Please, please, please!” You sounded like a broken record and Hongjoong smirked as he picked his pace up once more, your now unmuffled moans bouncing off of the walls. Surely, anyone walking by would be able to hear and know exactly what was going on inside, and it excited Hongjoong more than he thought it would.
“Hmm… then you better not let a drop go to waste.” He growled before he felt himself burst, painting your gummy walls white with his seed, and you cried out at the warm feeling.
“Thank you…” You breathed out as you leaned back against Hongjoong, trying to catch your breath after the intensity of everything.
Hongjoong’s grip loosened as he rubbed your hips and whispered sweet nothings in your ear until your breathing regulated. He then nipped at your ear causing your body to jolt slightly, eyes opening to look back at him.
“Are you tagging along with your father this weekend for dinner?” His voice was smooth as he pressed lingering kisses along the warm skin of your neck, making you shiver. You nodded before your head rolled to the side to give him more access, your body growing warm once again. “Good, then we can go over your test, and I can show you exactly where you went wrong.” 
His word left a shiver to run down your spine as you knew exactly what he meant by that, and as much as it worried you because your father would be there, it excited you even more at the thought of screwing around right under his nose.
And you found yourself longing for the weekend to come as soon as possible.
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@wwooyology | Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or repost any of my work
𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ꜱᴇʀɪᴏᴜꜱʟʏ.
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mr-cha-n · 1 month ago
Text
Glass Towers
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Pairing: Kim Mingyu x fem!reader
Genres: fluff, angst, smut, architect AU
Warnings: Profanities, drinking, angst, sexual content, penetration, mouth stuff (f. receiving), tension, yearning
Word Count: 18.2k
Summary: City lights are beautiful, but they're nothing compared to the spark between a hopelessly optimistic architect and his no-nonsense boss. He hopes.
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Mingyu's always had a thing for the city skyline. He stands there, staring up like a tourist in his own city, while the lights blink back at him. He's convinced that the twinkling stars work overtime in the winter to brighten up the world for busy employees, wonderstruck sightseers, and homebound natives alike. 
And the people? Oh, don't get him started. City folk are like ants with a caffeine addiction, scurrying down streets wide enough to do doughnuts on (he's tempted), all on their own secret missions. Got places to be, people to bump into, lives to live. And every now and then, there's a stray tourist wandering around like they're decoding a map from a century-old pirate treasure hunt, or a food vendor desperately offering free samples and a good, if unique, conversation.
But, most of all, he's got a soft spot for buildings. Those skyscrapers that loom over everyone like friendly giants are his favourite. They're tall, dramatic, stoic - but also weirdly welcoming, like they're saying "Come on in, friend, there's an elevator with your name on it." Each one holds a mini-universe of people with no clue that they're all part of this giant city love affair. And honestly? That's what Mingyu loves most.
That is why he is practically vibrating with excitement as he makes his way to the towering glass-and-steel behemoth that houses his new firm. This building is the pinnacle of urban architecture. It has a shiny, almost reflective facade that makes every other building on the block look like they'd shown up to the party in sweatpants. Windows stretch floor to floor like a series of portals to success.
He's read about this building, of course. Brought it up in the interview for the position. Its architect was apparently a big deal who had once described it as "a dialogue between the earth and the sky." Which, as far as Mingyu is concerned, is just fancy architect-speak for, "Look at how absurdly tall I can make things."
Stepping inside, he is immediately hit with that professional smell - a mix of leather-bound sofas, artisanal coffee, and freshly printed documents. The lobby is decorated with minimalist sculptures that seem like they could either be priceless modern art or just very confusing coat ranks. Either way, Mingyu thinks they look amazing and decides that he'd probably best never trying to lean on one.
He stops at the reception desk, where a sharply dressed woman with an impressively unflappable expression sits.
"Good morning!" He says, a little too enthusiastically. "I'm Kim Mingyu. I'm starting as the new project architect, so you'll probably see a lot of confused-looking, lost-guy moments from me."
She raises an eyebrow, a faint smile quirking on the edge of her lips. "Good luck, Mr Kim. This building does tend to eat people up on their first day."
Mingyu lets out a small chuckle, unsure if she's joking or not, but he takes the smile on her face to signify that she is. After getting directions to his new office space, he makes a point of talking to every staff member he sees on the way, hoping to gain a little bit of familiarity with the new space. There's the security guard by the elevator, who gives him a quick nod of approval, the intern rushing by with a stack of blueprints precariously balanced like they are training for Cirque du Soleil, and the coffee cart guy, who looked positively thrilled to tell Mingyu that they're starting a 'Mocha Monday' deal, envisioning half-price mochas flying off the shelf to cure those start-of-week blues.
The elevator itself is sleek, fast, and almost comically over-engineered. Encased in glass and stainless steel, it features a control panel with buttons for every floor and amenities like a mini espresso machine, a retractable tablet and an adjustable lighting system for 'mood optimisation'. He barely has time to catch his breath before the elevator doors ding open, depositing him on the top floor. 
Waiting for him is Mr Choi, the firm's head partner, a man so put-together than even his cufflinks look like they could close a business deal. Mingyu recognises him instantly - the same piercing gaze from his interview, though today softened by the faintest hint of a smile. Or, well, something that might one day consider becoming a smile.
"Good to see you again, Mingyu," Mr Choi greets, his voice as smooth as marble. He gestures down the hallway, as if guiding him into an architectural wonderland (which, for all intents and purposes, he is). "Shall we?"
They pass through a maze of glass-walled offices and open spaces dotted with architects, designers, and enough blueprint paper to wrap the world's largest birthday present. As they reach Mr Choi's office, Mingyu makes sure to hold the door open for his new boss.
The space is less of an office and more of an architectural shrine, humming with the wisdom of ten thousand blueprints. The floor-to-ceiling windows offer a panoramic view of the city, as if the whole skyline had been personally curated just to keep Mr Choi inspired. His desk - a sleek slab of dark walnut with edges so sharp they could probably slice bread - sits precisely in the centre of the room. On the walls sit framed sketches of the firm's most iconic projects, each one hung and lit like a small art gallery. The coffee table at the centre piles high with glossy architecture magazines and books with titles like The Future of Concrete and The Language of Buildings. It is as if every element in the room had been strategically selected to convey that Mr Choi is not just any architect. 
And, most stunning of all, is you. Tall, poised, and commanding a presence that immediately silences whatever joke Mingyu has mentally queued up to break the ice. You're seated across from Mr Choi's desk, reading through a thick stack of documents with the intensity of someone evaluating world-changing data - or possibly planning the most efficient way to dismantle a skyscraper with your mind. You don't look up when he enters.
"Ms (Y/l/n)," Mr Choi says, a hint of amusement in his voice, "this is Kim Mingyu, our newest project architect. He'll be working under you, as we discussed."
Finally, you look up. There's a flash of something unreadable in your eyes as you meet his, and Mingyu's heart skips a beat. You're beautiful, of course, but not in the approachable way he'd normally charm his way though. There's a quiet sharpness to you, like the edge of a blade hidden under silk. You nod, polite but detached, and extend a hand across the desk. Mingyu's hand is halfway to yours before he realises he's probably grinning too wide.
"Mr Kim," You say, your tone flat and calm. "Welcome to the team."
"Thank you, Ms (Y/l/n)," he replies, fighting the urge to launch into an unnecessarily enthusiastic monologue about how honoured he is to work with someone as formidable as you. Instead, he forces himself to stick with, "It's a pleasure to be here."
Your handshake is brief, controlled, and you retract your hand almost before he's registered the contact. Then you sit back, folding your arms with a measured kind of grace that makes Mingyu feel like he's just been granted an audience with a queen.
"We'll be starting you off on the Langham project," you say, consulting your papers as if double-checking this fact - or maybe just avoiding his eyes. "I'll be overseeing your work and guiding you through our procedures here. We have high standards, and I'll expect you to meet them."
"Of course!" He nods vigorously, attempting his best I-won't-let-you-down smile. "I'm up for any challenge, Ms (Y/l/n). High standards are, uh, my middle name."
You raise an eyebrow, looking slightly perplexed, as though wondering if he might be serious. Mr Choi clears his throat, breaking the silence with a faint smirk that betrays a hint of secondhand amusement.
"Ms (Y/l/n)," he continues, "has been with us for nearly a decade. She's an invaluable asset to the firm. I trust you'll learn a great deal from her."
Mingyu nods earnestly, glancing at you, but you're already back to scanning the documents as if he's drifted into background noise. He's mildly disappointed, though he can't exactly blame you - after all, he is juts the latest recruit with probably a hundred questions, and you seem like the type who doesn't have time for aimless chatter.
"Any questions before we begin?" you ask, in a tone that suggests the answer you're really hoping for is 'no.'
But of course, Mingyu has questions. Too many, probably. He opens his mouth to ask one, but then catches the faintest glint of what he thinks might be impatience in your eyes and quickly changes gears.
"Actually, no," he says, flashing a thumbs-up. "Good to go!"
You don’t seem particularly impressed by this, but there’s a flicker of something — amusement, maybe? — before you turn back to Mr. Choi. "Shall I take him to the Langham briefing room, then?"
Mr Choi waves you off with a nod, and you rise with a brisk elegance that makes Mingyu almost trip over himself in an effort to follow. You walk him through the halls with a calm, businesslike air, giving succinct, precise explanations as you go. Every step you take feels purposeful, every word perfectly chosen. Mingyu feels like an eager puppy trotting beside you, but he's determined to keep up.
As you reach the briefing room, he can't resist trying to break the ice one more time. "You know," he starts, grinning. "I really love the city skyline. It's kind of why I got into architecture."
You pause, giving him a look that manages to be both blank and withering at once. "Is that so?"Yeah!" He barrels on, encouraged by the fact that you responded at all. "It's like ... it's all a big love letter to everyone living here, you know? Every building, every floor, every light in the window - it's all just there, lighting up people's lives."
There's a moment of silence. Mingyu wonders if maybe he overdid it.
Finally, you nod, albeit with an expression he can't quite place. "That's an ... optimistic way of looking at it, Mr Kim."
Optimistic? Not exactly the response he was hoping for, but he'll take it. He smiles, trying to hide his excitement at the fact that you actually acknowledged his point. "I guess that’s me — hopelessly optimistic."
You glance at him with what he might, just might, dare to interpret as the tiniest hint of a smirk. But just as quickly, it’s gone, replaced by your usual professional demeanour.
"Well," you say crisply, gesturing to the plans spread out on the table. "Let’s see if that optimism translates to effective project execution."
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By the time Mingyu finally steps out of the firm's towering glass sanctuary, the city has dipped into that golden hour where the skyline looks like it's been dipped in honey. The streets are packed with people still racing to meetings, or dinners, or late-night escapades, but Mingyu feels like he's in his own little bubble, still buzzing from the whirlwind of his first day.
He's not sure what's more overwhelming - the Langham project itself, which already feels like it's going to stretch every ounce of his architectural prowess and patience, or you. The way you carried yourself like you were born in this building, with all its sharp edges and polished surfaces. He isn't sure how to keep up with that level of composure.
But there was something there, wasn't there? A flicker of something. Maybe you were just humouring him, but there was that slight tilt of your lips when he said something slightly amusing. Or the way your eyes lingered just a fraction longer than necessary when he spoke. Of course, he could just be imagining it. But Mingyu isn't about to let go of that feeling just yet.
The subway ride home does little to calm his excitement. He thinks about the massive pile of documents he's expected to digest tonight for the briefing tomorrow. As the train rumbles beneath the city, Mingyu cracks open his bag and pulls out the folder that was handed to him this morning - a mess of blueprints, floor plans and complicated notes that look like they were designed to break a person's will to live. 
But he's not scared, not by this at least. The only thing that kind of scares him is the realisation that you are going to be watching him closely. Judging. Monitoring. And if he’s being honest, he’s not sure if he’s ready for that sort of proximity.
The train screeches to a halt, and Mingyu exits at his stop, shaking off those thoughts. Tonight, he’ll just have to forget about all that for now and focus on getting some food in his stomach. Besides, he’s almost home.
Mingyu’s apartment building isn’t anything to write home about. It’s not a shiny, glass-covered marvel like the office, but it’s cozy and warm, with enough character to make him feel like he has a place to call his own. His apartment is on the fourth floor, up a narrow staircase that creaks with every step. As he pulls his key from his pocket and unlocks the door, the familiar smell of instant ramen and coffee hits him. His flatmate, Wonwoo, is already home.
Wonwoo’s there in the living room, sprawled across the couch with his laptop on his lap and a half-empty mug of coffee next to him. He’s the polar opposite of Mingyu in almost every way: quiet, reserved, and extremely not into architecture, but somehow they’ve been rooming together for the past few years without any major conflicts. Mingyu’s loud, chaotic energy and tendency to overshare perfectly balances Wonwoo’s brooding, half-mysterious vibe. It’s a friendship forged in caffeine and mutual understanding that sometimes, you need someone who won’t judge when you blast pop music at 2 AM, or when you eat cereal for dinner because you forgot to go grocery shopping.
"How’s the first day?" Wonwoo doesn’t look up from his screen, his voice cool and unbothered. But Mingyu can tell he’s asking out of a form of polite curiosity, like a scientist observing a very energetic specimen.
Mingyu drops his bag on the counter and flops onto the couch next to him. "It was ... intense," he starts, rubbing the back of his neck. "The project I'm gonna be working on is a beast. There's this whole ocean of details to sift through. And then there's Ms (Y/l/n)."
Wonwoo looks up, his brow slightly raised. "Your boss?"
"Yeah," Mingyu says, leaning back and staring at the ceiling. "She's something else. Like she doesn't seem interested in me at all, and I'm not sure how to deal with that. But she's got this, like, presence. Makes you want to impress her, y'know? Even when she's totally stone-faced - especially when, actually."
Wonwoo hums noncommittally and takes a sip of his coffee, a faint smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "So, you're in love with your boss already. Good to know."
Mingyu shoots him a mock glare, his cheeks ringing with a hint of pink. "I'm not in love with her, okay? It's more like ... fascination. She's just really intimidating."
Wonwoo raises an eyebrow, the picture of dry amusement. "Uh-huh. Sure. And what's her deal, anyway? Too professional for your flirty smile?"
"She doesn't seem flattered by it." Mingyu dramatically drops his head into his hands, mimicking a tragic melodrama. "I might have to rethink my whole life strategy if I can’t get her to crack a smile at my jokes."
"But hey," Wonwoo adds with a smirk, "if you want to survive your first week, I suggest you do not mention the city skyline and your theories about how it’s a love letter to people. That’s a hard pass."
Mingyu groans, covering his face in embarrassment. "I’m never telling you anything ever again."
Wonwoo chuckles, leaning back against the couch with a satisfied grin. "You love me and you know it."
Mingyu snorts. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever. I’ve got work to do." He picks up the pile of documents, pulling them closer with a resigned sigh. "Gotta impress Ms (Y/l/n) somehow."
Gulping down a quick 'dinner' of left-over stir fry and a couple of eggs for good measure, Mingyu picks back up the Langham project folder, its content still a chaotic swirl of technical specs and words he can't read, and flips open the first few pages. The project itself is a massive undertaking - a luxury hotel and mixed-use complex nestled in the heart of the city, right by the river. The building is going to stretch twenty stories high, with glass facades that'll reflect the river's light like a prism. The design includes state-of-the-art amenities, with the goal of being the ultimate urban getaway - a haven for tourists, business moguls, and the occasional local who just wants to treat themselves to a little luxury.
Mingyu's eyes light up as he scans the proposed design. There's a grand atrium in the centre, stretching all the way up to the top floor, with cascading gardens and open-air terraces. "So fancy," he mutters to himself. His team is clearly trying to push boundaries here, blending modern steel and glass with organic elements - like a giant metallic tree-house hybrid for the city's elite.
He flips to a page filled with notes about sustainability and energy efficiency. They’re aiming for a platinum LEED certification — top-tier green building status. It’s all about using smart, eco-friendly tech to make the building as self-sustaining as possible. Mingyu groans inwardly, wondering if he’s about to become an expert on solar panels and rainwater harvesting.
As he continues reading, one particular detail catches his eye. The signature design element for the building is a series of “floating” glass bridges between the upper floors — a bold architectural statement meant to make the building appear less like a typical office block and more like something out of a futuristic movie. It sounds incredible, but Mingyu can already picture himself pulling his hair out over the engineering calculations required to make sure the whole thing doesn’t come crashing down in a windstorm.
By the time he reaches the end of the folder, his mind is spinning, and a mild panic starts to creep in. Your expectations are clear, and the project’s scope is enormous. But Mingyu can’t help the tiny spark of excitement that flickers in his chest. This is what he’s been working toward — to be a part of something that will change the city’s landscape, something that will make people stop and look up.
He rubs his eyes and glances at the clock. It's late, but he knows he'll need all the preparation he can get for tomorrow.
With one last long look at the papers, Mingyu closes the folder, shoving it aside with a resigned sigh. "I’m going to need a lot more coffee," he mutters, flopping back on the couch beside Wonwoo, who’s already half asleep with his laptop still glowing faintly in his lap.
Wonwoo snorts without opening his eyes. "You’re going to need more than coffee for this, buddy."
"Tell me about it," Mingyu grins, grabbing his phone to order another coffee, just in case he didn’t have enough already. Tonight, it looks like he’s going to be living on caffeine and architectural dreams.
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A few weeks into the job, Mingyu has already made a significant number of mistakes. Well, significant is probably an understatement. More like a collection of blunders so impressive that, if anyone were to catalogue them, they might think Mingyu was trying to break some sort of world record in architectural mishaps.
It starts innocently enough, with a small miscalculation on the elevator shaft dimensions that nearly caused a minor freakout in the engineering department. Then there was that time he mixed up the load-bearing capacity for the glass facades and accidentally sent an email to the whole team saying, "We could use stronger glass" when technically, the existing plans were fine. And, of course, who could forget that time he got overzealous and rearranged the project's timeline, shaving an entire month off the construction schedule, only to realise later that it was a little bit too ambitious for anyone's taste?
He still hasn't lived down the elevator incident, which, for the record, wasn't even entirely his fault. But it's hard to explain that when your eyes are drilling into him from across the room, a careful blend of disappointment and 'I'm trying not to send you into an existential crisis right now.'
Today, he's perched at his desk watching the clock tick down the minutes until the inevitable meeting with you. His fingers drum nervously on the edge of his notepad. There's a fresh stack of papers in front of him, each one brimming with red-inked corrections, and he knows what's coming. He's almost perfected the art of nodding in silent shame during your critiques, hoping the earth might swallow him whole.
When the meeting finally comes, you walk into the room, as poised and unbothered as ever. He tries to stand up to greet you, but he stumbles into his chair instead, catching himself just in time.
"You've been busy," you say dryly, as you flip through the stack of appears, your eyes scanning the marked-up blueprints. Your tone is sharp, like an exam proctor giving him one last chance to pass without the lecture.
Mingyu forces a grin, wiping his palms against his pants. "Yep, learning a lot on the fly, you know?"
You don't smile. "You've certainly given us a lot to work with."
Mingyu winces, cracking for the inevitable storm of corrections. He can already feel the weight of your disappointment pressing down on him. He's been trying so hard to make a good impression, but it seems every time he tries, he only ends up making things more complicated.
But then, as if you've suddenly decided that maybe he hasn’t completely bungled everything, you pause, tapping your pen against the papers in front of you. “But there’s one thing...”
His heart stutters. "What's that?"
You flip to the last page in the folder, revealing a neatly detailed diagram of the building's eco-friendly water filtration system, a proposal Mingyu put together at the last minute after a rather inspiring lunch break (where he might have gotten just a little carried away talking to the environmental consultant). You tap the diagram. "This," you say, your voice softer than he's ever heard it, "This is well done. You identified a potential issue with the system that we hadn't accounted for in the original design. We'll need to revise a few things to integrate it fully, but this is exactly the kind of thinking we need."
Mingyu stares at you, completely caught off guard. His brain is still half-parked in panic mode from the earlier mistakes. and he can't quite process your words. Did you just ... praise him?
"Really?" He blinks, his surprise making his voice higher than usual. "You mean the, uh, water thing? I just thought it might be better if we-"
"I know," you interrupt, your gaze steady on him. "You found a solution we missed. We'll be able to integrate it without a massive redesign. Good work."
Mingyu blinks again, this time in pure disbelief. It's like someone just handed him a bag of cash and told him to keep it. "I - uh, wow. Thanks." He tries to act cool, but he's pretty sure he looks like a kid who's just been handed an extra cookie.
You don't break your composed demeanour, but there's a subtle shift in your expression - a quiet respect that wasn't there before. "You're capable, Mr Kim," you say, your voice calm but with a hint of approval. "Despite your tendency to make things a little more complicated than necessary, you're on the right track."
The words hang in the air for a moment, and Mingyu feels an odd rush of pride — a mix of relief and the kind of warmth you get when you find out you didn’t totally mess everything up. For once, he’s not the guy who ruins everything in your eyes.
And, maybe, just maybe, he can keep that “capable” label for a while.
“I’ll expect the revised plans on my desk by Friday,” you say, your voice steady. “Don’t disappoint me.”
“I won’t!” Mingyu promises, his voice more confident than it’s been in weeks. “I’m on it.”
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Mingyu throws himself into revising the plans with a fervour that borders on obsession. He’s got spreadsheets, CAD files, hand-drawn sketches, and a brand new stack of sticky notes covering his desk like a rainbow-coloured fortress of architectural ambition. The water filtration system has turned into his personal magnum opus, and he’s determined to make sure it’s nothing short of revolutionary.
He's started to stay later than usual, his desk lamp becoming a beacon in the dimmed office. At first, he doesn't pay much attention to who else is around, his mind so wrapped up in calculations and potential pitfalls that he barely notices his own hunger or fatigue. But after a few nights, he realises he's not the only one burning the midnight oil.
Your office light is always on. Sometimes he'll glance up, bleary-eyed and half delirious from staring at documents, and he'll catch a glimpse of you through the glass walls - hair pulled back, eyes locked on your laptop screen, fingers tapping briskly on the keys as if your thoughts are sprinting ahead of your hands. You're a constant fixture, as much a part of the office's architecture as the polished marble floors and unbreakable glass doors. And, he realises, you're usually there even later than he is.
One evening, after finally signing off on what feels like the hundredth draft of the plans, Mingyu yawns and stretches, feeling every vertebra pop like bubble wrap. He glances at the clock. It's nearly midnight. As he stands to grab his coat, he sees your office light flick off, and you appear, looking just as composed as you did this morning, as if working fifteen hours straight is just part of your weekly routine.
You both walk to the elevator in silence, the quiet stretch of the office settling around you like an unspoken truce. When the elevator doors close, you glance at him, breaking the silence with a casual, "You're still here, Mr Kim."
He lets out a soft laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, still making sure I don't mess up the Langham project. You know how it is."
You don't smile, but your expression softens. "I do."
The elevator ride is quiet, filled with the low hum of machinery and the faintest scent of Mingyu's cologne - a last-ditch attempt this morning to feel professional. When you step out onto the ground floor, you hesitate by the door, glancing out at the street. The city is dark and quiet, the only lights the occasional passing car and the soft glow of streetlamps.
"Do you have a way home?" You ask, your voice so casual it takes him a second to realise you're actually offering him a ride.
Mingyu blinks, caught off guard. "Uh, well, I was going to take the subway. But if you're offering..." He trails off, grinning sheepishly.
You nod, motioning to the car parked just outside. It's as sleek and polished as you are - a dark sedan that looks like it would have absolutely no patience for speed bumps. He slides into the passenger seat, trying not to fumble with his seatbelt, and you start the engine, pulling into the quiet streets with a calm, practised ease.
For a while, you drive in silence. Mingyu glances out the window, his thoughts tangled between the day's work and the surreal feeling of sitting in the same car as you.
"You're ... very driven," you break the quiet, your tone almost contemplative. "I don't often see people put in that kind of effort, especially so early on."
He chuckles softly, scratching the back of his neck. "Guess I just don’t want to let you down. Or, you know, be known as the guy who destroyed the Langham project.”
You finally smile, a small, genuine expression that feels like a rare peek beyond the wall, and leaves Mingyu feeling a little breathless. "It's more than that, though, isn't it?"
Mingyu hesitates, taken aback by the question. He’s not sure what he expected you to say, but it definitely wasn’t that. “I mean, yeah. I’ve always loved buildings. Ever since I was a kid, I’d spend hours sketching skyscrapers in my notebooks. It’s kind of a dream come true, being here. Getting to work on something this big.”
You listen, your eyes fixed on the road but your expression soft, focusing now somewhere beyond just his words.
"This job can consume you, if you let it," you say quietly, almost to yourself. "It's a rare thing to see someone bring genuine excitement to it. Most people, they burn out or let it harden them." You glance at him, and for a brief moment, he sees a flicker of something almost vulnerable in your gaze. "It's good that you still ... care."
Your words hang in the air, and Mingyu feels a strange ache in his chest - a sudden realisation that beneath the cool professionalism, you had been through this same path yourself, fighting to keep that spark alive in an industry that seems determined to grind it out of you.
"Thanks," he says softly, the playful tone absent for once. "I mean it. And ... I think I get what you mean." He hesitates, then adds, "But I don't think I'll stop caring anytime soon."
You nod, a faint smile ghosting your lips. You drive on through the city, the lights casting soft, shifting patterns on the glass.
When you finally reach his building, he unbuckles his seatbelt, giving you a small, grateful smile. “Thanks for the ride. And, you know… for everything else.”
You nod, your expression back to usual, but there's a warmth in your eyes now. "Goodnight, Mr Kim."
"Goodnight," he says, stepping out and closing the door gently. He watches as you drive away, the taillights disappearing down the street, and feels a strange mixture of inspiration and relief, and a hunger to get back in the car and learn anything else he can about you.
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It's a week before his presentation, and Mingyu is thrilled about his latest proposal for the Lagham project - a sleek, eco-friendly rooftop space designed to collect rainwater, enhance natural cooling, and serve as a green oasis in the middle of the city for all visitors to access. It's his baby, his architectural pièce de résistance. He’s already named the design “Green Above” in his head, but, apparently, the client is less than convinced.
The hesitation comes during a routine check-in meeting, when Mr. Choi casually drops the news that the client has “concerns.” The term is as vague as it is ominous, and Mingyu’s heart sinks. Apparently, they’re worried it’s too “experimental,” too “risky” for the firm’s conservative image. Mingyu tries to hide his disappointment, nodding as Mr. Choi politely recommends that he “polish up his pitch” before the big day.
By “polish,” of course, he means pull a miracle out of thin air.
Enter: you.
Later that afternoon, you call him into your office, the door clicking shut behind him as you gesture for him to sit. He braces himself, ready for another dissection of his work, but instead, you surprise him by pulling out his sketches and nodding. "The client might be wary," you say, your tone clinical and level, "but there's a strong case for this. You just need to learn how to show them the vision." You pause, looking at him. "I'll help you with that."
Mingyu blinks. "You'll help me present?"
"Yes, Mr Kim," you say. "We'll work on this every evening until you're confident enough to convince a room full of sceptics. You'll have to be better than good. Exceptional."
And so, every evening for the next week, Mingyu stays late in the conference room, rehearsing his proposal with you. The first night, he stumbles through the trial run, mumbling about sustainable design, only to have you stop him after two minutes, unimpressed.
"Start over," you say, tapping your pen against the table. "And this time, stop burying the lead. Walk in there and make me believe it's the best thing I've ever heard."
You're relentless but patient, correcting him when he gets too caught up in technical jargon, showing him how to highlight the benefits rather than the process. "This is a story," you tell him one evening. "Show that what it feels like. Make them see the vision before you go into how it works."
Somewhere around the fourth late night, you sit back into your chair after another dry run, watching him with an intensity that makes him nearly forget his lines.
“Stop talking like you’re trying to convince them you’re good enough,” you say, "You are. You have to believe it, or no one else will."
Mingyu blinks, the words landing with unexpected weight. You say it like it's a fact - as if there's no question about his abilities, just his confidence. Something in your gaze is softer than he's ever seen, and for the first time, he wonders how many long nights like these you've spent not just perfecting your work, but holding yourself up to impossible standards too.
He nods, taking a breath. “Right. Believe it.”
By the night before the presentation, he’d rehearsed the pitch so many times he could recite it in his sleep. You give him one last nod, a subtle flicker of approval in your eyes. "You're ready."
The day of the meeting dawns, and Mingyu arrives early, the faint taste of nerves tingling in his throat. When he enters the boardroom, the client representatives are all seated, an assortment of tailored suits and sceptical expressions. Mr. Choi offers a nod of encouragement from his place at the head of the table, and you stand nearby, arms folded, watching him with that same quiet intensity.
As he begins his pitch, Mingyu can feel his initial nerves settle, his voice steady as he moves through each point. He doesn’t just talk about “Green Above” like an idea on paper; he paints it as a vision, something meant to make the city’s skyline greener, bolder, better. He gestures to the architectural mockups, describing the rooftop garden as not just a feature but a destination, an asset that would be both functional and iconic.
He can tell, halfway through, that the room has shifted. The clients sit forward, nodding, leaning into his words, their initial scepticism melting as he lays out the plan. The numbers, the materials, the maintenance — it’s all there, practical but wrapped in the bigger picture he’s been rehearsing for nights on end.
When he finishes, the room is silent for a beat before the client’s lead representative nods, visibly impressed. “It’s… ambitious,” he says, almost smiling. “But I see what you mean. Let’s move forward.”
Mingyu grins, fighting the urge to fist pump as the clients exchange approving glances. He looks over at you, who gives him the slightest nod of approval. He can almost see a glimmer of pride in your expression, faint but undeniable.
As the room empties and the clients file out, Mingyu's heart is still racing, his whole body humming with triumph. He turns to you, grinning wide. "We did it," he says, his voice barely containing his excitement. "I mean ... I did it. But only because you..."
He trails off, realising just how close you're standing, the quiet of the empty room settling around you. Your gaze meets his, and for a moment, you don't look away. It's a long, lingering look, like you're seeing him not just as an employee or an eager architect but as… him. Someone who cares, who tries, who’s just won his first major victory and feels like he’s on top of the world.
“Thank you,” he says, his voice softer now, more vulnerable. “For all of it. I don’t think I could have pulled it off without you.”
You hesitate, your eyes flickering with something he can’t quite place. Your expression softens, your lips parting slightly as if your about to say something else. And in that moment, there’s a warmth between them, a shared understanding that words alone wouldn’t quite capture.
“Just… keep going,” you say finally, your voice so quiet it feels like a secret. “You’re more capable than you realize, Mingyu.”
The way you says his name — with that subtle, unfamiliar warmth — makes his heart skip. He nods, still holding your gaze, feeling the weight of everything you’ve shared in the past week in that single, electric second.
And then, as if the moment might disappear if you linger too long, you step back, your usual composure slipping back into place.
For the first time, Mingyu feels that maybe — just maybe — there’s more between them than late-night work sessions and professional boundaries. And as you walk side by side down the quiet hall, he can’t shake the feeling that, for the first time, you might be feeling it too.
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Mingyu's gotten good at convincing himself he's not entirely losing it. So what if his boss, who barely blinks at a 15-hour day and thinks "weekends" are a suggestion, is suddenly occupying 90% of his mental bandwidth? That's just ... professional admiration. So when he finds himself thinking about you at odd times - like, mid-bite of his breakfast burrito, or what he's supposed to be learning zoning codes - he brushes it off. After all, it's normal to be totally absorbed by someone you admire.
One evening, after bringing home takeout and trying (again) to casually mention his most recent success, Wonwoo decides to drop a bomb. "I saw an article about your boss the other day, you know. Back when she first joined the firm. People in the comments kept talking about something called the Westbrook Project - ever heard of it?"
"Westbrook Project?" Mingyu repeats, a little too quickly, his brain scrambling. Nothing. He’s pretty sure he’s never heard the name before, but it’s his boss, so he’s probably supposed to know. After Wonwoo can't provide any more details, Mingyu does what any self-respecting architect does at 2 a.m. when faced with a mysterious professional tidbit: he Googles it. Expecting, like, a vague overview, maybe some old press releases. What he finds, though, are words like "abandoned," "budget issues," and, worst of all, "failure," with your name all over it. Ouch. Big, deep ouch.
The next day at work, Mingyu manages to strike up a casual conversation with the marketing guy who's practically the office encyclopedia. "Oh, the Westbrook Project?" he says with a knowing smirk. "I read the case files. It was supposed to be, like, revolutionary. Eco-forward, huge downtown build. A lot of drama when it got shut down. Man, Ms (Y/l/n) was obsessed with that thing. You've gotta respect someone who fights like that for their work." He laughs a little, but there's something almost pitying in his tone, like he doesn't quite know what to make of someone who has been through such a high-profile professional failure.
Mingyu's stomach drops as he realises that there's a whole side of you - this weight - he never saw before. He feels embarrassed for not knowing. But, maybe, it explains the way you hold yourself together, so careful with your words, so precise in every gesture. Because what happens when you give so much of yourself, and it still isn't enough?
Mingyu can't help but glance at you differently when you walk into the office. You're still the same, all business and poise, but there's a weight to you now that he hadn't noticed before. It's not his place to ask you about Westbrook, and he's not sure he could even bring it up without tripping over his own words.
So, Mingyu brings it up.
Not immediately, because he's not that much of a disaster. It's not the same day, or even the same week. It's one of those late nights when he's deep into pretending he's not panicking over math, and he's only going into your office to ask if you've seen the last-minute email from the client. 
Except. 
He sees the bottle of red on your desk.
It's sitting there, a little too casually, with half of it in a glass that's perched too close to your mouse. 
It's not that Mingyu thought you didn't drink. But seeing it there, on your desk, is like catching a glimpse of a teacher's pet outside of school. His brain starts spiralling. Are you getting drunk? Are you able to get drunk?
Still standing in the doorway like he's caught in some sort of personal disaster movie, Mingyu clears his throat. "Uh," he starts, because his brain is still stuck on you drinking alcohol in the office, "What's the deal with the wine?"
You glance up from your computer, completely unfazed. "Oh, this?" You wave a hand, almost like it’s nothing. “A gift from a client. They thought I needed something to ‘relax’ after all the late nights." You flash a teasing grin. "I didn’t think anyone else would be in the office this late, though."
Mingyu freezes again. Seeing a smile on your face is unnerving him. "Uh, well, yeah ... just ... I thought you were busy, y'know? I didn't want to disturb you," he stammers, as if that makes any sense. Of course you know he's here. He's always here. He's practically a fixture at this point.
You raise an eyebrow at him, clearly not fooled. “Sure you didn’t. Anyway, now that you’re here," you say, looking at him with a glint of curiosity, "what’s been keeping you up lately? Besides zoning codes and whatever else you’ve been trying to memorise, that is."
Mingyu, caught completely off guard by the question, opens his mouth to respond, but his brain, still fighting the urge to melt into the floor, can't form a proper sentence. His gaze flicks back to the wine bottle like it holds all the answers to his life right now. Finally, he blurts out, "Uhh... I’ve been, uh, thinking about the Green Above project. You know, the one we’re working on?"
“Right,” you nod, leaning back in your chair. “Big, green rooftop. You’ve got your hands full with that one.” You take a sip from your glass, and Mingyu swears the way your lips wrap around the rim is completely unfair to his focus. “What else?”
Mingyu, not used to people asking him personal questions that aren’t about work or how he’s planning on saving the planet with his architectural genius, scratches the back of his neck. “Uh... I mean, well, I’ve been wondering about... you. I mean, your—" he pauses, shaking his head, "your work, of course. Like, how you got into all this. You’ve clearly been through a lot, right?”
You chuckle softly, eyes softening for a brief moment. "A lot? Yeah, I guess you could say that. But that’s not what we’re talking about right now, is it?" You lean forward. "What's really going on, Mingyu?"
Mingyu’s mind is officially in crisis mode. He could barely form a sentence when talking about wine, and now you’ve flipped the tables. What is he even supposed to say?
“I—uh, well, it’s just... I’m curious,” he mutters, struggling to sound casual. He bites his lip, then his curiosity gets the best of him. “Wait, can I ask about something?”
You lean back again, clearly amused. “Go ahead.”
He takes a breath and gestures to the cabinet rested against the back wall of your office. "That picture there .. of a building, I think? It kind of looks like the Westbrook Project. Was it yours?” He winces as soon as he asks, knowing full well how awkward this must sound. But now he really wants to know, and he’s not sure he can keep pretending he hasn’t been thinking about it.
You blink, clearly not expecting him to ask, but then you just sigh and open your desk drawer, revealing an old architectural sketch, detailed and bold, with a city skyline in the background. “Yeah,” you say, voice quieter now. “It was.”
Mingyu swallows hard, his voice dropping to a more respectful tone. “What happened to it? The project, I mean... why didn’t it go through?”
You don’t answer immediately. Instead, you take another slow sip of your wine, letting the moment stretch out. When you finally speak, your voice is calm but laced with something unspoken. “It was a good idea, just... not the right time. But that’s how it goes sometimes in this field. Things get started, and then... they don’t.”
Mingyu doesn’t say anything at first, processing what you’ve shared. “I get that,” he says softly. “I think I’ve been there too. You know, not everything works out exactly the way you expect.”
You glance at him, and for a moment, there’s this quiet weight in your expression, something raw you don’t usually let slip. The smile fades, but it’s not replaced with sadness—more like... an understanding, an acceptance.
“The Westbrook Project was supposed to be everything I’ve worked for,” you begin, your voice softer now, like the walls are coming down just a little. “My goal has always been to help the community, to build things that people can actually enjoy, not just walk by and forget. I wanted something that would be a part of the city, something that people could use—a space that felt like it belonged to everyone.” You stop, looking at the picture in the drawer for a moment as if it’s not just a sketch, but a piece of your heart. "The Westbrook Project was supposed to be the culmination of all that. The perfect mix of green spaces, architecture, and public access. I wanted to create something people would look at and feel like they were part of it, you know? Not just bystanders."
You take another slow breath, running a hand through your hair, looking a bit less put-together than usual, but somehow even more... real. “I think that’s the hardest part. It wasn’t just a project to me—it was everything I believed in. And when it got shut down... it felt like a piece of that belief just... crumbled.” You shake your head, almost laughing at yourself. “I know it sounds dramatic, but when you spend so much of your time fighting for something, putting everything into it... and it still isn’t enough... it makes you wonder what the point is.”
Mingyu watches you closely with a strange mix of admiration and empathy. For a second, he’s struck with the urge to reach out and say something comforting, but all he can manage is a quiet, "That... sounds incredible. You must have been really proud of it."
You nod, a small, wistful smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “I was. Still am, in a way. But life moves on, right?” You glance back at the bottle of wine, then take another sip, before setting it down and meeting Mingyu’s gaze again, this time with a lighter, almost teasing glint. "You want some?"
“Uh... yeah?” he says, but it comes out more like a question than a statement, as if he's still trying to make sure this is actually happening.
You pour him a glass, your movements slow and deliberate. Mingyu watches every little gesture, thinking that maybe if he looks at the wine long enough, it might just turn into something less dangerous. It doesn't.
He takes the glass from you, trying to act casual, but honestly? It's a miracle he doesn’t spill it everywhere. "Thanks," he mutters.
You smirk at him as if you know exactly what’s going on in his head, and for a moment, Mingyu wonders if you can hear it, too—the way his pulse skips whenever he looks at you. He takes a sip of the wine, hoping it will steady him. It doesn’t. It only makes him more aware of you, of the way your eyes glint in the dim light of the office, how close you’re sitting, how warm it feels in here all of a sudden.
“So,” you say, your voice dropping a little lower than before, “Now that we’ve gone through my failed projects, do you feel enlightened?”
Mingyu laughs, but it’s a little too breathless, a little too caught off guard. He leans back, trying to appear cool, but it’s hard to be anything but a mess when you’re so close and everything feels a little off in the best possible way. “Enlightened? I’m still figuring out if you’re real,” he admits, voice cracking just a bit.
You raise an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh? What does that mean?”
Mingyu runs a hand through his hair, avoiding your gaze for a moment as his thoughts scatter in a dozen different directions. “It’s just ... you’re different than what I expected. I mean, you’re still, like, boss mode, but there’s this whole other side to you. Like, I don't know ... I think I’ve been seeing you as this untouchable, perfect person, and now I’m realising maybe I’m not the only one who’s human.”
You blink at him for a moment, and then—before he can get too embarrassed—something flickers across your face. Maybe it’s recognition. Maybe it’s something else. You lean in just slightly, the air between you thickening, but you don't break the distance just yet.
“I think,” you start slowly, “you might be onto something there, Mingyu.”
His breath hitches. He’s not sure if it’s the wine, the late hour, or the way your voice dropped that has him leaning forward a little. It’s all of it, really. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” you reply, lips curling into a knowing smile. “You might find I’m not so untouchable, after all. But—” You pause, the tension rising as your eyes flicker down to his lips, then back to his eyes. “We’ll see if you can handle the reality of that.”
Mingyu’s mind is going full tilt now, brain in overdrive, as his hand involuntarily moves closer to yours on the desk. He's this close to spilling all his thoughts and feelings—about work, about the project, about the way you make him feel—but instead, he blurts out, “I—uh, I’m pretty good with challenges.”
The words hang there, thick in the air between you. And then, before Mingyu can think any more about it, you break the tension—just slightly—by leaning even closer, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’m sure you are.”
The space between you shrinks, just a little. And Mingyu, heart hammering in his chest, finds himself absolutely certain that if things don’t shift soon, this office might just catch fire from how hot it’s gotten in the last few minutes. The tension in the air is thick, like static before a storm. Mingyu’s hand hovers just a fraction too close to yours on the desk, his heart a jackhammer in his chest. He’s this close to losing all control, caught between wanting to say the right thing and just leaning in and kissing you. But what would that even mean? Would it be the worst decision of his life? Or the best?
His thoughts are a mess, but then—just like that—it’s like you’ve made up your mind for him. You close the space between you with a single, deliberate movement, your lips pressing softly against his.
Mingyu freezes for half a second, too stunned to process what’s happening. And then, without even thinking, he leans into the kiss, his hand moving to cup your jaw. It’s slow at first, soft, like neither of you can quite believe this is actually happening. Your lips are warm, and the taste of wine lingers on them—something sweet and intoxicating that has his head spinning.
You pull back just slightly, your breath brushing against his lips, and he feels his pulse race. You look at him, eyes dark with something unreadable. "You're not regretting this, are you?" you murmur, voice low.
“No,” he breathes out, shaking his head. “Definitely not regretting this.”
And then you’re kissing him again, deeper this time, your hands moving to his collar as if you’re suddenly both starved for this closeness. His fingers tangle in your hair, pulling you closer, and all he can think about is how right this feels, how every inch of him seems to have been made for this exact moment.
The kiss grows more urgent, more heated. His body presses into yours, the desk suddenly feeling too small, too far away. He wants you closer, needs you closer, and the way you move against him makes him ache with desire. He’s so lost in you, in this kiss, that everything else fades away—the Westbrook Project, work deadlines, the office. There’s only you, only this.
You're mumbling something and Mingyu's not sure he has the brain capacity to listen when he can feel your hands on his chest and your body pressed against his.
"... couldn't believe it when I saw you. I mean, who looks like this?"
His brain practically short-circuits at that. 
You’re grinning now, clearly enjoying his flustered reaction, and he can feel his cheeks heat up. But before he can manage a reply, you reach up, your hand grazing the back of his neck as you lean in again. His breath catches in his throat, and suddenly his brain clears—just long enough for him to close the remaining distance between you two.
The kiss this time is less hesitant, filled with a kind of urgency that makes the room feel smaller, more intense. His hands find their way to your waist, pulling you against him, and he feels your fingers twisting in his hair as if you can’t get enough either. Every brush of your lips sends another jolt through him, and he’s quickly losing any sense of professionalism or reason. He’s just Mingyu, in this moment, in this office, completely undone by you.
You’re mumbling again, half-laughing as he trails his lips down to the corner of your mouth and just slightly to your jawline. “I mean, really,” you manage between kisses, breathy but amused. “Did you even realise the effect you have?”
He lets out a breath of laughter against your skin, half a smirk forming. “I—I mean, maybe,” he says, but the words come out more as a gasp because you’ve got your hands back on him, your fingers trailing along his jaw in a way that has him melting. “I might have... kinda hoped, at least?”
“Oh?” Your voice is soft, teasing, and he catches a flash of that mischievous smile just before you lean in again, catching him in another kiss that’s more intense, more consuming than before.
Mingyu’s senses are a blur, but he manages to break away for just a second, eyes dark, a grin of his own tugging at his lips. “I think,” he says, his voice low, “I’d like to show you just how much I can handle.” His tone is playful but edged with a confidence he didn’t know he had until this very moment.
The moment is thick, like honey, everything moving slower and faster at once. Mingyu’s hands slip around your waist, and you’re tugging him closer, a little breathless, a little reckless. You’re both lost in the feeling of it, the thrill and warmth that seemed impossible just minutes ago.
But then—a sharp vibration echoes against the desk. The hum of your phone springs to life, startling you both. The screen lights up with an urgent notification, reminding you exactly where you are and what you’re doing.
You pull back, your lips just a whisper away from his, and a flicker of reality cuts through the haze of the moment. “Oh—” Your hands drop from his collar, fingertips brushing his chest as if the memory of the touch will fade otherwise. “Mingyu, I...”
His eyes meet yours, still dark and soft, a little dazed, a little too hopeful. But he pulls himself together, straightening and running a hand through his hair, somehow flustered and grinning at the same time. “Uh, right. Sorry,” he says, though it’s not clear who he’s apologising to.
You swallow, nodding as you try to steady yourself. “I—need to go,” you manage. “We both do, actually. It’s...late.”
Mingyu blinks, nodding, though he can't help the hint of disappointment beneath his expression. “Right. Of course. We probably... shouldn’t even be here right now.” He laughs awkwardly, scratching the back of his head as if that could somehow erase the last few minutes. “Guess I should close up?”
You nod, and he watches your hand move to your chest, as if to catch your pulse before it runs off. “Yeah, let’s...do that.”
As you step out of the office, you glance back one last time, catching his eye in the dim light. “Goodnight, Mingyu.”
His gaze is steady, his voice warm. “Goodnight.”
The door clicks shut behind you, and Mingyu stands there, staring at it as if it might magically swing back open. For a moment, he doesn’t move, too stunned to process the fact that you were just here, inches away, closer than he ever thought possible, and then—gone. The warmth of you, the softness of your touch, is still buzzing on his skin, and it’s taking everything in him to not replay every single second in his mind.
He lets out a shaky breath and rubs his face, laughing softly to himself. “Wow,” he mutters, barely believing it. Did that really just happen? His boss—the woman he’s spent months trying not to have a full-on crisis over every time she looks at him—just kissed him. And it wasn’t just a peck; it was real, and his head is still spinning.
He paces the office, catching his reflection in the dark window. His hair’s a mess, his shirt collar a little crumpled, and the look on his face is somewhere between ecstatic and completely lost. He feels like he’s standing on the edge of a cliff—excited but terrified, staring down into something he can’t quite see.
“Okay, pull it together, man,” he whispers, clutching the edge of his desk like it might hold him steady. But he can’t shake the lingering feeling of your hands against him, the way your voice softened as you spoke to him about your dreams, how for a moment, he felt like he’d glimpsed something real and vulnerable and human in you. It’s like he’s been handed the answer to a riddle he didn’t even know he was solving.
He glances back at the empty doorway and smiles, a little helplessly. Because he knows—there’s no going back from this.
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On Monday, Mingyu is ready. He's had days to replay every single second of that kiss, dissecting the tiniest details: the way you'd smiled before leaning in, the way you'd pulled back just a bit only to close the gap even tighter the next time. He’s convinced there’s no way you could look at him the same after that. He’s barely looked at himself the same.
So when he walks into the office Monday morning, there's this nervous excitement buzzing in his chest. He expects maybe a shared look or even a subtle nod, something that says 'yeah, we're definitely not forgetting that happened'. But he doesn't get that. In fact, he doesn't get much of anything.
“Uh, good morning,” he finally says, attempting a smile, hoping to break whatever tension he’s imagining.
“Morning,” you say briskly, barely looking up. “Did you get the updated renderings for the Green Above project?”
Mingyu blinks, caught off guard by how quickly you’ve brushed him off. “Yeah, I—um, they should be in your inbox. I, uh, made some adjustments you might want to look at.”
“Great. I’ll check later,” you say, curtly, already turning back to your computer. It’s not even like you’re being rude, exactly; just… distant. Professional. Totally not how you’d looked at him last week when he’d practically melted into you against this very desk.
The day drags on with more of the same. Every time he tries to catch your eye, you’re looking somewhere else. Every attempt at a lighthearted comment, something to bridge the gap, lands with a dull thud. By mid-afternoon, Mingyu’s just staring at his computer screen, feeling completely lost. Did he imagine everything? Because suddenly, it feels like he’s reading way too much into every little thing, wondering if the smile you’d given him that night was all in his head.
By the end of the day, he can’t take it anymore. He decides to be subtle—or something like that—and casually leans into your office as you’re gathering your things.
“Hey, um… are we good?” He tries to keep his voice light, but there’s an edge of worry there that he can’t quite hide. “It feels like—well, last week was—”
You glance up sharply, your expression guarded. “We’re fine, Mingyu,” you say, with a tone that’s just a little too even. “You’re doing great on the project. Keep up the good work.”
There’s that polished professional mask again, and this time it feels like a wall. Mingyu’s stomach twists, and he can’t help but feel a sting in his chest. He nods, trying to ignore the disappointment sinking in. "Right. Yeah, I’ll, uh… keep that up.”
And just like that, you walk past him, your footsteps echoing down the hallway as you head out for the night, leaving him standing there, staring after you, wondering what just went wrong.
It’s Thursday, and Mingyu’s still thinking about every clipped interaction you’ve had all week. He’s convinced he’s somehow messed everything up, but he’s not sure how. By lunchtime, he’s already halfway through a takeout sandwich in the break room when some of the other junior architects drift in, plates and coffees in hand. He’s only half-listening to their conversation, until, like a magnet, he hears your name.
“Did you see how she restructured the timeline?” One of them—Hyun, a friend from Mingyu’s first week—says, rolling his eyes. “Feels like she’s trying to prove something to everyone.”
Another snorts. “Yeah, she’s always like that. Like she has to make everything harder just to remind us she’s the boss.”
Mingyu freezes mid-bite, a flicker of irritation flaring in his chest. He’d learned more from working with you in the past few months than he could’ve in years of grad school. You didn’t ask anyone to work harder than you did yourself, and Mingyu’s certain no one stays later or puts in more effort than you do.
“Maybe she just actually cares about the projects,” Mingyu snaps, dropping his sandwich. The room goes a bit quiet, a few heads turning his way in surprise. “I mean, do you guys know how much time she’s spent on this? She’s doing half of our jobs for us so we don’t mess it up.”
Hyun raises an eyebrow. "Calm down, Mingyu. Everyone knows she's intense."
“‘Intense’ doesn’t mean you have to talk about her like that,” Mingyu says, his voice a bit sharper than he means it to be. “Maybe if people here actually appreciated all the work she does, she wouldn’t have to be so ‘intense’ to get things done.”
There’s a beat of awkward silence, everyone looking at him like he’s suddenly sprouted a second head. Hyun mutters, "That's easy to say when you're the one getting special favours from her."
Mingyu's jaw clenches, the insinuation making his blood boil.  Special favours? He opens his mouth to snap back, but then catches himself. Getting defensive will only make things worse, and he doesn’t owe anyone an explanation for the late nights or the extra hours you’ve spent on his work. The truth is, he’s learned more from those “extra” moments than he could ever explain to Hyun and the others.
“Look,” he says, keeping his voice as steady as he can. “If you guys actually put in half the effort she does, you’d see it’s not about favourites. It’s about getting things right. Maybe if you tried it sometime, you’d get the same attention.”
Hyun snorts, clearly unconvinced. “Right. Must be nice, though, always getting her undivided attention. Pretty convenient, huh?”
The others chuckle, and Mingyu feels his face flush. He glances down, jaw set tight as he clenches his fists under the table. He can feel the weight of their stares and half-smirks, their words pressing in on him like a slow burn he can’t shake off.
The door swings open just then, and he catches sight of you standing there, eyes narrowed, a faint frown on your face. His heart drops, and suddenly he realizes you must have heard—possibly all of it.
“Can I talk to you for a second, Mingyu?” Your tone is measured, calm, but he can tell there’s something icy underneath. The others exchange looks, clearly ready to gossip the second you both leave.
Mingyu follows you out of the room, feeling a sense of dread settle in his stomach. As soon as you’re out of earshot, you turn to him, arms crossed.
“So is that how you’re spending your lunch breaks now?” you ask, a cool edge to your voice. “Defending me in the office cafeteria?”
Mingyu swallows, unsure how to respond. “I just… didn’t think they should be talking about you like that,” he says, trying to keep his voice steady, even though he can feel the intensity of your gaze. “It wasn’t right.”
You sigh, pressing your lips together, something almost unreadable flickering across your face. “I don’t need you to defend me, Mingyu,” you say, your tone firm. “I’ve been doing this job long enough to handle what people say behind my back. You’re here to do your job, not to play protector.”
Mingyu’s jaw clenches. He wants to argue, to tell you that maybe you don’t need anyone’s help, but that doesn’t mean you deserve to be dragged through the mud behind your back. But something in your expression stops him. He nods, swallowing back whatever words were fighting their way to the surface. “Got it,” he says, keeping his voice as even as possible. “It won’t happen again.”
You hold his gaze for a moment longer, as if deciding whether to say more, but then you just shake your head, walking away with a tense set to your shoulders. He watches you go, the frustration and confusion still churning inside him, wondering just how much further away you both seem to get with every step.
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Later that evening, Mingyu slumps into the apartment, looking so defeated that Wonwoo’s expression goes from mildly bored to instantly entertained. “Let me guess. It’s about your boss?” Wonwoo doesn’t even wait for confirmation before tossing him a soda. “You’re like a walking rom-com.”
Mingyu sighs, collapsing on the couch. “Wonwoo, I think she hates me. I mean, really hates me.”
Wonwoo raises an eyebrow. “And here I thought you two were practically having candlelit takeout dinners in her office.”
Mingyu runs a hand through his hair, deflating. “Yeah, well, that was before I kissed her.”
Wonwoo’s phone slides out of his hand, falling onto the couch like a lead balloon. “You what?”
Mingyu nods slowly, a rueful look on his face. “We were working late. It just—happened, okay? And now she’s all distant. Like, avoid me at all costs distant.”
“You kissed your boss?” Wonwoo repeats, still processing. He’s looking at Mingyu like he’s a particularly unsolvable math problem. “As in, the one you worship and whose entire life story you’ve googled?”
“Yes, that one,” Mingyu mutters, covering his face with his hands. “And it was incredible. Like, the kind of kiss that makes you think about life and all your choices and, you know… stuff.” He trails off, his voice a bit dreamy despite himself. “But then, after that, she started acting all cold, like it didn’t mean anything.”
Wonwoo stares at him, baffled. “Did you, uh, talk to her about it? You know, use words and stuff?”
Mingyu gives him a look. “Of course I tried talking to her. But she’s been all serious and professional and—ugh.” He sinks deeper into the couch. “And today, I may or may not have defended her in front of everyone. Like, really aggressively.”
Wonwoo groans. “You really know how to complicate things, don’t you?”
“Look, it just came out! They were acting like she’s some kind of boss robot or something. I just couldn’t listen to it.” Mingyu shakes his head. “And of course, she overheard it and was not happy. Told me she doesn’t need someone to protect her.”
Wonwoo considers this, eyebrows furrowed. “So basically, you kissed her, defended her honour, and now you think you ruined everything because she’s distant?”
“Exactly,” Mingyu sighs. “I feel like I messed it all up, and now she thinks I’m just some junior architect with a crush or something.”
Wonwoo raises an eyebrow. “I mean, to be fair, you kind of are a junior architect with a crush.”
“Thanks, Wonwoo. Really needed that.” Mingyu glares at him, but a hint of a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.
Wonwoo nudges him, his tone a little lighter now. “Look, man, maybe she just needs to know it was more than a one-time, late-night thing for you. Like, a serious talk. But not at the office, where everything’s so formal. Just the two of you.”
Mingyu’s eyes light up. “A serious talk… outside of work. Like, maybe over coffee?”
“Or dinner. Or anything where you can show her that you’re interested in more than work. Just, you know, don’t do that thing where you panic and say something weird.”
Mingyu sighs dramatically. “So, no pressure.”
Wonwoo grins, giving him a slap on the back. “You’ve got this, Romeo. Go win her over.”
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Mingyu stands in front of your office door, hands nervously tugging at his sleeves like he's preparing for a public execution. He’s been rehearsing this moment for the last twenty minutes—while staring at his desk like it could offer him some sort of guidance—and he still has no idea what he’s doing. He only knows that if he doesn't get his foot in the door right now, he's going to spend the rest of the day overthinking this until his brain short circuits.
So, he knocks.
And of course, you don’t answer immediately. He stands there like a complete idiot, holding his breath for about five seconds before taking the most awkward step inside. Your eyes flick up to him, and for a second, he’s sure his heart is going to stop.
“Oh. Mingyu.” You sound surprised. Great. That’s just what he needed. "What do you need?"
He smiles, too big, too eager. This is fine. “Hey! So, um, I was thinking—”
“Uh oh,” you mutter, narrowing your eyes as if you already know where this is going.
“No, no, don’t worry, it’s nothing bad,” he says quickly, forcing himself to sound more convincing than he feels. “I just, you know… you’ve been working super hard, and I was thinking, you deserve a break. So, what do you say? Dinner? You and me, tonight.”
You blink at him like he just asked if you wanted to run through the streets naked.
“Dinner? With you?” You tilt your head, looking him up and down, clearly trying to figure out if he’s joking or if his brain’s just melted from exhaustion.
"Yup!" Mingyu says, definitely a little too loud and way too enthusiastic. “Yeah, just dinner. No work talk, no presentations, just a chance to unwind, you know?” He grins like he's already won, but there’s something in your gaze that makes him freeze up.
You raise an eyebrow, studying him carefully. The air between you two is thick with that awkward tension, like you’re both trying to figure out if this is a professional gesture or something else entirely. Mingyu can feel the temperature in the room rise, and his stomach does a somersault as he waits for you to respond.
“Are you… serious right now?” You finally ask, your tone a mix of confusion and cautious curiosity.
Mingyu’s heart stutters in his chest. “Of course, I’m serious,” he says quickly, voice cracking slightly as his nerves get the best of him. “I mean, it’s not like—uh, it’s not like I want anything weird to happen. It’s just dinner. With two people who both happen to work in the same office. Completely normal, right?” He laughs a little too loudly, and it sounds forced, like someone desperately trying to convince themselves of something they don’t believe.
You’re silent for a moment, and Mingyu’s brain spins with overthinking. Should he apologise? Should he leave before this gets even more awkward? Why did he even think this was a good idea? His palms are sweating, his throat dry, and he feels like he might pass out from sheer mortification.
You lean back in your chair, still watching him, and for a second, Mingyu is sure you’re about to shut him down completely. But then, something shifts in your expression—just the faintest flicker of amusement, like you’re trying not to let it show.
“Dinner,” you repeat, almost like you’re testing the word, as though it’s foreign or absurd coming from him. “No work talk?”
“No work talk,” Mingyu confirms, nodding so hard he might give himself whiplash. “I promise. Just good food and maybe a chance to, you know, talk about literally anything else.”
Your lips curve into the smallest of smirks, and Mingyu swears the room feels a little less tense. “You’re persistent, I’ll give you that.”
He grins, a spark of hope lighting up his chest. “I like to think of it as... enthusiastic.”
You shake your head, clearly amused now, though you’re doing your best to hide it. “Fine,” you say, leaning forward to jot something on a sticky note. “Dinner."
Mingyu’s heart leaps, and he barely resists the urge to fist pump right there in your office. “Deal!” he says, grinning so wide it’s a wonder his face doesn’t hurt. “Seven o’clock?”
“Seven,” you agree, handing him the sticky note with an address scribbled on it. “Don’t be late, Mingyu.”
He takes the note like it’s a golden ticket, clutching it in his hand as if it might disappear. “I won’t. I’ll see you there.”
As he walks out of your office, he can’t help the goofy smile plastered across his face.
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By the time the evening rolls around, Mingyu is pacing outside the restaurant like a man on the edge. He’s checked his watch twice, his phone four times, and stared at the sidewalk so long he’s convinced it’s going to start judging him soon. Late. You're late. Or maybe he’s just early. Impossible to say when your nerves feel like they’re hosting a small rave in your chest.
After all, there’s something about you that makes him want to try harder. Maybe too hard, but he’s finally learned that no one gets anywhere by waiting for the perfect moment to arrive. So, here he is, standing outside the restaurant, pacing like a nervous wreck while waiting for you to arrive.
He’s tried to stay calm, really. Spent the entire afternoon mentally drafting this… whatever this dinner is supposed to be. Not a date (probably). Not a work meeting (definitely). Just dinner. Dinner with the one person who’s managed to turn him into a bundle of energy and chaos masquerading as a fully functional adult.
And then, right as he’s about to dial his mom and ask for advice (because that’s clearly what any reasonable person would do), he sees you.
You walk up with that confident stride, the one that always makes his heart skip a beat, and Mingyu feels himself freeze for a moment, completely forgetting everything he’s planned to say. You've changed and you look good. Too good for a casual dinner, but that’s a problem for another time.
“Hey,” you greet him with a smile, your eyes soft, but not quite soft enough for him to completely relax. “I didn’t expect you to actually show up on time.”
Mingyu laughs, awkwardly tugging at his shirt. “I like to be punctual. It’s kind of a thing.”
You raise an eyebrow but don’t comment on the obvious lie, allowing the small banter to settle between you like a cushion. Instead, you let him open the restaurant door for you, falling into that casual rhythm that somehow feels more natural than the air he’s been breathing all day.
The dinner itself is nice. Too nice. No weird silences, no work talk, just good food and easy conversation. And yet, there’s a weight in the room that Mingyu can’t shake. It’s been lingering ever since the kiss—the kiss—and he knows he can’t keep tiptoeing around it forever. So as the plates are cleared and the server drops off the check, he reaches into his bag, pulling out the rolled-up plans he’s been carrying like a talisman.
He sets them on the table, his hands a little too careful, his heart racing like it’s bracing for impact.
“Okay, now you’re being mysterious,” you say, the smallest hint of amusement curling your lips.
Mingyu’s throat goes dry, but he pushes forward, unrolling the designs and smoothing them out between the two of you. “I know I said no work talk,” he starts, his voice steady despite the storm in his chest, “but… I’ve been working on this. And I thought you should see it.”
Your eyes drop to the papers, and he watches as your expression shifts. At first, there’s curiosity, then recognition, and finally… something deeper. Something he can’t quite name but feels in the way your fingers tremble slightly as they trace the edges of the designs with a reverence he didn’t know he could envy. Your fingers are delicate but deliberate, the way you touch the plans like they might vanish under too much pressure. Mingyu’s heart is pounding so loudly he's surprised you can’t hear it across the table.
“Where did you get these?” Your voice comes out hoarse, more vulnerable than you mean it to be.
“I’ve been working on them for a while,” Mingyu admits, leaning forward, his hands clasped on the table. “After you talked about the Westbrook Project that night, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. About how much it mattered to you. I wanted to do something with it. Something for you.”
You blink, unsure how to process this. “But how did you know?”
“I just—” Mingyu hesitates, then shrugs. “I listened. I saw it. The way you talked about it that night, the passion you put into your projects. I wanted to give it the respect it deserves. I couldn’t let it just end with a ‘no’.”
You stare at the designs again, looking like you've been hit by a wave of nostalgia and shock. "You really... did this for me?”
“I did,” he says quietly, his eyes meeting yours. “And I think it could be something we could do together. If you’re interested.”
You pause, the space between you thick with emotion, something unspoken hanging in the air. Finally, you swallow and look at him, searching his face as if trying to make sure this is real.
“I... I don’t know what to say, Mingyu.” Your voice cracks, and you can’t quite hide the emotion that’s flooding through you. “You’ve—this is everything I’ve been trying to do. But I didn’t think anyone else could see it.”
He sits up straighter, his hands resting on the edge of the table as he tries to keep his voice steady. "I just didn't want you to let go of something so important," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. "It deserves another chance. You deserve another chance."
He doesn't know where he finds the courage to say those words. They sound so earnest. Almost embarrassingly so. But, it's the truth, and if there's one thing he's learned from you, it's that honesty - no matter how uncomfortable - is the foundation of anything worth building.
Your breath catches, and for a moment, the restaurant fades away—the low hum of conversation, the soft clink of silverware, all of it. It's just you and Mingyu, sitting across from each other, separated by a stack of papers and an ocean of unspoken feelings.
"Mingyu..." You start, but the words get caught in your throat.
You look down, the faintest hint of a tremble in your hands. And Mingyu, who had been prepared for you to shut him down, to dismiss this moment as anything but professional, has to fight the urge to reach across the table and take your hand. He doesn't, of course. He can't. Not yet.
He leans forward, his elbows resting on the table. He's not used to this - seeing you so vulnerable - and he just wants to take some of that pressure off your back. "Look, I know I’m not perfect. I mess up, I talk too much, and I probably drive you crazy most of the time. But I see you, (Y/n). I see how much you care, how much you put into everything you do. And I don’t just admire that—I... I want to be part of it. To be there for you."
Your lips part in surprise. "I don’t know how to do this," you admit, your voice trembling slightly. "I’ve spent so long trying to keep everything together. To keep people at a distance. And now—"
"You don’t have to figure it all out right now," Mingyu says softly, sensing the spiral of doubt you appear to be descending into.  "We can take it slow. One step at a time. I just... I needed you to know how I feel."
For a long moment, you don’t move. But then, slowly, you let your hand inch toward his, your fingertips brushing against his palm.
It’s small. Tentative. But it’s enough.
Mingyu barely breathes as your fingers brush his. It’s such a simple gesture, but it sends a jolt straight through him, grounding him in this moment that feels impossibly fragile. He wraps his hand gently around yours, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles. It’s all he can do to keep himself steady when every nerve in his body is screaming at him to close the distance completely.
You don’t pull away, and that feels like a victory in itself. But when you look up at him again, your eyes are brimming with something he can’t quite name—fear, maybe, or hesitation—but also something softer, warmer, that gives him just enough hope to hold on.
“Mingyu,” you start, your voice barely above a whisper. You glance down at your joined hands, your brows furrowing slightly as though you’re gathering the courage to say something that’s been weighing on you. “After the kiss... I didn't know what to do.”
His heart skips a beat at the mention of it, the memory still fresh in his mind—the way your lips had felt against his, the way the world had seemed to tilt on its axis for just a moment. He doesn’t say anything, though, afraid that if he interrupts, you’ll stop.
“I started acting cold because...” You take a shaky breath, your fingers tightening slightly around his. “Because I didn’t know how to handle it. How to handle you.”
Mingyu blinks, his chest tightening at your words. “Me?” His voice is soft, cautious. He doesn’t want to push too hard, but he needs to understand.
You nod, your gaze flickering back to his, vulnerable but resolute. “You scare me, Mingyu. Not in a bad way, but... in a way I’ve never felt before. You’re so open, so sincere. You make everything seem so easy, like it’s natural to just—feel. And for me, that’s... terrifying.”
He watches you, his heart breaking a little with every word. He wants to say something, to tell you that you don’t have to be scared, but he knows this isn’t the time. He needs to let you finish.
“I’ve spent so long keeping people at arm’s length,” you admit, your voice trembling. “It’s just easier that way. I don’t get hurt, and I don’t hurt anyone else. But then you came along, with your ridiculous optimism and your... your kindness, and suddenly I didn’t know how to keep you out. And that kiss—it made me realise I can’t.”
Mingyu doesn’t know what to say. Doesn’t know if there’s anything he can say to match the weight of what you’re giving him. So he squeezes your hand, letting his touch say what his words can’t.
“I didn’t mean to push you away,” you continue, your voice soft but unsteady. “But I thought if I could convince myself it didn’t matter, that you didn’t matter, then maybe it wouldn’t hurt so much if it all fell apart.”
Mingyu shakes his head slowly, his grip on your hand firm but gentle. “You don’t have to protect yourself from me,” he says, his voice low but steady. “I’m not going anywhere."
You look at him, your eyes searching his for something—reassurance, maybe, or proof that he’s not just saying what he thinks you want to hear. Whatever it is, you seem to find it, because your shoulders relax just a fraction, and a small, almost imperceptible smile tugs at the corner of your lips.
“I don’t know how to do this,” you repeat, your voice barely audible. “But I think... I think I want to try.”
And that’s it. That’s all Mingyu needs. His chest swells with something that feels suspiciously like hope, and he leans in just enough. "I don't need perfect. I just need you, the way you are, right here, right now."
For a moment, there’s silence. Not the awkward kind—the kind where the world feels like it’s holding its breath just for you. Mingyu’s words hang in the air, his thumb still brushing over your knuckles, as if he’s afraid you might vanish if he stops. His heart is doing that thing again, where it feels way too big for his chest, and honestly, he’s not sure if that’s romantic or just a pending medical emergency.
You glance down, exhaling softly, and then look back up at him with that small, tentative smile that could single-handedly knock him off his chair. “Do you...” You pause, biting your lip like you’re still deciding if this is a terrible idea or just a regular bad one. “Do you want to come back to my apartment?”
Mingyu’s brain short-circuits.
Like, fully shuts down. There’s no reboot happening here. Just static, a faint buzzing sound, and a very unfortunate replay of every romantic comedy scene he’s ever watched where the male lead trips over his own words and ruins everything.
His mouth opens, but no sound comes out. Great. Perfect. Ideal response.
“Mingyu?” you ask, your tone softer now, like you’re worried you might’ve just set his brain on fire.
“I—uh—yes? I mean, yes!” He blurts it out, too loud, and the couple at the next table glance over like they’re wondering if he’s okay. He’s not, but that’s beside the point.
You laugh, and the sound feels like sunshine breaking through the clouds. “You’re sure?” you ask, your tone teasing but warm.
“Absolutely,” he says, sitting up straighter, like he’s about to sign an unbreakable contract. “I am very sure. Extremely sure. Couldn’t be more sure.”
You raise an eyebrow, clearly enjoying his spiral. “Okay, then.”
You stand, and Mingyu scrambles to follow, nearly knocking over his chair in the process. Smooth. So smooth. He rushes to grab his coat, fumbling with the sleeve as he tries to put it on without dislocating a shoulder. When he finally gets it together and turns back to you, you’re just standing there, watching him with an amused smile.
“You good?” you ask, tilting your head.
“Good?” Mingyu repeats, laughing nervously. “Yeah, I’m great. Amazing. Let’s, uh, go.”
He follows you out of the restaurant, trying to act like a normal, functional human being. Except his palms are sweating, his heart is racing, and he’s pretty sure he almost tripped on absolutely nothing as you walked to the curb. When you glance back at him, your expression softens, and suddenly, it feels like the world’s gone quiet again.
“Hey,” you say, your voice cutting through the chaos in his head. “You don’t have to be nervous, you know.”
“I’m not nervous,” Mingyu lies, his grin wide and unconvincing. “This is just how I always look when I’m—uh—happy.”
You laugh again, shaking your head, and link your arm with his, pulling him gently along. “Come on, let’s go before you combust.”
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The walk to your apartment is a blur for Mingyu. His brain is bouncing between, Wow, I can't believe this is happening and What am I supposed to do when we get there? Sit? Stand? Compliment her interior design choices? He's overthinking so hard he barely notices when you nudge him gently and gesture toward the building in front of you.
“This is me,” you say, your voice calm, but there’s a small smile tugging at your lips like you know exactly how fried his brain is right now.
“Cool,” Mingyu replies, because apparently that’s the only word left in his vocabulary. Cool. Not “nice place” or “wow, it suits you,” just cool. He could punch himself, but then you’re already unlocking the door, and the reality of the moment hits him like a freight train.
The inside of your apartment is warm. Not literally warm—though the temperature is pleasant—but warm in the way it feels lived-in and completely, unmistakably you. It’s smaller than he imagined, but cozy, like every piece of furniture and every object has been chosen for a reason. There’s a soft throw blanket draped over the arm of your couch, a mug on the coffee table with a faint ring from earlier that day, and a half-finished book on the shelf that he knows he’s seen you reading during breaks.
Mingyu steps inside, toeing off his shoes at the door because it feels like the kind of place where shoes on indoors would be a crime. “Your apartment is really nice,” he says, his voice a little too high-pitched because he’s still desperately trying not to think about why he’s here.
“It suits you,” Mingyu says before he can stop himself, the words slipping out too soft, too sincere. When you glance at him, your cheeks warm, he knows he’s said the right thing.
“Thanks,” you murmur, ducking your head slightly. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll grab us something to drink.”
You disappear into the kitchen, and Mingyu is left standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, trying not to spiral. This is fine. Totally normal. Just two people hanging out in a perfectly platonic and definitely not emotionally loaded way. Except it’s not fine, and his brain is racing faster than he can catch up.
He sits down on the couch, his hands fidgeting in his lap as he looks around again. It’s impossible not to take everything in, to let the space tell him little things about you he didn’t know before. Like how there’s a stack of notebooks on the side table, their covers worn like they’ve been flipped through a thousand times. Or how there’s a candle sitting on the shelf labelled something ridiculous like “Cinnamon Forest Dreams,” and now all he can think about is you lighting it during one of your late-night brainstorming sessions.
When you come back, two glasses of water in hand (because you’re practical like that, of course), Mingyu straightens up, his heart pounding in his chest. You sit down beside him, closer than he expected but not close enough to touch, and he’s suddenly very aware of how small the couch feels.
“So,” you say, handing him a glass, your voice light but your eyes betraying a flicker of nervousness. “What do you think?”
“Of the apartment?” Mingyu asks, taking a sip of water because it’s something to do with his hands. “I think it’s great. Like... really great. It’s very... you.”
You raise an eyebrow, amusement tugging at your lips. “Is that a compliment?”
“It’s the compliment,” he replies, his grin a little sheepish. “It’s perfect. Just like—” He cuts himself off, his cheeks flushing as he looks down at his glass. Don’t say it. Don’t overdo it.
But you’re looking at him now, your expression softening. “Just like what?”
Mingyu swallows hard, his brain screaming at him to play it cool. “Just like I imagined,” he finally says, his voice quiet but steady. “Like... a space that feels like you.”
There’s a pause, and for a moment, he wonders if he’s completely ruined everything. But then you smile—really smile—and his chest feels like it might explode.
“Thanks, Mingyu,” you say, your voice soft, almost shy. “That means a lot.”
He smiles back, trying to ignore the way his heart is doing somersaults. This is fine. Totally fine. Nothing to freak out about. But then your knee bumps against his, and suddenly, he’s not so sure.
Mingyu swallows. A cough almost escapes his throat, but he manages to catch it, instead clearing his throat like he's trying to shake off the sudden, very real butterflies in his stomach.
You, on the other hand, seem perfectly at ease, sipping your water, your eyes not quite meeting his, but still playful, still warm. Your knee stays lightly resting against his.
He looks at you, his mind racing, and wonders if maybe this is one of those moments where he should just say it. Say what’s been sitting heavy on his mind, almost screaming to come out ever since that night—the kiss, the awkwardness, the moments of quiet when he almost wished he could reach out and grab the truth like it was some kind of lifeline.
“Y'know," he begins, his voice coming out a little more nervously than he meant, "I’ve spent most of my life messing up in the most spectacular ways possible. I don’t exactly have a good track record when it comes to making things right."
You tilt your head at him, a playful smile on your lips, but your gaze is intense in a way that makes his breath catch. “You’re being too hard on yourself, Mingyu,” you say, your tone teasing, but there’s something beneath it—a quiet, steady assurance that has him clinging to every word.
“No, I’m serious,” he insists, his hand tightening slightly around his glass. “Like, when it comes to this—" He gestures vaguely between the two of you, "I’m completely out of my depth. I don’t really know what I’m doing.” He bites his lip, willing himself not to spill everything at once. “But, I think… I think I really want to try. With you.”
The silence that follows is thick. Mingyu mentally runs through every scenario, and none of them seem to be as perfectly awkward and fragile as this one. He starts to second-guess himself, but before he can say something stupid to cover it all up, you do something that catches him completely off-guard.
You shift closer, your knee brushing against his again, but this time, there’s no hesitation in the way you move. Your hand reaches out, fingers gently resting on his forearm, warm and soft. He can feel your pulse, steady and strong, as if somehow in this small gesture, you’re grounding him.
“Mingyu,” you say quietly, and he’s not sure if it’s his name or the way you say it that knocks all the air out of him. “I’m not asking for perfection. I don’t even know what that looks like.”
Mingyu’s breath hitches as he watches you, his heart skipping a beat at the honesty in your eyes. It feels like you're both on the edge of something, teetering between what is and what could be, and yet all Mingyu can think about in this moment is how simple it is to be here with you—how uncomplicated it feels to just let go.
“I don’t know what I’m doing either,” you continue, your voice soft but clear. “But I want to find out. With you."
It’s then that Mingyu realizes how quiet it’s gotten, how still the air is around the two of you. The world outside your apartment could be spinning at a hundred miles per hour, and in this small space, with your hand on his arm, time feels like it’s standing still.
You’re sitting so close now. The space between you is smaller than the gap in his thoughts. His hand, which had been fidgeting with the glass of water, starts to move on its own. He places it gently on the cushion beside you, just a few inches from your own. His palm is open, but he waits.
And then—he takes a breath.
"Can I?" he asks, voice low, almost a whisper, as though he's afraid you'll pull away, as though he's asking permission for something he should have done a hundred times before.
Your eyes lock with his. They're soft, vulnerable, like you're weighing his words against everything that's happened before. For a moment, the world feels like it’s paused, like there’s no room for doubts or what-ifs. There’s just you and him, and something that’s undeniable between you.
You don’t answer with words. Instead, you let your gaze drift to his lips, and then, almost imperceptibly, you lean in.
Mingyu doesn’t wait for a second invitation. His hand slides from the couch to gently cup the side of your face, his thumb brushing over the soft skin of your cheek as he moves closer. He feels the heat radiating off you, and his breath catches when your lips are just a breath away.
And then, before he can even think, he closes the distance between you, his lips brushing softly against yours.
It’s nothing like the first kiss. There’s no hesitation, no uncertainty—just the sensation of everything falling into place. The kiss is slow, tender, almost like he’s savouring it, wanting to memorise the moment because, for once, it feels like everything is exactly how it should be.
Your lips move against his in a quiet, unspoken rhythm, and he feels the tension that had been building between the two of you melt away. He’s no longer nervous, no longer afraid of saying the wrong thing or doing the wrong thing. He just wants to be here with you—now, in this perfect moment.
When you pull away, it’s not with distance, but with the smallest of smiles tugging at your lips, your eyes full of something that makes Mingyu's chest tighten. Your breath is still coming fast, like you’re just as shaken as he is.
He doesn’t say anything at first. There’s no need. His heart is still racing, but now, he’s not afraid of what comes next. He feels like he’s finally stepped into something real, something that might not be easy but is worth every bit of effort.
"I think..." he starts, his voice a little hushed, "I really wanted to do that again."
You laugh softly, the sound warm and familiar, as you tilt your head just enough for your forehead to rest against his. "Yeah?" you murmur, your fingers gently tracing the outline of his jaw. "Well, I'm glad you did."
Mingyu can't help but smile, his hand, still resting gently on your waist, pulls you just a little closer, as if to remind himself that this is real. That you're really here, and this is really happening. You don’t pull away. Instead, your hand moves from his jaw to his collar, gently tugging at the fabric like it’s an invitation he can’t refuse.
And Mingyu? He doesn’t need any more encouragement. He leans in again, his lips finding yours with more urgency this time. His free hand moves to the back of your neck, fingers threading through your hair as he pulls you deeper into the kiss. It’s like his body’s on autopilot, all his self-control falling away the moment you’re close enough to feel.
You gasp softly against his lips as his hand slides down to your waist, fingertips brushing the curve of your hip, and he feels you shiver. His pulse is racing in his ears, but it's the warmth of your body against his that completely consumes him. He can't stop. Can't pull away. You taste like the promise of something more, and the way your fingers grip his collar tightens the knot in his stomach until it’s a full-on spiral of heat.
Your mouth moves with his now, more desperate, more demanding, and Mingyu’s heart does that weird, annoying thing again—where it leaps in his chest, and all his thoughts vanish like mist under the sun. He kisses you harder, taking a moment to pull away just enough to breathe, his forehead resting against yours, both of you panting as if you’ve run miles, even though you’ve hardly moved.
“Mingyu...” you whisper, voice breathless, a little unsteady. He feels the sound vibrating through him as much as he hears it.
"Yeah?" he responds, a grin pulling at the corners of his mouth despite how utterly wrecked he feels in the best possible way. "You’re not gonna suddenly tell me this is all a huge mistake, right?"
You laugh—a low, playful sound that makes his chest tighten, and then you kiss him again. This time, it's slow, deliberate, like you’re savouring each second, each touch. And Mingyu’s mind short-circuits all over again, as if he's trying to figure out how it's possible for something so simple to make him feel so—so—alive.
Your hands are everywhere now—on his chest, around his neck, tugging him closer until there’s not an inch of space between you. And that’s when he feels it, that surge of want, a physical ache deep in his chest that spreads out to his limbs, making him burn.
He presses you back gently against the armrest of the couch, his lips trailing down to your neck, his breath hitching when you arch into him. The way you melt under his touch is everything he’s ever wanted—more than he even realised he craved. The warmth of your skin, the way your fingers dig into his back, all of it pulls him in, deeper, until he’s lost in the sensation of just being with you.
“Mingyu, we—” you start, but the words cut off when his lips meet the curve of your neck, and the way you shudder against him makes his pulse stutter in his veins. You can’t even finish the sentence, and he’s so close to being past the point of caring.
He pulls away just enough to look at you, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “We what?” he asks, his voice rough. "I won't let you talk if you're going to tell me you changed your mind."
Your gaze flickers between his lips and his eyes, a playful challenge in your expression. "I’m just saying," you murmur, your hands shifting down to his shirt as you slowly begin to unbutton it. "You're going to have to transfer to a different team after Langham is done."
Mingyu grins, a breathless huff of laughter leaving his lips. "As long as I still get to see you every day."
"I'd say you're probably going to get to see a lot more of me." Your words are said innocently enough, but the implication mixed with the feeling of your heaving chest against his is making his head spin again.
And just like that, you have him, every inch of him. Mingyu can’t keep his hands from wandering, can’t keep his lips from pressing harder against yours, can’t keep from falling deeper into this beautiful mess of passion and want. The last shred of his self-control slips away, leaving only you—right here, right now.
Your clothes go quickly, his quicker, until you're both laid bare before the other, entirely vulnerable and at peace at the same time. He's drowning in you, his head nested between your legs, feeling as eager to please as he did the first day he met you. You're gasping his name, hands curling into his hair, head falling back onto your couch in utter bliss. 
And then your fingers are wrapping around his shoulders, digging into the muscles and pulling him back up towards you. He almost falls off the couch he moves so fast, but you don't seem to notice. You're too busy looking positively angelic in front of him, with those large, sparkling eyes staring at him and dirty words pouring out of your mouth.
Mingyu has to hold himself together as you tell him, point blank, to "hurry up, and make love to me."
This isn't Mingyu's first rollercoaster. He's a good-looking guy, and he knows it. He's been with others before, but when you speak to him like that, he feels like he's eighteen again and a girl's just sat on his lap for the first time. 
And it feels so good, you feel so good around him. You might not have to worry about transferring teams, because he's not sure he's going to make it. The noises you're making, the warmth of your body, the scraping of your nails against his chest - it's enough to finish him off (or at least allow him to ignore the ungodly sounds pouring out of his own mouth).
He makes sure you've finished as well before pulling out (because he wants to, not because he feels embarrassed that he came first). A blissful look falls over your face and Mingyu has to mentally take a photo of the image to make sure he never forgets it. He's staring at you; he knows it and you know it, and you're giggling a little and it's the most beautiful thing he's ever heard.
"Wait here," he whispers, not wanting to break the moment by speaking too loudly. He leans down to peck your lips, before running into your bathroom to dispose of the condom and get some towels and blankets. 
The night fades softly into a comfortable quiet as you and Mingyu lay there, nestled on your couch, your bodies half-melted into the cushions, the air between you warm and thick with the lingering feeling of everything now spoken. 
Mingyu is still processing it all. This. This feeling of being here, with you. He’s supposed to be good at this—the whole dating thing, at least. But everything about tonight has been different. And, if he’s being honest with himself, much better than he expected. He expected the awkwardness, the second-guessing, the inevitable when do I leave? moment, but none of that happened. Instead, all that’s left is you. And him. And the soft rhythm of your breathing in the stillness of your apartment.
He stares at the ceiling, trying to act casual, but the smile tugging at his lips betrays him. This is fine, he thinks, despite the tiny voice in the back of his head screaming that nothing this nice is ever fine. But the voice is quieter now. A lot quieter.
“You’re thinking too loud,” you mumble, your voice muffled against the fabric of his shirt, your head resting on his chest. Your fingers play with the hem of his shirt absently, as though you’re trying to figure out the material, the way it fits him, the way it feels beneath your touch.
Mingyu chuckles softly, a little embarrassed. “Sorry,” he murmurs, his chest vibrating with the sound. “I guess I’m just... trying to make sure I’m not dreaming.”
“Well,” you reply, shifting just enough to lift your head, your eyes soft but amused, “if this is a dream, I’m okay with it. I think I’ll stick around.”
Mingyu's heart skips a beat at the words, but he keeps his voice steady, even if the teasing smile he wears is bordering on ridiculous. “Good, because if this is a dream, I’m not waking up."
As the night deepens and the city lights paint soft patterns on the walls of your apartment, Mingyu finds himself drawn to your window. The skyline stretches before him, a tapestry of glowing spires and shimmering reflections, alive with the energy of the place he loves most. He smiles, realising for the first time how much this view has changed for him. It isn't just buildings and lights anymore - it's connection, collaboration, and the quiet promise of something new. A reminder of what you are going to build together, layer by layer, one light at a time.
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Divider credit: @cafekitsune
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jiniretracha · 3 months ago
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ꕤ 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 '𝟐𝟒 - 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟒 ꕤ
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Kim Taehyung x fem!reader: pregnancy kink
summary: Tae never understood why men who got their girlfriend's pregnant, all of a sudden, turned into total simps for them. He just didn't understand what changed. Until he got you pregnant...
warnings: smut, tae being weird but we luv him <3, fingering
word count: 1.5k
kinktober masterlist // masterlist // ko-fi
Kim Taehyung never knew why men that had their girlfriend’s pregnant, all of a sudden, turned desperate for them. He didn’t understand what was the factor that made them turn into total simps. He really didn’t get it at all. He understood pregnancy was a beautiful step to be taken in a relationship, sure, but what changed? 
Tae had some near experiences like when Nam and his girlfriend announced they were expecting a baby. Their leader had told them how his girl suddenly had this glow around her, that she was even more beautiful than ever.
But Tae never saw it. 
Sure, Namjoon’s girl was really pretty, but he didn’t recognize any change in her, at all. She looked just the same to him.
Until it happened to him. 
He met you a couple of years ago through Seokjin. You were a friend of Jin’s cousins, and Tae was invited to a party his hyung had made, and you were there, and he couldn’t help but fall in love with you instantly. 
You started dating each other a couple of months later after a few dates and there you were. Two years into the relationship and you were three months pregnant with his child. 
Your baby bump wasn’t really there yet, but as he had memorized every single part of your body, whenever his hand would trace your stomach, he’d sense a little hill there. And it was adorable. 
He could see now why people would say there was this pregnancy glow shit. 
It was real.
You were glowing, and he couldn’t think of anything hotter than thinking that you were pregnant with his baby. He got you pregnant. 
Now, there you were. 
You were in the kitchen, making yourself a snack out of strawberry and apple pieces mixed with some chocolate syrup. Something you started doing out of the famous cravings you started having. 
But he couldn’t focus on anything rather than how good you looked with your short crop top that showed off your little baby bump. How you were licking your fingers with chocolate syrup. And how the fact that you were pregnant with his baby while doing all of that made everything ten times hotter. 
He approached you lazily and walked behind you. Tae wrapped his arms around you and pressed his nose against your neck, inhaling your scent.
“Hey, bub” you cooed. “You want some?”
“Yeah…” he whispered, and started rubbing his nose against the skin of your neck. His lips kissed the curve of it, his teeth leaving slight bites on its wake. 
You left the knife on the counter, afraid that you would cut yourself by accident by your boyfriend’s ministrations. 
You bit your lip and sighed, “Tae…”
“What?” 
“What are you doing?” you asked him, giggling, arching an eyebrow curiously with a smirk.
He chuckled and his hands came to touch your stomach. “You just look so beautiful carrying our baby, I just felt the need to show you how” he whispered. 
You chuckled back and turned around in his arms, curling your arms around his neck. “Then, show me…”
Soon enough, you found yourself on your shared bed, both of you naked while his length was buried deep inside you. 
You laid on your back, while his hands were placed one on your waist, and the other right above the bump on your stomach. 
“Fuck, I hope our baby doesn’t remember any of this because I’m gonna be fucking you any chance I get” he moaned, throwing one of your legs over his shoulder, applying more pressure as he hit the sweet spot inside of you, making you throw your head back in pleasure. 
And man, did he truly keep his promise.
It happened everywhere you went.
He got horny over your pregnancy state anywhere you went, it was getting out of control. 
One time, you two went to buy some underwear for you because your hips started getting bigger along with your breasts and you needed new pairs. You grabbed a few and went to the changing room, with Tae trailing behind you, but you decided it was for the better for him to stay outside. 
You tried a certain bra and sighed, opening the curtain slightly and looking at your boyfriend.
“Babe, can you help me, please?” you asked him.
He immediately walked inside the changing room and his eyes visibly widened when he saw you in a full purple set, his mouth watering at how good your body looked in it.
“I think this makes me look fat” you rolled your eyes, brushing your hair over your shoulder. “I’m not getting pregnant ever again, gosh” you sighed. 
Tae grabbed your face and kissed the breath out of you, making you gasp and clutch at his arms in surprise. He pulled away with a loud pop and brushed his nose against yours. 
“No, baby” he shook his head. “We’re keeping you pregnant forever” he said, making you laugh.
“Yeah, next time you carry this baby” you scolded him.
“But you look so sexy with that bump, you have no idea” he said, and you could see he truly meant it, due to the lust that his eyes carried. His hands brushed over your stomach and then to the underwear you were wearing, brushing his fingers over your core. 
You got wet in an instant, and gasped, nails digging into the skin of his arms. “Tae… what if someone sees or hears?” you whispered and then let out a gasp again when you felt his fingers brush over your sensitive clit, making you press your head against the wall of the changing room. 
His fingers probed against your entrance and he chuckled against your lips. “Believe me, if someone sees me finger fucking my super hot pregnant wife, they’re probably gonna congratulate me. You don’t even know how fucking beautiful you look right now in this purple set” he whispered against your neck and then licked a stripe with his wet tongue, the feeling making your knees buckle. If it wasn’t for Tae’s hands holding you in place, you would’ve, for sure, fallen to the ground. 
On that occasion, he made you come two times inside that dressing room and ended up buying two purple sets. One to actually use and the other for when you got home, so he could rip it off your body the instant you hit the bedroom. 
In front of the band members, he obviously didn’t do anything dirty, but he just couldn’t help it that his thoughts ran wild. 
He’d see you talking with Namjoon’s girl and laughing with Hobi about whatever you three were talking about, and his heart would swell in his chest.
Taehyung couldn’t believe his luck. Seeing you pregnant with his child, laughing along with his friends, something so mundane, somehow made him feel like the luckiest man in the world. 
His thoughts were cut short when he saw you pop a piece of fruit in your mouth and his eyes fixated on the juice from said fruit running over your lips. Your finger came to lick the remains off and said fingers came to brush over your pregnant stomach, a habit that you started developing since you found out you were expecting. 
Tae bit his lip, his eyes only focused on you while Yoongi was talking about something that was pointless and irrelevant to him at this point, and his hyung could feel that he wasn’t paying attention to him in the slightest. Yoongi turned his head and understood that Tae had that dumb look on his face because he was focused on you. Typical, he thought. 
He cleared his throat, which caught Taehyung’s attention, who turned his head to look at him. “Hey, I get that ever since Y/N found out she was pregnant with your baby, you just can’t seem to stop drooling whenever she’s around, but if you’re gonna pop a boner, do it away from me, man” Yoongi scolded him with disgust in his tone, mirrored in his face. 
Tae laughed and pushed his shoulder, standing up from his seat. 
He walked towards you and his heart did a backflip when your eyes met his and instantly smiled.
“Hey, honey” you flashed a toothy grin at him. 
Taehyung smiled at you and offered him your hand. You took it, giving him a curious look. 
“Where are we going?” you asked him, as you two exited the room and walked towards the elevator.
“To our room” 
You frowned. “Did you get hard again over my pregnant stomach, Tae?” you asked him and then looked down at the front of his pants. Yep, he was indeed hard. “Oh my God, Tae, did someone see?”
Tae didn’t say anything.
“Shit, who saw you?” you asked him and he laughed.
“Yoongi”
“Oh no, he’s not gonna let that go, you know that right?” you asked him as the doors of the elevator closed in front of you.
He grabbed your hips and pulled you close. “It doesn’t matter. All I care right now is making you come at least three times on my dick and then getting some kimchi for dinner” he smiled feigning innocence as he arched his eyebrows a couple of times.
You smirked and curled your arms around his neck. “Sounds like a plan”
“It’s date…”
── .✦
taglist: @annhearttihaehe // @frequentlykit // @alexisfeliz // @jeonginsleftcheek // @minghaosimp // @lixies-favorite-cookie // @yn-x-them // @chrizrizz // @madkati // @starzystay // @pancake-freckle // @velvetmoonlght
i apologize if i can't tag u :(
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wintersera · 1 year ago
Note
would you be open to writing mommy!kim lip fucking reader with her strap
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mommy!kimlip x f!reader
notes: felt like i needed to make reader a little bratty but i dont know if it’s bratty enough ☹️ kimlip is also a little mean.
cw: mommy kink, spanking, STRAP!!! (term cock is used for strap too), bratty reader (sorta), edging at the end?
word count: 0.9k
it’s currently 9am in the morning and it seems that lippie was in a horrible mood. you know how it is with her, sleeping at 8pm at night and waking up at 6am in the morning. but of course, oec are performing and she had to stay up late as hell.
now, as the youngest of the group, you were well… a bit of a brat. you wanted the attention of your mommy on you and not on whatever the manager was saying, so like an annoying little kid you came from behind, wrapping your arms around her waist.
the people around, and kimlip herself, were pretty much used to your behaviour, you’d always follow lippie around like a kid, hugging, touching, doing whatever to her. it seemed innocent at first, everyone just ignored what you were doing and carried on with their day, but as soon as you slithered your hands into her pockets to caress her thighs, she grew sort of annoyed and undeniably turned on. she wanted to listen to the manager so bad but your annoying ass was distracting her.
whispering under her breath “y/n stop. can’t you see i’m trying to listen?”
you ignored her.
continuing to rub your hands on her thighs, she had to stifle a moan. it was embarrassing for her, the manager questioning if she okay and if she was ill due to her flushed face. oh she was getting pissed off.
“we’re in public y/nie. save this for later or else…”
or else what? you thought to yourself. what is she gonna do with so many people in the room?
“manager. can i excuse myself? i need to have a talk with y/n. it’s important” with a stern tone and a cold look she turned to you… oh fuck you forgot that she was your leader.
dragging you outside the room and into another, she threw you into the wall with force, not enough to hurt you though. “what was that all about, huh?” her voice was flat, at this point you knew you were screwed.
“wait, sorry. i didn’t mean it.”
“didn't mean it? as if you weren’t trying to fuck me right in front of the manager” its as if her words were like daggers. cold and piercing. “why don’t you be a good girl for once and follow mommy's orders” reaching for the bag she brought with her, you couldn’t help but wonder what she was going to do. punish you? it seems like it. “strip. now.”
a shiver ran down your spine. strip? with the chances of someone walking into this room right now? “come on, obey mommys orders or else”
“o-okay mommy…” with ease, you took off your flimsy hoodie followed by your sweatpants, leaving you almost completely bare. it was embarrassing, she was standing there with full authority over your exposed body, lights on and everything.
“atta girl. now bend over”
and you did what you were told, fearing as if she was going to punish you badly when you got back to the dorms.
you wanted to please her, you obviously knew she was pissed off but you didn’t know it went to this extent. so with that in mind you spread open your pussy, arousal coating your folds.
if it wasn’t anymore humiliating, she suddenly slapped your ass, a loud thud echoing around the room. hissing at the hot throbbing pain in your cheek, it was quickly replaced by a feeling teasing your dripping hole.
“fuck- jungeun?!” another slap to your ass,
“that's mommy to you, another mistake and i’ll leave you here” hands on your hips, she steadies herself as she prepares you for her strap…? she brought her strap into the music bank changing rooms?
“oec we’re back on stage in 10 more minutes” panic starting to set into your body, what do you mean 15 more minutes? “m-mommy wait i don’t think we have enou-“ within seconds you feel her cock reach deep into your pussy, ramming into you without any mercy. an unbelievably loud moan ripping out from your throat, followed by the sound of her tutting in disapproval.
“be quiet”
fuck it was good. your legs were already shaking from the immense pleasure, her cock hitting your favourite place with every thrust. “oh my god, mommy- fuckfuckfuck slow down p-please” you could tell she loved being called ‘mommy’ noticing that whenever you call her that, she groans. her nails sinking hard into your skin leaving red stripes across the sides of your waist.
hands supporting yourself on the wall, you moan out loud on accident. as if you weren’t red before, your face was now flushed red, the embarassment was too much for you that you felt overwhelmed.
pulling your hair from behind, jungeun made you look back at her. eyebrows furrowed as she slams into your abused pussy relentlessly. “do i make you feel good? baby do i make your tight pussy feel good?” only focused on yourself you answered her with a small nod. unhappy with, your reaction she slapped your ass harder than earlier. “good girls use their words, are you gonna cum? tell mommy you’re gonna cum” the anger in her voice being oh so delicious, it was driving you so close to the edge.
“cum- cumming mommy pleasplease i’m cumming” legs beginning to spasm and your eyes rolling back, you felt your orgasm come close and then…. she pulls out. “what the fuck?” whining at the loss of her cock in you, sadness crosses your face, “why’d you pull out?”
she doesn’t answer, instead, she let’s your managers booming voice answer for you “oec, you’re about to get on stage” taking the strap of her, she places it back inside her backpack (specifically for the strap) walks to the door and stops before she could open it.
“if you perform well, i’ll think about letting that punishment go later” then she walks out without a care, leaving you without an orgasm. fuck…
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heesuits · 3 months ago
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imagination - kim sunoo
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• pairing: fem!reader x bsf!sunoo
• genre: smut
• wc: 5.8K
synopsis: sunoo have never been with a girl... yet.
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For the first time in his whole life, Sunoo was feeling a bit uncomfortable while you were applying your lip balm... and uncomfortable wasn't exactly the right word, he felt a shiver down his spine and was too much concentrated on how soft your lips looked and how he knew your tongue was right there, he could see it in between your half-opened lips, and... what does it taste like? A thought that made him salivate, to the point of needing to swallow to avoid having drool running down the sides of his mouth, to the point of forgetting that he was right beside you, staring at your face. He was aroused. "Is there something wrong?" You asked, confused by his reaction, it took him a few seconds to regain consciousness.
Sunoo has been your friend, since always, he is a very good company and you were very comfortable around each other but there is an important detail about this situation, he likes boys, only, for sure... kind of sure... cause since few days ago he couldn't stop thinking about the moment you asked him to tie the top of your bikini and while you held your hair he imagined how would it be like if he held it with his own hands, pulling it slightly... and if the smell of your neck would be even better up close... and if your skin would shiver if he breathed close enough for him to touch it with his mouth... maybe the tongue. He wanted to know how you would feel... and he wanted... to feel you too? You have already shared with each other several stories about your affairs, and it's not like you hadn't ever imagined what it would be like, who knows, to try sharing this intimacy between the two of you.
A whole day became two that turned into three, he couldn't stop thinking about these things when you spent any time together and your invitation to a night watching a horror movie that was a common activity for the two of you suddenly became a torture session for him. After days and days thinking about your skin, your hands, your smell, the cherry flavored lip balm you used, being close to you with only the lighting of the TV against your skin while applying the balm on your lips awakened in him a feeling of need. He needed to know. He needed to touch you. He could feel the cherry scent and imagine the taste. Imagine your taste.
"There's nothing wrong... it's just... you..." without enough time for him to finish his words you noticed how he was looking at you alternating between your eyes and your lips, your breath became instantly heavy when you felt his palm holding the side of your face, his hand warm and soft. As surprised as you might be, you wouldn't deny Sunoo, nor could you even think about denying it. With one hand on your face, moving to the back of your neck while he pulled you lightly, and the other hand resting on your thigh, he asked you in a low voice in a tone that you have never heard him use before "Do you want it?" the only thing you had capacity of doing according to your actual state of mind was nodding, and with the most cozy and kind of devilish smile in the world he finished moving his hand to the back of your neck and pulled you to finish the job.
When your lips touched you could feel his breath raging against you as if he was tasting something very delicious, eating something very hot, kissing you carefully, as if he had to remember every sensory note of the taste of your mouth. His tongue moved slowly, interlacing and touching yours while his hand squeezed your waist both with the same very well calculated amount of strength. At the same time that he didn't know what to do, he wanted to find out, right there and with you.
From your mouth he moved to your neck, the kisses were wet and as he moved his hand a little higher on your waist to hold your ribs while he bit you lightly, you could feel his teeth against the skin of your neck and collarbone, and your body tightened as if you could feel the bites right on your crotch. Sunoo was making you wet... intentionally.
With both hands on each side of your torso he moved away just enough to look at your face and ask "Can I... touch them?" The only reaction you could have was to agree with a smile "Do you want me to take my shirt off?"... and he continued "Not yet, I want to feel them like this" You were fascinated and even more turned on by the tone he used, it was the perfect balance between experience and inexperience, he didn't know what and where to touch you, but he definitely knew how, and was a pretty fast learner.
Sitting on the carpet, leaning against the piles of various pillows you had set up to watch the movie, and with your clear permission, it was like he had been allowed to test all the desires and ideas he had been having over the last few days. Moving his hand to your breasts, he felt his cock throb, pulsing inside his underwear and already hardening. How soft your skin is, the smell of your hair, how your body reacts as he runs his fingertips over your nipples, you bending over your stomach, everything was driving him crazy. Moved by the sensations, he slipped a hand down your belly, pushing the hem of your shorts a little, you instinctively moved your hands down aiming to move the fabric out of the way. His eyes followed your hands and he stopped you saying "Keep your panties on, it's part of the thing." He seemed fully determined to leave you speechless. "Okay" You just kept it as he told you, took off your shorts and opened your legs a little more.
He ran his fingertips down your thigh, from the knee to the center, with his eyes fixed and his mouth half-open as if he needed help breathing. With his fingers he stretched the strap of your panties, passing his fingers down through the fabric and pulling it slightly to the side, leaning both fingers over your clitoris as if he just wanted to know how it felt and then slipping a path from your bottom lips to your entrance. When he felt your wetness against his fingertips, he leaned in closer, pressing his lips against yours again, kissing you while slowly sliding his fingers inside your pussy. It was new for him, but he could definitely imagine himself there, he was really amused by the way you squeezed his fingers, he wanted to be inside so bad, and you knew by the way his tongue in your mouth moved on a perfect harmony with the in and out movements of his fingers. It was just enough for both of you to start moaning, couldn't hold anything, he was touching you right and finally having you felt as good as he thought it could be.
All you were able to do was to crave your hands anywhere you could keep them on, the carpet, his neck, his arms. He removed his fingers completely and you moaned a little louder, a begging sound, you needed more. With his eyes fixed on yours and this time with a classic Sunoo smile that you were very familiar with, he placed his two soaked fingers over his mouth and tasted them in the most provocative way you've ever seen. "What? I wanted to taste you." over his provocations you finally managed to formulate a sentence. "Now you have to finish eating me, seriously." He rolled his eyes playfully. "And how do you prefer?" Without thinking twice, you lay face down on the carpet and he went along with your action very well, one hand on each side of your hips, rubbing his hard cock against you, leaving his shorts wet marks because of the way your panties didn't even cover a third of your pussy. You could hear his smile in between the air he was breathing. He moved his head down to make a path licking your thigh from the bottom to the top of your ass and giving you a bite and sucking it in a way that will surely turn into a hickey mark later. Holding both sides of your ass pushing them apart to give him a better view, he ran his tongue over your entrance, pushing it inside. If he kept it like this as soon as you felt his cock, you wouldn't be able to hold your orgasm any longer. You've never felt that weak under someone else's touch, he knew it by the way your body reacted, by the noises you were making, and he was definitely enjoying it.
He finally took his hands off you to pull down his own pants, one hand gripping your hip and the other one holding his dick against your entrance, he rubbed his tip there a few times, before getting in, letting out moans that clearly showed he couldn't hold on much longer either. As soon as he pushed it in and felt the way it was entering you easily, he pressed himself harder against you and you moved along your hips so he could reach the deepest spot, and both of you felt it as soon as it tipped there. He started moving harder, the moans louder, you didn't need any words, your hands held any part of the carpet you could and his hands craved on your skin kept pushing and pulling you strongly, he moved his shirt up to his mouth grabbing it with his teeth so he could have a better view of how his cock was moving on you, this muffled his moans a little, making the sound lip deep grunts that made the situation even harder for you to hold on.
The sounds he made and the feeling of his cock pulsing and crashing inside you, making it seem like he was made in just the right size for you to squeeze it with your walls, made you reach your orgasm sooner than usual and even though he realized how much tighter you became, he simply couldn't stop. He started moving faster and harder, your moans louder and even after you were done, you didn't want it to stop either.
He went in and out so instinctively that he didn't even care about the shirt anymore, all you could think about was the pleasure that was taking over both your bodies, he finally achieved his goal from the beginning, releasing inside you. You felt the warm liquid running down your leg, the hands that were previously holding you so tightly were now practically resting on top of you. Your heart pulsing right on your throat and the sweat making a path on the side of your face, you couldn't even get out of the prone position. He lay down on your side over the carpet and as soon as you faced each other, after the adrenaline wore off, you started laughing as if it was a joke for the two of you. "There's no way you haven't done it before." and he answered with a smile:
"I just have a good imagination."
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kkrymiii · 6 months ago
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"No need to be sober"
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G!p Kim minjeong x Fem reader
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝
MDNI! (Not proofread!)
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝
CW: smut, pet names, drunk asf, mafia, no protection :0, perv minjeongie idk seems like it
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝
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At the mafia bosses party, in his mansion, her daughter named minjeong or winter, was having fun drinking and chatting with her friends, The mafia bosses daughter, just arrived at the party actually. Being late due to not wanting to attend... But then Suddenly something caught minjeongs eyes... SOMEONE to be exact.
Minjeong immediately locked her eyes at. You..
Winter walks over to you, slowly walking over to her, making eye contact the whole time not breaking once
“You are really pretty.”
Winter smiled, she got quite shy for a few seconds. "eh?" I replied shocked and awkward from the sudden move of a random girl on me. Winter keeps smiling, she looked genuinely interested in you “Your eye makeup is really good you know, along with your dark red lips.” Winter leaned towards you more.
but as I was about to respond to her.
"alright jeongie stop being a creep when your drunk leave the pretty girl alone" a sharped eyed girl, wearing a black dress that hugged her curves perfectly said. It was minjeongs younger sister. Minjeong gets yanked back, she was pretty wasted but she was trying to fight the urge to take another sip of her whiskey. She looked at her sister “But she’s so pretty, she’s very gorgeous, I could kiss her right now and she’d probably fall in love with me."
"your whiskey ass smelling breath probably would not be the best for her to taste.. anyways ma'am I apologize with my sisters actions" the younger sister said sighing STILL trying to yank minjeong but she wouldn't budge. Minjeong laughs and shakes her head slightly "don’t apologize, she’s very pretty, I actually thought she’d like me back.” She gets yanked back by her younger sis but she’s not resisting at all, she looks very dazed
"minjeong let's go father's gonna scold you again.." the younger sister sighed her patience running thin. “Ugh, you’re ruining my fun, she’s so pretty, I’m gonna kiss her, and she’s gonna love me, I’m gonna be her wife.” Minjeong keeps trying to get free from her sibling so she can go over to the beautiful girl. "What?.. your disgusting... you know father's no gonna allow you to date someone you just found at the party.... And who even is this girl... " The younger looked up at you scanning your face. You had a sheepish expression clearly awkward from the situation.
But then suddenly. Minjeong darts across the room again, to try and get to her, she has absolutely no control over how much she’s drinking so she’s pretty much wasted Minjeong finally manages to get over to her, and she immediately hugs the girl, and squeezes her in to a bear hug, the girl smells so good too, like pure honey.
"Ahh-.. I'm.. sorry are you okay?" You gulped not knowing what to do with this girl..your hands floating in the air, But for Minjeong it's the opposite. Minjeong is in heaven, she’s having the best time in her life. “Yes… yes I am… I am so drunk, but right now I feel like I’m in l-luuuv.” Minjeong says really slowly and drawn out, her words slurring together and her face is extremely hazy and red.
"Ah-.. this.. this face?" You muttured as you recognized the face. "Y...you.. are the mafia's boss daughter?" Minjeong slowly nods “Yeah… he’s the most amazing father ever, I love my sisters too.” She keeps squeezing her, she’s so comfortable, so comfortable to hold, she starts burying her head onto your neck. You couldn't help but giggle a little bit finding this girls words funny "uh-.. I'm sorry but..are you okay?..you seem really drunk." You said clearing your throat trying to be responsible now.
"I’ll be honest… I’m absolutely wasted but all I can think about is you. I love you." Minjeong keeps squeezing her tightly, and she hugs her close, pulling her into a embrace. You gulped looking at her as your eyes scramble everywhere. "Whaa- but we just met tho?"
“I don’t care… you’re mine now, I don’t care we just met, I just fell in love with you.” Minjeong keeps sniffing her and pressing her face into her neck more and more, she can’t get enough of her, she wants to be with her, kiss her and marry her. "wait.. how about let's go to the bathroom and wet your face.. you seem really drunk.. and your father wouldn't want to see you like that yeah?" You suggested. Minjeong sighs and pouts, she was absolutely infatuated with you, and she hated having to leave your side “Fineeeee!” Minjeong pouts as she finally lets go of you and walks into the bathroom, she was very grumpy and looked extremely disappointed. "uh! Wait don't walk like that you might fall" you said catching up to minjeong holding her as they make they're wait to the bathroom. Minjeong doesn’t fight, and lets herself be dragged along, she holds your arm and leans into you to keep you beside her “You’re so beautiful, I wanna kiss you.” Minjeong whispers at your ear, she’s being really clingy with her.
"What the hell does her father feed her." You thought to yourself but kept a warn awkward smile at her as you lead her to the bathroom. As you guys arrived at the bathroom, you immediately helped Minjeong, making her wet her face with water as you handed her a handkerchief. And this girl leans on the sink staring at you for a whopping 5 minutes Minjeong sighs, not letting you go as she lets you wet her face, when she’s done she looks up at you “.....ughh.... your so pretty, I want to kiss you right now, right here.” Minjeong leans in to try and kiss you with her whiskey drenched lips. " i- I don't think this is allowed.." you dodged it swiftly, backing up creating distance.
Minjeongs pouting gets even more obvious the more she gets rejected, she gets really jealous at the fact that she isn’t getting what she wants, she can’t stand the rejection "You have no choice… I want to kiss you.” Minjeong leans in again and goes for a kiss for the 100th time. Minjeong uses all the strength she has left and is completely force kissing this time, your lips just feel so good to her and she just wants to stay kissing them. Minjeong keeps going, pushing her body against hers, kissing you on the lips so aggressively. Minjeong keeps kissing her, but not a simple kiss, but a aggressive and possessive kiss, as if she’s saying mine to you, that she’s hers, and she’s not allowed to get with anyone else but her. Minjeong holds you even closer, not letting her go. She just gets more and more aggressive with the kisses and she starts to go deeper, it’s getting slightly obsessive and possessive, as if she’s trying to claim her as her own. Minjeong grabs your hips tightly and forces her closer
Minjeong goes even deeper, as if she’s trying to suck the soul out of her. “Mineee, mine I tell you, you’re mine mine mine.” Minjeongs lips are already slightly swollen and have some slight bruising from the intense kissing that she has been doing with you, but to her it doesn’t matter, she doesn’t let go.
Soon you were bent over holding onto the sink for her dear life as minjeong was ramming into her pussy with her dick.
"Fu- fuck! Better than I..ah.. imagined" Minjeong panted as she grabbed your waist drilling herself into you. You were taking it like a good girl. You could hear minjeongs babbles and heavy breathes as she's clearly drunk asf. "Baby baby!.. fuck... I'm.. I I want to fuck you until you can't remember anything" minjeong moaned as she leaned over still rocking her hips into you as she aggressively placed kisses all over your back, making you moan and shiver.
"Ah.. pleas..ee please minjeong" you moaned out as you already were seeing the stars. Why the hell was this girl so good with her thrust game!? "Hell.. yeah!.. haha.. fuck fuck.. I'm gonna Impregnate you" minjeong chuckled as she fixed your guys position. Lifting your leg up to her shoulders now hitting more of your good spots making you moan out loud losing control, as tears fell out of your face.
"Wah?! Fuck! Ah.. good! Too much!!" You cried out trying to grab onto something but ended up grabbing onto the sink again as you were getting fucked hard by the mafia's bosses daughter. You felt ashamed at the same time since you were also a daughter of a 'scary family' if you know what I mean. But seeing yourself get this submissive over another girl who was apart of another family that was apart of the mafia shattered your ego Abit... But who cares she's hot asf and good ay sex :3
"Wahh- shi shit! Slut.. I'm coming! Makei.. eu.. ah- my wife! Mineeee!" Minjeong moaned drool dripping out of her mouth as her thrusts became more harder. She was pulling out and then slamming hard as she can, clearly teasing. "Wh.. ah.. fuck hurts- pl..please" you cried out, even if you couldn't see it it was clear due to the hard slamming red marks were definitely being made.
"Coming! Ta.. take it all!" Minjeong said as she thrusted one more time, as she released in you filling you up. You could feel her cock twitching adding to the pleasure as you came too, your liquids mixing as you two rode it out.
Minjeong then leaned in to you laying her head on your collar bone inhaling your scent as she gently rocked her hips getting friction riding the release of you two out. As minjeong pulled out she looked down at you, her eyes softening as she pulled you into a hug.
"My wife... No need to be sober to fall in love." She muttured peppering your neck with kisses. You didn't know how to respond so you just carressed her hair letting her do what she wanted.....
And let's just say as you to fixed yourself and dressed yourself back up and went out of the bathroom. You and minjeong went separate ways, her with her friends and family and you with your friends and family too, you couldn't help ofcourse but stare at her direction and seeing from afar that she was definitely getting scolded by her younger sibling. Which she said was named ningning, and her older sibling named karina...
You couldn't help but giggle from afar.
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elleluvsjurin · 3 months ago
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but outta respect, im keeping her nameless
requested
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synopsis: you and minjeong’s casual sexcapades
pairings: Kim minjeong x fem!reader
cw: smut, cheating, rich housewife!reader, milf reader, minjeong is a lover girl
MEN DO NOT INTERACT
it’s a Friday night, your husband is gone for a business trip and won’t be back until Sunday. Your daughter is curled up in bed and you’re sitting on your couch until you hear three loud knocks at your door. you open it to see that it’s in minjeong and you internally scream.
“minjeong…what the fuck are you doing at my house? my child is here. ” you say
“i wanted to see you. is that an issue?” you eye her up and down before eventually letting her in. her hair is cut into a wolf cut, layered type of bob. she has on a white shirt and black jeans and a black jacket to top it. she slowly looks you up and down as you’re wearing a white see-through nightie with nothing underneath it, obviously not expecting someone to show up at your home.
“and you look so good right now.” she says, casually
“you can’t keep showing up here uninvited, you’re lucky that my husband isn’t here.” you mumble
“i know and im sorry, ok? i just missed you lots. i can make it up to you.” she mentions innocently though you can decipher between the facade that she’s carrying.
“not right now, my daughter is asleep.” she smiles and you look at her, confused.
“let me take your husband’s place.” she says bluntly
“no.” you reply
“he doesn’t even fuck you good. if he did, we wouldn’t be in this position.” she challenges you to see if you’re going to crack, which you do. in every situation she’s always 4 steps ahead of you and it pisses you off because she’s right every time.
she takes her jacket off, tossing it onto your couch so she can take a seat and make herself comfortable.
“I don’t mind you staying but please stay quiet, I don’t want my child waking up and hearing us.” you mention
“ok then.” she mumbles, smirking at you as you stand there.
“what?” you ask
“are you going to take me up to that lavish bedroom of yours or are we gonna do it in the open right here?” she questions
“let’s go upstairs.” you head upstairs, purposely swaying your ass from side to side as Minjeong follows you. she looks down, instantly looking back up so she won’t be distracted.
“love this cute little room, could be ours..” she trailed off as you opened the door for her.
“watch it.” you mumble as she pushes you onto the bed. she gets on top of you and instantly kisses your lips
“so fucking sexy.” she says in between kisses. you grab on her boobs through her shirt before you two pull away, breathing heavily. you both sit up with her being in your lap.
“take this shit off.” you pull on her shirt and she pulls it over her head.
you unclip her bra, throwing it to the ground and you take one of her nipples into your mouth
“what the- fuck..” she silently whimpers and you continue sucking on her nipples before she pulls away.
“y/n i want to eat you out, instead.” you release your mouth from her nipple and you agree to what she says.
“spread those legs for me.” she murmured softly
“o-ok.” you mumble quietly. you slowly pull down your gown and she watches you. you start from your shoulder, to your collarbone, down your stomach, and eventually, down your legs. discarding the sheer clothing item to a section of the room. you lie down with your back pressed up against the headboard.
“fuck that’s perfect.” she whispers as she lowers herself down to your heat, minjeong blows on your clit and you shudder from the feeling.
“m-minjeong-” “wait your turn.” she says, sternly
after what felt like forever, she finally latched her mouth onto your clit and started sucking the life out of you.
“a-ah fuck.” you mumble silently, keeping in mind that you two aren’t home alone. minjeong continues sucking on your clit as she slowly enters two fingers into your needy cunt, thrusting them in and out at a slow pace as she eats you out. you throw your head back, watching the scene of winter eating you out..it’s engraved into your head.
“yes yes…please minjeong.” you moan out and she chuckles, the vibration of her chuckle leaving an affect on your clit.
“fuuuck.” you moan as you throw your head back up against the headboard. your loud pussy squelches as she thrusts her fingers in and out of you.
“damn babe.” she mutters as your juices leak down her hand, encouraging her to speed up.
“oh my goodness..” you whimper aloud. minjeong eats your pussy as if it’s her last meal. your legs shake and convulses as she eats you out. your whole body trembles as you cum all over her pretty face.
“f-fuck.” you breathed out and she pulls away, getting up to kiss your lips.
“God I love you.” minjeong mumbles in between kisses, you wrap your hands around her neck as you make out with her.
“mmh i love you too.” you mutter and you eventually pull away from her lips.
“y/n, let me marry you.” she says
“minjeong..I can’t.” you reply
“I’ll wait…for however long it takes.” she says
minjeong sucks on your perky nipple as she looks at you with pleading eyes, almost begging for you.
“minjeong..I’ll see, ok?” you respond and she smiles, her cheeks flushed with a pink hue before she kisses your hand
“thank you.” she mutters
“but you gotta go..like now. we can chat about this later.” you say sternly
“fine.” she puts her shirt back on, fixing up her disheveled hair. you put your nightie back on and you walk her out.
“I’ll miss you.” she says as she’s standing in the doorway. you rub her hand and you kiss her lips passionately, letting her know that you mean business.
“i know and I’ll miss you too but next time you can’t show up like this, do you understand me Minjeong?” she nods her head, understanding you crystal clear
“now go, don’t worry about me, i will be fine. worry about yourself for these next few days and i will message you, ok.” you hand her the jacket that she left on your couch.
“thank you.” she mumbles and she kisses your lips one last time before you two part ways.
you close the door, not realizing that your daughter was behind you the entire time.
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starvrse · 2 months ago
Text
TANGLED DESIRES
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| pairing : kim minji x fem!reader
| summary : idfk ill update ts later
| warnings : g!p minji smut, drunk driving, aggressive (idk😭), skz hyunjin mention, ichillin yuju mention, minji calls u a bitch like once, not proofread, etc.
| unnecessary bs : like 3.5k words (ik guys it’s long, glaze me later 🙏😅)
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minji stands in front of the mirror, thoroughly admiring her own reflection. she runs a hand confidently down the front of her costume, feeling the fabric cling perfectly to her form. a bold smirk spreads across her lips as she assesses her appearance, practically radiating self-assuredness. “fuck yeah,” she declares, “this is the one.” with a playful twist to the side, she checks her reflection from another angle, her eyes glinting with mischief. she knows she looks incredible, and it shows.
“you chose the most basic costume ever, watch there be like— 100 other spiderman’s at the party” you say, interrupting her as you walk next to her to adjust your own costume in the mirror.
“yeah but who else is gonna look as sexy as me?” minji responds, her eyes unbashedly wandering down your body, taking in your corpse bride costume.
you laugh lightly before responding, “me, obviously”
she raises an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. “you think that tattered veil and that pale makeup can compete with this?” she gestures dramatically to her figure.
“oh girl please, i’m a bride, and you’re just…the friendly neighbor hero” you tease, making eye contact with her through the mirror.
“you’re so corny, just hurry up” minji replies as she steps outside to start her car up.
you giggle to yourself while quickly taking a few pictures before going outside to join your girlfriend in the car.
-
pulling up to the party, minji parks near some cars on a curb, and turns off the engine. she looks out at the house and can see the lights and hear the faint thump of music from inside. she takes a deep breath, steeling herself for the night ahead. she checks her appearance in the mirror, running her fingers through her hair and adjusting the spiderman mask on the top of her head.
glancing over at you in the passenger seat, watching intently as you apply your lipgloss. her eyes fixate on the way your lips move as you swipe the gloss over them. “are you ready?” she asks, licking her lips.
you smack your lips together, the gloss glistening under the soft glow of the streetlights, letting out a quick “mhm”
“alright then.” minji takes a moment before finally stepping out of the car, jogging to your side to open the door. as you both walk toward the house, she feels the cool night air wash over her, grounding her.
stepping inside the house, the music swells, enveloping you both in a vibrant atmosphere. people are mingling, laughter bubbling around you, a few even sleep.
minji hangs close, her gaze sweeping the crowd as she takes in the scene.
“look,” you say, pointing to a peter parker and miles morales standing next to each other. “just walked through the door and already spotted 2 spidermen”
the older girl shrugs and sucks her teeth, “yeah, but they don’t look better than me”
you lightly laugh at her response, “of course they don’t,” obviously no one could look better than your girlfriend. “anyways, wanna grab a drink?” you ask, pulling her attention back to you. “yeah,” minji replies, grabbing your hand.
as you make your way to the makeshift bar, she can’t help but notice how effortlessly others are drawn to you. a few friends greet you with enthusiastic hugs, and lots of “i love your costume!!” or “you’re so pretty!”
-
after a couple of shots, boredom starts to creep in.
“babe, let’s dance—” you begin, but a voice cuts you off.
“yoo, it’s emily!” turning toward the sound, you spot hyunjin, your acquaintance (you wouldn’t really consider him a friend) dressed in victor costume.
your mouth curls into a wide smile, and you can’t help but exclaim, “oh my god, victor!” you stand up from the chair, excitement bubbling inside you. “hey, I’ll be right back,” you say to minji, flashing her a quick grin before making your way over to hyunjin.
minji watches intently as you talk to hyunjin, the way he touches your shoulder, looks at your lips, and stares at you with hunger in his eyes. she notices it all.
pouring herself a cup of gin mixed with soda, she downs it as she continues watching your interaction with the boy. the latter couldn’t even lie, his costume next to yours looked perfect, people walking by definitely would’ve assumed he was your boyfriend. even she was regretting her choice of picking spiderman instead of matching with you.
-
twenty minutes tick by—though it feels like an eternity—and you’re still engrossed in conversation with him, barely glancing in your girlfriend’s direction. and at this point, she feels tipsy, and she knows that one more shot could push her over the edge.
just as she’s about to take that final shot, a girl saunters up to her in an all-black bodysuit, complete with a miniskirt, cat makeup, and playful cat ears.
how basic, minji thinks as she sizes up the newcomer.
“hi, spidey~” the girl says flirtatiously, sliding into the seat beside her. “uh, hi?” minji replies, raising an eyebrow.
“you seem pretty drunk, and who wants to be drunk and alone at a party?” the cat girl continues, her tone overly sweet.
“i’m not alone…” minji retorts, her voice flat.
“really? because i don’t see anyone next to you,” she pretends to look around before looking back in the taller girls eyes. “and honestly, i wouldn’t mind getting tangled up in your webs,” the girl purrs, her hand resting on minji’s bicep and giving it a squeeze. “i’m yeju…” she whispers, leaning in closer, her fingers trailing down to caress your girlfriend’s stomach, feeling her abs underneath the costume. “how about we get outta here, and go somewhere more priv-“
“how about you fuck off,” minji snaps, pushing the girl off her and downing her shot before standing up.
she storms over to you and hyunjin, her frustration bubbling as she sees his hands on your waist, his nose buried in your neck as you snap pictures together. it ignites something fierce inside her, and she grabs your arm, pulling you toward the door. “we’re going home,” she says in a monotone voice, desperately trying to mask her jealousy.
“minji, what the fuck?” you exclaim, stumbling slightly as she drags you. she ignores your protest, her grip tightening as she leads you to the car.
once at the vehicle, she swings open your door and gives you a gentle push into the passenger seat before making her way to the driver’s side. the tension hangs thick in the air, and minji can feel her heart racing as she prepares to confront the emotions swirling within her.
as she starts to drive, worry creeps in.
“babe?” you call out softly, hoping for a response.
silence hangs heavy in the air.
“minji, what’s wrong?” you try again, glancing at her profile, searching for any hint of what’s bothering her.
still no answer.
“minji, please talk to me so i can help!” you plead, your voice edged with concern.
the silence stretches on, each passing moment intensifying your anxiety.
finally, you decide to give up on the conversation for now. reaching for your wipes, you start wiping the makeup off your face, wanting to get it done before you step inside. it feels like a small act of normalcy amidst the tension, but your mind races with thoughts of how to bridge the gap between you.
-
after driving for a while, you finally pull up to your home.
minji gets out of the car with a grunt, slamming the door shut. “big headed bitch boy…” she mutters, stomping over to your side to open the door. but instead of closing it behind you, she just walks past and heads into the apartment, leaving you standing there, feeling a mix of confusion and worry.
once you step inside, she finally turns to you, her expression still tense. “go in the room,” she says, her voice firm and edged with frustration.
you nod at her request (demand) and quickly rush to the bedroom. as soon as the door closes behind you, you unzip your dress, feeling a mix of relief and anxiety. the fabric falls away, and you start removing your accessories, the clinking of jewelry echoing in the silence.
your mind races as you try to process the tension from the car. you wonder what’s going through minji’s head, hoping you can figure it out before things escalate. taking a deep breath, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, trying to shake off the unease.
after a moment, you hear footsteps approaching the door, your heart pounding as you prepare for what’s next.
the raven haired girl steps in the room, her spiderman suit zipped down, only covering her bottom half, while a black sports bra covers her top.
you snake your eyes down her body, staring at her crotch area. you can see the outline of her thick, hard cock straining against the tight fabric of the costume.
she approaches you, slightly tripping over her own feet. minji can’t grasp how she managed to drive home safely while drunk; perhaps it was the adrenaline, but that rush is long gone now, and all she knows is that she’s mad and horny.
as you stand there, paralyzed by her intense gaze, you feel the heat of her breath against your lips. her pupils are dilated, almost completely concealing the iris. she cups your face in her manicured hands, her nails digging into your skin. and then, without warning, she pulls you closer, pressing her lips firmly against yours. the kiss is hungry, urgent, and demanding, as if she can't get enough of you.
tasting the tang of alcohol on her lips. she sucks gently on your tongue, eliciting a small moan from the back of your throat. Her hands slide into your hair, fingers tangling in the strands, tugging. the kiss is deep and hot, you find yourself losing yourself in the moment, forgetting everything else except the feeling of her mouth against yours.
you pull back, your labored breaths filling the space between the two of you. she takes a few moments to catch her own breath, eyes half lidded and lips plump from the kiss. almost immediately, she tries to lean in again, desperate for more, but you gently push her back. "wait," you murmur breathlessly, trying to keep your own desire under control. “slow down.”
the bear-like girl furrows her thick eyebrows at your words, wait? you’re telling her to wait?? and not only are you telling her to wait, you’re telling her to slow down.
she clenches her jaw, gripping a handful of your hair and pulling it to command you to your knees. “so you can whore yourself out to that boy, but you tell me to wait? i’m not waiting to have something that’s mine” she says, angrily.
you moan and wince slightly at the pain throbbing in your head. then, you feel your lover grab your jaw, forcing your mouth open. she holds your head, guiding your mouth around her clothed boner.
minji let’s out a low moan at the feeling of your mouth around her, deciding that she needs more, she pulls your head away, snickering at the wet spot your saliva left.
finally, pulling the suit down her legs, the tip of her cock peaks out from her boxers, red and angry with precum oozing out of it.
her underwear joins the discarded costume on the floor, and with a eager bounce, her rigid length springs upward, slapping against her toned stomach with an audible smack. she wraps her long fingers around her thick base, the digits barely meeting as she holds it steady, her heavy balls hanging low.
she gently taps your lips with her wet tip, painting them with her essence. “come on, stick your tongue out bitch.” she says in a husky whisper, her breath hot and heavy with her dazed eyes locked on to yours, daring you to disobey.
and just as she thought, you stick your tongue out. she hums in approval, a string of saliva drips from her parted lips, landing directly onto your waiting tongue.
as the saliva slides down your throat, you feel a thrill of submission mixed with the rush of her approval. her smirk grows wider, and her eyes gleam with satisfaction. without hesitation, she guides the swollen head of her cock past your lips, the velvety skin gliding smoothly into your mouth.
you wrap your lips around the thick shaft, your mouth stretching to accommodate her girth. she starts to thrust slowly, pushing her dick deeper with each movement. the salty precum coats your tongue, and you swallow it eagerly, desperate to please her.
she moans lowly at the feeling, but it’s not enough for her. she needs more. the images of you and hyunjin at the party start playing in her mind, getting more upset, her pace quickens, hips snapping forward as she dives deeper into your mouth. the head of her arousal hitting the back of your throat, making you gag.
“f-fuck, relax your throat,” she demands, her voice hoarse with lust. she grabs your head with both hands, holding your mouth in place as she starts to fuck your face. her thick cock pistons in and out of your mouth at a furious pace, the sound of your gagging and choking filling the room.
tears stream down your face, un-removed mascara running in black streaks as she continues to thrust mercilessly. shes beyond caring about being gentle now. all that matters is the heat of your mouth and the sounds of your distress. "look at me," she growls, tilting your chin up.
her eyes bore into yours, dark with desire and a hint of cruelty. she holds your gaze as she slams forward, burying her entire length down your throat. your nose presses against her pelvis, inhaling her musky scent. she grinds against your face, giving you no chance to breathe.
"shit m’ gonna cum—y-you're gonna swallow it all," she pants, her voice tight with impending release. her movements grow erratic, hips bucking forward as she buries herself balls-deep once more. with a final cry, she comes, pulsing warmth filling your mouth as she unloads onto your tongue.
she holds your head in place, forcing you to gulp down every drop of her thick, salty release. tears and drool run down your chin as you struggle to swallow it all. finally, she pulls out, leaving you gasping for air. a string of cum connects your lips to her softening cock.
breathless and spent, she leans against the wall for support. her chest heaves as she looks down at you, your face a mess of tears, saliva, and her seed. she smirks, getting hard again at the sight. “you look so pretty baby,” she says, kissing you, tasting herself on your plump lips. “i’d like to see that assholes reaction when he sees your face covered in my nut.”
she reaches down and cups your mons, finding your core drenched. she hums appreciatively, "looks like someone enjoyed that." her fingers slip between your folds, easily gliding through your slick heat.
her touch is gentle yet firm, her fingers slowly circling your entrance before slowly pushing inside. you gasp, back arching, as she slowly pumps her hand, crooking her fingers to hit that spot deep inside you. your hands grasp her shoulders, nails digging in as she continues to toy with you.
“minji— i’m gonna-“ just as you were about to release on her fingers, she pulls her hand back. “not yet," minji whispers, a wicked grin spreading across her face. she stands up, holding her hand up to her mouth and licking your juices clean. you let out a frustrated whine, legs trembling as you try to hold yourself together.
“get on the bed.“ minji urges, helping you up from the floor. “lie down, spread your legs, and keep them spread," she commands, her voice low and authoritative. you quickly comply, crawling onto the bed and lying down, your legs spread wide, baring yourself to her.
climbing onto the bed and positioning herself between your spread thighs. her hands grip your hips possessively, pulling you closer to the edge of the bed. her thick, veined member pulsed in her hand as she lined herself up with your entrance.
she slowly pushes forward. the thick head of her length spreads your folds, inching inside of you. her thick manhood stretching you open.
you grip the sheets beneath you, knuckles turning white as she slowly pushes into you. the sensation bordering on pain. "minji— it's too much—" you gasp, back arching. she leans down, kissing and biting your neck softly.
"shh, you can take it," minji coos encouragingly. she gives a final thrust, burying herself to the hilt inside you. you moan loudly, your fingers digging into her back. she pauses, letting you adjust to her size before slowly pulling out and thrusting back in.
she sets a steady rhythm, her hips snapping forward as she buries herself inside you over and over. with each thrust, she hits that spot deep inside, making your eyes roll back and your words slur into unintelligible moans. "min— it's— it's too—"
"—It's too good?" minji finishes for you, her voice low and taunting. "well, take it. show me how well you can take it." her pace quickens, her breath growing ragged as she pounds into you.
“holy shit—you’re always so tight-“ she loops one arm under your knee and lifts your leg up, placing it over her shoulder. the new angle allows her to delve even deeper, each thrust now hitting that spot with unrelenting precision.
“please— so deep!" you beg, your voice barely a whisper.
minji ignores your pleas, continuing to fuck into you with reckless abandon. her thick member splits you open, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh filling the room. she leans forward, her arm tightening around your leg as she uses it to pull you further onto her length with every thrust.
"f-fuckk— oh god— it’s too much—“ "shut the fuck up with all that complaining, yn. just take it." her pace quickens, her thrusts becoming almost punishing. the sound of your moans and the headboard slamming against the wall could probably be heard by the whole apartment complex.
the girl reaches between your bodies, her calloused fingers finding your sensitive clit. she rubs tight circles around it, the added stimulation making your inner walls clench around her throbbing shaft. "fuck, you're so tight. gonna make you cum on my cock,"
you let out a high pitched moan as your orgasm crashes over you. your back arches off the bed, and eyes roll back as your walls spasm and clench around her throbbing member.
but, instead of pausing to let you ride out your release, minji continues her relentless pace, chasing her own high. her dick plows in and out of you, drawing out your pleasure but also making it almost painful.
"minji— please— it's— it’s too much— I’m too sensitive” your voice shakes as your body is wracked with aftershocks. her fingers still moving against your swollen bud, prolonging the overwhelming sensation.
"come on, yn. just a little longer for me, baby. i'm almost done," minji pants, her hips starting to stutter as she nears her peak.
with a final, powerful thrust, minji buries herself to the hilt and lets out a guttural moan. "yn..." her voice trails off into a series of incoherent grunts and pants as her own release consumes her, her hips jerking as she spills warmth inside you.
the sensation of her hot release flooding your insides proves to be the final push. your back bows off the bed as another intense orgasm rips through you, your inner walls milking her cock for every last drop. your mouth remains open in a silent scream of ecstasy.
after taking some moments to calm down, minji slowly pulls out, her softening member slipping from your sensitive folds. fingers trace your trembling thigh almost tenderly. "you did so good for me, love," she murmurs, a note of praise and satisfaction in her voice.
the loss of her warmth and the gentle stretch makes you whimper, your hips hitching forward as if trying to follow her. "m-minji..." your voice is barely a whisper, hoarse from the overwhelming amount of stimulation.
you reach back blindly, trying to pull her closer once more. your body is oversensitive, your mind hazy with aftershocks. she chuckles darkly and obliges, her strong arms wrapping around your waist to pull you flush against her.
"just relax... i've got you..." her voice is low and soothing, her touch gentle as she strokes your skin.
minji's hands continue their soothing path over your skin, one sliding up to cup your breast while the other traces idle patterns on your hip. She presses soft kisses along your shoulder and the side of your neck. "my perfect girl..." she murmurs against your skin. “so good for me”
your breathing slows and deepens, your body relaxing completely in your lovers embrace. "i'm sleepy..." you mumbled, burrowing back against her. she tightens her arms around you protectively. "then sleep, my love. you've earned it..."
she wraps herself around you like a warm blanket. she kisses the top of your head softly before settling in to hold you close, her own breathing slowly evening out as she drifts off to sleep alongside you.
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this was for halloween but i’m like late asf 😭😭 alr now that you’ve read it all you can glaze me 😅
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