#unprofessional attraction

[jk97]

Unprofessional Attraction | THREE

♡ pairing - yunho x afab!reader ♡ word count - 23.6K ♡ warnings for this chapter - fluff, ANGST, and explicit content (mdni), teacher/student relationship, some other members are featured, drinking alcohol, bigdick!yunho, pet names (angel, pretty, sweetheart, etc.), possessive/obsessive/toxic behavior, cunnilingus, hickeys, fingering, praise, unprotected sex, creampie(s), jealousy, blackmail ♡ A/N - I’m soooo sorry this took me forever to write (it’s so many words ahhh 🫠) but hopefully this is worth the wait. The next part will be the finale of this series. This also isn't beta read so I apologize for mistakes ahhh. I love ya’ll, thank you for your patience friends, STREAM GOLDEN HOUR ♡

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

“You could at least try a little harder to pretend you want to be here with me, ____.”

Wooyoung’s antsy fingers pinch at the straw of his drink while he watches you thumb away at your phone. Going back and forth with your friends in the group chat about Jongho’s upcoming recital is the only thing calming your nerves this afternoon. When you had agreed to his ruse, you didn’t realize you were signing up for public humiliation. Those two words might be a bit dramatic, but sitting together in the dead center of the campus food court has you immensely anxious either way. This is entirely way too public…

You don’t mean to offend him with your embarrassment. It’s not like Wooyoung isn’t handsome; in fact, that might make things worse. It helps draw in too much unnecessary attention from other women, and it feels as though there might as well be a spotlight circling your table. Luckily, Yunho has a lecture through the next hour today, so you’re not too concerned on that front. Regardless, your first fake date with him is starting to be nothing short of awkward. 

“You can’t even look me in the eyes?” He inquires further.

“I’m sorry,” you find it within yourself to apologize, placing your phone face down on the table and sliding it away. To offset your anxiety, you put new effort into inspecting your food and preparing to finally eat it. Anything to just keep busy. “This is just a little out of my comfort zone.”

“Pretend I’m Mr. Jeong if that makes it easier,” he suggests, but his tone hangs on the edge of condescension. It’s not all that intentional, but he’s poking the bear. “I have access to the grade book all the same, you know.”

With narrowed eyes, you try to let his wisecrack roll off your shoulder, “That’s not a very funny joke.”

Continuing to avoid his eyes, Wooyoung watches you put all your attention into eating the meal he’s bought you so that you both can pretend to be on this lunch date. He was gracious enough to offer to pay for any meals you share moving forward, as long as it would make things easier on you while being a part of his plan. That’s what a real boyfriend would do anyway, right? Though, right now you’re not treating him like a boyfriend— you’re treating him like some kind of dirtbag with an open wallet. He can feel his own appetite slipping away slowly but surely.

“What are you both anyway, fuck buddies?” He asks a little too bluntly.

It might be a bit muffled, as your mouth is stuffed with food, but you still manage to retort, “That’s none of your business, actually.”

His increasing annoyance is evident by the deep exhale he tries (and fails) to suppress. Wooyoung doesn’t want things to be so tense, but you’re not exactly making it easy. He supposes you might gain some sympathy for him if he explains his troubles. You seem like a genuine person despite any contempt you might hold for him right now, so he figures you’ll be understanding. He needs to make conversation in some kind of way, anyway.

“How about I tell you a bit about my situation then?” He finally offers. You hum to let him know you’re listening, so he continues, “She and I were together for the last three years, but then she broke up with me a few months ago. And over something so stupid, really.”

“Go on,” you encourage, swallowing the bulk of food in your throat.

“Well, I need a master's degree to get the specific job I want… After telling her, one of her friends got in her ear about how me staying in school might hold her back after we graduate next year.” Wooyoung tries to sound indifferent to her friend’s heavy influence on her decisions, but the look behind his eyes, as he glances around to see if she’s in the area, says otherwise. It’s full of bitterness and hurt. “She wants to travel for a year before getting a job, and they told her I’d stress her out too much with a long-distance relationship. She took that to heart, for whatever reason.”

Would it be a lie if you said you didn’t support a tiny bit of actual pity towards Wooyoung? Probably. Knowing what you know now, you ponder more about the tight situation between you. He’s an intelligent guy, and you’re sure he knows exactly what Yunho is to you with the way you get touchy about his name even being mentioned. That’s why he’s using someone else’s happiness to retrieve his own once more. While that’s not exactly just, you’re aware that love makes people do crazy things. Moreover, you know you in particular can’t judge anyone after doing what you’ve done to achieve Yunho’s attention.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” is all you can reply, but it’s genuine.

Before you can process what’s happening, Wooyoung suddenly reaches across the table and links his fingers with your free hand in an act of endearment. Your cheeks prickle with heat, not from being charmed, but from more humiliation. This is embarrassing, suddenly having to do public displays of affection with someone you don’t even like in front of whoever is looking hard enough to notice.

“Don’t turn around, she’s here with a friend,” he mumbles, and then an affectionate smile tugs at his lips. It looks fairly genuine… He is much too good at looking charming on the drop of a dime. “Do you think it’d be too corny if we wore some matching outfits a couple times?”

You hesitate for the briefest second before squeezing his hand with false affection and leaning forward on your elbows to seem more interested.

Nobody is close enough to hear you reply, “Are you trying to win her back or get her to block you? Because I honestly can’t tell.”

“It’s just a little joke. Laugh a little, I beg,” Wooyoung pouts. 

He leads your connected hand to fondle his cheek, trying to inconspicuously guide you through the motions. If Wooyoung didn’t know any better, he would assume you’ve never been on a date in your life. His hopes were much higher than this, as you’re much too pretty to be this stiff when it comes to showing affection. It almost has him second-guessing whether he’s right about you and Yunho being involved more than just sexually. Much to his surprise, your hand finally relaxes against his face, and he revels in the way you even stroke his skin with your thumb. The timing couldn’t be more ideal, truly. He can sense the attention of his intended audience, and the corners of his mouth curl into a subtle smirk of approval. 

“That’s perfect. Keep going.” 

“Don’t push it, please.”

For the rest of that week, Wooyoung insisted on repeating these kinds of daily rendezvous. This request also accompanied another for walking each other to class when applicable. He knew he couldn’t always time it right for when she’d be present, but he had his workarounds. He was fairly knowledgeable about a few of her friends’ class schedules, and he made it a point to walk with you on paths that would often intersect with those who he knew would inform her of his behavior instead. Occasionally, he would ask you to show up to school a little more fetching than usual, with prettier clothes and makeup. Wooyoung also made a point of concealing her identity from you, for reasons unbeknownst to you. He failed to tell you any more details about her after your first date, and that included basics as simple as her name. Several possibilities were considered when you finally identified this as a problem. The rational explanation would be that he doesn’t want you approaching her on your own time and taking things into your own hands. A particular irrational explanation starts infiltrating your thoughts with the more days that pass by bearing no evidence of progress:

“I’m starting to believe this ex of yours doesn’t exist.”

Your snide remark about his secrecy started as a joke. 

“I have nothing to gain from lying to you.”

His terse reply didn’t necessarily extinguish the conspiracy behind your jest. After consistently being told not to look in certain directions for nearly two weeks, and no updates on her position, it became harder to believe his words. Despite everything, you do as you’re told and pray that his ex breaks through sooner rather than later.

I’m sorry.

It seems as though those two words haven’t stopped coming out of your mouth ever since you stepped foot in Yunho’s home this evening. 

It begins with apologizing profusely for asking to come over on such short notice. Your complex’s Wi-Fi went out due to the wintery mix storm slamming the town tonight. Wooyoung’s been trying to lay it on thick the last few days and make your presence more than known to his ex, anywhere and every way that he can. Consequently, with a lot of your free time being taken away by him, you found little time to put towards important assignments due at the end of this week. The lack of Wi-Fi is the absolute last thing you need to happen right now. 

Yunho doesn’t care about your abrupt presence at his door or even the way you track slush past his doorstep. He's more concerned about how you drove in the middle of a huge storm so late into the evening with no care for your safety. Over and over, you find new things to apologize for that make no sense to him. Another set of frazzled apologies comes from your mouth for keeping him up late after an hour or two passes. Yunho can’t help but genuinely laugh at this one.

“You do realize what day it is, right?” He inquires. The clueless look on your face makes him sit up, “It’s Saturday, ____. The day you typically come over and spend the night. I actually texted you about it earlier today, I didn’t know if you still wanted to or not since you were so busy last Saturday.”

This epiphany makes you immensely bashful and draws many more apologies out of you for your poor memory and lack of communication. How could I have lost time so badly that I forgot to reply to him about something we do so routinely? Under your stressful circumstances lately, your days are running together, and there’s just too much on your plate to appease everyone. Yunho visibly sees the shame blanket you from head to toe, and he hopes he didn’t come across as if he was upset with your behavior. In fact, he’s more concerned than anything.

Your lover can hear you type much faster after this brief exchange and he scoffs. Surely you don’t believe he’d willingly let you make haste of your work so you can disappear for another week or two… he groans internally when he realizes that’s exactly what you’re doing. He doesn’t understand why you’re so self-conscious and sheepish tonight, but he’s not going to press it. Instead, he rises from his spot on his couch and creeps over to where you’re seated at his table. His hands find the slopes of your shoulders and thumbs rub comforting circles into your muscles.

“You know you’re not going home tonight, right?” He questions after a moment of being nosey and peeking at your screen.

“And why not?”

The abrupt feeling of Yunho’s large palm skating up the skin of your throat before pushing your chin up to meet his gaze above you makes a chill run up your spine. His eyes are warm and concerned, yet stern.

“Because I said so,” he says point-blank.

Whether it be because of the terrible storm still slapping at his windows, or maybe even the fact that he hasn’t seen you outside of a classroom in quite some time, he knows this succinct answer suffices just as well those do. The subsequent pout on your lips to him is seen simply as an invitation to kiss them, and he does just that. You don’t even try to argue any further. It may not be your best work this semester, but it’s not too much longer after that when you finally submit everything due before its midnight deadline.

After briefly disappearing to his room to rummage through his dresser and change into something more comfortable, you eventually join him on the couch. Tonight’s position of choice has your head using his thighs as a pillow, cheek squished against his soft sweatpants as he spends endless minutes massaging the tense muscles of your back and shoulders with his fingers. He smells so good… that lavender and musk mix has you closing your eyes every handful of seconds just to breathe him in. Even if he can’t see your face, it’s obvious that you’re not paying attention to the movie he has on the TV, so he suggests that maybe you both should move to the bedroom so you can be more comfortable. You assure him that you’re more than comfortable right where you’re at, and that’s the truth.

Despite laying so peacefully with him, in what should be a moment of sedating intimacy, your mind is still reeling with things that need to be accomplished in the next few weeks. Every time you mentally check off something on your list, there are several more things added after, such as your three final exams, Yunho’s final paper, returning your textbook rentals, finally figuring out your ceremony dress, picking up your guests’ ceremony tickets–

“Are you going to attend my ceremony?” 

Yunho hears you mumble this randomly after a while of sitting in comfortable silence. You’re sure he doesn’t need a ticket as a teacher, but the thought of having to get them brings you back to earth and reminds you of his presence.

“That was the plan,” he confirms, but hesitantly adds, “Unless you don’t want me there. I don’t want to make things awkward.”

The way you’re acting lately has him questioning things like this, now that he thinks about it. You immediately dispel his apprehension with a displeased grunt.

“No, I… really need you there.”

Yunho’s hand falters slightly in its kneading. He’s grateful that you’re unable to see his face with how you’re lying because the apples of his cheeks are taut from the overjoyed smile threatening to break through his lips. It’s one thing to be admired or adored by someone, but it’s another thing to be needed. He doesn’t hear that word often, if at all, but hearing it come from your mouth makes it even more monumental to him. That’s something he could get used to. Yunho hums in understanding, wordlessly confirming that he’ll be present. Following along the topic of graduation, he decides to ask something present on his mind recently.

“Have you thought about what you want to do after graduation?” 

“Career-wise or celebration-wise?”

“Whichever… or both.”

You close your eyes to think. Nothing immediately comes to mind in terms of celebrating, but you’re sure your friends will be holding parties to attend. Putting that aside, you turn over and decide to open up a bit about your impending employment.

“I had a great internship last semester that I put my all into,” you divulge, “They wanted to bring me on full-time, so I asked if they could hold the position and wait for me to finish my degree this semester. Lucky me, they agreed.”

“Already set up for success right after you leave that stage… You’re amazing,” Yunho marvels. “I suppose I’m just as lucky too, huh? I get to watch you shine, front row.”

There’s a brief moment where you peer up and match his fond smile that’s already beaming right back down at you. When you reach up to caress his cheek, Yunho leans into your touch as if it’s second nature. The further you both dive into this relationship, it feels as though maybe you’ve finally found an additional frontline cheerleader.

“Mhm, something like that,” you tease. When he turns to kiss your palm in his form of congratulations, you sigh. Your hands have been tainted by someone else’s touch, and here he is blindly showing them genuine affection. Before you can help it, another apology comes out, “I’m sorry I’ve been so busy lately, Yu.”

“Why do you keep apologizing tonight for things you can’t control?” The gentle, unsuspecting laugh he lets out makes the guilt sitting in your chest about Wooyoung just a little bit heavier. “It’s finals season, I know how it goes.”

When your hand returns to your chest, your gaze falls just the same. He’s right, albeit unknowingly. With those words, you can finally accept that you have no control over your current situation at all. No matter how hard you try to convince yourself that you’re guiding this blackmail ship forward, you’re just not. In any case, you still feel like you’re doing what’s best for Yunho's future. Tonight’s tornado of apologies have all been unconscious overcompensation. As much as you feel like you need to, you know you shouldn’t have to apologize for your shortcomings when they result from such unmanageable circumstances. You’re doing your best, even if your best isn’t enough just yet. 

Yunho can’t figure out what it is about tonight, but you seem like your head is a bit more in the clouds than usual. You’re here with him physically, but he can tell you’re somewhere else mentally. However, he acknowledges that he could be reading into things too much since it’s been a while since you both have spent time privately.

“Hey, stargazer, everything okay?” he finally asks in a soft voice, gently tugging on your cheek to bring you back to the present.

“Sorry—yeah, everything’s alright,” you reassure him. There’s something behind those soft eyes you’re giving him that makes him question your answer, but he keeps those concerns to himself and simply nods. “Thank you for being so understanding. I’ll make it up to you when this is all over with, I promise.”

You’re no longer talking about school with those words. He’ll probably never truly understand how much weight that sentence holds, but that’s okay. For the rest of your time with him tonight, you pretend that none of your problems exist outside his home. He deserves your unwavering attention tonight, at the very least. 

On the first day of the following week, Wooyoung requests your presence in front of some familiar dormitories. It’s been quite some time now since you’ve been on this side of campus, considering you moved into your current apartment around the end of your junior year. The nostalgic feeling you get when meandering your way to your meeting place doesn’t do much to alleviate the anxiety you regularly get every time Wooyoung brings you somewhere so populated.

“What are we doing here again?”

“I heard she’s swinging by here today to drop something off for a mutual friend,” he explains while his eyes still scope the area for her presence, as usual. 

You busy yourself with playing on your phone, keeping your head down and yourself hidden for as long as you can manage. This place, while technically not as densely populated as the dining space you frequent, has too many opportunities for lurking gazes. This particular set of dormitories sits on the side of campus that encompasses a good amount of academic halls and the largest campus library. There are plenty of teachers and students walking to classes or accessing the library, and even more lingering outside within the surrounding courtyard despite the frigid weather. Wooyoung had insisted on holding you by your waist for the time being as well, citing something about how “normal couples warm each other up”. You just want this to be over with as quickly as possible before too many people can see you both standing so close together. 

“Hey, ____,” Wooyoung hums after a while, catching your attention quickly.

“Hm?”

Before you can even fully look up from your phone, Wooyoung’s head dips down and seeks out your lips. Shock is an understatement; the feeling of your heart seizing in unison with your limbs makes you feel like you might as well be flatlining. This cannot be—

“Relax,” he whispers before deepening this kiss, interrupting your thought as his tongue enters your mouth. 

Reluctantly, you do as he says and try your best to relax while kissing him back. Over and over, you remind yourself this is supposed to be putting on a show in front of his ex. You try to allow yourself to fully slip into the role you have been forced to play. Your hands find purchase on his jacket, albeit uneasily. For someone who’s making your life so much more difficult, you can’t deny he’s at least a decent kisser. This moment feels like it lasts entirely too long, but eventually, Wooyoung pulls away and you watch his eyes dart around somewhere behind you. 

“She’s gone now,” he sighs, “Pretty sure she saw that though. Nice job.”

“Don’t ever do that without warning me beforehand again,” you scold him in a voice low enough for his ears to hear only. Wooyoung rolls his eyes, though he follows up with an apology. Even though it seems genuine, it does nothing to quell the immediate guilt that washes over you the moment you go to swipe saliva off of your lips with your thumb. The nauseous feeling stirring in your stomach over simply kissing someone else other than Yunho begins to build up and feel unbearable, “Can I go now? I’m supposed to meet with a teacher during their office hours soon.”

Despite the tremor of uneasiness in your voice, Wooyoung believes your lie without question. That uneasiness doesn’t depart your system for the remainder of the day even after removing his presence, and you decide to call it quits early instead of attending your final class. This feeling of guilt, almost as if you cheated while in a relationship, has you more saddened than frustrated tonight. To make things easier to deal with, you repeat the same phrase about you and Yunho in your head over and over.

It’s okay, we’re not together yet.

While you cook yourself dinner–

It’s okay, we’re not together yet.

While working on your final paper–

It’s okay, we’re not together yet.

Yunho’s failure to text you back that evening before going to bed makes that fact easier to swallow. It’s the truth, so it shouldn’t be so hard to digest, right?

Yeosang does not expect much when he asks you out of the blue the next day to come and spend time with him after school. His roommate is gone for the week to visit family and he’s all by his lonesome. For the majority of the month, he’s become used to you declining in favor of completing overdue work. He’s not used to you being so behind on your work, and it doesn’t quite make sense to him when other times you say you’re even busier throughout the day. You look a bit more drained than usual when he Facetimes you that afternoon to suggest it, but he figures he wouldn’t be that upset to hear another no if you need the rest. 

The answer was yes, for the first time in a while. 

As luck would have it, the imaginary shackles on you had been released for the day, and having time to yourself for an entire weekday almost felt strange. Your personified migraine had texted you early in the morning informing you he’d be out of town for the day to attend some seminar that you didn’t care enough to remember the details of. Yeosang doesn’t do a good enough job concealing his shock the moment confirmation comes from your mouth, and you feign offense.

“I'm being punked, right?”

You scoff, “I don’t like the way you’re acting like this is bizarre, loser.”

You both know that’s a fairly accurate word considering your disappearances these last couple of weeks. His broad smile at your usual banter makes you feel cherished and missed, and it’s comforting for him to know you still have such a sense of humor even through your fatigue. He’s secretly been concerned for your well-being, but he didn’t want to seem meddlesome. Eventually, you go from two faces on a screen to you perched at his kitchen table. Yeosang insisted he cook you a nice homecooked meal when you mentioned to him in passing how much you miss eating his food. His back might be turned away, but he’s still actively engaging in discussion with you over the controversial love triangle taking place on the dating reality show he has you catching up on with him tonight. Toward the end of an episode, it takes you a few minutes of rambling to realize your best friend has grown silent while he cooks. Behind your back, he’s busy ruminating over thoughts of love triangles when he decides to finally uncork the bottle he’s been keeping closed in an attempt to have a peaceful evening.

“Can I ask you a question?” Yeosang calls out suddenly over the sound of oil popping in his pan.

Your eyes stay glued to the television, but you hum in consent, “What’s up?”

“Is it true that you’re dating Wooyoung?”

Wooyoung.

His name is a burden to you these days; the syllables of it only bring you discomfort. Hearing it mentioned on a day when you almost felt like you could get away from him draws a long beat of silence from you, though Yeosang doesn’t turn around to confront such silence. He allows you the time to answer however you’d like to if you would even provide one. Even though he was somewhat putting you on the spot with such a question, Yeosang is still your best friend at the end of the day. He’s not the kind of person to pressure you or give you a hard time about your private business, despite the times he rags on you in jest. 

The truthful answer is right on the tip of your tongue, begging to be shouted, but you don’t have the strength to say such a thing yet. Instead, you inquire, “Who did you hear that from?” 

You don’t mean to, but you sound a bit miffed when asking. Until this point, you had hoped your fake relationship with Wooyoung wasn’t too obvious to those who don’t pay close enough attention, but the feeling of failure is now pooling in the depths of your stomach. You should’ve known better. 

“When someone begins getting close to the TA who’s in charge of their grades, I guess it’s understandable that there would be some rumors… Some people in our class are saying you’re together now,” Yeosang explains, voice as calm as ever while he continues to push around the meat in the pan. “I overheard those speculations and I didn’t really believe any of it at all. Unlike them, I know you’re already seeing Mr. Jeong.”

Yeosang pauses to allow you a chance to say any words you wish to insert if anything. Being amongst speculations of wooing someone to raise your grades is the least of your worries, and you honestly couldn’t care less if people believed such silly things in the last semester of your college career. At this moment, you are much more concerned about Yunho catching light of such rumors, or really anything regarding you and Wooyoung in the same sentence reaching his ears. It didn’t seem that way when you were both in each other’s presence a few days ago talking about your future, and you’re sure that he would’ve confronted you about such things if he could. Still…

“I’m not dating Wooyoung, nor would I even think of doing that for my grades. You know me, Yeo.”

You’re sure Yeosang can feel your eyes gazing over at him now, boring anxious holes through his back. You know he can hear the uneasiness plaguing you, making your words waver.

“I understand, I do. It’s just…” Yeosang pauses once more to find the right words that don’t sound so accusatory, “Hongjoong told me he saw you both on each other on his way to class the other day. I figured I’d simply ask you about that before I come to any conclusions, that’s all.”

Several beats of silence pass before you feel like you’ve finally drowned deep in this ocean of stress you’ve been trying to keep afloat in.

“Yeosang, I’m in over my head and I can’t handle this anymore.”

Yeosang finally ceases his stirring and peers over at you the moment the last syllable leaves your lips. This is the first time you’ve both met each other’s eyes since he began cooking and his gaze is undeniably the most concerned you’ve seen him give you in years. He can’t help it when he can so clearly hear the hurt in your voice. He knows you’re a bit more reserved these days when talking about your relationship with your teacher, and he understands that it could be out of respect for his privacy. This moment doesn’t seem like a situation where that’s applicable anymore.

Navigating this situation all by yourself is draining. 

These last months in college are supposed to be nerve-wracking in an exciting way, finishing finals and prepping yourself to walk across the stage for your diploma. You’re supposed to be anxious about what to wear and how to do your makeup for your ceremony, about how you should smile when the ceremony’s photographer tells you where to look as you grab that fake symbolic roll of paper. Instead, you’ve been running yourself dry trying to appease a man who’s threatening to ruin one of the best things to happen to you thus far in life. You just want to be happy. Yeosang was right in warning you about playing with fire when pursuing Yunho, but it all still hurts so fucking badly.

“I want to help you ____, but you have to be honest with me,” he stresses, “I’m concerned about you. Tell me what’s wrong, please.”

You’re uncomfortably silent for a moment, eyes glued to his while contemplating his words. At last, you decide to broach the subject of all your mental stress. If you trusted anyone to help you navigate this situation, it was going to be him. This was no longer something you could handle on your own. 

“I’m being blackmailed by Wooyoung.”

The words don’t even sound real coming out of your mouth when you finally betray the promise of silence you made to Wooyoung.

Yeosang’s brows draw together even closer in concern, “What?”

“Wooyoung found out that Yunho and I are together,” you confess further, words running out as quickly as you can think to say them, “And now he’s forcing me to date him to make his ex jealous. He wouldn’t stay quiet otherwise, and it’s all my fault, Yeosang. It’s all my fault.”

Your best friend pushes his pan away from the eye of the stove and makes haste over to where you’re sitting. He knows you better than you know yourself sometimes, already sensing you crumbling before you can realize that you’re finally breaking down. All of the pent-up stress over the last couple of weeks was finally taking its toll. 

“I thought it would be over quickly, but it doesn’t seem like we’re making any progress,” you sputter, putting your head in your hands and pressing your palms to your eyes. The last thing you want to do is cry over a man who doesn’t deserve your tears. “He won’t even tell me who she is. I can’t handle this anymore, I just can’t.”

Yeosang’s arms wrap around you to ground you before you can allow yourself to descend further into your breakdown. Very few times has he seen your foundation be shaken so badly by something. You’re one of the strongest people he knows, and it takes a lot to disintegrate the fortitude you hold. He knows he can help you build it back later, he’s your best friend for a reason. For right now, though, he’ll let you get everything out that you’ve been holding in and dealing with by yourself. He knows you probably had your reasons to keep such things inside and away from him.

“He kissed me yesterday and I felt so guilty for the rest of the day, like I betrayed Yunho,” you tell him, and before you realize it tears are finally brimming in your eyes.

“Be kind to yourself, ____,” Yeosang hums while he holds your face in his hands. “You didn’t do that because you wanted to, it’s okay. You don’t have to deal with this alone anymore, okay?”

Hearing those words for the first time since this all began allows a veil of peace to cover you and you nod, finally accepting your need for help. Yeosang promises you that he will do whatever he can to find out who Wooyoung has his sights set so heavy on without interfering enough to throw things out of kilter. His help could be the only chance you had at getting this charade to end faster, even if it meant riskily trying to nudge things along behind Wooyoung’s back. You were no longer satisfied with being patient, and you now realize you don’t have to settle for that anymore.

While you might’ve gained some peace that night, around 2 AM that morning, there is no peace to be found in the home of your lover.

Yunho’s been staring at his ceiling for the last hour, unable to sleep even though he knows he needs to be up in a handful of hours for work. He had tried to push this situation plaguing his thoughts out of his mind all day yesterday, but his brain does its worst on nights when he’s left to his own devices and his thoughts spiral. At least tonight it’s not for self-sabotaging reasons like he’s prone to. 

He allows himself to close his eyes and relive the moment when he saw you and his assistant kissing on his way to a multi-department meeting at the library. The moment he recalls the way your hands were clutching Wooyoung’s chest, he grimaces with unadulterated resentment. For the entirety of yesterday, he felt numb. He went through the day simply going through the motions, lacking any of his usual charisma and cordiality amongst most people he crossed paths with throughout the day. He was able to put on a mask for his students at the very least. How is one supposed to act when they see their girlfriend kissing another man? That’s when he has to remind himself:

She’s not my girlfriend.

At least, he doesn’t know if you are or not, since you haven’t said it out of your mouth yet. This is exactly the kind of bothersome bullshit he was so worried about weeks ago when he realized the severity of his feelings for you. He should’ve had the conversation with you earlier to see where your head was at, but he put it off for so long under the excuse of being afraid of scaring you off. He wonders if maybe you think he’s not serious about you enough since he’s never brought it up first. And sure, he knows you both aren’t technically together right now, but you could’ve at least let him know that you’re seeing more people than him, right? It hurts a little more that it’s also his assistant of all people.

He turns onto his side in a huff and buries himself deeper under his blanket. Yunho wishes he hadn’t fallen for you so hard. It’s hard enough to deal with his feelings as things are now, especially with the circumstances, but the introduction of competition might just drive him insane. She’s a grown woman and she’s allowed to do whatever she wants, he reminds himself reluctantly while closing his eyes once more, but again—a heads-up would’ve been nice. He doesn’t even know how to approach this situation moving forward. How is he supposed to look you in the eyes today during class?

The answer is that he doesn’t. 

If he can help it, he actively avoids those engaged eyes of yours while he goes on for an hour about pragmatics. He doesn’t even look over at your side of the room. It’s not until the mid-class break that he takes multiple swift glances over at you chatting with Yeosang about something that’s got you enthusiastic. That smile on your face while excitement physically pours out of you makes his eyes soften. He wonders if you’re discussing graduation, as it is coming up in some weeks now. Then, he remembers that he wanted to take you away or do something relaxing to celebrate since you seemed to not have existing plans. Would that sway you back over to his side, if he planned something nice and spoiled the surprise early? Before he can even finish that train of thought, he finds himself finally meeting your eyes while you briefly let yours wander around in the middle of a sentence. The sneaky flirtatious wink you send his way makes him clear his throat bashfully and adjust his tie.

Yunho spends the remainder of class discussing the final paper and offering to read any final drafts that people would like feedback on, as long as they’re submitted by a specific date. He knows he’s probably shooting himself in the foot by putting that kind of work on his plate so close to the deadline, but he genuinely wants people to do well on his final and he knows there are quite a few seniors in this particular class section. The least he can do is make sure those of you end your college careers with a satisfactory grade to finish off your transcripts. He did very well with his midterm evaluations as well, so he wants to do the same for his finals. 

When class ends, Yunho finally takes notice of how Wooyoung has been leaving as early as everyone else lately. He could’ve sworn Wooyoung used to stick around to ask him questions, and often times he even departed after Yunho had already departed. He also notices that you are nowhere to be found now even though Yeosang is still present, seemingly already having fled the room for one reason or another. He doesn’t want to think about if he’s been so oblivious to these kinds of things up until this point, but the thought of you and Wooyoung rushing to meet up after his classes sticks with him for the rest of the day.

Yunho can admit he’s a bit toxic sometimes. 

It happens in moments of weakness where he lets his selfishness outweigh anything else. He reasons to himself that this isn’t one of those situations as he stands in front of your apartment door late into the evening of that same day. He had called you and asked if he could come see you at your place, which rarely happens. While it caught you by surprise, and you were in the midst of work, you were still as welcoming as ever. He knows you’d never say no. He’d never admit it aloud, but he’s not solely here just to see you—he’s here to be a bit nosy. 

It’s freezing outside, so when you finally open the door he’s scrambling to get inside.

“That was fast,” you marvel. 

When you wrap your arms around him and pull him into a hug, your shivers and giggles are like white noise in his ears as his eyes sweep the room. He doesn’t notice anything out of place, nothing that would make it seem like anybody other than you had been present here anytime soon anyway. His cold hands slide up the slope of your back to cup the sides of your face, and he offers you a sweet closed-mouth smile before briefly pressing his lips to yours in greeting.

“Yeah, traffic was pretty non-existent,” he hums.

“I made soup since it’s so frosty,” you glance towards the kitchen as your hands go to unzip his jacket for him, “Are you hungry?”

“If you’re cooking, always.”

Tonight, Yunho takes things slow. 

From graciously eating your cooking to cuddling on your couch, he builds up the intimacy minute by minute. It’s something he’s been craving from you lately, that feeling of intimacy and domestication. He’s more than willing to indulge you when grow aroused by something as innocent as him mindlessly drawing shapes on your thighs with his fingers, slowly shifting them inside your pajama shorts when you whisper, “I want you to touch me.”

“I’m already touching you, baby.”

You push his hand just a smidge lower, whining, “You know what I mean.”

When things finally move to the bedroom, Yunho fucks you nice and slow, and it feels much more intimate than any of your previous times together. Slow, steady rolls of his hips into yours like he’s intent on showing you every ounce of love he holds for you in his body if he’s unable to say it outright himself. Nothing inherently strikes you as odd about the way his demeanor is different tonight. In fact, this kind of pure intimacy is something you’d been curious to experience from him. It almost makes you feel like you’re officially together. Sure, sex is naturally intimate, but this? This feels different. 

His hands go from holding yours beside your head so affectionately to passionately gripping and kneading the plush skin of your sides and thighs like they’re fresh dough. It’s like he’s trying to solidify that this is reality, that you’re truly here in his hands and not someone else's. Grip strong enough to dig deep into the tissue and make you moan, but gentle enough not to leave bruising marks. Truth be told, he’d rather leave marks of where he’s been in less covert places. That’s why his mouth subconsciously finds its way to your neck before you feel the gentle drag of his teeth on your skin. It’s too quick to even be considered a warning.

“Yu, wait–”

You begin to tell him he can’t leave hickeys in such open places, but Yunho quiets you by sucking your skin anyway. The first one is on the tender skin just under your jaw, right where he can feel the pulse of how fast your heart is beating with his tongue. The desperate whine you let out when he finally lets up with a quiet pop! of his lips off your skin encourages him to put another on the column of your throat. You’ll probably throw a fit later when you see how bad these are and complain about the trouble of covering them up, but he really couldn’t care less. 

When he finishes off the second hickey, he kisses his way up to your lips so sweetly as if he didn’t do something so obviously possessive. As if he didnt do something so mischievous which’ll draw questions from your friends and get you flustered trying to explain. These marks are warnings as much as they are bites of love. You throw your arms around his neck and arch your back, itching for more than what he’s offering. It doesn’t matter that it still feels euphoric, those long drags of his cock against your walls just to fill you up again—it’s too slow. The breathy laugh he lets out against your lips draws a pout from your own. 

“What’s wrong pretty girl, don’t I make you feel good?” Yunho asks in a whisper, deep chocolate eyes holding your gaze while he continues to roll his hips at his leisure. He doesn’t like that he needs a bit of reassurance right now, but he wants to hear it so badly. When you nod with fervor, it’s just not good enough for him, “Tell me, angel. Tell me how good I make you feel.”

“You’re everything I crave, Yu,” you oblige him breathlessly, hands scratching at the sensitive nape of his neck while you arch again. For the first time this evening, Yunho’s hips falter in their steady rhythm. He’s quite caught off guard by your choice of words; it’s as if you know exactly what he needs to hear more than he does himself. “Nobody could ever make me feel like you do.”

“Yeah? This pretty pussy needs me, huh?”

There’s that word that he now loves so much: need.

“More than you know,” you gasp when he pushes his hips into yours as deep as he can manage, obscenities bubbling from within your chest.

Even though you both have had sex many times since this all began, this part still feels fresh. The way he manages to reach new depths inside of you and stretch you out to his heart’s content feels fresh every single time. Yunho’s thrusts begin picking up some speed finally and whines claw at his throat.

“My sweet, needy baby… You’re the only one who gets this, ____,” he admits, voice trembly while he drags his lips against the sensitive skin of your jaw, kissing his previous artwork, “It’s all yours, okay?”

In a perfect world, he’d love to hear you say the same back to him, but he’s snapping his hips too roughly now to allow for words. The way you begin begging for him to give you more of himself makes up for it. Bitten-off moans tumble from your lips as the coil in your stomach grows tighter and tighter, and it makes his cock throb and ache for release. The way you’re chanting his name has his eyes fluttering up in bliss. There’s no doubt in his mind that you want him, mentally and carnally, but the real question is if he’s not enough to satisfy that want. Yunho doesn’t have time to let his mind wander off into that kind of insecure territory. His brain becomes fuzzy as he becomes eager to feel you cum stuffed full of his cock, and then see his own paint your sweaty skin. Those familiar heavy pants he lets out against your lips make you simper.

“Getting close?”

“So close,” he nods, hissing when he feels you clench at his answer, “H-hah, oh fuck.”

“Wanna cum inside?” You offer this so shyly against his lips that he nearly doesn’t hear you talking altogether. When he offers you an absentminded ‘huh’ in response, you giggle and move to speak directly in his ear, “Want you to cum inside.”

Something behind Yunho’s eyes changes when you pull back—those blown-out pupils of his with little hearts swimming in them zero in on yours with a look you can’t quite put your tongue on. You cross your ankles behind his back to emphasize your words, to show him you’re serious.

“Really want me to fill you up, pretty?” he rasps. When you bite your bottom lip and nod, he offers you a lopsided grin, “Use those fingers and catch up, then.”

You don’t need to be told twice, one hand moving from being around his neck down to your clit to rub quick circles that’ll push you over the edge together. He’s never cum in you ever since you both started having sex, but he’s feeling overwhelmingly possessive today and it might just subside if he sees his cum leaking from your cunt onto your sheets. It’s now the only thought screaming at him in that fucked-out head of his. Your mouths connecting in a messy, sensuous kiss is the final push he needs.

Yunho’s fingers wind deep into your sheets with as much strength as he can muster while he buries himself inside you, pelvis to pelvis, pushing you deeper into your mattress. The throb of his cock and the broken moan he lets out while he finally cums trigger your own orgasm. The moment you lock your legs around him to keep him in place, your walls flutter and squeeze his cock to help milk him dry. He makes a note somewhere in the lusty haze of his mind that he just has to get you both to cum at the same time like this again at another point in time because the way you’re practically squeezing every last drop from him while you fall apart is nearly making him whimper repentance for how sinful it feels. When your legs let up on their grip, he gives you a few shallow thrusts before finally pulling out. Focusing on catching your breath is hard when he’s gazing so heavily at the mess he’s made of you. 

“Don’t stare...” Yunho doesn’t even realize he’s been fascinated with watching the way his seed spills from your heat until you poorly block it with a self-conscious hand. Only then does he finally look up and find you flustered, the pout on your face growing more prominent by the second, “It’s embarrassing...”

“God, you’re so fine,” he coos. The jolt your body produces when he takes his fingers and pushes what’s been wasted back into your sensitive hole makes him laugh. “Even prettier like this too. Let’s get you cleaned up, pretty baby.”

Yunho hadn’t originally planned on sleeping over—it is a weekday after all, and he has work tomorrow morning. After showering, though, his willpower is tested. He loses nearly all his self-discipline to leave like a responsible man when you use this irresistible voice the moment he steps foot back into the room, humming honeyed words while holding his briefs behind your back to keep him from getting dressed.

“Can’t you just wake up early to swing by your house and get ready?” You eventually pout up at him when he looks as if he might change his mind. With the way your gaze is focused on his attentive eyes, you can’t see the way his cock is already twitching back to life again at your pleading eyes, the same ones you use on your knees between his thighs. He’s so thankful for that. “This is why I said you should leave some outfits over here just in case.”

“I know, I know. I should listen to you more. Can I please have my underwear back now?”

“Are you gonna stay? Please?”

He chuckles before finally conceding, “I can’t say no when you ask me so nicely, can I?” 

You nearly fall apart at the way he pulls your face up by your cheeks with firm fingers before planting a kiss of surrender on your lips. Yunho doesn’t even remember why he’s over your house anymore, now only focused on getting his underwear back from your hands before you can see him getting hard all over again. He has enough sense to know that a second round will surely be much longer than the previous one, and you both need to sleep soon if he wants to wake up early enough. Lucky for him, you’re much too tired from a full day to stay up too much longer anyway.

It’s 8 AM when Yunho’s phone starts chiming with an annoying tone he set specifically to force his awakening. That grating sound is also your punishment for persuading him to spend the night. He’s slow to turn it off specifically for that reason, and a lazy smile stretches across his face when he hears you groan. Success.

“You’re so annoying,” you murmur. You instinctively search for your phone on your nightstand to glance at how early your lover has you suffering, then slowly slide yourself out of bed to go blindly search for a bottle of water. 

Yunho screws his eyes shut and open a few times to regain his vision before flipping over and patiently awaiting your arrival. He gave himself a fairly decent buffer on the off chance you decide to stay awake and eat breakfast with him. At least, that was the plan until something happened that immediately changed his brain chemistry. Yunho’s eyes swivel towards your phone when it vibrates a couple of times on the nightstand. It really wouldn’t have been a problem had he not seen and recognized the name on the screen. Against his better judgment, he picks it up gently. He sees two older notifications from the prior night and the two new ones now piquing his interest. 

[Wooyoung: Don’t forget lunch tomorrow]

[Wooyoung: Usual place]

...

[Wooyoung: Good morning]

[Wooyoung: If you get on campus by 10 let's do breakfast instead, they’ll be there. lmk]

His eyes constrict to slits almost instantaneously. 

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me… 

He doesn’t care that it's petty, he swipes each of the message notifications and deletes them with a pool of satisfaction boiling in the deepest pit of his stomach. You were too busy with him last night to notice his other messages anyway. If he could delete those messages permanently, he would. Realistically, there was no way he could keep you from eventually meeting up again with Wooyoung, but maybe distracting you enough to be late could be worth being a bit late to his own obligations. He’s extra needy on purpose this morning, immediately seeking out your attention the moment you groggily slip back into bed after chugging water. Feeling his warm hands grope your butt just makes you groan in that special kind of annoyance that naturally comes with waking earlier than need-be. When his fingers travel to fiddle with the elastic of your panties, an indirect request of sorts, you muster enough energy to nudge him weakly.

“S’too early, Yu,” you pout without even opening your eyes and bury your cheek deeper into your pillow.

“I know, I know. I have to leave soon,” he acknowledges. Still, his hand dances its way into the fabric. He watches you shudder when his middle finger pushes against your clit experimentally. His brow lifts when you open your legs. He licks his lips eagerly before murmuring, “You don’t even have to do anything, I’ll take good care of you. Go ahead and rest, okay?”

The hum you let out, signaling him to do as he pleases, has him gently working your panties down your legs and tossing them on the floor. He spends all the time he can, all the way until the last few minutes before he has to leave, with his face buried between your tired thighs. Always a starved man when it comes to your greedy cunt, the one that he confirmed last night needs him oh so much, he french-kisses his way into a sore tongue and a stiff jaw. 

“Mhm, that’s it,” he talks directly to your heat, holding open your lips with his thumbs while watching the way slick, cum, and spit seep out to sully your sheets, “Gimme another one.”

Sleepy whines and garbled whimpers of his name have him rutting his hips against your bed. He would touch himself if he could, but his hands are too busy massaging your tense thighs in rhythm with his aching tongue lapping at your clit. The friction isn’t enough. He supposes his poor underwear will just have to suffer from precum leaking out his deprived cock, drenching the fabric the more he gets aroused. Each orgasm he’s able to pull from you drains your body of its energy more and more until you’re a meek puddle of fatigue splayed out on your mattress.

Yunho doesn’t remember what number orgasm his mouth finally parts from your core, but at some point, he finally reminds himself that he’s a man with responsibilities who still has to go home and change into his work clothes. He also needs to take care of this painful hard-on quickly when he gets somewhere private. Self-admittedly, this all was as rewarding to himself in fulfilling it as it was to you receiving. Seeing you absolutely spent and on the verge of (hopefully) deep sleep puts a shameless smile on his face. 

He’s still a gentleman above anything else, taking the extra time to clean your skin and the mess he’s made of your cunt with a wet cloth before lovingly redressing you in your undies. He doesn’t even know if you can hear him after a certain point, but he still tucks you back in and whispers sweet nothings that he’ll overthink about later when he’s in his office after remembering why he was here in the first place. He even apologizes for ruining your sheets, again. The timid, fleeting kiss he leaves on your temple is followed by him carelessly saying, “Love you.”

The moment those two words tumble from his lips his eyes grow wide, and he waits with bated breath to see if you are even the slightest bit awake to hear his blunder. When you show no signs of stirring, Yunho releases all air caged within his chest and decides it’s best to leave quickly before he can make a fool of himself any further. You don’t hear from him for the rest of the day.

-

“I see… so she does exist,” you mutter sarcastically.

At the end of the week, following your shared linguistics lecture, you and your best friend convene at a table deep in the back of the library. Yeosang had spent a good amount of his time in the last few days covertly asking questions about Wooyoung to random acquaintances in hopes of getting bits of useful information about him or his ex. He was finally able to give you her name and class year, but he came up short otherwise.

“I wasn’t able to get any of her socials, I didn’t want to seem like I was pursuing her. However, I do have another idea,” he says, hands motioning for you to hear him out after he sees your spirits drop, “I was told she’s in Hongjoong’s capstone class and–”

“Oh brother,” you groan and sink further into your seat. 

If Yeosang’s words days ago were anything to go by, Hongjoong was already convinced you were dating Wooyoung, so asking him for his ex-girlfriend’s number is surely just going to cause prying questions. You’re fully convinced that he probably won’t even consider giving it to you because he might think it’ll lead to drama. 

“I know. Just hear me out,” Yeosang leans forward and lowers his voice, “I honestly don’t think it would be hard to get him to tell you. If you can come up with a plausible reason why you would need to reach out, I think he wouldn’t hesitate too much.”

“Which would be?”

“Well, I don’t know anything about her other than that she’s in a sorority. You can figure something out from that, right?”

You couldn’t deny that this was definitely a useful piece of information. Yeosang watches you purse your lips while you toss around some of the logistics in your head before nodding with some renewed optimism.

“Which app do you think I should start on?”

“I’m sure the majority of our sororities have IG pages to promote their activities. That’s probably your best bet,” he recommends, “I can help you search in between finals prep–”

“You’ve done enough, I can definitely handle that part,” you interject with a reassuring smile, “Thank you for even getting this info. I appreciate it, Yeo.”

While things definitely looked more positive from this conversation, there was an odd feeling lingering in your stomach over the next few days. From his time at your home through the weekend, Yunho’s communication and presence were lacking a bit more than usual. While it made things easier for you to see Wooyoung when requested without fear, it didn’t make things any less disappointing. Knowing he’s still there for you even through all of this mess was the only thing keeping you afloat, so it’s troubling when that disappears out of nowhere. Nevertheless, the end of the semester was creeping up faster than even you realized, so it makes sense that his schedule is being affected. Moreover, his job is what you’re doing this all for anyway, right? Even without his presence, you’d silently root for him in the shadows if it meant that December ended with you both together. 

In the meantime, you push these feelings to the back of your mind and give yourself a break from being so worrisome. With this charade moving deeper into its timeline, it’s time-sensitive and imperative to ask for his ex’s phone number from Hongjoong in an effort to contact her. Wooyoung might be intent on keeping you from meeting her, but he’s severely underestimated the fire in your belly when it comes to getting what you want. You’ve played along with his shenanigans long enough.

Hongjoong’s brows furrow while he shoves a few of the fries in his mouth from a meal you asked to treat him to this particular Monday afternoon.

“I should’ve known you wanted to see me for ulterior motives,” he takes a swigger of his soda with pursed lips, “Buttering me up with free food for my connections, huh?”

“I didn’t remember until just now, I promise,” you lie, trying to remain composed. You’re not exactly the best at lying to your close friends and this time is no different. “If I knew about anyone else having her number I would’ve asked them. I wouldn’t lie to you, Joong.”

His eyes examine your body language keenly before scoffing, “I’m still caught up on how you didn’t tell me that your mystery man was Wooyoung all this time. That was a lie by omission.”

“I am not dating Wooyoung, I already told you this.”

“Then why do you suddenly want his ex’s number?”

You swallow the nervous lump in your throat and offer him an easygoing smile that you had practiced a plethora of times before even leaving to meet him.

“I’m reaching out on behalf of a mutual friend about possibly being commissioned to make the graduation stoles for their sorority. That’s all.”

Yes, through hours of snooping and finally finding her Instagram, you discovered that she is a die-hard sorority girl for one of the smaller sororities on your campus. You had almost talked yourself into simply contacting her there, but as luck would have it, her messages were turned off for strangers that she doesn’t follow back. There was no doubt in your mind that she would never follow you back if you tried that route.

“You sure you’re not trying to stir the pot?” Hongjoong inquires playfully, eyeing you with an elvish grin. You groan in annoyance. “I’m all for a little mess sometimes, but I don’t like being the gateway.”

“Come on Joong, it’s nothing like that at all. I didn’t think you would be so difficult to ask about this… You’re supposed to be my rock—”

Your heart is threatening to break out of your chest when he holds up his free hand to quiet you with a roll of his eyes. Then, with his other hand, he finally scrolls through his phone to find said information.

“I’ve heard enough, please stop being so dramatic,” he sighs. His thumb stops swiping as soon as he sees what he’s looking for in his class’ group chat, and he hands you the phone reluctantly. “Under no circumstances do you tell her who gave this to you.”

“You know I love you the most, right? Even more than Yeosang!” You smile and he matches it sarcastically.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you liar. I love you too.”

While Yunho’s impromptu visit might have subdued his anxiety briefly, he knew it wouldn’t be a permanent fix. He spent some time away from you under the excuse of helping other people prepare more for the final paper deadline approaching, but that only made things worse. The longing he feels these days is stronger when he realizes you could be spending the valuable time he’s avoiding you by seeing Wooyoung instead. It’s embarrassing really, being so envious of someone younger than him. He shouldn’t be letting some university student get under his skin so easily, but there’s too much he’s given of himself to you to just be calm and collected about things. 

These things swirl about in his head while he’s seated alone at the bar’s counter, patiently waiting for his friends to finish playing Rock, Paper, Scissors to decide who pays the tab tonight. It was fairly evident that it had been a rough start to the month for Yunho from his mood, so his best friends were intent on treating him tonight. Today and the next were the university-designated study days for finals. Seonghwa personally coaxed him out of hiding by stopping by his home and offering to drive. He knows Yunho has a hard time saying no when confronted directly. As karma would have it, it was looking to be an expensive night for Seonghwa unfortunately, marked by the heavy groan Yunho can hear come from behind him when the two finish.

When he finally joins Yunho at the counter, he searches through his wallet for his credit card while asking, “Which beer do you want?” 

“I need something stronger tonight,” Yunho states before flagging the bartender down himself.

Nowadays, he’s more favorable to something light and bubbly like beer because it’s easy on his body and the buzz is manageable over a longer period of time. He can’t remember the last time he drank pure liquor… It had to have been New Year’s Eve or some other holiday that’s usually burdened by alcohol. Yunho’s not remarkably sensitive to liquor and he’s by no means a lightweight, but tonight he’s truly done a number on himself. Three Long Island Iced Teas and a few extra shots of rum have him loose and on stage in front of many eyes doing what he does best: singing. Singing karaoke duets with Seonghwa always makes him feel like a college student again, bringing him back to the days of their music classes.

When the next hour comes around and several more shots enter his system, the second phase of his inebriation hits: heartache and depression. Distractions are wonderful until they’re not, and his throat hurts from doing too much falsetto. He keeps thinking about how he’s supposed to show you this side of himself eventually, serenading you like a cheesy romcom just to hear your pretty giggles telling him that he actually sounds like an angel, and those thoughts make him sad. On top of that, his social battery is depleted entirely and now all he can think about is going home. Distancing himself for the last several days is finally coming to an end, as you’re the only person he can think of to call since he doesn’t want to ruin his friends’ time by asking Seonghwa to take him back home. While booking an Uber ride would’ve been the smarter idea, Yunho’s too lovesick to pass up on a moment to hear your voice right now.

So, while Seonghwa is busy using the bathroom and San is distracted by an attractive woman who’s gone out of her way to challenge him to a game of pool, his hazy eyes manage to find your contact card in his favorites before calling you. You take a bit longer to answer than usual, but the moment he hears that familiarly sweet ‘hello there, handsome~’ come across his speaker, he physically melts into a heap on the counter. You can overhear the loud music coming through the speaker clear as day and figure he must be at the bar tonight with other teachers since they’re all essentially off tomorrow. Calling you of all people while with his friends is risky, but you understand why he’s being so reckless the moment he opens his mouth.

“I need to see you, please,” Yunho drawls, his free palm pressed to his forehead to ground himself, “Drank too much, wanna go home.”

“Where are you, Yu?”

Yunho’s heart feels like it’s ready to take flight at the way you ask this with no hesitation and how he can hear you already shuffling to grab clothes. Maybe your feelings are as strong as his afterall.

“At that dumb bar near campus. Hwa drove me,” he sighs, and you can practically hear the drunken pout stuck on his lips. “I’ll just send my location… Can you come, baby? Please?”

“Of course, I’ll come take you home. Sit tight, I’m leaving now.”

When you do finally arrive, Yunho lets his friends know that he ordered an Uber to go home, and successfully convinces Seonghwa not to walk with him outside even though his steps feel leadened. 

“Go back to karaoke,” he waves him off with an anxious smile, “I’ll let y’know when I get home.”

Parking so close to the entrance might’ve been a bit daring on your part, but you expected Yunho to have some trouble walking too far with too much distance. To offset the risk, you’re donning a black face mask with the hood of your jacket pulled over your head, and you figure that should conceal any particulars about you enough for any lurking eyes. Yunho’s surely more operational than he sounded over the phone, and even though his feet are slow on his way over, he slides in easily enough and even buckles himself in. From there, you focus on leaving the area before either of his friends gets curious enough to look outside.

The drive is comfortably silent. You keep the music low and drive a bit slower than usual to make sure he doesn’t feel too dizzy during the trip. Yes, you care for the man dearly, but the last thing you need is his vomit in your passenger seat. With his head resting idly on the cool glass of your window, he tries to relax his mind and settle the stuttering of his heart. He doesn’t know why he’s so nervous to be around you right now.

“Overdid it tonight, huh?” You ask him after a while to make sure he’s still conscious. 

“I don’t ever drink this much,” he replies with his eyes still closed, “M’so sorry for bothering you so late.”

“You didn’t bother me at all. Go ahead and relax, we’re almost home.”

His call was perfect timing actually, as you were just wrapping up exam prep for the day. Usually, you don’t take study days seriously, but with this being your last semester you figure giving your all includes taking advantage of the academic liberties that are offered by your university in exchange for not having to go to class. He was on your mind tonight as he always is, and even though the moment is unconventional, you appreciate him finally calling you at all. That’s all you can think about for the remainder of the drive to his home.

This is so embarrassing, he mopes internally. Yunho feels extremely vulnerable with every lug of his feet up his steps to his door. He’s not sure he ever wanted you to see him in such a state either—liquored up and liable to say anything lingering in his chest without inhibition—but it’s too late to worry about those things now. 

“Thank you for coming,” Yunho sighs upon entering his abode, shrugging off his coat and kicking his shoes off to a place he probably won’t remember tomorrow. 

His throat is dry and itching for something else, anything other than liquor. You know better than anyone that he needs to be drinking water right now and flushing his system as well. Closing his front door, you follow suit with your shoes and jacket.

“You don’t have to thank me, sweetheart,” you assure him with a smile, “I’ll go get you some water.”

However, before you can slip past him, Yunho’s warm hands gently clasp around your cheeks. Your back hits the door as his sticky liquored lips squish against yours in an affectionate kiss. Much to his dismay, after only a few seconds of gratification you manage to pull back enough to talk.

“Water first, kissing later. Okay?” You chide with a giggle. 

Yunho makes a whiny noise in the back of his throat in place of a ‘no’ before stealing your lips once more. This time, his arms fall to wrap around your torso. There’s something desperate about the way his arms squeeze the air out of you as if he loosens them even in the slightest bit you might slip right from his grasp. That’s how he’s felt for some time recently like you’re slipping away right into someone else’s arms. Somewhere deep down in his intoxicated subconscious, he’s able to acknowledge the feeling of his heart slamming against his chest from pent-up anxiety of seeing you again, touching you again… and maybe lack of oxygen. Yeah, perhaps that’s what this intense feeling is building in his chest is, a blatant lack of oxygen. Breathing is just not something present in Yunho’s impaired mind. 

You, you, you, you, you!

All he wants to do is think about how he loves you more than you know.

He feels like he’s suffocating, but his brain won’t let his limbs move to breathe, lost in the thoughts and desperation of just needing to be connected to you. Just then, when he feels like he’s about to nearly pass out, you find the strength within yourself to push him from you hastily. The way you gasp for air lets him know that he was inadvertently suffocating you as well. His arms finally release their intense grip and a flurry of apologies tumble from his lips.

“M’so sorry,” he offers one last time, words running together, “I just missed you so much.”

Yunho’s head falls and rests in the crook of your neck while embarrassment floods his cheeks. 

“It’s okay, really. I missed you too,” you tell him, lungs settling while you card your fingers through his hair soothingly. He’s so fragile at this moment and seeing this side of him makes your heart melt. You could never be mad at something like a little stolen oxygen. “Let’s get you settled in first though, okay?”

“Please le’me stay like this for a couple minutes…”

He’s a bit dizzy, and your fingers lovingly massaging his scalp are making his heart feel ready to burst out of his chest. It doesn’t matter that he’s older than you, or that technically he’s an authoritative figure in your life. You’re always so soft with him, so attentive to his needs, and tender in your touch. You even came and picked him up while he was a mess, with no hesitation. For some reason, in Yunho’s inebriated mind, he’s so sure that a positive answer to this next question will finally solidify your loyalty and how you truly feel about him. 

“Can you stay with me tonight?”

There’s a moment of silence where you’re unusually still, and Yunho can practically hear your answer before you even open your mouth. Mentally, you’re battling with yourself because of premade morning plans with Wooyoung interfering with his request. Normally, you’d never decline to spend some extra time with him, but you’re not sure if blowing off Wooyoung last minute will have some consequences. Yunho’s the most important thing to you, but which choice proves that the most? 

“I have some important obligations in the morning, Yu,” you mumble a moment later, unable to outright say no. It’s hard, but you figure the best way to show him his importance to you is to put his career first, ahead of your feelings. 

In the crook of your neck you can feel him inhale, and for a second, he’s so still that you could’ve believed that he’d passed out. You’re just about to call his name when you feel him begin to tremble and snivel, and alarm bells begin blaring in your head. Lifting his head with your hands gently, you gaze up at him in panic.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” You comfort him softly, thumbs on either side of his face wiping away fat tears that begin spilling down his rosy cheeks. “I’ll stay, I will. I’m so sorry baby.”

“I can’t do this anymore, ____.”

You’re no longer worried about the warm tears spilling onto your fingers as you are the immediate tightness in your chest at such simple words. Simple, but hurtful. The last time you heard that kind of sentence, it was followed by a breakup. The pang in your chest at the realization that this is what’s probably happening makes you feel sick. Nevertheless, you wouldn’t blame him if your behavior over the last few weeks ended up being the final straw for him, and if leaving him alone drunk was the cherry on top. Your diminished communication and sudden lack of availability with obligations you could not explain… and who knows what he’s heard about your increasing closeness with his TA, if anything. You ponder if maybe that’s why he has been acting differently recently, how perhaps the rumors had finally gotten back to him. It’s hard to meet his eyes while you try to prepare yourself for words you figured you hear eventually but still never built your confidence up enough for.

“Look at me, please,” he requests. It takes a moment, but you find it in yourself to do as asked. The way Yunho’s glazed-over eyes only hold dejection when you meet them lets you know something is seriously wrong. You’ve hurt him, you just know it. You’re not sure what to expect, but it surely isn’t him following up with, “I love you so much, it’s beginning to hurt, ____.”

Yunho didn’t expect this genuine divulgence that he had finally found within himself to reveal to be met with annoyance of all things. The way your brows crease and the corners of your mouth downturn throw him for a loop.

“I know you’re drunk but you really shouldn’t say a serious word like that so easily,” you chastise him in a soft voice. 

The gentleness of your tone doesn’t change the fact that you mean that statement wholeheartedly; he’s never used that word with you when sober, so why now? You don’t want to be made a fool of when these drunken words get taken back when he’s in his right mind tomorrow. Being drunk doesn’t excuse playing around with your feelings like that.

“I mean it. I do love you, so much. Not gonna pretend to be so casual about things anymore,” he retorts. While his voice still has that intoxicated twang in it, it’s now alarmingly firm.

That sudden tone and the way his face remains determined to make you understand him make your heart stutter. In the context of romance, ‘love’ is a word you haven’t heard from someone in a long time. To be fair, it’s a word you haven’t offered to anyone you’ve dated in a long time either. How long has it been since you met someone worthy of a word that powerful… You’re at a loss for words. The increasing tightness in your chest with the more you take in the situation won’t let up, and you wonder if he can feel your anxiety through the trembling of your hands still caressing his wet cheeks. 

Yunho doesn’t mind that you don’t say it back, he may be intoxicated but he still knows he’s coming on very strong right now. Instead, he adds, “You don’t have to say it back, but I can’t handle not knowing what I am to you anymore. I can’t tell how you really see me.”

The way your face immediately only offers confusion at that final statement is involuntary—his complete obliviousness to how you feel about him, about everything you’ve done till this point, is just baffling. Despite any impending consequences of being involved with your teacher, you’ve given this man so much of your time, your adoration, your body—what is there to question? When you finally take your hands back and place them on your temples, Yunho senses your frustration. He begins to feel bad when he realizes too much liquid courage may have made him go a bit too far.

“Yunho, I thought it was pretty obvious that I want to be with you. I’m just waiting for graduation to say it officially,” you explain. “I– We’ve been dating for 3 months, for Christ’s sake.”

You try to remind yourself that he’s intoxicated and that maybe you should treat this situation with a bit more grace. The next question he throws out completely shatters that mindset.

“Then why did you kiss him?”

The immediate mortification you feel at that string of words hits you like a sledgehammer, and the silence that consumes the room following this question is deafening. Yunho’s eyes hold your shameful stare before you finally become physically uncomfortable, and you avert your gaze sheepishly. Yes, you had considered he might catch you in the act sooner or later, but did it have to be the stupid unwanted kiss of all things? This is not something you had readied yourself enough to be confronted about. It’s something you wish you could’ve taken to the grave if possible.

The lack of an immediate reply to such a simple question has him pressing his palms to his eyes because he feels himself needing to cry again. He’d do anything to turn off those leaky faucets behind his eyes for good right now if he could. Crying over someone he had no business falling for in the first place is exasperating because he knew better. He’s sure he’d be able to compose himself more than this if he wasn’t so drunk as well, but it’s too late for those kinds of thoughts now. Everything is out in the open, all the way down to the intensity of his feelings for you, and there’s no turning back.

“It’s not what you think, Yunho,” you finally offer after taking some seconds to sort out your thoughts. The thing is, there is no other viable option at this point: it’s either tell him the truth or lie and break his heart further. You would never consider doing the latter. “I want to explain, but this isn’t the best time—”

“You can be honest, I promise I can handle it,” Yunho interjects. He runs his hands through his messy hair, trying to mellow himself out and prove that statement, but his insecurities start to get the best of him. Words begin spilling out of his mouth without much thought, “Is it because we can’t go out like normal couples? Am I not giving you enough attention? I know it’s tough right now but—”

“No, no, of course not! None of that matters to me in the slightest.” 

“What is it about him, then? If it’s something I can fix or do better, I will. I promise,” he tells you earnestly, but his face already looks defeated. He still can’t even say his name. Seeing him so distraught and broken like this over your actions is like a stiff punch in the gut. The last thing you ever wanted to do was make Yunho feel like he’s not enough.

Instead of answering, you ask him, “Do you trust me?” 

As much as he should be inclined to say no with everything he’s seen, or the way you won’t give him straight answers, he just can’t say no.

“Of course I do.”

“Then I’d really love for us to have this conversation in the morning when you’re sober,” you insist, hands seeking out his for comfort and reassurance, “Please, Yunho.”

“And what happens if I wake up alone again?”

There it is. The hint of pessimism screaming at him in the back of his mind slipped through. He remembers the last time you left with no word and how it sent him irrationally spiraling. He just needs that final bit of reassurance.

“I’d never do that to you again, okay? I love you too much to hurt you like that. I promise.”

Yunho's left mute at this reply, damp lashes blinking repeatedly as his brain struggles to compute that you just said three very pivotal words he’s never heard from anyone else he’s ever dated. After not immediately reciprocating his sentiments earlier, he didn’t really ever expect them to come from your mouth anytime soon. 

“You…love–”

It happens way too fast, the wave of nausea that consumes him with how overwhelmed he begins to feel. Pulling his fingers away from yours, he clasps a clammy hand over his mouth and stumbles off toward his hallway bathroom in haste. This, of course, is not the ideal response you’d like to get back after fully confessing your feelings to a man. You try not to take it to heart and finally go to grab some water for him while he’s emptying his stomach in the bathroom.

The night comes to a close not too long later with you both burrowed in the blankets of Yunho’s bed, and he falls asleep against your chest faster than your brain will allow you to join. How lucky he is to have alcohol easily lull him to sleep after such a mess, you muse. You suppose this is as good of a time as ever to sort your thoughts and words for your explanation tomorrow. That and the possible consequences following you finally revealing the truth. While Yunho might seem mild-mannered and easygoing on a day-to-day basis, you are now aware of just how sensitive he is as a person inside. He feels with his whole heart, and he keeps certain things locked inside of him. You want him to feel comfortable enough to share those things with you as a partner. You want him to trust you wholly with his entire heart, but you suppose that begins with being entirely honest with him first. He’s more than enough, and you want him to believe that. Before you can let your mind wander too deep into the territory of that subject, your eyes finally feel unbearably heavy, and you fall asleep with your fingers curled around his own a little more securely than usual.

One thing Yunho prides himself in is not being prone to heavy hangovers, and this morning is no different. From his first couple years in college, he had learned that lots of water, sleeping in, and a good meal was the cheat code to his body’s ability to survive a night of binge drinking. This was partially thanks to his first roommate who was a Nutrition Major, because if he couldn’t discourage him from drinking he could at least aid him in recovering from it. Aside from you forcing him to drink a few water bottles before he could sleep, throwing up the prior night and purging most of it helped a lot as well, of course.

You’re not in bed when he stirs awake, but he can hear miscellaneous noise coming from another part of his home and smell the third element of his cheat code in progress. When he finally ambles out of his room and into his kitchen after chugging the bottle of water left on his nightstand, he finds you cooking something with what little groceries he has stocked in his fridge. The sound of him pulling out a chair at his table tears your attention away from the stove.

“Good morning,” you hum. He seems fully coherent, which makes things much easier on you. “How’s your stomach?”

Yunho rubs his bleary eyes with the back of his hand while yawning, “Much better… What time is it?”

“Around eleven, I think.”

“I thought you had something to do?”

“I canceled,” you tell him, “You’re more important.”

Earlier, while Yunho was still passed out, you found some time to slip away and call Wooyoung to raincheck. You’re not entirely sure if he believed the performance you put on about coming down with something last minute, but it didn’t matter. The least he can do is give you a day off of this charade. You move the food you’ve been working on off of the stove’s eye and turn off the heat before snatching up his mug of coffee and joining him at the table. 

You look different this morning, the way your eyes lack any of their usual whimsy or humor, and how you sit yourself to his left with body language more reserved than normal. Your stress is palpable, and that doesn’t help settle the sad feeling beginning to manifest in his stomach when he realizes the conversation that’s about to begin. Nonetheless, he decides to prepare himself for the worst.

“I promised you an explanation,” you sigh, “So let’s talk.”

Messily relaying this story to Yeosang first helped you a lot with finding the confidence to make things more concise if a moment like this were ever to happen. You were able to tell Yunho the full extent of Wooyoung’s actions without getting as emotional as the last time. Even though you were trying to be truthful, you ultimately decided not to tell him about trying to connect with Wooyoung’s ex behind the scenes, as you didn’t want to give him any false hope if things happened to fall through. When you finish spilling anything left lingering in your guts about the entire situation, there’s an unbearable silence that settles over the whole room. Yunho’s eyes are trained on his coffee, finger circling the rim of his mug while he lets his mind run wild. The guilty feeling that washes over you feels heavier and heavier with every passing second of him not replying.

“I’m really sorry,” you finally break the silence with a final apology. “It’s my fault for being so pushy in your office that day. This wouldn’t have happened if I had just taken no for an answer.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for, ____,” Yunho tails your sentence quickly. The tension in your chest finally dissolves when he speaks, and hearing his caring voice is really all you can ask for right now. He reaches a gentle hand over the table to cover yours for some well-needed comfort, before offering you a soft, sober smile, “I don’t want you beating yourself up for decisions we made together. I’m a grown man who makes my own choices, don’t forget that.”

When Yunho dares to ask how far Wooyoung has made you go for him physically, you assure him the worst has only been that kiss. 

“I’m not going to pretend like this doesn’t fucking suck,” he groans, brows furrowing at the thought of being so stuck between a rock and a hard place, “I would remove him from class if I could. Seeing his face is going to piss me off even more than before.”

“I understand. The semester ends in a couple of weeks though… I know it might be a lot to ask for from you to deal with, but it won’t be too much longer,” you offer resignedly, though it’s not much of a consolation. Optimism is the only thing you have worth giving him at this point. You’re only optimistic yourself while banking on his ex wanting to meet with you. When he goes from frustratedly rubbing his eyes to running a hand through his hair, you feel the need to add, “I’d understand if you don’t want to deal with that though.” Yunho turns to you, his expression one of sheer incredulity.

“You really believe I would willingly let someone like him end our relationship?” The teasing lilt in his voice is refreshing to hear, even if it is a serious question underneath. He reaches his hand over and holds your chin while assuring you, “You can’t get rid of me that easily, okay?”

“That sounds more like a threat than a promise,” you chuckle.

“Maybe he should take it that way, then.”

For the remainder of the week, Yunho tries to bear through the new knowledge that Wooyoung is somewhere on campus turning you into a puppet for his own gain. It hits harder on the days when he texts you in an effort to check in on things but is met with radio silence. He was made aware that Wooyoung preferred you off of your phone when with him, but goddamn was it annoying. For your sake, he tries to keep these kinds of grievances to himself. He knows he needs to be supportive if he can help it. During this time frame, you also secretly began your effort to contact Wooyoung’s ex-girlfriend. Getting left on read with your first message was to be expected. It took her a full day before she entertained you by replying back, even if it was a little snippy. Regardless, her replying at all was a step in the right direction. She opened the door and you planned to slip your way in as best you could. Between Yeosang asking for updates, his ex contacting you sporadically throughout the days, and Yunho checking in occasionally to make sure his assistant isn’t causing you problems that he’s more than happy to fix, you decide it’s best to keep your phone face down and away from Wooyoung when you’re together this week. Even if you want to keep up with your friends to pass the time, it’s just too risky.

“You haven’t told him anything, correct?” 

Wooyoung asks this out of the blue when you both convene for breakfast on Friday. You find it funny how neither of them can say each other’s name, but you suppose Wooyoung is a bit more cautious these days to keep you from getting an attitude. You’re much too tired to even entertain such a question, but you don’t want to cause any suspicion by choosing not to answer.

You yawn after muttering, “No, why?”

“He looks at me differently these days,” he muses, pushing his fork into the plush of his lips, “It’s giving me bad vibes.”

“He has a lot on his plate with finals that you can’t help him with. I’m sure the stress is overwhelming. Cut him some slack.”

Picturing Yunho trying to give Wooyoung the evil eye when they cross paths everyday has you turning your head away, suppressing a smile to keep from laughing at the end of your sentence.

“You know better than I do,” he acknowledges with a nod and leaves the conversation at that.

Yunho begins losing a bit more of his resolve that same day when he catches Wooyoung rushing to meet you out the door after class, calling out your name right in front of his face. He doesn’t particularly care for the carefree tone of his voice, and he feels like doing something so openly is too cocky for his liking. His fingernails rake at the material of his slacks irritably from behind his podium as he opens his mouth.

“Wooyoung,” Yunho calls out before he can consult his better judgment. 

When his assistant spins to face him, Yunho finds himself at a loss for words. He didn’t really think this part through. His eyes flicker to you, who’s waiting patiently by the door for your puppetmaster to join you, then back to Wooyoung. That’s when he makes the executive decision to steal him away from you for the next hour or so. He deserves that satisfaction at least. 

“I wanted to discuss some things about my schedule regarding final papers next week, and then submitting final grades,” Yunho exhales while clasping his hands together. 

He throws in a free and easy smile to twist the knife because his assistant loses all joy in his face at his words. The brief glance you exchange with your teacher as Wooyoung reluctantly ambles back to his station holds a world of emotions, conveying everything words cannot. The gratification he receives from simply seeing you nod and smile while departing alone for the day gives him everything he needs to complete his day with renewed composure.

Mondays generally suck for Yunho, but this final one of the semester is absolutely atrocious.

Today, he’s had the worst technical difficulties in both of his morning lectures with no valuable help from the University’s IT department. One of his biggest pet peeves is not being taken seriously when he’s working, especially as a younger teacher, and it seems that they put his issues on the back burner all morning since he’s not one of the elderly professors. Regardless, he made things work even through the giggles of some students. It’s his final class before exam week begins, the least he can do is end his spiel of encouragement towards the final paper deadline on a good note.

If things had ended there, then he would’ve had a decent rest of his day. Spilling hot coffee all over his white button-up that he rarely ever even wears puts a permanent grimace on his face for the remainder of the morning. He tries his best to dab it out with water when he gets a free moment during his lunch break, but he’s one hundred percent sure he made the liquid spread much worse. Coupled with him not even being able to put his tie back on properly in an attempt to fashion it in a way that hides the stain, he’s exactly three seconds away from deciding to go home for the rest of the day. 

He decides to work through lunch in his office instead so he can end the day early once he’s finished. At least this way nobody could see how much of a mess he is today. But, after a while of Yunho holing up in his office and hiding from the rest of the world as long as he can manage, his phone vibrates with an unexpected call from San. He presses the answer option reluctantly and puts it on speaker.

Before he can even say hello, San’s voice is already excitedly asking, “You on lunch?”

“Something like that,” he chuckles weakly, and San can hear the clicks of his mouse in the background. When he hears San ‘tsk!’ in disapproval of him working, he sighs, “You know me, work’s never done. Shouldn’t you be teaching a class right now?”

“Bathroom breaks are important for everybody.”

“And you decided to call me during yours why?”

“Listen, I know you told me not to make any unannounced visits to your classroom but,” San pauses to laugh at the foolishness of what he’s about to say. “But, it seems that your student has done this to me today instead. I suppose that means today is fair game, right?”

Yunho’s hands pause their movements as he filters through his mind what exactly his friend might be referring to. When he finally recalls that line from their conversation on the day his friends briefly met you, his face pales. San adds that you seem to be dressed oh-so-pretty today and Yunho’s brows crease, not only in irritation at him talking so liberally about you but in confusion. Yunho’s prolonged silence at what should be insignificant information is duly noted in San’s mind. 

Truth be told, San did not call Yunho just for shits and giggles. A few days ago, during a shared lunch break, Seonghwa had come to him secretly about Yunho’s recent behaviors:

“You can’t be serious Seonghwa,” San laughs wholeheartedly at his friend’s implications. “Yunho is a bit desperate these days, but he’s not that desperate.” 

“You can’t say I’m being delusional.”

“That’s not what I’m saying at all. I’m just saying that it probably isn’t what it seems like.”

Seonghwa rolls his eyes so far back that it almost hurts, “Enlighten me on why he’s being so secretive when I ask then.”

“You asked him about her directly?”

“Not exactly… but I asked him about dating someone,” Seonghwa leans back in his chair and sighs, “He told me nothing. Barely even got a peep about where he met the woman. A Tinder match has got him so quiet? It just doesn’t make sense.”

“And you think it’s his student because of what exactly?”

“I didn’t say anything at the time but I saw a glimpse of his phone a month or so ago,” Seonghwa snaps his fingers while he tries to remember the details, “That night we went to that fancy lounge uptown, remember?”

“And?”

“When he was using the bathroom, he left his phone face up on the couch. I didn’t mean to pay too much attention to it, but it lit up with a text and I recognized the name.”

San pushes the food around in his Tupperware with pursed lips while he tries to rationalize this revelation. Seonghwa does have a point… Why in the world would you have been texting him at 10 PM? San’s a pretty laid-back teacher himself, but none of his students have his personal number. All teachers do things differently though, he knows this. Still…

San lowers his voice to ask, “What did the message say?”

“I didn’t see that part,” his friend continues, the disappointment in his voice making San snicker, “He came back too quickly. I mentioned it in passing though, and he said they text occasionally about her schoolwork.”

Seonghwa uses his fingers to put air quotations around that last word; as if he’d ever believe a student is texting their teacher close to midnight about “schoolwork”. He’s slightly offended that Yunho thinks he’s that much of a fool.

“That’s not that implausible—”

“I’m calling bullshit. She’s at the very least got a crush on him and he’s playing into it,” Seonghwa states plainly. 

San resumes eating his lukewarm leftovers, humming, “I really don’t think he would risk getting fired over hooking up with his student. We barely even see him flirt with people outside of work… Anything beyond that just isn’t him. You know this.”

The conversation didn’t last much longer than that, and San had effectively convinced Seonghwa to simply mind his business at the time. He ponders for a second if he should have a serious talk with Yunho about the repercussions that could come to him if Seonghwa’s speculations were true, as he obviously doesn’t want to see one of his best friends lose their job. San may joke around a lot about these kinds of things, and he’s overly flirtatious with a numerous amount of people that may or may not include younger women, but he knows he’d never cross the line and put his job in jeopardy like that. 

It’s always been complicated. Yunho is an exceptionally loyal person and a hopeless romantic, but very few people get to see that side of him. San has seen plenty of women attempt to pursue him with both good and bad intentions, and Yunho has difficulty deciphering sometimes. That being said, when his friend is head over heels for someone, there is nothing he won’t do. There have been plenty of times when Yunho has done some stupid things because of stupid impulses when it comes to women he falls hard for. Don’t get him started about when he had to talk him out of getting a tattoo just because a girl he fell for told him she preferred “bad boys” when turning him down. He feels with all of his heart, and that’s honestly something San admires about his friend. 

He supposes while he has him on the phone, he should push the boundaries to see how he replies. 

“She’s been outside of my class for nearly half an hour,” San continues in a nonchalant voice, stoking the fire, “I was wondering if I should invite her to join in on the lecture, maybe chat—”

Unfortunately for San, Yunho’s already having a bad enough day, and he doesn’t need his friend joking about trying to pick up his woman. 

“Do not bother her,” Yunho interrupts him in a voice with a steely edge that makes the instruction come out slightly more bitter than he intends it to. He immediately regrets letting that kind of emotion slip through and becomes bashful, quickly sputtering a playful jab at his friend instead, “Getting a girl’s attention without buying her a drink first? That would be an amazing feat from you anyway.”

“Getting a girl’s attention at all recently would be an amazing feat for you too,” San quips back with a laugh, but he makes a mental note of this peculiar reaction. It surely doesn’t help extinguish Seonghwa’s conspiracies planted in his head. “Anyway, my class ends in half an hour, so I’m sure she’s just waiting for a friend to come out.”

At that suggestion, a thought crosses Yunho’s mind that makes his stomach churn. 

“San, tell me something. Do you have a student named Wooyoung Jung in your class?”

“I do indeed, how did you know?”

I’ve got to be losing my mind… 

That’s the only explanation Yunho can come up with as to why he’s speed-walking from his building in the middle of campus to the one that hosts San’s class a handful of minutes away. It’s brisk out, evident by the sharp chill of early December running down his back with every quick stride, but it’s a perfect excuse for why his cheeks are so red. He’s not flustered, he’s just cold… of course.

The moment he spots you rocking back and forth on your feet in front of San’s lecture hall, patiently thumbing away at your phone, his chest aches. You’re dolled up today just like San alluded to, wearing a pretty dress that he’s never even seen you in before. Coupled with some makeup and your hair done charmingly, he gets flashbacks to when you both went on your very first dinner together. This doesn’t fare well with Yunho’s mood.

The tap he does on your shoulder startles you enough to elicit a squeal, and that shock doesn’t change even when you realize it’s Yunho beckoning for your attention. 

“I– What are you doing here?”

When Yunho’s brows furrow in offense at your question, you wince. You don’t mean to sound like the last thing you want to do is see him right now, but this is not the best time for him to be showing himself. The last thing you need is for him and Wooyoung to cross paths outside of the classroom with you directly in the middle. Nevertheless, you don’t even get an answer to that query. The moment your arm is snatched and your feet drag while your captor hauls you away from your waiting spot, you internally scold yourself about how you’re probably the easiest kidnapping victim ever. To be fair, he’s a lot stronger than he looks.

“Wait, I have a date with Wooyoung–” 

“I do not care,” he snaps back.

He doesn’t bother responding to any more of your attempts of chiding him, eyes too busy following the signs that guide him to where the nearest restroom is. When he stumbles upon an unoccupied handicapped restroom, he sighs in relief and pulls you in before closing and locking the door. 

“What is wrong with you?” You sputter in a dumbfounded, hushed voice. 

Yunho’s face is splotchy, and he’s visibly agitated while his eyes dodge between your outfit and your face, “Why do you look like that?”

What a silly question, truly. 

In his mind, the problem lies within who you’re looking so beautiful for, and not the fact that you look beautiful at all. Yunho rarely gets to see you as it is, but this prick’s got you dressing up for him? Surely this isn’t necessary, because you’re beautiful enough to make anyone jealous as you already are. In his eyes, anyway.

“I just told you I have a date and I needed to look nicer,” you argue. Before he can muster up another pointless question, you fold your arms across your chest, “Right now is really not the time to be jealous.”

“I’m not jealous, I’m annoyed.”

“Then why are we here, Yunho?” His eyes finally shy away from yours when you motion to your surroundings. He hates it when you use his first name like this because he knows that often accompanies the tone of displeasure. The last thing he wants to do is upset you. You sigh, “Can’t you hold out just a little longer?”

“Dressing up so pretty for him doesn’t help me feel any better.”

“Making a scene about it doesn’t necessarily help anything either, does it?”

You’d snicker at the shameful silence that follows that statement if the situation wasn’t so genuinely distressing to him. He’s genuinely upset, you get it. You’d never admit it out loud, but a piece of you likes seeing him like this: wound-up, needy, and protective. The roles were reversed not too long ago about Wooyoung particularly, so seeing him show that same yearning and agitation when the tables are turned, even if it’s in terrible circumstances, makes you feel validated. Still, you do what you can to ease his mind for now.

“You’re too handsome to be this envious, love,” you murmur sweet nothings. He remains silent, letting those words swirl around in his head while you reach out to fiddle with the kink in his tie until it’s fixed. His lip juts out when you chuckle at the stain sullying his shirt underneath. Your eyes gaze up at his fondly before you add, “How many times do I have to tell you that I’m yours and yours only before you start believing it?” 

Yunho soaks in every syllable of that soothing voice of yours while his eyes settle on your glossy lips when they talk. Anything not to look at those eyes that could surely make him get on his knees and apologize profusely for causing a scene. He’s so predictable sometimes, you muse. You’re sure a kiss or two to help settle his jealousy before you have to leave won’t hurt anyway.

Just as you predicted, he can’t help himself, and the feeling of his impatient hands grabbing at your waist and his lips slotting over yours ignites this fire inside the pit of your stomach. Your butt hits against the counter of the bathroom sink and your hands try to find purchase on his blazer.

“Reminders never hurt, right?” he breaks briefly to mumble before slipping his tongue into your mouth. You indulge him, falling victim to that sinful mouth of his as you always do.

And, sure, maybe kissing you should be enough to quell such intense feelings inside of him, but it’s just not. The thought that Wooyoung also has the ability to kiss you whenever he wants to enhance whatever convoluted plan he has going on makes it almost insignificant. Instead, his hands haphazardly drift under the hem of your dress, because he’s the only one allowed to touch you like this. He hopes so, anyway. 

His warm fingers drag up the soft skin of your inner thighs with no hesitation, and your hands grapple onto his blazer tightly when he reaches the apex to stop briefly at your clothed cunt. Yunho swallows the surprised yelp you let out into his mouth when he begins to rub up and down, pressing on your clit through the cotton and feeling how damp you already are just from kissing him. God, it never gets old, the way he turns you on so easily. You shudder when he tugs your panties to the side and drags his lips in wet kisses from your lips to your ear.

“I’m gonna be late, Yu…” you complain, voice airy and whiny when his thumb rubs at your clit.

“I’m really sorry,” he murmurs while kissing the shell of your ear, “I’m just really pissed off today. You understand, right, angel?”

He punctuates that statement by finally slipping two fingers into your sopping cunt.

Yunho’s a mess. 

He stares at himself in the mirror behind you while his fingers busy themselves with pushing in and out of your cunt. How did he get to such a point, experiencing so many intense emotions over someone he never should’ve fallen in love with in good conscience? How did he end up in this bathroom with his fingers evoking such sloppy noises from between your legs? He stares at how flushed he is in the cheeks with your glittery lipgloss smeared all over his lips and beyond. This is beyond silly…

Yunho swears he’s not actually such a jealous person, he swears, but the current circumstances are doing a number on his mental health. He deliberately curls his fingers up against that plushy spot he loves to find within you and watches tremors travel through your back. Aside from some tiny gasps and whimpers that are barely audible unless you’re close enough to hear them, you’ve learned your lesson on being quiet in these situations, and you keep your lips pressed together tightly. The way your knees are buckling and your hands are clutching onto him for dear life—yes, this is just what he needs. He’s never felt such an intense need to see someone cum in his life.

“Do you want more?” Yunho suddenly breathes against your ear, pressing a loving kiss on your warm skin before pulling back to look you in the eyes, “I’ll do whatever you want me to, even if you just want me to stop.”

As God is his witness, he means every word. He’ll get down on his knees and suck an orgasm from you if you want him to. He’ll hold you against the wall and fuck any word other than his name out of your head if you want him to. To be honest, deep down he just wants to see if you’d blow off your date with this nuisance—even for just a few minutes—to let him satisfy you. Those shiny eyes of yours innocently blinking at his inquiry could make him melt on the spot. You don’t know how much time has passed since you got dragged in here, or how much time there is left of Wooyoung’s class, but your hands move faster than your brain when considering these things as a problem. 

His fingers slip out of your core and into his mouth the moment your hands drop to fumble with his belt hurriedly. There are no words spoken, and the only sounds filling the quiet air of the bathroom are Yunho’s belt buckle coming undone and clattering against the floor tiles once his pants are shoved down. He pushes down his underwear and quickly fists his cock while you turn to bend over the sink. It doesn’t take much to get him hard because seeing you so wet and ready for him to stretch you out with no care for anything else turns him on to the highest degree. 

After tugging your panties down what he deems is enough, he doesn’t even bother teasing and prods at your hole so eagerly that it’s almost embarrassing. The soft gasp you both share when Yunho’s tip fully slips into your cunt by accident makes your stomach manifest butterflies. 

Your hands grip the edges of the counter while he continues pushing forward, mouth agape and brows drawn together while watching the way the tight skin stretches around him and sucks him in greedily. When you finally feel his thighs meet yours, you release a deep breath you didn’t even know you were holding heavy in your lungs. 

“You’re so wet, slipped in so easily,” he huffs, giving you an experimental thrust to see all your arousal coat his cock again before he bunches your dress around your waist in his hands. “Gonna be good for me and stay quiet, right?”

“I should ask you the same,” you whisper, giving him a coy gaze through the mirror. 

The smirk tugging at his lips in place of laughing is followed by a knowing nod, and you close your eyes when he finally begins moving his hips. Yunho has no intention of purposefully rushing things to get you back to your obligations any quicker than him bringing you here. Even so, he isn’t going slow or taking his time like he treated you the last time you had sex. No, this is an exceptionally needy fuck today, with hasty, desperate thrusts that make his eyes flutter closed and chest feel heavy with noises of arousal just begging to creep out. He just can’t help himself; Yunho swears your cunt was perfectly crafted just for him. 

When he feels your knees buckle after one particular angled thrust, he groans lowly, “Right there, angel?” 

With a nod of your head, Yunho's hands move from your dress to your hips, fingertips digging deep into the plush skin while he reciprocates that previous thrust over and over and over until you’re gripping the sink spout to maintain some of your sanity. 

“I need more Yu, please,” you beg him in a whisper, cock-drunk eyes meeting his own in the mirror, “More, more—please—harder.”

You want nothing more than for him to just grab a fist full of your hair and make a mess of your sopping cunt—to ruin your makeup and send you back out to Wooyoung looking like a mess. You crave that pure and raw act of Yunho showing him who you truly belong to. Knowing your lover, he wouldn’t decline the opportunity to assert his dominance in this situation, but you have enough self-control to keep those desires to yourself. He’s giving you enough to handle anyway, firmly pressing your stomach to this counter with strong hands and settling on a brutal pace to satisfy your request. The sounds of skin slapping skin echo amongst desperate pants and gasps from you both every time he bottoms out just as fast as he pulls back.

The steamy air of the bathroom is interrupted when your phone begins ringing on the counter. You know it’s probably Wooyoung finally out of class and wondering where you are. You can’t blame him, as you had explicitly told him you’d be waiting for him outside the classroom. 

Even so, you can’t seem to care enough to remove your focus from Yunho, your unwavering eyes still locked on his own through the mirror as he continues snapping his hips into you quickly. Yunho would be lying if he said this attention didn’t go straight to his head. He knows you shouldn’t ever have to prove it, but the reassurance he feels from seeing your devotion to him in real time makes his chest tight with adoration. The way nobody else matters to you right now, and how he’s the center of your attention, chips away at every inch of jealousy he was feeling earlier. 

Yunho’s hands abruptly pull you off the sink by your arms and up against him. This new position with your back arched and you on your toes has you seeing constellations, and you know you probably aren’t going to last much longer with the way he’s also heaving just behind your ear. When one hand of his moves down to rub sticky circles on your clit, you presume he’s close as well. Yunho feels like he’s going crazy, mind spinning with thoughts of if you keep squeezing him like this, he might just accidentally cum—

“Inside,” you whimper, “Please.”

He finds himself groaning against your skin, teasing you by breathing, “Going on a date with another man’s cum in you’s kinda rude, no?”

“Don’t care, please, please.”

As usual, how can he say no when you beg so cutely? He did say he’d do whatever you want, after all. Your eyes flutter closed and you focus on the final sounds of Yunho’s soft grunts and your shaky exhales mingling in the air while he ruts up into you quickly. It always seems like he knows your body better than you know yourself these days because his hand covers your mouth before he gives the last few sharp thrusts that precede him finally spilling into you, and he successfully stifles the desperate moan you would’ve let fly out once you fall apart in his arms. 

“Quiet– Oh fuck, that’s it,” Yunho hisses, letting out a soft moan at the way you struggle to stand while your legs tremble and your cunt milks him for all he’s worth. He’s dangerously too addicted to this feeling already; you should’ve never introduced something so heavenly to him. He can’t stop his hips from beginning to buck again in messy strokes, intent on fucking you through your orgasm even if he’s sensitive himself. Watching the way you bite down on your lip to keep quiet as told, he whispers well-deserved praises in between kissing your skin, “Taking it so well, sweet girl. You really were made for me. Shhh, I’ve got you.”

Yunho only stops himself when your body becomes pliant in his arms, fully surrendering to fatigue and overstimulation. He waits patiently until you can put your weight back onto your feet before finally releasing his grip. When he finally pulls himself out, he’s not quick enough to step away, and his seed spills from you onto his pants still pooled around his ankles. The handful of curses spilling from his mouth at his fuck-up has you shushing him in between breathless laughs. 

“I’m an idiot,” he groans.

“Yes, and that’s exactly what you get for dragging me in here.”

Yunho spends a handful of minutes using wet napkins to make his pants look a little more presentable while you do the same with the mess you’ve both made soiling the insides of your thighs. He doesn’t even try to hide the satisfied smirk tugging at his lips while inconspicuously watching you try your best to get his cum to stop seeping out of your core. There’s just not enough to properly clean up, and he finds this just as gratifying as getting you here in the first place. To be fair, you were the one who told him that you didn’t care. On that note, he goes to grab your discarded phone and ushers it your way eagerly. 

“You should call your date and let him know you’ll be wherever very soon,” he insists, “I’m sure he’s waiting patiently.”

“Rushing me out after throwing such a fit is crazy,” you mutter while pulling your panties back up. You’re sure he’s just obsessed with the thought of his cum making a cameo on your date.

“A man can’t change his mind?”

As you stand in front of the bathroom mirror, quickly dabbing at your neck with napkins to clean any smeared lip gloss, Yunho leans against the bathroom wall and tries to decide how long he should wait in the bathroom before leaving after you. Between watching the way you apply a fresh coat to your lips and entering post-nut clarity, he’s a bit too scatterbrained to think about this critically, but he’s brought back to the moment when you finally spin around with a sigh.

“Do I look okay?”

There’s a bit of anxiety hidden in that question, evoked by the fear of looking disheveled or being perfumed with the smell of sex, but those thoughts are quickly extinguished when he gives you those eyes that look as though he’s falling in love with you all over again. Maybe it’s that special afterglow that sex grants, but to him, in this moment you look even better than when you enter this bathroom with him. You’re exceptionally beautiful at all times, and he doesn’t even have to answer that question for you to know his thoughts. After planting a quick peck of farewell on his cheek, Yunho stays hidden away against the wall out of view of the door so you can finally leave and call Wooyoung. He’ll hold off on teasing you about the little limp in your walk until you see each other again in private.

The following day, you find yourself seated alone at the familiar table tucked away in the back of the library, the very spot where you and Yeosang often retreated for private discussions. Wooyoung’s ex was supposed to be seated in front of you 10 minutes ago. I’m giving her 5 more minutes before I leave. She was the one who finally asked you to meet with her after a bit of cordial back and forth, so being late to her own plans didn’t necessarily make you as sympathetic to her situation as before. You suppose you should give her a little more grace, considering this is your only opportunity to try and put an end to the madness of Wooyoung’s chasing. Still, you’re a busy woman who needs to prepare for your first exam tomorrow.

“____?” 

A soft voice emerges from behind you that has you craning your head to seek out its owner.

“Hello,” you greet her, and your eyes follow her as she ambles around the table to set down her bag to settle in across from you. “Didn’t know if you were still going to show up.”

“I apologize for being late,” she sighs, embarrassment blossoming on her cheeks. With her first question, she wastes no time delving into the purpose of your meeting, “So, how long have you and Woo been dating?”

Due to her Instagram page being locked down, you hadn’t seen very many pictures of her before this meeting. You were only able to get glimpses of her in a scarce amount of posts on her sorority’s page that included all sisters. In person, she’s exceptionally beautiful, and you expected nothing less of someone being so heavily pursued. Your blatant staring and lack of reply to her question have her glancing at you quizzically.

It’s a bit surreal at first, but it finally sinks in that sitting in front of you is the very person of Wooyoung’s desires. An involuntary giggle escapes you at how silly this situation is, as you were never really prepared to be confronted by the very girl Wooyoung kept you from knowing this whole time. She was merely a faceless hindrance to your life, to the point of even doubting her existence at one point. Your reaction doesn’t fare well with her, and she’s noticeably bothered at being laughed at. 

“I’m sorry, that was rude of me,” you offer a genuine apology before leaning onto the table on your elbows and admitting truthfully, “Not too long at all, just about a month.” 

Still, way too long, you’d like to add. Even though she visibly relaxes at this revelation, you can see a conflicting look flicker behind her eyes.

“I still don’t really understand why you contacted me,” she sighs, but the look in her eyes just doesn’t correspond. 

You’re sure she knows exactly why you reached out and exactly what you want to say; surely she already knows she is all Wooyoung wants. During this conversation, you had planned to tell a series of half-truths. She didn’t need to know how you got wrapped up in this mess, but you figured it’d be helpful to admit that Wooyoung only thinks of her when he’s with you. Maybe you’d give her some empathetic spiel about how you “think” he hasn’t moved on from his feelings for her, and make it a bit emotional on your end. Despite those words dancing on the tip of your tongue, ready to give your best performance, you realize that she looks as if she wants to do your job for you. So, you play into it and let her take the wheel.

“You look like you want to ask me something,” you observe, “I’m all ears.”

Sitting up a bit more erect in her chair, she meets your eyes head-on.

“I’d like to ask you if…” But, her voice falters before she can get to the tail of her request. 

You wonder if it’s a pride thing that’s keeping her from being honest with herself. She wants him back, you’re sure of it, but she’s the one who broke things off initially. Maybe she’s embarrassed, you muse. You suppose you could gently guide the conversation, posing the question she hesitates to voice herself.

“Do you want me to break up with him?” You ask forthrightly.

“I do,” she finally confesses, “I was hesitant about rekindling our relationship, but you reaching out to me made me feel more confident that I should ask. I’m so sorry.”

Feigning indecision is easy, and pretending to fight your feelings about the situation is the cherry on top. It wouldn’t be believable if you gave up too easily, so the uncomfortable silence is more than necessary. The false front is believable enough because she cuts into the tense silence before you can even respond.

“I made a mistake and I would just like a second chance with him. I know I’m asking for a lot from you, and I want him to be happy, but I can’t pretend that I don’t still love him anymore,” she rambles on, trying her best to be authentic, “We were together for quite some time and—”

“I’m aware,” you finally interject. When she downcasts her eyes, you perch your head in your palm and sigh, “Wooyoung is still in love with you as well. I don’t want to be with someone who’s still caught up on someone else anymore. You understand?”

The way her eyes light up at this revelation makes yours soften. Even though Wooyoung’s actions may be maddening to you, you can tell he genuinely brings her joy. They both truly love each other.

“I don’t know how to go about this,” she admits after a moment of thought.

"Just tell him you want him back. He'll probably end things with me right away," you say bluntly. You feel it's best to give her a gentle nudge to act sooner rather than later, though. So, you add, "I think he’s been planning a trip for us after finals, but I'm sure he'd rather go with you. Please, do it soon."

Underscoring the word please to her might come across as begging, but at this point, you are beyond caring. Going your separate ways after closing this conversation feels like a hefty weight lifted off of your shoulders. In the end, you’ve done what needed to be done in terms of setting the stage; now it was time for her return to the spotlight as the lead. 

The next morning, you awaken to a text from Wooyoung finally breaking your arrangement off. He doesn’t go into any specifics of what happened, but at any rate, you don’t need or care to know. As far as you’re concerned, he’s fully evaporated from your life the moment you delete his text thread. You find that your coffee and breakfast taste better than normal with one less weight of stress hanging over your head. Exchanging many [Good luck!] texts with Yunho has him subsequently requesting to meet with you after today’s exam. That is how you ended up dawdling around your favorite aisle in the campus bookstore just before lunch. You had decided to turn in your textbook rentals early and put all of your faith in your notes for these next few days. The only other thing really lingering over your head was to finally turn in your final paper for Yunho’s class before midnight.

You start to get a bit impatient when Yunho fails to show up after your proposed meeting time, and you wonder if maybe he’s in the wrong spot. With calculated steps, you begin to roam the nearby shelves, reluctant to call out his name too many times in such a quiet place. There are only but so many aisles he could be in within this store anyway. After a couple of minutes peeking into different empty aisles, you finally decide he’s simply just late. You venture back to your original aisle and decide to browse in the meantime; this is the last time you’d ever be stepping foot in this place, so it couldn’t hurt to chew over a last-minute purchase. No matter how frequently this aisle has seen your presence in the last few years, you never fail to find something new that piques your interest. Unfortunately, today’s mark is a small book with the prettiest spine, and it sits just out of your reach on the top shelf. Being unobtainable only makes your curiosity even more inevitable.

Stretching every muscle in your body as far as it’ll give to try and at least graze the spine fails; there’s just no use, and it seems appealing to simply give up. The moment you finally fall back on the heels of your feet, you can feel the sturdiness of a chest slyly pressing against your back while reaching for that very same book just out of your reach. 

“You should really be more aware of your surroundings,” Yunho’s smooth voice hums next to your ear after feeling you freeze up underneath his presence. He plucks the book from the shelf with ease and sighs. You can feel his breath fan out on your neck and even smell the mint on his breath when he adds a playful jab, “Short stuff.”

“And you should really be more punctual,” you quip back, trying your best to ignore his proximity. 

He’s dressed casually today, charmingly sporting a comfortable pair of jeans and an oversized sweater since classes are officially over. If you didn’t already know who he was, a simple glance would have you thinking he was a student himself.

“Oh c’mon pretty, at least I’m here like I said I’d be, right?” He reasons excitedly while offering you a toothy grin that’s way too cute for your liking. The gentle tap of the book on the crown of your head has you scrunching up your nose, and he sets it aside. “You sure this section is private enough?”

“One hundred percent. I used to sit here in my free time when I wanted to read books without buying them,” you admit, adding, “No cameras over here either.”

Yunho eyes you curiously. You're practically glowing today, evident to him by the smile you can’t seem to keep off of your face even when you feign annoyance at his tardiness. He presses a hand to the shelf ledge behind you while the other finds solace in his pocket with his belongings.

“What’s got you so happy today?”

He’s torn between whether you’ll say something about already being rid of one exam, or maybe your spontaneous rendezvous with him here has you that giddy. Your eyes gaze back into his expectant ones and you find yourself finally able to relax for the first time in many weeks. 

“It’s all over, Yunho.”

Normally, a sentence like that would seem ominous, but the wide stretch of your lips has his poor heart shooting into his throat. It’s the way your eyes are lit while saying his name that really gets him. His pocketed hand finds its way to your cheek and his thumb skims the apple of your cheek. This kind of smile is something he hopes he can evoke from you on his own in the near future.

“I really missed seeing you this happy,” he confesses, “You look like you can breathe again, ____.”

Something about the way those soft chocolate eyes of his are openly admiring every inch of your face, committing this kind of happiness from you to memory, has you shrinking back in shyness and averting your gaze.

Eager to move the spotlight off yourself, you inquire, “So… why’d you wanna meet up here?”

Oh, that’s right…

Yunho’s decision to drive to campus today mainly stemmed from the fact that you would already be here. He didn’t want you to have to go out of your way just for him to see you, especially after an exam. A clandestine meeting in the bookstore, which you assured him beforehand would be devoid of many students, seemed like a feasible option. He moves to wrap his arms around you, pressing you against his chest in a firm embrace. You don’t hesitate to wrap your arms around his waist.

“It’s going to be a very busy week for me with grading final papers all by myself,” Yunho begins tentatively. 

His eyes close and he focuses on slowing down his heart that’s beating a bit too prominently in his chest when your ear is pressed against it. There are a lot of emotions coursing through him today, many he can’t quite decipher, although he supposes maybe that’s just everything he’s been feeling throughout the entire semester coming to a head: love, jealousy, desperation, angst, and more. Even amongst the newfound happiness blossoming within his chest at such a detrimental obstacle being overcome, anxiety is still the most overwhelming feeling consuming him. It’s a bit nerve-wracking inching closer and closer to the final moments where he can confidently say you’re his with no repercussions. He’s been reflecting on how things will change between you both when finally crossing over this hump, and how things will flourish sans the threats to your futures. He doesn’t want to get too ahead of himself, though.

“Continue,” you encourage him, “I’m listening.”

“I just wanted to see you in person before I have to disappear, and tell you that I know you’re going to do amazing on your exams,” Yunho’s gentle voice imparts. He lowers it further to add, “I’m very proud of you and…”

When he trails off, you turn to plant your chin on his chest and peer up at him with coy eyes, “And?”

“And… I love you,” he whispers, eyes flickering up for the briefest second to confirm you’re still in solitude. 

Your gentle laughter at his neverending caution is like music to his ears. He’s still learning how to comfortably say those words without being fearful of not hearing them back. The feeling of his arms letting you go in favor of his hands holding either side of your face steals the opportunity to return his words of adoration. Instead, you put those unspoken words into the kiss he doesn’t hesitate to initiate. When you reach up and pull him by the back of his neck, deepening the kiss and encouraging him to let go, he feels his nerves finally melt away for this moment and this moment only. Yunho pulls away before he can get too lost in the feeling of not caring where you both are, and the way you’re led to chase his lips has heat prickling your cheeks.

“You know, the store’s nearly empty… Might even just be me and you,” you hum. Yunho’s eyes don’t leave yours, even as he feels your hand mischievously skirt down his chest to tap at the belt buckle under his sweater. When your fingers dare to dance further down to the crotch of his jeans, he finally takes hold of your wrist. “Oh come on, are you still nervous?”

He shakes his head confidently, “Just think it’d be more fun to reward you once your exams are over. Making you wait a lil might be fun, no?”

“You sure you can go a couple weeks without it?” You taunt him with a cock of your head. “All that stress while grading finals adds up, no?”

“Is this coming from the same woman who spent two weeks away from me in the arms of another man before I knew about it?” He immediately counters, eyebrows dancing with mischief. “I’ll be just fine. You, on the other hand, are a needy little thing it seems.”

“Don’t make me consider going back,” you warn him.

Yunho’s eyes find the ceiling as he inhales a deep, frustrated breath. Provoking him like this is unfair and dirty. If he were a man with no self-control, he’d have half a mind to have you in this aisle on your knees, putting that mouth to better use than spouting such nonsense. For now, he simply purses his lips and nods curtly. 

“That’s okay, be that way,” he concedes in a voice low enough for your ears only, “Because the next time I get my hands on you…” 

He trails off while palming your ass through your leggings and squeezing to his heart’s content. The yelp you let out at his fingers sinking in a little deeper than usual makes a pleased smile tug at his lips. He’d say a lot more, let those lewd thoughts entering his mind go freely for once, but the sounds of feet shuffling not too far away shut him up just as fast as he could think to say them. You both separate abruptly and face opposite shelves. How disappointing…

Yunho clears his throat before finally sighing, “On that note, I look forward to receiving your paper tonight.”

“I look forward to you reading it, Mr. Jeong,” you hum, and he can hear the smile lingering on your words. It’s been quite some time since he heard such formalities come from your mouth. “I hope it ends up being worth the wait. You did help me craft it, after all.”

Behind you, his warm chuckle is followed by him laying a comforting hand on your head. 

“See you at graduation, ____,” he whispers. 

When he departs, being left alone doesn’t feel so lonely for once.

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[lycheeloving]

I love bodyguard aus but I'm terrible at coming up with specific ideas... I just think somebody (who's smart and strong and devoted to their job) risking their life for me is incredibly hot. What if we had sex about it.

[ivytwines]

I am always overly friendly in awkward situations, and the most awkward situation is being alone in a car with a strange man. Perhaps this is why the car dealership driver asked me out after he brought me to pick up my car

[goldweaverr]

WELL FINE THEN SINCE THE MYDEI X READER TAG IS GONNA STAY THIS DRY, IM GONNA CONTRIBUTE TO IT MYSELF !!!!!! (No spoilers mentioned!! But MDNI there's nsfw)

I've seen possessive Mydei x reader, aggressive Mydei x reader, cocky Mydei x reader, etc, and while all of those are absolutely yummy and very much welcomed, consider the following flavor I'm offering; absolutely desperate Mydei.

Look. Based on everything we've seen of him so far, he definitely has not had opportunities for dating or romance or sex. He doesn't seem like the type to deem these things as silly, stupid, or hindrances that will block his path, but he likely believes they simply have no place in his life. His journey and destiny aren't ones that give him much room to go out, meet people, befriend them, grow to like them, court them, date them, sleep with them, marry them, and so on. That sounds like an entirely foreign concept to him. The furthest his social circle extends to is fellow Chrysos Heirs that the prophecy has placed alongside him as comrades, and the most miraculous extention it ever received was when the two outsiders came into Amphoreus. He certainly would never pursue a fellow Chrysos Heir romantically, as that's entirely unprofessional and could lead to jeopardizing their team dynamic which there is absolutely no room for! So he has resigned to the fact that he will simply be alone for the whole of his immortal life. And that's fine. Okay, maybe not ENTIRELY fine. He does feel like he'd fine the idea appealing, even if only for a flicker of a moment. But those thoughts are anchors that will weight him down. He's got way more important matters at hand. Okhema's safety, the prophecy, the people of his kingdom, Nikador, the outsiders who arrived from beyond the sky, hell even his fellow Chrysos Heirs such as Phainon or the Tribios. So those desires are ones that will be buried alongside many other hopes and wishes he had, but are no longer necessary. He will survive without love, he will be just fine without the touch of another, he will emerge victorious without the need of a congratulatory kiss, he doesn't need these things. They're privileges, not rights.

That is, until, he does meet someone. You.

Perhaps you're a fellow Chrysos Heir. Perhaps you're also one of the outsiders from beyond the sky. Perhaps you're a regular citizen in Okhema. Anything is possible. The occupation or role doesn't matter, what matters is that he finally meets someone who makes it feel like these things ARE necessary and he cannot possibly deny himself of them any longer.

He tries. He tries very hard. Tries avoiding you, tries scaring you off, tries not showing you much interest, tries to let you know without needing to use any words that he's no good for you. You don't know what you'd be getting into with him. But yet you persist. You're just too annoying. Sometimes you flirt, sometimes you tease, sometimes you worry, sometimes it's pure kindness. Whatever your intentions are for the day, they stress him.

Watching him train in the arena when it's entirely empty and then all he hears after destroying every training equipment around him is you clapping, the sound echoing across the empty seats where spectators would usually sit and down to his ears, that are beginning to turn suspiciously red. Coming down to praise him in person, telling him how absolutely attractive it was to watch the great Mydeimos unleash all that pent up rage. And he doesn't know what to do with the moment between the two of you. Running your index finger down his exposed, sweaty chest. Your nail scratching so, so slightly yet so deliciously over his searing hot skin making his breathing pick up the pace under your excruciatingly slow drag, until you reach his pants. You don't break eye contact with him, playful gaze challenging him with mirth. His expression can't be described in the same way. In fact it can hardly be described at all. A strange mixture of want, desire, anger, embarrassment, shyness, happiness, yearning. Whatever emotions you can imagine, you could probably locate somewhere on his face. But one thing remains. It's red. And he stands more stiff than any statue you've seen around the city. You remove your finger just as he was debating making a move forward and walk away, leaving him with way too many thoughts in his head that are making him angry. The anger he can't take out on training dummies. And that makes him even angrier. What a cycle.

He can't get you off of his mind.

Every meeting, you're throwing him glances to catch him staring. He's embarrassed, you smirk. Every time you run into him, there's some teasing remark already on your tongue, a gun ready to fire. He never has a response. Which sucks, because he should be used to this stuff with how much Phainon runs his mouth. But with you, it's different. With Phainon, they tease each other out of the love two friends share. With you, the feeling is entirely different. He can't treat you the same way he treats his friend, because he's not viewing you the same way he views his friend. And that's a scary thought. You've cemented yourself an entirely different category in his heart. Oh, how he hates it. But oh, how he wishes to explore more.

He doesn't think you make him weak. If anything, you make him stronger. It takes strength to face your feelings, it takes strength to tackle desires you've kept buried. Ones you claimed were unnecessary and unneeded. It takes strength to admit that he now has something else he wishes to protect. And he feels like if after a hard battle, he could unwind by laying his head against your chest and falling asleep to the feeling of your fingers in his hair, he'll face his next opponent with so much more power than what his lonely heart usually carries. And he'll face his enemies with a desire to return unscathed, not to battle to the death he will never reach anyway. That takes strength. Strength if he claimed he didn't have in him, he'd be announcing himself weak. He's fought his entire life, matters of the heart isn't where he will surrender. Hell, the last straw may have been watching his terrifying and courageous and powerful lion companion curl into you and purr up a storm. That was just purely offensive. There goes what was left of the Kremnos honor.

But since he will inevitably claim his throne, his people will expect someone else to rule alongside him, wouldn't they? Would they not expect heirs? He cares too much about the honor of his family name to let it die with him. (Even though it literally can't)

So when your teasing gets the better of him again, and it ends with you against the wall, you expected anything out of him. Anger, rage, annoyance, utter domination, demands only a crown prince has the rights to give, anything. But not desperation. Not inexperience. Not a look in his eyes that's full of _*yearning*_ . He wants you so bad it makes him look stupid. People call Phainon a golden retriever boy too much, this one might take the crown actually (Haha)

He stares at your eyes, with a glimmer in his. He stares at your lips, yearning to feel them. It's his first kiss. He knows he'll be clumsy. He knows he'll be inexperienced. He knows it might be embarrassing. But he wants it more than anything right now. His chest heaving slightly, picking up gradually. His hot breath on your face, from his nose and his parted lips. His gaze more intense than the lance of fury's flames. A bead of sweat down his forehead. You lean in closer, encouraging him. Your jaw is grabbed suddenly with cold and sharp armor as lips immediately crash onto yours. A mess of teeth and aggressive kissing and spit and a tongue that doesn't know what it's supposed to be doing and lip bites that may not have been well calculated in terms of pain. This first kiss was a mess, but how passionate it was. How much desire was poured into it. He's not entirely clueless. He's read books, stories. He's heard stories. He knows how it's supposed to go. Not how good it was supposed to feel. You don't want to part away, even as you try to slowly guide him into a less frantic rhythm. Gently leading the way, enough to not scare him off by taking the lead above him. You let him be in control. You know he feels far too vulnerable in the current moment. His body may be reacting off of desire, but his heart is weak and afraid. This moment, despite it's violence, is fragile.

Kissing, and kissing, and so much kissing later, kissing that eventually finds it's rhythm. Kissing that eventually flows like a river. Kissing that ignites a flame of ... Happiness in his heart where fear was beginning to eat away at it. His hand no longer on your jaw, now buried in your hair, holding the back of your head to keep your lips on his. The other arm wrapped around your waist holding your body flush against him. Your arms wrapped around his torso, happy to let his strength carry you as you feel more and more limp. He never knew kissing could be so fun. So romantic. So nice . He could get used to this.

A hand trails lower. His, or yours? It doesn't matter. Clothes are off rather quickly. He's desperate. So desperate.

He prepares you thoroughly. His fingers stretching you to the point of overstimulation. It was not his intention, they've simply been inside you so long that they've gotten to that point. He swears he's only getting you ready properly so you don't get hurt taking his size. He doesn't even say it in any cocky tone, his intention isn't to brag, he's just being honest. He's big, you're not. You'll get hurt. He doesn't want to hurt you. Ever. He loves you. He probably isn't even fully aware how much he's pushing you to the edge, but he does see you grow more and more desperate. Your nails digging into his biceps, and it excites him even more. Burying your head into the space between his neck and shoulders, whining out his name weakly, begging to put it in you already, and it drives him crazy. He's heard his name said in so many different ways. A roar that announces the start of a battle. A cry for help. The pride of his people. The teasing of his friend. The disdain of those who loathe him. The begging for mercy. The casual conversation starter. The acknowledgement of authority. So many different sounds they no longer mean anything to him. But this? This is new. And he likes it. He likes it so much. No tone spoken of his name causes him reaction anymore, but this one lit him on fire. He wants to hear more of it. He wants to hear it all night long.

He doesn't wear much to begin with. But he never feels exposed or vulnerable. His armor is a separator between himself and danger. Shedding off that armor with another person to allow himself into such a weak position felt terrifying, but currently, sinking deep into your warmth, it's never felt safer. A cry of his name spilling from your lips like a prayer, he doesn't even recall people calling Kephale's name with this much worship. And he melts. Figures he could do this forever. How did he ever go on without this?

His rhythm is sloppy, he's not even entirely sure how to set one. He's operating off of something primal right now, all he can do is fuck in and out of the heat that's swallowing him whole. He couldn't stop if he tried, body moving on its own. He stares in awe at where you two connect, watching the repetitive motion with no sign of getting used to it anytime soon. He doesn't even realize — or maybe doesn't even care — about the noises coming out of him. Why should he bother holding back his pleasure? He's never felt anything like this, and it's so thrilling, so exciting, so full of pleasure, that he doesn't care about his image or his behavior at the moment. He gasps, and pants, and breathes heavily, and grunts, and groans, completely overtaken with lust. And that's the dance you two shared throughout the duration of the entire night. Although the sun never stops shining in Okhema.

Mydei is a fast learner, and eventually establishes a rhythm for how he does things. From kissing romantically, to fucking into you relentlessly. But it certainly doesn't come easy, not without many, many more demonstrations first <3

[pucksandpower]

I’m a Feminist

Franco Colapinto x team principal!Reader

Summary: everyone knows that Franco has a thing for older women, okay … so when his team principal turns out to be a (stupidly attractive) older woman, he can’t be held responsible for his actions

Franco sprawls in the chair, arms crossed over his chest like he’s holding court instead of facing an emergency meeting. His grin is wide, cocky even, and wholly unapologetic. Across the desk, you pinch the bridge of your nose, willing patience to come like some kind of divine miracle.

“Explain,” you say, voice flat, your tone giving nothing away. You refuse to let him see how utterly exhausted you already are by this conversation.

“I sneezed,” Franco says with a shrug, “and liked all your pictures. Really, it was — how do you say — an accident.”

You stare. No, you glare. "And commented damn mommy on all of them?”

Franco falters — barely. There’s a half-second where his grin wavers, his bravado cracks, but then it’s gone, replaced by another shrug. “I-I have the flu?”

Your exhale is sharp, just shy of a growl. “Franco.”

“What?” He leans forward now, feigning innocence. “Is it so bad? You look muy guapa in your photos. Should I not celebrate my team principal’s beauty? This feels sexist, no?”

“Sexist?” Your eyebrows climb so high they might leave your face.

“I’m a feminist,” he announces, as if that explains everything.

“Do feminists call their bosses ‘mommy’ in the comments?”

“Only the hot ones,” he shoots back without missing a beat, then quickly adds, “Joking! I’m joking.”

You slam your palms down on the desk, the sound sharp enough to make him flinch, but the smile doesn’t leave his face. If anything, it widens. “Do you even understand how unprofessional this is? I have sponsors asking me if I’ve been hacked! The CEO of Dorilton Capital called me himself this morning!”

Franco’s face lights up like you’ve just paid him a compliment. “Darren! He likes me. He said I was charming.”

“He said you were a walking HR violation!”

His grin falters again, but there’s something annoyingly endearing about how quickly it returns. “Well, at least he talked about me.”

You sink back into your chair and drag a hand through your hair. God, you’re tired. “Do you even know how this looks? You went through every single photo I’ve ever posted. Franco, that’s-”

“Dedicated?”

“Obsessive,” you snap. “Creepy. Insane.”

“Romantic,” he offers, leaning back again like he’s just solved a puzzle.

“You are twenty-one years old!”

“And you’re …” He trails off, letting the sentence dangle in the air like bait.

You narrow your eyes. “Don’t finish that sentence.”

He smirks. “I was going to say timeless.”

“Franco, enough.” Your voice is sharp enough to cut through his bravado, and for the first time, he looks a little serious. “Do you have any idea what kind of position you’ve put me in? If this gets out-”

“It won’t.”

“It already has! You didn’t think people would notice when every post I’ve made since 2016 suddenly has your username in the likes and comments?”

Franco shrugs. “I’m a fan.”

“A fan?” You throw your hands up. “What are you even a fan of? My press conferences? My sponsor meetings? My ability to yell at you when you ruin your tires on lap seventeen?”

His grin returns, this time with a little more sheepishness. “How sexy you look doing that last one, mostly.”

Your head falls into your hands, and for a moment, there’s silence. You think — foolishly — that maybe he’s finally run out of things to say.

But no.

“You never answered my DM,” he says, voice lighter, teasing.

Your head snaps up. “Excuse me?”

“Last week,” he says, tilting his head like it’s the most casual thing in the world. “I sent you a DM. Very respectful. Very sweet.”

“I don’t even check my DMs!”

“Well, now I’m offended.” He places a hand over his heart like he’s genuinely wounded.

“I’m going to lose my job,” you mutter, mostly to yourself.

“Don’t be dramatic,” Franco says, waving you off. “You’re too good to lose your job. Everyone knows that.”

You stare at him, incredulous. “You’re the one who’s dramatic! I can’t believe I’m sitting here having this conversation right now.”

“I can’t believe you’re not flattered,” he counters, leaning forward again. “I thought women liked grand gestures.”

“Grand gestures?” You bark out a laugh, humorless and sharp. “Franco, this isn’t a romantic comedy. You don’t win me over by cyberstalking me!”

“Cyberstalking?” His mouth falls open, mock-offended. “That’s harsh, no? I think of it more like … research.”

“Research?”

“Sí. I’m just a very dedicated employee.”

“Dedicated?” Your laugh this time is louder, more incredulous. “I swear to God-”

“Would it help if I apologized?” He interrupts, holding his hands up like he’s surrendering.

“Yes,” you say immediately.

He doesn’t. Instead, he tilts his head, watching you in that unnervingly focused way he sometimes has, the one that makes you feel like he’s cataloging every detail of your expression. “You wouldn’t believe me, though. Even if I apologized, you’d think I was lying.”

“Because you would be lying.”

“Touché.” He grins again, but this time it’s softer, less of a weapon and more of a shield. “Okay, so maybe I’m not sorry. But I didn’t mean to cause problems for you.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” you mutter.

“I mean it,” he says, and for the first time, there’s something like sincerity in his voice. “I thought it was funny. I didn’t think-”

“That’s the problem, Franco. You didn’t think.”

There’s a beat of silence. For a second, you think you’ve finally gotten through to him. His expression shifts, the grin fading into something that almost looks like remorse.

Then he says, “But if I had thought about it, you’d still be mad, so really, why bother?”

“Franco!”

He laughs, bright and unrepentant. “Okay, okay. I’ll stop. I promise. No more liking your pictures, no more comments, no more DMs. Contenta?”

You eye him warily. “You swear?”

“On my life.”

“Franco.”

“On my seat,” he amends, holding a hand to his chest.

You sigh, long and heavy, but you nod. “Fine. Just — keep your head down for a while, okay? Don’t give anyone else a reason to call me about this.”

He stands, smoothing his shirt with exaggerated care. “Anything for you … mommy.”

“And don’t call me ‘mommy,’” you snap as he heads for the door.

He pauses, hand on the handle, and glances back over his shoulder, smirk firmly in place. “Not even in private?”

“Franco!”

He’s laughing as he leaves, the sound echoing in the hallway long after the door closes behind him. You sink back into your chair, exhausted, and wonder — not for the first time —if this job is going to kill you.

And if it does, you think grimly, it’ll probably be Franco Colapinto’s fault.

[paarksunghoon]

resignation (4)

SUMMARY: For the last six years, you’ve dedicated your career to ensuring Park Sunghoon never misses a day of work in his life. But you’re tired of endless days that seem to blend together, and seeing him living his fun, luxurious lifestyle makes you think about what else you might be missing out on. When Sunghoon finds your resignation letter on his desk, he does everything in his power to convince you to stay.

NOTES: please do not ask me about chapter updates.

WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER: kissing & dry humping.

SERIES PLAYLIST + SERIES MASTERLIST

please leave a comment/reblog and let me know what you think!

***

What does it mean when you have a wet dream about your boss? 

Surely this happens to everybody. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about because the other party involved has no idea what transpired. This feeling is like accidentally calling your teacher “Mom” or “Dad,” only a thousand times worse. 

You don’t remember much, only fragments and jump cuts that make you question if what you dreamt was real at all. But you remember what his naked chest and torso looked like and the way your hands roamed the expanse of his skin as you sat on top of him. You remember the way his legs parted to situate your body on his thighs, and you remember the way he looked when he was tugging on his dick to finish all over your body. 

It was enough to wake you with a startle. 

It’s just before 5AM and nothing you do can put you back to sleep. Your heart is beating erratically, and your mind races from scenario to scenario. Revisiting the remnants of your dream makes you flustered and you feel guilty. Surely it’s normal to think about your boss like that, right? 

There’s not much that Sunghoon isn’t perfect at. He can be a bit impatient and particular, but he’s the epitome of everybody’s dream. He’s so sure of himself all of the time and knows what he wants. Most importantly, Sunghoon is not afraid of pursuing his goals until the very end. 

It’s unfortunate that passionate, secure men are exactly your type. You don’t play games; you’re too old for that. This will-they-won’t-they is a thing of the past and a scenario you would’ve loved to experience back when you were seventeen. In adulthood, you appreciate men who respect your independence and find it attractive, even. 

Hearing Sunghoon tell his colleagues he knows to trust you because of how you need little help does more damage than good. Sunghoon’s praise is not the basis of your career, but it’s an added bonus when it all comes down to it. 

He’s everything you could ever want in a guy, but you can’t do anything about it. You haven’t been able to think about how attractive you found him to be upon the first day of meeting him because Sunghoon is your boss. He’s the one who delegates your work and at the end of the day, it would be unprofessional. 

It doesn’t stop you from having wet dreams about him, apparently. 

Getting yourself to leave your apartment is much harder than it usually is. You refuse to get in your car for a while and try to stall yourself until the inevitable anxiety about being late to work pushes you to get in it. Music doesn’t help quell your mind on the drive either. It all sounds like static noise to you with how loud and vibrational the wet dream is. Pulling up to the parking garage and your designated spot feels like a challenge. Stepping into the lobby and riding the elevator up to your floor feels damn near suffocating. 

It’s just your luck that Sunghoon happened to show up earlier than you did for once, truly. You like to be prepared and have a daily agenda to go over with him, but you need your peace and quiet to gather all your thoughts and priorities before beginning the workday. 

He stands with his back facing you. Sunghoon’s broad shoulders are covered by a black button down with sleeves rolled up to just below his elbow. Your breath hitches and you don’t think you can handle seeing him if he turns around, especially when you know he could probably see how you’re out of it today. 

You take a few deep breaths before your heels click against the hardwood floor, alerting Sunghoon of your presence. He turns around when he hears you and you try not to trip and fall. Damn his good looks so early in the morning. Damn him for not needing any makeup while you caked your under eyes with concealer. Screw him for looking so attractive when you’re trying to think of him as anything but. 

“Morning.”

“You’re here early.” 

Sunghoon smiles. “I know. I woke up and couldn’t go back to sleep, so I figured I’d come to the office early.” 

Did he have a wet dream about you too?

The thought disappears as soon as you think it because that seems both ludicrous and egotistical. Sunghoon doesn’t think of you like that. He sees you as his personal assistant and nothing more. 

Why does that feeling disappoint you? 

You’re desperately trying to keep a calm demeanor as you walk closer towards him. You try your hardest to push the dream away from your mind as the two of you look at each other, and instead take a seat by your desk. He follows behind you and lingers by the front of it as you take out your legal pad to write today’s agenda. The weight of his eyes are heavy.

“No meetings until 11AM when the Choi’s come for an informational meeting with the Decelis company for lunch at the InterContinental, and begin discussing the steps until I resign for good.”

“You have your shit down.” 

“It’s my job.”

“Do we really have to talk about the fact that you’re quitting?” 

You turn your chair to face him. “Yes. I’m leaving in a month and a half, there are a million projects I need to finish, and I need to make sure your new assistant has what it takes.”

“You’ve really thought this through, haven’t you?” 

“I have. It’s my decision and I stand by it. But I really did enjoy my time at this company and I want to make sure you have somebody who can manage you.” 

“Manage me?” 

You smirk when he chokes. “Don’t act like you’re a saint, Sunghoon. You rely on me for nearly all of your business and I’ve learned more about this company’s inner workings than anybody else. My work is triple what other assistants do at this office, but it gets results.”

“I’m passionate about my job.” 

“So am I.” 

Sunghoon leans over your desk and puts both palms on the wood below him. He looks at you and bends down until he’s significantly closer to your face. Even with the clear distance between the both of you, your cheeks feel like they’re heating up. Suddenly, your dreams from the night before reappear in your vision. You start imagining what Sunghoon would look like without his shirt on at this very angle. 

“You’re the best at what you do. You’re smart, intuitive, and you’re not afraid to argue with me and hurt pride. I’ve never had a business partner who’s been as sharp as you.” 

You’re nearly stunned into silence. Sunghoon’s plush lips look inviting and his piercing stare makes you feel all kinds of things an assistant shouldn’t be feeling about her boss. His words still register and float around your head.

“Business partner is a stretch.” 

“You make ideas and execute them. That’s more than what a personal assistant would do. It’s commendable how much you’ve learned about this company over the years.”

“The best I can do is help you find a worthy assistant. 

“I suppose.” 

Sunghoon doesn’t say anything after that. Instead, he turns away without looking at you and retreats into his office. 

***

What makes a good assistant? 

So far, your list consists of:

Sense of urgency.

Able to meet deadlines.

Pays close attention to fine details and can multitask. 

Able to operate basic functions like Google and Microsoft Suite. 

Willing to work overtime, including nights and weekends. 

Manage calendars and be the bridge between employer and client.

Fulfill and execute holiday gifting for clients and partners. 

Create and maintain lists when needed. 

Of course, those are just the basic managerial tasks you do on a day to day basis. If you could be honest about what this job entails, the list would look something like:

Have a strong sense of urgency. 

Cannot be afraid to speak to strangers and build repertoire. 

Knows how to read a room and make judgment based on intuition. 

Knows how to speak multiple languages, even if merely conversational. 

Is an early bird and a night owl. 

Won’t be scared by how little time off is able to be taken.

Won’t be upset when needed to work very early hours and late evenings. 

Will not complain about accompanying the employer to personal matters. 

Knows how to be confident in a room full of people.

Doesn’t tolerate bullshit. 

Writing this job listing feels impossible at this point. It’s too long, too broad, and too complicated. You delete the entire draft and stare at the blank page as if to hope the listing to write itself. You’re trying to pass the time because your meeting with Sunghoon to discuss the next steps before you leave makes you feel like you’ll go insane.

But most of your projects are waiting on other people now. It’s a blessing and a curse to be one step ahead of everybody else. You’ve done all you could to follow up and distract yourself with your duties, but you can’t do anything until other people present their parts. 

Writing this job listing is something you’ve been putting off for the past week. It seems too hard to truly encapsulate what this job entails. It’s been bittersweet to walk down memory lane and think about all of the strengths you’ve learned over your time with Sunghoon. You want to do right by him and pick somebody that’s worthy of this position. You’ve spent so much of your career dedicated to him and the last thing you want is to undo all of the work you’ve done. 

Time doesn’t seem to be moving any faster and the thought of being alone with him after his obligations makes you feel uneasy. He lets you work in peace while he does his job. It’s not until an hour before his meeting do you see Sunghoon. It was hard to remain a stoic professional with a client when all you can think about is having sex with him on the large oakwood table your arms are resting on. When Sunghoon leaves for his lunch meeting, you picture his face buried deep in your cunt below your own desk. 

The way you think of your boss is unbecoming. There is a clear, set boundary you need to respect and maintain. But being near him makes things harder for you. 

If you were a better person, you’d quit while you’re ahead and stick to yourself until you were free from this company. It’s hard to work alongside somebody you’re physically attracted to. You see him walking around in his suits, so impeccably dressed that you’re not surprised at just how many people seek him out. He’s on magazine covers and rubs elbows with Korea’s rich and famous. Sunghoon’s circle resembles that of people who don’t need to think twice about spending money because they know it’ll never run out. The fact that he’s handsome, smart, and wealthy isn’t lost on you. In fact, it makes things that much worse. 

You’re not any of that. You don’t come from obscene wealth, nor do you have the friends and connections that Sunghoon does. You live in his world only as an adjacent, and then you go back to your apartment and order Chinese takeout while trying to feel like a regular human being. The imposter syndrome is what keeps you up at night. You’re afforded luxurious ways to travel, fine dining and drinks, and free clothes from time to time, but all of it is in the name of Sunghoon. He’s the one with the power to grant you these opulent wishes. You’re here because of him and who he is within society, not because it thinks you deserve to be here. 

It aches you to think that the next person to have your job will likely come to this startling truth like you did. Coming home to a small, studio apartment after an all expenses paid business trip to Berlin was a cold splash of water to the face. You are nothing without the company you work for. Somewhere along the line, you started to resent this lifestyle. It has consumed your life in ways you never thought imaginable. The late nights, days away from your bed, and the constant urge to prove yourself worthy is never ending. Even now, when most of Sunghoon’s colleagues and acquaintances know your name, people think of you as a mere servant.

The task then becomes how you can convey this through the job listing without making it sound like this job is miserable. It can be, but hinting at that is neither professional nor is it realistic. You need to find a worthy successor before you effectively leave. You can’t leave Sunghoon hanging without trying your best. He’s been good to you throughout the years, and the least you can do is make sure his next assistant doesn't make him resent having one. 

When Sunghoon is back from his lunch meeting, you’re calmer than you were at the beginning of the day. Knowing he’s been out of your sight has been good to quell your nerves. So has eating lunch. Instead of joining other assistants at the cafeteria, you’ve elected to pack yourself a lunch and enjoy the confines of your office until it’s time for you to go back to work. That hour is spent distracting yourself through Instagram, where an endless scroll of videos provides more entertainment than work does. 

It’s nearly four in the afternoon when Sunghoon comes back from his lunch meeting. He comes back looking triumphant and stops by your office after putting his suit jacket away in his office closet, knocking once before opening the door. 

“I take it the meeting went well?” you ask, not bothering to look up from your monitor as you type an email. 

“Swimmingly. Decelis has agreed to our terms and I had a very wonderful filet mignon as well.”

“BigHit called and requested a formal introduction. You have availability next Wednesday at 8AM and the following Tuesday at 10AM.”

“Let’s do Tuesday. Nobody likes an 8AM meeting.” 

“Got it.” 

Sunghoon steps inside and closes the door behind you when he hears the sound of an email being sent. You blink away the strain in your eyes from looking at a screen for too long and see him sitting on the chair in front of your desk. 

“It’s important we talk about what’s gonna happen for the next month and a half before you go, huh?” 

You sigh. “It is, Sunghoon. My time here has been good to me. I don’t want to leave you with somebody incompetent.”

“I feel touched that you’d extend your time here by two months to look for a new assistant.”

“You should. I’m trying to fill out a job listing before I post it. That’s been stalling me from figuring out what else I need to do. I figure I’ll tackle that and see what projects I can distribute until your new assistant gets the hang of things.” 

“What about the tasks you’re working on now?”

“Handled. I’m waiting for responses.”

“I’m gonna miss how hard you work,” he tells you. “It’ll be weird not seeing you everyday.” 

“You’ll get used to it. First up on the agenda: job requirements. I have a few basics–using software, meeting deadlines, accompanying you on business trips–what else is there that I can add?” 

Sunghoon looks over the list you’ve created. “Owning a passport and the willingness to travel is a must. But I’ll handle business when I need to travel by myself until I can fully trust my assistant.” 

You write it down. “Good idea. I think the first time I traveled with you was to Tokyo six months in. Pretty early to trust me, if I say so myself.” 

“Yeah, well, you proved to be a trustworthy person.”

“How so?”

Sunghoon shrugs. “I don’t know. You always seemed like you were keen on putting your head down and doing your job. Somewhere in the mix, I guess you started learning my habits and picked up on things quicker than other assistants I’ve had. I knew I could trust you when you had the briefings prepared when we met with Hybe.”

“Hybe?”

“You know, the independent record label we helped fund and is now considered one of the biggest music corporations in Asia?” 

“I know who they are,” you retort. Sunghoon just smiles. “But I don’t remember that at all.”

“You came into my office the day before the meeting and gave me an entire binder’s worth of prep I never asked you to do. Information on the company, the CEO and founder, artist growth potential, the whole nine yards. I’d never had a thorough assistant at that time. You walked into my office and apologized if you were overstepping before you left me with that behemoth of a binder. It was impeccable and it’s what helped solidify my decision to work with them. And now, Hybe is a major record label with business in America.” 

“Oh…I never knew that.”

“I tried to keep it on the down low so it didn’t get to your head. I was just getting to know you, and didn’t want to take the chance of your ego blowing out of proportion.”

You scowl. “It wouldn’t have.”

“I know that now. But at that time, we were still getting used to the swing of things. That let me know you were loyal to me and had my back. I knew I could trust you with the everyday administrative work, and I knew I could trust you to form a good, solid opinion when it came to this business. It’s why I decided to take you abroad for international business and to handle things back in Korea.” 

Sunghoon’s words make you dizzy. It’s as if a warmth has bloomed in your chest from all of the positive things he’s saying about you. You’ve tried your best to keep yourself humble when it comes to your career for the fear of crossing a boundary you shouldn’t have. You don’t have the power Sunghoon does, nor do you have the capital to back yourself up. The wins, both big and small, are celebrated by yourself before you move onto the next project. 

Everything he’s telling you makes you wonder if you never truly appreciated the things you’ve accomplished just because you were insecure about your role in the company. You’re an extension of Sunghoon, not his equal. Even when you’d assist him in decision making or give your input that ultimately influenced his opinions, it never felt like something worth celebrating. Not unless he’d give you a verbal praise.

The stories he’s telling you about his time working with you makes you look at your job differently. For as competent as you are, you’ve got tunnel vision. Work is work and there’s nothing more to it. You’ve always believed that the essence of your accomplishments lie with Sunghoon, but now you’re starting to wonder about all of the things he’s noticed about you without having vocalized them. The wake of your departure seems to have stirred up emotions within Sunghoon, but you’re having a hard time trying to figure out what they are. 

“I don’t know what to say, Sunghoon. Thanks, I think.”

“What I’m trying to say is, you’re really good at your job. I know it’s stressful trying to find a replacement, but I want to make sure they can reach your level with time. There won’t be anybody who can do what you do.” 

Your face heats up and you go back to brainstorming. 

“I’ve got a general idea for the listing now and I’ll type the copy for your approval by the end of the week. Let’s move on to our clients, shall we?”

When the clock hand tells you it’s six o’clock, Sunghoon asks if you have anywhere to be tonight. When you tell him no, he asks that you stay at the office longer with the promise of ordering takeout to be shared between the two of you. You decide to stay, even if it means you have to work, because you’d never turn down a free meal from him. It’s the only time you allow yourself to splurge on food and Sunghoon prefers to eat at high end restaurants anyway. 

You settle on dim sum. Sunghoon orders just enough for the both of you and it sits across the desk in the main meeting office with Thai tea in to-go cups. He’s loosened his tie and doesn’t bother with appearances now that most of his colleagues have left for the day. You don’t see this carefree side of him often, as he likes to dress to impress. Sunghoon believes impressions are everything in the business of venture capitalism. He doesn't want anybody to get the wrong idea about him because he knows assumptions run far and wild, and he’d rather have people say favorable things about him than not. 

You’ve done a good job at forgetting the dream you had by using work and food as a distraction. But the second Sunghoon loosened his tie and untucked his button down made your mind briefly flash to the dirty things that transpired in your mind. You will yourself to push those thoughts to the back of your head for the umpteenth time. 

“Humor me,” Sunghoon says to break the silence as he looks up from his pile of documents. “You told me you don’t have a personal life and that’s why you want to quit.”

“I didn’t say it like that.” 

“Could’ve fooled me. Weren’t you the one who said you don’t have time for yourself?” 

Curse him. 

“Yeah, I did.” He drops the document on the table and puts the straw of his Thai tea in his mouth, letting it dangle carelessly. 

“You surely have things and people when you’re not at the office. I don’t make you work here like you’re chained to the building.” 

“True,” you tell him as you turn to face him. “That doesn’t mean I have my shit figured out, though.”

“Who does?” 

“People like you don’t have to think about your future.” 

He nods. “Okay, I guess you’re right. I know we don’t come from the same backgrounds, but that doesn’t mean your life isn’t rich without money.” 

“It’s not that I don’t have anything, but lately, it’s felt like nothing sticks around long enough for me to make it part of my life. My hobbies are short-lived. My family lives far away. I don’t have many friends.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“What? Not having hobbies.”

“Not having friends.” 

“It’s true.”

“What do you mean by that?”

You push a dumpling in your mouth and speak between bites. “I didn’t have many friends before moving to Seoul. Everyone I knew from university moved after graduating except my roommate during my last year. She’s the only person who I’d consider my friend.”

“What about your neighbor, Nabi? The one who watches your cat when you’re with me?” 

“Is that friendship if I’m asking her for favors?” 

“Kinda. You trust her to watch over Pochi and you told me you’re both getting to know each other a little. I’d count that as friends.” 

“Okay, I have two friends. I don’t have an entire network of people I see. I never had many friends growing up because I was too focused on getting out of my hometown and making it in Seoul. Well, I did that, but it feels like I’m paying the price.” 

“I don’t think you have to worry about not being likable.” 

“That’s not the issue, though. I just…I don’t have time to make connections because this job takes up so much of my day. When people invite me out, I have to decline half the time or I come at the tail end of the night because I’m working late. All of that adds up. I’ve only known this job and trying to be the best that I can possibly be that I’ve forgotten how to have fun. I don’t know anything other than this job.”

He looks away from you for a moment before returning back to your gaze. 

“I’m sorry I contributed to that.” 

“It’s not your fault. It comes with the job and I knew what I signed up for. You’ve been a lenient boss compared to other people at this company, and that says a lot.”

“I demand a lot from you, don’t I?” 

“Will I be in trouble if I agree?”

He smirks. “Maybe.” 

“Then my lips are sealed.” 

Sunghoon laughs. “I can relate to this job being a lifeline. It’s what I’ve wanted for so long, did you know that? I watched my dad do this work when I grew up and I always had a knack for negotiating. It was my calling and I did everything I could to work my way up from the bottom, even though I knew he’d make me a partner whenever I asked. Sometimes I wonder if I’m too invested in this business. My parents keep asking me when I’ll settle down, and I never have an answer.”

“Will you?”

He looks directly at you. “We’ll see about that. For now, I don’t think about it too much. I like my life and it’s too busy to care about those kinds of things anyhow. If the opportunity doesn’t present itself, I won’t force one to appear.” 

“I’m the same way, I think. I don’t really talk to my parents all that much, but when I do, they’re always asking about when I’ll get a husband. It’s never about my job and my life. It’s always about whether or not their only daughter will grow to be a spinstress.” 

“Surely you’ve been on a few dates since moving to Seoul, no? I would’ve figured you found somebody by now.” 

You ignore his comment for your sanity. “I’ve been on a few, yeah. All of them went nowhere. I’m not the type of person who goes on multiple first dates, though. That kind of stuff doesn’t happen for me naturally.”

“Don’t you use dating apps?”

You laugh humorlessly. “I tried for the first year. Had people swipe right and talked a little, but nothing ever transpired from that. I wondered if I was that awful to talk to or if people who used dating apps were shallow. I deleted them one night and never redownloaded them again.” 

“Dating apps are a scam anyway. Jaeyun uses them from time to time and runs into that same issue. Ever the romantic at heart, even though he won’t admit it.” 

“I want to meet someone naturally and get to know them before I decide anything.” You look at Sunghoon. “Sorry, was that too personal? We’re still at the office.” 

“Nah. Don’t worry about that. I was the one who asked. So you’re the type of person who believes in fate.” 

“Kind of? I don’t know if I’d put it like that, but I’m like you. I don’t want to force things if it’s clearly not going to work out. I’d rather save my time and breath instead of wasting it.” 

“I think that’s admirable.”

“It’s slow and miserable, is what it is.” 

Sunghoon throws his head back and laughs. “Slow and steady wins the race, doesn’t it? 

“It’s taking its sweet ass time.” 

“Don’t tell me you’re the type to date to marry.” 

“Absolutely not!” 

“Just making sure.” 

“I want to like the person I date and not go out with a bunch of guys to see who sticks. That seems unproductive. I want a guy to take me seriously and not look at me like I’m a sack of meat, for once. Someone who will put me first and not leave me unsatisfied.” 

The tips of your ears burn red when you finish your sentence. The implication of your words ring in your ears as you look at Sunghoon, but he looks at you like nothing you said was out of the ordinary. If he’s picked up on what you mean, he doesn’t tell you that he does. 

“Love is a hard thing to find. I don’t know what I’d do if I had it.” 

“Me either. Quitting this job isn’t about finding a boyfriend, per se, but it’s part of it. I want to have enough time to do whatever the hell I want, and that includes dating.” 

Sunghoon doesn’t say anything for a minute. He looks at you like he’s trying to decipher something, and you’re having a hard time keeping still under his watchful gaze. But he turns his attention to the empty takeout cartons and the empty Thai tea cups, putting them back into the plastic bag before tossing them into the trash can. You watch as he compiles the documents back into its holding place before he looks at you. 

“We’ve spent a lot of time talking but we haven’t moved an inch with these projects. Are you up for coming back to my house and working for an hour or two? I can’t think in this damn office anymore and I want a glass of bourbon.” 

“I don’t know. I need to feed Pochi. I also drove to work today.”

“Tell your neighbor to do it. I’ll drive you to the office tomorrow morning.” 

When Sunghoon pulls into the driveway of his ginormous penthouse, you tell yourself the latest you’ll stay is ten o’clock. It’s half past eight and you’re not the least bit tired, which concerns you. Your neighbor has agreed to watch Pochi and knows where you keep your spare key in order to take her back to her apartment. Once she’s sent you a picture of Pochi eating from her bowl, you allow yourself to relax. 

His garage hides behind a served driveway that makes you feel like you’re at the entrance of a luxurious hotel. The garage itself looks like it could store five cars and Sunghoon’s Supra sits right next to the BMW he drives when he goes to work. The Supra is a convertible and what he likes to call his “weekend car.” It’s the vehicle he uses when he’s not working. It’s the one he used to pick you up when the two of you went to dinner. 

The foyer is as grand as you remember it. His interior is minimalistic with elements of nature scattered across the house in the form of decor. Photographs of sea and forests, sculptures, and delicate souvenirs decorate the living area. You’ve never been able to tone down your amazement when you visit. Sunghoon is clean and meticulous. His home reflects that. 

Like the gentleman Sunghoon is, he offers you alcohol when he pours himself a glass of bourbon, but you elect for ice water if you want to make it through the night on these projects. You need to be laser focused because you run the risk of sleeping right on his marble counter and on top of the documents currently sprawled out against the large kitchen island. He provides a salty, crunchy snack because he knows you don’t have a sweet tooth like he does. You cave in eventually and eat a few chips. 

It’s all business talk for the next hour and a half. He jumps from topic to topic in order to make sure everything is accounted for and things that need attention get taken care of. Working with him feels like fighting with a partner in crime. You understand the way his brain works and you’re able to keep up with him when he’s talking at a million miles an hour. This is the kind of attitude he puts up when he’s networking, and you’ve learned over the years that seldom do people get the full, talkative Sunghoon unless he’s trying to get something out of them. With you, it’s a never ending cycle of conversations and opinions. You hear from him more than you don’t and he doesn’t shy away from talking your ear off. 

It does make you feel special sometimes. Sunghoon always indulges you and never puts your ideas and opinion on the backburner. You like that he’s able to carry a conversation and knows when to shut up (for the most part). He gives you the same level of enthusiasm back and respects your space when you come into the office without your mood to socialize. Those days are for getting work done only, and you’ve come to appreciate Sunghoon’s ability to know when you aren’t feeling like yourself. 

It comes with working together for six years, naturally. Seeing each other more frequently than friends and family creates some kind of mutual understanding. You’d like to think it’s a great working relationship so far. Sunghoon starts with the big ideas and you fill in the details. He’s able to pull innovation out of you and you’re able to reel him in and think about logic. It’s like a perfectly oiled machine with no hiccups. It’s been like this since you can remember and you’ll miss it when you leave. 

Eventually, ten o’clock comes and your eyes grow tired of blinking. Sunghoon feels the same, as his tie is far too loose around his neck and his hair is sticking all over the place from him running his hand through it. You’re no better, either. Your hair is down from its updo and your makeup is smudging to the point of no return. 

You’re about to pack up and leave when Sunghoon stops you. 

“Stay the night.” 

“What?” 

“I’m too tired to drive you right now.” Sunghoon yawns. “I’m sorry, I know I said I would. I didn’t think I’d be so tired. You can stay in my guest bedroom.”

“I’ll call a cab or take the bus home.” 

“It’s late and I don’t want you out there by yourself. I’ll be awake and wondering if something happened to you.” 

His words feel oddly sentimental in the dead of night. You shake it off, though. You’re both tired. 

“Pochi needs me, Sunghoon. I can’t expect my neighbor to watch her without saying anything.”

“Text her, then. If she doesn’t want to, I’ll call you an Uber home.” 

you: Hi Nabi, I’m so sorry to text you so late. I’ve been caught up at work and don’t think I’ll be back until tomorrow. Do you think you can watch Pochi overnight and put her back in my apartment before you leave for work tomorrow?

nabi: ah, I see. you’re with your hot boss, aren’t you? If that’s the case, don’t worry about it. I’ll make sure pochi gets breakfast and replenish her water 

you: You’re a SAVIOR

nabi: didn’t deny being with ur hot boss. interesting 

you: Goodnight :) 

“Nabi’s gonna watch my cat for the night.” 

Sunghoon smiles tiredly. “Great. Let me show you to the guest bedroom and get you some clothes you can change into. There’s makeup remover and skin care stuff in the bathroom.”

“Do you make it a habit of keeping girls to the point where you keep that stuff in your house?”

He laughs. “No, but my sister comes to visit me often enough that I know to keep it in case she stays later than planned.” 

“That's…sweet.” 

“Just trying to be a good older brother.” 

He leads you to the guest bedroom and you’re far too sleepy to marvel at the sheer size. Sunghoon fetches a shirt and sleep shorts, both of which are a bit bigger on you, and bids you goodnight. It feels weird being in his house and staying the night, but Sunghoon was right. There’s no use calling a cab when you’re like this. You slip under the covers hoping for a restful, dreamless night. 

Except, you wake up three hours later and can’t seem to fall back to sleep. 

It’s like your body knows you aren’t where you’re supposed to be. You don’t recall any kind of dream when you realize you’re awake and staring at the ceiling. Tossing and turning don’t seem to be like great options either because it makes you feel even more restless than before. Surely a glass of water won’t be too much. Sunghoon is probably in his room and you watched where he grabbed his glass from. 

As you make your way towards the kitchen, you see the faint light of a television screen from around the corridor. Sunghoon sits on the couch in front of it. He’s watching a rerun of a drama that premiered earlier this year on low volume. When he hears your footsteps behind him, he turns around and is surprised to see that you’re awake. 

“Couldn’t sleep?” 

His voice is so raspy. Shit. 

“No. Don’t know why.”

“Me either.” 

He pats the seat next to him and you sit right next to him. Neither of you speaks, too engrossed in the drama to address how different the atmosphere feels. There’s no work, no obligations, and no boundaries that exist here. It’s like his living room is some kind of liminal space that’s putting you through a limbo you’ve never experienced before. Sunghoon’s body heat radiates into you and it feels like you might as well be sitting next to a human furnace. 

Neither of you talk about why you can’t sleep. You’re not sure why you’re having a hard time, especially since the guest bed is far more comfortable than the one you have back in your apartment. But you do notice Sunghoon peeking at you every once in a while. It makes you feel a bit uneasy because you’re not wearing any makeup and your hair is surely a mess from sleeping, but then you start to notice that he’s looking at you when the couple on the television screen kiss. 

It almost feels like you’re in a movie scene when you look back, too. Sunghoon catches your eyes and doesn’t look away this time. He holds your gaze and you gulp when you see his Adam’s apple move. 

Are you dreaming right now? Is this some kind of test the universe is putting you under? 

Time seems to have slowed down and you’re drowning out the noise of the television the more Sunghoon looks at you. At this moment, he isn’t your boss. He’s not somebody who you’ve learned from, nor is he somebody who is miles out of your league. Sunghoon is the handsome boy next door who you’ve had a small crush on for the past six years but have ignored for the sake of keeping the peace. He’s the guy you’d notice in the grocery store and would think about when you two eventually part ways. 

All of your thoughts cut off when you realize he’s leaning in close to you. 

On instinct, you lean in closer, too. The distance between the two of you closes slowly. He inches towards you like he’s attempting to be as cautious as possible, and you’re following his lead. Your body aches for him. That much you know. 

Sunghoon’s lips touch yours eventually and it’s nothing like the hot and steamy dream you had the night prior. Instead, it’s delicate like the touch of a feather. Neither of you dare to touch one another more than you already are with your knee brushing the side of his thigh. His lips feel so good against yours and that’s all you can think about. 

He pulls away after a brief moment and when he doesn’t see any resistance, Sunghoon moves to touch you. Sunghoon cradles your jaw so delicately and it’s a new feeling for you. Nobody has been this gentle while he’s touching you, and your confident demeanor lowers just a little bit. His lips are dangerously soft and warm. The sound of the kisses bouncing off of his walls makes you fall that much deeper. 

When you open your eyes for a peek at Sunghoon, his eyes are completely closed. 

You surge forward and put more pressure into the kiss. He responds well and matches your desire, tilting his head to the other side as if to explore this part of your mouth. It’s so wet and warm. Sunghoon’s hands move from your cheeks to your shoulder until it runs right down your arm. His fingertips dance along your own until he reaches the bottom hem of the shirt you’re wearing. 

Sunghoon’s hesitation turns you on even more. It’s like he’s trying to withhold himself from touching you even further for the fear of making you uncomfortable, and that grace alone makes you want him to touch you even more. Without a word, you push his hand underneath the material of the shirt, and Sunghoon grips your thigh like he’s never felt you before. You can’t remember a single time somebody has turned you on by a mere touch. Something about Sunghoon makes you want to run without looking back. 

There’s no real battle for who gets to be in control. You’re enjoying your time and it feels like Sunghoon is too, especially with the way he caresses your jaw while his lips are on you. You feel so safe in this moment and it’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. Should kissing always feel like you’re ready to lose your inhibitions? Surely, this is a first for you. 

You don’t know who moves first, but you move onto his lap with his hands moving to your waist. He keeps you there like that with his mouth attached to yours and your arms balance on either side of his head while you sit yourself down onto him.

Sunghoon is rock hard underneath you. The two of you feel it. You gasp in shock and Sunghoon opens his eyes to look up at you. 

He’s big. You know he is. That taste of his imprint practically makes you salivate when you feel his dick perfectly slotted against your core for just a second. It excites you to no end, but the way Sunghoon’s looking at you makes you quiver.

“Fuck…” Sunghoon pushes you up and looks away from you to look at his dick straining against his sweatpants. “You weren’t supposed to make me hard.”

“You weren’t supposed to kiss me.”

“But I’ve always wanted to kiss you.” 

Sunghoon leans up to push a short lived peck to your lips. 

“I’m your assistant.

“That you are,” he says with a smile.

“And you’re my boss.” 

“That I am.” 

He smiles anyhow and maneuvers your body until he’s above you. Your back hits the cushions and all of a sudden, you can see just how turned on Sunghoon is. He looks like a mixture of innocent and mischievous, and you decide that’s a dangerous look for you to receive. 

Sunghoon bends down to kiss you again, this time with a little more bravado than the mere peck. Your arms wrap around his muscular shoulders as you pull him closer into your body. He braces himself with one arm beside the couch cushion and in the process, his covered dick pushes right against your core.

The feeling of Sunghoon slowly grinding against you is magnetic. It makes you grind right back into him and use his body as leverage to push yourself up from the couch. You let out a sharp moan when the fabric of your panties creates a delicious kind of friction against your clit. Sunghoon closes his eyes shut and moans too. 

His pace is moderate, but it’s enough for the two of you to become a bit lost. Sunghoon’s imprint makes you wetter when you realize he’s really big. It makes you shudder when you picture what it’ll feel like if Sunghoon puts it inside you. 

The two of you open your eyes at the same time. It’s as if some sort of veil has been uplifted when you see his sweaty forehead and when he sees your shirt ride up your body. The two of you back away from each other like fire and ice.

“W-Wow,” you stutter.

“I’m a good kisser, don’t you think?” 

You swat his bicep. “So arrogant and yet you were rutting into me like a dog in heat.” 

“Can you blame me?” Sunghoon asks, biting his lip. “You look like that while wearing my shirt.”

“Like what?”

“Sex on legs.” 

You choke. 

“Sunghoon.” 

He laughs and looks at the clock. It’s so late. You turn to look too, and the time makes your heart rate pick up. It’s past midnight and you two have to be up in four hours. 

“Shit,” you mumble. 

“Don’t want it to end, love?” 

You look back at him and, for whatever sheepish reason, nod. 

“We’ll have more time tomorrow.” 

Sunghoon bends down to kiss you twice more before pulling himself up and offering you a hand. He pulls you up as well and turns the TV off and leads you to your room before opening the door for you.

“Sunghoon—”

“I’ll make you cum tomorrow,” he promises before kissing you one last time. “For now, get some rest.” 

Your knees buckle when he looks you up and down. Sunghoon’s devilish grin doesn’t falter until you’ve forcibly closed the door on his face. 

***

taglist 1: @i58ssj @motherscrustytoenailclippings @immelissaaa @sunnyjayjays @skzenhalove @tobiosbbyghorl @babystrlla @sagegreenhairclip @doririsstuff @second-floors @sievenderz @favoritten @kiikiisblog @ynzyy @jessicaradreamer @questionsdearreader @leeymws @wonislife17 @semi-wife @synamon @letwiiparkjay @spicxbnny @bbinwrld @25dejulho @globaloppaaa @1-800-peakyblinders @heesunghooney @ambi01 @simpforskz143148 @shaysimpss @steddie-steddie @ning2lover @fairystudio @yujinxue @dearmyfavoritepeople-bts @in-somnias-world @mellowgalaxystrawberry @1ckyw1ckyyyyy @kgneptun @ithinkulikeme @kristynaaah @jessxxxfwd @lovingjongseong @intoomanyfandom-s @jeoncarla008 @just1moodz.

please adjust your setting if i couldn't tag you x

[blood-smiles]

𝐀𝐍𝐘𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ୭˚. ᵎᵎ

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄! 𝐋𝐀𝐖𝐘𝐄𝐑 𝐗 𝐆𝐍! 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 TW MDNI . slight nsfw . yandere content . stalking . submissive yandere . creepy thoughts . highly unprofessional behavior from yandere . if reader is a simp and Alejandro is a bigger one .

You organized various assortments of products on shelves, placing each product perfectly, the name of the item fully on display,

While stepping back to admire your work you heard the squeaky shoes of a little kid, suddenly a small body crashed into your side and landed on the floor with a sickening crack,

“Jimmy! Jimmy! Oh my god! JIMMY!” The frantic voice of a woman called out, you instantly turned around, seeing the little boy wailing on the ground, his arm twisted in an uncomfortable direction,

You crouched down next to the child, trying to get him to calm down as you inspected his arm,

The same woman ran in your direction and pushed you off her child with a rough shove, tears welling up in her eyes,

“YOU! YOU DID THIS TO MY CHILD!” She shrieked, holding the kid in her arms,

“I-I ma’am! I swear it’s not that, your child was running and crashed into—“ 

“I DONT WANT TO HEAR IT! I AM GOING TO SUE YOU FOR THIS!” She screamed at you, her spit landing on your face as you stepped back,

A burning pain splattered all over your face, the woman’s purse making a harsh contact with your nose bridge, 

Small red droplets dirtied your white uniform polo shirt, 

She scooped up the injured boy in her arms and ran outside the store, yelling profanities and curses at you,

Suddenly a loud crash was heard as the woman kicked the large shelves, causing the tall shelves to come down on you, one by one alike to dominos,

You can’t remember what happened next, as you woke up in a hospital.

So. You have a huge law suit over your head now, a metaphorical guillotine over your neck, just waiting to be brought down on you, decapitating you and your clean record,

You stood in the waiting room, the fresh smell of floor cleaner wafting into your nostrils, helping you distract yourself momentarily,

“Mx (Y/N)?” A deep voice rings out, pulling you back into reality,

You glance up at the source of the voice, your (e/c) meeting with scarlet red hues, sharp eyes encased behind glasses,

You slowly got up, using your crutches to stabilize your footing, the man waited for you, his eyes inspecting your form as if calculating your every move, he stared at you for longer than needed but you ignored his eyes and kept acting as if nothing was happening,

He politely opened the door for you, giving you enough room to limp inside the office, after you successfully sat down, the man stood in front of his desk,

His ruby eyes were drilling into your own, as if memorizing every single detail of your iris, you looked into his eyes too, trying to seem confident,

If you looked close enough you could see the slight color difference under his eyes, you recognized that gaze— of exhaustion and pulling all nighters, but he did do a good job minimizing the eye bags!

You didn’t get to look at him properly but he was very well dressed.. the classic black vest along with black dress pants and a white dress shirt, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showing off his forearms,

Pretty purple hair gathered at the back of his head in a ponytail, two tresses framed the sides of his face, bringing more attention to his sharp features, he was attractive.. Very attractive.

After another round of continuous staring the male finally cleared his throat, breaking the suffocating tension in the room,

“I am Alejandro Ortega, your defense in the court.” He stated clearly, sticking his hand out, asking for a hand shake,

“Oh. I’m (Y/N), thank you for your time sir.” You politely stretched out your arm and gently shook his hand,

His larger one enveloped your own hand, giving you a steady and firm handshake, slightly squeezing your hand in his,

His touch lingered, hand still tightly held around yours, he stared into your eyes, unwilling to let go,

You half smiled, trying to pull your hand away from his, slightly becoming unsettled when he didn’t let go,

He coughed, letting go of your hand and sitting down on his own chair,

He crossed his legs under the desk, taking out a paper and a pen, tapping the opposite side of the tip on the paper sheet, he discussed with you the phases of how he was planning to defend you in this case, giving you a bit of a background check on him,

“Well then, please tell me how everything happened, mx (Y/N).” 

You started retelling the events of the store, your hands coming in play and moving around to emphasize your actions and feelings,

A soft smile bloomed on the man’s face, sometimes even chuckling quietly at your exaggerated gestures,

Alejandro liked—No, adored your company, you were so charismatic and lively, your energy was so contagious that even his hard exterior had began to show cracks,

The buzzing in his chest wouldn’t stop, his hands were sweaty and his face felt warm, just what was this feeling? He is supposed to maintain a poker face and not show any favoritism with his clients.. Oh but you.. he couldn’t help but show contentment around you,

Unfortunately you soon had to go home and rest, he felt truly pity for you, being all bruised up and injured— on top of that you were in the process of being sued, 

Such a sweet soul you have, he would make sure that you would be well protected under him, he would hate to see you in harms way,

Alejandro finished helping the janitors cleaning up, he waved everyone off as they left, with suitcase in hand he leaned against the wall,

Ever since your appointment with him he couldn’t stop thinking of your face and voice, perhaps he could use your files for some.. private research.

He opened the doors of his home, his wife, Ume, peeked into the hallway as if already knowing it was him who entered the manor,

Her long white hair flowed behind her as she sped walked towards him, she brushed her bangs out of her beautiful face as she approached him,

“Honey! Did you get off work early?” She wrapped her arms around his neck, giving him a loving peck on his lips,

Alejandro grunted in response, peeling her arms off his shoulders and neck, he despised physical contact from Ume, he hated her voice, to him it sounded like nails scratching against a chalkboard, it irritated him, greatly so.

Ume was not at fault, for she had done no wrong to him, she was what any man would wish for, she was obedient, beautiful, loving and skilled in every aspect,

He just hated the intent behind his marriage with her, ever since he had slipped out of his mothers womb and brought into this world he had no control over his life, for it had been decided for him,

What he was going to be, who he was going to marry, where he was going to study, who his relationships were and even how he should feel,

He had no control over his life, he had never had any control over his own livelihood, his parents had controlled him even beyond the grave,

He hated his life. He hated Ume. He hated his parents. He cherishes you. He hated everything but you.

You had brought excitement to his life somehow, you came into his office and sparked something in him with your attitude and personality,

Maybe his life wasn’t so bad.

He stared at the knives in his kitchen, his hand itching to find something— someone to slice into ribbons with the sheening blade of the knife,

When did he become so violent? Was he this savage all along?

He shook his head lightly, taking off his glasses momentarily as he cooked dinner for his self and Ume,

He flipped the chicken and rice in two plates, as he brought the food and placed it down on the long hall table,

Ume awed at the perfectly cooked food, she dug in immediately, complimenting him and his cooking skills every time she spooned food into her mouth,

Alejandro subconsciously clutched a napkin in his hand, his knuckles turning a ghost white from sheer force,

“..Thank you” he muttered, his hand shakily cutting off some chicken and inserting it into his mouth,

His mind wandered off to your beautiful eyes, those beautiful (e/c) gems twinkling under light enamored him so much..

Alejandro noticed how your eyes would wander off sometimes, looking at him intently, as if you were listening to the most interesting thing in the world, it just made him feel so bashful..

How long had it been since he had seen you? 5 hours? 5 days? 5 years? God, he can’t remember anymore, just being away from you felt like an eternity, it was driving him insane..

Maybe next time the both of you meet you can go out for a drink together.. he smiled a little at that, perhaps he could invite you to a garden and talk to each other and learn more about you..

“Dear? What are you smiling at?” The gratingly annoying voice of his wife chimed in, anger rose inside him, taking most of his willpower to keep a calm mind and most importantly of all not to lash out at her,

“It’s none of your concern, Ume.” He answered coldly, glaring at her, a small vein sprawling across his temple in irritation,

She looked taken aback by her husband snapping at her, her smooth caramel tinted skin draining of color, her wonder turning into a fear in a flash,

Just as she was going to open her mouth to apologize Alejandro cut her off, 

“—I’m going to go take a shower, I’m finished with my diner, wash the dishes please.” He instructed as he left but not before giving her a pointed look,

Alejandro shut the bedroom door behind him, huffing as he sat on his and Ume’s shared bed

Ume wouldn’t understand, she would break down if she ever found out he had developed romantic feelings for someone else,

As soon as he makes developments in yours and his relationship he will make sure to get divorce papers signed immediately,

He wouldn’t want you to think he was unfaithful, because he isn’t.

His marriage never worked out anyway, he can only imagine the beautiful domestic life you would have with him,

He wouldn’t have to come into office, he could be your stay at home husband! He knows how to cook, clean and overall good spouse.. He spent most of his childhood honing these skills by taking care of his little sister,

He simply goes into work to avoid having to see his insufferable wife, even a minute away from her made his life expectancy slightly increase,

He opened the water, staring at his reflection before stepping into the shower,

Cold water ran from the shower head, landing refreshingly on the tall males’ back and body,

He sighed, relaxation seeping into his body slowly and steadily, he leaned his body weight onto his forearms,

His forehead rested on the cool shower walls, cleansing his thoughts for just a moment, his long hair stuck to his forehead and shoulders as water slipped off in small droplets,

 as hard as he tried he couldn’t fend away certain thoughts, all of them being of You. You. You. Ý̵̯͙̰̾Ô̸̱͉̖̣̾͝Ú̷͎͍.

Look at what you have reduced him to.. A lovesick fool.. craving nothing more than you— It has only been five days, yet you live in his brain and heart like maggots, digging deeper and deeper into him..

Yet he didn’t care, he would allow you to do so because he knew that he secretly liked it, he liked having someone to obsess over and follow like a lovesick puppy,

he had been saving his love for too long, and now it seems that you pulled the trigger on his heart, for this dangerous love ridden russian roulette has just started.

He now understands why he suffered for so many years, he sees now that it was all for you, it seems that god has gotten tired of torturing him and sent you, as his savior— his light.

If he knew things would come to this he would have chosen to suffer again and again, continuing what appeared to be an endless cycle just to be able to meet you and reach zenith.

He is holding his heart in his hands for you, it was you awakened feelings he never thought were real, now assume the consequences of your actions, won’t you, love?

Ume stalked the halls of the huge mansion, her heart feeling heavy after she upset her beloved husband,

She smoothened down her dress as she shakily opened the bedroom door, seeing that the room was empty she sat down on the bed,

Staring at the bedroom door longingly she decided to slightly peek through a crack in the doorway,

The water landed against the shower floor, helping muffle out the small whimpers and moans that were heard from Alejandro,

His hand fisted his cock rapidly, his hips bucking into his soft hand to feel some kind of friction, the sound of his hand clapping against his skin being audible even with the drizzling water ambients,

Ume’s eyes widened, never had she though her husband could ever make such.. Sinful sounds, it seemed he was saying something between the strangled sounds of pleasure..

“—N).. (Y/N).. Mmph! (Y/N), please..” 

(Y/N)? Who was this (Y/N)? Why was her husband saying that name? Was he cheating on her?

Her green eyes zeroed in on his body, watching as his back would arch and tremble whenever he would get close to climax,

Ume had tried a handful of times to get some kind of intimacy going on with Alejandro, going as far as getting some.. Aphrodisiac products, however it seemed that even under the influence of such hard core drugs he would rather deal with it himself than come close to her,

His free hand roamed his body, soon reaching up against his chest and starting to play with the soft muscle, 

Delivering soft and hard squeezes, soft groans muddled with mutters of “I love you”s slipped out of his lips,

Dampened hair fell over his eyes as he pressed his cheek against his shoulder, gentle sobs mixed with the sound of water running,

His thrusts slowed down as his thighs pressed together, with a final cry of your name the knot in his stomach came undone,

Loads and loads of white semen painted a section of the tiled shower walls, he kept thrusting into the air, riding out his high.

Ume closed the door quietly, sitting on the bed she placed her hands over her face, her well manicured nails digging into the sides of her soft face,

Whoever this.. (Y/N) was she was going to speak to, and it’s not going to be pretty.

Alejandro was her husband, hers only, and she was willing to fight tooth and nail for him,

The bathroom door opened, showing the ruby eyed man walking out with a towel wrapped around his waist, delicate beads of water dripping off his hair and rolling down his skin abdomen,

“Is there something wrong?” He asked with a raise of his eyebrow, eyeing her down menacingly,

The pretty woman but her lips while smiling, kicking off her shoes and spreading her legs open, an idea popping into her head

“Well.. perhaps, I’m feeling awfully.. Hot down there, help me will you?”

It had been 3 months precisely, it was your court date, you dressed up as best as you could afford, brushing your hair neatly and ironing your clothes to perfection,

You arrived early, looking at the huge court with furrowed brows and crudely covered dark circles, you weren’t able to get a wink of sleep last night,

Your mind couldn’t stop thinking of all the worst possible scenarios— What If you lost and went to jail? What if you were forced to sleep with a crazy cell mate? Sentenced to death? Having to use forks as hair brushes for the end of your days?!

A hand gently fell on your head, softly caressing your hair, you met scarlet eyes, beautiful eyes, the same shade as blood,

“Everything is going to be alright, I can assure you that, so please don’t worry your pretty little head over whatever you are thinking, will you promise me that?” You knew that voice, that was your lawyers voice, it was always so soothing to you, never was his voice rough or hoarse, it was always so warm and gentle..

You nodded, your worries calming down slightly, you weren’t expecting it but it sure was meaningful to you, you knew he was very.. Stoic most of the time, you liked to think he might have a soft spot for you, although the probability of that is probably non existent, oh how you were so so wrong.

The both of you entered the court, you were sweating buckets of sweat, pulling at your collar once in a while to try and freshen yourself up,

“Defendants please rise.” The judge called out, her voice strong and authoritative,

The both of you stood up, you were so nervous in the moment that you totally ignored Alejandro’s hand clasped around yours, his fingers intertwined tightly in between yours,

Alejandro was right, he was good, good was a massive understatement, he got evidence from places you didn’t even recognize, you had no idea if some of the documents had been falsified or not due to how legit they looked,

By the end of court you weren’t the one in cuffs, but the mother of the little boy, who had been taken into custody,

She yelled profanities at you, kicking and screaming at the police men to let her go,

Alejandro stood in front of you protectively, eyes narrowed into a glare, gaze as sharp as knives and glass shards,

You were so happy and relieved, weight had been lifted off your shoulders, you felt as if you were going to cry or happiness,

Your chest felt light as you hugged Alejandro, thanking him a million times over and over,

Had you overstepped boundaries? Maybe, Would Alejandro normally flip out and do something unseemly? If you were someone else, yes.

But it’s you, how could he deny you of something he had been wanting to do for a long time? How? So he wasn’t.

He deserved this too, he had gone through so much trouble to fake so much evidence to get that dirty bitch in jail, and you were willingly giving him his reward,

He basically threw himself on you, his arms over your head, he adjusted your arms on his waist, letting you hug him as close as you desired,

His face was close to your hair— so so close to you, he just had to smell you, just one second, please please please please please please.

He breathed in your scent, his eyes threatening to roll back into his head, you smelled so good, he knew his wife was in the audience but he couldn’t give less of a fuck,

Let her watch, let her see how he loved you so much more, he didn’t care anymore, he wasn’t going to hide it anymore, because it was true he had become so intimately infatuated with you he couldn’t even stand being a moment without you,

He had all he ever wanted right in his arms, and he didn’t care what he had to do to make you his, 

He didn’t care if he had to frame innocent people over and over again, he didn’t care if he had to make shady deals with hackers or mafia men, he will do crazy shit and get away with it!

If he had to let the world burn for you he would turn the world ablaze until only ash and cinder was left, only to light it on fire again over and over just to prove how much he loved you.

His eyes met his “wife”’s emerald like gaze, her eyes shining under light with jealousy, he knew she wanted to tear the both of you apart,

But he wouldn’t let her, as he would be the one ripping her to shreds this time around,

He will do anything and he means everything for you. 

He would do it all in your name. ♡

[lovableapocalypse]

scar tissue

dr. jack abbot x female!resident!reader

wc: 2k

summary: an unexpected patient arrives in the er and turmoil arises

warnings: medical inaccuracies, mentions of injuries and medical procedures, mentions of alcohol abuse aka reader has a shitty alcoholic dad who yells, mentions of brief sexual content but nothing explicit (mdni!), power dynamic in relationship/reader is a 3rd year resident jack is an attending, unspecified age gap, wrote this at 4am

a/n: this is soooo inspired by greys specifically the scenes where meredith's mom is a patient at sgh and then the mark and lexie (deleted?) scene of them after the shooting. i struggled a lot with the ending of this one so sorry if it sucks lol. hope you like and enjoy and thank you guys for all the love

Tonight’s shift hadn’t been too wild, but you would never risk speaking the words aloud. Jinxing the remaining 3 hours would only ruin the night you’d had so far. 

A few random cases had come through and one drunk driver who was already stable and moved up to the ICU. One of the more chill night shifts you’d had in a while. 

Glancing up from your seat at the nurse’s station, you watch him move from South 15 to the curtain over- checking on patients. 

Your cheeks heat unprofessionally and unintentionally at the sight of him. A habit you needed to kick soon for you worked with the man 4 nights a week. That, and your flustered appearance was becoming more obvious than you’d realized. 

Dr. Abbot has been your attending for over 2 years now. Starting as an intern on an emergency med rotation and thrown to the night shift due to scheduling conflicts- you found yourself working closely under the army vet. 

His dynamic teaching and advantageous reassurance drew you to the emergency department. Deadset on surgery, you completely pivoted after working with the doctor. Declaring your specialty, you were now well into your third year of residency in the pit. 

You felt confident when you worked under Abbot. He gave you the room to make decisions and he trusted your opinions- only stepping in to assist during especially challenging moments. 

He glanced at you as his eyes passed over the board above your head. You shifted your gaze away, crumbling under the slightest look from him. 

This was new. This nervousness. You had always thought Abbot was attractive, harboring a small crush, but he was your superior and that was a boundary you would never feel comfortable crossing. 

Or so you thought. 

It happened 11 days ago. Not that you were counting. 

Your shifts had aligned that week to where you had three days off in a row, a rare occurrence. 

Since residency had put your social life on the back burner you took the opportunity to call up a couple of friends and go out.

By some means of the universe, you had ended up at the same bar as Jack that night. How you ended up in the back of his car was a blur. Skirt bunched around your waist, hips thrusting roughly into yours, hands pulling and grasping at anything they could touch, his mouth whispering dirty words and kissing soft desperate kisses against your skin. 

It was the heat of the moment. That’s what you kept telling yourself. It was a one-time thing. A mistake that wouldn’t happen again. Despite how much you secretly wanted it to. 

So you glanced away. You kept it professional. You avoided him like the plague and spent as little time as you could in his presence.  

You even traded a day shift with McKay to get a night away from him. You didn’t feel guilty or ashamed, you just didn’t want Jack to treat you differently. To see you differently. 

The calm of the ED was short-lived as the charge nurse shouted out, “Incoming ped versus vehicle. 3 minutes.”

You stood from the desk and Jack stepped out of the room he was in. You reached for gloves and moved much slower than you should’ve. 

The ambulance doors opened in a rush and the paramedics pushed in the patient on a stretcher. You were focused on snapping on your gloves. One tore as you pulled it on and you cursed under your breath, reaching for another. You listened to the paramedics as you grabbed a new one. 

“Male. 64. Was hit by a driver. Multiple femoral fractures and a blood alcohol level higher than I’ve ever seen.” The paramedic huffed and the patient slurred aggressively in response. 

You glanced up, approaching the stretcher, and your heart fell out of your chest. Your throat closed up on instinct. The patient was spewing nonsense but his demeanor was obvious. He was angry and drunk. And he was your father. 

Abbot calls out your last name, voice sharper than normal as he motions for your frozen self to come help. To do your job.

You don’t move. Your heart races uncomfortably. You hadn’t seen your dad in a few weeks. He was a drunk who had treated you like the biggest regret of his life from as far back as you could remember. 

You avoided him and only checked in on him every once and a while. Mostly to see if he was still alive. 

Even in his drunken state, your father recognized the last name Jack had spoken. The one you shared with him. 

Your father stopped squirming enough to glance up, directly at you. 

“Look who it is.” His sneer was exaggerated and he threw his head back on the gurney. 

Abbot’s brows furrowed and he looked between the man and you. 

“You know this guy?” He spoke as they moved the gurney to the trauma bay. 

The nurses tried to ask for his name and information but your father was shouting nonsense- mostly about giving him drugs to stop the pain. 

You swallow harshly and follow into Trauma 2. 

You feel like you’re in a dream. Watching your worst childhood memories clash with reality. 

“I need your help here.” Jack snaps at you, his eyes searching yours.

They’re already working. Moving your dad to the bed, cutting his clothes. And you’re useless. Watching and trying not to break down.

Your dad shouts and you flinch involuntarily. He yells at the nurse for morphine. Jack is frustrated at your lack of help, but more so concerned about your behavior. 

Your dad’s head snaps up and he glares right at you. “I’m talking to you! Give me something for the fucking pain-” His words are a jumble, but you understand him loud and clear. 

“Sir-” The nurse starts and your dad shouts over her. 

He keeps his head up, his gaze and words directed at you. 

“Do you know him?” Abbot repeats his question from earlier, harsher this time as he works over the chaos. 

Your dad answers for you unintentionally, shouting your name, “Give me something here. I’m your father for fuck’s sake!”

The room falls quiet for a beat and your stomach twists. 

“This is your dad?” Abbot’s eyebrows meet his forehead. 

“Is he an addict?” The nurse asks you. 

“Only alcohol. That I know of.” Your voice is a whisper. 

Abbot sighs harshly and the nurse moves to give your dad a stronger painkiller. 

“Right, get her out of here and send in Ellis, please.” Jack nods to another nurse. 

She grips your arm softly and you watch as your father finally stops shouting and lays his head back in a morphine-induced haze.

The nurse squeezes your arm and sits you in a chair before rushing off to get the other resident. 

You watch numbly as Ellis goes into the bay. You don’t know how long you stare at the wall for, your mind seeming to shut off. 

You hear Shen’s voice behind you and it sounds like he’s asking you a question but you’re not registering anything. 

Your stomach lurches violently and you stand, walking to the ambulance bay doors. 

They slide open and Shen calls out to you. 

You stagger to the bushes and the contents of your stomach come up. 

You cough and wipe your mouth, catching your breath. 

You grip the wall, needing something to stabilize your influx of emotions. 

His voice comes from behind you after a moment. 

“You okay?”

You turn to him and nod. 

He stands across the bay, hands on his hips. He’s unconvinced. 

He approaches you carefully, like a wounded animal, and you hate it. 

“I’m fine. I just need a minute.” You call back. 

You turn away from him and run a hand over your hair, gasping for a breath. 

His hand finds your elbow in a gentle grip and you glance his way. He doesn’t say anything. He just grabs your arm and slowly moves you to the curb outside the building. 

He sits you down and moves beside you, his knee brushing yours. 

Your eyes well up despite your best efforts. Your breath wracks and your head sags. 

You wipe at your tears as they begin to fall and try to hide your face in your shoulder. You feel his arm come around you, wrapping you in warmth. 

“You’re okay.” His voice is so steady and reassuring that you almost believe him. 

You nod, but the tears keep falling. 

“I’m sorry.”

You feel his head shake beside you. “Don’t apologize.”

Tears stream down your face and his arm squeezes you closer. You let your head fall to his shoulder and let his comfort consume you. 

Processing what just happened, you let Abbot ease your emotional toll. You feel his lips brush your hairline and your eyes squeeze shut. 

Sniffling, you sit upright again. Abbot’s hand stays on you, sliding down to rest on your back. 

“I didn’t know what to do. Or why I reacted like that. I didn’t- I wasn’t expecting to see him. Not here.” You wipe a stray tear away as you try to explain yourself. 

“From what I witnessed, your reaction tells me there’s a whole other story to your relationship with that man. You don’t have to explain yourself to me. You’re a good doctor, but everyone has their limits. Things that hit close to home- or things that come from home.”

He sends you a sympathetic look and you nod at his words.

“I can’t have my best resident freezing up again. Or avoiding me. Which I know you’re doing by the way.” He raises a knowing brow.

The sigh that escapes you is full of embarrassment and nerves. 

“I don’t want to talk about it-”

“About the fact that we slept together or that your dad is an abusive drunk?”

“Jack.” 

“Either topic is up for debate.” His lips rise slightly and you can’t help but shake your head at his persistence. 

“I want to forget it ever happened. All of it.”

It’s silent for a moment and at his lack of response you turn your head to look at him. 

His words are quiet, “If that’s really what you want, I’ll never bring it up again. But if it’s not, I can’t keep pretending that I don’t care deeply for you. In a way that I definitely shouldn’t.”

His words are a punch to the gut. A reality check.

“You do?”

He nods, “Have for a while now.” 

He reaches up to brush a rouge hair off your forehead and you lean into the touch. 

“I do too. I care about you.”

His smile is small, “I figured.”

“Was it that obvious?” You cringe. 

He shakes his head, “You’re just easy to read sometimes.”

“It’s inappropriate. Us.” You state the obvious, though you know the words are a useless feat. 

“Very.” Jack huffs a laugh.

You can’t help the small laugh that escapes you. 

After a moment you speak up again, “Is my dad okay?”

“He will be. He needs surgery, but he’ll live.”

You nod. 

Jack runs his hand up your back, his lips meeting your head. He stands slowly, reaching down to grasp your hand. He pulls you to your feet gently. 

“You don’t have to see him, but if you want to I can go with you.”

“Thank you.”

He nods and starts back towards the automatic doors. 

“Jack.” You call. 

He turns, eyebrows raised in question. 

You step closer to him and repeat the sentiment. 

“I’ll look after you.” He squeezes your hand and moves back inside. 

He drives you home that night. And many more nights after that. Your dynamic changes. While still supportive and professional, it’s deeper and fervent- your relationship building a whole new layer of trust. You loved him and it was easy. No more glancing away or avoidant behaviors. You let Jack into every aspect of your life and he cherished it- nurtured it. 

He was everything you needed and more. You accepted each other in whole, scar tissue and all. 

[wainawtmai]

tags: 18+, toji x fem!reader, oral, semi-public, likely inaccurate representation of the divorce process (my bad), creampies, overstimulation, squirting, toxic themes

It shouldn’t be this difficult to get a divorce. Your relationship had become too strained, too toxic, it had to end.

But what didn’t soon-to-be ex-husband!toji make annoying and tedious??

Your first meeting after filing ends with you sprawled over the table, your legs on his shoulders, stilettos dangling from your toes in time with each thrust Toji made into you, the entire table rattling, paperwork scattered across the floor.

“FFuck, I hate you,” you mewled, but your words sound barely believable, all shaky and jumbled as you stifle your moans.

Toji gave you that annoying little smirk in response, the one you’d found endearing the first few months of your relationship before he became the most insufferable piece of shit you’d ever met.

“You sure?” He hums, punctuating his words with a particularly hard thrust that you can’t help moaning from, “‘don’t believe it when you’re dripping so much down here.” He brings a beefy hand to your pussy, lightly slapping at your clit and chuckling at your little whimper. “‘Feel how easily you take me?”

…After that you sped up your move out, no interactions meant no tension and an easier, less stressful divorce. Right?

Wrong. Your second meeting was with the attorney, a pretty brunette clad in a ridiculously unprofessional outfit. For fuck’s sake, her tits were practically out in the pathetic excuse for a blazer she had on.

And Toji spent the whole session flirting with her, accepting her light touches to his arm and biceps as she giggled and squirmed. Tossing her winks and smirks like you weren’t sitting right in front of him. Were you wrapping up a marriage or setting up a fucking date??

You didn’t overreact. Why would you? He could flirt with anyone he wanted, you were in the middle of getting divorced it didn’t matter, you didn’t care…

“Should I call her back?” You taunt, bouncing on Toji’s cock with a hand around his throat, “Make her see you all stupid from being inside me?”

“F-fuck you.” Toji groans, glaring up at you despite the way he trembled from overstimulation. His cock was practically numb as it slid in and out of your already cum-filled heat. He could barely move, barely breath, but he still mustered that smirk, “you’re so fucking pathetic—”

“Oh, shut the hell up, Toji.” You demand, grip around his throat tightening in tandem with your pussy, thighs slapping roughly against his. He let out a little growling whimper and you smiled, “You know you can’t fucking get off without me.”

Your third meeting starts fine, the two of you are listening to your consultant chat about shared expenses and whatever other legal crap you needed to worry about—

Then you feel Toji’s big hand on your thigh, and you already know what’s coming as he subtly shoots you that infuriatingly attractive grin.

You glare at him, but shift up your skirt nonetheless, letting your legs fall slightly open. More than enough room for him to slip his hand past the fabric of your skirt and underwear and rub his fingers against your already moistening pussy.

You suck in a shaky breath as his thick fingers fill you up, thumb toying at your clit. The consultant asks you a question and you manage a response, a tight lipped smile on your face as you white knuckle the arm of your chair through the pleasure.

He turns his attention to Toji and of course he gives a vague response, you take advantage of it nonetheless, sucking in deep breaths and grinding slightly on his fingers.

“I‘m fine with that” Toji hums, he turns and looks at you with a sadistic sort of glint in his eye, “but what do you think, hon?”

You can barely even glare at him. You were already close, the fucker knew your body, what places to press to drive you insane. Your thighs felt damp, Toji’s fingers thrusting in and out of you without a shred of remorse. His eyes were daring you to speak, demanding you.

“I think t-that makes sense.” You manage, your vision growing foggy. Your legs are trembling, and you’re convinced Toji was sent to earth to torture you. You allow your eyes to slide shut, hoping you can get away with your vagueness as you slowly rock onto his fingers.

But Toji slides a piece of paperwork in front of you, “Which part?”

Fuck you fuck you fuck you, “U-Um, I…” Fuck, you barely stifle a moan, you spare a glance at the consultant who seems none the wiser, well that’s a relief. You glance down at the paper in front of you, none of the legal bullshit making any sense, at least not now when you were gushing on Toji’s fingers and trying to stop your eyes from rolling into your skull. “I t-think—” Toji’s fingers slide along your sweet spot and you can’t hold back your whimper at the feeling. The consultant’s eyes widen in surprise.

“I-I’m sorry, I’m not feeling very well,” You try, your voice practically slurred. It’s useless though, the guy’s already uncomfortable, face flushed and hands folded tightly in front of him.

“W-Would you excuse me for a second?” He musters before bustling out of the room.

The door barely closes before you moan again, shooting a death glare to Toji. “You’re fucking ridiculous—” You barely finish your words before you’re cumming.

“Don’t be shy, finish your sentence.” He responds, pulling your chair closer to his with a leg. His lips ghost along your ear as you tremble and moan, spilling all over his fingers. He looks down at the mess you’ve made with a satisfied grin. “Or not.”

You’re too delirious from your orgasm to feel his fingers leaving yours, or him sitting you down on the table, your thighs all shaky and sticky. But you come too when you feel his tongue along the plush of your inner thigh, lapping up your juices, “C’mon, give me another, let’s give the guy a surprise.” You have no room to protest as his lips fasten around your clit.

By the time the fourth meeting comes around you guys are fucking with no shame. The two of you don’t even show up to the fifth meeting, you made the mistake of thinking you could drive there together…Toji bullshits some excuse while you ride him in the backseat.

The sixth meeting doesn’t even happen before the two of you give up, accepting that you’re really just a pair of horny fucks that like the thrill of fucking apart. And well, who else could satisfy you as well as your husband did?

[jk97]

Hi friends ♡

Sorry for the delay in part 4! I started a new fulltime job so it’s been eating into my previous writing time 😩 I don’t have an estimate but thank you for your patience in the meantime. I hope this’ll be a good chapter to close out everything with 🙏🏽🤭

If you haven’t already joined the taglist you can drop a reply and I can add you when it does come time to post ♡

[thinkinonsense]

i was wondering if you could write some dad!logan with a reader whos lauras teacher and maybe laura talks to him about her teacher. thank you!!!!

dad!logan x teacher!reader

laura was a bright student; one of the brightest in the entire class but there was a small behavioral issue. the young girl would often beat up any student who stole her supplies or made her angry. one of the only people who could calm her down was you; her favorite teacher.

"how was school, kid?" logan asked laura when she walked into the house.

"fine," she answered.

"no more fightin'?" he arched a stern brow at the girl who had been sent home with notes regarding her classroom behavior.

"no." laura glares then explains how you have helped her control her anger.

this wasn't the first time laura had rambled on about you. the young girl's eyes lit up as she told her dad about the pretty young teacher and everything she taught her that day. logan had never met you, the closest being the letters laura brought home to him, on colorful decorative stationery and the one time he saw you through the classroom window when he dropped laura off.

logan thought you were gorgeous even with stray pencils hold up your hair and marker stains on your palms. too pretty to give a man like him the time of day. laura compared you to someone out of a fairytale book.

you seemed to be a good influence on laura so logan had no concerns or complaints. his daughter would often emphasize that there was no ring on your finger either. logan didn't bother entertaining the idea of laura setting him up with her twenty-something year old teacher. instead, he stuck to listening to all of her stories about you and your class.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

every saturday morning, you stuck to the same routine; go to your favorite coffee shop and work on next weeks lesson plan then head to the grocery store. it wasn't much but it kept you busy.

as you stroll through the aisles and check items off of your list, a pair of small feet some running your way. a man is heard angrily calling after the child clinging to you.

"hello, sweet girl!" you smile down at laura. "what are you doing here this early?"

before she could answer, a tall older gentlemen approach's you and a swarm of butterflies threaten to fall loose from your mouth. was this laura's father? this -to put it simply- hot man dressed in jeans and a flannel.

logan's mouth opened to scold his daughter but you stop him.

"you must be, mr. howlett?"

your smile was deadly, logan thought to himself. he couldn't stop staring at your soft features. logan had never been left this speechless, all he could do was nod.

luckily for both of you, laura did all the introducing. you tell him how amazing of a kid she is and all the accomplishments she's reached in your classroom. logan was only half listening, a bit too occupied with the way your lips moved as you spoke. he finally managed to spit out a 'thank you' for helping laura.

the young girl wasn't stupid, even she could see that something was happening between the two of you. if she had it her way, you would be coming over to join them for dinner. logan promised her hamburgers tonight.

"well, i should let the two of you continue your shopping." you say politely, not wanting your gawking at her father become anymore noticeable. "see you on monday, laura."

you barely moved three steps before you heard a shuffle and logan stopped you. unbeknownst to you, laura gave him a swift kick in the leg. she wasn't going to let him blow this for her.

"y-you should join us for dinner sometime." he stutters. what happened to the smooth ladies man he once was? had age really caught up to him already?

you hesitate to answer. of course you wanted to. it's been so long since a kind, attractive man has asked you to dinner but this would definitely come off as unprofessional.

"as a thank you." he adds, hoping that will help swayed you.

the moment you look down at laura's wide smile, awaiting your answer; you knew you would cave.

"I would love to."

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

a/n: might need to do a part two because i love this concept <3

[certaimromance]

𝜗𝜚 Cupid Walks Right.

Coworker!Reid x BAU!reader

series mastelist | main masterlist

Summary: You've been hiding your attraction to your coworker for a long time, until a few pictures of him kissing a celebrity in a pool unleash emotions you can't control.

Words: 1,6k.

Warnings & Tags: fem!bau!reader. mentions of crime and arms. spoilers for s1 e18 ("somebody's watching"). hurt+comfort. two idiots in love. lots of jealousy. fluff. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: The reader is simply me every time I watch that episode but with a lot more drama to make it interesting.

One bullet after another hit the paper meters away from you, with each shot more accurate than the previous one. You had lost count of how many cartridges you had already spent because your mind was full of thoughts that only the sound of the shots echoing in the shooting room managed to silence and give you back a little control of the situation.

Memories of one of the last cases still lingered in your mind, and you couldn't understand why. It hadn't even been something relevant enough to stick in your mind that much, it was just a crazy stalker obsessed with a celebrity and more of the same old same old in terms of creating a profile. It was nothing you hadn't seen before, and it had ended well, with a happy ending that included Spencer kissing the victim he was supposed to be protecting.

That was the crux of the issue, the root of your problem.

You saw some photos that captured the moment in vivid detail and wanted to run out and throw up in the nearest trash can. You held back to avoid answering embarrassing questions, blaming your bad feelings on the last thing you ate and insisting that you were just satisfying your curiosity. But as they say, curiosity always kills the cat.

Maybe it was because it was unprofessional and unnecessary, maybe you were in a bad mood and needed to relax, maybe you were upset that the guy with the germ problem had shared saliva with a stranger, maybe you didn't like Lila Archer because of her performances, or maybe you just wanted to be in her shoes and have him kiss you like that. And for heaven's sake, maybe you've had a few inappropriate dreams about it lately.

You were just about to fire again to get the thoughts out of your mind when someone tapped you on the shoulder. You turned around, ready to defend yourself with the gun in your hand.

“Wait, wait, it's me. I'm sorry.” Spencer raised his arms in a sign of peace and took a few steps back. “Just me.”

“What are you doing here? You scared me.” You lowered the gun and placed it on the table, trying to sound less abrupt. “I thought everyone had gone home.”

He approached you again, checking the open shells and the pile of bullets on the ground. He was quite surprised to see how many times you had hit the target with perfect shots, and how you still seemed intent on continuing, even though it was almost two in the morning. It wasn't practice, because you didn't need it, it was something else, and you seemed quite angry about it.

“I spent the hour going through some papers and saw the light on in here. I thought I'd come and have a look.” He explained, trying to follow your gaze, which seemed to elude his. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah, perfect.”

You started gathering your things and cleaning up the space you'd been using, planning to leave as soon as possible because of his presence. It had been weeks since you'd been alone with him because you'd managed to avoid seeing him as best you could. You'd even managed to convince Hotch that it was time for him to pair you up with someone else during the cases to experiment. You didn't even know why he'd listened to you, but it had been a great relief.

“You're leaving already?” Spencer asked, and you just nodded. “Can I take you home?”

Usually he drove you home, because your car was still at the mechanic and you refused to buy a new one. You always used the minutes you spent together to talk about something other than cases, they were moments of relaxation that you both appreciated. The big difference was that now you couldn't afford that luxury without feeling strange.

“Don't worry, I'll call a taxi.” You grabbed your jacket from a nearby locker. “I'm fine.” You added, with the intention of heading for the door until he stopped you by the wrist.

“Is everything okay...between us?” He asked as you looked up to meet his eyes. “Are you mad at me?”

“I'm sorry, what?” You said, feigning confusion. You always knew it was only a matter of time before he figured something was off with you. After all, he worked in profiling.

“Are you mad at me?” He asked again, in a lower voice, sounding a little more vulnerable than he'd intended. That instantly made you feel bad, you didn't want to hurt him with your confusion.

“No.”

He let out a sigh at your automatic response. His shoulders slumped a bit, and he felt a wave of relief for a few seconds. But then he looked into your eyes for a moment and hesitated, biting his lower lip.

“So...why are you looking at me like that?” He asked, sounding a little shy and with a hint of apprehension in his voice. “Or not looking at me at all.”

“I'm not doing anything.” You make excuses.

He got the chills when he heard your voice, which came across as cold and distant.

“You're giving me that look.”

You gave a little frown and folded your arms, as if to say you didn't agree.

“What look?"

“You look at me like I've done something wrong, like you're disappointed or angry...I think both. You barely look me in the eye, you walk away every time I want to talk to you, you don't sit near me on the jet or want to work with me anymore. And you've been like this for a week.” He paused for a second, remembering when your strange behavior started. “Ever since the L.A. case.”

The room was suddenly filled with silence and a palpable tension. You had been foolish to think Spencer wouldn't notice your remoteness, given his perceptive nature. But you didn't have a choice. You didn't want to appear jealous when you didn't even have feelings for him, you were just ovulating or something like that.

“Is it because...because of Lila? I heard Morgan say some things, and you haven't treated me the same since.” His wavering voice sounded more and more confident, as if he still had to convince himself of his point of view. “I want to know what you think, please.”

You could only curse Derek for exposing you like that. He was the only one who knew about your strange attraction to Reid because he had caught you looking at him several times and you had confessed it to him once in a bar after several drinks and a ridiculous game of cross questions. Since that night, the jokes and suggestions about making out with Spencer under a tree had begun.

But a beautiful actress did it before you, in her pool, with lots of pictures to prove it.

“I'm not one to tell you what to do, but I think your actions were unprofessional and most of all risky.” You spoke after a few seconds, clearing your throat and trying to contain the burning you felt. “It could have ended badly.”

Come on, you would have done the same thing. You often thought about what it would be like to kiss him in the middle of an investigation, especially when he kept giving important details. So you were a little hypocritical.

“I'm only saying that because I care about you.” You added, noticing how confused he looked.

“I know, I care about you too.” He replied calmly, taking a step toward you to touch your arm. “This has been bothering you?”

You froze at his warm touch and the implications you thought he was making about you, nodding as if hypnotized. Had he realized that you had been jealous all along? That you wanted to go back so he could kiss you and not her? That you wanted him to put his hands on your cheeks and kiss you deeply until you were breathless?

“I think I understand, but don't worry about me. I won't do anything dangerous anymore.”

Oh, he hadn't noticed.

Spencer really thought that you were just concerned about his safety because he was your friend and your partner on cases, that you were just frustrated that you weren't there to back him up in case things went wrong. It didn't even occur to him that it was something much deeper and more heated than that.

“So, all good?” He gave you a small smile that made your heart beat a little faster.

“Sure.” You lied, with a strange lump in your throat at the guarded words. “I just didn't know you liked blondes.” You added in a fake teasing tone.

Despite your clearly suspicious tone, Spencer laughed sheepishly. “Actually, I like your hair color.”

A strange bubbling sensation reached your stomach and made you smile.

“Mine?” You asked, lowering your gaze to the floor.

“Yes, it's like it's perfect for you.” He carefully brushed your hair out of your face and tucked it behind your ear, causing the feeling in your stomach to identify itself as butterflies fluttering nonstop.

“You're telling me because I have a gun?” You tried to change the subject with a nervous laugh. “I'm not a celebrity, after all.”

“You don't have to be one to be as pretty as you are. But you could be if you wanted to, and...” He started to talk about statistics and a bunch of data you didn't even know, but strangely enough you didn't listen to him this time because you were stuck on the first sentence.

Spencer really thought you were pretty.

It was only then that you realized something had changed. The only successful shot had been Cupid's arrow to your heart.

Because, damn it, you were totally in love with that man.

[bonkybuchananbarnes]

The Campaign 

Congressman!Bucky Barnes x personal assistant/PR!manager Reader

Synopsis: Hired as Barnes’ personal assistant and PR!manager, he was constantly pushing your buttons when it came to maintaining his public image and managing his day-to-day routines. But as much as he stresses you out, you find yourself falling head over heels over your boss.

Content warnings: fluffy and crack, small angst, swearing, mentions of smoke and drinking, a little steamy but not smutty, no use of y/n, you are so tired of his bs but he loves you, pining, boss x employee relationship, friends to lovers situation

a/n: this might be my favourite piece I have written for Bucky. I also tried to keep it gender-neutral. I also apologize if I get stuff wrong about how voting and congress works, I am not American lol. also i did not proof read this sorry!

word count: 5k (whew)

It was only 7:30 am and you could use a glass of Bourbon and a cigarette. 

You ought to just go radio silent one of these days. Clearly, you were not paid enough to be James Buchanan Barnes’ glorified babysitter. Everyday, there was something new going on with the former Winter Soldier and today was the worst one yet. An early morning call from Sam Wilson always meant bad news, but whatever he had to say gave you a raging migraine and it hasn’t reached 9 am yet.

‘You’re kidding me. What got released to the public?’ you screeched over the phone.

This is how you found yourself marching into your boss’s apartment with a bedhead you barely cared to fix, and a poorly done business causal outfit, with a hefty pile of files bound together with several manila binders under your arm. 

‘James, you open this door right now!’ you hollered, accompanying your anger with an booming knock on his door. 

An exasperated sigh was heard through the thin walls. You were soon met with a tired Bucky Barnes who was wearing nothing but grey sweatpants. ‘Y’know, it’s really unprofessional to address your boss by their first name.’

Shoving the mental image of his delectable half-naked figure in the back of your head, you shoved the man out of the way and stomped into his kitchen island. You were too mad to ogle your boss that you unfortunately found very attractive.

‘You got a Scotch? I could really use a glass right now.’ you murmured, grabbing the nearest glass and scattering the files onto his marbled counter.

Bucky checked his watch on his wrist. ‘The fuck do you need a glass of Scotch for? Sweetheart, it’s only 7:50am!’

You resorted to a cold glass of milk, since there was no liquor to be found. ‘Look at the files I dropped and you tell me, James.’ 

The super soldier shuffled his way toward the pile of paperwork. As he quickly scanned around, a growing smirk grew on his lips. Noticing this, you groaned, rubbing your fingers over the deepening crease on your brows.

‘Do you know what I woke up with, James? I woke up with Captain America panicking over the phone because someone decided to leak the information I worked so hard to bury!’ you fumed. Swirling your glass of milk like it was hard liquor, you gulped it down, trying to calm your steaming head.

Bucky’s vibranium, fingers grazed over the paper and picked it up. It read ‘POTENTIAL CONGRESSMAN JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES RESPONSIBLE FOR THE ASSASSINATION OF JFK?’

He inquisitive tilted his head in confusion. ‘I thought everyone knew this?’

A nice smooth roll of tobacco sounded so good right now. 

‘Are you KIDDING me?! What part of ‘I worked so hard to bury the information’ don’t you understand?!’ you bellowed, startling the man in front of you. Slapping both of your palms on the marbled counter, Bucky could see you heaving and seething from anger.

A quiet sigh escaped his lips. He carefully made his way towards your side and wrapped you with a side hug. His fleshed fingers slowly rubbed your arms up and down in an attempt to soothe your anger. ‘Alright, alright. I guess I slipped up that one interview where I jokingly said ‘the president better watch his back.’ Someone probably took that to heart and found out that I might’ve assassinated JFK.’

You turned your head and squinted. ‘You need to learn how to keep your mouth shut.’

‘Maybe you can shut it for me, sweetheart.’ Bucky teased.

You rolled your eyes and sighed, fighting the growing blush on your cheeks. It was safe to say that your relationship with Bucky has gone past strictly business professional. The two of you grew close for the past year, and you felt that there was something more. But, for the sake of the job nature and your sanity, you couldn’t act upon it.

A gentle smack on his chest caused him to let go of you. ‘Alright you smooth talker. That might've worked during the 40s, but you’re asking to get smacked by women if you say that.’ 

‘But Sam taught me that last week.’ Bucky shrugged.

‘That’s it. I don’t care if he’s Captain America, I’m limiting his visitation hours with you, Mr. Barnes.’ you scoffed. Grabbing the glass that was sitting on the counter, you reached for the milk carton to pour another.

The super soldier gave you a knowing look. ‘Honestly? I’ll be glad if you did. He talks too much sometimes.’

A grin donned your features as you downed another glass of milk. ‘Didn’t expect you to agree to that. Go get dressed Barnes, I called for another press conference at 10am and you better explain yourself.’

‘Yes ma’am.’ he saluted. As he made his way to his room, he paused, and looked back at you. Pursing your lips in anticipation, you expected him to throw a snarky comment at you. And that’s exactly what he did.

‘Y’know, this information coming to the public isn’t that bad. I heard the Gen Z were into that kind of thing.’ Bucky teasingly quipped.

He was met with a flying salt shaker to his head.

✪✪✪

Your ‘Days Bucky doesn’t tarnish his public image’ counter reset to 0 two days later.

A few hours ago, Bucky appeared at a charity gala that was hosted by Stark Industries. It surprised you, knowing the history between his time as the Winter Soldier and him being responsible for the murder of Howard and Maria Stark. Alas, you learned a long time ago that politics was a messy, dirty game, and you were just a personal assistant to yet another political candidate.

Yet, Bucky wasn’t just another politician you assisted, he was basically a dashing 110-year-old dashing man who always found himself leaving a mess wherever he went.

And tonight was one of those nights. It was going so well during the gala, all he had to do was sit pretty and make mindless talk with the other important figures. You knew that he didn’t want to go in the first place, so you made a deal with him; if he went and did not make a commotion, you would treat him to your favourite Shawarma spot in New York. He complied, and was doing so well.

Until you found yourself catering to his wounds back in his apartment.

The super soldier grunted in pain as your fingers pressed antibiotics into his open scratch on his forehead. 

‘Hey, are you trying to hurt me more?’ he whined.

Paying no mind to his complaint, you continued to apply more, digging into the wound even further.

‘Jesus, sweetheart! At this point you’re hurting me more than trying to patch my wounds!’ Bucky moaned, wincing as you finally put a gauze on the wounded area. 

‘Yeah right.’ you finally shot back. ‘You have super soldier serum running through your veins Barnes. You’re a big boy, you can deal with it.’

Looking away from the man, you rummaged through the first aid kit on lap as you searched for more gauze. As your eyes raised up to face him again, Bucky gave you an apologetic stare, like a whimpering puppy.

‘Save it James.’ you huffed, continuing to patch the wound on his flesh arm. ‘You broke your promise, so you’re not getting Shawarma with me tonight.’

‘Aww, come on! I really didn’t mean to!’ he pouted. James Buchanan Barnes. Pouting at his personal assistant. If only the world could see that.

‘Oh really?’ your voice dripped with sarcasm. ‘You didn’t mean to uppercut John Walker in the face in a public event?’

‘Listen sweetheart, he started it!’

‘I find that hard to believe Barnes.’

Bucky pleaded to you with his sky blue eyes. ‘You have to believe me. There’s a reason why I did it.’

A sarcastic laugh escaped your lungs. ‘Do you really live to annoy and stress me out all the time James?’ You bit the medical tape, ripping a piece and placing it on top of the gauze that was placed on his arm.

Silence filled Bucky’s living room before he finally confessed. ‘I didn’t like the way he spoke about you.’

Your eyes widened with his revelation, and halted your actions. It was suddenly hard to breathe.

Dropping your hands to your sides, you stared at the super soldier in disbelief. ‘What?’ 

Bucky pursed his lips before he continued. ‘I know, I know. He was taunting me. Walker came to me wanting to make small talk and I guess he was getting cocky and started to talk smack about you. Degrading you and your abilities. Called you names, diminished your accomplishments. I couldn’t stand there and let him do that to you sweetheart.’

It was like Bucky squeezed your heart with his mechanical arm. Blood started to rush towards your ears, with your neck heating up. Your boss cared enough to defend you, even when you were absent.

His eyes gazed down to your hands as he took it with his fleshed ones. ‘I know it seems that I make your life a hundred times harder. Always cleaning up my messes, always making sure that I can win my campaign. It’s the least I can do for you while you do so much for me.’

You continued to stare at him. His confession knocked your breath away. All this time he genuinely cared for you.

He looked up once more and gazed upon your eyes. ‘I’ll fix this myself sweetheart. Go get rest tonight.’

He quietly searched your eyes for some sort of answer, while you continued to sit in silence.

After what seemed an eternity, he was met with your answer.

‘Bucky, you absolute idiot.’ you whispered, with tears pricking your eyes. ‘Thank you. You’re a good friend.’

The word friend stung his heart, but it was for the best. Wanting to pursue a relationship beyond friendship would be selfish on his part. He always wanted to, since he harboured a little crush on you ever since you first entered his life. But Bucky knew, he should know, that he can’t have everything in life. It would be too selfish. After all, he didn’t deserve it.

‘Yeah.’ he croaked. ‘So, am I off the hook now? Can we get some shawarma?’

A shaky sigh escaped your lips. Resuming your task to patch him up, a small smile adorned your lips as you shook your head.

‘After this, change to something casual. By the way, you’re paying.’ you jested.

A low chuckle escaped Bucky’s lungs, and you laughed with him in response. Although you wished for something more, you were content with the way things were right now.

✪✪✪

Tonight was the big day. It was election day. The results of your hard work will determine if it was enough for Bucky to be elected as a congressman. After today, you could finally rest easy, and possibly continue working for him as an assistant to a congressman. After all, you found yourself attached to him after a year of working with him. 

However, as soon as you walked into his apartment, you wished that you worked for someone else.

‘Alright Barnes, are you ready to go? The car is waiting-’ your voice faded as your eyes landed on the frazzled super soldier.

His medium cut hair was a mess, with strands sticking up in every direction. His navy blue blazer was scattered on the floor. The white long sleeve dress shirt he wore was unbuttoned, unironed and stained with red sauce. However, the white wife beater he wore underneath was miraculously unstained. The notebook, which had the speech you wrote, was lying on the counter, smothered with pizza sauce. Most of all, his other arm was missing.

Bucky froze midway from biting a pizza slice as you barged in. His wide eyes stared at you in shock, with the pizza bending down and dripping onto his white garment. He looked down with his mouth hanging open once he realized that he messed up his outfit of the night.

Your feet felt like they were stuck on the ground as you stared at your boss incredulously.

‘James Buchanan Barnes, are you shitting me?! The election gala is in one hour!’ you scolded him. 

Slamming the front door shut, you angrily sauntered into the kitchen area, picking up his fallen blazer and draping it on your arm.

‘Hey sweetheart.’ Bucky said casually, continuing to munch on his pizza as he glazed over the notebook once more. You look stunning.’

‘Sweet talk isn’t going to get me less angry Barnes! I literally got that dress shirt last week, and you stained it!’ you fumed, walking to his side and grabbing the shirt by the collar, forcing him to shed it off of his body, leaving him with just his navy blue dress pants and wife beater. ‘Please don’t tell me this isn’t the only dress shirt you have!’

‘Well, can I wear my black one?’ he innocently asked, gobbling up the last piece into his mouth. Bucky looked at your form, and stepped back as he saw you vibrating with anger.

It was your turn to stare at Bucky Barnes. This man was supposed to be all ready to go for his campaign night. Instead, you were looking at the feared ex-assassin stuffing his cheeks like a chipmunk in his apartment complex. If it wasn’t for the given circumstance, you would’ve laughed and snuck a photo of him.

You let out a loud groan in response, and dialed for a cleaner to expedite an urgent laundry order. Once you finished with the call, Bucky made his way towards you, and stuck out the notebook you made for him.

‘This speech is too long.’ he declared.

‘You had a week to learn it James. Not my fault you were procrastinating.’ Tilting your body to the side, you eyed the area where his vibranium arm should be. ‘Also, where is your arm?’

Bucky nervously pursed his lips shut as your eyes squinted at him. Thinking about where he could’ve placed it, your eyes wandered to the dishwasher behind, seeing it was running a cycle. Putting two and two together in your head, your eyes slowly glanced back at the man in front of you.

‘James-’

‘Listen sweetheart’ he started. His fleshed hand nervously rubbed against the back of his neck.

‘James Buchanan Barnes, did you put your fucking Wakandan-made vibranium arm in your dishwasher?!’ you sputtered in disbelief. 

‘Hear me out! I couldn’t put it in the washing machine, it would tumble around and break it! The dishwasher cleans it very well!’

‘So you casually put Wakandan tech that’s probably millions of dollars in a machine that’s meant for washing dishes?’ A growing headache was creeping up. Good thing you brought Tylenol.

‘I got it for free.’ he mumbled. 

Scoffing in disbelief, you raised your arms in frustration and stomped towards the front door. ‘Whatever! It feels like I’m arguing with a child. You’re a grown man for Pete’s sake!’

‘Technically, I’m 110 years old-’

‘Right. You’re the perfect age to be running for congress.’ you snarked back. It was Bucky's turn to stare at you incredulously. 

The man huffed with exhaustion. You had enough, you were going to leave him be and wait for him in the car. But before you could turn the doorknob, he spoke up. ‘Sweetheart, listen! I’m nervous as hell for tonight. Everything that I worked for, everything you worked for is happening right now, and I don’t want to fuck this up.’ 

Upon hearing his confession, your hand paused midway from grabbing the knob. A deep sigh left your lips while you looked down, before facing him once more. The worried expression in his beautiful bright blue eyes was enough for you to cave in.

Sighing once more, you gently smiled at him. ‘Oh, Bucky. What would you do without me?’ you breathed, walking towards him.

A breathy chuckle came out of his lips as you made your way in front of him. Gently fingers combed his greasy hair, and he glanced down at you, looking at you with unspoken endearment. ‘Not much, I’m afraid. You’re basically the glue holding me together.’

A mischievous glint shone in your irises. ‘I hope you’re not referring to me as your mother figure James.’

Bucky raised his eyebrows. Lowering his head towards your ear, he lightly blew air, causing you to shiver. ‘Oh sweetheart, you’re much much much more than a caretaker for me.’

His words caused a squeezing sensation in your abdomen. Refusing to fall for his lacy words as you had to keep a professional boundary between the two of you (which was blurring by the second), your palms gently pushed him off.

You had to draw the line between you and your boss. ‘Save your sultry words for the event tonight Barnes. Pretty sure there’s some beautiful women who’s willing to throw themselves at you.’ 

Bucky paused, and you saw a storm of emotions brewing in his expressive eyes before he answered. ‘I don’t need that-’ he started, before he cut you off.

‘Tick tock, Barnes! We have to get going here, you’re lucky that the laundromat is willing to do an express order for you!’ you blurted out, trying to extinguish the awkward atmosphere. ‘I’ll head there right now. In the meantime, get dressed, fix your hair, and for God’s sake James, get your fucking arm out of the dishwasher.’

Bucky licked his lips and huffed out of frustration. Shoving his hand in his pocket, he obeyed your command and silently cleaned up the kitchen area. He threw a knowing look towards you, as he watched your figure promptly leave his flat. 

The super soldier made a mental note that tonight was the night he was going to finally make a move, if he won the election.

On the other side of the door, your sweaty palm clenched the fabric of your dress that was covering your chest. Too close, it was too close. You wanted to keep this job, to keep being close to your friend and crush without compromising the ethicality of it. It hurt, but with the given situation, it was the best you could do. You were content with being with him, even if you were just the personal assistant-pr manager-and glorified babysitter of Bucky Barnes.

Shaking your head out of your thoughts, you slapped both your cheeks together, then made your way towards the elevator at the end of the hall.

You deserved a smooth glass of Bourbon tonight.

✪✪✪

He won.

He actually won. A little part of you didn’t believe it, but Bucky won a seat at the congress. The former Winter Soldier who probably assassinated a dozen American politicians and presidents, was now a politician himself. Now that you thought about it, it was ironic, but nevertheless the way American politics worked.

You were also sure that Gen Z voters were solely responsible for his win. After all, no one could resist a handsome and buff super soldier running for congress. It was like offering the best piece of candy to a child.

But now that your task was complete, you weren’t sure whether you would continue your job as his personal assistant and PR manager. With all things considered, you were the perfect person for the job. You knew his routine and schedule with the back of his hand. Sure, there were moments that caused you to rip your hair out from stress, but in the end, you genuinely enjoyed being by Bucky’s side.

With your cheek on your palm as it rested on the window of the car, you zoned out as your eyes followed the streetlights. You were so deep in thought that you failed to notice that Bucky was grazing his real hand over yours, which was resting on the leather seat. He glanced at you, with eyes wavering with concern.

‘You alright sweetheart?’ Bucky murmured, gently caressing your hand.

‘Hn? Yeah, just tired.’ you answered listlessly, still not noticing his touch.

The rest of the car ride back to his apartment complex was silent. Once the two of you made it inside, Bucky carefully closed the front door shut as you shrugged off your coat and plopped yourself on his couch. You stretched your neck back and looked up to the ceiling and sighed with exhaustion.

The super soldier let out a chuckle at this sight of you. He had never seen you this exhausted, and honestly found it cute.

‘Long day?’ he quipped, sitting beside you.

You felt the couch dip to your left. ‘Tell me about it.’ you sighed.

Blinking your eyes open, you turned your head to face your boss. Gazing softly into his eyes, you smiled. ‘Congratulation on your win Bucky. You deserved it.’

Bucky’s eyes crinkled with a smile. ‘It was all thanks to you sweetheart. Couldn’t have done it without you.’

The two of you laughed, then sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, enjoying each other's company.

You looked down at your lap and nervously rubbed your fingers. Pursing your lips, you gained the courage to let him know that you wanted to continue your work as his assistant. 

While you were lost in your head trying to figure out the words, Bucky was in his own personal debate. It was either tonight or never. He had to let you know how he felt.

After a lingering silence, you spoke up first.

‘James, I want-’

‘You’re fired.’ he said bluntly. 

The words faded from your lips, slowly reeling in the words he had said. Your eyes widened in shock, with the corner of your eyes prickling with tears.

‘Fired?’ you echoed back. ‘You’re firing me?’

Your worst fear came true. He didn’t want you anymore. You trembled with anxiety, taking in the sinking feeling that you weren’t needed anymore.

Realizing that his words were coming out wrong, Bucky tried to explain himself. ‘Wait! Sweetheart let me explain-!’

Rage filled your being as the usually endearing nickname rolled off his tongue. ‘You have the balls to call me sweetheart when you’re firing me?! After all I have done for you Barnes! The sleepless nights, the anxiety I endured for your stupid campaign! You’re just going to throw me aside now that you’ve won?! I can’t believe-’ you exploded as you got up from the couch and started pacing around the living room.

Bucky growled your name in frustration, causing your rambling to stop. Walking up to you, he placed a firm hold on your shoulders as he directed you to come face to face. His pupils wavered as you bore his eyes straight into yours, with tears starting to prick in the bottom of his eyelids.

‘I’m firing you because I’m in love with you.’ Bucky quietly professed.

A tidal wave of emotions washed over you upon hearing his words. The angry expression that you wore immediately melted into confusion, mixed with hope.

‘You’re firing me because you’re in love with me?’ you slowly drawled.

An exasperated airless chuckle left his lungs. ‘I know how stupid it sounds. God, sweetheart, you make me so stupid with love.’ A gently warm hand cupped your cheek carefully.

Bucky’s eyes stared into yours with a longing expression. ‘This past year, all you’ve done is take care of me. You fixed my fuck ups. Made sure I was well rested and prepared. I would be lying if I said I would’ve gone through this gruelling campaign without you. Because my love, you held me together, even when I wanted to fall apart.’

Your lips slowly parted, with your eyes glossy with tears. ‘Bucky-’ you muttered, before he cut you off.

Bucky rested his forehead into yours as he shut his eyes. You could feel his hot breath nervously wavering as he continued his confession. ‘Sweetheart, you took care of me this whole time, even when I didn’t deserve it. Now it’s my turn to take care of you, and the only way to do that is to fire you.’

His eyes opened once more, revealing his sky blue eyes that were now glossy. When you didn’t answer him back, he heaved a heavy sigh, his pupils wavering even more as he tried to look for your answer in your eyes.. ‘Please say something.’ he begged.

Finally convinced that you weren’t daydreaming, you gave Bucky an answer.

Leaning your head close to his, your lips gently grazed over his plush ones, sweetly pressing your lips on him. He slowly returned your kiss, lips parting slightly to capture his over your bottom lip. Your hands wandered to his blazer, grabbing the collar as you brought him close to your body. His vibranium arm cradled the back of your head, inhaling deeply as you parted your own lips to kiss him once more. 

Bucky tilted his head and partially opened his lips, urging you to open your mouth as he poked his tongue through, licking your teeth in the process. A low moan escaped his throat as he messily massaged his tongue against yours.

Maybe you did deserve this after dealing with his bullshit for a year.

However, while the two of you were busy inhaling one another, his pressing weight was causing you to lose your balance. Once you realized however, it was too late. You and Bucky broke the kiss as you tumbled onto the carpeted floor, with him falling on top of you.

‘Woah!’ you yelped, expecting your head to hit the ground. Your eyes squeezed shut, expecting an impact, but was met with Bucky’s warm hand cradling the back of your head, absorbing the fall.

He may have cushioned your fall, but his body landed on yours, knocking the wind from your lung in the process. Bucky’s chest rumbled with laughter as you squeaked in discomfort. ‘You’re heavy, James.’

‘Sorry.’ he hummed amusingly. The super soldier brought himself off of you, lifting his body inches away from yours as his elbows rested on your sides.

If you told your past self that a year from now, that your boss confessed to you the night he won his election campaign, they would’ve slapped you silly, telling you that you’re delusional. But here you were, gazing into his eyes lovingly while he stroked your head endearingly. 

‘So.’ you started.

‘So.’ he mimed back.

‘Now that I’m unemployed thanks to you, you’re going to help me find a new job.’

Bucky pressed a sweet kiss to your cheek. ‘Already done and taken care of.’

Your eyebrow shot up. ‘What did you do now, James?’

A mischievous glint appeared in his eyes. ‘I cashed in a favour from Sam. You’re going to be his PR manager now.’

Your face twisted into frustration. ‘Oh god. Working for him might be slightly worse than working for you.’

‘Excuse me!’ he scoffed out of offence. ‘Working with me is a pleasure!’

You sniffed in sarcasm as you pushed him off to sit up. Bucky took it as an opportunity to tackle you into the floor once more.

‘Bucky stop it!’ you shrieked as he poked his fingers to your sides.

‘Nope.’ he said, popping the ‘P’ on his tongue.

The super soldier found himself facing you once more, and peppered your face with kisses. His stubbled beard tickled you.

‘You know Bucky, there were several times where I wanted to quit working for you because you were unbearable.’ you joked as he continued to smother you.

‘Well,’ he started between kisses. ‘Now that I fired you and promoted you to my partner, you’re stuck with me. I’ll be taking care of you now.’

A bright smile appeared on your lips. Bucky took notice and mirrored the same smile as he dipped down to kiss your lips once more.

What was thought to be the most stressful night of your life ended up with you sprawled out on the floor with your ex-boss-turned boyfriend. 

Not that you could complain. For once in your life you were glad that you got fired from your job. The average working person would never say that.

But then again, your boss was far from average. He was an unbearable and incredibly sassy 110 year old super soldier turned politician who consistently pushed your buttons when it came to setting him straight for the sake of his political career.

With all things considered, it was no wonder that you fell in love with him. And you couldn't have had it any other way.

[sleeplessdreamer14]

𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓅𝒾𝑒𝒸𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊

fandom: my hero academia

relationship: tenya iida x reader

summary: you left your jacket in iida’s room.

contains: mutual pining, unresolved romantic tension, fluff, opposites attract, thrifted clothes, like two lines of dialogue

a/n: @thecutestgrotto divider credit goes to

Study sessions hadn’t always been a thing between you and Iida, not until after moving into the dorms. You just lived too far apart to meet up every week like you did now, every Friday to be exact.

Iida had offered to tutor you earlier in the school year, but you always turned him down, wanting to at least try and figure things out on your own. But after you began to live in the same building, you finally accepted his offer and worked out a schedule for the two of you to meet up in the afternoon and go over any material either of you had trouble with.

Eventually, those study sessions began to evolve into hang outs with studying sprinkled in, switching between his room and yours every week. Despite you two having very different tastes in room decor, it look little time for you to grow comfortable in each other’s environments. You quickly learned his organization system and he gradually learned to just leave your clutter be… mostly.

This week’s study meeting was held in Iida’s dorm room, and when you had first walked through the door, you were sporting your iconic letterman jacket which you had gotten from a thrift shop not too long ago. It had become routine for you and your mom to stop by the thrift store when you would spend her days off work together.

Anyway, it wasn’t until about an hour after you had left to start turning in for the night that Iida realized you had left your jacket behind, in a small bundle on the floor near the foot of his bed. He was surprised that it took him this long to notice, considering he had actually watched you walk- or more rush out the door after you realized how late it had gotten. You had taken it off in the middle of studying since the fabric retained heat and you were getting a little warmer than you would have preferred, so he supposed that you must have been so eager to go shower and get to sleep at a somewhat decent hour that you simply forgot.

Iida’s initial idea was to stop by your dorm room to give it back to you, but it was already pretty late and he knew that you tended to lock your door at night. Though he supposed he could simply text you, but you were probably already asleep, or at least drifting off, so he didn’t want to disturb you. It had been a long week and you needed the rest.

So he decided that he would simply return it to you tomorrow morning when he saw you again. And it definitely wasn’t because over the past few weeks, the more time that Tenya spent with you, the more it felt as though your study sessions ended too early and he just wanted to hold onto this piece of you for as long as he could. Of course not.

And that’s why he was lying on his back in the dark, holding the piece of clothing to his chest while staring up and the ceiling with nothing but the low hum of the air conditioner and muffled outside noises to fill the silence.

If he were being honest, Iida loved this jacket. Because despite it being previously owned, it was so uniquely yours. He could still remember the day you returned to the dorms with a skip in your step as you showed off your new duds, talking about how lucky you were to find it right at the front of the shop and have it fit you just right. Coincidentally, it even had the first letter of your surname on the front. There were a lot of things that Tenya had grown to appreciate thanks to you.

Like your piercings. While Tenya previously found them impractical and even a bit unprofessional, he eventually grew to like how they looked on you, especially after you had invited him to go with you to get your most recent one.

And the rings you wore every day, two on your left and one on your right. Honestly, he kind of just liked your hands. Iida had briefly held your hand a couple times before, to help you stand up or when one of you was leading the other somewhere. He wished he could do that more.

Turning over on his side, Iida closed his eyes and lightly tightened his hold on your jacket as his heart drummed in his ears.

No. Don’t do it. Don’t do it, don’t you dare do it.

But he did. Tenya brought the jacket closer to his face and inhaled slowly. Yep, there it was; your natural scent with hints of your shampoo around the back of the collar. It was nice, comforting. Sometimes when he went to bed after your study sessions, he could find faint traces of your smell on his pillow or covers of you had been resting there while working.

Tenya wished he could have more than this. More of you, and for longer. But if this was all he could have, then he could be content with that.

The following morning, Iida folded up your jacket before going to return it to you. While part of him felt a little disappointed at first about having to give it back to you, that feeling was overpowered by the smile on your face when he did. You slipped your jacket on and tucked your hands into the pockets, thanking Iida.

“Don’t worry, it’s no trouble at all.” he replied, hoping that the blush in his face wasn’t too obvious. It really did look perfect on you.

As you went your separate ways, you gently rubbed your arms and took a deep breath in, your face flushing a subtle pink as you picked up faint traces of Tenya’s scent. Looking back over your shoulder in his direction, you chuckled softly as you stared at him as he engaged in conversation with some of your other classmates, blissfully unaware of that fact that-

“You totally left it in his room on purpose, didn’t you?” Mina whispered as she approached you, a Cheshire Cat grin spread across her face as she quirked an eyebrow at you. You said nothing, only rolling your eyes and lightly shoving her by the shoulder, earning a giggle. You knew that she could see the answer in your face.

Maybe you did, but he didn’t need to know that.

[violet-eng]

F!reader spoils Lil Dragon!Zhongli... at first | Fluff🧸 (with dragon)+ 🔞 (with human Zhongli)

🎨by: @nagarnia_art and @JeanGreyCG

Summary: You're doing some research in the woods, looking for certain minerals, when you feel some tiny tiny eyes staring at you. After Zhongli morpps from a dragon to a human, things get a bit... hot...

Tw: with human Zhongli smut 🔞, PIV. Insinuations of breeding season, with dragon Zhongli just some cute Dragon behavior bc I ended up traumatized after writing some angst.

•┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈••✦ ● ✦••┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈•

Your research is going well. Your reports to the Fontaine Science Institute were successful during your last expedition, earning you praise from your superiors. You have been living in Liyue for over six months. After learning about minerals that can emanate energy, you sought out information to educate yourself on the subject. 

The rocks in Liyue seem to have a memory, possibly due to the work of their Archon or as a natural result of high evolution and energetic vestiges from ancient wars. 

Zhongli, the Parlor consultant, had told you about a spot at the foot of a valley that might interest you, and you were amazed. You had no reason to doubt the man's wisdom. You had formed a deep bond of friendship with him because you admire his extensive knowledge about everything. You set off almost immediately. He had offered to accompany you, but you had refused because you prefer to do your research alone, surrounded by nature and away from the attractive distraction that Zhongli could become.

Your friend is attractive, in a way that you tried to express in your letters to your friends at Fontaine, but never succeeded. Your banal words and names do not do justice to the physique of this man of unshakable character, steely sense, and tenacious gaze. You could not bear to make a mistake in his presence during the expedition, not because you were clumsy, but because his figure moved your senses, your ground, and betrayed your own perceptions.

So, as you walk through a pleasant area of foliage, covered by the fierce, scorching rays of the sun, you decide to let your guard down, to take off your jacket and your gloves. You use a ribbon to tie up your hair as you walk on, arriving at the place Zhongli had shown you beforehand. The passage is strangely comfortable, very suitable for a quiet investigation, full of strange figures of small rocks of irregular and curious shapes.

Under the canopy of large trees, you spread out your arsenal of tools on the grass, put on your protective visors, and get to work. Sequencing the rock profile takes little time, your agile skills allowing you to avoid unnecessary pauses or clumsy backtracking typical of an amateur. Then you take the samples, tiny particles that do not alter the correct and productive nature that King Geo has protected for years, and while you wait for the filtering to finish, a strange sensation runs down your spine.

You had let your guard down during your experiment, letting the peaceful appearance of the place convince you, something very unprofessional on your part. So you turn to the side and feel a presence. Among the bushes, you spot a pair of curious little spheres, and you jump as the leaves rustle in the presence of an unknown being. 

A deep relief washes over you as the creature in question appears on the scene. A small dragon, microscopic in physiognomy compared to adult forms, with curious eyes and a golden tail twisted into a spiral. Its little paws make furrows in the ground, its face dejected, as if it had been caught doing something illegal.

"Little one, have you been watching me all this time?" You ask the cute little creature, who hides his head between his front paws, realizing he can't do it with his tail, which isn't long enough.

"Come here, don't be afraid of me," you whisper, approaching it cautiously, holding out your hands.

The dragon gathers itself in its own anatomy, growling low, sounding almost like a common cat, you can't help but laugh at it. You bring your fingers up to the growling pellet and stroke its head, right between its underdeveloped horns. You notice a puff of breath coming from the little guy's nose.

"How cute, you liked that, didn't you?" you laugh as you stroke his head and then his back, causing the miniature dragon's tail to wag.

"Come, sit with me, we'll have to wait a long time until the filtering is finished," you take him in your hands, on your palms.

"Wow... I've never seen one of your species so small... and those scales," you comment, bringing your face close to the reptile's, "I'd swear you have very, very soft skin, you're very rare, uh," you add, while you turn to your tools, which emit a strange smell.

You leave the dragon on the ground and approach your machinery, no, nothing out of place... well, now you can turn your attention to the little guy who... what is he doing?

You notice the tiny creature rubbing against your foot, making strange squeaks. It's... it's mating with your shoe? You burst out laughing and shake your foot, pushing it away and picking it up again.

"You horny little bugger," you say, poking him in the nose, "I forgot that your species is in mating season. I regret to inform you that you will get nowhere with me, I am not of the same species... ours is impossible."

A sad sigh escapes from the little animal's chest, and you notice how its whole face becomes depressed, its horns and ears seem to droop in deep disappointment.

"Don't cry," you say, putting it on the ground in the grass and lying down in front of it, "we can play if you want, to distract you a little”.

That got his attention, because he looked at you again. He walks up to you with his little paws and puts one on your nose, he starts to sniff you with that little button in the middle of his little face.

"Ohhh... do you want a little kiss?" you ask, flooded with tenderness, "I would do anything to make you happy" you say, placing a tender kiss on the dragon's forehead. Is like a puppy...

The dragon retraces his steps, accelerating and rolling his head in madness. You see him writhing in place, as if he had suddenly fallen ill, and then... poof... a golden flash and a trail of smoke,  ike the one he had just exhaled through his nose. A faint wave of heat and a faint smell of sulfur as a figure began to form behind the column of smoke.

You straightened up in your seat as the column disintegrated, revealing the very embarrassed image of Zhongli, covering his mouth as he coughs, with traces of smoke and golden flames escaping from his throat.

He is wearing little clothing, a tunic of the same color as the skin of the dragon you spoke to earlier... is that perhaps...? 

"You," you point an accusing finger at Zhongli, and he looks at you with flushed cheeks, "what was that? Aren't you going to say anything about it?" you say to the man, appearing to be annoyed, although in reality, seeing him in that outfit has aroused something pleasurable in you.

"Well?" you insist.

"Are you going to give me that kiss or?" he interjects, his voice still weak and embarrassed.

His embarrassment fades for the next hour, during which he relentlessly thrusts himself into you, waiting for your boring explorer machine to end.

The filtering of the rocks continues, the particles falling into the vessel like sand in a crystal clock. The small machines emit tiny clicks and a faint plume of smoke and gas. The rumble of the cycle's drumbeat advances in rhythm with your moans as you feel Zhongli sink deep into you.

You lie on the grass, your pants and panties around your ankles, your hands on your head clinging to the foliage, your waist encircled by Zhongli's large hands holding you steady so he can work his way into your pussy. You feel his pelvic bone against your center, his balls against your skin, and then he pulls away to enter again. Gently, lovingly, afraid to break you and hurt you. He's painfully slow, but how good it feels.

You hear him make low, rasping noises as faint plumes of smoke rise from his nose, as when he looked like a dragon. His cock twists inside you, slapping against your cervix, massaging your wet, warm depths that mold to the shape of his member. You feel the warmth rush down your legs, an electric current coursing through every fiber of your limbs, your chest heaving in desperation.

The orgasm hits you both at the same time, decorating Zhongli's cock with a white ring as his cum spills into you like thick ropes from his ecstasy. He pulls back your panties and pants, leaving a chaste kiss on your cheek.

"May I mark you?" he asks with a look of honor, his face sublime and devoted.

"Don't even think about it," you say, joining in, noticing the sadness in his eyes, "we weren't even supposed to do it. It was just supposed to be a kiss and that's it," you seem to scold him, though it's you who's scolding yourself for being so unseemly and impetuous, though damn... you've enjoyed it so much... ....

Sensing your hostile tone, Zhongli wraps himself up and immediately transforms into his small reptilian form.

"Please stop being so dramatic," you express, leaning against one of the tree trunks and letting out a laugh. "Come back... I don't want to wait alone," you say, crossing your legs and putting your jacket down.

Zhongli, the dragon, approaches you with short steps, due to the length of his small legs, and climbs onto your lap, where he rubs the fabric of your coat, nestling into the fabric to take refuge, and lets out a yawn before closing his eyes and settling down for a nap. You stroke his back and coo to the little creature, feeling him purr like a cat.

"How cute you are when you sleep," you laugh, stroking his nose, causing him to bite your finger, "did you just mark me without my permission?" You ask, but he just squeals and jumps off your lap, looking for a way to escape. You catch him with your coat and throw it at him like a fleeing rat, but he manages to escape and hide in the bushes... you don't see him again for the rest of the afternoon, but you know that when you return to Liyue Harbour you will demand an apology, an explanation... and maybe a round two.

[sexlapis]

actor! toji fushiguro thoughts 💭

actor toji would be one of those hot dilf actors that women would always be drooling over, edits of him always popping up on your fyp, the most outta pocket comments underneath all of his insta posts, he would be the number 1 dilf for all the old man fuckers.

toji rarely posts on social media. he’s at that age where he just does not care to post his whole life online, but that only attracts people to him more because he is so mysterious. he would have like 10 million followers and only follow 12 people (including you)

toji would probably be one of those actors that have no variety in their roles, but everybody would still eat it up anyways. toji as an actor would typically play a villain/antagonist or an anti-hero, typically in an action movie/series and he plays them well. toji can embody an intimidating, frightening, intelligent villain very well. he could be cast as one of the most horrendous, horrible villains and be a menace towards the main cast but because he looks like that, he is forgiven.

but there are those rare times toji is casted as a father or father figure and his character would do anything for their daughter and everyone just loses it. he plays the father role well, almost too well. he is so caring, protective and sweet towards the actress playing as his daughter, even behind the scene clips with one another, he is just so gentle and dreamy. the fans cannot handle it!

during interviews, toji can be charming. he cracks jokes and he answers questions honestly, even if they make him look unprofessional. he really does not give a fuck about that, which only makes him even more attractive. he’s a little sleazy sometimes, but that just adds to his lazy effortless appeal.

he just has such a dominant personality and not in a bad way either. like if an interviewer asked a question that made a cast member uncomfortable, he would smoothly change the subject and the mood, making everyone forget about it entirely. also, his stare is really intense…like when the interviewer or a fellow cast member is speaking, he makes sure to look at them and listen really closely, not even realising how intimidating that could be 😭

despite his unprofessional personality and wealthy background, people who work with toji cannot say anything bad about him. he is a great actor with great work ethic and is always respectful to his cast members. and most of all, he is humble. due to his background and accomplishments, other actors on set expect him to be all flashy and all head in the clouds, but toji isn’t like that. toji is very aware and down to earth and he doesn’t see himself as superior because of his wealth. he sees what that power does to some people (his family) and he wants nothing not do with it.

overall, for the most part, toji is a respected actor, with a loyal (albeit crazy) fanbase, he actually enjoys his job and lives a relatively private and quiet life. people barely know anything despite his wealth and fame and prefers to keep it that way.

a/n: this was inspired by jeffrey dean morgan lmao. also i’m thinking of maybe doing a mini one shot with actress reader x actor toji in the form of one of those youtube videos like “(reader) & toji fushiguro being a couple for 10 minutes straight” i think that would be fun 🤭🤭

edit: toji & reader being a couple for 10 minutes straight is here <3