#rating: NC-17

[winterknights]

Fic: Winging It

Title: Winging It Author: NotInPublic Pairing(s): Merlin/Arthur Prompt: Merlin/Arthur. Widower Arthur is not interested in love; after all, he had his one great love. His kids disagree. Cue kids trying to find him a boyfriend/girlfriend for Christmas Word Count: 36,814 Rating: NC-17 Contains (Highlight to view): *Grief, off-page character death, potential internalised homophobia, pining, slow burn, wanking, handjobs, blowjobs.* Disclaimer: Merlin characters are the property of Shine and BBC. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended. Notes: The biggest thank you to my beta Remaymber! All remaining mistakes are my own. Summary: "Dad, you need to get a life." "I already have a life, Liv." Arthur replied indignantly, gesturing around them at their very real kitchen, in their very real house "I have you and your sisters." She rolled her eyes with all the exasperation of a fifteen year old in full belief of their all-encompassing knowledge of the world. "That is tragic. You are tragic. You can't be serious?" As the conversation veered from mildly insulting to painfully near-the-knuckle, he'd felt self-indignation begin to rear its head. "Excuse me, miss. I didn't think that's how we talked to each other in this house." "Don't deflect." She shot back, hands on her hips. Not for the first time, Arthur wondered if all the therapy since Gwen’s death really had been a good idea. "It's been three years Dad, you need to get back out in the world." Her voice lowered, soft and gentle "meet someone maybe?"

Link to work on A03: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43380024

[m-p-a-a]

This post has been rated [NC-17]

NOOOOO NOT DOUGLAS

[bunnypansy]

Little Death

Rated NC-17, read at your own RISK!

This is a dark fic, read ALL of the warnings before you consume. If anything mentioned in the warnings makes you uncomfortable, TURN AWAY. As a creator, I do not condone the things I write about, though that should be obvious enough.

With warnings out of the way, this is the first episode in our 16 part Kinktober season; Drugging and Pseudo-Necrophilia. The Undertaker likes you quite a lot, but he likes you much better when you aren't moving as much. A little drink should do the trick, shouldn't it?

Featuring: The Undertaker, and You, dear reader

Beware! This film contains: Ftm! reader, nonconsensual drugging, noncon/dubious consent, implied/pseudo necrophilia (there is no corpse fucking, but the Undertaker is pretending you are a corpse), fingering, light sadism

You had your suspicions drinking tea from an Erlenmeyer flask, fearing there may be trace amounts of whatever foul chemicals it last contained, but the Undertaker was quite insistent that the funeral parlor had no other vessels with which to drink tea. You should've trusted your instincts.

It had tasted just fine. Not unlike any other cup of Darjeeling you've drunk, but only a few sips in, and his rasping, pitchy voice bleeds into the generalized hum of the air surrounding you. The entire parlor is murmuring and Undertaker has joined the chorus, his voice almost inseparable from the buzzing background. He's telling a story- something about one of the Jack the Ripper victims, you think.

You had no involvement, only knowing of the case from the paper- which you had stopped reading after a particularly gruesome description -but there he goes, describing in lurid detail exactly how the poor woman had been carved up like cattle. He's practically waxing poetic on the fun he had stitching her waxy white skin back together, shoving her remaining organs back into place, and tucking filler into the empty cavities the Ripper had left behind, as though stuffing a sagging stuffed animal until the vacant body was plump and full once more.

The pictures he paints in your mind are ones you can never erase, but you can barely form a clear image anyway. Under any other circumstances, you would be sick to your stomach, moving to leave the funeral parlor and never return, but under the mist of whatever was in your tea, you can't find it in you to move. You can't even find the strength to speak.

Your lips stay parted, jaw hanging open and tongue limp in your mouth. In turn, you watch the Undertaker's lips instead, pale and dry as they move with each word, trying to parse whatever he was saying from the movement of his mouth. You can't hear the Undertaker's voice over your own breaths, slow and labored, and your heartbeat pulsing in your ears. With every second, the world gets fuzzier and fuzzier. The already dark funeral parlor became a sightless void, with the Undertaker becoming a star in the center of your dark universe, his silvery hair almost glowing in the dim candlelight.

With nothing else to reach for, you're leaning towards the Undertaker, a moth drawn to a flame. He's kind enough to catch you, a hand on either shoulder to steady you. Though his skin is no warmer than marble, you feel deeply comforted in his embrace.

"Oh my..." You don't know what he says after that. You only know that it feels so nice when he eases you into a more comfortable position, slumped against a coffin behind you, speaking in a low, soft voice. The sounds don't make sense, but they thrum sweetly against your brain as they enter your ears.

A moment later, the muscles in your neck give way, unable to hold your head upright. Instead, you entrust this task to the Undertaker and he gladly accepts, cupping your face in his spare hand. Your cheek rests perfectly in his palm, those long black nails scratching lightly against your skin; he's cold, but your skin is beginning to feel so hot that you can't bring yourself to care.

A feverish delirium has begun to swallow you whole, with no sign of releasing you any time soon. The energy sweats out of your body with every second, leaving you as still and limp as a mannequin, but warmer than a summer day.

Your brain is boiling within your skull, and it shows on your face. A thin strand of spit oozes from your lips and down your cheek, onto the Undertaker's fingers. Your hand twitches, but you don't have nearly enough strength to lift your arm and clean yourself up. How kind the Undertaker must be to lean close to you- close enough you can feel his frosty breath -and drag his tongue over your skin, tenderly tidying you up.

He traces the trail of saliva back up your cheek, finishing the intimate gesture by flicking his tongue across your lips. You're somewhat grateful he went to the effort, but it hardly matters when he makes a mess of you all over again, only moments later.

The hand on your cheek readjusts to your chin, gripping just tightly enough that the Undertaker can tilt your head this way and that to get the desired angle as he slides his tongue into your mouth and halfway down your throat. The taste of antiseptic and salt coats your mouth, but there's little you can do other than summon forth a quiet whimper. The movements are awkward and messy; the Undertaker eagerly runs his tongue over every crevice and tooth in your mouth, as if attempting to form a perfect map within his memory, while you lay unresponsive to his affections.

Whatever you and the Undertaker are doing together can hardly be called a kiss, but he probably prefers you this way. Still, weak, easy to manipulate; as perfect as a doll, as human as a body.

He pulls away and you're breathless, lips glossy with a sheen of his spit. "Look at you now, so still... What a good boy."

The praise barely penetrates the thick fog filling your skull, but when it does, you make a pitiful attempt at a smile back, barely able to even twitch your lips. You're rewarded with the Undertaker's abrasive laughter, startling a groan from you. "Und...er..."

"Shhh, shh..." His lips keep moving, but you don't pick up on a single word, whatever the Undertaker is saying must be nice, right? You feel so calm, entirely weightless as if you're floating.

Then the sensation stops, and instead, you're being pressed in upon at every side by something soft, a fabric... maybe velvet? The experience rides the line between claustrophobic and comforting, as if you're bound in a straitjacket made of velvet; warm and tight. So warm. Too warm. You want- no you need out, if you stay as you are, you'll surely cook to death. The heat is torturous when you can't even make a move to relieve it, forced to moan out to the Undertaker for help.

Hands dart across your body as he mutters something sugary into your ear, deftly undoing buttons and clasps on his way down. At long last, your skin meets the open air of the funeral parlor, bringing a sigh to your lips at the refreshing feeling. So caught up in your relief, you hardly even notice the cold fingerprints littering your body; poking and prodding here and there, adjusting your posture to his liking.

Legs straightened ahead of you, back flat against the surface beneath you, arms folded neatly. Great care is taken to interlace your fingers with each other, before he places your hands just below your navel, giving you a small pat on the tummy before his hands drift lower.

It's in this moment that it occurs to you where you must be laid and how you must look; in a funeral parlor, there's no place to rest but a coffin, and in a coffin, there's no way to look but dead.

The Undertaker plays with your lax body like a doll, rubbing his fingers across your lips for a few moments before he pauses and holds his thumb up against your lips, reveling in your shallow breaths for a few heartbeats. Although your ears feel stuffed with cotton, you can easily pick out the pleased groan the Undertaker makes.

Further down your body, a shiver crawls up from where the Undertaker's hand is tucked between your thighs. Whether the goosebumps pimpling your skin are from pleasure or temperature you can't tell. Something your mind tries to claw from the darkness, warn you how wrong this all is, but you can't hear it over the slick noise of the Undertaker dragging a finger through your slit.

You should be scared, you should struggle away or cry for help, but the adrenaline never comes; the fighting spirit you need is eagerly leaking away from between your legs and wetting the funeral director's hand. The silence that once fell between the two of you is replaced with a constant squelching of the Undertaker's fingers working over your clit; drawing slow, firm circles around the nub and simply enjoying the feeling of your breath against his hand as if it were an equal pleasure.

That calloused finger keeps rubbing at your clit, the rough skin pulling meager grunts from your lips with greater frequency the faster he moves. There's a twist in your stomach, something that makes you desperate to thrash in place, burning with frustration at your own limp body.

"Uh-" The hand on your lips quickly slaps entirely over your nose and mouth, clamping tight enough to cut off anything you planned to say. Those knife-like nails dig into your soft skin, threatening to cut.

"Hush. Don't speak." There are a few more words after that, still in a harsh whisper, that are inaudible to you.

Quiet panting, soft groans, slick fingers; the sounds and sensations are all too much, sending a vibrant buzzing through your veins, so strong it threatens to burst from your skin. Faster, rougher, harder; more, more, more-

The Undertaker mercilessly grinds the sharp end of his fingernail against your clit, and your body gives way to him completely. With just that simple demonstration of pain, the Undertaker rips an orgasm from your body as easily as a heart from a chest.

Acid pours through your veins, burning every vessel within you and filling your eyes with white-hot stars. Your eyelids twitch and your steamy breaths heave between the Undertaker's fingers as you lose any former semblance of control. The sleeve of the Undertaker's robe is soaked with your release. You'd be embarrassed with yourself if you could form coherent thoughts, but you can't even form a proper moan, just a pitiful gasp that seeps from your throat like a dying breath.

When the Undertaker finally pulls his hand away from your face, his hands are trembling just as much as your thighs. Briefly, you wonder if he enjoyed this as much as you did- or more.

That is all for tonight's episode of the 2024 Kinktober season, thank you all for viewing and have a lovely night.

I originally wrote a draft of this a couple months ago and was going to post it earlier... but it works so well for the spooky month that I just put it off teehee. i'm very excited about Kinktober, I've never participated before now so... we'll see if I can do it all!

[stormyoceans]

LISTEN. realistically speaking i know they're not about to give me phum riding peem. even if they show more than this GMMTV is still too attached to stereotypical top/bottom dynamics (especially for branded pairs) to go there. BUT ALSO I LOVE TO CLOWN AND BE DELUSIONAL SO WHAT IF

[illusionnet]

Check this new post by @itstheghostofmypast "Awake - (Maknae line)"

Awake - (Maknae Line)

separate members Ateez x (F)Reader

Summary: You went to sleep after a HUGE (not really) fight, only, when you went to sleep you were alone, not in the comforting arms of your lover.

Genre: Hurt + Comfort

Rating: PG-17

Warnings: None

Word Count: 9.5K

Est.Read Time: 47 min

Networks: @cromernet @k-labels @illusionnet

Banner: @cafekitsune

Hyung Line: Here

A/N: A little update, this took forever- Also I no longer remember how to write a literature review, yet, it is due on Monday (fml) .I'll update my requests soon and upload the next chapter of Meow soon, too! (I AM SORRY SAN'S PART IS EXTREMELY LONG)

Choi San

“I…what?” you paused, looking up from the vacuum-packed pillow in your lap. Sitting at the center of his bed, surrounded by various items, you blinked at the man in the swivel chair.

“I said no, I'm not going to use or put any other pillows on my bed.” The beanie clad man spat back, crossing his arms over his chest, the black shirt clinging onto his form. An eerie silence settled between the two, neither making their next move, nor deciding to back down. 

The evening had started extremely well. Tonight she was going to spend the night at his place, for the first time ever, which is why she was extremely excited and nervous. The two had spent a week planning the various activities for Friday night. He had volunteered to arrange the movies and bring the gaming console to his room, thrilled when she told him she'd bring the skincare products, claiming the two could do facials and wear face masks! It got better when he asked if perhaps they could play board games to which she instantly agreed, adding - “Let's bake too! I'll get the ingredients!” 

Hence, as soon as you had entered his room, you had dumped the contents of your back on his bed, showing him the numerous facemasks, UNO cards, a board game, some hair accessories, makeup and an unhealthy amount of snack (yes, you were planning on doing cutesy couple things)  you had brought, the ingredients for the ‘special Friday night brownie’ on the computer desk beside him.  What you did not expect was for it to all go down hill once you took out the pillows.

“What’s that?” he asked, watching you pull a vacuumed white thing out of your bag, one after another. Placing them on his bed, before taking out two pillow covers. You smiled at him, before ripping off the seal of one of the pillows, pulling the plastic off, and watching as it fluffed up. “Pillows!” you smiled, “You only have one, the poor boy is all worn out, lumpy, and old, so I got two more! You can replace it with them!” looking at him, you pressed the cotton pillow, to show him, “They’re super soft and have memory foam, I got them, especially for your neck and shoulders!” 

You grabbed the second one and placed it on your lap when he spoke, “No.” 

“What?”

“I said no, I'm not going to use or put any other pillows on my bed.”

Blinking at him, you moved the sealed pillow aside and scooted closer to the edge of the bed, closer to him, trying not to push any of the multiple things you had brought off the bed. Feet pressing against the floor you looked up at him, hands on your knees, leaning closer, “Sannie…it’s just a pillow-” 

That was perhaps all it took for the mood to go sour, real quick. He had got up from his seat and marched towards her, causing her eyes to widen in surprise, especially when he had stood right above her, hands on his hips, saying something she’d never even imagined, before reaching beside her - though she had flinched when his hand came closer, something he had noticed but chose to ignore- grabbing his pillow and pulling back. He stared at her, not even sparing her a glance as he walked out of the room, making sure to slam the door behind him as he did so, his words still ringing in her ears as she blinked down at her hands, wondering what she had said, if she had done something to offend him, if she really was inconsiderate.

 “I didn’t know you could be so inconsiderate and spoiled- or maybe you’re just selfish.”

Honestly, you had thought of going after him, but you had never seen react like this- this uncharacteristic outburst was extremely new to you, the cold words thrown at you were worse, this wasn’t what you were used to. This wasn’t the same Sannie who would whisper sweet nothings in your ear when you were sad, this wasn’t the same Sannie who once came over when he found out you were sick, only leaving when you were asleep and well fed. This definitely wasn’t the same man who had taken hold of your heart, delicately placing it in his pocket- no, you really didn’t know who that was. Perhaps that’s why you didn’t go after him, at one point, you had thought of packing up and going home, but when you glanced at the clock 01.23 AM was not a very appropriate time to travel back home alone. With that you had neatly packed up everything but the essentials needed for your nightly routine,making sure all you’d have to do was change before leaving as soon as the sun woke up. 

You peaked out the door to find complete darkness, sighing in relief as you took your essentials and walked down the hall towards the washroom, passing by Seonghwa’s room, making sure to be quiet when you noticed the light peaking through from under the door. If you focused, you could make out Seonghwa’s muffled voice, though it was like he was talking to himself, or he was on the phone, but he did not sound pleased at all. Due to which you tried to rush through your routine, making sure to be as quiet as before, slowly closing the door, your breath hitching at the soft click, a hand gripping the door handle, while your palm pressed against the wood, trying to listen to any sounds of movements, luckily there was nothing. 

With a sigh you walked over to the mirror, grimacing at the sight, your new night suit was but a simple but a cute cotton outfit, a lavender camisole with a patching pair of loose fitted shorts, ensuring maximum comfort and well…it was supposed to ensure his liking as well. The mere thought of him squeezed your heart, wanting to go after him and sort it out- but no, you were a big girl and a smart one, no man could just say something so brash and throw a fit before leaving, not even the man who held your heart in his warm palm. 

You had assumed that these thoughts were going to consume and feed off your sleep, but boy, were you wrong, as soon as your head hit the pillow, you were out like a light, off to dreaming about who knows what, but it was a pleasant dream, a very soft, warm and nice dream, maybe it was because of the new pillow, who knows- but it was a very life like dream, where you felt all fuzzy and secure, as if you were in a comforting hug, ones like he’d give you, a bit too…realistic. 

Though she only jerked awake at the feeling of something trailing up her spine, a small gasp breaking the silence, as she tried to move away, only to be pulled closer, a groan from above her head vibrating through her whole being. Oh. 

Letting out a sigh of relief, you tilted your head up, to the best of your ability, forcing the man’s chin off your head as he blinked down at you with droopy eyes, a sheepish pout, ever so visible even in the dim light. The thing trailing up your spine, was in fact, his fingers, his fingertips tracing your spine, in a soothing manner. Your own hand squeezed in between their bodies, trying to push him away but he didn't budge, only his palm pressed against the small of your back, trying to keep you near him.

“You don’t get to be mean, and assume a little skinship is gonna fix that.”

Your words were harsh, and your tone was even more harsh, but you wanted it to be, you wanted it to sting, enough for him to realise this wasn't a joke, he had ruined the entire night and the mood.

His grip loosened at your words, enough for you to slip away from you to move onto the other pillow, sighing at the cold sensation on your cheek, now at the same eye level as the moron who was on the other pillow- internally you wanted to be petty and snatch it from under his head, he didn't deserve it, but the sight of his mochi cheek smashed against the soft pillow had your inner girl squealing at at the sight.

“I…I've had this same pillow since my trainee days.” he mumbled, reaching behind him to pull out the lumpy, beat up, tired pillow and pulling it to his chest, hugging it closer, “I had it when I got picked…I had it when we went to Gangnam…when grandpa…passed and…well…I- did you think I was gonna...hurt you?” He whispered, referring to the way you had flinched, of course the guilt was eating him up, that's why he had gone to Seonghwa to talk about it- maybe he looked to scary for his own good, but hell, an angry Seonghwa was even more frightening, and that's whom he had to deal with.

With a deep breath you reached over and placed your hand on top of his hand, "It was...reflex...I knew you wouldn't...at least not physically," , noticing how his fingers gripped the pillow harder at contact, “Why…didn't you just…say that before?”

His breath hitched at your question, looking everywhere but at your face, the insecurities brewing inside as he chewed on his lower lip, unsure if he should answer you, what would you think about him if he told you? What if you find it weird, what if his insecurities and his past makes you question the worth of this relationshipz- he's not the boy he used to be, he's not sensitive or weak or-

“Sannie…” she whispered, slowly moving closer to him, her face on the same fluffy pillow he was on, the old pillow now squished between the two as she sighed, “You can tell me…” Her hand cupped his cheek, thumb stroking the warm skin, trying fo coax whatever it was out of him. She was still upset, but, she'd never seen him this conflicted. 

“I just…” with a sigh he closed his eyes, thinking of what to say, only to end up blank. He opened his eyes to meet hers, mumbling, “Seonghwa yelled at me for what I said to you…he's right…I shouldn't have said that…I just…you don't really know…I mean I wasn't always…like this…this big or…manly or strong-” his grip on the pillow loosened, instead his arm wrapped around her, pulling her into him in one go, his lips curled into a small smile at her squeak, his pillow between the two, pressed to the max, “And when…you said its just a pillow I- I kind of…I mean its stupid but it scared me how I… if you were to realise I just grew bigger, I'm not that different, I'm still scared of bugs, I still hate vegetables and -”

“You really are a little dumb.” you cut him off, pressing a finger on his lips, to shush him, “I don't care if you're not all buff and big, I don't care if you were lanky and whiney- I just know you were San then and you are San now- as long as that big ol'heart of yours stays the same, I'm all yours.”

You felt his grip tighten around you, pressing your forehead against him as he relaxed against you, letting out a breath of relief. 

“Sure, these big boys add a great amount to your aura points though.” You giggled, patting his muscular arms, “A softie with big guns is all a girl wants~” you smiled at the way his face contorted in confusion, only to quickly press your lips against him, laughing at his surprised squeak. 

“I'll make it up to you…” he whispered,  finally feeling the exhaustion of the entire confession settling in, moving to remove the pillow from between them but she stopped him, surprising him yet again as she smiled at him, one that had his heart beat so loud that's all he could hear.

“I said don't use it as a pillow because your neck will hurt, but I never said throw away a part of yourself- plus its nice…smells like you.” her fingers wrapped around his wrist and pulled his arm over the pillow and herself, snuggling closer to him, “You're lucky I was staying over for the whole weekend.”

With your head tucked under his chin, arm wrapped around him, smoothly rubbing his back, his wrapped around your waist, he sighed nuzzling into the new pillows, happy that they carried your scent more than his,  “Lucky to have you in my life.”

Song Mingi

Of course you were mad at him, how could you not be? He was supposed to come home by 6- he was supposed to spend the evening with you, have dinner with you, watch a movie with you, and spend your anniversary together. Well technically, it was your 6 month anniversary,  but hey, half a year meant something to you, and as much as you were mature and ‘a cold-hearted’ b*tch, as claimed by your male coworkers, you were just soft for the giant man child who somehow managed to thaw the glacier you had for a heart.

So, when you had texted him earlier today he had instantly replied with an excited confirmation, what you did not think that after that he wouldn’t respond to you. You tried calling too, but his phone went straight to voicemail, so you waited and waited and waited- until you got a little notification of a certain white haired man doing a live, one that wasn’t scheduled. Were you upset because he was doing his job? No. Were you upset he didn’t tell you? Yes. He should’ve been decent enough to at least text you that he was going to be late, that he had work- you’d never asked him to prioritise you over his work, you knew what you were getting into, and with your workaholic personality, he knew yours, which is why he should have known that you would have understood wherever he was coming from.

Naturally she was furious when he stepped into the apartment, though being Mingi, he had no clue what she was upset about, even after he saw the cold pizza, the melted candles and small gift that lay wrapped in glossy paper. Instead he had walked over to her with a smile, ready to hug her- wrong move.

"I SAID DON'T TOUCH ME!" 

Her voice boomed across the hall, followed by the echo of her slap resonated in the confines of his aching heart, staring down at her with utter shock, a whimper at the tip of his tongue, an apology right after but hey- this was Song Mingi, and using his actual emotional maturity was never his first move.

Hence the platinum blonde gasped, giving her an offended look and mumbling, "Why are you being so pissy? It's literally a pizza, not some homemade meal." He eyed the table before turning to her, though she looked as if she were about to explode- somewhere deep down he was kind of afraid, he’d never seen her this angry, she was often quite calm and composed, extremely reserved. That would explain why her reaction caught him off guard, especially when he tried to talk to her, tried to hold her hand so she’d stop leaving every damn room she walked into.

“Look, I have a job!!” he called out walking after her, into the kitchen, “You of all people should know that, I can’t just leave my fans because you wanna celebrate some made up event!”

“Its not made up Mingi!” you turned around and glared at him, “I- I asked you two days ago about this, I told you it meant something to me and- I just, I can’t believe you didn’t even think of texting me! What’s the difference between you and any other guy from my office if you can’t communicate properly!”

Granted, if he took a minute to process her words, but sometimes she was so complicated. Moreover, he knew what he got into once he began to chase after her for months, he knew what he was getting into when she directly told him about her issues and insecurities, her reserved attitude and persona, one that she often let go off when she was with her giant, lovable dummy. If he kept all those factors in mind, and just took a moment to think, he would have understood the premise of her argument, but he really didn’t want to, or perhaps he just didn’t take it seriously, either way, his next words were the reason for which he was back in his form, wondering why the hell he didn’t think of apologising like a normal person.

“They’re lucky because they don't have a Runik's cube for a girlfriend.”

That was all it took for the bomb to go off;

"GET YOUR FAKE GOJO LOOKIN ASS OUT OF MY APARTMENT!”

“W-what-” his question was cut off when she shoved him away, going to grab the nearest object which happened to be the very present she had spent most of her salary on, swinging it right at his face- screw his job. But the bastard was quick when he ducked and tried to get to her, only to get whacked in the head with a candle, “Babe-”

“I SAID LEAVE!” you yelled, staring at him through bleary eyes, trying to keep the whirlwind of emotions, taking a deep breath as you pointed towards the door, feeling the cold slither up your fingertips, choosing the words that would end it all, whoever said dating was fun, was wrong, you’d rather stay single than feel any similar form of pain, though you did feel like you should have the final say in this. It didnt matter that the tall man in front of you looked like he was fumbling with the pieces of your so called relationship, tripping over his words has he tried to sprout out an apology, “Leave, let me relieve you of this burden.”

For you, the conversation had ended there, especially when he was standing outside, not sparing him a moment as you slammed the door on his face. After that, like any San individual you had cleared up the table, initially thinking of throwing out the pizza, but then it hit you - “I work hard to earn too, its not just him.” So you kept that, threw away the candles and the other decorations (stabbed the balloons-naturally). Honestly, you didn't know where his gift went, probably smashed into pieces after it ‘boinked’ off his stupid, giant head. After that you had washed up (cried in the shower for about an hour or so), stumbled towards your bed and knocked out as soon as your head hit the pillow.

The worst kind of ‘black-out’ sleep known to man, is what you endured that night, only to wake up when the fire alarm went off, fighting off the blankets, almost tumbling to your demise several times before entering the kitchen, coughing as the smoke entered your lungs. You opened the nearest window and turned around to bump into a softer form, arms wrapping around your form, before you were dragged out of the apartment and into the balcony, wheezing for your life, taking in as much clean air in one go as possible. 

Mingi rubbed her back in a circular motion, a hand holding onto hers, helping her sit down on one of the stools, pulling one closer and sitting right next to her as he held her hand, thinking of going back inside to get her water, though when he felt her squeeze his hand he face turned to meet hers, blinking at her stoic face. Damn, she’s still mad at him.

As soon as clarity hit, she had realised, this moron was back, not only that, it was still night out, so he had graciously trespassed into her apartment, set something on fire, almost killed her and then dragged her out on the balcony, of all the idiots she could’ve picked from to date, she chose the their leader.

“What are you doing here?”

“I was…trying to make you breakfast.”

“I told you its over-the hell? What time is it?”

She got up only to feel him tug her back down, this time onto his lap, wrapping his arms around her waist so she couldn’t escape, as she glared down at him, “Let go.”

“No…” shaking his head he buried his face in her neck, “ its 5 something, I…I’m sorry.” he whispered, feeling her stiffen in his hold, he knew a mere apology wouldn’t be enough, but he had to start somewhere, especially when he had gone back to the apartment and narrated the entire incident to his two bros- both thus throwing him back out, San adding an, “And don’t come back until you fix your mess, you ungrateful idiot.” Truthfully, he didn’t need to tell him that he had f*cked up, he was well aware of that fact, he just needed a push- that and he was terrified of her, he’d only seen her get angry at her coworkers when they’d mess up work, or that one time she got mad at a couple of highschoolers who thought kicking a puppy was fun, he’d never been the one at the receiving end of her wrath, until today. Perhaps that’s why he had assumed he was all forgiven, all safe, he had some form of immunity, thus, giving him the privilege of being mean to her- well, that theory was stupid. Wat made him assume he could just be mean to her because he felt like it? Since when was he, someone who knows what it felt like to be neglected, begin to neglect his own loved ones? She never fell in love with a man who was like this- what was he doing?

She was about to push him off, especially after he didn’t bother adding anything after his sorry, no explanation, nothing, only to stop when she felt something damp on her skin, realising that he in fact was not rocking them back and forth, but the man child was crying. 

“Dude…are you…crying?” she asked, gripping her shoulders as she pushed him away, earning a whine, as the bigger man tried to cover his face with his hands, “Song Mingi, what is wrong with you-”

“I’m sorry, okay!” his whimper had her freezing, eying his face, “I- I didn’t mean it! I don’t know why I said it, okay? It wasn’t cool and I-I know tha- I just- you’ve never, I mean- angry- upset because of me-” his words when she squeezed his cheeks, cupping his warm face, glaring down at him, frowning at the wetness.

“The Song Mingi I fell in love with was a softie- not a red flag like Gojo.”

He could only nod at her statement, fingers gripping onto her harder, cherishing the lack of past tense in her statement.

“Am I going to get him back, or is this the new you?”

She moved her hands to let him speak, only he pulled her flush against him, instinctively her arms wrapped around his shoulders, sighing when she felt his hold tighten. Her small squeak echoed in the quiet of the early morning, blending in with the soft symphony of the birds that had woken up before the sun, as he stood up, slowly walking back inside the apartment. With her legs wrapped around his waist, she blinked up at him, catching his little pout, only to sigh, as he carried her to her bedroom, only stopping at the edge of his bed.

“Can I…sleep with you?”

She hummed for a moment, biting her lip to hide her smile, when she noticed him frown at the time she was taking to answer his question, “What if I say no-SONG MINGI!”

He rolled his eyes at your little scream, he didn’t put his entire body weight on you, though, he did roll around until both of you were wrapped in a soft cocoon, with your back pressed against his warm, broad chest, his arm wrapped around you, as he shamelessly draped a heavy leg over yours. For a while, the two of you lay there silently, watching as the golden beams of the warm morning sun, sifted through the slits of the curtains, creating an luminous mosaic across the opposite wall, the song of the world waking up around you was slowly lulling you to sleep, and just when it became just right, he instantly broke the peaceful atmosphere, “Thank you for the ring.”

“Oh.” so it didnt vanish, he had taken it,

“Most welcome…”you whispered, trying to cling onto the strings of tranquility that were wrapped around you, “Did you take it before I threw you out?”

“Mhmm…is it…a couple ring?” he asked, though a moment later he got no response, causing him to peer down at her, and let out a chuckle, she had fallen asleep- she must’ve been tired, especially after all the stupid things he did yesterday, though his smile widened after his hand trailed down her arm, hand clasping hers, almost shivering with joy at the feeling of the cold metal on her finger.

Jung Wooyoung

Wooyoung had a sharp tongue, he knew that, the guys knew that, hell, you knew that too, but did that mean you were prepared for it? No, of course not, you were his little, itty-bitty, cute pookie- don't hate the name, hate the man who had bestowed it upon you. 

He gave you the name when you called him to your apartment for the first time, mind you, it wasn't what Wooyoung was expecting. The first time you had invited him over for the night had him rolling on the ground like a dog, his shy and quiet little girlfriend was willingly fueling his weird side, he couldn't wait to barge into her private space, ask her all sort of questions, learn more about her, tease her, test her limits, take in her reactions, in every sense; physical and psychological.

The moment she had opened the door and his eyes landed on her cotton baby pink shorts, he felt himself shiver with excitement, trying not to howl like a mad dog, scaring her away- though that entire fantasy was short lived when he realised by ‘sleep over’ she literally meant ‘sleep over’, like a …slumber party. So yes, that night they didn't do what he thought they would, but they did; give each other facials, watch a movie while wearing her newly bought sheet masks, paint each other’s nails (well he just made a mess of hers) and do each other's hair, honestly the night ended with him going straight to dreamland once she began to brush his hair, only waking up in the morning to find her snuggled with him, clinging onto him. He liked it, never thought he would, but the moment his eyes noticed the way she was gripping onto his shirt, his heart leaped with joy- it felt nice being loved like this, being needed. Hence, sleepovers like these had become a norm, so much so that sometimes she'd go over to his place unannounced, and surprise him with her little surprise sleepover, one he'd often love it. Instantly attacking her with unlimited smooches, hugging and squeezing her till the air in her lungs would run out. 

Unfortunately, tonight was not one of those nights, in fact, when he had walked into his room, the sight of you actually irked him- unsure of why, but your shy smile and gentle eyes just had just made his blood boil. Perhaps it was the stress of the entire day, or the argument he had with San over something stupid, or how Mingi ate his chicken piece, or because Jongho kept on humming a silly tune even on the ride back home. The point is, he was not pleased, and like the love-struck puppy you were, you didn’t register his loud sigh or the way he dropped his bag on the floor, instead, you chose to slide his swivel chair to him, smiling up at him and reaching for his hand, “Hey.”

“Hey,” he said before slipping his hand out of yours and going to his cupboard, all the while struggling to take off his sweatshirt and tossing it somewhere once he was done. He could hear the squeak of the wheel as he turned around and looked at you, taking in the way you were pouting at him, somewhere deep down he found you adorable, but on the surface, he really couldn’t deal with you right now- he just wanted to be alone. Moving around you, he went back out of the room, leaving you confused and a bit hurt. It wasn’t like Wooyoung to react like this, to completely leave you hanging. Sure, he had moments where his social battery would run out, when he’d just come to her apartment and lay on her bed, idly scrolling on his phone, just making enough space for her, when she’d come and lay with him, letting her snuggle into his while he continued doing what he was quietly, neither saying a word- but he had never ignored her.

He looked tired…like he was tired of her? Shaking your head at the thought, you instantly thought of ways to make him feel better, considering his flatmates were outside and he was still in the shower (probably), you looked around his room, you could tidy it up, and you did, and once you were done, you picked up his jacket to hang it in his cupboard only to frown at the mess inside; hang clothes, fold them neatly, align the shoes- as long as Youngie Is less stressed and feels better, that was your goal.

By the time you were done, it had already been an hour. You were hanging the last jacket when the man walked back in, staring at you with the same unreadable expression, completely ignoring your cute smile, watching as you closed the cupboard. You were about to ask him what was bothering him when he tossed the wet towel on the chair and walked out of the room again, but this time you trailed after him, asking him all sorts of questions, just to get him to finally say something.

“How was your day?”

“Fine.”

He walked into the kitchen, you just followed.

“Did you take a rest between practice?”

“Yeah.”

He opened the fridge to take out last night’s pizza, well, this was it then, he turned around and almost cursed, she was standing there with a plate for him. He took it, mumbling a thanks, before putting it in the microwave. Standing there, arms crossed as he glared at the device to bloody hurry up. 

“How was the photoshoot?”

“Fine. Nothing new.”

“I brought face masks, wanna wear one later?”

“No.”

“Oh,okay …I got my bonus today.”

“Great.”

“Wanna spend it with me on cute things?”

“No.” he mumbled, “Invest it.” he sighed, before opening the microwave, taking the plate and turning around, only to sigh when he saw her holding a chair out for him, pouting when he frowned at her. Truth be told, he’d never reacted like this, she wasn’t sure what to do? He’d often match her energy- or ‘her freak’, as he’d say. Maybe being nice to him would make him feel better? She sat down on the chair beside him, facing him, though he just started to eat quietly, not really saying anything.

“You want some tea?”

“No.”

“Oh…” you mumbled, looking at your lap, taking a moment to think, before looking up at him, again, watching him take a bite, he was chewing quietly when you gently reached over to tuck some of the stray wet strands behind his ear- though he didn’t seem pleased, in fact, he just let out an irritated huff and turned his head to look at you. You quickly recoiled, mumbling an apology, new tactic, stay quiet, maybe just staying by him would make him feel better. Therefore, you watched him go about his business, watching him wash the plate and put it on the rack before going out of the kitchen.

He finally sat down in front of the TV, rubbing his aching neck, waiting for the damn thing to turn on when he felt the sofa dip, feeling her sitting close to him. He side eyed her before putting on a game, whatever, he’d watch the match on repeat. Hunched forward, elbows on his knees, frowning as he stared at the screen. Okay, so she said she wouldn’t touch him, but if he was in pain, maybe she could help out, massage his shoulders or neck? She moved closer to him, enough for her fingers to graze his arm, “Youngie… you need me to massage it?” 

“What I need is for you to not act like an attention deprived clingy girlfriend for a while.”

She froze at his words, slowly watching him get up and walk away mumbling something else about wanting to be left alone, or how he never had a moment of peace- honestly it didn’t matter anymore, his previous sentence had done enough damage. If he wanted to be left alone so be it, she was going to give him exactly what he wanted. Once she heard the door slam shut she sniffled, finally letting the fat tears roll down her flushed cheeks, wiping her nose with the back of her sleeve, his words kept repeating in her mind, over and over again. Without glancing at the time, she decided to go to the only place she'd be able to cry in peace, without giving him the satisfaction of the hurt of his words- that and she wanted to fulfil his wish,  she was going to give him some peace and quiet.

Slamming the door shut behind him he mumbled something about being smothered by her as he flopped down on the bed, turning to the side to face the wall as he huffed, closing his eyes. Moments passed but sleep was not something he was blessed with, instead he kept on tossing and turning, finally turning to other side, often her side, of the bed, glaring at it. Why wasn't she here? she’s the one who wanted to spend time with him, rudely showing up here unannounced,  interrupting his normal routine, talking away when he was eating, even offering to massage his neck. Was she a masseuse!? 

With a huff he sat up and glared around the room, spotting her pink small suitcase, neatly placed at the corner of the room. His eyes flickered to the desk, organised and clean. On it where a variety of neatly stacked face masks, some nail polishes and her makeup pouch. Sliding off the bed, he walked out of the room, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants as he continued grumbling. Granted he was still annoyed but he did need her to sleep and- where was she? 

Confused, he looked around the living room, then walked into the kitchen, wondering if she was making tea. She was nowhere in sight. He made his was down the hall to look for her in the washroom, knocking when the door wouldn't open, “You in there?”

“Yes, now scram.”  

Ignoring Jongho he walked back into his room, perhaps she had gone back into the room- the panic was beginning to settle in as he slammed open the door to be met with a clean room. Shit. Shit, shit, shit! Where did she go?! His panic began to morph into guilt once the memories of his behaviour with her began to play at the back of his mind. 

“Cupcake!?” 

Grabbing his phone he went through his contact, tapping on her contact ID ��‍♀Bby Gurl🧚‍♀️. He pressed the phone against his ear, chewing on his lower lip as he waited for her to pick up, but when he heard the muffled sound of her ringer coming from her PURSE!? Cue Wooyoung going into full panic mode as he ran to her purse, flipping it over on his desk, staring at the phone. Shit. Where did she go?! It was- oh hell no, it was 2 am. He wracked his brain for what could he have said, it was something mean, but truth be told he didn't remember- a toxic trait, he knows, and he's not proud of it, especially since he used it to hurt her.

Deciding it was time to find her, he opened his cupboard to take out a jacket, only to feel his gut clench…she had organised his cupboard too. What the hell Wooyoung? She wasn't your maid, she was only being nice to you! The image of her small frown flashed before his eyes as he zipped up his jacket. He grimaced at the thought of tone he had used with her, how he had ignored her when she tried to touch him, since when he was against skinship? Pulling the door open he came face to face with none other than-

“Mind telling me why I found her crying in the parking lot?”

“Hongjoong move I- What?” his eyes almost popped out of their sockets as he saw his girl standing there behind Hongjoong, staring at the ground with bloodshot eyes.

“I- HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND!?”

You flinched at his tone, whining and hiding behind the man who had spent almost an hour trying to convince you to come back to the apartment. Hongjoong was parking his car when he saw someone sitting there on the concrete ground, next to a very familiar car. You hadn’t said much to him, only that you left your keys upstairs and if he could be kind enough to get them- he wasn’t an idiot, one look at your pink nose and puffy eyes, he knew this had Wooyoung written all over it. Hence, he had to spend an hour trying to convince you to at least come upstairs, it was already too late to go back home.

“Wooyoung.” the older one warned, eying his bandmate who could only sigh and nod, letting him know that his defences were down and he was no longer in the mood for hurting her in any manner, in fact, he wanted nothing more to apologize and beg for her forgiveness. Though, perhaps that’s not how Hongjoong saw it, for he let the girl go into her boyfriend’s room before closing the door so he could have a heart-to-heart talk with this moron.

Once the door closed you walked over to your makeup pouch, taking out your wet wipes and removing the mascara and makeup that had smeared because of all the crying. You quickly changed your clothes, glancing at the door every five seconds in case he was coming in, you were in no mood to talk to him. As soon as you were done you turned off the lights- yeah, you wanted him to trip and land on his stupidly handsome face- and jumped onto the bed, cocooning yourself in his blanket. No, you did not plan on sharing it, though the fact that you were now surrounded by him had a very paradoxical effect; on one hand, you were extremely furious at the man, wanting nothing more than to avoid him for the rest of your life, on the other hand, being surrounded by his being, in his sheets, made you feel safer, made you feel warmer, you liked it- you hated it- you liked it- you hated it- you loved him.

Yet, for some unforsaken reason, he thought shaking you awake from a blissful slumber would be a wonderful idea. As soon as Hongjoong was done with his lecture, he slipped back into the room to talk to her but found her asleep. A part of him wanted her to rest, especially when he removed the blanket from her face, sighing in guilt as he noticed how tired she looked, her brows furrowed even in her sleep- no, he wasn't going be one of those couples that went to bed after a fight. 

Her world shook as she gasped, hand grabbing whatever was shaking her, until she flung the hand off her shoulder and turned to the other side mumbling, “Stop it…I'm tired.”

“And I'm sorry.” 

You had heard him loud and clear, you even her the guilt in his tone, but did you care? No. you weren't going to be a clingy deprived girlfriend, so you did what he wanted, and ignored him as you closed your eyes again. Trying to ignore him when he apologised again, this type pressing his cheek against yours, rubbing it against yours, and throwing his leg over yours, basically laying half on top of you, “I really am sorry.”

With a huff you shoved him off and sat up, back against the headrest as you glared at him with your arms crossed, cheeks puffed out and- 

Oh my god, Wooyoung, she’s pouting. He internally screamed, taking in your droopy eyes, your puffed out rosy cheeks and the way you were pouting- his cutie really was something. He tried to reach for your cheek but you slapped his hand away, causing him to yelp and frown, “I am apologising here.”

“Don’t talk to me, you’re horrible and mean! I just wanna go to sleep, stop pretending you like me!”

Horrible and mean…well, he’s heard worse, so he’d take it. He was mean to you, incredibly mean, and his attitude towards you was horrible. You were right about that, but  you were terribly wrong about the last part. Extremely wrong, if he says so himself. 

He looked at her intently, almost too intently, and he figured out he’d been giving her the ‘I’m a bastard’ stare when her form, faltered, her eyes began to water, as she bit her lip and broke the stare off, instead, dipping her head in shame like she was the one who was at fault here. Man, what was wrong with him today?

Her grip tightened on the cotton, pulling the blanket closer as if it were to bring her some form of comfort, if he wanted to break up with her that was fine, she just never thought her first break-up would be this nasty. She had mentioned a few times to him how this was her first relationship and although he seemed a bit hesitant, he had explained to her how his job made certain normal couple activities difficult for him sometimes, and if she’d want their relationship to flourish, she’d have to accept this fact. And she did, everything was fine, it was all going well, then what could she have possibly done for him to lash out at her like that? Maybe she was never cut out for this-

“That’s not true…” he whispered, placing his hands on hers, slowly unclenching her fists, his grip tightening on her hands when he heard her whimper, frowning at the way she hiccupped an apology again, looking up at him this time, as if she were trying to cling onto something that had slipped through her fingers. “That’s not true…and that’s not right,” with a heavy sigh he pulled her closer, wrapping her arms around his neck, manoeuvring them, till he was in her position, and now she was on his lap, arms around his neck, clinging onto him, dampening his shirt as loud sobs wracked through her petite frame, mumbling nonsense that he couldn’t interpret, “And…I’m sorry I made you think like that today.” Gently, he pressed his lips against her head, rubbing her back in a soothing motion, slowly giving her a squeeze every so often, pulling her closer, if possible. By the time she had calmed down, a bit, he slowly pushed her off his chest so he could look at her, but she never met his gaze, causing him to gently grip her chin, making her look up at him, “Hey…don’t look away,” he smiled at her, “Don’t hide that pretty face from me.” His smile faltered when he noticed her lower lip tremble, sighing as he cupped her face with both hands, “I am truly, extremely sorry for what I did and said today,” leaning closer he pressed his lips against her forehead, “Nothing I said or did today was triggered because of you being here- there is no explanation for my behaviour other than the fact that I handled my emotions poorly, and took it all out on that one person,” he paused to give her a smile, especially when he felt her grip tighten on his shirt, “the only person, who is concerned about my wellbeing and livelihood, and wants nothing but my love in return.”

“Woo…” she sniffed, pouting at him as she tugged on his shirt, “What made you so upset today?” 

He could chuckle at the way she was still worried about him, of course, leave it to his little love bug to be more concerned about ‘why’ he did what he did, just as soon as he apologises. Shaking his head in disbelief he booped her nose, shrugging, “Never mind that, do you want something to eat? I’ll whip up something real good, an apology feast for my lovely pookie.” His laugh bounced off the walls of his room once he noticed her visibly cringing at the nickname, “No? Well, how about I make sweet love to you, enough to have you screaming for more-” her hands clasped over his mouth, muffling his stupidity as she sighed in relief, resting her forehead against and closing her eyes to recover from the blush. 

When she felt him tap her waist she moved her hands and sighed, “Just hold me close.”

“Well, don’t need to ask me twice.” Wooyoung declared before pushing her off him cackling when he heard her squeak, wiggling her eyebrows at her, admiring how she almost bounced on his bed, before laying down, pulling her closer. His smile widened when she snuggled into him, gripping onto the back of his shirt, before her lips gently pressed against his skin, admiring the warmth, basking in his presence. He pulled up the blanket, covering them both, before placing his chin on top of her head, sighing in relief, trying to rid of the bad memories of the day. Letting the tranquil love envelope the two, enjoying just being there…that is until a soft whisper broke the silence, followed by another;

“Make it up to me tomorrow.”

“I’ll make it up to you for the rest of your life”

Choi Jongho

Okay, yes, he was a bastard, he was well aware of that, but right now, the charming man had something else on his mind. What you ask, oh its simple, it was the same question almost every guy in the world had, the same dilemma every man in the world suffers through, an event every man self-induces; the, ‘How do I make my girlfriend feel better after I brought up her insecurities’. Now, one may wonder, what did this sweet little lad do? How could he possibly manage to upset his girl, his daisy, his lover, his sweety- well, it all started when he came down with a little cold, and the dictator Kim Hongjoong banned him from the studio and the dorm, which meant there would be no one acting at his every whim, hence, the little lad had to go to the next best thing, go to the only person who made his heart flutter like he just devoured some mentos after chugging a cola- his girlfriend.

It all started fine, with you opening the door, ready to go for a nightly jog when you saw your cute boy standing at the door, with his nose all pink and stuffy and his pout making your heart clench. Next thing he knew he was pulled inside and tucked into your fluffy, soft bed, being taken care of like there was no tomorrow. You were kind and sweet and ever caring, you’d always been like that, even before the two had started dating. 

You were so kind to him that you actually had the poor boy chasing you for almost a year. Now why is that one may wonder, simple, you were older than him- two years to be precise. The two of you had met by complete accident, you were out for your nightly jog and you had somehow managed to trip on the cracked footpath. Honestly you had thought no one was around so you hobbled to the nearest bench, trying to untie your shoe, when you heard someone clear their throat, causing you to freeze. He was big, you could tell and it wasn't just because of that hoodie and cap or mask- no, he looked borderline threatening. With an audible gulp you whispered, “Y-yes?” 

“Do you need help with that?” He asked, lowering his mask a bit and standing up before crouching next to your foot, causing you to flinch and shake your head but he was already slipping it off your foot, trying to not react to your bright yellow, Pikachu themed sock.

“You should be careful” he mumbled, inspecting the damage, “I think you just sprained it, if you want I could take you to an ER near by-”

“No thank you!” You cut him off, he was cute, there was no doubt in that, he looked sweet but hey, he was a guy and he was a guy who looked big enough to kill yo-

“My name's Jongho.” He sighed, and looked around, before sitting next to her, “And you are, strange nighters jogger?”

You blinked at him and sighed out your name, before mumbling, “What's an Ateez member doing out here in the middle of the night?” 

His blood ran cold at the mention of his band, causing him to slowly side eye her, though she looked as composed as ever, like she had just talked about the weather.

“I…uh-”

“Don't worry,” she mumbled, before sitting straight and stretching her, “Okay, I'm gonna go now.”

“Let me help you out.”

Honestly, the words had left him sooner than he could process them, his body had moved on its own, and in a matter of minutes she found herself sitting in an apartment she had never dreamt of before too, pressing an ice pack on her ankle, listening to Jongho and another man, Hongjoong battle it out.

“I’m sorry, but a random stranger?”

“Technically I see her jogging every day- or well at night.”

“So??”

“Technically she’s hurt.”

“Technically, Choi Jongho this isn’t a hospital.”

“Technically, it's rude to discuss someone in front of them, pretending they can’t hear you.”

That had led the older man to apologise and leave  them alone. That very statement had led Jongho to believe that he had found someone who could ‘match his freak’. So, after a year of jogging with her, he had finally managed to woo her. He liked their dynamic, he was the eldest in his home, he was bossy and of course mature, hence, he had assumed he’d prefer someone younger than him, someone more timid and shy, someone who’d be impressed by him- though the only thing she was severely impressed with was his potential to snap several apples in half, which was great, because she loved eating apples and he loved snapping them in half- he loved you.

Then, how come, you were now sitting on the same bench, where you had met the moron, questioning  your entire relationship- oh yeah, because when you forced him to drink his soup so he’d get better quicker, he decided to be a brat and snap at her;

“If I wanted to be coddled, I would’ve gone to my mom, you’re older, but not that old.”

Sure, leave it to Choi Jongho to bring up your insecurities because- well, not really, Jongho was often very sweet and considerate, he was attentive and mindful of both his actions, and his words, so if he had decided to let out something so bitter and rude, it really did mean he was sick. But did that make it any better? Did that mean he could just bring up something they’d discuss in the late hours of the night, alone with one another, surrounded by one another, vulnerable to one another. It was during these hours he had confessed how he was afraid she’d leave him for someone older, smarter, more mature, only for his whispers to turn into a snort when she told him how she was afraid that he’d leave her for someone younger than him, someone sweeter, and cuter, more shy and more timid. The two had slept better that night, snuggled up against each other, she loved how he had held her tighter than night, he had loved how she had let them sleep in the next morning, only to spend a few more minutes together.

So, no, he could not just say whatever he wanted because he was sick-

“You wanna get sick too?”

She flinched at the question, before letting out a small sigh at the familiarity of the voice, though she never turned to look at him, instead decided to leave. 

He turned to glance at you when you had ignored him, only for him to panic when you stood up to leave, instinctively reaching over and gripping your wrist he met your cold glare. For once he felt as if being cute was not going to make the cut, that you were not going to ‘act mature’ or ‘overtly understanding’, for once, he was scared. Though his grip never faltered, instead, you heard a meek, “Please,” so soft that if the world around the two of you was not deathly silent, you would’ve missed it. With a sigh you sat back down, but kept your distance, choosing to stare at the empty park, rather than looking at your lover, who was scooting closer to you. You let him, you let him, till his arm brushed against yours, the two of you staring at the empty park together, both waiting for the other to speak- technically you were waiting for an apology, while he was waiting for you to give him the signal to speak, he was too afraid to say anything else which could be more stupid than his last statement.

So, like a pair of fools, the two of you sat there, out in the cold, silently, for god knows how long. Honestly, you were surprised with his patience sometimes, you were also a bit disappointed he chose not to speak, but then again since when was speaking about your feelings his or your strongest trait- oh shit.You gasped when you felt his head drop on your shoulder, suddenly turning to the man, cupping his cold cheeks, as you shook him, “Jongho? Jong? Jongho wake up, come on, this isn’t funny- shit.”

.

With a groan he turned to his side, snuggling closer to the source of the warmth- oh he was back in his bed. HE WAS BACK IN HIS BED?? Sitting up he looked around in the dimly lit room, noting how the door was slightly open, deciding to go outside to look for her when she walked in holding a tray, eying him before mumbling something about laying back down. Honestly, it was difficult for him to process whatever she was saying next…he remembered fainting, well, actually he felt sleepy so he had just closed his eyes for a moment, and right now, he was more amazed by the sheer physical strength this woman possessed. Lord forgive if she were to smack him, he would’ve needed facial reconstructive surgery.

You placed the tray on the nightstand, and turned to him, helping him sit up against the headboard, before checking his temperature with the back of your hand, “You fainted…I called Hongjoong, who then called San…apparently you’re very difficult to carry.” You mumbled, moving to grab the tray, placing it on his lap, “Chicken soup, will help with the congestion and-”

“I’m sorry.”

“You better be.”

He blinked at her and nodded slowly before looking at the soup and staring at it, a moment had slipped before he chuckled, turning to look at her, admiring how she was now sitting on her side of the bed, facing him, “I thought you carried me here- was so scared if you were actually to smack me, I’d pass away.”

“Is this your way of apologising to me? Maybe I should be looking for guys my age or older” you frowned, only to end up snorting when you saw his eyes widen in fear, taking in the way he had stopped eating, staring at you like he was about to explode. Honestly, you wanted to let it simmer for a while, but when he whispered out your name, the way his voice cracked had you sighing in defeat, moving the tray off him and placing it at a safe distance, before you were tackled by him. His arms tightened around you, face buried in your neck as he mumbled something, which you couldn’t make out, but you presumed it was an apology, considering how your neck felt wet- oh no he was crying- well, didn’t mean to take it that far. Gently patting his head you slid down into the sheets, taking him with you, though he didn’t really do anything but hold you closer, his little sniffles making your heart ache.

“It was a joke…” sighing you kissed the top of his head, “I didn’t mean it…but at least now you know how I felt.” 

He pulled back a little to glare at you, “It’s not funny, you can pull anyone you want, I only managed to date you because you tripped.”

“That’s because I fell for you, baby bear-hey!”

“And the moment is gone.” he mumbled, pushing her away and laying on his back, clearing his throat, “Got more sick after that pick up line,” he felt her snuggle next to him as he smiled with his eyes closed, “Even more gross how I like it.”

“You like being sick?”

“Only if it means spending time with you.”

“Oh good, because my head hurts and I can feel the flu comin’ up.”

“Don’t worry, I know how to treat my lady right.”

Taglist: @edenesth @skteezcursed @mlysalt @the-kpop-simp @spooo00oky @bunnyluvr25 @s-h-y-a @ateezswonderland

[thestalwartheart]

“And, you know, [Ben Whishaw]’s a great fucker. He has a great pelvis and it’s wonderful to show it.”

Okay Franz Rogowski. Okay.

Source.

[winterknights]

Art/Fic: Christmas Surprise

Title: Christmas surprise Author/Artist: Aeris444 Pairing(s): Merlin/Gwaine Prompt: someone wearing special Christmas lingerie for their significant other/s ;) Word Count/Art Medium: Art + 100 words Rating: NC17 Disclaimer: Merlin characters are the property of Shine and BBC. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended. Summary Merlin has a surprise for Gwaine

Link to work on A03: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43414521

[illusionnet]

Check this new post by @xomakara "Kindergarten Love Story"

Kindergarten Love Story

SUMMARY |  Attending elementary functions as a single mom with other pretty, attention-starved, flirtatious moms is a struggle. Especially since the new kindergarten teacher is Hongjoong, an old friend of yours that you haven't seen since your university days. You're torn between telling Hongjoong that he's your daughter's father or keeping everything a secret.

PAIRINGS |  Hongjoong x Reader

RATING |  SFW, Implied suggestive

GENRE |  KindergartenTeacher!Hongjoong, Dad!Hongjoong, PoliceOfficer!Reader, non-idol au, fluff, slight angst

CONTENT/WARNINGS | nothing really?? mentions of implied sex, one night stand

LENGTH |  4,358 words

TAGLIST | @jjoongstar

NETWORKS | @illusionnet @atzhouse @cromernet @wonderlandnet

@k-vanity @othersideoutlawsnetwork

AUTHOR’S NOTE |  Hi there. Linda here. I hope you all like this! Don’t forget to like, comment, reblog and show some support. Love you all 💚

"You must be Hanbyul's mom."

You thought you wouldn't have seen him after so long. After so many years. But here he was again, back in your life like it was no big deal at all. He hadn't changed much, still handsome, and if anything he looked even better now than when you last saw him during your college days. Your heart fluttered just by looking at him, and seeing him smile felt like someone opened up a box full of butterflies and let them loose on your insides.

"It's nice to finally meet you. Hanbyul has been telling me nonstop that you're a detective." He says, holding out his hand. You look at his face for a second before grabbing his hand and shaking it.

Did he recognize you? Were you that forgettable? Did he forget all those times back in college where you'd hang out together, the way he looked at you whenever he got the chance?

"Thank you for taking care of my Hanbyul." You smiled warmly at him. You turned to look at your daughter, who was playing with Seonghwa, your partner on the force and your longtime friend. She always wanted to play detective when you and Seonghwa picked her up from school. It was adorable.

"She's a great kid. She learns fast too." He says, nodding with the brightest smile on his face. Lord, his smile made you weak. You could only stare at him for a while longer, trying not to lose yourself to thoughts about the things he could do to you.

"Y/N, shouldn't we be heading home soon?" Seonghwa walked up to you, his hand on your shoulder. Your daughter, Hanbyul, was holding onto Seonghwa's hand, smiling brightly. Seonghwa looked at the man that you were conversing with, eyes wide with recognition. "No way! Is that you, Kim Hongjoong?!"

Hongjoong looked at you and at Seonghwa with a confused look on his face. He blinked several times, before his face was filled with recognition. "Seonghwa? Park Seonghwa? And Y/N? I can't believe...wow, you're parents now!"

You could see the look of confusion on Seonghwa's face clear as day. "Oh no, Hongjoong. You got it all wrong. I'm not a parent. I'm just an uncle. Y/N and I aren't even dating. We are just friends."

"I'm just a single mom." You corrected him. "Seonghwa is my partner on the police force."

Hongjoong nodded. "Oh yeah, that makes sense. Well I'm sorry to have mistaken you guys." He gave you another one of his dazzling smiles. You had forgotten how his smile made you feel all tingly inside.

"That's okay. No need to apologize. I guess we'll be heading home soon then. Hanbyul, tell your teacher goodbye." You told your daughter, smiling at her as she ran over to her teacher and waved goodbye.

You never imagined Hongjoong to be a kindergarten teacher. Back in college, you would've never pictured him teaching kids. But now, standing in front of him, you couldn't help but think that he was perfect for the job. He really did make children feel comfortable and safe around him. They seemed to love him more than anyone else in their lives. You could only imagine how he made a difference in their lives. It made you smile knowing that he had found his calling in life.

Moments later, you were in the car with Hanbyul dozing off in the backseat and Seonghwa in the driver's seat. You looked at Seonghwa as he kept his attention on the road. A silence fell between you two, both lost in your own thoughts.

"I'm surprised you haven't told him yet." Seonghwa said suddenly, breaking the silence.

"And what would I tell him? That he's her father?" You looked at Seonghwa with a raised eyebrow. "I didn't even know he was Hanbyul's teacher. The last time I saw him was five years ago."

"But don't you think you should tell him before Hanbyul grows older? Don't you think he deserves to know that he's teaching his own daughter? He might want to know." Seonghwa said softly. You sighed, looking out the window. There was no point denying that Seonghwa was right.

"Alright. Maybe I will. If I get the chance to meet him. And if he's willing to listen." You say. "If he knew about Hanbyul, I'm sure he'd be happy."

"Let's hope so." Seonghwa smiled.

Your mind drifted back to when you first met Hongjoong. How cute he was back then. How his shy smile could make you fall for him immediately. You reminisced on all the fun times you had with him back then, how you loved his company so much that you almost forgot that he was a player. His charm was irresistible. His ability to pull women towards him was incredible. Women wanted to be with him, men wanted to be like him. Everyone loved him. Even your closest girlfriends were jealous of your friendship with him.

Then that one night at the frat party changed everything. You remembered clearly the expression on his face when he saw you walking into the party. You also remembered the way he looked at you afterwards, the softness in his voice when he asked you to go home with him. You remembered the hours spent with him, the laughter, the touches, the words he whispered into your ears. You remember every inch of his body. Every little detail. And you remembered the way he treated you. So sweet. So gentle. You remembered how you never wanted him to stop touching you. How you wanted to spend every minute with him. You remember waking up the next morning to find yourself naked and curled up next to him, his arms wrapped tightly around you. You remember the look on his face when he woke up. You remembered the way he kissed you before leaving his apartment. You remember the taste of his lips.

The drive back home passed quickly, and before you knew it, you were pulling up to your house. You looked at the clock and noticed it was already past eight o'clock. You yawned as you got out of the car. You hadn't realized how tired you were. All this thinking was making you sleepy. After unlocking the door and watching Seonghwa carry Hanbyul into her room, you sink into the couch cushions.

"Man, how the years go by." Seonghwa muttered as he sat next to you. You turned your head to look at him, and couldn't help but smile. "I can't believe it's been almost six years since we graduated."

"Me neither. It feels like yesterday." You laughed. "Do you think...if I told Hongjoong that he has a daughter..." You trailed off.

"Hey whatever you do, just know I'm here to support you." Seonghwa said, putting his arm around your shoulders. "Even if you choose not to tell him."

"Thanks." You smiled, leaning against Seonghwa.

He chuckled before getting up and heading towards the door. "I gotta go take care of some paperwork. Call me if you need me."

A few minutes later, you were lying on your bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. Your thoughts going in circles. Over and over again. Should you tell Hongjoong? Would he even want to hear from you? Or did he already moved on from you, just like everyone else did? Was it fair for you to keep this from him? What if he hated you for keeping such a huge secret from him?

How did you end up here? In this predicament? This mess?

No.

Having Hanbyul wasn't a mistake. Sure, you went through hell in the delivery room by yourself. But when you held her in your arms for the first time, when you looked at her tiny face, you instantly knew that she was the most precious thing in your life. That you'd do anything to protect her. That she deserved the best. You promised yourself that you'd give her everything she needed. And you meant it.

Hongjoong watched as little Hanbyul played with the other kids in the sandbox. Her face was covered in sand. He tried not to laugh, instead giving her encouraging words as she took her time digging in the sand with a shovel.

There was something about Hanbyul. He couldn't put his finger on it. But he could tell that there was something special about her. Something he'd never experienced before. He didn't know why he was paying more attention to her compared to the other kids in his class. He wondered if maybe it was because she reminded him of himself. Of the younger version of himself. But then again, there were many things that reminded him of himself. Maybe he was just being silly.

When the kids started filing out of the sandbox, they came over to where he was sitting and talked amongst themselves. Hanbyul tugged on his pants, looking up at him with a pleading expression on her face. "Teacher Hongjoong?"

Hongjoong looked down at her. "Yes, Hanbyul?"

"Can I ask you something?"

Hongjoong leaned down so that he was eye level with her. "Of course you can."

Hanbyul glanced around to make sure nobody was listening. "Is it true that you're Mommy and Uncle Seonghwa's friend?"

Hongjoong let out a small laugh. He thought that this was just the cutest thing ever. "What makes you think that?"

"Because they talk about you a lot." Hanbyul explained.

"Well, I hope it's nice things." He smiled.

Hanbyul giggled. "It is." She smiled.

"Thank you." He gave her a wink.

She giggled again. "You're welcome."

They shared a moment before she decided to get back to playing with the other kids. Hongjoong stood up and brushed off his pants. When he turned around, he caught sight of you watching him from afar. He smiled at you. "Y/N, what brings you here?"

"Just checking on Hanbyul." You replied, sitting next to him.

"She's having a blast playing with all the other kids." Hongjoong said, taking a sip of water from the bottle in his hand. "Look at her, she looks happy."

You gazed at Hanbyul. She looked very content, laughing and giggling. "She's always like this. Never fussy or cranky. She doesn't cry often either." You sighed. "I mean, she does get upset when she gets hurt or hungry but she doesn't cry much."

"You're so lucky." Hongjoong mumbled, closing his eyes for a second. "To be able to enjoy motherhood like this."

"It comes with its struggles, too." You frowned and looked at him. "She asks about her father a few times. Sometimes I feel bad telling her that he doesn't live with us anymore. That he's gone away."

Hongjoong nodded slowly. "I understand how you must feel."

"Are you married?" You asked, changing the subject.

"Not yet." Hongjoong admitted.

"That's good." You smiled. "Do you have any plans to settle down soon?"

"I'm still young." Hongjoong shrugged. "Maybe someday."

You nodded, biting the inside of your cheek. How do you tell this man that he has a child and that she's right there playing with the other kids? Do you say something? Say nothing?

"Speaking of settling down, are you dating anyone?" He asked suddenly, turning his attention to you.

You bit your lip nervously, feeling nervous all of a sudden. "Uh..no."

Hongjoong sighed. "Y/N. Why not?"

"Well, I guess it's just not the right time for me." You answered quietly. "I've been busy lately. With work and raising Hanbyul and all."

"Hang in there, Y/N." Hongjoong smiled at you. "Everything will work out."

"Thank you." You smiled.

A few minutes later, Hanbyul came running over to you and tugged on Hongjoong's pants. "Teacher Hongjoong?"

Hongjoong nodded. "Yes, Hanbyul?"

"Will you play with me?"

Hongjoong stared at her. She was adorable. "Sure." He nodded. "Where should we go?"

"Playground!" Hanbyul exclaimed excitedly. "My favorite swing!"

Hongjoong smiled at her. "Okay. Let's go."

You watched as the two of them walked hand in hand towards the playground. They stopped near the swing set, smiling and talking to each other as they waited for their turn. The sound of their laughter filled the air, creating a peaceful atmosphere around you. Your daughter and her father, enjoying each other's company. Just like you always dreamed. You looked up at the sky, hoping that one day, you would have the courage to tell Hongjoong about Hanbyul.

It had been several weeks and you still hadn't had the courage to tell Hongjoong about his daughter.

Sometimes, you found yourself wondering whether he already knew. Did he suspect? Did he know Hanbyul was his? Was he upset that he missed out on the first few years of her life? Did he resent you for lying to him?

But no matter how much you kept wondering about these things, you would only continue worrying yourself over nothing. At the end of the day, it wouldn't change anything. Not now, and definitely not in the future. No matter what happened, the important thing was that Hanbyul was well taken care of. That she was happy and healthy.

Hongjoong invited you over for a cup of coffee one day and you knew that it was time.

While he made you both a cup of coffee, you began thinking of ways to start the conversation. Maybe it would be easier if you were to come straight out and tell him.

You glanced at him while sipping your coffee. His eyes were fixed on his mug as he stirred it, occasionally taking a sip. He seemed to be lost in his own world.

"Can I ask you something?" Hongjoong finally spoke up.

"Go ahead." You replied, hoping that he'd be straightforward.

"Hanbyul's father...is it...me?" He asked.

You gulped hard. Had he known all along?

You stayed quiet for a while, unsure of how to answer. When you finally opened your mouth, it was to nod your head. "I...thought you might've known." You murmured softly.

"So I was right." Hongjoong muttered softly. "She looks like you but she acts so much like me when I was younger. She reminds me of myself."

"She's your daughter, Hongjoong." You stated, still trying to hold back tears. "It was hard for me to not tell you that you had a daughter. That one night stand we had resulted in a pregnancy. I loved Hanbyul so much. I wanted to do whatever it takes to make sure she was happy. I've done my best to raise her. To provide for her needs. I know it hasn't been easy. I understand if you don't want to accept her into your life."

"Why wouldn't I accept my daughter? Why wouldn't I love her?" Hongjoong whispered. "All this time being her teacher, it never occurred to me that I had a daughter. That I could've possibly fathered someone so innocent and beautiful. A girl who looks so much like you."

Your heart fluttered. "I've missed you." You admitted quietly. "I've missed our talks, our laughs. All the memories we shared together. We've been through a lot together. I know it's weird to know that you're the father of your friend's daughter...but that one night we had...I don't regret it. I don't think I ever could."

He gazed at you, studying your face. Then his gaze traveled down to your lips.

You swallowed hard. His presence alone felt comforting. So warm and welcoming.

"Back then...did you ever have any feelings for me?" He asked after a while.

"Did I ever have feelings for you?" You repeated. "Honestly, yes. Did you ever...? Like, did you have feelings for me? I mean..." You blushed. "Before we had sex."

His gaze softened as he reached out to place a hand on top of yours. "If I had the chance to go back and redo everything, I would've kept you in my arms that night." He whispered. "I would've given you everything you deserved. I wish you would've told me sooner."

"Me too." You whispered back.

You leaned closer to him, placing your forehead against his. You closed your eyes, taking in his scent. He smelled like lavender and vanilla. His scent was intoxicating.

"I'm sorry." You apologized softly, wrapping an arm around his waist, resting your head against his chest.

"Don't be." Hongjoong replied, bringing one hand up and stroking your cheek gently.

"I've wanted you for so long." You confessed, keeping your eyes locked onto his.

He smiled. "And now we're here."

You returned the smile before moving your hand and cupping his cheek. He didn't hesitate in pressing his lips to yours, and within seconds the kiss became heated. You whimpered against him when he pushed you onto his bed, hovering above you.

The kisses moved further up, from your jawline, to your neck, until finally arriving at your lips. It was slow, sensual. As if every movement was perfectly planned out, carefully thought over. And you responded to his touch eagerly. His hands wandered all over you, mapping out every inch of your body. You reached up and tangled your fingers in his soft hair, letting him do whatever he wanted to you.

When he broke the kiss to look down at you, he smiled, caressing your face. You bit your lower lip and cupped his cheeks, pulling him close. He pressed his forehead against yours before connecting his lips with yours once more, his hands roaming all over you again. This time, though, he didn't pull away as quickly, instead lingering there, staring at you with his mesmerizing eyes, making your heart skip a beat. You let out a shaky breath before allowing yourself to melt completely into the kiss, allowing it to continue for a couple more minutes before he started moving southward, exploring the rest of your body with his fingers and mouth.

Finally, you broke away from him, panting heavily, and pulled back slightly, staring up at his handsome face, which was flushed from the passion between the two of you. He was still breathing hard himself, looking down at you with hooded, darkened eyes, his lips wet and swollen from the previous make out session. It made you want more, but unfortunately, it was getting late.

"I should get home." You breathed out.

"Please don't." He pouted, pressing his hips against yours and grinding into you.

You gasped. His erection pressed against you. "Hongjoong...I have to. Hanbyul..." You explained.

"Just ask Seonghwa to babysit for tonight." He nipped at your lip. "Please?"

You chuckled, shaking your head. "I can't Hongjoong. Not right now. Not tonight." You placed a quick kiss on his lips. "There's plenty of time for us." You promised him, pulling away and getting out of his bed.

"Can we...can we spend next weekend together? You, me, and Hanbyul? I'd like to spend more time getting to know her."

"Really?"

"I'm her Dad, aren't I?" He raised his brow with a playful look on his face, smiling down at you. "That's if...you'll have me?"

"You're stuck with us both now." You winked, pecking his lips once more and giggling as he captured your lips.

It didn't take long for the kiss to deepen, and by the time he let you go, your head was spinning.

He pecked your cheek, holding you to him once again. "Have a safe ride home. Make sure you text me when you're there." He reminded you, his grip tightening.

You nodded. "I'll be sure to."

He grinned before letting you go, watching as you exited his house. You were smiling to yourself as you went home, feeling giddy and happy. This is what you always wanted. A second chance at romance with Hongjoong. Sure, the beginning may have been rocky, but if everything went according to plan, things were about to become much better than before.

It was finally the weekend, and it couldn't come quicker. Hongjoong had been texting you all week. Talking about things here and there. Anything from small talk to sexual thoughts, or flirty compliments. Every day you look forward to the weekend.

It was currently 7am in the morning and you were awoken by Hanbyul jumping on you and yelling "Wake up!!" repeatedly. It didn't bother you that you had an energetic five-year-old. She brought excitement into your life. But, man. Why'd you have to wake up early today?! You just needed a bit more beauty rest.

"Good morning, little bean." You yawned, kissing her forehead.

"Morning, Mommy." She squeaked back.

You smiled, pulling her into your arms and tickling her, making her laugh loudly and squeal with delight. You giggled along, tickling her under her armpits and around her waist before eventually stopping, taking in her beautiful giggles, the sound was music to your ears.

"Now, let's go brush our teeth and get ready for the day." You said.

She nodded happily, racing off towards the bathroom, laughing like a maniac. You chuckled, watching as she scampered away. Then, a knock at the front door caught your attention. You hurried over, wondering who the hell was knocking at this hour. Upon opening, it revealed a grinning Hongjoong. You opened your mouth but no words came out. He was too handsome for you to find your voice.

"Hey." He greeted brightly. "Surprised to see me, huh?"

"Y-Yeah.." You replied shakily.

"I just figured I'd come surprise you instead of picking you both up. Save me some gas money." Hongjoong shrugged. "Is she up?" He asked excitedly.

"Uh, yeah..."

"Mommy! Why is Teacher Hongjoong here?" Hanbyul poked her head around the corner.

Hongjoong waved at her. "Hey. I came to spend the day with you two, if that's alright." He told her, approaching and kneeling down to be her level.

Hanbyul's eyes lit up as she bounded forward and threw her tiny arms around Hongjoong's neck. "Okay!"

Hongjoong stood up, carrying your daughter with him. He spun around, making her laugh hysterically. Your heart pounded at the scene unfolding before you. Everything seemed surreal.

You didn't want to interrupt the precious moment. It seemed too personal. So you simply remained at the door.

"So. What shall we do?" Hongjoong questioned playfully.

Hanbyul tilted her head, deep in thought.

"What's wrong, little bean?" You teased her.

"Hmm..let me think." She replied.

"Alright, while you think, let's sit down." Hongjoong replied. He let her down, leading her and you to the living room to sit down.

Hanbyul joined Hongjoong on the couch. While you were tempted to sit on Hongjoong's free side, you decided to take a seat next to her and opposite Hongjoong instead.

"Hanbyul, can mommy tell you something?" You suddenly spoke up. Hongjoong raised his eyebrow at you and you mouthed to him "she needs to know before we go any further." He nodded and sat silently as he waited for you to start speaking.

"Hanbyul," you began. "Hongjoong isn't just your teacher anymore." You said to her, smiling widely.

"No." Hanbyul shook her head. "Why mommy? I like Teacher Hongjoong!"

"That's not it, sweetie." You patted her head. "Hanbyul..."

Hanbyul looked confused, so Hongjoong lifted her onto his lap. "Hanbyul, I'm your dad."

Hanbyul's eyes widened, her gaze landing on you. Then, she looked back at Hongjoong, her lips forming an 'o' shape.

"Teacher Hongjoong? My Daddy?" She tilted her head in curiosity.

Hongjoong grinned and nodded. "That's right. I'm your dad, Hanbyul."

She blinked rapidly, letting out a surprised squeak. You could see tears starting to pool up in her eyes.

"Aww, no. Don't cry." You reassured, leaning over and wiping away a tear that ran down her cheek. "Are you okay?"

Hanbyul nodded. "Daddy." She looked up at him with wide eyes, studying his features intently. Her face lit up. "I know I'm not supposed to cry."

She squirmed on his lap, wrapping her arms around him and squeezing him tightly. "No wonder you're my favorite teacher." She said, snuggling her face into his shirt. "I always hoped that Teacher Hongjoong would be my daddy one day."

You sighed, ruffling her hair. "And here you are." You cooed softly.

You love this little girl. More than anything else in this world. Even though she might've grown on her own with you, you knew you had plenty of room in your life and in your heart to share the experience of raising her alongside someone else. A person you loved. You would be happy and proud to watch her grow up and turn into an adult with the help of Hongjoong.

You bit down on the inside of your cheek to hold back a gasp when Hongjoong leaned down, peppering kisses all over Hanbyul's face. She giggled and nuzzled into his chest, resting her head against his shoulder. It was adorable seeing father and daughter interact with each other.

"Mommy." She broke the moment, her eyes still fixated on you. "You're crying." She stated bluntly.

"Oh..." You didn't notice the warm tears run down your cheeks. You wiped them away quickly and smiled. "I'm just happy, little bean."

"It's okay to cry when you're happy." She replied, her gaze softened and filled with adoration for her mother.

Your heart warmed. You scooped her out of Hongjoong's arms. You held her close, placing a gentle kiss on her temple. "Thank you." You whispered, a huge grin graced your features as you brushed away more tears.

She placed her hands on either side of your face, caressing your cheeks softly. "Aren't you and Daddy gonna kiss now?" She asked, her question directed towards Hongjoong, who stood and was coming over to the two of you.

He wrapped both his arms around your shoulders, placing his head atop hers. "No need to hurry, little one." He smiled gently, looking down at your beautiful little girl. "We still have forever to do that."

You gazed up, meeting his eyes. "Then let's start with today." You grinned before pressing a soft kiss to his plush lips.

Everything felt right in this moment. Just the three of you.

[transhuman-priestess]

I feel like there’s a lot to say with the rise of purity culture and the way that MPAA ratings now correspond to “stupid baby” (g), “normal baby” (PG), “mass entertainment” (PG-13), and “grownup profanity/violence/sex fest” (R)

[bunnypansy]

Unbalanced Diet

Rated NC-17, read at your own RISK!

This is a dark fic, read ALL of the warnings before you consume. If anything mentioned in the warnings makes you uncomfortable, TURN AWAY. As a creator, I do not condone the things I write about, though that should be obvious enough.

That being said, welcome dear viewers, to our special Halloween showing! You and Rook are celebrating your one year anniversary together with a delicious dinner and a bit of intimacy afterward. Though this film contains romantic elements, make no mistake, this is a horror movie, intended to disturb and discomfort the audience. Featuring: Rook Hunt, and you, dear viewer, with minor cameos from from guest stars Vil Shoenheit and Neige Leblanche Beware! This film contains: Dead dove do not eat, non-con/dubious consent, non-consensual touching, kidnapping, unwilling cannibalism, sexual reactions to cannibalism, drinking blood, blood/injury, implied murder/torture, implied ptsd/flashbacks, controlling/toxic relationship, starvation as manipulation, physical/mental abuse, dissociation, Rook being generally fucking terrifying, implied existence of ghosts??? sexual biting, nipple play, light infantilization, sadism, blood kink, dacryphilia, blood as lube, teasing, oral (reader receiving), cis!male!reader, the french language, dog/master metaphors

“I love you.” You know. It sits on your tongue like a stone in your mouth.

He says it everyday, his devotion total, complete, unwavering; it should be admirable. At first, you tried to count how many times he said it, tally marks carved in the grooves on your brain- you lost track four days in. 

Warm hands creep under the hem of your silken robe, roughed palms smoothing over your cold shoulders, a honeyed voice whispering in your ear. “I love you more than anything, mon amour.”

The silence of anticipation is loud, but you stay quiet, even as Rook’s warm hands wander their way down your chest and the white silk falls away, feeling more like a wildfire on your skin. Bare legs and arms are laid open the frigid air of the dining room and you sink back against the fine oaken dinner chair, as if trying to steal Rook’s heat through the seat back.

His hot fingers pause over your stiffened nipples, still tender and aching. “It’s our anniversary today, darling.”

“It-” There’s a little flick over the swollen nub as you try to answer, Rook just wants to hear you stumble for him, watch you squirm. “It is?”

“Oui, c'est le cas.” Idly, thumbs brush back and forth over your sensitive nipples, slow and patient. “Every moment of this year with you has been utter bliss, mon amour, beyond ecstasy.”

“For this momentous occasion,” Rook’s lips press against your temple, the crest of your ear, your jaw, “I believe a special meal is an order, non?” Then finally land on the column of your throat. 

The points of his teeth nip at your thin skin, a soft pinch, soothed with the flick of his tongue. A kiss from any other man would be so sweet. You shiver under his touch, from the crisp air or the terror you can’t decide. When you swallow back a distressed noise Rook can feel your throat bob under his tongue, teeth scraping against your Adam's apple, eager for a bite. You wonder how exactly he wants you.

All at once the heat of his breath disappeared from your skin and Rook’s weathered hands returned to your shoulders, pulling up your silken robe to once more cover your skin. “I’ll get started on dinner then, don’t go anywhere mon chéri!” He laughs, and it’s not funny.

You listen, listless, as heavy work boots stalk away from you; the steps are slow and deliberate, as if he wants you to hear exactly where he's going. Five long strides behind you, then three more to the left and… he's passed the kitchen. There’s a sort of rhythmic pounding in your skull, it might be your pulse, but your brain had it confused for the beat of Rook’s boots against the hardwood as he stalks down the hall. The footsteps fade but the throbbing in your head stays, freshly renewed as a weighty metallic click meets your ears, and paired with a profound tightness in your chest when you realize Rook has opened the door to the basement. Beyond that, he’s left the door open, which he’s done before- how many times you’re not sure.

All at once you’re pulled to the mouth of the basement again. Now is your chance, maybe your only chance, since Rook wasn’t home. Your sheer silken socks did little to protect the soft soles of your feet from the splintered wood on the first step. How odd, the rest of the house is in mint condition, but this corridor is left in disrepair. As you felt along the wall for a light switch, you came to the realization that perhaps the basement hall had never been in repair; your groping did not reveal a lightswitch, rather that the walls were unfinished. Fingers grazed the flesh and bones of the house, a wooden skeleton filled with soft insulation in its gaps. The foundation groaned, perhaps a reaction to touching the open cavity in the wall, perhaps a warning to turn away. You felt around a moment longer but there was no light switch to be found. You’d continue in the dark.

At your back, the creaking of the steps and rattle of chains followed close on your heels, you were terribly aware that if you needed to run, you’d be doomed. The length of chain was too short for a full stride. It rubbed, cold and insistent over your ankles, a reminder. In front of you, only blackness, a warning.

The entire world seemed to disappear behind you as you delved deeper into the intestines of the house, and the farther you went, the more alive it felt- and God did you go far. The basement stairwell seemed to stretch on into the abyss ad infinitum, it gave you plenty of time to reconsider your choice, especially when the air began to change around you. Where the house above retained a cold, sterile feeling, the narrow passage of the stairwell grew warm and humid the further you pushed on. Soon enough it took on a putrid stench, growing in strength with every step; by the time you reached the foot of the stairs it was so potent you had to suppress the urge to gag. Rancid eggs or animal feces or something of the like: you could name a thousand things as olid and never once touch the intensity with which the basement reeked that night. While you couldn’t logically place the smell, a deep instinctual part of your brain put a name to the stench as easily as you took a breath. Something had died here.

A wave of nausea rocked over you so violently that you blindly grabbed for the wall to steady yourself, surprised when you found a thin metal chain in your grasp. Before you could properly debate with yourself, something cool brushed across the back of your neck; too light to be a sigh, yet too undefined to be a gust of wind- how would the bowels of the house even get fresh air? It felt more like someone letting go of something they had held onto for a long time, a final exhale. Or maybe it was nothing, you’re not sure you want to know.

“...Hello?” Your voice sounded miniscule in the face of the unending blackness. 

Anxiously, you waited for a reply- rather a lack thereof. Your ears caught the sound of buzzing insects, you became aware of the flitting gnats and flies as they zipped past your face, the lack of ventilation, the-

“Turn on the light.” Rook was not home.

You kept taking in breaths to scream, but the noise remained stuck in your throat, only making awkward, fish-like gasps that left you lightheaded. The dark, the bugs, the smell, it was messing with you. There was nothing down there. There was no one down there. There couldn’t be. To die in that basement, surrounded by the rancid air, losing count of the days- could there be a more horrible fate? Would it be worse to live here, or die here; you’re no longer sure. 

Thin, cold hands slithered over your shoulders- Rook wasn’t supposed to be home -slid over the expanse of your collarbone, traveled further up your throat and tilted your head back. Stretching, straining, the tendons in your neck began to ache, but you leaned as far as he made you, until you were eye-to-eye. 

“Why don’t we go upstairs?”

You wake up in cold sweat, tell tale heart hammering against the bars of your ribcage, traitorous to the calm you’d sworn yourself to keep. The gleam of the dining room table, the stiffness of your chair, the incessant pain in your tendons- it all comes bleeding back in. Time is slippery, you could’ve been dozing for an hour or a week and you wouldn’t know the difference. The tantalizing scent of steak grounds you, the sizzling of the pan in the kitchen, Rook humming a tune you’ve grown familiar with. That memory was weeks ago- or days, perhaps. 

It’s a sliver of comfort, your lighthouse on the wild waters of your relationship, these small domestic moments. As time goes on, the fragrance grows stronger, creating a mouthwatering aroma that reminds you of the emptiness in your stomach. You suck in a deep breath, eager to somehow satiate your hunger; the scent of steak hits your palate, followed by the hypnotic perfume of rosemary mingling with red wine and butter. It's thick, intoxicating, the delirium is enough to make you forget your nausea. By the time Rook deposits a plate in front of you, the basement is as far from your mind as it could be. 

His plates are simple milk porcelain with a gold lined rim, because that's how Rook likes things; simple, expensive, delicate. The meat in the middle appears like an open wound on the pristine plate; a ruddy gash in the porcelain, delicately seared and glistening with a bloody sauce. Beyond that, the food smells divine, every ounce as decadent as it looks. Instinctually, your forefinger attempts to uncurl and reach for the golden silverware on either side of the plate, only to stop short with an agonized whine.

"Oh ma chéri," a chiding sigh brushes across your cheek, you just can't help but flinch away. Rook has taken a seat beside you, despite the opposite side of the table being perfectly clear. He's close enough that your shoulders brush. "You simply must quit irritating those, or they'll never heal."

As if it wasn't him who severed your tendons. His thin fingers grab for your wrist, turning it over to inspect the gauze, now freshly dampened with your blood. A sick flush overcomes Rook's face at the sight, stark crimson on clean white- you can tell he's suppressing a smile. Your stomach turns. 

"Oh, la vache…" the gentle caress of his thumb against your knuckles brings forth the urge to rip your hand away, you force yourself to deny it. "How dreadful. I suppose I'll have to patch you up after dinner, ce n’est pas la mer à boire."

You asked him what that meant once; ‘it’s not the sea to drink’, or something like it. A bland encouragement to stay collected, despite the torture he’s made you endure, but it works. Maybe the phrase is effective, or maybe you have no choice but to make it so; Rook stands at the lip of a cavern, the lightest brush either way and he’ll send you both careening into the dark. It’s become your career to stand so perfectly still, even as he waltzes on the knife’s edge, desperate to make you follow in his depraved steps like his lovers before. 

The screech of wooden chair legs against the floor makes you flinch away, though you’re well aware Rook has become your master and you, his dog. You will only ever walk as far as he allows- recently, he’s decided to keep you kenneled. Your achilles tendon aches as he lifts you from the dining chair like a bride, a belonging, then takes your place in the seat- you find your place on his lap. 

For a few heartbeats, you’re lost in the romance of Rook taking the serrated knife to your portion of steak; his arms warm around your shoulders, deft hands cutting away a bite-sized chunk for you to eat. You feel honored that he cares enough to feed you.

“Say, ‘ah’.” There’s a sort of genuine delight in his voice that still feels belittling when he raises the fork to your lips, but your stomach comes before your dignity, and you let Rook put the bite of steak in your mouth.

The flavor melts on your tongue, savory, acidic, rich, everything you’d hoped for- but you’re a few chews deep when you realize something amiss. This does not taste like steak. In every aspect it appears as such; the darkened, almost leathery brown of the exterior, the scent, but its flavor more closely resembles pork. You chew a few more times and swallow, and make the terrible mistake of turning to look at Rook.

“What is-” The words shrivel up and die on your tongue, silenced completely by the bloodcurdling expression on Rook’s face. 

There’s a wild, thrilled look in his arsenic-green eyes, something bright and excited that makes your heart still. His smooth, pale skin has been set aflame and the ivory points of his teeth threaten to pierce his bottom lip. 

Your mind conjures images of the cream cotton bags, once white but stained with overuse and blotted in red, the fabric stretching at irregular angles to contain whatever Rook had stuffed inside. Buck, or doe, or veal- whatever he would promise with glimmering eyes. You imagine silky blond hair and soft brown eyes, perfect skin and straight teeth. You imagine the basement, the voices you might’ve heard, Rook’s past lovers.

There’s a violent turn in your stomach, so strong your eyes water and you instinctively lift your hands to clasp over your mouth, only drawing more blood from your open wounds- but Rook doesn’t scold you this time. No, he only watches in cruel silence as you dry heave in his lap, running his hands up and down your sides as you scream hard enough to make your parched throat sting. 

It’s an arduous ten minutes and sobbing and retching before you reach some sort of calm, reduced to miserable hiccups, lamely attempting to dry your eyes. Somehow, you feel immature for being sickened at the prospect of eating human meat.

“How is it?” The question nearly makes you devolve into sobs all over again, because it’s good- perhaps the most heavenly thing you’ve ever eaten.

“It’s…” You can’t make yourself say it. That you crave more, like an addict.

“That good? Mon amour, I’m flattered beyond words.” Strong arms wrap around your waist and pull you back against Rook’s chest, you fight your every instinct and do not pull away, even when something twitches against your ass. “Here.”

Cold dread sinks into your stomach when he cuts you another piece, holding a slice of human to your lips. You tremble in place for a few breaths, refusing to open your mouth, but your body betrays you, as always, growling like a rabid dog for another taste. He taps the fork against your lips once more, and you concede. Rook cuts you bite after bite, you swallow each and every one, the meat is further salted by your unending tears.

By the time you work your way through the entire plate, Rook’s erection presses hot and heavy against your backside, somehow he’s restrained enough not to hump you like an animal; you realize now what you’ve been starving for. Your stomach aches, heavy and bubbling with turmoil; guilt, disgust, betrayal, but it’s soon overshadowed by a chilling numbness. 

When Rook brushes a thumb across your split bottom lip, you scarcely stir, your tongue flicking out to wet your dried skin. The crisp rim of a wine glass clanks lightly against your incisors and your thirst flickers to life. Your gaze slides down to the contents of the bowl, a dark burgundy wine so pitch it nearly reaches a shade of black. Fingertips smooth over your jawline, gently tipping your head back to follow the pitch of the wine glass, letting the maroon liquid slide over your lips. It’s thick, coolly oozing down your throat and leaving the taste of pennies heady on your tongue, though you lack the clarity to care. He forces more and more down your throat, and you willingly guzzle away, content to slake your thirst with blood, no matter whose, as long as the pain of dehydration disappears. Scarlet blood pools at the corners of your mouth carves a path across your skin, first pooling on your chin before drawing a trail over your throat. 

When the glass finally empties, you lick your lips and Rook can no longer repress a moan, the nails of his spare hand digging into the softness of your waist so tightly it hurts, sure to leave crescent shaped cuts behind. A trail of open mouthed kisses dances from your shoulder to your cerise stained throat, where Rook takes the liberty of licking what remains of his lost lover from your skin, all the while groaning incoherently- you barely pick up the word ‘obéissant’ amongst his mutterings. A man possessed with his own lust, Rook hastily shoves aside his fine dishware in place of laying you down against the cold wooden dining table- splayed out across the tabletop, haloed by silverware and white plates, now you are the meal. 

Your body becomes a canvas, the victim of an artist with red stained hands as he borrows paint from the font in your radial artery, burrowing his smoothed nails into the thin webbing of gauze until your blood squishes around his knuckles and seeps beneath his fingernails. His hips fit perfectly between your legs, the defined points of his bone sliding like blades against the softness of your thighs, sharp and unyielding as you gingerly tuck your legs around him- better to give the wolf a taste now than deny his growling stomach. By God does he savor that ‘taste’. Moans pour from Rook’s lips like life from your veins, oozing around your skin warm, wet and vulnerable, punctuated by his grotesque slurping at your throat. Rook sucks hickies into your neck with such harsh desperation you think he might be trying to draw the blood from your arteries with his lips alone, overlaying plum and claret blotches with the yellowing remains of your last endeavors.

The pale lace and silk Rook has taken the effort to swaddle you in is marred with ruby droplets, round and glittering rhinestones for a moment, before they melded with the smooth fibers of your robe. It would be no effort on Rook’s part to dress you in vibrant shades, something that would hide the rusty stains, but that wouldn’t be half as cathartic. Perhaps more sensual, perhaps more tantalizing; but not nearly as visceral and intimate as peeling open a flower bud, digging his fingers beyond the milky satin petals and revealing the blushing center. 

“Oh, mon chéri,” He’s breathless as he gazes down at you, his lips rosy and glistening with a slick mix of blood and spit. “You are beguiling in every element, a blessing upon my unworthy eyes.”

You clench your jaw and avert your gaze. 

“I beg of you, s'il te plait mon amour, give me the honor of showing you my passion?” It’s not really a question, Rook’s very presence is so oppressive you’re suffocating in the open air. You feel small beneath him, size notwithstanding. 

Truthfully, he does not need your permission either way- it’s a petty ploy to force a word up your throat -his hands would’ve snaked their way beneath your bloomers nonetheless. You’re bare beneath your sleep shorts, as Rook preferred, and with the brush of a warm palm against your soft cock, you’re just as excited as he’d please too.

Experienced fingers gently enclose the head of your cock, rolling your foreskin back to the base, all while Rook keeps his eyes trained on yours, the smallest expression of delight on his face. Though coarse, Rook’s hand felt heavenly wrapped around your dick, the grip delicate and pace agonizing as he began to work you up. It didn’t take long for you grow hard- Rook knew exactly how to make you twitch and squirm -pulling his hand along your shaft before pausing just below the tip, only for his thumb to press harshly against the your slit, drawing a long squeal from your throat. 

At long last, Rook drags your shorts from your hips and over your legs, leaving streaks of blood like rivers on your thighs. The chilled air finally meets your warm cock, bringing forth a shudder of discomfort. Rook will choose to interpret this as a show of anticipation. Again, Rook closes his fist around the base of dick, now choosing to stroke you with more fervor, the squelch of precum of blood growing louder and louder with every pump. It’s enough to make your face hot, swapping frantically between rapid panting and holding your breath, if only to deny yourself the shameful satisfaction of letting loose a moan.

“Tell me how this feels, mon amour.” Rook’s eyebrows pinch in a way that almost seems genuine, even as he stills his movements and squeezes the base of your cock tightly; watching a tremor pass through your body, your muscles tightening, eyes fluttering open and shut in quick succession, determined not to grant him a single noise. “Is it good?”

Precum drools from the tip of your cock in a slow, sticky stream, mingling with the tacky blood coating Rook’s hand and coating your length in a thick, marbled mixture of the fluids. It’s sickening, disgusting, and makes your stomach turn slow and dreadful- yet, somehow, the sight makes another bead of precum gather at your tip.

“Or do you need something more, hm?” Rook’s free hand smooths over your inner thigh, knuckles brushing lightly over your balls, his thumb smoothing flat over your taint, before his middle finger finally teases against your rim. “Do you need me in here, ma bichette? Dis juste oui.”

The tip of his finger presses in lightly and you inhale sharply, bringing a small chuckle from Rook’s chest. Your struggles amuse him. Rather than wait for any kind of response, Rook instead encircles your cock with only his forefinger and thumb, pinching it tight enough to make you writhe as he scoops the slurry of blood and precum from your shaft. 

For a second, Rook spreads his hand open and watches the sticky webs spread from finger to finger, before he bends down and lets a small exhale hit your dick, suppressing a laugh when your hips jerk in response. 

“Ah, si mignon.” The tone is almost dreamy, it would be cute in any other situation, with any other lover. As though to reward your endearing behavior, Rook leans forward and places a kiss on the tip of your cock, forcing a cry of sensitivity from your throat. “Tellement mignon, mon chéri.”

A tiny strand of precum stays stuck on Rook’s bottom lip as he pulls away, only broken when his tongue darts out to lick up what remains- your cock throbs at the sight, so fiercely that you can’t help yourself any longer, a sound somewhere between a wail and a moan makes its way from you before you can even think to stop it. When you calm enough to refocus your attention on Rook, a smile spreads across his face like the plague.

One of his broad hands digs into the fat of your thigh and drags you to the end of the dining table with ease, perfectly aligning your hips with the edge. You’re still reeling from the movement when Rook abruptly pushes two fingers beyond your rim and immediately curls them up into your prostate with cruel force; at the same time, he laves his tongue over the slit of your cock, eagerly swallowing every drop of pre you leak. Your whole body spasms in response to the pleasure, your back arching and legs flailing wildly, a litany of whorish moans falling from your lips- control has not just slipped away from you, the leash has been ripped free of your clenched fists and instead given to Rook. Thick fingers pummel mercilessly against the sensitive bundle of nerves in your ass, punching air from your lungs with every thrust and simultaneously shoving your nearer and nearer to the brink of orgasm- but before you ever reach it, Rook pulls away. His mouth leaves your cock, your hole is left empty once more, and you are left desperate. In a moment of weakness, you almost sit up to beg Rook for more, whine for him to let you cum, before your shame roars back to life.

Though you’re laid bare for all to see, Rook is finally rabidly throwing off his clothes, as though any moment without your touch was one of pure agony. In mere seconds, he’s completely nude and readjusting your body as he pleases, tucking a hand under either thigh before guiding them to wrap around his hips. Your eyes are immediately drawn between his legs, where his cock rests against your own, heavy and twitching, the flushed tip glistening with wetness. Lazily- unfairly -Rook squishes the soft head of his dick against your slickened rim, just shy of fulfilling your desires. 

“Oh my, regardez ça…” His hips push forward ever so slightly and you let out a puppyish whine, distraught when he retreats again just to watch your hole clench in an effort to pull him back. “You’re just so terribly cute, my dear, so cute.” 

The torture feels endless, though he only teases you for a few seconds longer, tapping his cock against your ass one more time before he asks the question that makes your heart go still. “Tell me what you want, mon cheri.”

Your throat closes. You can’t admit that you want- no, need -Rook to fuck you, you need his warmth, the pleasure, the comfort; the same way you need food and water. Still, you can’t say it, not anymore, because Rook will come unraveling like a linen with the lightest tug on his heartstrings. A couple months ago you would’ve happily cried and screamed for Rook to finally shove his dick into you. Now you feared he’d finally break.

You spread your legs wider, arch your back further, whimpering like a stupid animal as you give the weak attempt to rock your hips back into Rook’s cock with teary eyes. 

“Ah-ah.” He takes a pace back, moving just barely out of your reach. “Do you want me?”

There’s a quiet thump as you let your head fall back against the tabletop, squeezing your knees around his waist in need. 

“Just nod for me, d'accord? That’s all I need, ma bichette.” His hand smooths over your waist, trying to soothe you, but it does nothing to stop the rapid thrumming of your heart. 

You heave, too humiliated to meet his eyes, instead throwing your arms over your face and giving the subtlest dip of your head. There’s hardly a second after your approval before Rook’s hands grip your hips so firmly your bones creak under his strength, dragging you back to meet his thrust and sheathe his cock inside you in a single smooth movement. You receive no mercy, no time to adjust, as Rook fucks into you like a feral animal, his movements unrestrained and frenzied, unyielding as you squeal and scream beneath him, legs locked around his hips for a single scrap of stability. 

You think- if you can think -that he’s begun muttering something between open-mouthed pants, gasps of how much he loves you, how beautiful you look, how he’d like a taste of you. You let your thoughts scramble with every thrust of his hips, you let go of the fear for a few minutes. It not hard when Rook actively makes an effort to take your breath away, clumsily smashing your lips together in something that could barely be called a kiss; it’s all teeth and tongue, Rook sloppily stuffing his tongue into your mouth with an animalistic grunt- he feels more monster than man to you. Everything about him is suffocating, you can’t breathe around his love, head spinning, vision darkening- at the same time, Rook tilts his hips just right and jams the head of his cock against your prostate, and you’re ready to die for this orgasm. Pain is irrelevant, your weakened hands tangling in Rook’s hair and pulling despite the violent ache in your tendons. The euphoria is incomparable, so sudden and violent you spray cum over both of your chests, your whole body trembling and tightening within Rook’s grasp, milking his cock for all you could with a series of strangled moans Rook is happy to swallow.

Lucidity quickly sets in and you begin to panic, beating your bloodied fists against Rook’s shoulders in a useless attempt to push him away; if Rook wanted you dead, you would die. Your lungs have been set alight with Rook’s passion, parched for the cool touch of oxygen you’re worried may never come. Only once you’re entirely convinced you’re about to die does Rook finally break away and let you breathe, both gasping like you’ve drowned, and still Rook pumps his hips back and forth, chasing his release. 

“Tell me- putain -tell me, mon amour,” his words are gasped out against your throat, muffled by your skin. “Tell me you love me, ah, dis moi que tu m'aimes”

It’s not a request, it’s a demand, his teeth lock around the thin skin of your esophagus, canines pressing sharply against you. Any answer could end in a crushed windpipe, and you’ve never been good at gambling; but you are his dog, and he is your master. No matter how many times the hand beats, you will return. 

“I love you, Rook.” Quick as a flash, Rook readjusts and sinks his teeth into your shoulder, iron filling his mouth in a flood he’s happy to swallow. Rook manages only one more thrust before stilling inside you, shuddering from head to toe with a guttural groan as he fills you with his cum. You’re utterly revolted.

Your wounds have left you in agony. You’re still afraid Rook might rip a chunk from you. You’re sick to your stomach. You might cum all over again. A few stray tears roll over your cheeks, but you suppose this can’t be so bad; your stomach is full and Rook is warm. So warm. You are Rook’s dog, and he is your master. You loosely wrap your arms around his neck. A dog always loves his master.

That's all for our Halloween special folks! I hope you enjoyed, and as always, thank you for viewing. I. Am sorry for writing this ngl. During the uh. hard-on people steak scene, I just stared at my computer screen wondering what the fuck I was doing with my life. I hope you find it spooky though, i definitely do... (also I think I'm very funny for the Vil/Neige cameo hehe)

[illusionnet]

Check this new post by @hee0soo "Guns & Kisses"

Guns & Kisses

Pairing — KimHongjoongxafab!Reader

Summary — Hongjoong finds out that his goons have let you out of their sight... there are consequences...

Genre — angst, hints of fluff, MafiaAU

Warnings — guns, death, blood, knifes, kisses, Wooyoung getting in trouble lmao

Word Count — 1.9k

Rating — nc-17

Disclaimer: this fic is written and copyrighted by ©hee0soo on tumblr. do not rewrite or repost on any other plattforms without my permission.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED!

"So what you're  telling me, is that you lost my wife?" Hongjoong questioned the 2 trembling men standing in front of his desk. His eyebrow was slightly raised and although he sounded calm, both henchmen knew that just one wrong move wouldn't just end their career, but their lives too.

It was a well known fact that Kim Hongjoong, leader of ATEEZ and Seoul's most feared drug cartel, only had one soft spot. And that was you.

You, a woman who couldn't be more different then him if you tried! Who loved animals, drank juice packs just because you could, or loved to try putting his hair in little braids and hair clips!

And him. Carrying a gun, knows 100 ways to kill you with a spoon, loves the taste of blood on his lips, cartel boss Kim Hongjoong!

To say you and him were completely different would not be a lie in anyway, shape or form. It was a mystery to everyone but his closest circle of 7 how you had even met and an even bigger one how you fell in love with each other. Those 7 who he trusted blindly when it came to your safety however, were busy dealing with things you didn't want any part in.

Of course you knew what was happening behind closed doors. You weren't a fool even if most thought you were. It was quite the contrary actually! You knew exactly what was going on and you also weren't a damsel in distress either. You knew how to fight, how to shoot and you could be just as deadly as the man who called you his wife.

No, you weren't married but what could you say? Hongjoong was a possessive little shit...

Byung-ho, the smaller of the two swallowed harshly, hoping that Dong-chul would come to his aid but nothing. "Sir we are very sorry but-“

"You're not answering my question Byung-ho-ssi... Where. Is my wife?" the unimpressed man hissed.

Hongjoong didn't have the patience for excuses, much less when it came to you.

Seonghwa, his right hand and your closest friend out of the little circle you called family, was sitting close by, sipping at a glass filled with whiskey and enjoyed the squirming of the two men cowering away from the deadly stare his leader gave them.

"Dong-chul-ssi!" The man flinched harshly at being called out of a sudden. "Y-yes?"

"Do you want to tell me how you managed to lose her?" His finger trailed down the sharp blade of the knife placed on the wooden surface, grabbing the hilt to make a show out of it to display his power. The poor man shook like a leaf and prayed to god that he came out of this alive. His chances however, were pretty slim.

"Well? Don't you have anything to say?"

Both stayed silent.

"How unfortunate..." He stood up, grabbed his gun from the holster attached to his belt and shot them clean between the eyes. A long and suffering sigh left his mouth as he stared at the dead body’s staining his carpet.

"You couldn't have waited to do this outside? It'll take ages to wash that out!" Seonghwa complained at the sight.

"Nobody said that you're the one who has to try and do that!"

Hongjoong walked around his desk, stepped over the body’s with a slight grimace, put the gun back into the holster and whipped his hands on his fancy dress pants before he made his way to the door.

"Where are you going?" Seonghwa asked, eyebrow raised and taking another sip. The smaller man stopped shortly, turning his head to look at his right hand with sharp smile. "Getting my wife back!"

 

Wooyoung, their very own hacker and analyst, was leaning back in his gamer chair, feet propped up on his work desk and playing a game on his phone. His work for the day was done and originally was waiting for San and Yeosang, resident assassin and doctor and his closest friends! What was not on his agenda for the night, was the boss storming into his little lair at almost 11 pm!

"Hyung what-?" the man stammered, almost falling out of his chair.

"Track y/n’s phone! Now!" Hongjoong barked at him. Wooyoung raised his eyebrow, questioning his leaders mind for a moment but did as he was told. "And are you gonna tell me why I have to stalk the lady boss?"

"No."

The hacker stopped typing on his computer to look at the other. "Hyuuung! She's going to  shoot me if she finds out I snooped!"

"And I will shoot you if you don't, so find her before I become impatient."

Lower lip pushed forward and grumbling under his breath, Wooyoung continued. Fingers flying over the keyboard skillfully. He knew that making the leader wait could end deadly for someone who wasn’t as well versed in the mans mannerisms as he and the other core members were. And even he had once or twice been forced to ice a blue eye of his own!

Hongjoong rounded the table and came to stand behind the other man, eyes flitting over the screen and crossing his arms over his chest. Index finger tapping against his upper arm.

For a stranger he looked pissed to the nines. To Wooyoung, he just seemed worried. Anxiety thrumming underneath his skin, brows furrowed and lips pulled into a straight line.

“Phone’s shut off but the last signal was somewhere in Secho-gu. I can try-“ he started, searching for your boyfriends eyes and recognizing the darkening expression as pure fury. "Hyung?"

Hongjoong cracked his knuckles loudly. "There is no need. I know where she is!" He growled, already on his way out the dark room and effectively leaving the hacker behind. He looked at the little black cat plushie staring at him. "Aaand it's just us again Wooyonyang-ie... I really hope hyung's gonna kick some ass tonight..."

 

Hongjoong knew instantly where you were when Wooyoung had mentioned the area your phone had last been pinged. It was where a new gang had their hideout. A small one admittedly, but a pest to his business either way. In all honesty, Hongjoong couldn't even remember what they were called, but he knew where they were. And he knew that people were going to die soon.

The gang may have felt save with their low number in members, probably thinking that big gangs like Ateez didn't have them on their radar. They were wrong.

Just because, they had yet to see reason to shatter their little group, it didn't mean that they didn't know. And now they had one, or rather HE had one.

Walking right past Yunho and Mingi, Negotiator and Sniper of the team, who just came back from a Business meeting with SKZ, he got into his Mercedes and drove of. Leaving the two confused men behind without a word.

 The Mob boss drove fast, complete ignoring any speeding limits to get to his destination knowing that no police officer would dare stop his car without risking his job. And so he arrived 20 minutes later at a small office building with barely any security. Hongjoong stopped the car and reloaded his gun, making sure that the safety was off before he got out and made quick process with the 3 guards at the entrance.

They were dead before their body's could hit the floor, bullet holes right over their hearts and blood splattered over his expensive suit. A slightly crazed out smile found it's way onto his face when he heard more men running down the hallway to find out where the gun shots had come from.

4 more came rounding the corner and hit the ground just seconds later. It was clear that this gang did not have much experience at all.

What followed was silence.

Hongjoong listened closely if there were more on the way but nothing. It was almost disappointing if he was honest.

Most offices were empty and unused and the once who weren't didn't have enough time to react much.

What he found however once he kicked down the door to a giant mess hall, was expected and unexpected all at once. He had expected you do be an absolute menace to the kidnappers to the point they might have knock you out to get some piece and quiet, maybe one or two having a black eye definitely not you sitting cross-legged a top a cafeteria table while looking bored to the nines as you picked on your finger nails. Around you the red fluid that stained his suit already, was already starting to dry as the 3 men do your feed were stabbed repeatedly into the chest. The knife you had used laying on your left side while the gun you had taken from one of the body's on your right.

Your head snapped up at the loud bang the door made as it crashed against the wall. Gun now pointed at his head before you recognized his face.

"What took you so long?" you grinned at his shell shocked form.

"Hello to you too, my love. I see you have everything handled." Hongjoong gestured to the mess around you as he came over. Gun back in it's holster.

You took the offered hand to help you of the table and he immediately began scanning your body for injuries. There was a bruise forming on your cheek, a few scratches along your arms and the obvious irritated red markings of cable ties around your wrist but other then that you seemed fine.

"Are you-"

"Don't worry, I'm fine baby." You reassured him with a soft press of your lips to his. Hands cupping his face gently as he inhaled your scent and a sense of calmness washed over him now that he knew you were save again.

"Let's get out of here then so Sang-ah can take care of those bruises for you."

Looking back at the chaos around you, Hongjoong raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow at you. You knew that he wanted to know what exactly had happened, but having been tied up and alone with those idiots that were oh so easy to fool you shrugged your shoulders.

"Care to explain how this happened, huh?" he questioned as he leaned his forehead against your own.

"Do you really want to know that?" you questioned playfully which earned you an amused shake of his head. No, all he really wanted was to get you back into the safety of their home. Hongjoong could wait, knowing that once he had you back inside your shared bed, you would tell him either way.

"Then take my home. I'm tired of this depressing sight either way.”

In the car you buckled up and leaned your head against the back rest. A tired sigh escaping your lips and Hongjoong couldn't help but admire the serene beauty you radiated in that moment.

"I'm glad you're ok." He whispered into the silence of the vehicle and you turned your head to look at him. Hand reaching over the console to hold his.

"Thank you for coming for me."

"Always."

 Bonus

When Wooyoung woke up 2 days after Hongjoong had gotten back with you, he had already forgotten about the incident. The night before had been spend with Mingi and Yunho to see who could handle more alcohol. Safe to say that it wasn't him. So no, that morning he did not have the brain capacity for much other then concentrating on not to throw up.

His heart nearly stopped beating once he saw you sitting on his chair. Spinning around like some kind of evil genius.

"Oh my god, y/n! Why?" he gasped with one hand thrown over his chest.

You tilted your head to the side.

"So you tracked my phone? Again?"

Oh shit.

[m-p-a-a]

Approval has been rescinded. We no longer approve of this preview.

This preview has been rated [NC-17]

[final-girl96]

My Boyfriend's Back Chapter Twenty-Six

YN

"I'm not going to that party," I said. Randy and I were walking across campus to the cafeteria for dinner. "Oh, come on. Why not?" He asked. "So you forget what happened at the last party we were at?" He rolled his eyes, "you mean the last party you were at. I've been to other parties. And the murders at the theater have nothing to do with us." I scoffed at his denial. "You are in such denial! Randy, two people were killed at a movie based on our lives!"

He stopped in front of me and put his hands on my shoulders. "Look, I know you're worried about Stu coming back. But come on, don't you think he would have already if he was going to?" If only he knew the truth. The truth that Stu was back and I've been giving in to him. "You're going to that party with me. Plus, Dewey is here. He's not going to let anything happen to any of us."

I stood around, a drink in my hand out in the backyard at the Sorority party. Randy had showed up at my dorm with Mickey of all people. "See, this isn't too bad." I looked over at Randy and gave him a deadpanned look. "Oh, yeah, so fun!" I said sarcastically. "Nothing is going to happen, just relax and have a good time. I'll be back with more drinks!" He walked back into the house and I stood there awkwardly.

"Yn? I didn't know you were coming." I turned around to see Sid and Hallie coming up to me. "Randy forced me to come." Just then Randy came to stand beside me handing Hallie and Sidney a drink. "Took you long enough," Sid said to him. "You need to get out of that damn room of yours and stop being a hermit crab."

Mickey came over saying something about a movie sequel to Randy and they both walked off, Hallie went off another way and Sidney went to sit down with Derek. A flash of blond hair caught my eyes and I snapped my head to the right to see Stu talking to some girl. What caught me off guard was he was wearing glasses. There has only been a handful of times that I've seen him wear his glasses.

I watched him talk to the girl, well more like she was talking to him but he was paying more attention to me. I flinched when someone came up beside me and tapped me on the shoulder. "Shit, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you." I looked up to see a guy, dark hair and green eyes smiling at me. I raised my eyebrow at him and he let out a nervous laugh. "Sorry, I'm Luke, I'm in one of your glasses with you."

"Oh, okay? Did you need something?" I asked. He looked down and shook his head, a blush tinting his cheeks. "This is stupid. I–um…I just want to tell you that you're beautiful and an amazing singer. I've heard you in the studio a couple times. I wasn't like…stalking you or anything though!" I gave him a small smile and chuckled. "Thank you. That's very kind of you."

I looked back over to where Stu was but he was no longer there. "So, you major in music or…" he shook his head. "No, I'm a film major." I nodded my head, "oh. So you know Randy then?" He nodded his head, "yeah. Can I ask you something?" He asked. "Uh…yeah," I said, nodding. He looked around and let you a breathy laugh. "Has he always been so…how do I phrase this…"

"Overly dramatic? Obnoxious? Loud? Yes. Yes, he has been. He's very passionate about movies. He actually brought the film club back to our high school his freshman year. Convinced the principal to give him a week to get at least ten students to join." We both laughed. "You went to Woodsboro, right?" He asked, with a smile still on his face. I took a deep breath before nodding. "I did. Yeah."

"I'm sorry for what happened. I don't think I'd ever leave my room again if something like that happened in my hometown. Hell, my mom probably wouldn't let me out of the house." I didn't say anything and his smile dropped. "Shit, I'm sorry. I'll admit I know who you are but that's not why I wanted to talk to you. I do find you beautiful. I was actually hoping maybe…maybe if you'd like to get coffee or something."

"Something happening across the street! The police are over there, come on!" Everyone started to rush back into the house and Sidney came over to me. "Come on." I gave Luke an apologetic look and followed Sidney. As we were getting ready to leave I stopped. "Shit, I forgot my jacket. I'll be–" a hand clamped over my mouth. "Do you not listen to anything I say?!"

I pushed Randy away from me. "No! I do not listen to anything you say. Now, I'm going to go get my jacket!" I turned and walked back into the house. I walked into the living room and over to the couch where I left it but it wasn't there. A hand landed on my shoulder and I yelped. "Sorry! You were just taking a long time." I turned around, putting my hand on my chest. "Jesus, Sid! I'll be out in a second."

"Where's your jacket? Do you need help finding it?" She asked. "I thought I left it on the couch but it's not here. I'm going to look upstairs and I'll be out I promise." She shook her head, "I'm helping you." I sighed and nodded before heading for the stairs. Just as I got there the phone rang. I looked back at Sidney and she shook her head. I went to head upstairs when she called out. "I found it!" She came over and handed it to me and we walked towards the door.

I paused when the phone rang again. "You girls ready?" Derek asked. "Yeah, in a second." I walked over and answered the phone. "Hello?" There was silence on the other end for a few seconds before the modulated voice spoke. "Hello, yn." My whole body froze. "What do you want?" I asked. "What's your favorite scary movie?"

I rolled my eyes. "Real original. If you're going to kill me just don't already you fucking coward!" I yelled. A deep chuck sounded from the other side of the line. "My pleasure." My head snapped to my left when the voice didn't come from the phone. Ghostface stood near the door, knife in hand and tiled his head. "Sidney!" I screamed and he charged at me.

[girlinthebrightbluejeans]

Just finished S1 of Versailles. That was depressing.

[illusionnet]

Check this new post by @rems-writing "When the mountain meets a shy girl"

When the mountain meets a shy girl

》 Pairing: stripper!San x afab!reader

》 Trope: strangers to lovers

》 Wordcount: 4,062 words

》 Rating: nc-17

Nets: @mirohs-aurora-society @othersideoutlawsnetwork @illusionnet

“Oh come on, Y/N! It’s literally one night!”

“Guys, I don’t know -”

“Omg just ignore her and drag her along! We’re going to be late!”

This is how you found yourself on a Friday night. You got off work but instead of going straight home, your lovely coworkers pressured you into going out with them. They claimed that you needed to ‘live a little’ since you can’t ‘be a miserable hobbit’ your entire life. They say that like it’s a bad thing! If you want to stay home, you will stay home. If you want to go out, you will go out on your own free will. Alas, your coworkers didn’t understand. Or they did. They just didn’t care about your boundaries nor your personal preferences, especially the leader of the extroverts. 

Her name was Chelsea. 

You honestly didn’t know how she was able to get hired. She doesn’t know anything about the company you both work at, she slacks off most of the time, and almost always engages in the freshest office gossip. She speaks like she’s texting someone, has an annoying giggle whenever a man hits on her, and never follows the dress code. 

At least she takes responsibility for her fuck-ups and picks up the slack. And never throws you under the bus for anything. 

Other than that, she was dumb as a rock. 

You steered clear of her radar every day. You only talk to her, along with others, about work related things. The only time you don’t is when you give her the usual formal greetings. Other than that, you were never her concern. 

Until today. 

You honestly wished people would leave you alone. Why were they talking about you? You never did anything to them, didn’t snitch on them when they weren’t doing what they were supposed to do, and you were polite when you needed to be. So what’s with the sudden interest in you? 

You were 24, lived alone (aside from the many figurines you owned. They were your children), and only went out if it was required. Other than that, you preferred to stay home. You weren’t interested in dating nor sex (you’ve been there, done that way back in high school) so you tended to stay away from men since they honestly scared you.

A lot. 

If you wanted pleasure, you either took care of it yourself or you just left it alone. You didn't need anyone else to take care of it for you. But now back to the topic at hand. 

You were trying to figure out ways to excuse yourself from this outing. The last place you wanted to go was a damn strip club. You didn’t need half naked to almost fully naked men thrusting and grinding in your face. And you certainly weren’t about to waste your precious hard earned dollar bills on someone else. It’s not that you were selfish or greedy. 

You were simply frugal. 

And according to Chelsea and your coworkers, that’s ‘super hella lame’ of you to do. 

What were they? Newly oriented high school freshmen? 

Alas, you couldn’t think of any excuse to get out of this ‘extraordinary adventure’ you were on. As you neared the entrance of the strip club, everyone had to go through an ID check. Some of them complained, but you didn’t mind. Rules are rules after all. When the bouncer landed on you, you felt intimidated by the sharpness of his wolf eyes. You shakily handed your ID to him and you were ready to be scrutinized by him. You were used to being mocked by bouncers whenever you went to clubs or high-end bars with your coworkers or your family members (i.e. cousins). Surprisingly, nothing came out of the bouncer’s mouth. Instead, he gave you back your ID and offered a warm and comforting smile that reached his eyes until they formed crescents. He then leaned in and whispered in your ear. 

“If you need to find a way out, have the bartender page me. I’m sorry you were dragged out here by those… uh… lovely ladies.”

His deep and husky voice sent a small shiver down your spine and you couldn’t help but be flattered with the offer he gave you. You nodded rapidly and thanked him quietly before following the rest of the girls inside. At least someone understood how you felt, even if they were a complete stranger. When you got inside, the host led you to your table. You wanted to sit at the far end of the booth so you could make your escape (you were not about to turn down the hot bouncer’s offer), but your request fell on deaf ears. Instead, you were smack in the middle of your group with Chelsea seated to your left and someone else on your right. As soon as you were settled in, a waiter approached you. He seemed young and you couldn’t help but find his round cheeks so adorable. 

“Hello. Welcome to Cyberpunk. My name is Jongho. I’ll be taking your orders tonight. What can I get started for you?” 

“IS IT STILL GOLDEN HOUR RIGHT NOW?!”

An overly excited coworker screeched right into Jongho’s ear and you felt yourself cringe for him. Apparently, Golden Hour is what they call happy hour here. Good to know. Jongho laughed awkwardly and nodded before presenting the menu for Golden Hour. That same coworker practically clawed it out of his hands and thanked him shamelessly by running her manicured hand down his chest. You couldn’t stand it and reached over to grab her wrist. 

“Leave the poor guy alone!”

Your angry hiss made your coworker shrink into herself but still had the audacity to roll her eyes at your sense of duty. As payback, she ordered drinks for everyone else but made sure to save the strongest drink for you. And she said this out loud. You sighed and sat back with your arms crossed while Jongho nodded and wrote the order down. Before he left, he looked at you with a grateful expression and mouthed something to you. You were confused at first, but then you looked in the direction of where the young waiter was nodding at and you saw the hot bouncer waving at you with his heavily ringed hand. 

Oh. 

Jongho was giving you the name of the hot bouncer that offered you an escape earlier. 

His name is Mingi. Got it. 

You made a mental note to remember that, along with the name of the bartender you needed to page Mingi for. 

His name is Wooyoung. Got it. 

After Jongho walked away to fulfill your order, you observed your surroundings while your coworkers were talking amongst themselves. It’s a shame that they didn’t talk to you, but you didn’t care. It was better this way. 

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Drink after drink. Shot after shot. And the cycle repeats. Your coworkers were astonished with the way you could handle your liquor. Even that nasty cocktail that you received made you feel nothing. If anything, you were only about five percent tipsy. As the night progressed, a lot of strippers made their way towards your booth and did what they needed to do. You weren’t interested in any of them. At all. You just wanted this night to be over. While the girls were fawning over the tallest stripper giving them lap dances (his name is Yunho), you saw Chelsea approach you with an evil look in her eyes and a mischievious grin on her overly painted lips. Before you could even question her intentions, she dragged you out of the booth and into a private dance room. The last words from your coworkers left you mortified. 

“YAS, QUEEN! GET THAT DICK, SIS!”

This was not happening. You refused to believe it. Not only did they pay for you to experience a private dance with one of those greasy oiled up men, but they truly believed that you needed this. As Chelsea sat you down on the plush lavender couch, she crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at you. Although, you couldn’t tell since her fake lashes were too thick to comprehend anything. 

“We all chipped in for this dance. It could’ve been one of us, but we decided that you needed it the most. So like… don’t be yourself and weird him out, ok sweetie? Great! Have fun! Oh and provide us with juicy details once you’re done!”

She patted your head before exiting the room. You wanted to cry. You never asked for this. For any of this! You just wanted to go home, curl up on the couch, and watch reruns of your favorite k-dramas. But nope! You were here in a dimly lit room, anticipating who would come out. As the strange techno music played, you saw a figure approach the pole. Your eyes widened as you saw who it was. 

The Mountain. 

His seductive smile and the way he curled his fingers around the pole did nothing to quell your anxiety. You sat up straight and darted your eyes around towards every movement he pulled. Sure, you found him extremely fucking attractive, but you had to be honest with yourself. With the way you are and with the way you wanted nothing more than to escape, you wanted to shrink into the couch you were sitting on and just fade into non-existence. He noticed it at first but thought nothing of it. He believed that your shyness was just an act. Soon, you’ll pounce on him and beg for him to take you. That’s how it always was with women like you. However, he was in for a shocking awakening when he slid down the pole and tore away his shirt, leaving his muscular upper body bare. As he crawled towards you, he was getting closer to your legs, which you shut tightly. It didn’t last long before his strong hands grabbed your knees and forced them open. You shut your eyes when his nose touched the side of your right knee, almost nuzzling it in a way. He soon dragged it upwards before stopping just at the hem of your pencil skirt. He then stood up fully and looked down at you. 

This is where the hesitation began. 

He looked down at your rigid form and the way you screwed your eyes shut. His gut told him to stop, but he pushed through. He bent down and whispered huskily in your ear. The action had you open your eyes wide and look straight at him, which was a mistake since he was so close to your face.

“Don’t be shy, kitten. Come on. Touch me.”

Not waiting for your response, he gingerly grabbed your wrist and made sure your palm was flat against his broad chest. He kept eye contact with you as he slowly slid your hand down to his abs. The pace was snail-like and you found yourself shaking. Your anxiety was at an all time high. When you felt your wrist stop at the hem of his jeans, your eyes widened even more. You retracted your hand and cradled it like he had broken it. You muttered so many apologies as you curled into yourself even more. 

Oh… he felt his heart break at the sight. 

A sigh left his lips as he turned around and walked away. You were panicking internally, thinking the worst. What if he had Mingi kick you out? What if he told the owner of this strip club to blacklist you? What if he snitched on you to your friends and sneered at the way you trembled before him? And not in a good way. The anxiety died down a bit when the lights came on and you saw him walk back to you. He knelt before you and had an unreadable expression on his face. He then stuck out his hand and spoke in an authoritative voice. 

“Let me see your ID.”

You immediately thought to yourself that he was simply following protocol. However, it didn’t help that his seemingly angry look unnerved you. You dug into your pocket and fished out your ID before slapping it into his waiting palm. He held it up to his face and narrowed his eyes as he scanned over the details of it. 

‘It doesn’t look fake right?’

‘It’s as real as it can get.’

‘You probably should’ve brought your passport just in case.’

‘Oh shit he’s looking back at you! Fuck!’

As he gave you back your ID, he helped you stand up. The look on his face melted into one of concern and compassion. He gingerly grabbed your hand and rubbed your knuckles with his thumb. 

“Can I hug you? I understand if you don’t want to be touched, but I can tell you need it.”

That’s all it took for you to break down in his arms. He shushed you gently and made sure his hold on you was tight enough to provide a sense of comfort for you. He walked the both of you towards the couch and held onto you until you decided to pull away. You looked up at him and sniffled. As much as he found that action to be utterly cute, he knew it wasn’t the time to address that. He gently wiped away your tears and put some distance in between you two. However, he still had his arms wrapped around you. You didn’t mind it of course. You were just glad someone empathized with you. 

“I’m guessing this is just your personality. Your ID checks out and from what you’re wearing, you definitely are of age.”

“Y-Yeah. I’m sorry if this is how you’re spending your night. I’m s-sure you weren’t expecting someone like me.”

“It’s ok. I think this is a good change of pace. If it helps, we can simply talk. I know you don’t want to be here and I apologize for making you uncomfortable.”

“It’s ok. And yeah… I would love to talk.”

“Great. Let me start by introducing myself. I’m San.”

“Y/N.”

“Pretty name for a pretty girl.”

Your light-hearted giggle made his heart soar and soon, he found himself in a deep conversation with you. You two talked about everything. From the basics down to you willingly explaining how your current personality came to be. And San listened tentatively. After talking some more, you checked the time. 

“Oh shit! My two hours are up! I’m sorry for holding you here longer than I should have.”

“Don’t worry about it. I enjoyed talking with you.”

“Really?”

San nodded and gave you an award winning smile. One that showcased his dimples and was similar to Mingi’s but brighter. After the both of you stood up, he gathered his things and stared at you affectionately. His gaze made you blush and you looked away. He gently grabbed your chin so he could look at you. 

“If you want, there’s a ramen place next door that’s open 24/7. Once this place closes up, we can chat some more. Or… I can take you home, either by calling an uber for you or driving you home myself. After what you told me, I don’t feel comfortable leaving you with your coworkers.”

You swore you fell in love with him.

“Actually, I would love that. I sort of need something to absorb all the alcohol that’s in my body.”

“Great! In the meantime, go speak with Hongjoong. He’s the owner of this place. Explain your situation with him and he’ll let you stay in his office for the time being. I still have work to do.”

After accepting his offer, he walked you towards his boss’s office. A short man came out and he was immediately about to interrogate you when you held your hands up in defense. The last thing he needed was to file a case for harassment. As you explained yourself, his form grew less rigid and he looked towards San, who gave a nod of confirmation, indicating that you were speaking the truth. 

“Oh, darling… here. You can stay in my office. Do whatever you need to do. I’ll have Mingi fetch you once this is over.” 

“Thank you, Mr. Kim.”

“Please. Call me Hongjoong.”

You nodded shyly and Hongjoong patted your head before walking out of his office so you could get comfortable. San looked at you one last time before leaving to continue his job. He didn’t want to leave you there alone, but he knew you needed space to breathe and gather your bearings. After all, you went through a lot. 

TIME SKIP

It had been some time since that horrible outing with your coworkers. Sure, you met some angels and your savior along the way, but the events leading up to that moment left you drained. After that night, you didn’t speak with Chelsea or any of your coworkers. Instead, you worked faster and more diligently than before so you could clock out early and go home immediately. You did not want to interact with any of them whatsoever. As soon as you reached home, you flopped on the couch. 

“Aww. You didn’t want to greet me? That makes me sad.”

“Shut up, San!”

San giggled at your sassy voice as he walked over to you and sat on the couch beside you. He lifted your head so you could lay on his lap. As he ran his fingers through your hair and massaged your scalp, you talked about how your day went. 

Did I mention that you two were roommates now?

Ever since you met San, he’s been a comforting presence in your life. You asked him to move in with you since you felt at ease with him. One thing led to another and the two of you were now a couple. It was awkward at first since you haven’t dated anyone in the longest, but San was patient with you. He took things at your own pace and made it less awkward. He still works at the strip club unfortunately, but he reassures you that he will always come back to you since you have his heart. 

“As I motherfucking should!”

That was always your response to him and he could never get tired of it. As the relationship progresses, you slowly find yourself coming out of your shell. You no longer feel overly shy whenever he walks around shirtless or whispers sensual words in your ear as he flirts with you. Instead, you play along and even tease him sometimes. That’s an effect only San can bring unto you. In addition, he taught you how to be more confident and stand up for yourself. 

His hard work paid off when you told him about how you told your boss about how you felt with your coworkers.

You came back into the office feeling nervous yet invigorated. You needed to put a stop to your coworkers peer pressuring you into going out. You also needed to stop caring about what they might say. As San has stated to you despite being only in tight jeans with dollar bills peeking out from the top, if you liked staying in, then stay in. You knocked on the CEO’s front door and heard her honeyed voice telling you to come in. When you entered, your eyes landed on your CEO boss, who was also your long time best friend. “Hey. What’s up, Y/N?” She smiled that beautiful smile and you felt relieved momentarily. “Um… we need to talk, Ms. Hwasa.” 

“I thought I told you to call me by my real name. After all, we have been friends for seven years.”

“Sorry, Hyejin.”

“It’s ok. Anyways, what did you need to talk about?”

It was now or never. 

Slowly but surely, you vented about everything. From your coworkers to Chelsea all the way to the main topic: disrespecting boundaries. You also explained how you were afraid of what she might say despite vowing to always have your back. Of course you didn’t doubt her words. You were simply afraid of her brushing you off like you were nothing more than another employee. When you finished speaking, Hwasa had her eyebrows furrowed in deep thought. Finally, she spoke. 

“Thank you for telling me this. I honestly didn’t think they would be dumb enough to forget common sense. Set a meeting right now. I think I need to remind these women of how everything works around here.”

“Yes, ma’am!”

Hwasa laughed slightly as you saluted before turning around and marching back to your cubicle. A couple of hours later, a lot of employees were in a meeting room, standing nervously as they watched their CEO pace back and forth whilst looking at them with an unreadable expression. You were in the middle of the crowd, pretending to be nervous, but in reality, you were playing it cool. 

“It seems to me that you guys keep forgetting about the one thing I wanted all of you to have.”

Oop - 

“Common courtesy.”

A lot of your coworkers were sweating nervously, including Chelsea. You felt bad for them a little bit since you know Hwasa to be strict. 

“Just because someone doesn’t like the things that you do after work doesn’t mean you have the right to change their dynamics. We are all different here. And yet, we still work well together. So please. The next time you want to take someone away from their comfort bubble, think twice before doing so. Either do nothing about it or do something about it the right way. Ask first! That’s always a requirement. If they say yes, then there you go. If they say no, then no means no! Do we have an understanding?”

Everyone nodded.

“In addition, I am putting a stop to the unnecessary gossip swimming around here. The people you gossip about? They have done nothing to you and they don’t do that to you. So why do it to them in the first place?”

It was a rhetorical question that no one dared to answer. 

“This meeting is adjourned. Get back to work.”

“Yes, Ms, Hwasa!”

Everyone scattered and scurried back to their places. Hwasa looked at you and smiled while you profusely thanked her. 

“You can go home now if you want. I know your boy toy misses you.”

“Girl, shut up!”

“And that’s what happened!”

“I’m so proud of you for standing up for yourself.”

San sat you up and hugged you tightly. You returned the hug happily and remained in his arms for a while before he pulled away. There was a mischievous glint in his eyes as he stood up from the couch. 

“This calls for a celebration. Time to give you that private dance you originally signed up for.”

Oh…

OH!

Before you could protest, San turned on the stereo system and played the track before standing in the middle of the living room to begin his routine.

‘SHIT! WHY THIS SONG?!’

‘THIS SONG IS A BOP THOUGH!’

‘YEAH BUT NOW LOOK AT THE SITUATION YOU’RE IN!’

‘JUST RELAX, BITCH! DAMN!’

You watched as San performed his routine perfectly. It catered to the song and you found yourself drooling as you leaned in to observe him more. San smirked at this as he jumped and did a diving move before crawling towards you. Your legs were open for him and he came in between them, nuzzling his nose into both of your inner thighs before slowly standing up. He gingerly grabbed your hand and took off his shirt before placing your palm on his broad chest. 

DID HE GET BIGGER?! WHAT THE FUCK?!

You watched your hand slowly trail down to his abs until your wrist stopped at the top of his sweats. It was then you noticed how low they hung on his hips. You looked back up to see him lean in closer, his eyes dark with lust and desire. His other hand cupped your cheek and he used his thumb to drag your bottom lip down slowly. 

“Can I have you for tonight, kitten?”

You were not about to pass up on the opportunity to ride that dick into the sunset. With a small ‘yes’ leaving your mouth, he kissed you passionately before grabbing your waist and carrying you to your shared bedroom.

[izzyspussy]

i did... think there was more sex. didn't. wasn't somebody supposed to fuck a wound. is there an uncut version or something. i know it's not just in the book, i read something about it when i was looking into maturity ratings.