perries-things

[perries-things]

Clark and you get stuck in the elevator together.

cw: 18+, smut, colleague!reader, comedy-ish, they make out, unprotected p-in-v, reader has mild claustrophobia/fear of heights (1.6k wc)

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"Right on time."

You heave a sigh of relief. Jabbing at the highest button on the elevator with your elbows, arms stuffed full with stack of research papers. A black rimmed take out coffee cup sits on top, balancing. It was bad enough you weren't able to put out an article for weeks. Perry would have your literal head if you were late too for the nth time.

Easing back into the small lift, you relaxed your shoulders.

The left jolts when a hand wedges through the narrowing elevator gap. Doors emitting a high pitched groan before it's forced open under a shove that looked way too easy for the effort it should've taken. You jumped out of your skin, the metal walls around you rattling under its' wake.

Blinking rapidly, you were met with a wall of chest — crisp white stretched taut that hinted at what was beneath.

"Sorry," the man pants, looking apologetic, guilty for the frazzled cat look you were sporting. His palm stay braced onto the frame, like it might close on him again. He ducks into the lift and shoulders his way into the already-too-cramped space as if he hadn't just manhandled steel. "Would've been a nightmare to wait for the next one…thirty floors and all."

It took a beat before you'd finally craned your neck all the way up, finding him looking at you through a fringe of dark curls and his glasses slightly askew. "Clark."

You finally breathe out in recognition, scooching to the side to make space. Your eyes squint briefly, noting the faint flush on his cheeks like he'd just sprinted ten blocks. "…Are...you okay?"

The elevator doors let out a nasty rattle before it shuts, "yep. All's good." You let out an unconvinced hum when he returns a sheepish look. His eyes then dart to the stack you were carrying, "finally got an article idea to work on?"

You look down at the same time, nodding with an exhale. "Thank god for Superman. He was apparently nearby doing…'superman' stuff." He coughs. Chokes, more like it. But you don't pay attention. "I managed to snag a couple of pictures on my way here.

There wasn't an answer, though you feel the stack lift out of your hands, easing your load. "Oh. Thanks."

Clark offers you a smile, scanning through the images you took. "Lucky. I can never get photos."

"Well…" You twist the stopper of your coffee, taking hefty sips of your still warm hazelnut latte. "Yeah, but you got to interview him. That's more of a story."

He tries to pays attention to what you were saying, but as he skims through the pictures, he nearly drops everything when he notices one where there was a Daily-freaking-Planet lanyard in his hand. That's right.

A photo of Superman, holding Clark Kent's ID tag. Sweet Jesus.

Clark could only pray that you hadn't noticed it yet.

"I could get you some face time. If you'd like."

You perk up at that. Eyes wide and looking up at him. Clark takes that moment to slip the photograph out of the stack. Crumpling it in his suit pocket.

"Seriousl—"

Eeeee—rrrrrrkkkkk.

The two of you look ahead at the same time. Feeling the elevator shudder, jolt and then lurch to a complete stop.

Your hand shoots to the railing, pressing the open button repeatedly as dread fills you. "Oh no. No no no no. This isn't. Why are we —"

Clark rubs the back of his neck, squatting down to see the doors crooked at the base. "Might've…shifted the doors when I opened them earlier." You look to him, perplexed. "Why are you saying it like that's your fault? What? You single-handedly moved the doors bare handed?"

His lips twitched like he was holding back his words. Opting not to argue while he got back up on his feet. You on the other hand. Was looking at him panicked, and to the door. As though he could rip them open.

Which, he could. But shouldn't. Oh boy.

Clark steps ahead, setting the papers down to pretend trying opening the lift doors. "Mhm. No dice." He lets out a huff. It actually took effort just acting like he couldn't open it.

"We're stuck aren't we. Thirty floors high. Suspended. In a metal coffin."

"Fifteen actually." You whip your head at him. Watching him gesture innocently at the digital reader at the top. "We only made it half way up."

"Not helping. Not helping at all."

The sheer mortification that grips you was unmatched, and you slam your hand on the door. "Help! Can anyone hear us?!" Clark watches in mild shock at your smaller figure suddenly glued to the metal like a rat in a trap, slamming against it like it would do anything.

"Hey." His voice cuts through your spiral, stepping up behind you, "try to breathe —"

"I am breathing!" You snap. Evidently not.

Clark twirls you around, forcing you to face him. It wasn't lost on him that you were seconds away from hyperventilating. "Not like that you aren't." He sets your coffee onto the railing, grabbing both your wrists. It seems to get your attention this time.

Your heart was still racing. Unable to soothe itself. But then, he moves one of your hand to rest on his chest and the other, rested on your own. "Here."

Clark lowers his head, words reverberating low in the lift. Even through the thin barrier of glasses, those deep blue eyes of his lock on to yours. "Match mine."

That seems to get you to stop breathing so heavily. And you focus on his heartbeat. Fingers flexing onto his chest. You nod, reluctantly listening. You caught yourself following his rhythm, breathing in & out. Until your shoulders loosen a tad.

His gaze lingers on you, staring at the way the pink darts out from your lip to coat over the pink gloss. He subconsciously rubs around your wrist with his thumb, his own heartbeat picking up. Your thumbs twitch at his chest when you notice.

It's only now you register just how close it was. How warm he was beneath your touch, and how he smelled faintly like soap and woody.

"See? Nothing to panic over." He mumbles, eyes darting from your lips and back at your eyes.

"…Except the fact that we're still suspended mid-air." You mumble.

Clark hums in thought, before his lips quirk up into a non-committal hum. "You're thinking too much."

"You're thinking too little."

He lets go of your hand, tipping your chin up with his knuckles. "I'm thinking about one very specific thing."

Clark leans in enough to brush his lips onto yours. When you part your lips in response, he steps directly into your personal bubble, notching his lips onto yours. All you can do is let out a stifled yelp into his mouth, the palm you had on his chest tightening into a fist, scrunching the fabric beneath.

His other hand, which was still holding your hand to his chest, tugs you to wrap it around his neck. With that, Clark lifts you, just barely, pushing you back onto the railing with a thud. The both of you gasp into each others lips at impact. The lift rattling at the movement.

Your heart jumps, and he takes the opportunity to swipe his tongue over your bottom lip, licking into yours. "Mhm—nn!" You grumble into his mouth, both arms tightening around his neck. "Quit, jostling around." You grunt out. He smiles into your mouth. Pecking you lightly.

"Sorry…I've been do this for a while now." The annoyance you had melts immediately, leaning in to slide your nose next to his, kissing him with intention. Your fingers card through the back of his head, tightening around the curls. Clark grunts at the sensation, mirroring it with a sturdy cradle to your jaw. "C..Can I take you out? Tonight?"

You stare up at him hazily, swallowing the butterflies that churn in your gut. "Yeah." He doesn't hesitate to crash into your lips once more, grunting into each others lips and panting when you return his kisses with intensity. He tugs you impossibly close, hiking your thigh around his hip. You feel him hardening quickly beneath his slacks, a slight grin quirking up your lips. You tilting your head to rock back into him. Swallowing in his hesitant gasps.

It takes him a great deal of effort to pull apart from you with a pop. "H-Here? Really?" His own lips were now smeared with your gloss, but he can't deny the obvious arousal that's throbbing for attention. "Shouldn't we press the emergency button?"

You take a second to think, tugging at him back to you by his tie.

"That can wait."

Clark whines into your lips, letting your fumble around at his belt, snapping it open. Thumbing his zipper down. He registers the urgency in your movement, dragging your skirt up your hips, tugging the underwear down to your ankles with one swoop. You do the same, practically yanking his dick out.

"Geez louise — easy." He groans, pulling your hips closer to his. You meet his gaze with a slight pout, apologetic but not really saying it. Clark rolls his eyes playfully and he swipes off the remaining gloss on your lips. "Never was one for apologizing ever. Huh."

You frown, glaring at him at an intensity that hinted at something more.

"You're one to speak." It's so soft that he doesn't hear it, so he doesn't follow up.

Clark lets his digits skirt around your lips, before letting your wet them. Locking your gaze with his as you drool a little onto his fingers. "Oh wow.." He bites the inside of his cheeks at your eagerness, pulling it out with a string of saliva connecting. Your gaze on him borders on desperate now, holding onto his shoulders when he brings it to your pussy.

He drags the wetness of his fingers to your folds. Meeting a surprising slickness there. Clark nudges his finger deep, massaging your walls enough before he pulls out. Earning a whine from you. "Wish...we didn't have to rush." He mutters, more so to himself, coating his fingers, dragging the slick over his cock. "This is gonna hurt for a sec." You nod against his shoulder, and Clark nudges his thick tip into your pussy. And he pushes further —

The both of you jolt when there's sudden clatter heard outside the lift. Clark pulls out hastily.

"Shit!" You're already being lifted to the ground, two hands helping you to adjust your skirt back in place. "Clark, worry about yourself first." You bite out, head gesturing at his dick out in the air, while hopping on one knee trying to slip back into your underwear. Your other palm snapping out to wipe your gloss off his face.

"Ow, ow! I got it, alright." He mumbles, rubbing his face clean with his sleeves and turning to the corner of the lift with a semblance of shame.

The doors are pried open with a banshee-like creak. And the two of you stand there. Stiffly. Smiling. The firefighters looking at the two of you.

"Everybody okay?"

"Yep. We're good." Your voices blend together stupidly. Thankfully, they don't question it, escorting the two of your our of the shaft.

Clark looks at you with a sigh, rubbing his temples as the two of you take the other elevator up the office.

"I meant what I said earlier."

He finally says, before you part ways in the entrance of the bullpen. You tilt your head back at him with a knowing smile.

"I'll hold you to that. Superman."

Clark stands there. Blinking dumbly at you.

Oh crap.

[perries-things]

How I feel after immediately going onto tumblr after watching a movie/series

[perries-things]

I'm inlove, idgaf

[perries-things]

idk that was kinda messed up lmao rip saja bois

(also sorry if this has already been done i haven't checked the tags)

[perries-things]

1k reblogs on my seongje fic, wilddd. Sorry for having not post in a while. I've been doing crazy school works and shi :(( i dont have that much time to finish/create fics

[perries-things]

I'm back

[perries-things]

nobody talk to me for 3-5 business days i'm in mourning

[perries-things]

From experience

[perries-things]

writers (me) if they (I) get paid every time they (I) actually wrote their (my) wips instead of daydreaming about them

[perries-things]

Im back😈

[perries-things]

Writer's block noooo hha hahah huhwah

[perries-things]

Ahn suho fic will be posted soon😋

[perries-things]

No comment🍉🇵🇸🇵🇸🍉

While you wake up to the chirping of birds and the sound of beautiful birds while you sip your luxurious morning coffee, we wake up to the sound of missiles and artillery shells. Infectious diseases have spread and my daughter has suffered a health problem that forced her to undergo surgery due to the lack of medical and health capabilities. My child has suffered burns on his face and neck.

💔🇵🇸🇵🇸💔🇵🇸🇵🇸

We have lost a lot in this war. We have lost our loved ones and relatives. We have lost our source of income. We have lost our homes and our place of shelter. We have nothing left, not even security and safety.

We have been living in tents for six months, the worst days of our lives. We have lived through times of extreme heat, the presence and spread of insects, and the lack of sanitary means and cleaning materials. Now we are living the autumn season with its cold and rainy weather. The autumn rains have drowned us, so how about the winter rains?

Vetted by @gazavetters, my number verified on the list is ( #181 )

@90-ghost @el-shab-hussein @nabulsi @sar-soor @sayruq @queerstudiesnatural @appsa @communistchilchuck @fairuzfan @neptunerings @just-browsing1222 @appsa @akajustmerry @feluka @marnota @annoyingloudmicrowavecultist @tortiefrancis @flower-tea-fairies @tsaricides @riding-with-the-wild-hunt @vivisection-gf @belleandsaintsebastian @ear-motif @animentality @kordeliiius @brutaliakhoa @raelyn-dreams @troythecatfish @violetlyra @the-bastard-king @tamaytka @4ft10tvlandfangirl @northgazaupdates2 @skatehan @awetistic-things @nightowlssleep @baby-girl-aaron-dessner @friendshapedplant @mangocheesecakes @commissions4aid-international

@rwuffles @mogai-sunflowers

[perries-things]

Need to finish writing my fics ASAP

Need to finish writing my fics ASAP

Need to finish writing my fics ASAP

Need to finish writing my fics ASAP

[perries-things]

As a writer, I spend 90% of my time googling synonyms or searching for words I know but have incidentally forgotten right in the moment that I need it for once.

[perries-things]

+ YOU AND ME

in which Geum Seong-je happened to find someone very interesting... Baku's sister.

Geum Seong-je x Baku's sister

requested here.

The museum’s marble floors gleamed under the afternoon sun, filtering through tall windows. Yeon Si-Eun stood near a display of ancient pottery, his sharp eyes scanning a brochure, though his mind lingered on the weight of his past. Beside him, Park Hu-Min—Baku to most—grinned, nudging Seo Jun-Tae, who was fumbling with a stack of pamphlets. Go Hyun-Tak leaned against a pillar, arms crossed, watching the crowd with calm intensity.

“Relax, Jun-Tae,” Hu-Min said, his voice warm but teasing. “You’re gonna scare the kids with that nervous energy.”

Jun-Tae flushed, adjusting his glasses. “I’m not nervous! I just… don’t want to mess this up.”

Si-Eun’s lips twitched, a rare half-smile breaking his stoic mask.

Hu-Min caught it, his grin widening. “Look at that! Si-Eun’s actually enjoying himself. Gotta mark this day in history.”

“Focus,” Hyun-Tak muttered, though his eyes softened. The group’s camaraderie was a fragile warmth, a shield against the shadows of their past fights with the Union.

But the peace didn’t last.

A shadow fell across the exhibit hall, accompanied by the scuff of boots and low, mocking laughter. Geum Seong-Je strode in, orange jacket slung over one shoulder, a dangerous grin splitting his face. Behind him, a handful of Kanghak High delinquents smirked, their presence like a brewing storm.

Si-Eun’s smile vanished. His hand tightened around the pen in his pocket.

“Well, well,” Seong-Je drawled, his voice laced with playful menace. “Eunjang’s finest, playing tour guides? Didn’t know you nerds had hobbies.”

Hu-Min stepped forward, his easy grin masking the steel in his eyes. “Seong-Je. You lost, or just here to ruin everyone’s day?”

Seong-Je’s laugh was sharp, like broken glass. “Just looking for some fun, Baku. And I hear your boy Si-Eun’s got some new tricks.” His gaze locked onto Si-Eun, who met it with a cold, unyielding stare.

Before the tension could snap, a new voice cut through, sharp and fearless.

“If you’re here for a fight, pick a better spot. These artifacts are worth more than your ego.”

All eyes turned to a girl near a display case, arms crossed and defiant glint in her eyes. Park Ji-Yeon, Hu-Min’s younger sister. A compact figure with a stance that screamed confidence. Her hair was tied back in a loose ponytail, and her volunteer badge hung crooked on her jacket, like an afterthought.

Hu-Min’s expression flickered, a mix of pride and exasperation. “Ji-Yeon, what are you doing here?”

“Looking out for you,” she shot back, tone dry. “Someone’s gotta keep you idiots out of trouble.”

Seong-Je’s grin widened, his eyes raking over her. “Baku’s sister, huh? Heard you’re a handful. Even Baek-Jin says to steer clear.” His tone was teasing, but there was caution beneath it, like a predator sizing up something it didn’t quite understand.

Ji-Yeon snorted, stepping closer. “Baek-Jin’s smarter than you, then. Walk away, or you’ll regret it.”

The Kanghak lackeys snickered, but Seong-Je raised a hand, silencing them. His gaze flicked from Hu-Min to Ji-Yeon. “Feisty. I like it. Let’s see if you’re as tough as your brother.”

Si-Eun’s voice cut in, low and sharp. “Leave her out of this.”

Seong-Je’s attention snapped back to him, his grin turning feral. “Oh, don’t worry, brainiac. You’re still my main event.”

The air crackled. Then Seong-Je lunged—his fist aiming for Si-Eun’s face.

But Si-Eun was faster, sidestepping and jabbing his pen into Seong-Je’s wrist. A grunt of pain followed. The museum erupted into chaos. Kanghak delinquents charged. Hu-Min, Hyun-Tak, and Jun-Tae sprang into action.

Ji-Yeon didn’t hesitate.

A lanky thug swung at her, underestimating her size. She ducked, years of sparring with Hu-Min showing in her smooth movements, and swept his legs out. He crashed to the floor. Another lackey grabbed her arm—she twisted free, slammed her elbow into his nose. A crunch followed.

“Nice one, Ji-Yeon!” Hu-Min called, mid-punch. “But stay back!”

“Like hell,” she shot back, eyes locking on Seong-Je and Si-Eun grappling near a glass case of swords.

Si-Eun fought with surgical precision—using displays to pivot and redirect. But Seong-Je was relentless. He landed a glancing blow to Si-Eun’s shoulder. Si-Eun staggered.

Before Hu-Min could stop her, Ji-Yeon moved.

She grabbed a broom, snapped the handle over her knee, and shouted, “Hey, adrenaline junkie!”

She hurled the broken shaft.

It hit Seong-Je square in the back.

He spun, grin faltering into something darker. “You really want to play, huh?”

Ji-Yeon stood her ground. “I don’t play. I win.”

Seong-Je laughed—wild, unhinged. “Baku taught you well. But you’re out of your league, princess.”

Before he could move, Hyun-Tak tackled him into a display stand. Alarms blared. Artifacts rattled.

Si-Eun recovered, eyes flicking to Ji-Yeon with unspoken gratitude.

“Enough!” Hu-Min roared, shoving down the last thug. He grabbed Ji-Yeon’s arm. “You’re gonna get yourself hurt.”

She yanked free. “I can handle myself! You taught me that.”

Seong-Je rose, brushing dust off his jacket, his grin returning—now tinged with wariness. “You’re all a damn riot,” he muttered, eyes lingering on Ji-Yeon. “Especially you. Tell you what, princess—next time, no backup. Just you and me.”

But Ji-Yeon didn’t know…

That the next time it would be just her and Seong-Je, the situation would look very different.

Her back slammed against a cold brick wall, chest rising in shallow gasps. Seong-Je stood inches from her, one hand braced beside her head, the other gripping her wrist tightly.

She’d been running. Not from him—but from something worse.

And he’d found her first.

His breath hitched as he looked down at her. Gone was the loud museum, the crowd, the chaos. Here, in a shadowed alley lit only by flickering neon, it was just the two of them. Just the sound of her breath, the tremble in her lip, the fierce defiance still flickering in her gaze.

“You should’ve known better than to run alone,” he murmured, voice low, rough, unreadable.

Ji-Yeon’s heart thundered. “Let me go.”

His grip didn’t loosen.

“I told you, princess,” Seong-Je said, his head lowering, the smirk returning to his lips. “Next time... no backup.”

Seong-je’s hand was still around her wrist—firm, but not hurting her. Not quite. His presence was suffocating, a storm pressed close, eyes dark and unreadable under the soft flicker of a nearby neon sign.

“You were being followed,” he said, voice low and steady, like he was trying to convince himself of something. “By them. Not me.”

She didn’t answer.

Didn’t trust her voice.

Didn’t trust him.

But she didn’t pull away either.

Seong-je’s eyes dropped to her hand—trembling slightly in his grip. He exhaled slowly through his nose, the moment hanging heavy between them.

“You’re bleeding.” His fingers moved, brushing over the scrape on her palm.

Ji-Yeon flinched at the touch. “Don’t pretend to care.”

Something sharp flickered in his gaze, but it wasn’t anger.

It was… guilt.

Frustration.

Something raw.

He leaned in, just slightly. Close enough for her to smell blood and sweat and the faint scent of smoke clinging to his clothes. Close enough to make her heart lurch.

“I don’t pretend,” he said, quiet now. “That’s your brother’s game. Your friends’ game. I say what I mean.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” she snapped.

His eyes locked on hers. “It means when I told you I liked you back there, in the museum—I wasn’t joking.”

Ji-Yeon’s stomach dropped.

The world tilted.

“You’re insane,” she whispered, voice shaking now. “You humiliated my friends. You hurt people.”

“I never touched you,” Seong-je countered, voice hardening. “Never crossed a line.”

She scoffed. “Like that means anything—”

“—It does,” he interrupted, firm now. “Because I’ve hurt a lot of people. But I never wanted to hurt you.”

Her breath caught in her throat.

Seong-je’s hand dropped from her wrist.

He stepped back half a pace, hands lifted—not in surrender, but something quieter. A truce. A line he wouldn’t cross.

“I was there tonight because I saw those bastards circling you. I followed them. Not you. They were going to jump you near the exit.”

She stared at him. Dazed. Confused. Furious.

And something else she couldn’t name.

“Why?” she managed. “Why would you help me?”

His tongue clicked against the roof of his mouth. “Maybe because I’m selfish. Maybe because I wanted to be the one you looked at when you’re pissed off and breathing like that.”

He nodded toward her heaving chest, his voice suddenly quieter, throat tighter.

“Maybe,” he added, eyes raking over her, “because I haven’t stopped thinking about that look in your eyes when you threw that broken broom at me.”

Ji-Yeon blinked. “You’re insane,” she repeated—but it sounded different now. Weaker. Shaken.

He stepped closer again, his voice dropping an octave. “You stood your ground against me. No one does that, Ji-Yeon.”

“You scare people.”

“I scare you?”

She froze. Her silence said everything.

A crooked smile touched his lips—but there was no mockery in it this time. Just something dark and searching and dangerous in a way that made her chest tighten.

He reached out slowly, like she was a wild animal he didn’t want to spook. His hand brushed her jaw.

“Don’t,” she said—but her voice cracked.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said gently, his fingers curling just under her chin. “I could have. Back there. I could’ve scared you for real. But I didn’t.”

She swallowed.

“I’m not scared of you,” she whispered.

He leaned in, forehead nearly touching hers. “Then why are you shaking?”

Her hands balled into fists at her sides. “Because I don’t understand you.”

His mouth tilted closer, breath fanning her cheek. “Then figure me out.”

The silence stretched.

Ji-Yeon’s pulse was a wild thing in her throat. Her hand moved without permission—fingers gripping the front of his shirt, twisted tight.

And for a second, just a second, Seong-je went still.

Like he didn’t expect her to reach for him.

Like she’d become the danger now.

But she didn’t pull him in. She didn’t kiss him.

Instead, she shoved him—hard.

He stumbled back, blinking at her.

“Next time,” she said, voice trembling but fierce, “I won’t need backup. I’ll put you on the floor.”

Seong-je’s grin returned—but this time, it was slower. Darker. Almost proud.

“See you around, princess,” he said, walking backward into the night, hands in his pockets.

Ji-Yeon stayed frozen for a moment, back pressed against the bricks, heart still racing.

She didn’t know what that was between them.

But she knew it wasn’t over.

Not even close.

---

AUTHOR'S NOTE + MASTERLIST

This is the kind of request, I would love to turn into a series. But for now, I guess this is what works 🫶

TAGLIST

@sunnyophelia @atztrsr @snoopsyka @cayrelyra @symphonies-of-poenies @ghost-reine @ginaaaa29 @gacktsa @inom17 @coffee-ii @dna-black-and-blue @intoanothermind @satoru2716 @kyungjunnies

[perries-things]

Pairings: Na baekjin x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Your boyfriend's late for your fourth monthsary, and you're mad—like, really mad. But Baekjin's determined to make things right with you.

Genre: smut (make-up sex)

Warnings: NSFW, language, praise kink, not using protection, marking/biting, oral (F!receiving) and overstimulation.

MDNI! This fanfic contains explicit sexual content, reader discretion is strongly advised. Read at your own risk. You've been warned.

W/C: 3,863 (lmao)

Photos are from pinterest.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

The apartment is quiet—too quiet.

You're sat on the edge of the couch, fingers running over the smooth fabric of your dress, his favourite dress—the one he once tugged at with rough fingers and half-lidded eyes, whispering things that made you weak.

You'd slipped it on with careful fingers, remembering how his eyes darkened the first time you wore it. How he pulled you in without a word and traced the zipper like it was something sacred.

His eyes lingered a little longer, his hand brushing the curve of your waist, "you're dangerous in that, you know?" He muttered, without looking directly at you, his hand coasted just low enough to make you shiver. "Don't wear that if you're planning to walk away from me."

You hadn't forgotten. Of course you hadn't. So when you started planning your fourth monthsary, this was the first thing you pulled from your closet. You had imagined this evening a hundred times. The way he'd walk through the door, take one look at you, and forget everything else.

You bite the inside of your cheek as you look around the apartment. You decorated the place yourself—low lights, candles, wine already poured and the table beautifully set. You'd stopped checking the time. Every glance only carved the dissapointment deeper.

He's late.

And you're mad. You have every right to be. Because you are here—beautiful and ready—and he couldn't even show up on time. You raise your glass of wine to your lips and took a sip, swallowing the bitterness that had nothing to do with the drink. If he walks in now, you wouldn't smile. You wouldn't melt. And will act like you hadn't just been watching the door like it owed you something.

You glance at your phone again. One unread message.

나백진 💬 Sorry. Something came up. I'm on my way.

That had been fourty five minutes ago.

Your jaw clenches. You don't want to be mad. Not tonight. Not on your fourth monthsary. You'd spent the whole day looking forward to tonight. You shook your head, standing up to check yourself in the mirror by the hallway. Your reflection stares back—lipstick slightly faded, curls still intact, and the expensive necklace he gave you resting at your collarbone. You adjust the necklace, then smoothed your hands down the sides of the dress.

This night was supposed to be great. Typical Baekjin.

You bite your lower lip. You looked perfect for him. You sit back down again and cross your legs, the fabric sliding up your skin. This is stupid. All of it. Your chest felt full—of what? You aren't sure. Anger? Embarassment? You sit in silence—pretty and patient.

Waiting........and waiting.

.

..

You don't move when a knock came, just kept staring at the door. The candles had already burned halfway and the wine had settled. Then another knock came from someone who had you waiting all night. Another beat. Then you move. You unlock the door slowly, deliberately. When it swings open, you find him standing there—Na Baekjin, with a bouquet of red roses in his hand, his other shoved in his jacket's pocket and shoulders tense like he expected a slap instead of a welcome kiss.

He holds out the bouquet. "I'm sorry," he murmurs. You roll your eyes with a sharp click of your tounge "Tch," as you turn on your heel and walk away without a word. No greeting. No warmth. He stares at the back of your dress as you moved—his throat tightens. He steps in silently, shutting the door behind him with a soft click. "You're more than late." You say, coldly, not bothering to hide the sting in your voice. "But hey, atleast you graced me with your presence eventually."

He doesn't defend himself; just takes slow steps toward you, bouquet still clutched in his hand like an offering you wouldn't accept. (Definitely) you don't look back. Wouldn't dare. Because if you did, you might cave. His eyes wander around the apartment, You had done this all for him. You look breathtaking, even now—especially now, actually.

He moves behind you slowly, each step careful. His hand finds your waist, your body going stiff. He turns you around gently and brings the bouquet up to your face, a crooked little grin tugging at his lips, one that makes you melt. "I'm sorry," he says again, in that low voice that makes your knees weak.

You raise a brow and scoff, pushing him gently with one hand on his chest. "I waited. Like—like a fool. You don't just show up with roses and expect everything to be fine. I—" your breath catches. Baekjin chuckles—soft and quiet—as he places the bouquet down on the table. "Worked on something." He says, his tone more solemn than before. "Nothing important now." His hand lifts, the back of it grazing your cheek—slow, careful.

You turn slightly but don't stop him. His eyes scan your face like he's trying to memorize it all over again—the faint mascara smudged beneath your lashes from tearing up a bit, and the way your jaw clenches from holding back emotion. Then comes a kiss—soft, apologetic—on your cheek. He lets the kiss linger a second longer before whispering near your ear, "i'll make it up to you," He says with a small smile. His other hand slips to your waist, joining the first.

You feel the firmness of his grip, the way it tethers you to the moment. "I promise, angel." He murmurs, nose almost brushing yours. You look up at him, your anger softened—but not forgotten.

Scoffing softly, you tear your eyes away from him. "Yeah, right." Baekjin lets out a quiet sigh, his fingers curling just slightly tighter on your waist as he pulls you in—closer, until there is no space left between your bodies.

He leans down, eyes trailing your every stubborn motion. "Look at me," he pleads, his voice low, coaxing. You don't. You keep your gaze to the side, jaw tight, lips pursed—but your body doesn't lie. You hate how your heart betrays you, stumbling over its own rhythm.

His hand slides up your back, smoothing up the curve of your spine before returning to settle at your waist again. He tilts his head, "i said i'll make it up to you, real good." He whispers, hand reaching up, gently turning your face towards him.

When you finally look at him, he was already gazing down at you with a look that made your stomach twist. And then he kisses you— his mouth meeting yours in a searing drag, slow enough to savor but hard enough to make you forget why you were mad in the first place. The kiss deepens, growing hungry fast.

His lips move with heat, coaxing you to give in, moving as if he wants to taste the time he missed. You melt, even if your pride screamed against it. Just him and you, the apology sealed with every stolen breath shared between your lips.

You barely notice when your fingers had curl into the collar of his jacket. The candles flicker, ignored. The food sits untouched. And Baekjin's kissing you like the world doesn't exist outside this moment. He breaks the kiss, only long enough to murmur into your lips, breath heavy. "You and that fucking dress.."

One hand stays firm on your waist while the other wanders upward, fingers ghosting along your back, trailing over the zipper of your dress, then sliding back down to the curve of your hips. You feel the heat of his touch, every movement drags a shiver out of you. "God, baby...i don't deserve you looking this good." He says, his voice rough and quiet. He places a kiss on your cheek, then another at the corner of your jaw.

You try to respond, but he kisses you again—deeper, needier. And while his mouth claims yours, his hands map every inch of your frame. When he pulls away, his gaze is dark with admiration. Your breath hitches, his lips curve into a knowing smile. "I'll spend all night making up to you," he says. "Just let me show you." Baekjin's hands slide lower, and with one confident pull, he lifts you up—your body weightless against his.

Your feet leave the ground so fast you gasp out his name, "Baekjin!—" your hands grabbing the back of his neck for support, legs wrapping around his waist. He smirks, his fingers locked around the back of your thighs, thumbs brushing softly along your skin beneath the hem of your dress, adjusting his hold.

You're breathless, eyes wide, and he just stares at you—devouring every inch of you in that dress. "Let me show you how good sorry can feel," he says, his voice low and threaded with something dangerous. Your heart's pounding, his eyes locked on yours.

You feel your face burning, lips parting in stunned silence. "Baekjin," you mutter, flustered. "Put me down." He laughs under his breath. "Should i?" his tone cocky but warm.

Then, quieter, closer to your ear, "i'm making it up to you, aren't i?" He starts walking, the hallway stretching before you, lit only by the soft golden hue of your decorative lights.

You cling to him as he carries you, turning to make his way toward the bedroom, each step deliberate and sure. "Still mad?" He asks, tilting his head to catch your eyes. You can't even answer. You are coming with him, whether you are ready or not.

He kicks the bedroom door with his foot, not even slowing down. He gently lays you down the bed, feeling the cool of the silk sheets beneath you. For a moment, he doesn't move. Just stood over you, eyes drinking you in with something that looks alot like disbelief—like seeing you in that dress knocks the breath out of him.

Baekjin hovers above you, one knee resting on the edge of the mattress. His hand reaches for the zipper at the back of your dress, fingers fiddling with it, but he doesn't pull yet.

"Tell me to stop." He murmurs, though his eyes plead for the opposite. You give a slow nod, lips parted slightly. "Don't." And with that, his lips curl into the faintest smirk. He unzips your dress, slowly—as if savoring every second the dress slips from your body, your skin greeting the air.

Baekjin lets out a soft exhale, eyes following every curve revealed, his breath catching as more of you goes unveiled. "Your body drives me insane," he says, voice low and strained. You gasp as he takes one breast in his hand, massaging it gently.

He leans in slowly, his mouth grazing your already hard nipple, then enveloping it with a soft, slow, suck. The sound that leaves your throat makes him twitch in his jeans. "Fuck..Y/N." He breathes against your chest, tongue flicking lazily on your nipple, his mouth sucking you delicately.

"You're unreal," Baekjin whispers, eyes locking on yours as he marks on your skin with his teeth. You arch into him, breath catching as he groans in response, the sound low and raw against your skin. He moves lower, whispering praises between every breath. He drags his mouth across your skin, each press of his lips seemed to carry a wordless apology.

Your fingers curl in the sheets as he guides your legs apart. He settles between your thighs, his eyes flick up to yours again, pupils blown wide as he laughs breathlessly. "Fuckin' perfect." His lips meet your skin again, giving warm, open-mouthed kisses across your inner thighs. Then, carefully, Baekjin hooks his fingers to the waistband of your panties, slowly easing it down your legs as if unwrapping something precious, exposing more of you to his eager gaze and lips.

His mouth quickly finds your pussy, making a soft gasp leave past your lips, your back arching as heat pools in your cunt. You bite your bottom lip to hold back a moan, your hands already in his hair, fingers tangling—silently begging him to never stop.

He nibbles on your clit slightly, making your body twitch and skin tingling. He eats you out slowly, savoring your taste. He alterns between licking and gently biting you, his low rumbling groan vibrating against your cunt, sending a rush of warmth pulsing through your body.

Your legs tremble, thighs tightening around his head. You're unable stop the moan that escapes past your lips, your hips bucking slightly. Every time you moan, every time your fingers thread through his hair and tug, he eats you out more intensely—like a man starved.

He slowly pulls away from your pussy, a string of saliva forming as he let out a low guttural groan. He locks eyes with you, gaze not faltering as he brings his fingers up to his mouth, sucking them slowly. His eyes flick down to your throbbing cunt then returning to meet your eyes again. He grins, running his damp fingers along your inner thigh before slipping them past your folds, drawing a loud, surprised moan from your lips.

He doesn't tear his eyes away from your face, watching you with delight as his fingers move inside you, fast and deep enough to hit your g-spot, making your body tremble. His mouth finds your cunt once again, sucking on your clit as he pumps his fingers in and out of you. Your cunt makes that sweet, wet sound every time he curls his fingers just right. The obscene squelch only spurs him on.

Every motion sends your body to jolt, your hands having already left his hair, now gripping the sheets tightly. You let out a sharp, loud moan, voice trembling from how good it feels. Your breathing starts to go faster and uneven as waves of heat pulse through you. You tilt your head back, eyes squeezed shut, lost entirely in the dizzying pleasure.

His fingers continously pump inside you, now with a more relentless pace. A ragged moan slips from your throat, the sound cutting through the air. You cry out, loud and breathless, mixing with the sound of your sloppy cunt getting relentlessly abused. Your moans grow louder, your cunt clenching around his fingers, the pleasure nearly too much to bear.

His tongue glides through your folds, the soft, wet smacks and loud slurps of his mouth fills the room. His mouth hungrily works on you, dragging out every delicious, intimate noise until you're trembling beneath him.

You tremble violently, your breath hitching in ragged gasps. Your hands grip the sheets tightly, knuckles turning white, eyes rolling back, and legs quaking. The knot inside you breaks with a sudden snap, a loud breathy moan escaping your lips as your whole body convulses, back still arched. Baekjin let's out a soft, satisfied laugh.

"Fuck.." you let out, your body still tingling, your breath shaky. And just as you started to catch it, Baekjin's mouth dives back to your cunt without hesitation—his fingers finding their way inside you again. Every flick of his tongue and curl of his fingers is perfectly timed to drive you wild.

"Too much.." you gasp out, your body still trembling uncontrollably. Your hands reach up to push him off, but he doesn't falter. His eyes never leave your face, dark and focused. You cry out, your hands pushing weakly against his shoulders.

"Baekjin—" your voice breaks as the pleasure surges again, stronger this time. Hot tears spill down your cheeks, the pleasure already too much. "I want you to cum again f'me," he says against your cunt. And with that, your second orgasm crashes through you in full force, the release almost overwhelming. Your body twitches involuntarily—small spasms of pleasure that make you gasp. You can barely think, overwhelmed by the intense flood of sensation.

He slowly and carefully withdrew his fingers, making your pussy ache with sensitivity. He slips his fingers between his lips, his eyes locked on yours, tongue curling around them with a reverent hum. "I'm not done," he says, low and promising. You swallow hard when he hovers on top of you again, tilting your chin up with his finger. "Let me keep showing you.." he murmurs, leaning down, pressing a long kiss on your forehead. "How sorry i am." He grins, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

His hands slowly went to his belt, undoing it with steady fingers as he watches you beneath him, still trembling from the aftermath of your orgasm. The clink of the buckle echoes in the quiet as he unfastens it, his gaze never straying from yours. As he pulls it free, he lets it hang loose for a second, then drops it on the floor. His shoulders roll back as he tugs off his jacket, letting it slip down his arms and land beside the belt.

Baekjin's fingers move next to the button of his pants. One pop, then the soft slide of his zipper follows. He steps out of his pants, and brings both hands up to the hem of his polo neck. With a pull, he peels it over his head, ruffling his already tousled hair. Your eyes flicker downward, landing on his black boxer briefs. His cock is already hard, pressing firmly against the fabric.

He tugs down the waistband of his boxer briefs, freeing his cock, throbbing with need and raw desire, the tip flushed a deep pink— the sight of him still makes your breath hitch. He positions himself, lining up his eager tip with your slick, dripping cunt. He glides his tip teasingly along your folds.

"Baekjin." You warn, eyes narrowing. "C'mon." He grins, clearly enjoying the effect he's had on you. "Just taking my time," he murmurs. You grit your teeth, feeling the delicious torture of his teasing. "Baekjin.." voice trembling, frustrated. "Please, i need you." Baekjin's lips curl into a soft—low laugh, loving every second of your frustration. Then, he enters your needy cunt—inch by inch, filling you up completely. The sudden fullness makes you gasp, a mix of surprise and relief flooding through you.

His hands grip your hips firmly but gently, grounding you as he begins to move slowly, deliberately thrusting inside you. "So perfect, every inch of you," his voice in a low growl, filled with admiration, eyes watching your face intently. "You're incredible." He whispers, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, fingers lingering on your cheek before moving back to your hips.

His pace quickens, each thrust coming harder and faster. You moan, fingers digging onto his shoulders as pleasure builds inside you. "Fuck—don't stop," You mewl, voice thick with need, your hips bucking, chasing every thrust with a need you can't hide. "Please," you gasp, raw and desperate. Your legs wrap around his waist, trying to draw him even deeper, your whole body alive with a fire you can't control.

The sound of your moans is like music to him, groaning as you clench around him. "F-fuck, you're made for me." He rasps, jaw clenched as he pulls almost all the way out before sinking back in, "you take me so well, baby."

His mouth finds your shoulder, teeth sinking in the delicate skin— just hard enough to leave a bruising bite—then pressing a tender kiss over the mark. He glances down, watching how your tight slushy cunt squelches around his cock. "look at you," he murmurs, voice rough. "So damn good for me."

He soaks in every moan, every tremble, every gasp of his name as he slams into you with a rhythm that sends tremors through the bed. "You're squeezing me like you never want to let go." His thumb grazes your already swollen lip, watching it tremble. His palm slides down, fingers splayed across your stomach, pressing down gently—just enough for you to feel the full weight of him inside you.

"Feel that?" He murmurs, eyes fixed on your face. "Right here," his hand applies more pressure, just above your pelvis, "that's me." You whimper, pussy clenching around him again. He chuckles low, his voice dragging. "So good," he praises, his thumb stroking your skin soothingly. "So damn good."

His breathing grows heavier, lips parting just slightly. You can feel the way his body tightens, every muscle coiling like a spring about to snap. His jaw clenches, and a low, almost silent moan escapes him. His eyes flutter close, brows furrowing as he holds back his release.

He's right there, on the edge, but he's not giving in just yet. Your legs quiver uncontrollably, a loud moan escaping your lips. An orgasm washes over you in perfect sync with him.

Your eyes squeeze shut, lashes fluttering against your cheeks as your lips parted in a quiet, breathless moan. "Let go for me." The words send a shiver down your spine, grounding you in the moment as your body trembles with pleasure.

You let out a cry as your body arched, tightening around his cock as you came undone. Even as your body spasmed around him, his thrusts didn't waver.

After a few more measured thrusts, his movements slow down. Then with a low moan, he cums. His warmth inside you spreading gradually, filling you in completely. He slowly pulls out, his cum thick and sticky, oozing out of you. You shiver slightly as you feel his cum settle inside you, exhaling a soft, shaky sigh.

He collapses gently on top of you, his weight comforting rather than heavy. Your fingers move slowly, tracing lazy circles along his back, while a small contented smile tugs at your lips. He lets out a light chuckle, still catching his breath. He murmurs, "Happy fourth monthsary." His lips follow with a kiss pressed gently to your neck.

.

..

Maybe you forgive him.

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I wasn't sure if i finish this or not, but decided to go ahead. (this shi been sitting on my drafts for so sooooo long) This is an apology fic for still not having released part two of Unexpected👻

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