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gyupremacy-recs · 2 months ago

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You had me at big dick!mingyu Indi 🤪 can't wait for the rest of the series 🩵

Theories & Heartstrings | k.m.g

Chapter 1: Love at First Collision

Summary: As a writer with a mildly cynical take on love, you’ve always believed people have a “type”—a pattern they never stray from when it comes to dating. And Kim Mingyu? He’s the textbook definition of someone who wouldn’t go for someone like you, nor would you go for him. But you test your theory when a fateful run-in with your charming neighbour sparks an unexpected attraction.

The plan? Go on dates with him and count how many it takes before your heart gets involved—if it ever does. But Mingyu is unpredictable, effortlessly breaking down your carefully constructed walls with every smile, every late-night conversation, every moment that feels too easy to be just an experiment.

The real problem? Secrets never stay secrets for long. And when Mingyu finds out the truth behind your so-called theory, will it prove you right, or that love doesn’t follow the rules you thought it did?

☆ 18+ minors dni |☀︎fluff | ☁︎ angst | ♕smut

Word Count: 18,732 words im sorry i couldnt stop yapping

Pairings: Neighbor! Mingyu x Journalist! Female Reader

Genre/Trope(s)/AU(s): Neighbours AU! Fake Dating AU! (but only one is fake dating. It’ll make sense when you read it, lol). Non-Idol AU!.

Content Warnings: mentions of blood (nothing graphic), wonwoo is also yn's housemate, but they have a mildly flirty relationship. joshua cares too much about plants. strong language and mentions of food and alcohol. Y/N is pretty confused, quite lost in general about her feelings, and very much in denial. quite a bit of arguing, no one here is good with their emotions. Y/N will be very annoying here. I apologise, but the girl has trust issues. they go back and forth, I’m very sorry. she’s feeling insecure, but nothing too intense (she got sad because of alcohol). Smut Warnings: protected sex (sadly this happens once in the first chapter, and that’s it lol), oral (m & f receiving) big dick! Mingyu, because duh! Sex toy usage (using it on y/n and it’s a vibrator, it’s red if that helps?), multiple orgasms, overstimulation. Lots of spicy moments with a ton of teasing. Shower sex. Author's Note 1: I'd be remiss if I didn't thank the lovely people who helped beta this monster of a story. thank you @lovetaroandtaemin @nebulousbrainsoup @strxwberry-skiess for your patience time and love thank you guys so much!! Author's Note 2: welp here it is guys my last fic, ever, but good news, this is only chapter 1! Series Masterlist

“I am not picking up your tree, Joshua.” You held the phone to your ear, exasperated, as your best friend whined like a child on the other end.

“Y/N, please. First of all, she’s a plant, not a tree! Second, that plant is my baby. She can keep everything else in the breakup, but she’s not getting Lydia!”

You blinked. “You named a tree?”

“She’s a bonsai,” Joshua sniffled, voice wobbling with heartbreak. “And my bitch of an ex left her out on the front step to die. Lydia’s gonna freeze, Y/N.”

You sighed. “You’ve really lost it.”

“Nope. I gave her a human name on purpose. So now you feel guilty abandoning her.”

You groaned. “You’re emotionally manipulating me with a bonsai.”

Joshua smirked through the phone. “And it’s working, isn’t it?”

“Fine,” you grumbled. “But I swear to God, if I have to hear about Julie one more time—”

“Nope! Just Lydia,” he said quickly. “Please rescue my plant baby. I love you, bye!”

The call ended before you could protest again. You let out another sigh, tossed your phone on the desk, and returned to your open document.

Writing had always been your dream—getting to pour your thoughts into something tangible, something that made people feel. You’d started at your company writing fluffy lifestyle pieces—“Make Your Apartment Your Sanctuary,” and “7 Houseplants That Won’t Die Instantly”—but lately, you'd taken control.

Now you led the Lifestyle and Well-Being column, tackling everything from relationship advice to self-love, and yes, even that viral review on the best adult toys on the market. The one that made your editor blush and your DMs explode.

You smiled faintly at the memory. You were making people feel seen—and that meant something.

“Done for the day?” Your boss asked, pausing by your desk.

“Yeah, you need me to stay late?”

“Nope. Just wanted to say—your latest article? Stellar.”

You beamed. “Thanks.” With a wave goodbye, you packed up and headed out—ready to play plant savior.

“Damn, she is cold,” you muttered, spotting the sad-looking bonsai on Julie’s icy doorstep. You scooped Lydia up like a wounded pet and drove her straight back to your apartment.

“Shua?” you called as you stepped inside.

“Lydia!” he gasped dramatically, leaping from the couch.

You blinked. “You greeted the plant before me?”

“And?” he said, completely unapologetic.

“I rescued it for you!”

“Can I water my girl first and hug you after?” he asked sweetly.

You laughed, tossing your bag onto the sofa. “Fine.” Ten minutes later, Joshua returned from the kitchen, Lydia perched happily on the windowsill and a bottle of wine in hand.

“She’s adjusting well to her new home,” he declared, pouring you both glasses. “And hydrated.”

“How nice,” you deadpanned. “Jealous of a plant now.”

“Oh, don’t pout. I’d hydrate you too, but unlike Lydia, the last time I sprayed you with the hose, you got mad.”

You snorted. “Why the hell is her name Lydia anyway?”

“She looked like one.”

You raised a brow. “Okay, then what do I look like?”

Joshua smirked. “Horny.”

You glared. “I will drown your bonsai in wine.”

He grinned. “C’mon, your last article must’ve left you a little pent up.”

“Shut up,” you said, throwing back your drink.

By the time the wine bottle was empty, you were curled into Joshua’s side on the couch, the warmth of alcohol and his comfort loosening your guard.

“Seriously though,” you murmured. “Why’d she dump you?”

He gave a bitter chuckle. “Said I was too nice.”

You blinked slowly. “Wait? How is that an issue?”

He smiled. “You’re drunk.”

“You always do that,” you muttered, suddenly pulling away.

“Do what?”

“Assume I’m just a drunken mess.”

“Well, right now you kind of are. And... you’re really close.”

You recoiled further. “Right. Wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Come on, I didn’t mean it like that,” he groaned.

You didn’t answer. You just grabbed your phone instead.

Joshua sighed. “Okay, I’m going to bed. See you in the morning.”

You poured yourself another glass—your third—just in time for Wonwoo, your other housemate, to walk through the door.

You were sprawled on the couch, one leg dangling over the edge, a half-empty wine glass resting when Wonwoo walked in, looking devastatingly handsome in his work attire.

He was wearing a crisp white shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showcasing his toned forearms, and a pair of perfectly tailored black trousers. His tie was slightly loosened, and his hair was slightly tousled like he’d run his fingers through it a few too many times. You couldn’t help but stare, your wine-hazed mind fixating on how effortlessly attractive he looked.

“Wow,” you murmured, not realising you’d said it out loud until Wonwoo’s eyes flickered over to you, a small, amused smile appearing on his lips.

“Did you just... wow me?” he asked, shutting the door behind him and shrugging off his coat.

You didn’t even have the decency to feel embarrassed. Instead, you just giggled and nodded, lifting your wine glass in a mock toast. “You look outstanding, Woo. Like, unfairly good.”

He arched a brow, walking into the living room and leaning against the arm of the couch, towering over you. “Have you been drinking alone?”

You waved your hand dismissively. “I started with Joshua, and then he got all snippy. But thankfully, you’re here now looking like a model from a GQ spread. Seriously, do you just walk around looking like that?”

Wonwoo chuckled, the sound low and almost too attractive for your mildly intoxicated state. “It’s called having a job, Y/N. You should try it sometime.”

You scoffed, pretending to be offended. “I have a job! I just... don’t have to wear a suit for it. Or look that good doing it.”

He gave you one of those half-smiles that made your heart thump. “You look pretty good right now. Maybe it’s just the wine talking.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, poking his arm lightly. “Are you flirting with me? Or just being nice because I’m a little tipsy?”

He glanced at your wine glass, then at you, eyes softening. “A little of both, maybe.”

That made you giggle again, and you scooted over, patting the empty spot next to you. “Sit. You’ve been working all day. You deserve to relax.”

Wonwoo hesitated, but eventually lowered himself onto the couch, his shoulder brushing yours as he leaned back. You could smell his cologne now, something warm and woodsy that made your stomach do a little flip.

“So,” he said gently, “what’s with the sad eyes? It’s Friday.”

“Joshua’s pissed at me, I think.”

Wonwoo nodded. “He’s not the best with drunk people.”

You pouted. “So you think I’m drunk too.”

“I think you’re not sober,” he teased, pulling you easily into his lap.

“You’re really pretty, you know,” you mumbled.

Wonwoo glanced at you, one brow raised, clearly fighting a smile. “You’re definitely drunk.”

“Am not,” you argued, sticking your tongue out. “I’m just being honest. You don’t get to be this attractive and not know it.”

He finally gave in to a full smile, one that made your heart flutter. “You really don’t hold back when you’re tipsy, do you?”

You shrugged, taking another sip. “Life’s too short to hold back. And you’re too pretty to not be told so.”

Wonwoo shook his head, but there was a fondness in his gaze that made you feel oddly comfortable. You let the silence fall between you, not awkward, just... nice.

He glanced down at your empty glass and gently took it from your hand, setting it on the coffee table. “Maybe that’s enough for tonight.”

You pouted but didn’t argue. Instead, you leaned against his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his body seep into yours. “You’re really comfy too,” you mumbled.

He chuckled softly, his hand coming up to rest on your shoulder, almost as if it was second nature. “You’re a lot clingier when you’ve had a few drinks.”

You hummed in agreement, not really caring to defend yourself. “It’s because you’re nice to cling to.”

You smiled. “So you’re back home early on a Friday night, what happened, no hot date?”

“Nah, my job and its demands make it difficult to date, what about you? You wrote a very spicy article, did that not get you at least a few contenders to try out the toys in your article?”

You sighed. “ Shut up, and plus, I crave intimacy, not just a one-night stand.”

He paused. “Interesting.”

“Shh, let me sleep,” you mumbled as you curled more into his chest.

Wonwoo didn’t push you away, just let you rest against him, and you could have sworn you felt his thumb gently brush over your shoulder. Your heart beat a little faster, and you couldn’t help but smile, too comfortable to care about anything else at that moment.

As the show on TV changed to something else, Wonwoo sighed, seemingly more relaxed now that he’d settled in. “You’re lucky I don’t mind being your drunk pillow.”

You grinned, snuggling closer. “You secretly love it.”

He didn’t reply, but the soft chuckle that rumbled through his chest was answer enough.

You blinked. “Sure.”

~~ The next morning, you walked into a plant shop, hopeful that obnoxiously expensive and ornate plant would make up for the snippy exchange you and Joshua had last night. The bell above the door jingled as you approached the counter, pointing to a tiny bonsai in the window. “For a friend,” you said. “He likes plants?” The older man smiled. “He named his.” The man chuckled, gently wrapping the pot. “Plants are like people. They need the right love to thrive.” “Yeah,” you murmured. “Thanks.” ~~ You were returning back to the apartment, and you took a sudden turn–then froze.

“Oh, shit—” you yelped as the tiny bonsai smashed into someone’s face.

“FUCK,” he yelled, hands flying to his nose.

“Oh my god, I—your face—your plant! I’m so sorry!”

The man looked up, wincing. “You could have broken my nose. And you’re worried about the plant?”

“Do you live here?” You asked, noticing how he was standing outside the apartment door opposite yours, ignoring the blood.

“What?”

“I mean—can I help? Do you have ice?”

He blinked. “Yeah. Come in.”

Inside, he handed you his keys, too dazed to care.

“You’re very trusting,” you muttered, digging through his freezer.

“You already injured me. What more could you do?”

You found an ice pack and vodka, held up both. “You want comfort or numbness?”

“I’ll take both,” he mumbled, sitting down.

You pressed the pack to his nose. “What’s your name?”

“Kim Mingyu.”

“I’m Y/N.”

He cracked a pained smile. “So this is how you meet people? Assault first, names later?”

You laughed. “Only when I’m feeling flirty.”

“Cute,” he said, gently taking the ice pack from your hand.

You stared at the barely bleeding gash. “You’ll survive.”

“See this scar?” he pointed to one above his brow. “My sister gave me that. I can handle one pot-wielding girl.”

The soft hum of the city buzzed faintly through the windows as you sat on Mingyu’s couch, nervously picking at a stray thread on your sweater. Mingyu plopped down next to you, a little too close, but you didn’t mind. His shoulder brushed against yours as he leaned back, stretching his long legs out.

“So,” Mingyu said, flashing you a charming smile. “Now that I’ve lured you into my lair, I guess I should actually get to know you.”

You snorted, rolling your eyes. “Yeah? You planning to interrogate me?”

He shrugged, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Maybe. Gotta make sure my neighbor isn’t secretly plotting my demise. Or maybe I’m just trying to figure out why you always look like you’re on a mission when you leave the building.”

You bit back a laugh, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, you mean when I’m rushing to meet deadlines and not running a secret spy operation?”

Mingyu grinned. “Exactly. So what’s with all the late-night typing sessions? What do you do?”

You hesitated for a moment. “I’m a writer. Lifestyle pieces mostly. A bit of everything — fashion, travel, relationships. It’s kind of like... whatever my editor thinks people are obsessed with that week.”

Mingyu raised his eyebrows, clearly impressed. “That sounds pretty cool. So you just... write about life?”

“Pretty much,” you said, relaxing into the couch. “Sometimes it’s advice columns, sometimes it’s think pieces. Occasionally, it’s lists of the top ten sex toys to spice up your love life.”

Mingyu choked on his drink, coughing as his cheeks flushed. “Wait... that was you?”

You frowned in confusion. “What?”

He cleared his throat, looking a little embarrassed but unable to hide his smirk. “I, uh... I might have read that article. Thought the writing was... bold.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Bold, huh? Didn’t think that piece would be your go-to read.”

Mingyu grinned sheepishly. “It wasn’t exactly on my list, but it popped up. It was one of those late-night ‘am I missing out on something’ moments.”

You couldn’t stop your cheeks from heating up. “I didn’t peg you as the type to read lifestyle blogs.”

“I didn’t peg myself as one either,” he admitted. “But the writing was clever. Funny. Made it sound... approachable. I should’ve known it was you.”

You snorted. “Should I take that as a compliment?”

“Absolutely,” he said, giving you a soft, lopsided smile. “You made it sound... less intimidating.”

You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, trying to ignore the way your stomach flipped. “Well, I do aim to please.”

Mingyu hummed thoughtfully. “And here I thought I was the one trying to impress you.”

“Oh, really?” you teased, leaning closer. “How’s that working out for you?”

He chuckled, eyes flickering to your lips for just a moment. “Jury’s still out. But I’m definitely intrigued.”

Your pulse quickened at his words, but you tried to play it cool. “What about you? What’s your thing?”

Mingyu gestured casually to the wall behind you, where a few framed photographs hung. You turned around, realizing you hadn’t noticed them before.

“They’re yours?” You asked, genuinely surprised.

He nodded, a bit shy now. “Yeah. I’m a photographer. Mostly freelance, but I’ve done some shows and a few magazine spreads. I guess I’m always chasing light and moments... like that one.” He pointed to a picture of a bustling street at sunset, the sky bleeding shades of pink and orange over the cityscape.

“It’s beautiful,” you murmured, stepping closer to look. “You really captured the way the city feels alive.”

Mingyu’s lips curved into a soft smile. “That’s the goal. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t.”

You glanced back at him, raising a brow. “So, you just wander around looking for the perfect shot?”

He nodded, leaning back comfortably. “Pretty much. Sometimes it’s places. Sometimes it’s people. Anything that feels... real.”

You felt a little flutter in your chest at his words. “That’s kind of poetic.”

Mingyu smiled, a little bashful. “Didn’t mean to get all deep on you.”

You waved him off. “No, I like it. You’ve got this... thoughtful way of looking at things.”

He gave a little shrug, eyes twinkling with that familiar mischief. “Maybe I just know how to make things sound good. Photographer skills.”

You laughed. “And here I thought writers were the ones who spun stories.”

He leaned in just a bit, his voice low and playful. “Maybe we’re not so different after all.”

You met his gaze, your heart racing. “Guess we’ll have to see.”

Mingyu smirked, his fingers lightly brushing yours where they rested on the couch. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“So...” Mingyu leaned in, cocking his head. “If it’s not weird to ask, did you test all those toys out yourself or get reviews from others?” Your eyes widened. “A bit of both.”

“Interesting.”

“I guess you and your significant other can maybe test it out, and I can get more real-time feedback,” you suggested awkwardly, not knowing how to continue the conversation.

He laughed. “Y/N, if I had a significant other, I wouldn’t be sitting here, very turned on, icing my face.”

You swallowed and laughed awkwardly.

An hour had passed, and you were still seated on Mingyu’s couch, the casual conversation flowing easily between you two. The warmth of his apartment wrapped around you, made cozier by the soft lighting that glowed from the corner lamp. Mingyu had moved closer at some point during your chat, and you couldn’t help but notice how his knee brushed against yours every now and then.

“So, let me get this straight,” Mingyu said, his smile widening as he leaned back, resting his arm along the back of the couch.

“You’ve managed to convince an entire city that they need to buy seven different types of pillows just to sleep better?”

You laughed, shrugging. “What can I say? The perfect sleep experience is an art. Plus, people like to feel a bit pampered. Who doesn’t love the idea of sinking into a mountain of plush pillows?”

“Fair point,” he conceded, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “You make it sound so luxurious, I almost feel bad for my one sad, flat pillow.”

You raised a brow. “Oh, that’s unacceptable. I think I have a new mission: upgrade your pillow situation.”

Mingyu chuckled, his fingers brushing lightly against your shoulder as he reached for his drink on the coffee table. The simple touch sent a jolt of awareness through you, but you kept your expression calm.

“What about you?” You asked, trying to steer the focus away from how his touch made your skin tingle. “Aside from photography, what do you do when you’re not charming people with your art?”

Mingyu’s lips quirked up. “I cook. A lot. It’s therapeutic. Plus, I’m kind of a food snob.”

Your eyes lit up with intrigue. “You cook? Like, actual meals? Or are we talking ramen and scrambled eggs?”

He scoffed playfully. “Ramen? Please. I can make homemade pasta from scratch. You’d be impressed.”

“That’s a bold statement. I might have to hold you to it.”

He grinned, eyes glinting with a bit of challenge. “I’d love to prove it. But only if you promise to be an honest critic.”

You hummed, leaning in just slightly. “I’m always honest. Sometimes a little too honest.”

His eyes traced your features, lingering a little longer on your lips before darting back to your gaze. “I don’t mind honesty. It’s refreshing.”

A comfortable silence settled between you, and you couldn’t help but notice how Mingyu’s hand had inched closer, resting on the back of the couch just behind your shoulder. The proximity made your pulse quicken, and you weren’t sure if it was the way his voice dropped a little lower or the way his eyes softened when he looked at you.

“So,” he said softly, voice almost a murmur, “would you ever do a part two for that sex toy article? ”

You rolled your eyes, laughing softly. “Why, do you have any suggestions?”

Mingyu raised his hands in mock surrender, but there was a teasing glint in his eyes. “Maybe; would you listen to them?”

You smirked. “Maybe; I am a very open-minded person,”

His eyes flickered down to your lips, and this time, he didn’t look away. Mingyu leaned in just a fraction, testing the waters. “Oh? I think I’d like to get to know you better.”

Your breath caught at the implication, your heart thudding against your ribs. Mingyu’s hand moved from the back of the couch to gently brush your cheek, thumb tracing a light, comforting path along your jaw.

“Is this okay?” He whispered, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation.

You nodded slowly, your voice just as soft. “Yeah... It’s okay.”

He smiled, his lips curving into something almost relieved, before he closed the small distance between you. The kiss was gentle at first, his lips brushing against yours in a tentative, careful way. When you responded, pressing closer, he deepened the kiss slightly, his other hand moving to your waist.

The world seemed to melt away, and all you could feel was the warmth of his touch, the way his lips moved with yours like he’d been waiting to do this for a long time.

When you finally pulled back, just enough to catch your breath, Mingyu rested his forehead against yours, his thumb still caressing your cheek.

“Worth the wait,” he murmured, his voice rough and sincere.

You couldn’t help but smile, feeling more at ease than you had in a long time. “Definitely.”

“I guess I’m happy you almost broke my nose,” he murmured, leaning in slightly.

You let out a soft gasp when he kissed you again, making you melt against him.

“I want to hear that sound again,” he whispered, making you giggle, and you grinned, and he took it as a sign to further things.

He picked you up easily and carried you to his bedroom and onto his bed, settling you onto his lap like you belonged there. His lips never stopped moving against yours, each kiss more heated, more desperate.

When he finally pulled away, both of you were panting.

“Can I touch you?” He asked, voice lower, rougher now.

You nodded eagerly, lips parted, skin already flushed.

“Good girl,” he whispered.

A moan escaped before you could stop it.

Mingyu raised an eyebrow, that smug smirk creeping back. “Ooh. Praise kink. Duly noted.”

His hands slid up your sides, under your dress, fingertips skating along your skin like he was unwrapping a gift.

“Can I?” He asked again, but this time, he was already tugging at the fabric.

“Please just do something,” you said, practically squirming in his lap, need pulsing through you like a heartbeat.

He laughed softly — a dark, delicious sound. “You’re adorable when you beg.”

Your dress slipped over your head and onto the floor in one swift motion.

“No bra?” He asked, amused.

“Didn’t feel like it matched the vibe,” you replied with a lazy shrug.

“Big fan of that choice,” he said, palming your breasts in his large hands, thumbs circling your nipples until they hardened under his touch. His mouth followed, warm and wet, kissing and sucking until you were arching into him.

Then his hand drifted lower.

“I don’t think you’ll be needing these either,” he muttered, fingers brushing over the damp heat between your legs.

You let out a soft gasp, legs parting instinctively. “Can I feel you?” He asked again, voice a low rumble against your throat.

“Please,” you breathed, nearly trembling with how badly you needed him.

He slipped your underwear down slowly, teasing you, drawing this out like he enjoyed how desperate you were.

“Been a while?” He murmured, fingers sliding between your folds, making you jolt.

“Way too long,” you confessed, barely managing to speak.

He groaned. “Fuck, I want to taste you so badly, but some beautiful disaster smashed me in the face with a plant tonight.”

“There’s always next time,” you managed to say, breath hitching as he continued to tease your entrance with maddening patience.

“Oh? There’s going to be a next time?” He asked, cocky now.

“Depends if this time’s good,” you teased back.

He grinned, eyes dark. “Oh, sweetheart... it’ll be better than good.”

He lifted you off his lap, laid you gently on the bed like you were something breakable. You watched him undress — slow, purposeful — revealing long lines of muscle and the kind of body that made your mouth water.

When his boxers hit the floor, you let out an involuntary, “Fuck.”

“You keep flattering me; I might forget we’re not in love yet,” he joked, grabbing a condom from the drawer and rolling it on.

“Mingyu,” you moaned, writhing on the sheets, “please, I just need to feel you inside me.”

He froze, eyes wide.

“Won’t it hurt if I don’t—”

“Dude,” you cut in, voice raw. “I’ve been in a dry spell so long I’m practically a desert. Just fuck me.”

He blinked. “Did you just ‘dude’ me while begging for dick?”

“Yes, and your boner better survive it,” you shot back.

He laughed — hard — but that laugh turned into a groan as he lined himself up and slowly pushed inside you.

Your body arched like a live wire had touched it.

“Fucking hell,” he gritted out. “You’re so tight.”

You gasped, fingers digging into the sheets as he bottomed out.

He started moving — slow, deep thrusts that had you babbling nonsense within seconds. One of his hands slid between you, fingers finding your clit and rubbing just the right way.

“I can’t... I’m gonna—” you whimpered, already spiraling.

“Let go. Come on, baby. I’ve got you,” he murmured.

And that was it.

You came hard, shaking, crying out as your body clenched around him. A few rough thrusts later, Mingyu groaned, burying himself deep as he spilled into the condom.

He collapsed on top of you, his face pressed to your chest, both of you struggling to catch your breath.

Eventually, he rolled to the side, pulling you with him.

“Wow,” you whispered.

“I know,” he said, still panting.

“You’re amazing. Thank you.”

He looked over at you, one brow raised. “Are you... thanking me for sex?”

“I mean, yeah? That was better than therapy.”

He laughed, brushing a strand of hair off your face. “I still owe you one. My hands and tongue haven’t even had their turn yet.”

Your eyes widened.

“Unless this was a one-time ‘itch to scratch’ situation?” He added, voice quiet now.

You smiled, slow and wicked. “I think we can definitely make it happen again.”

He kissed your shoulder. “Just... next time, maybe don’t lead with blunt force trauma.”

You grinned. And said,“No promises.”

“I should get going,” you murmured, reluctantly sitting up and scanning the room for your scattered dignity — aka your dress and underwear.

Mingyu nodded, leaning back on his elbows as he watched you move. “Yeah. I mean... this wasn’t exactly how I imagined meeting my neighbors, but I’m not complaining.”

You grinned as he tossed your underwear to you with a lazy smirk and handed you your dress like it was some ceremonial robe.

“How do I look?” You asked, smoothing your hair and tugging the dress into place.

“Stunning,” he said, eyes dragging over you with no shame. “But also, like you just got thoroughly fucked.”

You groaned, covering your face. “Great. Just the look I was going for.”

“Hey, it’s just a few steps across the hall. Embrace the walk of pride,” he teased.

You paused, glancing at the door. “Should I help you finish unpacking? You still have boxes everywhere.” He shook his head. “Nah. Go get rid of that plant for your housemates before you break another part of me.”

You gave him a soft smile. “Oh that’s a good idea, I have a weapon in my hand.”

Mingyu reached for your wrist and pulled you into a kiss — slow, sweet, and way too tender for a one-night stand. It left you blinking when he pulled away.

“What was that for?” You asked, voice barely above a whisper.

He shrugged, brushing your hair behind your ear. “You had that look — like you were overthinking everything. Just wanted to remind you I’m not a dick.”

You bit your lip, smiling. “No... just a guy with a really nice one.”

He laughed, low and raspy, and you forced yourself to peel away before you crawled right back into bed with him.

“See you,” you said, pausing at the door for just a second longer than necessary.

You slipped out, gathered your things with whatever grace you had left, and padded barefoot across the hall to your own apartment — slightly sore, definitely smug, and still tasting him on your lips.

“Oh my God, you’re alive!” Joshua gasped, immediately pulling you into a hug. Then he squinted, nose crinkling. “Wait—why are you sweaty?”

Wonwoo raised an eyebrow, lounging by the counter. “Your dress is on backwards.”

You groaned, tugging at the fabric. “Okay, you nosy bitches, can I at least shower first?”

Joshua tilted his head like a puppy. “So… who’d you fuck?”

You glared at him, cheeks heating. “Our new neighbor. And for the record, I accidentally smashed a bonsai into his face first.”

Joshua blinked. “Why did you have a bonsai?”

You shrugged. “Felt bad. Thought a peace plant might help.” His expression softened. “We’re good, really. But damn. You broke his face, and he broke your back? That’s some poetic symmetry.”

You groaned again, stalking toward the bathroom. “I need a shower. Don’t go anywhere—I’ll be back with way too many details.”

Both men nodded eagerly, already settling in like a live show was coming

~~ You were halfway into post-shower bliss, freshly changed and just barely reclaiming some dignity when there was a soft knock at your bedroom door.

“Can I come in?” You heard Wonwoo’s voice ask.

You glanced up and smiled. “Yeah, come in.” You patted the empty spot on the bed beside you.

“Did I disturb you?” He asked, motioning toward your open laptop and mess of notes.

“Not really. Just I was brainstorming, earlier,”

Wonwoo settled beside you, his presence warm and familiar. “Maybe write about your latest hookup?” He teased with a slight edge in his voice.

You narrowed your eyes. “Okay, what’s with that tone?”

He shrugged. “I thought you’d want to maybe ask me instead? Weren’t we sort of flirting last night? I don’t just pull everyone onto my lap. But I guess the hot neighbour is who you prefer? What if he’d been a serial killer?”

Your lips twitched into a smile. “I literally knocked him out with a plant. Pretty sure he wasn’t in a position to hurt me.”

Wonwoo flopped back on your bed, arms spread wide. “So that’s it? He read your article, got turned on, and you jumped his bones?”

You snapped your laptop closed and sighed. “Why are you sounding so judgmental?”

He rolled his head toward you. “I was just worried, okay? What if he was a creep?”

You softened a little, scooting closer. “He’s not. He’s nice. Chill.”

Wonwoo nodded. “Okay. So... was he good?”

You laughed. “He's, um... big.”

One of Wonwoo’s eyebrows arched. “That’s not a skill, Y/N. Did he use his hands? Or, you know, go down on you?”

You gave him a pointed look. “His nose was still swollen from my plant assault. He was doing me a favor, not trying to win Olympic gold in oral.”

Wonwoo crossed his arms, unimpressed. “What, were his hands broken too?”

You huffed. “Look, I was desperate. Dry spell hell. He solved the problem. Can you stop interrogating me?”

Your eyes narrowed. “Besides, why do you care who I hook up with?”

Wonwoo sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Since it’s some random guy who lives next door, and you’re acting like you’ve known him forever. You can’t just trust people like that, Y/N.”

You scoffed. “He’s not a random guy. He’s a new neighbor. It’s not like I’m inviting a complete stranger into my life.”

“He kind of is a stranger,” Wonwoo argued, stepping closer. “You don’t know what he’s like, what his deal is. You’re smarter than this. You shouldn’t just let someone into your life because they’re charming or whatever.”

You crossed your arms defensively. “Why do you even care? It’s not like it affects you.”

His jaw clenched, and his eyes softened just a little. “Because I don’t want you to get hurt. You always rush into things, thinking it’s all fun and games. Not everyone’s going to be what they seem.”

You rolled your eyes. “You sound like a dad, Woo.”

Wonwoo’s face flushed slightly, and he exhaled sharply. “I’m serious. Just... be careful. I’m just looking out for you.”

You softened a bit at his concern, realizing he was only trying to protect you. “I appreciate it, really. But I can take care of myself. I’m not a kid.”

His expression was a mix of frustration and something else — something intense that you couldn’t quite place. Before you could think about it too much, he took a step closer, his hand lifting like he was going to cup your cheek, but he hesitated, fingers hovering near your jaw.

You felt your breath hitch, your eyes flicking from his hand to his eyes. “Wonwoo...”

His gaze dipped to your lips, and for a moment, the air between you grew thick with unspoken tension. It felt like everything slowed down, and your pulse raced at the thought of him closing the distance.

But just as he seemed to make up his mind, his phone rang, cutting through the charged atmosphere like a knife. Wonwoo cursed softly, stepping back and fishing his phone from his pocket.

“Yeah?” he answered, his voice suddenly tight. He glanced at you, eyes regretful. “I... I have to take this. Work.”

You swallowed hard, nodding, trying to act unaffected. “Right. Go ahead.”

He hesitated for a beat longer before nodding and walking out of the room to take the call. You stayed rooted to the spot, heart pounding, wondering just what would have happened if that phone hadn’t interrupted.

You flopped back on the bed, groaning into your pillow. Not only were you aroused, you were annoyed. You knew if you stayed here, you'd either break out one of your new toys or spiral into another pity party.

You grabbed your laptop, shoved it in your bag, and got dressed. A café. That was the move. Coffee, background chatter, and maybe a splash of wine. Anything to reset your brain. ~~ You were halfway through your first glass when a familiar voice cut through your concentration.

“This seat taken?”

You looked up. Mingyu. Those eyes.

“Uh... no,” you said, blinking. “I mean—yeah, sit. Please.”

He chuckled. “You can say no if it’s weird. I won’t cry. Promise.”

You shook your head. “It’s fine. Have a seat.”

He settled in beside you, pulling out his own laptop like it was the most casual thing in the world. You tried to focus. You really did. “Y/N?” He asked suddenly. “Hm?” “Do you hate your laptop?” You blinked. “No? Why?” He sipped his drink and gestured to your keyboard. “Because it sounds like you’re trying to kill it.” You stared at your fingers. “Seriously?” “I mean, you’re not typing—you’re committing keyboard homicide.” You sighed. “I’m just wound up.” “Want to talk about it?” You glanced at him, then nodded. “My housemate got nosy about us. Asked a bunch of judgmental questions. Then offered to do what you didn’t do, and right when he’s about to kiss me... boom. Call. He leaves. I’m left... frustrated.” Mingyu tilted his head. “What I didn’t do?” You swallowed. “Like... go down on me. Use your hands.” Mingyu leaned in slightly, voice dropping. “Ah. That.” “My nose was a mess that night,” he explained. “And if I’m going down on someone, I want to enjoy it. I don’t want to half-ass it through a sinus headache.” You nodded slowly. “It wasn’t a complaint. It just—he made it sound like you were reluctant.” “Well, he doesn’t know me; I am never reluctant. Just injured with a bonsai.” “Well then, let me get this straight.” You leaned back with a smirk. “You’re annoyed because you were offered ‘better’ sex, didn’t get it, and now you’re taking it out on your poor laptop?” Mingyu blinked at you, and then you gave a slow nod. “More or less.” You grinned, and he took a step closer. “Lucky for you, I don’t tend to get phone calls mid-orgasm. Want me to help… ease that frustration?” Your breath caught. “I’m still writing.” “How many words?” You pouted. “Five. Just the title.” “Exactly.” He flashed a grin. “You’re wound up. Let me help.” “Give me like 1 hour more. I’m sure I can write,” you insisted, making Mingyu grin as he leaned back on the chair and played on his phone, with a knowing smirk, almost as if he knew you would not be able to get any work done now, considering how tightly wound up you were.

~~ “You’re not writing anything, are you?” Mingyu tilted his head at your laptop screen, clearly unimpressed. “I’m trying,” you muttered, snapping the laptop shut. “But it’s like my brain’s been replaced with mashed potatoes.” “Then come with me.” “To where?” “We’re going pub crawling. It’ll help you unwind.” You blinked. “It’s three in the afternoon.” He shrugged. “Perfect time to study the science of types. Dating, attraction, weird flirting tactics—there’s no better place than a pub.” “So this is pure science?” “Exactly,” he said. You groaned but grabbed your bag anyway. “Fine. But if we get sloppy drunk, I’m blaming you.” Mingyu grinned and offered you his hand. “Deal.”

~~ “Okay, she’s definitely into him,” Mingyu whispered over the rim of his pint, leaning toward you at the crowded corner booth. You peeked over at the couple across the bar. “How can you tell?” “She’s playing with her straw. That’s peak first-flirt body language. But watch—he’s not making eye contact.” “He’s staring at her chest,” you confirmed, rolling your eyes. “Typical.” Mingyu chuckled. “He’s either nervous or an idiot.” “Or both.” You sipped your wine and leaned back against the leather seat, your shoulder brushing his. Neither of you moved away. The buzz in your veins wasn’t just from the alcohol—it was from him. “You’re good at this people-watching thing,” you said. “Like, weirdly good.” “I’m a photographer. I notice things.” “You should’ve warned me you were charming.”

“I did,” he said, nudging your thigh under the table. “You just didn’t believe me.” You fought a smile and looked away. “What else do you notice?” “Right now?” He murmured, his voice low and smooth. “You’re tipsy. And you’re wondering what happens next.” You turned to him slowly. “What does happen next?” Mingyu grinned. “We go back to mine. Pizza, movie... whatever else comes naturally.” You raised a brow. “Smooth.” “Just honest.” And somehow, you found yourself in a cab minutes later, curled up against his side, letting yourself lean in just a little too close. The city lights passed in blurs, and you weren’t sure if it was the wine or Mingyu’s hand on your thigh making you feel weightless. “Are you always this cuddly when you drink?” Mingyu's voice was soft against your ear as he helped you out of the cab. His hand stayed on your lower back, steady and warm as you made your way up the building steps. “I’m not drunk,” you mumbled, swaying just slightly. “You’re not not drunk,” he teased, nudging you playfully with his shoulder. “Shut up,” you said, but you were already laughing. “And for the record, I’m always this cuddly. Alcohol just makes me more velcro-like.” Mingyu smiled as he unlocked the door to his apartment, ushering you inside. “Welcome to my humble, semi-furnished, testosterone-fueled abode.” “I thought you said your roommates moved in?” “They did. You’ll meet them—eventually.” He kicked off his shoes and walked ahead of you toward the kitchen. You hovered awkwardly in the living room, suddenly very aware of how intimate this was. Mingyu in his home. You in his space. “Water?” He called from the kitchen. “Please.” You accepted the glass he handed you, your fingers brushing his. The contact sent a small spark down your spine. “So...” he said, settling onto the couch and patting the cushion next to him. “Wanna tell me how many words you wrote today?” You narrowed your eyes at him as you sat down. “Why are you like this?” “Charming? Helpful? Irresistible?” “Insufferable,” you corrected, even though a smile tugged at your lips. “Still better than mashed potatoes for brains.” “Low blow.” He nudged you again, and you nearly spilled your water from how close you were suddenly sitting. His thigh pressed into yours—and that’s when it hit you. His thigh. Solid. Warm.

Unmoving. And then he flexed it. You choked slightly. Mingyu looked amused. “What?”

“Stop doing that,” you hissed. “Doing what?”

“That thing with your leg.”

“Oh?” He leaned in, grinning. “You mean this?”

He flexed again, and you tried not to squirm.

“You’re evil,” you muttered.

“You’re the one sitting on my thigh.”

Your mouth opened. Closed. “I’m not sitting—” “You are,” he said, eyes locked on yours. “And I think you like it.”

You swallowed hard, heat curling low in your stomach. “Shut up.”

“I could make you feel better, you know.”

You turned toward him slowly. “I didn’t say I was feeling bad.”

“Then let me make you feel even better.”

His hand moved gently to your hip.

“You sure?” he asked, gaze sincere, voice quieter now.

You nodded, breath catching.

Mingyu smiled, pulled you fully into his lap—and the rest of your thoughts disappeared.

“Besides, I want to taste you,” Mingyu murmured, his breath warm against your skin. “Say something?” You nodded, breath catching. “Yes.”

Mingyu smirked. “Good girl.”

You whimpered. “Oh no, praise kink. Dangerous game.” He grinned at you, full of teasing and promise, and led you back to his bedroom. You followed without question.

“Hey, nice,” you said, looking around his space. “You got the place set up.”

“Yeah,” Mingyu said, casually kicking off his shoes. “I had help from someone, but we ended up fucking, so—she wasn’t that helpful.”

You shot him a glare. “Charming.”

“Sit.”

You did. He peeled off his hoodie in one fluid motion, revealing his bare chest.

“You just walk around looking like that?”

“Problem?”

“None,” you said, blinking hard. “Just—wow.”

“Tell me what you like. Move my head, stop me if it’s too much, too fast—just say the word.”

You nodded as he leaned in and kissed you, slow and teasing. You pulled back.

“Wait.”

Mingyu raised a brow, but you stood and started undressing.

“Stop,” he said. “Let me.”

You sat back, breath uneven. He knelt in front of you, his fingers working the clasp of your bra. The straps fell like they were made to. He tossed the fabric aside before wrapping his lips around your nipple, warm tongue flicking against the sensitive skin. His other hand massaged your other breast in perfect sync. You whimpered as he switched sides, giving both equal attention, his lips dragging heat from your skin.

“Oh, I love those sounds,” he murmured against your chest, lips brushing your sternum.

He hooked his fingers into your panties and slid them down, tossing them somewhere across the room.

“If I can’t find those later, I’m blaming you. They were one of my favorites.”

“You’ll survive,” he said, just before he kissed your clit.

Your hips bucked.

“Right there?”

You nodded, breathless.

He smirked against you, arms wrapping around your thighs to hold you still. You weren’t going anywhere—not when he was just getting started.

He traced slow, deliberate circles over your clit with his tongue. Unwavering. Steady.

“You’re good at this,” you moaned.

“Also... was that my name in cursive on your clit?” You asked breathlessly.

“Maybe.”

Mingyu didn’t let up—his tongue kept working you through every shaky gasp. You came hard, trembling in his grip. He didn’t stop. Not even when you cried out, not even when you begged. He sucked on your clit like it was oxygen. You came again, legs twitching, hand buried in his hair.

When he finally pulled back, you were wrecked—back slouched into the cushions, breathing heavy.

“So?”

“Amazing,” you whispered, blinking up at the ceiling.

You turned toward him, your fingers drifting to the button of his jeans. “You don’t have to,” he said.

“I know,” you replied. “I want to.”

He helped you slide them down, then hissed as you palmed his cock through his boxers.

“Don’t tease me,” he said, voice ragged. “Noted.”

You pulled him free and tried not to moan at the sight. He was thick, flushed, and already leaking. You licked his tip and smiled when his hips jerked forward.

“Fuck,” he muttered as you took him deeper. What you couldn’t fit, you made up for with your hand.

When you started massaging his balls, he gasped. “Shit. Shit. Baby, I’m gonna—”

You didn’t stop.

He groaned loudly, head falling back, fingers gripping the sofa as he spilled into your mouth. You swallowed every drop, letting your tongue tease his tip one last time.

Mingyu collapsed back into the cushions, chest heaving. “That was... wow.”

You smiled, cheeks flushed and body warm, still glowing from the attention he’d given you minutes ago. He looked at you, all awe and affection. “You know,” he said, voice still breathless, “I should’ve invited you over way sooner.”

You were laughing, but the second you finished laughing, suddenly the afterglow of your orgasm had dimmed, and you were painfully aware of how naked you were.

“Hey… you okay?” Mingyu’s voice was quiet, and your eyes flicked to him as you instinctively grabbed the nearest pillow and hugged it to your bare chest. “I’m fine,” you said quickly, hoping your shyness wasn’t obvious. “Oh.” Mingyu stood, then paused. “Wait.” He turned the lights off, casting the room in soft shadows. “I can’t see much now, but I’ll just—”

He handed you his shirt blindly. “Here. You can use this.” “Thanks,” you murmured, slipping it on fast and clinging to the extra bit of coverage. The lights flicked back on, and Mingyu gave you a reassuring smile. “You can relax. I wasn’t trying to get you out of it again.” You gave a breathy laugh, still a little too self-conscious to meet his gaze.

“It was fun,” he added casually. “I mean... not that I’m saying we should do it again. Unless you want to. But not because I expect—shit, this is coming out wrong.”

You tilted your head at him. “You think?” “I’m just saying, I wasn’t expecting anything,” he backtracked. “You’re beautiful. And I’m not... trying to mess with your head or anything.” “Thanks for the orgasms,” you said dryly, tugging your jeans on. Mingyu flinched, clearly caught off guard. “Okay. That’s fair. I deserved that.” You bent down to grab your shirt and looked up at him with a narrowed stare. “Right. Because you’re so emotionally competent.” “I never claimed to be,” he said, his voice tight now. “Look, we barely know each other. It was just sex. You don’t have to get all weird about it.” You stood up, heart thudding now—not from embarrassment, but from frustration. “I’m not weird about it. But you are clearly trying to backpedal hard enough to twist your ankle.” “Okay, fine,” he snapped, raising his hands. “I’ll go. I’m sorry for bothering you.” He rolled his eyes as he walked out. You didn’t stop him. Not when you were that close to tearing up. You didn’t know why it suddenly affected you; you knew you had some slight issues with confidence and doubted yourself quite a bit; you just didn’t expect to get like that during a casual hook-up. ~~ You slammed the door behind him, then stormed into your own apartment. “Y/N?” Joshua looked up from the couch. “Not now,” you muttered, brushing past him and heading straight for your bedroom. You could still hear Mingyu’s voice echoing in your head. “It was just sex.” Fucking idiot. You paced for a moment before throwing yourself down on the bed. The knock at your door came less than five minutes later. You cracked it open to see Mingyu standing sheepishly, holding a paper bag. “I had to think of an excuse,” he said, offering it. “Your bra’s in here.” You sighed and took the bag from him. “You came back for my bra?” “I didn’t want to leave things like that, Bambi eyes let me in, I didn’t catch his name,” he admitted. “That’s Joshua; he let you in.” Mingyu glanced around. “Can I sit?” You pointed to the bed, and he eased down onto the edge. “Why did you come back?” “I’m shit at this. At saying things right. I always talk like an idiot when I’m... nervous.” You blinked. “You’re nervous?” Mingyu shrugged. “You make me nervous.” For a second, you just stared at him. Then, you said, “Stay.” He looked up. “What?” You crossed your arms. “Stay. Talk. Don’t leave again acting like we both didn’t enjoy that and like we don’t enjoy spending time with each other.” He exhaled a long breath, then nodded. “For what it’s worth,” Mingyu said, voice suddenly softer, “you have nothing to be shy about.”

You held his gaze for a beat, then gave a small smile. “Look, we started this all in the wrong order. You wanted to be friends…”

“Friends,” Mingyu repeated, eyes flicking around the room before landing on a small red object.

“Is that what I think it is?”

You groaned. “Oh my god, can you not—”

“A vibrator?” he grinned, walking over to grab it. “In plain sight?”

“Give it back.”

“Or…” he smirked, turning it over in his hand. “I could show you how sorry I am?”

Your mouth went dry. “What happened to ��just friends’?”

“We can start that tomorrow.”

That was all the warning you got before he was on you, kissing you like he meant it. You tugged him closer by his shirt, falling back onto the bed as he slipped his hand down and popped the button of your jeans. You kicked them off along with your panties. His knuckles grazed your slick folds.

“You’re still soaked,” he said against your lips, eyes flicking down your body like you were art.

He pulled your shirt over your head.

“Beautiful,” he murmured.

You smiled softly as he began kissing his way down, slow and reverent.

He turned the vibrator on and dragged it gently along your folds. “Shit,” you hissed, hips jerking as the cold metal touched your clit.

Without warning, he pushed two fingers inside you, curling just right as the vibrator buzzed against your swollen clit. The sensation was overwhelming—fast and dizzying, his fingers moving steadily, the toy pressed right where it needed to be.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you whimpered, digging your nails into the sheets.

“Good girl,” Mingyu whispered. “You take my fingers so well.”

Your body trembled, your thighs starting to shake as the pleasure built.

You whimpered, eyes squeezing shut. “Please don’t stop.”

“Oh, I won’t,” Mingyu smirked, kissing the inside of your thigh as you fell apart on his hand.

He pulled his fingers out and raised them to his lips, sucking them clean with a satisfied hum.

“So… friends?”

You were still panting. “Yeah. Friends.” “Uh-huh.” He grinned. “Need help with that?” He nodded toward the very visible bulge in his pants.

You sat up slowly. “No thanks. That’s not what friends are for.”

“I’m saying no,” he said dramatically, “but it’s not my cock’s decision. He says yes.”

You giggled, giving his thigh a light slap.

Mingyu leaned in and kissed your forehead. “See you later, friend.”

You nodded, still dazed.

“Oh—by the way,” he added as he reached the door, “my housemates get back this weekend. We’re throwing a party. Chill night, drinks, people meeting people. Bring your housemates if you’re free?” You smiled, still trying to catch your breath.

“See you around, Gyu.”

He winked and closed the door behind him. ~~ Later that evening, you emerged from your bedroom to find Joshua smirking at you over a mug of tea. “What?” You asked, suspicious. He raised his eyebrows. “You moan loudly.” Your jaw dropped. “I was trying to keep it down!” “Yeah, no. Wonwoo thought you were a wounded animal at first.” You gasped, mortified. “I don’t moan that loudly.” Joshua gave you a pitying look. “You don’t think you do, but when you suppress it, it comes out like a dying banshee.” You groaned and dropped your head onto the counter. “Wait, did... Wonwoo hear?” Joshua nodded slowly, sipping his tea. “He might have been concerned for your well-being.” You rolled your eyes. “Great. Just great.” “So,” he said, voice light, “you and hot plant guy...?” “Friends,” you interrupted quickly. “We decided to just be friends.” Joshua arched a brow. “After that performance?” “It’s complicated. We don’t know each other well enough not to accidentally hurt each other.” Joshua tilted his head. “Wise.”

You sighed, pulling out your phone. “Still, I need to talk to Wonwoo.” “To apologise? You know you don’t owe him one; you do whatever you want and whoever you want.” “I don’t owe him an apology, but I could at least apologise for the noise,” you said. “But... yeah. Kinda feels like the decent thing to do.” You hovered outside Wonwoo’s door before knocking gently and peeking in. “Wonwoo?” He looked up from his book. “Yeah?” You gulped. He was in grey sweats and a white shirt, lounging like some kind of soft-focus fantasy. “You’re drooling,” he said with a smirk. You groaned and walked inside, flopping onto the bed beside him. “I came to say sorry.” He shut the book, raising an eyebrow. “For what? Your gorgeous moaning? If anything, I should apologize for interrupting it with my concern.” You hid your face behind your hands. “You’re unbearable.” “Relax. You don’t owe me an apology. We’re not dating.” “Still. It wasn’t to get back at you or anything. I was just... left very frustrated.” Wonwoo chuckled. “That was entirely my fault. Work called.” You tilted your head, your eyes softening. “Mingyu and I agreed to just be friends. No feelings. No strings. Which... honestly? Sounds like the safest plan.” He looked at you for a beat. “And what about me?” “I know you,” you said softly. “You wouldn’t hurt me.” Wonwoo didn’t respond. He just reached forward, tugging you until you were curled up against his chest.

“You left me horny,” you whispered, teasing. “I know. I’m sorry. You deserved better.” There was a long pause before he added, “So… you two are done?” You nodded. “Yeah.” “Then,” he said, his hand brushing lightly at the strap of your top, “What if I just, you know, carry on from what happened earlier? I did get rudely interrupted with a phone call, and I believe I owe you a kiss.” You laughed. “Oh, yes you do.” Wonwoo smirked. “Only if he can see how gorgeous you look right now.” You leaned in, your lips close to his. “Can you do something?” “Patience is a virtue,” he whispered. “It’s not one of mine.” He grinned. “Very true.” And then his lips were on yours—soft, slow, deliberate. When he finally pulled away, you were breathless. “I’ve got an article to finish,” you said reluctantly. “We’re good?” He asked. “We’re good.” You smiled, standing up. He smiled at you lazily, and you practically skipped back to your room.

~~ The next afternoon, you were in your local cafe, still stuck with the same five words you typed out yesterday on your laptop. However, you were laser-focused and attempting to write a new sentence about emotional risk versus reward when a voice interrupted you. “What is a ‘type,’ and why do we stick to it?” You nearly jumped out of your skin. “Mingyu! A warning would be nice!” He grinned as he slid into the seat across from you at the café table. “But you’re so jumpy—it’s adorable.” “Oh, please. Just sit, why don’t you.”

“I intend to,” he said, already making himself at home.

“So what brings you here? Stalking me?”

“I could ask you the same. Who sits in my usual spot with a laptop and sulks?”

“Writer’s block,” you admitted, closing your screen.

“Want to fix that?”

You narrowed your eyes. “How?”

Mingyu grinned. “We grab a drink and talk about our dumbest hook-ups.” ~~ The bar was buzzing with low chatter and clinking glasses as you and Mingyu sat across from each other in a cosy booth, the soft amber glow from the hanging lights making his eyes look even warmer. You were on your third cocktail of the afternoon, feeling just the right amount of tipsy to start leaning into the silly side of the conversation.

Mingyu was nursing a beer, his cheeks slightly flushed from the alcohol, or maybe it was just the comfortable atmosphere. You twirled your straw around in your glass before looking up at him with a playful grin.

“So, since we’re already a few drinks in,” you began, leaning forward conspiratorially, “I propose we play a game.”

Mingyu arched a brow, his lips twitching into a smile. “What kind of game?”

You took a sip of your drink before answering. “We trade stories. Dumb hookups, silly dates – basically all the weird romantic escapades that made us question humanity.”

Mingyu chuckled, taking a swig of his beer. “Alright, I’m game. But only if you go first.”

You mock-pouted. “Why me first?”

“Because you suggested it, and I’m curious,” he shot back, smirking.

Rolling your eyes, you thought back to your dating history, settling on one that still made you cringe. “Fine. So, there was this one guy I met on a dating app – let’s call him Jay. We went to this fancy rooftop bar, and I’m thinking, ‘Okay, this could be good.’ About thirty minutes in, he starts telling me about his extensive Funko Pop collection. Like, I mean... hundreds. And he insisted on showing me every single one through a photo album on his phone. At one point, he even teared up while talking about a limited edition Batman figure.”

Mingyu snorted into his beer, trying not to choke from laughing. “No way.”

“Yes way! And it got worse. At the end of the night, he asked me if I wanted to ‘meet them’ at his apartment. Like, not him – them.” You groaned, shaking your head at the memory. “I made some excuse about needing to water my plants and just bolted.”

Mingyu was practically wheezing at that point, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. “You dated a Funko Pop guy. I’m never letting you live this down.”

You pointed at him. “Your turn, Mr. Judgy.”

He composed himself, taking a deep breath. “Alright. I went out with this girl from college once. Really pretty, seemed really cool. We went to a casual pizza place, and everything was great... until the food arrived. She took one bite, looked at me dead in the eyes, and said, ‘I think I might be a vampire.’”

You blinked, waiting for him to laugh, but he just stared at you, completely serious.

“Wait, what?” You finally said.

“Yeah,” Mingyu continued, leaning back against the booth. “She told me that eating anything but red meat made her feel sick, and she’s been craving ‘blood’ lately. She asked me if I’d ever wanted to bite someone, just to know what it tasted like.”

You couldn’t contain your laughter, practically folding over in the booth. “You’re lying.”

“I swear!” Mingyu said, holding up his hands defensively. “She kept making weird comments about how pale I was and how ‘good my veins looked.’ I never got out of a restaurant faster in my life.”

You wiped at your eyes, still giggling. “Okay, you win. That’s worse than the Funko Pop guy.”

Mingyu grinned, obviously pleased. “Yeah, I still get chills thinking about it.”

You leaned back, feeling a little more relaxed now that the conversation had taken a lighthearted turn. The music in the bar changed to something more upbeat, and you tapped your fingers against your glass.

“So, what about the serious ones?” Mingyu asked, his tone shifting slightly.

You paused, your smile faltering just a little. “You mean serious relationships?”

He nodded. “Yeah. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. Just... curious.”

You took a deep breath. “I was with someone for about a year and a half. Thought it was going somewhere real, you know? Turns out he was cheating on me for months. Found out through his phone – he was so careless; he didn’t even bother deleting the texts.”

Mingyu’s playful expression faded, his brows knitting together in concern. “That’s awful. I’m sorry.”

You shrugged, forcing a small smile. “It sucked at the time. Felt like my whole self-worth got thrown out the window. But I learned from it. Learned how to be a little more careful with my heart.”

He reached across the table, placing his hand over yours. The warmth of his touch grounded you, and you glanced up to see him giving you a small, reassuring smile.

“You didn’t deserve that. No one does,” he said softly.

You squeezed his hand back. “Thanks. I guess I’m still trying to figure out how to trust people again.”

Mingyu hesitated for a moment before speaking, “I guess I’ll have to be very careful then.”

You met his eyes, suddenly feeling a little exposed but in a good way, and giving him a soft smile not sure how to answer him.

You took a second and then spoke. “And you? Any serious relationships?”

Mingyu hesitated, looking thoughtful. “There was one. A few years ago. We were together for almost two years, but we just... drifted apart. I guess I realized we were more comfortable than in love. It hurt, but it made me realize I don’t want to settle for just comfort. I want something real.”

You felt your heart soften at his honesty. “Yeah. I get that.”

The conversation hung between you, both of you wrapped in the honesty of the moment. The vulnerability, the ease of being real with each other – it made your stomach flip in a way you hadn’t felt in a long time.

Mingyu took a sip of his beer, his hand still holding yours, and you couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this could be the kind of real you both wanted. ~~ By the time you both left the bar, you were walking arm-in-arm. Your heels clicked against the pavement, your head light with wine and conversation. “Okay, I’ll admit,” you said, “this was fun.” “More than writing five words and calling it an article title?” You smacked his arm. “Rude but true.” “Come on,” he said, flagging down a cab. “My place. Pizza and Finding Nemo?” “Nemo?” “It’s a classic.” “Big baby.” “Don’t hate on soft men,” he said as the cab pulled up. “We cry, but we cuddle like champs.” You laughed all the way into the taxi. ~~ “Here you go,” Mingyu said, handing you a soft black shirt.

“Thanks.” You stood up to change without thinking, but froze mid-movement when you realized he was still watching you.

“Whoa—wow maybe warn a guy, I almost got blinded by your beauty?” His eyes were wide.

You paused, suddenly self-conscious. “Sorry, I just figured… I mean, you’ve seen everything before.”

“I’m not complaining,” he said, stepping toward you. “It’s a fantastic view.”

You smiled sheepishly as you peeled off your shirt. Mingyu took it gently from your hands and set it on the bed, his gaze still lingering but soft. When you moved to take off your jeans, he helped again—quiet, respectful, but definitely appreciating every second.

“Need another shirt?” He asked, catching your hesitation.

“No, I just… I’m wearing a very uncomfy bra.” “Then don’t,” he replied simply. You raised a brow at him. “Want to help me get it off?” His grin widened. “Weren’t we just trying this whole ‘friends’ thing?”

“Yeah,” you said, stepping closer, “and friends help each other.”

He didn’t need further convincing. His hands slid around your waist, pulling you into him. “That they do,” he murmured against your skin. His fingers moved up your back, undoing your bra clasp with practiced ease. The straps slipped from your shoulders like silk.

“Do you want me to fold this nicely with the rest of your clothes?” He teased, voice low and amused.

“Don’t push it,” you smirked.

“You’re cold,” he said, fingers grazing over your hardened nipples.

“Am not,” you muttered.

“Then are you turned on?”

You raised a brow. “And if I say no?”

“I’d find out anyway,” he murmured. “One finger, and I could prove it.”

You didn’t respond, just held his gaze.

Mingyu took that as permission. His hand slipped down your stomach, easing into your panties until a long finger slid inside you.

“You’re soaked,” he whispered.

You gasped as his finger curled just right. “Do you want to cum?”

You nodded quickly, eyes fluttering shut as his thumb found your clit.

He pulled his finger out with a sinful smirk. “Good. Then get on the bed.”

You climbed back onto his bed, legs slightly shaky. Mingyu knelt between your thighs and dragged your panties down in one smooth motion. His hands pressed your thighs open as he lowered his mouth to your core.

“Fuck,” you gasped when his tongue flicked your clit.

“Mingyu, wait—”

He immediately looked up, concern flashing in his eyes. “Too much?”

You shook your head, already lifting your leg to press against the hard line of his bulge. “No. I just—need you.”

His pupils darkened instantly. “You sure?”

You nodded. “Please fuck me.”

He made quick work of his belt and shirt, tossing them aside. “If I don’t eat you out, Wonwoo’s going to call me a selfish asshole.”

You groaned, laughing breathlessly. “Screw that. Just get in me.”

Mingyu climbed onto the bed, lined himself up with your entrance, and paused.

“Wait—condoms?”

“I have an implant.”

His eyes flicked to yours. “You sure?”

You nodded. “Mingyu. Please.”

“At least you said please,” he grinned, and then he pushed into you with a low groan.

You clung to his back, nails digging in slightly as he started thrusting. His rhythm was perfect—controlled, deep, toe-curling.

His fingers found your clit mid-thrust, rubbing in time with each snap of his hips. You clenched around him, moaning as your orgasm washed over you.

“Fuck,” he groaned, lowering himself to kiss you, forehead to forehead. “Can I—”

“Yes,” you breathed.

He groaned as he came, hips stuttering as he spilled into you. Your head lolled back, your entire body melting into the mattress.

“Amazing?” He asked softly.

“Stupid amazing,” you replied, still catching your breath.

“Get your pizza first! Your dick won’t fall off!”

You both froze at the shout. You blinked. “Who’s that?”

“One of my housemates, Seungcheol” Mingyu sighed. He quickly threw on his boxers and padded toward the door.

“Want to say hi?” “I’m naked.”

Mingyu grinned. “Well I’m half naked, just listen for the dramatics.”

You heard Seungcheol immediately yell, “Just boxers? Really? Why are you always half naked?”

You snorted, deciding to hop in the shower. After a quick rinse, you pulled on Mingyu’s shirt—it hung on you like a dress—and checked yourself in the mirror. Good enough.

You couldn’t stop smiling. “I’m going to grab some water, is that okay?” You asked Mingyu when he came back to his bedroom.

“Of course!” ~~ “Hi,” said a friendly voice as you padded into the hallway in Mingyu’s shirt.

You froze. A new stranger stood leaning against the kitchen counter, smiling at you. “You must be Y/N.”

You blinked. “I—uh. Hi.”

“I’m Seokmin,” he said, holding out his hand. “I’m one of three housemates here.”

You shook it, already feeling incredibly flustered. “Mingyu,” he called down the hallway, “have you heard of a shirt?” You groaned. Mingyu appeared behind you, still shirtless, holding two slices of pizza. “I have, but I’m sweaty.” “Fine, fine,” Seokmin waved him off. “Take care, kids. Use protection!” You turned around and buried your face in Mingyu’s chest. “Sorry about him,” he muttered.

“It’s fine,” you said, muffled. Back in his room, you both settled in with greasy pizza and fresh sheets. “I hope you don’t mind that I showered,” you said. “You smell like me,” he replied with a smirk. “I’m keeping the shirt.” “Figured.” A pause. “You’re beautiful,” he said, quieter this time. You looked over at him. “I mean it,” he added. “Not in a creepy way. Just... in case no one’s told you recently.” Your stomach fluttered. You smiled, leaning into his shoulder as the movie started to play. ~~ Sometime between the second pizza slice and the end credits of Nemo, you found yourself stretched out beside Mingyu, your body limp, skin still tingling from his touch. He propped himself up on one elbow, brushing damp hair from your cheek. “We okay?” You blinked up at him, surprised by the question. “Yeah. Why?” He sighed. “Just... you’re hard to read sometimes.” “You mean emotionally?” He nodded. “I’ve been told,” you said softly. “Hey, its not a bad thing, just means I got to work harder.” He leaned in and kissed your forehead, his action making you swoon. “Hey,” he said a moment later. “I meant it. About you being my type.” You scoffed. “You don’t even know me.” “I know enough to want to keep knowing you.” You swallowed. “Okay,” you said. He grinned, pulling you closer. “Movie round two? Or round two in a very different sense?” You smacked his chest, laughing. “Movie first.” But even as you said it, your fingers were already trailing lower.~~ When you woke up the next morning, Mingyu was already in the kitchen, humming along to a playlist and flipping pancakes. You walked in wearing nothing but his shirt. He looked up, spatula still in hand. “Hi, gorgeous.” You smiled sleepily. “Hi.” He pointed toward the coffee he’d already made. “Caffeine. And carbs.” You padded over and tiptoed to reach up and kiss his cheek. “Are you trying to spoil me?” “Nope,” he said, flipping another pancake. “Just bribing you to stay longer.” You took a sip of the coffee. “Bribery’s working.” He grinned. ~~ “New shirt?” Wonwoo’s voice made you jump as you stepped into the living room.

You turned slowly, adjusting the hem of your oversized shirt. “Yes?” He raised a brow. “Is it clean?” “It’s Mingyu’s.”

“Ah,” Wonwoo said, voice flat.

You squirmed a little under his stare.

“Didn’t realise you two were still...” he trailed off, but the tone said enough.

You sighed. “We’re not anything. Just... two adults with no self-control and shared pizza.”

He let out a breath, his arms crossed. “Right.” “You’re mad.” “I’m not.” “You are.” Wonwoo didn’t answer.

“Fine,” you said, heading toward the kitchen. “Be grumpy.”

“I’m not grumpy,” he said, following. “I just, whatever.”

“Wonwoo, don’t be like that.”

“I’m just saying, kissing me, and then sleeping with Mingyu, won’t that give both of us mixed signals?” You blinked. “Maybe, but he doesn’t know.” Silence. Wonwoo sighed. “Well, that can’t end well.”

You dropped your arms to your sides. “This is exhausting, I don’t want to fight with you.”

“Then, don’t play both sides. Look, even if it’s early on, you and Mingyu have bonded quickly, and maybe it’s not such a bad thing. Besides, you want intimacy, and I’m not in a space in my life where I can give you exactly what you need to give you that.” The words hit like a slap, and your mouth opened, then shut. You turned away before he could see how much it stung.

~~ Later that evening, you sat on the rooftop of your apartment building, wrapped in Mingyu’s hoodie, a wine bottle tucked between your knees. The city sparkled in the distance, alive and unaware. “You okay?” Mingyu asked softly, stepping onto the rooftop. You nodded without turning around. “I’m great. Just airing out my emotional baggage.” He sat beside you, letting his thigh brush yours. “Want to talk about it?” “Nope.” “Want me to distract you?” You turned to face him. “You think distraction fixes everything?” “No,” Mingyu replied, smiling faintly. “But I’m really good at it.” You laughed. It was small, but it cracked through the ache in your chest. “I just got into an argument with Wonwoo,” you said quietly. “Why?” You sighed and began to speak. “I guess just an overprotective roommate,” you said, not wanting to tell Mingyu everything just yet. Mingyu tilted his head, studying you. “Oh, maybe he’s just looking out for you but going about it in the wrong way.” Your chest tightened. “Yeah, I guess so.” “How’s this, anytime you feel blue, you can come over to mine, and talk? I can promise pancakes and zero judgment.” You smiled, leaning your head against his shoulder.

“Thank you, I really appreciate it.” Mingyu rested his chin on your hair. “Anytime.” ~~ A week passed. You wrote your article. He read three books. You shared meals, shared beds, shared soft smiles across busy rooms. But something was shifting. It wasn’t just about sex anymore; you two spent more time together, talked about more personal things, shared funny anecdotes, and sometimes you both would just cuddle, even if there was no sex. And that terrified you. ~~ “Y/N,” Wonwoo said one evening as you passed each other in the kitchen. “Can we talk?” You froze. “Now?” He nodded. “If you’re not too busy with Mingyu.” The words were laced with something—resentment? Pain? You leaned against the counter. “Uh..no I’m not. Look, I don’t want to keep fighting you on this. Besides, like you said, you can’t give me what I need, and all we did was just flirt and kiss once.” “I know, and believe me, I’m not mad at how we behaved with one another, but I’m worried. What if he hurts you?” “He won’t. I’ve been spending more time with him, and he’s just the sweetest.” Wonwoo met your eyes. “He better be. ” You swallowed. “He is.” A beat of silence. “Do you like him?” He asked. You blinked. “What? Of course I do, he’s such a sweet guy.” “No. Do you like him? In the sense that, do you have feelings for him?” You hesitated too long. “That’s what I thought,” he said quietly, walking away. You didn’t sleep that night. You kept thinking about the way Mingyu looked when he was reading in bed, or how he always remembered to bring you a drink without asking. The way he listened. The way he kissed you was like he was trying to memorise your soul. And the worst part? You were starting to fall for him. And that scared the life out of you. ~~ “You look like shit.” Joshua didn’t even glance up from his cereal when he said it. “Good morning to you, too,” you mumbled, grabbing a mug from the cupboard. He raised an eyebrow. “Rough night?” You poured coffee and took a long sip before answering. “Didn’t sleep much.” “Because of Mingyu? Or because of Wonwoo?” You froze, mug halfway to your lips. Joshua looked up now, spoon suspended midair. “You think I don’t notice things? Come on, Y/N. You’re not subtle.” You sighed. “It’s complicated.” He scoffed. “Love triangles usually are.” “It’s not a triangle.” “Sure. Just a very... emotionally charged V.” “Wonwoo and I spoke, and we cleared the air, okay?” You added, already tired from the conversation. Joshua grinned. “I know, I was eavesdropping when you guys were chatting.” You rolled your eyes at him. “Of course.”

“So what will you do about your very real feelings for Mingyu?” ~~ “Hey.” Mingyu’s voice was soft when he called you later that afternoon. “You okay?” You hesitated. “Yeah. Just tired.” There was silence on the other end, but you could hear the way he breathed—measured and patient, waiting for you to say more. “I had a weird talk with Wonwoo,” you said finally. “What kind of weird?” “He asked me if I liked you.” A pause. “What did you say?” “I didn’t.” Another pause. “Do you?” “I... don’t know.” You heard Mingyu let out a slow breath. “Okay.” “That’s all you’re going to say?” “I’m not going to force you into anything.” You swallowed. “But what if this—whatever this is—ruins things? Between all of us.” “Then let it,” he said quietly. “If we’re all pretending to be fine, nobody actually is.”

~~ Later that week, Seokmin knocked gently on your apartment door. “Hey, sorry, uh... weird question. Have you seen Mingyu?” You blinked. “No? Not today.” He nodded slowly. “He’s been... off.” You closed your laptop. “Off how?” Seokmin scratched the back of his neck. “Quiet. Moodier than usual. Like he’s trying to disappear.” Your chest tightened. “Thanks for telling me. I’m heading out later; maybe I’ll run into him where he usually hangs out?” Seokmin smiled, “Thank you. You really do know him quite well. I appreciate it.” You found him at the park. Curled up on a bench, camera in hand, lenses strewn beside him like offerings. He didn’t even look up when you approached. “You’ve gone full tortured artist,” you said, forcing a smile. Mingyu clicked the shutter. “It’s quieter out here.” You sat beside him. “You didn’t answer my texts.” “I didn’t know what to say.” You smiled softly at him, “Just be honest.” He glanced over. “I want you. But I don’t want to be the one holding you back from figuring things out.” “You’re not holding me back.” “But you’re still stuck.”

You exhaled. “Yeah. I am.”

“Then say that. Don’t kiss me and pretend everything’s fine.”

You looked away. “I’m scared, okay? This... feels like it could be something real. And if it ends, I don’t know how to walk away from that.”

Mingyu’s voice dropped. “Then don’t.”

You blinked at him.

“Don’t walk away.”

You stayed on that bench until the sun dipped below the skyline.

You talked about everything and nothing. About the time he dyed his hair orange in college. About your first heartbreak. About the stupid article you were writing on “types” and how maybe Mingyu didn’t fit yours but kept checking every box anyway.

By the time you got home, your fingers were intertwined with his, and neither of you wanted to let go.

“Y/N?” Wonwoo’s voice caught you at the door.

Wonwoo’s eyes dropped to your hands interlaced with Mingyu. “I see you two are fine?”

You opened your mouth. Closed it again.

“Interesting,” he said.

“Wonwoo, what are you—”

“Don’t worry,” he interrupted. Then, smiling, he said. “It’s fine, just be safe, you guys.”

You gave him a small smile, “Shut up.” ~~ That night, as you lay in Mingyu’s bed with your head on his chest, you couldn’t sleep. The silence between you was heavy, like it was holding its breath. “Mingyu?” “Hmm?” “If this ends badly... I don’t think I’ll survive it.” He kissed your forehead gently. “Then we make sure it doesn’t.”

~~ “You’re late.” Joshua said as you entered the apartment, arms crossed, eyes narrowed. “I didn’t realise I had a curfew,” you muttered, brushing past him into the apartment. “You said you were coming home after dinner.” You kicked off your shoes. “I changed my mind.” Joshua followed you into the kitchen. “So you spent the night at Mingyu’s again?” You grabbed a glass of water. “Can we not do this right now?” Joshua scoffed. “You said this was a casual thing.” “It was.” “And now?” You didn’t answer. He let out a bitter laugh. “So that’s a yes.” “Shua, I’m not asking for your permission—” “No,” he snapped, “but I am your friend. And watching you sleepwalk into something that’s going to rip you apart isn’t easy.” Your chest tightened. “You don’t know that.” “I know you. And I’ve seen how you get when you fall for someone.” You set your glass down a little too hard. “He’s not like the others.” “Maybe not. But you are someone who falls head over heels and more when you like someone, and I’m scared that one tiny misstep on his part will break you.” You didn’t text Mingyu that night. Or the next morning. Or the one after that. You needed space to think. To breathe. To figure out why everything felt like it was unravelling—when on the surface, things had never been more... perfect. So why did you feel so off?

~~ Three days later, Mingyu showed up at your door. “You avoiding me?” He asked, not bothering with hello. You stared at him. “I just needed time.” “Without telling me?” “I didn’t think I needed to give you a heads-up every time I took a breath.” Mingyu’s jaw flexed. “That’s not what this is about, and you know it.” You crossed your arms. “Then what is this about, Mingyu?” “You’re pulling away.” You stayed silent. Mingyu stepped closer. “You said this was real. That you wanted it.” “I did.” “And now?” You opened your mouth, then shut it because you didn’t know. Not really. Mingyu’s voice cracked. “You can’t keep doing this. Wanting me when it’s convenient. Pretending nothing’s changed.” “I’m scared, okay?” You snapped. “I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to be all-in without ruining everything.” His eyes softened for a moment. “So ruin it with me. Together.” You blinked, stunned. But before you could say anything, Wonwoo appeared behind you. “Hey, just checking—” He froze when he saw Mingyu. His expression shifted, cold and unreadable. “Oh. It’s you.” Mingyu’s eyes narrowed. “Nice to see you too.” You rubbed your temples. “Not now, please.” Wonwoo looked at you. “I’ll be in my room. Let me know if you want to talk. Or if you’re done letting him talk at you.” “Wow,” Mingyu muttered. “What’s his deal?” You turned on him. “Don’t.” “Don’t what? Point out the obvious?” “He’s trying to stand up for me.” “Right, and what am I doing? I’m just trying to get you to stand up for yourself, too.” You swallowed hard. “You should go.” Mingyu blinked. “What?” “I need space.” He didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. “Mingyu—” He stepped back, something shuttering in his face. “Right. Got it.” And just like that, he walked out. You shut the door and collapsed against it. Your chest ached in that specific, aching way that only happens when you push away something you want because you’re terrified you’ll destroy it. An hour later, your phone buzzed. Mingyu: I won’t chase you. But I’m not going anywhere either. You stared at the screen, heart thudding. Because that was the problem. He wasn’t going anywhere. And maybe that scared you more than anything. ~~ “You haven’t said anything in ten minutes,” Joshua pointed out, glancing at you from the other end of the couch.

“I’m thinking,” you replied, eyes fixed on the paused movie screen, not actually watching. He raised an eyebrow. “Dangerous territory.” You threw a popcorn kernel at him. “Ha-ha.” “Still no Mingyu?” “Nope.” “And that’s... good or bad?” You let out a long breath. “Confusing.” Joshua nodded slowly. “That tracks.” You finally looked at him. “Do you think I’m the problem?” He tilted his head. “Define ‘problem.’” “Do not make this worse.” He laughed under his breath. “Okay, look. You’ve had shit luck with relationships. You guard yourself. You get in your head. And yeah, sometimes you push people away before they can leave.” You blinked. “Damn. Don’t hold back.” “I’m just saying,” Joshua said, a little softer now. “Mingyu seems like the first guy who’s actually trying to stay. That scares the hell out of you, doesn’t it?” You didn’t answer. Later that night, you found yourself scrolling through photos. Pictures Mingyu had taken—blurry ones from the pub crawl, snapshots of street lights and half-smiles and candid moments. One of you laughing into a glass of wine. You hadn’t even known he’d taken that one. There was something about the way he saw the world. The way he saw you. Like he was already memorising you before he had the right to. Your heart ached.

~~ You couldn’t stop pacing. It had been a whole day since the fight, and your chest still felt tight. You hated fighting with Mingyu — it felt unnatural like the world was slightly off balance. You weren’t even sure how it had escalated so quickly.

One moment you were just trying to be honest, saying you needed some space to process everything that had happened between you two. The next, Mingyu was snapping, clearly frustrated, saying it felt like every time you took a step forward, you took two steps back.

Now, you were standing in your living room, debating whether to go over and knock on his door. Joshua had already given you a pep talk, telling you to just be honest with Mingyu, but it still felt like walking into a lion’s den. You weren’t even sure what you’d say.

“Screw it,” you mumbled to yourself, throwing on an oversized hoodie and making your way to his door before you could second-guess yourself again.

You hesitated for a second before giving three firm knocks. You heard some rustling on the other side, and then the door opened, revealing a tired-looking Mingyu. His hair was tousled, and he was in a plain white tee and sweats, but his expression was guarded.

“What do you want?” He asked, his tone sharper than usual.

You swallowed hard, feeling your resolve falter. “Can I come in?”

He hesitated, eyes scanning your face, before he finally stepped aside and let you in. You walked to the living room, standing awkwardly by the couch while Mingyu stayed by the door, arms crossed over his chest. The silence stretched uncomfortably.

“Mingyu,” you started softly, twisting your fingers together. “I hate fighting with you.”

He huffed, looking away. “Yeah, well, I hate feeling like I’m being pushed away every time things start getting good.”

You bit your lip, gathering your thoughts. “That’s not what I was trying to do. I wasn’t trying to push you away.”

“Then what the hell was it?” He snapped, finally turning to look at you, his eyes a mixture of hurt and frustration. “You do all these things that make me feel like this could be something, then the next day you’re saying you need space? I don’t get it. Am I supposed to just keep guessing how you feel?”

You took a deep breath and moved closer, but kept a little distance. “I... I got overwhelmed. I thought that if I took a step back, I’d be able to figure out what I was feeling without dragging you into my mess.”

Mingyu looked at you incredulously. “You are such a hypocrite, you know that? You keep telling me to be honest with how I feel, to just say it when I’m upset or happy or whatever. And then you get overwhelmed and decide to push me away instead of telling me what’s going on in your head.”

The guilt gnawed at your stomach, and you looked down. “I know. You’re right. I’m... I’m scared.”

“Of what?” Mingyu’s voice softened, but he didn’t move closer.

“Of how much I like you. Of how much this means to me. Because if this goes wrong... it’s gonna hurt. A lot,” you whispered, tears stinging your eyes.

Mingyu sighed deeply, rubbing his face with one hand. “You’re not the only one who’s scared, you know. I’m terrified of screwing this up too. But you don’t see me trying to put distance between us every time things get intense.”

You sniffled, wiping at your eyes. “I’m sorry. I just... I didn’t know how to handle it. I never thought I’d care about someone this much again. I just panicked.”

Mingyu finally moved, taking a step toward you. “You can’t keep doing that. You can’t keep pulling back every time you get scared. I can’t take it. I’m all in with you, but I need you to meet me halfway. I can’t keep feeling like I’m chasing after you while you’re running in the opposite direction.”

You nodded, stepping closer until you were right in front of him. “You’re right. I know you are. I’m sorry I keep doing that. I just... I’m scared of losing you, so I keep pushing you away before you can leave on your own.”

Mingyu’s expression softened, and he uncrossed his arms, his hands hovering uncertainly before he cupped your face. “I’m not leaving. Okay? I’m not. You’re stuck with me.”

A small, shaky laugh escaped you, and you leaned into his touch. “I don’t want you to leave.”

He brushed his thumb over your cheek, wiping away a stray tear. “Then stop making it so hard to stay,” he whispered, his voice softer now, more tender.

You nodded, covering his hands with yours. “I’m sorry. I’ll do better. I promise.”

His lips quirked into a small smile, and without another word, he leaned down and pressed a gentle, almost hesitant kiss to your lips. You melted into it, your hands sliding up to his shoulders as his fingers curled into your hair. The kiss was slow, tender, like he was reassuring himself that you were really there, that you weren’t going anywhere.

When you pulled back, you couldn’t help but smile up at him, and Mingyu sighed, pressing his forehead to yours. “You’re really exhausting sometimes, you know that?”

You let out a soft laugh, nodding. “Yeah. But I’m worth it, right?”

He chuckled, finally wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close. “Yeah. You are. Just... stop running, okay?”

You buried your face in his chest, feeling his heartbeat under your cheek. “Okay. I’m done running.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his hold tightening around you. “Good. Because I’m not letting you go.”

You looked up at him, and this time you kissed him first, letting your lips linger on his, soft and unhurried. Mingyu hummed contentedly, his hands sliding up your back. The tension melted away, and for the first time in what felt like forever, everything felt right again.~~

The next morning, after showering at Mingyu’s apartment and changing, you kissed Mingyu several times, before you left his place, and walked across the hall into your apartment to find Joshua seated at the kitchen counter with a bowl of cereal and the look. “You smell like sex and regret,” he said, casually spooning cereal into his mouth. “Morning to you, too.” “Is that Mingyu’s shirt?” You ignored him, heading toward your room. “You know,” he called after you, “I’ve been holding off on the ‘told you so,’ but I’m getting real close to breaking.” You stuck your head out. “Don’t.” Joshua raised both hands. “Just don’t get in too deep if you’re not willing to commit to him. It’ll hurt you both if that happens.” You stared at him. “What if I already am?” He frowned, setting down his spoon. “Then I hope any potential heartache is worth it.” ~~ That afternoon, you curled up on the sofa with your laptop. Article deadline looming. Blank document open. Brain, fried. It wasn’t until Mingyu texted that something sparked: Mingyu: What’s your favourite love story? You stared at the screen. You: Fictional? Mingyu: No. Real. You: Mine hasn’t been written yet. Mingyu: What if we wrote it together? Your chest did that stupid fluttering thing again. Like your heart had gone off-script. You smiled. You: Bold of you to assume you’d make the final draft. Mingyu: You keep rewriting the intro, babe. I’m just trying to stay on the page. You bit your lip, closing the chat. And just like that, your fingers flew across the keyboard. Because suddenly, you had something to say. ~~ Two days later, you knocked on Mingyu’s door with with snacks in attempt to bribe him to edit your lastest draft.

He opened it with sleepy eyes and messy hair, wearing a hoodie that had no business looking that good. “Morning beautiful,” he greeted with a warm smile. You smiled, and held up a USB. “I wrote a my final draft of my most recent article, do you want to help me edit?” Final draft. No red pen needed.”

“Is that why you have snacks?” He asked already smiling. You grinned “Maybe.” “Well in that case, get in here, Hemingway,” he teased, stepping aside to let you in. You watched him read it from across the room. He didn’t say anything for a long time. Just kept scrolling, eyes focused, mouth slightly parted.

When he finished, he looked up. “That last line… ‘a spark can form the most unusual of places and encounters’.” You tilted your head. “Too much?” He shook his head. “No. It’s perfect.” You smiled softly. “It’s about you.” “I figured,” he said, walking over, “but it still wrecked me.” You leaned against the counter. “Good. That’s what great writing does.” He stepped closer. “So, does this mean you’ll fight for us?” “I think so.” He grinned. “Good, that’s all I can ask for.” “I think you already are.” And as he kissed you—slow, deliberate, familiar in all the right ways—you let the weight fall from your shoulders. Because maybe this wasn’t the start of a love story. Maybe it was the chapter where things stopped being a fantasy… ...and finally started feeling real. ~~ “You’ve been quiet all evening.” You glanced up from your wine glass. Mingyu was stretched out on the other side of the couch, hoodie sleeves bunched around his forearms, watching you with careful eyes. “I’m thinking.” “That’s dangerous,” he teased, but his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Want to talk about it?” “I don’t know how.” He nodded like he understood—but you could tell it still stung. You shifted in your seat. “What are we doing?” Mingyu blinked. “What do you mean?” “This thing. Us. It’s not just sex anymore.” “No, it’s not.” “And we’re not exactly friends either.” “I’m okay with not having a label,” he said. “Are you?” You looked down at your glass. “I want to be.” “But you’re not.” “I’m scared that if I name it, I’ll ruin it.” Mingyu sat up slowly. “You think love ruins things?” “I think people do.” That hit harder than you intended, and you both knew it. Later, when he kissed you, it was slow and sweet, like he was trying to remind you it didn’t have to be scary. You kissed him back with everything you had. And maybe that was the problem. Because giving someone everything? It meant they had the power to break you. ~~ The following day, the tension hadn’t left. You both pretended it had. You made breakfast. He teased you for burning the eggs. You laughed too loudly. He smiled too easily. But the silence between the sentences was deafening. When he finally left, the apartment felt too quiet. And when Joshua came home, he took one look at you and sighed. “Okay. Spill.” You sank onto the sofa. “I think I’m falling for him.” Joshua’s eyes widened; he never thought you’d admit it so quickly, but he didn’t interrupt. “And I don’t know if I’m ready.” He sat beside you, unusually serious. “Then don’t rush it. But don’t run from it either.” “I’m not running.” “You’re limping away at full speed.” You groaned. “God, you’re annoying when you’re right.” He smiled and bumped his shoulder against yours. “I only pull it out when necessary.” ~~ It was one of those quiet evenings, the kind where the city seemed to take a collective breath. You were on your way back from the grocery store, bags in hand, when you spotted Mingyu standing just outside your apartment building. At first, the sight of him made you smile – he was leaning against the railing, his broad shoulders relaxed, his profile illuminated by the soft glow of the street lamp.

But then you noticed he wasn’t alone.

A girl stood in front of him, long hair cascading over her shoulders, wearing a fitted leather jacket and heels that clicked against the pavement. She was laughing at something he said, her hand brushing his arm lightly. Your steps faltered, and you instinctively took a step back, ducking behind the edge of the building.

Your heart clenched, a weird mix of confusion and something dangerously close to jealousy settling in your chest. You couldn’t help but feel stupid – why did it bother you so much to see him with someone else? It wasn’t like you had a claim on him. But there was something about how effortlessly beautiful she looked, how easily she made him laugh, that made your stomach twist uncomfortably.

A million questions ran through your mind. Did he know her from work? Was she just a friend? Or worse, an ex? You couldn’t help but notice how naturally he smiled at her, the way he leaned down to hear her better, his hand brushing back his hair the way he did when he was feeling a little self-conscious. You felt like a complete idiot, rooted to the spot, irrationally annoyed at how close they seemed.

You peeked around the corner, just enough to see her lean in a bit closer, her hand lingering on his arm. Mingyu seemed a little uncomfortable, glancing down at her hand before giving her a polite smile. They exchanged a few more words that you couldn’t quite hear, and then she waved, heading off down the sidewalk.

You waited until she was out of sight before stepping back out, trying to act natural. You kept your gaze on the ground as you made your way to the entrance, but of course, Mingyu spotted you instantly.

“Hey!” He called out, jogging over to you.

You forced a smile, not quite meeting his eyes. “Hey.”

He seemed to hesitate, studying your face. “What’s up? You okay?”

“Yeah, just tired,” you mumbled, shifting the grocery bag to your other hand.

Mingyu frowned, stepping closer. “Are you sure? You seem... off.”

You forced yourself to meet his gaze, offering a small smile that felt too tight. “Yeah, just a long day.”

He didn’t look convinced. “Here, let me help.” Before you could protest, he took one of the bags from your hand, his fingers brushing yours. The familiar warmth made your heart ache, and you bit your lip to keep your expression neutral.

As you walked inside, you couldn’t help but feel silly for feeling so... possessive. You weren’t even sure why it hit you so hard. Sure, Mingyu had been flirty with you, and you had shared some intense moments, but did that really mean he wasn’t allowed to have other girls around?

Your mind kept replaying the way the girl leaned into him, her bright, carefree laugh, and the way Mingyu didn’t immediately step away. You hated how insecure it made you feel, and even more so how your mood had completely flipped.

When you reached your apartment, Mingyu put the bags on the kitchen counter and turned to you, concern etched into his features. “You’re incredibly cute when you’re grumpy, but I must still ask, why did you storm off when I called your name?” Mingyu stood in your doorway, his tone curious.

“I didn’t think you’d notice.”

“Of course I noticed.”

You crossed your arms, heart thudding. “You seemed busy.”

Mingyu scoffed. “What does that mean?”

“You were laughing. With some girl.”

“Seokmin’s cousin?”

You looked away. “Does it matter?”

“It does when you weaponise jealousy against me.”

Silence stretched between you like a taut wire ready to snap.

“I wasn’t trying to hurt you,” you whispered.

“But you did.”

You met his eyes. “So did you.”

He sighed, stepping back. “We were supposed to be honest. About what we wanted. About how we felt.”

“You said we didn’t need labels.”

“I didn’t think that meant lying to ourselves.”

Your voice cracked. “I wasn’t lying.”

“No?” He said, eyes searching yours. “Then tell me you don’t care about me.”

You blinked.

Tell him.

Say it.

But you couldn’t.

Because it wasn’t true.

And silence was the loudest answer of all. ~~ You didn’t speak for a week. No texts. No knocks on the door. No laughter through the walls.

It was excruciating. Even Joshua stopped teasing you.

“You okay?” Joshua asked one night, quietly.

You nodded. He didn’t press.

You sat at your laptop, staring at the blinking cursor. You hadn’t written a single word since the argument with Mingyu. It was as if you had lost your muse.

Worse—you might’ve lost him too. ~~ Another three days passed. You were walking home, umbrella flipping inside out in the wind, when you saw it: A plant. Sitting on your doorstep. A bonsai.

With a tiny note taped to the pot.

“Joshua told me you don’t like when plants have human names, but Lydia 2.0 says she misses you. -M”

You stared at it. Then you cried. Not a pretty, cinematic cry. A real one. Messy. Gutting. Cathartic. Because it wasn’t about the plant. It was about the space he left—and how much of you still lived in it. You knocked on his door the next day. No answer. You knocked again. Then again.

Finally, the door opened. Mingyu stood there, in a hoodie and sweatpants, eyes tired, expression guarded.

You held up the note. “You’re still annoying, you know that?”

“Glad to know I still have that effect.”

You exhaled. “Can we talk?”

He stepped aside. You both sat on the floor. No pretence. No distance. Just you two, knees touching.

“I miss you,” you admitted.

Mingyu nodded. “I missed you, too.”

“I panicked,” you confessed. “I didn’t know how to handle what I was feeling, and I ran. I always run.”

“And I push,” he said. “When I want something, I push hard for it.”

You looked at him. “This thing between us... it’s not just physical anymore.”

“No,” he said softly. “It’s not.”

You reached for his hand. “So what now?”

He didn’t hesitate. “Now, we start over. No rules. No games. Just us.”

You bit your lip. “And if I mess up again?”

“Then I’ll remind you why you chose me the first time.”

You laughed through your tears. “You’re really good at that, you know?”

Mingyu smiled, leaning forward until your foreheads touched.

“Let’s just take it slow,” you whispered.

He nodded. “Slow sounds perfect.”

And in the quiet of his apartment, with your hand in his and hope blooming in the wreckage. You realised this wasn’t a new chapter. This was the real beginning. ~~ “So, what’s the plan for the housewarming?”

Mingyu’s voice drifted through the doorway as you padded into his kitchen, still half-asleep in your oversized T-shirt, hair sticking up in odd angles. You squinted at him, blinking the sleep out of your eyes.

“What housewarming?” You mumbled, fumbling for your mug and the coffee pot.

Mingyu gave you a lopsided grin. “The one I said we should do this some time next weekend? Seokmin and Seungcheol hyung are finally settled in. So I was planning to invite some of our friends, it’d be a nice way for everyone to see the new place, and we can also invite your housemates too?”

You took a long sip of coffee, the caffeine finally beginning to wake you up. “Oh. Yeah, sounds good. Just drinks and stuff?”

“Yeah, keep it chill—drinks, music, maybe a game or two if Seokmin gets bored enough,” Mingyu replied, leaning back against the counter with that casual confidence of his.

You raised an eyebrow. “You know Seokmin’s going to demand karaoke. Are you prepared for that chaos?”

Mingyu snorted. “I’m mentally preparing. I’ll make sure we have enough soju to tolerate his high notes.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Sounds like a solid plan. Who’s handling the drinks and snacks?”

He gave you a thoughtful look. “I’ll handle the drinks, you take care of the snacks? That way I don’t accidentally buy a bunch of instant ramen and call it party food.”

You chuckled, nudging him lightly with your elbow. “Yeah, that’s probably a good idea. I’ll make a list. You’ll just have to carry all the bags.”

Mingyu smirked. “That’s what I’m here for—manual labor and looking pretty.”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help the fond smile tugging at your lips. “You do one of those things better than the other.”

He made a face. “Wow, that’s harsh. I’ll have you know, I can carry all the groceries in one trip.”

“Sure, Hercules,” you teased, pouring yourself another cup of coffee. “Are you inviting everyone from the building or just the usual crowd?”

“Just the usual. Maybe a few others from the floor if Seokmin gets carried away. You know how he is—an introverted social butterfly in a chaotic package,” Mingyu replied, shaking his head fondly.

You hummed in agreement. “I’ll handle the playlist then. Can’t trust you to not play EDM the whole night.”

Mingyu put a hand to his chest, feigning offense. “I have taste, okay? Just because I like a good bass drop doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate your acoustic love songs.”

You rolled your eyes. “I swear, if I hear one remix of a ballad, I’m kicking you out of your own party.”

He laughed, giving you a soft look. “Deal. I’ll keep it classy. Promise.”

As you both continued planning, Mingyu pulled out his phone, showing you a few decoration ideas. You couldn’t help but notice how excited he seemed about hosting—how he wanted everything to be perfect. It was endearing, really.

“So, we’ll get some fairy lights, right?” Mingyu asked, scrolling through a list of supplies.

You nodded. “Definitely. Maybe some cute string lights too, for the balcony. And I’ll put together a few cocktail recipes—something easy for people to mix themselves.”

Mingyu grinned. “You know, we make a pretty good team.”

You smiled, feeling a flutter in your chest. “Yeah, we do.”

He leaned closer, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Just make sure you save a dance for me, alright? Even if Seokmin’s singing ‘I Want It That Way’ at the top of his lungs.”

You snorted. “I’ll consider it—if you promise to at least try not to drink every cocktail I make.”

Mingyu chuckled, brushing a stray strand of hair out of your face. “No promises. Your drinks are dangerously good.”

You gave him a soft smile, warmth spreading through you at his touch. As the two of you continued planning, you couldn’t help but think that this housewarming wasn’t just about the new place—it was about starting something new between the two of you, too.

~~ You were sitting on the living room couch, scrolling through your phone when you heard the front door open. Wonwoo stepped inside, holding a takeout bag, his shoulders looking a little less tense than usual after a long day at work. You looked up and gave him a small smile as he kicked off his shoes.

“Long day?” You asked, setting your phone down.

Wonwoo nodded, letting out a quiet sigh. “Yeah. Presentation ran over time, and then the client had about a thousand questions.”

You gestured for him to sit next to you, and he plopped down on the couch, stretching his legs out. “Well, I’ve got some news that might cheer you up,” you said, a hint of excitement in your voice.

Wonwoo raised an eyebrow, smirking. “What now? You won the lottery or something?”

“Better,” you grinned. “There’s a party this weekend. Mingyu and his roommates are hosting a housewarming.”

Wonwoo gave you a skeptical look. “A party? At Mingyu’s place?”

“Yep,” you confirmed. “Seokmin and Cheol are finally settled in, and Mingyu thought it’d be a good idea to invite everyone over. Drinks, music, probably some weird games if Seokmin has anything to say about it.”

Wonwoo snorted, shaking his head. “Sounds chaotic. But it could be fun.”

You nodded. “Exactly. Plus, it’s a good way to get to know everyone better. I already told Mingyu we’d be there.”

He gave you a sideways glance. “You sure about that? Joshua’s been swamped lately. Don’t know if he’ll be up for it.”

You mock pouted at him. “Come on Wonwoo, please?” “Fine, against my better judgement, fine.”

Wonwoo took a breathe and gave you scrutinising look. “So... what’s the deal with you and Mingyu?”

Your smile faltered slightly. “What do you mean?”

He crossed his arms, clearly not letting this go. “I mean, you’re now planning a party together? Isn’t that something incredibly couple like? Are you two a thing now or what?”

You hesitated, not sure how to put it into words. “We’re... figuring things out. It’s not really labeled or anything.”

Wonwoo’s eyes narrowed, clearly not satisfied with that answer. “You sure you’re not rushing into something? You haven’t really known him that long.”

You bristled slightly. “It’s not like that. We’re just spending time together, seeing where it goes.”

“Spending time, huh? You know that’s how people get feelings right?” Wonwoo said cautiously.

You frowned. “I’m not some lovesick idiot, you know. I know how to take care of myself.” Wonwoo raised his hands in surrender. “Hey, I’m just looking out for you. I’ve you get hurt and cry over idiots, I don’t want crying over yet another guy.”

Your stomach twisted at his words, a tiny seed of doubt planting itself despite your best efforts to ignore it. “Mingyu’s not like that, he’s kind, warm and compassionate.”

Wonwoo gave you a half-smile. “You sure not love sick?”

You didn’t know how to respond, so you just nodded. Wonwoo gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze before heading to his room.

Left alone with your thoughts, frustration bubbled under your skin. You didn’t want to doubt Mingyu, but Wonwoo’s words kept bouncing around your head. To dispel the tension, you found yourself cleaning the living room with more force than necessary, wiping down the coffee table and fluffing the pillows like they’d personally offended you.

After vacuuming the floor and reorganizing the bookshelf twice, you stopped to catch your breath, realizing how ridiculous you were being. You were annoyed—not just with Wonwoo, but with yourself for letting his words get to you. You couldn’t help it. Mingyu made you feel safe, seen and cared for, and Wonwoo’s word sowed a seed of worry in your mind.

The sound of a knock at the door pulled you out of your thoughts. You opened it, and there stood Mingyu, leaning against the frame with a casual smile.

“Hey, the apartment door was open,” he greeted, his voice soft.

“Hey,” you replied, trying to muster a smile.

Mingyu’s eyes roamed the room, noticing the freshly cleaned space. “Wow. Did you go on a cleaning spree?”

You shrugged. “Just needed to do something to clear my head.”

He gave you a curious look, his smile fading a bit. “Something on your mind?”

You bit your lip, debating whether to bring up what Wonwoo said. “Just... thinking about stuff.”

Mingyu stepped closer, his hand reaching out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “If you need to talk, I’m here.”

Your heart squeezed at the simple, sincere gesture. You leaned into his touch, letting out a long breath. “It’s nothing, really. Just overthinking, I guess.”

He cupped your cheek gently, his thumb brushing your skin. “You sure? I don’t like seeing you stressed.”

You nodded, leaning into his touch. “I’m fine. Just... needed a distraction.”

Mingyu’s lips quirked up in a gentle smile. “I’m good at distractions.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the tension easing from your shoulders. Mingyu’s presence had a way of making the chaos in your mind feel a little quieter.

“Stay?” You whispered.

He leaned in, his forehead resting against yours. “Always.”

You let out a small sigh of relief, and without thinking, you closed the distance between your lips, kissing him softly. Mingyu responded immediately, his hands slipping to your waist, pulling you closer. The kiss was slow, unhurried—like he was taking his time to reassure you that he wasn’t going anywhere.

When you finally pulled back, Mingyu gave you a soft smile, brushing his nose against yours. “Feel better?”

You smiled, your heart fluttering in your chest. “Yeah. A lot better.”

Mingyu pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead before pulling you into a warm hug. You closed your eyes, letting the comfort of his embrace push away the doubts that had threatened to take over.

#svt fic recs #mingyu fic recs #mdni

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gyupremacy-recs · 3 months ago

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I never knew I needed Rockstar guitarist!seokjin in my life! I love it sm 😍

Very Bad Behavior

→ Summary: Tall, dark, and dangerous. Sex, drugs, and rock and roll. They say bad things come in threes, and you’ve spent your entire life steering clear of every troublesome temptation. But when a familiar stranger catches your eye one night at work, resisting suddenly feels impossible. You might just start to wonder how bad can indulging in a little bad behavior really be? Especially when it feels so good…

↠ seokjin x f.reader | 6.9k words | 18+ ↠ genre: rockstar au, one night stand, famous guitarist!seokjin x oblivious/non-fan bartender!reader, smut, strangers to lovers

→ Warnings: explicit sex, protected sex, rough sex, strong language, drug usage, alcohol consumption, praise kink, hair pulling, biting, mutual masturbation, manhandling, nipple play, breast play, begging, dirty talk, heavy teasing, spanking, multiple orgasms, grinding, exhibitionism, doggy, deep dicking, size kink, Seokjin is (rightfully) cocky about his huge dong, belly bulge, getting off from the vibrations created by jin’s motorcycle 👀, cocky dom!seokjin, oh and i almost forgot… jin’s got a magic cross dick piercing 😈

→ Networks: @ksmutsociety @k-vanity @keopihaus @lapydiaries @bangtanwritershq

→ Author Note: This is long overdue (me and collab deadlines don’t have the best relationship lol), here’s my part of the Can’t Be Tamed collab hosted by Sav @jeonjcngkook. Also a big thank you to Ley @pars-ley for beta reading this for me, I adore you!!!! As always, all likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated <3 divider credit

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“What can I get you?” you holler over your shoulder to the new body sitting on an open stool. Quickly stuffing the cash into the register, you turn around with your usual customer-service smile and hand the remaining change to the couple as they gather their things, preparing to leave.

It’s been busy all day, with waves of customers coming and going, but now you’re in that brief lull after the dinner rush, just before the night crowd starts to fill the room. With the peak of the summer season in full swing, business has been non-stop. And tonight should be even more hectic as it’s Friday night.

Walking toward the new guy waiting, you look him over while trying to get a good read. You first notice his glazed-over and slightly red eyes, a trait you easily recognize as a bartender at a popular downtown dive bar. He has a half-smoked blunt hanging between his fingers, somehow making himself look even more attractive.

Next, your vision trails along the black ink covering his tanned skin; a lightning bolt at the corner of his right eye, Fearless scribbled below his left, and a large piece with skulls and roses took up most of the space on his neck. And even though he’s wearing a leather jacket, it’s not hard to guess that his arms and other places are most likely covered by tattoos too.

“Surprise me, gorgeous,” he says, leaning forward with a dangerous smile.

Rolling your eyes at the overused line, you reach for the ingredients you need to mix something this pretentious guy would never order for himself. You do your best to hide your smirk as you grab the bottle of peach schnapps from the sea of other liquors and the orange juice from the cooler near your waist.

His gaze wanders from your curvaceous backside to what you’re making. “Ah, Sex on a Beach,” he notes, as you hand over the cherry-colored drink, with the umbrella and all. “My favorite.” His sparkling eyes lock with yours when your hands touch during the exchange.

“Really? Somehow, I doubt that.”

“Well, that’s fair. Would it be more believable if I said I’m usually more of a Jack and Coke guy?”

“Oh wow, now that is surprising,” you tease. “Who would’ve guessed?”

“Alright, what’s your go-to then? What do you recommend?”

You lean against the counter, pretending to ponder deeply, “I would have to say peanut butter flavored whiskey has my attention at the moment.”

“Fuck that,” he says with another grin that shows off his perfectly white teeth.

Who is this man, and why is he such a stunner?!

“You can’t be serious?”

A smirk grows on your lips as you grab two shot glasses and the bottle of Skrewball. You fill them without looking, a fun bartender trick of yours, keeping your eyes locked onto his. You pass one to him, keeping the other for yourself and lifting it to cheers, “Bottoms up.”

He lets out a sigh, “Here goes nothin’...” His face immediately twists up in disgust, and he sputters after swallowing. “Oh my god,” he clears his throat. “That has to be the worst thing I’ve ever put in my mouth.”

“Oh come on, I’m sure nastier things have found their way between your lips,” you joke, laughing while he finishes the glass of water you also set out for him.

“You have no idea…” he says, playing along.

“So, what brings you to town?” And more importantly, how long are you here for?

“Ah, I’m just here for the weekend with my buddies,” he smiles, before taking a sip of his sex on the beach.

The front door opening interrupts your conversation, and a group of college-aged guys walk in, who immediately wave you down to get their drinks.

“Hold that thought,” you say, eyes drifting back to the door as it opens again for the next group that struts in and joins the guys who are now whistling for your attention. “I’ll be right back, gotta take care of these assholes.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it. When I need another I’ll just whistle for ya.” He smirks, and your insides heat up while you walk away. You don’t know him, but you like him.

Unfortunately, that lovely group kept you busier than you would have liked. By the time you can satisfy them and the girls whose drinks they also bought, the handsome stranger is long gone.

All that remains is an empty glass sitting on top of a napkin with the words, “Thanks for the chat and the amazing sex (on the beach), See you around!” scribbled along with a crisp hundred-dollar bill.

You wonder if you'll ever see him again. The odds are slim, and you try not to let that sting.

The rest of the night flies by, and before you know it, it’s approaching 3 a.m. Much to no one's surprise, you’ve made your entire month’s rent in tips tonight, which is why you love working closing shifts when everyone else would prefer to already be home and in bed.

Bartending is typically an easy job if you like being social. Drunk men are easy to flirt with and the money flows if you can bullshit with them for long enough.

“Have a good night, guys,” you say, waving goodbye to Jenny, the other bartender working with you tonight, and her boyfriend Dino, who also happens to be the bar’s bouncer.

They wave back and say goodnight before turning to walk home together, leaving you to finish locking up.

Your loud yawn is hidden by the low rumbles of a nearby motorcycle, and the exhaustion of the busy night finally hits you. Dropping your keys into your purse, you turn in the opposite direction to head home.

“Calling it a night this early?” a familiar voice says from the darkness surrounding you. You freeze in place, trying to make out the shadowed figure.

“Oh,” you say in relief, after taking a couple of steps closer and seeing the hot guy from earlier. “It's you.”

“I was wondering when you’d get off,” he says, his smooth voice making your skin shiver.

“Aww, have you been waiting this whole time?” you ask, a slight tease in your tone.

He leans casually against his bike, the city lights flickering in his eyes. “Nah, I met up with my friends for a bit. Then realized I forgot to give you something.”

You tilt your head, with a playful smirk on your lips. “Let me guess, your number? Or your name?” Heat curls in your stomach; either one would be a win.

“Maybe,” he murmurs, stepping closer, his gaze trailing over you like a slow caress. “But you gotta work for it.” He swings a leg over his motorcycle and taps the empty space in front of him. “Sit.”

You raise a brow but obey, straddling the bike backward so you're facing him. It’s not like you’re going for a ride, so what does it matter? He doesn’t complain about your positioning. His hands quickly find your thighs, his thumbs tracing slow, intoxicating circles into your skin.

“So…” you exhale, pulse quickening under his touch. “What did you forget?”

His smile turns cocky, and without warning he leans in, his lips a breath away from yours.

“This,” he whispers before kissing you. He claims your mouth with a hunger that leaves no room for doubt and certainly no space for air. His hands tighten on your thighs, pulling you closer until there’s nothing between you.

You can’t believe this is happening, you’re practically straddling a hot stranger’s lap, tangled in a very heated kiss. Even the cool night air does nothing to tame the fire licking at your skin.

Threading your fingers through his thick hair, you tug just enough to draw a low groan from him. Your hips shift instinctively, and the moment you do, a gasp slips from your lips. The deep purr of the motorcycle beneath you vibrates through every inch of your body, teasing that sensitive bundle of nerves through your jean shorts.

He pulls back just enough to smirk, his breath hot against your lips. “Does that feel good, gorgeous?” His voice is low, dripping with sin. “Are you a needy little whore who just has to get off?”

Before you can respond, his strong hand presses against your lower back, guiding you down against the hard metal of his bike. The vibrations intensify, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Grind those hips, baby,” he purrs, his other hand still gripping your thigh. “Show me how needy you are.”

A whimper escapes you as your hips obey, moving with desperate friction, chasing that delicious edge. He leans in, his lips grazing your ear as he whispers filth that only makes the ache worse.

“You’re such a pretty little whore,” he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. “But I think you need to show a little more skin for me.”

He tugs down the scoop neckline of your shirt, exposing the delicate lace of your bra. His eyes darken, admiration flickering in them as he takes in the sight of you.

He leans in, his warm breath ghosting over the fabric before he presses his mouth against it. Leaving a teasing kiss, then another. His tongue traces over the lace, dampening it, before he tugs it down, both layers of fabric pushing your breasts up enticingly. His gaze flickers up to meet yours, and he grins devilishly as he watches them bounce in time with your desperate movements.

Without warning, his lips latch onto the soft peak of your flesh, sucking greedily before biting down just enough to make you gasp. The sharp pleasure sends another jolt of heat pooling low in your stomach. He moves to the other nipple, his tongue teasing you and savoring this moment.

He doesn’t need to hear you say that you’re close; he can feel it in the way your hips stutter against his bike. Your movements growing erratic, more desperate.

He groans against your skin, voice thick with satisfaction. “Come undone for me,” he commands, his grip tightening. His voice is possessive and downright dangerous. “Right now.”

Your body shatters, pleasure ripping through you in the form of an uncontrollable moan spilling from your lips. He holds you close, his lips brushing against your temple as he chuckles, satisfied.

“Good girl,” he murmurs smugly, his voice laced with approval. “That’s it.” He pulls your bra and shirt back up, covering your exposed skin just before a car drives by.

You’re still catching your breath, pulse hammering, when reality crashes back in. “Oh my god,” you whisper, pressing a hand to your face. “I cannot believe that just happened.”

He grins, tilting his head. “Oh, you better believe it, sweetheart.” He lets his fingers trail over your thigh before reaching into his leather jacket, pulling out a small envelope.

“Here.” He holds it out to you, his smirk sinful. “Save a little of that bad behavior for me tomorrow.”

You take the envelope, raising an eyebrow. “What is this?”

He laughs, shaking his head. “Open it later and find out.”

You roll your eyes, but the teasing glint in your gaze betrays your curiosity. “Mysterious and cocky. Dangerous combo.”

“You’re into it,” he counters smoothly, reaching around your body and revving the engine beneath you. The vibrations send a wicked aftershock through your overstimulated body, making you shiver. His pleased smirk deepens. “Time to hop off, baby.”

You bite your lip, still breathless. “All that, and you’re still not going to tell me your name?”

He shakes his head, amusement dancing in his dark eyes. “Show up tomorrow, and maybe I will.”

With one last lingering glance, you slide off his bike, your legs still unsteady as you head back to your car.

He watches you with that devilish smirk, like he already knows you’ll meet him damn near anywhere tomorrow. Just for a repeat of something similar to tonight.

And dammit, he’s probably right.

Everyone told Seokjin that bringing his motorcycle on tour was a bad idea.

It’ll take up too much space. It might get damaged. Some unhinged fan could steal it and sell it for a million dollars.

But none of those reasons had been enough to stop him. Especially when the pro list included making you come undone last night, riding the vibrations of his engine like a damn symphony.

That memory alone? Worth every logistical nightmare.

He smirks to himself, leaning against a wall backstage, eyes scanning the slowly filling venue. Doors had opened thirty minutes ago, and the first opener is about to hit the stage.

But so far…there’s no sign of the pretty brunette that he’s been unable to stop thinking about.

“There you are,” a deep voice says from behind.

Startled, Seokjin turns slightly to find Yoongi, one of the band’s other guitarists, watching him with mild amusement.

“Didn’t think you were the crowd-watching type,” Yoongi adds with a raised eyebrow, stepping beside him.

Seokjin shrugs, trying to play it cool. “Just scoping the energy.”

“Uh-huh. Seems like you’re looking for someone?”

Jin manages to dodge the question when Taehyung, their lead singer, bursts out of the dressing room with a parade of barely-dressed women behind him.

“Dude,” Taehyung groans dramatically, “Where’s the fucking booze? The dressing room’s already dry. Can you believe that shit?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Yoongi deadpans.

The two immediately fall into their usual back-and-forth, trading sarcastic barbs and wild theories about who drank the last bottle of whiskey. But Seokjin tunes them out.

His gaze is still locked on the crowd, his fingers tapping nervously against his thigh. You’d never confirmed that you were coming tonight, despite him counting on it.

Did you look up the band after opening that envelope? The one he slipped into your hands right before you walked away, while you were still flushed and a little breathless after your little exhibitionist act? The one containing a ticket to tonight’s sold out show, with an all-access pass that gets you the best view inside the barricade, plus allows you backstage.

He wonders if you pieced it together, if you made the connection about who he was.

You two hit it off instantly. It was far more than he ever expected when he stopped by that bar for a quick drink, barely an hour after their tour bus pulled into the venue lot. He’d debated it. Going out without security wasn’t exactly recommended, not with how massive their fanbase is. But it was still early enough in the night before it would be too busy, and surprisingly, no one recognized him.

Not even you. That was the most refreshing part.

You didn’t look at him like he was Seokjin, popular rhythm guitarist of Dark & Wild, the notoriously reckless band that had carved its name into rock history with more scandals than awards. You weren’t starry-eyed over the media headlines, the platinum records, or the chaos they left behind in every city.

You looked at him like he was just a man.

Not a musician, not a rockstar. Just a stranger with a sharp jaw, a dirty mouth, and a bike that made you blush.

You didn’t know he was in the middle of the Can’t Be Tamed world tour, one of the most anticipated events in music, already dubbed by critics as legendary, unfiltered, and unforgettable.

And that’s what made last night feel so real. It was raw and unscripted. Something he hasn’t had the pleasure of enjoying in quite some time.

Now, with adrenaline in the air and the crowd getting louder, he’s wondering if you'll stand out from the sea of faces. Or if you’ll remain hidden at the back of the crowd. He hopes you’ll use your advantage and be right up front. Right below his spot on stage, so he can tower over your pretty frame and show off.

God, he really hopes that’s the case.

As the bass echoes off the walls and stage lights flash when the first band takes the stage, Seokjin can’t help but wonder if last night was the last time he’ll ever see you?

With a quiet sigh, he turns away from the crowd and heads back to the dressing room to finish putting on his makeup and stage outfit. Still, his mind keeps drifting back to you.

His lips curl into a smirk at the memory of your face last night. How gorgeous you looked as you came undone in front of him, bold and unfiltered, grinding against the vibrations of his bike like you had nothing to prove. Damn, you were daring. Something refreshing that he found sexy as hell.

Jin chuckles under his breath, the memory fading as another wave of uninteresting women spills into the room with the company of his other bandmates.

A concert ticket… and an all-access pass? Is this what he’s in town for?

You turn the items over in your hands, reading the details printed in bold ink. Dark & Wild – Can’t Be Tamed World Tour. Your eyes widen slightly. That’s tonight.

You bite your lip, thinking it over.

Dark & Wild. Is that his favorite band? It would make sense, he definitely looks like the type who enjoys heavy guitar riffs and screaming fans. And he did mention he was only in town for the weekend.

But how the hell did he manage to score tickets? You remember hearing on the radio at work that the concert had completely sold out weeks ago.

Maybe he works for the band? A roadie, perhaps? He did have that confident, edgy energy. Like someone who thrives in the chaos of tour life, all the late nights and loud music.

Whatever his connection is, it doesn’t really matter. You’re just excited to see him again for your date tonight. Sure, it was technically just an invitation…but in your head, it counts as a date. And the butterflies in your stomach haven’t stopped fluttering since you opened the envelope earlier.

You can’t even remember the last time you were this excited for something. It’s been forever since a guy made your heart race. And, if you’re being honest, even longer since someone made you come like that.

So yeah, you’re definitely going.

You even decide to dress up more than you normally would for a concert. Not that you like to try hard, but hey, you’ve got someone to impress. Slipping into a black mini skirt that hugs your hips just right, you pair it with a black and white leopard print corset that cinches your waist and shows just enough cleavage to tempt. Then come the knee-high red leather boots that make your legs look a mile long and are impossible to ignore.

You twist your dark hair up into a messy-but-intentional style, securing it with a sharp chrome hair clip that glints under the light. With a swipe of eyeliner and a touch of red lipstick, you take one last glance in the mirror. Perfect timing, because your phone buzzes soon after.

Grabbing your purse, you sigh in an attempt to calm the nerves glittering beneath the surface as your Uber pulls up. The ride is short, or perhaps your mind is just preoccupied with the possibilities of tonight.

After getting dropped off, your heart flutters with each step you make toward the venue doors. The closer you get, the more real it feels.

Once the staff member waves you through after scanning your ticket, your pulse quickens. You’re about to see him again. The mysterious stranger who took one ordinary night and turned it into something wild. You wonder if he’s already arrived, if he’s waiting for you. If his face will light up when you walk toward him.

An hour later, your excitement slowly starts to unravel. The second act is about to finish their set, and there’s still no sign of him. You’ve been scanning the crowd nonstop, but the faces blur together under pulsing lights and stage fog. Though you know you’d be able to sense him.

But he’s not here.

Your stomach knots a little tighter with each passing minute. Maybe he got caught up. Maybe he’s still on the way. Maybe he’s at the bar. Maybe–

You chew your bottom lip, clutching your purse a little tighter.

Maybe he changed his mind.

As a last resort, you make your way toward the security guards stationed at the far left side of the barricade, right by the emergency exit doors.

You’ve been quietly watching from afar as a couple of crew members flash their passes before slipping past security like it’s no big deal. You hadn’t wanted to go that route unless you had to. But now, with no sign of him in the crowd and your hope thinning by the minute, it feels like your only shot.

You hesitate; the idea of being so close to the stage makes you uneasy. Especially when you barely know anything about the headliners who are about to run out. You don’t want to look out of place, like someone who doesn’t belong.

Still, you have to do it. You internally groan as you approach the guards, trying to look casual as you hold out your pass. They barely glance at it before nodding and letting you through. You step past the barricade and find a spot that hugs the left side of the stage, doing your best to stay out of the spotlight.

This side of the barrier is mostly empty. A few photographers are positioned with heavy cameras and media badges dangling from their necks. Past them and off to the right, you spot a small group of women. Probably girlfriends, or maybe groupies, laughing amongst themselves, already at ease.

He’s not here either.

You scan again, just to be sure.

Still, there’s no sign of the handsome stranger.

You’re about to give up and leave, heavy disappointment beginning to settle in. Of all the people to get stood up by, it had to be someone who was really nice, actually funny, and insanely attractive.

Boy, do you know how to pick them.

Just when you’re ready to call it a night, you catch yourself and halt your mood from worsening. Fuck it. Why should you miss out on the show? It’s free, after all. Now that the popular band is about to take the stage, you might as well stay and enjoy the music. It sure as hell beats going home to another lonely evening.

Suddenly, the stage lights dim, and the crowd roars as members start stepping into their places. As the intro of their first song begins, the lights flash back on and the screaming intensifies. That’s when your heart does a little flip, as your eyes fall on him.

Wait.

Holy shit.

It takes a moment for it to sink in, but when it does, you inhale rapidly. Your stranger isn’t a fan or roadie…he’s in the band.

His eyes lock onto yours across the stage, and you freeze, completely stunned by this new information. He smiles, pleased to see you, and then bam. That familiar smirk spreads across his face. He winks next, which makes your stomach flip as the barricade of fangirls behind you scream even louder.

What a fucking tease.

The roar of the crowd, the pounding beat of the drums, and the electrifying guitar riffs all hit you at once. You feel the vibrations from the amps in your chest. As they dive further into their set, something clicks, you actually know some of these songs; sometimes they’d play over the radio at the bar during your shifts. Catchy enough to hum along to, sure, but never quite playlist-worthy. At least, not until now.

Because hearing them live? It’s something else entirely. The sound wraps around you, enveloping you in heat and haze, and you don’t even try to fight it as the music pulls you under its spell.

Your motorcycle-riding, guitar-playing, dangerously handsome stranger moves across the stage like he owns it. Every step, every strum, is perfectly in sync with the rhythm. There’s a swagger to the way he plays, like he knows exactly how good he is. And how good he looks doing it.

Seokjin knows you’re watching him. He loves that your eyes trail him no matter where he moves on stage. He’s an entertainer, after all. He’s used to having thousands of women’s eyes on him. But tonight he only cares about yours.

He sneaks another glance at you.

You’ve let go completely, swaying your hips and dancing without a care. He smiles, he’s maybe even a little awestruck, as he takes in how much fun you’re having. He can’t help but stare like you’re the only person in the room.

And every time your gaze flicks back up to him, he’s already looking.

You lock eyes again and again, holding each other’s stare until he breaks it to look out over the crowd or exchange a nod with another band member. The smoldering glances you share make your stomach do flips and your knees feel a little weaker than you'd like to admit.

You came to this show expecting just to see him. Now you’re not sure how the hell you’re supposed to walk away without wanting more. Without needing to know what it would be like to have one night with him.

Last night was just the preview.

He and another member run off stage, prob to get a water or something, you don’t think anything of it because not even a minute later they're back on stage and starting the next song.

It’s a ballad, and you sway along to the romantic lyrics, when someone suddenly taps on your shoulder.

“Hey, Seokjin sent me down here. Do you have the pass he gave you?”

Seokjin. That’s his name.

You nod and lift it off your neck.

"Perfect. Once the band comes back out for their two encore songs, head over there,” he points toward the other end of the stage, “And show your pass to the security by the stairs. They’ll let you through so you can watch from side stage until the set's over."

Jin can’t help the satisfied grin that spreads across his face the moment he spots you standing side stage, tucked behind a couple of crew members. The lighting casts a soft glow on your face, and for a second, the chaos of the show fades into the background.

He still can’t believe that you’re here.

The band powers through the final encore, leaving the crowd screaming for more as they belt out the last note. After one final strum, Jin tosses a few guitar picks into the sea of fans, flashing a wink to the front row before stepping off stage, adrenaline still buzzing through his veins.

He heads toward you, running a hand through his sweat-damp hair, only stopping when the rest of the guys crowd around him. Peering over their shoulders, he catches your eye and waves you over.

"Come here, I want you to meet everyone," he says, without any hesitation. He gestures to the group of men, each in various states of post-show chaos, shirtless, sweaty, all grinning. “This is Yoongi and Jimin, our other guitarists. Joon plays bass. Hobi and Tae are our lead vocalists—”

“And that,” a new, cockier voice says, cuting off Jin, “Leaves the best for last.”

A tall, inked-up guy with loose dark curls and a smirk that screams trouble steps forward. He extends a hand toward you, “I’m Jungkook. I slam the shit out of the drums…among other things.” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

Jin rolls his eyes so hard it’s almost audible. Jungkook enjoys riling him up, especially in front of a gorgeous girl. His grin only widens when Seokjin shoots him a warning look.

“Don’t mind him,” Jin mutters under his breath, his hand grazing your lower back possessively. “He’s still trying to figure out how to flirt without being a menace.”

You laugh when Jungkook winks at you. “What can I say? I’m a crowd favorite.”

Jin snorts. “Sure, dude.”

The guys chuckle before greeting the other women who walk up to the group. But Jin lingers beside you, eyes never quite leaving your face.

“You looked good out there,” you say, still buzzing from the show.

He smirks. “You looked better.”

“You guys ready to party?” Jimin hollers, already halfway toward the exit with a couple of girls on his arms.

Jin doesn’t answer right away. His hand slides lower, fingers brushing over the bare sliver of skin between your corset top and your skirt. The light touch sends a trail of goosebumps up your spine.

“We’ll meet you there,” he finally says, not breaking eye contact with you.

He hadn’t fully registered what you were wearing earlier. He’d been so caught up in the fact that you were here, he missed the finer details. Now he’s taking in every inch of you; the curve of your hips, the way your corset hugs your curves, especially the flash of thigh above those red boots.

And all he can think about is how badly he wants enjoy you.

Jimin catches the look on Jin’s face and raises an eyebrow knowingly, but he doesn’t say a word. Just smirks, wraps his arms around two women like the rockstar he is, and calls out, “Alright ladies, let’s get the fuck outta here.”

He disappears, leaving you and Jin in your little bubble while the crew begins to pack up around you.

“Come on,” Jin murmurs, leaning closer to your ear, his hand still on your back, “I want you all to myself for just a little longer.”

He pulls you into the dressing room, the door slamming shut behind you before he swiftly locks it. In the next second, your back hits the door with a soft thud, his body pressed against yours.

“So…Seokjin,” you tease, lips curling into a wicked little smile. “Any other secrets you’re keeping from me?”

He chuckles low in his throat, the sound vibrating against your skin as he leans in. “Mmm, no secrets,” he murmurs, eyes dark with need. “But say my name again.”

You obey, your voice dropping to a sultry whisper. “Seokjin.”

He groans softly, like the sound of his name on your lips is something filthy and divine all at once. “Shit, baby. It sounds so good coming from you.”

His hands roam your waist, gripping the curve of your hips like he’s already imagining what they’ll feel like wrapped around him.

“Now that you know who I am,” he breathes, brushing his lips along your jaw, “You understand this can only be a one-time thing.”

You meet his eyes, unbothered by that fact, and your breath hitches as his fingers play with the hemline of your miniskirt.

“So fucking worth it,” you whisper, before crashing your mouth against his, your hands tangling in his hair.

It’s all heat and hunger, there’s no hesitation between either of you.

He presses you harder into the door, pinning you between the solid wood and his firm body. Without warning, he lifts you, and your legs instinctively wrap around his waist.

Jin’s mouth is everywhere; your neck, your collarbone, the soft swell of your chest. His hands slide over the curve of your ass, kneading possessively, before one dips lower. His fingers curl inward, teasing your aching core through the thin fabric of your panties.

You gasp against his lips, moaning softly as his fingers graze right where you need him the most. But just as you start to roll your hips into his hand, he pulls away.

The sound of your whimper is swallowed by his deep groan as he grinds his hips into you. The thick, hard length of him presses right against your center, and you swear your body trembles at the contact.

“Oh my god,” you mewl, head falling back as you feel just how big he is, even through layers of clothing. Your body clenches in anticipation.

“I can’t wait to sink into you,” he growls against your throat, his voice deliciously rough. “You ready for me, baby? Think you can handle all of me?”

He thrusts his hips again, making your breath hitch.

“I bet you can’t wait for me to split you open,” he murmurs, lips brushing your ear. “Stretch you so fucking wide, you’ll feel me for days. Is that what you want?”

“Yes, Seokjin, please,” you beg shamelessly.

That’s all he needs to hear.

He turns, carrying you across the room like you weigh nothing, and tosses you down onto the leather sofa. You land with a bounce, your heart pounding and thighs clenching.

He stands over you for a second, his dark eyes raking over your body below, savoring the way you look spread out and desperate for him.

“Take off your panties,” he commands, “I want to watch.”

You don’t hesitate. Slipping your fingers beneath the fabric, you begin to slide the soaked lace down your thighs. They snag slightly on your boots, but he’s already kneeling to help, tugging them the rest of the way off with a growl of frustration and want.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, eyes darkening as he takes in the slick glistening between your thighs. “You’re already dripping for me.”

He rises and takes a few steps away, grabbing a condom from a torn-open box on the counter, clearly left out by someone else’s pre-show indulgences. But when he turns back around, what he sees nearly sends him to his knees.

You’ve leaned back into the couch, one arm propped behind you, the other between your thighs. Your legs are spread wide, shameless, your skirt hiked up around your waist as your fingers slowly circle your clit before slipping lower, dipping into your soaked entrance.

“Holy fuck,” he breathes, hand moving to palm himself as you moan and bite your lip, teasing him with a second finger. Your eyes meet his, heavy with lust, and the raw hunger between you thickens.

He pulls his cock free from his pants, and your gaze drops instantly—only to widen at the shimmer of something silver catching the overhead light.

He strokes himself with the same speed as your fingers, letting you see every inch of what you’re about to take. The thick, veined length of him is beautiful, but it’s the four tiny silver beads at the crown of his cockhead, encircling his tip in a perfect ring of piercings, that leave you breathless.

Your core clenches around your fingers at the sight.

He sees your reaction and smirks, lazily making his way back toward you with that same infuriating, devastating confidence, and still pumping his cock as if he has all the time in the world.

“Curious?” he rasps, towering over you.

You nod, lips parted, breath shallow with anticipation.

He strokes the head of his cock once, collecting the bead of precum glistening at the tip. Without taking his eyes off yours, he brings his thumb down to your mouth.

“You’ll find out what they do soon enough,” he murmurs.

Your lips close around his thumb without hesitation, sucking softly. Tasting him, teasing him.

That last thread of Seokjin’s composure snaps. He swears under his breath, the muscle in his jaw flexing as he tears open the condom with his teeth before swiftly rolling it on over his thick, pierced length.

Then, without warning, he grabs your hips and slams into you in one devastating thrust.

The force rocks you back into the cushions, a sharp cry escaping your lips. If it weren’t for the vice grip he had on you, you might’ve been launched right off the damn couch.

“Fuck,” he growls, head falling forward for a moment as he adjusts to your tight, wet heat. “You feel better than I imagined.”

You’re breathless, body arching to take him deeper as the metal beads drag against your inner walls with every slow pull back, sending sparks shooting through your entire core.

Your hands clutch at the edge of the sofa, eyes rolling back as he thrusts hard again.

And just like that, you're ruined.

“You love how I split your pretty little pussy open, don’t you?” he growls against your neck, voice dark and possessive. “No one else is ever gonna compare to me. No one else is gonna fuck you like this. This deep, this hard.”

You let out a broken moan, your entire body trembling beneath him. Words are useless now, your brain is too foggy, too overloaded with pleasure to even form a sentence. All you can do is gasp and cling to him like your life depends on it.

“Look at how much of me you take,” he grunts, pulling back just enough to force your gaze downward.

The sight between your thighs is obscene. His thick, pierced cock driving into you over and over, glistening with your slick. You can see the slight swell in your lower belly every time he bottoms out, a bulge pressing up under your skin.

“Oh my god,” you whimper.

“I don’t even know how I fit,” he teases, panting now, a wild smirk tugging at his lips. “It’s like a goddamn magic trick, huh?”

Then he shifts, just a slight change in angle, but the second those cool metal beads drag across your sweet spot, everything inside you unravels.

Your body arches, a sharp cry tearing from your throat as your orgasm crashes through you like a tidal wave. You clamp down around him, shaking, gasping, crying out his name as he fucks you through it.

“That’s it,” he growls, losing his rhythm just a little as you tighten around him. “That’s my good fucking girl.”

Before your body even has a chance to recover, he flips you over onto your hands and knees, your limbs still trembling from your last orgasm.

His grip is firm, one hand wrapped around your waist to steady your quivering body. You barely have time to brace yourself before you feel the sharp sting of his teeth sinking into the plush of your ass, followed by the loud crack of his palm slapping the other cheek.

“Fuck, look at that,” he groans, admiring the fresh red print blooming beneath his hand and the indents of his teeth on your skin. “You wear me so well.”

And then he’s sliding back in, fucking you from behind with bruising force. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes off the walls, mingling with your breathless moans and desperate cries of his name.

“Seokjin!” you scream, back arching as overwhelming pleasure rips through you.

He fists a handful of your hair and yanks your head back, hard. Your mouth falls open in a silent gasp.

“Take it,” he snarls, his hips slamming into yours with punishing rhythm. “You love it rough like this, don’t you? Getting ruined like a fucking cock whore. Getting treated like the nasty girl you are.”

The pain and pleasure blur into one intoxicating haze as he brings his hand down on your ass again, another sharp spank that makes your legs shake and your core leak.

Just when you think you can't take any more, you feel his thumb press against your tightest hole, teasing as his cock drives into your soaked center. You whimper, your head dropping forward.

“Gonna fall apart for me again?” he pants behind you, voice strained with the effort of holding back.

You nod frantically, unable to speak, your walls already fluttering around him.

Then it hits you, your second orgasm tearing through your body, wave after wave of overwhelming ecstasy leaving you breathless and undone. Your vision goes hazy, your mouth falls open in a silent scream, and your entire body quakes under the weight of it.

You collapse forward, barely holding yourself up as your slick walls flutter wildly around him, clenching down like a vice.

“Jesus,” he grits out, his control unraveling in the heat of your orgasm. The way your body grips him, so fucking wet and perfect, drives him straight to the edge.

With a deep growl, he slams into you one final time, hips flush against your ass as he spills into the condom. Pulse after pulse of release torn from his body, as he holds you there, buried deep, his head thrown back as you milk every last drop from him with your trembling cunt.

You’re both breathless, your bodies slick with sweat and every nerve on fire from the intensity of it all.

For a moment, neither of you move, slowly coming down from something so fucking feral it barely feels real.

“So,” he says with a lazy grin, still catching his breath, “If I leave tickets for you next time we’re in town…you want a repeat?”

You stretch out beneath him, lips curling into a playful smirk. “Only if you promise to bring your motorcycle again.”

His eyes darken instantly, with a wicked glint. “Mmm, that’s a damn good idea.” He leans in close, his breath warm against your ear. “Next time, I’m making you come twice before we even think about getting off that bike.”

You bite your lip, pulse quickening. “Sounds like a plan.”

He grins smugly. “Nah, baby…that sounds like a date.”

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#this fic is my new obsession #bts fic recs #seokjin fic recs #mdni

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gyupremacy-recs · 3 months ago

Text

This was a rollercoaster of high stake situations and emotions that would have Shonda Rhimes taking notes. Seeing Cheol grapple with ptsd after the fire and knowing y/n is there for him every step of the way is so beautiful to see. No pun intended, but the burning passion between them is felt as the story progresses

Up In Flames - Part 2

→ Summary: When your sister calls with an emergency, you drop everything to house-sit while she’s out of town. What she forgets to mention is that her fiancé’s friend, a handsome stranger who might have saved your life earlier, is already expecting to stay there too. Awkwardly sharing the space, you manage to get through two weeks with Seungcheol—only to unexpectedly cross paths again when he saves you from another dangerous situation outside your therapist’s office.

Seungcheol, a wildland firefighter, is back in the city taking his leave and debating whether to join Station 17 or return home. While sorting out his own issues, he keeps finding himself in situations where he has to save you—the fiery, stubborn little sister of his best friend’s fiancée who has a terrible habit of calling him the most obnoxious nicknames ever. Despite your resistance to being rescued (and his denial of how much you affect him), the sparks between you two continue to ignite. As you grow closer, it’s only a matter of time before everything goes up in flames.

↠ seungcheol x f.reader | Part 2 = 23.8k (42.7k words total, i’m so sorry but also not really 🗿) | 18+ ↠ genre: smut, action, slow burn, firefighter au, author au, damsel in distress au, ‘let me help you’ wildland firefighter!cheol x ‘i can do it myself’ miss independent yet clumsy!reader

→ Warnings: fire, car accident, extreme burns, graphic & traumatic death of non-significant characters (read at your own risk!), seungcheol suffers from panic attacks and ptsd, solo masturbating (seungcheol gets a lil freaky in the bathroom one morning), grinding in a hot tub, fingering, protected & unprotected sex, multiple sex scenes, oral sex, cheol is a proud muncher, body worship, taking plan b, jealous coups, slight possessive coups, breast play, nipple sucking & biting, dirty talk, soft sex, rough sex, creampie, praise, begging, aftercare, stripping, heavy teasing & banter, tongue fucking, cheol loves to rub himself through your fold, praise kink, semi-public sex (cheol fucks you hard against a firetruck), injury, cuts, smoke inhalation and other dangerous elements (again, please read at your own risk!)

→ Networks: tagged below

@ksmutsociety @k-vanity @lapydiariesnet @keopihausnet

@svthub @thediamondlifenetwork

→ Author Note: thanks to maren @wooahaeproductions and lexi @heechwe for helping me come up with some of these funny nicknames used in here a few months back! this is the first fic of my station 17 collab, check it out here and stay tuned for the next fics from alta @haologram sevń @aaagustd and yannie @wonuwoe!!! dedicated to all my coups girlies, i know you’ll love this <3

→ READ PART 1 ←

Last night was a wake-up call. Seungcheol can’t let himself be completely derailed just because of the gravitational pull he feels toward you. Right? That would be crazy…

And yet, as if the universe wasn’t done tormenting him (he still can’t believe the timing of that phone call) he’d gotten another gut punch soon after you took Kate’s call. A text from Mingyu.

Hey, don’t forget about the open spot at Station 17. Interview’s yours if you want it. Come crash with me until then.

In the heat of the moment, still spiraling from nearly losing control with you, Seungcheol had said yes. Told Mingyu he’d be there by tomorrow, which is, technically, today.

Now, lying in bed staring at the ceiling, he wonders if that was the right move. Or if he’s making a huge mistake by leaving.

Or, worse, if staying would be an even bigger one.

…

You wake up alone, not that you expected Seungcheol to climb into your bed during the night, but still, waking up to some slow, lazy morning sex wouldn’t have been the worst thing.

Instead, the only thing greeting you is the smell of breakfast wafting through the air. You smile, stretching as you sit up. Nothing better than breakfast together… and then finishing what we started last night.

With that thought lingering, you climb out of bed and head to the kitchen, excitement bubbling in your chest.

"Morning," you say, sliding onto a stool at the island, watching as he flips the last pancake onto a plate. You expect him to turn, grin at you, maybe tease you about last night, maybe even pick up where you left off.

But he doesn’t.

Something’s off. He seems stiffer than usual, his movements too careful. Your stomach twists.

It’s only when he finally turns around and sets a plate of pancakes in front of you that he drops the bomb.

"I'm leaving today."

You blink. "What?"

"I…figured some stuff out, and I have to be somewhere in a few hours."

You stare at him, waiting for something more. An explanation that makes sense. A reason that doesn’t sound like complete bullshit. Because while you believe him, you also know this has everything to do with last night. And that realization stings.

But you won’t ask. You won’t embarrass yourself like that.

Your pride flares, masking the disappointment sinking into your bones. "I don’t want your pity pancakes," you mutter, pushing the plate back toward him. "Have a safe drive wherever you’re going."

Then, without another word, you turn and disappear into your room, slamming the door behind you.

Part of you hopes he’ll come after you. That he’ll barge in, apologize, explain himself. The other part just wants to be left alone to lick your wounds in peace.

But when you finally gather the courage to come out for an adult conversation, you’re met with nothing but silence.

And an empty house. He left. Without saying goodbye.

Mika whines by the front door, already missing him too.

2 Days Since Seungcheol

The longest two days of your life.

You don’t know if you’re more pissed off or hurt. One minute, you wish you could scream at him "Are you a fucking idiot?" Another part of you wishes you could say "I've fallen so hard for you." Then, you’re convincing yourself that he’s not worth the energy. If he wanted to explain himself, he would’ve. If he cared as much as you do, he wouldn’t have left in the first place.

But then your brain betrays you, reminding you of every touch, every look, every fucking moment that made you feel alive in his presence. And just like that, you’re back to square one, seething, heartbroken, and in desperate need of a distraction.

Unfortunately, waiting for a response from your team isn’t the ideal way to keep your mind occupied. You sent over the latest chapters last night with a simple message: This is the creative direction I’m going with. If you don’t like it, you’ll have to learn to. Otherwise, I’ll take my books elsewhere.

The most assertive you’ve ever been. It felt good to take control, to stand your ground. You channeled all your frustration over Seungcheol into that email, and now all that’s left to do is wait.

Since Kate and Jun are supposed to be arriving sometime today, you’ve spent the last few hours cleaning. Anything to keep yourself busy. The kitchen is spotless, the living room dust-free, and now you’re finishing up in the bedrooms.

As you strip the sheets off the bed, a familiar scent lingers in the fabric. Cedarwood and a subtle musk.

Seungcheol.

You freeze, the breath knocked out of you by something as simple as a goddamn bedsheet. It still smells like him. You close your eyes for a moment, gripping the fabric tighter. As much as you want to erase every trace of him, the idea of washing this last piece of him away feels... unbearable.

“Goddamn it, Cheol,” you whisper, voice trembling.

You shake yourself out of it, throwing the sheets into the hamper with more force than necessary. He left. You need to get over it.

But as you grab fresh linens from the closet, your phone buzzes on the nightstand.

Your heart stutters.

Maybe it’s him. Maybe he got your number from Jun and he’s finally come to his senses, finally realized what a complete asshole move it was to disappear like that.

You practically lunge for your phone, but when you see the sender, your stomach drops.

Not Seungcheol.

Just your editor.

And the message?

A single thumbs-up emoji.

You stare at it, heat rising in your chest. After everything, after putting your foot down, after fighting for your creative vision—this is their response?

No feedback. No acknowledgment. Just a fucking thumbs-up?

A new kind of anger burns through you, one that has nothing to do with Seungcheol.

Needless to say, by the time Kate and Junhui step through the front door, the house is spotless. You’ve spent the last several hours scrubbing, dusting, and organizing—anything to keep yourself from spiraling.

“Hi! I’ve missed you!” Kate beams, pulling you into a tight hug.

You cling to her for a second longer than usual, grounding yourself in the comfort of familiarity.

“What have you been up to? And where’s Seungcheol?” she asks, glancing around as if expecting him to walk out of the kitchen at any moment.

Your stomach twists. They don’t know.

“He left,” you say flatly. “The next morning after you called last.”

Jun sets their bags down, eyes flicking up to meet yours with a look you can’t quite decipher. It’s not surprise, not exactly. More like…concern. Like he already knows there’s more to the story than he’s willing to share.

Kate, however, is instantly thrown. “He what?” Her brows knit together as she takes in your expression, your tired eyes, the way you’re hugging yourself. Realization dawns, and before you can blink, she’s pulling you into another hug.

“Oh honey, come here.”

The warmth of her arms around you, the softness in her voice, it’s enough to break whatever fragile hold you had on your emotions. Your throat tightens, and before you can stop yourself, the whole story spills out.

Every last detail.

From the way he kissed you like he was starving, to the way he pulled away like you’d burned him. The way he left that morning without so much as a goodbye. The way you woke up thinking—no, hoping—you’d get another chance, only to figure out he already made plans to leave.

Kate listens intently, nodding along, her expression shifting between shock, outrage, and deep-seated frustration.

“Okay,” she says finally, pulling back just enough to look you in the eyes. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but…maybe he left because he does care.”

You blink. “What? That doesn’t make any sense.”

Jun, who has been quietly watching from the sidelines, finally speaks up. “I mean, it sounds like he panicked. Like he felt something real and it freaked him out.”

Kate nods. “And instead of dealing with it like an adult, he ran.”

You scoff, wiping at your eyes. “Yeah, well, he could have at least said something instead of disappearing like a coward.”

“True,” Jun agrees, “but maybe this isn’t over. If you want to get in touch with him—”

You shake your head. “No. He made his choice. And I’m not going to sit around waiting for him to un-make it.”

Kate studies you for a long moment, then sighs. “Okay. Then let’s get your mind off of it. You need a distraction.”

Jun grins, raising a bottle. “Lucky for you, we brought wine.”

Kate settles onto the couch, shooting her husband a sideways glance as he pours three generous glasses. “Oh, and by the way,” she says casually, “when you text Coups next, tell him I think he’s an ass.”

“Kate!” you groan, your head snapping up.

“What?” she shrugs. “He is.”

You sigh, turning to Jun. “Please don’t say anything to him. I’m already mortified about the whole situation. Clearly, I misread everything, and there’s no need to harass him about it. Really.” You drop your face into your hands. “In fact, I’d love to just forget it ever happened.”

Kate rubs a soothing hand over your back, but you don’t miss the way she exchanges a knowing look with her husband.

“Okay, sweetie,” she says, her voice gentle but far too agreeable. “Whatever you want.”

You narrow your eyes at her. “Kate…”

“What?” she says innocently, sipping her wine.

Jun clears his throat, but there’s the faintest hint of a smirk on his lips.

They’re definitely going to discuss this later.

Five Days Since Seeing You

Seungcheol completed his interview earlier this week, though the term interview is generous. He was practically a shoo-in for the open position. It was more of a formality, a final box to check before officially signing his contract. And just like that, he became the newest firefighter at Station 17.

The guys have been great; they’re so welcoming and easygoing, treating him like he’s been there for years. The transition has been smooth, the work familiar, the routine comforting.

Everything is going great.

And yet, he can’t shake this feeling weighing him down.

Because as much as he should be excited about this new chapter, all he can think about is how much he wants to tell you about it.

He knows he fucked up by leaving. He was panicking, and in the moment, it felt like the only way out. Staying meant inevitably hurting you in the future. Leaving meant hurting you now. Either way, you’d get hurt. He’d hurt you by breaking a promise, something he can’t afford to do right now. Not with his previously delicate state. Not when he’s just finally started to heal.

With a sigh, he leans back in his truck seat, staring up at the office sign in front of him.

He’s really not looking forward to today.

To finalize his transition onto the team, the fire chief required a mandatory meeting with a therapist, a standard “head check” to ensure he was mentally fit for duty.

Normally, he’d be seeing the station’s staffed therapist, Dr. Xu Minghao, but apparently, his schedule was packed this week. So instead, Seungcheol was assigned an outside source for evaluation.

He runs a hand down his face, exhaling slowly.

Of all the things he wanted to do today, sitting in a sterile office, talking about his feelings with a stranger, ranked dead last.

Stepping out of his truck, he locks it and waits for the remaining car to drive by before crossing the road.

“Wow, someone’s gonna slip on that, they should put some salt out,” he says to himself, noticing how icy a section of the sidewalk is, hidden from the sun.

He sighs again, realizing he’s trying to find anything to avoid heading inside.

Get it done and over with ‘Cheol.

With one final groan, he forces himself to step into the office.

The session is more exhausting than he expected. The therapist is sharp, reading between the lines of everything he says, sensing the weight he refuses to fully unpack.

He shifts uncomfortably as she prods at the fire that still haunts him. The way the smoke had swallowed the house. The way the screams had cut off too soon. The way he’d clawed through debris, lungs burning, only to come up short.

She listens, nodding as she takes notes, before finally meeting his eyes.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

That’s what everyone tells him.

But he knows better. He wasn’t the one who set the fire, but he could have tried harder, could have pushed his limits just a little more. Maybe then…

His throat tightens.

“You can blame yourself for life, and they’ll still be dead, Seungcheol.” The therapist’s voice is firm but not unkind. “You can either accept that, grieve, and learn how to move forward. Or you can let this tear apart your life. It’s up to you.”

He looks away, jaw clenching.

After a pause, she signs off on his paperwork. “I’m clearing you for duty, but I highly recommend biweekly follow-ups with Dr. Xu.” She meets his eyes again, unyielding. “I’ll reach out to your chief myself, so don’t think you’re getting out of this. You need this, Seungcheol. You need to deal with your PTSD before it deals with you.”

His fingers tighten into fists on his lap. He nods once.

Seungcheol picks up the papers and drags himself out of the therapy room, his mind heavy and clouded, the weight of the session still pressing down on him. He heads toward the reception area, and that’s when he sees you. His heart lurches in his chest.

You’re a few steps ahead outside the door; maybe it’s the way the tension between you both always seems to linger, or maybe it’s just instinct, but something causes you to turn around, and your eyes meet his.

For a split second, time seems to freeze, and Seungcheol’s heart pounds in his ears. He’s not prepared for this. He has no idea how you’ll react, no idea what to say or do. The regret he feels for walking away hits him like a wave, but there’s no time to address it.

As his thoughts spiral, his eyes dart down. He sees the icy patch on the ground just in time, but it’s too late. You’re already stepping onto it, your foot slipping from under you.

Everything happens in slow motion as Seungcheol’s breath catches and his warning dies in his throat as you fall, your body jerking violently before gravity yanks you down. Your head hits the pavement with a sickening crack, and all the air rushes from his lungs.

“Oh my god, Y/N,” he breathes, scrambling to your side, hands already reaching for you. “Are you okay? Where does it hurt?”

You blink up at him, dazed, and then like flipping a switch, your eyes harden into sharp slits.

“I don’t need your help,” you snap, shoving his hands off. “I’m perfectly capable of standing up on my own.”

His stomach twists at your hostility, but he backs off, hands hovering just in case.

You manage to push yourself upright, wincing as you touch the back of your head. Seungcheol clenches his fists to keep from reaching for you again.

Then, as if just processing the situation, you narrow your eyes even further. “What are you even doing here?”

Seungcheol swallows. He wasn’t prepared for this. Not now, not like this. But he can’t exactly lie, not when the evidence is all around him.

“I had an appointment,” he admits, voice low.

Your brows knit together. “Here?”

He nods.

Realization dawns across your face, and for a second your expression softens. Then it’s gone, replaced by guarded skepticism.

“Right,” you mutter, shaking your head. “Of course.”

Seungcheol doesn’t know what to say. He wants to ask if you’re okay, wants to reach for you again, but he can feel the walls between you, thick and impenetrable.

You exhale sharply, shaking your head once more before muttering, “Whatever. See you around, Seungcheol.”

Hearing you use his actual name and not one of your creative nicknames stings more than he’d like to admit. You turn on your heel, walking away from him without a word, leaving Seungcheol standing there in the cold, his heart heavy in his chest. He watches you take a few steps, but then, just like that, you stumble again.

Before you even have a chance to catch yourself, Seungcheol is by your side, steadying you with a hand on your arm.

“I know you don’t want to hear this, but you really should get checked out. You could have a concussion, or worse,” he says, his voice more insistent than he intends it to be.

You scoff, shaking your head. “I’m not going to the ER or urgent care. I’ve got enough on my plate today without wasting hours in a waiting room.”

Seungcheol doesn’t back down. “Then at least come with me to the station. I’ve got guys there with more medical training than I have. They can take a look at you.”

You sigh heavily, frustration clouding your expression. “You’re not going to drop this, are you?”

“Nope,” he says firmly, meeting your gaze, his tone softening just a touch. “You’re not leaving my sight. Not until you get checked out.” And even after that.

…

The ride back to the station feels suffocatingly silent. Seungcheol’s grip on the steering wheel is tight, his knuckles pale from the tension. His mind is a chaotic whirl of worst-case scenarios; brain bleeds, fractured skulls, aneurysm. Every time he glances at you, his stomach twists in anxiety.

He’s brought you to the station, not because he wants to, but because he has to make sure you’re okay. He can’t live with the idea that something’s wrong, something he missed. The place he’s been trying to settle into now feels like a blur as he focuses only on getting you seen by someone qualified.

“We need someone to look her over right now,” Seungcheol says as he helps you inside, his voice clipped, his urgency clear.

Within seconds, someone rushes over, immediately assessing the situation. He’s dark-haired and familiar, locking eyes with Seungcheol.

“She slipped on an ice patch and hit her head pretty hard. She was unsteady after,” Seungcheol explains, the worry still evident in his tone.

You recognize him immediately, it’s the same man who had been there during your power line incident. He offers a small, knowing smile as he addresses you.

“You must have a thing for danger,” he says, trying to lighten the mood, his voice warm. “Alright, follow my finger for me, yeah?”

You nod, rolling your eyes in a way that lets him know you’re not in the mood for jokes, but you follow the instructions anyway. Mingyu finishes checking you over thoroughly, testing for the usual concussion symptoms. His hands are steady as he works, and he even checks for a few other things just to put Seungcheol’s mind at ease.

Through the whole process, you can feel Seungcheol’s gaze on you, his body tense and watchful as he waits for the all-clear.

“Well, good news, no concussion,” one of the firefighters says, giving you a reassuring smile. “But you’re probably going to have a killer headache for the rest of the day, at least.” He stands up and nods, "I’ll grab you some pain relievers and an ice pack."

You almost beg him not to leave. You don’t know if you can handle being alone with Seungcheol right now. The tension is too much, and there’s so much left unsaid. But for some reason, none of the words feel right.

As the firefighter leaves, you can feel the weight of the silence. You don’t want to, but you have to say something.

“Sorry I was so short with you earlier,” you start, your voice quieter than you intended. “I was surprised to see you again. You left so suddenly, and I... I just assumed you wanted to forget everything that happened between us.”

Seungcheol runs a hand through his hair, his expression tense and worn. He sighs heavily, his eyes dark with regret. “I didn’t want to leave,” he admits, his voice low and heavy with the burden of unspoken words. “I thought it would be best, though. I just… I didn’t want to make promises to you that I couldn’t keep.” His gaze flickers down to the floor for a moment before meeting your eyes again, filled with vulnerability and uncertainty. “I’m not sure what I want, and I didn’t want to drag you into that.”

The admission hangs in the air between you. The walls that you built to keep him distant start to crumble, but it’s not enough to tear them down entirely. Not yet.

“I missed you,” Seungcheol says, the words slipping out before he can stop them, vulnerable in a way you haven’t heard from him before.

You meet his eyes, feeling the familiar ache twist in your chest. The urge to reach out, but you hold yourself back.

“Well…what now?” you ask, your voice quieter than you intended, unsure where things go from here.

Seungcheol takes a deep breath, eyes softening as he looks at you. “I’ll leave it up to you,” he says. “Can I see your phone?”

You hesitate for just a moment, then dig around in your purse, your fingers brushing over the edges of your phone. You unlock it, hand it to him, and watch as he taps away at the screen.

When he hands it back to you, your heart skips a beat.

He’s added himself to your contacts. Cheolie now sits with a flame emoji beside his number. You stare at it for a moment, a small smile tugging at your lips before you can stop it.

“There,” he says, his voice quieter now. “You have my number. You can use it if you want...or you can pretend you’ve never met me.” His eyes search yours, a hint of hope behind the layers of uncertainty. “But I’m really hoping it’s the latter.”

You laugh softly, a mix of relief and confusion washing over you. “I don’t think I could forget you, even if I wanted to.” You glance down at your phone again, the flame emoji burning a little brighter than it should.

The sun is shining brightly today, casting a golden glow over the city. Its warmth seeps into your skin as you stroll down the sidewalk, Mika prancing ahead, her tail wagging with every step. The fresh air fills your lungs, momentarily easing the tension that’s been sitting in your chest all week.

It’s been seven days since you last saw Seungcheol. Seven days since he handed you the reins, giving you the choice of whether to reach out.

You haven’t wanted to.

Okay, maybe that’s a lie. You’ve definitely wanted to. You’ve hovered over his name in your contacts more times than you’d like to admit, especially late at night when the loneliness creeps in.

But texting him just because you miss him doesn’t feel like the right move. You both need a real conversation, and between book cover meetings, deadlines, and endless revisions, the right time just hasn’t come up yet.

You sigh, wondering if you should just break the ice and say hi.

Then, suddenly, your phone rings. Always interrupting your thoughts. You glance at the screen and answer, barely getting out a greeting before a clipped, professional voice cuts through.

"We’d like to see you this afternoon to discuss your book."

You blink, caught off guard. Getting called into your publisher’s office unexpectedly isn’t usually a good sign. Anxiety prickles at your skin, but you push it down. You can handle this.

The only problem? You’re downtown, window shopping with Mika, and you know you can’t bring her inside. One of the admins has a severe dog allergy, and there’s no way they’ll make an exception.

You quickly fire off a message in your friend group chat, hoping someone can watch her for an hour.

Hey, urgent favor! Can anyone watch Mika for a bit? Got a last-minute meeting.

One by one, the replies roll in. Busy, sorry, stuck at work, wish I could.

Ugh. This is not good. You glance down at Mika, who looks up at you with wide, trusting eyes. An idea creeps into your mind—one you immediately push away.

No. You can’t.

Can you?

You chew on your lip, staring at your phone like it holds the answer. After a deep breath, you sigh and send a quick message before you can second-guess yourself.

A quick twenty minutes later, he rounds the corner. Your heart does an embarrassing little flip when you see Seungcheol, who looks just as effortlessly handsome as ever.

Mika notices him at the same time you do, her tail wagging frantically as she yaps in excitement.

“Hi,” he says, stepping close, his lips brushing your cheek in a brief but familiar gesture.

You exhale, tension leaving your body just a little. “I’m so sorry for asking, but thank you for showing up. You’re literally saving the day, thank you so much.”

His eyes soften. “I’ll always show up,” he says simply, taking Mika’s leash from your hand. “Here, let me take her.”

You hesitate for just a second, watching as he effortlessly soothes Mika, scratching behind her ears.

“Good luck in your meeting,” he adds, his voice warm.

As you turn to go, you glance back once more. He’s already walking off with Mika, talking to her like she understands every word. The sight tugs at something deep inside you, something warm, something dangerous.

Shaking your head, willing yourself to focus. You have a meeting to get through. But damn, that man makes it hard to think straight.

You walk the short distance to your publisher’s building, each step making your heart beat a little faster. The elevator ride up feels both too quick and too slow, carrying you to a floor you’ve spent countless hours on.

The receptionist greets you with a warm smile. “Hi, Miss Y/N. Let me gather the team and let them know you’ve arrived.”

You nod, offering a polite smile as she picks up the phone. Within moments, she gestures toward the hall. “They’re ready for you in the conference room.”

Here goes nothing.

You take a steadying breath and walk down the familiar hallway, knocking lightly before stepping inside. “Hi, everyone, thanks for waiting,” you say, slipping into a chair. Your hands rest on the table, steady despite the nerves buzzing under your skin. “I know we have different ideas about how this book should play out, but as the main creative in the room, I want to emphasize that I want this to work just as much as you all do. So let’s discuss.”

You brace yourself for pushback, but instead, the head editor at the head of the table smiles.

“Thank you for making time to see us in person,” she begins. “We have a very important update to share with you.”

You straighten in your seat, anxiety prickling at your spine.

“We gave the draft of your book to a subgroup of readers to get their initial reactions…” She pauses, dragging out the suspense. “And you were right.”

Your breath catches.

“Almost everyone had the same thing to say, this book is somehow even better than the first. And that’s not something we get to say often.”

For a second, all you can do is blink.

They…loved it?

The weight that’s been pressing on your chest for weeks suddenly lifts, leaving you lightheaded.

You let out a breathless laugh, barely able to contain your shock. “Wait, really?”

The editor nods. “Really. We still have a few minor tweaks to discuss, but overall, the response was overwhelmingly positive.”

Relief floods through you, mixing with a spark of pride. You fought for this version of the story, for your vision, and it paid off.

“Basically, we just want to confirm some plot details and fix potential inconsistencies, and then you’re free to finish writing. The sooner, the better, I might add,” your agent says with a knowing wink, her subtle way of saying she’s proud of you for standing your ground.

You blink, still processing. “So, just to make sure I’m hearing this right… you don’t want me to scrap the chapters and start over?”

“Of course not,” the editor reassures you. “Based on early reviewer notes, we strongly believe sales will surpass expectations.”

She slides a thick stack of papers across the table. It’s filled with feedback, page after page of praise from the test readers.

Your heart pounds as you skim the first note.

If you thought the first book was otherworldly, you’re in for a big surprise with this one. The characters have grown so much, and I truly felt like I was right there in the fight with them.

Another one reads:

I can’t wait for this to be released so I can buy several copies. So dang good.

You exhale sharply, overwhelmed. Looking up, you find a room full of expectant gazes, waiting for your reaction.

“Wow, I—uh.” You shake your head, speechless. “Wow.”

The team chuckles, clearly pleased.

“We figured you’d like to read those,” your agent says warmly. “Feel free to take them home.”

You nod, gripping the papers a little tighter as if they might disappear.

“How about we go through our questions now and then leave you to it?”

You square your shoulders, a fresh wave of determination surging through you. “Sounds good.”

This is really happening.

…

Seungcheol sits on the park bench, one arm draped over the backrest as he scans the path for you. Mika sits obediently at his feet, tail thumping against the ground every so often as she watches the world go by.

He wasn’t expecting your message earlier. After your last conversation at the fire station, he figured you needed space, maybe even a clean break. But when you said you needed help, he didn’t hesitate to figure out what he could do. He would’ve done just about anything.

Watching Mika on his day off hardly counted as a favor. Plus, even if he had been working today, he would’ve just taken her to the station. The guys all love dogs and Mika? She’d eat up the attention.

Then, finally, he sees you.

You’re walking toward him with a bounce in your step, that breathtaking smile stretching across your face. His heart clenches at the sight, he hasn’t seen you like this in a while.

“Hey,” he says, standing up as you approach. “How’d the meeting go?”

Before he can react, you launch yourself into his arms.

He barely has a second to process before instinct kicks in. His arms wrap around you securely, lifting you off the ground like it’s the most natural thing in the world. The warmth of you, the way you fit so perfectly in his hold, it makes his chest ache.

“It went so well! Oh my god,” you gush, your excitement bubbling over. “They gave the rough draft to some readers, and they all loved it!”

Your arms tighten around his neck, and he holds you just a little closer, just a little longer, savoring the moment as long as it will last.

“Of course they loved it,” he says, setting you down gently once you finally loosen your grip. His hands linger for just a second longer than necessary, as if reluctant to let go.

Mika, not one to be left out, jumps up against your leg, her little paws pressing insistently as if demanding her fair share of attention. You laugh, bending down to scratch behind her ears before turning back to Seungcheol.

“Thanks again for helping out,” you say, sincerity laced in every word. “I honestly don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

“Anytime,” he replies easily, then adds with a smile, “I missed my girls.”

Your heart stumbles in your chest. You hesitate for a second before asking, “Can I ask you something?”

He nods, giving you his full attention.

“That thing you said the other day—about not being sure what you wanted and not wanting to drag me into it—was that just in general? Like, you weren’t sure about anything in your life? Or were you talking about a relationship specifically?”

His eyebrows raise slightly, clearly impressed by your directness. Then he chuckles, shaking his head.

“Damn, woman. Straight to the point,” he teases, picking up Mika’s leash in one hand. With the other, he reaches for yours, intertwining your fingers effortlessly as the two of you start walking out of the park.

He takes a breath, carefully choosing his words. “At first, I thought it would be better if we just stayed friends,” he admits. “I told myself it’d be easier that way. Safer for the both of us.”

A pause. A small squeeze to your hand.

“But the more I’m around you, the more I realize that’s impossible. I’m so unbelievably attracted to you. And it’s not just that, you see me. And honestly?” He turns to look at you with a knowing smile, his voice dropping into something softer, more certain.

“The thought of you going on more dates with losers who don’t deserve you makes me want to throw hands.” His thumb brushes over your knuckles, sending a shiver up your spine. “Especially when we both know I’m the only one for you.”

He hadn’t exactly planned on being that brutally honest, but if you were going to be vulnerable with that direct of a question, the least he could do was return the favor.

Because the truth is, he knows he’s the only one for you. Just like you’re the only one for him.

“Does hearing me say that freak you out?” he asks, searching your expression, hoping you’re not about to bolt.

“No.” You shake your head, exhaling softly. “Actually, it’s relieving to hear.” A small smile tugs at your lips. “I think I’d probably go a little crazy if you started seeing someone else too. I don’t like the idea of you being the hero in someone else’s story.”

His chest tightens, something warm and fierce settling in his ribs.

You reach your apartment building and climb the steps to the front door before turning to face him. “This is me.”

He nods, glancing at Mika, who wags her tail happily.

“Do you want to come up?”

“Just to let Mika inside,” he starts, but then hesitates, shifting on his feet. He rubs the back of his neck before meeting your gaze. “I know it’s last minute, but…I’d love to have dinner with you. Unless you already have plans tonight?”

Hope flickers in his eyes, cautious but steady, and suddenly, you know exactly what your answer is.

“Are you asking me on a date?” you tease, unlocking your door with a growing smile.

Mika bolts inside, immediately rummaging through her toys before dragging her favorite one onto her bed.

“Yes,” Seungcheol confirms without hesitation, shutting the door behind him. His eyes scan your apartment; it’s cozy, well-kept yet lived-in, aside from Mika’s spilled toy bin. It’s very you.

Your smile grows even bigger. “Okay, wait here. I’ll just be a minute.”

You disappear into your bedroom, and when you return, you have a cardigan draped over your arm. “Just in case it gets cold later.”

But before he can respond, you close the space between you and press your lips to his.

“God, I’ve wanted to do that since you came to save me earlier today,” you confess against his mouth.

His hands find your waist as he pulls you in for another, this time deeper, slower, and time stops. Nothing else exists in this moment.

His lips move against yours in a way that leaves you breathless, your fingers curling into his shirt to keep yourself upright.

When he finally breaks away, his forehead rests lightly against yours, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips.

“C’mon,” he says, voice low and warm, “I know a great sushi place.”

Dinner feels easy, like slipping back into something familiar yet exciting. The conversation flows effortlessly as you both catch up.

Seungcheol tells you about his week, most of it spent training, pushing himself harder than ever. “The meeting with the therapist was the last step so I could start going on calls with the team,” he explains, his eyes lighting up. “I’ve missed the action. The change in pace will be good for me.”

You nod, genuinely happy for him. “That’s great, Cheol. I can tell you’re excited.”

“I am,” he admits, a small smile playing on his lips. “It’s been a long time coming.”

You take a sip of your drink before offering your own update. “Kate and Jun came home earlier than expected,” you tell him, watching his reaction. “And, uh… Kate might hate you just a little bit.”

His grin falters slightly. “Yeah…she might have sent me a rather interesting text about personally castrating me the next time she sees me if I haven’t apologized to you before she finds me.” He shakes his head, chuckling. “Don’t worry, I told her I was already working on a plan to win you back.”

“Oh? And what’s the plan?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Can’t spoil the surprise,” he teases. “But let’s just say it involves a lot of groveling.”

You laugh, then add, “Well, don’t forget about Mika. You have to make it up to her too.”

He leans back in his chair, smug. “Oh, Mika already forgave me. We shared some blueberries earlier while you were in your meeting.”

Your mouth falls open in mock betrayal. “She never shares her blueberries with me.”

“What can I say?” He smirks, shrugging. “She and I have an understanding.”

“Unbelievable,” you huff, though the amused smile on your lips betrays your true feelings. You love that he adores Mika just as much as she adores him.

A comfortable silence settles between you as you both focus on your meals. The restaurant hums with the growing chatter of other diners, the clinking of glasses adding to the cozy atmosphere. The food is delicious, and the company is even better.

You take a sip of your drink, gathering your thoughts before speaking. “So, I have another question for you.”

Seungcheol lifts his gaze, his eyes warm with curiosity as he picks up another bite. He gives you a small nod, silently encouraging you to continue.

“As you might have figured out by now, I’m the kind of person who needs clarity. If I don’t have all the details, my brain starts filling in the gaps, and that never ends well.” You exhale, rolling your drink between your hands. “I also know it’s probably way too soon to bring this up, but if I don’t, I’ll overthink it until I drive myself crazy.”

Seungcheol finishes chewing, setting his chopsticks down as he leans forward slightly, giving you his full attention. “First of all, you don’t have to hesitate to ask me anything,” he says, voice steady. “I’d rather talk things through than have you overthink and stress yourself out.”

His words soothe some of your nerves, but the anticipation is still there.

Seungcheol tilts his head, his expression soft but attentive. “What’s on your mind?” he asks, picking up on your nervous energy.

You sign, then take the plunge. “Are we…dating now? Or starting a relationship?”

His brows furrow slightly. “Is there a difference?” he asks, genuinely curious.

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “I mean…yeah, kind of? But I guess it depends on who you ask. Some people see dating as casual, while a relationship is more serious. I just—” you pause, suddenly aware that you’re rambling. “I don’t need some big, grand definition. I just want to know where your head is at. About us.”

You don’t realize you’re holding your breath until you feel your chest tighten. The ‘what are we’ conversation has never gone well in your past relationships, and despite how comfortable Seungcheol makes you feel, the fear of rejection still lingers.

He exhales through his nose, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I don’t know much about modern dating labels, but if going on dates, wanting to kiss you all the time, and spending as much of my free time in your presence as possible means that we’re dating, then yeah, we’re dating.”

Your heart skips a beat.

“But more than that,” he continues, his eyes never leaving yours, “I want us to be something real. I don’t want to waste time playing guessing games or pretending we’re something we’re not. So if you’re asking whether we’re in a relationship?” He tilts his head slightly, considering. “I’d say we’re at the beginning of one, if that’s what you want too.”

The knot in your stomach eases, replaced by something warm and fluttery. You don’t even try to hide the smile that breaks across your face.

“That’s how I feel too.”

“Good. Because I don’t plan on letting you go this time.” His grin mirrors yours, warm and full of certainty. Then, after a brief pause, his expression turns just a touch more serious. “Actually, I have a question for you in return.”

You lift your eyes and meet his, intrigued. “Yeah?”

He leans in slightly, his eyes staying locked onto yours. “Will you be my girlfriend? Officially.”

Your heart stumbles over itself.

“I’m asking because I take this seriously. And also,” his lips twitch into a smirk, “so that pretty little brain of yours doesn’t fry.”

You roll your eyes, but the smile tugging at your lips gives you away.

“Well?” He lifts a brow, waiting.

You don’t need to think twice. “Yes, Cheoliepop. I’ll be your girlfriend.”

His smirk softens into something sweeter, filled with sincerity and promise. "Good," he says, voice low and warm. But then, his expression shifts as his pocket vibrates. He pulls out his phone, his eyes flicking to the screen. "Shit," he mutters under his breath.

He looks up at you, his face tinged with regret. "Sorry, that’s my pager app for the station."

You raise an eyebrow, already knowing what’s coming. "Gotta go?"

"Yeah," he exhales, frustration flickering in his eyes. "I’m really sorry, but I have to head out now. They need a lot of extra hands. Can I call you later?"

You smile, trying to hide the slight pang of disappointment. "It’s okay, really. And yes, please do."

Standing up, he leans down and presses a quick kiss to your lips before pulling away. He takes a wad of cash out of his wallet and leaves it on the table.

"That’s not necessary," you protest, shaking your head. "I’ve got it, go save the day, or night, whatever."

He shoots you a look that says, don't even think about it and shakes his head. "My girl never pays," he says firmly, his grin returning. "Bye, baby."

With a wink, he heads out, leaving you to watch him go, your heart doing a little flutter at the way he treats you.

"Look who finally decided to show up," Mingyu teases as Seungcheol rushes into the locker room, pulling on his gear with impressive speed.

"It’s been 8 minutes since I got paged," Seungcheol shoots back, his voice laced with amusement. "I think that’s pretty damn good, considering." He quickly straps on his helmet. "First one already leave?"

"Yeah, Engine 13 rolled out a few minutes ago. We’re just waiting on Wonwoo and the Rookie. None of us were supposed to be on call tonight, but a shopping center across the city has an unnoticed gas leak that’s now a full-on blaze. Two other stations are already there and called for backup."

Seungcheol nods, tugging the zipper of his overalls up and stepping into his boots. His focus sharpens as he prepares himself mentally for what’s to come.

“There you are,” Mingyu says, pointing at Wonwoo and Vernon as they practically sprint to their lockers.

Yunho, one of the station’s firefighter engineers, whistles as the last of them gear up. "Let’s move, crew!"

Within moments, everyone loads up into the truck. The sirens blare to life as they race toward the fire, the adrenaline already kicking in.

"You haven’t stopped smiling since I got here tonight," Vernon observes, squinting as the red hue from the flashing lights dances across his face. "Just that happy to see me again so soon, or because you finally got cleared earlier today?"

"You wish," Seungcheol teases, bumping his shoulder against Vernon’s, who’s sitting next to him.

Wonwoo tilts his head; thinking as he reads, and recognizes, Seungcheol’s face. "Who is she?"

"Who’s who?" Seungcheol asks, his grin betraying him, making it impossible to hide the obvious answer.

Mingyu laughs, pointing a finger at Seungcheol. "It’s the girl he brought here after she slipped on the ice, right?"

"Ahhh," Wonwoo says with a knowing look, "I thought I sensed something there."

"Yeah, well, we made it official tonight," Seungcheol admits, the satisfaction clear in his voice.

Mingyu kicks Seungcheol’s boot with a grin. "Good for you, man. You deserve to be happy."

Seungcheol smiles, grateful for the support, but his focus shifts as the fire engine pulls up to the scene.

The building is ablaze. Flames roar up to the sky, swallowing the structure whole.

Their fire chief, already standing with personnel from the other stations, breaks away from the group and heads toward the newly arrived team. He quickly briefs the firefighters, his voice steady despite the chaos unfolding in front of them. Seungcheol’s focus sharpens as he steps forward, ready to jump into action.

"Everyone who was scheduled to work tonight has been accounted for," the fire chief announces, his voice steady despite the chaos unfolding around them. He surveys the scene, the flames still raging high, a testament to the severity of the situation. "The only concern we have now is a potential person who might’ve been waiting on a delivery out back. We have no confirmation, but it’s a possibility. There's a service entrance on the south side of the building, and I want two of you there to check it out immediately."

Seungcheol stands at attention, nodding as he quickly glances at Mingyu and the others. "I’ll go," he volunteers, already moving toward the south side.

"I’ll go with you," Mingyu replies without hesitation, catching up to him as they head for the back of the building.

The chief doesn’t waste time. "The rest of you, let's join the others and focus on knocking down these flames from the front. We need to contain the fire before it spreads further. Get in there and hit it hard."

"Got it, Chief," Wonwoo responds, his voice firm but calm. He slaps his gloves together, ready to move. Vernon, standing beside him, gives a quick thumbs-up, and the pair heads toward the front of the building, their steps steady and synchronized.

The team moves quickly, and efficiently, their skills are evident in every step they take. Seungcheol can feel the adrenaline surge through him as he secures his face mask, the weight of it grounding him, bringing clarity amidst the chaos. The sirens blare in the background, but his focus is on the building ahead; the flames, the smoke, the crackling heat that pulsates from the structure.

As Seungcheol and Mingyu move further into the danger zone, the heat begins to creep toward them as they reach the service door. Seungcheol doesn’t hesitate to get it open. He kicks it a few times, the metal groaning under the force, and they step inside, immediately hit by a fresh wall of heat and smoke.

The air is thick, stinging with the mixed smell of burning wood, plastic, and metal. Seungcheol’s vision blurs from the smoke, but the fire-resistant gear does its job. His breathing is steady, his focus unbroken. There’s no time for hesitation, no space for doubt. He’s seen fires like this before, and the weight of each decision bears down on him as he forces his body to move faster, his senses heightened to every crackle and shift in the air around him.

"We need to check every side room back here," Mingyu says, his voice low but urgent as they near the entrance. "Make sure if anyone's in there, they know we’re here."

Seungcheol nods, motioning for Mingyu to follow. They’re already scanning for signs of life, flashes of movement, any indication that someone might still be inside. They move swiftly through the dimly lit back hallway, their flashlights piercing the smoke. Each door they pass is carefully checked.

"Nothing yet," Seungcheol mutters, though he can’t shake the feeling that something’s off. The building creaks ominously, and the heat intensifies as they round the corner.

Mingyu splits off, his figure disappearing into the haze of smoke. Seungcheol’s heartbeat quickens. He knows the risks; fire, smoke inhalation, the unpredictability of a building on the verge of collapse. But this is what he’s trained for.

As he moves deeper into the building, he calls out, "Hello? Is anyone in here? We’re here to help!"

Suddenly, a muffled noise, like someone’s cough, pierces through the roar of the fire. Seungcheol’s heart races.

It sounds like it's coming from the storage room ahead. He quickens his pace, adrenaline surging as he approaches the door to the storage room. It’s slightly ajar, and the sound of coughing grows louder.

"Hello?" Seungcheol calls out, his voice firm, commanding.

A faint reply, weak but unmistakable, echoes back. "Help… please."

The heat intensifies, but he pushes forward, moving debris out of his way. His flashlight cuts through the darkness, landing on shattered glass, scorched furniture, and the faintest outline of a figure near an overturned file cabinet. His pulse spikes.

"Mingyu! I’ve got someone!" Seungcheol shouts into his radio, and then yells out, "Over here!"

Mingyu’s voice crackles through the radio, "Copy that. I’m on my way."

As he gets closer, Seungcheol sees that the person is covered in dust and soot, struggling to breathe. Seungcheol’s heart lurches, but he doesn’t waste time.

He rushes toward the figure, carefully lifting them into his arms, feeling the weight of the person’s body. It’s a woman, unconscious but breathing, her skin warm but not burned. He calls out again, voice urgent, but steady.

“Mingyu, she’s alive! I’m getting her out!"

"Got you," Mingyu replies, quickly appearing from the smoke like a shadow, ready to help. He moves to the other side of her, offering his shoulder for support.

Together, they move swiftly, holding the woman between them as they maneuver through the building, dodging debris that falls from above. The sound of the fire crackling is deafening now, but they don’t stop. There’s no time to waste.

As they approach the door, Seungcheol hears the loud, alarming sound of the building creaking, and the ground shifts beneath his feet. The structure is weakening.

"We need to get out now!" Mingyu says, his voice sharp.

They make it outside just as the first signs of the building’s collapse start to echo through the air. The woman is handed off to the paramedics waiting outside with a stretcher. Seungcheol takes a deep breath, grateful that they made it out in time.

"Nice work, Cheol," Mingyu says with a grin, his voice filled with relief.

Seungcheol nods, wiping sweat from his brow, though it’s hard to tell if it’s from the heat of the fire or the weight of the mission. Despite the exhaustion, there’s a quiet pride in Seungcheol’s chest. She’s alive.

The team is still working at the front, battling the flames as the building begins to crumble. Seungcheol and Mingyu make their way back, and the fire chief nods in approval. Seungcheol lets out a long breath, his body still humming with adrenaline.

“Good work,” the chief says, clapping him on the shoulder. “You guys did great.”

Seungcheol doesn’t have time for celebration. His eyes are already scanning the burning building, making sure his team is safe and the fire is under control.

But as the flames begin to die down, and the last of the smoke starts to clear, Seungcheol allows himself a brief moment of relief. They’ve done their job. They’ve saved a life tonight. And that’s what matters most.

“Can we get a table on the patio? It’s too nice to be stuck inside,” Kate asks the hostess as you both approach the cute, bistro-style restaurant. The woman nods with a polite smile, grabbing two menus before leading you to a cozy table in the fenced-in patio area.

The space is adorned with string lights and various colored potted plants, offering the perfect blend of a trendy atmosphere and eclectic style. From here, you have a prime view of the street, ideal for people watching as pedestrians stroll past, some lost in conversation, others in a hurry.

“This was a great idea,” you say as you settle into your chair. “I’m starving.”

Kate grins, flipping open her menu. “I’m just glad you were free for lunch today. Feels like we’ve barely had time to breathe since getting back.” She sighs, leaning back slightly. “I can’t believe it’s already been almost a month since the heart attack. It feels like everything’s been stuck on fast-forward.”

You nod, completely understanding where she’s coming from. It’s been a nonstop whirlwind since everything happened. It’s nice to take a break and relax, even if it’s just for an hour.

The waitress arrives with two glasses of water, the condensation beading along the sides as she sets them down. “Are you ready to order?” she asks with a friendly smile.

After quickly scanning the menu one last time, you both place your orders, opting for fresh, light dishes that match the warm afternoon. The waitress jots everything down before disappearing inside, leaving you and Kate to continue your conversation.

Your talk meanders effortlessly from one topic to the next; updates on work, the latest drama in your friend group, and Kate’s lingering frustration over unpacking all her things after getting home. It’s easy, natural, the way it always is with her.

When the food finally arrives, Kate practically beams. “God, this looks divine,” she says, wasting no time in picking up her sandwich and taking a big bite. Her eyes flutter shut briefly in appreciation before she gives you a satisfied nod of approval.

You both fall into a comfortable silence as you eat, occasionally breaking it to point out stylish outfits worn by pedestrians passing by. For the first time in a while, life is going pretty well.

Excuse yourself for a bathroom visit, you make your way inside, relieved to find no line. After washing your hands and taking a deep breath, you head back toward the patio, ready to enjoy the rest of your lunch.

Just as you step outside, a tall figure moves in front of you, blocking your path. You stop short, and as you lift a hand to shield your eyes from the sun, your stomach twists with recognition.

Daniel. Your ex.

“Hi,” he greets smoothly, a smile on his lips. “It’s a pleasure to see you.”

You arch a brow, unimpressed. “Wish I could say the same,” you deadpan, stepping to the side in an attempt to move past him.

He shifts just as quickly, blocking you again.

From your table, Kate catches sight of the interaction, her expression hardening as she starts to push back her chair. You give her a quick shake of your head, silently telling her you’ve got this.

She hesitates but stays put, eyes locked on Daniel like she’s already planning how to rip into him if he tries anything.

“About?” You scoff, already exasperated. “I don’t have anything to say to you.”

He exhales like he’s been rehearsing this moment. “I miss you. I wish things could go back to how they were.”

A humorless laugh escapes you. “Oh, you mean when I was blissfully unaware of your cheating? When I spent a week crying after I caught you? Yeah, no thanks. I think I’ve wasted enough time on you.”

You shift your gaze away, your patience wearing thin. That’s when you spot a familiar figure across the street, broad shoulders and that confident stride you’d recognize anywhere.

Seungcheol.

He’s just stepped out of an apartment complex, following a couple of other firemen. As if he can feel your eyes on him, his head lifts, scanning the area. The second he spots you, a smile tugs at his lips. You wave, instantly tuning out whatever nonsense Daniel is still rambling about.

Seungcheol’s smile falters as his eyes flick to the man standing a little too close to you. His jaw ticks, his easy going demeanor shifting into something more guarded. He doesn’t like it.

It doesn’t take a genius to pick up on the tension; your standoffish stance, Daniel’s pleading expression. Seungcheol can tell there’s history there, and though he trusts you, a flicker of jealousy ignites in his chest.

Without hesitation, he starts making his way over.

“Hi, baby,” Seungcheol grins, leaning over the short patio fence to kiss you. He’ll admit he might have lingered a little longer than necessary, just to make a point. A point that says, She’s taken. Move along.

His lips press firmly against yours, warm and sure, the faint scent of smoke clinging to his uniform. It’s familiar, comforting. When you finally pull back, you glance around only to realize Daniel is gone. Good.

Seungcheol follows your gaze, catching sight of your ex retreating into the restaurant. His brow lifts in silent question, but he doesn’t push. He knows you’ll tell him if it matters.

Instead, he asks. “Can I come over later?”

“Sure,” you muse, tilting your head with a playful smirk. “But only if you bring dinner. I’ll take care of dessert.” Your voice is light, but the meaning behind your words is unmistakable, the teasing glint in your eyes makes sure of that.

Seungcheol’s gaze darkens just a fraction, his smirk growing. “Dangerous offer, baby,” he murmurs, voice dipping low enough that only you can hear. “Deal.”

Kate clears her throat, dragging his attention away from you. He finally acknowledges her with a lazy grin. “Hi, Kate. Bye, Kate.”

She waves, practically buzzing with amusement. “Oh, don’t mind me. I’m just here for the entertainment. Five stars, by the way.”

The firetruck rounds the corner from where it must’ve been parked, sirens off but lights still flashing. Mingyu leans halfway out of the passenger-side window, grinning like he just caught Seungcheol red-handed.

“Come on, lover boy! We’ve got another call!” he shouts, his voice carrying across the street.

Seungcheol huffs a laugh, shaking his head before turning back to you. “Guess I gotta go,” he says, brushing his thumb over your cheek before pressing a quick, lingering kiss to your lips.

“Stay safe,” you murmur, already missing him.

“Always.” He flashes you one last smile before jogging toward the truck and hopping in. The moment the door shuts, Mingyu wiggles his eyebrows at him, and the truck pulls away, leaving you standing there with a racing heart and a silly smile.

Seungcheol shows up at your doorstep with burgers and fries, the scent of crispy, salty goodness filling the air. Your plan for the night had been simple; share dinner, maybe find a movie to watch, and ease into the evening.

But the second you see him, every ounce of restraint flies out the window. His white tee hugs his broad chest, jeans slung low on his hips, and hair slightly tousled from the night air.

You barely give him a chance to say hello before grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling him inside, your lips finding his the moment the door clicks shut. He lets out a surprised chuckle, but quickly recovers, kissing you back with just as much urgency.

The forgotten bag of food lands on the table as he wraps his arms around you, allowing you to guide him toward the bedroom. The second the back of his knees hit the mattress, he pulls you down with him, flipping you underneath him with ease.

“So much for dinner,” he murmurs against your lips, grinning.

You tug him closer, breathless. “You can have me first. Then the burger.”

Luckily, he feels the same way. This moment is long overdue.

Seungcheol’s hands explore your body with a slow, tantalizing touch. His fingers trailing over your skin as he eases your shirt over your head. His gaze darkens with desire as he drinks you in before shrugging off his shirt, revealing the sculpted muscles you adore.

Your hands find his broad shoulders, pressing against the firm warmth of his skin. He shivers under your touch, his breath hitching as your fingers trace over the hard lines of his body, mapping every ridge and dip like you want to memorize him.

He rolls his hips into yours, his voice thick with want. “Tell me what you need, baby, and I’ll give you exactly that.”

Your breath hitches as heat pools low in your stomach. “I want you to kiss me,” you murmur, guiding his hand lower before whispering, “here.”

His darkened eyes flick up to yours, lips curving into a knowing smirk. “My pleasure.”

He tugs your pants down with ease, eyes darkening when he sees the damp spot already forming on your panties. His fingers trace over the fabric, teasing, before applying the slightest pressure. The friction makes you gasp, your body arching toward him on instinct.

“You’re already so wet for me,” he murmurs, his voice husky. “You want me to taste you that bad?”

Your desperate nod is all the encouragement he needs. Hooking his fingers around your panties, he slides them down, groaning at the sight of you bare beneath him.

“Fuck,” he exhales, pressing a lingering kiss to your inner thigh before dragging his tongue slowly up your slit. The first stroke makes you shudder, a whimper past your lips.

He hums against you, the vibration sending sparks up your spine. “So perfect,” he praises, spreading you open. His tongue works expertly, flicking, circling, teasing. The pressure of his nose against your clit makes your thighs tremble as he devours you like he was made for this.

Your fingers clutch at the sheets, your back arching as pleasure coils tighter and tighter. “God, that feels so good, Cheol,” you moan, thighs threatening to clamp around his head.

But he doesn’t let up. Not when he knows you’re close, not when he’s determined to make you unravel beneath him, again and again.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan against you. The vibration sends a jolt through your body, and you can’t hold back the broken moan that escapes your lips. Your hips roll against his mouth, desperate, chasing the pleasure that’s building so intensely it’s almost unbearable.

And then, pure, white-hot bliss. The coil inside you snaps, pleasure rippling through your body like a shockwave. Your thighs tremble, your back arches, and his name spills from your lips like a prayer.

But Seungcheol isn’t done.

He holds you in place, hands gripping your hips as his tongue continues its merciless assault. He’s ravenous, devouring every wave, every twitch of your body, every moan that falls from your parted lips.

It’s overwhelming, too much. But somehow not enough, and just as you try to catch your breath, another orgasm crashes over you, even more intense than the last. Your body clenches, vision goes dark for a moment as you cry out his name. “Seungcheol!” you gasp, your voice wrecked from pleasure.

When you finally go limp, your body spent and trembling, Seungcheol presses one last kiss against your inner thigh before resting his head there. His dark eyes flick up to yours, filled with emotion. His nose and chin glistening with your release as he smirks, his voice husky and dripping with satisfaction.

“You’re unreal.”

He leans up, capturing your lips in a kiss so deep and intoxicating that it leaves you breathless. The taste of yourself lingers on his tongue, only adding to the fire burning between you. Arousal thrums through your veins as you reach between your bodies, palming his stiff length through the rough denim. The heat of him, even through the fabric, makes you ache with need.

“My turn,” you purr, pushing him back until he’s sitting up, your mouth watering at the thought of taking him deep.

But Seungcheol only grins, dark and full of mischief, before flipping you effortlessly onto your back again, caging you beneath him. “Nuh-uh,” he teases, his voice low and dripping with promise. “Tonight is all about you. I’ve got some making up to do, remember?”

His lips find yours once more, kissing you slow and deep before trailing down your jaw, your neck, your collarbone, leaving a scorching path in his wake. When he reaches your chest, his hands skillfully slip behind your back, unhooking your bra in one smooth motion.

He groans as your bare skin is finally revealed to him, his gaze darkening with hunger. “So fucking beautiful,” he murmurs before taking one of your hardened peaks into his mouth. The wet heat of his tongue swirls around you, sucking just enough to make you arch into him, a needy whimper escaping your lips.

His free hand slides down your waist, fingertips dancing over your skin as he worships you, intent on unraveling you piece by piece.

You grab his arm just before his fingers can slip between your legs, your grip tight, your breathing uneven. “As much as I’d love to feel your fingers there,” you pant, your voice desperate, “I need your cock in me before I lose my mind.”

Seungcheol hesitates, his muscles tensing beneath your touch. His mouth opens, as if he’s about to protest, but you don’t give him the chance.

“Please, Seungcheol,” you plead, your voice dripping with need. “Fuck me. I need you so bad. I’m going crazy.”

His grin is slow and teasing, his dark eyes flickering with amusement and pure desire. “You’re supposed to make me work for it,” he murmurs, brushing his lips over yours, savoring your impatience.

“Fuck that,” you whimper, your hands already undoing his pants, shoving them down his hips with urgency. “I already know it’s going to be so good, and I can’t wait any longer. I’ve needed you since that night in the hot tub. Please don’t make me wait any longer.”

Your confession makes his cock throb painfully. The memory of that night, your soaked skin, the way you had looked at him, only fueling his desire. He swears under his breath, his hands gripping your thighs as he positions himself between them.

He strokes himself twice, eyes never leaving yours, drinking in the way you shudder with anticipation beneath him. “I’ve needed you since then too,” he groans, dragging the head of his cock through your slick folds, teasing you just for a second longer.

Then, without further hesitation, he thrusts into you, burying himself in one deep, slow stroke.

“I’m not going anywhere this time,” he groans, voice rough, his forehead pressing against yours as your walls clench around him. "I promise."

“You stretch me so fucking good, oh my god,” you moan, your head tilting back against the pillows as he pulls out just enough to slam back into you, filling you to the hilt.

Seungcheol groans, the sound guttural, his jaw tightening as he watches the way your body takes him so perfectly. So tight, so wet, so fucking perfect. His hands roam over your curves before gripping your hips, using them as leverage to thrust even deeper.

The flames between you grow hotter, consuming you both as your bodies move in perfect sync like you were made for this, made for each other.

His breathing is heavy, lips brushing against your jaw before he captures your wrists in one strong hand, pinning them above your head against the mattress. “Hold still for me,” he murmurs, his voice thick with command and lust.

You whimper at the sudden control, your walls clenching around him in response. “Fuck,” he hisses, his grip tightening just slightly as his hips snap against yours with increasing intensity.

Each thrust sends waves of pleasure crashing through you, your body arching beneath him. The slick sound of your bodies colliding fills the room, mixing with the symphony of your moans and his groans.

His free hand trails down your body, his fingertips ghosting over your skin before pressing firmly against your clit, rubbing tight, deliberate circles.

“Cheol—” you cry out, eyes squeezing shut as pleasure coils tight in your core, the tension threatening to snap at any moment.

“That’s it, baby,” he rasps, his lips brushing over your parted ones. “Let me feel you fall apart.”

Your body obeys his command, trembling as pleasure surges through you. Your walls tighten around him, milking every inch of his cock as your orgasm crashes over you in waves. Seungcheol groans, his grip tightening on your wrists as he slows his thrusts, guiding you through the aftershocks, keeping you grounded while you catch your breath.

He watches you, completely wrecked beneath him, your body glowing with satisfaction, your chest rising and falling with each shaky inhale. And yet, the way your eyes meet his, filled with hunger, tells him you're not done.

“Come in me,” you whisper, voice dripping with desperation, fingers curling into his biceps. “I’m all yours to claim.”

His body tenses at your words, his restraint snapping like a rubber band stretched too thin. A deep groan rumbles in his chest as he thrusts into you one last time, burying himself inside you. The heat of his release floods through your center, your walls fluttering around him as he spills every drop.

He collapses over you, supporting his weight on his forearms, pressing his forehead against yours as he tries to steady his breath. A satisfied smirk tugs at his lips as he leans in, deeply kissing you.

“Mine,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice rough, possessive.

You hum in agreement, running your fingers through his damp hair. “Yours.”

You lay there together, limbs tangled, basking in the lingering warmth of each other's bodies. The room is thick with the scent of sweat and satisfaction. And the rhythmic rise and fall of your breathing is the only sound filling the quiet. Seungcheol presses a slow, lingering kiss to your lips, pouring unspoken emotions into it.

Eventually, he pulls away with a soft sigh and sits up, running a hand through his messy hair. He disappears into your bathroom and returns with a warm washcloth, kneeling between your legs. His touch is gentle as he cleans you up, his brows furrowed in concentration as he carefully wipes away his release spilling from your folds, making sure you’re comfortable before tending to himself.

You watch him, your heart swelling at the quiet intimacy of it all.

When he’s finished, you sit up slowly, a blissed-out smile stretching across your face. “That,” you begin, “Was so worth the wait.”

He chuckles, tossing the washcloth aside. “Glad to know I met expectations.”

“Please,” you snort, standing to grab a clean pair of panties. You swipe his discarded t-shirt off the floor and throw it on, the hem skimming your upper thighs. “You surpassed every single one.”

Seungcheol smirks, eyes trailing your frame as you move around the room. You catch his gaze and raise a brow. “What?”

“Nothing,” he muses, leaning back on his hands. “Just admiring the view.”

Rolling your eyes fondly, you grab his hand and tug him toward the kitchen. “Come on, I need a french fry in my life. You wanna eat out here, or should I bring it back to bed?”

“You can’t eat in bed,” he scolds lightly.

You shrug. “I do it all the time.”

He shakes his head but follows you out anyway, pulling his boxers back on.

Once the burgers and fries are plated, you both settle on the couch. You hand him a plate before digging in, barely pausing between bites. Seungcheol watches you with amusement, but when you’re not looking, he sneakily drops a fry down for Mika, who’s curled up in her favorite blanket. The pup wags her tail and happily munches on her secret treat.

“Post-sex burgers kinda slap, I’m not gonna lie,” you say, taking another big bite.

Seungcheol doesn’t respond right away, too busy watching you with an expression so soft it borders on devastating. He knows he’s in deep, he has been since the moment he met you. Loving you this much is dangerous, but fuck, it’s so worth the inevitable heartache and future pain he’s setting himself up for.

The following morning, Seungcheol stirs awake at the faint rustling of movement beside him. Still half-asleep, he instinctively reaches out to pull you back into his arms. It’s way too early to be getting up, but his hands find empty sheets. His brows furrow as he cracks his eyes open, blinking against the soft morning light filtering through the curtains.

You're standing by the dresser, slipping on a pair of leggings, your hair thrown up into a clip.

“Good morning, Seungshine.”

His heart swells at the nickname, a lazy smile tugging at his lips. “Mmm, morning. Going somewhere, gorgeous?” His deep, raspy morning voice sends a pleasant shiver down your spine.

“Just a quick run to the pharmacy. I’ll be back in a few.” You lean down to press a lingering kiss to his lips. “Don’t get up.”

He hums against your lips but narrows his eyes in suspicion. “What for?”

You straighten, grinning. “Well, if you recall, we ended the night with a big bang, no puns intended. But I don’t take my birth control as consistently as I should, so just to be safe, I’m grabbing a Plan B.”

The realization hits him like a freight train. His eyes widen as he sits up abruptly, pushing the covers off. “Shit—I’m so sorry. I didn’t even think to ask last night.” He scrambles for his jeans. “I’ll come with you—and I’m paying for it. Obviously.”

You chuckle at his flustered state, shaking your head. “Cheol, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not,” he insists, standing and pulling his jeans on. “That should’ve been a conversation before we went at it like animals.” He runs a hand across his face, exhaling sharply. “I feel like an asshole.”

You step closer, moving his hands to cup his face in yours. “You’re not an asshole. We got caught up in the moment, it happens. But we’re handling it now, and that’s what matters.”

He studies you for a moment before sighing, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Still. I wanna come with you.”

You arch a brow. “You sure you wanna be seen in public, bright and early, in the pharmacy aisle buying Plan B?”

He deadpans, “I’m a firefighter, babe. I run into burning buildings for a living. You think I’m scared of the contraceptive aisle?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Fair enough, but you really don’t need to come. I begged for it. And, honestly? I’d beg you to come inside me again because that was so fucking hot.” You give him a teasing grin before adding, “But yeah, just to be safe, I’ll pick one up. Don’t worry, babe.” You flash him a reassuring smile. And the truth is, you’re not upset about it. Shit happens. You wouldn’t change a thing about last night.

But Seungcheol’s face softens with concern, and he shakes his head. “It’s not right, no. If I wasn’t in such a rush last night, I would’ve remembered the condoms in my wallet. But I didn’t, so I’m gonna take care of this and fix it.” His voice carries a mix of guilt and determination, and you can see it’s eating him up inside.

You gently touch his arm, trying to ease his frustration. “Cheol, seriously. There’s nothing to fix. It’s okay.”

His jaw tightens, frustration falling across his features. The sound of him exhaling sharply fills the room. He feels like he’s messed up, and it’s killing him. But then, seeing the look on your face, he softens, his anger shifting to self-recrimination. “I’m sorry. I’m not mad at you. I don’t mean to argue. I’m just frustrated with myself. I should’ve used protection, that won’t happen again.”

You step closer, wrapping your arms around him, feeling his stiffened posture. He doesn’t immediately return the hug, his muscles tight with guilt.

“Cheol, get out of your head,” you say softly, your fingers brushing against his back. “We’re good. I’m not mad at you. Please don’t do this to yourself.”

He exhales slowly, his shoulders relaxing a fraction. “Sorry,” he breathes out, his voice full of self-disappointment. “I don’t like messing up.” He pulls away slightly, looking at you with a half-hearted smile. “I’m gonna head to the gym and blow off some steam before my shift. Call me later?”

You nod, offering him a warm, understanding smile. “Of course.”

He gives you one last, lingering kiss on the forehead before grabbing his gym bag and heading for the door. His footsteps fade, but the weight of his thoughts lingers in the room. You just hope he knows that everything is okay.

…

Seungcheol arrives at the station early, eager to clear his mind with a good workout. As soon as he walks in, he spots Vernon already warming up, and they exchange a quick greeting before diving into their routines. Seungcheol starts with his usual heavy dumbbell reps, the weight feels almost too light as his mind drifts away from the frustration of earlier.

His focus sharpens as he moves onto sprints on the treadmill, feeling the burn in his legs, and finally finishes with some deadlifts. Each rep clears a bit more of the tension from his shoulders, his thoughts slowly settling into a rhythm.

It’s only when he checks his phone to switch the song playing through his headphones that his heart drops. There’s a text from you, simple and straightforward: Got the pill, already took it.

The frustration from earlier resurfaces instantly, a knot tightening in his chest. His jaw clenches as he finishes the last set of deadlifts, his mind whirring with thoughts of how to fix things, but also realizing that fixing things isn't always the solution.

“Dang, dude,” Vernon whistles from across the room, clearly noticing the shift in Seungcheol’s demeanor. “You look like you’re about to murder someone.”

Seungcheol lets out a frustrated breath, wiping his face with a towel before flinging it over his shoulder. “You could say that,” he mutters, wiping the sweat from his brow. “Y/N and I argued this morning. She wasn’t having it when I tried to fix something, solve a problem, whatever you wanna call it.”

Vernon raises an eyebrow, setting down his weights. “Oof. Sounds like you’ve met your match, man. Mr. Fix-It’s getting his ass handed to him by Miss Independent, huh?”

Seungcheol runs his hand across his neck, letting out a sigh of exasperation. “Yeah, and it’s infuriating sometimes. She’s clumsy by nature, which I absolutely adore, but she won’t ask for help, even when I offer. I don’t mind helping. I want to. If a problem arises I want to jump in and solve it. Hell, I’d love to do anything to make her day easier, but she just won’t let me. It drives me crazy. I’m trying to be a good boyfriend, but she’s just...so stubborn.”

Vernon chuckles, shaking his head. “That’s all women for you.”

Seungcheol shoots him a side-eye. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Vernon leans against the wall, looking over at him with a knowing smirk. “You’re learning the hard way. It’s like, no matter how much you want to help, they’ll still want to do it themselves. It’s part of the charm...and the frustration.”

Seungcheol snorts, running a hand through his hair again. “Yeah, I’ve noticed. It’s like she wants to carry the weight of the world herself, even if I’m standing right here, ready to take some of it.”

Vernon pats him on the back, a sympathetic smile tugging at his lips. “Dude, you’re gonna have to accept that. It’s just how it goes. Just try not to lose your mind over it. You’re not gonna win this one, so don’t let it eat you up.”

Seungcheol nods, letting the advice sink in. Maybe Vernon’s right, maybe this is just one of those things he has to let go of. But damn, it’s hard when all he wants to do is help, especially when he’s so used to fixing everything around him.

Your latest meeting with your publisher went better than you could’ve ever imagined. Over coffee downtown, she told you the great news: your editor approved the final draft of your novel, and it's officially being sent to the press.

In three months, thousands of copies will be printed, bound, and sent out to stores across the world. The feeling of seeing your work finally come to life is overwhelming, and you can't wait to share the news with Seungcheol.

You rush to the station, eager to surprise him. As soon as you walk in, you spot the sweet receptionist at her desk and flash her a bright smile.

“Hey, Y/N! Seungcheol’s in the garage.”

“Thanks!” you call back, your excitement bubbling up as you head toward the garage.

“Mika!” comes the familiar chorus of voices from the station’s crew. Everyone loves your husky, and she loves their attention. She prances around, soaking up the affection before running straight for Wonwoo, ready for a round of frisbee. He takes her out back, tossing the frisbee with a grin as she happily chases it down.

You walk into the garage just as Seungcheol is finishing up something on a truck. Before you can get his attention, he’s already spotted you. He moves swiftly, wrapping his strong arms around you from behind, pulling you against his chest. His lips find the spot just below your ear, planting a soft kiss there.

“What do I owe the pleasure?” he murmurs, his voice low and warm. “I didn’t think I’d see you until after I finished this 48-hour shift.”

You can’t help but laugh, the happiness of the moment bubbling out of you. “Well, I couldn’t wait to see you. I have some huge news!” You tilt your head to catch his gaze. His smile widens at the sound of your enthusiasm.

“What’s that?” he asks, clearly intrigued.

“The book’s officially being printed,” you say, the excitement rushing out in a stream of words. “They approved it, Seungcheol. In three months, it’ll be out in stores!”

Seungcheol freezes, his arms tightening around you as the realization sinks in. “No way.” His voice is filled with awe. “You did it, Y/N.” He turns you around, looking you in the eyes, a thrilled smile on his face. “I’m so fucking proud of you.”

You beam, feeling the weight of everything you’ve worked for finally come to fruition. His words only make it feel more real. “I couldn’t have done it without your support. You’re the one who told me to write for myself.”

He presses a quick kiss to your lips, his hands sliding down to rest at your waist. “So, what’s the next step? Are you gonna do a book tour or something?”

You shrug playfully. “I’m still figuring that part out, but for now, I just wanted to celebrate with you and share the news.”

His grin is sinful, full of mischief and raw desire. “Well, I think I know the perfect way to celebrate.”

Before you can ask what he means, Seungcheol takes your hand and tugs you between two fire trucks, tucking you into the dimly lit space where the shadows provide just enough secrecy. Your heart hammers in your chest as you take in his expression. His pupils are blown wide, his lips parted, his entire body practically radiating heat.

The second you’re in position, he crashes his lips to yours His hands grip your hips, fingers digging in just enough to make you whimper against his mouth. He swallows the sound, deepening the kiss, tilting your head to take even more of you.

Then, using his pure strength, he lifts you effortlessly, pinning you against the cool, hard metal of the fire truck. You gasp at the contrast between his burning body and the icy steel. His hips press between your legs, and you can feel him, thick and heavy, even through the layers separating you.

“Fuck, I need you,” he groans, his voice rough with restraint.

Your head spins. “Here?” you whisper, glancing to the side, your nerves and excitement blending together.

He pulls back slightly, his breath fanning over your lips. “Only if you want to.”

God, it’s reckless. You could get caught. But something about the idea of Seungcheol taking you right here, in the middle of his workplace, with his crew just yards away, has arousal pooling between your thighs. It’s like a scene ripped straight from one of your books, and you can’t help but bite your lip, nodding frantically.

A slow, satisfied smirk spreads across his face. “That’s my girl.”

His hands slide under your skirt, fingers tracing the sensitive skin of your thighs before pushing the fabric up to bunch around your hips. You shiver in anticipation as he unzips his pants, the sound sharp in the quiet space. Your breath stutters when his fingers slip beneath the waistband of your panties, dragging them down your legs and tucking them into one of his pockets.

The cool air hits your damp heat before his fingers find you. He lets out a low curse. “So wet for me already.” His voice is pure sin, dripping with desire.

Then, he reaches into another zipper pocket, pulling out a small foil packet. He rips it open with his teeth, grinning as he rolls the condom onto his aching length.

“As wild and unpredictable as you are, I’ve learned my lesson.” His tone is teasing, but his eyes are dark. “So, I always keep a condom on hand. This is my surprise sex stash.” He taps the pocket he pulled it from.

A breathy laugh escapes you, the absurdity of it making your stomach flutter. “That’s so hot, but also so funny.”

He chuckles, “What can I say? I like to be prepared.” Your laughter quickly turns into soft mewls as he rubs his cock through your folds.

And then, without warning, he thrusts into you, stretching you perfectly, filling you in a way that has you gasping against his lips.

He grits his teeth, jaw clenched tight as he bottoms out inside you. His breath comes out in a ragged groan as he mutters, “Always a perfect fucking fit.” The praise sends a fresh wave of heat surging through you, your walls fluttering around him in response.

Then he starts to move. Hard, fast, relentless. His hips snap into yours with an intensity that has your head falling back against the truck, the metal vibrating with each powerful thrust. The pleasure is overwhelming, every nerve in your body is on fire, and you can do nothing but take it, your body molding to his as he fucks you into oblivion.

The sounds of your wetness mixed with his grunts echo dangerously in the garage, and a sudden thrill shoots through you at the realization of how exposed you are. Anyone could walk in. Any second now, someone could round the corner and—

A strangled moan tears from your lips, loud and uncontrollable.

Seungcheol reacts instantly, his free hand flying up to cover your mouth, muffling the desperate sounds threatening to give you away. His other hand remains firm on your waist, guiding your movements as he thrusts deeper, angling perfectly to brush against that sweet, devastating spot inside you.

“Shh, baby,” he rasps against your ear, voice thick with arousal and amusement. “Unless you want them to hear how good I’m fucking you.”

His words send a violent shudder through your body, your nails sinking into his shoulders as you cling to him. His pace only grows rougher, more desperate, like he needs to push you over the edge. And with the way his cock is slamming into you, dragging against your most sensitive spot with every stroke, you know you won’t last much longer.

Your muffled whimpers vibrate against his palm, your body trembling as that familiar coil tightens, winding impossibly tight.

“Fuck,” he grunts, thrusts growing erratic. “You’re close, aren’t you? I can feel you.”

You nod frantically, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes from the sheer pleasure. You’re right there, teetering on the edge, the tension in your core threatening to snap at any second.

And then—he thrusts particularly deep, his name slipping from your lips against his palm as you shatter around him, your entire body convulsing as pleasure washes over you in overwhelming waves.

Seungcheol tenses, a deep groan tearing from his throat as his release crashes over him. His hips stutter, pressing flush against you as he spills into the condom, his heart pounding wildly against his ribs.

His forehead rests against yours as he catches his breath, a lazy grin tugging at his lips. “I swear, it’s better every time.” He kisses you, slow and deep, as if trying to make the moment last a little longer.

Gently, he lowers you back onto your shaky legs, steadying you with firm hands as he smooths down your skirt to cover your still-throbbing core. You blink up at him, dazed, before holding out a hand expectantly. “My panties?”

Seungcheol’s grin turns downright wicked as he pulls his pants back up around his hips. “Nope. Those are mine now.”

Your jaw drops. “Excuse me?”

He shrugs, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Consider them a souvenir.”

You huff, crossing your arms. “Fine. But only because my legs are too wobbly to fight you for them.” You shake your head, still trying to regain some semblance of composure. “How the hell did you even hold me up for that long? Guess I gotta start calling you Swole Cheol.”

He throws his head back in laughter, wrapping an arm around your waist to keep you steady. “Damn right, baby. Now, let’s get you out of here before someone starts wondering why you look so thoroughly fucked.”

He watches you walk away, a satisfied smirk lingering on his lips as you glance back with a knowing look. Once you're out of sight, he releases a deep breath, running a hand through his hair before making his way to the locker room.

With a sigh, he disposes of the soiled condom, shaking his head at himself. You’re insatiable, Choi Seungcheol. But who could blame him when it came to you? His body already aches for another round, the memory of your warmth and the way you came undone around him burned into his mind.

Unfortunately, that will have to wait until tonight. For now, a very cold shower is in order.

After finishing his grueling 48-hour shift, Seungcheol finally gets to clock out. But instead of heading straight home to crash, he shoots you a text.

Come over?

You don’t hesitate. Obviously.

You haven’t seen his place yet, and curiosity buzzes through you as you drive over. When you arrive, he’s already waiting at the door, wearing nothing but gray sweats you silently pray he never gets rid of, and a tired smile that still somehow makes your stomach flip.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” he says, stepping aside to let you and Mika in. His place is warm and inviting, all dark wood and soft lighting, the faint scent of his cologne lingering in the air.

You barely get a chance to take in your surroundings before he’s pulling you into his arms, kissing you slow and deep like he’s been starved for you.

You don’t make it past the couch. Neither do your clothes.

He lays you down, hovering over you, taking his time worshipping your body. It’s sweet and slow, his lips tracing every inch of your skin, his hands gripping your hips as he sinks into you, rocking into you with a steady rhythm that has your toes curling.

Then, for the next round, he carries you to his bed. Where you take control by straddling him, rolling your hips just right. His hands roam your body, his praises spilling from his lips like he can’t help himself. “You ride me so fucking well,” he groans, his grip tightening as he watches you fall apart above him.

And just when he thinks he’s spent, you pull him into the shower, pressing your chest against the cool tile as he takes you from behind, water cascading over both of you.

By the time you tumble back into his bed, tangled in the sheets, your limbs are heavy with exhaustion. Seungcheol pulls you onto his chest, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your back.

He presses a kiss to your temple, murmuring against your skin, “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

You hum sleepily, a satisfied smile tugging at your lips. “At least you’ll go happy.”

With a breathy chuckle, he tightens his arms around you. Sleep takes him quickly, and you follow soon after, lulled by the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath you.

You sleep soundly for the next couple of hours, wrapped in warmth, the steady rise and fall of Seungcheol’s chest beneath your cheek lulling you into the deepest rest you’ve had in weeks. His scent surrounds you; fresh soap, faint cologne, something inherently him.

But then, movement stirs beside you.

A restless twitch. A sharp inhale. A quiet, broken, “No.”

Your brows knit together as you lift your head, immediately sensing the distress rolling off him in waves. His muscles tense beneath your palm, his fingers gripping the sheets as his breaths grow shallow. Another boom cracks through the night, lightning flashing across the room, illuminating the crease in his brow, and the tremble in his lips.

Then he whispers it, his voice thick with anguish.

"Please don’t be dead."

Your heart clenches. You realize what’s happening in an instant, he’s trapped in another nightmare, reliving something dark, something that still haunts him.

“Seungcheol,” you murmur softly, placing your palm over his racing heart. “You’re dreaming. It’s okay. You’re safe.”

But then another crack of thunder rattles the walls, and his body jerks violently as his eyes snap open, wild and unfocused. His breath comes in quick, panicked gasps, and for a moment, he’s not here. He’s somewhere else, somewhere terrible.

“Cheol, it’s me,” you say quickly, sitting up beside him. “I’m here.”

His gaze darts around the room as if searching for danger, for confirmation that the horrors of his dream weren’t real. Another flash of lightning streaks across the sky, and you see it, the sheer panic in his eyes, the way his entire frame trembles.

Without hesitation, you press your hands over his ears, shielding him from the roaring thunder. He lets out a shaky exhale, squeezing his eyes shut as he leans into your touch. Slowly, gently, you guide him back down onto the bed, keeping your hands in place, anchoring him.

“It’s just a storm,” you whisper. “You’re okay. Just breathe.”

He listens, inhales deeply, exhales slower. Again. And again. Until the tremors in his body ease, until his chest rises and falls at a steady rhythm.

Minutes pass before his grip on you loosens, before his exhausted body succumbs to sleep once more. You stay like that, curled against him, watching over him, your fingers trailing soothing patterns on his skin.

…

The morning light filters softly through his windows, casting a golden glow over Seungcheol’s bare shoulders as he sits across from you at the kitchen table, fingers curled around his coffee mug. The night’s storm has long since passed, but the weight of it still lingers in the air between you.

You take a careful sip, watching him as Mika eats the last of her breakfast. He hasn’t said much since waking up, just his usual quiet “Morning, gorgeous” and a kiss to your forehead before brewing your coffee exactly how you like it. But there’s a tension in his shoulders, a faraway look in his eyes that hasn’t faded since last night.

You set your mug down. “You were really freaked out last night,” you say gently. “Do you want to talk about it? It’s okay if you aren’t ready to.”

He exhales through his nose, his grip on the mug tightening. You see the war happening in his head, his instinct to protect you from the darkness in him battling against his desire to be honest with you. To not keep things hidden.

Finally, he sighs, running a hand through his hair.

“That storm...the thunder, the lightning, it took me back,” he admits, voice rough. “There was this wildfire a few months ago. A lightning strike started it. We had barely any warning before it spread out of control.” He pauses, jaw tensing. “A family refused to evacuate. I begged them to go, promised I’d do everything I could to protect their home. But the wind...it changed direction so fast, faster than anyone could’ve predicted.” His knuckles whiten around his cup. “By the time we got back there...it was too late.”

Your heart clenches at the raw anguish in his voice, the way his eyes flicker with a pain so deep it’s nearly unbearable to witness.

“They didn’t make it?” you ask softly.

His throat bobs as he swallows hard. “No one did,” he murmurs. “When we found them, they were still holding onto their baby.” His voice breaks on the last word. “I broke my promise.”

Tears prick your own eyes at the thought, at the unbearable weight he’s carried with him all this time. You reach across the table, placing your hand over his.

“Cheol,” you whisper, squeezing gently. “You did everything you could.”

His jaw clenches, his eyes flicking up to meet yours, red-rimmed and filled with regret and guilt. “Did I?” he rasps. “Because I should’ve convinced them. I should’ve been able to make them leave. I should’ve gotten there sooner.”

“They chose to stay,” you remind him softly.

“They didn’t know any better,” he counters, voice thick with guilt. “They were scared, and I should’ve—” He stops, dragging a hand down his face as he blinks back the tears threatening to spill. “I live with that every damn day. Knowing I couldn’t save them. That I had to carry their bodies out instead.”

The silence between you is heavy, but you don’t rush to fill it. Instead, you shift your chair closer, wrapping your arms around him. He stiffens for half a second before melting into you, his forehead resting against your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin.

“You carry so much,” you murmur, fingers tracing soothing circles on his back. “More than anyone ever should. But you’re human, Cheol. You can’t save everyone.”

He exhales shakily, nodding against you. “I just wish I could.”

“I know,” you whisper, pressing a soft kiss to his hair. “And that’s what makes you you.”

For the first time that morning, he lets himself break. And you hold him through it all.

You refuse to let him go, arms wrapped tightly around his broad shoulders as he holds you just as fiercely. His breath is steadying now, though his heartbeat still pounds beneath your fingertips. You don’t say anything; just stay there, grounding him, letting him know he’s not alone.

Then, a sharp alarm cuts through the air. Seungcheol’s phone buzzes insistently against the table, and the moment ends. He exhales deeply, hesitating for just a second before he pulls back to check the screen. His brows knit together, and his entire demeanor shifts.

“I gotta go,” he murmurs, jaw tightening. “House fire.” Uncanny timing.

His movements are swift as he grabs his keys, slipping on his jacket quickly after. He kisses you once, lingering just a little longer than usual, before crouching to ruffle Mika’s fur. “You stay here and keep your mom company, okay?” The husky wags her tail, oblivious to the tension in the air.

“You’re welcome to stay as long as you’d like,” he tells you, pausing at the door. “Though...I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

There’s something unspoken in his words, something heavy. Like a part of him isn’t sure he’ll be back at all.

“That’s okay, I have to pick up my new car at some point today. Be safe,” you whisper, and he nods before he’s out the door, disappearing into the early morning light.

When Seungcheol arrives at the station, the usual buzz of activity is nowhere to be found. Instead, the air is thick, weighed down by everyone’s mood. They move in near silence, expressions grim as they gear up. There’s no room for jokes or casual banter this morning.

The fire must be bad.

It doesn’t take long before the trucks are roaring down the streets, sirens wailing. Seungcheol watches the city blur past through the windshield, his fingers clenching and unclenching around the strap of his harness. His mind drifts back to the wildfire, to the storm, to last night’s memories clawing at the edges of his mind.

Not again.

The moment they arrive on the scene, it’s clear just how dire the situation is. Flames engulf the upper floors of a residential building, thick black smoke pouring from shattered windows. Panicked screams echo through the street as people scramble outside, clutching children, pets, whatever they could grab before escaping.

“Two confirmed still inside,” their Chief barks as they hop off the truck, already securing their oxygen masks.

Seungcheol’s pulse kicks into overdrive.

Two people.

That’s all it takes for him to lose his grip on rational thought.

Adrenaline surges through his veins as he storms toward the entrance, ignoring the heat licking at his skin. The radio crackles in his ear with orders, but they barely register. He has one mission.

Get them out.

“Coups, wait—” someone calls behind him, but he’s already gone, disappearing into the inferno.

Inside, it’s a warzone of collapsing debris and searing flames. Visibility is nearly zero, but he pushes forward, relying on instinct. His breaths come in controlled, measured gasps as he scans the smoke-filled hallway.

A cough. A desperate sound.

There.

He finds them huddled in a bedroom, an older woman shielding a teenage boy with her body. Their faces are streaked with soot, eyes wide with terror.

“It’s okay,” Seungcheol says, voice firm. “I’m getting you out of here.”

The woman clings to him as he hoists the boy onto his back, securing his grip before turning toward the exit. But just as they reach the hallway, an explosion rattles the structure, sending a shower of debris crashing down below them. The floor beneath them groans ominously.

“Shit,” he grits out, adjusting his hold. “Hold on.”

He doesn’t hesitate.

Breaking protocol entirely, Seungcheol barrels forward, his mind laser-focused on getting the trapped family to safety. He moves quickly, weaving through the fiery chaos, dodging falling beams and blistering flames that seem to reach out for him. His breath is ragged, adrenaline coursing through his veins, but nothing will stop him—nothing. Not the heat, not the smoke, not even the ever-encroaching collapse of the building around him.

Then, a massive beam crashes down onto his shoulder, the impact so brutal that a sharp cry of pain is forced from his lips. He staggers but pushes through, gritting his teeth, refusing to let the pain slow him down. His shoulder burns like hell, but he won’t stop, not when the woman’s terrified eyes are locked on him, desperate for his help.

“Cheol!” Mingyu’s voice cuts through the fog of pain, and Seungcheol knows what’s coming even before his friend is fully in view.

“Do you have a death wish?” Mingyu barks, his tone sharp with concern as he catches up, the rest of the unit trailing behind him.

Seungcheol grits his teeth, his jaw clenched tight. He doesn’t have the energy for this right now.

“You guys shouldn’t be in here,” he growls, eyes scanning the wreckage. The staircase is gone, replaced by nothing but broken wood and twisted metal. He shifts the woman in his arms, her fragile weight barely noticeable compared to the responsibility pressing down on his chest.

“Neither should you,” Wonwoo shoots back, annoyance lining his voice as he surveys the scene. “We wait for orders then comply, remember? Protocol.”

Seungcheol shoots him a scowl, shaking his head. “Then why did you follow?” He’s out of breath, but his tone is still biting. The words tumble out without thinking.

“We weren’t going to let you die in here,” Vernon huffs, catching the woman in his arms with a grunt, before nodding to Seungcheol. The teenage boy is next, and Seungcheol carefully lowers him down to safety.

The unit works quickly, their frustration visible, but they all know this is the harsh reality of their job. As Seungcheol is helped down next, Mingyu’s eyes stay fixed on his shoulder, unable to ignore the way Seungcheol’s fingers are tightly gripping his own arm, gloves tight across his knuckles from the pain he's clearly trying to hide.

Seungcheol catches his stare, his expression darkening. The warning is clear in his eyes. Don’t fucking say a thing.

Mingyu swallows hard, but he says nothing. His jaw clenches, but he doesn’t push the issue. Seungcheol’s pride, his reckless courage, has always been part of him. And right now, no amount of scolding will change what’s already been done.

The fire rages behind them, a constant roar of destruction, but Seungcheol keeps his focus, pushing through the pain in his shoulder. The family is safe, that’s all that matters. For now, anyway.

As they burst through the door, the mother and son gasp for fresh air, the paramedics rushing in to attend to them. But Seungcheol barely registers the relief in their faces before the harsh crackling of his radio fills the air. He tenses, hearing the fury behind it, and before he can react, a voice booms from behind him.

“Choi Seungcheol, what the fuck was that?” He turns sharply to see Captain Namjoon storming toward him, absolutely livid.

“You ignored a direct order, you reckless idiot—”

But Seungcheol doesn't flinch, doesn't care. Not when he glances back at the boy, clutching his mother, both of them alive and safe. That’s what matters to him.

The Chief interrupts, his voice cold and authoritative as he steps in front of Seungcheol. “You willingly put yourself and your unit at risk. Disciplinary action will be discussed tomorrow in front of a panel to decide your reprimand for misconduct. You’re dismissed. Get back to the station.”

Seungcheol’s heart sinks, but he knows better than to argue now. What’s done is done.

A slight worry settles in your gut as you glance at the clock, noting that the sun is beginning to dip below the horizon. You haven’t heard from Seungcheol since he left early this morning. You know his job is demanding, but the silence gnaws at you, twisting your thoughts into worst-case scenarios.

You try to distract yourself. You’ve run all your errands, picked up your new car from the dealership, and taken Mika on a long walk in the park. But now, there’s nothing left to occupy your mind. The restlessness builds, gnawing at your thoughts until you can’t sit still any longer.

You decide to drive to the station, thinking that maybe if you wait there, you’ll see Seungcheol when the trucks return. At least then you can breathe a little easier. You leave Mika safely tucked in your apartment, lock up, and head for the station. The closer you get, the more your nerves spark.

But when you pull up and see the big garage doors closed, your stomach drops. That means the trucks are already parked back inside.

Your pulse quickens as you lock your car, your mind racing with questions. You rush through the door, barely noticing the soft murmur of voices inside. When you round the corner, you bump into Mingyu just outside the locker room door.

His eyes meet yours, his usual laid-back demeanor momentarily replaced by a flicker of concern. “Y/N? What are you doing here?” he asks, concerned about your current state, even though his exhaustion is evident.

A flood of worry surges through you as you look at Mingyu, your mind racing with a thousand different scenarios. “How long have you guys been back? Did Seungcheol get mandated to stay for overtime? Or is he hurt?”

Mingyu gives you a look, one that’s part confusion, part understanding, as he puts the pieces together. He raises an eyebrow. “You haven’t heard from him?” he asks, his voice softening as he realizes the depth of your concern.

You shake your head quickly, panic creeping in. "No. He didn’t text me like he was supposed to.”

Mingyu pauses, processing the situation. “He returned from the call this afternoon,” he finally says, his tone thoughtful. “The rest of us got back around dinner time and he was already gone by then. I assumed he was already with you.” He pulls his phone out, texting someone quickly. “Let me check with a few people. We’ll find him. Don’t worry.”

His attempt at reassurance does little to ease the anxiety knotting in your stomach. You let out a breath as he directs you to sit down, and you follow him into the rec room. The worn-out chairs and tables, so familiar to Seungcheol’s coworkers, suddenly feel out of place in the heavy silence hanging between you. Mingyu sits across from you at the table, his fingers drumming anxiously on the surface.

“Why was he the first one back?” you ask, trying to piece together the timeline in your head.

Mingyu’s eyes shift away for a moment, his face tightening, and you can see the hesitation on his features. “I—” He stops himself, clearly uncertain of how much to say. After a long pause, he meets your gaze again, the heaviness in his eyes unmistakable.

“What is it?” you press, your voice rising with urgency. You can feel it now, a gnawing sense that something happened, something bad. “Is he hurt?”

Mingyu’s fingers hover over his phone as he glances down, hesitation clear in the tightness of his posture. After a tense moment, he finally meets your gaze, his voice softer than usual, almost reluctant.

“He…he wasn’t in the best shape when he got back,” he starts, the weight of his words hanging in the air. “They had to take him to the infirmary. Just a minor shoulder injury…” His voice trails off, as if he’s holding something back.

Your heart skips a beat, but you can’t help pressing for more. The knot in your stomach tightens as dread creeps into your thoughts. “There’s more?” you ask, your voice shaky with worry.

Mingyu sighs, his expression unreadable as he shifts in his seat. “He pulled a reckless move today,” he admits, his gaze flicking briefly to his phone again. “Chief forced him to leave after breaking orders. Seungcheol wasn’t supposed to go in like that. He didn’t wait for backup, didn’t follow the plan…” He sighs again, rubbing his hand over his face.

“Vernon answered, he’s with Coups right now. They’re at Shooters. The bar on Fifth.”

Shooter’s. The last place you ever expected to hear about when Seungcheol’s name was involved, especially after what Mingyu just told you.

“Should I go to him?” you ask, standing up as the words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them. Your legs feel like they’re made of lead, but your heart is racing. All you can think about is getting to Seungcheol, making sure he’s okay, whatever happened today.

Mingyu looks at you, his eyes soft with sympathy. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “I think you should. Don’t push him too hard though. He’s not exactly in the best mood.”

You nod, already grabbing your keys from your bag. You’re out the door before another thought can settle in, your mind only focused on reaching Seungcheol.

When you walk in, the thumping rock music and the rhythmic clink of glasses vibrate through the air, filling your ears as you scan the dimly lit room. Your gaze lands on Seungcheol immediately, his broad frame slumped against the bar, his head hanging low as if the weight of the world rests on his shoulders.

Beside him, Vernon sits quietly, his eyes flicking between you and Seungcheol, sensing the brewing tension before it even fully settles.

“Hey, Y/N,” Vernon greets you with a small smile, but his eyes flick to Seungcheol, reading the situation before it can spiral out of control.

As soon as Seungcheol hears your name, his head jerks up like he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t. His eyes glaze over with a mix of exhaustion and frustration, meet yours, and you can tell he doesn’t want to deal with you right now.

But there’s no way around it. You’re here. And you’re not leaving without talking this through. Vernon takes one last look between you two before silently slipping away, giving you both space to talk.

You sit next to Seungcheol, your presence undeniable, and cross your arms as you wait for him to acknowledge you. He doesn’t.

“Aren’t you curious why I’m here?” you ask, the edge in your voice sharper than you intended.

Seungcheol doesn’t even look at you, lifting his glass to his lips and taking another long swig of whiskey, his silence only making your frustration boil over. "No," he finally grunts in response, not even bothering to meet your eyes.

“Mingyu let me know you were here,” you continue, your voice now firm, cutting through the tension between you two. “After I went to the station, worried because you didn’t come home. And he kindly informed me that you’ve been back from that house fire call for hours."

At your words, Seungcheol’s grip on the glass tightens, his jaw clenched as if he’s trying to hold back the storm. The non-answer he gives you only stokes the fire inside you, and you can feel your patience wearing thin.

His stubbornness frustrates you more than anything, but you refuse to let this go.

“Did you act out today because it was another family? Do you feel like you owed it to the universe to save them, no matter the cost?”

His glare could cut through steel. “Don’t,” he snaps, his voice low and hard.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “Seungcheol, it’s not your fault. They chose to stay behind. You can’t carry that burden. It’s not your responsibility to save everyone, especially when it’s out of your hands.”

But as you watch him, his arm in a sling, the frustration bubbles up inside you. It’s like he’s determined to destroy himself for a past he can’t change.

“I just don’t understand,” you say, frustration edging into your voice. “Why did you forget all rational thought? You never break orders. You know the risks. You could’ve died today. Along with that mother and her son, since you were too focused on your own guilt to consider the usual risks, like weak spots. What if she’d fallen through the floor? What if her son had to watch her die right in front of him because you were in such a rush to right a wrong? Sure, you saved them this time, but what you did was just as reckless as it was selfish. You made it about yourself, Seungcheol. You let your past mistakes dictate your actions and put everything else on the line. You put your team, your friends, and your own life in danger.”

The words hang heavy between you, your chest rising and falling with the weight of them. You wait for him to say something, anything, but the silence stretches on.

“Was it worth it? Do you feel better now?” you bite out, anger and hurt lacing your tone. “I already know the answer to that, seeing you sitting here, ignoring me.”

His fist slams down on the counter, the sound sharp and final. “Enough!” His voice cracks with the tension, and the glass in his hand shatters into pieces on the counter.

Instinctively, your hands reach for the broken glass, not thinking, but the jagged edge cuts through your skin before you can pull away.

"Shit" you mutter, more to yourself than him, as you suck in a sharp breath, pressing napkins to the small wound on your hand. The blood stains the white paper, and you can feel your emotions boiling over.

Seungcheol's voice erupts, raw and jagged, his words like acid. “See? This is exactly what I mean,” he spits. “You’re pissed at me for saving lives today, for doing my job, but look at you. You can’t even get your own shit together! You want to lecture me, but you’re over here falling apart at the smallest thing. How many times do I have to save you, huh? You always come to me with your problems, needing me to fix everything for you. And what do I get in return?”

His hands slam against the bar, his knuckles turning white as his gaze hardens as if he’s trying to bury his emotions behind the anger. "Just go away, Y/N. I can't fix you right now. I can't fix anything about you or me. So just go.”

His words are like a slap, cold and unforgiving, making you recoil. And they leave a burning sting in their wake. The sting isn’t just from the cut; it’s from the weight of his accusation. You take a breath, steadying yourself as you step back, holding the napkin tighter against your palm, trying to hold back the tears.

Without another word, you turn and leave, feeling the heat of the moment suffocating you. He can clean up his own damn mess, because you’ve done all you can.

Seungcheol’s disciplinary panel finally came to a decision today. The verdict hits him hard. Two weeks without pay, and he's benched from responding to fires for the same period. He knows it’s deserved—hell, he was honestly expecting more.

But it still stings. It’s a reminder of how far he pushed everything, how much he screwed up. But deep down, he knows it could’ve been worse. It’s not the worst punishment he could’ve gotten, but it sure as hell feels like a taste of it.

What stings even more, though, is that you’ve been gone for three days. Three days where you won’t answer his calls, won’t reply to his texts, won’t answer your door. He leaves each attempt feeling worse than the last.

And it’s his fault. He knows it. The words he threw at you, the way he pushed you away…he deserves this. He deserves you leaving him, walking away, because he fucked it all up.

He heads to lunch in a haze of guilt, dragging his feet, already dreading the conversation with Jun. He agreed to meet him, mostly because he couldn’t avoid it anymore. But Jun, as usual, knows more than he’s letting on.

Seungcheol is surprised that Jun has Mika with him

“What’s with the dog?” he asks, raising an eyebrow as he sits down.

“I’m watching her while Y/N and Kate are away for the weekend. A resort and spa,” Jun starts, his voice low, careful. “After everything that happened, she needed a break. A well-deserved one.”

Seungcheol's stomach drops, a sickening feeling twisting inside him. “You heard?”

Jun’s gaze softens a little, before nodding.

He hesitates for a split second before the truth spills out. “Yeah, I was working at the hospital when Y/N was getting stitches.”

Seungcheol’s entire world shifts. The air leaves his lungs as his mind struggles to process what Jun is saying. “What?” The word comes out as a whisper, hoarse, the shock of it hitting him like a physical blow. “What happened? She…she got hurt?”

“She cut her hand. On the glass. From the broken drink you threw.”

The words cut through him like a knife, deeper than anything he’d ever felt before. He can feel the weight of his actions, the damage they’ve caused, crashing into him all at once. His breath hitches as he imagines the moment you had to deal with that—alone, after he pushed you away, after he made you feel small.

“Fuck,” he mutters, looking down at the table, unable to meet Jun’s eyes. “I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean to hurt her.”

Jun’s gaze hardens, but his tone is gentle. “I know, man. But you need to figure out how to make things right.”

Seungcheol shakes his head, frustration clawing at him. “I don’t know what to do anymore. Everything’s gone up in fucking flames.” His voice cracks slightly, the weight of it settling in his chest like concrete. “She has to know I didn’t mean it. Right? She has to understand. She’s never too much for me to fix. I’m not… I’m not like this. I never meant to hurt her.”

Jun studies him for a long moment before he asks the question that Seungcheol hasn’t fully allowed himself to think about yet.

“You love her, don’t you?”

The question hits him like a shot to the chest, a truth he’s been running from but can’t escape. Seungcheol exhales sharply, his eyes drifting to Mika, who’s sitting at his feet, head tilted in confusion. “Yeah,” he says, voice barely above a whisper. “I love her. And I’m scared…I’m scared I’ve lost her for good this time.”

…

The scent of eucalyptus and lavender fills the air, meant to be soothing, but it does nothing to settle the storm raging inside you. The spa worker carefully places cooling eye masks over your lids, letting the skincare seep into your skin, and for a moment, you try to ease yourself into relaxation.

But it’s useless.

You shift restlessly on the plush lounge chair, arms crossing and uncrossing, letting out sharp, annoyed exhales every few minutes. At first, the sadness was all-consuming, a crushing weight that settled deep in your chest. But now? Now, you're just pissy.

It’s not like you ever asked Seungcheol for constant help. If anything, you’ve proven that you can handle things on your own, pushing back every time he tried to coddle you. You told him, over and over again, that you weren’t some helpless damsel in distress. That you didn’t need fixing.

And yet, that night, he made it seem like you were a burden. Like you were too much. Like he was exhausted from having to save you.

Your fingers twitch into fists at the thought, and if he were standing in front of you right now, you’d be seriously tempted to kick his ass.

“Jesus, Y/N,” Kate drawls beside you, not even bothering to lift her eye mask. “You’re getting more worked up by the minute. This is supposed to be relaxing, remember?”

Her voice is teasing, but you know she gets it. She knows how badly you want to scream, to shake Seungcheol and make him understand just how much he hurt you. Hell, Kate probably wants to kick his ass, too.

Frustrated, you rip the eye masks off, only to immediately wince as pain flares through your palm. Your stitches pull, a sharp sting running through your hand. You glance down at them, at the neat, dark lines slicing across your skin. A physical reminder of just how much things have spiraled.

You swallow hard, jaw tightening as Mingyu’s words echo in your head.

Don’t push him too far.

But you did.

And now, you don’t know if there’s anything left to fix.

You let out a frustrated sigh, sitting up and swinging your legs over the side of the lounge chair. The plush robe feels suffocating, the scent of essential oils dizzying rather than calming.

“I’m heading back to the room,” you announce, already reaching for your slippers. “I can’t relax in here. I need to watch some trashy reality TV to feel better about my life.”

Kate lifts her eye mask just enough to peek at you, one brow arching. “You sure? We’ve got a whole hour left. The hot stone massage is next. You want me to come with you?”

You shake your head, forcing a small smile. “No, no, you stay and enjoy the rest of the appointment. You actually deserve this.”

Kate sits up slightly, skepticism written all over her face. “Y/N—”

“I just need to clear my head,” you cut in gently. “I’ll be fine. I just…need a break from all this self-care happy mindset crap.”

She huffs a laugh, but you see the concern lingering in her eyes. “Fine. But if you start drafting an angry text to Seungcheol, I will come drag your ass back here.”

You hold up your injured hand. “Hard to text when my dominant hand is stitched up.”

“Don’t underestimate the power of an angry, one-handed rant,” she quips, settling back into her chair. “Now go, enjoy your reality TV, and for the love of God, don’t think about your emotionally constipated firefighter ex for at least an hour.”

You let out a snort, shaking your head as you make your way toward the exit. But as you step out into the hallway, the weight of everything crashes back down, pressing into your chest like a vice.

You’re not sure if an hour—or even a whole weekend—is going to be enough to stop thinking about Seungcheol.

…

Seungcheol had never been above swallowing his pride when it truly mattered, and right now, nothing mattered more than seeing you.

So he begged. Literally begged Junhui to drive him to the resort. He didn’t care how pathetic it made him look, all he needed was a chance. The smallest sliver of hope that he hadn’t completely destroyed everything between you.

Jun, with his soft heart, eventually caved, wanting everything to work out in the end. Forever the optimist. He muttered something about how Kate was definitely going to chew him out for enabling this, but deep down, he wanted to believe that maybe this wasn’t a lost cause. That maybe Seungcheol could fix what he broke.

And so, Girls’ Weekend was about to be crashed.

As soon as they pull up to the resort, Seungcheol wastes no time heading inside. His pulse pounds with every step, his injured arm stiff in its sling, but he doesn’t let it slow him down.

And then, just his luck—he runs right into Kate.

She’s standing in the hallway, waiting for the elevator, arms crossed the moment she spots him. Her eyes narrow into sharp, unforgiving slits.

“And what the hell are you doing here?” she demands, her tone dripping with disbelief. “Actually—how are you even here?”

Seungcheol, already bracing himself for impact, exhales sharply. “Jun drove.”

Kate’s gaze flicks past him, and when she spots Jun lingering a few feet away, looking guilty as hell, her glare sharpens. “Seriously, Jun?”

Jun shrugs. “He begged.”

Kate rolls her eyes before turning her wrath back on Seungcheol. “Unbelievable. You do realize this is a spa weekend, right? As in, a Seungcheol-free weekend?”

“I just need to talk to her,” he says, voice raw with something dangerously close to desperation. “Please, Kate. Just tell me where she is.”

Kate scoffs, arms tightening over her chest. “Oh, you think I’m just gonna hand her over to you after everything?” She shakes her head. “Not happening.”

Seungcheol clenches his jaw, frustration and regret simmering in his chest. “I know I fucked up. But I need to see her. I need to—”

“What you need is an ass-kicking,” Kate cuts in sharply, stepping closer with fire in her eyes. “And maybe a damn class on how to properly handle your emotions instead of acting like a fucking toddler.”

Seungcheol flinches but doesn’t argue. He knows she’s right.

He swallows hard, forcing down the lump in his throat. “You’re right,” he admits, his voice rough with defeat. “I handled everything wrong—worse than wrong. But please, Kate, I need to fix this. I can’t wait another day without telling her how sorry I am.” His voice wavers, raw and unguarded. “And how much I love her. How much I don’t want to live without her.”

Kate’s sharp gaze falters, just for a second.

Her arms are still crossed, her stance still firm, but there’s the faintest flicker of hesitation in her eyes.

She wants to stay angry. Seungcheol knows that, but he also knows Kate isn’t heartless. She’s seen how much you’ve been hurting, but she can also see it now—the weight of regret pressing down on him, the exhaustion in his face, the way his hand fists at his side like he’s barely keeping himself from falling apart.

She sighs, exasperated. “God, I hate you for making me feel bad for you right now.”

Seungcheol exhales, not quite relief, but something close.

Kate’s eyes dart away, toward the hallway leading to your room. Then she looks back at him. “She’s pissed at you, you know that, right?”

“I know.”

“She’s been trying not to think about you.”

“I know.”

Kate sighs again, this time heavier, before rubbing her temples. “If I send you to her room, and you fuck this up any worse, I will personally make sure you regret it.”

Seungcheol nods without hesitation. “I know.”

Kate looks him over one last time, eyes narrowing. Then, begrudgingly, caves.

“Room 413,” she mutters. “Good luck.”

Seungcheol doesn’t waste another second.

The knock at the door startles you. You quickly wipe away the lingering tears, sniffing as you straighten up. You’re expecting Kate, probably coming to check on you, and the last thing you want is for her to see you crying again. You’ve already done enough of that.

Forcing a smile onto your face, you pull open the door—

—and freeze.

Seungcheol stands on the other side, looking as wrecked as you feel. His eyes are red-rimmed, exhaustion and regret etched deep into the lines of his face. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days, like the weight of the world is pressing down on him.

Your stomach twists violently. Especially when you notice his shoulder sling.

Before you can react, before you can slam the door like every part of you is screaming to do, he speaks.

“Before you close the door in my face,” he says, voice tight with desperation, “please—just let me apologize.” He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Even if you don’t want to hear it, even if you never want to see me again after this, you deserve a face-to-face apology for how I treated you that night.”

His voice wavers, raw and unguarded, and for a second, just a second, your heart wants to soften.

But then the memory of his words that night…How many times do I have to save you? Those words claw their way back to the surface, and the anger simmers all over again.

Your grip on the door tightens, but you don’t close it.

Seungcheol takes that as a good sign, and he clings to it like a lifeline.

His voice trembles, raw and unguarded, as he begins. “I am so sorry. There’s nothing I can say that will erase what I did, the cruelty of my words, or the way I made you feel that night. But I can tell you this—I was wrong. So fucking wrong.”

He swallows hard, eyes never leaving yours. “Nothing about you needs to be fixed. Nothing. You are perfect exactly as you are, and I hate myself for ever making you feel otherwise. I love everything about you. Your clumsy quirks, the way you refuse help even when you clearly need it, the way you care so much, sometimes more than you should.” He exhales shakily. “I love you. And if you let me, I will spend forever proving it to you, making sure you feel as loved and seen as you always make me feel.”

A single tear slips down your cheek. Seungcheol reacts instinctively, his thumb brushing it away before he cradles your face in his palm. His touch is warm, familiar, and it sends a shiver down your spine.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me,” he continues, voice thick with emotion. “I know I hurt you. And if you need time, I’ll wait. I’ll wait as long as it takes because I know you are the only one for me.” His voice cracks, a tear slipping from his own eyes now. “If it’s not you, it’s no one.”

His hand falls away as he takes a step back. Shoulders slumping, he turns, ready to walk away.

And that’s when you realize, you can’t let him go.

“Wait,” you choke out, the word escaping before you can think twice.

Seungcheol halts, spinning around just as you launch yourself into his arms. He barely has a second to react before you’re clutching onto him with everything you have, burying your face into his neck as if letting go would mean losing him all over again.

His free arm wraps around you instantly, holding you tight, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he loosens his grip even a fraction. His entire body relaxes, melting into yours as he exhales a deep, shuddering breath.

Without a word, he lifts you off the ground, carrying you back inside your room before the door closes and locks you both out.

Because this time, neither of you are walking away.

“I love you,” he breathes, and then his lips are on yours. desperate, searching, like he’s been starving for this moment. And maybe he has. It feels like an eternity since he’s last kissed you, since he’s last held you like this.

The warmth of his words sinks into your heart, dissolving the last remnants of anger, replacing them with something softer. Something inevitable.

“I love you too,” you confess against his lips, your hands framing his face, thumbs tracing over his cheekbones as you pull him back in.

Your kisses grow frantic, heated. All the tension, heartbreak, longing, all of it crashes into this moment. Seungcheol groans as he presses you back against the nearest surface, his fingers digging into your waist after he slips off his sling. He’s nearly recovered anyway.

You suddenly pull back, breathless. “Wait,” you pant, your hands still fisting the fabric of his shirt.

His eyes flicker with concern, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “What? What’s wrong?”

You glance around the room. “Where’s Kate?”

A slow smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. “She left with Jun. He was my ride here.”

Relief floods through you, followed immediately by something more electric. “Good,” you murmur, and before he can say another word, your hands find the hem of his shirt, dragging it over his head and tossing it aside.

Seungcheol barely has time to react before you’re pulling him back in, pressing your lips to his with renewed desire. He groans against your mouth, his hands roaming over your back, your waist, pulling you impossibly closer.

He carries you over to the bed, lowering you onto the mattress with a gentleness that contradicts the sheer desperation in his touch. His lips barely leave yours as he presses his body against yours, hands mapping the familiar curves of your skin like he’s trying to commit them to memory all over again.

Your movements are frantic, both of you tugging at clothes with a sense of urgency like you need to feel each other, skin to skin, to truly believe that this is real. That this is happening.

But then, just as things are escalating, Seungcheol suddenly tenses. “Wait,” he rasps, his forehead dropping against yours as he forces himself to pull back. “Fuck, wait.” His breathing is ragged as he lifts himself off you, every muscle in his body straining with restraint.

You blink up at him, dazed. “What—?”

“As much as I would love to continue, I don’t have a condom on me,” he admits, voice thick with frustration. He runs a hand down his face, clearly cursing himself. “I wasn’t even sure you’d speak to me. I didn’t plan this far ahead.”

For a split second, he braces himself for frustration or disappointment from you. Instead, a small, amused chuckle slips past your lips.

He frowns. “What’s funny?”

You tilt your head toward your purse, a smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. “I have some in there.”

His eyes dart to the bag, then back to you, skepticism flashing across his face. “In your purse?”

You nod. “Yes, Cheol. In my purse. Feel free to check.”

Still looking slightly suspicious, he reaches for the bag and unzips it, peering inside. His brows shoot up when he spots a neatly lined row of condoms tucked away in an inner pocket.

“Why the fuck do you have a whole stash in here?” he asks, holding up the small strip like it personally offended him.

You laugh, propping yourself up on your elbows. “For unplanned moments like this,” you tease, eyes twinkling. “So you can knock that look off your face.”

His jaw clenches, eyes narrowing. “And what look is that?”

“The one where you’re wondering if I’ve been using them with someone else.” Your expression softens as your hand dips down between your legs, his eyes following the movement. Your fingers tease your entrance and you say, “I’m yours, remember?”

Something in him snaps at that. His grip tightens around the condom packet before he tears one away from the rest, tossing the strip back into your bag. The way he looks at you; like you’re his entire world, like he’d burn the earth down if it meant keeping you, sends a wave of heat directly to your core.

He growls in approval, ripping the packet open with his teeth before rolling it on in record time. Then, he’s back over you, caging you beneath him, his lips crashing onto yours once more.

And this time, there’s nothing stopping him.

Seungcheol’s hips move against yours with a slow, deliberate rhythm, sinking into you with a hunger that mirrors your own. His hands find yours, lacing his fingers into yours, holding you in place as if he never wants to let go. His lips trail a path of fiery kisses down the side of your neck, each one a whispered confession of the feelings he’s been holding back, of the love he’s been desperate to give you.

“I love you so much,” he breathes, his voice low and thick with desire, the words dripping with meaning as he presses into you again, as if trying to prove it with every inch of his body. “So fucking much.”

His pace quickens, rolling his hips into yours again and again, his movements becoming more desperate, more frantic. “The way you touch me, the way you always know exactly how to make me feel,” he murmurs between kisses, his lips brushing against your skin as he speaks. “Your generosity, your kindness, how innocent you can be at times despite writing absolute filth in your books.” A wicked smirk crosses his face as he feels the heat rise in your cheeks.

“The sounds you make when I make you feel good, the way your body responds to mine,” he continues, each word punctuated by a shift of his hips, a shift that leaves you breathless, wanting more. “But most of all,” his voice drops to a whisper, eyes locking onto yours as his thumb gently brushes your knuckles, “the way you love me. It’s all I’ve ever wanted. All I’ll ever need.”

Each word, each touch, each kiss seems to bring you closer to unraveling. The coil winds so tight within you, each movement of his pushing you closer to the edge. His body presses into yours, the rhythm of his hips matching the frantic beating of your heart.

His voice, low and rough, murmurs against your ear, words of devotion, each one sending jolts of electricity through your body. He moves with purpose, each thrust taking you higher.

And then, just as the tension reaches its peak, everything explodes in a rush. You come, your body tensing, every nerve igniting as your eyes stay locked on his. You watch the way his expression shifts, the way his breath catches, and in that shared moment, it feels like time itself pauses—just long enough for the two of you to fully experience the depth of your connection.

His grip on you tightens, the intensity of the moment reflected in his eyes, and with a final, desperate thrust, he follows you, his own release washing over him. His name escapes your lips, soft and breathless, and in that instant, there’s no room for anything else but the overwhelming wave of closeness, of love, of pure, shared bliss.

And as the world slowly comes back into focus, you both remain tangled in each other’s arms, hearts still racing, breaths still shaky. The chaos of everything outside, the unresolved tension, the emotional fires that once threatened to destroy you both; none of it matters anymore.

In this moment, it’s just the two of you, holding each other like the world could fall apart and you wouldn’t care. There are no unspoken words, no distance between you, just a quiet understanding that everything you need is here, in his arms.

It feels like the safest place in the world. Where it’s just you and him, imperfectly in sync.

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@gyupremacy @beomcoups @yoonguurt @lovetaroandtaemin @daniela-f-uwu @gyuguys @fancypeacepersona

#this may be my favorite fic of the year so far #as always raven this was absolutely amazing ❤️‍🔥#s. coups fic recs #svt fic recs #mdni

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gyupremacy-recs · 3 months ago

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Up In Flames - Part 1

↠ seungcheol x f.reader | Part 1 = 18.9k (42.7k words total, i’m so sorry but also not really 🗿) | 18+ ↠ genre: smut, action, slow burn, firefighter au, author au, damsel in distress au, ‘let me help you’ wildland firefighter!cheol x ‘i can do it myself’ miss independent yet clumsy!reader

→ Networks: tagged below

@ksmutsociety @k-vanity @lapydiariesnet @keopihausnet

@svthub @thediamondlifenetwork

“No, no, no! Oh c’mon! This can’t be happening right now,” you whine, twisting your body so you can see the damage done after hearing the dreadful sound of fabric tearing.

Yep, your pants just ripped. Want to know what’s even worse? Your pink hello kitty underwear is showing right through the large tear on your left butt cheek.

You curse under your breath and pull your shirt down, trying to cover up as much as you can. This would have never happened if you just said no to your best friend and older sister, Kate.

See, Kate is in a very committed, loving relationship, and has been for the past four years. Unlike you, who has been on at least fifty horrible first dates, sometimes even second dates that never seem to go anywhere, in that same time frame.

She set you up with this supposedly amazingly hot, ultra-rich, single and ‘ready to commit’ guy she knew through a friend of a friend, blah blah blah. You should have known then how tonight was going to go. Of all the blind dates you had been on, this one easily became the worst.

It started alright, with a cute Pho restaurant in the middle of downtown being the meeting place. Seojoon waited outside for you with an umbrella since it had started to sprinkle, and even held open the door and helped you in your seat once inside.

But his good manners stopped there. For the rest of the night, he was extremely rude to the wait staff and condescending toward you, making it a miserable experience.

Needless to say, he deserved what you did. After you finally had enough, you not-so-accidentally let a ‘my god, shut the fuck up already’ slip out of your mouth. And yeah, you might have told him he has the emotional intelligence of a toad (and even that was too kind compared to what you really wanted to say).

Quickly after, you excused yourself and were more than ready to leave. But then you saw them. The perfect couple seated in the front half of the restaurant; your ex and the woman he left you for.

Which is why you ended up hiding in the bathroom for fifteen minutes, before deciding that escaping through the small window would be the best option. You used the toilet at leverage to boost yourself up (that was the easy part), gripped onto a nearby tree branch to pull yourself out the window, and then jumped out. It was during the ‘jumping out’ part when your pants got stuck on the branch and proceeded to rip.

The plan wasn’t perfect but it got you out of there, with ripped pants, but what the hell. At least you’re on your way to your car now, rather than being stuck in there with the three most odious people you have ever suffered through knowing.

You make it maybe three blocks before giving up on trying to cover your ass. Whatever, you’re almost back to your car now anyway.

“Oh, what now?” you sigh, digging through your purse for your phone that’s ringing somewhere in there. Your sister’s face lights up the screen; she’s probably calling to see how your date went.

“I hate you,” you grumble while unlocking your car, climbing into the driver’s seat.

“What? Why?” Kate questions, “I was calling for a favor. I didn’t even get to that, so you can’t hate me yet.”

“Tonight was my date with Seojoon and it ended with me climbing out the bathroom window.”

“Oh, Seojoon is so old news. Actually, I should have set you up with–”

“No, I’m stopping you right there,” you say, interrupting her. “I’m not going on any more blind dates with terrible men that you barely know.”

“But–”

“No.”

Kate sighs on the other line, “Okay, fine. I’ll drop it for now. Can we jump to what I was calling about?”

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“Jun’s father had a heart attack and we’re on the way to the airport, can you house-sit for the next two weeks?”

You hesitate to answer and she uses the opportunity to persuade you.

“I know it’s a lot to ask but our food is obviously free game, we have the coziest living room for movies, the hot tub just had its routine maintenance, and I’ll even let you bring Mika. Please, please, please!”

Mika is your sweet but sassy husky, and Kate usually can't stand all that hair. So she must be pretty desperate if she’s letting your energetic furball mess up her peaceful mountain cabin.

“Okay, yeah. I should be able to make that work. Maybe I can finish my next book while I’m up there.”

“Oh thank god!” she celebrates, relieved that you can help out. “You’re the best. I love you so much.”

“You better,” you remark.

“I have to go, so I’ll make it quick. There’s a note on the fridge with some house rules because I know you’d say yes. I’ll text you when we land. Okay, bye! Thank you!” She rushes, quickly hanging up on you before you have the chance to change your mind

It didn’t take very long to grab Mika, some clothes, and the essentials once you had gotten back. In less than half an hour, you had the car packed and ready to go.

You’re now about an hour into the drive up to Kate and Junhui’s mountain home. Your sister’s house-sitting favor couldn’t have come at a better time. You finally feel like you can write again.

A couple of years ago you self-published a fantasy romance book, and out of nowhere, it went viral on BookTok. It’s been nice living off the royalties from its success, but you know your readers want another. The problem is you’ve lacked focus lately; always finding an excuse or something else to do in your free time.

But that’s going to change in the next few days.

"Is that...snow?" you mutter, squinting through the windshield as tiny white flecks swirl down in front of you. It’s basically spring in the city and you haven’t seen snow in weeks, forgetting that the temperature is colder up here. With the high elevation, though, it makes sense.

Mika barks from the passenger seat, her tail thumping excitedly as the flakes fall heavier, dotting the windshield. She presses her nose to the passenger window, eagerly watching the world turn white. Unlike you, she loves the snow and all things cold.

You sigh, imagining yourself on a beach somewhere, basking in the sun, with the hint of frost in nowhere sight. But yet, here you are driving through a surprise snowstorm with a husky who’s living her best life.

You ease up on the gas, knowing that the roads are probably going to get icy soon. Mika’s barks become louder and more frequent.

"No, Mika-Ika-Poo," you say, using one of her many ridiculous nicknames. It's a habit of yours to give everyone, pets and people alike, the most absurd nicknames possible. "You have to be quiet now."

Naturally, your attempt at shushing her only makes things worse. Mika tilts her head, lets out an even louder bark, and then starts whining excitedly as if your words were some sort of encouragement. You can’t help but smile; it’s impossible to keep her quiet, especially when she senses snow.

“You are so sassy today.” You reach an arm over to scratch her neck, she’s just being a dog after all.

Glancing back at the road, you slam on the brakes as you go around the next bend. A truck has crashed into an electricity pole, leaving live power lines strewn across the icy road. But it's too late to stop in time. The road is too slick, and you're already sliding forward.

Your car glides helplessly into the downed lines, tires screeching on the black ice. Before panic can even set in, the front of your vehicle erupts in flames, fire licking up the hood. Smoke quickly surrounds you, blackening the windows until visibility is gone. The stench of burning plastic fills the air, and the heat becomes unbearable. Everything around you vanishes in the thick, choking cloud, leaving you trapped in a suffocating haze.

Shit. Now what?

As Seungcheol drives along the winding road ahead of him, a thin wisp of smoke catches his eye, curling up through the trees ahead. It snakes its way into the sky, growing darker and thicker as he approaches. The distant haze drifts ominously, making his pulse quicken. Something’s definitely wrong up ahead.

He comes to a halt, taking in the scene before him. Twenty-foot flames engulf a car, tangled in the chaos of fragmented power lines, flickering wildly against the night sky. To the left, a pickup truck is smashed against the base of an electric pole, which has split and fallen over.

“Are you good?” he hollers to the truck driver; he’s outside of the vehicle and on the phone with what he assumes is emergency services. The man nods and points back to the car frantically, “Help her! I don’t know how to get her out!”

Seungcheol rushes back to his own vehicle and pulls out a fire extinguisher from his backseat. He chuckles to himself, he knew it would come in handy one day. Call it firefighter’s intuition.

He throws on his spare flame-resistant jacket and heads back towards the fire. If the gas tank leaks, things could go very, very wrong.

He pulls the pin on his fire extinguisher and sprays the car, aiming for the engine which is where he believes the fire began.

“Are you alright in there?” He asks once getting the situation mostly under control.

“No, I am not alright! My car is on fire in case you haven’t noticed?”

“Besides the car, are you hurt?”

“No. I don’t think so? Mika looks okay too.”

“Your baby?” His heart races, stomach bile rising in his throat. Not again.

“My dog.”

Seungcheol calms himself. It’s a dog. It’s just a dog.

“Can I get out? Is my car going to blow up?” the woman asks with a shaky voice.

“Um, that’s a good question. I’m not sure. But I don’t want you to worry. I’m a trained firefighter and we’re going to figure this out, okay?

“What do you mean you aren’t sure? Aren’t you supposed to know what to do in this situation?”

“Not really, I fight fires in the mountains, not usually cars that drive across active lines,” Seungcheol jokes.

“Of course, the universe would send me an incompetent firefighter in this situation.”

Seungcheol huffs, “I’m not incompetent, I was kidding. What’s your name?”

“Y/N.”

“Okay, Y/N. I’m Seungcheol. I need a few minutes to think about the safest way to get you out, in the meantime I want you to remain calm.” He hears the faint wail of sirens in the distance. Help is almost here, but he can’t wait. The anxiety is clawing at his neck. He needs to save you. You can’t die too.

The thought of rescuing you from the vehicle feels like a dangerous gamble. One wrong move, and you could step on a live wire and electrocute yourself to death. Seungcheol’s mind races through everything he’s heard about accidents like this: stay in the car, don't touch metal, don’t risk it.

But he also knows that it’s only a matter of minutes until you’re out of safe breathing oxygen in the cabin, and time feels like it’s slipping away. He glances at the ground surrounding your car, finding the safest path for you.

“Okay, I have a plan,” he says, after going over it in his head. “Are you able to crawl to the backseat?”

“Yeah, I think so.” He listens to the sounds of your shuffling, “Okay, I’m in the back with the dog.”

“Good, I’m going to break your driver’s side window. Then I want you to climb back into the front and I’ll help you out.”

“No, I’ll give you my dog first.”

“Alright, the dog goes first. Listen, there’s a chance that when I break the window the airflow and pressure change might cause the fire in your engine to ignite again. I will take care of it, I don’t want you to worry.”

With a surge of adrenaline, he smashes the car window with the end of the fire extinguisher. Shards of glass scatter onto the seat, and the dog whines from the sudden noise.

He leans down and peeks his head inside, his eyes immediately locking with yours. You're huddled in the backseat, arms tightly wrapped around your large dog, seeking comfort. Your light brown hair is tousled, strands falling across your face, but it’s your vibrant green eyes that stand out, even in the dim light. There's a mixture of exhaustion and relief in them.

He gently takes the leashed dog from your arms. "I’ll be right back for you," he promises, stepping cautiously away from the car, avoiding wet spots, and keeping a wary eye on the live wires.

The police are the first to arrive. “Pop your backseat open, I’ll put the dog in there,” he says, and the officer quickly obliges, opening the door for him.

As he turns to head back for you, the fire and rescue team pulls up, jumping into action. He heads toward the firefighters who are assessing the power line situation.

“Look who it is,” a familiar face grins, walking up to hug his old friend.

“Mingyu, it’s good to see you.” Seungcheol hugs him back.

”I shouldn’t be surprised to see you here. Always in the middle of the action. I gotta ask, are you interested in a job? We’ve got an opening if you’re sick of roughing it in the wilderness.”

“You know me well,” he smiles. “I’m on leave right now. Gotta work through some things. You know how it is.”

“Unfortunately, I do,” Mingyu agrees, knowing all too well and definitely knowing better than to ask. “Let’s grab a drink one of these nights while you’re still around.”

“Sure thing, have fun dealing with, well, all of this,” Seungcheol chuckles, motioning at the mess surrounding them.

By the time he heads back toward you, you're already out of the charred vehicle, the rescue team guiding you into the backseat of the cop car.

He watches from a distance, realizing that once again, he didn’t get the chance to keep his promise.

The rescue team moves swiftly, pulling you from the wreckage and checking you over to make sure you aren’t hurt, even though you insist you aren’t.

“Ma’am, I know you say you’re fine, but it’s my job to check.”

“Sorry,” you grumble, “I’ve just had a shit day and I’m worried that Mika is scared.”

“Your dog? Don’t worry, we can head over there right now.” They gather your belongings from the trunk of your sizzling car before guiding you to the safety of the squad car where your dog is already waiting, tail wagging despite the chaos.

Now that you're out of danger, you finally take in the scene around you. It's far worse than anything you could have imagined. The devastation is overwhelming, and the air is still heavy with smoke.

A wave of gratitude washes over you for the stranger who helped calm your nerves when everything seemed to be spiraling out of control. Without his reassurance, you’re not sure how you would’ve kept it together.

You spot him; he’s standing among the firemen, deep in conversation. His tall frame towers over most of them, and the broad set of his shoulders makes his jacket seem almost too small. The sparking power lines cast flickering shadows across his face.

Unlike the others, his jacket has a different department name stitched across his back, making him stand out from the crowd even more. There's something about the way he carries himself all calm and controlled, like he's seen this kind of devastation too many times before, that piques your interest.

Like he senses you looking him over, he glances over toward the patrol car as it pulls away from the accident.

You sink into the seat next to Mika, feeling the warmth of her fur against your side, grateful she’s okay. You’re relieved but still shaken, and with the smell of smoke still clinging to your clothes, are desperate for a nice hot shower to wash off this horrible day.

The officer pulls up to your sister’s house and helps carry your bags to the door. Before leaving, he hands you a copy of the accident report and the business card for the tow company that hauled off your car.

"Take care now," the older man says with a nod, waving from the driver’s seat as he reverses down the driveway.

“Thanks!” you return, Mika also joining in with a quick yap.

Using the spare key your sister gave you years ago, you unlock the door and step inside. Mika bolts down the hallway, likely heading for the living room to claim her favorite nap spot on the couch.

Kate’s house rules will have to wait. Right now, all you care about is scrubbing off the sticky residue of smoke that clings to your skin. Mika, meanwhile, seems unbothered. Her rolling in the snow earlier did wonders for cleaning up her fur. She’s back to her usual gray-and-white self, but you’ll still have to wrangle her into a bath at some point. You don’t have the energy for that battle tonight.

Dragging your bags toward the bedrooms, you drop them on the floor inside the master. You rummage through the top duffel, fishing out an oversized sweatshirt and a pair of pajama pants for after your shower. Clothes in hand, you head for the attached bathroom.

Peeling off your smoky clothes, you turn on the shower and wait for the water to heat up. Steam begins to fill the small space as you step beneath the heavy spray, the warm water washing away the grime and some of the day’s tension.

The face of the stranger from earlier flashes in your mind as you shampoo your long locks. Maybe you should have waited to say goodbye to him, and say thank you, before leaving the scene. You were in too much of a panic state to think about the proper way to handle anything. Hopefully, he understood that.

You’re just about done with rinsing off the remaining bubbles of the divine body wash your sister has in the shower when Mika runs into the bathroom and starts whining.

“I’m almost done, Mika Mouse” you comfort her through the glass wall, thinking her nerves are probably just acting up after today.

She whines again, slinking behind the bathroom door with her tail tucked low.

‘That’s odd’, you think, turning off the water and stepping out. ‘Maybe she doesn’t feel well?’

You wrap yourself in a thick towel, still worried about her behavior when a dull thud echoes from the far end of the house.

Mika peers up at you with wide, nervous eyes, the look clearly saying, ‘Don’t even think about asking me to check that out.’

Rolling your eyes, you mutter, “Of course not. So much for being a big, tough dog, huh?”

You tip-toe carefully toward the noise, the cool air against your damp skin making you shiver. The sound is coming from the kitchen, and Mika creeps along behind you, practically glued to your leg.

“You’re no help, you know that?” you whisper, glancing down at her. “What if I need backup?”

Mika simply stares at you, her blue eyes wide and unblinking, as if to say, ‘You’re on your own, Mom.’

Another louder crash stops you in your tracks. Your pulse quickens as you peek around the corner. There, in front of the open refrigerator, stands a stranger.

Adrenaline floods your body as you grab the nearest weapon (a spatula from the island counter), you let out a war cry and charge.

“Hey! What the—OW! Stop hitting me!” the intruder yells, raising his hands to shield himself.

“Who the hell are you?” you demand, swinging the spatula one last time for good measure.

“Wait! I—Ouch! What is wrong with you?” He twists around, finally revealing his face. And recognition slams into you like a brick wall, it’s the hot firefighter from earlier.

“You!” you hiss, lowering the spatula but not your guard. “Why are you here? Did you follow me here?”

“What? No! I’m staying here!” he snaps, rubbing his arm where you hit him.

“Uh, no you’re not. This is my sister’s house,” you say, crossing your arms. The movement makes you suddenly, painfully aware of how little you’re wearing.

He blinks at you, then gestures vaguely between you and the kitchen. “You’re Kate’s sister?”

“How do you know Kate?” you demand. “Who the hell are you?”

“I’m Seungcheol. I’m one of Jun’s friends,” he explains, looking somewhat flustered. “He told me I could crash here for a few days. Kate agreed and said it was fine.”

You frown, your brain scrambling to make sense of this. “Well, nobody told me.”

“I thought they were here. I figured... maybe they were in the shower,” he says, his eyes flicking to your dripping hair. “But I guess that was you. Where are they?”

“They’re out of town,” you mutter, pulling the towel tighter around yourself. “And clearly, no one thought to clue me in on their little hospitality arrangements.”

“I just spoke with Jun yesterday. He didn’t say anything about being out of town,” Seungcheol says, his brows furrowed.

“Well...it was sort of last minute,” you reply, hesitating. You’re unsure how much you should share, but curiosity about his reaction nudges you to continue. “His dad had a heart attack. They asked me to house-sit while they went to be with him.”

Seungcheol’s face shifts from confusion to alarm, genuine concern washing over his features. “Oh my god, Mr. Wen had a heart attack? Is he okay?” His eyes search yours, desperate for answers.

“I don’t know,” you admit. “I haven’t heard any updates yet. I was hoping Kate would call once they got there.”

He nods slowly, processing the news, then looks back at you.

“So...how do you know Junhui?” You cross your arms, still skeptical.

“We grew up together and are still good friends,” he says simply, holding your gaze.

You narrow your eyes, trying to read him. He seems genuine, but the whole situation still feels a little too coincidental.

“Look,” he says, sensing your doubt, “I can prove it. I’ve got old photos of us on my phone. Or, better yet, check the living room. I’m pretty sure there’s a framed photo of us from a beach trip we took a few years ago. It was on the mantle the last time I visited.”

You pause, weighing his words. There’s something about his tone that makes you think he might actually be telling the truth. Still, you’re not ready to let your guard down just yet.

“Fine,” you say. “But if I find out you’re lying, I’m coming back with something worse than a spatula.”

“If you’re anything like Kate, I wouldn’t doubt it,” Seungcheol says with a chuckle, now leaning up against the kitchen island.

You shoot him a look before walking over to the fireplace, where Kate displays all her smaller framed photos. It doesn’t take long to spot the beach photo he mentioned, and sure enough, a younger Seungcheol is standing next to Jun, both grinning under the sun. He looks leaner in the picture, less muscular than the version currently smirking from the kitchen.

“Well?” he calls from the island, his tone teasing. “Did I pass the test?”

You place the photo back on the mantel and turn to face his direction. “Don’t move. I need to get dressed and call Kate.”

“Not going anywhere,” he replies with a shrug, clearly amused by the whole ordeal.

You hurry back to the bedroom, finding Mika burrowed under the covers on the bed, probably retreating there after your spatula ambush.

“Coward,” you huff, stepping over your bags. Reaching the clothes you set out earlier, you quickly throw them on, silently cursing yourself for choosing the frumpiest option. But how would you have known you’d need to look cute and presentable for... company? Comfort had been the only thing on your mind.

Grabbing the towel draped over the vanity, you cover the base of your skull and twist your damp hair into a quick headwrap. Fixing your hair can wait, sorting out this unexpected houseguest with Kate takes priority.

Muttering a string of curses under your breath, you march over to your bags and rummage through them until you find your purse. Digging inside, you finally fish out your phone, silently pleading with the universe that your sister will pick up.

This was the last situation Seungcheol had expected to find himself in tonight. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, staying rooted to the spot as promised. It’s not hard to keep his word, he figures moving any closer might make things worse.

He gets why you’re being cautious. Honestly, he’s glad you are. Still, it bothers him a little that you don’t feel entirely safe around him. He’d even stepped away from the fridge, putting himself by the island within your line of sight, hoping it might ease your discomfort. Given the circumstances, though, your reaction is understandable.

The sound of soft footsteps echoes down the hallway, announcing your return before he even sees you. When you step into view, his breath catches. You look ridiculously cute with your hair twisted up in that towel, even if you’re frowning. Not that he’d admit it, but he preferred the towel’s previous location—wrapped around your damp, glistening body.

Damn it, ‘Cheol. Not the time.

“I can’t get ahold of Kate or Jun,” you say with a frustrated sigh. “They must still be on their flight.”

Seungcheol doesn’t hesitate to slip into problem-solving mode like it’s second nature. Anything to erase that frown from your face. “If it helps, I’ll sleep on the couch tonight. It’s far from the bedrooms, and you can barricade your door if that makes you feel better. I swear, I’m not a threat.”

“How do I know that I can trust you?” you ask, your voice laced with doubt.

Without missing a beat, he responds, “Would you like to talk to my mom?”

“What?” you blink, your expression equal parts skeptical and confused.

“I’ll call my mom,” he says, already pulling his phone from his pocket. “She can vouch for me. Would that make you feel better?”

You tilt your head, clearly debating it. Before you can respond, he’s already tapping the screen a couple of times before holding the phone out to you.

“It’s ringing.”

“Hello? Cheolie, dear?” a warm, motherly voice answers.

“Um, hi,” you say awkwardly, lifting the phone to your ear.

“Oh, hello! Is my son there?”

“I’m here, Mom,” Seungcheol calls out, loud enough for her to hear. “Y/N has a question for you.”

“Alright, dear,” she replies, her tone curious. “What’s the question?”

You glance at him, then back to the phone. “I’d like to know if Seungcheol is...honest and trustworthy,” you say, your eyes narrowing slightly as you study his face.

“Oh, well, that’s an easy one!” his mom chirps. “My Cheolie is a sweetheart! Did you know he’s a firefighter? Some might even call him a hero. He’s one of the most honest and trustworthy people you’ll ever meet.”

“Right,” you murmur, trying not to smile. “So, you’d say it’s safe to sleep under the same roof with him?”

“Well,” she chuckles softly, “that depends on whether he remembers his manners. But I’d bet good money my son has plenty of self-restraint—”

“Okay, Mom, that’s enough. Thanks!” Seungcheol interjects quickly, his ears burning. “I’ll call you later. Love you, bye!” Ending the call, he looks up to find you grinning.

“Cheolie?” you tease, clearly enjoying his discomfort.

“Don’t call me that. Ever,” he warns, though the smile tugging at his lips betrays him. “So... what’s the verdict?”

You give him another once-over, still weighing your options. “You can sleep in the guest bedroom. I’ll take the primary. Most of my stuff is already in there anyway.”

“Are you sure? I don’t mind the couch,” he offers sincerely.

“It’s fine,” you reply with a wave of your hand. “You did save me earlier, after all. I’m not going to kick you out in the middle of the night when it’s storming. We’ll sort everything out tomorrow when it’s not so late.”

“Thanks,” he says, relief evident in his voice. “I’m glad you’re okay, by the way. Did the rescue team check your throat for smoke inhalation? And what about your dog? Wait—where is your dog?” His head swivels as he realizes he hasn’t seen Mika.

“She’s hiding in the bedroom, like the coward she is,” you say with a huff. “And yeah, we both got checked out. The worst of it was my car... and my clothes.” You glance at the clock on the wall. “Anyway, I’m heading to bed. Do you need anything?”

He shakes his head. “No, I’m good. I know my way around. I’ll grab some water and call it a night too.”

“Alright. Goodnight, then.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

You disappear down the hall, leaving him standing in the kitchen, feeling oddly better than he had all day.

Seungcheol’s hand trails across your jaw, his tough is light yet as his eyes sear into yours. His fingers trace the delicate curve of your face before slipping into the hair behind your ear, his grip gentle but possessive as he leans in.

His lips brush against yours, warm and inviting, sending a shiver down your spine. The kiss is tantalizing and slow, yet perfectly in sync, drawing a soft sigh from your lips as you melt into him.

And then—buzz.

Wait. Are his lips...vibrating?

A second buzz jolts you further from the haze of your dream, and before you can process it, another vibration tickles your cheek. Your eyes flutter open, reality crashing in as you realize your phone is pressed between your face and the pillow. You must have dozed off without setting it on the nightstand.

Blinking heavily, you grab the device, squinting at the screen. It’s your sister.

You swipe to answer, your voice thick with sleep. “Hello?”

“Shoot, were you sleeping? I’m sorry,” Kate says, already sounding guilty.

“For waking me up or for forgetting to mention the house guest you invited to stay here?”

“Oh my god.” A beat of silence, and then she groans. “Y/N, I am so sorry. Everything happened so fast with Jun’s dad, and it completely slipped my mind that Seungcheol was coming to visit. Is he there now?”

“Yeah. And I might have whacked him a few times thinking he was breaking into the house.”

Your sister snickers on the other end, clearly picturing it. “You attacked him?”

“We’ve resolved it. Mostly.”

Kate bursts into laughter, and you roll your eyes, already regretting telling her.

"I bet he loved that," Kate snickers. "Seriously, though, I just wanted to call with an update, except there isn’t much of one. The doctors are running every test they can to figure out why he had a heart attack in the first place. Basically, we’re stuck in a waiting game for now.”

Your stomach twists. “How’s Jun handling it?”

She lowers her voice, the weight of concern evident. “I think he’s scared. But he’s putting on a brave front for his mom. She’s beside herself right now.” A pause. “Actually, the doctor is coming now. I’ll text you later, okay?”

“Yeah, of course. Give Jun a big hug for me. Keep me updated. Love you.”

“Love you too, sis. Bye.”

The line goes dead and you glance at the time, it’s just past 8 a.m. Mika stretches beside you, yawning dramatically before perking up, her bright blue eyes locked onto you. Now that she knows you’re awake, there’s no stopping her. She’s practically quivering with morning energy, and it won’t be long before she starts pawing at the door, demanding her outdoor time.

You sigh, already mourning your sweet slumber and the very interesting dream that had been so rudely interrupted.

Mika whines before hopping off the bed and trotting to the door, tail wagging expectantly.

Cracking it open, you peek into the hallway. Seungcheol’s door is still closed. Good, at least one of you gets to sleep in.

Tip-toeing toward the entryway, you slip into your winter gear before heading toward the back deck. The crisp morning air nips at your face as you slide the glass door open and Mika dashes past you in a blur of fur, instantly prancing through the fresh snow.

She lives for the cold, yet somehow refuses to do her business unless she has a bare patch of ground. An interesting quirk of hers. With a resigned sigh, you find a shovel nearby and clear a small area for her.

While she tunnels through the snow, occasionally popping her head up like a mischievous little arctic fox, you shove your gloved hands into your pockets, bouncing on your heels to stay warm.

Once she’s finally done playing and has taken care of business, you barely have to say the magic word, breakfast, before she’s bounding back inside, tail wagging like she just won the lottery.

She sits patiently, her tail sweeping across the floor as you prepare her usual breakfast, dry kibble topped with blueberries and salmon. The combination makes your nose wrinkle, but to her, it’s a five-star meal. She lets out a soft huff, urging you to hurry up, and the second you place the bowl down, she dives in enthusiastically.

As you watch her eat, the weight of yesterday’s events settles over you. The bad date, the phone call, the fire, and the unexpected houseguest. Despite all the chaos, there’s a lingering sense of gratitude warming your chest. Things could have been so much worse.

Deciding you want to thank Seungcheol, you rummage through the pantry and fridge, gathering everything you need to whip up a nice breakfast for yourselves. It’s the least you can do for him.

With your favorite indie playlist humming through the speakers, you settle into the rhythm of cooking. The scent of cinnamon and vanilla fills the air as the french toast sizzles on the stove. Lost in the process, you sway a little to the music, waiting for the perfect moment to flip the slices.

Until something in your peripheral catches your attention, and when you glance up, your breath hitches.

Seungcheol steps out of the guest room, still half-asleep, his dark hair tousled in an unfairly attractive way. But that’s not what has you flushing, it’s the fact that he’s shirtless, with his toned chest and defined abs on full display. The gray sweatpants hanging dangerously low on his hips aren’t helping your already scattered thoughts.

Your gaze lingers a second too long. Maybe three. Or five…

By the time you snap out of it, his smirk is already forming. Oh, he definitely caught you looking. The heat creeping up your neck betrays you, and his smirk deepens.

“Morning,” he says, voice still rough with sleep.

You clear your throat, quickly turning back to the stove. “Morning. Breakfast will be ready soon.”

“Smells good,” he muses, stepping closer. “Need any help?”

You swallow hard, focusing on flipping the french toast before it burns. “You know what would be helpful?” you ask, keeping your eyes on the pan, not on him.

“What’s that?” he replies, stretching his arms above his head.

You steal one last glance, just a quick one, watching the way his muscles ripple with the movement. Damn it. Get a grip.

“If you’d go throw on a shirt, Rolie Polie Cheolie.”

His laughter is instant, loud and unapologetic. “Wow. That nickname is uncalled for.” He runs a slow hand down his chest, smiling smugly. “Is this too much for you? I totally understand why.”

Your grip tightens around the spatula as you flash him a sickly sweet smile, waving it in your hand as a reminder. “Should we revisit last night?”

His smile falters, eyes darting to the spatula like he’s considering his odds. “Damn, woman. Okay.” Still chuckling, he lifts his hands in surrender and backs away. “I’ll go find a shirt. But for the record…” he pauses in the doorway, glancing back at you with a knowing grin. “You didn’t have to stare.”

Your cheeks burn as you turn back to the stove. This man is going to be the death of you.

It’s day three of surviving Seungcheol.

You don’t know when you started keeping track, but at this point, it feels necessary. Every glance, every smirk, every damn stretch of his ridiculously sculpted arms even when he’s innocently putting away the washed dishes after a meal, chips away at your resolve.

Kate hadn’t helped. Last night, after calling with an update, she’d gone there*.*

“If you’re looking for some fun*,* Seungcheol is definitely the way to go,” she’d said, voice full of mischief.

You’d nearly choked on your water. “Excuse me?”

“He’s so fine. Not as fine as Jun, of course, but Seungcheol is a man if you know what I mean.”

Your gaze had drifted traitorously toward him. He’s comfortably sprawled in the corner chair, book in hand, looking every bit like a romance novel cover come to life.

You’d hissed into the phone, “Shut up,” even though he’d need superhuman hearing to catch onto what she was saying.

“All I’m saying is, you never know what might happen over the next few days. Have some fun.”

Heat crawls up your neck as you rise to grab a drink from the kitchen. Why is it suddenly so warm in here?

“Nothing is going to happen,” you’d whispered back, firmly.

“Boo. You’re no fun.” She’d let it go after that, moving on to say they’d likely be home by next Wednesday. Nine more days. That’s all you have to survive.

Nine days without making a fool of yourself.

Nine days without giving in to the way he makes your pulse stutter.

Three down and nine to go. Twelve total…You can do it. Right? You just need to focus. Like on your book.

Yes. Writing. That’ll keep your thoughts free of Seungcheol.

After your usual morning routine of walking Mika, enjoying breakfast, and tidying up, Seungcheol casually mentions that he’s heading out for a run.

Jogging in the cold sounds like actual torture to you, but you still offer him a small smile. “Have a good run!”

“Thanks,” he says, rolling out his shoulders as he stretches. His muscles flex with the movement underneath his tight zip-up, and you have to remind yourself not to stare. “When I get back, I’ll cook us dinner.”

That certainly piques your interest. “Oh? Do you cook often?”

“You could say that. Plus, I wouldn’t want you starving under my watch,” he teases with a wink before heading out the door.

You narrow your eyes at the space he just vacated. Has he figured out that your culinary skills barely extend beyond breakfast foods? Maybe the fact that you reheated frozen leftovers twice yesterday tipped him off.

Once he’s gone, you settle into your writing space with a hot tea nearby and your laptop open, fingers poised over the keyboard. The hardest part is always getting started, but once you do, the words tend to flow. Today, they’re flowing especially well.

You’re making great progress on the prologue, recapping the last book’s events and weaving in the setup for the new characters. But as you flesh out the love interest, describing his dark, chocolatey hair and toned physique, a realization hits you.

You’re using a certain someone as inspiration.

The realization makes your fingers hesitate over the keyboard. Seriously? You shake your head, trying to brush off the thought, but it lingers, settling into the back of your mind like an itch you can’t quite scratch.

Your main character’s love interest is supposed to be effortlessly charismatic, strong, and just the right amount of a cocky attitude. Traits that, annoyingly, align all too well with the man currently out on his run. The way he smirks when he catches you looking, the deep timbre of his voice, the way he makes your heart race anytime he’s within touching distance.

You groan and drop your head onto the table. This is ridiculous.

Maybe Kate was right. Maybe your subconscious is betraying you, channeling all that pent-up energy into your writing instead of…well, other things.

Before you can spiral further, you take a deep breath and push those distracting thoughts out of your mind. Focus. You force your attention back to your screen, determined to channel this energy into something productive.

You finish fleshing out the details of your character, the way his eyes darken when he’s deep in thought, the way his presence commands a room without effort. You tweak a few lines, refining his dialogue until it feels just right.

Satisfied, you move on, letting the story take shape one sentence at a time. The tension between your characters simmers, the chemistry practically leaping off the page. It’s electric, intense…and maybe, just maybe, a little too familiar.

You shake off the thought and keep writing, ignoring the way your mind keeps circling back to a certain firefighter with a teasing smirk and frustratingly perfect timing.

“Whatcha working on?”

You nearly jump out of your seat. A damp towel hangs around Seungcheol’s shoulders, his hair still wet from a shower. He’s also wearing different clothes than earlier, a fresh pair of lounge pants and a fitted black tee that does nothing to hide the way his broad shoulders and toned arms fill it out.

When did he even get back? You didn’t hear him come in, let alone get undressed and shower.

“You were so engrossed in whatever this is,” he motions to your laptop screen, “that you didn’t even hear me say I was hopping in the shower.”

Your heart is still trying to recover from the surprise, and maybe from the sight of him standing so casually in front of you, all post-workout and freshly showered.

“W-what?” you stammer, snapping your laptop shut on instinct. “I was…just writing.”

His lips curl into a slow, knowing smirk. “About what?”

Absolutely not. There is no way in hell you’re telling him the truth.

“Um, I’m an author. I have a book due soon as part of my contract.”

Seungcheol nods, clearly waiting for you to elaborate. His gaze makes you hesitate, do you dive into the full truth about writing romantasy smut or keep things vague? A simple character plotting excuse could work, but something about the way he’s watching you makes you blurt out the first thing that comes to mind.

“It’s, um, about a warrior heiress whose assigned protector is a human hybrid. He can morph into a giant guardian dog at will. And, well…she kind of falls for him.” You pause, watching his reaction, then, without thinking, add, “Do you know what knotting means?”

The second the words leave your mouth, you want to crawl under the table.

Seungcheol’s eyebrows shoot up, a smirk playing on his lips. “Do I want to know?”

Your face is on fire. Abort. Abort. You shake your head rapidly. “No, probably not.”

He chuckles, clearly amused by your panic but merciful enough to let it slide. “Alright then,” he says, using the towel to dry off his hair some more. It’s enough to distract you.

Little do you know, he’s definitely planning on looking it up later.

“How was your run? And shower?” you babble, desperate to steer the conversation elsewhere.

“Both were good,” he replies smoothly, eyes still holding a trace of interest in the previous topic of conversation. “But I’m starving now. How about you?”

You swallow, forcing yourself to focus. “Well, I won’t say no to food,” you say, standing up and stretching, trying to act casual.

Seungcheol smirks like he knows exactly where your mind wanders. “Good. Because I plan on impressing you.”

“Oh? Bold of you to assume I’m easily impressed.”

“Bold of you to assume I’m not up for the challenge,” he says, his voice dripping with confidence. “You want to help, or are you still lost in your little fantasy world?”

The teasing in his voice makes your eyes narrow. Without hesitation, you snap your laptop shut before he can read another word. “I’ve hit my goal for the day. Put me to work, chef.”

He laughs, “Wow, such enthusiasm. Almost convincing.” He slings the damp towel over his shoulder. “Let me toss this in the laundry hamper, and then we’ll get started.”

As he disappears down the hall, you exhale, pressing your palms against the cool surface of the table. Seungcheol has no idea what you were writing, but the thought of him finding out makes your stomach twist. And not necessarily in a bad way.

By the time he returns, you’ve found an apron and slipped it on, attempting to tie the strings behind you. He stops mid-step, taking in the sight of you. His grin is slow and approving. “Look at you, all dressed for the part.”

You place your hands on your hips, raising an eyebrow. “Obviously. Now, Super Couper, what’s on the menu?”

He groans, dragging a hand through his hair before shooting you a playful glare. “How many more ridiculous nicknames do you have up your sleeve?”

You tilt your head, eyes sparkling with mischief. “An endless amount.” Your smile is far too triumphant. “It’s a habit of mine. And lucky you, you get to be the exclusive recipient for the next several days.”

He shakes his head at the new ridiculous nickname, but the grin on his face gives him away. “You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Immensely,” you tease, adjusting the apron strings behind your back. “Now, tell me what I’m chopping, stirring, or burning.”

He chuckles, stepping closer. His hands brush over yours as he takes over and ties the apron for you, pulling the strings snug. The warmth of his fingers lingers even after he steps back. “We’re making spicy kimchi fried rice with seared steak.”

Your stomach growls in approval, and he smiles. “I’ll handle the steak since I don’t want you to accidentally ruin it,” he teases. “You’re on chopping duty. Can I trust you with a knife?”

You scoff, grabbing a knife. “Duh.”

He leans against the counter, arms crossed, watching you with amused eyes. “We’ll see.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help the way your pulse skips as you start slicing. This is fine. Totally normal. Just two adults cooking together. It’s definitely not a big deal that you can feel his body heat every time he moves past you, or that his deep, husky chuckle makes your stomach flutter.

You won’t admit it, but you’re totally impressed by the way Seungcheol moves around the kitchen with ease, like he was born to do this. He’s completely in his element. You find yourself wondering why he became a firefighter instead of a chef at some high-end restaurant.

Seungcheol watches as you slice into an onion, “Here, let me show you how to hold it properly—”

“I know how to do it,” you huff, gripping the handle tighter. “I’m capable of chopping vegetables, Seungcheol.”

He raises a brow at your defensive tone, then softens. “Of course you are,” he says gently. “I just don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

Something about his concern makes your stomach twist. Maybe it’s the way he automatically took over, or maybe it’s the fact that he’s right, but either way, it leaves a sour taste in your mouth. He seems to realize it too because he steps back, letting you finish on your own without another word.

The tension lingers as he takes the chopped veggies and tosses them into the pan, sautéing them before mixing them with the rice. You know it’s ridiculous to hold a grudge over something as small as knife skills, but the silence stretches between you as you both eat, neither wanting to be the first to break it.

Even Mika, who’s happily munching away at her dinner, doesn’t offer a distraction from the lingering silence.

Seungcheol wouldn’t know this, but people have been stepping in to ‘help’ you your whole life, whether you wanted them to or not. Being a little clumsy means that, more often than not, others take over, deciding you’re too slow, too messy, or just better off watching.

You’ve fought to prove yourself capable in small ways, learning things at your own pace, and taking pride in figuring them out on your own. You know Seungcheol didn’t mean it that way. His help wasn’t condescending, it wasn't just let me do it move like you’ve experienced before.

Finally, you exhale, deciding to move past it. No point in sulking over it.

“So,” you say after taking a drink of your water, “Can I ask you something?”

Seungcheol glances up, mid-bite, eyebrows raising slightly. “Of course.”

“You seem really comfortable in the kitchen,” you pause, watching the way his shoulders stiffen. “Why firefighting? Why not something food-related?”

“I spent some time in culinary school, but I like doing things my own way. It wasn’t for me.” He leans back slightly, twirling his fork between his fingers. “Firefighting is…different. It’s this rush of energy that takes over your body. You assess the situation, cut the wildfire off from its resources, do everything in your power to stop it from growing. It’s intense, but it’s rewarding.” He exhales, his gaze momentarily distant. “But I’m not sure it’s exactly for me anymore either.”

“Oh? Really? Why’s that?”

He hesitates for a beat, then shrugs. “I have a few things to figure out, some important decisions to make. That sort of thing.” His tone makes it clear he’s not ready to elaborate, so he shifts the conversation instead. “What about you? Have you always liked writing?”

“God, no,” you say with a short laugh. “I’ve always been an avid reader, but I kept looking for a specific type of book that either wasn’t well written or didn’t exist. Eventually, I just decided to write it myself.” You glance at your mostly empty plate. “I’m still new to it all, this is only my second book, but I like it.”

Seungcheol nods, offering a small smile. “That’s good.”

You let the comfortable quiet settle between you as you both take the last few bites of dinner.

“Thanks for dinner, by the way,” you say, getting up to take your dishes to the sink.

“Thanks for helping.”

Day Five of Surviving Seungcheol

Yesterday wasn’t particularly eventful, just another day of coexisting with the infuriatingly perceptive man currently occupying your space. The most eventful thing that happened was Seungcheol shoveling the driveway and front steps after the snowfall, which, for Mika, was basically an invitation to turn the entire ordeal into a game. She chased after flying clumps of snow, leaping at them mid-air like an overexcited puppy, completely unbothered by the cold.

Unlike you.

Even though the sun shined for most of the day, the mountain air bites sharper than usual, cutting through every layer you’ve thrown on. No matter how many sweaters or blankets you bundle yourself in, warmth remains elusive. And now that the sun has gone down, the temperature seems to have dropped again.

“God, I miss the warm weather,” you mutter, pushing off the couch in search of yet another blanket.

Seungcheol frowns, his eyes tracking you as you disappear down the hall. He already turned up the thermostat earlier when he noticed goosebumps on your arms, and you’ve thrown on a sweater since then. He sets his nearly finished book down, rolling his shoulders as he stands.

By the time you return, arms wrapped around the thickest blanket you could find, the unmistakable crackle of fire fills the living room.

You stop in your tracks, eyes flicking to Seungcheol, who’s crouched near the fireplace, adjusting the logs. The warm glow of the flames casts flickering shadows across his face, highlighting the quiet concentration in his features.

Somehow, he always catches onto things and does them before you even think to ask.

“It should warm up in here pretty fast now,” he says, meeting your eyes.

“Thank you.”

“Of course. Do you, uh…want to watch something while you write, or would that be distracting?” he asks, unsure.

“I could use some background noise. Put on whatever you want.”

Seungcheol grabs the remote and flips through the options before settling on the latest action movie. It’s loud, fast-paced, and (at least in theory) should hold his attention.

Except it doesn’t.

He’ll admit, he hasn’t got a single clue what’s happening on the screen. Explosions, car chases, intense fight scenes; they all blur together as his focus repeatedly drifts to your laptop.

It’s not his fault. Really.

He had every intention of watching the movie. Based on the description, it seemed like something he’d enjoy. But the moment his gaze flickered toward your screen, all thoughts of entertainment evaporated. His curiosity got the best of him, and now he’s stealing glances, completely distracted by the way your fingers move over the keys with effortless ease.

And after reading a line, all rational thought leaves his head.

Dash looks up at me with fire in his eyes. “You’re mine. Your heart, your mouth, your sweet cunt—it’s all mine.” A deep growl vibrates from his chest as he pulls me onto his lap, his hardening length pressing against me through his pants.

Seungcheol swallows hard, eyes darting between the flashing scenes on the TV and the words on your laptop. Jesus Christ. He stiffens, willing his expression to remain neutral. But it’s impossible to unsee the words, impossible to ignore the way his brain short-circuits at the imagery.

Dash shreds my corset with his claws, discarding the tattered fabric like it’s nothing. His mouth latches onto my nipple, his hand cupping the other, his touch rough yet reverent. I whimper as he spreads my thighs, lifting my skirt to reveal—

He sucks in a sharp breath, snapping his head back toward the TV. Nope. Nope. Nope.

But now he’s hyper-aware of you sitting beside him, completely unbothered as your fingers move effortlessly over the keys. You’re so focused, so immersed in crafting this sinful scene like it’s just another day at work.

He wants to laugh. He wants to tease. He wants to ask you what the hell kind of research you’ve been doing for this book, but more than anything, he kinda wants to know what happens next.

“I wouldn’t have pegged you as the type to enjoy a smutty book,” you muse, lips curling into a knowing smirk. You should probably be embarrassed that he’s been sneakily reading, but watching the initial shock on his face shift into reluctant curiosity is far too entertaining.

Seungcheol’s head snaps toward you so fast you’re surprised he doesn’t get whiplash. Shit. I’ve been caught.

You laugh, the sound bubbling out before you can stop it. Eventually, Seungcheol joins in, shaking his head in amusement. “I don’t know what I was expecting, but that certainly wasn’t it. You’re good, though. I can see why your last book sold so many copies.”

Your brows lift in mock surprise. “Ah, have you been doing a little research on me?”

He smirks, completely unapologetic. “Maybe just a little. I didn’t realize I was sharing a house with the beloved BookTok queen.”

That makes you laugh even harder, the sound ringing through the room. Seungcheol watches you, taking in the way your eyes squint when you laugh, how your whole face lights up. Damn, he thinks, you’re gorgeous.

Seungcheol pushes himself up from the couch, partially to hide his growing hard-on and partially to grab a snack. He’s so attracted to you, more than he ever expected to be. “Feel like popcorn?”

“Yum, yes! That sounds fab,” you say, already diving back into your smut scene.

A few minutes later, he returns with a freshly popped bowl of popcorn and two cold beers. “Wasn’t sure if you drink, but I can grab you some water instead if you prefer.”

You smile at his thoughtfulness. “Nah, beer is great. Thanks.”

The two of you settle in, watching the last half of the movie together. Not that you’re paying much attention, you’re pretty sure Seungcheol isn’t either, as you keep stealing glances at each other. Plus, the plot is all over the place, and you both seem equally lost.

Then, just as things finally seem to be wrapping up, one of the love interests dies. And just like that, you’re completely checked out. If there’s one thing you cannot stand, it’s an unhappy ending. You’re a die-hard Happy Ever After lover. What was the point of all that buildup if they were just going to rip it away?

Seungcheol stretches, letting out a deep yawn as the credits begin to roll. “That felt longer than I thought it would.”

“Sleepy?” you ask, hoping maybe he’ll say no and you can keep hanging out a little longer.

But he yawns again, rubbing a hand over his face. “Yeah, surprisingly, I am. I better head to bed.” He shoots you a tired smile. “Sweet dreams.”

…

Seungcheol hesitates for half a second before nodding and retreating to his room. As he shuts the door behind him, your expression lingers in his mind. There was something there, just for a moment. Maybe he imagined it.

He shakes his head. Don’t be stupid. He won’t get his hopes up about you having any sort of feeling for him. And he refuses to put you in that position.

Exhaling deeply, he climbs into bed, exhaustion weighing on him. Sleep comes quickly, but the comfort is short-lived.

The memory that haunts him returns, just like it always does. His body tenses, breath shallowing as he’s yanked back into the nightmare that never leaves him alone.

Fire. Smoke. The metallic taste of fear coating his tongue.

He tosses and turns, jaw clenched, fingers twitching as though trying to dig through rubble that isn’t there. His face contorts in distress, beads of sweat forming at his temple as the scene replays, relentless and unforgiving.

No.

He sprints toward the smoldering wreckage of what was once a home, his heart pounding harder than his boots against the ashy ground. The house was still standing only hours ago. He told them to leave, practically begged them to, but the charred remains of their car in the driveway tell him all he needs to know.

Still, he digs. His hands work frantically, shoving aside collapsed beams and shattered drywall, hoping—praying—that he won’t find what he’s looking for. That his gut feeling is wrong. That by some miracle, they made it out.

But then, he sees them.

A pair of burned bodies curled around something small. No, no, no, no…

His stomach twists violently as he stumbles back. The infant cradled in their lifeless arms, the baby he promised would be safe, is gone too.

His breath catches. The awful taste of failure coats his tongue, choking him.

You had planned to sleep hours ago, but the book you’re reading is just too good. Mika is curled up at your side, warm and comfortable, and you’ve convinced yourself that one more chapter won’t hurt.

Just as you shift under the covers, a faint noise catches your attention.

You sit up, ears straining. Was that… talking?

At first, it’s too muffled to make out. Maybe Seungcheol is on the phone? But then, clearer this time, desperate and pleading.

“No! No, please no!”

A shiver runs down your spine. That wasn’t the voice of someone having a casual conversation. That was pain.

You rush out of bed, heart hammering, and press your ear against the guest bedroom door. Faint whimpers slip through the painted wood, his distress clear even from the hallway.

“Seungcheol?” You crack the door open slightly, hesitant to intrude. “Is everything alright?”

But then he lets out a bloodcurdling scream.

Screw privacy.

You rush to his side, your hand finding his trembling shoulder. “Hey, it’s just a bad dream,” you say gently, settling onto the bed beside him. His breath comes in sharp, uneven gasps, his face twisted in agony. You shake him, not too hard but firm enough to pull him from the nightmare’s grip. “Seungcheol, wake up. You’re safe. It’s alright, everything is alright.”

His eyelids flutter, his gaze unfocused as he blinks up at you. “Y/N?” His voice is hoarse, heavy with exhaustion and something else, perhaps something raw like grief.

“I’m here,” you whisper, your touch instinctively soothing as you rub slow circles along his back. “Shh. Go back to sleep.”

His ragged breathing gradually evens out, his body loosening as the tension melts away. Just as you think he’s fully drifted off, you start to move, planning to slip away quietly.

But before you can, his arms tighten around you.

You stiffen, every muscle locking up as he pulls you back down, tucking you against his chest.

The warmth of him is immediate, wrapping around you like a cocoon. He moves on instinct, tossing the blanket over you, his hold protective, unconsciously seeking comfort.

You fit perfectly against him.

You try not to think about it. About how steady his heartbeat sounds beneath your ear. About how his breath brushes against your hair. About how ridiculously pretty his eyelashes are up this close. Or how full his lips look, even now, parted slightly in sleep.

You tell yourself you’ll stay just a few minutes. Just until he’s completely settled. But your eyelids grow heavy, the warmth of his embrace lulling you into quiet surrender.

And before you know it, you’ve slipped into slumber beside him.

A few hours later, sunlight peeks through the blinds, lighting up your face as you stir awake. You blink against the brightness, momentarily disoriented until the empty space beside you registers.

Seungcheol is gone.

You sit up quickly, heart stuttering. Shit. You hadn’t meant to fall asleep here. You should’ve woken up first and slipped out unnoticed, so you could pretend like nothing ever happened.

Did he realize you stayed? Of course, he realized. You were next to him when he got up.

Swinging your legs off the bed, you brush a hand through your hair and take a steadying breath before padding out into the main part of the house.

Through the window, you spot him outside with Mika. He’s already shoveled a bare patch for her, ensuring she doesn’t have to trudge through the deep snow just to do her business.

Your heart gives an inconvenient little patter.

Of course, he would remember to do that. He’s always so considerate, always catching onto things, even if you don’t realize he does.

You quietly retreat back to the primary bedroom, rifling through the duffel bag of clothes you brought. If you’re going to pretend last night didn’t happen, you might as well do it while looking cute. You settle on a cozy but flattering outfit, then jump into the shower, hoping the hot water will help clear your head.

By the time you emerge, refreshed and dressed, Seungcheol has come back inside.

“Morning,” he greets, looking up as you approach.

You hesitate, searching his expression for any hint of last night’s events, of waking up tangled together, of his unconscious grip pulling you closer.

But he doesn’t mention it. Huh, interesting.

“Hi,” you reply, forcing a casual smile. “Good morning.”

And just like that, it’s as if nothing ever happened. You keep your expression neutral, though a tiny pang of disappointment lingers. Pretending was your plan, so why does it sting a little when he beats you to it?

“I noticed the kitchen faucet was dripping this morning,” Seungcheol says, before drinking the rest of his coffee. “Tried fixing it, but I think it needs to be replaced. I’m gonna run into town to grab a new one. Want to escape for the day? We could grab lunch while we’re out.”

A break actually sounds nice. You haven’t gotten much writing done anyway, and the weight of waiting for feedback from your agent and publisher is pressing heavier by the hour.

“Yeah, that sounds good. I sent in my rough outline and a few chapters yesterday, but I haven’t heard anything back yet. I think the suspense is killing my creativity.”

He nods in understanding. “Makes sense. Want to get ready first?”

“Yeah, give me five minutes.”

Back in your room, you sift through your bag before settling on your favorite pair of jeans and a cropped crewneck that sits just right at your waist, warm enough for layering under your winter coat. You twist your hair into a claw clip, swipe on some mascara and lip gloss, then take one last glance in the mirror before heading out to meet him.

When you return, you find Seungcheol has changed too. He’s now wearing a flannel, dark slacks, and a ball cap. You squint, trying to make out the embroidered words. Dude’s Bait & Tackle.

“Who’s Dude?” you ask while slipping on your boots.

“My brother.”

Your head tilts slightly. “You have a brother?”

“Yeah, he’s a few years older than me. I probably don’t visit him as often as I should.” He shrugs, grabbing his jacket and the note he jotted down with the faucet’s dimensions. “Not that he minds, he’s not much of a people person.”

You nod, filing that little detail about him away. “Ready when you are.”

Grabbing your purse, you turn to Mika, crouching down to scratch behind her ears. “Be good, we’ll be back soon. I love you so much. Make good decisions, okay?”

Seungcheol fights back a laugh, secretly charmed by the way you treat Mika like a tiny, furry human. Instead, he simply shakes his head and opens the front door for you, following you out to his truck.

Without hesitation, he moves ahead to open the passenger door for you too.

Chivalry isn’t dead, after all.

“You don’t have to do that,” you say, feeling a little guilty for making him go out of his way.

“I know,” Seungcheol replies easily, offering his hand to help you up into the seat. “But I was raised to be a gentleman.” Then, with a small smirk, he adds, “Plus, I don’t mind helping a pretty girl.”

You narrow your eyes playfully. “Oh, so if I was ugly, you’d just slam the door in my face? That's what you’re saying, Coupcake?”

His smirk deepens as he shakes his head, then suddenly leans in to buckle your seatbelt for you. Your breath catches, he’s close, so close. You catch a hint of his cologne, warm and woodsy, and your cheeks heat despite the cold air outside.

After clicking the buckle into place, he tilts his head slightly, eyes flicking up to meet yours. “I need to start writing these down. You’ve got some good ones.”

“Don’t encourage me, or I’ll have to pull out the big guns,” you tease, lifting a brow.

He chuckles, rolling his eyes as he steps back and shuts the door. A second later, he’s sliding into the driver’s seat beside you, the corners of his mouth still tugging into a smile.

And just like that, the day suddenly feels like it will be a lot more interesting.

Seungcheol wakes up feeling more rested than he has in a long time. A rare kind of warmth settles deep in his bones, the kind that makes him want to stay in bed just a little longer. He takes a slow breath in, and his senses are instantly flooded with you. Vanilla, soft and sweet, mixed with something else he hasn’t quite figured out yet.

His arms tighten around you instinctively before his brain fully catches up. Why are you in my bed? He doesn’t remember. But fuck, he’s not complaining.

Snuggling in a little deeper, his palm glides over your side, fingertips tracing the curve of your waist. You fit against him perfectly, your body molding into his like you were meant to be there.

And then you shift.

A small, unconscious movement, but it sends your ass pressing right against his already half-awake length, making him inhale sharply through his nose.

Shit.

He freezes, willing his body to relax. Don’t ruin this for me right now, he thinks to himself, demanding his body to behave. Clenching his jaw, he wills little Coups to calm the fuck down before this gets embarrassing.

And for a second, he thinks he has it under control. Until you shift again, this time pressing even closer, your warmth seeping through the layers of fabric between you.

Then, in the softest murmur, barely above a whisper, you breathe his name.

“Mmm, Seungcheol.”

His stomach clenches. His fingers twitch against your skin.

Holy. Fuck.

Yeah. He needs to get up. Right now. Before time reverts and he’s turned back into a horny teenager, about to embarrass himself in ways he will never recover from.

Carefully, Seungcheol pulls away from your warmth, slipping out from beneath the covers with as much stealth as he can manage. You barely stir, completely unaware of the hold you have over him. Over his mind, his body, his every last ounce of self-control.

He needs distance. Immediately.

Making his way down the hall, he beelines for the bathroom at the far end of the house, somewhere safely out of range, where he can get his shit together before he does something unbelievably stupid.

Like pinning you against the bookshelf in the living room and fucking you until you scream his name.

Or bending you over the kitchen counter, pushing your hair aside so he can bite down on your shoulder as he takes you from behind.

Or his personal favorite—his absolute fucking favorite—you on top of him, sinking down onto his cock inch by inch, gasping as you stretch around him. Maybe even making that same sinful little sound you let out the other night at dinner, when you were upset with him but still savoring every bite.

A deep groan rumbles in his chest as he steps into the bathroom, locking the door behind him.

And finally, finally, he shoves his boxers down and wraps a fist around his aching cock.

Seungcheol drags his thumb over his needy tip, a shudder rolling down his spine. His body is desperate, pulsing with heat. He pulls his hand away just long enough to spit into his palm before wrapping it back around his aching length.

Shutting his eyes, he delves into the fantasy, one that feels so damn real he almost swears he can still smell your vanilla scent clinging to his skin.

In another world, he wouldn’t have left that bed. Wouldn’t have forced himself to walk away. No, he would’ve pulled you closer instead, arm tightening around your waist as his hand slipped beneath your sleep shorts. His fingers would have teased their way down, brushing over your clit before dragging through your folds, already damp and so warm. The moment he pressed inside, you’d gasp, surprised, shifting in his arms but not pulling away. Never pulling away.

His strokes quicken, his breath growing uneven.

You’d turn toward him, sleep-heavy eyes blinking open, and without a word, your thighs would part just a little wider, it’s an invitation. A plea he’d answer by curling two fingers deep inside you, coaxing those needy little pants from your lips, watching as your face melted with pleasure.

His grip tightens. His hips jerk up into his hand.

He knows exactly how it would go. Knows that soon enough, you’d be begging—please, Cheol, more—and fuck, he’d give it to you. He’d slide your shorts down, tug that tiny tank top over your head, confirming what he already knew. That you have the most perfect fucking tits. And then he’d sink into you without hesitation, stretching you open, watching your mouth fall open as you take him. With every thrust, your body would give, your back arching, your breasts bouncing, your nails digging into his skin as he buried himself deeper.

Seungcheol groans low in his throat, head tilting back against the wall. His hand moves faster, chasing the high that feels so close.

Jesus fuck.

You’d let him know you were close, breathless and needy, voice barely more than a whimper. Cheol, I’m gonna—

And just to push you over that perfect edge, he’d press his thumb to your swollen clit, applying just the right amount of pressure, slow and deliberate. He’d swirl it in tight circles, watching your body tremble, feeling your walls flutter around him as you gasped his name. And that would be it.

The way you’d squeeze around him, your body tightening, back arching as you came apart beneath him…it would wreck him completely. He’d follow you down, groaning against your skin as his own pleasure took hold, spilling deep inside—

Seungcheol’s stomach clenches as the tension finally snaps. A low, strangled curse leaves his lips as his release spills into the wad of toilet paper in his hand, his whole body shuddering with relief.

For a long moment, he just breathes. Letting the fantasy slowly fade, leaving only the lingering heat and the undeniable truth that settles deep in his chest. You have him wrapped around your fucking finger.

The worst part? You don’t even know it.

And if this morning was any indication, this sure as hell wouldn’t be the last time he nearly loses it in front of you.

He cleans himself up and steps out of the bathroom, only to be met with Mika sitting in the hallway, staring at him with what can only be described as judgment.

Seungcheol narrows his eyes. “I’m not admitting to anything,” he mutters, sidestepping her as he grabs his boots.

Carrying his boots over to the sliding glass door, he slips them on before letting Mika outside. The mountain air is sharp and bracing, biting at his exposed skin, but he welcomes the chill. He needs it to clear his head, to get his damn hormones in check before he faces you.

His eyes land on the shovel propped against the railing, right where you left it. With a quiet sigh, he picks it up and starts clearing a spot in the snow for Mika. It’s a small thing, but he knows she won’t go until she has her designated space. He’d caught onto the routine not long after watching the two of you in the mornings, your sleepy voice murmuring to her, the way she’d nuzzle against your leg as you shoveled.

It’s second nature to you. And now, somehow, it’s becoming second nature to him too.

On his way back inside, he peeks into the bedroom. You’re still curled up beneath the blankets, your breathing soft and even, completely oblivious to the chaos he just put himself through. He swallows, shaking his head, and reaches for his sweatpants that are flung haphazardly over the dresser. He tugs them on before heading into the kitchen, flicking on the coffee pot. As he fills it with water, his gaze catches on the steady drip, drip, drip of the kitchen faucet after he’s turned it off.

Perfect.

It’s a small issue, easy to fix, but also the perfect excuse to escape the house with you for a few hours. Get out. Get some air. Act like a normal human being who isn’t fantasizing about his housemate every time she so much as breathes.

It’s a genius plan, really.

At least, that’s what he tells himself.

And when you wake up, stretching with a sleepy yawn, he casually tosses out the idea. Just as he predicted, you happily agree. Now all he has to do is behave in public. Where other people are watching.

…

In the hardware store, Seungcheol notices how you’re walking closely by his side, the subtle shift in the space between you making his pulse quicken. He casually scans the aisle signs, looking for the one he needs, but his mind isn’t entirely focused on faucets. He feels the need to linger, to have you near just a few seconds longer.

Without overthinking, he places his hand on your lower back, guiding you toward the right aisle. It’s a simple gesture, but it feels significant. He pretends to inspect the faucet options, even though he already knows exactly which one he’s going to grab, but he takes his time, savoring the small moment.

While he’s there, he picks up a couple of tools he might need, he’s pretty sure the surgeon doesn’t have much in the handyman tool department. Junhui’s first aid kit, however, is incredible, containing everything from bandages to advanced trauma gear. All of which is perfectly organized. As a first responder, Seungcheol can respect it.

As he heads toward the checkout counter, his gaze drifts to a box of dog toys. He adds one to his pile without a second thought, a quiet smile tugging at his lips as he imagines Mika tearing into the new toy with her usual enthusiasm.

…

At lunch, you get a ding on your phone, and Seungcheol notices the frown that appears on your face.

“Everything alright?” he asks, thinking it might be a not-so-good update from Kate.

“I don’t know, it’s an email from my publishing team.” He watches as your eyes pan back and forth as you read the message, noticing the slight slump of your shoulders. “They want to have a call tomorrow morning to go over what I’ve submitted. That can’t be good.”

“Why do you think that?” he asks, his concern growing.

“They think I’m not exactly meeting expectations…” you sigh, hesitating for a moment before opening up. “I’m struggling with writing what they want versus how I see the story unfolding. I’m not sure the direction they’re pushing me in is the right one.”

Seungcheol leans back, thinking for a moment. “You should just write what you want. Forget about what your readers expect, forget about what your team suggests. Focus on what you want the story to be.”

You take another bite of your meal, letting his words sink in. A part of you feels the weight lift just a little, even as you continue to grapple with the balance between creative freedom and external pressure.

“I’m not sure how much help I’d be, but if you’d like me to read over what you have so far, I’d be happy to give you an outsider’s opinion,” Seungcheol offers.

You hadn’t expected him to offer, and it caught you off guard for a moment.

“Feeling a change of heart compared to the other day?” you tease, remembering how flustered he got after sneaking a peek at the spicy scene you were writing. “It’s alright. I’m sure after tomorrow I’ll at least know what they’re thinking. It’ll be good to talk it out.”

He shrugs with a slight smile. “Okay, but the offer still stands.”

“Thank you,” you say, genuinely appreciating the offer. “Now, it’s your turn, Cheol Chops. Tell me something about your life to make me feel better about mine,” you half-joke. “Got anything you need to vent about?”

Seungcheol raises an eyebrow. “On a scale from zero to Junhui, how good are you at giving advice?”

You both know that Jun is the king of advice. He’s logical and always happy to provide a pro/con list. You smile at the thought. “Probably about 50% Jun, but I lean more towards emotional advice rather than logical. So, take that as a fair warning. What’s up?”

Seungcheol sighs, his voice quieter as he opens up. “I broke a promise that I can’t take back, nor can I fix it. It’s caused some issues at work, and my fire chief put me on temporary leave so I can work through it. But now I’m really thinking about what I want to do next.”

You listen intently, noticing the weight of his words.

“I mentioned the other day that I don’t think wildland firefighting is something I can keep up with. But I don’t want to give up firefighting entirely, so I’ve been considering transferring to an inner-city station. I’d still get the rush of helping people, but it wouldn’t be as physically or mentally demanding. I’d be working in shifts, and the change in scenery could be good for me.”

His eyes drift down, clearly conflicted. “I was really hoping to talk to Jun about it, but I didn't want to bother him, considering everything going on right now. I’m just not sure what the right choice is. What do you think? Should I go back after my leave and risk more trouble, or try something new and potentially fail at it?”

His question hangs in the air, a mix of uncertainty and hope. You can see how much he's wrestling with it, and you want to help him make the decision that feels right.

“I’d say try something new,” you reply thoughtfully, meeting his gaze. “Otherwise, you might find yourself back in the same place, struggling again. Plus, if you give the city option a shot and it doesn’t work out, at least you’ll know. It’s not a failure; it’s just learning something about yourself. And that’s always a win in my eyes. It takes courage to step into the unknown.”

Seungcheol feels a slight weight lift off his chest, a warmth spreading in his chest hearing you say that. It’s a small comfort, but it’s enough to give him a bit more clarity, a bit more peace to make that upcoming decision.

Day Seven of Surviving Seungcheol

Sleep was impossible last night. You were too tangled in anxious thoughts to get any actual rest, and now the nerves are eating you alive. You’re jittery as you sit in front of your laptop, the glow of the screen casting a faint light on your face. The meeting is about to start, and you can feel your heart pounding in your chest.

Every second that ticks by feels like an eternity, your hands nervously tapping against the edge of the desk as you wait for your team to join the call.

You sit up straighter after the familiar faces appear, trying to shake off the anxiety in your chest as your agent speaks, his voice steady but distant through the screen. You can feel the tension coiling inside you, your nerves prickling with each word.

“Thanks for meeting with us on such short notice,” your agent continues, giving you a polite but businesslike smile. “I know you mentioned being out of town, so we appreciate you making time for us virtually.”

You nod, offering a weak smile in return. “Of course. I’m glad we could make it work.” Your voice comes out a little more strained than you intend, but they don’t seem to notice.

The conversation moves into expectations. They want ‘less dense material, more filler and fluff between the spicy scenes,’ your agent explains, his tone matter-of-fact.

Your heart sinks. Fluff? You don’t want to write a story full of empty space. You’ve poured your soul into creating a rich world, with real characters and stakes, and now they’re asking for less of that?

You can feel the frustration bubbling up, but you push it back, trying to keep your voice steady. “So, you want me to cut out the fantasy aspects? Completely?”

Your agent shifts, clearly trying to soften the blow. “Not entirely. Maybe just scale it back. We think a more erotic romance-focused direction will make the story more accessible. It’ll be easier to market.”

The words sting. You’ve always known writing was a business, but this? This feels like a betrayal of everything you’ve worked toward.

“But that’s not what my reader base expects,” you argue, leaning forward. “They’ve followed me for the story, for the world-building. They expect something more than just... fluff.”

Your agent presses on, oblivious to your concerns. “Look, we think this could broaden your reach, and gain thousands of new readers. We’re just thinking of your career in the long run.”

You feel a knot forming in your stomach. Thousands of new readers? As if the thousands you currently have aren’t enough? The idea of broadening your reader base sounds nice on paper, but what about the readers who’ve supported you from the start? What about the integrity of your work?

“But what about the people who’ve been with me since the beginning?” you ask, voice shaking slightly. “Don’t they deserve to see the series grow, not change into something...plain and unoriginal?”

Your agent’s expression tightens. “Without this kind of direction, there won’t be another book in the series. We can’t keep moving forward unless we adapt.”

The words hang heavy in the air, and you struggle to hold it together. The meeting wraps up soon after, but it feels like you’re in a fog, your thoughts spinning. You want to fight back, to defend your story, but the weight of their words crushes you.

You slouch in your seat still just as confused as you were before. What now?

Whenever something bad happens in your life, you’ve always used writing as an escape. But what are you supposed to do when writing becomes an issue?

Sighing, you open your document, eyes scanning over the words you once felt so confident about. Even now, despite everything, they still feel right. And as you reread where you left off, the next scene unfolds effortlessly in your mind.

You lose yourself in your draft, letting Seungcheol’s words echo in your head—write for yourself, write what you want. For the first time in a while, the words flow without hesitation, without second-guessing. Hours slip away unnoticed as your fingers dance over the keyboard, lost in the world you’re creating.

When Seungcheol returns from his run, you hesitate. The weight of your earlier meeting lingers, but you don’t have the energy to explain the looming uncertainty of your novel. How, depending on what happens next, either your team will break your contract, or your readers will revolt over a boring porn-only sequel. Instead, you keep typing, pushing the thoughts away, if only for a little while longer.

Seungcheol doesn’t need words to know something is wrong. He can sense it. The weight in your shoulders, the distant look in your eyes, the way your fingers hover over your keyboard as if second-guessing every word. It doesn’t take much to assume that your meeting didn’t go well.

He wants to ask, but he also knows you well enough after your short time together to recognize that, right now, you’re not ready to talk about it. Still, that doesn’t mean he won’t do something about it.

He hates seeing you like this. If he could, he’d take your burdens onto his own shoulders without hesitation. He’d do anything to lift your mood, to see your lips curve into a genuine smile again. And if you cried, fuck, if they made you cry? He’d burn the whole damn world down just to set things right.

For now, though, he settles for something smaller. Something simple. He disappears into the kitchen, rummaging through cabinets until he finds what he’s looking for. A few minutes later, the scent of freshly made hot chocolate drifts through the air.

He returns with two full mugs, topped with whipped cream and mini marshmallows. He sets one of the mugs beside you without a word before sinking into the chair across from you.

You sigh, closing your laptop before reaching for the mug. The warmth seeps into your fingers as you take a sip, letting the rich aroma settle some of the unease twisting in your chest.

The two of you sit there in silence, but it’s the comfortable kind. No pressure, no expectations, just the quietness of passing time and the mesmerizing sight of snow falling beyond the window.

When your drinks are finished, Seungcheol takes both mugs to the sink. As he rinses them out, he casually suggests, “You should take a break from writing, clear your head a little.” Then, he turns toward Mika, who’s curled up on the floor. “Mika, wanna go play outside?”

She springs up immediately, her tail wagging as she yaps her answer. He grins. “Tell your mom to get dressed. We wanna play in the snow.”

Mika barks again, turning toward you as if relaying the message. You can’t help but smile.

“Alright, alright. I’m coming.”

Bundling up in your winter gear, the three of you step outside into the crisp mountain air.

Mika takes off instantly, rolling in the fresh snow, kicking it up into the air like a puppy experiencing winter for the first time. She’s gonna be so sad in a few days when it’s time to leave the mountains and head back to the city where it’s already spring.

You laugh, watching her antics until something cold smacks into your side.

You blink, looking down at the splattered bits of snow before turning toward Seungcheol. He’s standing there, hands tucked innocently behind his back, lips pressed together like he’s trying to suppress a smirk.

“Oh, it’s on,” you warn, crouching to scoop up a handful of snow. You bunch it together in your mittens before launching it at him. It hits him square in the chest, and he stumbles back slightly, eyes wide with surprise at your strength

“Cheolmate,” you declare triumphantly, playing on the word checkmate.

His surprise quickly shifts into a determined grin. “Alright, you asked for it.”

Snowballs fly back and forth as laughter fills the backyard. Mika jumps between you both, snapping at the falling snowflakes and occasionally catching a snowball in her mouth, only to crunch it into oblivion.

Eventually, she loses interest in the fight altogether and gets the zoomies, tunneling through the snow and popping her head up every few feet, like a giddy little groundhog.

Seungcheol pauses mid-throw, watching her with amusement. “Your dog is ridiculous.”

You laugh, cheeks flushed from the cold and the playful chaos. “Yeah, but she fits right in.”

Seungcheol chuckles, moving to stand beside you. Watching you smile, hearing your laughter, it’s everything to him. The way your eyes crinkle at the corners as you watch Mika, the way your dimples deepen with each laugh, the way your entire face lights up with unfiltered joy when you meet his eyes. It’s mesmerizing. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything more beautiful.

This is exactly what you need. And if he has anything to do with it, he’ll make sure you keep smiling like this. Always.

The snow begins to fall heavier, dusting both of you with a delicate layer of white. Mika is still running circles in the snow, but your focus is on each other now.

Without thinking, Seungcheol pulls off one of his gloves and reaches out, his fingers brushing gently over your face as he wipes away the snowflakes clinging to your eyelashes. His touch lingers, warm against your chilled skin, and his thumb instinctively strokes your cheek.

Your breath catches when his eyes flick down to your lips, and suddenly, the playful atmosphere shifts into something more intense.

Neither of you move for a moment. You stare into each other's eyes as the world around you fades, except for the quiet inhale you take when he slowly leans in.

Before you even realize it, your faces are close enough that his breath fans across your lips.

And then, he finally closes the distance.

His lips press softly against yours; he’s testing the waters and savoring the moment. But the second he feels you respond, the hesitation vanishes. The kiss deepens, slow and deliberate, laced with emotions neither of you have dared to voice. His hand cradles your face, fingers brushing along your chilled skin as he tilts your chin, pulling you impossibly closer.

It’s warm, intoxicating, perfect.

Your arms wind around his neck, fingers threading into his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan against your lips. He responds in kind, his teeth grazing your bottom lip, drawing a sinful little moan from deep within you.

Seungcheol smiles into the kiss, reveling in how effortlessly you melt into him. How he somehow knows exactly what you like, what you crave. It’s instinctive, effortless like you were always meant to be right here, in his arms.

The world around you ceases to exist. The snowfall, the cold, the rest of the universe, it all fades into insignificance. There is only him. Only the way he kisses you like you’re the most important thing in the world.

When you finally pull apart, your foreheads rest together, breath mingling in the crisp air. Your heart stammers wildly in your chest as a terrifying, undeniable truth settles in.

Shit.

Day Nine of Surviving Falling For Seungcheol

Ever since you accepted the fact that you have feelings for Seungcheol (very strong feelings, the kind that makes you want to do crazy, reckless, and borderline courageous things) you haven’t been sure how to act around him.

The past two days have been an absolute disaster. You’ve been a clumsy fool, tripping over your own feet, your words, your thoughts. Which, to be fair, isn’t all that different from any other given day. But now? Now it’s worse, because he’s here witnessing it all, and probably very aware of the fact that he’s the one doing it to you.

Yet, Seungcheol is acting completely normal. Like nothing happened. Like that kiss, the one that turned your entire world upside down, didn’t affect him at all.

Unless...it really didn’t affect him.

And in that case, you’re utterly and completely screwed.

You’re not exactly avoiding each other, but neither of you seems willing to make the first move. Or, technically, the second. It’s a silent game of waiting to see who will cave first.

You want to say screw it and just kiss him again. But what if it was a fluke? What if he only kissed you to make you feel better? Then again, who does that? Who kisses someone just to cheer them up? There had to be something behind it. Right?

You don’t know when it happened or how, maybe it was when he pulled you from your wrecked car, or when he made you coffee that first morning, or when he looked at you like that after your kiss.

Or maybe, just maybe, you've felt this way all along…

After helping clean up dinner, you busy yourself putting away the clean dishes. Watching Seungcheol cook is one thing, but watching him do something as simple as washing dishes? That’s an entirely different level of unfair. The way his forearms flex, the way his hand veins pop out as he scrubs a plate clean, it makes you want to throw all logic out the window and climb him like a tree.

Boyfriend material. Without a doubt.

You need to get a grip.

Sensing your stare, he glances over his shoulder, one brow slightly raised, and you immediately whip your head away. Play it cool. You suddenly need a distraction, so you head to the fridge, reaching for a bottle of water—except, of course, the one you want is just out of reach.

Before you can even debate climbing onto the counter, Seungcheol is there, stepping in behind you without hesitation.

“Here, I got it.”

He moves in close, his chest nearly brushing against your back as he stretches over you. One hand instinctively finds your waist to steady himself, his fingers warm even through the fabric of your shirt. The brief contact sends a jolt through you, but before you can dwell on it, he grabs the bottle and hands it over.

You barely have time to mutter a thanks before your grip fails you and the cold bottle slips from your fingers, tumbling to the floor.

With a sigh, you bend down to retrieve it only to realize that Seungcheol hasn’t stepped back as far as you thought. Your ass brushes against his thigh, and the accidental touch sends a shockwave through both of you.

Startled, you jolt upright, only to whack your head against the counter.

“Shit—are you okay?” Seungcheol asks, immediately reaching for you.

“I’m okay, really,” you insist, waving him off despite the way your face flames with embarrassment.

…

Seungcheol feels bad, really bad. He can’t shake the thought that this is his fault. You seem so uncomfortable around him now that you’re practically injuring yourself just trying to avoid him. At least, that’s what he assumes.

Every time he speaks to you or even just walks by, he notices the way you tense up, how your responses are shorter than usual, like you’re trying to keep him at arm’s length. And it kills him.

But a part of him, a hopeful part, wants to believe that you’re not uncomfortable because you regret the kiss. Maybe you’re feeling the same way he does, wanting more but unsure how to ask for it.

He’s trying to be considerate, giving you space, not wanting to pressure you into anything. But at the same time, he’s starting to second-guess everything. Are your subtle reactions just in his head? Is he reading too much into the way your eyes linger on him, the way your breath hitches when he gets too close?

Or is he not imagining it at all?

He’s gotta do something to figure you out. That’s his only option at this point. If you’d just give him the smallest hint that you want him, he’ll take the lead—gladly. He’ll show you exactly what happens when you both stop tiptoeing around whatever this is and finally give in.

“You know,” you say suddenly, breaking the silence, “Besides the fact that we’ve been stuck together for the last week, we don’t actually know a whole lot about each other.”

Seungcheol finishes rinsing out the sink, dries his hands on a dish towel, and turns to lean against the counter. He crosses his arms before suggesting something, “Huh, you have a point. Maybe we should change that. Let’s play a game.”

You narrow your eyes. “What kind of game?”

“Truth or dare,” he says, failing to hide the smirk tugging at his lips.

You huff out a laugh. “Really? That’s what we’re going with?”

“Yep. Unless you’re scared.”

You roll your eyes. “Fine. You go first, then.”

“Dare.” He doesn’t hesitate.

You think for a moment, then grin. “I dare you to call your mom so I can talk to her again. I’m sure she’s got quite a few stories of you to share.”

One of his eyebrows arches before he lets out a chuckle. “Or?”

“Or, if you pass, you have to take a drink.”

Seungcheol snorts, shaking his head. “Hand me a drink then, hun.”

It slips out so naturally, so effortlessly, that he doesn’t even try to recover from it. Why should he? You’ve got an entire arsenal of nicknames for him, what’s the big deal if he throws one back?

His eyes trail down your backside as you turn to the fridge, returning with two beers. He watches the way you move, how your shirt lifts up just slightly when you grab the bottles, revealing a little slice of skin where he’d like to place his lips.

Seungcheol swallows hard and extends his hand out for one of the beers when you turn back around. “Under any other circumstances, I’d let you chat with my mom,” he says with a teasing smile. “But not tonight.” He cracks open the bottle, his gaze locked on yours as he lifts it to his lips.

You roll your eyes, taking a sip of your drink to settle your nerves.

“Alright, your turn now.”

“Truth,” you say, chickening out.

He grins, sensing your hesitation. “When was the last time you went on a date?”

You groan, “Oh god. The day we met, actually. I ripped my pants escaping through the restaurant’s bathroom window, that’s how bad the date was.”

Seungcheol laughs, shaking his head. That absolutely sounds like something you’d do.

“Kate set me up with the guy, and it was a total disaster. He was rude, his manners were just for show, and it felt like every nice thing he did came with an expectation. Like if he opened the door for me, I owed him something in return, you know?”

Seungcheol's grip tightens around his beer bottle. He does know. And the thought of some guy treating you like that makes his blood boil.

“Okay, your turn again.”

“Truth.”

“Why did you kiss me?” you blurt out.

Seungcheol meets your gaze, his expression is soft but unwavering. “Because I really wanted to,” he admits, remembering every little detail of that kiss. Like how warm you were, how perfectly you fit in his arms, how he hadn’t been able to think about anything else since.

Your breath hitches for a moment, but you quickly recover. “Dare.”

A wild thought crosses his mind, and once it’s there, he can’t shake it. He leans in slightly, watching you carefully. “I dare you to finish your drink and then join me in the hot tub.”

The challenge in his voice sends a thrill down your spine. Without hesitation, you tip your head back, downing the rest of your beer. Then, without breaking eye contact, you peel off your shirt, revealing the sheer bra underneath.

“You coming?” you ask playfully, tossing your shirt aside and heading toward the backyard.

Seungcheol just stands there for a second, his brain short-circuiting. He was expecting a little resistance, maybe a joke, but this? Oh, this is so much better.

Swallowing hard, he follows you onto the deck, where you’re slipping off your pants. Fuck. He quickly removes the hot tub cover while you turn it on. The air might be a little chilly, but his body is running hot.

And then you bend over to test the water temperature, still in nothing but your bra and panties, and Seungcheol has to force himself to look anywhere else. If someone had told him earlier today that by nightfall, he’d be out here with you, watching you strip down like it was the most natural thing in the world, he’d have laughed.

But now? Now, he’s just thanking whatever divine force made this his lucky day.

He tosses his shirt aside, then his pants, barely paying attention to where they land. What he does pay attention to, though, is the way your eyes rake over him, the way your breath quickens for just a second. Another perk of being a firefighter is that the hard training keeps you in shape. All those workouts? Yeah, they were worth it just for this moment, just to see you looking at him like that.

“Help me in?” you ask, reaching out.

He takes your hand without hesitation, steadying you as you step up and lower yourself into the steaming, bubbling water. His grip lingers for just a second longer than necessary before he follows you in, sighing as the heat works into his muscles.

“This is nice,” he says, settling in, tilting his head back against the edge. The jets work at the tension in his lower back, but the real relief is sitting across from him, grinning like you know exactly what you’re doing to him.

“Mmm, it really is,” you hum in agreement. Then, with a mischievous, playful glint in your eye, you remind him, “It’s your turn, by the way.”

Oh, right. The game.

“Dare,” he says, smirking, willing to test just how far you’re willing to push this thing between the two of you.

Your grin deepens. “Take off your boxers.”

He arches a brow, amused but not remotely hesitant. Maintaining eye contact, he lifts his hips just enough to slide the soaked fabric down his legs and tosses them onto the deck with the rest of his clothes. The water swirls around him, warm and teasing, but nothing about this feels as thrilling as the way your smile slowly spreads, your tongue darting out to wet your lips as you watch him.

“I didn’t think you actually would,” you tease.

He leans in just a little, voice low, teasing right back. “One thing you should know about me, sweetheart,” his smirk turns positively sinful, “I never turn down a challenge.”

You roll your eyes and splash water in his face. "Coupsie Daisy, my bad," you half-heartedly apologize, even though you’re anything but sorry.

Seungcheol wipes the water from his face slowly, his tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek as he stares at you with darkened eyes. The playful banter between you shifts into something heavier.

Without overthinking, you move. Climbing onto his lap, your knees press into the seat on either side of him, your barely-there panties doing nothing to hide how hard he already is beneath you. A shaky breath leaves your lips at the contact, and you feel the way his grip tightens on your waist, the way his fingertips begin to trace the curve of your spine.

There’s no pretending now. No more second-guessing. Your bodies are reacting on instinct, drawn to each other like it’s inevitable.

His voice is lower when he finally speaks, his breath warm against your lips. "Are we really going to do this?"

“That depends,” you whisper, rolling your hips just enough to make his fingers dig into your skin. “Is it a dare?”

His jaw clenches. “Do you want it to be?”

“No,” you breathe, tilting forward, your lips brushing against his. “I just want you.”

That’s all the confirmation he needs.

Seungcheol crashes his lips against yours, swallowing your gasp as his hands roam your back, pulling you in until there’s no space left between you.

This kiss is nothing like the last. That one had been sweet and gentle. But this? This is fire, hunger, and need all wrapped into one.

You moan into his mouth, the sound vibrating between you, sending a shiver straight to his cock. The reaction is immediate, and he twitches beneath you, hard and heavy against your core.

You roll your hips again, relishing the way he groans against your lips. “Fuck, you feel so big,” you murmur between feverish kisses, your voice laced with desperation.

His tongue sweeps into your mouth, deepening the kiss as his fingers reach behind you. With practiced fingers, he unclasps your bra, letting it slip from your shoulders and down your arms before it disappears into the water.

Seungcheol pulls back just enough to take you in, his gaze hungry as it rakes over your bare chest. “You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he breathes, his thumbs brushing over your hardened nipples, sending a jolt of pleasure straight to your core.

Then, without warning, he dips his head down, capturing one in his mouth. The heat of his tongue swirls around the sensitive nub before he sucks, making you arch into him with a soft whimper. He moves to the other, giving it just as much attention, his teeth grazing teasingly before soothing the sting with his tongue.

Your fingers sink into his damp hair, nails scratching against his scalp as you pant, “Cheol, I need more.”

Your hand drifts between your bodies, wrapping around his stiff length beneath the water. The moment your fingers curl around him, a deep, guttural groan rumbles from his chest. And that’s when he just about loses it.

“Wait,” he rasps against your lips, pulling back just enough to press his forehead against yours. His breath is ragged, his self-control hanging by a thread. “Wait, baby. Not here.”

His fingers grip your hips, keeping you steady as he stands, lifting you effortlessly in his arms. Instinctively, you wrap your legs around his waist, your arms looping around his neck as he carries you inside.

His lips find yours again as he moves, each step purposeful. He’s determined. The cool air of the house is a stark contrast to the heat rolling off both of you, but it only makes you cling to him tighter.

He doesn’t stop until he reaches your bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him. Then, with a wicked smirk, he lays you down on the bed, hovering over you with darkened eyes full of promise.

"Now," he murmurs, brushing his lips along your jaw, down your neck, "Let me show you how much I want you."

His lips reconnect with your breast, tongue tracing delicate circles over your sensitive skin, while his hand continues its descent. His fingers skim over your stomach, teasing along the waistband of your soaked panties before slipping beneath them.

A small gasp leaves your lips when he pushes the fabric aside, his fingers sliding effortlessly through your slick folds.

Seungcheol pulls back just slightly, his heated gaze locked onto your face as he curls his fingers into you, slow and deliberate. He watches the way your brows furrow, your mouth parting in a silent moan, completely captivated by how responsive you are to him.

“So fucking gorgeous,” he repeats, voice thick with desire as he leans in, capturing your lips once more.

The pressure in your core builds rapidly, his fingers coaxing you closer and closer to the edge. Every movement, every stroke, brings you closer and closer to the edge. Your whole body tightens in anticipation. You’re right there—

Suddenly, the sharp chime of your ringtone cuts through the air, breaking the spell between you both. Your breath is still ragged as your eyes snap to your phone on the nightstand, Kate’s photo lighting up the screen.

Seungcheol tears away from you like shrapnel, realization washing over him as he runs a hand through his damp hair. His chest rises and falls rapidly, and for a moment, he just stares at the phone, then back at you, still spread beneath him, panting, needy.

“You should probably answer that,” he says, voice rough as he clears his throat. He hesitates for only a second before adding, “Maybe we should call it a night.”

Before you can protest, he leans in, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead, as if to ground himself, before stepping back and leaving you sitting there, exposed and still trembling from the almost earth-shattering orgasm you were supposed to have.

With a deep breath, you shake yourself out of your daze and reach for the phone.

“Hello?” you answer, voice still breathless.

Kate doesn’t seem to notice. “I have good news! Surgery went well, and we should be home sooner than we thought. I’ll know more tomorrow, but I just wanted to give you a heads-up.”

She continues explaining the procedure, detailing what the surgeons discovered and their plan moving forward, but you’re only half-listening.

Your body is still buzzing, your mind stuck on the way Seungcheol had just touched you, the way he looked at you like you were something he wanted to consume entirely.

And worse than that? The way you still want him right this minute.

“That’s great news. I’m sure Jun is relieved.”

“He is,” Kate says, her voice lighter than it has been in days. Then, after a brief pause, she adds, “Now, want to tell me what took you so long to answer? I called twice.”

Your stomach flips. “Oh, um. I was just busy doing…chores…” you lie, hoping she doesn’t catch the slight tremor in your voice.

Kate is silent for a second, and you can practically hear the smirk forming on her lips. “Oh really? Chores? Is that Cheol’s newest nickname?”

Your mouth falls open. “Shut up,” you grumble, face burning.

She just cackles. “Mm-hmm. I’ll see you in a couple of days.”

“Yeah, yeah, bye.”

“Bye! And don’t forget to use protection!” she sings before hanging up.

You groan, tossing your phone onto the bed, and flopping down beside it. Of course, she figured it out. Sisterly intuition should be illegal.

After a deep breath, you drag yourself up and crack your door open, peeking into the hallway. Seungcheol’s door is shut. He’s probably already asleep.

With a sigh, you change into your pajamas, leaving your door slightly ajar. Not just for Mika when she finally decides to come to bed, but for him, too. You know, just in case.

But the house stays quiet, and the only visitor to your room that night is Mika, who hops onto the bed and curls up at your feet.

Still, as you settle under the covers, your mind drifts back to the heat of Seungcheol’s hands, the weight of his body, the hunger in his gaze.

You fall asleep thinking about all the ways he could satisfy you. would satisfy you, if only you’d had just a little more time.

→ READ PART 2 ←

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@gyupremacy @beomcoups @yoonguurt @lovetaroandtaemin @daniela-f-uwu @gyuguys @fancypeacepersona

#firefighter!svt is something i'll need more of #love all the characters 🔥#can't wait to read part two #s. coups fic recs #svt fic recs #mdni

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gyupremacy-recs · 4 months ago

Text

“Help yourselves to whatever you’d like, boys. I know I will,” The little smile that came on my face when I read that 😈

Touch Of Cherries

→ Summary: With Valentine’s Day fast approaching, your thoughtful and devoted boyfriend is determined to make it unforgettable. But when you suggest something completely unexpected like a threesome - with his best friend, no less - he’s caught entirely off guard. Shock quickly turns into curiosity, and as the day draws closer he realizes there’s a whole new side of you he can’t wait to discover.

↠ jimin x f.reader x jungkook | 6.5k words | 18+ ↠ genre: smut, romance, pwp, threesome

→ Warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, explicit sex, unprotected sex, threesome, hand job, blow job, pussy eating, extreme teasing, dirty talk, edging, punishment, choking, spanking, orgasm denial, multiple orgasms, breast play, nipple play, food play (candied cherries, chocolate-covered strawberries, whipped cream, ice cream), butt plugs, vibrators, vibrating cock rings, nipple clamps, flogger, feather tassel, leather paddle, blindfolds, tape, silk ties, muzzling, spit play, cum play, cumshot / faceshot, bdsm themes, dom/sub switch,dom gf!reader, bratty bbf!jungkook, submissive bf!jimin

→ Networks: tagged below

@ksmutsociety @k-vanity @keopihaus

@lapydiaries @bangtanwritershq @dove-net

→ Author Note: this fic has been a very long time coming (joke intended as you will soon discover lol), it was originally meant to be released for sol’s @jamaisjoons's bon appetit collab and after several hiatuses and comebacks, it’s finally here (with major improvements and an additional 3k - you’re welcome) please enjoy this overdue and delicious valentine’s fic!!!! i'd also like to give a huge shoutout to ley @pars-ley for beta editing this for me, i appreciate you! this has been crossposted on ao3 if you prefer to read there!

“It’s okay. Everything is okay,” you whisper, exhaling shakily as excitement builds in your chest. Tires crunch across the gravel driveway, signaling their arrival.

It’s time.

You listen as they step inside, the soft thud of their shoes hitting the floor as they exchange light conversation; their attempt to settle their nerves. It doesn’t take long before their footsteps echo down the hallway, drawing closer to the bedroom where you wait with anticipation rushing through you.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” you murmur, a slow smile playing on your lips as you meet the gaze of the two men stepping into the room. “Both of you.”

Satisfaction hums in your chest. Jimin held up his end of the deal, all he had to do was show up on time, with Jungkook. You made sure to take care of everything else. You’re in charge tonight. Everything you say goes, and if they dare to disobey...well let’s just say they’ll soon learn what kind of punishment is in store.

Jungkook’s eyes widen, while Jimin’s breath hitches as they take in the sight before them. The sheer lingerie spills across your body, revealing just enough to keep their eyes roaming hungrily over your skin. But it’s not just you that has their attention.

Spread across the nightstands on either side of the bed are the carefully selected indulgences you’ve prepared for tonight. Trays of chocolate-covered fruit, a bottle of wine that pairs perfectly with the sweets, spray cans of whipped cream, the soft glow of candles flickering against scattered flower petals and the lingerie laid out just for them next to you. And then, of course, there’s the final temptation, a lineup of toys, waiting patiently for their turn to play.

They’re in for a delight, to say the least.

“Help yourselves to whatever you’d like, boys. I know I will,” you purr, plucking a ripe chocolate-covered strawberry from the tray. Slowly, you bring it to your lips, your teeth sinking through its tender skin. The sweet juices linger, glistening on your lips as you take your time savoring each bite.

The voice in Jimin’s head reminds him to breathe, only for him to suck in a sharp breath when you slowly part your crossed legs, offering them a glimpse of what’s hidden between them. The soft, familiar buzzing confirms his guess before his eyes even land on the sleek purple vibrator nestled inside of you. One of your favorites.

Together, your boyfriend and his best friend, watch in complete awe as your hand glides down your body, your slim fingers wrap around the base of the toy peeking through the open middle of your crotchless teddy. Giving yourself a few teasing pumps, you moan just enough to ensure you have their full, undivided attention. Then, with a satisfied sigh, you pull the toy from your slick folds and casually toss it onto the bed beside you.

“I’m ready whenever you two are.”

Jimin swallows nervously. This is really happening.

Only a short 48 hours ago, this was nothing more than a fantasy you boldly admitted. Now, here you are, waiting for him and Jungkook to make their move. He’s still somewhat shocked. You rarely request favors, so when you do, he knows they mean everything to you. And Jimin never wants to let you down.

He recalls the scenario you laid out for him…

“I’ve been thinking about what we should do for Valentine’s Day,” you begin, your voice smooth. “I have a proposition…”

Jimin barely glances away from the TV, eyes still glued to the movie you picked from some random streaming service. “What is it?” he asks, completely unaware of the bomb you’re about to drop.

You hesitate for a moment, then take a breath. It’s now or never. “I want us to have a threesome… with Jungkook.”

Silence.

Jimin blinks at the screen as if replaying your words in his head, trying to make sure he heard them right. Then, suddenly, his head snaps toward you, eyes wide. “W-wait. What did you just say…a threesome? With Jungkook?”

You nod.

He stares at you, processing. “Jungkook… as in my best friend Jungkook?” His voice is a mix of shock, curiosity, and the slightest hint of something else. Like jealousy, maybe.

“Yeah,” you confirm. “He’s the only person I can think of that we both trust. Someone who won’t judge us or look at either of us differently afterward.”

Jimin doesn’t say anything, and you aren’t sure how to take his silence. He doesn’t seem upset, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t. Anxiety creeps in, and you start picking at your fingernails while you wait for his response.

Your friends always said that if you were ever going to do this, it had to be with a stranger to keep things from getting awkward. But you’ve never understood that logic. A stranger wouldn’t respect your or Jimin’s boundaries. A stranger wouldn’t be as trustworthy or judgment-free as Jungkook.

You swallow hard. “You can say no if you hate the idea. It’s okay.”

Jimin exhales, running a hand through his hair. He wonders how long you’ve been holding onto this thought, and how many times the idea has crossed your mind before you finally built up the courage to say it aloud.

He’s never been one to shy away from something new. Experimentation has always been part of the thrill for both of you. And if this is what you really want for Valentine’s Day… who is he to deny you?

After a beat, he nods. “Yeah, sure. We’ll call him tomorrow and ask.”

“Do you have something to say, Jimin? You look a little tongue-tied,” you tease, slowly sliding off the bed. Your words snap him back into the present moment, but there’s a haze in his eyes that lingers.

He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he shakes his head.

“Good.” You flash a knowing grin, stepping between them to shut the bedroom door. “Before we get started, there are a few rules for tonight.” Your voice dips slightly, commanding their full attention. “You’re here for my pleasure. Do as I say, and the night will go smoothly. Good listeners get good rewards. Do you understand?”

They nod, but that’s not enough. You arch an eyebrow, waiting for a verbal response.

“Yes, ma’am,” Jungkook finally answers after he’s caught on, his voice thick and raspy. His response is correct, but the smirk tugging at his plush lips is not appreciated.

“Jungkook. Top off. Now.”

Turning back to the bed, you grab two carefully chosen items, a strappy leather harness, meant specifically for him, and the paddle with a heart-shaped leather tip, meant specifically for you.

You have a feeling you’ll be needing it sooner rather than later. Especially if that attitude of his sticks around…which, if you’re being honest, you kind of hope it does.

“Yes, ma’am,” he repeats, with that same infuriating smirk playing on his lips. His gaze never wavers, eyes locked intently onto yours and only breaking momentarily when he tugs his shirt over his head.

You take your time looking over his body, your eyes trailing across the sculpted ridges of his stomach, the ink etched into his skin, before finally landing on the small patch of dark hair peeking from the waistband of his low-rise jeans. You press your lips together to stifle a smile, they call them happy trails for a reason, after all.

Lifting the leather straps over his head and onto his shoulders, your fingers skim the warm expanse of his tanned skin as you guide his arms through the harness.

“I was going to wait until later for this,” you murmur, circling around him slowly, savoring the moment. “But I’d rather do it now…and enjoy it later.”

His brows knit together in confusion until he feels it. The click of the built-in handcuffs as you secure his wrists behind his back.

Realization dawns in his eyes, but he doesn’t protest. His chest rises and falls in shallow breaths as he adjusts to the restraint. Once he’s properly locked in place, you drag the tip of the paddle across the exposed patches of skin between the straps, letting it linger before delivering a swift, teasing slap to his shoulder blade.

A perfect red heart blossoms in its wake. You admire your work, running a finger lightly over the mark.

Beautiful.

“Sit on the bed and wait your turn.”

Your voice leaves no room for argument as you turn away, returning to the bed to pick up the last remaining outfit. Holding up the delicate maid uniform, you offer it to Jimin with a sultry smile.

“This one’s yours, baby.” A sweet expression graces your lips, but behind it lurks something far more sinful. You can already picture Jimin fucking you hard from behind, the frilly fabric bunched around his waist as he loses himself in you. The thought alone makes your heart rate increase.

Jimin doesn’t hesitate. He strips, slipping into the outfit before settling onto the bed beside Jungkook, both of them waiting eagerly for your next command.

“Now that you’re both dressed appropriately, let’s go over the rest of the rules.” Your gaze sweeps between them, lingering on Jungkook. There’s a glint in his eye, sharp and mischievous. He’s going to be a handful tonight.

“You will do exactly as I say. No whining, no backtalk, and no attitude.” You let the warning hang in the air before continuing.

“You’re only allowed to come at the same time as each other, and only after I do. You will refer to me as ma’am or madam. Either will suffice. And let’s be clear, there will be no sitting back and watching tonight. Your eyes will stay on me all night…but so will a part of you. Your hands, a finger, your lips, tongue, or even your cock, must be touching me.”

A sharp smack echoes through the room as you slap the paddle against your palm, savoring the way both men swallow hard at the sound. They better get used to it.

“Break any of these rules,” you continue, voice dripping with authority, “and you’ll be given a fitting punishment of my choosing.” You take a slow, deliberate turn, gesturing to the array of playthings laid out around you. “There are plenty of options…and I won’t hesitate to use them.”

Jimin bites back a smile, secretly reveling in the dominatrix side of you that’s fully emerging tonight. He always knew you liked to experiment and switch things up, but this? This is something else entirely.

And he loves it. Loves watching you take control, loves discovering this new side of you that’s commanding, unapologetic, and entirely irresistible.

“Lastly,” you continue, your voice smooth yet firm, “If anything becomes too much, use the word ‘yellow’ so I know to ease up. If you’re uncomfortable at any point, say ‘red,’ and I’ll stop immediately. Got it?”

Their quick nods are followed by a synchronized, “Yes, madam.”

“Good.”

Without hesitation, you grip the delicate, ruffled collar of Jimin’s maid dress and yank him toward you, crashing your lips together, your tongue sliding against his.

As your lips move to his neck, you slip a hand beneath the short hem of his dress, fingers finding his throbbing length with ease. A slow, teasing stroke has him gasping, his body already betraying him.

“How does that feel, baby?” you whisper against his skin, punctuating your words with gentle bites along the curve where his shoulder meets lace.

Jimin mewls into your ear as you stroke him, his breathing turning ragged, his hips subtly bucking into your touch. He’s close—so close—but you won’t let him have it. Not yet.

Your grip tightens around his shaft, thumb circling the sensitive head just enough to make him tremble. A surprised gasp escapes his lips, but before he can beg for more, you pull away entirely.

His frustrated whimper only fuels your desire.

You do it again, bringing him to the very edge and making his whole body tense with anticipation, only to snatch it away at the last second.

The night is just getting started, and Jimin is already at your mercy. Exactly where you want him.

Shifting your attention to Jungkook, who has been waiting far too patiently on the bed, you slide your hand down to his zipper, pulling it down with deliberate slowness. His jeans slide to his knees, exposing thick, tense thighs that flex beneath your fingertips as you trail them up toward the outline of his growing arousal, straining behind the fabric of his briefs.

Your fingers dip just beneath the waistband, teasing just enough to send a ripple of goosebumps across his skin before you tug the fabric down, freeing him completely.

“Mmm, you look more than ready for me,” you murmur, eyes flicking up to meet his. “Tell me, do you want my hands on you?”

Jungkook nods frantically, desperation written all over his face.

A devilish smile tugs at your lips as you lean in, lips hovering just inches from his aching length. You blow a soft stream of air against it, watching with satisfaction as his abs flex in response.

“What about my mouth?” you purr, voice dripping with mischief. “Would you like that?”

His chest rises and falls with heavy, uneven breaths. “Fuck, yes. I want it all,” he groans, already on edge.

You let a single finger trail along the prominent vein running up his shaft, barely touching him, yet it’s enough to make him shiver. You can feel how hard he’s fighting to stay still, to not thrust into your teasing touch.

“Fuck,” he gasps, his tattooed hands gripping the sheets.

You ignore his frustration, turning instead to Jimin, who is watching with wide, hungry eyes.

“Tell me what to do to him,” you command smoothly.

Jimin blinks, caught off guard. “You…want me to tell you?”

“Yes, baby,” you coo, tilting your head, daring him to defy you. “Or do you have a problem with my demand?”

“N-no, ma’am,” he stammers, quickly shaking his head. Then, after a brief hesitation, his voice turns more confident. “No hands,” he instructs, watching you carefully. “Do whatever you want, just don’t use your hands.”

A wicked grin spreads across your lips. You love a challenge.

Obliging, you lower yourself between Jungkook’s thighs, letting your tongue flick out to deliver the lightest kitten lick along his length. It’s so brief, so teasing, yet powerful enough to make his whole body tense. You repeat the motion, each barely-there touch making him groan in frustration, his hands clenching into fists at his sides.

And you? You’re just getting started. But, if you’re being honest, you could use a little attention yourself.

"Hmm. I don’t think this is working for me," you muse, pushing yourself to your feet with a sigh of faux disappointment. Your gaze sharpens as you look down at Jungkook. "Move up against the headboard."

He obeys without question, shuffling back until his toned back meets the plush pillows, kicking off the last of the fabric clinging to his ankles. His darkened, lust-filled eyes track your every movement.

You crawl forward on your hands and knees, slipping between his legs until your body is back in its previous position, your breath warm against his heated skin.

"Jimin?" you purr, flicking your tongue out to tease the thick head of Jungkook’s length, reveling in the way his thighs tense beneath you. "Be a doll and fuck me with those gorgeous fingers of yours while I take my time enjoying your friend a little longer."

Positioning himself behind you, he kneels on the bed, his fingertips grazing the outer curve of your thigh before trailing up to your perfectly round ass. A shiver runs through you at his touch. His other hand slides between your legs, and he sinks two slender fingers into your slick heat, curling them just right.

A deep moan vibrates against Jungkook’s length as Jimin expertly finds that sweet spot, sending pleasure coursing through your body.

Jungkook’s hips jerk involuntarily from the sensation, a sharp curse slipping past his lips as his hands struggle against his restraints, tossing his head back in frustration. Fuck.

You lift your mouth off his length, glancing over your shoulder to meet Jimin’s gaze. His dark eyes lock onto yours, a silent challenge flickering between you as he pushes another finger inside, stretching you just right. Your walls greedily suck him in, and a shuddered moan escapes your lips.

Jungkook whimpers from the lack of contact, his frustration evident. “Why’d you stop?”

Turning back to him, you smirk, reaching for a very particular item from the nightstand. Your fingers curl around it as you hold his gaze, letting the anticipation build.

Jungkook watches you carefully, his brows lifting. “What are you doing with that?”

“You’re about to find out,” you purr, slipping the item between your lips before lowering yourself back down, wrapping your mouth around his cock once more. Jimin’s challenge of ‘no hands’ is getting more exciting by the second.

With precision, you use your tongue and teeth to guide the silicone ring down to the base of his thick length. Then, biting down ever so slightly, you activate the vibration setting, satisfied when a deep, shuddering gasp rips from Jungkook’s throat.

His muscles tense as the low hum of pleasure courses through him, and his fingers tighten into the pillow behind him. But before he can fully revel in it, your voice cuts through his haze.

“Since you seem to forget that I’m in charge, asking all those questions, now you get to deal with that.” Your eyes flick down to the vibrating cock ring squeezing around him, your smirk widening. “But don’t you dare come. Not until I say so.”

You glance back at your boyfriend, humming in approval at the way he’s looking at you so hungry, desperate, completely at your mercy. Perfect.

“Do you want a taste?” you ask, tilting your head, fully aware of the effect you have on him.

Jimin swallows hard, nodding eagerly. “Yes, madam. I want to taste your sweet cunt so fucking badly. Please, let me eat you until you come all over my face, sweetheart.”

A wicked grin spreads across your lips. “Okay,” you tease, dragging it out, “but only because you begged so nicely.”

Jimin’s gaze locks onto your glistening heat, his breath hitching at the sight of his fingers stretching you open. His tongue darts out to wet his lips before he leans in, running a slow, deliberate lick up your slit before plunging inside, tasting you at the source.

A shudder rushes over you, a breathless moan slipping past your lips as your head tips back. Your fingers grip the sheets as you press your hips back into his face, encouraging him to go deeper. Jimin always eats you so damn good, knowing exactly what you need.

Your eyes snap back down to Jungkook, who looks absolutely wrecked. His jaw clenched, his chest heaving, every muscle in his body tense as he fights to stay in control. His cock twitches against the vibrating ring, the mix of pleasure and torment etched across his face. It suits him.

Jimin groans against your heat, sending another pulse of pleasure up your spine. One of his hands presses onto your lower back, making you arch your ass up to give him a better angle to pleasure you. Lowering his lips until they’re wrapped around your clit, he sucks hard and just like that, you’re done for.

Your body locks up as waves of pleasure crash over you, and through the haze of your orgasm, your gaze remains locked onto Jungkook who’s fighting for his life.

The sight of you unraveling is the hottest thing Jungkook has ever seen. It’s a miracle he’s still holding on, every muscle in his body coiled tight as he fights the urge to spill right then and there.

As you come down from your high, you reach down to switch off the cock ring, your breath still uneven. “A little relief for being such a good boy,” you murmur, stroking a soothing hand over his thigh.

Jungkook jerks at the abrupt change in sensation, his hips bucking slightly as the relentless vibration disappears. He lets out a shaky breath when you slide the ring off entirely, finally freeing him from its torment.

“Gentlemen,” you sigh dramatically, stretching out your limbs like a satisfied cat. “I think it’s time for a little break, don’t you?”

The looks they give you are nothing short of incredulous, equal parts frustration and utter disbelief. If their expressions could talk, they’d be screaming: Are you fucking serious?

Biting back a smirk, you gesture toward the tray of sweets on the nearby table. “Jimin, darling, bring that over and come sit with us. You’ve earned it.”

With an exaggerated pout but no protest, Jimin obliges, settling onto the bed beside you with the tray in hand.

You move behind Jungkook, your fingers skillfully working to unbuckle the leather cuffs securing his wrists. As soon as he's freed, he flexes his hands, rolling his shoulders with a deep breath, though the tension in his body remains.

Without missing a beat, you lean over to the nightstand, effortlessly topping off your own glass of wine before pouring generous servings for the two men. They watch you closely, still on edge, their need simmering just beneath the surface.

Jimin takes his glass with a quiet "Thank you, madam," his voice husky, while Jungkook accepts his with a smirk, though his fingers tighten around the stem.

You take a slow sip, savoring the deep flavor. "Drink up, boys," you murmur, tilting your glass toward them in a mock toast. "You'll need your strength."

Jungkook follows your suit, taking a long sip and exhaling heavily. “I don’t know what I expected tonight, but this…This has surpassed every fantasy I could’ve ever imagined.”

“Same here—” Jimin starts, only for his words to be cut off as you press a candied cherry between his lips. You do the same to Jungkook before he can get another word in.

Jungkook chews and narrows his eyes. “What was that for?”

Your lips curl into a playful smirk. “Your mouth was running, so I found something to fill it.”

His eyes darken as you pluck another cherry from the tray, holding it up just out of his reach, teasing. He licks his lips, gaze locked on you with an intensity that sends a delicious shiver down your spine.

You pop the cherry between your lips, slowly pulling the stem free with your teeth, and flick your tongue over the sweet juice left behind.

Jungkook groans. “You’re really pushing it, madam.”

Your smirk widens as you lean in close, lips just barely grazing his. “Oh, sweetheart,” you purr, voice dripping with promise. “We’re only getting started. Open wide,” you murmur, a wicked grin curling at your lips.

Jungkook watches you intently as you press another plump candied cherry against his parted lips. He accepts it without hesitation, tongue flicking against the fruit before swallowing it whole. But when you bring a third to his mouth, he hesitates, mischief flickering in his gaze.

“Jungkook…” your voice drops, a subtle warning laced in your tone. “Be a good boy and open your mouth.”

His lips twitch into something resembling defiance. His gaze holds yours, heavy with challenge, before he slowly shakes his head.

“Jungkook,” you warn again, firmer this time.

This time, he takes the cherry between his teeth only to spit it out a second later, his deep chuckle filling the space between you. His amusement is short-lived, though, because the way your eyes darken in disbelief tells him he’s just sealed his fate.

“That,” you murmur, tilting your head as you climb off his lap, “was not very nice.” Your steps are slow, and deliberate as you move across the room, fingers trailing over your carefully selected array of playthings. “What a waste of a perfectly good cherry.”

Jungkook swallows hard, watching with pleasurable anticipation as you finally settle on your choice and turn back toward the bed.

He knows he’s in trouble.

Jimin does his best to stifle his laugh, Kook really should have known better than to piss you off.

The sharp rip of duct tape slicing through the air fills the room, the sound alone enough to send a shiver down Jungkook’s spine. Before he can react, you press the strip firmly over his lips, sealing his defiance beneath a layer of unyielding silver.

His nostrils flare as he exhales sharply, eyes locked onto yours, dark with intrigue. Even now, with his mouth effectively muzzled, amusement dares you to push him further.

Smirking, you tilt your head. Oh, he has no idea what he’s just started.

Your fingers trace the edge of the red leather flogger before gripping it firmly, watching Jungkook with a wicked gleam in your eyes.

“Perhaps the tape isn’t enough," you muse, dragging the leather strands along his shoulder before stepping back. "Get on your hands and knees.”

Jimin, catching on quickly, quietly returns the fruit tray to the dresser while Jungkook sets aside his wine, following your command without protest.

You trail the flogger lightly down his spine before striking, the sharp slap of leather meeting skin echoes through the room. His muscles tense, a hiss slipping through his taped lips while his cock twitches below. Another hit, this time across the curve of his ass, pulls a deep, guttural noise from his throat.

“Do you remember the colors I told you earlier?" you ask, pausing to give him a moment to breathe. "If you want me to stop, what do you say?”

He hums dramatically, tilting his head as if in deep thought. “Hmm…Purple?” He answers, his voice muffled by the tape.

You deliver another swift strike, smirking when his back arches slightly from the intensity.

Once you feel he’s had enough, you set the flogger aside, running a soothing hand down his back before giving his hip a light tap. “Sit up.”

Jungkook obeys, his chest rising and falling heavily.

“Are you done misbehaving?” you question.

He nods his head yes, though you have a feeling this won’t be the last time he acts up tonight.

Satisfied for the time being, you reach forward and peel the tape from his lips, smoothing your thumb over his jawline after discarding it.

“Good,” you purr, letting your fingers linger for just a moment before pulling away. “Let’s see if you can be a good boy now.”

You let the delicate straps of your lace teddy slip from your shoulders, guiding the sheer fabric down your curves before it pools at your feet. The cool air kisses your exposed skin, but it’s the way both men’s gazes darken with a hunger that sends a deeper shiver through you. Your nipples harden under their unwavering eyes.

Slowly, teasingly, you trail your hands over your body, cupping your breasts with feigned innocence and a wicked gleam in your eyes. “Are you ready to play some more?” you coo.

“Yes, madam,” they respond in unison, shifting toward the edge of the bed.

Grabbing the can of whipped cream, you shake it with a devilish smirk before standing between them, tilting the nozzle to coat your soft mounds in a cool, milky-sweet layer.

“Then devour me,” you command.

They don’t hesitate. Jimin's plush lips latch onto one breast, his tongue lapping at the sweetness while Jungkook tastes the other, groaning as he sucks and nibbles at the pebbled peak. The contrast between the cold cream and the wet heat of their mouths sends a shudder through your spine.

Your breath hitches, a gasp slipping from your lips as their tongues work in sync, licking away every last trace of the treat. Fingers dig into their hair, gripping, guiding—your eyes fluttering shut, rolling back as waves of pleasure ripple through your body.

They’re not just indulging in dessert.

They’re feasting.

Jimin, lost in the moment, accidentally bites down a little too hard on your nipple out of habit. The sharp sensation makes you gasp, and he immediately pulls back, eyes wide with regret.

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” he says quickly, his lips parting as if he wants to soothe the sting with soft kisses.

You tilt his chin up with a single finger, your lips curving into a slow, knowing smile. “Careful, baby,” you tease, trailing your nails down his chest. “I’d hate to have to punish you for something so eager.”

His breath hitches, but he nods in understanding, waiting for your next move.

With that, you grab one of his favorite silk ties from the collection you had set out earlier, the smooth fabric gliding between your fingers as you fold it into a blindfold. Wrapping it securely around his eyes, you take a moment to admire how his plump lips part slightly as he adjusts to the loss of sight.

He secretly loves having his senses heightened. With his vision stolen, every touch is intensified. You trail a feather tassel along his throat, teasing the sensitive skin of his collarbone. He shivers, his head tilting slightly, exposing more of his skin for you.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” you murmur, watching the way his body tenses under your control.

He nods, swallowing hard, his anticipation thickening the air between you.

Satisfied, you shift lower, enclosing your warm, damp mouth around his length. The sudden heat makes his hips jerk, and you hum in approval, suctioning around him while your hand tightens around the base. His breath comes out in sharp, uneven pants, hands curling into fists at his sides.

Coming up for air, you lick your lips and reach for the next delicious indulgence, something meant to be savored.

The melted ice cream glides from the spoon in a slow, tantalizing drizzle, spilling across his lower abs. The cold shocks his overheated skin, and he sucks in a sharp breath at the contrast. His cock twitches in your grip, responding involuntarily to the mixture of sensations, the edge of pleasure just out of reach.

“Poor baby,” you coo, dragging your tongue over the sweet mess. “How did that get here?”

You drag your tongue in a slow, deliberate line across his navel, cleaning up the last remnants of the melted drizzle. The taste of cream lingers on your lips as you straighten up, now towering over his seated figure.

“Open your mouth and stick out your tongue.”

Jimin obeys without hesitation and extends his tongue, awaiting whatever you have planned. You scoop up a spoonful of the softened ice cream and let it drop onto his waiting tongue. He hums, but before he can fully savor it, you take a bite yourself.

Leaning in, you press your lips against his, parting them effortlessly as you spit the sweet, half-melted treat into his mouth.

“Swallow.”

You watch with twisted satisfaction as his Adam’s apple bobs, his throat working to obey your command. He lets out a shaky exhale once it’s down, his chest rising and falling heavily.

“Alright,” you grin, stepping back pleased, “You’ve both been behaving very well.” You untie Jimin’s blindfold, his lashes fluttering as he adjusts to the light, before climbing onto the bed next to Jungkook, who is already pumping his throbbing length with impatient strokes.

“It’s both of your turn to have me however you want.”

They exchange a glance, a silent agreement passing between them in a way that makes your stomach tighten with anticipation.

Jungkook moves first, rolling you onto your stomach before effortlessly hiking you up onto your hands and knees. His strong hands grip your hips, positioning you exactly how he wants you. Behind you, he kneels between your legs, his thick cock pressing teasingly against your entrance.

Jimin moves to the other side of the bed, standing in front of you, his length bobbing in front of your parted lips. He strokes himself slowly, watching you with hunger.

Jungkook hesitates for a second, glancing up at Jimin, who gives him a small nod of encouragement. That’s all he needs. With one swift motion, he pushes his cock deep into your slick heat, filling you to the hilt.

A deep moan escapes you, but it’s quickly muffled as Jimin presses his flushed tip against your lips. You eagerly take him in, your mouth stretching around his thickness as he groans in pleasure.

Jimin’s frilly maid dress tickles your face with every thrust, the delicate lace too proper for the filthy scene unfolding.

Jungkook’s grip tightens on your hips, his arm veins straining as he pounds into your dangerously addictive cunt, each stroke sending shockwaves of pleasure through your trembling body.

Between them, you’re completely at their mercy and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Jimin stretches your jaw wide, pushing deeper until your throat tightens around him, triggering an involuntary gag. His husky moan sends shivers down your spine as your teary eyes flutter shut, surrendering to the intoxicating mix of pleasure and submission.

Behind you, Jungkook’s grip on your hips tightens as he buries himself deeper inside your wet heat, drawing ragged breaths from both of you.

They’re both getting closer—too close.

With a wicked smirk, you pull away from Jimin’s cock, a thin string of saliva still connecting you as you take a deep breath. “Time to switch.”

Jimin barely has time to register your words before you press against his chest, pushing him down onto the mattress. His body melts into the sheets, chest rising and falling as you swing a leg over his hips and sink down onto his length in one smooth motion.

“Fuck,” he groans, head tilting back as he disappears inside your tight warmth.

Your fingers wrap delicately around his throat, it’s just enough pressure to remind him who’s in charge. His hazy, lust-blown eyes lock onto yours, completely at your mercy as you ride him, rolling your hips with a slow, deliberate rhythm that has him clawing at the sheets.

Jungkook isn’t far behind, pressing his solid frame against your back, his lips grazing the shell of your ear as he murmurs, “You love making us suffer, don’t you?” His words send a delicious shudder through you, and you reach behind to wrap your fingers around his neglected cock, pumping him lazily while keeping your pace on Jimin agonizingly slow.

Their breathing grows erratic, their bodies trembling beneath your touch. You know they’re both close again, teetering on the edge. But you’re not done tormenting them just yet.

Without warning, you release Jungkook from your grip and lift yourself off Jimin, leaving them both empty and desperate. Again.

“No. Fuck,” Jimin breathes, frustration laced in his voice. He stands up to follow you back toward the dresser, trying to drag you back to the bed. “You’re insane.”

You cock your head, unimpressed with his choice of words. “That’s not the right way to address me, is it?”

Jimin’s lips part, an apology forming, but his voice catches in his throat when he sees what’s now in your hand. His pupils dilate as you flick open the bottle of lube, letting the cool liquid drizzle onto the metal tip of the plug.

“Do you trust me?” you ask, voice softer now.

His chest rises and falls with anticipation before he nods. “Always.”

“Then bend over for me, beautiful.”

Jimin hesitantly hikes up his frilly maid dress, exposing his flawless skin as he leans against the bed for support. His breath hitches as you trail your fingers down the elegant curve of his spine, reveling in the way his body shivers under your touch. Pressing the chilled plug against his tight entrance, you smirk at the sharp inhale he takes, his muscles instinctively clenching at the new sensation.

“Take a deep breath and relax for me,” you whisper, your free hand smoothing over his lower back in reassurance.

Delicately, you guide the plug into place, his body lightly trembling with every small increment. A sharp gasp slips past his parted lips, followed by a shaky exhale as he adjusts to the stretch.

“That’s it,” you murmur, rubbing soothing circles over his hips. “Good boy.”

A scoff from behind you makes your head snap toward Jungkook.“Don’t be a baby, dude,” he teases, his ink-covered arms crossed over his chest, a smug grin tugging at his lips.

You narrow your eyes, unamused. “The sass never ends, does it?”

Before he can retort, you grab a cherry from the tray and shove it into his insolent mouth, silencing him. He glares at you, cheeks puffed out as he chews. But you’re not done with him yet. Swiftly, you retrieve the nipple clamps you’d set aside earlier and, before he can protest, attach them to his already sensitive buds. His cock twitches violently, his smirk wiped clean as a strangled moan escapes his throat.

Satisfied, you turn your attention back to Jimin, who is now fully adjusted and watching you with dark, hooded eyes. He licks his lips, stepping forward to press his body against yours from behind. You arch into his touch as he guides his length to your dripping entrance, the blunt tip pressing insistently at your folds before he sinks in with a deep, unrestrained groan.

Jungkook watches intently, still seated at the edge of the bed, his thighs tense as he palms himself in frustration with the taste of cherries still on his tongue. But you’re not about to let him get off so easily. Reaching down, you press your vibrator beneath the head of his throbbing cock, holding it in place with a featherlight touch. His entire body jolts, and a deep, guttural moan rips from his chest.

“Stay still,” you warn him.

Jimin picks up the pace, his hands gripping your waist with bruising intensity as he fucks into you from behind, his thrusts growing more desperate.

The relentless pleasure building between you all is dizzying. Your vision blurs as the coil in your stomach snaps, waves of white-hot heat crashing over you. A wrecked cry spills from your lips, your entire body convulsing around Jimin’s cock.

Jungkook grits his teeth, his chest heaving. “Are you close?” he asks his friend, “I can’t hold back much longer.” Obeying your rule—they have to cum together.

“I’m there, I’m there,” Jimin shudders, his nails digging into your sides as he reaches his peak, his release spilling deep inside you with a choked moan.

Jungkook doesn’t last a second longer. His hips jerk violently, and with a hoarse groan, he spills across your face in thick, hot ropes, his body trembling from the intensity.

Jimin, still buried inside you, watches the scene before him with heavy-lidded admiration. He’s always loved a good creampie moment. With a wicked smirk, he reaches down, gathering his own release on his fingers before massaging it into your already messy, leaking folds.

“You look so fucking good like this,” he murmurs, leaning down to press a kiss to your shoulder.

Jungkook, still panting, leans back on his elbows, his chest rising and falling in the aftermath of his release. His dark eyes, heavy with post-orgasm bliss, flicker between you and Jimin. Feeling a little bold, he lets out a breathless chuckle and admits to his best friend, “She always does.”

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@gyupremacy @mar-lo @yoonguurt @sinfullygay @velvetskize @tearykth @lovingkoalaface

#the best way to celebrate valentine's day 🥵#this was amazing as usual raven 🖤#bts fic recs #jungkook fic recs #jimin fic recs #mdni

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gyupremacy-recs · 4 months ago

Text

Drink It Over

→ Summary: Frustrated after another disastrous date and an uncomfortably long dry spell, you drunkenly confide in your best friend about your dick dilemma, or lack thereof. You need a little help getting off, and to your surprise (and maybe a little amusement) he’s more than willing to step up, turning a simple ‘friendly favor’ into something that just might change everything.

↠ seungcheol x f.reader | 3.1k words | 18+ ↠ genre: smut, friends to lovers

→ Warnings: alcohol consumption, consensual drunk sex, unprotected sex, dirty talk, light degradation (if you squint), teasing, messy sex, fingering, praise, edging, begging, brief orgasm denial, orgasm control, sloppy blowjob, face fucking, cock choking / gagging, deep throating, pussy stretching, breast & nipple play, biting, light hair pulling, face riding, oral (male & female receiving), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, creampie, cum play, cheol thinks y/n is perfect (duh he’s simping after you ofc)

→ Networks: tagged below

@ksmutsociety @k-vanity @lapydiaries @keopihaus

@svthub @thediamondlifenetwork

→ Author Note: a big thanks to ally @lovetaroandtaemin for making this banner for me and also for beta reading. i appreciate you sm!!!! this is just a short idea bc i’ve been having a lot of Thoughts™ about cheol lately so ur welcome lol if you prefer to read on ao3, it's been crossposted here! (divider credit)

"Don’t. Even. Start." You groan, plopping down dramatically across from your best friend, whose smug face is already screaming, I told you so. He doesn't even try to hide his smirk.

"I didn’t say anything," Seungcheol grins, eyes twinkling with mischief as he slides a shot glass your way.

With a resigned sigh, you grab the glass and knock it back, the soju warming you up as it slides down. "If you say ‘I told you so’ I swear I'll..."

"Oh, please," he smirks, already pouring another shot into your empty glasses. "You love my 'I told you so's."

You narrow your eyes, but you can’t stop the smile tugging at the corners of your mouth as you lift the glass to your lips.

"Do you want to guess what it was this time?" you ask, swiping the soju bottle from Seungcheol and pouring the next round.

He leans back, tapping his chin as if he’s deeply contemplating what could have gone wrong, "Hmm… Catfish?"

You shake your head.

"Unemployed?"

Another head shake.

He studies your face with a knowing smirk before tossing back his shot. "Let me guess… He talked about himself the whole time and didn’t ask you a single question?"

"Bingo!" you sigh, and instead of pouring, you take a swig straight from the bottle, finishing it off.

Seungcheol snickers, already waving down the waiter with an exaggerated gesture. "Another over here! My best friend's tragic love life demands it!"

You both burst out laughing, the waiter giving you a bemused look as you lean back and shake your head. "Why do you always have to be right?"

"Oh, it’s a talent," he says with a wink. “And, not to say I told you so… but I told you so. Like, a million fucking times," Seungcheol says, throwing his hands up in mock exasperation. "Seriously, Y/N, you’ve got to stop dating these finance bros who couldn’t care less if you fell off the face of the Earth."

You groan, slumping forward onto the table. "Seriously, ‘Cheol. It’s not like I want to keep going out with these guys. But dating is already impossible, and I’m running out of options to get laid. Desperation is a hell of a motivator, you know?"

He raises an eyebrow. "Desperate enough to date the human equivalent of a Q3 budget presentation?"

You snort, a half-laugh escaping before you sigh. "Normally, I can power through the self-absorbed bullshit, tuning it out until… well, until I at least get to the fun part. But lately, I can’t even make it past dinner without feeling the urge to bolt."

Seungcheol shakes his head with a sympathetic smile, refilling your glasses. "Cheers to raising your standards and saving yourself from the agony of underwhelming penises."

You clink glasses with him, smirking. "I’ll drink to that."

A moment of silence passes and a thought occurs.

“’Cheol?” you begin.

He looks up from his phone with a blank look, waiting for you to continue.

“Will you fuck me, as a favor?”

Seungcheol, startled by your question (rightfully so), nearly chokes. ”Um, repeat that?” He says, after getting his coughing under control.

“Please fuck me. Not right now obviously, I know you must have plans later. But sometime soon? I know you can deliver, and I’m in desperate need of an orgasm.” You plead your case, desperate to get dicked down the way you deserve, but he doesn’t seem all that convinced.

He tilts his head just slightly, trying to read you. There’s no way you can be serious…right?

“Well?” you press, trying to get an answer out of him.

“Well, what?” He huffs, “You’re asking me for a sympathy fuck?”

You nod, searching his eyes for any sort of answer, “Pretty please? Consider it a friendly favor.”

“Pffff, okay. But only since you begged.”

It’s your turn to choke on the half-finished shot raised to your lips. “Wait, really?”

“What kind of friend would I be to let you suffer? You’re in obvious need of a capital O, or three. Plus we kissed on New Year’s Eve.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” you laugh, remembering all too well. Neither of your dates showed up and you both kind of decided, ‘what the hell, why not.’ Neither of you has mentioned it again, until now. Especially not you, with how hot and bothered it left you.

“I don’t know. It felt like the right thing to say. Quit teasing me or I’m gonna take it back,” he says with a fake frown and pouty lips sticking out.

“You don’t want to drink it over-I mean think it over?” you sit back in your chair. “Wow, maybe I need to be cut off for the night.”

Seungcheol laughs as you fumble over your words, knowing very well that you haven’t hit your tolerance yet. He’s witnessed you outdrink everyone, himself included, on several occasions. You just have a habit of jumbling words together and mixing them up at inconvenient times, he clocks it as an anxious thing.

“C’mon, let’s finish this bottle and get out of here.”

Seungcheol unlocks his apartment door with you standing not too far behind him. It’s a routine you’re used to, but everything feels different tonight. As he holds the door open for you, your arms brush, and the light touch sends goosebumps prickling over your skin.

You step inside, slipping off your shoes to fill the silence. “So, uh, this is awkward. What should we do first?” you say with a nervous laugh, trying to cut through the tension.

You didn’t expect him to take your offer up so soon, thinking he’d have plans for the evening. What normally happens in situations like this? As if it’s normal for two friends to hook up…

He doesn’t answer your question with words. Instead, Seungcheol turns to you and pulls you into his arms. His lips find yours, moving softly, testing the waters while holding you close.

It’s familiar; he kissed you like this just a couple of weeks ago, but this time, he tastes of peach-flavored Soju, and it’s addicting–he’s addicting. Your lips mash together furiously while your hands run through his thick hair, twisting his dark strands through your fingers.

You involuntarily moan into his mouth when his tongue dips inside yours. Goddamn. His tongue massages yours, each lick sending a wave of heat directly to your center.

Seungcheol’s chest vibrates, releasing his own sounds of satisfaction as you grab a fistful of his hair. Meanwhile, his arms instinctively tighten around you to pull you even closer.

Somehow, in the midst of being caught up in kissing, you’ve made it into his bedroom. He walks you backward until he lowers you onto his bed, moving quickly to hover directly over you.

Pulling your bottom lip between his teeth, Seungcheol sucks gently before raking his teeth over the swollen flesh.

“’Cheol,” you breathe, once he finally pulls back for air. He looks at you with heat flaring from his eyes.

“If it gets to be too much at any point, tell me to stop. Okay?”

You nod, and his lips reattach to yours.

He’s careful not to move too fast, even though the growing length in his pants practically begs to be let free. He’s on a mission here, and that’s to give you three body-shaking, life-altering, other-worldly orgasms before the night is over.

When he feels like you’re ready, Seungcheol slips a hand under your skirt. His fingers trail the outside of your bare leg leading up to your hip, and he’s surprised to find out that you’re not wearing anything underneath.

“Jesus, Y/N,” he chokes out the words, “You went on a date with that prick without wearing any underwear?”

Your cheeks heat up, “Don’t judge me.”

He chuckles, “No judgment here. If anything, I should praise the fuck out of you for giving me such easy access to your perfect pussy.”

The redness on your face continues to grow from his words, you’re not used to hearing your best friend speak like this. You should be embarrassed by how much it’s turning you on, but you can’t focus on anything else at this moment in time besides Seungcheol’s fingers getting closer and closer to your cunt.

He trails two fingers up your slit, gently rubbing your clit before ever-so-slowly sinking them into your dripping heat.

Your breath quickens when he begins pumping them in and out, curling them inside of you to brush against that one special spot.

“Oh my god, mmm,” you hum, bucking into his hand, unable to hold back.

“That’s it, pretty girl, warm yourself up for what’s to come. I like my sluts wet and needy for me.”

His words send a wave of wetness through your body, coating his fingers as your hips buck again and again.

Faint sounds of your drenched pussy fill the air as his pumps get harsher. “Shit, do you hear how fucking wet you are? So fucking hot,” he growls before smashing his lips into yours, swallowing your moans.

Seungcheol can tell you’re close to your first orgasm; your inner walls are practically sucking his fingers back in with each thrust.

His lips move to your neck and he sucks gently, making sure not to leave any marks - even though he’d love nothing more than to mark you and claim you as his.

So yeah…maybe he’s been secretly dreaming about this. Not exactly the whole ‘friendly fuck’ part of it, but he didn’t want to freak you out earlier when you propositioned him. But you laying in his bed, pantiless and soaked just for him? Yeah, he’s definitely had this dream before. And he really liked how it ended.

“Are you gonna come all over my fingers? I can feel that you’re close. Tell me what you need.”

“More. I need more,” you whine, lifting your hips off the bed to meet his hand.

“How much more?” he grins. “Do you need more of this?” he asks, curling his fingers even further into your pussy. “Or do you need me to tell you how much of a good slut you’re being right now, with your legs spread open for me and your skirt hiked up to your waist?”

“Definitely both,” you mewl, as the tingles in your body start to grow.

Seungcheol’s fingers purposely slow down, wanting to enjoy this just a moment longer just in case you want to stop before going any further.

“What are you doing? Please don’t stop. Please, ‘Cheol, make me cum,” you beg, one of your arms holding his down between your legs.

“Fuck,” he groans, his length twitching in his pants after hearing your pleas. “Anything for you.”

You throw your head back as your center starts to clench around him.

“Cum for me, Y/N.” His demand sends you crashing. Seungcheol admires the way your face twists in pleasure as you unravel around him.

“Absolutely perfect,” he breathes, leaning in to kiss you sweetly for a few seconds. He ends it soon after, noting that there are entirely too many clothes for his liking.

Standing up, he steps back to make the first move to undress and takes off his shirt. He drops it to the floor and looks up at you, soundlessly saying ‘your turn’.

You take a deep breath and push yourself up too. You’re actually doing this.

He watches you like a hawk as you let the fabric of your now-wrinkled skirt fall to the ground. Then, your arms move to your shirt, pulling it over your head and adding it to the growing pile of garments on the floor. Seungcheol sucks in a breath when your hands move behind your back to unclasp your bra, his eyes glued to the lacey fabric that slowly reveals the most beautiful pair of breasts he’s ever seen.

Round, plump, and perfect. Just like the rest of you.

You raise an eyebrow, then drop your hungry gaze to his crotch briefly before looking back up at him, as if to say ‘checkmate’.

Seungcheol sighs, this night keeps getting better and better. His hands work to undo his zipper before he shoves his pants off - boxer briefs quickly falling suit.

Your mouth waters when his length springs out of the falling fabric, bouncing up against his abs. You’ve heard rumors that your best friend was packing, and they don’t disappoint. Damn.

“Look at you, you’re practically drooling,” he says with a smirk, taking a step closer to you as he pumps his velvety length. “Are you a greedy little cockslut?”

Dropping to your knees, you nod frantically. You’re dying to feel the weight of his thick member in your hand, and the taste of his rosy tip.

“Open wide.”

You oblige and let him guide his girth into your mouth.

Seungcheol’s body shudders as you close your mouth around him. He tenses as his length goes further into your wet heat, nearly losing it when he touches the back of your throat.

“Jesus, baby,” he says shakily. He allows you to take over momentarily while he composes himself and nearly cums when you wrap your soft hand around his dick.

“Mmmm,” you hum, making a satisfying ‘pop’ noise when you come back for air. Keeping eye contact, you lower your lips and leave a light kiss under the rim of his head, before devouring his full length again.

His hips jerk from the sudden change of pace, and he sucks in air when your cheeks hollow.

“That’s it,” he purrs, running a hand through your hair. With a handful of your curls, Seungcheol holds your head in place as he thrusts into your inviting open mouth; gently at first but each thrust after has a little more edge to it. You can feel your throat bulging from how far down he goes.

You gag around him, your eyes watering from the intrusion, and you force your jaw to stay relaxed because you don’t want this to end yet.

The way Seungcheol looks down at you with so much admiration and awe has your pussy clenching around nothing.

His thrusts become less powerful but contain more speed, and he lets out a slew of expletives.

“Fuck!” Seungcheol growls, pulling out before it’s too late. He leaves only a string of drool connecting his cock to your mouth. He only wants to cum in one place right now, and that’s inside your pretty little cunt right after he splits it open.

“Get back on the bed and spread your fucking legs for me,” he grunts, pumping his length with the remnants of your spit.

You waste no time getting into position, your pussy practically begging for more attention.

“Such a gorgeous cunt,” he mutters, “I can’t wait to ruin it.”

Seungcheol climbs over you, and you moan simultaneously through your connected lips as his tip meets your hot center.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this,” he admits in between kisses, his length rubbing through your sticky folds before sinking home.

“Oh, god!” you cry out, your hands digging into his tensed back muscles.

“Fuuuck,” he drags out, “You’ve got the tightest pussy I’ve ever fucked,” Seungcheol groans, head falling forward into the crook of your neck once he’s pushed all the way in.

There’s only one word to describe it. Perfect. Absolutely fucking perfect. He savors how good you feel beneath him, how right it feels to be inside you.

“Listen, I appreciate you being gentle given your size,” you pant, “But please fuck me hard, ‘Cheol. I can take it*.*”

That’s all he needs to hear before drastically picking up the pace.

“Yes! Just like that!” you scream, your voice blending in with the sinful slapping sounds echoing between you. He stretches you out in the most wonderful way; you’re close to seeing stars each time he pounds into you.

“Is this what you wanted? To get fucked into my sheets like a nasty little slut? Tell me.” His hand grips the bottom of your chin, forcing you to look at him.

It’s impossible to form words right now, but he can tell by your blissed-out face that you’re clearly getting exactly what you crave.

Seungcheol loves how your breasts bounce in rhythm with his thrusts; he can’t help but grab one, massaging the supple flesh between his fingers.

You melt into his touch and let out a gasp when he pinches your nipple, giving it a gentle twist that sends a wave of heat directly down between your legs.

“Shit,” he curses, feeling you get wetter. You’re close.

His hand slides down your stomach and lands on your clit, expertly massaging the sensitive nub until you’re squirming beneath him.

“Seungcheol! Fuck!” you choke out as your luscious walls constrict around his cock. He helps you ride out the rest of your shockwaves, entranced by your fluttering eyelids and parted lips.

He’s not far behind you. This look of yours alone is enough to snap the coil and release his milky load into you.

He pumps into you one last time, shooting the last of his seed into your depths, before rolling off of you.

You lay next to each other, catching your breath in your post-incredible sex haze.

“Wow,” you sigh.

“Oh, we’re not done yet,” Seungcheol says with a smirk, his head turned to look at you.

“’Cheol, I can’t move,” you admit.

“Throw a leg over my body and I’ll do the rest, baby.”

Again, you oblige, and question when his hands land on your ass cheeks, pulling you up high and higher on his body.

“What are you-” your words are lost when he pulls your hovering lower half onto his face. His tongue wastes no time to find your clit, swirling the bundle of nerves into his mouth.

You cry out when he starts sucking and grab onto his headboard to stop yourself from falling over.

He laps at your opening with his tongue before diving in. Seungcheol doesn’t care that he can taste himself while he eats your sweet cunt, you’re too tempting. He’s intoxicated by your scent, your flavor, you.

“Fuck I’m g-gonna cum again. ‘Cheol- I’m cumming,” you mewl, your hips bucking like crazy from the third wave of ecstasy washing over your body.

His fingers dig into your hips to hold you in place as you writhe against his face, coming completely undone.

You flop back into the space next to Seungcheol, every nerve in your body satiated and spent.

He grins and pulls you into his side, “So, little ‘Cheol might need a quick nap break, but then he’ll be back in business for another round…”

A bubble of laughs bursts out of you.

“I don’t know if little is the right word, my cervix would love to disagree with you on that. I’m down for a nap though, and maybe a snack break to re-energize. We need the calories after that.”

“Deal.”

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#i'll read this once i get off #can't wait 😍#svt fic recs #s. coups fic recs #mdni

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gyupremacy-recs · 6 months ago

Text

Lexi! I meant everything I said in your thread about loving this fic! I kept going back and re-reading it for a while now, but didn't take the chance to tell you that. Now, I'm glad that I got the chance to tell you this 🩵

p.s. I can't wait for that vernon fic 🤭!

guilty as sin ↦ hvc

⚝ pairing: chwe hansol x fem!reader ⚝ word count: 7.5k ⚝ tags: coworker au, friends to lovers au, semi-unrequited love au, oral ⚝ synopsis: Never in a million years did you think you would have a crush on your friend and best friend's boyfriend. But sometimes what is in your heart springs up at the worst times. ⚝ warnings: mentions of anxiety, some semblances of emotional cheating per se? a/n: holy shit it has been a thousand years since i wrote something? apologies i'm coming out of the woodwork with this one but finally decided to write something just to write and have fun which is awesome?? and also s/o to @httpsyeons for looking it over before i officially put it out there x. hope you enjoy (and yes the inspo is from tortured poets department)!

A dream should not have this much power over you.

Running into the studio, rehearsal clothes and all practically spilling out of your bag, you chastise yourself over and over at the scenario that has ran through your head since you woke up abruptly last night. Company personnel and coworkers stare at you while you sprint past them, mumbling yourself at your stupidity. You could barely get an hour of rest after the rude awakening. Every fiber of your being wanted to melt back into the dream. Of course, when you managed to stop tossing and turning, the alarm clock blared to life to remind you to get ready for band practice and head out.

It almost felt like reality was hidden in between your sheets, and the outside world was nothing but a false fantasy. And what was the best way for the world to remind you your dream was a figment of your imagination? Running into the subject of the imagery.

“Hey, watch out!” It takes little effort to be knocked back onto your ass. Your duffel bag explodes across the company building tile. You watch your belongings fall around you; clothing, sheet music paper, and emergency makeup flits in all directions. As an excuse to avoid looking directly up at him, you scramble to pick up everything. But all it takes to stop your frantic hands is Vernon’s voice speaking your name.

“What’s the rush,” Vernon says, a smirk on his face and a handful of your items in his palm. His sleeveless tank drapes across his chest, tucked into the waistband of his sweatpants. The top of his head is hidden in a one of his signature beanies, despite your warnings of his ridiculous head hair. “Cloud 9 can take a second for their keyboardist to make it.”

You hear some of the guys behind him laughing but continuing on their way, and you remind yourself to smack Mingyu upside the head the next time you see him. He may be stronger than you, but he deserves it. “Sorry, just didn’t get a lot of sleep last night,” you respond.

“Too long on the keys again? Jihoon needs to set a limit for late sessions, I swear,” he jokes.

“Nah, just had a weird dream,” you confess. What the fuck is wrong with you? You practically feel yourself smack your hand to your forehead. Vernon helps you up once all of your belongings are back in your bag. He places both hands on your shoulders, and the close-lipped smile on his face almost knocks you backwards.

“Just relax, practice is practice,” he reminds you, and you nod with a reciprocal grin.

You should not be thinking about him like this. And not when that someone is dating your best friend.

“Can you give this to Mina for me? She forgot to grab them from my room.” He hands you her keys once he swipes them from his pocket. The pink plush rabbit’s foot you bought her years ago that sits on her key-chain practically burns the words TRAITOR into your hand.

“Glad you thought to give them to her. She said this thing is the key to us getting good news today,” you say.

He sighs. “At least I remember things right?” Mingyu and Wonwoo almost out of view, Vernon motions to leave.

“See you later. Knock the big man dead!” He ruffles your hair before running after the boys, leaving you with a kaleidoscope of thoughts.

“Help me find a lifeline, in this heartbroken sea of mine,” Mina sings into the microphone. The words echo off the walls of the studio. Mr. Park keeps his focused gaze on the band until you play the last chords of the song. Unbeknownst to Vernon, your anxiety had nothing to do with Cloud 9’s evaluation. You could play the song and your entire album tracklist blindfolded. But now, seeing Mr. Park give nothing away makes your stomach turn.

Then, his face erupts in a smile as he claps his hands together hard. “Wonderful, girls. Absolutely wonderful!”

Mina and the rest of you breathe a heavy sigh of relief. Even Jeonghi, who’s perpetually stonefaced, displays a small smile.

“So we’re performance ready for the gala?” Mina asks for all of you, the thought on every bandmember’s mind.

“I believe so.” Mr. Park practically laughs as he says it. Everyone smiles wider and Jana, your lead guitarist, squeals in glee. Naejin, your new bassist, pats a hand on your back.

The Pledis Gala not only hosted the investors and higher-ups for the night, but the talent of the year were expected to have a performance during the party’s intermission. It was up to a couple groups and bands, but Mr. Park heavily endorsed Cloud 9 for the ticket. In spite of the first album not being scheduled for release for another three months, this would be the first time the band would perform and have live feedback.

It wouldn’t just be feedback on Cloud 9, but on all the songs you wrote. Mina would say it was 95% you and 5% her adding a lyric or two. You both created the band together, so you let her get away with the comment. And neither of you would discount each other’s hard work and influence on the group, anyway.

“Keep this fire for the next two weeks, and it won’t just be me who’s in love with you. Trust me ladies, I can feel it in my bones!” Mr. Park raises his hands in the air, almost to prove to himself he wasn’t wrong in where he placed his faith. He walks out of the studio, leaving all five of you to celebrate.

“Thank fucking god.” Jeonghi huffs before sticking her drumsticks in her back pocket.

“Not so fast, Heehee,” Mina retorts. “Like Park said, this does not mean the next two weeks are for slacking off.”

“Min, we got the gig. Breathe for a second.” You shake her, hoping you can force her out of performance mode. “We deserve to relax. And maybe buy a round of shots.”

“I second that,” Naejin says.

“I vote for that also.” Jana adds. “And maybe some food to go with that? You guys know I can’t drink on an empty stomach.” Her response makes all the girls laugh, including Jeonghi.

The studio door opens without warning. Vernon walks in with a tentative smile. “I see happy faces. Either that means you’re playing the gala or you’re all being very upbeat about not playing the gala.”

Jeonghi scoffs. “We got it, asshat. “

“We definitely did,” Mina yells out in glee. Mina runs towards Vernon and wraps her arms around him, an audibly happy sigh leaving her

A year in, Mina still loves to give Vernon physical affection, witnesses or not. She even confessed once that she believed Naejin had a crush on him and, according to her, “marking her territory” was only a bonus to PDA. If only she knew.

It takes Vernon a minute to react to her embrace, but he wraps his arms around her nonetheless. He kisses the top of her head when she lets him go. “Great job babe,” he says to Mina.

He turns his attention to you a second later, his eyes lighting up. “And how did they like the last song? I know you were messing with it for weeks.”

“Nothing a good brainstorm with you and Jihoon didn’t fix.” You nudge him in the hip with yours. His subsequent laugh on a normal day wouldn’t make you think twice, but now, the smallest hint of a chuckle kicks you in the ribs.

It’s a wonder how feelings can spring up without an iota of effort. It’s Vernon! The guy wears hats year-round. He stuffs his face with Oreos before offering any to anyone. The Saw franchise still scares the shit out of him, no matter how many times he’s seen them. And he’s Mina’s boyfriend. How could this person you have known for so long somehow worm his way into your subconscious like this?

The term “crush” has always bugged you. It’s more of a bug, honestly. A gnat that keeps reminding you of its presence and imperviousness to swatting.

The pestering feeling grows with the contact of your body and his. It even made your heart skip a beat if you were being honest with yourself.

“Congratulations, really. You guys deserve it,” Vernon says the words to all of you, but his eyes are focused on you alone. You brush it off with a polite smile, hoping somewill will take his attention away so you can focus on breathing again.

“Alright, back to the original subject,” Mina says, silently answering your prayer. “Drinks! As the oldest, Naejin should handle the tab.”

Jihoon was the only person you trusted with new material. Mina and the others usually saw your work after many rounds of edits between yourself and your songwriting partner. As you both put a lot of effort into your respective bands’ work, it only made sense for him to be your official sounding board. The other units kept their contributions locked tight from anyone outside of the group. Except for Vernon, but it was rare for you to swap material directly.

That being said, Jihoon would lose his built-up credit if he continued to emit grunts and humphs instead of feedback on your work.

“If I hear another ‘huh’ come from your mouth, I will chuck my shoe at you,” you warn, still playing the keys of Elton John’s “I’m Still Standing” on the piano.

“It’s just interesting, that’s all,” Jihoon says.

That word cuts your piano playing short. “You don’t usually use that vocabulary when describing my lyrics.”

“When did you write this?” He asks. He grabs some copies from his backpack, assorting them in a pile.

“The night before yesterday.” It had been a long night of witnessing Mina’s extremely public displays of affections and drinking too many tequila shots. When you were walking home with the girls, a melody suddenly sprang in your heard. You mulled over it for hours with your buzz until you opened Garageband and wrote some lyrics to go with it. It was nothing more than a few lines, but you wanted Jihoon to see if the idea had any potential. “Why?”

“Help me find a lifeline, in this heartbroken sea of mine,” He recites the lyrics to “SOS” from one of the papers he collected from his backpack. He pulls another one from the pile. “You see the shadow of my thoughts, if only you recognized the workings of my heart.” Jihoon looks up at you. “Not trying to be too deep, but I think I can smell a thematic coincidence.”

“Jihoon, stop it.”

“Ah! And here’s the pattern, folks.” He clears his throat before reading the scrap of paper you gave him this afternoon. “She may be the piece that fits you, but I can be the puzzle that undoes you?”

You rest your elbows on the keys, head in your hands as the instrument screeches in protest. You feel the cushion next to you sink with the weight of Jihoon’s body, and you turn to him. Eyes welling up with tears, you say, “It’s that obvious is it?”

“Based on this material, yeah.” He scoffs, a pout on his face. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know! One day I’m fine, sitting with Jana as Vernon is making jokes and the next I’m dreaming-“

“Wait,” Jihoon interrupts you. “Vernon as in Mina’s Vernon?” You nod, to which Jihoon huffs out a breath. “Now this makes a lot of sense.”

“I don’t want to feel this way, Hoonie. I don’t. And I’m not going to be the person who takes a person from someone else,” you assure him.

“And you said ‘dreaming’? About what?” The curious look on Jihoon’s face makes you feel even worse. But, you let yourself pretend that telling one person about your dream will make it easier to lay your crush to rest. So you do, but not in so much detail…

You sit side by side as you play the final string of keys for Vernon, mouth a hard line from your anxiety. The silence sits between you once the song is over, and you clear your throat after singing the lyrics you came up with.

“It’s obviously touch-and-go, but I wanted to know what you think.” You tuck a hair behind your ear, shy at this crumb of an idea being the first thing Vernon has ever heard of yours before anyone else. You usually hammer at it until it’s close to perfect, but in this most vulnerable stage of the process, you’re worried he’ll judge it harsher than ever before.

“I think it’s amazing.” He smiles. His response makes you smile in turn, but it quickly fades once he places a hand on yours. He guides it to the keys, his fingers lingering over your skin. “But what if you changed the minor chord to a major? The song sounds like it could be hopeful rather than sad.”

“Major and minor? Jihoon is teeaching you well,” you tease.

“Fuck you.” He bumps your shoulder with his. “I’m being serious though.”

“I just feel like it would change everything about it.” You blush, taking your hand back. The room suddenly feels too small, the space between the two of you crossing and invisible barrier. You should tell him to scoot farther away from you on the bench, keeping a friendly and professional level of distance. But you don’t. This is the first time you’ve ever been this close when being alone together. A part of you wants to cherish it.

“What’s wrong with change,” he asks, staring at you with a curious but heady expression that makes your breath hitch. Your faces are a foot away but you remind yourself nothing will come from the close contact. Neither of you would ever, even if you wanted to.

“The entire song would have to be rewritten. And maybe it’s fine the way it is,” you respond.

“What if that’s just what you think, but it would be better to give it a try?” You get a feeling he isn’t talking about the song anymore. But it’s foolish to think that way. He’s not yours, and you don’t expect him to ever be. So why are his eyes flickering with a challenge, his lips parted, his expression daring you to choose the words you can’t speak out loud?

“Then try.” The thought leaves your mouth before you’re aware of its existence. And without preparation, Vernon’s lips are on yours.

You’ve kissed boys plenty of times before, but this kiss is an electric current charging every nerve in your body. It wakes you up and reminds you this is real, he is here and kissing you like he couldn’t hold himself back for another second.

You blame the universe for how good it feels to run your hands across his shoulders and neck, the vibration of his moans against your lips only swaying you to explore further. Every instinct may be screaming at you for how wrong this situation is and how you shouldn’t take what isn’t yours. But if this is the only chance you have, the memories of it have to last a lifetime.

His tongue enters your mouth and you can’t help but moan, the feeling like honey gliding on your skin. He smirks and takes your bottom lip between his teeth. “We have to be quiet,” he whispers. The practice room may be soundproof to an extent, but you gasp at the thought of someone walking in.

“Can you be quiet for me?” Vernon asks, his hands roaming down to the hem of your graphic tee, raising it with his fingers to touch the skin underneath. The feeling makes you grab his mouth in a kiss to swallow the moan that threatens to leave yours.

You realize how good it feels to have all of him with reach. Not just the words, the laughter, the stolen glances. He’s less than a second away, and if he leaves now, it may just kill you.

Vernon’s fingers stop roaming once they sit on the waistband of your shorts. He looks deeply at you in a way that you realize is to confirm you want this as much as he does. You’ve already passed the point of holding back. What more could you lose by asking for more?

Soon enough, his fingers draw figure eights against the fabric of your underwear, teasing you with no intention of stopping. With your back pressed against the piano you bite hard on your lip to suppress your moans. Vernon kisses your neck as he keeps a steady rhythm, frustrating you in a way you’re not used to. Finding purchase on a nearby surface does nothing to help. One of your hands presses down on a scramble of piano keys that break the symphony of heavy breathing and whispered whimpers. And you feel the devilish grin on Vernon’s face, loving the writhing of your body and delicious frustration he’s putting you through.

The last thing you feel is a finger slipping inside of you before you find yourself awake in the middle of the night. You’re unsure whether it was the city below or a random sound in your room that pulled you from your dream, but you try your best for the rest of the night to steady your pounding heart.

“Dude that’s so gross. I did not need to know that!” Jihoon mimics vomiting on the laminate floor, and you chuckle in the midst of your tears.

“Shut up, man. I can’t control my dreams. And that was just the cliffnotes!”

“Dreams are one thing. Sounds like a soft core porn happening in your head to me,” he says. He gets up from the stool and shakes off his disgust. “And it was probably in one of our studios, you horndog.”

“I work here, so it may be gross but not unrealistic.” You sigh and close the lid of the piano, too deflated to play anything else. “So that’s that. I have a crush on Vernon that I did not ask for and it’s invading my entire thought process, even my fucking songwriting.”

“You know what this means right?” Jihoon smirks.

“If this means you think you can set me up on another blind date, you’re sadly mistaken.” You point your index finger at him as a visual cue to not push you further. “Not after the last date tried to explain to me the benefits of Scientology!”

“Okay, maybe that was a bust, but come on!”

You sigh, grabbing your belongings. What could it hurt to try again? Maybe the key to expelling your feelings was finding someone new. “As long as this one doesn’t try to convert me.”

Sunghoon turns out to be a complete gentleman, it makes you forget why you brushed off Jihoon’s suggestion a week ago. He opens the door to the restaurant and pulls out your chair. He talks about his love for playing professional baseball and remains engaged in everything you say about the music industry. On paper, it’s a perfect date with a man wrapped in green flags. But it isn’t with Vernon, and that gnat-like thought keeps pestering you, even as Sunghoon offers to walk you home.

Hand in hand, Sunghoon continues on his diatribe regarding American versus European football, a practically one-sided conversation that makes you laugh. “And why would they call it football anyway, am I right,” Sunghoon says. “Where in the game do they ever make contact with the ball by using their foot?”

“You sound like a comedian trying to come up with a skit,” you joke.

“I could see that…maybe if my day job fails. I promise to thank you when I blow up.” Sunghoon winks. He is all kinds of attractive, as Mina would say to you, wavy hair and a strong build to reflect his profession. He is perfect for you. So why don’t you feel a flutter in your chest when he squeezes your hand or any heat in your cheeks when he makes a flirty comment?

The answer comes in someone’s voice screaming your name into the night. You turn your head to find Vernon running down the street, a bag from 7-Eleven in his grasp and flying around in the air.

“Who’s this guy,” Vernon says when he finally catches up to you. His brows are furrowed and his chest is rising and falling quickly, but you blame the latter on his lack of exercise outside of practice. That and the thick material of his matching hoodie and sweatpants.

Sunghoon sharply lets go of your hand, a blush erupting on his face. “I’m so sorry, man. I didn’t know she had a-“

“No, she doesn’t.” You glare at Vernon. “This is a friend of mine. We work at the same company.”

Sunghoon breathes a sigh of relief, but Vernon remains indifferent as they shake hands and exchange greetings. “Glad to know I didn’t go on a date with someone already spoken for!”

You and Vernon look at Sunghoon in confusion. The speckle of interest you had in Sunghoon immediately sours, but only Vernon voices his disapproval. “This isn’t the 50s. She can speak for herself, man,” Vernon replies. His face turns from confusion to annoyance.

“And she thinks she can walk home alone. Thank you for the dinner, Sunghoon. You have my number.” You ignore the frown on Sunghoon’s face and turn to Vernon. “As for you, I’ll see you at work.”

You leave the two of them as you continue your walk home, but Vernon quickly catches up. “He seemed like a gem, huh?”

You scoff. “You didn’t really present yourself as a prize either, Vernon.”

“Do you blame me? The guy was a total neanderthal!”

“Maybe I like neanderthals. From experience, they seem to have great senses of humor. Especially in the misogyny department.” You crack a smile as he chuckles, but you try to hold onto your anger a smidgen longer. “You didn’t have to be so rude.”

“My rudeness was based on my intuition. And I was right, so you’re welcome.” Vernon ruffles through the bag and hands you a packet of sour Skittles. “And can you be mad at someone who got you your favorite candy?”

“How did you know you would even see me tonight to give me this?”

“I would’ve just saved them until the next time I saw you. You said sour Skittles always make your day better,” he says.

“Like three years ago,” you mumble, a gnawing pain suddenly within your chest.

“Well, as far as I could tell your candy preferences haven’t changed.” Vernon is blissfully unaware of how much his memory and the measly bag of candy splits your heart in two.

You look away from him to wipe a tear from your eye, but for the first time, he can tell something in your demeanor has shifted. “Hey, what’s wrong?” He puts both hands on either side of your face, his face suddenly becoming angry, a side he rarely shows. “Did that guy do something before I-“

You shake your head suddenly. “I’ve just been having a weird couple weeks. Just a lot of feelings before the gala, I guess.” You swallow and stare down at your feet, letting the lie seep in.

“I know you. This isn’t pre-show jitters,” he responds. His hands still sit comfortably on your cheeks. Despite the October chill, you wonder if he feels how hot your face has become since he;s touched it.

For the first time in a while, you look up at him and hold his gaze. You ask yourself a million questions as he stares back and the silence envelops you both. You hope they’re loud enough to reach him, to know if he shares the thoughts that have plagued your mind day after day. Do you know how easy it is to fall for you? Why do you make it so hard to deny this fucking feeling?

Someone calling both of your names pierces the quiet. Vernon immediately lets go of you and you step further away from him. You don’t realize you’ve made it to the company apartments until Mina steps out of the darkness, an accusatory glance in your direction. “What are you guys doing out this late?”

“Snack run,” Vernon answers immediately, pointing to the bag in his hand.

“Just coming back from a date,” you say quickly after Vernon.

Mina raises her eyebrows and gives a small smile. “Think he’ll be your date to the gala?”

“Time will tell,” you say in a clipped tone. You begin walking up the cobblestone pathway to the apartment entrance. “I’ll leave you guys to it.”

You don’t bother looking back at Vernon or Mina. You are sure if you do, every secret in your heart will reveal itself and the thought of losing both of them at once is more than you can take. Falling into a listless sleep, you do not know if there are any winners in this kind of fight.

The vibe as soon as you enter the studio is tense. The girls sit in a huddle around Mina, the subject of the attention bawling on Jana’s shoulder. You immediately run up to her, but Jeonghi stops you short. “I wouldn’t, kid.”

“What the hell happened,” you ask, concern flooding you.

“Like you don’t know.” Mina sniffles, dabbing at her eyes.

“What does it take for you to answer your phone,” Naejin says. She grabs a box of tissues to hand Mina.

Suddenly, you notice the girls’ accusatory glances and your concern nosedives into defense. “My phone was dead after I got back from my date. And I forgot to charge it before coming here so-“

“Convenient,” Jana responds.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” You ask.

“It means that my boyfriend—oh sorry, I should say ex-boyfriend now.” Mina says, standing up from her spot on the couch with Jana to tread closer to you. “My ex decides to tell me he has feelings for someone else right after I see the two of you last night way too close for comfort? You’re right Jana, that’s pretty fucking convenient.” Mina’s tone cuts you deep. Despite the pain and fear inside of you, all you can think about is how profoundly inconvenient it was of you to go wireless for 12 hours.

“One, even if you don’t believe me, I did not think I would see Vernon last night let alone you.” Mina scoffs at the response, but you continue anyway. “Second, I have no idea who he could possibly have feelings for other than you, Min. And that’s the truth.”

“You’re telling me you absolutely have no feelings for him?” Mina asks you, her bottom lip trembling. Up to this point, her voice has been clipped and angry, but the last words break by the end. You thought last night broke your heart, but this is true heartbreak.

You never intended to hurt her, not after all the work you both put into succeeding together. Music and the people you love mean everything to you, but how can both be so inextricably intertwined in this horrible predicament?

The silence screams louder than either of you ever could, and something in Mina’s face shatters. Your friendship? Her trust? You aren’t sure.

“You know what? Let’s just cool off until the gala this weekend,” Naejin says.

“We’re supposed to practice today,” you mutter. A tear escapes your eye, and Mina lets out a breath of disbelief.

“I get broken up with and you have the balls to cry right now?”

“Mina, lay off for a second,” Jeonghi interjects.

“We’ll deal with Park. Just, maybe lay low until then,” Naejin responds to you. She gives a parting nod. Jana barely looks at you as you leave, and Jeonghi says goodbye in her usual apathetic tone.

Only as you walk down the hallway and to the glass doors of the entrance do you allow yourself to sob. If only feelings could remain buried if you simply wished for them to. It would make the pain much easier to swallow if you never let them come up to the surface at all.

You think about how a nap may do you some good until you run into Vernon. He says your name, a breathless plea, but you shut him down immediately. “I can’t do this right now.”

“I was worried when you weren’t answering your phone,” he says. He walks forwards with his hands outstretched, visibly concerned about the tears falling down your face. But you refuse. You back away every time he tries to move closer. “Can we talk, please? It doesn’t have to be now, but—“

“Hansol,” you beg, the use of his given name startling him. “When I tell you I can’t, I mean it.”

He swallows. His head turns downward, recognizing he won’t get the outcome he wants. The push and pull between your feelings about the argument with Mina and wanting to tell him you want more than anything to talk to him—do nothing with him, even—makes your stomach turn. “I get it. Just please charge your phone.”

He walks away and in the direction of the Pledis building. It would be so easy to run after him, but the frailty of your strength forces you to walk forward. There is no timing worse than right now to discuss what’s happened in the last 24 hours.

And still, the feelings in his heart could be reserved for someone else anyway. The stupidity you’d feel would grow tenfold if this situation ended with him actually not wanting you at all.

When you crack open your apartment door, you see the Skittles bag strewn on your coffee table. The makeshift bandages you used to mend your heart on your walk home in silence rip off. I fucked this up so perfectly didn’t I runs through your head on loop, the perfect lyric to describe your pain. The laminate wood flooring’s warmth welcomes you as you fall apart.

The ballroom stage is cluttered with instruments. From your vantage point backstage, you see numerous suit and ties in the crowd at their assigned tables waiting patiently as well as the young trainees. You even see all of the guys at their own table from this distance, cracking jokes and whispering quietly. Except for Vernon, his expression unreadable. He’s never been too much of an expressive guy, even less so at events. But seeing him indifferent to the people around him forces you to close the curtain.

“Mina can’t just be AWOL right now,” Jeonghi says, yanking at the strings of her dress. “God, why did they have to make us wear these poofy babydoll dresses? I feel like a baby.”

The outfit doesn’t thrill you either, but it was nice the wardrobe team dressed you all in the same white attire. Save for Mina, who’s supposed to be in a blue version of the outfit due to her title as the lead singer.

“You look great. And I think the word you’re looking for is a cherub,” Jana says.

“Babies and cherubs aren’t mutually exclusive, J,” Jeonghi bites back.

“Anyway!” Naejin cuts in. “Let’s just focus on the positives. Mina still has ten minutes. She’s probably getting final touches on makeup.”

You nod, sitting on a stool an acceptable distance away. It’s bad enough you haven’t seen any of them since that day in the studio. It was another thing if Mina did not show up on purpose. You wouldn’t blame her, though.

The only people who tried to fix your self-isolation were Jihoon and Mingyu . And 90% of their discussions with you were about how much of a wreck Vernon was. You realized it was better to avoid talking altogether. No one could pick apart your thoughts or words in solitude.

Naejin sits next to you when she grabs a spare stool. “Can I just ask a question?” You turn your head in response. “Did you really not know?”

“Naejin-“

“I mean, it seemed a bit obvious to me they wouldn’t last.”

“Nae! That’s really fucked up to say.” Jana casts judgemental eyes at the both of you.

Naejin shrugs in response. “It’s not my fault if I noticed the kid’s eyes were elsewhere.”

“For your information, guys, no,” you interject. “No, I did not know that they’d break up. As for Vernon, he’s an oaf. He could like the checkout girl at the fish market for all we know.” Naejin shakes her head, a smug smile on her face. “What?”

“Nothing, just…it’s one thing to be oblivious. It’s another to willfully hide how you feel.”

Jana stops pacing and turns to you. “Do you actually like him? Like for real?”

You look down at your hands, trying to compose the right response. “I think I always have.”

The breath that leaves you once you confess feels like the lightest air you’ve ever inhaled and exhaled. It’s the first one in a while that comes out with ease. In the next second, feeling freer, all the words come out in a rush. “But I didn’t think I could act on it with the other stuff in the way. The band, the company, all that shit. Then it was him and Mina, and she was so happy. It seemed like a sign. Like there would always be other factors involved. But, I realized it was just an excuse to pretend I didn’t feel the way I did. It made it easier, until it wasn’t.”

“Why didn’t you say anything to me back then?” Mina’s voice makes you turn your head, and the tears immediately pool in your eyes. She looks beautiful, her makeup and hair in perfect precision. But the frown on her face tells you she feels anything but. You wish the source of this fracture between the two of you didn’t stem from you to begin with.

“Don’t ruin your makeup!” Jana screams.

“So not important right now,” Jeonghi says.

Mina lovingly huffs at them before turning back to you. “I never would’ve went out with him if I knew you were feeling like this.”

“I swear to you I didn’t realize all of this until a few weeks ago.” You stand up. “I’m a dumbass with timing, I guess.”

“You are,” she agrees. Her own tears begin to turn her eyes glassy. “But I’m one too, for not realizing you hid all of this.” She sighs. “I’m not saying I’m happy right now, but you’re not the only one who kept secrets.”

“I would’ve kept them forever if I could’ve. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt you.”

Neither of you know what to do in that moment. Friendships have survived much worse. At least, you hope so.

Of course Mr. Park decides now is the time to run backstage. “You’re on in a minute beauties!” He wipes the sweat from his forehead and runs back in the direction he came.

The other girls get on the stage to start prepping. You hold out your hand to Mina, a silent request to work on your relationship. Mina immediately laces her fingers through yours. In that moment, you’re ready to see your shared dream come true.

As predicted, the performance went without a hitch. Mina, in spite of her obvious nerves, wowed the crowd with her stage presence. The instrumental sounded perfect, to the point executives commented on the smallest details. Each one you were introduced to was excited to see Cloud 9’s impending success. Some of the boys congratulated you when you made it off the stage as well. Even Jihoon had a tear in his eye. But the one you wanted and dreaded to see was evidently missing.

You saw him during the set, but Vernon’s absence is partially a blessing in disguise. You don’t want to talk to him here in a crowded room of people you barely know. And not with Mina in close proximity either, despite the tentative peace treaty you’ve both made.

You walk out of the ballroom, unnoticed. In the familiar hallways, you find yourself heading to the studio. Maybe the piano will have some answers for you.

Of course, Vernon is sitting at the piano waiting for you.

“Not surprised you’d come here.” Vernon chuckles to himself, He swipes his brown bangs from his eyes before standing to face you.

“You know I hate crowds.” You cross your arms. Even in one of your safe space, you feel unarmed.

“How’s it feel to be on the fast-track to fame?”

You take a deep breath, a smile lingering on your lips. “Like the hard work’s just begun.”

His grin is the only spotlight you want on you after the haze of pyrotechnics and shuttering cameras. And it feels good to see it after witnessing his somber mood earlier.

“Can I just say,” he starts, “you look beautiful.”

You put your hands in front of your face. A laugh bubbles up from deep in your stomach. “You can’t just say stuff like that to me, Vernon.”

“I’ve been wanting to since that night last week,” he confesses. “So I thought I’d start with that, seeing as the first time we’ve talked in forever.”

Willing yourself to still your frantic pulse, you say, “Well you still can’t say that shit without consequences, you know.”

“And what would those be?” The curiosity in his eyes and close-mouthed grin jumpstarts your heart yet again. How was there ever a chance you could bury your feelings when he looked at you like that?

Inside this room, in the setting of the dream that jumpstarted all of this, you take the chance to finally let the floodgates open.

“Because I’ll have no choice but to kiss you. And then tell you I’ve liked you since the second you taught me to tie shoelaces one-handed because you thought it was the coolest thing you’ve ever learned. And how I admire how much you care about others before yourself. And how effortless you are at performing even though when anyone tells you that you think they’re a big fat liar. And then I’ll say maybe after realizing all of this and saying it out loud that maybe I lo-“

You don’t know what you feel first: the pressing of Vernon’s palms to your cheeks or his lips against yours. But you’re sure the feeling of his touch in reality blows both your expectations and fantasies out of the water. If the kiss in your dream felt like the fire of electricity, this one is the calmest pool you’ve ever swam in. It mends all of your anxieties, quiets all of your fears. It could make any skeptic believe that the world’s greatest power is in two mouths crashing into each other.

When you separate, your mouths still inches away from each other’s, Vernon says, “Maybe I love you too.” In a millisecond he presses his lips back to yours.

You always wondered what it would feel like to touch him in this way, and now that you can, you’re a mess. You pull him as close as you can by the lapels of his suit-jacket before he rips off the article of clothing altogether.

“They’re gonna realize the both of us are missing,” you whisper, hands still roaming from his chest to the nape of his neck.

“It’s a big party. What are the odds they notice before we come back,” he teases. If the boy could bring you any closer, you’re hard-pressed into believing he would. You giggle into his mouth and motion towards the door.

“Just let me lock it. Or put a chair in front of it, at least?” He groans in protest but steps away from you to oblige your request. He ensures the door is inaccessible with the turn of the lock and jiggles the doorknob to prove it. “Thank you,” you say.

He stalks back towards you and hungrily pulls you in. He bites your lip as you clutch onto his neck tie. “You really want to see me shirtless, don’t you?

“Fuck you,” you joke. He instinctively roams his lips down to your neck, sucking the sensitive spot of your collarbone. You moan in response.

“Planning on it.”

Vernon guides the two of you to the grey leather armchair parallel to the grand piano. You wonder if he can feel the jackhammer replacing your heart as he kisses the top of your cleavage. The skin feels on fire in the wake of his fingers and mouth touching you.

He gently pushes you into a sitting position on the chair, but when you reach for the buckle of his belt, he stops you with his hand. “Not here.” A question marks your expression, but he chuckles. “Don’t worry. One of us is going to get off tonight.”

Sinking to his knees, he rests his hands on the outsides of your thighs. He kisses your skin softly, helping you relax. He travels further up your leg, his head centimeters from between your legs. The moment seems unreal, the boy you love seconds away from going down on you in the studio where anyone could pass by and hear the sounds coming from the room.

Not long ago, this was only the stuff of your fantasies. And you almost kick yourself for asking, but the words come out nonetheless. “Tell me this is real.”

He chuckles, lips still pressed to the inside of your thigh. “It’s real.” He looks up, part of his jaw obscured by the fabric of your dress. “And if it isn’t, I don’t want to wake up.”

With ease, he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your underwear and slides them off. He presses a tender, slow kiss to your clit. You moan, immediately grabbing onto his hair when he started weaving circles around your center with his tongue, the pace both too perfect and not enough. You wanted to feel him inside of you, but you knew as well as he did you didn’t want your first time in the company building.

But still, you mewl and raise your hips up to meet his face, loving the sensation of his lips bringing you closer. “You like that,” he asks, gently prodding your entrance with his index finger. “D’you want more, baby?”

You nod vigorously, yanking tighter to the ends of his brown hair. “Fuck yes, please and thank you.”

His laugh reverberates against your pussy, the feeling outmatched by the sudden press of his finger inside of you. You let out a breathless gasp, your head falling back into the fabric of the armchair. Fuck he’s too good at this.

If only you had confessed the way you felt to him earlier than now. Maybe then you would have known how good this feeling, both lust and love interwoven, could be. But that didn’t matter, did it? Now, you had this boy who said he thought the world of you appreciating you in the most carnal way possible.

“You’re incredible,” he grunts, adding a second finger. You let out a long moan in response. “I can’t wait to be inside of you.”

“Fuck, Hansol,” You cry out, his pace suddenly increasing as his tongue makes slow laps at your clit. “I want to come.”

“You will, I promise.” He suddenly works overtime on you, his fingers curling just enough. With the depth and speed alone, you feel your orgasm within arm’s reach.

When he tells you how beautiful you are again and with the fast flick of his tongue and pressing of his fingers, you unravel. In a sense of irony, it feels better than Cloud 9. He sees you through it beautifully, only taking his mouth away from you when you stop bucking into his touch.

Vernon pulls you into his lap, both of his lips glistening. He quickly wipes his mouth before kissing you gingerly. The look of shy glee on his face makes your heart swell. If only they made that smile for purchase, the universe would be a much happier place.

“Hi,” he says. He wipes at the sweat building up on your brow, looking at you with all the love a person can have for another person.

You giggle. “You eat me out and the first thing you say is ‘Hi’?”

“I couldn’t think of anything else, to be honest.” You both share a joyous laugh at his ridiculousness.

“Hi to you too.”

You barely remember the beginning of the day and all the emotions you harbored before walking into the studio, or all the frustration pent up inside of you from the past few weeks. The only important thing had his arms wrapped around you and all his attention on you, determined to conquer whatever happened next together.

#svt fic recs #vernon fic recs #mdni

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gyupremacy-recs · 8 months ago

Text

“I don’t break the rules, I just bend them” sir how about you just bend me over. then what? 🤭

disgraceful dreams

→ Summary: After two years of lustful pining and disgraceful dreams about someone far out of your reach, you decide the only way to move past your hopeless crush on Onyx Academy's star student is by taking part in the Lupercalia festival for the very first time.

↠ wooyoung x f.reader (feat. yeosang) | 16.4k words | 18+ ↠ genre: witch/warlock au, smut, virgin!reader, inspired by s2e3 of caos, slowburn

→ Full Fic Warnings: little bit of social class discrimination, cult-ish behavior (mentions of blood, Y/N uses a knife to cut her hand for binding/ritual purposes), being ‘hunted’ like prey, explicit sex, unprotected sex, rough sex, pet names, praise kink, biting, nipple play, breast play, begging, fingering, mutual masturbation, oral (female and male receiving), exhibitionism, voyeurism, partial agoraphilia & semi-public sex, dirty talk, heavy teasing, spanking, multiple orgasms, grinding, deep dicking, size kink (wooyoung is HUNGGG), magical sex, fucking up against a tree, slight age gap (y/n is 20 and wooyoung is 25), slight corruption, choking, possessive!wooyoung, woo is ravenous for you (you’re welcome)

→ Networks: tagged below

@ksmutsociety @k-vanity @pirateeznet @cromernet

@illusionnet @othersideoutlawsnetwork @cultofdionysusnet

→ Author Note: edited by the lovely aeris @beomcoups whom i appreciate so SO much for tackling this beast of a fic ILY! And also to ally @lovetaroandtaemin for reading this over for me!!! this doesn’t follow the exact lupercalia process, i’ve twisted it to work for my fic and based it around halloween instead of valenbarf day lol, if you'd prefer to read on ao3, it's been crossposted here!! all likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated <3

‘This can’t be real.’

Jung Wooyoung casts a dark look upon you while taking in your ethereal, naked form before him. The flames of the common room’s fireplace dance in his eyes, reflecting his sinister and most impure thoughts. Thoughts of you, what he wants to do to you. With you.

‘I must be dreaming.’

He circles around you, hovering over your backside and letting his hands fall to your bare hips. His touch leaves a trail of goosebumps across your skin.

“Mmm, can I touch you?” Wooyoung whispers as he leans in to kiss the dip between your shoulder and neck.

You nod, giving him permission to do whatever he pleases, and lean back against his broad chest.

His hands move from your side, one moving upward to cup your breast, the other heading down between your legs, gently tracing your silky skin until his fingers find their way home and sink into your sweet center.

The sensation awakens you from your sinful slumber, and you sigh, realizing it was only a dream—another delicious and depriving dream that left you wanting someone who would never consider you.

Groaning, you force yourself to roll out of bed and step toward your closet. Black Mass isn’t for another hour, but arriving early might help erase these recurring dreams from your memory.

Your footsteps echo in the empty hall as you exit the residential wing, making your way outside. It’s a beautiful gloomy day, the air is crisp and the sun is hidden by thick clouds that look as if they could open up at any moment and soak the woods with another harsh day of rain - something you wouldn’t mind.

The fog creeps through the forest, following your steps and trailing behind while you wait for your familiar to catch up. Besides your raven’s distant cry, it’s quiet. The hum of the earth’s magic is even more reserved than usual. It’s peacefully eerie.

“Ghoul Morning, Blair,” you say, extending your wrist out for her. She caws from above and slowly descends from the clouds, eagerly accepting your arm as the safe place to perch while you walk along the path to the Unholy Church.

Though she looks like a raven while masked, Blair wreaks havoc in her goblin form on anyone, and anything, that dares to disturb you. She’s one of the strongest familiars a witch could be cursed with, and you’ve been thankful for her services ever since you started training.

It’s your second year attending The Onyx Academy of Dark Casting, a magical finishing school that only the finest witches and warlocks between the ages of nineteen and twenty-five are given the unholiest privilege to attend.

Of these students, the Dark Stars of each class lead with their high values and spectacular spell casting. More often than not, they graduate with the highest dishonor and ascend to become High Priests and Priestesses of covens across the world.

Jung Wooyoung is a beloved Dark Star and stellar student, and it’s rumored that he’ll become the youngest Anti-Pope inducted into the Church of Night after his completion here at the academy.

Even with your unique gift, it’s not in the cards for a person of your status to ever equal his. Which you very well know and understand, despite the dark fantasies that haunt you most nights and your schoolgirl crush that hasn’t gone away since the very first day you met him.

Blair lets out a sharp caw, her wings cutting through the air as she ascends, perching gracefully on the steeple just as you arrive at the church. Her dark silhouette stands stark against the sky, watching over you like a silent sentinel.

The towering doors creak open as you approach them, welcoming you inside the dim space. You walk between the rows of pews, watching the candles that mark the aisle light up as you pass.

Once closer to the altar, you lift a hand and wave it across the front of the sanctuary. The room becomes brighter as the remaining unlit candles grow flames from your magic.

You have a way with the elements; you’re able to manipulate and control them as you wish without specific spells, conjuring them when you please. Your energy is unmatched compared to the other gifted students.

Yet, instead of improving your social status, being gifted has made you even more of an outcast. The professors are wary of your potential and what you could be capable of; the students keep their distance too, either jealous or frightened of your power.

Needless to say, you’re not Miss Popular, but that doesn’t bother you as much as it could. Only the luckiest of witches and warlocks are disgraced with gifts from the Dark Lord, and having chosen you out of everyone means something. And knowing the Dark Lord chose you is enough.

You settle into your usual pew, the familiar creak of the wooden bench under you blending into the background as your mind begins to churn. Thoughts swirl of today’s impending announcement during Father Blackmoor’s sermon cross your mind.

The excitement for Lupercalia is beginning to build. This ancient festival, celebrated by all magic wielders the week leading up to Halloween, is dedicated to the Goddess Peralia, who blesses covens with enhanced health, virility, and fertility in exchange for an indelicate offering. Participants must engage in a series of ritualistic events celebrating lust and sexuality, transforming the festival into a vibrant expression of desire and intimacy. Only then will she offer her unholiest blessing.

You sit there, not in prayer, but in a quiet storm of contemplation, unsure if you will sign up for the festival this year. Another downfall to being viewed as an outsider is that you have yet to experience, well, anything. Sure, you might have kissed a couple of warlocks in your intermediate years, you even had a boyfriend in prep school whom you were convinced you could have loved eventually, but your virtue has yet to be given away.

It’s common for witches and warlocks to lose their virginity during Lupercalia; typically when they are in prep school. In fact, it’s encouraged. Yet, by age twenty, you still haven't mustered the courage to join in the festivities.

This year might be different…

The sudden crash of books jolts you from your thoughts. You turn to see Yeosang, a fellow student, crouched beside a toppled stack of The Book of Blood, its pages splayed open.

“My apologies; I didn’t mean to disturb you,” he says, a hint of embarrassment in his voice as he scrambles to gather the scattered volumes. His cheeks flush slightly, and you can't help but smile softly.

He’s a sixth-year student, just like Wooyoung. Yet, where Wooyoung’s presence demands your attention with an almost suffocating charisma, Yeosang embodies a more reserved demeanor. He tends to stick to his tight-knit group of friends and immerses himself in his studies, radiating a quiet intensity that draws you in without overwhelming you.

You feel a wave of annoyance wash over you as soon you realize that even in the presence of another man, your thoughts keep drifting back to Wooyoung. It frustrates you to no end, pushing you to a spontaneous decision: this year will finally be the year you break free from this obsession. By participating in Lupercalia, you’re determined to finally move on from him once and for all.

“Don’t worry about it,” you reply, “The Dark Lord has already provided me with the clarity I came here for.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” he says, carefully restacking the last book. He glances to his left, likely considering the seat he usually occupies, before turning back to you. “Would you mind if I joined you?” he asks, a hopeful note in his voice as he gestures toward the space beside you.

“Not at all, please do,” you smile.

He settles beside you with an effortless grace, and the air around you immediately fills with the warm, intoxicating blend of amber and musk from his cologne. The scent is rich, almost magnetic, pulling your attention in ways you hadn’t anticipated. You fidget with your hands, trying to focus on anything but how good he smells, as your mind races to keep pace with your quickening heartbeat.

Maybe... you could partner with Yeosang for the festival. The thought lingers as you steal a glance at him from the corner of your eye. He’s undeniably handsome—sharp features that give him a striking, confident look, but it’s his kindness that really stands out. There’s a warmth in the way he carries himself, a subtle softness behind those strong eyes that makes him more than just attractive. You wonder what it would be like to lose your virginity to someone like him, someone who seems both strong and thoughtful in all the right ways.

"Are you sure you are okay? You seem a little tense," he asks, his voice laced with genuine concern as his eyes search your face. You hesitate to answer, feeling the heat rising in your cheeks, and though you're trying to keep your composure, your breath has grown a little quicker, more shallow.

Thankfully, he’s kind enough not to mention it, but you catch the flicker of awareness in his gaze. His words are gentle, but there's an underlying curiosity there—like he's not just asking out of politeness but because he genuinely cares. You try to steady yourself, aware of the closeness between you, and suddenly the air feels heavier as if the moment itself is holding its breath, waiting for your next move.

"I didn’t mean to pry if it’s personal," he quickly adds, his voice softening as he notices your hesitation. His words have a touch of urgency, and he backtracks, not wanting to make you uncomfortable. His shifts slightly, giving you space while still holding onto the moment, unsure whether to push further or retreat.

"Can I tell you a secret?" The words escape your lips before you even realize what you’ve said. For a moment, you freeze, caught off guard by your sudden vulnerability. His eyes widen slightly in surprise, but there’s no turning back now.

Yeosang nods and softly says, “Of course.”

“I’ve…never participated in Lupercalia,” you admit guardedly.

“Oh, um. That’s, uh…” He’s visibly taken aback when he hears your confession, stumbling over his words. “Wow, I… I wasn’t expecting that.”

He shifts awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean, uh, that’s really something. I just, uh… I guess I never saw you as someone who hadn’t, you know, participated.” He draws out the last word, his tone heavy with the unspoken meaning.

You nod, trying to meet his eyes. “I know, it’s just… I never felt called to join in on the festivities in previous years. But lately, that feeling has… changed.”

“Oh. Right, yeah, I get it. So you’ll be signing up for the events this year?” He asks with a calm, collected voice, though he’s concerned that the quickened rhythm of his heartbeat betrays his calm facade.

Hearing your confession piques his interest. He’s always found you hauntingly beautiful and has enjoyed the casual conversations you’ve shared between classes and such, but today feels different.

He knew you didn’t actively participate last year, though he figured you were still doing something-someone-in private. Now that your secret is out, there's something undeniably more intriguing about you—an unexpected allure that wasn’t there before.

“Yeah, I’m thinking about it.”

“I think you should,” he blurts out, then quickly adds, “What I mean is, the festival’s about self-expression and the intimacy you share along the way. If you’re looking for a wild introduction to Lupercalia, there will be plenty of opportunists who share that venereal vision. But if you want something more comforting…choose someone who makes you feel safe and respected for your first time.” Yeosang trails off, his gaze lingering a little too long, the implication unmistakable. He clears his throat, trying not to give himself and his intentions away.

“Thank you, Yeosang,” you say while resting a hand above his knee, genuinely appreciating his insight.

Before the conversation can continue, the sound of footsteps echoes through the Church as fellow students file in, taking their seats. Black Mass is about to begin.

Wooyoung hadn’t intended to listen in on your conversation. He was too busy waiting for the other Dark Stars to arrive at the closed-off sanctuary to finish preparing for Black Mass. As usual, they didn’t show up early despite his suggestions. That’s a lie; he knew his words were less like suggestions and more like demands.

He was well aware they’d be late today, especially since most of the fifth and sixth years had spent the night at an intimate pre-Lupercalia party that stretched into dawn.

The only reason he peeked through the shadows was due to a loud crash, which he soon realized came from Yeosang, who appeared entranced by someone sitting near the front of the Church. That’s when he noticed it was you.

He’ll admit to having observed you over the past year—not out of personal interest, but because he’s intrigued by your unique gift and curious as to why the Dark Lord chose you of all people. Yes, you’re undeniably attractive as most witches are, but your ability to manipulate pure power without relying on spellwork is, to him, the most compelling quality you possess. If you had the right social standing, you would likely ascend to the role of High Priestess in a very fortunate coven.

From his hidden vantage point, he watches as his friend settles down beside you; that’s when the conversation begins.

“I’ve…never participated in Lupercalia,” he hears you share your secret. Now that is quite a confession.

Wooyoung’s lips curl into a smirk as he observes your flushed face from a distance, the rosy hue contrasting with the cold room that surrounds you. There’s a spark of mischief in his eyes as he takes in the way you shift nervously, completely unaware of his gaze.

Knowing that you haven’t been touched stirs a mix of amusement and curiosity within him. He wonders what thoughts are racing through your mind, feeling a strange sensation rush through him when you place your hand on his classmate’s thigh.

He saw no reason to hold back from participating. The moment he came of age, he dove in—and he’s done so every year since, always finding ways to revel in the experience to the fullest. As he reflects on past encounters, a pleased smile crosses his face as he silently counts the number of popped cherries he’s collected over the last several seasons, each a vivid memory weaved into his mind.

‘What’s one more…’

As more students trickle in and take their seats, the soft murmur of conversation fills the air. Wooyoung senses the moment is right and slips out of the shadows just as Father Blackmoor begins to walk down the aisle, weaving between the pews filled with eager faces. The flickering candlelight dances on the stone walls, casting a warm glow that contrasts with the coolness of the sanctuary.

He moves to stand on the left of Father Blackmoor, joining the other Dark Stars who are trying to stifle their yawns. The collective fatigue from the previous night’s festivities hangs in the air, but a shared excitement simmers beneath the surface. He exchanges brief glances with his fellow Stars, a silent acknowledgment of their late-night revelry and the anticipation of what today’s ceremony will bring.

“Fiends and Friends, today marks the beginning of our annual Lupercalia Festival,” Father Blackmoor announces, his voice resonating through the crammed Church. “As you all know, Lupercalia is upon us. I can feel the excitement buzzing in the air. The Festival of Wolves is a cherished tradition within our coven, and we take immense pride in honoring Goddess Peralia through a series of exhilarating rituals, all in hopes of receiving her unholiest blessings. With that in mind, let’s review the week’s events for those of you who are new to our practices.”

Father Blackmoor pauses to take an envelope from Wooyoung. “Tomorrow marks the start of the Assessment Period, which will be held in the Grand Hall. Witches who sign up today will be quizzed by prospective partners in hopes of finding their ideal match.”

“Courting begins on Tuesday. Those interested in a specific witch will reserve time slots to spend more time together. By the end of the night, the warlocks must submit the names of the witches they wish to be paired with. This will be followed by the Matching Ceremony on Wednesday, where the pairs will be revealed to the entire coven. On Thursday, we’ll have the Moon Ritual, during which the paired couples will venture into the darkwood to complete the rite. More specific details will be shared on the day, but they are expected to spend the night together beneath the moon in unholy abstinence.”

Some students snicker, knowing very well they won’t be abstaining from anything that night.

Father Blackmoor waits for the room to settle down before continuing, “Friday ushers in the Insatiable Hunt at dusk, where wolf-masked warlocks will chase after their red-cloaked witches through the woods, culminating in divine pleasure once they’ve been caught. We’ll conclude the week of festivities on Saturday with the Final Feast, where we will express our gratitude to Goddess Peralia for her many blessings this season.”

Wooyoung steps forward once more, this time carrying an ancient, leather-bound tome. The worn edges and faded lettering hint at its age and significance.

It’s the Book of Blood; which contains hundreds of Witches and Warlock's printed names, signed with their crimson ink, as a binding commitment to their word. It’s like a contract between yourself, the entire coven, and the Dark Lord himself.

With a practiced hand, he carefully cracks it open, his eyes sweeping across the room. “Witches that dare to participate, please step forward, say your intent, and sign your name in the Book of Blood.”

Your heart pounds in your chest as you push yourself to your feet, joining the line of participants ahead of you. A mix of excitement and nerves swirl in your stomach, each step bringing you closer to the moment you've been both dreading and anticipating.

The weight of curious eyes fall on you as you move, but none more intense than Yeosang's. His gaze feels like a spotlight, cutting through the crowd around him.

With each passing second, your pulse quickens as the line inches forward at a deathly slow pace. Every breath feels shallow, as if the air is too thick for your lungs to handle. Despite the knot of nerves tightening in your belly, your feet move on their own, as if guided by some force beyond your control.

Before you even realize it, you’re standing before Wooyoung. His eyes pierce down onto you while he hands you a knife, “Do you hereby pledge your full participation and commitment to the forthcoming Lupercalia festival and all associated events?”

Taking a deep breath, you respond, “Yes, I pledge myself.”

You take the knife from him, feeling the cold steel as you press the sharp blade into your palm. With a swift motion, you slice a clean, precise line across your skin. Ruby-red blood wells up, pooling in your cupped hand. Without hesitation, Father Blackmoor raises his hand, his dark magic swirling in the air as he draws the blood from your palm. It twists and shapes into the form of a pen, glowing faintly with a sinister aura, ready to be used.

You reach up and grasp the hovering pen, its energy vibrating through your hand. As you sign your name in the book, a surge of adrenaline floods your veins, electrifying every nerve. The moment the ink dries, you feel an undeniable shift. Something deep within you has been awakened.

Wooyoung smirks, knowing the sensation very well. “There’s no backing out now,” he says to you, his gaze locking onto yours, sharp and unrelenting.

“So,” Jongho, a second-year student like yourself, pauses to clear his throat after pulling on his tie, “That was awful.”

You chuckle, relieved to see you're not the only one with frayed nerves. “Yeah, good luck with the rest of them.”

He smiles back before shuffling along to the next person.

It’s Assessment Day, and every witch who signed their name is being rigorously questioned by the participating warlocks. Friends who had gone through this in previous years warned you about what to expect, and they were right. It’s definitely a forced mingling period on steroids.

It’s only been an hour, and you’re already exhausted of the routine of answering questions filled with probing and uncomfortable inquiries that delve into personal preferences. Over and over again, you're forced to confront touchy subjects, as if each question is designed to peel away the layers of your desires, as if you know.

The process feels more like an interrogation than a mere assessment, testing not just your patience, but your lack of knowledge on the subject at hand—sex.

The situation would be far less awkward if you didn't have to sit directly across from someone to verbally review the list. After each question, it’s mandatory to respond in one of the following ways: Agree - you give consent to the matter being discussed with the current party; Acknowledge - it is a potential option, and you give partial consent or Decline - no consent is given.

You pick at your fingernails while you wait for the next warlock.

“Penny dreadful for your thoughts?” You glance up to see Yeosang sliding into the seat across from you, with a broad smile spread across his handsome face.

“Oh, hi!” you say, doing your best to not sound startled. “Just wondering when all of this will be over, you know?” you continue, waving your arms around.

“Yeah, this part of the process isn’t the most comfortable. But I understand why it’s necessary,” he comments while leaning forward on the table. “Have the others been respectful?”

“Oh, yes. Yeah, everyone has been nice. I’m learning how many students I’ve never spoken to before,” you reply lightheartedly.

"Shall we begin?" Yeosang asks with a playful glint in his eyes, nodding toward the paper resting between you on the table, waiting for your cue to dive in.

Just as he reaches to pick up the list of desires to discuss, his movement is halted by the sudden arrival of Wooyoung, whose presence instantly commands attention.

He strides up to your table with his usual confidence, a grin tugging at his lips. The conversation shifts before it even begins, as Wooyoung’s energy pulls both your attention toward him without saying a word.

Yeosang lowers the paper, his eyes flicking between you and Wooyoung, sensing the inevitable distraction.

“Father Blackmoor has requested your presence in the Anti-Sacristy,” Wooyoung announces, handing him a miniature scroll with a secret message.

Yeosang frowns while reading it over, “Please excuse me.”

"Of course, I hope everything's alright," you murmur, though your words go unheard as he's already on his feet, moving swiftly toward the door.

Watching Yeosang rush out, you suddenly realize Wooyoung is still standing there. You glance at him from the corner of your eye, and he tilts his head, studying you with a curious intensity.

"Seems like you require a partner," he says with a smirk, sliding effortlessly into Yeosang’s chair without missing a beat.

You’re too stunned to respond and shift uncomfortably in your seat, completely unsure of what to do in this situation. He’s not offering to go through the questionnaire, is he?

Somehow, you forgot that you would, at some point, have to converse with Wooyoung today. It entirely slipped your mind up until this moment. And now he’s here without giving you time to prepare. You start to breathe a little heavier, and a slight sense of panic sets in.

“Why are you acting like that?” He says with a raised eyebrow, noticing your bouncing leg (a nervous habit of yours that annoyingly shows up at the worst possible moments.)

“I’m not sure what you mean?” Well, yes, you do but you won’t admit that. But your hyperventilating and antsy body might tell a different story.

“Yeah, right,” he rolls his eyes.

Your eyes lock on Wooyoung’s as he casually picks up the page. Without waiting for your reaction, he glances at the list and reads off the first item, his voice smooth and confident.

"How does each party feel about blood play; drawing blood by use of knives or other sharp weaponry, smearing blood, using blood as a lubricant, and/or tasting blood?" he reads off, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he waits for your response.

"I acknowledge," you reply with hesitation in your voice, uncertain whether you’re truly opposed to it, yet not entirely sure if you fully consent either. “And you?”

Wooyoung tilts his head again, “Do you really need to ask?”

"You and I both know there are specific rules to follow here," you say, leaning back in your seat with your arms crossed, eyes fixed on him with a mixture of challenge and caution. And, if you’re being completely honest, there’s a hint of annoyance now too. The nervousness from earlier has vanished entirely.

“Fair enough,” "he replies with a nonchalant sigh, “I agree.”

It’s your turn to read off the next item. “Does each participating student consent to bringing in other parties to join and/or watch your sexual relations? And additionally, joining others.” You look up toward Wooyoung, already expecting him to agree to those terms.

“Decline,” he states firmly, his voice dropping an octave as he adds, “I don’t share.”

You try to mask your shock, but the expression slips through.

“Don’t look so surprised,” he huffs.

“Sorry,” you mumble, “I also decline.”

He nods curtly, and you swear you hear him mutter "good" under his breath.

You breeze through the next set of questions surprisingly fast, both providing the appropriate answers as you work your way down the page.

At first, Wooyoung seemed a bit disinterested, but something caused his attitude to shift. Now, he’s more engaged, genuinely listening to your reasonings whenever you offer it.

“Last question, how many sexual partners have each participating party had?”

As he finishes speaking, you narrow your eyes at him, “That question isn’t on the list.” You’ve practically memorized them all by now. “You’re making that up.”

“So? Answer anyway,” he dares.

You glare at him, silently debating whether or not you should tell the truth. “Screw it,” you exhale, “None.”

Instead of the shock or teasing you expect, he simply blinks at you, as if he already knew what your answer would be.

But how…

When you wake the next morning, butterflies are already fluttering in your stomach. At this point, it’s hard to judge who will end up courting you, though you have a pretty good idea that Yeosang is interested. When he returned after visiting Father Blackmoor, you two had quite a connection while going through the assessment list.

You’ll find out for sure when you make it to the Dining Hall the courting schedule will be pinned on the announcement board for everyone to view.

You decide to grab a pastry and wait for the crowd around the schedule to thin out before checking how many dates you will have today. To keep things relatively fair, each witch is only allowed to have up to five courting suitors. A flicker of nerves sets in—what if no one reserved one of your time slots?

For the love of Lucifer, please let me have at least one warlock courting me.

You shove the last bite into your mouth and make your way to the board, eager to find out. Peeking around the remaining heads blocking your view, you spot that two of your time slots have already been reserved. Just as you’re trying to make out the names, someone taps you on the shoulder.

“Ghoul morning, Y/N,” Yeosang says with a smile, handing you a card. Your heartbeat picks up, recognizing the formality; courting warlocks are required to provide the witches with a card that essentially confirms their date.

“Hi, Yeosang!” You beam. Praise Satan.

He looks relieved when you accept his card. “I was hoping to see you this morning. Meet me at the Weeping Willow at three o’clock this afternoon. I have a special activity planned for us.”

You’re about to respond when you can feel his presence. Turning to look over your shoulder, you see Wooyoung standing closely behind. He towers over you, staring down Yeosang.

“Do you need something?” you ask, bringing his attention back to you while silently begging that he’s not here to send Yeosang away again, like yesterday.

“Yes,” he extends a hand, offering you a card. You stare at it in disbelief. He’s not here to steal Yeosang; he’s stealing you.

Wooyoung is your other suitor.

“I believe you’re meant to spend the morning with me.” Wooyoung’s eyes drift from yours and back to Yeosang’s, who tenses beside you. They seem to have a silent exchange of words.

“I see,” Yeosang says curtly, “Enjoy your time together.”

Before you have a chance to say anything Yeosang already disappears. Damn it.

“Come on, follow me,” Wooyoung demands while grabbing your wrist. He leads you down the dim, shadowy hallways of the school before picking up the pace as you leave the safety of the school, heading into the woods.

The thick trees close in around you, and the air feels heavier with each step. Fog swirls at your feet but mysteriously clears a path ahead of him like it knows exactly where he's going. You follow, feeling the cool, damp air cling to your skin. The deeper you go, the more unfamiliar the landscape becomes—you don’t recognize this part of the woods at all, and a strange sense of unease settles over you.

“Bloody heaven, where are you taking me?” you huff, doing your best to keep up with his long strides.

“You’ll see,” he grumbles, helping you up when you trip over an exposed tree root. “Can you stop tripping every five seconds? You’re slowing us down, and we’re on a time crunch.”

You glare at the back of his head as he speeds up. What a dick.

It’s not long before you arrive at the destination; it’s a stone table in the middle of the woods. You look around suspiciously. “Is this a ritual site? Are you planning on killing me for some weird sacrificial thing now that you know I’m a virgin, or…?”

Wooyoung bursts out laughing, “The thought hadn’t crossed my mind, actually. This is a portal.”

“A portal? To where?” you ask, peering at the stone. It doesn’t look like any portal you’ve ever seen.

“Want to find out?” he offers a hand for you to take, and you grab it warily.

He places his other hand on the stone, and its magic instantly pulls you through the atmosphere, sending you spiraling toward an unknown destination.

When you land, your feet hit the damp cobblestone street with a soft thud. The air smells of rain and baked goods, and you take in the bustling scene around you—witches and warlocks are flowing in and out of quaint little shops that line both sides of the road, their chatter filling the air. The street is alive with energy, and everything looks both foreign and strangely charming.

Before you can fully absorb it all, Wooyoung tugs you along, his grip firm as your head swivels, trying to figure out exactly where you’ve been transported to. The unfamiliar cityscape seems like a dream, its details slipping through your grasp as you hurry to keep up.

Suddenly, you collide with his back, not realizing he has stopped. "Ouch," you mutter, rubbing your nose in surprise. You’re about to say more when something above catches your eye—the sign swinging in the breeze.

"Trahana’s Tomb!" you squeal, excitement bubbling up. For ages, you've wanted to visit this place, but something always got in the way. Now, here it is, right in front of you, and the thrill of finally arriving sends a rush through you.

Trahana is a renowned sorceress and writer known for her vast collection of grimoires, enchanted artifacts, and other rare occult items—many of which are now on display and for sale at her legendary store. You've been itching to get your hands on her coveted Book of Arcane Beasts, a tome filled with forbidden knowledge of magical creatures, their histories, and untold powers.

Wooyoung holds the door open for you, and without a second thought, you dash inside. Your eyes widen as you take in the towering shelves crammed with both ancient and new books. Every corner of the shop is overflowing with enchanted curiosities.

At the back of the shop, a narrow, spiraling staircase catches your eye. It likely leads to an upper level filled with even more treasures waiting to be explored. The thought of what might be hidden beyond tempts you, adding to the growing sense of wonder.

"Oh, my sweet, evil boy! How are you?"

You turn to see a tall, elegant woman pinching Wooyoung’s cheeks with an affectionate grin.

He swats her hands away, groaning, "Aunt Hana, you know I hate when you do that. I’m not five anymore."

She laughs, unbothered by his protest. "Oh, you'll always be the stubborn young warlock playing with the Acheron Configuration upstairs even when told it was off limits," she teases, her eyes twinkling with the memory. “Goddess knows how many hours you spent trying to crack that spell.”

She shifts her gaze to you, giving you a quick once-over before raising an eyebrow. "Don’t be rude, Wooyoung. Introduce me to your friend."

Wooyoung rolls his eyes, "Forgive me. This is Y/N, another student at Onyx Academy. Y/N, meet Trahana, the curator of this fine establishment and, unfortunately, my insufferable aunt."

Trahana smirks, ignoring his jab. "Charmed, I’m sure," she says, her eyes glinting with curiosity as she sizes you up.

"I need to get back to work, but it was a pleasure meeting you, darling," Trahana says with a warm smile, her voice dripping with a mix of elegance and mystery. She gives you one last appraising look before turning away, her long robes sweeping the floor as she glides effortlessly toward the front of the store. The air feels lighter without her presence, yet the sense of power she carries lingers, leaving you a little awestruck.

You gape at him once she’s out of earshot. "She’s your aunt?"

Wooyoung sighs, nodding with exaggerated patience. "Yes, I’m painfully aware."

"That’s so cool. So you spent a lot of time here growing up?" you ask, curious to learn more about him.

"Yeah," Wooyoung replies, glancing around the shop with a hint of nostalgia. "My parents traveled a lot for business when I was younger, so this place became like a second home. Now, I come back whenever I need a break from school. Plus, it’s a great place to study; there's something peaceful about the chaos here compared to the eerie silence of Onyx Academy’s library."

"That makes sense," you say, nodding as your fingers trail across the spines of the old books lining the tight aisle. The dust, the energy, and the soft hum of magic in the air make the shop feel alive, the perfect contrast to the academy’s cold, quiet halls. "I can see why you'd find this place comforting."

Wooyoung smiles, clearly more relaxed here than you've ever seen him. "It’s got a strange kind of charm, doesn’t it?" he says, his voice softer now as the two of you meander through the maze of shelves, discovering little pieces of history with every step.

He allows you to explore the shelves, letting you dive into the books that capture your interest. As you lean down to examine the aged pages, he watches as a loose strand of hair slips across your face, and you absently tuck it behind your ear.

"Can I show you something?" he asks, gently drawing you away from the book that’s captivated your attention.

You glance up at him, and to your surprise, he almost seems nervous. It’s a rare sight for someone who usually exudes such confidence. There’s a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes, making you curious about what he wants to show you.

Nodding, you allow him to lead you toward another bookshelf two aisles away from where you were just standing. His gaze flicks across the titles, searching for something specific.

"Ah, here it is," he finally says, lifting his arm to reveal a book with a deep blue spine. You hear a soft click as he pulls it out slightly, followed by a faint unlocking sound. With a practiced motion, he shifts down to another shelf and pulls out a book with a green spine. To your astonishment, the entire bookcase creaks ominously before revealing a secret door.

"This whole day just keeps getting stranger by the minute. Is this another portal?" you ask, a mix of skepticism and humor in your voice.

Wooyoung grins playfully. "As entertaining as that would be, no. It’s not a portal. It’s my secret place."

You turn to look at him. "See, now that’s kind of worse. Now I really don’t want to go in." The idea of stepping into his hidden sanctuary feels more daunting than the prospect of another magical journey.

He gives you a look.

“Okay, fine. In I go,” you say, taking a step closer before reaching for the cold handle. As you turn it and push the door open, you peer into the darkness beyond, straining to gauge what lies within. And, if you have to be completely honest, wondering why it needs to be hidden away.

Wooyoung steps inside after you, snapping his fingers to conjure his magic. A bright orb of light flickers to life, glowing softly at first. As he guides it upward, it gradually brightens and rises to the center of the room, illuminating the hidden space with a warm, inviting glow. The walls are revealed and adorned with eclectic decorations and mysterious photographs, creating an enchanting and haunting atmosphere.

"What is this place?" you ask, your curiosity piqued as you step closer to a nearby table and spot a stack of photographs. You pick up the first few, admiring the artistic shots of a plant you recognize from your walks through the Darkwood—it's a Moonset Fern, captured in full bloom. You remember learning about it in Herbology 101 last year; it’s renowned for its ability to protect against ill-will spells.

Intrigued, you skim through the rest of the stack. Each photo showcases different plants, all with potent herbal properties, their images so carefully composed they almost seem to pulse with hidden power.

“So,” Wooyoung says nervously, “What do you think?”

“Of the photographs? I think they’re beautiful. You took these?” He nods. “I didn’t know you had an interest in photography. Or Herbology, for that matter.”

"It’s a secret interest. Obviously," Wooyoung says, gesturing around the room to emphasize his point. "Unfortunately, Father Blackmoor thinks it’s a complete waste of time. To him, this is the work of a lesser warlock." The distaste is evident in his voice, like the words themselves leave a bitter taste in his mouth. "He’d rather I focus on proving my potential to become the youngest Anti-Pope."

"Do you believe him?" you ask, watching his reaction closely.

"Am I even allowed to believe any different?" he replies, his tone a mix of resignation and defiance. He picks up a different stack of photos and flips through them, each holding a distant memory of a time he felt genuine joy.

"Part of me wishes I wasn’t destined for this life—that I had the power to shape my own future," Wooyoung admits, his voice heavy with conflicted emotion. "But then the other half of me hates myself for even thinking like that, especially after everything my family has sacrificed to get me here." His gaze drops, the weight of expectation clearly pressing down on him, caught between desire and duty.

“No one in the history of The Church of Night has ever turned down a position of power once they've received the proper training and hold the necessary status,” he continues, his tone growing darker. "I can’t even imagine the consequences of rejecting something like that." The mere thought seems to weigh on him, defying centuries of tradition would unravel everything—not just for him, but for everyone tied to his legacy.

“That’s a frustrating position to be forced into. Though, I hate to admit I’m jealous.”

His head snaps up, eyes locking onto yours, confusion and a flicker of anger etched across his face.

"I’ve spent my whole life not knowing what my future will look like," you begin, your voice tight with emotion. “I have all this power, yet no one can explain why I have it or what I’m supposed to do with it. I don’t have even the slightest clue where I’ll end up in life, so yeah, from that standpoint, I am a bit jealous of your situation," you admit, a hint of envy creeping into your voice.

As you speak, the anger in his expression gradually fades, replaced by a quiet understanding. His features soften, and you can see him truly considering your words, letting them sink in.

"At least you have a clear path laid out for you, even if it’s not exactly what you want. I’m still stumbling around, trying to figure out what my purpose even is. But even then..." your tone softens slightly, "If I were you, I wouldn’t let my sense of duty smother the passion I feel for another study—even if it’s an uncommon path for someone in my position.”

You begin again, your voice steady with conviction, "The Dark Lord wouldn’t have put this path in front of you if there wasn’t something here worth discovering. I’d bet there’s a connection between each path, and maybe, just maybe, you’re meant to do something with both. Something no one else has thought of yet.”

Wooyoung hadn’t thought of that.

“That’s just my two cents,” you sigh, setting the photos down and walking over to the next table with hundreds more to look through.

One photo in the middle of the pile catches your eye, standing out in a way the others don’t. You can’t quite place the plant; it’s unfamiliar, yet stirs a sense of deep nostalgia. It’s a rich olive green, with spiny stems and sharply pointed leaves giving it a menacing look. But what truly captivates you is the ethereal purple aura surrounding it, shimmering faintly, like the plant itself is alive with ancient magic. Something about it feels important, though you can’t recall ever seeing it before.

"It’s a Ghost Violaceae," Wooyoung murmurs softly, leaning in close over your shoulder. His breath is warm against your ear as he speaks, his voice slightly raspy. "It’s commonly used in the art of seduction." His words hang in the air, as mysterious as the plant itself, and the subtle intensity in his tone makes the air between you suddenly feel different.

Wooyoung would do unspeakable things to know the thoughts swirling in your mind right now. He’s desperate to unravel what it is that made you blush so fiercely, what’s causing your heart to race and your breath to quicken.

You turn slightly, looking up at him with your lips parted. Wooyoung tilts his head, his eyes sparkling as he tries to decipher the emotions playing across your face. There's a flicker of curiosity in your gaze, his focus sharpening as he leans in just a fraction closer…

The sudden ringing of a timer blares through the silence, startling you both. Your head snaps toward the sound and you see a stopwatch floating in midair, its rhythmic ticking a clear reminder that your time is almost up. It’s time to return to Onyx Academy to prepare for your next session with Yeosang.

Beside you, Wooyoung tenses, the atmosphere immediately changing. The warmth in his eyes vanishes as quickly as it has surfaced, replaced by the cold, guarded demeanor he typically fronts. His walls shoot back up, and just like that, the brief vulnerability between you disappears.

Blair eyes you curiously, her black feathers ruffled while she senses the secret you’re holding back. She’s perched on a low branch, watching as you wait beneath the cascading limbs of the Weeping Willow. You’ve arrived early, not finding any solace in the silence of your room after returning to campus. Yeosang should be here any minute, but the unease from earlier lingers.

Wooyoung had barely spoken after the stopwatch appeared, his mood darkening as he grudgingly led you back to the portal. He rushed you through without a word, his steps heavy with frustration, and stormed off toward the church once back on school grounds without so much as a goodbye.

You’ve been trying to clear your mind, focusing your energy on the upcoming session with Yeosang, but the tension from Wooyoung still simmers under the surface. You take a deep breath, determined to push it aside and give Yeosang your full attention. He deserves it.

Blair lets out a sharp caw before taking off into the sky, disappearing into the distance as soon as she senses his presence. She knows to give you your privacy, leaving you alone just as he approaches.

“Oh, you’re here already,” Yeosang says, a bit surprised to see you already by the willows. He steps forward, his happy expression growing as he extends a bouquet of dried wine-colored roses, elegantly tied with a black ribbon.

“These are for you.”

Your breath catches at the sight of them. "These are gorgeous. Thank you—wow," you say, smiling while gently taking the bouquet from his hands. The gesture feels intimate, the deep red petals catching the light as you admire them, warmth blooming in your chest at the unexpected kindness.

“You’re welcome. Do you want to apparate them to your room?” Yeosang suggests.

“That’s a good idea, actually,” you reply, lifting the bouquet in front of you. With a soft hum, you recite the incantation, watching as the flowers shimmer and disappear, transporting them to your bedside table in an instant.

“There,” you smile, “Now they’ll be waiting for me when I get back.”

“We have a short walk to our destination. If you’ll follow me?” Yeosang guides you up a path behind the willow grove, the incline leading to a breathtaking view of the Darkwood below. The forest stretches endlessly, its shadowy canopy glittering with ancient magic.

"Do you mind waiting here?" he asks, rubbing the back of his neck, a hint of nerves flickering across his face. "I thought I'd have a little more time to set things up."

You smile softly. "I don’t mind at all."

Relieved, he excuses himself, disappearing back down the trail to retrieve whatever surprise he has planned. The minutes pass in peaceful quiet, the cool air brushing against your skin. You close your eyes, enjoying the moment, until a faint rustling behind you interrupts the calm energy. You glance over your shoulder, seeing nothing, and shrug it off—probably just the wind.

But then, movement at the edge of the tree line catches your eye, a shadowy figure slipping between the trees.

You step cautiously toward the movement, your heart beating a little faster with each quiet footstep. The air seems to thicken as you approach, a soft rustling continuing just beyond the nearest tree. You steady yourself, taking a slow breath before rounding the massive trunk.

Face to face with the culprit, you freeze—a pair of wide, curious eyes staring back at you. It's a small, ethereal creature, almost like a fox but with wisps of glowing mist trailing from its fur. Its translucent body shimmers faintly under the dappled light filtering through the trees.

You exhale in relief, it’s just another familiar. The creature’s gentle gaze is more inquisitive than threatening; and she tilts her head, trying to decide whether to flee or come closer, her silver eyes studying you with an almost childlike curiosity. The creature soon takes off, before you have a chance to ask who they belong to.

As you turn around, a startled cry escapes your lips—Wooyoung is standing just inches from you, his presence completely unexpected.

"What are you doing here?" you snap, your hand instinctively flying to your chest, trying to calm your racing heart.

"I'm not really here. Just astral projecting. And who’s to say I wasn’t here first?"

You cross your arms, glaring at him, clearly unimpressed.

"Okay, fine. Maybe I wasn’t here first," he concedes with a shrug, his smirk faltering under your withering stare.

"Yeosang is going to be back any second," you warn, narrowing your eyes. "Are you here to spy on us?"

"Pfff... no..." he says, though the lack of conviction in his voice makes you roll your eyes.

"Lame," you mutter, watching his poorly veiled attempt at denial fall apart. He shifts awkwardly under your gaze, clearly caught.

“I don’t like that you’re alone with him.”

“Why?”

“I told you already. I. Don’t. Share.”

“You can’t be serious,” you say, narrowing your eyes. “Is this just some kind of game? Are you playing with me because you don’t want Yeosang to have me? What is it, Wooyoung? You haven’t given me a second thought until two days ago.”

“It’s not like that—" Wooyoung starts, but the sound of rustling interrupts him, cutting his sentence short. Both of you turn, startled, as Yeosang emerges from the trees. His eyes sweep the clearing, looking for you since you aren’t standing where he left you. When he spots you, he smiles and approaches, carrying a woven basket in one arm and a blanket in the other.

You glance back toward Wooyoung, but he’s already vanished. Typical, slipping away before finishing what he started. Maybe he’s glad for the escape before you can grill him any further.

“Looking for something?”

‘More like someone,’ you think to yourself. “Oh sorry, I thought I saw a familiar, but it ran off,” you explain, brushing off the awkward moment. “So, what’s all this?” You gesture to the basket, quickly shifting the conversation before Yeosang has a chance to ask anything.

He grins, glancing down at his hands, a bit shy. "I hope you like picnics. I thought we could enjoy some treats and maybe get to know each other better."

“That sounds lovely,” you reply warmly.

Yeosang carefully picks a spot, spreading the blanket and the two of you sit side by side, the breathtaking view of the Darkwood stretching out below. There’s something serene about the quiet between you, the moment brimming with peaceful anticipation.

He sets the basket in front of you, lifting the lid to reveal an array of colorful sweets, the soft glow of the late afternoon sun reflecting off the glass jars inside. You notice delicate pastries, chocolates, and sugared fruits arranged neatly.

“I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I brought a little of everything,” Yeosang says, his voice low but sincere.

Your heart warms at the gesture. "You’ve really outdone yourself,” you praise, picking up one of the pastries for yourself and offering another to him.

Curiosity gets the better of you, and you decide to bring up the scroll from yesterday. "I didn’t want to pry, but you left in such a rush yesterday. Was everything alright?" you ask before taking a bite.

Yeosang chuckles softly, as if amused by the memory. "Funny you should ask. Turns out, when I arrived at Father Blackmoor’s office, he had no idea what I was talking about. No urgent scroll was sent for me. But he thought it was good timing and wanted to discuss my plans for after I complete my time at the academy."

Your curiosity piques further. "And those plans are...?" you press, hoping he’ll open up.

Yeosang hesitates briefly, but then, with a slight smile, he reveals, "I’d like to teach, maybe. My father was a teacher, and he always said I had the same qualities. Plus, I love kids. I think teaching them the basics of magic—the very foundation of what they'll need for the rest of their lives—would be important work."

A soft breeze ruffles the edges of the blanket, and you can’t help but smile at his answer. "That sounds perfect for you. I can already picture you as a great mentor."

The rest of your evening with Yeosang flies by in a blur of conversation and quiet moments spent enjoying the view. Before you know it, he's walking you back to the dormitories. He hesitates as you both stop outside the door to the girls' dorms, clearly lingering on something unsaid.

"I just want you to know," he starts, shifting nervously, "that regardless of what happens tomorrow at the Matching Ceremony, I had a lovely time tonight. I'll see you tomorrow then."

Before you can respond, he leans down and presses a soft kiss on your cheek. "Goodnight, Y/N."

You barely manage to mumble a “goodnight” back, still caught in the trance from the warmth of his lips against your skin. As you make your way up to your room, your heart feels light, and you can’t help but smile even wider when you notice the flowers he gave you earlier—now arranged beautifully in a vase on your nightstand.

But something else catches your eye—a small, glimmering box sitting on your bed, illuminated by the soft glow of moonlight. You walk over to it and find a note attached in handwriting you immediately recognize.

Not a game to me – W

Your breath hitches as you find the book you had been eyeing earlier—the one Wooyoung had distracted you from in Trahana’s shop—alongside the newest edition of The Book of Arcane Beasts. Tucked neatly between the pages are a few of the photographs from his secret room; the ones you had admired without realizing he noticed.

Your heart races as you hold the items in your hands, the meaning of his gesture sinking in. It’s not just a game. Whatever this is with Wooyoung, it’s something real. And now, you're more conflicted than ever.

Yeosang steps closer to the flames that surge in the iron vessel before him, casting flickering shadows across his face while he waits. If you look closely, shapes begin to form within the flames, dancing and twisting as though something is being forged in the heat. A sudden flare of sparks erupts from the fire—it's ready.

With a steady hand, he pulls an envelope from the fire. The edges of the paper are still smoldering while he opens it with precision, watching as the magic ink slowly manifests on the paper, revealing a name.

You notice a brief, almost imperceptible frown cross his face, but it vanishes just as quickly. “Polly Petrify,” he announces smoothly, his voice steady, betraying nothing as he steps back into place.

Father Blackmoor gives a solemn nod, signaling his approval of the pairing.

The Church is packed for the Matching Ceremony, and a mix of excitement and nervous energy ripples through the crowd. The warlocks stand in front of the filled pews, their postures rigid and unreadable, while the witches occupy the first two rows of seats, eyes flickering with anticipation.

You sit among them, your heart sinking as Yeosang’s name is paired with another witch. The knot in your chest tightens, but before you have time to register how you truly feel, Wooyoung steps forward.

It’s his turn.

Time stretches unbearably as his fingers hover over the glowing envelope that emerges from the flames. He grasps it carefully, tearing it open before pulling out the slip of paper, the suspense in the room thickening with every second.

At least a dozen witches sit in eager anticipation, each one hopeful, their eyes flicking toward the altar, silently praying that their name will be the one called.

You watch his face intently, almost holding your breath.

The moment he reads the name, a subtle smile curls at the corner of his lips, making him look effortlessly gorgeous. His inky black hair falls in perfect disarray, and the deep blue sweater he’s wearing brings out a distinctive glimmer in his eyes—it’s definitely his color.

As he steps back in line to let the next warlock take their turn, you realize that you completely missed whose name he just called. You’ve been too busy gawking to notice. Leaning toward the witch beside you, you whisper, “Whose name did he say?”

She shoots you a scowl and snaps, “Yours.”

Your heart skips a beat, and your gaze whips back up front. Wooyoung catches your eye and quickly winks, the gesture playful yet it’s enough to send a wave of heat rushing through you. Your pulse races and every nerve in your body is suddenly aware of his presence. The world around you fades for a second, the reality of the situation sinking in—he chose you.

It feels like all the oxygen has been sucked from the room. Your chest tightens, and it’s taking every ounce of control not to claw at your neck in search of air. You can’t tell if your racing heart is a sign of excitement, fear, or a mixture of both.

The pairing results swirl through your mind as you try to process how you feel about Wooyoung having been paired with you. You know that the warlocks have some say in their pairing preference, but the decision is ultimately up to Father Blackmoor and The Dark Lord.

But there’s no time to dwell on it now—you have a performance to focus on. As the rest of the ceremony wraps up, the witches, including yourself, are expected to sing I Put A Spell On You.

You walk up to the front of the church with the other witches, your heart still hammering in your chest. You can feel Wooyoung’s gaze searing into you from across the room, but you refuse to meet his eyes. You know that if you do, you’ll stumble over the lyrics or worse, completely forget your part.

With every note of the song, you force yourself to remain composed. Your voice blends with the others, the melody haunting, filling the ancient church with an enchanting resonance. The weight of his stare lingers, but you resist the pull until the very end. Only when the final note fades and you’re walking back to your seat do you glance his way. His eyes are still on you, but there’s something different about his expression now—intense, unreadable.

Father Blackmoor steps forward as the ceremony winds down, his voice ringing through the dimly lit room. “Remember, paired witches and warlocks are strictly forbidden from seeing each other until tomorrow evening when you’ll all meet in the Darkwood for the Moon Ritual. Ghoul evening to you all.”

The church stirs with hushed whispers and rustling bodies as everyone begins to disperse. But you remain in place for a moment, your mind tangled in the events that have unfolded. Tomorrow promises even more mystery, and the thought of it sends another shiver down your spine.

You follow the large group down the path toward the heart of the academy’s campus, their excited chatter buzzing in the crisp evening air. But as they veer toward the dining hall, you quietly part ways, taking steps in the opposite direction toward a different building.

The heavy wooden doors creak as you push them open, and the familiar scent of ancient tomes and aged parchment envelops you.

The sanctum, the private library for advanced students like yourself, is nearly deserted tonight, making it the perfect place to find peace in the aftermath of the ceremony. The usual hum of magic is calming and the near-silence offers a much-needed space to clear your mind.

You make your way to the Demonology section, where the dim light and towering shelves create a cocoon of solitude. Finding an empty seat, you settle in, snapping your fingers to summon your books. In an instant, they materialize on the table before you, pages full of dark knowledge waiting to be absorbed.

Despite it being Lupercalia season, the academic grind doesn’t stop. Your upcoming exams loom over you like a dark cloud, and no amount of supernatural matchmaking will change that.

You run your fingers over the spines of your books, mentally preparing yourself to dive into study mode. The familiar words of your Demonology texts are grounding, a reminder of the discipline and focus you need to maintain.

The sanctum is quiet tonight, only the soft sound of pages turning and the occasional whispered incantation breaking the silence. You try to focus on the words in front of you, but your mind keeps drifting back to Wooyoung—his voice, his gaze, the gift he left in your room. You shake your head, pushing the thoughts aside. There will be time for all that later. For now, you need to concentrate.

Time passes and after finishing a few chapters, you glance at your watch, eyes widening in surprise. Three hours have flown by. Blair is going to be furious that you’re late to feed her. Scribbling down a final note, you snap your fingers, sending your books back to your room before heading out of the sanctum.

As you step outside, you collide with someone. "Oh, I’m so sorry!" you stammer, glancing up to apologize, only to be met with familiar eyes twinkling beneath tousled black hair.

Wooyoung.

“You’re forgiven,” he says smoothly.

"We’re not supposed to see each other," you remind him, taking a cautious step back.

He tilts his head, smirking too, just like he always does. "I know, but you skipped dinner, and there’s something I’ve been dying to do since yesterday."

"What? Stalk me some more?" you quip, feeling a rare surge of confidence.

His smirk spreads into a full smile, and to your delight, he chuckles—a sound you’ve secretly grown to love. Your heart pounds faster.

"You wish," he shoots back, his eyes gleaming as he steps closer. The intensity in his gaze feels almost magnetic, as if he's looking right through you, straight into your soul. His nostrils flare with a sharp exhale, and you can’t help but wonder what’s going through his mind.

“What are you doing?” you ask softly, your voice barely above a whisper as he takes yet another step closer.

He doesn't answer. Instead, with one smooth motion, he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you toward him. His touch is firm, but there’s a softness to the way his fingers splay across your back. You feel your pulse quicken, your breath hitching in your throat.

“This is breaking the rules,” you whisper, trying to find an ounce of self-control to step out of his embrace.

His proximity overwhelms your senses—the warmth of his body, the way his breath tickles your skin, and the undeniable connection crackling between you two. He tilts his head slightly, the smirk on his lips fading into something more serious, more dangerous.

“I don’t break the rules, I just bend them,” he rasps, his voice low and teasing, right before he closes the space between you. The moment his lips brush against yours, you freeze, caught off guard by the softness, the tenderness as he coaxes you into responding. His mouth moves gently, skillfully, as if testing the waters, daring you to give in.

A frenzy stirs inside you, an electric current surging through your veins. Your hands instinctively move to frame his face, your fingers sliding along the sharp lines of his jaw before tangling in his soft, messy hair. The kiss deepens, the intensity building with every second as you press yourself closer to him, losing yourself in the heat of the moment.

You can’t get enough; the taste of him, the way his breath mingles with yours, and the undeniable pull that has your body responding before your mind can catch up. His other hand slides under your shirt and up your spine, anchoring you to him as if he never wants to let go.

Wooyoung mumbles an incantation against your lips before tickling the corners with his tongue. You’re too distracted to recall what he said, especially when you feel it.

Heat begins to radiate from his fingers, searing into your skin. It flows through your body until it hits your sweet spot, pooling dangerously between your legs.

You gasp against his mouth, and he uses the opportunity to dip his tongue inside, swallowing your moans as you let them slip out. Pressing your legs together, you try to find any sort of friction, aching for something to relieve the growing pressure.

A sinful sound vibrates from his chest when you bite down on his lower lip ever so gently. You have to admit, the thought of kissing him has crossed your mind more times than you can count. But now, standing here with the taste of him on your lips, you realize the reality is so much better than anything your imagination could have conjured.

He’s more intoxicating than any dream could ever be. Every touch sends a thrill through you that no fantasy could ever match. The way he knows exactly what you like leaves you yearning for more in a way that feels almost addictive.

Blair caws, cutting through the shadows of the night and announcing her arrival with impeccable timing. You both jolt, breaking apart as if the spell between you has been abruptly shattered.

“Ghoul evening, Blair,” Wooyoung mutters, his voice still thick with the lingering tension. He glances at the raven-like figure perched nearby, an amused glint flickering in his eyes. “It’s a good thing you arrived when you did,” he adds, his tone teasing. He looks down at you, pleased with how dissolved your shirt looks, how pouty your wet lips are from your nefarious activities.

He takes a step back, quickly smoothing down his hair and adjusting his clothes, his fingers lingering at his collar as he regains his usual composure. You, on the other hand, are still catching your breath, feeling the flush in your cheeks and the electric hum of the moment that lingers in the space between you.

Give me a little privacy to say goodbye, and I’ll give you extra treats for your late dinner, you say telepathically to Blair. She tilts her head, considering the offer, before finally cawing in agreement and taking off into the night, clearly satisfied with the deal.

“I want you to try something tonight,” Wooyoung murmurs, his voice low and full of mischief. His eyes glint with something dark and thrilling, sending a shiver down your spine. “When you’re alone in bed and everyone else is asleep…”

Your heart races while he speaks.

“I want you to pretend that your hands are my own, and I want you to touch yourself where you felt my magic earlier.”

“E-excuse me?” you stammer, your heart racing as you try to find the right words.

He grins, leaning in just enough for you to feel the heat radiating from him. “Trust me, you’ll like it,” he teases, his voice like velvet. “I need you to warm yourself up for me, so you’re ready to learn more tomorrow night. Will you do that for me?”

You nod, a shiver running across your skin as his words linger in the air.

“Now, get out of here and go feed Blair before you wake up tomorrow missing your eyes,” he adds with a playful smirk.

You roll your eyes but can’t suppress a smile. “Fine, see you later.”

“Yes, you will,” he says with a wink, watching as you turn to leave, his gaze heavy on you the entire way.

His words linger in your mind for the rest of the night.

It's now the witching hour, and your roommates are fast asleep, blissfully unaware of the potion you slipped into their bedtime tea. They never noticed the subtle, earthy undertones masking the spell’s effects, leaving them in a deep slumber for the next several hours.

It had to be done, the last thing you need is for one of them to wake and catch you in the act, especially while you're carrying out Wooyoung’s special request.

Under the safety of your blankets, you move quietly, as if any sudden movement could betray your secret. One hand begins to massage your breasts through your thin tank top, the other sliding down toward your pink panties.

Taking a deep breath, you open your legs, allowing your fingers to slip beneath the dampening fabric. After spreading your juices around, you rub your clit before slowly dipping your first finger into your slick entrance. The sensation is unfamiliar—neither bad nor uncomfortable, just something you're not used to. The pain of the stretch lingers, leaving a strange warmth that you can't quite place.

You close your eyes and pretend that Wooyoung is there with you. Swiftly, you begin to curl your fingers, simultaneously bucking into your hand. You picture him hovering over you, but the image clouds over, shifting into a different scene that becomes sharper.

Wooyoung is also in bed, with his hand wrapped around his exposed, thick cock, lazily pumping it. There’s something unsettlingly vivid about this image, as if it’s not just a product of your imagination. It feels real—too real. Gasping, you realize that he’s in your head, projecting himself, revealing his presence in a way that makes your heart race.

Then, as if he can sense that you've finally caught on to his wicked scheme, a dark smile tugs at the corner of his lips, the kind that makes your body’s temperature spike. “Are you touching yourself, like I asked you to?”

You suck in a sharp breath and nod instinctively, even though you know he can’t physically see you. But somehow, you sense that he knows.

“I bet you are,” he hums, closing his eyes while running his thumb over his pink head. He tosses his head back as he strokes himself, “I bet that tight little virgin cunt of yours needs some good stretching before she’s ready for me.”

Feeling the heat rising to the tips of your ears, they’re red from the weight of his words, like they’re wrapping themselves around you, pulling you deeper into his influence. The knot in your lower belly grows as you match your little finger thrusts to the speed of his hand pumps.

“Add another finger, honey, I know you can,” Wooyoung groans, his hand moving a little faster. “Look at how my cock aches to be sunk inside your sweet folds.”

You do as he commands. You’re panting at this point; completely zeroed in on his throbbing length while you climb towards bliss. The silent room fills with a sinful pattern of squelches from each thrust into your lush heat, and a divine sensation washes over you.

“Goddess, I’m about to make a mess,” he whines, a sound that you’ll never be able to forget. He stills, letting out another beautiful noise while his seed shoots out across his abs, some even on his dark silk sheets.

“That’s just a preview,” he grins devilishly, “Sleep well, Y/N.”

"Many blessings," Father Blackmoor's voice rings out, reverberating through the towering trees of the Darkwood. "Tonight, we honor the Moon and her radiant beauty. Paired couples, please step forward to collect your basket."

You step forward cautiously, aware of Wooyoung’s presence close behind you. As your fingers brush the edge of the woven basket, Wooyoung’s arm reaches past you, his hand closing around it first. His body hovers briefly against yours, a faint smile curving his lips. Sucking in a sharp breath, you pull your hand back as your mind flashes back to last night, Wooyoung’s cock is still fresh in your mind.

"Each basket contains a ceremonial knife," Father Blackmoor continues, his tone solemn. "You will begin the rite by smearing your blood upon your partner's forehead. Then, you must drink the purification potion—the milky-colored vial—and consume the figs, symbolizing your unity. Under the moonlight, you will lie side by side until dawn, as a testament to your bond and in preparation for tomorrow’s Hunt."

His final words hang in the cool night air as the forest seems to hush in reverence for what’s to come. You glance up at Wooyoung, and his eyes are already on you, dark and unreadable, only reflecting the moonlight.

As the other couples start to spread out across the forest, Wooyoung’s hand finds yours, tugging you deeper into the woods. His steps are quiet, purposeful, as the towering trees close in around you both. Your attention snaps forward when you catch a glimpse of movement—there, not far ahead, the same fox-like creature you spotted by the willows. The realization dawns on you: it’s Wooyoung’s familiar.

The creature moves gracefully, leading the way through the underbrush, its magical fur shimmering under the pale moonlight. Wooyoung follows without hesitation, his gaze fixed on his familiar. You trail behind, curiosity building, as the creature guides you to a secluded clearing hidden deep in the Darkwood.

“Thank you, Vixen,” Wooyoung murmurs once you’ve arrived. The fox-like familiar halts briefly, then glimmers before fading into the air, leaving behind a trail of glowing embers that slowly dissipate into the night.

Your eyes scan the clearing, and you notice the scene in front of you—a circle of softly flickering candles arranged around a blanket spread across the forest floor. The air hums with quiet magic, thick with mystery and anticipation. Wooyoung turns to you, his eyes glinting in the candlelight, a mischievous yet unreadable expression crossing his face.

Wooyoung extends his hand to you, his touch firm yet gentle as he helps you step onto the soft blanket. With a single snap of his fingers, your clothes transform—yours into a sheer white nightgown, his into simple black pants, with his chest left bare, the candlelight casting shadows over his defined muscles.

“Ready to begin?” he asks, voice low, eyes holding a flicker of something dangerous yet enticing.

You nod, your breath catching for a moment. Reaching into the basket set down beside him, your fingers curl around the cool metal of the ceremonial blade. Together, your voices join in a low, rhythmic chant, weaving through the night air. The ritual words hang heavy between you as you press the blade to your finger, feeling the sharp sting as blood wells up. Stepping closer, you bring your hand to his forehead, smearing an upside-down cross on his tanned skin, the blood vivid against his complexion.

Without a word, you hand the blade to Wooyoung, your fingers brushing his in the exchange. He mimics your actions, the cool sting of the knife barely registering as he pricks his finger, marking your forehead with the same crimson anti-cross. The flames around you leap higher, responding to the magic building in your chant.

The moonlight glistens against his skin, bathing him in an ethereal glow as he lifts the purification potion from the basket. He drinks deeply, eyes never leaving yours, and then hands the vial to you. You take it from him, your pulse quickening as you lift it to your lips, the magic binding you both growing stronger with each word, each action.

His eyes darken; trailing over your nearly naked body. They land on your peaked nipples, and he lets out a deep exhale while his eyes are glued in place.

“Um, figs,” Wooyoung clears his throat, momentarily dazed, shaking his head as if to regain focus. He grabs one from the basket, handing you the other. You sink your teeth into the fruit’s tender skin, its bright red flesh spilling a sweet, rich juice onto your lips. A single drop escapes and trails down your chin, and you catch Wooyoung watching, his gaze lingering longer than usual. But he doesn’t say a word. Not yet.

You quickly wipe away the juice, trying to ignore the flush creeping up your neck. “So… what now?” you ask, your voice more uncertain than you intended. You’ve both completed the ritual, but the tension between you is undeniable. Neither of you has acknowledged last night’s activities, though you’re certain it’ll come up eventually. It has to.

He shifts slightly, his eyes scanning your face, and for a moment, it seems like he’s about to bring it up. His lips twitch into a half-smile, “I’ve got an idea or two.”

You’re not sure how it happened—one moment you’re standing, the next you’re lying beneath him. Wooyoung hovers above you, his arms on either side of your head, eyes gleaming with that familiar intensity. His body is close enough to feel the heat radiating off him, and your pulse quickens as his breath brushes against your skin.

Without notice, his lips crash down onto yours. He sucks your bottom lip into his mouth, moaning when your hands twist in his hair.

He presses his hips down into yours, letting you feel how worked up he’s already become.

“We're technically not supposed to do anything tonight,” Wooyoung says, his voice low and teasing once he pulls back. A mischievous glint sparkles in his eyes as he adds, “But a rule’s never stopped me before.”

You pull his head back down to yours, kissing him languishingly as he rolls his hips into yours again.

“Do you want to keep going?” he asks, this time pressing his length right up against your covered heat.

Wooyoung’s lips curl into a devilish smile when you whine incoherently about wanting more.

“Answer me, honey. Do you want more?” He asks with a growl, but the intensity in his gaze makes it clear—he already knows the answer.

“Yes,” you beg, “More. Please!”

He grabs handfuls of the fabric at your sides, bunching it up around your waist before he descends below.

Your dewy center is covered in a heavy coating of your arousal. Spellbound by the sight, he instinctively brings his fingers to your heat, gathering some of your transparent essence and smearing it around your folds.

“Fucking hell, you’re so fucking wet for me,” Wooyoung mutters.

Incapable of waiting any longer, he dives in tongue first, licking a beautiful line from your slit’s opening up to your needy nub of nerves. Another growl resounds from his chest as he devours your sex, his cock involuntarily twitching when he sinks two fingers back to your opening. Wooyoung strokes his saturated fingers through your slit before sinking them inside your soft flesh, feeling your inner walls clench around them.

He pulls them out and admires how your hole instinctively sucks his digits back in where they belong.

“Such a tight little cunt. It’ll be ruined by tomorrow night,” Wooyoung groans; despite his words, there’s nothing but appraisal in his voice. He looks up at your body, meeting your eyes. His flash with a dark dominance, lust with a dash of something else flicker in them.

His devilish words only excite you further, and more of your sticky arousal coats his hand. Each curl of his fingers brings you closer and closer to writhing pleasure.

His head dips back down, his tongue swirling around your clit before he sucks it between his teeth. Gasping, you buck your hips upward, needing more. So much more.

“I can’t wait to turn you into a nasty little whore. Would you like that?” he asks in between little licks.

“Y-yes” you mewl. “Wanna. Be your w-whore.”

He’s got you dancing along the edge of a very dangerous cliff, and you want nothing more than to jump off, face first, and dive into the waves of ecstasy that await.

He can tell that you’re close; your walls are beginning to tighten around him. Flattening his tongue against your sensitive nub, he applies the right amount of pressure you need to come all over his face.

When he sits up, his mouth is dribbling with your release; it’s a pretty sight to see.

“Not bad for a virgin,” he teases.

Your blissful smile turns coy, “Is it my turn to taste you? You’ll have to teach this virgin just how you like it.”

A deep, low growl vibrates in his chest and the corners of his jaw flex as he stands up, his silhouette outlined from the moonlight.

“On your knees then, slut.”

You twist your body until you’re sitting on your knees, your used cunt dripping onto the blanket below.

“Goddess, I’m so fucking hard for you,” Wooyoung grunts while pulling his pants down.

Freed from his pants, his cock springs out before bouncing momentarily, then stands erect in its full glory. You reflexively clench at the sight of him. It’s just as you remember it from last night.

Tightening his palm around his shaft, Wooyoung begins stroking himself before lining his tip up to your lips.

“Take just the head into your mouth,” he murmurs. “Just while you warm up to the feeling.”

You immediately wrap your mouth around him and a wave of precum leaks directly onto your tongue. Circling his thick tip, you get comfortable with the weight of him on your tongue, learning his taste.

“Such a good slut,” Wooyoung croons, causing your core to tremble from his praises.

One hand moves to hold your chin, angling your head to look up at him, “When you’re ready for more, take a deep breath and take in more of me.”

Hollowing your cheeks, you suckle on his head, letting more and more of him into your wet cave. You run your tongue along the underside of his shaft, the tickling sensation causing him to jerk inside you.

Wooyoung tugs on your hair, softly at first, and then his fist wraps around the handful in his grasp. His impressive length fills your mouth, his immense girth cracking your jaw open with each gentle thrust.

Words of encouragement spill from his lips, giving you the confidence to suck in the final inch of his member.

Involuntarily, you gag around his cock when his thick head hits the back of your throat. Tears sting the corner of your eyes, falling soon after.

Without warning, his length surges into your throat and Wooyoung lets out a stream of colorful expletives as his release hits him. His hips jerk once more, and he tosses his head back underneath the moonlight.

You shudder, feeling his thick cum stick to the walls of your throat.

“Goddess,” he hums, “Sorry about that.” Wooyoung slips out of your mouth, admiring as you use the back of your hand, you wipe your soddened mouth.

“It’s okay. Now I know what to expect.”

Wooyoung pulls you into his embrace, and you both settle into the quiet rhythm of the night, staring up at the stars as they shimmer in the sky. His warmth surrounds you, grounding you amidst the cool breeze.

He shifts slightly, turning on the blanket to meet your gaze. “I need to warn you about tomorrow,” he begins, his voice lower, more serious. “The potion we warlocks take before the ceremony… it makes our animalistic instincts take over. It’s going to be rough. That’s why I’ve been preparing you, so to speak.”

A knot twists in your stomach at his words. You hadn’t realized the full extent of what tomorrow held, but now it makes sense. That’s why they call it the Hunt, you think, You’re basically their prey. The pieces finally click into place. His honesty, though jarring, makes you feel strangely grateful that he’s letting you in on something you weren’t aware of.

“I trust you,” you whisper softly. “You haven’t hurt me so far, so I’m not worried about tomorrow.”

Wooyoung’s chest rises as he takes a deep breath, feeling a wave of relief wash over him. He silently prays to Goddess Peralia that he won’t bring you any harm during the Hunt. The uncertainty flickers in his eyes for just a moment before he pulls you closer, wrapping you in his warmth.

“Come here,” he murmurs, his voice gentle as you settle against his chest. His heart beats steadily beneath your ear, and soon your breaths fall in sync, the sound of the wind rustling through the Darkwood easing you both into a peaceful silence.

As the stars twinkle above, the night’s calm surrounds you like a protective cocoon, lulling you into sleep. You drift into a deep, restful slumber, cocooned in his arms, feeling the peace before the inevitable storm of tomorrow.

“The Insatiable Hunt begins,” one of the warlocks grins darkly before tossing back the elixir, the liquid shimmering as it slides down his throat. Wooyoung raises his glass in silent agreement, his eyes flashing with excitement before he gulps it down, feeling the fiery potion race through his veins. The others follow suit, the room buzzing as they prepare for the night ahead.

They pull on their wolf masks, transforming from men into primal hunters, instincts sharpening with every heartbeat. The thrill of the chase hangs thick in the air as they line up, muscles tensed, waiting for the doors to open.

Wooyoung’s body hums with the effects of the potion, a burning heat spreading through his skin. His senses sharpen—your scent lingers, intoxicating and irresistible. His pupils dilate as your essence floods his nostrils, every fiber of his being urging him forward. The others grin beneath their masks, but his focus is single-minded: you.

The doors creak open with a loud thud, unleashing them into the night. With a guttural growl, Wooyoung sprints into the woods, his feet pounding the earth as he follows your trail, the scent drawing him deeper into the Darkwood. His heart races, blood pumping with one singular purpose: to find you. To claim his prize.

Wooyoung moves like a shadow, effortlessly twisting and turning through the woods, his heightened senses guiding him closer to your trail. Each subtle shift in the air tells him you're near. He slows as he approaches a dense thicket, his instincts screaming at him to be cautious. He can feel you hiding, watching, waiting.

His cock strains when he catches a whiff of your scent, his hardened member straining against the tightness of his pants as it begs to bury itself deep inside of you.

His eyes narrow, hyper-focused on the faintest rustle of leaves. You dart from the bushes, sprinting through the underbrush, your breath quickening as you distance yourself from him. He follows silently, his steps deliberately soundless as he stalks you.

You duck behind a tree, pressing your back against its trunk, heart pounding in your chest. Straining to listen, you hear... nothing. No footsteps, no rustling—nothing. A chill creeps up your spine. Slowly, you peek around the tree, scanning the shadows. There’s no sign of him.

Relief barely has time to settle in before you turn back and scream.

He’s right there, inches away.

"Gotcha," Wooyoung growls, his voice low and menacing, his breath hot against your skin. With a wicked grin, he grabs your jaw, forcing you to meet his gaze as he slams your back against the rough bark of the tree. The impact sends a jolt through your body, your heart racing even faster now. His grip tightens, but not enough to hurt, just enough to remind you who’s in control.

His eyes glint through the wolf mask with a dangerous mix of hunger and satisfaction, the thrill of the Hunt evident in every line of his expression.

Wooyoung's grip tightens, his breath hot against your ear as he growls, “I can’t wait to split you in half with my cock.”

Before you can react, he spins you around, pressing your chest against the rough bark of the tree. Your heartbeat thunders in your ears as his hands slide down your sides, firm and unyielding.

He blames his newfound animalistic behavior for how fast he rips away your crimson cloak and the layers beneath it, leaving the shredded fabric scattered across the mossy forest floor.

In one swift movement, Wooyoung uses a knee to spread your legs and sinks into your inviting opening without warning. Tears sting your eyes from the sudden intrusion, but the pain quickly turns into mind-shattering pleasure.

“Taking it so well, aren’t you, slut?” he purrs, voice low and dripping with praise. The raw, commanding edge in his tone sends shivers through you, your insides tightening around him in response.

You hum an incoherent response, unable to form words when his cockhead is pressed against the swell of your cervix.

After ripping his mask off, Wooyoung’s fingers press into your hips. He holds you steady as he moves, each thrust punctuated by dark whispers of just how perfectly he fits inside you.

Wooyoung’s grin brushes against your neck as he drags his tongue up the curve of your skin, leaving a lingering lick before pressing a kiss just below your ear. His hips pull back slowly, his length retreating from your slick folds until only the tip remains, teasing you.

Then, with a low growl, he thrusts forward, filling you entirely in one fluid motion, claiming every inch as he sinks deep inside.

The sudden motion causes you to moan uncontrollably, his girth continuing to stretch out your soft walls. Your soaked cunt splitting open around Wooyoung’s enormous girth only causes him to swell more, if that’s even possible.

“M-more, please!” you whimper.

Wooyoung clenches his jaw, feeling your wetness ooze out where your bodies meet with each quick thrust.

One of his hands squeezes your side, the other falls to your round ass, and his claw-like nails scratch across your skin before he pulls his hand back to spank you. Your vision blurs from the impact, and you push your hips out, asking for more.

“Again,” you whine, your head digging further into the tree’s bark.

You bite down on your lower lip, anticipation building as you brace yourself. A sharp crack echoes through the air as his hand comes down against you, harder this time and sending another sting that radiates through your skin.

A moan slips past your lips, the sharpness transforming into pleasure that courses through your body. His fingers trace the spot he’s just marked, his low chuckle rumbling against your ear.

"Good girl," he murmurs, his voice rich with approval, each word sending shivers through you. “Turn around. I want to look at you," he demands next, his voice gritting through his teeth.

You obey, slowly turning to face him, your heart racing under his intense gaze. His eyes roam over you, filled with a mix of hunger and admiration that makes you feel both vulnerable and exhilarated.

Wooyoung cups your chin, tilting your face up toward him. His thumb brushes over your swollen lips as he drinks you in. "Look at you," he whispers, almost to himself, his thumb slipping inside your mouth. Instinctively, you wrap your lips around it, meeting his gaze as you lightly suck, earning a dark smile from him.

"You're perfect," he murmurs, his free hand tracing down your body, grazing every curve and leaving a trail of heat in its wake. "And you're all mine tonight." His words trail off as his length pounds into you again.

He watches as your lips part, head tilting back in pure bliss, and takes his chance. His mouth crashes onto yours, tongue slipping between your lips with a raw desire, claiming every inch he can reach. The kiss is deep and possessive, leaving you breathless as his hand tangles in your hair, keeping you close.

His tongue strokes against yours, tasting every gasp and moan you release, as if he’s memorizing the way you feel beneath him. You melt into his kiss, losing yourself in the heat, the way he consumes you with each movement.

When he pulls back, Wooyoung drags his lips against the shell of your ear to whisper, “Is this what you want? Your little virgin cunt destroyed?”

“Yes,” you moan, voice low and thick with desire. Then, locking eyes with him, you let a wicked smirk curve your lips, meeting his heated gaze with a look as dangerous as his own. "Ruin me," you breathe, each word dripping with a challenge that sends a spark down his spine.

A growl escapes his lips, and his grip on you tightens. He pushes you against the rough bark, lifting your leg to wrap around his waist as his eyes darken with pure, animalistic hunger. “You want to be ruined?” he whispers, his voice a low rasp against your ear as he pulls your hips even closer. “Careful what you ask for.”

His thrusts come harder, relentless, each one leaving you trembling and gasping as he takes you to the edge, only to pull you back before you can fall. His hand slides up your throat, a possessive touch that’s somehow both gentle and commanding as his thumb grazes your jaw, forcing you to meet his gaze.

"You’re mine," he growls, eyes blazing, his body pressed against yours with no space left between you. He savors every inch of you, watching your face intently as he ravages you with a merciless rhythm, his fingers digging into your waist. “And I’m not stopping until you’re completely undone.”

Your moans grow louder, filling the night air and mingling with the rhythmic slap of your bodies moving in unison. The sounds echo through the Darkwood, a primal symphony that seems to resonate with the forest around you, intensifying with each frenzied thrust.

Wooyoung feels your walls clench tightly around him, a signal that you’re close to unraveling. “Cum around my cock, honey,” he rasps, his voice laced with possessiveness. “I know you’re close.”

He quickens his pace, pounding into you with a newfound urgency, while his fingers find their way to that sensitive spot between your legs. The moment his thumb and forefinger pinch your aching nub, pleasure spirals through you like wildfire.

You scream his name, your body seizing up as waves of ecstasy crash over you, each pulse flooding your veins with tingling heat.

He watches you intently, captivated as your face twists in bliss, feeling you squeeze around him, almost pulling him over the edge.

A low growl escapes his lips, and with two final, frenzied thrusts, he buries himself as deeply as he can, his abs contracting as he spills himself inside you. His teeth graze your bare shoulder, biting down as he rides out his release, filling you with a heat that leaves you both breathless.

“Oh, praise Satan,” he gasps, letting out a shaky laugh as he presses his forehead against yours. The two of you catch your breath together, heartbeats slowing, tangled in the afterglow.

You collapse entirely into his arms, utterly spent and trembling, every muscle deliciously exhausted as you sink into the darkness of sleep that lingers at the edge of your consciousness. A grin tugs at your lips, satisfaction mingling with exhaustion as you surrender to it, the night’s events replaying like a forbidden lullaby.

Nothing in your dreams could ever compare to the raw, disgraceful, dangerously addictive reality you’ve just experienced. Wrapped in the warmth of his embrace, you let go, falling into a slumber filled with echoes of his touch.

The room is loud with the sound of laughter, clinking goblets, and whispered gossip. Candles cast a warm glow over the grand hall as platters of food float between the seated bodies; you're barely listening though, too hyper-aware of Wooyoung sitting beside you.

You steal a glance at him from across the table. He’s watching you, his gaze steady and unwavering. A secret smirk plays at the corner of his lips, one that makes your cheeks burn under the soft glow of the chandeliers. It’s almost unbearable, this tension simmering between you, each stolen look as dangerous as a spark near dry wood.

His fingertips graze yours under the table, sending a rush through you each time. You both know the game you’re playing—pushing boundaries, daring each other, waiting for one of you to make the next move.

Finally, he leans in, his voice low enough for only you to hear. “Let’s get out of here.”

"We can’t just leave," you mumble, finally meeting his burning gaze. There's a warning in your eyes, but he ignores it, his grin only growing.

You bite your lip, glancing around at the oblivious faces around you. "It’s the middle of the feast," you continue, though your resolve is already faltering. "People will notice."

"Let them," he says, the mischief in his tone unmistakable.

He stands and takes your hand, his grip both gentle and possessive as he leads you out, weaving through the tables with a confidence that dares anyone to question him.

Whispers and side glances follow, and you try to ignore the burning stares—hungry warlocks with dark eyes, envious witches with guarded whispers.

Everything has changed.

Wooyoung’s presence grounds you, his thumb brushing reassuring circles against your skin. And when he glances back at you, tilting his head in that familiar way with a smirk tugging at his lips, you realize that somehow—despite all the chaos of this past week—some things aren’t so different after all.

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gyupremacy-recs · 8 months ago

Text

LATHER ˒˒ 최수빈

to help raise money for charity you and your friends make your way over to the rich neighborhood to handwash cars in your best skimpy bathing suits and clothing.

pairing ‎⸝⸝⸝ choi soobin x fem!reader 𓄷 iηcℓudᥱs 𓈓 soyeon from gidle, chaewon from le sserafim, and karina from aespa

genre﹙📄﹚⸝⸝⸝ smut, rich playboy!soobin (like very rich), a lot of sexual innuendos, blonde!soobin

warnings ‎⸝⸝⸝ unprotected sex + pull-out method (be safe!!), kinda bratty!reader, mean dom!soobin, degradation kink, name calling (slut, whore, good girl), dacryphilia, blowjob, face fucking, cum swallowing, slight overstimulation (f. rec)

kipo’s note ‎⸝⸝⸝ remember everyone, every body is a bikini body can i get an amen?!!?! :D think of this as the start of my hot girl summer writing era lmaoo（ゝ。∂）this was really pushing my wc of drabbles… lol sorry, what can i say! i hope you enjoy!! all feedback and reblogs are welcome! ♡

∿ [ 2.5k ] ⋆ [ continue on to . . . masterlist ]

you huffed loudly as you tried to pull down the smallest shorts you’ve ever worn. when they didn’t budge, you slumped into the chair at the stand you and your friends were currently setting up. at least you weren’t that hot with your bikini top and jean shorts that barely covered your ass in the summer sun. for charity, you thought, it’s all for charity.

“alright, i think everything is good,” soyeon said, as her eyes scanned the stand. you, soyeon, chaewon, and karina were on the sidewalk in some rich neighborhood to handwash cars for this charity program you’re all volunteering for.

karina got up from the grass where she was filling water balloons and placing them in a bucket, “water balloons are done! are we ready to get started?” there was a piece of paper on the bucket that read ‘$20 TO GET THESE GIRLS SOAKED!’ on it. before soyeon could reply, chaewon walked up to you three.

“i already got a couple offers—they’re paying big money to see us drenched and washing their cars,” chaewon said as she sat on the plastic chair next to you. soyeon scoffed a little and rolled her eyes as she looked around to the various large and elaborate houses. there were already some men waiting on their porches or flat out in their yards with a chair and a beer.

one man in particular had his eyes on you this whole time. he was one of the ones sitting in his yard—sunglasses low on his nose bridge as he sipped from whatever beer he had. his blonde hair and white button up shirt made him stand out in contrast to the green grass behind him. you gave him a small and sweet smile while trying to make it seem like you didn’t notice his persistent staring. a smirk grew on his face and you knew you had him right where you wanted him. men are so easy, you thought.

the whole idea to even do this car washing service came from soyeon, surprisingly. in her own words, “let’s take advantage of shitty rich men for charity money!” it wasn’t a bad idea—you even suggested that you continue the car washing service in other neighborhoods too.

soyeon grabbed the megaphone from the table and said into it, “all right, gentlemen! who’s ready to get wet?! starting prices are on the sign above me and remember, it costs extra if you want something special! let’s raise some money for charity!” the rest of you all started whooping and cheering as all the men came up to you four like moths to a flame.

you were in the process of taking a lot of twenty dollar bills and passing out water balloons whenever the man from the yard who had been eying you finally started to approach. you had to tear your eyes away from him when a water balloon hit your chest, soaking your bikini top in the process. turning to the culprit with a shocked screech, chaewon smiled at you.

chaewon was completely drenched and sudsy from the car her and soyeon just washed. she held an open water bottle in her hand and you knew exactly what she was about to do with it. “chaewon!” you laughed as you looked at the water dripping off of you. you peeled some of the green balloon off that stuck to you.

“the guy who’s been eyefucking you is coming over, be ready,” she said lowly as she poured the water over your shoulders. karina smirked at you as she took over handling the water balloons. chaewon walked back to the table and you turned to greet the man.

his eyes trailed up and down your—now soaked—body, especially the red bikini top that covered your boobs. he took a water balloon from karina, pressing the twenty dollars into her open hand, and made his way to you. “need any more help getting wet?” he asked you with a sly grin.

now that he was up close, he was really attractive. he also didn’t look that much older than you, which surprised you slightly. you gave him an innocent smile, he was probably some billionaire’s son. “for charity? of course i am, if you’re offering!” you exclaimed as you held out your arms and prepped yourself to be hit with the water balloon.

instead of throwing the balloon he latched his finger underneath the strap of your bikini top. “what if i want a special offer?” he leaned into you and said lowly near the shell of your ear. your faces were inches away from each other as he looked you in your eyes and awaited your answer. the strap of your bikini top snapped back down onto your shoulder as he let go of it.

you could feel heat spread across your body, especially towards the pit of your belly. now, you weren’t really one for a casual—or not so casual—hookup with a stranger, but you were willing to make an exception for a good cause. besides, he was just so alluring. if you weren’t already so wet, you’d bet your panties would be soaked right now.

you looked at him through hooded lids and said lowly, “you’re gonna have to make a generous donation to charity if you want to fuck me, stranger.” his smirk turned into a slick smile.

“name your price and i’ll double it,” he replied, “and it’s soobin.” you licked your lips in thought and his eyes followed the motion. how much could you squeeze from him before he retracted his offer? just how badly did he want to fuck you? you debated for a moment on the price.

“one million dollars!” you settled on, raising a brow at soobin as you lifted your chin. soobin broke out into a playful laugh and you watched his reaction. he began nodding, like it meant nothing to him.

“two million it is!” he replied and the two of you made your way over to the table where the credit card reader was. soyeon’s eyes nearly fell out as she looked at the amount soobin transferred, and yours almost did too when you leaned over to look at the screen. instead of transferring over two million dollars, he transferred over four million.

soobin turned to you and smiled, “for the pretty girl in front of me.” you thanked him with wide eyes. you turned to soyeon and she mirrored your expression as she mouthed, “four million?!”

you turned back to soobin, “i hope you don’t mind waiting for a few moments. i have to wash this car quickly.” soobin shook his head and crossed his arms. “take all the time you need,” he replied.

smiling, you told him you’d be right back. as you were walking away, you heard soyeon cheekily say, “you can set up a chair and watch her if you so desire.” you helped karina grab the soap and brushes and the two of you made your way over to one of the cars waiting to be washed. when the two of you finished, you were completely drenched from head to toe and lathered in soap.

soobin had taken up soyeon’s offer and watched you the entire time. he came up to you with a towel in his hand that he outstretched towards you. you thanked him and dried yourself off as best as you could and tried to get most of the soap off. soobin trailed the tips of his fingers along your jaw, “ready?”

his fingers lifted up your chin so that you looked at him. suddenly flustered as the reality of what you were about to do hit you, all you could manage to do was nod in reply. soobin smiled and took your hand as he led you back to his house. you looked over your shoulder at karina, who was now standing with chaewon as the two of them made kissy faces at you and laughed at how your cheeks heated further from it.

the inside of his house was just as nice as the outside, but you barely got to look around before lips were pressing kisses to your neck. soobin wasted no time with you as he backed you up towards the living room and pushed you down onto the couch. his eyes were dark and full of lust and it made him look like a completely different person than the one you knew just a few seconds ago.

“take your clothes off,” he demanded as he unbuttoned his shorts. he pulled them down, revealing his bulging erection, as you crossed your legs and leaned forward slightly. “why don’t you take them off for me?” you challenged.

the corner of soobin’s mouth lifted as he took a step towards you. his tall figure hovered over yours as he hooked his fingers under your bikini straps and pulled them down. goosebumps raised along your skin where he touched and a shiver ran up your spin when he started to untie your bikini top at your back. once it was untied, he tossed it to the side onto the couch.

you shivered slightly as a cool chill swept over your now exposed breasts, making your nipples perk up. soobin rubbed his thumbs over them as he grabbed your breasts. “so beautiful…” he muttered to himself. his fingers trailed down your stomach and stopped just above the hem of your jean shorts. he looked up at you briefly, darkly, and you hooked your thumbs onto the fabric and pulled it down along with your panties until you were now completely naked under him.

soobin’s eyes raised to connect with yours, “now, are you gonna suck my cock or do i have pay more money, you fucking whore?” you reached for the band of his boxers but he slapped your hands away.

soobin swiped his thumb across your lips, “open.” you did as you were told, mouth open wide with your tongue hanging out as you waited.

“good girl,” soobin smiled. he pulled down his boxers, hard cock slapping against his stomach. you faltered, closing your mouth as you saw just how big he was. soobin pumped himself a couple times before looking at you with a raised brow.

you shook your head a little, ready to speak about how you definitely weren’t fitting him in your mouth before soobin roughly grabbed your chin. “didn’t i say open?” he asked you before pressing a sloppy kiss to your lips. you whimpered into the brief kiss before he pulled away and brought your lips to the tip of his cock.

your mouth opened wider willingly for soobin as you began to swallow him inch by inch. tears pricked in your eyes and you looked up at him when you were about halfway down his cock. soobin’s head was thrown back as small whines left his lips. his hands were entangled in your wet hair, aiding you.

when you stopped, already feeling him at the back of your throat, he looked down at you and moved your head down further. “you’re a good girl, aren’t you?” soobin asked you and you nodded weakly, tears streaming down your cheeks. “so fucking take it,” he added.

soobin began thrusting into your throat, grunting in pleasure as you moved up and down him. soon, his mouth hung open as warm cum spilled down your throat with his release. soobin pulled you off him, thumb catching his cum that spilled out and pushing it back into your mouth. “swallow,” he demanded, “all of it.” your brows furrowed at the salty taste and you swallowed thickly, whimpering at the pain of your bruised throat.

“such a slut…” he trailed when you opened your mouth to show how you swallowed all of his cum. your hips rolled against the couch, needing any bit of friction you can get. “soobin, please…” you whined hoarsely. you needed to feel him inside you. you need to feel how much he stretched out your aching pussy.

“turn around. bend over the top of the couch,” soobin told you. you turned and got up onto the couch, spreading your legs and bending so your ass was in the air for him. his hand smoothed over the curves of your body as he spread you apart.

“already so wet and i haven’t even touched you… you want me to stick my cock inside you, huh, you slut? fill you up?” soobin asked you as he mockingly rubbed his tip against your wet entrance. you bit your bottom lip and nodded, hips pushing back onto him as you stared at him desperately.

“please,” you whined again, “want you to fill me up…” soobin roughly pushed into you and you let out a loud gasp from the suddenness. he pounded into you rigorously, big hands gripping onto your hips as he pulled you towards him to match his pace.

you cried out as your thighs began to tremble. “s-soobin… gonna cum!” you whimpered, biting down hard to try and silence your moans but to no avail.

“yeah? you like that?” soobin hissed between moans as he fucked into you harder, “you like me fucking you like this, whore? you wanna cum around my cock like a good girl?” you nodded desperately and buried your face into your arms as you cried out again from his tip hitting your cervix. the rope in you snapped and your warm cum leaked down soobin’s cock as he continued fucking you, leaving a creamy white ring around his base.

wet sounds filled his living room as you gripped onto the cushion of his couch, “t-too much!” tears wet your cheeks as you looked back at him with furrowed brows.

soobin laughed humorlessly, but it was staggered. he breathed heavily as he pulled you up from the couch, “take it like the slut that you are.” you felt him twitch and he quickly pulled out of you. whining at the sudden loss, soobin flipped you around and cursed lowly before he began pumping his cum covered cock rapidly over your boobs.

his cum shot out onto them, painting them a pretty white as soobin whimpered. he took your chin again and brought his lips to yours roughly as he slipped his tongue in your mouth. you wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him closer as the kiss deepened.

once both of your lungs were on fire, soobin pulled away a little and you could feel the smile on his lips. he pressed another quick kiss to your lips, “i bet your charity will be very pleased with my donation.”

soobin pulled away fully and you shied away from his stare with heated cheeks. the two of you got cleaned up and made your way back out to your charity event. it was dusk now and it seemed like the girls were just about to start wrapping everything up. “the prodigal daughter returns!” soyeon exclaimed, causing the others to laugh.

you hid your face in your hands as you helped them clean up. the four of you ended up raising almost seven million dollars for your charity that day, and your friends made sure to thank “mr. four million.”

hehe wanna read more? click -> here

taglist: @my313 @naomiarai @lunathewritingcat @jjunberry @gothgyuu @spooksh0wbabe @beargyuuzz @kittyhyuka @dani-is-tired @riaawr @nxzz-skz @rapmonie2047 @soobieboobiedoobiedaboobie @yeonjunsfox @jeonghaniehaee

∿ [ continue on to . . . masterlist , taglist , request ]

#mr. four million? more like mr. fu-#playboy!soobin fucking me in the summer sun with our bodies drenched trying to beat the heat while he pays for my services? sign me up #now i'm thinking about a wet t-shirt contest where soobin just happens to stumble across hehe 🤭#txt fic recs #soobin fic recs #mdni

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gyupremacy-recs · 9 months ago

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latino!mingyu

WARNINGS: smut, latino life, im jus kidding (ou não também), mentions of alcohol, flipping the cap before kissing you, fingering, oral, dirty talk, hair pulling, public-teasing, public-make out.

if nobody said it, i will. MINGYU LATINO!!! mingyu who, no matter where he is, somehow finds a reason to grab a beer, and yeah, it's gotta be ice cold. “wanna pilsen, babe?” he’s already tossing one your way before you can answer. like, let’s be real here, this man drinks anything that remotely resembles beer. pilsen, brahma, skol, corona? he’s down. anything to cool off that tanned, toned-ass body of his after playing fútbol/futebol/soccer, anyways, for way too long just ‘cause he knows you’re watching. and when that shirt comes off? goddamn, everybody in the surroundings is drooling. mingyu knows it too, that cocky grin spreading across his face, and you're just trying to act normal. but it’s impossible when the man is literally glowing under the scorching sun.

he danced at his cousin’s quinceanera/festa de 15. of course, he did. he’s that hot cousin, the one all the aunties fawn over, talking about how he’s grown up so well, while the guys on the block are salty ‘cause their girls won’t stop staring when he's shirtless walking in havaianas flip-flops. he’s out there, not giving a damn, smiling, swaying his hips to reggaeton with you, and trust—he’s glued to your ass like you owe him something. or clapping his hands and asking you to dance samba with him. you roll your eyes, but you’re lowkey hyped up by his attention. that man is always hyping you up, calling you “amor/cariño/gatinha/mama/bebe” like it’s a full-time job.

every party, every gathering, someone’s got him dancing with their cousin, their sister, their aunt even (and he’s good at it).

mingyu who comes to your ear, whispering dirty things, just to see you getting all wet. “you look so fuckin’ good tonight, mama. can’t wait to get you back home and ruin that dress.”

he says it like it’s a casual thing, with that smirk of his. the kinda smirk that says he knows you’re weak for him, the way you flush when he so much as drags his fingers up your arm. and he’s not wrong. you could play it off cool, but he’s already in your head, already got you thinking about what’s gonna happen later.

mingyu who's skin is so damn hot, like he’s a human furnace, and you swear it’s impossible to cuddle with him for too long without needing a breather. the dude radiates heat like no one else, and even though you love the way he wraps around you—those big arms pulling you tight, holding you like he’s never gonna let go—there’s always that moment where you’re like, “okay, I need to cool the fuck down before I melt into a puddle.” and he always laughs about it, gives you that lazy smile while you’re fanning yourself, like, “what? too hot to handle?”

but the thing is, it’s not just about the heat. there’s something else in the way mingyu touches u, like he’s always trying to get as close as possible. sometimes, he has no shame in it—like when he gets that look in his eyes, and next thing you know, he’s got you pinned against a random house on the street, his mouth crashing into yours. tongue and tongue and tongue, his lips moving against yours like he’s starving for you. his hands? they’re everywhere—flying down to grab your ass, squeezing like he owns it, pulling you closer, so you can feel just how bad he wants you.

and oh my god, when he turns his cap backward before kissing you? dead. you know it's coming—the way he runs a hand through his hair, then flips that hat around. it’s such a small move, but fuck, it drives you insane every time. like he’s gearing up for something more, and you know that look means he’s about to ruin you in the best way possible. no warning, he just dives in, lips pressing hard, tongue slipping inside your mouth, claiming you. he kisses like it’s his job—wet, messy, and so fucking good you lose yourself in it every time.

then there’s mingyu in bed. and the man’s got skills 😭, and he knows it. when he’s behind you, hands in your hair, pulling just enough to make your back arch, it’s game over. you’re a mess, and he’s thriving off it, low growls escaping him as he fucks you from behind, his hips slamming into yours with that steady, unforgiving rhythm. he’s so into it—one hand gripping your hair, the other on your waist, guiding you, pulling you back onto him. and he doesn’t just pull your hair like it’s a casual thing—oh no. he pulls it slow, but then suddenly he yanks harder as if he's silently telling you “this is mine. you’re mine.”

and don’t even get started on his fingers. mingyu’s got the best fingers, and he knows exactly how to use them. whether it’s slow and teasing, dragging it out until u’re practically begging, or fast and rough, working you up until you can barely think straight—he’s a pro at this shit. sometimes, he’ll have u spread out, fingers deep inside you, curling them, head bobbing as he sucks your clit. and he watches you fall apart under his touch? it’s like he’s studying every reaction, committing it to memory so he can wreck you even harder next time.

but the dirtiest thing about mingyu? it’s the way he talks when you’re in public and trying to keep it together. you know the type—when you’re at dinner or out with friends, and you’re trying to be normal, trying to focus on the conversation, but mingyu’s sitting next to u, whispering the filthiest shit in your ear. his voice is low, just for you, and no one else at the table has a clue what’s going on.

“bet you’re so fuckin’ wet for me right now, aren’t you, baby? can feel how bad you want it.”

and he says it all casual, like he’s not making you clench your thighs together under the table, trying to keep from giving yourself away. but he knows, and he’s not letting up. his hand brushes your leg under the table, fingertips barely grazing your thigh, and your heart’s pounding because you know what he’s doing.

“if i slid my hand up your skirt right now, you’d be soaked. don’t lie, mama. i can see it in your eyes.”

and it’s so fucking hard not to react, not to moan right then and there. but you can’t. you won’t. because you're in public, surrounded by people, and the last thing you need is to let everyone in on the fact that mingyu’s got you trembling in your seat. but he loves it, loves seeing you try to hold it together, that smug grin playing on his lips as he watches you squirm. “gonna take you home later,” he whispers, breath hot against your ear, “will make you cream on my cock, make you scream my name. don’t think you’ll be so quiet then.”

it’s all you can do to keep breathing, to keep pretending like you’re fine when, really, all you want is for mingyu to make good on every dirty promise he’s whispered in your ear. and you know he will.

#seventeen fic recs #mingyu fic recs #mdni

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gyupremacy-recs · 9 months ago

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"You sat at the small dining table, zeroed in on the delicious dish in front of you." Are we talking about the food or Yunho 🤭

I was not expecting to get feel so turned on, then feel soft by the end. Subby!Yunho was something I didn't know I needed until now. This was so good, author!

The Puppy With an MAcc

Summary: Despite officially retiring as a professional dominatrix months ago, there's one client you've decided to keep. Maybe it's because of the generous amount he pays, or maybe, just maybe, it's more than that. With the lines between the two of you continuously blurring, you can't help but return every time.

AKA a hopelessly devoted accountant!sub!Yunho x hesitantly-in-love!dom!f!reader

Word count: 5 150

Warnings: non-sexual dominance (kneeling, various acts of service, pet names - Miss, Puppy, etc.), crying, implied minor age difference (like 3-4 years but both characters are in their 20s), basically just two cowards in love who are too scared to admit their feelings to each other but love to indulge in non-committal domesticity

A/N: This fic is the second part of my sub!Yunho Kinktober 2024! The event's masterlist can be found here.

A/N 2: MAcc = Master of Accountancy (I think?? if I got it wrong, please correct me!!)

Your "dominatrix era", as your close friends liked to call it, was pretty short-lived, to say the least.

Well, it's not like you intended on making it your full-time job for the rest of time, anyway. Really, at the core of it, it was mostly just curiosity you wished to sate before getting out into the real world after university. Because of this, you didn't exactly focus on "expanding your empire", keeping only a handful of clients you'd found nice enough to deal with on a semi-regular basis.

The first few months were fun, to say the least. After all, how could you not feel excited at the thought of ordering wealthy men around for money? It made you giddy just thinking about it - you, a normal uni student, making powerful guys crawl around like dogs and thank you for it at the end of each session. Not to mention how good it felt to see them enjoying it too, all that stiffness in their shoulders and the frowns on their faces vanishing a minute into your session. And though a lot of what you did could be described as sexual in nature, you never actually had sex with anyone, keeping things as professional as can be. In a weird way, all of it felt more like a therapy session than stereotypical sex work.

But, as with everything else, even your little side gig had to come to an end a little less than a year later. Because while everything was fun and paid more than enough, you really couldn't see yourself doing this work long-term. Even with just a handful of clients, eventually, taking care of them started to take a mental toll on you. You tried to separate work from personal life, you really did, but as time went on and you got to know them a bit more personally, it was just not possible anymore. Even outside of your dominatrix persona, you felt burdened with each client's struggles and stories, eventually overwhelmed to the point of quitting.

And so, after a few weeks of careful consideration, you finally sent out your goodbye letters to all of them.

Well, all of them except one.

Jeong Yunho was one of the last clients to request your services, sparing him your initial awkwardness when you were just starting out. The first thing you noticed about him was his age - in comparison to your other clients, you were surprised to learn he was just three years older than you. The next thing was his profession. Despite his relatively young age, he had already established himself as the local manager of one of the biggest accounting firms in the country, earning him both a nice sum of money as well as unbearable loads of stress.

Which is exactly what brought him to you.

Unlike your other clients, Yunho didn't overload you with random bits of his tragic past and complaints about his depressing marriage. No, no, his case was much simpler than that.

"I don't know," Yunho shrugged nonchalantly at your question, letting you tuck him into bed, "I get really stressed from making all the big decisions at work and I love powerful women. It just felt natural to combine the two."

Somehow, it was exactly that reasoning that had made you keep him even months after quitting.

You didn't tell him he was the only one left, though. Didn't want to make it weird or make him think there was something deeper to your decision. Your dynamic was perfect just the way it was, and despite its deep and stable foundations, you still didn't dare risk breaking it in any way.

Another thing that set Yunho apart were his requests. Unlike your other clients, his preferences had stayed pretty much the same since the first time you'd talked to him. He liked it when you visited his apartment instead of just some random hotel, and when you wore clothes that could pass as everyday attire rather than the stereotypical leather and latex. His scenes were nothing short of domestic, either. You always felt like a husband from the 50s, coming home to his loving and generous wife after a long day of work (classes) and letting her shower him with affection and praise.

Much like today, as you yet again found yourself on an all-too-familiar doorstep. It had been a few weeks since your last visit, and you had to admit, you'd really missed Yunho during that time. The longer pause wasn't intentional on either side, mind you. It was just a case of his busy schedule clashing with your finals week and the mandatory week-long recuperative period that followed. Now that you were back, however, you couldn't help the small smile on your lips, looking forward to whatever awaited you inside.

Not to mention this visit would mark your first anniversary with Yunho as your client (though you couldn't dwell on that too much in order to keep those incessant butterflies in your stomach at bay).

You didn't have to knock or ring the doorbell. Instead, you fished out your very own key that Yunho had given you a few weeks back. A sign of his trust and how welcome you'd always be in his home, as he'd described it.

Any other potential thoughts were quickly halted, though, as the door suddenly swung open, revealing a very excited-looking Yunho.

"You're here!" He exclaimed excitedly, flashing you a big grin. He stood like that for a second, just watching you in what appeared to be awe before suddenly straightening up again and stepping to the side. "Oh, right, sorry. Come in!"

You let out a small chuckle at his antics, an undeniable warmth blooming in your chest at the mere sight of him.

The next steps were pretty much automatic at this point. First, Yunho helped you remove your coat and hung it up for you. Then, he knelt down, letting you lean on his shoulder for support while he slipped your heels off and neatly set them aside.

"Good boy," you cooed enthusiastically, moving your hand up from his shoulder to ruffle his hair slightly. "Always so happy to see me, hm? Are you all ready for tonight or should I go wait in the living room?"

He quickly shook his head at the suggestion. "No, no, it's okay! Everything should be ready, me included. Oh, and I made you your favorite today, just how you like it! You know the one, the- the..."

You watched him try to finish his thought, but it was too late. In just a few moments, Yunho's eyes glazed over the same way you'd witnessed many times before. He was still present, yet his gaze grew a bit distant, retreating into himself to adjust to the sudden change. A change he clearly needed a lot, considering all it took for him to slip into subspace was the small ritual he'd always done to welcome you into his home.

But just as quickly as his voice trailed off and his eyes lost focus, he snapped back to reality, almost startled by the sudden clarity in his mind.

And there it was. All of his personal and work-related worries had been set aside, making his head feel almost overwhelmingly light and empty in comparison to his day-to-day state.

"What is..." He began, making you follow his line of sight, "what's that?"

A fond smile spread across your lips at the innocent curiosity in his eyes, realizing he was looking at the gift bag in your hand.

"Just a small gift I got for you, Puppy," you spoke softly, watching his eyes widen.

"Wait, for me?!" He asked excitedly, though you could sense a hint of uncertainty in his voice as if he didn't dare believe it just yet.

"Yes, hun, for you," you confirmed, unable to stop yourself from ruffling his hair again with your free hand. "But we'll get to that later, okay? How about you show me what you cooked for us tonight first?"

It didn't surprise you to find out Yunho had already eaten before you arrived. Sometimes, if he was still lucid enough, he'd eat alongside you and chat about random things that came to mind. Usually, though, he'd just eat in advance so that he could fully relax and focus on you only.

You sat at the small dining table, zeroed in on the delicious dish in front of you. Over time, as Yunho began cooking for you more and more frequently as a show of gratitude, you noticed a considerable improvement in his skills. Not that he was bad before, of course not, but now? It almost felt illegal to be paid for your services in both money and food this good.

In Yunho's eyes, though, it was all worth it. The time he'd spend cooking for you helped him ease into the scene, in a way. Even just preparing all this for you felt extremely calming, knowing how much you'd always compliment him and how appreciative you were.

Much like right now, as he sat on the floor next to your chair, cheek resting against your thigh. His eyes were closed as you ran your hand through his silky hair, muttering small words of praise every now and then. This part of your evenings was one of his absolute favorites, as he truly got to just think about nothing. No work or family issues could reach him here. All he had to do was just lean against you and focus on your soft voice and loving touch.

Sometimes (not that he'd ever admit it), when he couldn't sleep at night and felt extra lonely, he'd try petting his hair just like you always did. He'd try to think about your words of praise to force out all the negative thoughts clouding his mind. And yet, it could never compare to the real thing. The warmth of your fingertips just felt different and he could never quite replicate your voice in his head for it to be satisfying enough.

After a while of not thinking at all, Yunho liked to talk. A lot.

While he cleaned up in the kitchen, you let yourself get comfortable on his couch, propping your back up with some extra pillows since you knew you'd be here a while. Like usual, you'd put on a skirt today too, knowing it was the most convenient option considering what was in store for the two of you.

A minute or two later, Yunho emerged from the kitchen, the content smile on his lips spreading even wider at the sight of you. Without an ounce of hesitance, he walked up to the couch, looming over you with his tall self for just a second before dropping down to his knees again.

This, too, was one of Yunho's interesting, distinct traits. Whenever he could, he'd find himself on the ground, looking up at you with nothing but utter devotion.

"People always marvel at how tall I am," Yunho muttered, nuzzling his face into your hand while you finished your meal. "And it's really flattering, don't get me wrong! It's just that... sometimes, I also want to feel small, you know? Even if it means I have to literally kneel down in front of someone."

"So? How have you been?" Yunho began, flashing you a bright smile. As tentatively as always, his hands reached for your left foot, giving you enough time to stop him (even though you never did). "I want to hear everything."

You groaned. "Ugh, don't even get me started. Remember the professor I told you about last time and how he can never grade our papers on time? Guess what? We're still waiting! I swear we've collectively sent him like a hundred emails already and he's still acting like he doesn't see them."

Yunho hums thoughtfully at your words, brows furrowing as he keeps massaging your leg, going up to your calf now. "That really sucks, I'm sorry. I'm sure it's gonna be fine, though. He'll probably be more lenient because of the delay, not to mention you always ace all your classes anyways."

Your leg involuntarily jolted as he grazed a particularly ticklish spot, making him giggle. "Thanks, I really hope so too," you replied, trying to stay focused despite his skilled hands. "It's still nothing in comparison to our dorms, though."

Yunho shot you an inquisitive look, urging you to keep going.

"I mean, it's nothing too shocking, they're just raising the rent again for the second time this year. I really shouldn't be surprised at this point, but just- I wish they were at least honest about being greedy instead of making up random excuses as to why we have to pay even more outrageous prices than before."

"You know I'd love to help you with that if you want-"

"Puppy," you warned in a stern voice, making him immediately hush and drop his head. "We've talked about this, remember? You already pay me more than enough, I can't ask you for any more than that. Besides, the rent thing is an issue of principle, not finances."

"I know," Yunho sighed, halting his movements. "I just want you to be happy and pursue your dreams without having to worry about things like money."

"Yuyu," you cooed, leaning down to tuck his hair behind his ear. "I know you want to help, but please believe me when I say you're already doing more than enough. Not just because of the money, but because of your company in general, okay? I always look forward to spending time with you and I'm really thankful we get to meet like this. Seeing you happy makes me happier than any sum of money you could possibly offer."

There was silence for a moment as Yunho took your words in, still gently holding onto your foot to stay grounded. But even with his head dropped down, you could see his lips begin to tremble, fighting back tears.

It had been a while since he'd got to talk to someone so openly and vulnerably. To just say whatever was on his mind without fearing it would be somehow used against him later. To be appreciated so genuinely without any ulterior motives from the other side.

Sniffling quietly, his hands resumed their work, taking hold of your other leg to massage it as well.

"Thank you, Miss," he said in a mere whisper, afraid his voice would break if he spoke any louder.

"Of course, Yu," you muttered back. "You'll always be my good boy, always," you reassured him lovingly, giving him a playful nudge with your now-free foot. The effect was immediate as a small smile spread across his lips, lighting up his teary eyes again as he looked up at you adoringly.

Oh, how he'd missed you.

After a good while of just talking about anything and everything that came to mind, the two of you settled into a comfortable silence. Yunho's hands rested on your shins while you pet his head on your thighs. His breathing had evened out over time, and you could see the way his eyelids were beginning to grow heavy. It was time to sleep.

This was usually considered the end of your sessions, where you'd help him get dressed for bed and caress his hair until he'd doze off. He always felt really sad when you left and he hated going to bed alone, so this solved both of those issues. Besides, you had to admit that the sight of someone as overworked as him sleeping so peacefully did something for your soul as well.

"Alright, Puppy," you began softly, making Yunho lift his head up, "let's get you to bed, shall we?"

Ever the good boy, he gave you a sleepy but content nod.

Happy with his agreement, you were about to stand up and lead him to the bedroom, but quickly paused in your tracks.

The softest kissing sounds echoed through the living room, one for each of your knees.

Yunho quickly sensed your tension and looked up at you in confusion, which then turned into alarm.

"I-I'm so sorry Miss, I should have asked for permission!" He rambled in panic, leaning back on his haunches to give you as much space as he could. "I guess I spaced out a little too much and forgot myself for a moment, it happened without me meaning to, I'm really sorry-"

"Yuyu," you interrupted him gently, fighting the smile on your lips, "relax, it's okay."

Yet another thing you really cherished about the man before you. No matter what, he always asked for permission when trying something new. Sometimes, he'd even ask with things you had already agreed on in previous sessions, just to be sure. So to see him get flustered the one time he accidentally got too carried away and forgot to do so? It was strangely endearing, to be honest.

Had you had any suspicions that this wasn't a mere accident, that this was simply Yunho's way of "sneakily" pushing your boundaries, your reaction would have been much more different. You weren't afraid of stopping a session mid-way through and banning your client on the spot; you'd done it before.

But seeing the genuine panic written all over the man's face, clearly scared of upsetting you? He was nothing short of adorable, looking like a small, frightened animal.

"But- but I," Yunho tried again, but stopped at your firm gaze.

"I said it's okay, you're not in trouble," you repeated. "...Besides, it was actually quite cute. Maybe I'll even let you do it again in the future."

Oh God.

After calming your precious puppy down, you walked him down the hall to his bedroom (well, you walked; he decided to crawl instead - after shyly getting your permission, of course).

"Think you can change yourself, hun?" You asked him as he sat down on the bed, patiently awaiting further instructions.

While he always tried to be good for you and not feel entitled to anything, he visibly deflated at your words. "Why? I mean- I definitely can if you want me to, but..."

It took all your willpower not to cave at his puppy eyes.

Alas, you had more important things to sort out.

"The gift, remember?"

And that was all you needed to say for Yunho to immediately jump into action.

The second time you entered his bedroom, this time with the gift bag in hand, Yunho was tucked in bed and ready to go. His clothes were neatly folded on a nearby chair, exchanged for a set of comfy-looking pajamas. He perked up at the sight of you, sitting up and making more space for you by the edge.

"Ready for your present, Pup?" You asked giddily, wanting to hear him say it out loud despite the obvious curiosity and excitement in his eyes.

"Yes, please!" Yunho beamed at you as you sat down next to him, trying to resist peeking into the bag before he was properly allowed to.

But as you finally handed him the bag, his features turned sad, a small pout on his face.

"What is it, Yu?" You asked, worried at the sudden change in tone.

He let out a deep sigh, cheeks warming. "I'm sorry I didn't get you anything back. I wasn't sure if it would be appropriate and the internet didn't give me a clear answer either so I panicked. I hope it doesn't look like I don't appreciate your services or anything, that's not it at all, I swear!"

You let out an amused chuckle. "Sweetheart, I'd never think that about you. You already show me enough gratitude as is. Besides, this wasn't even supposed to be a gift exchange in the first place. I just saw something online and it made me think of you so I bought it. I'm not expecting anything in return."

Whether you said something after that or not, Yunho wasn't sure. His mind had already stopped at the mention of you thinking about him outside of work.

Sure, he did that all the time when it came to you, using you as a source of comfort to cling onto whenever he had an especially hard time at work. Whenever he had to stay in his office late into the night, or heard his subordinates gossip about him, only to give him smiles and compliments the second they noticed him, thoughts of you were the only thing that could ground him again. And even when he was doing alright, he still liked to think about you, reminiscing on your past sessions and looking forward to the next. But to have you do the same with him?! Yunho's heart felt like it would leap out of his chest if he didn't calm down soon.

"...Well? Aren't you gonna open it?" You nudged his thigh with your hand, a playful glint in your eyes. "You looked so excited before, don't you want to see what's inside?"

Yunho didn't need any further enticing, flashing you a big grin before he finally reached into the bag. Inside, he found a pretty, dusty pink box with an unknown brand name embossed into its center.

With shaky hands, he lifted the lid.

"What do you think?" You asked, nervously scanning his face.

Yunho was frozen, stuck staring at the custom-made leather collar. Attached to it was a silver tag gleaming in the dim bedroom lights, the word "YUYU" engraved into it staring right back at him.

"Sweetheart, are you okay?" You spoke again, trying to hide your growing concern. "We can totally return it if you don't like it, I won't be-"

All the words died in your throat as Yunho suddenly lifted his head, looking right into your eyes as his bottom lip trembled, fighting back tears. The second he spoke, however, they spilled over anyway.

"It's perfect."

"Oh, Puppy," you cooed as a sob ripped through him, bringing him into a tight embrace. The anxiety weighing down on your chest immediately dropped at his words, making you sigh in relief. His hands clutched at your shirt, almost desperately so, wetting your shoulder as he sniffled in your hold.

You stayed like that for a moment or two, soft snivels and affectionate whispers filling the room.

"I- I've never," Yunho began, but quickly stopped again, hiding his face in the crook of your neck some more. It was right then that you'd noticed the unusual proximity between the two of you, never staying this close for more than a second or two when he occasionally hugged you goodbye instead of you tucking him in. But now, it felt as though you were enveloped in him, his comforting warmth and light cologne all around you.

"It's okay, hun," you encouraged him gently, "take your time."

Yunho exhaled heavily, as if steeling himself for whatever he was going to say next.

"It's just- this is everything I've ever wanted but never actually dared wish for, and now that it's real, now that you're real, I don't even know what to say."

Reluctantly pulling away from your embrace, he reached back to retrieve a few tissues from the bedside table. "Every day, I have so many people relying on me, so many people waiting for me to make a mistake so that they could take my place, have to deal with so many awful clients while acting like none of it affects me, and it's just- it's so hard. I've always wanted to have someone who I could be vulnerable with, who I could confide in without fearing they'd use it against me later, but it always seemed too good for me. And then you appeared, and you've made my life so much more bearable, made me look forward to every day because it meant I'd get to see you soon again. No amount of words or money could ever match just how thankful I am for you, seriously."

"Yunho..."

Stunned by the sudden confession, you silently sat and processed his words. Yunho just smiled at your shocked expression, though it didn't quite reach his eyes.

"I know this is a lot to unload on you so suddenly, so please don't feel like you have to respond to any of this right now. We can just brush past this and never discuss it again, I won't be upset. It's just something I've been thinking about a lot lately, and seeing you care for me so honestly made me finally tell you, I guess. Like I said, you don't have to say anything if you don't want to, but just know that if there's anything, and I mean anything, that I could do for you, just say it and I'll do it. Even if it's something small, like confiding in me the way I do with you, I'm always here for you."

You couldn't help but chuckle at his offer, unconvinced. "I'm not really sure you want that, Yu. All of my problems are pretty repetitive and boring, not to mention how annoying and stubborn I can get when stressed. Wouldn't want to break the illusion you have of me, you know?"

...A hand gingerly grabbed yours.

"And what if I tell you that's exactly what I want?" Yunho challenged, a more genuine, playful smile on his lips this time. "I'm not stupid, Y/N. I know you're much more than the persona you put on when you visit me. I want to know the real you, good and bad included - if you'll let me, that is. You already have the keys to the apartment, don't you? My home is open to you anytime, even outside of our sessions."

Just as Yunho had said, this was a lot to unpack on the spot.

And yet, somehow, deep down in your heart, you already knew your answer to his confession, even if you didn't fully want to admit to it just yet.

"I mean," you began hesitantly, mulling everything over as carefully as you could, "there's no harm in trying it, right?"

Yunho's eyes lit up at your words, looking at you hopefully.

"Besides, I come here so often it feels like a second home anyway."

He gave you a thoughtful nod. "Yeah, same here."

"What do you mean?" You asked, eyebrows raised in curiosity.

"Exactly what I said before - you." His grip on your hand tightened, the other pointing to the collar sitting in front of him. "I've found my second home in you."

Silence.

It felt as though the Earth had stopped spinning for a second. Everything around you faded into nothingness, leaving you to stare into his eyes.

You don't know for sure how his lips ended up on yours, but judging by the surprised noise coming from him, it must have been you who'd initiated the kiss. Not a second later, however, he replied with matching enthusiasm, resting his palm against your thigh to lean in even closer.

In spite of every cell in your body screaming at you to stay, you eventually pulled away, giving the two of you a chance to breathe. Yunho's gaze was nothing short of reverent, looking at you like you've hung the stars in the sky.

"So? Would you like to try on your present?"

Yunho refused to believe any of this was real.

No matter how much you tried to convince him to take it off, Yunho refused to sleep without his collar. Looking at the way it pressed into his neck when he lay down, you knew there was no way it could be comfortable to sleep in. And yet, Yunho insisted that it was fine, that it actually felt nice despite the way it was smothering his Adam's apple. In the end, you had no option but to concede, tucking your overgrown puppy into bed with the collar still around his neck.

But as you were about to get up to turn the lights off, a hand grabbed yours to stop you. You looked back down at Yunho, being met with his signature pout and teary eyes.

"I know this is a lot to ask, especially considering how much I've asked of you today already, but... stay? Please?"

You gave him a long look, considering your options. Or pretending to consider them, rather, since there was no way you'd be able to deny him anything right now.

"Only because you've been such a sweet boy today, okay?" You said, trying to sound reluctant even though you weren't fooling anyone.

You quickly excused yourself to the bathroom, boldly taking one of Yunho's sleep shirts with you to change into.

Despite his eyelids growing heavier by the second, Yunho bravely fought to keep them up until you'd arrive, sighing in relief when the bathroom door opened again.

No more words were needed as you plopped down next to him, joining him under the blankets before moving to rest your head on his chest. Despite no visible reaction from him, you could hear his racing heartbeat below you, making a soft smile creep up on your lips.

Within the next two minutes, you heard his heart eventually calm down again, breaths evening out as he fell asleep. It took you a while longer to follow, mind struggling to relax with so many thoughts racing through it. What did all of today mean for your relationship? How professional will you be able to stay with him after this? You should probably tell him you haven't had any other clients for months now, shouldn't you.

No use worrying about it now, you suppose. All of those concerns can be solved only once Yunho wakes up again. And until then, you have no choice but to enjoy whatever it is that you have right now, no matter how ambiguous.

Snuggling further into his chest, you finally doze off as well.

Whatever this is, it's perfect.

taglist: @justconniez @domribo @another-random-fanfic-blog

Thank you for reading! And remember, feedback is always very appreciated! <3

#ateez fic recs #yunho fic recs #mdni

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gyupremacy-recs · 9 months ago

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Road head with wooyoung? Sign me up 🙈

Almost Home

→ Summary: Your boyfriend looks extra yummy when he's in the driver seat, which tends to turn you into a feral, needy animal.

↠ wooyoung x f.reader | 712 words | 18+ ↠ genre: smut, pwp, established relationship

→ Warnings: roadhead, oral (male receiving), ball squeezing, teasing, slightly bratty!reader, cock choking & cock swallowing if you squint lol, praise kink, slight exhibitionism & voyeurism, i think that’s it but let me know if i missed something

→ Networks: @k-vanity @ksmutsociety @pirateeznet @othersideoutlawsnetwork

→ Author Note: just a quick drabble bc i have a looooot of thoughts about the photos woo has been sharing lately ugh, not edited either so yeah...enjoy

“We’re surrounded by other vehicles right now, you can’t wait?” Wooyoung exasperates, exhaling a breath as your hands slide up his thigh.

“Just drive faster so no one sees me face first in your lap. It’ll be fine,” you shrug nonchalantly.

“But we’ll be home soon,” he points out lamely, trying to distract you - and himself.

You can’t wait though, he looks almost too good. There’s just something about the way he sits in the driver’s seat, exuding confidence and control, both of which have heat pooling in your center. It's the way he owns the space, completely in charge, and it’s making you lose your mind.

“Let me suck you off, please?” you whine. “I’ve missed you, all of you. Especially your pretty dick. I know it missed me too.” You lean over the center console of his car to kiss his neck, letting your hand dip in between his legs to cup his package. He hisses at the initial contact, then melts into your touch. He secretly loves it when you praise any part of him, even if you use the word pretty in the same sentence.

“Baby,” he groans, tipping back against the headrest and swallowing hard.

“I’ll stop if you really want me to,” you say, massaging him through his pants.

“Fuck,” he grips the steering wheel tighter while increasing speed, “Don’t you dare stop.”

Dipping into his pants after undoing them, you free his hardening length from the layers of fabric. You’re mesmerized by the little beads of pre-cum that spill out of his angry tip. Using your thumb, you smear them across his velvety flesh before immediately taking him in your mouth. The head of his length alone is enough to fill your mouth.

Wooyoung’s body stiffens from the sudden contact, and he might have accidentally swerved into the other lane, just for a second, when your teeth graze along the underside of his heavy head.

Christ.

Removing your mouth from him, you kiss every inch of his thickening length, effectively teasing him until more pre-cum leaks from his small hole.

His body reacts with another shudder when your other hand goes lower to cup his balls, your palm tightening around them when you leave another feather-light kiss on the very tip top of his member just to drive him crazy.

“You’re such a brat. Stop teasing and start choking on my cock already,” he grumbles, using his free hand to shove your face back down.

You comply, wrapping your hand around his girth and lowering your mouth around him. Mmm, you definitely missed this.

Hollowing your cheeks, you take him in further and further until your sputtering along his length.

Wooyoung loves the way your mouth stretches to take all of him. If he wasn’t so hyper focused on not crashing the car, he’d fuck the hell out of your mouth right now. He’ll make time for that later, you know, once you make it home.

Coming up for air, you grin toward your boyfriend while a string of saliva falls from your mouth. “I swear I’ll never get enough of this, enough of you,” you moan.

Wooyoung watches intently as you take in his full length again, only breaking eye contact when he needs to check the road.

“Look at you, you’re unreal. Do you know that?” He says, his eyes burning into yours as he looks down at you again. He rubs a fallen piece of hair out of your face. “Just gorgeous.”

His words make your panties wetter than they already are and you squeeze your legs together for some kind of relief.

You continue to play with his balls as you hum around him while he’s deep in your throat, a move you’ve learned that will send him spiraling right over the edge.

A few seconds later, his hips jerk and he twitches inside you. His hot, seedy release shoots down the back of your throat while he lets out the most delicious moan you’ve ever heard.

“Mmm,” you say, licking your lips once you pull yourself off him. “That was fun. Now take me home and dick me down properly as a thank you.”

He shakes his head, the corners of his lips curling into a smile, “As you wish.”

→ Taglist: @gyupremacy @beomcoups @yoonguurt @sinfullygay

↠ not on the list yet? sign up here!

#ateez fic recs #wooyoung fic recs #mdni

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gyupremacy-recs · 9 months ago

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too big | j.yh 정윤호

tags + warnings: 18+ mdni, huge!yunho x small!reader, size kink, breeding kink, short drabble

synopsis: yunho’s huge, everything about him is huge, and it’s all fun and games until -

a/n: really think yunho would do this tbh, making you feel small and helpless as you take him so well :((

messy bangs and sweat dripping down his forehead, he attempted to breach your entrance. you gasped “s’big…nnnngh…too big” His red veiny tip was barely through your folds and you were already blabbering incoherently, nails digging into his back. as if it wasn’t enough, he grabbed your thighs and hooked it over his shoulder, setting you up in a mating press, trapping you in the sheets. now there’s no escape. “shhh..you can take this princess c’mon”. He pressed a gentle and light kiss on your forehead, “it’s gonna fit. I’ll make it fit.” he whispers, wrapping his left hand around your tiny waist, hands so huge that it covered the majority of your waistline. he put his right hand on your mouth, and in one snap, he sinks his entire length into your heat. you let out a muffled scream, eyes rolling backwards, tears threatening to fall from your eyes. You swear you felt your walls tear from the stretch. “s-so mean..yunho meanie….nnnngh..hurts” he smiles innocently at your broken words “but I made it fit princess” he takes your left hand that was helplessly gripping the sheets, and placed it on top of your belly, and that’s when you felt it. a bulge in your stomach. his huge bulge. he lets out a groan of relief, burying his low moans against the crook of your neck. “m’gonna breed you so full, so so full.”

#this was so good omg #yunho is already a big man but just imagine 🤤#drabbles are underrated btw #ateez fic recs #yunho fic recs #mdni

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gyupremacy-recs · 1 year ago

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Exile | k.m.g

Summary: You two were high school sweethearts, and your love story was something only found in the scripts of a shitty teenage rom-com, but he was a jock, and you were shy and quiet. It shouldn’t have worked, but somehow it did. Now, fast forward ten years, and things aren’t the same. Your lives aren’t the same; he’s stuck in the past, and you only focus on the future. Neither of you has your priorities straight, and neither realises that your present is a complete and utter mess. You won’t let him go because he’s all you’ve ever known, and he won’t let you go because you’re the only thing right in his life, but will love and high school promises keep you two together?

☆ 18+ minors dni |☀︎fluff | ☁︎ angst | ♕smut | ♥ completed works

Word Count: 20,221 words

Pairings: Kim Mingyu x Female Reader Genre/Trope(s)/AU(s): Slice of Life AU! Fluff, Angst, Smut (the holy trinity, if you will)

Content Warnings: Slice of Life AU! (don’t say I didn’t warn you; this won’t be a nice one, or will it hee-hee). Yelling, swearing, crying, arguments. Couples counselling–do note I am not an actual therapist. I just write fiction. Incredibly angsty. Body insecurities and mentions of blood are not much or graphic. Smut Warnings: unprotected sex (don’t do this). Fingering, oral (male and female receiving). Multiple orgasms, squirting, hand jobs. Use of sex toys. Hickies. Dry humping. Mingyu cums in his trousers (but like, what can I say? He’s in love). Shower sex.

Authors Note 1: This is a Seventeen rewrite of an old fic of mine, so if it looks familiar, that’s why hehe.

Author’s Note 2: Thank you to my darling @the-boy-meets-evil for beta'ing this despite being so busy. I love you dearly.

Taglist: @dkluvrsclub @wooahaeproductions @stayinhellevator @aaniag @ressonancee @seungkwansphd @tomodachiii @gyuminusone @bitchlessdino @zezedoesshit @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @joonsytip @noiceoofed @wonwoos-wineparty @persnyako @deobienthusiast @gyuwoncheol @gyupremacy @gyuswhore @shuadotcom @multi-kpop-fanfics @the-boy-meets-evil @thegirlwhoimagined @highvern @starlight-night0 @dreamsbloomout @aaasia111 @wongyuuu @ana-marais98 @gaslysainz @cherrylita @soonyoonswoo @seokgyuu

Part of the Broken Illusions Stories

“Okay, I kept my mouth shut the entire dinner, but honey, this is the fifth time you’ve been back home since you and Mingyu moved in together, and I still see no ring. No signs of a marriage, nothing,” your mother started to say as she sipped her wine, making you groan as you took a large gulp of yours.

“Can we not ruin every trip back home with this?” You moaned, and your mother shrugged.

“I’m ruining nothing, but honey, ten years, and you two still aren’t engaged or together. As a mother, I want to know you have stability,” your mother spoke, looking down at the red-coloured liquid in her glass.

“I don’t need a husband for stability,” you bit back, making your mother raise her brow in disapproval at you with your tone.

“I never said that, but how long do you two just plan on dating? You two have moved in and been together for ten years. Now? Honey, he hasn’t even come back to visit the last two times you came,” your mother continued explaining, making you groan.

“I’m thinking he dodged a bullet,” you mumbled, earning a sigh from your mother.

“Besides, he hasn’t even proposed, so why should I pressure him?” You suggested, and your mother frowned at you.

“You could ask him?” Your mother offered gently, and you sighed deeply.

“Or are you like him? Dragging your feet?” Your mother questioned, and you shrugged.

“We’re comfortable. Why is that not enough for you?” You asked, genuinely wondering why your mother always brought this topic up.

“Is it enough for you? To be comfortable? If that’s what you are willing to settle for, then sure, but my love, comfort is fine, but it’s dangerous. When you’re too comfy in a relationship, you take every second for granted, and you think it’ll last forever, and you get lazy,” your mother lectured, making you roll your eyes at her.

“Can you stop projecting your marriage or failed marriage onto my thriving relationship?” You asked immediately, feeling guilt surge through your veins at your harsh words.

Your mother only ever wanted to help you.

“Mum,” you started to say, stopping when she held a hand up to stop you.

“It’s because of my failed marriage I can spot the warning signs from a mile away. I’m not saying you and Mingyu will be a repeat of what your father and I were, but if you don’t get clarity on where you two stand, you’ll always be in the grey with him,” your mother explained before finishing off her drink.

“I don’t need him to prove anything to me, but when was the last time you spoke about the future?” Your mother asked, and you fumbled to give her an answer and came up blank, making your mother only sigh more.

“Get some rest. You have an early train to catch tomorrow. This is food for thought,” your mother said kindly before standing up to hug you and heading upstairs.

You sighed deeply, took in the night sky, and thought hard.

You and Mingyu stopped discussing the future when he kissed you at sixteen. Sure, you two were young, but you knew in your heart he was the one. But as your relationship progressed, Mingyu seemed to hold onto the past, and anytime the future would come up, he’d change topics and walk away, and if he tried to reminisce, you’d walk away.

You two were in different tenses, but neither of you ever wanted to acknowledge the present.

The present, where the last time you two had a date night was five months ago, and the last time he made love to you—properly, not just a quick fuck or a sloppy blowjob—but the last time he was intimate with you, was also five months ago. The present you and Mingyu shared looked like a foreshadowing of a hollow future. You let out a frustrated groan.

You and Mingyu had to talk if you wanted to save whatever you two had, but why did it feel like a part of you had already let go?

“Sweetie, the wine may have made me too bold, and I apologise for overstepping. Your relationship is none of my business,” your mother apologised for the fifth time that day, and the most recent apology was in the car on the way to the train station.

“It’s fine. I guess you’re not wrong. You did give me a lot to think about. I got defensive because I’ve felt distant from him, we’ve both not had the time, and I guess I felt like you were calling me out when I know that’s not the case,” you admitted, and your mother gave you a soft smile before turning back to look at the road.

“It’s like a bandaid; maybe he feels the same, and a talk will help, but keeping it in your head, where your demons lie, that’s the worst, so just rip it off and let the wound heal with time,” your mother said wisely making you smile.

“If anything goes wrong, I’m always a safe place for you to come home to,” your mother added, and you nodded at her, thanking her profusely as you hugged her goodbye. While you appreciated her offer, you did not want to be back here sobbing and seeking refuge in a week.

You shook your head, trying to free yourself of the thoughts taking over your mind, taunting you, that you and Mingyu were destined to end.

You two would be fine; you both survived high school and university and would continue to do so in the long run, but one question kept plaguing your mind.

Why was the main aim to survive?

Why wasn’t it to rekindle the flame?

Why did it feel so desperate, and why did he feel so far away? ~~ Warning Signs ~~

It felt weird. That’s the first thing you noted the minute you placed your hand on the doorknob of your apartment. You usually didn’t notice such insignificant details, but the doorknob felt cold.

Was it a preemptive sign that you’d be greeted with coldness from Mingyu?

Or was it the frost that had settled over your relationship that made everything you touched feel cold?

You drew in a deep breath for courage, something to face him. You knew him forever and didn’t know where the sudden apprehension came from. Why did it all feel so difficult?

“Baby!” You were greeted with Mingyu yelling. His arms moved to wrap around your waist and carried you as he planted a soft kiss on your lips.

“Missed you,” Mingyu mumbled against your lips, making you smile, but that moment was short-lived when you saw the state of the house.

“What’s wrong? I know I didn’t do anything, considering you just walked in?” Mingyu joked, placing you down on the floor.

“The house is a state. You knew I was coming home today. Why is it such a mess?” You complained, and Mingyu frowned, following you into the living room.

“Why don’t you nap, and I’ll clean up?” Mingyu offered, and you shook your head.

“How would I sleep if you’re cleaning up? It’d be noisy, jeez, Mingyu. You know it’s not rocket science to keep a household together,” you nagged, making him frown at you.

“Why are you like this? You just walked into the house and started bitching, I thought you’d update me about how the trip was, but instead, you’re here kicking up a fuss,” Mingyu threw back, and you rolled your eyes at him.

“A fuss? Mingyu, there’s nothing to update. All I got was the third degree about why my boyfriend of ten years can’t commit to anything more. Coming home, I realised her concerns were warranted because you’re still that kid, Mingyu. You wanted to be composed and strong, but even vocalising a future without him hurt you. You need to grow up because I don’t know how long I can keep doing this,” your voice faltered at your last words.

“Wow, why don’t you tell me how you feel?” Mingyu mocked sarcastically, and you knew what he was doing. He was using his pride to cover his hurt, and you hated this quality of his. It made him annoying and standoffish.

“I’m so over this. When you want to grow up and have a conversation like an adult, find me, but I’m taking a nap, and once I’m done, I’ll clean up; don’t bother helping. I’m used to cleaning up your messes for you,” you spat, knowing your words hit Mingyu hard. There is so much venom lacing your comments, piercing Mingyu’s heart.

“The bedroom, you should sleep in the guest room. It’s a mess in our bedroom,” Mingyu mumbled, and you rolled your eyes at him, scoffing.

“Of course it fucking is. What in this house isn’t a mess?” You asked, making Mingyu look down to the ground. You knew you had gone too far, but you had to make him hear you, and sadly, he only heard you when you were like this.

“Whatever, I’m going to take a nap,” you mumbled, not having the energy to fight any longer as sleep started seeping into your bones.

You awoke a couple feeling extraordinarily guilty and groggy, but Mingyu should have known better. You never needed the house to look perfect, but it should have been clean. Or livable, like adults.

You groaned, deciding to get out of bed and shower before starting the housework. At least it’d wake you up a bit. Since you were in the guestroom, you couldn’t find anything else to wear except one of Mingyu’s oversized shirts, and while you wanted to be petty and not put on anything that resembled him, you knew you were taking it too far.

You sighed, putting on his shirt, smiling at you wrapped up in his clothes, taking in his scent. You never told him, but it always felt like he hugged you tightly, keeping you safe whenever you wore his clothes. They were like a security blanket, one you needed desperately because the owner of the clothes lately gave you no assurance about the relationship.

“Mingyu?” You spoke as you stepped out into the hallway and walked into the living room. It was neat, clean, and tidy, and you immediately felt guilty. Mingyu didn’t deserve your harsh words; he would eventually get the job done, but that’s the problem. It was inevitable, and you didn’t know if you could wait any longer.

You walked towards your shared bedroom to find Mingyu fluffing the pillows and jumping slightly when you touched his back, startling him.

“Sorry, you woke up early, nearly done,” Mingyu rambled, and your heart broke when you heard his voice crack and took in his swollen, red eyes and puffy nose.

“Baby,” you cooed, and Mingyu glared at you, jerking away from your touch.

“Don’t call me that. I’m not a fucking kid,” Mingyu spat as he threw the pillow onto the bed and walked over to his side of the bed and sat down, and you crawled onto the bed and sat between his thighs, making him look at you.

“I’m so sorry, I was frustrated,” you apologised, and Mingyu scoffed.

“You used all my insecurities, our past, and the fights we’ve had against me, and that sucked. You called me a kid. You insinuated that I couldn’t keep a household together when I’ve fought tirelessly for us for the past ten years,” Mingyu exclaimed in annoyance, his words making you snap.

“No, you didn’t fight for us; you fought just to have the idea of us, but you got comfortable, but that’s all you’ve ever done. You’ve never taken the next step,” you cried out, and Mingyu groaned.

“You’re insane. I fought, kept up with your life, adjusted mine, and did all that because I love you, but I don’t know what else to do because clearly, nothing I do is enough for you,” Mingyu answered, his voice getting softer.

“You’re right, you did, but you stopped and got comfortable fuck, Mingyu. I don’t know if you see a future with me. You’ve given me no indication,” you started to say, earning a glare from Mingyu.

“What do you want me to propose?” Mingyu asked, making you glare at him.

“Not like this, and not because I forced you,” you added, and Mingyu groaned, getting off the bed and fiddling around in the drawer next to you.

“I was going to do it tonight,” Mingyu admitted calmly as he tossed a black velvet box onto the bed.

“What?” You asked, and Mingyu rolled his eyes at your confused expression.

“I was going to give you forever tonight, but you never fucking wait, do you? You always rush into the future without caring for what you leave behind. You’ve been five steps ahead of me for so long, and forgive me if I slipped up somewhere along the way, but I got tired of running after you when you’re so ready to let go of me,” Mingyu answered tearfully.

Mingyu plopped down on the bed, his back to you, his head hanging low. You could hear him take in shuddered breaths, and your heart broke because you knew you had hurt him this time.

“Mingyu,” you started to say, moving simultaneously to place a hand on his shoulder, making him look at you with teary eyes as he turned around to sit on the edge of the bed to face you.

“I know I’m not everything you want in a partner. I just thought our love would be stronger. That it would conquer everything, that you’d love me harder than our problems? I know I did, but I guess that’s how immature I am because I guess that’s not reality,” Mingyu lamented, and even though you knew his words could be misconstrued to hurt you, that wasn’t the case. He was thinking out loud.

“Mingyu,” you repeated, making him sigh as he moved back to sit against the headboard, patting the space between his thighs again. This time, you moved to sit between them quickly, your hands moving to pull him into a tight embrace.

“I’m so sorry,” you mumbled into Mingyu’s hair as you patted his back, moving as he cried into the embrace.

“For what?” Mingyu mumbled, his voice thick with emotion.

“For ruining a proposal?” Mingyu asked, letting out a dry laugh as he pulled away from the embrace, wiping his tears away and staring at you.

“You didn’t. I guess this fight was bound to happen fuck. I knew we were falling apart, but I foolishly thought that if I ignored our problems or loved you harder, then it’d be okay, we’d be okay,” Mingyu admitted, placing a hand on your cheek and wiping away a tear. You hadn’t realised you were crying until he wiped away the tears.

“But I only did one thing. I only ignored our problems, and I know I only ignored you. I love you more than life, but I failed to show you how much, and now I’m hoping that a shiny ring will fix it all, and I know it won’t,” Mingyu continued to speak, taking a deep breath before speaking.

“I’ve used up all my good graces, that I’m sure of, but can we try? One more time? Please? I don’t think I can let you go, not yet. I don’t think I can ever let you go, but if you give me one more chance, my love. I’ll try, and if it’s over, I’ll let you go. Don’t give up on me,” Mingyu begged, and you nodded.

“Mingyu, I’m so sorry. I should have conveyed my feelings to you in a healthier manner instead of simply yelling. Everything I heard from my mum this weekend was in my mind, and I couldn’t get it out. I just kept going over it, again and again, and I hated it, and I guess I just took it out all on you, and I’m so sorry,” you apologised, cradling his face in your hands.

“No, it’s okay. I think we both saw this fight coming. I guess it’s easier to rip off the bandaid?” Mingyu joked, a sad smile adorning his handsome face.

“I just felt so far away from you, so distant, and I guess when everyone questioned me about the integrity of my relationship. It just annoyed me, and instead of talking to you, I lashed out, and I’m sorry for that,” you apologised, meaning every word.

“I love you; I do. I know I haven’t been good at showing it, fuck, our last date was five months ago,” Mingyu started to say, and you knew he’d begin to spiral if you didn’t shut him up in the best way you knew.

“Mingyu,” you said softly, making him look at you as you inched closer and crawled onto his lap, his hands naturally finding your waist.

“We’ll talk, and we’ll be okay,” you encouraged before placing your lips onto his, making him melt into your touch. His hand moved from your waist to rest on the hem of your shit, well, his shirt, but he didn’t care.

“Fuck,” Mingyu groaned as you moved your lips away from his to latch onto his neck, kissing the soft skin, gently nipping it, leaving faint marks, and running your tongue over the spots you bit.

“Baby, if you keep doing that,” Mingyu started to say as you pulled away from his neck to peel the shirt off your body, leaving you in your underwear.

“I know we have a lot to talk about, and sex isn’t going to fix anything, but I do, for once, want to feel close to you again. I want to be loved by you,” you admitted, and Mingyu nodded, understanding what you meant as he got off the bed and peeled off his clothes.

“You’re so fucking hot,” you blurted out, making Mingyu laugh.

“Ten years and you still think I’m hot?” Mingyu asked, and you smiled fondly at him.

“You’re always the most handsome man to me, doesn’t matter how many years,” you admitted, making Mingyu smile at you.

“Lie down on your back, princess. I need to show you just how much I love you,” Mingyu instructed, and you nodded, quickly adjusting yourself until you were lying down on the bed, head on the pillow, making Mingyu grin at you as he crawled between your legs.

Mingyu leaned forward, wrapping his lip around your nipple while his other hand massaged your other breast. Mingyu moved his mouth to your other breast and flicked and licked your nipples until they were hard.

Mingyu gave them a final flick, earning a whimper from you. “Oh, the sounds you make for me. I like them,” Mingyu praised as he reached for your panties. Mingyu pulled them off and threw them across the room. Mingyu rolled his eyes and parted your legs, and placed a soft kiss on your clit, making you buck your hips into his mouth.

Mingyu ran his tongue along your slit. He wrapped his arms around your thighs, interlocking them at your stomach. Mingyu smirked against your pussy, knowing that he could eat you out for ages in this position, and you wouldn’t be able to move, and all you could do was fall apart on his tongue repeatedly.

This is precisely what Mingyu intended to do as he flicked your clit with his tongue, then wrapped his mouth around your clit, his tongue tracing circles along the swollen nub. Mingyu kept licking you, his pace never faltering, and his rhythm never changing.

“Fucking hell,” you moaned as you threw your head back in pleasure.

“So good,” you praised, making Mingyu smirk, continuing his movements, making you shake in his grip.

“Mingyu,” you cried out in pleasure as you fell apart on his tongue, but Mingyu didn’t stop just because you came. He kept going, sucking on your clit as you rode your orgasm on his tongue.

“Fuck, Mingyu,” you whimpered as he kept licking you, you were sure you were wailing, but you didn’t care.

Not when you were on the precipice of your second orgasm. Your second orgasm hit you harder, and your hands moved to his head as you gently pushed his mouth away from your cunt. Mingyu smiled at you, taking in your fucked out expression.

You sat up abruptly, reaching out to touch his hard cock, but Mingyu stopped you.

“Not tonight. I need to feel you, my love,” he said as he took his cock in his hands and moved to line it up along your pussy.

“Fuck,” you gasped out as he entered you. It had been, so you two had sex, so the stretch was a slight shock but one you’d gladly welcome. “Baby, you’re so tight, fuck,” Mingyu hissed as he pushed in further, making you clench around him immediately. You moaned as Mingyu bent down to pull you into a kiss as he started to thrust into you.

You groaned and babbled nonsense as Mingyu pounded into you, moving his hand down to rub your clit as he fucked you.

“Fuck,” you choked out, holding onto his toned arms.

“Cum, pretty girl,” Mingyu encouraged as his fingers moved faster against your clit, making you shake and tighten on his cock.

You held onto his muscular arms, “cum, baby,” Mingyu spoke breathlessly, making you shake and tighten around him. It felt incredible, making Mingyu groan as you came around him.

“Fuck, fuck,” Mingyu chanted as he pounded into you, groaning as he buried his head between your breasts as he came. Mingyu placed a soft kiss on your lips, slowly pulling out of you.

“That was amazing,” you muttered. Mingyu smiled as he laid down next to you and pulled you into his toned chest,

“I’m not saying this to avoid anything, but I know I skipped every step to make things right,” Mingyu said, pulling away gently from you.

“Look, you’ve had a long journey home and a shitty welcome back. I ordered dinner. It should be here soon. Help yourself. Why don’t we chat tomorrow?” Mingyu offered, and you nodded at him.

Mingyu smiled softly as he moved closer to you and kissed your forehead softly.

“We’ll be okay,” he said with a smile, except you didn’t know if you could believe him.

Despite the mind-blowing sex, you had just opened a bandaid that held in ten years of hurt.

Now it was open. You would have to feel every burn and sting before you two could heal, and what if that wound was too far gone to recover?

What if there was no saving you two?

~~ You Were My Crown ~~

“Morning,” you mumbled to Mingyu the following day when he walked into the kitchen, hair wet, fresh out of the shower, handsome as always.

“Hey,” Mingyu replied, walking over to kiss your forehead, smiling fondly at you as he sighed, sitting down on one of the counters by the kitchen island.

“So, I was thinking that after last night, as amazing as it was, we should talk,” Mingyu said, and you pouted, nodding.

While you did want to just bask in the bliss and romance of last night with him, you knew if you kept pushing your feelings down, then there would be no saving you two, so you decided to sit across from him, making him grin as he placed a business card on your lap.

“A divorce attorney? Hate to break to you, but we aren’t married,” you joked as you picked up the card.

“Oh, couples counselling?” You said aloud, reading the card, and Mingyu nodded at you.

“I got this from one of my Hyung. They said that when they were about almost to call it quits with their partner, they went here, and even if it was painful and made them feel vulnerable, it’s the only thing that kept them together,” Mingyu explained, placing a hand on your knee.

“You think we’re that far gone that we need professional help?” You asked with a dry laugh, and Mingyu shrugged.

“I don’t think we’re too far gone, but we’ve been together for so many years that I don’t think it’d be too shocking if we’re both holding in a lot and not being straight up with each other, at times and I don’t want what happened last night to happen again. I don’t want us holding things in and exploding,” Mingyu answered calmly.

“Even if the sex was amazing,” Mingyu added, making you smile at him.

“Okay, shall we sort out an appointment or what?” You asked, making Mingyu smile sheepishly at you.

“I kind of already sorted a slot out for us. They open early. They got us a slot today at 4 pm. Is that okay?” Mingyu asked, and you nodded at him.

“Should I take it as a good sign that you’re so eager to fix us? Or a bad sign that you’re so ready to vent about me?” You joked, making Mingyu pout at you.

“A good sign; I love you so much, and I’ll be damned if I let you go without a fight,” Mingyu answered.

“Let me go?” You repeated.

“I mean if you want out and realise you deserve better after all this, I guess I’ll let you go,” Mingyu mumbled, unable to look at you. His answering, albeit genuine, made you scoff at him.

“Wow, nice to see your resignation already,” you muttered, making Mingyu sigh deeply.

“I’m not giving up, but tell me you don’t already have one foot out the door?” Mingyu asked, making you baulk at him.

“Why would you even think that?” You asked, and Mingyu rolled his eyes at you, letting out a humourless chuckle.

“You weren’t here, but a gift hamper did arrive from your boss, and while I never snoop, the card was stuck on the hamper. It was a card nudging you to take the plunge and be a manager. Across the world. Might I add? When were you going to tell me?” Mingyu asked, and you sighed.

“You said you didn’t want to hear about work at home, remember?” You fired back, and Mingyu groaned.

“I told you that five months ago when I had just lost my job, I wanted you to be able to speak to me. I don’t want surprises like that,” Mingyu gritted, and you sighed.

“So I’m meant to be able to read your mind?” You asked, and Mingyu shook his head.

“It’d be so much easier, wouldn’t it? You never give me a warning ever. You just fucking blindside me, you did this with this apartment, and you did it with this possible promotion,” Mingyu fumed, making you blink at him.

“Look, can we just save this for the therapist?” Mingyu said, inhaling deeply, and you nodded at him, unable to speak.

The apartment? You thought to yourself. Mingyu was elated when you brandished the new keys three years ago. Just how much had he held in, and for how long?

You were ignoring Mingyu for the rest of the day. Even when he came to get you to go to the therapist’s office, you glared at him, ignoring his outstretched hand, walked past him to your car and waited impatiently for him to get in so you could drive to the therapist’s office.

“Can you at least wait for me to put my seatbelt on? Before you start driving?” Mingyu asked sarcastically, annoyance lacing his words.

“Not my fault you’re fucking slow,” you bit back. You weren’t even sure what you were mad about, the fact that the gift ambushed him and didn’t give you a chance to explain. You felt guilty, and instead of speaking to him about that, you thought it’d be best to mask your hurt with insults.

“So, fucking slow,” Mingyu muttered, buckling himself in, and you started to drive once he was safely fastened.

“So, fucking slow, I’m always behind, aren’t I? I never know what you’re up to, or maybe that’s because you’re too fast,” Mingyu spat out in annoyance.

“I waited for you to put your seatbelt on, right?” You retorted weakly, making Mingyu scoff at you.

“That’s the only time you’ve waited for me, and if killing me wasn’t a crime, then I’m sure you would have driven off without a care for me,” Mingyu fumed, making you cower in your seat.

Is that what he thought of you?

You tried not to let it show. You tried not to let the hurt show, but you couldn’t hold it in once you were in the parking lot of the therapist’s office.

“We can get out, you know?” Mingyu sassed, earning a choked sob from you.

“Is that what you think of me? I’m so busy trying to move ahead that I’d leave you for dead?” You asked, staring at Mingyu; your eyes blurred with tears, and your heart ached at Mingyu’s words.

“Y/N, I’m sorry, I just fuck. I got frustrated,” Mingyu started to say, earning a glare from you.

“I get frustrated too, and you know, especially with you and our situation, but I have never once wished that you were dead. I wish we’d stop fighting and we were on the same page, sure, but dead? Fuck you, Mingyu,” you cried out, making Mingyu frown as he reached over to undo your seatbelt and pulled you across the console onto his lap.

“I hate that you even could think of that. How could you think I would even want you dead?” You asked, smacking your fists childishly against his chest, making him pout as he took your hands into his.

“I’m sorry, I am. I did misspeak. In some shitty way, I feel like if you do ever leave me, then it sure as shit will feel like death,” Mingyu admitted making you frown.

“Why are you so hell-bent on the idea that I will leave you?” You asked, annoyed at his rhetoric, that you’d leave him.

“I don’t know. After last night, the way you lost it, I don’t blame you, but damn, can you blame me. As I said, the way you reacted last night hurt. While I’m not shocked, I can’t deny that it hurt, but that wasn’t an excuse for what I said,” Mingyu answered, and you nodded at him.

“You’re damn right it wasn’t,” you choked out, making Mingyu smile softly at you.

“How’s this when the therapist asks what my downfalls are? I’ll explain that I’m not great at filtering my thoughts?” Mingyu offered, cradling your face, and you pouted, nodding at him.

“No, that’s unnecessary, just don’t say stupid shit like that,” you pouted, and Mingyu nodded, kissing your lips.

“I won’t, I promise. Now shall we go before someone thinks that we’re fucking in the car?” Mingyu asked, a smile creeping onto his handsome face, and you nodded, giggling at him.

“Would that be so bad?” You teased, and Mingyu smiled as he pulled you in for a kiss.

“No, it wouldn’t, but our appointment is in ten minutes, so shall we?” Mingyu asked, and you nodded, placing a final kiss on his lips.

“Let’s go,” Mingyu said, sneaking another kiss as you finally climbed out of the car.

“Please make yourselves comfortable, and Doctor Kwan will be out to see you both in a minute,” the receptionist at the therapist’s office instructed you and Mingyu, and you both nodded before plopping onto the sofa.

“This is so oddly comforting. I mean, the room, I thought it’d be like a doctor’s office, but it has a sofa and tissues and flowers on the wall,” you rambled nervously.

“Yeah, I guess therapists want you to be comfortable, especially when you’re about to be very vulnerable for them,” Mingyu offered lamely, unable to come up with a proper answer. You saw him fidgeting and took his hands in yours.

“Breathe. We’re here to work on ourselves. We’re going to be okay,” you said calmly, not entirely sure if what you said was a lie, but right now, you didn’t care if you had to lie to him. He was too jumpy.

“Mr & Mrs Kim, please accept my apologies. I just wanted to prepare the notes before we begin our session,” Dr. Kwan said as he sat across you two.

“Well, you might want to apologise again. We aren’t married,” Mingyu said with a smile, but his voice had no real humour. You were prepared to ignore Mingyu’s quip until you saw him shoot a glare in your direction.

“Oh, but we would have been, but tell me, Dr Kwan, am I meant to say yes when someone tosses a ring at me?” You shot back, and Mingyu scoffed, letting go of your hand and sinking into the couch.

“We need your help because nothing I do is ever enough for her,” Mingyu spat out, making you groan.

“Well, good to know what I’m walking into, Mr Kim. I should tell you that I most certainly knew you weren’t married. Often, couples hide their pain from their therapists, pretend it’s all good, and then tear each other apart behind closed doors. It was, hmm, call it a trick? This way, I can understand how temperamental and fragile this situation and I can provide and facilitate a safe space for you, too,” Dr Kwan explained, making Mingyu glare at him.

“So, you made me insult my girlfriend for science?” Mingyu mocked, and you sighed.

“No, he just pushed a button that I’d push, and you’d do the same behind closed doors, too, so instead of embarrassing me further, can you please shut up and let him work?” You asked curtly.

“Okay, let me set a few ground rules before I get to work,” Dr Kwan started to say as Mingyu shot you a sad look. You immediately felt bad for snapping at him, but you couldn’t forget how ridiculous he was.

“Y/N, is it okay to address you by your first name?” Dr Kwan asked. You nodded.

“Mr Kim, is it okay to address you as Mingyu?” Dr Kwan asked, looking at Mingyu, and he hummed in response.

“Perfect,” Dr Kwan said, leaning back.

“As I was saying, rules. While I’m giving you guys a safe space to work things through, you must also be committed to ensuring this space stays safe. I appreciate anger, annoyance and frustration, but snarky, underhanded digs will not be tolerated or helped. Telling the other to shut up won’t help either. You can disagree and provide your perspective, but you will not interrupt or ignore each other and talk over one another. Can we agree to that?” Dr Kwan asked, staring at you both, and you nodded immediately.

“Good, now, let’s start. What made you fall in love with Mingyu?” Dr Kwan asked, immediately jumping into the session. You found it a little unorthodox but liked that he didn’t waste time with small talk.

“We started dating in high school, months before graduation. He was a kind guy, and while he could have fit the bill of a stereotypical jock, he didn’t. He was humble, kind and grounded. I guess he was a jock with a heart,” you smiled softly, recalling that Mingyu was indeed just that.

“He and I were paired up for a project, and I guess after we got our grades, I gave him a big hug, and somehow that hug turned into a kiss, and I guess, ten years later, here we are, in therapy,” your sweet tone fading and turning into a biter tone as you looked at the floor.

“See, this is what she does, thinks of something nice and then fucks it up by following it up with some realistic bullshit. You were doing so well just reminiscing, and you couldn’t just stick to it?” Mingyu asked, his voice rising.

“Another rule, no yelling,” Dr Kwan warned, making Mingyu groan.

“She never lets us be happy long enough. She must always bring up something that kills the moment,” Mingyu added bitterly.

“Then why are you with me if I’m such a killjoy?” you taunted, making Mingyu wipe away a tear.

“Because I fucking love you because you’re so amazing and sure you’re persistent. The need to always think about the future is a pain. But I’m okay with it because I assumed I was part of that future, but I’m not sure if I still am recently,” Mingyu mumbled, making you groan.

“You two need to hit reset. There’s a lot here, I want to see you both separately and together, but I need you two to try something for now. Throughout therapy, we will uncover a lot, a lot of love that you two have for each other, but we will also uncover a lot of pain and hurt, and I don’t want either of you not to have a space to cry it out, so can I suggest that for the next three months, we try something?” Dr Kwan offered, and you both nodded.

“Anything to save us,” Mingyu mumbled, and you scooched over closer to him, placing your hand on his thigh, making him smile sweetly at you.

“Ten years is a long time, and sometimes, you become accustomed to each other, which is wonderful, but it also means you hold in a lot. Anger, resentment and hurt, but because you’ve been together so long, you often suppress these emotions and hope they’ll go away, but they don’t. Instead, they linger like bad perfume, and it gets too much, and that’s where you two are now. I can see you are trying your best to hold onto the relationship, but you’re also scared, to be honest, for fear that it’ll go away, so here’s what I suggest,” Dr Kwan explained, pausing to take a sip of his water.

“So, here’s what I propose, separate bedrooms for the next three months. You two can talk and kiss and be cuddly, but no sex because sex, as good as it may be, undoes a lot of the work, so if you two slip up, I won’t be mad, but it’s more work on your end. This process will take a lot out of you both, therapy, and it’s going to be new adjusting to a new dynamic, but it’s to allow you both a safe space to vent and to be you two have been with each other you’ve lost yourselves along the way, it’s time to find what you two are as individuals before you two can be a couple again,”

“We never broke up. You know that, right?” Mingyu said, glaring at Dr. Kwan.

“I’m aware, but you two are also just holding on, and I’m guessing that’s not enough?” Dr Kwan challenged, and Mingyu huffed out.

“So, what we move out? Or one of us does?” Mingyu asked, continuing to glare at Dr. Kwan.

“We have three bedrooms; we can just separate our stuff. We can each move into one of them for now,” you suggested, placing a hand on Mingyu’s thigh and making him look at you with sad eyes.

“I just, I get that this is therapy, but why does it feel like you’re making us break up before we even have a chance,” Mingyu answered sadly, making you smile softly at him.

“I’m telling you two to hit reset. You both need a fresh start, not away from each other, but you two need a break,” Dr Kwan answered softly, and Mingyu sighed, nodding.

“It’s three months, and we will evaluate every week. Is that good?” Dr. Kwan asked, and you nodded, noticing that Mingyu nodded slowly.

“Three months, and we’ll be, okay?” Mingyu asked, turning to face you.

“Yeah, we will,” you answered, unsure if you two would be, but you had to try.

You had to try for him.

For you. ~~ I’m Not Your Problem Anymore ~~

“So, that went well?” Mingyu said slowly, making you roll your eyes at his words as you kept driving.

“The digs, the underhanded comments, you think that went well?” You asked, and Mingyu frowned.

“You weren’t exactly a saint either,” Mingyu mumbled, and you sighed deeply.

“Can we deal with this once we get home? I don’t fancy fighting while I’m driving,” you asked, and Mingyu hummed in response as he stared out the window, trying to pinpoint where it all went wrong.

“Talk,” Mingyu practically demanded the minute you shut the front door behind you.

“Why the hell are you speaking to me like that?” You asked, and Mingyu groaned as he kicked off his shoes before sitting on the couch.

“You said some shitty things, and while I admit so did I, you acted like a child,” you started to say, stopping when you saw Mingyu’s hardened expression.

“What is it with you calling me a child? May I remind you that we’re the same age?” Mingyu asked, glaring at you.

“Then act like a fucking adult, you don’t talk, you lash out, and you just hope that love fixes everything, but it doesn’t. It’s not enough to keep two people together when they’re breaking apart,” you exclaimed, frustrated at yourself for being unable to maintain your calm and at him for never being realistic.

“You always said that love will keep us together, that our love was stronger than anything out there. What happened to that girl? What happened to the girl who made wishes upon stars, kissed me goodnight, and hugged me whenever I was down? I fell in love with her,” Mingyu lamented, making your heart drop.

“So, you don’t love me anymore?” You whispered, afraid of his answer.

“I do, my love, but I’m just not sure you do,” Mingyu said, moving to wipe away a tear that fell down your cheek.

“Why do you keep suggesting that?” You asked, shrugging his touch off, making him pout.

“Well, you just moved away from my touch, in general, over, I don’t know, the last two years you’ve been in the future, and you’ve left me in the dust; you left me all alone. I mean, hell, I was the happiest when you told me you wanted to move in with me, but you didn’t even bother asking me to view a place. You just got the keys and showed up at my doorstep. Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful, but it always felt like you’d cut me out of the process whenever you could,” Mingyu explained, his eyes getting glossy.

“I know you wouldn’t intentionally make me feel unwanted, but that’s what it felt like. I felt like an understudy, waiting in the wings for you to consider my opinion,” Mingyu said.

“I didn’t know,” you said lamely, and Mingyu nodded.

“You wouldn’t, I never told you, and you’re not a mind reader, nor do I expect you to be. It would have been nice to know that you still cared for me even if everything went bad. Hell, the night I lost my job, you just kissed me and told me it’d be alright, and I get it, it’s a hard thing to comfort someone about, but my love, you didn’t even try, and granted, I’m sure there have been moments where I haven’t done my bit. Still, we were the couple that annoyed others with how mushy we were and how much we adored each other. Now it just feels like we tolerate each other,” Mingyu finished standing up, and you stood up and reached for his wrist, making him turn around to look at you.

“Can you not walk away?” You asked, not a shred of anger in your voice. You just wanted to hear him.

“I’m not. I am, however, getting some wine because I think we’ll need it,” Mingyu replied, pulling you into his chest and placing the softest kiss on your forehead.

“Okay, so let’s talk,” you said, not wasting a second as Mingyu returned to the couch with two glasses of wine.

“You waste no time, do you?” Mingyu asked, chuckling, and you shrugged.

“I’d rather fix us sooner than later,” you commented, and Mingyu shrugged.

“Don’t good things take time? Besides, this isn’t something you can rush; didn’t you always tell me that patience is a virtue and that all good things take time?” Mingyu mumbled as he sipped his wine, making you glare at him.

“What is with you and reminding me of everything I once did? Is that what you want? The ‘old’ me? The one you fell in love with ten years ago?” You snapped, making Mingyu frown.

“You keep missing the point, I don’t yearn for the ‘old’ you, but I yearn for your love. It just seems like you’re putting up with me. I only remember the ‘old’ you because no matter how much we fought, I at least knew that you loved me,” Mingyu mumbled, making you frown at him.

“Don’t fix it by saying that you love me. I know you do, but I wonder if you’re still in love me because that’s a big difference. I mean, some I know you do, but other days I feel like I’m watching you, unsure if I fit anywhere in your life, but what scares me most is that I’m not so sure I fit in your heart any longer,” Mingyu admitted taking a deep breath, before looking at you with teary eyes.

“Can you tell me when I’ve hurt you? I’m sure it must have been many times with how you feel, but maybe the most recent example?” You asked, unsure how to respond to the fact that Mingyu poured his heart out to you, and all you could do was make him relive a moment where you had hurt him.

“Not hearing about the promotion, that sucked, like I had to find out because of a present. Why didn’t you tell me?” Mingyu asked, nothing but hurt and genuine curiosity etching his features.

“I guess when you told me you didn’t want to hear about work, I just stopped telling you. I didn’t want to make you upset,” you admitted lamely.

“My love, I got over being let go. If I’m not wrong, I said that once, and a month later, I remember being fine and asking you to tell me about work and the hardships or the bad days at work, but you never did. You decided you wouldn’t share that part of your life with me. While I can understand why you thought I would continue holding a grudge, do you think I’d hold it until it broke us in two?” Mingyu asked, and you shrugged.

“Would you have taken the job?” Mingyu asked, and you shrugged.

“I don’t know,” you admitted, and Mingyu nodded at you.

“Well, for what it’s worth, I’m over it, and if it’s something that’s in the past, I’m okay never to bring it up again,” Mingyu offered, and you smiled at him.

“I’d like that a lot,” you answered.

“I acted out of line with what I said in the car, and you’re right. I did act like a kid at the therapist’s office, but it’s just when it comes to the idea of possibly even losing you? Then my ability to think straight and act rationally goes to shit because there’s nothing rational about love, but you find that balance, and I’m willing to work on myself but wait for me? While I try and catch up?” Mingyu asked, making your lips tremble, and your tears fall.

“I think for so long,” you started to say, pausing to wipe your tears away.

“For so long, I thought you didn’t care. I thought you got comfortable, wanted to leave, or be comfortable enough to stay but not be with me. So I kept pushing on with my life because I didn’t think you wanted me to be in your future,” you admitted, staring into the wine glass.

“Y/N, you and I. I guess we’ve both been living in different tenses. I’ve been too busy reminiscing our past, and you’ve been running into the future. It’s left our present a fucking shit show,” Mingyu observed, making you giggle at his description.

“Let’s try? I want you to have the most amazing future, but can I ask you to slow down? Ever so slightly? To let me find my footing. I want to catch up with you so we can have a future. Together?” Mingyu asked, pulling you closer to him.

“I can, and I’m sorry,” you apologised, and Mingyu shook his head.

“It’s okay, from here on out, what we’ve both done, it’s forgotten and forgiven these next three months. Let us make a real go at this? At fixing us?” Mingyu asked, and you smiled in agreement.

Mingyu grinned, pulling you into the softest kiss ever.

“I know we are meant to separate rooms and all that, but can I just have you in my arms tonight?” Mingyu asked, kissing your forehead, and you nodded at him.

You agreed because you didn’t know what the next three months would bring about, so for tonight, you just wanted to lay in his arms and forget the hurt and the reality because you’d never admit it like Mingyu would. Still, the thought of living in a world where he was no longer yours was enough to make you break your heart into a million pieces.

“We’ll be okay,” you mumbled into Mingyu’s chest as he held you, and he responded with a kiss on your forehead.

You frowned into the embrace. You just hoped it would come true if you said something repeatedly.

If you kept saying that you and Mingyu would be okay, you would be. ~~ Balancing on Breaking Branches ~~

“Moving day, huh?” Mingyu joked, making you grin slightly at him.

“Barely, we’re just diving up rooms and our stuff. It’s just three months,” you answered as you walked over to your closet and mentally sorted out what articles you wanted to take.

“Actually, you can just stay in this room. Besides, I don’t have much stuff anyway, just some clothes and my computer has always been in a separate room,” Mingyu offered, and you smiled at him.

“Thanks, it’d be a nightmare if you made me move all my things out,” you laughed, making Mingyu smile.

“Besides, it’s all temporary, three months, and I’m back to cuddling you every night and sleeping,” Mingyu smiled.

“What are you smiling about?” You asked Mingyu as he grinned to himself, looking around the room.

“Just kind of thinking how we broke into this room and every other room and surface in this apartment,” Mingyu said casually, a blush creeping onto his face as he recalled the memories, making you smile shyly.

“Sex in every corner of the house. I still can’t believe we did it in a storage closet, of all things,” you recalled, smiling but shaking your head at how you and Mingyu had really come through on the idea of breaking into every part of the house.

“But the sex was pretty good, wasn’t it? A tighter space meant that I had to hold you closer to me and fuck you harder,” Mingyu teased, his voice low, dangerous and teasing.

“Mingyu,” you warned, unable to keep the smile off your face, as you moved away from the closet and sat on the bed.

“Besides, I’m just recalling fond memories, especially when we have a sex ban placed on us for three months,” Mingyu explained with a pout, making you smile.

“Anyways, do you know where I keep my phone charger? I usually use yours, so,” Mingyu trailed off, and you nodded at him, knowing that he never bothered because you were always there, and it just wouldn’t be the same for the next three months.

“Yeah, this drawer,” you gestured to the bedside table beside you. Mingyu nodded, rummaging through the drawer, and you noticed he kept searching for a while.

“Did you not find your charger?” You asked, turning to face him, your eyes widening when you saw what he held in his hand.

“Mingyu,” you started to say, making him smirk at you.

“Is that what I think it is?” Mingyu asked, and you groaned, cursing yourself. Mingyu walked over and grabbed the device.

“A vibrator in plain sight?” Mingyu teased.

“Can you give it back?” You groaned, and Mingyu grinned at you.

“Is this the one we bought and took with us on our trip to Bali? Where you couldn’t get enough of me?” You gulped, and you felt your mouth water.

“Not my fault you were shirtless for the entire trip. It’s hard to behave when you look like that,” you huffed out as Mingyu walked back to the bed with the vibrator in his hand.

“So I’m hot?” Mingyu asked with a smirk.

“You know you are,” you mumbled, and you knew you were about to undo all the therapist’s work with your one movement, but you couldn’t help yourself.

Not when Mingyu was looking at you like that, wetting his lips as he caressed the vibrator in his hand.

“Oh, do I?” Mingyu asked, making you glare.

Instead of answering, you grabbed him by his shirt, pulling him into you. Mingyu pulled you into a kiss and pushed you down, one hand moving to your jeans and undoing them.

You kicked off your jeans and panties, and Mingyu’s knuckles met with your wet folds.

“You’re soaking wet,” Mingyu muttered against your lips, and you nodded.

“Wait,” Mingyu instructed as he pulled your shirt off,

“Beautiful,” he praised as he took in your nude state.

“Pretty,” Mingyu muttered, moving his mouth along your body as he ran the vibrator along your folds.

“Fuck,” you hissed as the cold metal touched your swollen cunt. Mingyu pushed two fingers into you and switched on the vibrator. You felt your eyes roll back as he started thrusting his fingers in and out of you. While the vibrator constantly pulsated against your clit.

“Fucking hell,” you groaned, grabbing his muscular forearm.

“Good girl, you take my fingers so well,” Mingyu moaned, praising you as you fell apart under his touch. You let out whimpers, biting your lips to stop yourself from screaming in pleasure.

“Fuck,” you groaned, and Mingyu smirked at you, pulling his fingers out of you and bringing them to his lips.

“Can’t we just, I guess, call that goodbye sex? Or something,” Mingyu asked as he stared at your fucked out expression.

“We could, but I think we need to tell our therapist,” you breathed, making him pout, “as good as that felt, we just took a few steps back,” you added, making Mingyu sigh as he leaned over to kiss you.

“Three months, and we’ll be okay,” Mingyu claimed before placing another kiss on your lips.

“This is just a little mistake. You wanted to honour his wish, but you also knew that lying would do you two no good. No need to tell the therapist,” Mingyu repeated, making you nod slowly at him.

So, you did what was right.

“Okay, Y/N, what you did wasn’t odd or unusual. Maybe couples slip up, especially when it comes to sex and trying not to have it, and I get it. You two have been together for ages. Giving up sex isn’t easy, nor exactly is it meant to be,” Dr Kwan clarified, but you couldn’t help but feel like you were undoing everything.

“You’re human. It’s normal to slip up, but being honest and working from that is important,” Dr Kwan added. You nodded.

“Well, still, I’m sorry,” you apologised, making Mingyu scoff.

“You kissed me; may I remind you that? So, stop acting like you’re wronged or something. You make me sound like a dick,” Mingyu spat out, and you were about to respond when Dr. Kwan cleared his throat, stopping you.

“Well, Mingyu, you might have just given us the material for our first session. When do you two think it all went wrong? Between you both? Mingyu, I’d like to hear from you, and then you, Y/N,” Dr. Kwan suggested.

“Y/N’s been gifted, so good at everything she does, and I guess I’ve gone with the flow, but being an adult in this unforgiving world, that’s not enough. Not even, and it seemed like every time she was successful or achieved something, it made me feel smaller and like I wasn’t enough,” Mingyu rambled, making you look at him.

“I know she never did it on purpose, but that’s how I felt, and I guess I stopped trying to be better for her because it always seemed like she was too far away for me to catch up to, and so I was just happy being in her life, as a spectator,” Mingyu finished letting out a deep exhale.

“I don’t begrudge her for succeeding. I wished that sometimes she could look away from the blinding lights of success to notice me, just for a second at least,” Mingyu added, shrugging.

“Did you ever wish for her success to go away?” Dr. Kwan asked, and Mingyu shook his head.

“Never, I only wished that maybe I could do half of what she did, maybe then I’d be enough for her, but I know that’s not what she ever thought, but I internalised her success as a sign of my failures,” Mingyu answered.

“Y/N, is there anything you’d like to add?” Dr. Kwan asked.

“I don’t know what to say. I didn’t realise he felt like that,” you answered lamely.

You didn’t realise that Mingyu felt the way he did. He was always so guarded with his response and just quiet and silently supported you no matter what you did.

“I never told her to be fair,” Mingyu interjected, and you sighed at him.

“I can’t read your mind. How do you expect me to understand if you don’t tell me something?” You asked, and Mingyu stared at you in disbelief.

“The way I read your mind about a proposal?” Mingyu asked, and you groaned.

“Okay, you two, we need to hit pause. There’s too much here to not cause a massive fight,” Dr. Kwan said, interrupting you two.

“She didn’t even tell me that she got an opportunity for a promotion or anything. She keeps so much to herself and then gets mad when I can’t read her mind,” Mingyu added, and you sat in annoyance, but you stayed quiet, knowing that he wasn’t wrong with his judgements.

“I lost my job five months ago, and since then, she’s never really told me about her success and in her defence, I did tell her not to talk about it, but I know that after a week or so, I told her that it was okay, but she just kept everything to herself,” Mingyu added.

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” you started to say, turning to face Mingyu.

“I know you said it was okay, but you always put others before you, and I didn’t want to be another reason for you to suppress how you felt,” you explained, placing your hand on his, and he responded in kind, moving his hand to lace them with yours.

“I see that love is not lost between you two. You need to figure out how to communicate. In a relationship as long as yours, it’s easy to assume that the other party knows or should know. Still, the truth is, all the familiarity and knowledge in the world is never enough to predict how humans will behave,” Dr. Kwan said wisely.

“I went to visit my mum; the night before, we had a huge fight which led us here; she kept pushing and asking if something was wrong with us because it had been ten years, and there was no proposal. So, I kept trying to diffuse the situation, but unfortunately, her words sowed a seed of insecurity in me. I lost it and snapped at Mingyu, which caused him to reveal the fact that he was going to, in fact, propose to me that night,” you rambled, explaining what you thought was the final breaking point.

“I see, Y/N. Mingyu, is being married something you two have always wanted to be? Or is that something that you two have never discussed?” Dr. Kwan asked.

“We discussed it, I think, after our first year together. Mingyu brought it up,” you recalled, smiling at you fondly and starting to explain the memory. ~~

Nine years ago

“In my defence, their vows were touching, and that’s why I ended up crying like a baby,” Mingyu defended, making you laugh as you wiped his teary eyes and kissed his red nose.

You both were in the powder room, helping Mingyu look more presentable after he cried his eyes out at your cousin and her husband exchanging their vows.

“But I also started to imagine, what if it was us up there? One day? Look, I always found weddings boring in the past because I was like fuck this. I’m always watching other people find their ‘happily ever after,’ but I have wanted that for us since you came into my life. Our happily ever after,” Mingyu declared, making you smile at him, your eyes holding but love and fondness for your boyfriend.

“Okay, I know we’re only 19 and legit, maybe way too young to decide the future now, but I know this for sure, regardless of when that moment happens. I just know that there is no one else I want to spend the rest of my life with; only you complete me, and a life without you, well shit, that’s just miserable, isn’t it?” Mingyu spoke, making you swoon at him.

“How’d I get so lucky?” You asked as you pulled him into a soft kiss, making him smile into the kiss.

“I think it’s me. I’m the lucky one,” Mingyu mused.

“How about we’re both lucky?” You added, and Mingyu smiled.

“Lucky to have found a love like this; yeah, we’re pretty fucking lucky,” Mingyu agreed as he pulled you into another kiss.

“Huh?” You asked as you felt Mingyu’s fingers on your face and realised he was wiping away your tears.

“It was so much easier, and I just want that back,” you cried, and Mingyu, out of instinct, moved closer, pulling you in closer to him.

“Y/N, you two were younger, and the world is kinder to two kids in love than adults in love. Nothing like taxes, societal expectations, or work threatens the tenderness and beauty of love. Still, with patience and dedication to fix the relationship, you can get through it, and it doesn’t seem like Mingyu wants anything else but the same thing as you,” Dr Kwan explained, making you smile through the tears and placing a kiss to Mingyu’s cheek, making him blush.

“I’ll schedule you two for a week later, but let’s keep up the same routine. No sex and kisses are fine, but keep it to that. When you two filled out the form, I think you mentioned that your first date was at a dive bar? Why don’t you two, over the weekend, go to one, not as a date, but go and maybe rekindle the memories, remind yourselves that the pain of therapy is worth it,” Dr. Kwan suggested, and you both nodded.

“We can do that,” Mingyu answered, and you smiled at him.

Maybe this is why you two needed someone to guide you both through all the pain, and today felt like a breakthrough, and perhaps that’s what you both just needed, someone to help you get through the shitty parts to get to the good part.

You two weren’t broken but bent, and someone needed to straighten you out.

“We can. We can be okay again,” you mumbled, but you knew Mingyu heard it with the way he squeezed your hand softly.

“We will,” he whispered in your ear.

~~ Never Learned to Read My Mind ~~

You and Mingyu really did try hard. The kisses were kept to a minimum, almost so much that Mingyu got frustrated with you. He eventually pouted enough one evening. It ended up in you two having a thirty-minute make-out session.

“We shouldn’t,” you mumbled as you continued to kiss him.

“See, you say that, but you’re kissing me,” Mingyu replied, moving his lips away to speak, only to place them back on yours within a second.

“Mingyu,” you warned, pulling away and making him sigh at you.

“Fine, but can you blame me? This is the first time you and I have spoken and kissed in two weeks, and no, that goodnight kiss three nights ago doesn’t count. I just get that Dr. Kwan said we should try to find ourselves and all that, but it feels like you’re acting like we’ve already broken up or something,” Mingyu admitted, frowning.

“I’m giving us space to grow,” you defended, and Mingyu nodded.

“I get that, but shouldn’t it foster an environment of encouragement? The space you’ve created is cold and uninviting, like hell. Your room door is always closed,” Mingyu added, making you pull away from his touch and sit next to him instead of on him.

“I’m working, Mingyu. I don’t have as much free time as you, so forgive me if I want some peace and quiet while I work,” you sassed, and Mingyu pouted.

“Free time? You mean unemployed?” Mingyu joked, but you glared at him.

“Stop putting words in my mouth. You know that’s not what I meant to say,” you huffed, and Mingyu nodded.

“Okay, forget it. I only say that because I wanted to show you something the other day, and your door was closed,” Mingyu explained, and you nodded at him.

“So, show me now?” You suggested, and Mingyu nodded, pulling up yet another photo he took of a cake that served as inspiration–he’d been taking pictures of cakes, cookies and many other baked goods for the last few months, telling you it was for something unique. Still, to you, it just seemed like he was building up his ‘cakes I like’ Pinterest board.

“See?” Mingyu asked excitedly.

“What am I meant to be seeing? Another cake? All you do is take pictures of the cake. Where is this going?”

“You could have bothered to ask more about it instead of dismissing it entirely. I don’t dismiss things that excite you,” Mingyu mumbled.

“Fine, show me,” you asked, and Mingyu shook his head at you.

“No, because you’re asking because you feel bad, not because you care, forget it. You’re right it’s just cake. How would you notice? How would you notice when you haven’t noticed anything about me in the last few months?” Mingyu spoke, making you groan in frustration.

“Sorry, that was unnecessary. Look after work tomorrow. I made reservations at a dive bar for us, I’ll send you a location, and you can head over after work?” Mingyu asked, and you nodded at him.

“Night,” Mingyu mumbled, kissing your cheek as he got up and sulked as he walked to his room.

You felt terrible. Since when did you stop caring about the little things, especially him? He was always doing much more, but you didn’t know why. It never felt like it was enough for you.

“Hey!” Mingyu greeted you the following evening as you approached him at the dive bar.

“This place is quite nice,” you commented, and Mingyu nodded.

“Are you drinking?” Mingyu asked, and you shook your head.

“I drove here,” you replied, and Mingyu pouted.

“Let me drive and have a drink. I have a scratchy throat, so I can’t really drink,” Mingyu offered, and you looked at him in shock.

“When did you get a cold?” You asked, had you really been so unkind and caring to not even ask your boyfriend if he was unwell.

“Nah, just a tickle, don’t worry, I got meds, and I’m on the mend,” Mingyu added, ushering you away, and you frowned at him but decided against pushing further.

You were glad you were tipsy, but you weren’t exactly happy at the scene unfolding in front of you an hour later.

A random girl decided to approach Mingyu to gush about how handsome he was and how incredible his biceps were and even went so far as to trace his arms, and that was it: you saw red.

You hated how he didn’t stop her, either. Instead, he giggled and flexed a bit more.

“Miss, do you always with other people’s boyfriends?” You spat out, and the girl stepped back in fear upon hearing the venom in your voice.

“No, oh my god, I’m so sorry. You just didn’t look like you were his girlfriend. You just sat there, far away from him, and you two barely spoke, so I thought it was okay to appreciate it, but I’m so sorry,” the girl apologised, but you couldn’t help your anger.

“So even then, you just flirt with anyone you see?” You asked, embarrassing the girl, and Mingyu turned to face you with a hardened expression, apologising to the girl first.

“What the hell was that?” Mingyu

“Home, now,” you answered, and Mingyu sighed as he paid for the bill while you stormed out of the bar.

You stormed into the house, and Mingyu followed you into your room. You saw red. There was no other colour in the world, only red. You couldn’t believe Mingyu giggled and smiled at the girl like he did.

The way he would with you.

“That was so uncalled for,” Mingyu started to say, making you whip your head to look at him. Your eyes were red and watery, and Mingyu immediately wanted to put the fight to bed and hold you in his arms.

Mingyu mentally slapped himself, but all he did was laugh and smile at the girl. She complimented him, and for a second, he lost his mind and indulged because it had been so long since he felt good about himself. So long since someone called him handsome, and hell, you stopped acting like you were interested in him, but it was wrong and stupid, and he caused you to cry.

“Right, me telling a girl to back off my man is wrong and pushing her away was uncalled for? Did you like it then? The way her tits pressed up against your chest. Is that why you didn’t pull away when she wrapped her arm around yours? Would you have backed away if I didn’t push her away, or would you have gone home with her?” You accused, ranting and firing away accusations at Mingyu, who paused to frown at you, but he knew he didn’t have a reason to defend himself.

“I’m sorry I didn’t stop her, but I would have never cheated. I just got caught up in the attention, it has been so long since you ever showed me any affection, and I liked it, thinking that, oh, I don’t know, at least I’m not chopped fucking liver,” Mingyu fired back, making you shrink.

“You couldn’t tell me that? You had to get some leggy chick to get your validation?” You asked, your voice trembling.

“You don’t make it easy to speak to you. You’ve taken this ‘break’ so seriously that I feel like you’re just practising for the real thing. Last week, I got a new cookbook, and. In the past, you’d always be excited to see if I could replicate any recipes, but now? You didn’t even care to see it. I got a new shirt for our date night, and you didn’t compliment me. I’m not saying I need to be coddled, but you act like my presence is a bother, so forgive me if I wanted to seek out someone’s compliments because you know what? I can’t recall the last time you ever said I was good at anything,” Mingyu scoffed, making you standstill.

“You have so many cookbooks; how is it different from the dozens you have? How was I meant to notice just one?” You asked, and Mingyu stared at you.

“That’s not the point. Whenever I want to share anything with you, you act like it’s the biggest inconvenience or you don’t care. Either way, it doesn’t make me feel good about myself,” Mingyu sputtered out, his anger bubbling, and he knew he had to stop this fight before he said something he regretted.

“Look, we’ve both had a lot to drink. Maybe we should talk about this later?” Mingyu offered, as he tried to guide you to the bed, to help you sleep so you wouldn’t continue this drunken rant.

“So, you entertained her because she gave you attention, or was she prettier?” You asked, immediately feeling your eyes well up. You tried not to break in front of him. He was the one flirting with another woman, not you, but you couldn’t help how insecure it all made you.

Was he done with you? Was this his subtle way of telling you he wouldn’t care?

“Hey, no, don’t you dare,” Mingyu interrupted your thoughts as he cradled your face.

“No one is more perfect than you. I’m sorry for giving in to the attention. No matter how bad we are, it’s not an excuse,” Mingyu explained as he wiped away the tears that fell down his face.

“But she noticed what I didn’t. Maybe deep down, that’s all you want, and I wish I were better for you,” you replied tearfully, making Mingyu’s heart ache with how you tore yourself apart.

“Mingyu!” You squeaked when you felt him carry you and sit on the bed.

“Take this off,” you mumbled, pointing to his shirt, and you stared at him for a second as he peeled his shirt off.

You leaned down to kiss his shoulder, then another, until you reached his neck.

“Y/N, baby, you’re drunk,” Mingyu groaned, trying to suppress a moan, hoping his body wouldn’t betray him as he melted under your touch.

“We’ve had sex drunk before. I’m pretty sure our first time was when we were both drunk,” you spoke as you moved to kiss his jaw, making him wrap his arms around your waist.

“Baby,” Mingyu groaned as his hands moved to rest above your ass.

“Hm?” You asked, looking at him, pausing before your lips connected with his.

“Let me show you just how much I love you,” Mingyu said, giving in to your touch as he stood up and swiftly placed you on the bed. Mingyu usually would at least take some time peeling your clothes off, unravelling each bit of your body to him, but he couldn’t wait tonight.

“So fucking pretty,” Mingyu praised as he laid between your thighs, your dripping cunt at his face.

Mingyu slowly moved his finger inside you, “do you want to cum? You’re already clenching my finger so nicely, baby,” Mingyu praised as he rolled his thumb over your clit. You nodded. Mingyu pulled his finger out of you, making you whine.

Mingyu smirked at you before latching his lips onto your clit.

“Fuck,” you moaned at the contact.

“Mingyu, wait, stop,” you said, making him sit up immediately.

“Did I go too far?” Mingyu asked, worrying, lacing his handsome features. You shook your head and moved your foot to his growing bulge.

“Please fuck me, just I need you,” you begged, and Mingyu wasted no time in peeling off his clothes and positioning himself between your legs and pushing into you, making you moan and hiss at the stretch.

Mingyu placed your legs on either side of his shoulder. He pushed in and fucked you hard and deep. His pace was relentless, and you whimpered at his pace.

“Fuck, Y/N, baby, I’m so sorry, but I need to cum,” Mingyu moaned as he pounded into you.

“It’s okay, fuck me, Mingyu.”

Mingyu removed your legs from your shoulder and flipped you onto your hands and knees. He pushed into you, his hands gripping your hips. You nearly collapsed at how deep he was hitting inside you.

“Fuck, more, please. Mingyu.” He bit down on your shoulder then kissed and ran his tongue over the area.

“Fuck, fuck,” Mingyu cursed as he came inside you, moaning as his cum filled you. You felt him flip you over again, his mouth latching onto your cunt again, licking and cleaning you, making you cum again in the process, and you pushed his head away gently as you came again.

“No more baby, too sensitive,” you moaned, making Mingyu smile sweetly as he placed a soft kiss on your trembling pussy.

“Wait, stay, please,” you asked, pouting at him, making him smile.

“I will. I was just going to clean you up properly and give you a shirt. You always get cold after sex,” Mingyu said, making you smile.

“Stay here,” Mingyu said, kissing your forehead as he headed out to grab you a shirt. He returned with a wet towel and gently pressed it against your throbbing pussy, smirking at your reaction.

A few minutes later, you were clean and dressed in one of his shirts.

You were already nodding when Mingyu’s arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you into his chest. Mingyu moved his hand under your shirt and placed his arm around your waist.

You moaned softly as he drew small circles into your skin. You gently pushed his arm away and turned to bury your face in his chest, making him smile.

“I love you,” Mingyu mumbled, and you weren’t entirely sure if you heard it, but for a while, you didn’t mind falling asleep in his arms, pretending that you two were alright.

~~ I Think I’ve Seen This Film Before ~~

“So, you two had a fight and fixed it with sex,” Dr Kwan summarised, and you and Mingyu looked to the ground.

“Look, we’re barely three months into this, and while I like that you both love each other enough to be intimate, it seems like you use sex as a coping mechanism to put actual issues on the back burner until they inevitably blow up in your face,” Dr Kwan added.

“It was a misunderstanding,” Mingyu defended.

“A series of misunderstandings has brought you two here, and right now, you two are giving in too quickly,” Dr Kwan added.

“Maybe three months is too long. Can we try a month, no intimacy, nothing, please? Then we can revisit this issue?” Dr Kwan suggested, and you both nodded.

“Dr Kwan, can I request one thing, though? Can I ask that my lovely girlfriend and I go for one more date, like a proper one, the way we used to be before we tried the full-on ‘break’ thing?” Mingyu asked, and Dr. Kwan nodded.

“Y/N?” Dr Kwan asked, and you shrugged.

“I don’t see why not,” you answered, making Mingyu smile, and you noticed how his smile reached his eyes for the first time in so long.

“We’re here!” Mingyu announced as he parked the car outside a carnival, helped you out of the car, and held your hand like he always did, complimenting you from home to the carnival gates.

“It’s crazy empty?” You asked him, and he smiled.

“It opens next week, but I pulled a few strings; I wanted to enjoy this with you and only you,” Mingyu admitted, a blush creeping onto his face, making you smile at him.

“Shall we?” He asked you nodded.

He took you to nearly every booth, and with each new game, your smile grew, as did his. You didn’t think it was possible to fall in love with him all over again, but here was proving you wrong.

“Hey, you okay?” Mingyu waved his hand in front of your face. You were both finally back in the car after a night of kisses, jokes and games, and you smiled at him.

“Yeah, just thinking,” you answered.

“About?” Mingyu asked, and you turned to face him,

“I didn’t think it was possible to fall in love with someone again, but tonight, with you. I think I may have just fallen in love with you all over again,” you admitted, making Mingyu smile as he leaned over to pull you into a kiss.

“I love you,” Mingyu said as he pulled away from your lips.

“I love you too,” you answered, making him grin.

“We’re okay, we’ll be okay,” Mingyu assured as he took your hand and drove home.

However, when he said it, you didn’t find any comfort in his words because you knew that you were about to hurt him, not because you wanted to but because you had been reflecting and noticed that all this time.

Mingyu had been bending backwards to become the version of a man you supposedly wanted. Still, all this time, you only complained and poked holes and found flaws; he loved you despite all this. His love for you was too forgiving, too great, and one you didn’t think you deserved any longer.

So you could only do what you did best, and that was to hurt him before he broke himself trying to fix the both of you.

~~ You Were My Crown ~~

Mingyu was fuming. Well, not even raging would do justice to how angry he was. It was almost comical. He thought smoke would come out of his ears like a cartoon character. It would have almost been funny.

Almost.

However, nothing about this moment or the letter in Mingyu’s hand was funny; none of this was funny.

“Hey,” you chirped as you walked into Mingyu’s bedroom. He was late for dinner, and your smile dropped when you saw his face and then recognised the paper in his hand.

“Mingyu,” you started to say and stopped as he held a hand up to stop you.

“Dear Y/N, you’re incredible, and I want you to consider this position again. You have insights that set you apart from everyone else. I think you could do an amazing job helping us set up our offices in Japan,” Mingyu read out the letter, his voice fading into a whisper at the mention of Japan.

“I thought we were past this?” Mingyu asked, and you immediately felt yourself become defensive.

“No, I only said that to calm you down, but Mingyu, this is my career,” you protested, making Mingyu scoff.

“I’d never stop you from pursuing your dreams. I know you’re good at your job. I’d encourage you to take this position, but you lied, and you got this three days before the date night and didn’t bring it up? It fucking hurts, and when I asked you if you were happy, you said yes? But kept this from me? What were you going to do, just fucking pack up and leave me?” Mingyu asked, raising his voice, making you roll your eyes at him.

“Don’t you dare give me an attitude! You hid this from me. Why?” Mingyu asked, tossing the letter onto the floor.

“We can still talk about it, and then we can figure out a way with schedules, and maybe I can save and fly out and visit you,” Mingyu rambled, making you bite your lip as you knew what you were about to say next would break him.

“I accepted the job,” you whispered, but Mingyu heard you clearly. Your voice rang in his ears, four words taunting him, haunting him.

“Mingyu,” you said, trying to approach him, and he moved away from you.

“You did what?” Mingyu asked, not wanting an answer.

“I just didn’t think us doing these three months did us any good, yes we got to get our issues out in the open, but Mingyu, we still broke the main rule, we had sex, we couldn’t be bothered to make it work without fucking,” you defended, each word piercing Mingyu’s heart deeper and deeper.

“Doesn’t the fact we couldn’t stop loving each other show you how tethered we are to one another? How much we need each other?” Mingyu asked, and you shrugged.

“Yes, a crippling need,” you answered, making him breathe deeply, trying to hold back a sob.

“So, you just decided to do what you do best? Hurtle into the future without a fucking care for me? I gave up everything for you to make you happy, and you’re fucking running?” Mingyu taunted, making you snap.

“I never asked you, but you were so fucking stupid to have walked away from friends. Friends who could give you a job or something, and now, you’re here begging me to stay because you didn’t get your shit together,” you spat out, knowing that none of your words held any truth.

Still, you needed him to stop fighting because you weren’t sure if you could anymore.

“You didn’t ask me because I thought it was you and me against the world,” Mingyu yelled.

“Well, it’s not! Grow up! Get a job, plan your future instead of ruining mine just because you don’t have a planned future,” you fumed, stopping yourself, but you knew it was too late.

“No, you’re right. I don’t because I thought you were my future, but now, you’re gone, so I guess you’re right. I don’t have a future, so please leave,” Mingyu asked. You couldn’t help yourself, but you knew if you comforted him now, you’d give in, and you couldn’t.

“Mingyu, this is my apartment, so why don’t you step right out?” You mocked, making Mingyu let out a broken sob.

“I can’t waste my time and cry for you any longer. There’s no more crying that I can do for you,” you added as Mingyu pulled out a suitcase and started to throw his things in.

“You can leave in a week or something. There’s no rush,” you mumbled, feeling nothing but shame and guilt.

“You were my homeland. You were my safe space, and now that you’ve gone and thrown me out, put me in exile, what’s the point? This isn’t my house anyway, and clearly, I’ve overstayed my welcome,” Mingyu answered tearfully as you watched him pack.

You stood and watched him pack and remove the necklace you once gave him and place it on the bedside table.

Mingyu took another look around the room and then wiped his face before grabbing his passport and documents out of a drawer and stuffing them into the suitcase.

“Where will you go?” You asked, and Mingyu shook his head.

“That’s none of your concern, I’ll be fine, but you,” Mingyu paused to steady his voice.

“You’ll be fine, excel at everything, and do so well, my love, shit sorry, Y/N. You’ve always been amazing, so thank you for the last ten years of my life, and oh, when you fall in love again, tell him to be good to you,” Mingyu rambled, pausing to smile at you through his tears.

“But please apologise to that guy because if there’s a weepy guy at your wedding, oh fuck, never mind, why would you invite me. Fuck I’m babbling. You don’t want this. I’ll be on my way,” Mingyu paused his ramble to kiss your forehead.

“Please stay safe,” Mingyu said before practically running out the door. You waited for him to leave until you couldn’t hear his footsteps in the hallway break down.

“Fuck!” You cried out, you felt so much pain engulf you, you felt as if someone had snatched your heart out of your chest, you felt as if you had a thousand cuts all over your body and that each second, someone was pouring salt into every wound.

You didn’t know pain like this. You fell to the floor sobbing, unable to withstand the pain, letting it engulf you. So, you let it. You did this, and you deserved to be hurt.

“I’m so sorry,” you apologised to the empty room. You broke him and yourself, but you weren’t his problem. You lost the right to care when you threw him out.

So, you’d do what you do best, push through, ignore the pain and push into the future because if you ran fast enough, you might forget the present and perhaps the pain wouldn’t catch up to you any longer. 6 Months Later

Your method wasn’t foolproof.

Simply running away from your problems only brought you temporary comfort.

It allowed you to plaster a fake smile and get things done. It brought you false hope when you told your mother that you had let him go.

Your method was like a ticking time bomb. You’d hold off only for so long. You knew your pain and your actions would catch up to you.

Eventually, you took steps to prolong it. You had blocked Mingyu on every possible social media site. You even put all his things in storage and scrubbed the apartment clean, and when you were done, there was no proof that he ever existed in your life.

You acted like he was a ghost because, somehow, it was easier believing that in some twisted way than picking up the phone and apologising or checking in.

It was easier this way. You put a bandaid on a wound that had cut through every part of you, foolishly hoping it’d be enough.

That stupid bandaid got you through your life in Japan. You’d find moments where you’d think of Mingyu, wondering how he’d love certain foods and sights, but you would push any thought of him away, and you were doing a good job.

Until you were going through your things and found a black journal. You were familiar with it the moment you opened the journal. You wished you could have gone back in time and undid everything because opening up the journal made you feel like you just ripped open the bandaid.

It was Mingyu’s journal.

A journal dated the day you two started therapy. You knew it was wrong to read his innermost thoughts, but maybe you’d get closure. So, you got a bottle of wine and began to read.

Most of the entries did nothing but break your heart repeatedly until you came across the last one.

It was dated the night of the date, your last date with him.

“I can’t wait to surprise her tonight. I think we’re going to be okay,” Mingyu wrote.

Your heart stopped.

A surprise, he was planning something that night.

What was it?

You had to find out.

You had planned most of your life down to the last detail, so randomly catching a plane, after calling your boss and randomly quitting, and landing back home after six months felt odd.

This was home, so why did it no longer feel like it? The way you had shut your heart to Mingyu, had this town also shut you out, decided that someone as heartless as you didn’t deserve another chance?

You had unblocked Mingyu on socials in a feeble attempt to try and find him, and you saw that he frequented a bakery often. It was a shot in the dark but your only shot. You hailed a taxi from the airport and gave him the address to the bakery.

You ran into the bakery, huffing as you lugged two suitcases.

“Can I help you, miss?” A beautiful girl asked you, and you stared at her.

“No, but you have a frequent customer, Mingyu?” You asked, causing the lady to laugh.

“Customer, honey, he’s the owner? Do you have an appointment with him, or would you like a consult? He’s got a free evening, so I can pencil you in. Just walk all the way, and when you see a white door with golden roses on it, you’ve found it,” the lady instructed, and you just moved on autopilot as you reached his door.

Your knuckles trembled as they knocked against the door, his door.

“Come in!” A cheery voice you yearned to hear for so long, a voice you missed every day and every night replied.

You pushed the door open and noticed that Mingyu was too busy sketching to look up, and he continued drawing.

“Just take a seat, make yourself comfy. Sorry, just finishing up a sketch,” Mingyu said mindlessly, and you stood still.

Taking him in, his hair was longer, he’d coloured it too, a light brown, and he looked handsome, but also he looked healthy like he was sleeping and resting and happy.

You noted how focused he was on his work. Mingyu was always handsome to you, but even more so when he was doing something he loved.

“Seriously, it’s okay. Make yourself up at home,” Mingyu started to say as he got up from his chair.

“Y/N?” Mingyu asked as he finally noticed you.

“Oh my goodness,” Mingyu broke into a broad smile as he rushed to hug you, and you could feel the tears pooling in your eyes. How could he?

How could he look at you with so much kindness after what you did to him?

“Oh my gosh, how are you? You look well. How’s Japan, and how’s the job?” Mingyu asked a question after making you stare at him.

“I found this,” as you moved away from his embrace, practically slapping the journal against the chest.

“Oh, I’m guessing you read it?” Mingyu asked with a smile.

“What did it mean, the surprise?” You asked, and Mingyu smiled at you.

“Can you spare me some time? I don’t want to have that conversation here, but if you can wait a few minutes, we can return to mine, and I’ll explain every word you read?” Mingyu offered, and you nodded at him.

“Babe!” The same girl from the front desk walked into Mingyu’s office.

Babe?

You felt your blood run cold. It made sense for him if he moved on, but her? The woman who looked like she was everything you weren’t, maybe that’s why he wanted her.

“Sorry to interrupt, but I just wanted to check what you wanted to do for dinner tonight. If you want, I can make pasta?” She kept speaking, each word twisting the knife in your chest deeper.

“Yuna, this is Y/N, a good friend,” Mingyu introduced, and you forced a smile for her.

That’s all, but what would he introduce you to her? A friend? His ex, the one who broke his heart?

“Oh, you guys were friends in school, right? Nice of you to visit, so I guess raincheck on dinner? Oh, babe, please don’t forget we must go to the dress store. I need you to pick out the suit for the wedding,” Yuna said as she gave him a peck on the cheek, shot you a smile and left the room.

Mingyu had moved on so quickly? A wedding? He waited ten years to propose to you—sort of—but with Yuna, only six months, maybe he wasn’t the problem. You were, you saw her, pretty, friendly, and she seemed to make him smile. Something you failed to do for so long.

So, it made sense that he’d see a future with her and not you.

Mingyu could hear your overthinking, and he wanted nothing more than to comfort you right now, but he’d do it the minute you two were in his house. Alone and in a safe space.

“Shall we?” Mingyu asked, and you nodded, following him, not saying a word during the entire car ride back to his apartment and the walk to his apartment.

“I’m going to take a shower and freshen up. If you want, you can use the guest room. I can grab you some clothes,” Mingyu offered, and you followed him into the guest room, not saying a word.

Mingyu poked his head into the bathroom when he noticed you hadn’t emerged in a half-hour. Worried, he entered, and his heart broke when he understood what you were doing.

“Hey, no, stop that,” Mingyu said, poking his head in at first and then entering the bathroom when he understood what was happening.

“Just wanted to see what I was missing,” you admitted, making Mingyu frown as he helped you sit on the countertop. Mingyu grabbed a towel, wet it, and gently wiped your face with it.

“She’s pretty.” You muttered, and Mingyu sighed, placing the towel on the counter.

“She’s got a nice body,” you continued to speak as you were apart. Mingyu stared at you in disbelief, and he hated how you were tearing yourself apart.

“Can you shower? Or manage on your own?” Mingyu asked; he didn’t want to leave you, but he was very aware that you were naked and crying, and he didn’t want to upset you any further.

“I guess you found the one you love, and I’m here like a moron because I thought you still loved me. I selfishly thought you still loved me,” Mingyu shook his head and snapped, and his hands found your face and pulled you in for a kiss. You gently pushed him away.

“Don’t pity me,” you muttered Mingyu glared at you.

“None of this is out of pity.” Mingyu moved his hands to your neck, gently tracing your skin until he reached your lower back and pulled you closer to him.

“I’m going to ask you again; can you manage to shower alone. Or do you need me to help you?” You sighed and pushed your body against him.

“I need you,” you answered. Mingyu nodded before moving away and stripping.

“Fuck, see, you have a nice body,” you said to Mingyu, making him glare at you as he helped you into the shower.

“So do you, and fuck, I’ll be damned if you don’t feel the same by the time I’m done with you,” Mingyu said as he turned on the shower, and you sighed in relief as the warm water poured over you.

Mingyu reached over for the shampoo and moved his hands into your hair. You moaned as he massaged your scalp, and for a second, you stopped thinking about how crap you felt. You allowed Mingyu to wash you, and you were ready to leave the shower when Mingyu gently pushed you against the wall.

Mingyu moved his lips from your forehead until he reached your lips and captured them in a sweet kiss.

One which had you swooning.

It was so soft and yet deliberate. You moaned as you felt him deepen the kiss with his tongue. Mingyu kept kissing you until the need for air became too urgent, and he gently pulled away.

Mingyu moved his lips to your neck, slowly sucking and gently nibbling the skin there. He left a trail of marks on your neck, all shades of purple and pink. Mingyu moved his hands to your breasts, massaging the soft skin, tugging and pinching your nipples, making you moan.

Mingyu pulled away from your body and got down on his knees in front of you. He dove into your cunt, licking your folds, and your hands moved their way into his wet hair.

Mingyu didn’t move a muscle, only his tongue as he glided it up and down your cunt. He moved slightly and pushed his tongue into you, making you gasp in pleasure. Mingyu groaned as he tasted your arousal, pushing his tongue in further. Mingyu moved his tongue back to your clit and flicked the now-engorged nub while pushing two fingers inside you.

You were whimpering and gasping in pleasure as Mingyu fingered you until you came. Mingyu held your thighs in place as he continued to lick you through your orgasm. He was focused on making you cum as many times are he could with his tongue. You shuddered when Mingyu continued, never stopping.

Mingyu moved his hands to grab your ass and pulled your ass cheeks apart, making you groan.

Mingyu’s lips never left your clit. You could only mewl and let out sobs of pleasure as he licked you. You were gasping for air as you reached your second orgasm. Mingyu’s mouth never moved from your clit as he licked you through your orgasm.

Mingyu moved his lips away from your cunt, and moaned when he saw your state.

“You look so fucking good like this, swollen pussy, mouth open. You look gorgeous when you cum,” Mingyu praised, and you clenched your thighs together at his words.

“Turn around, face the wall,” Mingyu instructed, and you weakly turned around as you trembled.

“If anything is too much, tell me, okay?” You mumbled a yes, and Mingyu pushed his fingers into your cunt.

“Good?” You choked out a yes. The new angle with which he entered your cunt had you seeing stars.

“Fuck, I’m going to cum.” You mumbled as your legs started to shake, Mingyu simply hummed against your wet folds, and that’s all it took for you cum again.

“Please, fuck me,” you begged, and Mingyu slowly got up, held your body close to his, and pulled you in for another kiss; you were so immersed in the kiss that you failed to register him lifting you in his arms and aligning you with his hard cock.

“Can I?” Mingyu asked, and you nodded at him.

“Fucking hell, you’re so tight,” Mingyu groaned as he pushed himself into you and started to pound into your cunt.

“Fucking hell,” you groaned as you bit down on his shoulder as fucked you into your fourth orgasm.

“Fuck, I won’t last long,” Mingyu choked out.

“Cum inside me,” you begged him.

Mingyu smiled at you, “gladly,” he said as he thrust into you harder, making you shake and clench around him each time. You moaned when you felt him finally still and cum inside you, his warmth coating your walls.

Mingyu slowly placed you back down, “fucking hell,” you groaned, grabbing Mingyu’s forearm as he started fingering you hard.

“One more baby, one more,” Mingyu coaxed as he fingered you to another orgasm. You nodded as you felt yourself cum simply based on his command Mingyu didn’t stop until you came again. This time he finally moved his fingers away from your cunt.

You were so fucked out. All you could do was hiss slightly when Mingyu finally washed you up, wrapped you in a towel, and carried you to his bed. He towelled your hair dry, put his shirt on you, and pulled you into his arms, wrapping the blanket over you two.

You turned in his embrace to place your head on his chest, “cuddly,” Mingyu noted with a soft smile on his lips, and you returned a smile back to him, making him bend his head down and capture your lips in a gentle kiss.

You opened your mouth to speak, and Mingyu held a hand out to stop you.

“Tomorrow morning, please,” Mingyu pleaded, and you nodded.

You could do that.

Pretend for one more night. ~~ Second, Third and Hundredth Chances ~~

“Morning,” Mingyu greeted you as you entered the kitchen the following day. He stood by the kitchen island, poured himself a cup of coffee and another one, and pushed it across the island, nudging you to sit and face him after six months.

Six months. That’s how long you went silent on him, blocked him out, and suddenly showed up at his door because of a journal.

All his life, Mingyu knew you as a planner. You always had a backup plan, so for you to show up unannounced seemed so odd. Maybe you were passing by. Or you just wanted the last word, but after six months.

Seeing you again, Mingyu felt pain, anger, and hurt, but more than anything, he still felt love. No matter how badly it ended, you were so much more than his ex-girlfriend. You were the woman he once wanted to spend the rest of his life with. It didn’t matter what would transpire; you would always be unique to him, and he could only hope he held a similar position in your heart.

“So,” Mingyu started to say as you sipped the coffee.

“I made you cheat. I’m so fucking sorry,” you mumbled, making Mingyu laugh.

“Right, I didn’t cheat when I was with you, and that’s not something I’m going just to start doing because I’m with someone who isn’t you,” Mingyu said, and you stared at him, confused.

“But Yuna?” You asked.

“When you threw me out, I couldn’t find a place that late at night, so I ended up at a bar and cried my eyes out to Yuna. She ran the bar that night and felt sorry for me, so she took me home,” Mingyu explained, pausing to gauge your reaction.

Mingyu felt slightly cruel for testing you like this, but with the hell, you put him through for six months, this was nothing, and he wanted to see if you still loved him or just got upset because you thought you had some right to him.

“Yuna and her fiancé, they both, I guess, let me crash and nursed me back that night and just let me mope in their house for a solid month,” Mingyu explained, making you exhale.

“She calls everyone babe and kisses everyone’s cheeks but only kisses her fiancé’s lips,” Mingyu elaborated, making you sigh in relief.

“I think it was month two of moping over you, and I was, you know, useless and jobless,” Mingyu continued to speak, hurting you, knowing that you used the exact words when you broke his heart.

“I was baking a lot, and Yuna’s husband is a famous pastry chef, and he saw me swiping through my Pinterest board and asked if I wanted to do something with my life or just cry over you,” Mingyu chuckled, recalling the memory.

“So, for four months, I poured all my efforts into my craft, and I picked up everything quickly, and I guess I’ve been lucky, and the bakery is doing well and honestly. I thought I was finally moving on, but then, you showed up at the place I created to get away from the hurt you caused me,” Mingyu finished, his tone now serious and stern.

“So why are you here, after all these months, and don’t tell me it’s because of a fucking journal. You wouldn’t randomly get on a flight and show up without a plan, so tell me, did you come here to reopen all the wounds I tried so hard to heal?” Mingyu asked, and you fumbled.

“Do you know what you did to me? That night, you not only assumed that I was an unsupportive boyfriend, but you equated my ability to love you down to the fact that I was unemployed and directionless, and that is fucked up. Like beyond fucked up. So when you threw me out, I honestly believed I was worth nothing. I didn’t think I was enough. While I still want the best for you, you broke me when I needed you most, and seeing you here now, when I’m just getting my shit together, it fucks with me because a part of me wants to kick you out the way you did to me, but a part of me wants to kiss you and try again so tell me Y/N which part should I listen to?” Mingyu fumed, making you cry.

“Why did you do it? Because what we kept breaking the ‘no sex rule’ or did something else happen? After that date, you said you fell in love with me again, and three days later, you did that. Was it because you accepted the job offer and you felt guilty? I know I’m not perfect, but I broke myself trying to be the man you deserved, and it still wasn’t enough, so I think I am at least owed something, some explanation,” Mingyu implored, his voice softer, and you couldn’t stop the tears from escaping.

“Fucking speak, will you? You had no problem tearing me apart, so why are you quiet now?” Mingyu asked, frustrated.

“Because you were bending over backwards, you did so much, and I did nothing. Mingyu, I got mad at you because another girl gave you the attention I didn’t. You were focused on fixing us, and I was focused on just fixing you, and yes, you’re right. The fact that I accepted the job without a second thought for you made me realise what a selfish person I was. I was ashamed, and then you took me out on that date,” you paused to take a breath before continuing.

“I felt like a failure. I failed you because I was so willing to fix us. Still, I didn’t want to go through the pain because I was scared that at the end of it all, you’d realise that you were better off, and I couldn’t deal with that, so I thought it’d be easier if I made you hate me,” you blubbered out, and Mingyu looked at you in disbelief.

“I ran away because it was easier. I took the easy way out because the tables had turned. You were succeeding in fixing us, doing the work, and all I could do was watch you put in so much, never expecting anything in return. I couldn’t do that to you, so I just let you go in the worst way possible,” you explained through your tears.

“I know what you wanted to do the night of the date. I found a velvet box, and I just wanted to confirm that when I flew down here and walked in, it didn’t feel like home. It felt cold and distant, and I didn’t fit here anymore. I saw you happy, glowing, and you had started fresh, and me? I’ve been on autopilot, working, coming home and trying so fucking hard not to think about you, and that journal was an excuse because I couldn’t stay away anymore,” you sputtered out.

“I knew you wanted to propose, and I ran because while it was everything I ever wanted, I wasn’t the woman you deserved, and I don’t know what I’m doing here because I’m certainly not the woman you deserve now. So, thank you for last night, and I’m sorry that I rehashed old wounds, and it was because I was selfish. I was selfish that night, and I’m still the same,” you cried out.

“Selfish?” Mingyu repeated as he walked over to you, holding your face.

“Scared, not selfish,” Mingyu said with a sad smile.

“How do you not hate me; how can you still be so kind and loving after everything I did to you?” You asked as Mingyu wiped your tears away.

“Because I still love you, hell you fucked with me, but when I saw you yesterday, it felt like a missing part of me was found, and while it hurt, because I got used to that missing piece, I felt alive, seeing you, and I know that the last time I gave up because I thought that’s what you wanted, but after last night. I know it’s not; it can’t be. So, tell me, did you come back to ask me about a journal entry or because you love me?” Mingyu asked, and you sighed.

“I left everything. I was looking for something to bring me back to you because, after I left, I didn’t think I had a right to face you again, so the journal was my excuse,” you answered, and Mingyu stared at you.

“Everything?” Mingyu asked.

“I quit and packed my shit and came here and handed over the keys to the apartment in Japan to my landlord, and I guess I came here, hoping to come home and selfishly hoping to come back home to you,” you answered, biting your lip unable to look at Mingyu.

“But your promotion?” Mingyu asked, and you shrugged.

“It took me six months to realise that no promotion, no success in the world meant anything to me if you weren’t by my side, and it felt hollow. Every applause and pay cheque felt worthless because, in a room full of praises, I only ever wanted to hear your voice and come home. I always hoped that you’d be there, and I’d run into your arms and kiss you, and we would both sit and tell each other about our days, and then at night kiss each other and make love to each other, but all I got was an empty house,” you rambled making Mingyu smile tearily at you.

“Can I ask you for a favour?” Mingyu asked, and you nodded, looking at him.

“This time, I don’t care how difficult it is, how serious it is, how big or small the issue is, you come to me, no matter if it’s a small issue or a big issue, you’re coming to me, you don’t kick me out, and you don’t fight with me, but you fight for us,” Mingyu explained making your eyes widen.

“After all I did to you. You’ll take me back?” You asked, and Mingyu smiled at you.

“I was always going to come back to fight for you. I just needed time to be strong enough to do so, but yes, because if there’s anything these six months taught me, it is that I’d rather spend six months going through this pain a hundred times over, provided that each time the outcome was the same, you back in my life,” Mingyu explained making you cry even more.

“How can you love me so much?” You asked, making Mingyu laugh.

“You stole my heart in a science class when you threw a paper at my head for being too loud in class, I was yours then, and I’m yours now, so tell me, my love, will you be mine again?” Mingyu asked, and you cried, nodding.

“If you can forgive me?” You cried out, and Mingyu smiled sweetly at you.

“I forgave you long ago. I was hurt, but my love for you is paramount, and it’s easier to love you than to be mad at you,” Mingyu explained, hugging you. “The perk of knowing you for so many years is that I know, despite your harsh words, you get defensive and deflective and often, what you do instead of saying the truth is act and lash out.”

“I don’t deserve a love as understanding as the one you have for me,” you admitted, and Mingyu shrugged.

“We didn’t have the most perfect few years, but maybe that’s what we needed. Maybe Dr Kwan’s separation therapy worked because six months of radio silence was more painful than when we were fighting. After all, at least I could see you hug you, and talk to you, but not hear a word from you, not knowing anything that was nothing short of torture. I don’t want to go through that again,” Mingyu explained.

“It took me losing you to realise how much I love you,” you answered, pausing to wipe your tears, “and if you let me, Mingyu, I’ll never let you go again. I’ll love you the way I always should have, and I’ll never let you go because losing you was like I lost my ability to breathe, but here in your arms. I feel safe, loved, and at home, and I don’t want to lose my home again, and I-” Mingyu’s lips cut off your speech on yours.

“Sorry, but I had to,” Mingyu said sheepishly, making you smile.

“This will sound weird, but Y/N, will you go on a date with me?” Mingyu asked, making you smile as you burst into a wide smile and hugged him tightly.

“I’d love to,” you answered.

“Good, Tuesday night? I’ll pick you up. It’s a surprise,” Mingyu asked, and you nodded furiously.

All those times you thought it’d work, you always were still unsure, but today, right now, you knew that you’d love him because loving him allowed you to see the world in colour and losing him took away all the colour and joy in the world and this time you didn’t want to fix it for the sake of it.

You wanted to fix it because you loved him.

The Finale: What I Should Have Said

One Year Later

“Oh, for the love of God, please do not break,” Mingyu muttered as he set up the decorations for your anniversary date on the balcony. At this moment, he was yelling at a bouquet to stand still.

“Mingyu? What is so urgent? I’m home?” You called out, and Mingyu pouted, glaring at the faultless flower bouquet. You were back and early,

“In here!” Mingyu yelled out.

You walked into the house, noticing all the lights had been dimmed. There were flower petals everywhere. You smiled. You knew Mingyu was going to do something for the anniversary. You just weren’t entirely sure what.

“Hi,” Mingyu looked up to see you, smiling at the decorations. He walked over to you and kissed you.

“Happy Anniversary.” He mumbled against your lips.

“Happy Anniversary to you, too,” you said. You smiled as he held your hand and pulled you to the sofa.

“Ooh, cake!” You exclaimed, making Mingyu roll his eyes at you.

“I’m a three-course meal, and you are salivating over a cake?” Mingyu complained, but you laughed.

“Oh, get over it,” You kept laughing, and Mingyu sliced a piece out for you. He was oddly precise and took a long time to slice the cake.

“Dude, just give me the cake,” you muttered, and Mingyu scowled.

“Did you just dude me?” Mingyu asked dramatically. You smiled at him as you took the cake from him and immediately scooped a piece into your mouth. You felt something sharp in your mouth; you tasted blood and metal and glared at Mingyu.

“What did you do? Accidentally leave a fork in the cake?” You glared, and Mingyu gasped in an attempt to bite back a laugh.

“Why don’t you get cleaned up and find out?” Mingyu offered, and you looked at him strangely. However, it was your turn to gasp as you ran to the bathroom and pulled a ring from your mouth.

You washed the ring and returned to the balcony where Mingyu was frantically pacing.

“Mingyu?” You asked, holding out the now-washed ring in your hand. Mingyu took it from you and knelt down.

“I waited too long last time, I waited for a sign, the right time, all that bullshit, and I’m not saying that if I had done it earlier, our problems would have never occurred, but I know waiting sure as hell didn’t help. I know I wanted to marry you when I was 19, and now, more than ten years later, I still want that, except this time, I don’t want to wait to find the right time, place or anything. I don’t need any of that. I just know that I need the right person, and I have that with you, my love,” Mingyu declared, making you tear up.

“The last year has been a lot for us. We found each other again and worked together to fix ourselves, and you know what? I’d do it all over again if it meant fixing us, and if it meant that a year later, I’d be here proposing to you, so what do you say, Y/N? Will you be mine forever, and will you love me forever the way I know I will love you?” Mingyu asked, and you nodded, unable to say much but give him a muffled yes.

Mingyu slipped the ring onto your finger, pulled you into his arms, and hugged you tightly.

“When I said we’d be okay, this is what I meant, I knew it’d hurt, and it’d take fucking a lot of time and patience, but I’d do it all over again a thousand times even if this is the ending, I get each time we’re done,” Mingyu spoke, and you looked up at him smiling.

“Me too. I’d lose you a thousand times over if it meant being back in your arms at the end,” you replied, making Mingyu smile.

“I love you,” Mingyu said, and you smiled at him, “I love you too, so much you loved me despite all my flaws and imperfections”, you replied.

“I saw those ‘flaws’ and ‘imperfections,’ and I fell in love with every part of you. We’re both imperfect, but the way we love each other, now that’s fucking perfect!” Mingyu replied, holding you tighter.

You knew this was your home; with him in his arms, that’s where it was no longer cold; it was warm, safe, and it was home.

He was home.

#you've done it again indi #another masterpiece ✨️#svt fic recs #mingyu fic recs #mdni

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gyupremacy-recs · 1 year ago

Text

Oh?! OH! OHH!! I'm on the floor now 🫠

A New Rhythm | suga x f!reader x woozi

Yoongi has a soft spot for his protege, Jihoon, but you never thought it would extend to sharing you. Not until he tells you Jihoon is a virgin and asks if you'd like the be the one to change that.

You can't say you're opposed to the idea.

Rating: M (18+) | WC: ~7.8k | Pairing: myg x f!reader x ljh | Genre: smut

Warnings: virgin!jihoon, mentor!yoongi, yoongi tells jihoon what to do and jihoon listens like the good boy he is (most of the time), mentions of f. masturbation, oral f. rec., spitting, fingering, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, squirting, piv sex with a condom, restraining, throat holding, piv sex without a condom, oral m. rec., deepthroating, cum swallowing, creampie, plsplspls inbox if i missed anything!

Reader Notes: has breasts and a vagina, same age as yoongi, referred to with fem pronouns/descriptors (she/her, girlfriend), has an iud, wap

You think you’re losing your mind.

That’s the only possible explanation as to why you’re hovering outside of Yoongi’s home studio at four in the morning, arguing with yourself about whether or not you should knock on the door.

He’s been in there for hours, didn’t even come to bed last night, which might explain the plethora of dreams you had. They’re what woke you up, and the absence of Yoongi is what brought you out from under the warm covers and into the chilly night air.

Yoongi’s studio is a small building in your backyard, with no windows and perfect acoustics. He had it built last year, when he finally got tired of going in and out of the city at all hours to work, and best of all, he gave you free reign of the exterior. Now that the garden is blooming and the stones leading to the door have settled into the ground, it really feels like part of your home.

Or it does in the daylight, anyway.

You’ve never come out here at night before, because you’ve never had a need to. You know Yoongi will come inside when he’s finished working so you usually leave him to it, usually try not to interrupt him, but tonight, something is different.

Tonight, you need him.

Desperately.

It’s not like he’s neglecting you, it’s just that he’s been working on a personal project so a lot of his time is spent in the studio, and when he finally calls it a day, all he wants to do is eat and collapse into your arms. You can take care of yourself, quite well, in fact, but nothing beats Yoongi’s touch, nothing.

Every dream you had in your fitful five hours of rest was filled with him; his hands on your body, his mouth between your legs, his cock deep inside of you. It all felt hazy and rose-colored but somehow so real, and when you woke to an empty bed, it was almost heartbreaking.

And it doesn’t help that it’s been ten days since he last fucked you, not that you’ve been counting…

You’d go back to bed if you could, but you already tried to satisfy your craving for him and all that did was leave you wet and wanting him even more, which is why you only feel a little bit guilty when your hand raises and raps twice on the wood in front of you.

It takes a few seconds for the door to open, and when it does, your eyes grow wide and your fingers fly to the hem of your nightie, your suddenly freezing legs reminding you just how short it is.

If it were Yoongi, you wouldn’t care, you’d probably even hike it up a little bit more, but it’s not Yoongi.

It’s Jihoon, your boyfriend’s protege.

“Um,” Jihoon starts, his eyes trailing over your exposed body before snapping back up to your face, a flush reddening the skin of his neck and ears. “Yoongi’s in the middle of a recording session so he didn’t hear the door. Is everything okay?”

“Yes, yeah, um, everything’s fine,” you stammer, because what the hell else can you do?

It’s not like you can admit to someone who’s not your boyfriend that you’re dizzy with desire, especially not when that someone is your boyfriend’s adorable mentee.

Jihoon is barely 27, but he’s been producing since he was in his teens. Yoongi kept an eye on his career for a while and eventually decided to take him under his wing when he noticed he wasn’t advancing in the field like he deserved to be. They’ve been working together for a little under a year now, and Jihoon has become a regular fixture at your house.

You include him in your meals, in your game nights, and even in your karaoke, though he effortlessly outsings you both every single time.

But that doesn’t mean you can tell him you’re here because you need to get fucked.

If Yoongi were the one to answer the door, you wouldn’t have needed to speak, he would have seen that shine to your eyes and known immediately what you needed. You didn’t even know Jihoon was here or you wouldn’t have knocked at all.

Now here you are staring at each other, Jihoon’s blush traveling down under his collar as you shiver in your nightdress, unable to think of even one viable explanation as to why you’re up at four in the morning.

“Babe? What are you doing out there? It’s cold as fuck,” Yoongi appears behind Jihoon, his brows furrowed and his gaze bewildered.

He takes one good look at you and that’s it. He knows.

You can tell by the smirk that’s quirking one side of his mouth up and the heat that flashes in his tired eyes, the sight of both making you bite your lip and twist your fingers in the hem of your nightie.

“We’re gonna take a break, Jihoon. Let’s all go up to the house for a bit, yeah?” Yoongi proposes, though you know it was more of an order than an offer.

You turn mechanically and force one foot in front of the other, trying to ignore the fact that you can feel two sets of eyes on you instead of one.

That’s the theme of the night, apparently, as you find yourself making tea for three, still clad in your pajamas. You would have gone to get a robe but Yoongi caught your hand before you left and asked for some oolong, saying that it’s never as good when he makes it.

While the tea is steeping, you sit on Yoongi’s right side, Jihoon on his left, and try to keep from squirming at the feeling of the cold wooden chair against your hot center. You didn’t bother to put on underwear, sure that Yoongi would just fuck you right there in his studio, and you’re positive he would have, if Jihoon wasn’t there.

But he was, he is, and you have no idea what Yoongi’s game is but you know it’s starting to make you feel a bit crazy, like your skin is too tight for your bones and your heart is too big for your chest.

Then he speaks, and all the blood in your body reaches its boiling point.

“Jihoon was just telling me that he feels like he can’t write sex into his songs because he’s never had it before. Why don’t we help him out with that?”

Jihoon collapses into himself, groaning and cursing, his face buried in his arms where they rest on the table, his muscles strained with tension and his skin bright red.

Yoongi just smiles serenely and looks over to you, raising an eyebrow and lifting his chin like he’s challenging you.

You can’t respond yet, not with the ringing in your ears and the images in your mind, flashbulb memories of how long Jihoon’s fingers are and how voraciously he eats and, worst of all, how he looks when he comes over straight from the gym, his hair still damp from the shower and his veins still popping from the workout.

All things you’ve thought about innocuously, no real intention behind them, now given life, meaning, by Yoongi’s words.

You tilt your head at him, trying to figure out if this is a test, but you don’t see any hint of deception in his eyes. All you see is your boyfriend of four years, wanting to bring someone into the bed you share, wanting to teach someone what it means to give and take pleasure.

No, not just someone, but Jihoon, specifically.

He has a soft spot for the kid and that’s obvious, but you never expected it to extend to sharing you.

However, you’re not… opposed… to the idea.

If anything, you feel yourself get just a bit hotter, just a bit wetter, imagining the both of them in your bedroom.

You know Yoongi can tell how you’re feeling, you’ve never been able to hide a thing from him, and when that satisfied smile stretches his lips, you give up and give in.

“What are your rules?” You ask softly, your eyes darting to Jihoon when he snaps his head up and stares at you, wide eyed and open mouthed.

“He has to wear a condom,” Yoongi says matter-of-factly, before continuing, “Other than that, I have none. What about you?”

You didn’t expect him to turn the question around on you, but you’re grateful he did.

“Same as you,” you respond, before looking to Jihoon. “What are your thoughts?”

He stares at you for a moment, his eyes flicking between you and Yoongi, before he answers, “I - I don’t know. I’m embarrassed, and a little bit annoyed,” he levels a glare at Yoongi. “But I’m… I mean if you’re okay with it, then… then yes, I want this. I’ll wear a condom, I’ll do whatever.”

Yoongi doesn’t even pretend to care about the tea.

He just rises from his chair and extends a hand toward you, waiting for you to take it before nodding at Jihoon, expecting you to reach out to him. You hold your hand out and he grasps it, your fingers intertwining as Yoongi pulls you to the stairs. In between them, you carefully move up the steps, feeling somewhat like you’re on your way to the place of no return.

You know you can stop this at any time, but you fear you won’t want to.

You fear that once you get a taste of Jihoon, of both of them together, that’s all you’ll want.

Yoongi must know, he knows everything about you, and if he wasn’t okay with it, he wouldn’t have offered. So when you cross over the threshold and he lets go of your hand to sit in the chair occupying the corner of your room, you know that he must be anticipating that outcome, and you know that he must be alright with it.

Which makes it easier to turn to Jihoon and cup his cheeks to draw him into a kiss, one that makes him gasp against your lips before he drops a hand to your hip and starts to kiss you back.

He seems experienced enough at this, you think, his plush mouth soft against yours and his tongue tentative where it brushes along the seam of your lips. You open up for him with ease, swallowing his sounds and responding with your own soft hums to show him you’re comfortable.

Your tongue glides against his and he moans, sucking at it with gentle pulses that make your core throb, before you pull away and press a hand to his chest to stop him from following you.

“Let’s move to the bed?” You suggest, perhaps because your knees feel the slightest bit weak but mainly because you’ve been desperate to get Yoongi’s body on top of yours all night. Jihoon isn’t Yoongi, but you think he’ll feel almost as good.

Jihoon nods, his chest rising and falling as he tries to regulate his breathing, waiting for you to climb up and get comfortable before setting a knee on the covers.

“Take your clothes off,” Yoongi calls out from the corner. “She probably wants to see you.”

Jihoon glances over and then looks at you, raising a brow. You shrug shyly and nod, your eyes lowering to his chest as he starts to pull his sweater up. More and more pale skin is revealed, and by the time the fabric clears his head, your gaze is locked on the defining lines of his abdominals. He unties his sweats and pushes them down, stepping out of the cotton and standing before you in just his boxer briefs.

His dick is hard, pressing against the fabric, but you don’t have long to look before he settles on top of you, his elbows bracketing your head and his knees straddling your thighs. His lips find yours again and soon enough, you’re lost in him. He kisses you so attentively, adjusting to your every move, your every breath. It’s not long before you’re squirming beneath him, wanting for more.

“You’re gonna eat her out next,” Yoongi instructs, his voice distant but consuming, echoing in your mind like a looped track.

Jihoon breaks away from you, his eyes heavy lidded and his lips kiss-swollen. He sits back on his knees when you shift up onto your elbows, giving you room to pull your nightie up and off, leaving you bare from head to toe.

His eyes traverse the whole of your body, lingering on your breasts before they land between your thighs, his stare weighty, nearly tangible on you. The thought that you might be the first woman he’s seen naked in person is a heady one, enough to give you the confidence to slide your legs out from between his and spread them on the bed, showing him exactly what he’ll be working with.

His breaths come faster as he gazes at you, slowly moving down to lay on his stomach between your legs, his mouth just inches from your pussy when Yoongi says, “Spit on it.”

“What?” Jihoon questions, turning back to stare at Yoongi in confusion, missing the way you squirm at Yoongi’s instruction.

“You heard me, spit on it. She’s into it.”

“I- No, I’m not gonna fuckin- I’m not spitting on her, that’s ru-”

“Fine, if you won’t, I will,” Yoongi rolls his eyes and rises from his seat, taking a few steps to the bed and pushing at Jihoon’s shoulder when he doesn’t move out of the way.

Yoongi braces his hands on your knees and shoves them further apart, his eyes coasting up your body before they land on yours, a wry smile stretching his lips before he purses them and spits on your pussy. His saliva trails over your clit and down to your entrance, making you gasp and making your cunt clench, your hand shooting down to weave into his hair when he starts to pull back.

“See? Told you,” he murmurs to Jihoon, grasping your wrist and waiting for you to release his hair before stepping away and returning to his chair in the corner.

Your eyes find Jihoon, who looks like he’s been struck. He shakes it off and fills the space between your legs again, flat on his belly with a determined glint to his eye. You can feel his breaths as his mouth gets closer and closer to you, before finally, his tongue drags over you from cunt to clit.

He takes his time learning you, sucking at your folds and dipping into your entrance, never staying in one place for long. He’s making little sounds like he loves the taste of you, the vibrations traveling through your pussy straight to your buzzing brain, straight to the part of you that yearns to be set free.

You long to sink your fingers into his hair and drag him where you want him, take your pleasure from him like he’s a toy, but you know this is a precarious situation, and you’re not going to be the one that tips it out of balance.

So you let him explore, let him figure it out on his own, setting aside the fact that you’ve been aching for hours already. This is Jihoon’s first time, you can stand to not be greedy for once in your life.

Yoongi seems to disagree, telling Jihoon, “Find her clit and suck it, or she’ll never cum.”

You would glare at him for rushing Jihoon, you really would, but then Jihoon listens, his mouth searching until he discovers that bundle of nerves and wraps his lips around it, giving experimental sucks that quickly have your back arching and your toes curling.

“Y-you can, um, put a fing-,” You try to speak but can’t seem to get the words out, not when Jihoon’s mouth is so soft and wet and his tongue is so agile from years of playing the clarinet, the tip lapping at your clit in between pulses of his lips.

“Baby, I’ll tell him what to do, you just lay back and enjoy, okay?” Yoongi says in a soothing tone, making your eyes flicker open so you can see him. You know he wants you to answer him so you force your head to move up and down in a nod, melting into the bed when he sends you that indulgent, proud little smile.

“Jihoon, start with two fingers, she likes to feel full. Palm up,” Yoongi instructs Jihoon, his voice more distant, less affectionate now that he’s not talking to you.

Jihoon’s fingertips glide through your arousal, dipping into your entrance and starting to push inside. You’re still a bit stretched out from taking care of yourself earlier so there’s barely any resistance, his fingers sinking in slowly but surely.

His tongue stutters against you, a weak groan escaping him as your cunt molds to his digits. You squeeze around them just to hear that sound again, biting back a grin when the next groan is louder.

“Feels good, doesn’t she? Now imagine that around your cock,” Yoongi smirks smugly, his eyes caught on the blush rising up the back of Jihoon’s neck. “Gotta make her cum first.”

With renewed fervor, Jihoon sucks at your throbbing clit, his fingers twitching inside of you but not moving yet.

“Now you’re gonna find her g-spot. Curl your fingers and tap until you feel a different texture, you’ll know you’ve got it when she gets wetter.”

Ever the quick study, Jihoon puts Yoongi’s words to action, his fingers crooking and rubbing along your front wall in search of the patch that can make you gush. He encounters it soon enough, grazing the erogenous zone with his fingertips and tapping into it when you gasp and clench down.

You do get wetter, just like Yoongi said, and you can’t help but move with Jihoon’s fingers as he starts to slide them in and out, the tips hooking into your sweet spot on every thrust. You should have expected him to have perfect rhythm and lithe, talented fingers just like Yoongi does, because maybe then it wouldn’t be a surprise when you feel the stirrings of heat deep in your belly.

Would it be embarrassing to cum so soon? Yoongi can get you there in five minutes flat but this is Jihoon, should you try to hold out for longer so he has more time to practice? What if he’s disappointed that you-

“Baby, stop worrying. Just cum when you want to,” Yoongi says softly, and not for the first time, you feel blessed to have a partner who knows you inside and out.

You don’t need his permission to cum but now that you have it, you can feel your climax building even faster, feel it growing, glowing inside of you as Jihoon moans into your pussy, as if he’s echoing Yoongi’s words.

That and the flawless grind of his fingertips into your g-spot are what throw you over the edge, darkness eclipsing your vision as you tumble into a pleasure so deep, you can feel it in your bones.

It races through your bloodstream, electric and razor sharp, setting all of your nerves on edge and stealing every molecule of air in your lungs. You gasp through it, clenching your fingers in the pillow beneath your head so you don’t reach down, tangle them in his hair, and hold him to you until he’s as breathless as you are.

You think you could cum again if he just keeps his tongue curled around your clit and his fingers digging into your g-spot like this. Hell, you’d probably cum even harder, get even wetter for him, even hotter.

It’s so close you can almost taste it, but he starts to pull away and you swallow down the cry of protest that rises in your throat, fighting off disappointment that you fear you don’t have a right to. Yoongi likes to go for more than one but Jihoon isn’t Yoongi, and you can’t expect him to behave the same way.

Yoongi does, evidently, because he says as if it should be obvious, “Keep going.”

“What? She already-”

“She can cum again, keep going.”

When Jihoon looks up at you for confirmation, Yoongi heaves a beleaguered sigh and ambles to the bed, placing a knee on the mattress for stability before leaning over Jihoon’s shoulder and gripping the back of his neck, pushing and holding him down.

Jihoon is more than strong enough to break free if he wants to, which makes it even sweeter when he closes his eyes and dives back into you, one of his hands scooping under your thigh to pull it up onto his shoulder. Now you’re the one holding him down, and Yoongi’s lips stretch in a satisfied smile, like Jihoon has finally done something to be proud of, before he loosens his grasp and returns to his chair.

You’ve lost some momentum in the seconds without stimulation, but you can’t escape the image of your boyfriend shoving his protege’s face into your cunt and that’s almost enough to get you right back where you were.

It helps that Jihoon seems to be insatiable now, though whether he’s desperate for you or desperate to prove himself to Yoongi, you don’t know. It doesn’t really matter either way, not with his lips wrapped around your clit and his tongue digging up under the hood to lap directly at the nerves. His fingers join in too, fucking into you harder and faster, beckoning out enough arousal that you can feel it dripping down your perineum.

The sounds are obscene, the wet suction of his mouth and the squelching of his fingers bringing heat to your cheeks. You wonder if Jihoon can hear or if your thighs are muffling the noises, part of you hoping they are and most of you hoping they aren’t.

You want him to hear what he’s doing to you, want him to know that he’s pleasing you, that his efforts are appreciated, which is why you finally decide to stop holding back.

Your hands skate down your body and delve into his hair, pulling his face even deeper into your pussy as you whimper long and loud. “There she is,” Yoongi murmurs, barely audible with your voice ringing in the air.

Jihoon groans earnestly in response, his hips twitching against the bed and his fingers spasming inside of you before they stop fucking in and out and instead start prodding your g-spot, rubbing and tapping and grinding until you lock down around them, cumming with a gush and a shout.

He doesn’t stop this time, relentless in the pursuit of pulling every last bit of bliss out of you as if he’s learned his lesson. Yoongi always says that Jihoon takes direction well, and you’re honored to experience the evidence of it yourself.

Honored and dizzy, if you’re being truthful.

Your head spins, your pussy growing sensitive and your pleasure growing sharp, almost stinging as he continues to batter your front wall with his fingertips and stab his tongue into your overworked clit.

“Jihoon,” you whine brokenly, drawing out his name and gripping his hair tighter, unsure of whether you want to push him away or pull him closer.

“Don’t stop,” Yoongi calls out, but it sounds like he’s underwater, or maybe you are, every noise in the room muted and dull compared to the roaring in your ears, the rushing of your blood in your veins as your heart races in your chest.

“Maybe you’ll make her-”

Time slows down when Jihoon grunts his assent into you, the vibration just enough to send you spiraling into a euphoria so acute, it brings tears to your eyes. Your vision whites out and you think you scream, and then you’re levitating, no longer on the bed, perhaps not even on the planet anymore.

When your soul returns to your body and you blink your watery eyes open, the first thing you see is Jihoon. He’s still between your legs but now he’s bright red, his chest heaving as he fights to breathe, your arousal covering him from his cheeks down to his sternum.

You would feel nervous about his reaction but as soon as your eyes meet his, he’s climbing up over you and pressing his swollen lips to yours, his kiss ravenous and his tongue soaked with you.

When he pulls away, you’ve got your own essence smeared all over your mouth, and you’re not even startled to feel a familiar hand in your hair. The hand tugs your head to the side and you let your eyes flutter closed, anticipating the swipe of Yoongi’s tongue over your bottom lip. He loves how you taste, even if it’s not directly from the source.

You can feel Jihoon’s eyes on you as Yoongi licks your face clean, and you wonder if he thinks he’s going to get the same treatment.

He might, honestly.

But not tonight, it seems, as Yoongi smacks a kiss onto your lips and lets go of your hair, reaching in the bedside table for the condoms you haven’t used since you got your IUD placed a few months ago.

“You didn’t blow your load, right?” Yoongi glances at Jihoon, raising an eyebrow teasingly and laughing at the way Jihoon glares and says, “No, I’m still fucking hard, thanks for asking.”

Out of loyalty to your boyfriend, you won’t point out that Yoongi actually did blow his load the first time he ever made you squirt.

“You still up for it, baby? Not too sore or sleepy?” Yoongi crouches next to you and cups your face, brushing his thumb over the curve of your cheekbone and gazing at you with gentle, patient eyes.

“I’m still up for it,” you smile peacefully, watching as he hands Jihoon the condom and taking the opportunity to stretch, reaching your arms up above your head and pointing your toes, a soft keening sound leaving you as you relax into the bed again.

When your eyes find Jihoon and Yoongi, both of them are staring at your tits, a dazed look on their faces that makes them appear even more alike.

Yoongi snaps out of it first, blinking rapidly and readjusting in the chair, making you notice for the first time just how hard he is.

You knew he’d have to be into the idea of watching you fuck someone else to propose this in the first place, but you didn’t expect him to be so wrought with desire. You can see it on his face now that you’re really looking at him, the passion in his shadowed eyes and the lustful clench of his jaw giving him away.

You bite back a smile and turn your gaze to Jihoon just in time to watch as he slides off the bed and pushes his underwear down. His cock pops up then hangs heavily, the head blushed red and the length wrapped in veins. He’s similar in size to Yoongi, maybe a bit thicker and slightly shorter, and you’re relieved to know both that the condom will fit and that he won’t stretch you beyond your limits.

Finally, you look at his face again, only to find him staring at you, his eyes staying locked with yours as he brings the condom packet up to his mouth and tears it open with his teeth. At first, you think he’s trying (and succeeding) to be sexy, but then you realize his hands are trembling, just a little, just enough to relay the nerves he’s kept hidden.

“I’ll put it on,” you tell him as you extend a hand and wait for him to drop the condom in your palm, beckoning him forward with your other hand until he climbs back up on the bed and settles on his knees in front of you.

Slowly, you reach out and take hold of his cock, not reacting to the stilted gasp and muted swear that escapes Jihoon though you want to coo and kiss his cheek, he’s so adorable. You pinch the tip and roll the condom on with ease, ensuring it’s snug at the base before giving his hip a squeeze and laying back.

He follows you and braces his hands on either side of your head, his eyes heavy lidded and his cheeks flushed as he leans down to kiss you. His cock drags over your thigh before you spread your legs and hitch them up on his hips, one of your hands snaking between your bodies to position him at your entrance.

Jihoon takes in a deep, shuddering breath before beginning to push forward, his eyelids fluttering and his mouth dropping open as he feels the heat of you around his cock for the first time. The condom is a foreign sensation after all these weeks of taking Yoongi bare, and the fact that it’s Jihoon inside you instead of him is even more odd, but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t feel good.

Because it does, he does, especially when you remember that it’s been ten days since you had anything but a vibrator. Jihoon is warm, and thick, and real, and best of all, he’s holding back whimpers, his eyes closed and his face screwed up in pleasure, his hips jerking into yours in little thrusts like he can’t bear to keep still.

When he bottoms out, he collapses to his elbows, leaving his chest pressed against yours and his face just inches away, every microscopic change in his expression obvious to you with him so close.

You can tell he’s steeling himself to pull out, his jaw clenching and his brow furrowing as he draws his hips back slowly, his cock leaving the warm clutch of your pussy until only the head remains. You don’t even think he’s breathing, his cheeks turning red and his face growing pained, like it feels so good, it hurts.

He slides back in and you make the mistake of squeezing down, and that’s when he stutters, “F-fuck, I can’t- ‘m sorry, I’m gonna fucking-”

His cock jerks and twitches and there’s a muted burst of warmth inside of you, one that’s contained in rubber as he tips into the abyss, his forehead dropping down to rest on your collarbone and his body shaking on top of yours.

His gasps sound more like sobs, his beautiful, diminutive cries of pleasure making you flutter around him, prolonging his orgasm until he’s hissing through clenched teeth and digging his hips into yours as if in retribution.

He starts to soften inside of you and you’re content to let him rest and recuperate, but Yoongi has other ideas.

“Get up,” he commands, making your eyes flick over to him, a glower overtaking your face when he repeats himself. “Jihoon, get up.”

Jihoon reaches down and grips the base of his cock as he withdraws from you, holding the condom in place and cringing when he fully leaves your pussy. He slips the condom off and ties a clumsy knot, tossing it in the waste basket that sits under Yoongi’s bedside table before shuffling off the bed.

He doesn’t look at you, and you wonder if he’s too embarrassed or if he thinks he’ll be met with disappointment. Maybe both, and Yoongi certainly isn’t helping the situation. You don’t know what he’s playing at, rushing Jihoon like this, being so harsh when Jihoon’s at his most vulnerable, but you don’t care for it.

“Yoongi,” you murmur lowly, a warning in your voice.

“Baby, I’m not doing this to be mean. I just want him to learn,” Yoongi placates you, rising from the chair and pointing at it. He waits for Jihoon to take a seat before making his way toward you, gripping the back of his shirt to haul it off as he walks. He sheds his sweats next, his boxers dropping with them, and when you set your eyes on his cock, they almost bulge out of your head.

You think this is the hardest you’ve ever seen him, his dick a purplish rose and his balls heavy, full. You’re speechless, wide eyed, as he climbs onto the bed and reaches for your legs. He arranges you how he wants, planting his hands on the underside of your thighs and pushing them up against your body until he can get his shoulders under your knees.

One hand settles next to your head for balance and the other grips his cock, lightly smacking your pussy with it, the weeping head landing right on your swollen clit. You squirm and gasp at the feeling, your entrance clenching around nothing, pushing out more of your arousal to drip down your ass onto the bed.

He does it again, and again, and again, until you’re whimpering and clawing at him, ready to beg him to just fucking put it in already, and that’s when he guides his cock into place and slides home.

You and Yoongi moan in unison, yours more high pitched than his though both ring with relief.

Him and Jihoon don’t feel all that different but Yoongi is familiar, Yoongi is loved, Yoongi is yours, and that heightens every sensation. He stays buried in you, his gaze locked with yours, possession burning in his eyes like a wildfire.

You’re sure it’s because he gets to feel you bare and Jihoon doesn’t, and you wonder if he’s staying still for so long because he wants you to remember who you belong with. Then you feel him twitch inside of you and notice the tension on his face, and you know that’s not the case at all.

It’s that he’s inches away from doing exactly what Jihoon did, except he doesn’t have the excuse of being a virgin.

Yoongi hasn’t cum early in years, has practically become a paragon of self-control and patience, lasting long enough to get you there twice even when you first did away with the condoms. You’re almost gleeful to discover he’s so close to the edge right now, and you’re about to clamp down around him and push him even closer when his eyes harden and he mutters, “Don’t you fucking dare.”

And you try to listen, you really, really do, but you just can’t help the way your pussy responds to him, especially when he uses that voice on you.

So truly, it’s not even your fault when your walls swallow around his cock and suck him in deeper, the ragged groan he lets out only making you clench down more.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” you whisper faintly, taking a deep breath and attempting to relax your inner muscles as he starts to pull out. “Don’t go,” you whimper, clinging to whatever skin you can reach, one hand wrapping around the wrist next to your head and the other flying down to grasp his hip.

You’re not strong enough to hold him in place, so you know it’s of his own volition when he stops moving, your cunt squeezing around what’s still inside, your whole body begging him not to leave.

He leans in close and narrows his eyes at you, probably trying to see if you’re playing some kind of trick on him, but you know there’s nothing in your gaze but a frantic wish to keep him inside, to finally feel him fuck you like you’ve needed for the last ten days.

His face softens into something fond and he murmurs, “Gonna give you what you need, baby.”

Then, with his eyes still on yours, he calls out, “Jihoon, c’mere.”

You hear him padding over to the bed, and you’re sure he’s just as confused as you are at his sudden involvement. Yoongi straightens up, breaking free of your hold and sitting back on his knees before gripping your hips tightly and pulling your ass into his lap, filling you with his cock and making space at the head of the bed in one rough move.

“Get on the bed, grab her hands,” Yoongi tells Jihoon, his stern voice leaving no room for questioning.

It seems Jihoon has learned his lesson by now, obeying Yoongi quickly and carefully, sliding into place behind you with his legs spread under your shoulders. His hands reach for yours and you offer them with only a little apprehension, gasping when he lifts your upper body enough for your head to rest on his thigh, your hands held against his toned stomach.

“Comfy, babe?” Yoongi asks you, waiting for you to nod before drawing his hips back until only the tip rests inside of you. He shoves forward, his pelvis smacking into your ass, a slick squelch sounding when he bottoms out.

He doesn’t give you any time to get used to it, every thrust that follows just as deep, just as vicious.

The rhythm of his cock slamming into you overtakes your heartbeat, your cunt throbbing and drooling around him as he rams into you, forcing your wetness out of your pussy and your thoughts out of your head.

Soon enough, you’re mindless with pleasure and writhing in their laps, arching into and away from the wicked bucking of Yoongi’s hips, his cock plunging into you so fast and so hard, you aren’t sure you’ll survive.

You can’t stop crying either, whining and blubbering nonsense words intercut with your boyfriend’s name, pleading for him to keep going because you’ll die if he stops but also he might kill you if he doesn’t.

“You can take it, baby,” Yoongi breathlessly assures you, his eyes lighting up with a devilish idea. “Maybe you just need something to focus on. Turn your head.”

Maybe he’s right, maybe you do just need to devote what little brain power you have left to something, so you turn your head and there it is, Jihoon’s bright red, rock hard cock.

With a desirous moan, you lean forward and drag your tongue up the side of his shaft, following one of the veins that winds around his dick like a vine. He chokes out a groan, his hands holding yours tighter when you tilt your head back and whimper, “Jihoon, please, put it in my mouth.”

There are tears streaming down your cheeks as you part your lips, laying your tongue out to entice him more. Yoongi is still fucking you, hasn’t let up for even a second, and you can feel his eyes on you as Jihoon transfers your hands to one of his and grips the base of his dick, pointing it in your direction and slowly feeding it into your mouth.

The angle is awkward but you can work with it, letting out a garbled ‘thank you’ and consciously relaxing your throat so he can slide deeper inside.

“That’s my girl, such nice manners,” Yoongi coos with a slight tone of condescension, watching as you swallow around Jihoon’s cock and fight not to choke.

“Wanna feel something amazing?” Yoongi asks Jihoon, who mutters doubtfully, “Something better than this?” and then he must nod because Yoongi says, “Put your hand on her throat. You can squeeze a little.”

Both of your hands are still gathered up in one of Jihoon’s, and you feel his free hand tentatively wrap around your neck, making you whine around him and clench around Yoongi.

“Fuck, is that my-” An avid groan cuts him off, his fingers spasming on your throat, though they don’t tighten to the point of pain.

A trickle of precum slides down your esophagus and you swallow again, your throat working around his thick cock, taking in another inch. You’re almost at the root now, close enough for your chin to brush his balls, and you’re about to get the last little bit inside when Yoongi scoops his hips on a stroke out and grinds right over your g-spot.

You squeak and jerk between them, your back arching as he starts to aim every single thrust there, battering the patch of nerves until you think you’ll cum just from this, just from his dick inside of you.

Then you feel his hand work itself between your thighs, his fingers cruel and exacting on your clit, and you have to pull off of Jihoon to gasp for air as an orgasm tears through you like a tornado, your pleasure wild, furious, devastating.

He doesn’t let up for even a minute, fucking you through it and leaning down over you to sink a hand into your hair, guiding your mouth back to Jihoon’s cock.

“Make him cum, baby.”

You bury him in your mouth again, nuzzling down until your nose brushes his skin and his cock fills your throat. He twitches and leaks, and you just know he’s close, but you don’t have the right angle to bob your head up and down, to give him any friction. All you can do is swallow and moan plaintively and hope it’ll be enough to carry him over the edge.

Your teary eyes flicker up and lock with his, and that’s what does it. His face crumples and a strangled moan forces its way out of his mouth as his cum shoots down your throat, his cock twitching, pulsing, throbbing between your lips. His grasp on your hands is so tight, it almost hurts, but the fingers on your neck never grip harder, never constrict to the point of suffocation.

Your throat convulses around him and he pulls out with a wounded sound, probably too sensitive to stay in the wet heat of your mouth any longer. His hand pets your neck and glides up to your face, wiping your tears away and cupping your cheek as Yoongi’s fingers start to swirl between your legs again.

You don’t know if you have another release left in you, but if you do, Yoongi will draw it out, and he’ll do it with a smile on his face. He’s mean that way, but so nice too, and now that all you have to focus on is the feeling of him surging in and out of you, the spark of painful bliss is familiar.

It reminds you that you’ve survived him before, and that this time won’t be any different even if you don’t feel like the same person after.

Yoongi fucks you like he’s remaking you in the shape of him, like he wants to take you down to your nuts and bolts then build you back up in a new form, one that bears his signature. It’s raw and rough and filthy, but beautiful too, which is always how he leaves you feeling when he’s had his way with you.

That’s the last thought you have before he sweeps all of them up and away with one final circle of his fingers on your sensitive, swollen clit.

Euphoria and agony battle within you, your climax excruciating but rapturous, sending you into a spiral of warring sensations that have you near delirious until finally, finally, finally, Yoongi lets himself break.

You whimper at the feeling of his cock hardening and twitching in your spent pussy but his cum flowing into you is a balm, soaking your delicate, tender walls with a warm wash of white. You breathe through the sting of overstimulation, your eyes watering again and your body shuddering between Jihoon and Yoongi.

Sometimes Yoongi stays inside after but you think he can tell you’re too wrung out, so he carefully slides out of you and lowers your legs from his shoulders, his palms gliding up and down your thighs in a soothing manner.

“Jihoon,” he says softly, his eyes still on you. “Go through that door and grab a washcloth from the closet, the softest one you can find. Get it wet with some warm water and bring it here.”

Jihoon is quick to follow Yoongi’s instruction, supporting your neck as he slips out from under you and brushing a thumb over your cheekbone before he leaves.

You hear the opening and closing of a door, then running water, then the quiet padding of feet on hardwoods. Your eyes have fluttered closed but you’re not surprised when you feel gentle hands cleaning you up, dabbing the washcloth between your legs, mindful of your sensitivity.

They fly open when you hear Yoongi say, “You can stay in the guestroom, if you want. It’s clean and ready for you.”

“You can stay in the guestroom, Jihoon is staying right here,” you assert, reaching blindly for him and clinging to his hand when you find it.

The time after losing your virginity can be fraught with emotion, and you’re not going to make Jihoon go through that alone. You also happen to feel unbearably fond of him now, and you’re itching to give him the affection he deserves after listening to Yoongi so well.

Yoongi just holds his hands up in surrender, muttering, “You’re middle spoon, then.”

As if that’s some kind of hardship.

Yoongi pulls two pairs of pajamas and a big t-shirt out of his drawer, passing one set over to Jihoon before walking over to you and carefully pulling the t-shirt over your head. He reaches into the arm holes and pulls your arms through like you can’t do it yourself, and you’d tease him if you didn’t feel so exhausted, you could pass out.

You have to get up so Yoongi can strip the comforter off the bed, and instead of putting it in the wash like he should, he just tosses it to the floor and grabs the backup from the closet. He waits for you to get under the sheets before throwing it over you, letting it float down to cover the bed and climbing in behind you.

Clothed in his borrowed pajamas, Jihoon awkwardly hovers by the side of the bed, looking unsure. You turn down his side of the comforter and reach a tired hand out, sighing contentedly when he blushes, smiles, and slides in, snuggling up against you.

Yoongi’s arm wraps around your waist and yours wraps around Jihoon’s, and the three of you sink into sleep easily, comfortably, warmly, even as the sun rises and seeps through the edges of your blackout curtains.

They’re making breakfast together and chatting about music when you limp downstairs, fresh out of the shower and starving out of your mind. You wonder if it will be awkward, but then Yoongi presses a kiss to your cheek and raises a brow at Jihoon, clapping him on the shoulder when he does the same, and that's how you know things will be just fine.

AN: would not exist without @bbychocolat jokingly saying "woozi yoongi threesome" and the help of @highvern @whipped-for-kpop-fics @wooahaeproductions and @daechwitatamic! thank you all for sharing your yoongi expertise and holding my hand throughout this journey (and it was a journey)

i've never written yoongi before!! pls tell me your thoughts i am desperate to know 💖

#here lies syria... her pussy exploded #death by producer cat men #seventeen fic fecs #bts fic recs #woozi fic recs #yoongi fic recs #mdni

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