#CosyHomeNet

[xomakara]

Hey, Cowboy

SUMMARY |  Mingyu's lap looks very inviting.

PAIRINGS |  Mingyu (SVT) x Reader

RATING |  Mature, NSFW, EXPLICIT, MDNI, 18+, Any Minors and Ageless Blogs will be blocked 

GENRE |  smut, pwp, established relationship

CONTENT/WARNINGS |  profanity, alcoholic consumption, grinding, unprotective sex, fingering, breast fondling, creampies, dirty talk, kissing, sucking, hair gripping/pulling, praising, oral sex (m.receiving), praising, multiple orgasms, deep dicking, size kink, riding/cowgirl, reader is turned on because of mingyu's stetson hat

LENGTH |  4,097 words 

TAGLIST |  –

NETWORKS |  @k-vanity @ksmutsociety @keopihaus @cosyhomenet @winerys-collection

AUTHOR’S NOTE | Because we all love Cowboy!Gyu~

Seventeen Masterlist

"Hey, Cowboy."

Mingyu looks up from his phone to catch your eyes. Sitting on the couch with a Stetson hat perched atop his head, he looks positively comical and you can't help but laugh at the picture.

Mingyu shakes his head playfully. "I'm your boyfriend. The least I can do is pull these hats from storage for your enjoyment."

"I knew I kept you around for a reason," you quip back. In all honesty, you never were much of a fan of Mingyu's endless stash of props... 

Until today that was.

As much as you hate to admit it, the way he’s sitting on the couch, legs spread open invitingly, and with his mouth tipped upwards ever so slightly made him look every bit like the epitome of sex. You just hoped Mingyu hadn't caught onto your blatant ogling and thankfully, your prayers were heard and you quickly realize that Mingyu had absolutely zero clue about what was going on in your head.

Mingyu simply rambles on, asking where the rest of his friends were and whether or not he'd be allowed to post the pictures without their consent, as if his hat and lap wasn't doing things to you.

Oh, the things he was doing to you.

When Soonyoung invited you and Mingyu to the SVT frat costume party that he randomly decided to throw, you didn't really know what you had signed up for. In all honesty, you agreed because your friend insisted and who were you to deny one of his random party ideas anyway? You and Mingyu decided to go as cowboys, since you had this cute, little skirt that would go well with some boots and he had a Stetson hat lying around.

However, as soon as you and your boyfriend arrived, Soonyoung and Seokmin had immediately dragged the two of you aside and doused you with alcohol.

Mingyu doesn't know a single thing of the thoughts racing in your head, because instead, his focus is directed onto his phone once again. It's really nothing out of the ordinary, until he hooks a finger in between the button of his shirt and tug ever so slightly that causes his shirt to be unbuttoned, exposing some of the lean muscle hidden there. Your eyes linger for a bit too long on his chest before he finally notices and looks back at you curiously. "Are you okay?" He asks and you cough out awkwardly.

"Um... yeah," you mutter quietly.

"Good, good... then I'll take more photos!" Mingyu says excitedly. He grabs your arm, pulls you down into his lap in one fell swoop while snapping multiple pictures at the same time, and before you even have a chance to question him, he's already scrolling through the photos and posting them onto his social media page.

Once he's posted a sufficient amount of pictures, Mingyu finally puts his phone down and gazes up at you with bright eyes, nearly causing your heart to skip a beat. "I'm so glad we took these photos. My baby looks hot as a cowgirl."

His arms encircled your body, pressing you further onto him, and he drops a quick, chaste kiss on your cheek.

You lick your lips as the friction makes your heart pound wildly. "Y'know Mingyu..." you whisper. "You're quite the sex icon with this cowboy thing..." And maybe it's because you've downed several cups of Soonyoung's cheap, vodka laced punch, but there's nothing stopping you from saying the most idiotic thing in your life, "Can I suck your dick?"

You watch your boyfriend's expression go from innocent to utter shock. For a moment, you actually think you see his ears tinge red, but you blink once again and the color is gone. "E-excuse me? Did I hear you right?"

"...yes?"

Mingyu sputters out in surprise, fumbling with his words and you can practically see his mind ticking as the gears turn, desperately attempting to process the information. "...what?" He finally manages to whisper in a quiet voice, not quite meeting your eyes and you shrug helplessly as you knelt on the floor and between his spread legs.

"Please, Mingyu? You just look so good in that hat and..." you trail off as you glance back up at your tall boyfriend, this time completely noticing the way his cheeks tint red in the dim lighting. "Your lap just looks so inviting." You pout as your fingers dance along the edge of his jeans, enjoying the way his lips curl and hips buck ever so slightly in an involuntary reaction.

"You're just joking. Right?"

"...no." You feel his eyes follow the movement of your finger that lightly strokes the inside of his thigh and you chuckle to yourself at the sharp hiss he lets out when you caress his crotch. 

"Come on, babe," he attempts one last time, still unable to look directly into your eyes. "Don't do this to me." Mingyu had no doubt noticed the bulge in his pants growing.

"Pleaseee?" You trail off as you eye his crotch, silently admiring the way Mingyu's bulge is prominent, leaving no room for imagination. "I know you've been looking at my ass this entire night," you smirk as your eyes lock with his.

Mingyu groans audibly as his teeth sink into his bottom lip in a valiant attempt at stopping his desire from leaking out. "Fine. Okay... let's do it." You can tell how desperately his cock must ache inside his pants, evident by the way he palms the outside of his thigh. "But if we're doing this... let's get somewhere a little more private."

After several moments of frantically looking, the two of you finally end up tucked in a secluded room that looked like an office. Luckily the music blasting in the frat house was so loud, that no one could even bother to be quiet and the entire hallway is flooded with the sounds of moans and sex. No one will dare to bother you in a place like this.

"Okay, you bad little cowgirl," Mingyu teases as he takes a seat on the leather couch, leaning back so his head is resting against the top. "I'm all yours to do whatever you want." You can only stare in awe as his fingers curl around the band of his jeans. "Anyways, it's time for you to claim your prize."

You slide your way to your knees, keeping your eyes locked onto Mingyu the entire time and only finally breaking off when you face his lower region. Mingyu is quick to undo his belt and quickly unzip his jeans and for the first time, you realize he'd gone commando tonight, causing a sudden spike in arousal as Mingyu's length bounces free of its constraints and smacks against the skin of his lower stomach.

You love how big your boyfriend is in every possible way, and it should really come as no surprise, considering his height and large frame. But, Mingyu's size never ceases to surprise you no matter how many times he's made love to you, whether that be from his long slender fingers to his tongue and his cock. You moan to yourself quietly as you wrap a fist around his cock and watch the foreskin glide back and expose his tip. You trace a finger along his head, enjoying the way the precum starts to trickle out the tip of his cock before you lift a hand up and suck in one of the fingers coated with precum, earning a sharp hiss from Mingyu.

His voice is strangled when he manages to choke out your name, the action catching him by surprise. "Naughty, naughty." Mingyu remarks softly. "You just love seeing me hard, don't you?"

"Hm... maybe, yes," you murmur, watching the way your hand easily moves up and down Mingyu's length before he inhales sharply, bucking his hips wildly, unable to help himself from fucking your hand. "Maybe I'll just bring you off with my hands alone tonight. That'd be quite a show."

"Fuck..." Mingyu mutters out through a clenched jaw when he watches the way you stroke the base of his cock lazily. "No more teasing. Just put your mouth to good use."

With one, final squeeze, you press the tip of Mingyu's thick cock past your lips and you instantly hear him groan above you. Mingyu's dick tastes bittersweet and is hot on your tongue and you love the taste. With a new surge of arousal pulsating through you, you're determined to take him as far as you can, forcing yourself past the initial gag reflex. Your nails dig harshly into his upper thighs, leaving light crescent marks with your touch, but you figure it'll just add to his enjoyment, judging by the way his head tilts upwards as another low moan falls from his mouth.

Your name escapes Mingyu's lips with such breathlessness that has your lower regions tingling pleasantly.

But you're not completely happy, seeing as to how he's not touching you the slightest. A whine slips from your throat as you grip Mingyu's thigh a bit too harsh, causing him to cry out in a mix of pleasure and pain and glance back down towards you, blinking in surprise. "Shit, Gyu," you mumble around his cock. Your hand is still palming his erection and the tip glistens under the lamplight with your spit.

His eyes narrow to meet yours in confusion. "What's wrong?" He questions, voice dripping with lust. "Isn't this what you want?"

It doesn't matter how drunk or sober you are, his dick feels fucking great in the hot confinement of your mouth and honestly? You can't get enough of the taste of him. The sensation of Mingyu's dick is almost better than any drug. "Nothing's wrong, except the fact you're not touching me Gyu," you complain quietly. "At least hold my hair or something. Let me know how well I'm doing."

A sinful smile teases on Mingyu's face. "Needy." Is the only warning you get before you feel fingers curl around your hair tightly, tilting your chin and pushing you farther down on his thick length. Instinctively, you roll your eyes back as his heavy cock hits the back of your throat, sliding into place without so much of a single choking. "Is this better for you?"

You can't answer, not like this with his cock filling up every bit of your mouth, so you can only respond to him by wrapping your tongue against him, bringing your hand back to grip and fondle with his balls. Mingyu curses and tosses his head back to rest on the edge of the couch, hips rolling slightly with each drag of his shaft along the warm and velvety texture of your mouth.

"Good girl," he grits through his teeth as a shot of hot pleasure rolls throughout his body, settling just below his abdomen. There's not much thought behind his words as they tumble past his tongue in the form of praise. Mingyu's vision nearly goes hazy when you begin to hum lightly around the base of his dick. The vibrations send him near the edge.

The pressure becomes too much for Mingyu to take. His hand that had been resting in your hair so lightly tightens its grip. You try not to let the small squeaks leave your mouth, knowing they'll go unnoticed but with his fingers clenched into a fist around the back of your head and forcing your lips so close to the base of his thick cock, tears of over-stimulation start to spring from your eyes as he begins to fuck your mouth. "Fuck! Shit, coming!" Mingyu barely chokes out in a rough and guttural voice, not that you could've heard him. Instead you're treated to a low, guttural groan as he arches his back from the couch, completely at the mercy of Mingyu's hold.

Your taste buds are overwhelmed with Mingyu's. He's salty and bitter and sweet and warm and so fucking delicious on your tongue. You swallow everything, desperate not to allow even a drop of the precious and addicting taste to leak from your mouth.

After you've cleaned Mingyu's spent cock with your tongue and licked every droplet of cum from his cock, you got up and shimmy your way onto Mingyu's lap once again, not minding the softening dick beneath your core. 

Mingyu blinks in surprise at you. "What are you planning now?"

"Trying to save a horse by riding a cowboy," you answered teasingly while pressing a wet, hot kiss against his lips. "Help a girl out, won't you cowboy? Show me what you're really made of."

Mingyu takes his bottom lip between his teeth, dark brown eyes reflecting the moonlight from the window, and there's something in his gaze that you can't help but find hypnotizing. He grins slyly at you, "The real question is, how quiet are you going to be for me?"

"Who said that I'll be quiet?" You quip with a laugh, causing Mingyu to throw you an incredulous look.

"The rest of our friends are downstairs and here we are, trying to keep quiet," he whispers into your ear, leaving you weak at his voice. His warm breath fans against your neck and a sudden tremor shakes through your core. Mingyu places a swift bite and lick to the side of your neck, no doubt creating a bruise that's visible for the rest of the world to see. His lips quirk upwards. "Just hope you won't be too loud, my little cowgirl. Otherwise everyone will know just how much you were begging to take my cock."

"Maybe I want them to hear," you grind against his cock and whimper at the lack of stimulation on your needy and soaked core. "Maybe I want them to know how much your dick fills my needy little pussy."

"Baby," Mingyu growls quietly with another harsh tug at your hair. His cock is slowly growing hard underneath the thin fabric of your skirt. "Keep talking like that and see where it'll get you."

You can't find a response. Instead all you can muster is a gasp when you feel Mingyu insert his fingers past the soaked fabric. It isn't enough. "Mingyu..." Your breathing grows ragged when you feel Mingyu's thumb swirl in circles on the inside of your slit and at the same time his fingers that are covered by your juices plunge in and out in a torturous rhythm.

"Well someone's wet," you hear Mingyu comment smugly as he retracts his digits from your folds to the open air. He chuckles at your silent protest, observing the string of glistening liquid connect from his fingers and to your crotch before grinning at you. "Look at how wet you are just from me fucking your mouth. You want a real taste? Cum on my fingers and we'll go from there, baby. Show me just how wet you can be and then, only then will you get what you want."

Mingyu plunges his long and thick digits into your dripping cunt and you cry out. "G-Gyu…" you whisper out as a surge of pleasure runs through you. Your wetness completely drenched Mingyu's hands, covering it in the scent and the warm texture of your arousal, as his fingers work relentlessly.

"Look at me," Mingyu commands sharply in your ear and you snap to attention instantly. Your half-lidded eyes meet Mingyu's burning gaze and the sly smirk on his face leaves you a panting mess as your cunt clamps onto his hand. "Fuck what the rest think," you hear Mingyu grunt and his free hand is pulling you close, with his nose pressed just below your ear, warm breath tickling the shell of your ear as he whispers. "Show everyone how badly you want me to fill you."

The burning heat that was pooling in your belly grows into a raging forest fire. Every bit of you is coated with the flames. Mingyu fucks you with the fingers, mercilessly curling and plunging at the exact right spot to make you squirm as his thumb continues to tease and draw circles around the little bundle of nerves. "Close. I-I'm coming, Mingyu."

His lips twist into a handsome smile, sending a surge of confidence. Mingyu ducks his head to hover dangerously close over your bare chest and after giving your breast a quick squeeze, bites harshly, causing a surge of pleasure-pain to tear through you. Your juices flow copiously and a whimper of pleasure escapes from you before you can stop it. Your muscles clench tight, your toes curl into the soft leather sofa and your head falls back against Mingyu's shoulder in ecstasy. Mingyu continues to piston his fingers within your velvety heat until he draws every ounce of the orgasm out of your trembling body.

Mingyu pulls his sticky digits from your now throbbing pussy, and brings the cum-covered fingers to his own lips. "You taste so good, babe," he whispers before looking back to you and bringing his fingers to your lips. "Open up." Obediently, your lips part for the fingers to slip past. Mingyu's long fingers dance within the warmth of your mouth, groaning at the warmth enveloping his fingers. "Good girl."

You want more. Even after being rewarded by the most earth-shattering and satisfying orgasm, your greedy core aches to be filled again. 

By him.

Lifting your hips and moving your panties to the side, you guide Mingyu's hard length into you without a single second thought. When you're fully seated, you finally release a content breath and slump into Mingyu's wide chest. "Fuck Gyu, you're so big," you manage to huff out in a high-pitched tone, breathing in the musky scent of him. "God, I needed this."

"How are you feeling?" Mingyu's palms glide gently down the smooth skin of your thighs.

You kiss him with fervor, cupping the back of his neck to pull him further towards you. "Just wonderful," you mumble against him before pulling away with a soft smile and then sink down on the firm length, savoring every inch of him. Mingyu is very large and girthy, and fills you nicely, with just the right amount of stretch. "Let's find out just how well your little cowgirl can ride you, cowboy."

"Be my guest," Mingyu licks his lips and sinks further down the sofa, eyes darkening. "Have a nice ride."

You begin a gentle pace, moving up and down his hard length and delighting at the sight. Mingyu's grip on your hips are so hard that you're almost sure that it'll be imprinted on your skin in the form of hand prints for days after. "Shit, Mingyu. You always feel so good." You whimper, rocking your hips at a rapid pace and enjoy the way Mingyu's thick cock drags in and out of you. "Fuck."

You curse, but Mingyu's attention is on the way you arch your back into him. He bites harshly on one pert nipple while his fingers massage the other, sending a current of electricity throughout your body. His deft hands trail up your body to cup your breasts and you shiver when his thumbs flit over the tingling peaks of your nipples, your pace never faltering even for a second.

He continues to play with the aching and sensitive peaks of your nipples, switching from harsh flicks to gentle strokes. All of these actions cause you to move faster. Without even a moment's hesitation, you latch your mouth onto his and tug the hat that still lays perched atop Mingyu's head over to your own and laugh.

The room is filled with the lewd sounds of flesh hitting flesh and Mingyu groans underneath your ministrations. You've finally gotten a proper rhythm and pace going and with a tilt of your hips, you're seeing stars every time his cock strikes you at the perfect spot within you. "Do I look good in your hat, Mingyu?"

"I get why wearing the hat is a turn on," Mingyu rasps out as you continue to rock your hips and tighten yourself against his shaft.

"If you lose the hat, I'm not fucking you," you threaten teasingly and giggle, to which he rolls his eyes fondly, settling against the cushion and contentedly gazing up at your flushed, sweaty face with his cock deep inside you.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Mingyu begins to grunt, hips jumping slightly. "Wouldn't dream of losing that hat," he swears with a nod.

"Promise?" You hum, brows raised innocently, not quite expecting Mingyu to reach up and press your hands in his hair, eyes gleaming dangerously. 

"Now why would I want to lose the hat, if all it takes is getting to fuck you like this?" Mingyu questions, the corners of his lips tilting into a smile before snapping his hips upwards.

"Shiiiit, I like where this is going." The last syllable escapes you as a long moan.

Mingyu laughs against your mouth. He winds the loose strands around his fingers and lightly pulls them out of your eyes to look at you properly. "Then do a good job, sweetheart. Keep riding."

You catch his lips in a desperate kiss, nipping at his lower lip with your teeth, as you rock down, pressing his length impossibly deeper inside you and grinding your clit down against the soft, tuft of hair that lay nestled above Mingyu's length, groaning at the friction, then slowly rise up again. The slow movement allows you to feel his full length and girth filling you to the brim.

Mingyu hisses. "Oh fuck... not going to last," he moans as his hips stutter against you.

"Me too," you whisper, rocking at a steady pace, fully enjoying the feeling of his hot dick as it stretches and hits the deepest parts inside you. The heat and pressure feels far too amazing, as a second orgasm creeps along your belly. "Going to... cum, again." You manage to stutter out, overwhelmed at how each thrust is jarring you so much to the point the sofa creaks lightly under you.

"That's my girl," Mingyu grits his teeth at your words, eyes rolling to the back of his head before fixing you with an intense glare. He's on the brink. There's absolutely nothing hotter than watching your pretty mouth form his name as you come undone in his lap. "Come on, do it. Cum for me."

"Cum in me, Mingyu," you beg as you dig your nails in his shoulders. "Let's cum together."

A roar rips through his lungs and with a shudder, Mingyu's release paints your inner walls and the stimulation is more than enough for you to also cry out as a second climax washes over you, his hot cum spurts into you and leaks past to his balls.

"Fuck..." Mingyu grunts with a groan as he tries to even out his breathing. "Goddamn that was really, really great." His length is softening, and he is coated in a light sheen of sweat.

You settle on top of him, sighing in pure happiness as he twitches and pulses within your overly-sensitive cunt. He rubs your hips gently, fingers squeezing in silent reassurance. "It was so, so, so good," you mumble back. You press a chaste kiss on his cheek with a smile and slide off of Mingyu, still whimpering slightly and reveling in the feeling of your cunt clenching around nothing and feeling empty. "I'm never letting you lose that hat."

His mouth turns upwards into an exhausted but affectionate smile and he rests his hat once more on your hair and begins to redress himself before glancing over at you, shaking his head in amusement. "Ready to head back?" He questions, to which you nod silently, allowing him to button up his shirt once again. "Round two back home?"

You smile devilishly and peck your boyfriend on the lips before stepping up to walk straight to the exit. "Round two begins the moment we enter the apartment," you laugh lightly as Mingyu saunters over and links his fingers with yours.

The music in the house is muffled from upstairs but a constant steady thumping of a drum set to a base. "Sure. You're not getting any sleep tonight, baby."

"Well, it's a good thing I can ride you like a horse all night long, cowboy." You place his cowboy hat on his head, giggle and pat him on the cheek and are practically dragging Mingyu towards the door with a happy smile. "Time to let a woman prove that she can save a horse and ride a cowboy!"

© xomakara All works on this blog are protected under copyright. I do NOT allow any of my works to be entered into any form of AI.

[shadowkoo]

Bad Influence

→ Summary: In a dark, pulsing nightclub packed with strangers, you’re just looking for a good time—free drinks, dirty dancing, maybe a hot kiss or two. But when Mingyu finds you on the dance floor, he changes the game entirely. What starts as harmless teasing spirals into a filthy, no-boundaries encounter right there in the crowd. And by the end of it, you're not sure who’s corrupting who.

↠ mingyu x f.reader | 1.6k words | 18+ ↠ genre: smut, strangers to lovers, pwp

→ Warnings: rave night club party vibes, bad boy!mingyu, alcohol consumption, mentions of earlier drug usage, consensual sex while under the influence of drugs & alcohol (pills mentioned but no name specifics), unprotected + explicit sex, rough sex, scratching, biting, hair pulling, grinding while dancing, fingering, finger sucking, quicky in the middle of the dance floor, exhibitionism, mild choking + breath play, cum warming/stuffing, dirty talk, praise, pet names, multiple orgasms, overstimulation

→ Networks: @ksmutsociety @k-vanity @keopihaus @lapydiaries @cosyhomenet @svthub @thediamondlifenetwork

→ Author Note: happy 10 year anniversary to seventeen!!! this idea was born bc bad influence has been playing on repeat all day and i cannot get the thunder visuals out of my head either so here you go LOL as always, all likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated <3

⋆˙⟡ m.list ⟡⋆⟡ ao3 ⟡⋆⟡ wips ⟡⋆⟡ updates ⟡⋆⟡ shadow realm ⟡˙⋆

🎵 Bad influence, you had to do it, An ordinary time ain't enough for you 🎵

You slam back the first shot, barely flinching before accepting the next from the stranger beside you. He’s cute, just not your type. Still, you’re not above a little harmless flirting if it keeps the drinks coming. Lucky you.

Unlucky for him though, you have zero intention of going home with him. You flash a smile, murmuring a quick thanks before slipping between the bodies on the dance floor, losing him in the blur of lights.

Arms lifted and hips circling to the beat, you toss your hair back, letting the music take over. The mix of alcohol and pills from earlier hums through your veins, softening everything around you. It feels good.

A firm hand slides onto your hip, syncing with your movements like he already knows your rhythm. A man who can match your tempo? Instantly hot. You silently hope his face is as good as his dancing.

Sneaking a glance, you’re more than pleased. He’s insanely good-looking too. Messy black hair. A lip ring shining under the strobe lights. Probably has tattoos too, if you cared enough to look for them.

Fuck yeah, you’ll dance with him. And better yet, you’ll even let him take you home after.

“I’m Mingyu,” he says, leaning in with a cocky grin. “What’s your name, Gorg?”

“Y/N!” you shout over the music, turning back around to grind against him. His fingers trail down your sides, brushing the bare skin between your tiny skirt and your cropped, backless halter. He moves as if he knows exactly where this night is going, and you’re not about to stop him.

His lips brush your neck as you dance, followed by the teasing flick of his tongue and a playful bite that sends heat straight through you. You spin in his arms again, this time facing him, and crash your mouth to his without hesitation.

Mingyu’s arms lock around you, pulling you flush against his solid body. Your hands roam, tracing the hard lines of his biceps, his broad shoulders, the tension coiled in his back—then lower, to the firm curve of his ass.

You're sharing body heat, breathing each other in, getting lost in one another.

“Mmm,” he murmurs against your lips, “Baby, you should know I’m nothing but a bad influence.”

You pull back with a dangerous twinkle in your eyes. “So influence me then, Mr. Bad Boy,” you dare him.

🎵 Bad influеnce, you had to do it, You wanna have a good, good night 🎵

His thumb drags slowly across your lips, smearing the last of your gloss.

You part them slightly, tongue flicking out to taste the corner of your mouth, knowing exactly what you’re doing.

He takes the opening, pressing his thumb past your lips.

Instinct takes over. You close your mouth around it, tongue swirling, sucking slowly. His eyes darken, hunger and lust flashing through them.

With a soft pop, he pulls his hand away. You turn around without a word, body rolling as you grind down to the beat, taunting him to make the next move.

He grabs a fistful of your hair and yanks you back up, mouth at your ear, voice low and rough. “Don’t start something you’re not gonna finish, dollface.”

You push your ass back against the growing bulge in his jeans, grinning wickedly. “Right back at you, darlin’.”

He groans, no longer holding back, completely indifferent to the people surrounding you both. One hand wraps firmly around the front of your neck, tilting your head back and keeping your body flush against his. The other glides down your bare stomach, slipping beneath the hem of your miniskirt.

“Fuck, you’re soaked,” he growls, fingers sliding through the heat between your thighs. “This for me, baby? You want a good time? I’ll give you a fucking unforgettable one.”

The pressure at your throat flares for a moment, just enough to make your vision edge with stars. Then, mercifully, he loosens his grip, letting you gasp a few shaky breaths before tightening again.

“Make all the noise you want, Gorg. No one here gives a shit. I’m gonna fuck you right here too, make you lose your goddamn mind on my cock. You want that?” His fingers pick up their pace, curling relentlessly against your inner walls.

The bass from the music thuds in your ears, but it’s nothing compared to the pulse pounding between your legs. Mingyu’s breath is hot against your neck. His lips brush your skin as he mutters filthy praise into your ear.

You can feel him too, hard and throbbing through his pants, grinding against your ass in rhythm with every stroke of his fingers.

Your legs threaten to buckle as he hits that perfect spot again and again, sending tremors through your core. You're dripping, thighs slick as he pumps his fingers in and out of you. A small gasp escapes your lips, then a whimper, louder than you intended. But he was right. No one notices.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he growls, voice laced with pure desire. “Let ‘em hear how good I’m making you feel.”

You’re unraveling. The pleasure is building, sharp and blinding. You throw your head back against his shoulder, mouth parted, eyes fluttering shut as your body starts to shake.

You nod, too breathless to speak, reaching back to clutch the back of his neck. Your nails dig into his skin as he pinches your clit hard.

White-hot ecstasy tears through you, the orgasm hitting like a jolt of lightning. Your legs tremble violently, mouth falling open as a cry escapes you. Without Mingyu’s strong grip holding you up, you’re certain you’d collapse right there on the dirty dance floor.

🎵 Bad influencе, you had to do it, It's four in the morning, what the fuck we doin'? 🎵

But he’s not finished with you. Not even close.

“I wasn’t kidding, Y/N,” he growls against your ear, pulling his hand from the front of your skirt. You hear the soft, unmistakable sound of his zipper lowering as he frees himself with a quiet, practiced motion. His hand slides to your ass, tugging your soaked thong aside with a rough, impatient grip. You feel the thick head of his cock press against your slick folds, teasing, threatening.

“I’m gonna ruin you right here, between all of these people,” he whispers, his voice full of dark promise. “And you’re gonna let me. Aren’t you?”

Then he pushes in.

You both moan in unison as he begins to stretch you open. The intrusion is intense, overwhelming, and everything you didn’t know you were desperate for. The loud music around you pulses through your bodies, but all you can feel is him.

It’s so much better than you imagined.

“Fuck,” he hisses, thrusting deeper, inch by inch, until he's almost fully sheathed inside you. “You feel that? You think you can take all of me, baby?”

“Give me everything,” you mewl, voice shaking with need.

And he does.

He starts fucking you from behind, his tip hitting deep inside you while his girth stretches against your walls. You’re trapped against his body and the faceless crowd. Bodies blur around you, lights flash, bass pounds. Everyone’s too drunk, too high, too far gone to register the way your breath hitches or how his hand fists your hair to keep you upright.

His mouth brushes your ear again, “Goddamn, look at you. So perfect around my cock, so fucking greedy for it. You were made to be fucked like this, weren't you?”

“Y-yes, made for this,” you gasp, voice cracking. “Made for you.”

That last word snaps something in Mingyu.

He growls, going feral as a switch flips. His movements grow rougher, harder as he pounds into you recklessly, chasing your release like a man possessed.

You fall apart all over again, body writhing, head tossed back against his shoulder as you come undone. A hot gush of wetness spills out around him, dripping down your thighs, making an even bigger mess. But that’s a problem for later.

“Gonna come,” he grunts through clenched teeth, thrusting once, twice, then burying himself deep as his hips jerk. You feel the molten heat of his release pulse inside you, in thick and hot threads. The sensation alone is enough to make your legs buckle, arousal spiking all over again at the thought of him filling you up.

He pulls out slowly, and you feel some of his come leak out after him.

But he’s still not done.

Mingyu drops his hand between your legs, massaging your combined mess into your swollen folds. Then, with zero hesitation, he slides two fingers back inside you.

“Fuck, still so warm, so tight,” he murmurs, eyes dark as he watches your body react. “Think you can give me one more?”

He already knows the answer. Your walls flutter around his fingers, clenching in anticipation even as tears prick the corners of your eyes. It’s almost too much, but you crave it.

It’s so fucking good.

Your body tenses, shuddering violently as a third orgasm rips through you, smaller but more intense. You cry out, unable to hold back, clutching his forearm like it’s the only thing keeping you tethered to the ground.

Mingyu groans, pulling his fingers free. They’re coated in slick and come. Before you can move, he presses them back against your entrance, pushing his release back inside you with a filthy smirk.

“Can’t let it all go to waste,” he says smugly. “Gotta hide the evidence.”

You glance over your shoulder, flushed and wrecked, barely able to stand.

“Wanna get out of here?” he asks, already zipping up, eyes locked on yours.

“Your place or mine?” you ask breathlessly.

🎵 Bad influence, you had to do it, You turn and say "a good, good time" 🎵

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[yuta-nakamots]

Dive Into You - L.Haechan

Pairing - Boyfriend!Haechan x University!AFAB Reader

Genre(s) - Fluff, Smut, University!AU

Warning(s) - smut, unprotected sex, reader wears a bikini, slight public sex (more like just public indecency and really heavy petting), dry (wet?) humping, creampie, multiple orgasms, marriage, reader and haechan have a kid 

Summary - After a whirlwind semester, Haechan sweeps you away on a surprise getaway after finals are over. Between salty kisses and soft-spoken promises, you both begin to realize that Fridays mark more than just the end of the week, they mark the beginning of something new. 

Word Count - 7.5k 

Author’s Note - I meant to get this out on his birthday but got caught up in life so I guess happy belated birthday to Haechan haha

Taglist - @k-vanity @cosyhomenet @neocity-net @k-films @cinneorolls @dinonuguaegi @tinyzen @fancypeacepersona (join my taglist!)

Written for the Resonance Beach Collab originally hosted by @loeycity. Part of the K-Films Summer Event 2025 hosted by @k-films. Also part of my NCT Dream: Seven Days Collection. 

Now playing: Dive Into You - NCT Dream, Bahama - aespa

You first met Haechan in a music theory class halfway through the semester. You were taking it for your degree, as was he, though he hadn’t managed to show up to a class thus far because of his busy idol career. On his day off, he finally attended class for the first time, slipping into the back row of the lecture hall ten minutes late, wearing sunglasses indoors and a hoodie too big for the late-spring weather. Yet no one batted an eye. That’s the thing about university, you could be a celebrity or a sleep-deprived caffeine gremlin and still get away with everything as long as you looked miserable enough. 

He sat beside you, even though the rest of the row was empty. “Your notes looked better than mine,” he remarked. 

You raised an eyebrow. “Are you even enrolled in this class?”

He grinned, teeth flashing beneath the shadow of his hood. “Technically.”

“Technically,” you repeated, unimpressed, as you angled your notebook away from him. 

“Come on,” he whined, nudging your elbow with his. “The midterm is next week, I haven’t studied, and my manager thinks I’m watching video lectures at home right now. Help a guy out?”

You sighed, already sliding your notes a little closer. “If I get caught helping you cheat, you better buy me lunch.”

“Deal,” he agreed, a little too quickly. “And maybe a song.” 

“A song?” You questioned.

“You’ll see.”

Your friendship with Haechan started just like that. A few shared notes, a couple late-night study sessions in the campus café when he had time off in his schedule. He hummed next to you while you worked on your laptop, occasionally changing songs halfway through the phrase just to annoy you. You quickly learned that when he wasn’t on stage, he was a menace with too many inside jokes, an alarming stash of memes, and a knack for making your cheeks hurt from laughing. 

The first time you let him into your apartment, he tripped over cables hooked up to music equipment. He made it up to you by immediately assisting in layering harmonies onto the half-finished chorus of a demo track you made. “This would sound so good with a weird falsetto ghost vocal,” he commented, already recording himself singing off your cheap microphone like it was a stadium stage. 

Somehow, you didn’t mind because somehow, his chaos just fit with yours. You made music together, half as a joke, half because it felt right. You teased him about his idol life, and he teased you about your messy desktop and how seriously you took your plugins. He never stopped talking, but you never wanted him to. Somewhere between 3AM laughter, breathless studio nights, and his fingers brushing yours over a keyboard, you stopped writing love songs about people who didn’t exist. 

One night, when your midterm projects were due and sleep felt like a forgotten luxury, he popped by your apartment with fast food and insisted on ‘helping’ you mix your final track. The ‘help’ amounted to him curling up on a chair next to you with a can of soda and randomly hitting keys on your MIDI keyboard while proclaiming it to be ‘art’. 

You swatted his hand away from your laptop for what had to be the tenth time. “You’re going to make me fail.” 

“I’m inspiring you,” he countered, leaning over your shoulder to peer at your project window. “See, this part? Needs more chaos.” 

“You are chaos.”

He laughed, dropping his chin to your shoulder. “I’m glad you finally noticed.”

You turned to look at him, a comeback ready, but the look on his face made the words freeze in your throat. You didn’t realize until that moment just how badly you wanted to kiss him, his lips looking so full and soft mere inches from you. Your breath caugh,t and Haechan heard, but didn’t move away. 

“If you keep looking at me like that,” he said quietly, the usual teasing in his voice softened by something more sincere, “I’m going to think you like me.”

Your eyes flickered to his. “What if I do?”

The words hung there, suspended in the space between your breath and his. You weren’t sure who leaned in first, but suddenly the distance didn’t exist. His lips met yours in a kiss that tasted like soda and secrets you didn’t want to keep anymore. It was gentle, slow, and careful, like neither of you wanted to break whatever this was turning into. 

When Haechan pulled away, his eyes searched yours. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while,” he admitted, his voice quieter now, his usual bravado stripped away. 

You swallowed, heart thudding in your chest, and your brain fighting with every reason why this shouldn’t have happened. “Haechan,” you started hesitantly. “You’re…you. And I’m just me. This isn’t right.”

He tilted his head, a small smile playing on his lips. “Do you think I don’t know that?” You blinked. “I’ve thought about this, all the reasons it could go wrong. But then I think about how you save lecture notes for me, how you roll your eyes at me, but still tolerate me when I make a bad joke. I think about how I’ve never heard music the same since I first met you.” You looked down at your hands, the weight of reality pressing against the lightness you felt just seconds ago. “Hey.” He reached for your hand. “I can’t promise it’ll be perfect, but I can promise I’ll show up. For you, for this, for us.” 

Your eyes meet his again. There was no cockiness there, just quiet determination and something you realized had been growing behind all his jokes and late-night harmonies. It was real, terrifying, beautiful affection. You nodded slowly, lips drawing up into a small smile. “Okay.”

“Okay?” He echoed, eyes widening. 

“But if I end up in a dating scandal, you better write me a hit breakup song.”

He laughed, his fingers lacing through yours. “Deal. But I’m aiming for a love song first.” And somehow, it felt like the beginning of one. 

Your relationship didn’t erupt like the drop of a chorus, it eased in like a warm synth line, subtle but impossible to ignore. Somewhere in the haze of long nights and low battery percentages, between split headphones and shared playlists, Haechan became the rhythm you moved to without even realizing it. 

One night, long past midnight, you both sat sprawled on the floor of your apartment, surrounded by tangled cables, empty ramen bowls, and the fading echo of a demo track you’d been layering harmonies into. You lay back, arms spread out, gaze unfocused on the water-stained ceiling. “I want to do this forever,” you swooned. “Not the ramen-for-dinner part, I mean the music. Producing, composing, I want it to be my life.”

Haechan was quiet for a beat, then shifted to lie next to you, his shoulder brushing yours. “I think about that too,” he said. “I think about what I’ll do when the spotlight fades, if I’ll still be making music, if I’ll still be me without the stage.”

You turned to look at him. In the dim blue haze of your laptop screen, he looked less like an idol and more like just a boy who loved music too much to let it go. “I think you’ll still be you,” you murmured. “Just…a  little less glitter and a little more sleep.”

He laughed at that. “You think I’ll sleep? I’ll be recording your songs. That’s what my future looks like. You, writing chaotic brilliance in your studio, and me, still trying to convince you to add in a nonsensical adlib.”

“I don’t pay you enough for this,” you joke. 

“You don’t pay me at all.”

A grin spread across your face. “Exactly.” That night ended like most did these days, with your head on his chest, fingers tangled, some indie R&B track humming softly in the background. 

But finals week and a new comeback changed the tempo. You barely saw him after that. He was swallowed by comeback promotions–early call times, live broadcasts, and late-night rehearsals. You, in turn, were drowning in projects, caffeine, and academic despair. The apartment was filled with the evidence of the struggle, empty energy drink cans, abandoned sheet music, and forgotten takeout containers strewn across the floor. 

You missed Haechan in moments that didn’t make sense, like when your headphones didn’t sit quite right, when a melody sounded a bit lonely, when your mind wrote a joke only he would laugh at. So when your last exam ended on a bright Friday afternoon and you staggered out of the lecture hall blinking like a mole, you didn’t expect to find Haechan standing just outside the door. 

He was wearing sunglasses indoors again, paired with an all too large hoodie, like it was the first day you met all over. But this time, he was holding two plane tickets. “Fridays are meant to be fun,” he said, grinning like he had a secret, “so I made one just for you.”

You stared at him, eyes going wide. “What?”

“Hope you have your passport, because we’re leaving like, now. Tropics. You, me, no deadlines.”

“Haechan.” You deadpanned. “Are you kidnapping me?”

He pulled down his sunglasses just enough for you to see him wink. “Only a little. You seem like you could go for some sleep and peace, and actual food for once.” 

You huffed a breath, somewhere between laughter and disbelief. “You’re insane.”

“I’m you’re insane,” he corrected, curling a finger into the strap of your backpack to tug you closer. “This is me keeping my promise.” So you let him take your hand, let him lead you out of the building and into the very beginning of your own song. There’s no chorus yet, just an opening note that felt like freedom. 

You were half-asleep by the time the plane took off. At some point during the flight, you woke up with Haechan’s hoodie draped over your lap and his hand curled loosely around yours, his thumb moving in slow, absentminded circles. You wanted to be annoyed, you really did. He hijacked your post-finals crash and turned it into a spontaneous getaway with little to no time for packing. Who does that? But as warm sunlight spilled through the plane window and Haechan softly hummed a tune you vaguely recognized as one of your demos, annoyance melted into something warmer. 

By the time your feet hit the sand in the Bahamas, you’d accepted two things. One, you were exhausted, but you were here with Haechan. Two, you wouldn’t be getting any rest with Haechan looking at you like that. 

The private villa he booked looked like it had been pulled straight from a honeymoon brochure with whitewashed walls, a hammock strung lazily between palm trees, and the sea glittering just beyond your doorstep. You barely had time to toss your bag onto the bed before Haechan grabbed your hand again, pulling you out to the beach with the urgency of someone racing daylight.

You squinted against the sun. “I can’t believe you kidnapped me.”

“You say kidnapped, I say rescued,” he replied smugly, already kicking his slides off, dragging you toward the shoreline. “You were on the verge of becoming a coffee-addicted music gremlin.”

“I think you missed the part where I already am one.”

Haechan gasped like you just confessed to a felony. “You admit it? Bold.”

You shot him a look. “You say that like you haven’t seen me crawling on the floor at 4AM trying to find a flash drive.”

He grinned. “I’ve also seen you fall asleep with a pencil in your mouth and four open Ableton projects on your screen, so yeah, it was time for an intervention.”

You barely had time to reply before a splash of water hit your shins. You gasped, stunned, looking down at your now-soaked pants. Haechan stood a few feet into the waves, a boyish and playful smile on his face as he cupped more water in his hands. You narrowed your eyes at him. “Did you just–” Before you could finish the sentence, he splashed you again. “Haechan!” you shrieked, stumbling backward as cold water hit your thighs. 

You kicked off your shoes and chased him into the water, shrieking as the ocean soaked through your clothes. Haechan laughed wildly, arms flailing as he tried to evade you, which didn’t work out all that good for him when he tripped and nearly face planted into a wave. You pounced on him. 

The two of you wrestled in the shallows, screaming and splashing like kids on summer break. At one point, he scooped you up bridal style only to dramatically dunk you, then immediately panicked when he thought you might actually be mad. You emerged like a sea monster, hair dripping and clinging to your cheeks, and tackled him right back into the water.

“Timeout!” he gasped between laughs, hands raised in surrender. “You’re actually kind of terrifying like this.”

“You deserve terrifying,” you shot back, breathless from laughing. “I’m still in my clothes, you maniac.”

He swam closer, catching your wrist under the surface. “Okay, but like, you’re also kind of hot when you’re angry.” You rolled your eyes, heart racing not just from the chase, but from the way Haechan was looking at you. His hair was plastered to his forehead, skin glistening with saltwater, and his thumb rubbed against your wrist like he didn’t even realize he was doing it. “Come on,” he said softly, tugging you toward the shore. “Let’s go change and swim for real. I want to see you in that bikini set I know you packed.”

You changed in the bathroom of the villa while Haechan took forever in the outdoor shower, emerging half-wet and humming something suspiciously romantic under his breath. When you finally stepped out in your bikini, adjusting the strap at your shoulder, you didn’t even get the chance to say anything.

Haechan stopped mid-hum, jaw slack. “...Okay,” he said after a beat. “I lied. You’re not terrifying, you’re going to ruin my life.”

You raised a brow, crossing your arms. “That’s a bit dramatic.”

“No, no, no,” he stepped closer, eyes never leaving you. “You’re not allowed to look like that and expect me to behave. I brought you here for relaxation. This is not relaxing.” You laughed, flushed and flattered, but his tone shifted as he got closer. His hand skimmed down your arm, deliberate now, no more teasing in his touch. His fingers slipped just under the curve of your waist. “Mine,” he murmured, more to himself than to you. “Everyone else can look at the ocean while I look at you.”

You swallowed hard. “You brought me to paradise, and now you’re acting like you want to keep me locked in the villa.” 

Haechan leaned in, mouth brushing just below your ear. “I absolutely want to keep you locked in the villa.” Your breath hitched, and the air between you shifted, lazy heat turning into something far more dangerous. His hands didn’t leave your skin. “But I promised a beach day,” his voice dipped, sounding like velvet and fire, “so you better walk ahead of me and give me something to look at.” 

You smacked his chest, laughing. “You’re impossible.” 

“And you’re unreal,” he countered, grin crooked, pupils blown wide. “Let’s go swimming before I forget how to be decent in public.” 

You hadn’t even made it ten steps outside before Haechan was at your side again, fingers laced with yours, palms tight against each other like he couldn’t stand even that much distance. The sand was warm underfoot, powder-soft between your toes, the ocean glittering like a postcard dream just a few yards away. 

The water was perfect. Warm, clear, and so inviting, it almost made you forget the way Haechan’s eyes had darkened the second he saw you step out from the bathroom. He followed you into the ocean like a man possessed, hands already reaching before the waves even reached your hips. You squealed when he caught your waist from behind, spinning you in the water with a triumphant laugh. 

“Don’t act surprised,” his lips brushing your exposed shoulder. “You came out here looking like that and expect me to behave? Please.” You rolled your eyes at his theatrics, but your pulse was a dead giveaway. 

His hands were everywhere, drifting down your spine, splaying wide over your stomach, teasingly tugging at the strap on your shoulder like he was two seconds away from snapping it. When you waded deeper, Haechan followed like a shadow, grabbing your hips under the surface and pulling you flush against him, salt-slick skin on skin. You twisted in his arms, giggling, trying to push him away, but he only groaned low in your ear and held you tighter. “You think I’m playing,” he muttered, fingers trailing under the water, slipping between the thin stretch of your bikini top. You gasped as he cupped one breast, his thumb circling with infuriating slowness, masked by the motion of the waves. 

“Haechan—” you whispered, scandalized and breathless. 

He just smirked. “No one can see us. We’re underwater.” You weren’t sure if that was true or if he just didn’t care. Probably both. He kissed you then, salt and heat and something greedy in the way his tongue brushed yours. The kind of kiss that melted your knees even in the water, the kind of kiss that left you breathless and aching and already wishing you were somewhere more private. 

His hands didn’t behave. One stayed low on your waist, the other sliding beneath the fabric again, bolder this time, palm warm and rough where it wasn’t supposed to be. He kissed you harder when you gasped again, like he wanted to devour every sound. 

“Don’t you dare,” you scolded when he started to push a little further, slightly nudging the strap of your top to the edge of your shoulder. 

“Don’t I dare what?” he asked, all innocence and sin. “Touch my girlfriend?” You splashed him in the face. He laughed, full-bodied and beautiful, but even then he didn’t let go. His arms circled your waist, drawing you against his chest like he couldn’t live without his skin on yours. “I love this swimsuit,” his lips moving against your cheek. “I love how it looks on you. I also love that I’m the one who gets to take it off later.” 

You swatted at him again, face burning, but he caught your wrist and kissed your knuckles, then your inner wrist, then the inside of your elbow, making his way back up your arm like a man worshipping something divine. You hated how easily he made you fold. 

Eventually, the two of you migrated back to shore, half-drunk on heat and horniness. The sun dipped low on the horizon, turning the sky into a watercolor gold and flame. You sank into the warm sand belly down, his thigh pressed against yours as he lay on his back, your fingers tangled together with his. You propped yourself up on your elbows, drawing shapes in the sand with your free hand. 

“Mmm,” Haechan hummed, his eyes following your finger in the sand. “This is almost enough to distract me from the fact that I can see the curve of your ass through that bikini.” 

You snorted and looked away from him. “You’re ridiculous.” 

“I’m in pain, actually,” he said, reaching over and placing a palm on the back of your thigh, fingers sliding upward. “Real suffering is happening right now.” 

“You’re the one who dragged me here. This is your fault.”

“And yet,” his eyes traced over your body like he was memorizing every sun-kissed inch, “I would do it again. A hundred times. Just to watch the way you move with barely anything on.” Your heart stuttered. Haechan pulled back to meet your gaze. “We should head back,” his voice rougher now, molten and thick. “Or else I will fuck you right here, right now.” You could tell he meant it. 

There was nothing joking in his eyes now, only heat and hunger, tethered just barely by your hand in his. You stood slowly, tugging him up by the wrist. “Then let’s go,” you say confidently. “Before you really lose your mind.” 

Haechan groaned like you’d just given him the best present of his life. “Race you to the villa,” he prompted, already grabbing your hand. But you didn’t run. You walked slowly, skin still tingling, Haechan’s hand never leaving yours, practically pulling you as the sky burned orange above. 

You reached the edge of the villa’s patio just as the last sliver of sun kissed the horizon, casting everything in warm honey and soft firelight. Haechan tugged you toward the outdoor shower, barely glancing over his shoulder as he flicked the water on. “Get in,” his voice low and coaxing. “You’re all sandy.”

You looked him up and down. “So are you.”

“Guess we’ll just have to help each other out,” he said, eyes gleaming.

The water was lukewarm, cascading in soft rivulets over your sun-warmed skin. Haechan stepped in behind you, crowding your space like he had no concept of personal space, his hands sliding up your waist, over your stomach, until resting under the swell of your breasts. You shivered when his fingers slipped beneath your bikini again, cupping one breast with no hesitation, thumb brushing over your nipple until it peaked under his touch. 

“Haechan,” you warned, breath catching.

“I know,” he practically growled, pressing closer, hips grinding slowly against your ass. “We’re technically at the villa…” His hips rolled, unhurried yet firm. You felt him, thick and hard beneath the wet cling of his swim trunks, grinding into you like he was seconds away from losing his sanity. 

You gasped as he moved your bikini top aside completely, exposing your breasts to the air and the spray of the water. “Haechan–”

“No one’s out here,” he whined, mouth finding your shoulder, biting it lightly. “We’re still on our villa property.”

“There’s only trees, no fence,” you hissed. “Anyone could walk by–”

“Let them,” he muttered, grinding harder, one hand sliding down to palm at the softness of your thighs. “Let them see how pretty you are when you let me touch you.” You moaned at his words, reaching behind you to grab at him, palm sliding down his abdomen, fingers slipping beneath the band of his trunks. 

He groaned through his teeth, thrusting forward involuntarily. “Fuck, baby,” he breathed. “I want you so bad I’m gonna die.” 

“We can’t,” you insist, even as you arch into his hold on your breasts from how good his hands felt. “We can’t do it out here.”

“Why not?” he begged, kissing up your spine. “We’re dripping wet, you’re practically naked, I’m hard, just let me–”

“No,” your voice firm while grabbing one of the towels hanging by the knobs of the shower and moving your top back into place. “Inside. Now.” You barely managed to toss it around yourself before his hands found your waist again. You glared at him, and he growled in frustration, eyes dark and glassy, but the second you turned toward the villa, he was grabbing a towel and he was on you again, barely letting either of you dry off before he was hauling you through the door. 

The door had barely clicked shut behind both of you when Haechan was already reaching for your towel, mouth crashing into yours like he’d been starved for days. But you pulled back before he could drag it off you entirely, palm firm against his chest. 

“Hold on,” you command, eyeing the growing puddle surrounding the two of you. “You’re soaking wet. We’re dripping all over the floor.”

“I’ll clean it up later,” he muttered, stepping closer to kiss along your neck, but you pushed at him again. 

“No, you’ll slip and die before we even make it to the bed,” you say playfully with a smirk, grabbing the towel he’d brought in with him. “Stand still.”

His brows furrowed, his hair wet and wild over his forehead. “Wait…what?”

You only smiled and tossed the towel over his head. “I said, stand still.” 

Haechan stood frozen as you began to dry him off, starting at his head, rubbing the towel gently over his hair. Your fingers massaged his scalp as you worked, slow and soothing, watching his eyes flutter closed under your touch. Then you moved to his neck, the hollow of his throat, the slick curve of his shoulders. “You’re really gonna take your time with this, huh?” he asked, unamused. 

“Uh-huh,” you respond, dragging the towel down his chest, deliberately slow, the plush fabric skimming over his nipples. He twitched slightly under your touch. 

You made a show of dragging the towel over every inch of him, his stomach, the sharp cut of his hips, the waistband of his swim trunks. Then you dropped the towel lower, pressing your palm over his length through the fabric of the towel. 

Haechan cursed under his breath, thighs tensing. “Baby–”

You rubbed slowly, palm flat, teasing pressure, feeling how hard he already was. His hands hovered like he didn’t know what to do with them, torn between grabbing you and obeying. “I thought you wanted to be dry,” you cooed, glancing up at him through your lashes. 

“I do,” he groaned. “I do. But, fuck, you’re killing me.”

You squeezed his length softly, just enough to make him choke on air. “Is that better?”

He threw his head back, jaw clenched. “You’re evil. I’m gonna die. Actually die.”

You leaned in, kissing a droplet of water from his collarbone, your hand still moving against him through the towel. “Maybe. But at least you’ll die warm and dry.”

He whimpered, actually whimpered, hips rolling into your hand. “Please,” he begged, desperate now. “Let me touch you, let me taste you, anything. I need you.”

You let the towel slip from your grasp, the object of Haechan’s agony falling to the floor. “Then take me to bed.” 

He didn’t need to be told twice. In a blur of motion, he had you pressed against the bed, your towel forgotten. You barely caught your breath before he was on you again, hot, hungry, and entirely yours. 

Haechan’s hands found your waist again, pulling you flush against him as his hips began to grind with a desperate, jagged rhythm. You gasped at the friction, the slick heat of him pressing through the damp fabric of your bikini bottoms. His fingers tangled in your hair, his breath ragged as he nuzzled your neck. “You feel so good,” he murmured, voice rough and needy. His movements grew more frantic, less controlled, as if holding himself back was a losing battle. 

Your hands roamed his chest, nails scraping lightly over his skin as he ground harder, hips rocking against you in a slow, scorching tease. You could feel the pressure building in him, thick, pulsing, utterly relentless. Haechan’s grinding slowed just enough for you to feel every inch of him pressed through the thin fabric, teasing and maddeningly close. His breath was ragged in your ear, words lost to the haze of want and heat. Your hands slid under the waistband of his damp shorts, fingers curling around the fabric as you tugged gently but firmly. Haechan froze for a second, chest rising a falling fast, then gave a breathy laugh. 

“Can’t wait any longer, huh?” you teased, dragging the shorts down over his hips and thigh before he kicked them off.

He was fully naked above you now, his skin gleaming under the fading light of sunset, every muscle taut and trembling with need. His hardness pressed sharply against your stomach through the thin fabric of your bikini bottoms, twitching with each shallow breath. Haechan’s eyes were dark, glazed with want, and he didn’t hesitate to lean forward, mouth finding your collarbone as his hands roamed over your skin. His hips began to move again, slow and deliberate at first, pressing with a teasing persistence over you, every brush of skin against skin setting fire to your nerves. 

Haechan’s hands slid up your sides, urgent but reverent, until they cupped your breasts over your bikini. His thumbs circled your peaked nipples through the damp fabric, coaxing a gasp from your lips. “So soft,” he muttered while kneading your breasts, voice wrecked like he was in a dream he couldn’t quite believe. “So perfect, all for me.”

You arched into his hands, breath catching, and he took that as permission to push the fabric aside once more. Your nipples were pebbled in the open air, and then his mouth was on you, hot and wet, tongue swirling, lips sucking, his teeth lightly scraping. His hips kept moving, grinding against your clit through the soaked barrier between you, the pressure maddeningly precise. “Haechan,” you breathed, your nails digging into his shoulders, your body thrumming with tension. 

“I’ve got you,” he whispered between kisses to your chest, hips never stopping. “Gotta make you feel good. I need to–fuck, baby–need to feel you fall apart.” 

Your hips lifted instinctively, chasing the drag of his cock against your clit, even through the layer of clothing. His cock twitched, leaking pre-cum that smeared slick against your skin and mixed with your own arousal, making the friction even worse. It was so good it was almost cruel. He rutted harder now, sweat and water making his glide even easier, messy and hot. “Oh my god,” Haechan groaned, hips stuttering. “Fuck…fuck, I’m–”

You felt it before you saw it, his cock jerking between your bodies as he came hard, hot ropes of cum spilling onto your stomach, dripping down your sides as his thrusts slowed, then faltered. He collapsed forward, breathless laughter bubbling against your chest. 

“Are you proud of yourself?” he rasped, barely able to lift his head, still panting. “You wrecked me.” 

You smiled, eyes fluttering shut. “A little.” But then you felt it, his cock, still hard, twitching again as he looked down at the mess he made. Haechan moaned low in his throat, eyes glassy as he licked a stripe of cum from your stomach, lips brushing your skin in an obscene way. 

When he reached your navel, he looked up to you with something dark and hungry. “Inside this time,” he whispered. You didn’t say a word, you just nodded. 

He surged up to kiss you, slow and deep, tongue sweeping into your mouth as he pressed his length against you again. The kiss was different now, less frantic, more deliberate, and you could taste remnants of his cum, tangy but slightly salty as it mixed with the lingering seawater on your skin. You reached between your bodies, tugging your bikini bottom to the side. He groaned as his cock slid through your slick folds, the head catching just below your clit before dragging down again. He did it twice, three times, coating himself in your arousal. Each pass made your thighs shake. 

When he finally pressed in slow and steady, stretching you open, you gasped, grabbing his biceps. Haechan held your gaze, even as a tremor ran through his whole body. “You feel unreal,” he whispered. The thrusts were slow and deep at first, hips rolling, not just to chase pleasure, but to memorize how you felt around him. Every drag of his cock against your walls had you gasping, thighs locked around his waist. 

Earlier, he had been desperate to lose himself in you. Now, he was desperate to stay in this moment. His forehead pressed to yours. “Let me see you cum,” he pleaded, one hand driving down to circle your clit, the pad of his finger working you in slow, steady circles while his cock filled you over and over. 

The pressure built fast, your body was already primed from how he had bullied your clit with his cock earlier, the way he had made you ache from the rutting of his hips before he even got inside you. You cried out, clenching around him, your orgasm snapping sharp and intense as you clenched around his cock. 

Haechan moaned as you pulsed around him, his rhythm faltering. “Fuck, baby, you’re squeezing me so tight, so good.”

You felt him tremble above you, like it took every ounce of willpower not to cum. His cock twitched inside you, but he held still, panting against your lips, eyes wide and shining. “Don’t move,” he said, more of a command to himself than to you. “I’m not done.” 

Before you could reply, he pulled out slowly, his cock dragging slick and heavy against your walls. You whimpered at the loss, but he was already shifting, already flipping you onto your stomach, handling you like something precious but breakable. Your cheek pressed into the sheets, and you barely caught your breath before you felt his hands spreading you apart, his cock sliding between your soaked folds, grinding up against your entrance and ass, teasing and filthy. 

“Shit,” he breathed, rutting forward, dragging the head of his cock through your folds before rocking it between the cheeks of your ass. “You’re so wet…you want it like this, huh?” His voice cracked on a moan as he rocked forward again, not quite slipping in, but close enough to make you ache. 

“Please, Haechan,” you whined, writhing back into him, greedy for the weight of him inside you. “Put it back in. I need you.” That was all it took. He pressed into you again, entering you all too easily, your body welcoming him soft and hot and soaked with everything he’d pulled from you. His cock sank in deep, and he groaned loud against your ear, collapsing over you like he couldn’t hold himself up anymore. 

“Fuck,” he cried, rutting shallowly, hips flush to your ass. “Fuck, you feel too good. I can’t–I can’t stop.” His arms slid beneath you, wrapping tightly around your chest. One hand curled over your breast, squeezing as he buried his face in the curve when your shoulder met your neck, teeth scraping gently at the skin there. The other traveled down, urgent and clumsy, until his fingers found your clit again. He rubbed you with no tempo, no restraint, just pure desperation. “Wanna feel you cum with me,” his voice was shaking. “Wanna feel you clench around me, while I’m inside, while I fill you up.”

The angle had him pushing in deeper, the stretch unbearable and perfect, your entire body wound up beneath his. You could feel it coming again, the pressure sharp and devastating, your moans helpless as he rutted harder against you, gasping every time you clenched around him. Then it hit, sudden and overwhelming, tearing through you as you sobbed his name into the sheets. Your walls fluttered around him, tight and wet and trembling. 

Haechan cursed, cock throbbing deep inside you as he finally let go. He came with a broken cry, hips stuttering against your ass as he pressed as deep as he possibly could, like he never wanted to leave your body again. His cum spilled inside you, warm and thick, and he held you tight, still moving in tiny thrusts, dragging it out as long as he could. Afterward, he didn’t move, just breathed against your back, arms still wrapped around your chest like he was afraid you’d disappear. 

You didn’t speak for a long time. Just the two of you, tangled together in the afterglow, his breath fanning hot against your shoulder, your heartbeat slowly syncing back to something steady. His arms stayed wrapped around you, even as his cock softened inside you and your bodies finally relaxed into the sheets. You could feel the sweat cooling on your skin, the dampness between your thighs, the faint ache in your hips, and still, you didn’t want to move. 

Eventually, Haechan shifted just enough to slip out of you, making you whimper at the emptiness, but he hushed you with a kiss to your shoulder blade. He pulled away only long enough to grab the towel off the edge of the bed and gently cleaned between your thighs, mumbling quiet apologies when you flinched at the sensitivity. Then, he crawled right back into bed, curling himself around you like he belonged there. 

Your legs tangled instinctively. His hand found your waist under the sheet, warm and steady, and he tugged you closer until your back was snug to his chest, your head nestled under his chin. “You good?” he asked softly, voice scratchy and slow. 

You nodded, a faint smile playing on your lips. “Yeah. You?”

He hummed in response, then kissed the top of your head. His thumb rubbed idle circles into your hip bone. For a while, the only sound was the lull of waves outside, still crashing softly in the dark, echoing the pulse of your bodies slowly calming down. Then, so quiet you almost missed it, he said, “I want every Friday like this.” Your heart stuttered in your chest. “This one…” He hesitated, tightening his arms around you, like he needed to hold the thought together with his hands. “This one feels like the start of something.”

Your breath caught. You twisted just enough to look at him over your shoulder. His face was half-lit by the moonlight cutting across the room, but you could see the sincerity there. His eyes were warm and tender, never leaving yours. You reached up to brush his hair back from his forehead. “It does,” you whispered. “It really does.”

He smiled, slow and soft, and leaned in to kiss you again, gentle, no heat this time, just truth. Neither of you said anything else. You didn’t need to. Not when you were already wrapped up in what was starting, and not when Friday had never felt this good. 

The next morning, the light changed everything. It slipped in slowly through gauzy curtains, bathing the villa in soft gold. The ocean beyond the villa was calm now, like it had worn itself out from singing you to sleep. The salt-heavy breeze drifted in and made the white linen curtains sway, lazy and warm. 

You were still asleep when Haechan stirred. He didn’t move much, just shifted enough to lean up on one elbow, the sheet barely clinging to his hips. His gaze drifted to you, still curled beneath the covers, one hand tucked under your cheek, lips slightly parted. Your hair spilled across the pillow like something he could get lost in, and maybe he already had. 

He reached out, touched your shoulder gently, tracing the faintest circles with his fingertip. Not enough to wake you, just enough to feel the shape of you, real and here. You made a sleepy noise in your throat, but didn’t open your eyes. He smiled to himself. “What would life look like with you?” he pondered quietly, not really expecting an answer, just letting the thought live in the morning light. His finger trailed down your spine, leisurely. “Would we have a house?” he mused, voice low and thoughtful. “Backyard? One of those little ones who tugs at your shirt after preschool and asks for snacks and cartoons?” He paused, the smile spreading wider, eyes fond. “A kid who likes Fridays.”

You shifted under the sheets, breath catching on a sleepy laugh. Your voice came muffled against the pillow. “We’ll find out,” you murmured, still half-asleep. “One Friday at a time.”

His heart pulled tight. God, he wanted that. Not just the house, not just the child, but this–this exact moment, you still drowsy in his bed, the sound of your voice soft from sleep, your warmth next to him, as natural as breathing. He leaned down and kissed the bar curve of your shoulder, lingering there like a promise. “I’d give you every one,” he whispered. “Every Friday I’ve got.”

When you finally opened your eyes and turned to look at him, sleepy and smiling, it felt like maybe you believed him. Because this one, this Friday, felt like the start of everything. 

Years later, Fridays still hold meaning in your house. They always have, and probably always will. You hear them before you see them, your daughter’s giggles echoing down the hallway, pure and breathless, followed by the familiar thud of Haechan’s socked feet on the hardwood floor. 

He’s carrying her on his hip, her backpack slung over his other shoulder, her tiny hand clinging to the collar of his shirt. She’s still wearing the glittery pink hair clip she insisted on this morning, slightly askew now from whatever adventure she had at preschool. Her cheeks are flushed from the walk home, smiling brightly as she talks excitedly about something that happened on the playground. 

“She made a painting today,” Haechan calls out as he steps into the living room, his voice loud and proud. “It’s us. All three of us. And the sun has hearts in it because she said that’s what Friday feels like.” 

You set your laptop aside, rising from the couch just as your daughter wriggles in your arms, reaching for you. “Mommy!” she squeals, arms flung wide as Haechan lowers her carefully into your embrace. 

“She missed you,” Haechan murmurs, leaning in to press a kiss to your temple before dropping her backpack by the door. “And she may or may not have convinced me to stop for strawberry milk.”

Your daughter pulls back just enough to show you her pink-stained lips and a guilty smile, causing you to laugh. “I see that.”

Later, after dinner and bath time and a chaotic attempt at brushing her teeth, the house quiets again. The dishes are done, the toys are tucked away, and the soft glow of your living room lap spills across the floor as Haechan settles beside you on the couch, one arm thrown over the backrest, content. There’s something in the stillness that feels earned. 

You glance at him, your body relaxing instinctively in his presence. Even now, with fewer stages and more studio days, he’s still unmistakably him. His voice still sells out records, his face still flashes in LED lights on billboards from time to time. Fans still recognize him in grocery stores, still send letters with inked hearts in the margins. But here, like this, barefoot with his daughter’s preschool painting in his lap, he’s just Haechan. Yours. 

And somehow, you’re not just the girl who loves music anymore, you’re in it. You belong to the music world just as much as he does, not as a spectator, but as a contributor. Your name rolls across credits on streaming platforms, buried between synth programmers and vocal producers. Your beats pulse through earbuds across continents, your songs make it into playlists people fall in love to. You’d once dreamed of this life from behind classroom desks and secondhand headphones, back when it felt impossibly far away. Now, it’s home.

Haechan turns to you, brushing his hand gently across your knee like he can read your thoughts. “Didn’t think I’d end up with the label’s most in-demand producer,” he says, voice soft with admiration. “Kind of a dream for me.” 

You smile, a little shy even after all these years. “Didn’t think I’d end up working for my husband.”

“Mmm,” he hums, leaning in with a teasing glint in his eyes. “Technically, I work for you. Have you seen the way everyone treats you in the studio now?” You laugh, shaking your head as he shifts to press a kiss to your cheek. “I’m serious,” he adds. “You walk in and it’s like ‘oh my god, it’s her.’ You earned that. Every bit of it.” You let the words settle in your chest, warm and solid. A breeze moves through the curtains, the night quiet and full. 

You’re searching for a charger in the drawer of the side table next to the couch when your fingers graze against paper, thin, crips, and familiar. You pull it out and smile as the memories rush forward. Plane tickets, the villa, that first real Friday. 

Haechan sees what you’re holding, and his expression shifts into something fond. “You kept those?”

“Of course I did,” you tell him, brushing your thumb over the dates. 

He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, eyes tracing the curve of the old boarding pass in your hand. “Best Friday of my life.” 

You glance over at him, then nod toward the hallway where your daughter’s bedroom door is cracked open, the glow of her night light spilling out. “Until the next one,” you murmur.

That night, the three of you end up in the same bed. It wasn’t planned, just one of those nights where the world outside felt far away. Your daughter lay between you, her fingers curled around the edge of your shirt, breathing steadily and even. Haechan reaches for your hand in the dark and squeezes it when he finds it. You squeeze back. And you know, just as you did back on that villa in the morning light, that this is the start of everything, all over again. 

Fridays are still yours. They always will be. 

Autoplay: If you liked this, you may also like Some Kind Of Wonderful - L.Mark

[ourdawnishotterthanourday]

Tit For Tat [M] — Kim Mingyu

✧ Better think twice before you play ✧

Plot: Picture this… your boyfriend enjoyed his ice cream a little too much and you decide to clean up the mess he made. 

🎥 Starring: fem!reader x boyfriend!Kim Mingyu (SVT) 🎥 Genre: light SMUT [+18], established relationship 🎥 Word count: 0.9k+ 🎥 Warnings: swearing, exhibitionism, grinding, nipple play, orgasm denial/edging 🎥 Notes: I am a little later than usual but it’s here, voilaaa 💜 🎥 Shout out: thank you @nothoughtsjustfic my lemon drop for reading it through for me!!!

♡ REBLOGGING AND/OR FEEDBACK WOULD BE VERY MUCH APPRECIATED — DON'T BE A STRANGER PLS ♡

Set The Scene Masterlist —  Masterlist

God, he's so fucking messy. 

That was the thought that ran through your mind as you observed your boyfriend with fascination from your spot beside him.

The two of you'd had a busy week at work so you decided to spend this warm and sunny Saturday lounging by your pool in the garden. And while you had been reading for the majority of the afternoon, Mingyu had gone for a swim and was currently recovering from said activity with a cold sweet treat that had you more than a little distracted from your book.

The man was greedily licking at his ice cream as he laid on one of the lounge chairs, seeming completely oblivious to the fact that half of the cream-colored substance was steadily dripping down his fingers, or that you were ogling him like a piece of meat. 

Mingyu was a messy eater, always had been, but you didn’t mind it at all. In fact, it was one of the things you adored about him so much. However, not once had you thought that the sight of him eating so messily was arousing. But then again, he was half naked with all his perfectly defined muscles on display and still slightly wet from the pool, and the way his mouth was moving around his ice cream reminded you of something else — something you very much wanted him to do to you. 

Yeah, you definitely couldn’t tell that you were ovulating. 

You finally had enough when some of the sticky cream landed on one of his pecs and he didn’t even bother to remove it. It was almost as if he was doing it all on purpose. 

So you put down your book and got up from your own chair, not even giving him a second to process your approach before you were sitting in his lap, legs on either side of him to trap him in. 

“Well, hello to you too.” Your boyfriend licked the ice cream from his lips as he took a moment to admire the revealing bathing suit you were wearing. 

“You know you're fucking messy, right?” You hungrily eyed the bit of ice cream that was now slowly making its way towards his taut nipple. 

His lips formed into a sly smirk. “Not my fault the ice cream is melting faster than I can eat.”

You raised your eyebrows and released an amused snort. “I somehow find that hard to believe, Mr. Kim.” 

“Too bad,” he responded, making sure to keep his eyes locked with you as he finished the remainder of his ice cream. “Are you going to help me clean up, though?”

You bit your lip, unsure if you wanted to leave him hanging or give in. But as he raised his sticky fingers to your lips, you could no longer resist the temptation.

Your lips parted almost automatically, taking in two of Mingyu’s fingers while you ground yourself against his hardening dick. 

“Fuck, baby. You look so hot with my fingers stuffed in your pretty little mouth,” he groaned, placing his free hand on your waist to help guide your movements. 

The combination of the sticky ice cream hitting your taste buds and the delicious constant pressure against your clit had you absolutely delirious with desire. Your tongue danced around his fingers with skill, sucking lightly here and there to tease him for a bit until you decided to move on to the next best thing. 

You released his fingers from your mouth with a loud pop, sending your boyfriend a mischievous grin while your hands reached for the chair handles. 

“Holy shit!” Mingyu exclaimed when you suddenly pulled on them, forcing him to lay completely flat without warning. 

“That’s better.” You chuckled, leaning down to hover your lips over his. 

Thinking you were about to kiss him, Mingyu closed his eyes, head lifting slightly to meet you halfway. Only you had other plans, so you avoided his lips and ducked your head, trailing a path of wet sloppy kisses along his neck all the way down to the part of him you had been eyeing for a while now. 

A hiss left Mingyu’s mouth as your teeth scraped over his sensitive nipple. Satisfied with his reaction, you did the same to his other nipple, making sure to lick up the trail of ice cream that had formed before clamping your lips around the hardened peak. 

As a result of your administrations, Mingyu had turned into a whiny mess beneath you, his breathing heavier than a minute ago and his hips frantically bucking against yours as you used a mix of teeth and tongue on his nipples to bring him closer to his high. 

He was exactly where you wanted him to be. 

“I’m about to fucking c-cum, shit!” 

As soon as the words had left his mouth, you were up and gone, letting a devilish grin cover your features. 

“What the heck? Where are you going?” a clearly confused Mingyu protested, reaching for you only to realize that you were already too far away. 

“Now you know exactly how I felt this morning.” You gave him a pointed look, referring to when he thought it was fun to edge you again and again, only for you to finally get your release after an hour and a half of torture. 

“Really? You’re seriously going to leave me hanging like this for that?”

You nodded, crossing your arms to emphasize your point. “Sure am. Serves you right.”

“Are you sure you want to play this game?” he asked, his voice dropping an octave as he slowly got up from the chair, his dick now visibly straining against his swimming trunks.

“Are you?” you challenged, forcing yourself to back up the closer Mingyu got.

He smirked, his eyes sparking with heat as they devoured your body from head to toe. 

“Bring it on, baby.”

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[pars-ley]

Hii i would like to request a drabble~

Mingi, Personal Assistant(reader), and prompt nr. 4 please?🥺🙏🏾

Title: Behind office doors

Pairing: Song Mingi (Ateez) X female reader

Summary: Getting caught saying inappropriate things about your boss doesn't have the outcome you expect.

Genre(s): Smut / office au / personal assistant au / slight angst

Rating: 18+ (NSFW) MDNI

Warnings: protected sex / choking / dirty talk / big dick Mingi / rough sex / sex in the office / explicit language

Word Count: 1.5k

Banner: Me

Beta: @anyamaris thank you for your endless support

A/N: Thank you for this one, I had to make this office au as it's one of my favourites! If you'd like to send in a drabble request, see the prompt game here

Song Mingi’s deep voice calls you into his office with such urgency, you scramble quickly to your feet to obey.

Striding in and stopping in front of his desk, you wait patiently for his request. “What do you need, sir?”

He glances up at you, with a look that's a mixture of amusement and something else, something you haven’t seen before. It un-nerves and excites you all at once, making your stomach flip.

He stands and slowly rounds his desk, like a predator closing in on his prey. He moves over to his office door, closes and locks it, then closes the blinds too.

“Are you sure it's not you that needs something?” he asks.

Your brow furrows, having no idea what he could be referring to. “Sorry, Mr Song, but I'm not sure what you mean?”

He stalks back towards you, waving his phone in front of your face. “Something was brought to my attention last night and I really wish you'd mentioned something sooner.”

You rack your brain, mind moving a mile a minute trying to determine what he could be talking about, but coming up empty.

“Sir, I really don't understand?” You reply, nervously clasping your hands together in front of you.

He smirks as he unlocks his phone and stares down at it. “I wasn't aware that there was an office group chat.”

Your stomach plummets through the floor, as realisation dawns upon you. You can feel your cheeks heat under the scrutiny of his delighted stare.

“And I must say…” he continues, “this, in particular, took me by surprise.” he clears his throat, “‘those pants he had on today fit him so good, I wanted to pull the zipper down with my teeth.’”

Listening to your own quote spoken back to you by him made you feel sick. Your eyes trained on the ground, unable to meet his eyes, as anxiety well and truly set in.

How does he have these messages? Where did he get them?

God, why are you so stupid!

“Sir,” you start, voice wobbly and barely above a whisper, “let me express my sincere apologies, when I sent that message I may have had a little too much to drink, not that it excuses my behaviour but under normal circumstances I wouldn't-”

“You wouldn't have said it, or you wouldn't have thought it?” He continues.

“I-I wouldn't have said it.” You panic, eyes looking all around the room except at him.

“Ah, but you still would have thought it?”

“Am I not allowed to have private thoughts?” you quip, finally meeting his gaze and are surprised to see him standing so close.

He smirks at you before turning and heading back over to his desk, casually sitting on the edge. “You know you're the best personal assistant I've ever had.” He remarks, eyes serious.

A furious blush heats your cheeks, feeling even worse for speaking about him in such a degrading way. “Thank you, Mr Song.”

“And I am always very insistent on professionalism in my workplace, which is why this has surprised me so much.”

You wanted the ground to swallow you whole, your guts warp sickeningly inside you.

“and I have to admit my disappointment…” he continues to twist the knife.

You attempt to brace yourself for the impact you know is coming. To hear the words of him dismissing you, along with the embarrassment of collecting your things from your desk with the rest of the office watching.

“...that you didn't express those things to me.”

Your eyes shoot up to him, those words not ones you were playing out in the scenario in your mind.

He stands and steps slowly towards you again. “I have never met someone as enticing as you,” he strokes the side of your face as he talks, then traces the edges of your lips. “If you do not want to cross this line, tell me. This will not affect our working relationship at all.”

“You mean, I still have my job?”

The hope in your voice is undeniable.

“Of course,” he smiles sweetly at you but with a stare so intense it's smothering. “what would I do without you?”

You cannot deny the way your core seems to have ignited under his gentle touch as you contemplate the weight of his words and what he's asking.

“If you want this…if you want me, it's yours. If not…” he shrugs, “I can respect that.’

You did want him. You've wanted him since you got this job three years ago but is crossing this line wise?

He bites his lip, suddenly seeming anxious as he waits for your response, and the sight has your sex throbbing with need.

Fuck it. Grabbing the lapels of his blazer you pull him down and crush your lips against his. He wastes no time in scooping you up and carrying you over to his desk, messily clearing a space with one hand, as the items drop with a thud onto the carpet.

Your fingers grapple at his belt along with his trousers, yanking them down and making him smile against your mouth.

“I gotta say, I pictured our first time to be romantic and sensual…” he teases.

Reaching into his boxers, and grabbing his insanely generous erection, you look up at him with hungry eyes. “I need you to fuck me.”

“Your wish is my command.” He says as he leans over you, reaching into his desk, pulling out a small, square foil packet and ripping it open with his teeth. He slides the condom over himself and you watch, fascinated by the size of him.

Slotting himself between your legs, he quickly pushes up your skirt and moves your underwear to the side, staring at your sex like it's the holy grail.

“Next time, I have to taste you.”

“Who says there'll be a next time?” You ask with a smirk.

“Trust me.” he responds, giving you a wink. The confidence of this man in every aspect is unmatched but, when you're packing like that, are you surprised?

He spits on his fingers and massages them around your entrance, before pushing himself slowly inside you. The stretch is like nothing you've ever felt, and it takes your breath away as he bottoms out.

“You ok?” He asks, so concerned.

Nodding rapidly in response he starts rocking his hips back and forth. A fierce heat travels all the way through your body, wishing you were both naked instead of these layers between you. Grabbing his tie you pull him back down to you, and he obliges your request with a hungry kiss that swallows the sound of both your moans.

Everytime he slides in and out of you it makes your toes curl, and brings you closer to your climax but it's not enough.

“Harder.” You plead.

He raises his eyebrows at you but you note the twinkle in his eyes from the challenge. He brings a hand up to clasp your throat and you can't help the whimper that leaves you. He rams into you hard and fast, making your hungry cunt clenches around him.

“Oh, you are a dirty girl.” He whispers through gritted teeth. “Yea, you like that? You like me fucking you like I hate you?”

“Y-yes, sir.”

His pace stutters a moment, “Call me that again.”

You can barely think as he ploughs into you, continuously hitting that sensitive spot inside. When he gently compresses your throat again your pussy responds once more.

“Please don't stop, sir. I’m so c-close.” you gasp, desperately grinding your hips down to meet his thrusts.

“You gonna come for me, baby? Let me feel you come around my dick.”

With his words, something inside you snaps and you unravel wildly around him. Your sex squeezes him until his thrusts grow sloppy and you milk him of his orgasm, grunting as he empties inside the condom.

“Do you think anyone heard us?” You giggle as you begin to come down from your high.

“I hope so.” He smirks at you, as he lifts you effortlessly off the desk.

You adjust your clothes and smooth down your skirt as he tosses the condom in the waste bin and returns his suit to its usual crisp, perfection.

“So,” you start, awkwardness setting in, “what now, sir.” You elongate the last word purposefully.

Amusement flashes in his eyes as he closes the space between you. “I'd really like to see you again,” he strokes your bottom lip, “but it's your decision on where you want this to go.”

“I'll think about it.” Leaning up on tiptoes you plant a chase kiss to his lips. “Back to work now, huh?”

He nods and catches your hand as you turn to leave. “Also, it was Jane who sent me the screenshots of the chat by the way, don't trust her, she's after your job.”

Your mouth drops open. That bitch. One of the people you are closest to here.

You nod your thanks to him and are determined to leave the office with a smile on your face and a swish to your hips.

[lovetaroandtaemin]

Apologies in Acrylic Yarn

Lee Jihoon (Seventeen) x Reader

Word Count: 4,529 Genre: Angst, Fluff AUs: Non idol AU, established relationship Rating: SFW, however I still ask that MINORS DNI WITH THIS BLOG!

Summary: After you and Jihoon get into an argument, he decides to make sure that you know just how much he loves you.

Warnings: Arguments, Jihoon dealing with stress in unhealthy ways, Reader thinks that he's cheating but he isn't. If you think I missed a warning, please let me know!

Nets: @cosyhomenet, @k-vanity, @keopihaus, @newworldnet, @svthub, @thediamondlifenetwork

A/N: This fic is a slightly late birthday gift for the absolutely fucking amazing @chugging-antiseptic-dye. I hope you like it, honey, and I hope that your birthday was as special as you are to me. I also want to take a moment and acknowledge the lovely @nothoughtsjustfic because of all of her help with planning this fic and hyping me up while I was writing it! I appreciate you more than words can say, my love.

Taglist: @xomakara, @okiedokrie-main, @notyourjaem, @heechwe, @shadowkoo, @gyubakeries, @aeristudios

Fic is under the cut.

Very few people seemed to appreciate you the way that Jihoon did. There wasn’t a single day that went by where the man you loved either told you or showed you that he loved you just as much, if not more. He cherished every single thing you crocheted for him, whether you were satisfied with the end result yourself or not. He listened when you needed a shoulder to cry on, whether the problem you were having seemed big or small. He even sang you to sleep most nights, with a voice that sounded like the epitome of warmth and comfort.

Over the past few months, however, Jihoon had grown distant. You didn’t really understand why, though. At first, he blamed family obligations and extra stress at work, and you believed him, because they seemed like reasonable explanations. As time passed, however, and the obligations that should have been met with no issue were stretched seemingly endlessly, you started to doubt him.

A small part of you felt guilty for even entertaining the thought that Jihoon might be cheating. After all, he’d never given you a reason to doubt his loyalty before. As time went on, however, and the man that you loved seemed to stop treating you like he loved you too, you couldn’t help but wonder if he was really up late texting his sister like he claimed.

It was a matter of time before the combined loneliness that stemmed from the ever-growing distance between you and Jihoon and the anxiety that ate away at you as you wondered if he still loved you grew to be too much for you to handle. With no idea what else to do, you decided to just have a conversation with him and hopefully clear the air once and for all.

Of course, things rarely played out the way you hoped that they would.

The conversation with Jihoon was a disaster. In his defense, you probably shouldn’t have started the conversation immediately after the two of you got home from work, but you couldn’t help but think that the conversation would have ended poorly regardless.

It started when you called Jihoon to your shared bedroom shortly after arriving home and said, “Can we talk?”

“Yeah, of course. Is everything alright, my love?” he asked, hands and voice shaky.

“What’s going on with you?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve been distant lately. Is something wrong? Did I do something?”

“Nothing’s wrong, baby. Just been busy with work, and you know how Nayeon is,” he answered with a roll of his eyes at the mention of his sister.

“The way you’ve been acting lately makes it seem like there’s more to it than that. Just tell me what’s really going on, please?” you said, desperate for answers.

“That is what’s really going on. You know that Seungcheol has been up my ass lately about project deadlines, and you know that my family hasn’t left me alone since the fight with Nayeon a few weeks ago.”

“Then why are you so much more distant than usual? You’ve had work and family problems before, and you’ve never shut me out like this. Again, I have to ask, what’s going on?” Jihoon refused to answer until you sighed and mumbled, “Is there someone else?”

“No, there isn’t,” he spat, insulted that you would even ask. “Why the fuck would you think that?”

“I don’t know. Maybe because you’ve spent weeks pulling away and refuse to work with me to find a solution?”

“Look, it’s not my fault that everything decided to happen at once.”

With a defeated sigh, you said, “I know, but I’m fucking tired, Ji. I miss when you made me feel loved. Like I was the love of your life. Where did that go?”

Jihoon didn’t answer. Instead, he looked at you like he didn’t recognize you anymore, and that hurt more than even the possibility that he’d been unfaithful.

“I need to know what else is going on,” you said again.

“There’s nothing else going on. Honey, please. Just trust me.”

There was a beat of silence before you sighed and said, “Forget it, Jihoon. I’m going to Jeongyeon’s tonight.”

“Love, please let me-” he began. When he saw the look of venom in your eyes, however, he stopped and instead said, “Ok. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You stepped out of your apartment without saying another word to Jihoon after that, calling Jeongyeon and asking if you could spend the night at her apartment once you were outside. Once she reminded you that you didn’t need to ask, you left, trying desperately to let yourself have a little bit of hope that you could clear your mind and figure out how to move forward. As you thought about the situation more, however, the hope that had started to bloom in your chest wilted like a dying rose.

When you decided to approach Jihoon about the problems that the two of you had been having, you were certain that whatever was going on could be resolved together. As you drove through your city, however, screaming along with the songs about heartbreak and loneliness that blasted from your radio and thinking about everything that had gone wrong during the actual conversation, you found yourself feeling less certain about your relationship than you’d ever felt about anything before.

As Jihoon watched you leave your apartment, clearly fighting back tears, he was overcome with guilt. Sure, he’d been stressed lately, between mounting responsibilities at work and constantly arguing with his family, but he honestly hadn’t thought that he’d let it affect your relationship. The more he thought about it, though, the more he realized that he’d fucked up.

For the first time in the entirety of your relationship, Jihoon was terrified of losing you. For years, he’d been so sure that the two of you would be ok, no matter what this life decided to throw your way. However, when he remembered how utterly defeated you looked as you left the apartment, he wasn’t exactly as confident as he had been when he left for work that morning.

Regardless, Jihoon was determined to make it right and prove to you that he loved you more than anyone he’d ever loved before. The only problem was that he wasn’t quite sure how. For the first time in his life, he had no earthly idea how to fix the problem that he’d created. That didn’t mean that he was going to do nothing, though. While he considered bigger, more elaborate plans to show you just how much you meant to him, he decided to start with a note.

Jihoon must have written and rewritten that note a dozen times before he settled on something that he was satisfied with. He knew that it was too soon to try to talk to you, so he just left the note on your nightstand, figuring that you’d see it when you came home from Jeongyeon’s place. Then, he lay down in your shared bed and tried to sleep.

When you got to Jeongyeon’s apartment, you softly knocked on the door and waited for an answer. You didn’t have to wait long, though. Before you knew it, your best friend was opening the door and pulling you into a hug that threatened to crush your bones as she asked, “What happened?”

“We got in a fight,” you answered, fighting back tears.

“Do you wanna talk about it, or do you wanna play some games and do bad karaoke?”

You laughed softly at her offer and said, “All of the above?”

“Sounds good to me. Come on in,” she said as she let go.

You followed Jeongyeon through the door and into her cleaner-than-usual living room, where your friends Dahyun and Tzuyu sat on the couch talking about something you couldn’t quite hear. When they heard footsteps, however, they turned toward you with smiles on their faces, and Dahyun practically yelled your name as she jumped up and threw her arms around in a hug that threatened to knock you off your feet.

“Where have you been?” Dahyun asked, ecstatic to see you again.

“I’ve been busy with work and Jihoon problems,” you answered.

“What happened with Jihoon, by the way?” Tzuyu asked quietly, like she wasn’t entirely sure if the question she was asking was the right one.

“We got in an argument,” you said with a sigh of defeat. “I thought he was cheating, and he says that he wasn’t, keeps blaming work and family, but he’s been so distant lately. We argued because he just won’t talk to me. I got tired of it, so I called Jeongyeon and came here.”

When you were finished your explanation, Dahyun seemed like she’d deflated, Tzuyu looked like she wanted to comfort you but didn’t know how, and Jeongyeon looked like she was about to kill someone, probably Jihoon. The room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop until Jeongyeon took a deep breath and said, “You don’t deserve that.”

And that was when the floodgates finally opened.

You hadn’t cried at all during your argument with Jihoon. You were too angry about what he said to you in the moment to acknowledge the underlying sadness that his actions had caused. Now that the flames of anger had cooled, however, you were a wreck. It started small, with a few stray tears that left your eyes as you remembered the way that your relationship used to be. When you felt your best friend pull you into another hug, however, the few stray tears escalated into heart wrenching sobs that made your entire body shake.

Jeongyeon held you through your tears, rubbing your back while Dahyun and Tzuyu whispered soft reassurances that everything would be ok. It took a long time for you to stop crying and catch your breath, but having your friends by your side still made it easier than it would have been on your own.

Once you collected yourself, you sighed and said, “Thanks, guys. You’re the best.”

Tzuyu was the first to speak, replying, “We’re always here for you, (Y/N).”

A comfortable silence settled over the room while the four of you enjoyed each other’s presence and truly found peace in the knowledge that you would always have each other’s backs. The silence didn’t last, however, since almost as soon as it began, you started to cry again. This time, however, your tears were tears of joy instead of pain, the happiness that you found in your friends suddenly feeling overwhelming.

You weren’t sure how much longer you cried before you were able to catch your breath. Once you collected yourself, though, you grinned and said, “Now, how about some card games and karaoke?”

Dahyun let out a laugh that almost sounded like it came from a cartoon villain before she said, “I’m singing the first song!”

The four of you started your evening of fun with a game of Uno that you were sure would have ended your friendship if it hadn’t been for the situation that had brought you to Jeongyeon’s, with Dahyun deciding early on in the game to sabotage everyone else as often as humanly possible. In the end, however, it was Tzuyu that won, with her quiet demeanor and the fact that she seemed to struggle to understand the rules of the game lulling everyone into a false sense of security.

After the game ended, and the karaoke started, you and your friends didn’t have a care in the world. You took turns singing your favorite songs, with Jeongyeon even joining in for a turn or two, and in between, you talked about anything and everything. As you laughed at a dumb joke that Dahyun told, you felt noticeably lighter, and you couldn’t help but feel grateful that you had friends in your life that you knew would always be there for you.

Once you and your friends got to the point that you could barely keep your eyes open, you sighed and said, “Thanks, guys. I really needed this today.”

“It was no problem,” Jeongyeon replied with a grin of her own. “You know I love spending time with you.”

“I should probably go soon,” Tzuyu said apologetically. “I have to get to work early tomorrow.”

An exaggerated pout formed on your face before you said, “It was great to see you. We should do this again soon,” and pulled her into a hug.

Dahyun sighed and said, “I should leave soon, too. I want to go to sleep,” hugging you before she left.

When it was just you and Jeongyeon left in her apartment, she turned to you with a soft smile and said, “Guest room is ready. I got out the good pillows earlier.”

“Thanks. Seriously.”

“Don’t mention it. Good night.”

“Night!” you said as you made your way to Jeongyeon’s guest room, your friend heading to her own room for the night. Once you were settled in bed, you found that you didn’t dread going home to Jihoon in the morning like you thought you would. Instead, you felt refreshed and ready to take on whatever came your way when you saw your boyfriend again.

The next morning, Jihoon was devastated that he woke up without you for the first time since before the two of you moved in together a year ago. Still, he knew that it was his fault, so he couldn’t really be upset, could he?

Yes, he could.

Not wanting to think about how upset he was anymore, Jihoon decided to try and come up with solutions to the fact that you were feeling unloved. He struggled to think at first, but all it took was a quick look around your shared bedroom to come up with something that he knew would cheer you up: he would learn how to crochet and make you a tangible reminder of just how much he loved you.

Jihoon didn’t want to use any of your yarn, since he was worried about you noticing it missing and ruining the surprise. So, he took advantage of the fact that he had a rare day off from work and drove to the nearest craft store. As he drove, he remembered the first time that you’d tried to teach him how to crochet. He could barely hold the hook and yarn the right way, and the seemingly simple stitches themselves were an unanticipated challenge, but the time with you was worth the hand cramps and frustration, in his eyes.

After choosing yarn in colors that he knew you’d like and finding the appropriately sized hook, Jihoon went home and looked for a pattern. In hindsight, he probably should have selected a pattern before he bought the yarn, but it was too late to go back.

Once Jihoon found a pattern that looked easy enough to follow, he got to work. It was a struggle, to say the least, but every moment of frustration was worth it. After all, he was determined to show you a fraction of the love that you’d shown him over the years.

When Jihoon heard you come in the front door, he carefully put the yarn and hook back into the bag he’d brought it home in and tucked it under your shared bed, not wanting to ruin the surprise. Then, he sighed and made his way to the living room, stopping in his tracks when he finally laid eyes on you.

Your smile fell when you finally saw Jihoon standing in your living room, but you reluctantly pulled him into a hug and said, “I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry. I never meant to make you feel like I don’t love you. You have to know that,” he responded, eyes welling with tears as he spoke.

“I know,” you said with a defeated sigh. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. More than you’ll ever know.”

The two of you stayed where you were in awkward silence for what felt like an eternity, taking in each other’s presence as you each made silent promises to the other to keep trying. You were the first to break the silence when you asked, “Don’t you have to get ready for work soon?”

Jihoon shook his head and said, “I asked for a day off a few weeks ago. I wanted to surprise you.”

Your eyes filled with tears as you asked, “Really?”

“Really. What do you wanna do today, love?”

“Can we just stay in and cuddle today? I’ve missed you.”

“That sounds perfect, my love,” Jihoon replied as he let go of you and made his way to your shared bedroom. You followed him, and once you both reached your room, he grabbed your hand and pulled you toward your nightstand, earning a soft laugh from you.

Once you were in front of the nightstand, you noticed a piece of paper sitting on top of the book that you’d been reading. When you saw it, you turned to Jihoon and asked, “Did you leave this here?”

He nodded and said, “It’s everything that I wanted to say last night and couldn’t.”

With a hint of a smile on your face, you turned back toward your nightstand and picked up the tear-stained piece of paper. In Jihoon’s neat handwriting, the note said:

“I’m so sorry I ever made you feel unloved, my darling. Truthfully, I’ve pulled away because the combined stress of extra responsibilities at work and the constant fighting with my family has been overwhelming, and I was concerned that I’d be a burden if I clung to you like I really wanted to when life got to be too much. But now that you’ve left, and I find myself worrying that you won’t want to come back, I don’t know what to do with myself. You’re the only person that I’ve ever loved the way that I love you, and there are no words for the way that you make me feel. I need you to know that regardless of when or even if you choose to come home, my heart will always be yours.

All my love, Jihoon”

Your lover was filled with anxiety as he watched you read the note that he’d written the night before. However, when you carefully placed the note back on your nightstand and threw your arms around him, almost knocking him over in the process, he breathed a sigh of relief.

Your bedroom was silent for what felt like an eternity until you let out a shaky breath and said, “I love you. You know that you’re not a burden, right?”

Jihoon let out a shaky breath of his own, fighting back tears as he said, “I love you too. I was just so worried about being too much.”

“You could never be too much, baby. Next time, just tell me that you’re feeling stressed, ok? I’ll understand, I promise.”

“Ok. I’m sorry I pulled away.”

You didn’t respond verbally, but the way you hugged Jihoon, like he’d disappear if you let go for even a second, was enough of an indicator that you’d forgiven him. He didn’t speak either, too relieved that you were still there to think straight.

You and Jihoon stayed still for what felt like an eternity before he let go of you just enough to look you in the eyes and asked, “How about we move to the bed? I think it’ll be more comfortable.”

You chuckled at his question and replied, “So do I,” as you pulled him into bed with you.

You and Jihoon spent the entire day cuddled up in bed, talking about whatever came to mind as you took advantage of the surprise time to just enjoy each other’s company. As you relaxed in your boyfriend’s arms, you felt the tiniest bit better about your argument the night before, and the feeling of hope that you’d desperately needed started to settle inside of you once again.

When the day finally turned to night, Jihoon made sure that you fell asleep first. Once he was certain that you were asleep, he got out of bed, taking care not to wake you in the process. Then, he dug the bag out from under the bed and settled in your living room, struggling through the bag that he was attempting to make for you to keep your crochet hooks in. After he made what he felt was sufficient progress for the night, he got back into bed with you, grateful that you hadn’t woken up while he was out of bed.

The next day, Jihoon had to go back to work. A small part of you was anxious that the peace that you’d found in each other the day before wouldn’t last if you were completely honest. But when he smiled at you as he walked out the door, you found yourself feeling much more confident.

After your argument, Jihoon didn’t let a single day go by without telling you, and showing you, that he loved you. When you were feeling down, he was there with cuddles and your favorite movies ready to watch. When the two of you had free time to spare, you played board games and chatted about your day. You let yourself hope that the two of you could be ok.

What meant the most to you, though, was the fact that Jihoon actually let you in when the stress of the world around him got to be too much. On the days that he was overwhelmed by the amount of responsibility he had at work; he talked to you instead of pushing you away. On the days that he was too angry to speak because of yet another argument with his mother and sister, he wrote you notes to tell you how he was feeling and make sure that you understood that he wasn’t upset with you. Progress was slow at first, of course, but as time went on, you finally felt like you had the man that you loved back.

For the next several weeks, Jihoon spent basically every free moment that he wasn’t with you adding on to your gift. The pattern was simple once he got the hang of it, so he didn’t struggle with making it. The problem with that was that his time to work was limited to an hour or two after you went to bed, since both of you tended to go to bed late. Still, he used the limited time that he had well, and before he knew it, the bag was ready.

Still, Jihoon finished the bag relatively quickly, all things considered. Coincidentally, he finished the last few steps of the project the night before your birthday. He honestly couldn’t believe his luck, considering he’d been so distracted he hadn’t had time to go out and buy something like he typically did. A small part of him felt guilty for that, but when he looked at the finished bag, he felt a sense of pride at the fact that he made something that he knew you would use, which eased the guilt.

When Jihoon was finished admiring his handiwork, he carefully stowed it away in its hiding place and got back into bed with you. After he found a comfortable position, he held you close and took a deep breath, finally letting himself relax.

When you woke up on your birthday, you were disappointed to find that Jihoon wasn’t still in bed with you. You wondered if he’d gone to work early, but you didn’t have long to wonder, since you heard his voice coming from the kitchen almost immediately.

You got out of bed and walked out to the kitchen, and what you saw almost made you burst into tears. There was Jihoon, cooking pancakes and singing along with the music that was playing from his phone, looking lighter than a feather as he danced at the stove. With a soft smile on your face and butterflies in your stomach, you said, “Hi, handsome.”

“Happy birthday, beautiful,” he said, smiling when he heard your voice. “Pancakes are almost ready.”

You stepped closer to where he stood and kissed his cheek before you said, “Thank you, baby.”

“Go sit down at the table, and I’ll bring everything over when it’s ready.”

“Ok. I love you.”

“I love you too, my darling.”

You sat down at your kitchen table, singing along with Jihoon’s playlist with him while he finished cooking the pancakes and fixed two plates. Once the plates were ready, he brought them to the table and sat down with you. With a smile on your face, you said, “Thank you.”

“It’s the least I could do for my darling on their birthday.” You smiled at his words, and he added, “Wait here.”

“Why? What are you-” you started to ask, but before you could get the words out, he’d disappeared into your room.

You waited patiently for Jihoon to come back, wondering what the hell he was doing. You figured he was probably looking for something, though, considering the muffled swearing and the sounds of things falling that you could hear from your place in the kitchen.

When Jihoon came back, he was clearly out of breath, but he was also visibly excited, holding something behind his back and smiling like he knew something that you didn’t. You opened your mouth to speak, but before you could, he said, “I hope that you like it,” and handed you your gift.

You looked down at the familiar-feeling item in your hands and realized that it was a crocheted pouch, brightly colored and carefully made. You carefully examined it, running your hands over the stitches and admiring the colors. Then, with tears in your eyes and a smile on your face, you hesitantly asked, “Did you make this?”

He nodded and said, “I thought that it might be helpful to have one place to store all of your hooks since you always seem so frustrated when you lose one.”

“Thank you. I love you,” you responded as you stood from your chair and pulled him into a bone-crushing hug.

“I love you too, my darling,” he said, his voice breaking as he tried to fight back the tears of joy that threatened to spill over. “I just wanted to show you that.”

There was a brief silence before you asked, “Can we stay in today and cuddle?”

“Of course, my love.”

“Thank you.”

With that, you let go of Jihoon and placed your gift on the table, and the two of you worked together to clean your shared kitchen, taking your time since both of you were off from work for the day. When you were done, you practically dragged him to your bedroom and plopped into bed. Then, he carefully got into bed next to you and pulled you close to him. Once you were both settled, he sighed and asked, “Are we ok?”

You kissed his nose and answered, “Yeah, we’re ok.”

“Thank you. Happy birthday, my darling. I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Ji.”

Thank you for reading, everyone! If you enjoyed this fic, please like and reblog! If you wanna check out my other works, my masterlist is here. If you'd like to see some of the things I have planned to post in the future, my upcoming works list is here. If none of that interests you, or there's something specific that you'd like to see, feel free to send a request via asks or dms! If you want to be tagged in future posts, my taglist form can be found here!

Thank you again for reading and interacting with this fic, and happy belated birthday, A!

[unholywriters]

Poisonous Bites

╰┈➤ Summary: Feeling like nothing feels the same anymore, wanting to go back to the city. It would be a problem with vampires ruling the city and still making new rules as time passes, getting used to the growing population and making sure things were running smoothly in the background. Yet Ian gave his hand out to you, while slowly making you get used to the new life he had planned.

╰┈➤ Parings: Hybrid! DPR IAN X Hybrid! MALE READER

╰┈➤ Ratings: Mature, NSFW, Slow burn, MDNI, 18+

╰┈➤ Warnings: Fights, talks of "trading", talks of murder, stalking (werewolf/vampire Ian) unprotective sex (wrap it up kids), fingering, pet names, hair pulling, multiple bites and drinking from, breeding kink

╰┈➤ Word Count: 17k

╰┈➤ Networks: @othersideoutlawsnetwork @keopihaus @ksmutsociety @cosyhomenet @winerys-collection @k-vanity

╰┈➤ Banner: Credits to @lovetaroandtaemin

╰┈➤ Genre: Non-Idol Au, Vampire Au, Nonhuman Au, werewolf au, warlock au

╰┈➤ Authors Note: I am nervous about this one simply because it's not only longer, but involves an Idol and actor, who I think plays the role of a vampire very well. This one Might be one of the longest works I have written since it will be spilt into two works since this one will be focused around Ian, the other one being centered around him. If you liked this I thank you. There will be a part two for another love story tied to this, and the hyunjin side posted on my side blog.

Not everything about wolves is simple as shutting someone out just because they have different views from the others. After all, every wolf has a role and if someone isn’t doing their role, then the impact would hurt the entire pack, no matter how big or how small. Yet living outside in the woods was always the hard to part with injuries or someone needs more medical help given their injuries. Even if someone has darker ideas, seems like they don’t want to help but when they do, it’s clearly helpful. And during times like this, there is no losing anyone no matter someone's one opinion.

The Current times are hard, vampires have taken control of the entire main city of Seoul and slowly reached out into other parts,. Changing everything from social status, to some of the food, clothes, buildings and even some jobs. The humans that got away had to start over, losing all contact with their friends, family members or even loved ones. Those who stayed and got captured where either turned into blood banks, tagged so they could never truly run away since if they tried to take out the tag they would die. Or they got killed and would be hung upside down in blood caves. Where their blood would get stored and labeled before being shipped to blood clinics for vampires to come and get some.

The wolves who have gotten captured, turned into pets or even seen as a special prize. Since They trained to listen, but there were some would lure other wolves who wanted to get away from the pack life. Sneaking away so they can finally live at ease and stop having to worry if they would get a meal, stop being feared of being hunted or tired of stepping on eggshells. Their names got replaced with traitors and anyone having any contact were shunned. Some would follow, others would leave their friends behind and try to keep living despite getting hunted, chased and worrying about diseases.

Though for someone who was sitting there, Y/n would often sit under a large tree while looking at the night sky. Looking up at the stars while flipping a butterfly knife they got before the vampires took control of the city. Y/n often used to sneak to a cafe near the woods, but it was in the city. A quiet spot where you could sit outside and see the lake and enjoy how quiet it was. Often sitting outside near the black gates with a notebook and would either draw something that took hours to draw, only to add something dark like a poem.

Y/n often kept the books hidden when they had to fully live in the woods. Often keeping them hidden under the tree, staying there for hours before trying to draw again. It was hard to do when the moon was barely shinning made it hard. But his drawings would get caught by his parents, where he got lectured for the ideas, but how else could he let out his emotions? He no longer had access to music again, the library where he would read dark romance, not even the cafe.

Yet tonight Y/n wanted to do something. He knew his family would be alright since they had plenty of other children; it wasn’t like he was going to get any important roles if everyone was questioning him. There was no point of having someone in power if the others did not trust them enough to handle their job without someone else getting hurt. So he decided he would walk to the cafe, after all it truly wasn’t far, who would want to sit there when you can’t enjoy the actual the view unless you enjoy the night sky reflecting against the water. Sitting in a chair leaned back and comfortable enough and enjoying the surrounding sounds. So what if he got taken by a vampire, what did he have left to lose? Nothing much truly.

It was around 1am by the time he decided he walked the entire way. Holding his book and small pencil, wearing a black and reed bracelet that would help hide his scent from vampires so he didn’t instantly get taken or bitten. And enjoy the scene he missed for years. Pushing back some of his long hair while fixing his jacket, Y/n was careful with his steps since he knew some wolves would walk around on guard. Making sure no one was meeting anyone or trading information, but he was used to this. He got used to making his footsteps sound quiet and blending in his dark surroundings. Something others would say is a useful skill when wanting to sneak up on someone and attack when needed.

Yet here he was, looking at the lights shinning through the woods and seeing the old cafe still standing. The colors were black and red, but they kept the outside view where you could sit and look at the woods. But they added windows to see outside so trying to sit outside without being caught was going to be hard. But given how he nearly fit the dress code some of these vampires followed, it was easy to sit there. He sat where the windows couldn’t show him unless you looked out the windows at an angle and drew something. No looking up to bother anyone or even draw unwanted attention to him. By the sounds of it the vampires inside were celebrating something. He wondered was it a birthday? Do vampires still celebrate their birthday’s? What would they do during it this late at night?

Though he felt like he would never get the answer. Sitting there drawing till his pencil broke once again. His drawing so close to being done yet it was missing something. Yet he no longer had the pencils to finish it. So all he could do was sit there and just stare at it. Holding the now useless pencil while his hair covered his face while he was trying to figure out what to do. Do vampires even use art supplies anymore? DO they enjoy art shows when they could easily see everything and remember how it goes? He truly had so many questions, yet he knew there was barely anyone who would answer him without wanting to drain him dry or have him as a pet to be shown off when he hated having to be around so many people wanting to get close to him and touch him places he didn’t like strangers touching.

“I didn’t think anyone would want to sit outside when a celebration is happening inside. You must be new or really enjoy sitting outside listening to the lake and drawing I assume?”

Looking up at the soft voice, Y/n came face to face with the man. HIs own long hair almost covering his dark brown eyes and a soft smile. His chest was nearly covered in tattoos while he wore a black jacket with matching jeans. Tilting his head to the side while he got a small peak at the art. The dark drawing of a tree with branches slowly reaching out into the sky with the moon having a glow, yet bodies being laid around the tree. The last one looking like it was reaching out to grab onto the tree while everyone else died around him.

Y/n didn’t know how to answer, he wasn’t one to really talk to people nor did he think anyone would want to talk to him. Maybe he was from inside and spotted someone just sitting out here and looking at the paper with a defeated posture? Maybe he grew curious why someone was just sitting out here when it was more lively inside. How would he respond when he doesn’t enjoy talking to people, let alone knowing this was a vampire talking to him as if he was one of their own when he truly wasn’t. But he knew he had to say something, not talking wasn’t an option and trying to run away might only get him corned and would have to answer or who knows would happen to him afterwards?

“I don’t enjoy loud crowds. I don’t know anyone in there.”

He answered, slowly closing the book and leaning back in the chair. Holding the book close to his chest while the male in front of him slowly sat down in the metal chair. He did in fact see Y/n sitting out here drawing before hearing his pencil snap, just seeing him stare at the book before he came outside to try talking to him. After all why sit out here when you could get some fresh blood wine inside and enjoy yourself? Talk among others who had more stories to tell and even powerful men were sitting in there just enjoying themselves.

“Crowds do often get annoying and overwhelming so I understand that. So you’ve lived here for a while? I haven’t seen you in my section before. I must’ve missed you somehow.”

Y/n could only slightly shrug, pushing back some of his hair to show his own eyes while the man in front of him was just staring at him. Wanting to see how he could have missed this person when he made it a point to memorize everyone faces in his own section. How does one miss someone like this and they sneak away from him? Something was missing here, and he wanted to figure it out but how? He didn’t want to cause people to stare otherwise he would have to step into a serious act when truly just wanted to know. After all people get scared and try to get away, the fear clouding their judgment and making it harder to even make sense when trying to explain things.

“You haven’t missed me, I’m not supposed to be here or telling you this. But It’s not like I have a home to get back to.”

This made the male raise his brow, leaning closer hanging off the edge of his seat while he stared at the emotionless stare coming from Y/n. He knew his mind wasn’t lying to him. But openly admitting you aren’t from here is a Deathwish for some. Yet not having a home to get back to made him curious, it reminded him of himself when his own home didn’t want him. Yet would beg him for help since others viewed him to be scary and it didn’t help that when he could express his thoughts some would be worried. But this was during the worse of the vampire take over, trying to get to the city for help was risky. Yet a vampire still took him in, where he not only got to see someone who shared the same thoughts as him, but he changed and became something no one ever thought of.

So he looked over to the woods, not seeing anyone or hearing the quiet footsteps of a wolf trying to peak; So it was clear he must’ve snuck out to get here so no one could find him and stop him. Coming here may intend to be caught and given a new life.

“Then you must be a wolf's form the forest. No wonder I can’t smell you. Though I must ask why come here like this? Aren’t you scared of being killed? Turned into a pet to be shown off in high-class meetings? Or who knows even turned into a blood bank where others with a craving can bite you even if you beg them to stop.”

“No, I knew that was a chance. I stole something from another wolf so I could sit here just a while longer and draw the last thing in this book before I would burn it. After all if anyone were to catch me I highly doubt they would allow me to keep anything related to myself.”

Staring the vampire dead in the eyes, he saw the curious yet surprised look on his face. Yet the smirk on his face was even better. Showing his fangs slightly while finally leaning back in his chair just for a moment. Maybe in shock since others would start getting nervous when caught. Some even trying to beg to be let go and they would never be seen in the city again. Maybe even died or punished by their own homes for running home in a panic and not thinking of their actions and movements. Yet here was someone who was calm, and yet ready to accept whatever fate was awaited for them.

“Can I see the drawings in the book? Not all of us would burn those unless you truly crossed a line and needed a reminder where you stand.”

Watching Y/n slowly push the book over, his small hands slightly hesitate though since he never let someone see it. But he let the vampire take it and look at the drawings from beginning to the end. The twisted portraits with the person crying black tears yet no eyes, spider webs being on the corners with one spider being seen crawling around the person. Some being of vampires and how Jun saw them. Often sitting on chairs with wine glasses full of blood to drink while some of the blood dripped from their chin and got onto some of their clothes. Though most landscape drawings often having the moon in the center of two pages while drawings of mountains and lakes were drawn. Some times there were people drawn other times it would just show tombstones with little scribbles that meant nothing.

“I take it people in your pack hated these drawings if they ever saw them, hm?”

“You say that like you’ve experienced wolves hating things you’ve drawn. Why would a vampire know how that feels?”

Letting out a soft chuckle, seeing some curiosity show in Y/n’s face with his head tilted from to the side with one eyebrow being raised before slowly moving his head with wide eyes. The stranger showed how his left eye was the gold-colored wolf's eyes are, yet his right eye being dark red like a high-class vampire was said to have. He didn’t think others would stop telling his story, after all he should be seen as a warning. But he doesn’t handle the wolves anymore, he stays in the city and has his own mini empire to rule and handle it.

“I was a wolf a couple years ago before someone saw me and took me in. He grew surprised at my transformation but let me build my empire here. Though I answer to him, though some thought I was going to overthrow him, but I stayed. He gave me things no one else ever gave me. My pack didn’t really talk to me unless it was for a lecture. He allowed me to take out my anger when I grew strong enough on them, though some say it was cruel to burn them. I saw it to be reborn as the man you see now. If they stayed alive, I would always be reminded who I was and the people who would try to save me knowing they only wanted me to stand guard and act as an intimidation tactic into getting more resources or scaring away other weaker vampires.”

The Hybrid story was told so kids would behave. Often being told he would drag you away and kill you to appease the vampires that have him under their control just to perform tricks yet no one seemed to ask why would he go to the vampires in the first place? No one seemed to even have a straight and clear answer to begin with. It was almost impossible to get any straight answers. Yet to get to sit here and talk to the man himself who seemed more alive and more relaxed than he probably was before was something different from now. Yet here he was, speaking softly to a wolf who seemed like they had nothing to lose. NO fear showing and truly looked like they were just lost.

“I’ll offer you a deal, since it’s clear just turning you in would end badly. By now, we’ll call him my boss so it’s easier for you. He should be alone in the building since he was invited to attend and took me as a guest. I’ll have to explain your situation, they say he’s heartless around guest, which is why we have more chances when he noticed I’m gone.”

Standing up while fixing his jacket some, he held the book in one hand and held out his hand to help pick up the shocked Y/n. After, all why would he torture someone who was once in his shoes? Nothing to lose yet felt like there was nothing to gain only to meet someone who will give him any and everything? Though that would mean that something would have to change, but if things went according to plan, then he wouldn't have to worry about changing against his will. But that doesn’t mean something won’t be easy. Holding hands with the quiet Y/n, the man turned around only to see the vampire grabbing his long black trench coat. His long hair flowing in the wind while he fixed on his black gloves, tilting his head as he walked over slowly.

“So this is where you went Ian? I’m surprised you didn’t drink them dry. Unless I came at the wrong time?”

His deep voice sent shivers down Y/n’s spine while standing there. Not sure if he should look the person in the eye or if he should just look down and let the man, Ian. Take full control of the wheel and handle things from there. After all no one ever gets a free pass like this, why world he offers to mess sit up now when this meant he would not be used to even tagged or worse, killed and held as a reminder. Yet despite seeing the man everywhere, he was still nervous since if he said no, there was nothing Ian could do but place a bid on Y/n, knowing no one else would dare try to bet against him since he isn’t scared of playing dirty when he’s passionate about something, and he knows what he wants.

“Well not entirely, this one is a special case as you would usually call it. They snuck out from the forest to come here knowing what would happen and I was curious. Could I keep them instead of having to go through the bidding process? I would like this one to not be used to beatings and such and flinching every time I get closer. They remind me of myself when you saw me wondering around the city knowing the vampires following me were about to either tear me to shreds or just toy with me to see if I would beg for mercy.”

Seeing the taller man raise his brow at the two, observing Y/n while having his head slightly tilted. It was something different for him. Ian usually never begged him for something like this. He was used to seeing Ian toy with his prey before biting and drinking from them. Often biting somewhere away from their neck just so he could savor the screams of pain when they were bite. Or during really serious meetings from those who wanted to work with his boss, he would tell his boss secrets about each person and would often be a tease or “a nuisance” as some would call him after some secrets would be revealed. There was no doubt he knew every secret if he focused on every person when he got their name and faces.

“Hm..This is the first time you’ve asked me this. I don’t see why not, but I ask out of curiosity, do you plan on turning them after a while? I highly doubt you’d just ask me this for them to be alive for a while only then kill them later down the line. I’d be disappointed if that were the case.”

Looking down at the curious yet shy Y/n. Ian could feel something inside of him he never felt when he was still fully a wolf. But he wasn’t sure if he should fully embrace it yet, after all he had just met this person. He still had to put them through the test to see if they could handle it or if they were sadly too weak in one by his side. There was nothing he wanted more than just to keep things under the rug for now.

“We will see though I have yet to disappoint you after a couple years of being by your side and surprising you at every chance I had. Your words not mine, but thank you for the chance, now let’s walk to the car shall we? I take it you enjoyed the party compared to the last one? It was very loud and unorganized from the start.”

Slowly walking along with the men, Y/n wasn’t trying to ease drop on the conversation while walking to a black car. Watching how Ian talked and got the man to chuckle some before sitting in his own car. Where it seemed someone was waiting for him but Y/n wasn’t one to look and be nosey about what was happening or even if it was his business to see for himself. Yet he stood out there and waved to the man as the car drove off into the empty streets before disappearing. Y/n looking up at the man who turned to look at them instead. His eyes meeting the curious gaze of someone who wanted to ask questions yet never seemed to find their voice to ask them and only went along white the flow hoping to be left alone. Though it was something different, but it also made him smile but he knew he needed to leave before the other vampires started to all leave and grow curious. Wanting to ask questions before being reminded where they stood next to someone like him.

He didn’t drive since he often enjoyed walking alone, often being seen spinning around while singing songs. No one ever tried to ask him unless they were truly okay with him, though sometimes he would never answer just to be annoying while enjoying himself. So he carefully picked up Y/n before running to his home, it wasn’t with his boss, but it was close enough in case he needed to get there and didn’t want to run halfway across town just to get there. But he always enjoyed a good run while jumping high enough to walk on the roofs of buildings like they were free walkways and he was just enjoying himself knowing no one could truly harm him without facing consequences they were never ready to face to begin with. He loved it all and would never leave this life for anything.

But now he had to be careful when having a wolf in arms before landing in front of his gated house. He only has a gate because before he would see curious kids walking up to his house and some often being annoying so he added this fence and would often taunt those who thought they were brave and special enough to walk up to his house and demand things instead of asking him. Even if their families were tied to him or if he had some special cases with certain families, that never stayed the same for the kids if they didn’t show themselves worthy of his attention. It was something he loved to tease with simply because he would see the shock and terror on their faces when he would show up behind them with an angry look on his face.

Yet here he was taking in someone who looked around the inside of his home with nothing to fear, nothing to lose. Seeing the all black and red choices he had, though some rooms he had were just plain. No color but white, despite having one of the largest manor’s, he often always stayed outside during the nights. Walking around and watching people either run away because they had something to hide or they would have the courage to ask him something. Seeing if he could do it rather than having to take it up with the leader. Though Ian was something else when he wanted to be. He would either follow the rules to the best he could or he would try to bend one, and he could do it.

“Aren’t you supposed to cage me up and treat me like a pet? Why are you letting me freely walk around?”

Turning around to look at the man himself. Who slowly walked to the fridge to grab a blood bag along with his favorite mug. Softly humming as he slowly pours himself a cup, giving Y/n his full attention while slightly leaning over the black granite island.

“Given how we have a lot to do, you trying to do anything trying to harm me would have you tortured by my hands. Besides, I can do more with you, but first you need to find a reason to live as a vampire, or like me. Wanting to turn when you want to die will only kill you.”

Seeing the look in Y/n’s eyes. It was something different, the lost look, wanting to find a something yet for now it felt like everything was just falling. He wondered if this is what Soohyuk saw him in the day he was taken in. But if he was going to train this person to be like him, someone with no fears left to face. No longer feeling lost and just drifting around to find something to do. Somewhere to rest with someone to give them that guidance till they finally get back on their feet. Standing there while swirling around his cup, taking sips of the drink while he watched Jun walk around the large living room and looking at the backyard.

Living here differed from Y/n expected. He could walk around when Ian would go out in the day, being more strict since around that time he would have meetings and trade offers he would handle so Soohyuk could stay in his own place. Y/n was wondering around the house for the first week he stayed there. Seeing the rooms he could walk into, the foods he could eat but everyday he had to complete certain task Ian left him, and would know if they got done or not. Having to drink small sips of blood from the fridge. Getting used to eating somewhat large meals but going a while without eating them. Running in the sun around the woods, not the woods where his old home was, but he would get close to it and then turn back. Wearing a bracelet that allowed his scent to remain hidden, though he would see missing posters with come home notes stuck on them. But he would never respond to them.

And today was no different, Ian was out doing the list of meetings, trade offers for all kinds of things with Soohyuk. And Y/n slowly getting out of bed and getting himself ready. Slowly getting used to wearing short-sleeved clothes since he would sweat after running for so long. Each morning he would drink a small shot cup of blood with some bacon on the side. The Curtains always stayed closed, but it didn’t matter. He would go out the back door and start his run. It was barrable since he got to listen to music along the run. It always started in the backwoods where, having to run along the stream so he never got lost trying to get back home. Since, the time he finally got up and bright it and early around 8am.

The run would last him about 2 hours when he first started, the point here was getting used to running at quicker speeds, not needing to rely on breaks or feeling like he was soon going to collapse out of exhaustion. Fixing his pants, making sure the phone stayed kept with a zipped up pocket, it wasn’t a fancy phone like some others would have. It just allowed him to play music and get tracked by Ian in case something happened and he wanted to be a tease about it. Asking him where he was because the tracker says something else. Sometimes it would scare him, other times he knew Ian was just messing with him and would laugh seeing Jun freak out if something was wrong.

So he started his run. Starting off slow to get used to picking up speed. Even though the cool air felt great, it was also a good while before the sun would shine bright enough to get burned and sweaty. But this was something they finally had, something to live for. Not having to hunt for food, hear the loud cheers from vampires enjoying themselves in the large town, trying to live in the woods while doing his best to help lead and raise pups, slowly creating his own Pack to lead and be proud of. Though that was never in the picture given how many siblings he had, here he was being pushed to do something.

So here he was, running through the woods and following the stream he slowly got used to seeing. He didn’t know it, but there was something different about this run. Y/n was getting used to feeling eyes around him, meaning someone was watching him. But he was told to never quickly turn around, that would make the person leave before he could catch them. So he slowed down his run before standing still. Not moving but looking forward, he saw the old missing poster of his old picture where he looked so tired and done with everything, but with a knife on his head this time.

He didn’t move fast enough, he slowly turned his head while letting his eyes slowly to look at the woods. Trying to peak into the bushes and higher trees that surrounded him. Who would leave this far out from his old home? It’s slightly too close to the city where day-walking vampires could see someone peaking out the woods and would get curious. But this wasn’t another vampire, Y/n has met none other vampires and most of them were told to look away. Waiting till Ian came out with a letter or a sign, everyone knows how baby vampires are when they’re slowly getting turned. And trying to talk to them can sometimes throw them off and make things harder in the long run. But wolves are a different story, those who are pets can’t to talk without permission, and if it’s someone from the woods, they wouldn’t know.

“You aren’t dead, Y/n?”

Slowly taking out an earbud and turning around. Y/n saw a wolf he knew, someone who often would make sure he was doing his training when his father would tell him to. Making sure Y/n was physically alright and would try to make Y/n talk when he had to do his own loud speeches. But he never did well with those, often stumbling over his words, trying to focus on his words more and would often close his eyes to get the words. Then trying to open his eyes to face the crowd but often he would hate it, sure they were looking at him knowing this was a hard spot and position to be in.

Slowly stepping out of the woods showed the wolf himself, Hyunjin. Only walking over to grab his knife before sliding it back in the knife pocket. Fixing his hair into a ponytail before turning on the heels of his boots. He stared at Y/n, seeing how he looked. He looked less pale, more taken care of yet he didn’t have a collar, nor did it smell like anyone was around him. And since the sun was still rising, he had to be alone. Yet Hyunjin still had the raised eyebrow, head slightly tilted while trying to get closer. But he watched Y/n slowly back away, which made him more curious why.

“Why are you backing away from me Y/n? Your parents have been worried sick and your mom hasn’t stopped berating your dad from the moment she knew something was wrong.”

“You’d tell them. This was my choice to make.”

“You don’t look like the pale boy who hated speaking even to me. What happened?”

Getting closer, walking closer and seeing Y/n's eyes for the first time without hair in front of it, he could see the faint red hue shining there. Something that made his own eyes widen in shock as Y/n just stared at him. But he always knew Hyunjin has a good eyesight for things even if other’s struggle to see it. But that still didn’t answer why he hasn’t wearing one of the same collar’s hyunjin saw from the other wolves he’s seen when he would sneak into the city to get supplies.

“A vampire took you in, yet you aren’t wearing a collar. Yet unlike others you don’t have bite marks. Y/n, what happened?”

“I can’t tell you, for your own safety Hyunjin. You want to be dragged by a vampire? I’m doing what I was told and I’ll need to go soon.”

Hyunjin squinted his eyes, slowly looking around but not moving his head around. There were other eyes, but they weren’t ones he knew. All he did was slightly move back some before he looked at the path behind Y/n. Only to the see the shirtless man, wearing another jacket but this time it was red with matching pants. Having some red roses stick out, but they were a design not actual roses.

Yet he had a curious look on his face as he walked forward. Y/n trying slowly backing away hoping to get hyunjin out but there was no telling what Ian was going to do. Hyunjin always stood tall, holding his knife while his two aces stayed on his back. He saw the man walking who had a bright smile, showing off his fangs but a smell that was confusing Hyunjin, he smelled a vampire smell, but soft woods smell. How does one get to that point?

“Awe I see you met an old Friend of yours? I was wondering why you weren’t moving for a while. I wonder were they worried about you? You would’ve been missing for months by now.”

Y/n looked at the two, seeing Hyunjin get more on edge but trying not to show it. His eyes trying to make sense and connect the dots with how fast they were moving, yet nothing seemed to click. Till he saw the flashes of red and yellow. Everyone heard the stories, yet no one knew his name. They say he died when he set that fire, yet no one ever mentioned if he truly lived or not. Some assumed he ran and died by now since vampires knew to be ruthless. Yet to see him alive, standing and even holding Y/n’s shoulder.

Hyunjin was staring at the two of them, his eyes shifting between the two while he was trying to make a run for it. Stepping back but what was he going to say when he got back? The few that were selected can’t come back home unless they had news about Y/n, or they found him and could bring him back home to his worried mother. Who promised that things would be different, and he didn’t have to feel alone anymore, even after she would get on everyone about it. Yet here he was, does he run back home to report? Or does he run to his makeshift treehouse only to write another report in his notebook that would get delivered back to the pack home?

“Don’t hurt him. He used to check on me when he wasn’t on his routes. Please.”

“Now, now, I can’t just let him ge away back home, I’ll have to take him back since he is technically, crossing the line. Every scavenger has been told that I assume? If word gets out, I let a wolf slip through my fingers I’ll get in trouble and you’ll have to see why. Now we can’t have that can we?”

Hyunjin, slowly move his feet back to say he’s on his side. Because if he went missing, that would make the wolves more worried about those around him. Ian could see it, and before either of them could blink he had Hyunjin up in the air. His hand wrapped around his neck tightly while he watched Hyunjin gasp for air, Grabbing the knife from his side pocket and stabbing his arm as deep as possible out of habit. Yet all Ian was tilt his head, his knives weren’t made to handle vampires this strong. Despite struggling and trying to breathe, groaning while closing his eyes and focusing on breathing. Yet Ian turned to look at the shocked yet standing still Jun.

“I know someone who always wanted to have a fighter wolf. Don’t worry they live close by, not entirely but you wouldn’t be alone I assume? We still have trade routes to secure, and maybe you tow can come along. But before that, It’s safe to say your friend here is going to need more guidance before that. Now run back home. I will be waiting.”

Having a grin on his face, he vanished with hyunjin in hand. Jun looked back and taking off running, he didn’t know it, yet he was running faster than he was used to. The music was one thing, but trying to run and make sure his friend is safe is another. Not to mention how far the house was, yet he could still get there when he heard Hyunjin letting out a loud pain yelled. There was one door he wasn’t supposed to open. But that’s where it was coming from, so he ran to the side door and ran back down the metal stairs before seeing Hyunjin thrown down on the ground. Covering one side of his neck while seeing Ian lick his fangs.

He didn’t fully bite him, but it was close since Hyunjin was still trying to attack. Yet there wasn’t anything much more he could do against someone like this. How do you fight a hybrid with senses so high he can choose when to let himself be attacked before fighting back?

“What’s gonna happen to him?”

“That bite isn’t lethal, but it makes him tired. I have a feeling you don’t want to see me and him fighting constantly till he’s tired, or trying to plan things that would only get him in trouble. So he’ll sleep for a while and then feel tired when he wakes up. Relax, he will be alright. Though I can’t say the same for my friend, and no. There is nothing I can about that. I already have you in my hands, training you is already going to be a fun ride. I can’t handle the two of you while still handling my duties.”

Looking towards his crawling yet struggling friend, he was slowly falling asleep. HIs axes kept next to him while Ian slowly took out the knife and tossed it down. It didn’t bother him; it blended in with his outfit though it would slowly heal and fade away after cleaning it deeply as he could. Softly humming Ian walked to the staircase and took Jun by the hand and walked up. Closing the door and making sure it stayed, he knew his friend would come over tonight at some point, he even met Y/n a couple times when he would come back from his late night punching sessions. Since Y/n also had to get used to moving his hands just as fast.

Along with others moving either just as fast, or even faster. There was no missing a day of this, and since the sun was still up. Y/n still had things to do and there was no excuse, not even checking on his friend. Which he wasn’t allowed to do since he didn’t have the key to even unlock it.

Staring back at the door, Y/n being pulled into the kitchen before being let go. Ian grabbed some snacks to drink, he usually enjoyed eating strawberries in-between meetings and the long walks. While also planning new buildings along the area. They were rebuilding, redoing just about everything to make sure homes were still safe, and things were more accessible, routes would be easier to handle and things were easier to see for those in higher power. The empire was slowly growing, others were coming around willingly and their needed to be more spaces, homes and places to keep things organized without others lashing out against each other to create a hostile place. Which would all crumble and then the main two would have to work hard on rebuilding it all over again. Which in itself would be harder to do.

Yet here was Y/n, looking at Ian confused and worried while he was just standing there eating his freshly cut and washed cup of strawberries. Turning to give Y/n his full attention since he could tell he was going to have.

“You have about 15 minutes to ask me questions before I have to leave, and if I find out you even stopped to get inside that room, you’ll get your first punishment. And if you thought the running in the burning hot sun and having to train until 8pm when I’m done only to join me for certain things was bad, the things I’d do would make you thankful.”

Quietly swallowing while standing up straight. The Burning question still lingered in his head. Was his friend going to be okay? Sure he got part of the answer, but what was really going to happen. Though Ian couldn’t give him a straight answer. After, all HIs friend Bang Chan is a very unpredictable person. Unless someone was there trying to keep him in line, so that depends on how much Hyunjin would put his foot down, but not trying to overstep. That was going to be the fun part Hyunjin would have to learn on his own. Though, as much as Y/n wanted to ask more, even after several more questions Ian told him it was time to go back to his schedule. He had to go help plan out another building for another blood bank. Often planning large layouts for some buildings with more storage, and some rooms to keep people there.

He could trust Y/n to stay alone and keep up with the list he got, can’t he?

He knew the punishments he had in mind would drive Jun slightly insane. He didn’t want to fully put Y/n through what he had to go through, not yet. He wanted to watch Y/n gain something only to have the fear of almost losing it. Putting everything he could into protecting that person only to feel nothing while getting hurt. That would scare people when trying to fight, seeing the person not reacting at all, simply just wanting to lunge at someone and kill them after they pose a threat to the person they care for. That’s what Ian needed them to do, even if they felt like he was messing with him. After all, he can’t always be there to save Y/n even if he wanted to. How does one say they have the most fear lover when people want to see it, only to see him get pulled from work and have to save his lover all the time?

At some point, he would have to make Jun fight him. After all, being considered the strongest it only made sense to make him fight. But he needed to make sure Y/n had the reason. So when he arrived home, he took his friend Bang Chan with him. Walking through the door, just now seeing Y/n drag his feet through the house to the kitchen. Eating his last meal of the day, strawberries that were left in wine with a few drops of blood so he gets used to the taste and feeling. It was clear he just took a long shower with his hair wrapped in a towel, and standing there in large pajamas, trying to stand up and eat. Doing so many pushups, sit-ups, getting used to jumping up high so it would be easier when trying to fly and run on the roofs or different places to run on.

Though, seeing the two men talk and walk to the door. Y/n made his way behind them, Ian knew what was happening, yet let the both of them walking down the stairs. Where Hyunjin got himself to sit up. But he was sweating profusely while trying to use his axes to stand up. He knew his chances of getting out in this state was pointless, but seeing someone new made him on edge. If he stayed here, maybe he could get closer to his friend again, wanting to see and understand why he was here and free without having to worry. But clearly that would not be the case here. And all Y/n could do was stand there on the stairs while seeing Ian get closer, Chan standing behind him with his hands behind his back.

“And why do you suggest I get this one? They look like a mess.”

“Watch it Emo fangs, just because I’m tired doesn’t mean you can push me around.”

All Ian did was stand there with a smile on his face. He knew Chan needed someone to keep himself on track, and not causing mayhem when he’s not under constant watch. We can tell he hates it, knowing someone is always there ready for him to mess up just to they can correct him. But he is a deadly vampire, exactly why Soohyuk hasn’t killed him, yet.

“You could use a sassy wolf by your side since you like throwing around vampires who have had none training. This one here is very good with axes. After all, you do always say you get lonely in your own home. Why not make it interesting instead of walking in and trying to mess with my own pretty wolf?”

“You call him pretty wolf?”

“Does it matter?”

Hyunjin gazed over, looking at the stairs and seeing his friend looking worried, but also tired. After, all with all that moving around and the effects of running faster than normal. He felt like he would collapse but his heart was racing while he watched the guest vampire kneel to the tired hyunjin. Gripping his hair to see his eyes only to get spat on. Hyunjin grinning slightly because he saw the shocked look on Chan’s face. Yet he also had a smirk on his face when seeing Chan slightly wipe it off.

“Ever ask before pulling someone’s hair? Or do you need to get bit?”

After this, Bang Chan threw Hyunjin over his shoulders. Hearing him gasp in shock before being carried out of the house. Sure Y/n was trying to get the courage to say something. But even Ian could see how tired he was getting. So before Y/n could fall and pass out from the day. Ian picked them up and walked to the spare room Y/n agreed to sleep in. Softly humming the same tune he always would even when he was just sitting there. He doesn’t fully understand why he hums this sometimes, but he often does and clearly it was helping Y/n fall asleep. By the time Ian reached the room, carefully laying Jun down and seeing he was asleep. But his cheeks were also turning pink.

Maybe he was blushing after being so close? After all, he’s barely around Ian most of the time but he realized Y/n was changing. His teeth were already getting sharper, despite getting tired quicker at night, or rather in the daytime. He would suddenly wake up during the late hours of the night, but he can’t go outside still. More vampires would walk around and would either try to pull others into their parties or worse things Y/n hadn’t experienced before. Though he knew Ian was probably taking a short nap, he would walk around and do a late night swim. Often being seen floating under the pool water, yet he was getting used to not breathing.

Or rather just floating in the water while feeling his eyes burn before making himself get back to sleep. Of course after drying off and changing his clothes of course just to get back up and do it all over again. Yet tonight it seemed like Y/n was holding onto Ian’s hand tighter than he realized. At first Ian was confused and tried slowly get the hand off, but it was useless as Y/n’s grip got tighter. Yet he was fast asleep and wasn’t waking up even after being shook slightly. So yet here he was, stuck next to the sleeping wolf and stayed there while trying to make himself comfortable. He wondered what was Y/n thinking about, mumbling some in his sleep yet trying to keep Ian close.

So Ian Slowly held Y/n close, rubbing his back in the process and watched how his body slowly relaxed and he was no longer shaking or quickly mumbling in a state of fear. Ian never got to know the feeling of being held or holding someone. So this felt new, but he enjoyed the feelings just a little. What else was he supposed to do? This was the first time he got to hold someone who was still alive, breathing and yet still showed little fear when they looked at him. Let alone felt his touch. He could feel something purring inside of him, but he also knew he would have to wait before he could ever let those feelings out. If this feeling was true, his mate wasn’t strong enough to handle him yet. And he refused to lose the one person who might see him as something other than a monster following orders given.

The next morning was of a surprise, Y/n didn’t have to get ready to run or anything. Though he was expecting taunts about his friend being taken. But no, he got none, he only got a note written by Ian that said he picked Y/n an outfit and to get dressed. He would wait till then, downstairs with a bowl of wine-soaked strawberries. Though surprised, Y/n still agreed and followed what he was told. Getting dressed slowly while messing with his hair. The clothes weren’t too tight, but also not loose where they looked like they could slip off his shoulders. The shoes weren’t suffocating his feet, but also weren’t too wide enough. And of course he still wore the bracelet so no one else could smell him. Taking it off always felt weird, like something was missing from his arms.

But with all of that done, he made his way downstairs and to the living room. Where Ian was sitting finishing his last strawberry. He still had a saved bowl for Y/n , holding it out and watching how he slowly took it. Still confused but also a little out of it still since he was still thirsty and hungry.

“We’re going room shopping today, clothes can wait another time. You’ve behaved well enough that I can excuse yesterday’s curiosity. You can pick whatever you want when we get there, it’ll arrive here and builders will put it together, you just have to tell them what you want. And then maybe we can get some bathroom things, I can imagine that soap is making your nose itch the more you use it.”

At first Y/n just nodded his head, taking the bowl with him and allowing the words to set in. He was getting allowed to pick whatever he wanted for his room? That raised more questions, where were they going for this? Was this a trap? A test even? Yet he was still walking right next to Ian. His Bracelet still on while other vampires got to see Y/n for the first time. Some waving to them, others bowing while some looked away. As friendly as Ian could be, if the matter wasn’t urgent when it was clear he was busy. Either looking annoyed or would mess with the person till they felt like it was time to leave them alone. Though, it was rare he just let the person go longer than a week before they were soon seen on a spike with their head. But the biggest surprise was seeing how the malls have changed since the last time Y/n was here.

The malls were slightly wider with glass walls to show inside of each one. Some places have soft colored clothes, others having a dark aesthetic with shoes clothes by. Purses, bags, accessories all lined up for others to look around. Of course with some food courts that had some food, with some blood bags of course. The first floor had the cheaper stuff, but Ian would not shop there today. He wanted to see what Y/n liked. Keeping their hands together they walked up the stairs, where no one else was there since most of the elite people came here later when most of the lower floors were closed. But he had more things to attend tonight, thinking he should take Y/n with him, but that fully depends on how today was going to go. Since he knew Chan was going to be too busy handling his new pet.

Letting Y/n slowly walk around and pick things slowly. It was like watching a new puppy getting used to their new home. Slowly touching things only quickly look back and make sure what they're doing is okay or to see if someone is rushing towards them. But Ian just slowly walked around close by and gave a nod. Every time he saw Jun pick up something he wanted. Sometimes Ian would say no, that’s just because for now the closet wasn’t that big. Later down the line Y/n would have their own room. But he knew nothing stays this calm and good when you fall in love. No matter how strong you are, how fast or even how smart and trying to plan out every move. Something will always happen and there is nothing that any can do except go through it. And part of Ian was shopping it would not be horrible, knowing he would have to fight for the love of his life.

The party was the first sense that something was wrong. Even when sitting there in a corner with Soohyuk, just sitting there and looking around. Drinking as they waited for the main host to come out with a speech and a feat plan. Every time a party like this was held that meant people would be severed for those who didn’t have a blood bank to turn to. Sometimes these parties would get out of control and the leader would have to step in, often sometimes someone would die. But something was wrong here, too many eyes were staring at the two special guests sitting at the table of the highest members. One of them sitting there with a smirk on their face, the other sitting there looking around. But Ian never let Y/n leave his sight, it alone his side.

Since other vampires were taking over their own sides, some falling to other creatures. Letting someone get loose was a death wish. Siren’s often took over the islands, slowly moving to more tropical places and offering trade routes, in exchange for more protections against some creatures. Sometimes things were going well, other times things were falling apart and there seems to be no going back from them. Though there was one place almost everyone wanted to get into and that was south Korea. Since most trade routes were under their control, along with the forest it seems. What would happen after this? Only time would tell after today.

“Ian, tell me. Do you think the Siren’s are going to ask for their trading routes? Or the witches this time? The witches have been asking for a route to our library’s for ages.”

“Hm, I don’t think you should. Most of the books I feel like their after have vital information about the city. We don’t need them trying to use that against us. We still need to get the forest under control. Or they’ll be trying to get wolves on their side instead.”

“Hm, you caught one yesterday, we can use them can we not?”

Ian looked over to Y/n, who looked up quickly with wide eyes but with Soohyuk staring at him, there wasn’t much he could deny. After all, he was going to be in the high circle. If there was no important information Jun could give, he’d get tossed to the side like trash and left for dead. Besides this was getting him out of his shell and getting more confident in his own voice, his own power. Nothing screams more dangerous than someone who had nothing to lose. This is the first test Y/n would have to give up most spots that had wolf packs, his own siblings. Along with his own that he left and dragged hyunjin along with. After that, Ian would do his best to test out but for now, they needed to see how easy Y/n will give this up.

Hyunjin wouldn’t forgive him for a while if he found out. But after all what else did the two have? So while looking at the two, messing with the small glass of red wine mixed with blood. He took a deep breath, straightening his shoulders and his back and looked at the two and the table. Acting like it was a map.

“From the last time I knew, there were 5 other packs with mine being the sixth one. There’s a big tree that acts like the waypoint. There will be six large wooden stakes that lead the way to each one. If you want to pull them in, you’ll want to offer things like food, medicine and even materials. If you want to keep invading forces outside, you’ll need those who know the forest good enough. But if we have time, and you send someone who isn’t that strong, they might be more welcoming that way. Go for the south one, mine was the north. The south needs more help and will take anything, if you can slowly go from there, then you’ll slowly have a growing network. No collars, even when they get here. They hate those.”

Watching Y/n answer these questions without stuttering or trying to avoid eye contact meant that Ian was doing something write. Even though all the running and working out seemed like overkill to some it was helping more, then others could see for now. But he was making someone confident in themselves and their answers. Not having to question about their thoughts and methods and could handle things without feeling someone being disappointed in their actions and choices. Something they needed the entire time as a little push. But this almost meant that Soohyuk was doing well, taking Ian in and giving him little information only to watch Ian grow and figure things out to fit themselves and slowly continue the same method. It was like watching a son of his grow up and figure things out in the chaotic world he was slowly creating.

Slowly getting comfortable, Y/n leaned back in the chair and took small sips from his glass before seeing the lights shine bright to the balcony. Showing a siren walk out with their eyes scanning the crowd, but locking eyes with the main table. A smile showing with a dress bright yet classy enough to capture all eyes and bring all attention forward with nothing else to lose, and nothing more to hide. Offering new cultures, resource's, structures and help to create a place welcoming for all. The main thing would be Soohyuk and Ian, getting on their good side is hard. And this is where Y/n needed to create a tougher skin, and that was going to be the hard part. Despite the speech going on Ian’s eyes would slowly drift to look at Jun, part of him felt despair. He wouldn’t always be there, one heeded to kick up the intensity of his training and make sure Y/n could handle himself. Though messing with Siren’s was something he would learn with them. But he was ready to handle anything and come out on top.

But he still leaned over to Soohyuk’s shoulder and whispered quietly in his ear. Wanting to see what they should do.

“What do you think is the best approach here? Your guest seems to get closer to you, are we sure we can trust them as well?”

“They mentioned how the witches wanted to hold books of every creature and use their weaknesses to rule and finally stop me. For now, I’m seeing what they offer, your wolf still has soft skin and was struggling with eye contact. A siren song can easily break him. What do you plan on doing on that?”

“Fair play. I will do my best, We have time before the siren’s try to make a move getting closer. I’ll do my best to keep pushing them even if we fight.”

“You need new scars, I can’t wait to hear that.”

Y/n hated this. The fights were getting more harsh, less ruthless and yet Ian seemed to have barely broken a sweat. Even when he was bleeding he still kept going, how was this supposed to help? Sirens don’t fight they sing. Why did he have to get physically stronger? But this was also making his fangs sharper, his eyes having a brighter glow to them when Y/n was pushing himself. Something Ian was digging around while rubbing salt on old wounds. Their fights were getting harsher while Ian would leave to handle the wolf situation. That party was two months ago. And so far with the information given they were making quick improvements to help the more struggling packs. Doing their best to keep things ahead and careful when walking into enemy territory, since word of some lower rank vampires were offering smaller resources that they snuck to give to them. Helping packs to create safer homes without the worry of everyone dying out from infections and lack of care.

Though of course when Hyunjin finally heard word of this he was furious at first. It didn’t help he was still fighting Chan and getting the man on his knees most of the time; he found out why. It was something he was confused about, but he knew Y/n always did care, even if he had to sell him out. Yet he didn’t know how Y/n was still doing, and here he was, his fist on the ground while looking at Ian. Seeing that he cut Ian’s eye and he actually screamed in pain when it happened. At first Y/n thought it was a prank, something to get him to lower his guard into walking over only to get tackled. But Ian was now on the ground holding his eye and hissing. So Y/n jumped up and ran over.

Realizing with wide eyes this wasn’t a prank and Ian had in fact gotten seriously cut on his eye. It was healing, but with how cut Y/n managed, using nothing but his Claws as weapons. They’ve gotten sharper over the years, meaning they could leave serious harm if ever needed for any reason at some point. But something about this made Jun feel more worried about it. Watching Ian slowly get up only to feel more pain in his eye trying to open it. But he was trying to sound genuine despite needing help to get up.

“See? You can improve when pushed! We just need to work on putting on a cold face and some- ow fuck!- some smiles in there! That scares people when fighting. And soon we’ll have to expose you to some siren songs and hide earbuds or something easy to cover your ears with. That will help you unless they know knocking them out helps.”

“Ian you’re bleeding why are you trying to comfort you me right now! Come on, before someone comes over!”

Keeping his eye closed and covered, Ian followed Y/n back inside of the house. The blood quickly drying up behind him and sitting on a bar stool in the kitchen while keeping his head back. His right eye being cut, slowly opening it and looking around. He could see just fine, but seeing Y/n’s shocked eyes and worried look like he just did something wrong. He knew something was wrong about it. But since they're in the kitchen, there're no mirrors to fully look at himself to figure it out for himself. So he only tilted his head while slowly wiping the blood from his eye with a black towel. He knew he was fine, but why was Y/n looking more terrified than meeting Soohyuk for the first time?

“I'm fine why do you look worried still? Did I get more blood on my shirt? It’s just a tank top!”

“Your eye, it’s white!”

Tilting his head again, he stood up and walked to the hallway mirror. Looking At himself with a surprised expression, turning to y/n with a smile slowly rising on his face once again despite Y/n looking terrified and didn’t know what to make of this. How was he just standing there smiling at the situation? What in the world was he supposed to do during all of this?

“You’re doing great! This is proof your growing. Think, before this you looked more lost than me, no offense. But now you’re finding your voice, your strength and soon so much more! This scar is proof. Besides, this is great scar by the way I could scar so many people with this!”

There was something about Ian that was making it nearly impossible not to laugh when he was laughing with all his chest and stomach, it felt more genuine when was laughing. Even in serious situations, here they are just laughing. It only started because Ian couldn’t stop laughing at the fact that Y/n looked so worried but also had a sad pout on his face. He looked so cute in his eyes, but it just made him laugh because of a thought he had in his mind but he would not say it out loud. Yet deep down, doing good with the training, he just had to keep pushing him. No matter how hard it was getting and no matter how hard he just wanted to give into his own feelings and emotions.

“Alright alright, we still have things to do. Let’s head back outside and look around for some things to keep.”

“Why do you think we’ll have to fight the sirens? If I can ask that questions regarding that.”

Closing the sliding glass door, Ian turned to them with a slouch in his shoulders while messing with his hair. He wanted to tell them; they were going to find out either and there was nothing stopping them. But the matter was if they could handle it, could they? Before this it was clear their fighting knowledge was small, but maybe this could help in the long run? Maybe it would show that this is serious and not just Ian trying to pick on them for no reason, other than being bored with no one else to bother. Or wanting to tease him and pull things out of further proportions.

“When having new creatures try to join us, there is a library that holds a lot of private and sensitive information. Not only just to me but obviously to every other vampire here, including him. If that got into the wrong hands someone would use that against us, and after years of standing on top we aren’t risking anything. So the fact you gave us tips about the wolves, which works well, we can not only strengthen our forces but we can work on being prepared. Our secret goal is making the books seem outdated and protected for no reason, but obviously we haven’t gotten there yet. Now, with that in mind we have to make sure we get there’s nothing anyone can use. Now save questions for later, go searching for something that makes it hard to ear. But it blends well. We have many lakes coming and going, which can end deadly.”

Sirens are one thing, witches are bound to be another, but one step at a time means they're doing better than not. If anyone would be a larger help, it would be Hyunjin knowing where most hidden hideouts are. Getting there and sending in a good word would do wonders for packs closer to the north. They trust hyunjin more than anything, and if they see he’s not deathly hurt, and getting stronger while learning. Then the wolves would have a very high advantage here, and showing that Jun is safe and learning, but determined as well, it would be something better than nothing. Everything was slowly coming together and nothing else was being lost anymore.

Looking around didn’t just feel like looking around at plane trees holding life anymore, these trees would soon connect more places and people than others could imagine at the time being. And there was nothing stopping anyone soon.

Everything was going to plan. The wolves were slowly joining forces with the vampires, though change was something vampires were struggling with. But if everyone wanted to show that not even sirens could stop them they needed to get alone and stand up for themselves, which is something some weren’t used to. But one group didn’t believe it, and Y/n knew what he needed to do. But he had to go alone, and knowing that Ian was going to be busy with more planning, more secret events and trying to get as much information as he could. Y/n could use this time and have a talk he never though he would have. Talking with his Father about it, and that would feel like banging his head on the wall, or as he liked to say, Arguing with a wall. Even if he brought hyunjin along with him, it would be a heated argument.

But things change as time flies by. Y/n was no longer the peaceful one and was getting more ready to stand up and bash heads with other people. He knew if they were to fight he could use things to his advantage since he’s gotten used to fast movements, running faster and having to think with spilled seconds. It was something different, but it was slowly becoming useful. But the hard part was agreeing on a place to meet, Y/n knew if he went back inside of the pack house he would have to fight to get out. And that would make Ian come in and most likely start killing as a warning. Which would make things worse and not what they needed, but this talk needed to happen on fair grounds.

So they agreed to meet near the city border, where the city met the woods and where Y/n would often sneak away to. They would have about 2 hours to talk, Ian saying they needed to take their time and let the two sirens feel welcomed and not like they were being watched, which itself was a dangerous game but it needed to happen. And instead of training more and even getting to practice with hyunjin, Y/n did this before anyone else could do.

Looking around the trees and peaking, seeing their father and oldest brother felt weird. But also not fair since they agreed to come alone, but Y/n was determined to keep his foot down and stayed on his side of the line. Since if they crossed over Y/n could fight them and claim self defense, something everyone knew which was why no wolf could get caught fighting a vampire across that line. His older brother always agreed to stay with their father while the others spread out and were now agreeing with vampires and getting more supplies, but also growing with protection of the other ones. Some offering to give their extra supplies to the north pack but all they wanted to see if Y/n was truly okay or just being used as a toy, because why did he leave home in the first place? The answer was always there, but when has yelling at a wall ever been helpful?

Standing there with his arms crossed, Y/n stared at his two family members. He looked healthier and brighter, but something in his eyes screamed at them. It wasn’t a silent scream, but a visible scream.

“You said we’d talk alone, why is Jason here as well?”

“He wanted to see if you were truly okay Y/n. You left at night and never came back, what were we supposed to do?”

“Worry about other things, but we aren’t here to discuss the past. You wanted to see if I was alive, I’m fine and I’m growing. What else would you like to know in a bigger situation then this?”

Jason looked at his little brother, who would usually just shrug and keep his mouth shut. Not wanting to make things worse since often the yelling would get to be too much. But he came along just to make sure these two didn’t draw too much attention. If it got too worse, they would get in more trouble they needed. So he stood there trying to check for scars, for bite marks and looks of drainage, yet he looked more alive than ever, and was getting stronger with each passing week something he was proud of, but knew someone stronger than him could take away. But he shook his head slightly, taking a deep breath and stepping forward with his hands out in a soft manner, not trying to pose as a threat.

“Mom has been on everyone’s backs about getting you home safe or at least letting her know you’re truly okay. And with the vampires helping the others she was getting desperate since none of them told her about you.”

“And I’m alive and doing better. What else do you want from me.”

“Y/n, are they really just using you? The siren threat doesn’t sound real. Not to mention Hyunjin hasn’t come back or even sent letters anymore.”

“Hyunjin is here, and getting better. That siren threat isn’t fake, and if you want to see what happens then be my guest. I’m not here to fight any of you, I’m here to give you answers and then leave, there are plans that need to be done and I’m not risking anything. Wasting my time doing this isn’t helping anyone.”

Something didn’t feel right, like that scene in movies where you're waiting for someone to jump and make a move. It was there but something was telling Y/n not to move like others would/ Something told him to stand on guard and be prepared for someone to walk out and plan something. Listening to the surrounding woods more deeply, wanting to see what could happen. The sound of someone’s heartbeat was strong despite hearing their best efforts of keeping themselves hidden and silent. All Y/n did was stare at his father, who was looking to the left behind a tree close to him. His brother just had a look screaming he was sorry. This was a trap, and if Y/n walked any further in the woods, away from vampires watching, something would’ve happened.

But these two were out of the loop for a lot of things, and using earwax early on was helpful. Feeling his claws slowly get sharper with his eyes getting a dark hue to them, Y/n slowly took one step back before hearing someone running closer to him. Jason looking down to not witness the take down only for the pair to be stunned, Y/n was quick to flip the wolf over his shoulder and onto the ground, twisting his arm in the process and holding his sharp claws at his neck. Close to cutting deeply and leaving him for dead. His other arm crushing the wolf’s wrist before letting go and stepping away, his eyes staring deep at his shocked brother and father while his movements were slow. His ears were hearing the hearts racing and blood rushing.

And here he stood, inspecting only to see that the two had necklaces with shells on them. They were small but seemed to be important. The realization hitting him like a slap and a punch; it made him want to cry while he stood there. Keeping his face stone cold, like his teachings showed him.

“You were with the sirens from the start? What could you possibly give a siren that they don’t already have? Land with no lakes?”

“You don’t understand. They offered to get you and move all the wolves to a better place, we even went and picked an island, but mom is hell bent on taking you with and away from the vampires. We’re here to take you, these shells are like shields from their songs.”

Jason tried to explain, looking at the crawling wolf only to see his broken his wrist was. But also saw how his brother looked at him, a smirk on his face, something that was rare to see even when he was truly happy. But this had dark intentions behind it that needed time. Y/n had a reason to get better, betrayal.

“Tell him the truth Jason. We planned on killing the vampires that even took you, they can face the siren’s alone and finally leave us alone, what’s better than that? We can start over and not need to worry about resources. No limits or restrictions, are you saying you’d rather stay here? You cold expand and start your own pack like the others, you remember misty right? She’s already sworn herself as your wife when we return home. it’s rude to keep your bride waiting.”

Staring at his family like they were strangers, all emotions left his eyes just like they used. Nothing yet he seemed to look straight through them. It was always unsettling to look at when Y/n would talk, no emotion in his voice or face. It was like staring at a cloud and getting nothing in return. How does someone talk to that when it feels like they could kill you with a swift move?

“You know, mom never did like how you did things behind her back and lying till you no longer could. You think just because the sirens showed you a place to live that it doesn’t have strings attached? I walked in here and learned so many things I could survive on my own in the wild instead of being told it’s just heat and there’s nothing to be done and clashing with you every second I tried to talk. But side with the Siren’s, but if I hear you begging for mercy when they prove me right, I hope I’ll be right there while you become someone's dog. Now come near me, and I will show you just how fast i can shatter that stupid wolf’s bones.”

Shaking his head as he quickly ran away. He needed to get back in the house and start throwing things. He needed to scream and rip things while the others were busy, no wonder he didn’t ge anything when they first tried to reach out. It was something he hated, and it was pissing him off more, what he didn’t notice was that during all of this his eyes were flashing two different colors. His emotions were high and reaching levels he had yet to handle. Running in the house and getting into the rage room as he called it. Throwing things around, shattering glass, breaking metal chairs and tables. He didn’t even get the chance to close the door and change so the blood didn’t get in his new clothes. But rage blinded him.

Scratching, ripping and screaming loud enough where Ian heard from the other side of town. Just as the meeting was clearing up and he could hurry home. After all, he was trying to listen in on the other sirens he had to be around in the cafe, wanting to make sure no one was planning something and if they were, he knew who to look for and who to follow. But hearing broken cries and screams shocked him to the point he was running on roofs to get home faster. Swinging the door opened and closed, he ran down the hall only to see a panting, rage filled and slightly bleeding Y/n. Who was about to break another mirror before Ian wrapped his arms around Y/n’s shaking figure and got him to stop. Despite him struggling while letting out screams and hisses before letting himself go limp.

Just laying there while Ian watched him with worried eyes, slowly moving him to the kitchen where he could truly get a good look at him. Wanting to see where the cuts were and wanting to know what made Y/n go on a rage filled destruction spree and not even flinching at the pain.

“Hey hey hey, Y/n what happened? I thought you were gonna sleep in today?”

Slowly blinking away the tears, the cuts slowly healing since none of them were that deep. Watching Ian slowly cup his cheeks so the two could stare at each other, Ian looking worried and concerned and Y/n trying not to cry while the feeling of his soft touch slowly calmed him down and keep him focused. Looking at him and focusing on staying calm and slowly breathing to explain. And slowly he got it, how Y/n went to meet with his family, only to almost get dragged and promised in marriage to an island far from here while the vampires had to fight against the sirens.

Talking about how they had a wolf close by and would’ve taken him by force and use him as bait to lure others in. Only to be viewed as a traitor, which would’ve been pointless to take him back other than making him serve his punishment as such. Even when being married he’d still have weekly punishments to attend to only to go back to his wife and keep going despite the pain. But Ian could see the pain, even after throwing things around and now learning the north had sided with the sirens. Which would explain why they wanted to get closer to the vampires in the first place since they both would clash. Needed people alive or intact to be drained of blood, and siren’s needed fresh meat to eat. How were they supposed to get along when their ways of eating were too different?

Ian didn’t speak the entire time, listening through the hiccups and stutters before slowly embracing Y/n, keeping his head on his shoulder near his neck. Not moving much while standing and just softly rocking Y/n. Soft back rubs and hums, the pain in his eyes were so real, yet it wasn’t just seeing someone he grew close to crying, he knew how special Y/n was to him and could only rock. He wanted to confess so bad, but this wasn’t the time. He wanted to do so under a full moon when they had nothing to worry about, they could just be themselves and get it over with. But he knew one thing, Y/n had a reason to live and keep pushing. Meaning if he ever got turned mid fight, he would wake up stronger.

Even during this time Ian made a silent promise to himself, he would protect Y/n as best as he could. Making sure he would never have a reason to cry or scream like this again while he stood strong. He stayed there for hours, taking note how Y/n’s shoulder’s relaxed some and his voice was softer. He was getting tired, this meant more than just being tired, Y/n was growing and his body needed to restart, basically.

“When we catch them, let me be the one to punish them…” And a soft grin spread on Ian’s face while he watched Y/n fall asleep. He had someone like him in his arms, he couldn’t wait to win this and keep Y/n near, knowing nothing was taking him away. Ian watched how Y/n slowly fell asleep in his arms. Carefully carrying him to the bedroom and laying down. Ian watched how Y/n’s body slightly twitched with each movement. His body was awake and ready to wake up and attack anyone whoever came near. But he just laid there, softly rubbing Y/n’s back and hummed the same random tune he always did. Just looking down and taking in how Y/n’s body was resting and relaxing. It made him question how life would look after this fight with the sirens.

Some could say the pair are overreacting, but with something like this and now getting conformation of overthrowing, and killing most likely. Despite being known as cruel, he’d always protect his home with those who stood by him. And making sure things were going to be settled smoothly, the two would make sure those who switched were punished along with creating a safer home. He was growing slowly but surely leaning more towards change, and seeing how Soohyuk was creating something he’d never thought he would. A home for others, while showing how he’d never step down the latter. He was a dangerous man, and if he needed to go back to wars, he would do so with no mercy in his eyes while putting his strongest men to the test.

Though sleep was something that would come as rare now. Despite Y/n sleeping early after getting stronger, drinking more and eating more raw meat to stay strong, he still just felt more tired and even Ian was concerned why. But there was little time to figure it out, reports of sirens getting closer and planting things on the outsides were getting more common as traps. The wolves putting up a fight, some gave in when promised better resource's, others stayed with the vampires and gave what they could while getting more weapons in return while those with children, or expecting were taken to places to rest. The vampires being made to create more buildings with resources, no more collars or being treated like toys to be tossed to the side. But everyone has to have something covering their ears in case they heard singing from the waters, it was nothing more than just a trap.

But something was wrong, One day Y/n went to sleep and hasn’t woken up since. Ian was getting more erratic as time passed and the sirens were slowly getting closer. Hyunjin stood next to him and waited to see for movement, but there was nothing. Yet he could see Y/n was alive, he would twitch randomly and his heart was beating, he was steady and nothing was wrong. Yet nothing seemed to wake him up, but the fights was starting, those who were being set out on the front lines were following a plan Hyunjin crafted after weeks, making sure arches were ready with bullets not meant to kill but stunned while others dragged them in certain pits, tied up with their mouths covered. Those on the front lines with spears and daggers were to take down those using weapons instead of singing while creating an opening for him and Ian to get to Seonghwa and Wonbin, and to drag them to the center house where they would remain while being questioned.

At first Bang chan was hesitate about this, but Hyunjin went regardless. Running when the flaming arrow soared in the sky while running deeper into the woods. Where his old home stood and looked to be on the verge of collapsing, having his two trusted axes on his back with daggers in his hand with his hair tied back into a bun so he could see. He’d never thought he’d have to fight his own pack, but there were times he’d imagine it and coming out on top regardless of who he was fighting. But having to fight against siren’s with skills being water and fighting, it made him excited while he fought and swung. But fighting with emotions high on edge was the hard part, even with his ears covered he was still struggling to come to terms with Y/n's condition. He was perfectly fine, nothing seemed to be wrong and his body was even healing itself from hidden injuries, yet why wasn’t he waking up? Was it the two creatures inside fighting again? Was it the food or maybe even the stress of being in a war?

His thoughts were racing while his movements were becoming sloppy, making it hard for Hyunjin to cover his open spots while being pulled across the wet floor. Despite having the upper hand outside, having to fight other trained siren’s with Seonghwa leading the charge was harder than most fights. Ian nearly falling to a weapon designed to turn him into dust, some mouths told secrets that supposed to share. Making the fight feel more intense despite some siren’s falling to their knees because of the sharp cuts and bleeding out on the sides. Being forced to watch more of their comrades fall to the side from arrows and sharp items. But if Ian were to fall, the battle would take a turn worse for them, better for the siren’s. But towards the end, seonghwa let out a song that seemed to make even the siren’s freeze. Singing strong enough to make the water around them swing around and act like sword swings. He never used his siren song before, if he ever did then it was for dire situations.

Looking up at the staircase where seonghwa was singing, the song mixing with Wonbin who was kneeling on the ground. Ian looked up with eyes burning with rage, hyunjin ready to throw his axe despite needing to take them alive. Only for him to grin while Ian ran up the stairs, charging behind seonghwa with bright red and yellow eyes shown Y/n charging with his ears covered, only to wrap his arms around seonghwa and falling down the stairs. Tumbling down before landing on the hardwood floors he once stomped around on when he was angry at something. It slowly rolling up while hearing the sounds of Seonghwa hissing while trying to stand, but his leg and hip burned with pain. Wonbin forced to be still with Soohyuk holding his neck, his nails close to squeezing Wonbin’s neck, close enough to nearly crush it.

“Now you have one choice to make here, live under my rule and suffer the consequences, or die with the rest of your people who’ve already been taken captive. And I highly doubt you want Seonghwa to watch your neck be crushed while you die.”

Watching seonghwa struggle to get up, Y/n keeping his bleeding head down, Wobin could only nod. Just wanting to save his 2nd in command and refusing to die out. Ian running over and hugging Y/n as tight as he could. His jacket and shirt ripped off during the fight, having some scars and bleeding scratches. He was just happy to see that Y/n was alive, but soon looking at his eyes and fangs, the transformation was done without the pain of being turned, but this just made Ian more happy and excited at this news. Picking up Y/n and spinning him around with a bright smile despite the blood around the two. Along with Hyunjin rolling his eyes in a playful manner, hearing the quick footsteps and the broken door being swung opened with Chan leading the other vampires in and taking the two living members back into the city. Chan running over to make sure Hyunjin wasn’t entirely too injured.

Soohyuk watching his two strongest men find people who made them fall to their knees and smile with joy in their eyes. Having someone to protect, and to go home to. But he still had an empire to build and maintain, starting with rebuilding his own once again and making sure nothing else could happen, and if so he had it ready and prepared. Though he was also prepared to hear the make-out sounds and canceling out the noises and staying away from his house since the smell would soon to get too much despite his home being hidden.

Getting home was like chasing a high, Y/n running in front of Ian while laughing, despite Ian having a serious look on his face with a grin. The moment the front door was closed and the large curtains covered the large back windows. Ian grabbed Y/n and pinned him to the wall, locking their lips together in a hot and rough kiss. Ian’s hands running down and picking up Y/n’s legs, wrapping them around his legs while feeling Y/n’s hands rubbing his chest and nipples, often squeezing them which made Ian whimper against the kiss. Pulling away to let out a loud whimper, his head leaning back with his hands squeezing Jun’s thighs. Looking down at Y/n with their eyes locking in each other, no words needed to be spoken, only nods and tugging at anything they could.

Ian kept his head up and to the side, letting Y/n suck and kiss on his neck and shoulders while making his way up the stairs and getting to his room, since it was the first room he could think of. Swinging the door opened and closed and pinned Y/n down on the bed. His arms caging Y/n under his arms while leaving rough kisses on his chest, ripping off the shirt with his hands moving quickly. It Tasting little drops of blood while his ears were being filled with Y/n’s moans and soft whispers.

Ian kissing his chest, his tongue softly tracing up to his ear, his hands holding the flimsy and almost torn off sweatpants Y/n had worn the day he fell asleep. Looking down at Ian’s shoulders with his legs wrapped around Ian’s waist, feeling something rub against him and biting his lip.

“I’ve been waiting months for this stupid war to be over just so I could make you mine. Nothings about to stop me, are you okay with that?’

“I better be screaming all fucking Night Ian.”

The two locking eyes, licking their lips before going in for another rough kiss, clothes being ripped and thrown off to the side like nothing mattered. Some in the corner some barely made it off the bed completely with how flimsy they were being tossed aside. Ian leaving many kisses and purple hickies over Y/n’s chest like nothing else mattered. Grinning against his skin hearing the gasp and moans, feeling Y/n’s touch with each kiss and his hair being messed and tugged on. Gods, he loved the feeling and could feel himself twitching with each touch and kiss, but he wanted to drag this on for as long as possible, leaving marks everywhere he could with no regrets and knowing the pair would go all night with no regrets. Things in the morning could wait despite having to deal with things they didn’t want to think about right now.

Leaning up and watching Y/n reach up to leave his own marks on Ian’s tattooed covered chest and up to his neck, knowing since Ian barely ever covered his chest people would see them and ask questions. Y/n made sure they stuck and showed, but everyone knows Ian, he would brag about them regardless if someone asked or not. But he loved them, enjoying the sight and biting his lip. He wanted to pound Y/n right into the mattress, watching him grip something only to see the stars before coming back down from heaven. Flipping Y/n on his stomach he wanted to see the back before taking him once again in the front. Not only that, but being able to leave marks and kisses on his back knowing the only person who could see them is him.

“Grip something, unless you want to be rocking under me for the rest of the night.”

His deep hushed voice made Jun shiver before seeing him grip a pillow and some of the headboard before letting out a louder gasp and moan. Feeling the tip slowly push inside him along with the rest of his cock. Arching his back some and gripping the headboard, Smacking the bed to get Ian to move. Slightly keeping himself up Ian quickly moved his hips, his hands gripping Y/n’s side just to help himself find a steady pace before letting one hand spank and grip Y/n’s ass, hearing the pleasured screams and moans from Y/n while leaning his head forward just to see Y/n’s eyes rolled back and his tongue sticking out. His head bouncing back and forth while gripping anything he could and leaving scratches. He was getting closer, Ian could see it on his face, just to see the written pleasure on his face. But Ian didn’t want to finish just yet, so he pulled out and flipped Y/n back on his back. He wanted the scratches on his back, on his chest or just about anywhere.

Kisses Y/n before he could let out a loud cry, pushing himself back in and picking up the pace. Pulling his head back and watching Y/n throw his head back, exposing the dark purple hickies covering his neck while leaving scratches on Ian’s back, trying to stare at Ian’s focused and pleasured face. His eyes fluttering closed while leaning his head to the side, trying to keep himself steady and in control before leaning down and kissing Y/n ’s shoulder and whispering in his ear.

“Gods Doll I love you so much. Look at you painted like a piece of art simply made and created by me, oh there’s nothing better than seeing this. Gods if you could see yourself and how beautiful you look trying to talk to me only to scream my name and beg for that sweet release. Tell me babyboy how badly do you want to release?”

All Y/n could do was quickly nod his head, letting out a loud whimpering cry at the feeling of his prostate being mercilessly attacked by Ian, holding his head down and making sure each movement was hitting all the right places. Making sure Y/n felt like he was in the clouds and never running out of energy to do so, feeling himself shiver and letting out a higher whimper, he knew he was close, and by the feeling that Ian was closer, but the night was still young and there was truly no ending to this endless love night. Yet Here he was being trapped with a smile on his face as he stared at Ian, his movements getting sloppier, he was getting closer with each movement. Holding each other closer at the feeling of their release. Head’s being titled back but Ian didn’t seem to stop despite seeing Y/n shaking in his arms.

Going throughout the night, the entire bed looking a mess and sheets thrown around the room. The bed needing to be changed and deep cleaned with all the stains that were placed on the bed, having to rest Y/n on the guest bed while he made sure the main bed got cleaned. Looking down at Y/n with a smile on his face.

“Whoops, I don’t think you’re gonna be able to walk for a while. I went a little too far on pounding you though. Oh, did you like the last one? Holding your hands back while helping you bounce? Oh, could we do that again? It was an amazing show.”

“Ian…I’m tired.”

“Oh right! Whoops let me get you in a bath and a drink! Oh, I’ll clean the bed afterwards and you’re relaxed!”

Rolling his eyes while laying on the bed, trying not to laugh while slowly moving. Watching Ian run some warm water with some bubbles along with some rose petals. Letting the water slowly rise and soon laid Jun inside the water, letting him relax for as long as possible, grabbing the sheets and clothes, throwing them in the washer while getting a steamer deep cleaning the mattress while listening in case Y/n was ready to get Y/n out of the bath and soon dressed for bed. Softly humming as he got the end cleaned and soon would get the clothes out. Helping Jun get out of the bath and dried off, being lathered in his favorite lotion and getting dressed for bed. He knew he needed rest and kept him tucked in, laying next to him and nuzzling the mark growing on Y/n's shoulder. Smiling softly as he let out a purr.

Letting out a soft sigh, taking his long hair down, his black and gold silk robe softly swaying in the wind while he walked outside into the large homemade garden. The grey stone path leading to other sections of flowers while he slowly carried a watering can while he carefully water the bright hydrangeas before walking to the large stone water fountain. Letting the moon shine down with the large garden while letting out a soft sigh. Setting down the empty water can and sitting next to the water fountain and staring at the full moon.

“I miss you so much, my little rose. I wonder are you doing alright up there? Or wherever you are, I wonder do you still remember me? I wonder, do you still love rare flowers? I hope you’re happy, but not taken. You know I don’t mind being the villain if needed. Oh, I miss you so much, my love.”

[rems-writing]

Fuckboy Seonghwa drabble

Who: Seonghwa (Ateez) x gn!reader

What: Genres/au - Smut/non-idol AU

WC: 500 words

Summary: just a short drabble about Seonghwa if he were a fuckboy

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

There's also this one 👇🏽

i'm also tagging @solarhwa because i like messing with them lol

Everyone liked to think of Seonghwa as this untouchable man who gets what he wants at just the snap of his fingers. Boys want to either be him or fight him, professors always swoon over him, and every single girl wants to sleep with him. Every single week or two weeks, there’s always a different girl on his arm. He’d use his unique charm to sneak his way into the pants of anyone that basically breathes his way. He’s got it all! The only downside to his reputation is that whenever he hangs around a girl for far too long, they start to get attached. The more they become attached, the harder it is for Seonghwa to reject him. Despite his fuckboy tendencies, he has a soft heart. He swore he could hear the vital organ chip away every time words of rejection leave his pretty mouth. Then he’d have to go through the rollercoaster of said girl spewing some bullshit about how she felt a connection and that he’d regret his decision when time passes. It was annoying as hell, but what can he do? He is the way he is and nothing could change that.  

Except you. 

Long story short, you definitely weren’t like the other girls and Seonghwa found that not only challenging but intriguing as well. He was so used to girls falling at his feet fast that sometimes, he would struggle to form a coherent sentence without overthinking it. In the end though, you saw his efforts and decided to give him a chance. Even though there were obstacles standing in your way (i.e. past flings for the main part), your love for him and his love for you surpassed everything. 

“Darling, touch yourself for me.”

You were currently facetiming him and it was slowly inching its way towards video chat sex. He was in a dimly lit car torturing you. He said that he was on his way to see you, but being the little shit that he is, he decided to park somewhere and proceed to do this. You were taken aback by what he requested. Usually, you were a good girl and obeyed his orders. However, you also decided to be a little shit by resorting to brattiness. You sassily said no and hung up on him. The giddiness you felt took over your entire body and you knew that he’d probably take away your ability to walk if you kept this up. Determined to receive the roughest sex of your life, you quickly changed into a specific lingerie set you knew he would like.

“Well then… isn’t this quite the surprise you had in store for me.”

While you were giggling and putting on a show for him, Seonghwa was seated in your desk chair, raking over your form with glazed and lustful eyes. He bit his bottom lip and chuckled darkly once you plopped yourself down onto his lap.  

“Once I’m done with you, you’ll only remember my name.”

[cosyhomenet]

Welcome to Cosy Home! 

At Cosy Home Net, our goal is to create a welcoming, comfortable and friendly environment for K-pop writers aged 21+.

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Updated: 01/04/2025.

[ikeukiss]

jake + 35………

loml nico you're trying to kill me,, well alright i guess let me die.

𐔌 𝐋𝐄𝐗𝐈'𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐨𝐧 𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑮𝑨𝒁𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑺𝑬𝑿 𐦯 — it's start innocent, because the activity is so normal and sweet. looking at the many constellations together in the dead of night on the cliffside, nobody around you for yards, meters even. your blanket keeps the two of you warm as jake points and pretends he knows all about random clusters of stars you call him out for. it's not like you planned on kissing him senseless, it was just so easy to do so. and soon enough all that matters is his light, his warmth—the star in front of you ready to blind you completely.

𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐀 𝟑𝐊 𝐂𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓

𐔌 𝐁𝐄𝐘𝐎𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐏𝐎𝐈𝐍𝐓 𐦯 જ⁀➴ 𝒖𝒏𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒔𝒆𝒙, 𝒔𝒆𝒎𝒊-𝒑𝒖𝒃𝒍𝒊𝒄 𝒔𝒆𝒙, 𝒎𝒖𝒍𝒕𝒊𝒑𝒍𝒆 𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 (𝒄𝒐𝒘𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍, 𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒓𝒚, 𝒆𝒕𝒄), 𝒅𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒚 𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒌

"Holy shit, just like that," Jake murmurs as you move your hips, his cock hitting all the spots inside of you that make you yearn for more. For him to take you harder, fuck you faster, all so you can make it to your release.

It was supposed to be harmless fun, watching the stars in the park and counting as many as you both could see with the naked eye. Then he had to say you were more beautiful than all of them combined, and you couldn't fight the eagerness to have him. Right there, even if a million people were watching in the dead of night.

The bed of his truck—much like the whole car itself—rocks at how long and hard you ride him. You go at the pace he's set, his hands on your sides forbidding you from doing much else.

It's torture. It's heaven. And all that sits in-between, too.

"Baby, I want to come, please." Your head rolls back, face slacking as Jake tweaks your nipple with his thumb. He palms the other breast with the opposite set of fingers, but he only tortures one while his dick tortures your walls.

"What happened to taking it slow, sweetheart?" He groans as he sits up, holding you closer as you tighten around him. "You want it that badly, wanna come like a greedy girl?"

"Yes, please, please—fuck—please."

The word falls from your mouth over and over until he caves. Jake flips you onto your stomach, the wool blanket rubbing against your bare skin as he reinserts himself inside of you. Your walls flutter from the reunion, eager to suck him back in completely.

He laughs with a hoarse voice, shivering at the feeling once again. "You're always so wet. It's incredible."

You keen at his words, him slamming his hips rougher when the sounds emit from your mouth. "You feel amazing. It always does, Jae."

"Fuck, I'm gonna come," Jake swears, digging his nails into your hips. "Come with me, sweetheart?"

Jake asks like you have a choice. Like there's a way to fight the inevitable pulse of your folds around him and the warmth that coats your body when you do orgasm.

He crumbles on top of you when he follows suit, milking it for all its worth as he lets all of his cum fill you. It's as explosive as the stars bursting in the night sky. You wonder if it's as pleasurable for them as it is for the two of you.

He pulls out and encases you in his arms when he gains his strength back. "I love you," he murmurs into your cheek.

"Love you more," you reply, satiated and glowing. The stars have nothing on you right now.

@gyubakeries @loserlvrss @frenchkisstheabyss @prkhaven @tinycatharsis @fangel @aaa-sia @yvnempire @addictedtohobi @innocygnet @filmnings @lovetaroandtaemin @xylatox @dawngyu

𝐍𝐄𝐓𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐒 ── .✦ @kstrucknet @k-films @kvanity-main @lapydiaries @violetanet @whipped-kpop-creators @cosyhomenet @sweetvenomnet

[nothoughtsjustfic]

Whatever You Want [Part One] - J.WW

💎Who: Jeon Wonwoo (Seventeen) x female reader 💎What: Mafia/gang au. Dark themes (check warnings). Angst. Fluff. Humour. Strangers to friends to lovers. Suggestive (18+).  💎Word count: 17.7k for part one. 31.8k total 💎Warnings: Kidnapping. Violence. Injury and blood. Morally grey characters. Joke about drugs. Alcohol consumption (nobody gets drunk at all). Suggestive dialogue. Wonwoo is a handful of years older than reader. 💎Summary: “To be honest, you’re surprised it’s taken this long to happen. Truly, you thought you would’ve been kidnapped years ago, so you’re not surprised when it happens.

What does surprise you, however, is the reason why, and what happens when you meet that reason.”

Minors do NOT interact, which means reblogging and/or commenting on this story. I WILL block any account that interacts without an age indicator in their bio.

Masterlist Part Two

A/N- Part two will be available April 24th. Thank you to @lovetaroandtaemin for beta reading and helping me out with the warnings! I appreciate you endlessly, my love 💗

It’s typical, really; the one time you actually have cash on you to give to the homeless man you’ve befriended, who always waits around for you to finish work, you don’t get the chance to give it to him. 

Just like every night when you’re done closing up the restaurant, you see Sangmin waiting on the other side of the road, sitting patiently on the bench there, ready to walk you home. 

You wave at him as you near the edge of the path, one hand carefully holding the takeout container of a freshly made double serving of his favourite meal that you cook at the restaurant. Sangmin gets up from the bench with a bright smile, always so happy to see you, and waves, making you smile just as brightly, even if you’re exhausted from the long hours cooking away in the kitchen. But Sangmin always cheers you up. 

He’s such an upbeat guy despite his unfavourable circumstances, and you genuinely enjoy these walks home listening to him tell you about his day and telling him about yours in return. You can’t wait to hear if he made a new friend at the dog park today, where he likes to hang around and offer to play with the dogs of the elderly folk who can’t run or throw balls and sticks for their pets. Sometimes, the owners even give him some cash in return or buy him a coffee or ice cream from the stands, weather permitting. It’s a reminder that there is still good in this shitty world.

Just as you’re about to cross the street, a couple of cars get close enough that you remain in place to let them pass and intend to cross after they’re gone, when it’s safe.

The chance doesn’t come as both cars suddenly swerve to pull up in front of you, making you take a few steps back as you stare at the vehicles suspiciously. The engines don’t turn off, and the doors on the side closest to you open to allow masked, suited men to get out. 

“Shit,” you curse under your breath and hold your free hand up as they approach. “Wait, wait, wait!” You exclaim, kicking out as they reach out to you with clearly every intention of stealing you away. “I said wait!” You glance over to Sangmin as you hear him yelling your name, voice getting closer. “Stay there, Sangmin!” You warn loudly. “Stay out of this!” You crouch, still with your free hand up so that you can put the container on the floor. “Okay, I’ll go with you, just leave him alone,” you inform and let out a breath of relief when the bulky man directly in front of you stops trying to reach towards you and signals his men to wait. “Give me a sec, seriously, I’ll go,” you promise and shuffle aside to peer around to where Sangmin is being held back by a couple of the men. “It’ll be okay, Sangmin. Enjoy your dinner, okay. I’ll see you soon.” 

Sangmin murmurs your name brokenly, clearly not trusting these men to bring you safely back, and honestly, neither do you. But he stops struggling to get to you and stumbles back when the men let him go with a little shove to create more space. “Be safe,” he pleads as you follow the men to get into the closest car. 

“You too.” You give him a soft smile before you’re in the car between two burly men and the door is shut. You want to watch Sangmin as the car pulls away, want to see him pick up his meal so you know he will eat well, at least tonight, but you can’t. Just as you turn your head to watch through the rear window, something sharp jabs into your leg. You yelp, turning to look down at the culprit and find a needle stuck in your leg. “You asshole,” you mutter. 

Moments later, you’re unconscious.

Something about this woman is familiar to you, but you really can’t tell what it is. It doesn’t help that her cronies have given you one swollen eye, and the other eye’s vision is blurred with blood that trickles down from your split eyebrow. 

Whoever this woman is, though, she clearly doesn’t want to get her own hands dirty, even if she looks very pleased with the bruised and bleeding state of you.

“Okay, okay,” you groan once you’ve caught your breath from the round of beating you’ve just received. “I give. Who the fuck are you?” You question, peering at her.

Despite not being able to see her clearly, you can see the way her whole posture changes; from smug to dumb, offended shock. “Who am I?” 

“Yes; who are you?” You repeat, almost rolling your eyes. 

“How dare you?!” She stalks over and one of her men grabs a fistful of your hair from where he stands behind you, to make you look up at her as she leers over you. “I am the most powerful woman in this whole city!” 

“Pretty sure I’d know who you are if that’s true,” you retort and choke out a laugh when she finally hits you herself; an open-handed slap that drags the multiple rings on her fingers across your already bruised cheek, drawing shallow gouges in your skin. 

“How dare-!” She starts to screech, yet the door opening behind her cuts her off as she looks over. 

Curiously, you look over too, and the tall man who enters looks vaguely familiar to you too. At least, the leather jacket and glasses he’s wearing do because he’s too far away for you to make out clearly.

“What the fuck is going on here?” He demands. 

Ah, you recognise his deep voice and suddenly understand why he’s familiar to you. He’s a regular at the restaurant and favours the same dish as Sangmin, though this guy worked his way through the entire menu before settling on that particular one. 

You’ve only talked to him a few times, when it’s late enough that the wait staff have already been sent home, but the owners always stay open for this guy; meaning, if they’re busy, you have to deliver his meal to him. He always compliments your cooking and thanks you genuinely, but other than that, you’ve never said much to one another. Other than last Christmas when he asked if you would consider making him something special off menu and gave you a wad of cash to sweeten you up. 

Even before the suspicious stack of cash was handed to you, you just knew in your gut that this guy is in shady dealings and seeing him walk into this room and not even flinch at the battered condition of you, it only confirms it.

“Teaching your little whore a lesson,” the woman sneers and turns back to you. “She needs to learn that she can’t get away with touching what’s mine.”

“I still don’t know who the fuck you are,” you point out. 

Just as her hand is about to come down to connect with your cheek again, the newcomer grabs her wrist. “Don’t you fucking dare,” he warns. “She’s not done shit wrong. I’ve told you before that I’ve never fucking cheated on you. She’s just a fucking cook.” 

“Don’t lie to me, Jeon Wonwoo,” she hisses.

“Don’t be fucking delusional, Ahn Yerim,” he retorts and looks at the man behind you. “Untie her.”

“Sir, Miss Ahn said-” the thug starts, yet shuts up and releases his grip on your hair when Wonwoo glares. The man behind you quickly moves to untie your arms and legs from the chair.

“You don’t listen to him! You listen to me! You both work for me!” Yerim exclaims.

“We work for your father, not you, sweetheart,” Wonwoo reminds and lets her go to approach you and carefully help you up. “Come on,” he encourages as he puts his arm around your waist to support you. 

“I am your wife! Treat me with the respect I deserve!” 

“I treat you with more than you deserve,” Wonwoo grumbles as he pretty much half carries you out of the room. You’re trying to walk, but they had tied your ankles to the chair legs so tightly that your feet are sparkling painfully with every dragging step as the blood rushes back in. “Did they break your legs?” He wonders concernedly as he stops and adjusts his left arm behind your back as you grip onto his shoulders for stability.

“No, extreme pins and needles.” He makes a noise of understanding and sweeps you up into his arms, hooking his right arm under your thighs to carry you.

“Do me a favour and shut your eyes; you shouldn’t see where we are.”

“Can’t see the gang HQ?” You muse, and snigger when he glances at you with a flat look. “Alright, whatever, Mr Jeon Wonwoo.” Obligingly, you shut your eyes and decide to lean your head against his broad shoulder and rest a little. 

“What’s your name?” He wonders. 

“Don’t even know the name of the woman your wife accused you of cheating with?” He sighs, making you snigger again before you tell him your name, which he only hums at. “Your wife is a real fucking bitch, you know?” 

The sigh he lets out sounds like he more than knows how true those words are.

Instead of taking you home, or back to the restaurant, or a hospital, or a random fucking street corner to leave you to figure out your way from there, Wonwoo drives to the outskirts of the city; to a building site that you know got abandoned after only one block of fancy apartments were built. The company, who still owns the land, had a lot of issues with permits and tried to sell the project on, yet no-one wanted to take over from their immense fuck up, so it’s been abandoned for at least a year now.

At least, you thought it was, but perhaps Wonwoo likes to take advantage of the lack of witnesses at the edge of the city and bury his victims here. It’d be a smart move. There doesn’t seem to be any security around; even the road leading to the site is far enough out of the way that there are no traffic cameras along the stretch. 

“I hope you don’t like burying your victims alive,” you murmur as you eye the abandoned building materials still piled up along the partially finished, dust covered road you’re travelling down.

“What?” Wonwoo glances over at you but you’re staring out of the window with a displeased pout. “I’m not going to fucking bury you alive.”

“Ah, good, I’m in the firm belief I would not enjoy that at all.” 

“You… No, I don’t think you would. I don’t think anyone would.”

“I dunno, some people are into some shit, Wonwoo. You’d be surprised.” You look over at him and notice a strange expression cross his features. It’s one you’re familiar with from other people and know it means they’re suddenly questioning their decision to be in close proximity to you.

After shaking his head slightly and letting out a strong exhale as he looks back to where he’s driving, Wonwoo speaks again. “Look, I didn’t bring you here to kill you, but to protect you.” 

“What?” 

“My wife is a fucking psycho. You saw that, and I know she’ll have people looking for you to steal you away again. So, I’m putting you in one of my safe houses so she can’t do that. Understand?”

“She doesn’t know about this safe house?”

Wonwoo scoffs and shakes his head. “No. She doesn’t know about any of them. Nobody does; just me. You’ll be safe here, trust me.”

“I really don’t think trust comes into this, more like I don’t have a fucking choice.”

“That too,” he confirms simply. 

There’s nothing more that can be said on the topic, so you both remain silent for the last short section of the drive. Even when Wonwoo parks up in the underground parking of the only complete building, then leads you into the lift up to an apartment on the sixth floor, neither of you say a word.

That changes when you step into the apartment and look at the sparse décor for the modern apartment. “Wow, a true minimalist, aren’t you?” You muse, glancing at the sofa you can see from the entrance hall, then over to the kitchen perfectly within view due to the open layout of the bottom floor of the apartment. There’s a glass staircase on the other side of the living area, with a short hallway behind it, but other than that, there truly is not much to look at.

“It’s just a safe house; it’s supposed to be functional, nothing more.” 

“How can you function in such a lifeless place?” 

Wonwoo sighs and nudges you from behind, so you’ll move out of the way and let him pad across the expensive marble-look flooring in his socks to the kitchen. “Just take your shoes off and get your ass over here.”

After putting his shoes neatly aside and putting your own next to them, you shuffle over to the kitchen and perch yourself on one of the stools at the breakfast bar, where he’s rummaging through an extensive medical kit, which you hadn’t even seen him procure. 

“Got the good stuff?” You joke, leaning over to peer into the bag. “Wait, is that morphine?” You gasp, reaching for the packet of pills, but he slaps your hand away. 

“You don’t need morphine.”

“I’m in pain, Wonwoo,” you try, pouting at him, but he gives you a disbelieving look. “Ow.”

“You can have ibuprofen or paracetamol.”

“What kind of a gang member won’t give the good stuff?” You huff and turn away to peer at the kitchen. Honestly, you don’t even want morphine. You just wanted to see if he would give it to you, but you have your answer now and have no reason to push it. 

“Are you an addict?” 

“No, just bored.” 

“So, you want drugs?”

“No. Just seeing how you’d react.” 

“You’re very fucking weird, you know?” 

“Yes,” you confirm and look at him before pointing to the fridge. “I’m guessing that’s empty?” 

“Yeah, there’s long life stuff in the cupboards though, some military rations and instant ramen.” 

“Good ol’ instant ramen.” 

He just hums, then finally has everything he wants from the kit set up on the counter. “Alright, face me; let me get a look at the damage.” Obediently, you turn on the stool to face him as he moves closer while removing his jacket to toss onto the counter, leaving him a simple black t-shirt and jeans. 

“How come you’re not in a suit like those assholes?” 

“I’m off the clock.” 

“Then why did you turn up?” 

“My wife sent me a video of them beating you,” he informs, gently turning your head from side to side with one hand on your jaw delicately, to not aggravate the bruises on your skin. “Couldn’t let her do that to an innocent person.” 

“Aw, how noble of you, Mr. Thug.” 

“Not a thug.” 

“Mm, sure.” 

“I’m not.” 

“I’ve seen your bruised knuckles when you’ve come into the restaurant, Wonwoo, the split lips and bruised cheeks. Even seen the outline of your weapon under your clothes. By that, I mean your gun.” 

“What else could you mean?” You just giggle, and he sighs, understanding the euphemism, though he doesn’t grace you with a further reaction, not wanting to focus on that subject at all. “Don’t make me regret saving you.”

“No promises.” 

Despite his stern expression and stiff posture, Wonwoo is gentle as he tends to your wounds attentively; talking as softly in his low voice as he can to warn you when he’s about to do something that might sting or asking you to move in various ways to give him better access. 

“Alright, all done,” he declares sometime later when he straightens up and steps back from you, eyes still darting over your seated form for any wounds he’s missed.

“Thanks.”

“Mm, my fault anyway.”

“It is,” you agree, earning an unimpressed look from the man before he turns to start tidying up. “Is there anything to drink?” 

“The tap water is safe,” he informs before opening one of the cupboards to pull out two glasses, which he fills from the cold tap then puts one on the counter in front of you. “I’ll get groceries in tomorrow. Write a list of whatever you want or need for the next week.”

“I’ve got to stay here for a week? I have a job, you know,” you point out before gratefully picking up the glass to gulp down the contents as he finishes cleaning up, his own glass of water barely touched. 

“I know. Write a resignation and I’ll post it through the door tomorrow.” 

“I don’t want to resign! I like that job!”

“They won’t hold out until you’re back, and I don’t know when that will be yet. We need to wait it out until my wife has given up tormenting you.”

“How long will that be?” 

“No fucking clue, she’s been tormenting me for years.”

“I don’t understand why people stay with someone they don’t love anymore.” 

Wonwoo doesn’t respond, and you think this is one of those circumstances where it’s really not your place to push, so you drop the topic.

Once Wonwoo is done cleaning up, including both of your drinking glasses, he leads you upstairs to one of the bedrooms. To your surprise, it looks fully furnished, even if there’s not any décor, but it’s more liveable than downstairs.

“Wow, a dresser and TV,” you whistle, eyeing the items as Wonwoo pulls the bedding off of the large bed. 

“It came partially furnished,” he explains. 

“There’s no TV in the living room.”

“I said partially.” 

“Weird they put a TV in the bedroom before the living room.” 

“The sockets are all there, they just didn’t get around to it. They were going to get custom TVs made for all the apartment living rooms, but didn’t get the chance before the project got shut down.” 

“I didn’t know anyone bought an apartment.” 

“Bought is a stretch,” he muses, piling the stale bedding by the door before grabbing another set from a drawer under the bed to sniff at, then shrugs and starts to make the bed.

“Is this technically squatting?”

“No.” He huffs a short laugh. “It’s my apartment, just more of a gift. The whole building is mine.”

“Ooh, check you out, Mr fancy property owner.” You move over to help fix the fitted sheet to the mattress, earning a grateful nod from the man. “What did you do to get this gift?”

“Let the CEO keep his life.”

“And he only gave you a single building in an unfinished building site? The audacity! If he values his life that much, he should’ve given you a lot more.”

“He offered me any building of his I wanted, he owns a lot in the city centre too, but I asked for this; I knew it’s out of the way. He promised to not try hard to get the site up and running again, so I’ll have privacy. Which, to me, is the most valuable thing anyway.”

“Mm, fair,” you concede and work alongside him to finish setting up the bed. 

“I’ll be right back, don’t go anywhere. The front door is already locked, and you won’t be able to unlock it. You can’t leave, so don’t bother trying,” he warns seriously before turning and leaving the bedroom. 

With a sigh, you perch on the edge of the bed and wait, rubbing your feet over the fluffy rug below you, to twist your socks around and around your feet in boredom until he returns.

It’s almost ten minutes before he returns with a pile of fabrics in his arms and a basket of what looks like toiletries, with a toilet roll perched on top. 

“You look like a maid,” you comment amusedly. 

Wonwoo just sighs then puts the items on the bed. “Here, bathroom stuff. I’ll get you scents you like tomorrow, but you’ll have to use mine for now.” He hands you the basket, so you look at the toiletries curiously, popping the caps to sniff the contents and making pleased sounds.

“I like these.”

“Okay, saves me buying toiletries tomorrow.”

“I need sanitary items.” He looks at you. “My period is due soon.”

“Ah.” He blinks at you a few times dumbly before nodding. “Okay, just write down what you want, and I’ll get it.” 

“Sounds like a plan; you know, provided you give me something to do that with.” 

“Oh, right.” He chews on his lip thoughtfully before sighing and moving around to sit beside you as he pulls his phone from his pocket to unlock. “You’ll have to write it in a note on my phone, but I can’t let you use my phone blindly, so I’m going to watch.” 

“Understandable,” you agree, accepting the device once he has his notes app open on a blank note, so that you can start typing out a list of items for him to buy at the shop tomorrow. 

“Write your clothing sizes too. I have limited clothes myself here and just gave you one set to wear to bed. Oh, put detergent down, there isn’t any here. Put the brand if you’re particular about that stuff.”

“Nah, I’m good with whatever smells good and does the job,” you assure, while typing down ‘laundry detergent (nice smelling one)’. “Are there cleaning supplies?” 

“I’ll get more,” he promises then motions to the list, so you write it down.

Although it should not be this easy to sit side by side and make a grocery list together, it is. It’s domestic, even, in a very, very, very weird fucking way. The man’s wife is out for your blood, due to her own delusional accusations against the pair of you, yet you’re sitting here making a grocery list together as if you’re actually roommates who regularly do this. Very strange indeed. 

“Alright, that’s all I can think of,” you decide, after looking over the surprisingly extensive list one last time, before handing his phone back.  

“I’ll go shopping in the morning before work,” he declares as he gets up and tucks his phone back into his pocket. “I’ll let you get some sleep now; you must be tired after all this shit.” 

“Kinda pretty awake, actually. Does the TV work?”

“Should do, the one in my room works at least. There’s no Wi-Fi here though, so it’s just satellite channels.”

“If this one doesn’t work, we’re swapping rooms.”

“No,” he replies in a firm tone before exiting the room, pulling the door up behind him and leaving you in silence.

“Well, fuck you too,” you mutter and get up to use the bathroom.  You change into the sweatpants and t-shirt he left for you before climbing into the slightly dusty smelling bed to turn on the TV. 

Although you aren’t tired when you climb into bed, that quickly changes as you curl up under the covers with your eyes on the 90’s rom com playing on the TV, soon lulling you into a dreamless sleep.

In the morning, or whatever time it is when you tiredly trudge downstairs, you discover that Wonwoo is a man of his word. 

There are various bags of shopping in the kitchen, all full of items from the shopping list. From clothes in the sizes that you wrote down, to perhaps far too many packets of sanitary towels; it seems that either Wonwoo has no idea how periods really work, or he intends to keep you for longer than just this cycle length. Either way, he listened and must’ve really tried hard to get everything on the list, with no regard to his financial state, as every piece of clothing has a brand name attached, not just cheap stuff from a superstore like you had expected him to buy. 

Although you genuinely would be okay with the cheap stuff, and never quite see the appeal in such expensive clothing for daily wear, you appreciate it and make a mental note to thank him when you next see him.

A few minutes later, when you’re done perusing the contents of the bags and have moved to the fridge, you finally notice the brand-new magnetic whiteboard on the front with a note scrawled in black ink from Wonwoo. 

It’s simple; just him telling you that he will be back in a few days to check on you, while also reminding you to not try to leave the apartment and also keep out of his room. You had no intention of going into Wonwoo's room, but now that he’s told you not to, you kind of want to.

For now, you just focus on making yourself something to eat before taking the shopping bags up to your room to make yourself at home for the foreseeable future.

It’s only been two days since Wonwoo left you all alone and you’re already so bored and restless that the moment you hear the beep of the lock disengaging on the front door, you’re rushing over from the kitchen to greet him like an excitable puppy. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He mutters with a bewildered frown as you crowd close and peer up at him. 

“I’m bored, Wonwoo,” you whine, eyes flickering over his tired features. “You look like shit.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem.” You finally back out of his personal space and take the bag from his hands as he works on removing his shoes and leather jacket, suit beneath today. The contents of the bag clinks as you take it, making you peer inside curiously. “Are you planning to mix wine and whiskey?” You wonder.

“No, just didn’t know what you’d prefer.”

“So, you bought wine for me?”

“No, that’s mine. I thought you’d be a whiskey girl, seem like the type to like the burn.” 

“Ha,” you snigger. “You got me, but I’ll drink anything.” You take the bag into the kitchen, where you had been starting to make yourself dinner. “Hungry?”

“Fucking starving,” he confirms when he follows you a moment later, unbuttoning his suit jacket to remove and toss onto the dining table carelessly, eyes on the ingredients you have laid out on the kitchen island. 

“Pour out,” you say, pointing to the wine bottle on the counter as you focus on getting extra ingredients out to cover Wonwoo’s portion too. He just hums and moves around to get out the wine glasses from the cupboard and corkscrew from the drawer.

As you cook, Wonwoo sits at the breakfast bar, head propped on his left fist and wine glass he’s slowly emptying, in his right. He hasn’t said a word since sitting down, just watches you work, and you’re honestly not even sure he’s entirely present. He looks like he could fall asleep any second, and you don’t think the wine he’s drinking is helping.

“Hey,” you call, tossing the cork, from where it lays on the counter, at him. He jerks back when it hits him on his forehead. He blinks at you dumbly, eyebrows furrowed in displeased surprise while you cackle at his expression. “You look like you’re going to fall asleep upright.”

“I’m fine,” he argues and drinks the last of the contents of his glass before reaching for the bottle to refill his glass, then your own, even if yours is still basically full. 

“Bullshit.”

“Just focus on the fucking food.”

“Mm, alright, but if you fall asleep, I’m eating your share too.”

“Do that, and I’ll take you right back to my wife and let her do whatever the fuck she wants with you,” he warns, entirely serious. 

“Wow,” you mutter, eyebrows raising as you take in the dangerous tint in his eyes. “You’re serious about your food, huh?”

“Only when it’s your cooking.” 

“Damn, you must be sleep deprived to say shit like that.” 

He sighs and slumps a little in his seat as he realises that you’re right. “It’s why she thinks I’m fucking you.” 

“What?”

“Because I eat your cooking, go out of my way to eat it, and I never eat hers.”

“Ah, yes,” you hum, a sarcastic edge to your voice. “That age old saying; the way to man’s bed is through his stomach.” 

Wonwoo lets out a chuckle and leans back on his fist as his eyes tiredly track your movements. “Knowing her dumbass, she actually thinks that’s right.” 

“It obviously wasn’t her method.”

“She can’t cook for shit. It’s no wonder I don’t eat it.” His expression turns disgusted. “Even I cook better than her, and I can’t cook shit either.”

“That’s fucked up man; everyone should be able to cook at least two decent meals.” 

“Never needed to and don’t exactly have the chance to learn how. She thinks she’s some kind of trophy wife and won’t let me in the kitchen to try.” He sighs and lets go of his glass to free his right hand so that he can rub at his eyes under his glasses. “She knows I’m hiding you, won’t stop fucking bugging me. Can’t get a minute’s fucking peace in that house at the moment.”

“Ah, that’s why you look like you haven’t been sleeping.”

“She doesn’t shut the fuck up when I’m there, so I’ve been avoiding it as much as possible. But at the end of the day, she’s my wife, so I can only avoid her so much.”

“Wild thought right here, but have you considered a divorce?” You muse and point to the plate cupboard, prompting him to get up and reach down two dinner plates to place on the side near you. 

Instead of sitting back down, he starts to load up the dishwasher with the dishes, which you’ve been putting in the sink to deal with after dinner once you’ve finished using them. “Not as simple as that,” he mutters. 

“Why not?” 

“Just isn’t, and it’s none of your fucking business.”

“Thanks to you and your delusional wife, I have no business of my own anymore, so I have to be up in yours.” 

“Well, don’t.” 

“I’m fucking bored, Wonwoo.” 

“Read a fucking book.”

“Nerd.” You don’t even look at him, but you don’t need to in order to know that he’s giving you a very unimpressed look; you can practically feel his gaze burning into the side of your face from over your left shoulder. “Either you give me all the gossip every time you visit, or you get me something to entertain me.”

“Like what?” 

For a second, you almost say a sex toy or twelve, but you think he really would stop talking to you then, and he’s your only method of socialisation, so you hum thoughtfully instead. “I guess seeing as there’s no internet, and you wouldn’t trust me with access to the outside world even if there was, a games console with a bunch of games on disc to play will do.”

“You like video games?”

“Not really.” You shrug and finish plating up dinner. “I’ve been intrigued, but I’ve always been more into cooking and baking. That’s just not as fun when I’ve got no-one to share it with. I can game on my own, at least.”

“You like to bake too?” You hum in confirmation. “I didn’t know that.”

You can’t help but laugh shortly as you look at him incredulously. “Why would you know that? We don’t know shit about each other, Wonwoo,” you remind him.

“Ah, right.” He nods and takes the last pan to rinse then put in the dishwasher, while you take your plates to the table to set down. Wonwoo follows moments later with the wine and sits down opposite you. “This looks amazing, thank you.” 

“Mm, of course. Not going to let the only person who can entertain me starve, am I?” 

“Guess not,” he huffs a quick laugh and picks up his fork. “What kind of games do you want?”

“I don’t really know; a variety, maybe, so I can try different types.” 

He makes a noise of understanding. “I’ll see what I can do.” 

“You’re the best.” He gives you a raised eyebrow look. “At least the best I can do with no other option.” He scoffs a laugh, lips turning into a more genuinely amused smile as he turns back to his food yet says nothing and eats, so you do the same.

A few days later, Wonwoo is back just in time for dinner with his hands empty, making you squint at him sulkily as he nears where you’re setting the dishes on the table. 

Last time when he left, it was the morning, and you were asleep in your room, so he had written another note on the whiteboard telling you when he’d be back; so today, you had made his favourite meal and sides from the restaurant. You had planned the timing for when he said he would be back, and thankfully, he is still a man of his word and arrived perfectly on time.

At least, with this, he is a man of his word, because he had said he’d bring you a games console and games, yet here he is, empty handed.

“What? I’m on time,” he defends as he sits down. He’s not in a suit today, but jeans and a plain black t-shirt. It must be nice to be so unfairly attractive that even such a simple outfit looks effortlessly incredible. 

“And empty handed,” you mutter sulkily and drop down into your seat.

“It’s in the car,” he informs, rolling his eyes a little as he grabs his cutlery and immediately scoops a mouthful of food into his mouth. 

You watch as he makes strange sounds as he tries to exhale the heat from his mouth while still chewing. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” You wonder, prompting him to look at you. “There is literally steam, of course it’s hot.”

“I’m starving,” he replies, only just managing to cover his mouth as he talks, so that you don’t see his partially chewed food. “Barely eaten since last time.”

“What the fuck? Why?” You gawp.

“Told you; she won’t let me in the kitchen, and I refuse to eat her cooking.”

“There are plenty of restaurants, even fucking convenience stores to get a sandwich or instant ramen!” 

“Can’t eat that shit after having your cooking.” He shrugs. As if it’s no big deal. As if he hasn’t just essentially admitted he’d rather go hungry than eat food that you haven’t made. 

Perhaps to him it’s nothing, but no one has ever sounded so committed to any aspect of you before, even if it’s a byproduct of you, not actually a part of you. But it still hits you right in the chest and makes you unable to do anything but stare at him dumbly as he continues to shove too much food in his mouth before it’s cool enough to be practical.

“I’ll bring it up after dinner,” he declares a few moments later, snapping you back to reality without looking up at you, still too focused on his food.

“What?”

“The shit in the car.” 

“Oh, why didn’t you just bring it up with you?” You wonder as you pick up your cutlery to get started on eating your own serving.

“There’s too much shit for one trip, and I wanted to eat.”

“Too much shit?” You give him a questioning look when he glances at you. “How much did you buy, Wonwoo?”

“It’s not that.” He waves a dismissive hand. “You’ll understand later.”

After dinner, once he’s finished cleaning up, and while you sprawl over the still far too big couch in wait, Wonwoo goes down to the car and returns with a hand truck hauling multiple cardboard boxes. He unloads them into the lounge then leaves, after telling you to wait for him to be back. He locks you in the apartment once again before making another trip down to his car and returning without the hand truck, but now he has a suitcase that you recognise and a duffle bag you do not.

“Hold, did you break into my fucking apartment?!” you gawp as you sit up, pointing accusingly at the man. 

“No. I have your keys.” He pulls your keys from his jacket pocket then tosses them onto the side console with his own as he removes his shoes. 

“What the fuck, how?” 

“My wife had them, remember?” 

“Oh…” You nod a little in understanding. “I assume you will not be returning my phone to me.” 

“No. It’s off and somewhere else. Can’t risk you turning it on and getting tracked,” he answers simply before walking over to start opening the biggest of the boxes, while you pout at his back.

It’s only when he pulls an old, boxy TV from the box, spilling packing foam everywhere, that your interest is pulled away from grieving the, hopefully temporary, loss of your phone. 

“The fuck?” you mutter, rolling off of the couch to shuffle across the rug on your knees until you’re peering over his shoulder as he sets the TV up on the unit. “Excuse you, sir, but we are in the modern age.”

“Shut up, the console doesn’t work with our TVs,” he retorts.

“What console did you even buy?” 

“I didn’t buy it. It’s one I’ve had since I was a kid, so you better fucking look after it,” he warns, giving you a stern look. 

“I can respect other’s property, unlike you.” He gives you a bewildered look. “You broke into my apartment.”

“I had your fucking keys,” he reminds with a roll of his eyes before turning back around to return to setting up the outdated TV before pulling over another box to open. 

“I didn’t give you permission to go there; you broke in.” 

“I thought you’d want some of your own shit. Last time I try and do something fucking nice for your ungrateful ass.” You stare at him for a moment before shuffling closer to abruptly hug him from behind, making him jolt then tense up. “The fuck are you doing?”

“Being appreciative.”

“Well stop it; it’s fucking weird. Just go back to being an ungrateful shit.” 

“No. You smell really nice, what cologne do you use? I want some.”

“I brought your perfume from your apartment, wear your own shit.”

“No, I like yours. Let’s swap.”

“Fuck off.” He shakes you off of him, making you snigger before you move over to open the last box, which looks brand new, to peer inside and notice random items from your apartment inside. 

You don’t know why Wonwoo thought you’d want the novelty beer mat, which you stole from a bar, that you kept on your coffee table, but it’s in the box and makes you giggle when you see it. All the other items are much more understandable; your jewellery box, makeup bag, perfume, the blanket from your couch, and the teddy bear that sleeps with you. 

“You got a boyfriend you didn’t mention?” He wonders, when he glances over and spots you holding the teddy and brushing your fingers over the soft fur. His eyes land on the love heart pattern of its t-shirt then he turns away.

“No.”

“Caught up on an ex?”

“What’s it to you?”

“Just wondering, damn.” 

“Oh, so you get to dig into my love life, but I can’t yours?”

“Never fucking mind,” he grunts, all but glaring at the console as he sets it up. 

You peer at him and sigh. “Fucking idiot man.” He turns his head to shoot you a warning look over his shoulder. “What? You are!”

“Watch your fucking mouth.”

“No.” You raise a challenging eyebrow when he turns further towards you; a clear attempt to silently intimidate you. “I know you’re not going to hurt me. If you were willing to let me get hurt, I wouldn’t still be here,” you reason logically.

Wonwoo continues to glare at you for a moment before he turns away with a grunted curse, making you snigger. “Stop being a brat, or I won’t be so nice from here on out.” 

“Kinda sounds like a challenge to me, if I’m honest.” Your words make Wonwoo stop what he’s doing to sigh heavily, eyes closing as he takes a moment to gather himself. Deciding to leave Wonwoo alone, lest you actually make him lose his temper with you, you turn and look at the bear in your hands. 

A bittersweet little smile lifts your lips as you think about Sangmin. He had gifted you the bear on Valentine’s day; he wasn’t hitting on you and made a big effort to let you know that. He had simply seen the bear and decided to use all the change he had in his pocket to buy it for you, as the most heartfelt thank you and sign of his appreciation for all the meals you make for him.

At this point, Sangmin really is your best friend, perhaps your only friend. You value him so greatly and constantly find yourself wondering and worrying over the man since Wonwoo’s wife kidnapped you a week ago. You’ve been his only source of stable sustenance for months now; you dread to think of how much he’s struggling to feed himself without you handing him a hot meal every night.

“Hey, uhm Wonwoo?” You call, tone quieter and uncertain. It makes Wonwoo stop what he’s doing to look over at you, but you’re still looking at that bear and don’t notice. 

Wonwoo stares at you contemplatively for a moment; takes in the concerned furrow of your eyebrows and the tender way you handle the bear. “What is it?” He asks, his own tone softer now, noticing that whatever is on your mind is serious for you. He wasn’t aware you even know how to be genuinely serious like this. Even when you were tied to a chair by thugs getting bruised and battered, you didn’t seem like you were taking the situation all that seriously. 

“Will you do me a big favour?” 

“Depends.” 

You sigh softly and look at him. “There’s a homeless man who I feed every night after work. He meets me outside of the restaurant and walks me home. He’s… I’m the only stable source of food he has. Will you check on him, buy him a meal? And assure him that I’m okay. He was there when those assholes took me.”

“Oh.” He silently watches you for a moment longer, in surprise at your genuine, selfless request, while you keep your sincere gaze glued to him. “He means a lot to you, doesn’t he?”

“He’s my only friend, all I have here. He’s really a good guy; he’s got a giant heart and will always put others first. It’s how he lost everything; ran himself thin and got his kind nature taken advantage of. I need to know that he’s okay and will continue to be until I can go back and look after him.”

“Okay,” he agrees softly with a nod. “I’ll look out for him until it’s safe for you to leave.” 

“Thank you.” You relax a little as you give him a grateful smile. 

“You’re welcome.”

Although it’s usually a few days before you see Wonwoo, he turns up the day after you ask him to check on Sangmin. 

When he enters the apartment, you’re sitting on the floor close to the boxy TV in the lounge, playing one of the games on his childhood game console. 

“Oh, didn’t expect you today, would’ve started dinner if I knew you’d be here,” you comment, after flickering your gaze over to him, then focus back on the screen.

“Why does that sound like you won’t eat dinner if I don’t turn up?” he accuses, approaching, sans shoes, to sit on your left, grab the other controller from in front of the console, and immediately jumps into the game with you. 

“When I get hungry, I’ll eat. I don’t have any kind of schedule to keep, you do.” Wonwoo makes a noise of understanding in response yet says nothing more.

Until the end of the level, you’re both focused entirely on the game and only talk when Wonwoo gives you tips and guidance. He played this game many times in his youth, so he knows it far better than you, even if it’s been some years since he last played it.

“What’s for dinner then?” Wonwoo prompts, plucking the controller from your hand to place down as the level ends. 

“Uhh, fuck knows,” you answer with a shrug before getting up and shuffling to the kitchen. “Why are you here, anyway?”

“In case you forgot; it’s my fucking apartment,” he scoffs, turning off the TV, after saving the game properly. Once the console and TV are both turned off, Wonwoo saunters over to the kitchen to lean on the island at the opposite side to you, with his forearms laid flat on the granite surface and fingers casually laced together. 

“You got a thing for cooking, or something?” You wonder upon realising that he’s watching you with the same interest he always does when you’re cooking. Then again, maybe he’s just making sure you don’t slip poison into his portion. It’s only been just over a week since you met, so you wouldn’t blame him for being cautious.

“Just curious. I told you; I can’t cook for shit.”

“Then wash your hands and get around here,” you demand. “No better way to learn than by doing.”

“You serious?” he mumbles as he straightens up. You just hum. Wonwoo stares at you for a moment before moving to roll up his shirt sleeves, wash his hands and then join you for his first ever cooking lesson.

It’s hours after Wonwoo arrives that you find out why he broke what you thought was going to be the schedule for his visits. 

Cooking dinner takes almost three times as long as normal with him at your side; for a gang member he’s ridiculously cautious with the kitchen knife you instruct him to use. Then, the two of you get distracted talking about the video games you’ve tried, so eating dinner takes longer than normal too.

So, here you are, four hours after he arrived, returning to the lounge to relax on the couch. You’re both very glad to have a comfortable seat after the past four hours of sitting on the hard floor, standing to cook and clean, and barely cushioned dining chairs. 

“Oh, I went to the restaurant while I was in the area today,” he informs, drawing your attention to him, instead of staring at the little spread of video games on the floor by the TV unit as you try to decide what to play next. Wonwoo is already looking at you and when you look at him, he continues talking, knowing that you’re now paying attention. “Met Sangmin.” You straighten up a little, eyes widening slightly in silent question, silent concern for your friend. “He…well, I won’t lie; he looks like shit.”

“How bad?”

“He’s barely eaten or slept since you were taken,” he answers. “He’s been looking for you, asking around where he can and got into some trouble a couple days ago; so, he looked fucked up too.” 

“Fuck.”

“Mm.”

“You gotta let me go see him.”

“Don’t be fucking stupid,” Wonwoo scoffs and shuffles to slouch down and let his head rest on the back of the couch as he turns his face skywards, looking at nothing in particular on the ceiling. “My wife is still after you; you’re staying right fucking here.”

“I can’t let him suffer!”

“I know,” he rolls his eyes before tilting his head just enough to peer at you lazily from the edge of his vision. “I told you that I’d look out for him until you can do it, and I’m a man of my word.”

“What did you do?” You ask softly, your worry starting to melt away. Something about Wonwoo really does make you believe him, at least about this; that he’s a man of his word. You trust him about this, as crazy as it is to trust the husband of the woman who fucking kidnapped you and had her minions beat you up because of her delusions.

“Put him up in a motel and gave him some cash for food. It should last him a couple weeks, provided he doesn’t fucking waste it.” He turns his face to the ceiling again, no longer looking at you as he yawns. “I’ll check on him in a few days and keep you updated.”

“Ah.” Your head bobs a little in approval as relief swims through your veins and warms your chest. “Thank you, Wonwoo, seriously.”

“Mm, I’m counting this as it makes us even for my fucking psychotic bitch of a wife kidnapping and beating the shit out of you.” 

“She didn’t beat the shit out of me. That would’ve been entertaining. Does she even know how to fight?” Wonwoo’s scoff is answer enough that no, his wife doesn’t know the first thing about fighting. “She would’ve broken her hand trying to break my face or something.”

“Doesn’t do shit with her hands, anyway, wouldn’t make a fucking difference if she broke them.” 

“Oh?” You grin slyly at him, even if he isn’t looking at you. “She’s more of a mouth kinda girl, huh?” Now Wonwoo looks at you, utterly unimpressed and borderline glaring, making you giggle. “What?” 

“My sex life is none of your fucking business.”

“Never mentioned you,” you muse with a shrug. “A lot of people who accuse others of cheating tend to be projecting their own misdeeds.”

“Know from experience?”

“Mm, yeah, been accused of cheating many times. I guess we’re similar in that regard; loyal to our partners even if they don’t believe it.” You shrug and get up to turn the TV on, then sit in front of the console to eject the cartridge to put away in the correct case.

“Not playing that one anymore?” he murmurs, rolling his head to watch you peruse the selection of games. 

“How tired are you? You’ve yawned like three times since sitting down.”

“I can go a few rounds, if you’re asking.” You immediately smirk over your shoulder at him. “Keep it in your fucking pants, pervert.”

“I respect the sanctity of marriage, even if it’s a loveless one,” you assure and turn back to the games, to select one to put into the slot and boot up the console. “I tried to play this earlier, but I kept dying, and it pissed me off. I think it’ll be easier in multiplayer though.”

“Mm, it is,” he confirms and stretches noisily before joining you on the floor, handing you a pillow to sit on while sitting on one himself, and accepts the controller you give him. As the game loads up and the start credits play, Wonwoo explains the basic idea of the game to you in a low voice, adding little tips about the controls and secret moves that will help you survive the beasts and tricks designed to overwhelm single players.

With Wonwoo at your side, the game is so much easier, and you enjoy yourself so much that you don’t realise the time pass, until Wonwoo declares that it’s close to sunrise, and he needs to get at least a couple hours of sleep before work. He leaves you to try some bonus levels that you unlocked together, but it’s not as fun alone, so you give up and go to bed as the sun rises, while silently looking forward to Wonwoo’s next visit.

Even though, most of the time, the apartment is pretty boring alone, you manage to keep yourself busy gaming, cooking, and cleaning every inch of the apartment repeatedly. Sometimes, it feels like time drags, yet it also feels like you merely blink, and it’s been over a month since Wonwoo locked you up here. You can’t tell exactly how long it’s been with your lack of sleeping schedule without the man around, but an educated guess puts it at, roughly, almost five weeks.

At first, every time you see Wonwoo, you ask if his wife has stopped being a psycho yet and if you can go home. You’re never surprised when he says no, to both questions, and tells you that you need to stay a while longer. 

Then, the man’s visits change, and it’s not three days between visits; sometimes it is, but sometimes it’s less. Though soon enough, Wonwoo is at the apartment every single day. If not to stay the night in his bed and take advantage of not having to share a bed with his wife, then to simply spend a few hours with you to eat and game. 

Though sometimes, he turns up and just lays on the couch to nap for no more than an hour before he leaves without a word. He always looks utterly exhausted on those days. You can’t help but wonder if this apartment is the most practical place for him to crash when he needs a nap during the day. Surely, the man has safe houses closer into the city centre; ones easier to get to and that don’t take as much of his time with travel. But you never bring it up; honestly, you’re just glad for the company, however wordless it is.

For a little while, you stop asking him when you can leave. It clearly annoyed him that you asked every time he visited, but it also frustrated you to never have an actual answer as to when you can go home. There’s only so long you can live in this apartment before you lose a grip on yourself and get reckless.

It’s probably been almost two weeks since you last asked, so you think it’s about time you bring it back up again, even if it’s 3pm and Wonwoo has clearly arrived with the intention of napping. 

You’re in the process of making yourself lunch when he enters the apartment, so he’s drawn to the kitchen after removing his shoes and jacket, where he slouches at the island and gratefully starts to eat the sandwich you place in front of him. It was supposed to be yours, but you can make another, he looks like he needs it.

“When can I go home?” You ask bluntly, causing Wonwoo to stop chewing mid bite and look over at you, but you’re focused on your task and don’t notice, until you flick your gaze up at his silence. “Well?”

Wonwoo lets out a heavy breath through his nose and gets back to chewing. Once he’s swallowed, he answers in a way you hadn’t expected. Usually, he always says either ‘not yet’ or a flat ‘no’. Yet today, he finally gives you a more solid answer, “depends.”

It’s just one word, but it makes hope start to flutter in your chest.

“On?” you ask, with your full attention on him, suddenly not all that hungry when faced with the potential sweetness of freedom just around the corner.

“If you’re willing to learn how to use a gun and carry one on you at all times.”

Just like that, the fluttering in your chest ceases and the excitement that had started to warm your veins is sucked away as if it had never known a home in you in the first place. “You’re insane, aren’t you?” you accuse with a scoff and turn back to making your lunch.

“I can’t let you leave if you can’t defend yourself; I’ll end up following you all the fucking time to make sure you’re safe,” he reasons, waving a hand vaguely before taking a bite of his sandwich. 

“It’s not really any of your business,” you point out while looking at him. “I appreciate that you protected me in the first place, but you’ve done the noble thing; you don’t have to do anything else.” 

Wonwoo looks up at you as if you’re stupid. “I do if I want you to be safe.” 

“As long as she’s alive, I won’t be safe, not really.” 

“Are you suggesting I kill my wife?” he baulks in disbelief at the potential insinuation within your words.

You shake your head and pull a face as if he’s the stupid one this time. “No…” your expression morphs into something considering as your head tilts slightly, while pondering his words. “Though, it would be a two birds one stone situation.” 

Wonwoo’s whole expression furrows. “Fucking hell, all this time locked up with only an asshole like me for company has warped your mind. You’ve gone fucking insane.” 

“Always been there.” You shrug casually. “I don’t think a man who goes against his wife to protect another is an asshole, anyway.” 

“I’m literally in a gang,” he deadpans.

“Yeah, and?” You give him an unwavering look. “I’ve met much worse people than you in my life, Wonwoo, and I will again. You’re sweet in comparison.” 

“I’ve really fucked your head up, haven’t I?” 

“Told you, I’ve always been like this”. 

“Calling gang members sweet?” 

“Once or twice.” 

He raises a disbelieving eyebrow as if he isn’t even sure if he heard you correctly. “What?” 

“Look, let’s not get off track,” you decide, while waving a hand dismissively. Wonwoo eyes the knife that you wave around vaguely but you don’t pay his borderline concerned expression any attention. “I want to go home. I have people waiting for me, and there’s only so long until they come looking, so, I’d like to go before that happens.” 

“You live alone; I’ve seen your apartment, it’s barely big enough for you. And your neighbours definitely wouldn’t notice if you don’t return; they say you’re never home,” he points out. 

“Stalker. Maybe your wife did have reason to worry, huh?” 

He rolls his eyes. “Don’t start that shit; you know we never had an affair because we had never even fucking met properly until she kidnapped you!” 

“Defensive,” you tease. 

“You’ve really fucking lost it,” he declares flatly.

“Then let me fucking leave, and you won’t have to deal with me anymore!” you exclaim frustratedly. 

“I want to deal with you!” he returns immediately, before you both fall silent and stare at one another. You’re both surprised by the sheer honesty in his words, that they even fell from his lips in the first place.

You gather yourself and manage to speak first, deciding to make a joke to try and break the strange tension that’s appeared in the air between you. “Better not let your wife hear that; she’ll jump to conclusions. Unless you mean the permanent ‘sleep with the fishes’ kind of ‘deal with’, then she’ll probably suck your dick in joy.” 

Just as Wonwoo opens his mouth to respond, eyes intense on you, his phone starts to ring in his inside blazer pocket. He sighs heavily before pulling it out and walking down the hall to talk privately in one of the empty rooms.

When he returns, you’re sitting at the table eating your lunch and have packed up the rest of his into a container, already knowing that he’s being called into work.

“We’ll finish that talk later,” he declares as he grabs the container from the island behind you.

You don’t even look over at him as you respond, “pointless circles don’t end, Wonwoo.”

You don’t see him leave, or hear his socked footsteps walk away, but a few moments later, you hear the front door open and close before the lock engages, and you’re left alone wondering just what the fuck your life has come to. 

You just hope that he gives you control of your life back soon; before things get even more fucked up.

Never would you have thought Wonwoo to be the type of person to avoid difficult situations or topics; you thought he’s far too straightforward to ever do such a thing. But when he doesn’t turn up the day after your interrupted discussion in the kitchen, you start to wonder if you got him wrong.

Then he doesn’t turn up the next day either, and you really think that’s being a little bitch and avoiding returning so that he doesn’t have to pick up that conversation with you.

Yet, on the third day, you recall that he was the one who had said you’ll finish the talk another day and as he’s proven; Jeon Wonwoo is a man of his word. You believe him, and suddenly, you don’t think he’s avoiding you but has likely grown very busy with work or his psychotic wife. 

However, when day four rolls around, you start to get worried that something has happened. Admittedly, you’ve grown fond of Wonwoo over the past weeks; his stupid smug smirk when he beats you at a game, his proud little shy smile when you praise his very gradually improving cooking skills, his soft snoring when he naps on the couch in the middle of the day. 

Sometimes, you truly do wonder if this is what Stockholm syndrome is: growing to actually like the person who has locked you up and genuinely wanting to spend time with them. You think others would probably say it is and that you shouldn’t care for the man. But he makes it easy, as much as you don’t want to have this attraction for him. You think that if you had got to know him under different circumstances, you’d probably feel the same way, anyway.

Regardless of if the man is technically holding you hostage or not, he’s married, and you respect that commitment and vow too much to ever want to have feelings for a married man. 

Still, you can’t help how you feel, and you worry when it’s past dinner time on the fourth day, yet Wonwoo still hasn’t shown his face. 

Now that you’re worried about Wonwoo, you can’t face gaming because it makes you think of him. So, you spend most of the day scrubbing the apartment from top to bottom, until everything that can sparkle, does. You even clean the rooms neither of you use.

You’re in the middle of putting the freshly washed and dried pillow covers back on the couch pillows when the sudden sound of the front door lock disengaging pings through the quiet apartment. 

Immediately, you look over, and your eyebrows lift as Wonwoo shuffles into the apartment, covered in blood. He doesn’t notice you at first as he locks the apartment back up one handed. His right hand is shoved into his trouser pocket suspiciously, like he’s trying to not move it, or perhaps not let you see it. 

“What the fuck?” You speak, making Wonwoo’s head lift quickly. 

Worry floods into his eyes, and he lifts his left hand placatingly towards you, after tossing his blood smeared car keys onto the side unit. “It-” he cuts off when you point firmly at his feet as soon as he takes a step forward, making him fall still in confusion.

“Stay there,” you order before turning and walking off, leaving Wonwoo staring after you puzzled.

You go to the laundry room to grab the stack of spare, dark grey towels, then go to the kitchen to get the roll of bin bags, before returning to the entrance hall. Thankfully, Wonwoo is still standing where you left him, though he’s removed his shoes now, and they’re haphazardly shoved aside. 

“Strip,” you demand, while dropping the towels onto the floor so that you can pull a bag from the roll and shake it open.

 “What?” he mumbles.

“You’re covered in blood, and I spent three hours scrubbing these fancy ass floors of yours today; you’re not getting blood on them,” you warn, giving him a stern look. 

He scoffs but obediently starts to do as told and moves both of his hands to his belt to start working it open. His right hand is bloodied, but it doesn’t look that much worse than his left hand, so you assume he wasn’t hiding it from you. “May as well be your floors, you’ve lived here more than me,” he mumbles as he works with a tense expression on his face, which tightens every time he moves his right arm even minutely. 

“Well then, I’m definitely not letting you fuck up my floors with your blood. Don’t be rude and bleed on my fancy ass floors.” 

Once Wonwoo’s belt is open, along with the button and zipper of his trousers, he starts to try and push them down his legs, but the blood oozing from the stab wound on his left thigh is making the material stick to his thighs. Plus, now that he’s moving it more, you can see that there is definitely something wrong with his right arm, as he can barely move it. In fact, he’s only moving the lower part of his arm, but even that is limited.

Realising that you’ll be here all night, if not longer, if you leave Wonwoo to strip himself, you sigh and put the bin bag down to get to your knees in front of him, so that you can peel his trousers down his legs for him. Wonwoo says nothing, but he lets out a relieved little breath, clearly glad for your help, and steps out of his trouser legs in turn as you hold them open. Once they’re entirely off, you make sure the pockets are empty before tossing them, including the belt, into the bin bag. 

Silently, you work to remove Wonwoo’s socks, then get up to get him out of his blazer and previously white, now half blood-red shirt; all of the clothing you throw into the bag to throw out and put everything from his pockets on the side unit.

As Wonwoo stands in front of you in his black boxers and previously white vest, you can see the strange shape of his right shoulder. It’s very clear to you what’s wrong with it. 

“It’s dislocated, isn’t it?” you question; Wonwoo wordlessly hums and nods in confirmation. “Alright, I’ll cut your vest off,” you decide, knowing that getting Wonwoo to lift his arms up is very impractical. You move over to the side table to grab the knife, which you had removed from a hidden inside pocket in Wonwoo’s blazer, and remove the little leather sheath from the blade, before turning to approach him with the knife.

Wonwoo steps back slightly, holding his left hand up between you with slightly alarmed eyes. “Whoa, what the fuck? You can’t just approach a man with a knife like that.”

You can’t help but scoff at his obvious hesitance and concern about you holding a knife only half an arm’s length away from him. “Don’t be a wimp. You’ve clearly been stabbed already tonight; what’s another flesh wound?” 

“You’re more psychotic than my wife,” he deadpans, left arm lowering to his side, deciding that you’re no threat now that the immediate worry has left. You’re right; he’s definitely already faced much bigger threats to his safety than you tonight.

“Careful, sweetheart,” you coo and tap the tip of the knife against the centre of his chest. You can’t help but notice the way he swallows thickly at your action and his eyes darken a little with interest. “Insult me again like that and my hand might slip.” You abruptly lower the knife to the hem of his vest and use it to ping the elastic of his boxers. His eyes darken further, and you smirk amusedly. “That’s an interesting reaction to having a knife aimed at your dick.” 

“That’s not my dick,” he murmurs, voice a little lower than usual.

“Huh, right.” You look down as you drag the knife down to touch the tip to where his dick is obviously sitting snug in his boxers, before looking back up at him. “Better?” 

He takes a moment before responding, eyeing you intently; you can practically see the thoughts whirling behind his eyes, “you’re not the woman I thought you are, are you?” 

You shrug. “Depends who you thought I am.” 

“A sweet, innocent cook, who makes the best food I’ve ever tasted.” 

“Well, some of that is true,” you giggle before lifting the knife to cut down the centre of his vest. Now that it’s served its purpose, you toss the knife onto the side table and remove the stained and ruined material from his body to put in the bin bag. “Alright, let’s get a look at you,” you say, before walking around him in a slow circle to carefully inspect his injuries, and silently appreciate his well looked after body while you’re at it. “Let’s put your shoulder back in place, get you cleaned up, and then I’ll patch you up,” you announce once you’re back in front of him.

Wonwoo raises a questioning eyebrow. “You know how to do all that?” 

“Yep,” you answer simply without a single slither of hesitation. It’s enough that Wonwoo doesn’t question you at all and just nods in agreement. 

Honestly, it’s not the first shoulder you’ve put back into place, or joint in general, so even though it’s not the most pleasant sensation in any way, you easily make short work of the task. 

While Wonwoo catches his breath back and gathers himself, you lay a towel on the ground in front of him, to minimise the amount of blood that ruins your hours of hard work cleaning the floor. 

Once he’s ready, Wonwoo doesn’t have to be prompted to step onto the towels. He does so quietly and then looks at you in wait. 

“What?” you ask.

“How the fuck am I supposed to move from here if you don’t move the towels? Unless you want blood on your floors?” he reasons, raising a blood smeared eyebrow at you.

“Oh, honey, there’s only one reason I get on my knees in front of a man, and that’s not gonna happen,” you point out with a scoff. “Shuffle.”

“What?”

“You heard me. Either stand there until you’re entirely dry and won’t get my floors dirty, or you can shuffle.” You shrug carelessly and pick up the rest of the towels to take to the stairs, so that you can lay the material out over the steps protectively. 

When you turn around on the stairs, once all of the towels are laid in place, you spot Wonwoo awkwardly shuffling along the floor in a way to keep the towel under his feet. You can’t help but crack up laughing at the sight of this tough, blood covered and injured, high-ranking gang member dragging his feet across the floor; silently obeying your demands to keep the floor clean. And you hadn’t even had to threaten to make him clean any mess he creates with his own toothbrush in the morning; though that definitely would’ve been the next step if he had been a stubborn ass. 

Wonwoo hears your laughter and glares over at you shortly before looking back down to focus on his efforts to get to the staircase. It only makes you laugh even harder, hard enough that you have to sit down so you don’t fall down the stairs.

A handful of moments later, when he passes you on the stairs, he flicks your head. You just giggle then get up to follow behind him up the rest of the steps. There’s already a towel waiting on the floor at the top, so Wonwoo, once again, shuffles across the shiny floor on a dark towel to get to his destination.

Even once in his bathroom, Wonwoo remains on the towel and follows you to the shower, which you turn on, on his behalf.

Once you’ve made sure he has everything he needs close to hand and a clean pair of boxers waiting for him on the counter, you turn to look at him with a teasing grin. “Can I trust you to shower on your own, or are you going to pass out from blood loss?” 

“I haven’t lost that much blood,” he huffs, rolling his eyes. 

You giggle and nod, backing up to the door. “Alright, I’ll wait outside, though.” Wonwoo just nods in understanding, so you step out of the bathroom and pull the door up most of the way just in case he needs you.

Leaving the door open seems to have been a very smart move, because not long later, you hear Wonwoo call your name awkwardly. You can only just hear him over the water, so you know that if the door was shut, there would not have been a chance you’d be able to hear him.

“Yeah?” You ask, sticking your head into the room to find him standing out of the stream of water, with his still bloody back mostly to the door, and his hands holding a small towel in front of his crotch, even if you can’t see anything from this angle regardless of the cover. 

“I can’t reach my back well enough with my arm like this,” he admits, making short eye contact with you as he indirectly asks for your help. 

Without a word, you enter the room and grab the soapy washcloth he offers, so that you can diligently scrub all of the blood from his back, then notice he’s missed patches on his left upper arm, so you clean there too.

“Alright, inspection time,” you declare before looking over the back of him from head to toe and back again, to thoroughly check for injuries that need to be dealt with and any blood he missed. “Turn,” you demand once satisfied with his backside, and also taking a moment to appreciate his backside. 

Obligingly, Wonwoo turns to face you and watches you as your gaze travels over his body from this angle, stepping closer to get a better look at certain injuries or run the cloth over his skin diligently. 

When you’re done with all of the exposed skin, your attention moves to the towel he’s clutching over his crotch before you grin amusedly and meet his dark gaze. “What if you’re injured there, Wonwoo?” you tease with a dramatic gasp. 

“Don’t,” he warns. “I’m not giving any truth to my wife’s delusions about us, so don’t…don’t say and do stuff like that when I’m in no position to handle it.” 

“I’m curious what exactly that means,” you admit. 

“Then be curious, I’m not elaborating.” 

You stare at him curiously for a moment before nodding. “Finish up and get those on.” You point to the clean boxers on the counter as you head to the door. “I’ll be back with the medical kit.” 

It only takes you a few minutes to go to the kitchen and get the very extensive medical kit from the secret compartment hidden in the kitchen island, plus a bottle of water and an apple. 

Deciding to be kind to Wonwoo’s currently somewhat limited movements, you clean up the dirty towels from the stairs, putting them all in the bin bag, plus Wonwoo’s shoes, before tying it off and leaving it near the front door for Wonwoo to take out tomorrow. 

Figuring that Wonwoo must be in a decent state by now, you wander upstairs with the necessary items and enter the bathroom, to find him leaning against the counter with his boxers on and a small towel in his left hand as he rubs his hair.

He pauses when he notices the bag slung on your left shoulder. “The fuck did you get that?”

“Did you forget where you left it?” You tease, putting the items on the counter beside him.

“I know where I hid that. How the fuck did you find it?”

“I know every inch of this apartment, Wonwoo; I’ve cleaned it enough the past month.” You scoff then take the towel to toss aside so that you can hand him the apple. “Eat that.” 

“I’m not hungry.” 

“I don’t give a fuck; eat that and drink the water,” you demand, already rummaging in the bag to take out everything you need to play doctor.

Wonwoo stares at you for a few seconds, then looks between the items you’re setting up and your at ease yet confident expression, a few times before giving in with a soft sigh and taking a bite of the apple.

The first wound to deal with is the stab wound on his left thigh; there’s still a little blood trickling from it, but it doesn’t run past his knee, so you know he’s clotting well, and there isn’t any worry really. Still, it’s the biggest of his injuries, so you handle it first. 

As soon as you get on your knees in front of him, Wonwoo makes a comment, “thought you only get on your knees for one reason?” he teases with a little smirk, which quickly leaves when you slap his leg right beside the wound, making him hiss. “Fuck you.” 

You only smile too sweetly at him before getting to work sewing up the wound as quickly yet efficiently as you can. There’s anaesthetic in the medical kit, but Wonwoo insists he can handle getting stitches without it. Still, being repeatedly stabbed with a needle and having the thread pulled through skin is not a nice or pain free sensation for anyone, so you want to get it over with as quickly as possible. 

After cleaning up the blood and covering his thigh, you get up to work on disinfecting and covering all of his other wounds. Most of them are small, and many don’t even require plasters, but there’s a cut across his chest; slicing thinly over his left pec with a starting point over his heart, where the wound is slightly deeper. You’re pretty sure that whoever inflicted this wound had tried to stab him in the heart and kill him, but either Wonwoo or someone else stopped them before they could succeed. 

You don’t linger on it, but it does hurt your heart to see, far more than the wound on his thigh, despite that one requiring stitches, and this one only some gauze to prevent infection. At least the thigh wound wasn’t an attempt on Wonwoo’s life.

Once all of the open wounds are dealt with, all you have to do is wrap his right shoulder to support the joint as it recovers from being dislocated, and then you’re all done.

“You’re really fucking good at this; are you trained or something?” Wonwoo comments as you wash your hands and he’s eyeing your handiwork impressed.

“Or something,” is your dismissive response.

He scoffs and looks over at you. “Now who’s evading questions.” 

“Don’t owe you shit,” you point out and move to dry your hands.

“I saved your life.” 

“Because your delusional wife put it in danger in the first place. That’s not on me.” 

“Not on me either.” 

It’s you who scoffs this time as you think about the tension that keeps appearing between the two of you lately and how he didn’t even try to hide how holding his knife to him earlier had turned him on. It all seems so natural for him; being this way with you. “You can’t expect me to believe she’s accusing you of cheating for no reason.” 

He frowns at you offendedly, and you’re not surprised; you’ve kind of had this conversation before. “Yeah, she’s fucking crazy and projecting her own failings on me. I have never been unfaithful to her or anyone. Never will be either.” 

For a few tense moments, the pair of you just stare at each other and the whole time, Wonwoo’s expression doesn’t change; the burning sincerity in his eyes doesn’t waver. You think maybe you might trust this man too much, because it makes all of your doubts about his relationship morals leave. “Huh, okay,” you respond simply with a nod and move to zip up the medical bag. 

“You don’t believe me, do you?” his voice is a little quieter now, a hint of hurt at your doubt of him showing. 

“No, I do, which is why I’m surprised,” you assure and turn to lean against the counter and look at him, so that he can see the honesty in your own eyes. It’s only fair, after all. “Gang member with morals; kinda not the norm.” 

“Yeah, well, I don’t see the point in it. If I wanted to fuck other people, I wouldn’t be committed to someone.” 

“Even if it’s someone you don’t want to be with in the first place? Obviously, there’s no love lost in you for her, no love in the first place,” you comment. 

“That’s not your place,” he reminds firmly. 

“Just following the conversation. Your pathetic excuse of a marriage isn’t of any concern of mine.” You shrug and push off of the counter to head towards the door.

“Don’t insult the man in charge of your freedom,” he warns lowly, making you turn to look at him with a scoffed laugh. 

“Why? What else are you going to do, Wonwoo? Send me back to her and let her have her fun?” 

Wonwoo’s expression softens slightly, and he shakes his head a little. “No. Never that,” he responds without a hint of hesitation or doubt in his tone. It sounds something like a promise.

“Then are you going to keep me and have your own fun?” you challenge, raising an eyebrow at him pointedly.

“I told you not to say things like that,” he rushes, gaze turning intense as he eyes you where you stand in the open doorway. His eyes flicker downwards; a quick drag of attention over your entire form, and his tongue darts out to lick his split lip mindlessly.

You can’t help but laugh. “Look whose mind is in the gutter,” you taunt. “I meant fuck me up yourself, not fuck me.” You back out into the hallway slowly, while giving him a significant look. “Think you need to remind yourself of your loyalty moral, Wonwoo. A lot of people consider looking or thinking bad enough to be cheating. If you don’t want your darling wife to be right, you should get a handle on that.” Your gaze flickers over the bathroom quickly before landing back on him. “Oh, and clean the bathroom before you go to bed; I won’t cook for you tomorrow if I see a single drop or smear of blood in here tomorrow.”

With that, you leave Wonwoo watching you leave him all alone with his mind whirling and a growing ache in his chest that he doesn’t think is entirely from the wound you so tenderly cared for. 

The very next day when you wander downstairs, it’s gone midday, and to your surprise, Wonwoo is in the kitchen, serving up take out onto two plates. 

“Oh, you’re up, good,” he comments when he hears the rustle of your clothes as you get closer. He glances over at you, gaze flickering over you quickly before focusing back on his task. “I was about to come and wake you.”

“You picked up lunch on your way over?” you mutter confusedly, Wonwoo never brings food when he visits, except groceries after picking up a list from you the day before. 

“No, I went and got lunch when I realised you’re not going to come down, and I’m too fucking hungry to wait any more.” 

“That sounds like you didn’t go to work today.”

“Called off for a few days to recover,” he informs and takes the plates over to the table. “Sit,” he says while pointing to your seat, before moving to get you both cutlery and drinks.

Not one to refuse free food, you sit down, and thank him when he hands you your cutlery before digging in; he quickly joins in.

“So,” Wonwoo starts after a little while of the usual comfortable quiet that falls between you if neither of you are talking. It’s strange how easy the silences between you have always been; even before you became whatever kind of vague friends you currently are. 

“Mm?” you respond with your mouth closed as you chew, looking up at him curiously.

“I was thinking that as I’m going to be off work for a few days, you can give me more cooking lessons.”

You straighten up to look at him in questioning surprise. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, why are you surprised? You know I want to learn.”

“Yeah, but that sounds like you intend on spending your days off here instead of at home.”

“She’s there,” he responds as if it’s the obvious answer, while pulling a displeased face.

You snort an amused laugh at his expression. “Good point. Alright, sure, I’ll teach you, but you gotta call me Chef.”

“What?” 

“Chef.”

“You’re fucking ridiculous.”

“Oh, looks like you’re going to forever burn eggs, Wonwoo,” you sing.

“Alright, fine, I’ll fucking call you Chef, but only while we’re cooking, understand?”

“Yes, sir.” He gives you a flat look that makes you giggle. You turn back to your food and ignore the flash of interest in his gaze.

Over the following days, Wonwoo is always up before you and quickly realises that you need to be woken up if he wants something other than takeout or a sandwich for lunch. 

A routine of sorts quickly gets established; Wonwoo wakes you before lunch, so that you can cook together, then he cleans up, at his own insistence, while you get the medical kit ready in the lounge to check and redress his wounds once he joins you. The afternoon consists of a mix of chores and gaming. In the evening, it’s time for another cooking session for dinner before he once again cleans up. Then, the two of you sit in the lounge to game or watch the videos on the video player, which he brought back on his first day off; another one of his childhood items he’s had safely stored away.

It all falls into place so seamlessly that it’s like the two of you have always existed like this, even if the seemingly endless personal questions that Wonwoo likes to randomly bring up prove otherwise.

Sometimes, you answer honestly, but others you don’t, and it’s endlessly entertaining watching Wonwoo try to decipher if you’re being honest or just fucking with him. 

It starts with the very first question on the very first day he’s off work, when you’re expertly handling his wounds and the medical supplies. “Where’d you learn to do this?”

“What’s it to ya?” you tease.

“Just curious about you.”

“Why?” 

“Because I’ve known you over a month, and I don’t know shit about you, despite you living in my apartment, and that shit’s going to keep up for the foreseeable future. So, it’d be nice to know some shit,” he huffs.

You hum consideringly as you ponder his words, before answering while continuing to clean and redress his thigh wound. “When I was fifteen, I was out with my sister, and we got caught in the middle of some gang shit. She got hurt bad, really bad, and I couldn’t do anything to help her. I couldn’t save her; I didn’t know how. She bled out in my arms, and I decided then that I wasn’t going to be so useless again. I learned how to handle most wounds with both real medical supplies, and whatever is to hand in case of an emergency.”

“Oh…” 

“If I was home, I would’ve put on my latex nurse’s outfit too,” you add as you look up at him and spot the softness around his eyes; the sympathy and understanding pain. 

It abruptly leaves at your words, and he lets out a frustrated, disbelieving sound. “You fucking asshole; I actually believed you,” he grunts disapprovingly, and you just snigger, returning back to your task.

Despite knowing that you’re actively messing with him, Wonwoo still insists on asking you personal questions to try and get a clearer image of you and your story. It’s a great source of entertainment for you, personally, so you don’t mind. Plus, he’s always so helpful; offering his assistance and cleaning dishes before you can even think about it, that you think he deserves the chance to poke around a little.

On the fourth day of Wonwoo being off work, you wake when Wonwoo knocks on your bedroom door then lets himself in. You eye him blearily as you shuffle up to sit against the headboard, while he walks further into the room.

“Are you ever going home?” you mumble, while rubbing at your eyes. When you lower your hands, he’s placing a tray, which you somehow didn’t even notice him holding, on the duvet at your side and sitting on the other side. You notice the plate piled with steaming food, two mugs and two sets of cutlery on top “Oh, breakfast in bed?” you tease with a grin as he hands you a set of cutlery and holds the other, while he picks up his usual mug to sip at his steaming coffee.

He rolls his eyes before answering as you start to eat, “don’t say something weird; I just know you won’t come down to eat it. So, unless I want my hard work going to waste, I need to bring it to you. I’ve had enough of you digging your fucking fingers into my wounds when I try to pick you up to move you when you’re being a stubborn asshole.” 

You ignore his comments about your stubborn streak and your habit of playing dirty and using his healing injuries against him. “How lucky am I?” you coo, entirely ignoring his warning to not say something weird. Teasing him is just too much fun. “Well, I imagine your wife is luckier. You seem like the type of man to go all out on your lucky lady’s birthday; fancy breakfast in bed, whatever gifts she wants, romantic dinner at her favourite restaurant and a day being spoiled.” Wonwoo doesn’t answer, just keeps his gaze on the tray between you as he works on eating his share of the breakfast that he so carefully cooked for you both. “Well shit, you’ve never done that for her?” you baulk surprised. He truly does seem like the doting, romantic type. 

Even this; bringing breakfast to you so that you’ll eat the food he obviously tried very hard to cook, as he hadn’t burned any of it this time, even if it’s pretty bland and under seasoned, just proves that he’s a very doting man when he wants to be. Plus, he waited for you to take a bite first before making any attempt himself. It makes you realise that he always makes sure you go first with everything and quietly goes along with whatever you want; the game you want to play, the food you want to cook, the video you want to watch, he never complains.

It seems crazy to you that Wonwoo has never gone all out for his wife; the woman he promised forever to.

He scoffs. “Why should I? I tried to do nice things at first, but she was always expecting more and bitched.” 

“Has she ever done anything for you?” 

“Other than be a pain in my ass? No.” 

You pull a disgusted yet puzzled face. “Why the fuck did you marry her?” 

“Took one for the team,” he answers honestly for the first time, paired with a casual shrug. Before now, every time you’ve asked about his relationship, Wonwoo has always told you it’s not your business or avoided answering by changing the topic or simply stayed silent.

“What does that even mean?” you wonder, giving him a curious look as he lifts his gaze to look at you.

“Means that she’s the oldest kid, but as she’s a woman, she can’t take over the gang when her dad dies; so, it would go to her brother, who is even more fucking useless and entitled than she is.” The repulsed twist of Wonwoo’s expression gives away his clear disdain for his brother-in-law. “He’d fucking destroy the gang and everything we’ve put so much blood into creating. But the boss will give his son-in-law the position if he’s proven himself, and well, I’ve been in the gang since I was fourteen, so I’ve definitely proven myself after 20 fucking years.” 

“Well…shit,” you mumble, eyes wide as you absorb his unexpected words; unexpected for more than one reason.

“Mm,” he hums in agreement as he chews on another mouthful.

“I did not realise you’re so old!” you gawp, making him look at you with a miniature version of your shocked expression.

He quickly finishes chewing and swallows the food in his mouth so that he can talk. “Seriously? That’s what you took from that, my fucking age?” 

“What?” You shrug defensively. “I thought you’re my age, not eight years older.” 

Wonwoo stares at you dumbly for a few long seconds before he mumbles, “you’re 26?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Oh.” He licks his lips a little awkwardly. “I didn’t realise.” 

“Are you saying I look old?!” you sputter in offense.

He quickly shakes his head and holds up his hands placatingly. “No. Just, I guess I’m more used to women like my wife. All her friends are immature as fuck, all spoiled little princesses. She’s older than me, you know? By three years, yet you’re more mature than her. So, I thought based on that, you’re closer to my age at least,” he reasons. It’s a very understandable thought process and assumption, so your posture relaxes again.

“Huh, okay, I’ll accept that, but don’t disrespect princesses like that,” you warn. 

“Should I call them spoiled little daddy’s girls then?” he jokes.

“No.” You pout. “Don’t lump me with them.” 

“You’re a daddy’s girl?” he baulks in genuine shock.

“Yeah.” 

“Didn’t even know you have family, honestly,” Wonwoo admits, making you look at him as if he’s the dumbest person you’ve ever met.

“Did you think I grew out of the fucking ground?” you deadpan.

“Obviously not; I know how human biology works, brat.” He rolls his eyes. “Just…there’s no sign of family in your apartment; not a single photo or anything that could be deemed a family heirloom.” 

You shrug and pick up your mug. “I don’t need those things to remember; I have plenty of reminders on me at all times to remind me of family.” 

“Like what? That necklace you wear?” He points to the chain of the necklace you never take off, where it’s just about poking out from the collar of your pyjama t-shirt.

“No, this is just a cheap thing I got to replace another cheap one and so on and so forth because I just hate not wearing a necklace.” 

“I don’t see you in any other jewellery.” 

“Don’t own any.” 

“Really?” he asks surprised, slightly raising his eyebrows curiously. “Not a single thing?” 

“No. I used to have earrings, but I lost the back of one, so I stopped wearing them and just never got around to replacing them.” 

“Then what do you mean you have reminders on you all the time, if not jewellery?” he sounds genuinely confused and very curious as his attention remains solely on you. 

You motion to the plate as you lean back towards it yourself, dismissing the topic with a simple, slightly firm, “breakfast is getting cold.” 

Wonwoo gets the hint and doesn’t try to push you anymore, just leans in and gets back to eating.

The very next morning after Wonwoo brings you breakfast in bed, he doesn’t wake you with another tray, nor does he wake you to make lunch with him. You get up feeling very off kilter at waking naturally without him being the first thing you see once the sleep leaves your eyes. 

It only gets worse when you go downstairs, and he’s nowhere to be found. 

Bewilderedly, you waddle to the fridge to get the juice and notice a new note on the whiteboard from Wonwoo. It’s a short note, like always, and says that he’s gone back to work and won’t be back tonight, so don’t worry about cooking dinner for him. 

All day, you move around the apartment feeling oddly lost. 

Wonwoo was only home for four days, yet it already feels so strange not having him following you around to ask questions as you complete chores together or peering over your shoulder to learn how to cook or playfully shoving you when you’re playing against each other in a game instead of as a team. You don’t really know what to do without him.

When it comes to dinner, you don’t think before cooking and only realise that you’ve naturally made enough for Wonwoo too when you’re putting a plate in his usual seat and remember that he won’t be here to eat it. 

It feels pathetic to sit staring at an empty seat with a full plate on the placemat in front of it opposite you, as you eat your dinner, but there’s something in you that refuses to let you take his plate away, even knowing his note says he won’t be home tonight.

Only when you can’t handle being in the lounge as it feels so empty without him, do you remove his covered plate from the dining table to box up the leftovers to put in the fridge and put the dishes in the dishwasher.

It’s only 9pm when you crawl into bed freshly showered and turn on your TV to watch something, hoping to distract yourself from the hollow feeling in your chest.

Although you were in bed early last night, you didn’t manage to fall asleep until your usual time, so you’re up after midday again. 

Today when you wander downstairs, you don’t expect to see Wonwoo, as his note said he’ll be back this evening, but clearly, he had already returned and left again. When you enter the kitchen, you spot a little gift bag on the island. 

Curiously, you approach and inspect the bag, trying to find a logo on the packaging, but there isn’t one, though you do find your name on the tag in Wonwoo’s surprisingly pretty handwriting. He doesn’t usually write so neatly; it seems as if he focused on writing your name in a visibly appealing way, instead of the usual scrawls he puts on the whiteboard.

Now that you know that it’s for you, you open the bag, and after moving aside the neatly packed dark blue tissue paper, you spot a black jewellery box. You hesitate before reaching out to pick out the box and open it. 

Immediately, your breath catches, and your heart skips a beat.

Within the jewellery box, seated neatly on a cushioned display covered in dark silk, is a truly stunning necklace and earring set. They sparkle in the light; silver chain and clear jewels polished to perfection as they stare up at you tauntingly. You know they’re diamonds; you just know with everything in you that Wonwoo had purposely gone out and bought you an expensive, extremely high-quality necklace and earrings set to replace your own. And it hurts.  

There is no way that this is nothing; that Wonwoo would go out of his way to pick such a beautifully crafted set for any other friend. You’re pretty positive that he wouldn’t even pick such a nice set for his wife. It feels like he’s putting you higher than her, ranking you as more important, more meaningful to him than the woman he is lawfully devoted to, and that hurts.

It's all too much. You close the box and place it back in the bag, cover it with the tissue paper and leave it there.

As you reheat the leftovers from last night for your lunch, your gaze keeps returning to the gift. Even with your back to the island as you sit at the table to eat, your mind keeps reminding you that it’s there; keeps shouting at you to pay attention to it.

Unable to handle it, as soon as you’ve cleaned up after lunch, you go up to your room to spend the rest of the say sitting on your bed watching TV and pretending that Wonwoo hasn’t royally fucked with your head and implied far too much without saying a word.

When Wonwoo returns, you’re still sitting on your bed watching TV, or at least pretending to. You’ve been restless for the past half an hour, knowing that he’ll be home at any moment and there will have to be a conversation to be had; about the necklace, about him, about you.

Only a handful of minutes after hearing Wonwoo enter the apartment, he wanders into your room through the open door, holding the gift bag in one hand with a genuine frown on his features. He looks both confused and a little upset. “Haven’t you been in the kitchen today?” 

“Of course I have, you think I like starving myself? I enjoy food too much,” you answer without looking away from the TV, even if your full attention has been on him since before he entered the room, before he even entered the apartment.

“Okay, then why aren’t you wearing this?” He lifts the bag slightly.

You hesitate before letting out a defeated sigh and looking at him. “Why did you buy that for me, Wonwoo?” 

“Because you never replaced your earrings and wear a cheap necklace that will break easily and make you buy another. This one will last a long time and has a lifetime guarantee, so you can get it replaced if it does break, but it shouldn’t.” It all sounds so logical, so reasonable, but you know it isn’t. Wonwoo is far too smart of a man to be that dense. 

“Take it back,” you order. 

“You don’t like it? Tell me what you like and I’ll-” 

“You’re a married man, Wonwoo; you can’t buy another woman jewellery.” 

“It’s just jewellery,” he mutters, a hint of defensiveness to his tone. 

“No, it’s not, and you know it.” 

He stares at the bag for a few moments then nods slowly in agreement; admittance to knowing exactly what you’re saying, what he said by buying the jewellery in the first place. “I’ll return it tomorrow.” 

“Thank you.” You relax a little, relieved that he’s agreed to return the gift.

“I didn’t mean to overstep or make things uncomfortable between us; I just wanted to do something nice for you,” he says, talking softer than you’ve heard him before. It makes it hurt even more; the honesty in his voice, the truth to the depths of his care for you. It needs to stop before it burrows deeper in either of you.

“Well, you shouldn’t. I’m just your hostage. We’re not friends, Wonwoo,” you say, in reminder, even if it hurts you as much to say it as it clearly hurts him to hear it. You can see it in his eyes. But you have to say it; to remind the both of you of the boundaries and moral obligations in place. The reasons why you can’t be anything more than how this all started. 

“Right, yeah, just my hostage,” he scoffs and looks at you, eyes harsh and jaw tense. “Maybe I should treat you that way, huh? It’d make things easier.”

“I think this is way past the point that you could treat me that badly, Wonwoo,” you point out. “You bought me diamonds; that clearly isn’t the type of thing a man capable of doing bad things to me would do.” 

“Would if I’m trying to get my way with you. Buy you pretty things to sweeten you up and make you crawl willingly into my bed,” he reasons and lets his gaze drag over you as if he’s making his point that it’s a very real possibility. Even if you both know that Wonwoo is not that kind of man, despite his status and how easy it would be to get his way with whatever woman he wants if he was cruel in that way.

“You could buy me all the pretty things in the world, and I wouldn’t do that,” you inform firmly.

“Don’t act like you haven’t checked me out; you’ve even said I’m attractive,” he reminds, letting his intense eyes lock with yours.

“And married; I’m not a homewrecker, Wonwoo,” you scoff. “If she wasn’t an issue, I think we both know things would be very different right now.” 

“Would you be wearing the necklace?” 

You hesitate before answering, not wanting to lie but knowing what you’re clearly admitting to otherwise and knowing that it’s not something you ever thought you’d say to a married man. Still, you do. You can’t help but be honest with Wonwoo about this; about the two of you. “Yeah, and not much else.” 

Don’t forget to reblog if you liked to help spread the story and let others read it too! And don't be shy to leave comments or send an ask so I can see your thoughts 🥺 💖

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[xomakara]

Between Loads | J.YH

SUMMARY | You hate doing laundry but maybe your next door neighbor, Yunho, can make it worth your time.

PAIRINGS |  Yunho x Reader 

RATING |  Mature, NSFW, EXPLICIT, MDNI, 18+, Any Minors and Ageless Blogs will be blocked

GENRE |  smut, pwp, romance, neighbors to lovers, fluff

CONTENT/WARNINGS | the 6th floor has creepy crawlies (but nothing really happens), profanity, flirting, teasing, unprotective sex (wrap it up ya'll), oral sex (both m/f receiving/giving), dirty talk, laundry jokes, just jokes all around, kissing, skin marking, skin biting, hair pulling, fingering, multiple positions, creampies, breeding/impregnation kink 

LENGTH |  7,004 words 

TAGLIST |  @aerangi   

NETWORKS |  @illusionnet  @cromernet  @othersideoutlawsnetwork  @winerys-collection  @cosyhomenet  @keopihaus  @ksmutsociety  @k-vanity 

AUTHOR’S NOTE | Thank you @pars-ley for the banner! I love it so much 💛💚 and thank you @lovetaroandtaemin and @heartikeu for beta-reading the beginning of the fic. And now she is completed! On another note, Yunho. Goddamn Yunho.

ATEEZ Main Masterlist

You hate doing laundry in this ever busy apartment building. Since it's late Saturday morning, all of the washers on the first floor have been preempted by people doing laundry to start their day. It'll take ages before a washing machine opens up, and you know that if you stick around, you're likely to have a load ruined from the little kids running about.

You wish management would provide folks with their own laundry hookups like they had with the dishwashers and stoves. Having one in your apartment would be heavenly. Instead, you have to head down several floors to the laundry room and then wait for God-only-knows how long for the damn machines to free up. The faster you could get in and out, the better off you would be.

"Maybe I'll go up to the sixth floor and use the laundry there?" you muse aloud as you pack away the rest of your clothes into your hamper. "But... Ugh, if it's not one thing, it's another!"

You normally avoid the sixth floor laundry room unless there are no machines available on the first, simply because you don't want the hassle of going into the hornets' nest. With the halls of the sixth floor filled with majority men for some odd reason, you want to avoid any harassment in the communal laundry room. You doubt very much whether they could keep their hands to themselves if you had no protection.

"Why must I face this annoyance?!" you yell as you storm down to the elevator with your basket. "It's a hassle, but, fine! Just this once! But, if they try to grab my butt or something, I'm punching someone! They better believe it!"

Armed with enough detergent and soap, you find the communal laundry room a touch more empty than your norm. With less folks around, maybe it will mean a quick load and not much trouble? The thought crosses your mind, but in reality, you know otherwise. 

"You're here too, Y/N?" Your next door neighbor, Yunho, pokes his head out of the open washer as you set the hamper down. "You're not usually here on the sixth floor."

"It's crowded and annoying downstairs," you state. "I don't usually come up here because of the jerks that are on this floor, but desperate times and all of that nonsense."

"Yeah, this floor is crawling with creeps," he agrees.

"I'd love having a washer and dryer set-up in my place. Then I could avoid places like this."

Yunho continues working on loading up his washer, though, you catch his sly glances as you begin sorting things into the next available washers. "Until then, let me know when you do laundry and I'll come up and wash. I promise to help deter the creepy-crawlies."

You can't help but laugh at his offer. "All right, fine. Thanks, I guess." You pushed the last of the clothes into your washer and slammed the lid down. "We'll see how it goes."

How many years have you known Yunho? How long did he live next door to you on the fourth floor? It's been a few years already... Maybe three? Maybe four? Enough that you feel you're used to seeing him, even with his incredibly handsome features, every now and again.

He is very easy on the eyes. Almost a bit too perfect. Tall, with a bright smile, nice arms, and toned thighs... what you would give to climb him like a tree and—

Nope!

No, stop, don't start thinking dirty. Bad Y/N. Bad, dirty brain. Stop perving on Yunho, now.

You glanced up at his bright smile, and turned back to the washing machines. Oh no. It was a sinfully sinful thing to imagine the many ways Yunho might kiss your neck, those hands pushing up your shirt and—

You have to shake your head before things get out of hand. This isn't the time or place to have these kinds of thoughts. The sooner your laundry is done, the sooner you can get back down to your own floor and hide your face behind the closed doors and take care of certain... urges that are beginning to surface.

But as you glance back up at Yunho, seeing him leaning over his own washer as he puts the last of his loads in, a heat pools in the pit of your belly. What you wouldn't do to have him fuck you over one of the washers or against the folding table in the middle of the room. Oh no, there was no mistaking how good and strong those arms would feel wrapped around you, thrusting inside you and whispering in your ear.

Bad... bad thoughts... You don't need this right now. No, you do not need the added strain of Yunho's visuals causing such fantasies. Nope, nope. Don't start, you're getting too worked up thinking about it, stop. You bite down on your lower lip, eyes staring a hole into the washer before you.

"Y/N? Everything all right?" Yunho leans over his washer and peers at you. "You seem distracted."

Oh, how sweet a distraction... If Yunho would shut his mouth, that might make things go easier, right? Shut the door, lock us both in here for hours, and let loose? "I'm fine," you blurt out, flinging a hand towards him. "Just hate waiting for laundry to do its job."

"Sounds like you need something else to take your mind off it. Porn always helps me get through chores faster."

A strange noise escapes your throat, something between a retch and a wheeze. Your entire face flushes darkly, and you rub your palms against your cheeks. "What?!"

"That was a joke," he chuckled.

"Don't say shit like that," you groan. "Especially in a public space. Like seriously, who knows when some other crazy neighbor will walk through those doors?"

"Yeah, no, good point." Yunho nods, and you can’t help but laugh along with him. "How long did you put in to wash those?"

"Just a medium load. So... Half an hour. Probably 35 minutes," you answer. "Then, another half an hour to dry. Can't get out too fast, else I might forget stuff."

Yunho hits a button on his washer and leans his hip against the top of it, making an audible clicking sound from his tongue. "Wanna go for a walk around while we wait? Might help take our minds off chores for a while. And it'll keep those jerkfaces down here from bugging you."

"Sure, why the hell not."

As you two wander the halls, you're somewhat surprised how not creepy everything is. Yunho is, like always, a pleasure to speak with as the two of you trade gossip, funny stories, and daily happenings. This time, however, you focus a bit too much on his lips moving, the curve of his smile, and the soft laugh that breaks the quiet air. Your mind flitters and keeps drifting back to thoughts of that moment, imagining how it would feel.

Fuck, his lips look soft.

That's it.

Yunho's lips are full and plush looking. Very soft. Probably the best kissing lips that a man could possess, even in such a harsh looking face. They practically beg to be devoured. The kind of lips you could easily imagine sliding against your body with ease, tasting each and every inch, and then engulfing you whole.

Fuck.

Even with Yunho talking animatedly, you can't pull your focus away. The urge to steal his lips in a kiss overcame you.

It can't hurt.

"Shit, I want to kiss you."

Or, it might hurt. A lot, in fact, considering Yunho's steps falter, and he almost face plants into the wall. He looks at you with wild, confused eyes. "What?!"

"Shit," you close your eyes and slap your mouth a few times, "shit shit shit, sorry. My stupid mouth. Ignore that." You swallow hard and turn to walk down the stairs, a shameful blush staining your face. "Yeah, just forget all about that. Me saying that. Yeah, good plan."

Yunho watches your hasty retreat, following after with a renewed lightness in his steps. "W-Wait. That's it?"

You reach the sixth floor landing, Yunho still trailing behind you as you head towards the communal laundry. "I am a dumb idiot that blurts things like that out without thinking. Forget I even said anything, please."

"Hey," he laughs as he takes hold of your wrist, stopping your stride to his laundry room, "you can't just say something like that and expect a man to completely forget it!"

"Yes. Yes I can," you assure him. "So, you will."

He laughs again as he follows after. "Absolutely not."

"Yunho, please." You pull out of his grasp and make your way back into the laundry room where only one person sits waiting at the folding table for their dryer to finish its cycle. "I just want to die in a hole. Or the void. Yeah, the void sounds great. I want nothing more than to leave this stupid galaxy and just fade into the vacuum of space."

"Why, though?" he asks.

You open up your washer and quickly begin taking items to toss them into the dryers. "Because... I just... Ugh. I mean." You groan and hide your face against the metal lid of a dryer. "Please, it's embarrassing enough that you had to witness and hear that, you really don't want to know why."

Yunho, not backing down from this new information, leans against his own washer, studying your flushed face. "Why, though?"

"Because..."

He seems to notice your hesitance. "Come on. I won't make fun of you."

You hang your head a moment, taking a breath and holding it as you wait to feel calm again. But, when you exhale, there’s no changing the facts. He isn’t letting it go. "Ugh, you're gonna laugh."

"Maybe. Maybe not." His gentle smile makes your heart skip a beat. "Try me."

You let out another long suffering sigh. "You've just... Always looked like you'd be really good at it. Kissing. And," you continue when he starts to chuckle, "you've always been so friendly and helpful. That, uh, it gets a girl's thoughts going... A-And... S-Sorry."

He bites back his laughter as best he can, cheeks pinkened with delight. "Don't apologize, not for something like this."

"Please," you turn around, your face burning in complete embarrassment.

Yunho notices that the two of you are the only ones remaining in the laundry room, save the lone lady reading. A risky play, but perhaps there isn't any better of an option. As the woman's dryer buzzes, she gathers her things, leaving the room without hardly noticing either of you. The risk is certainly real.

"You still wanna kiss me?" Yunho's grin turns down right mischievous. "Because I gotta say... Now you've got me kinda curious, too."

You stare at him blankly. "Seriously?"

"C'mon." His voice is low and raspy, turning your legs to jelly as he approaches and takes hold of your elbows. "Nobody's around. Give it a shot. Just once."

Fuck he smells amazing. Is that aftershave? You don't know. You can't tell what scent it is, but you don't want to leave the safe cocoon his arms provide.

"J-Just once," you mumble, feeling yourself sinking into his body.

"Just once," he murmurs.

Yunho's thumb glides along your cheek before his fingers run over the shell of your ear and his palm rests gently on your jawline. He shifts and ducks slightly, his eyes drifting closed as the world fades to just you and him.

Warm, gentle lips meet, yours and your heart begins to thunder violently. Slowly, tenderly, his fingers curl around your jaw, encouraging you to follow his lead, coaxing a pleased noise to slip free. The rush of warm desire floods you, and the desire to melt against his solid frame nearly consumes you whole.

Just a simple press of lips, a taste, and just a hint of tongue that nearly drives you mad, and it leaves you wanting nothing more than more. All the build up and heat culminates into a blazing fire that courses through you.

The heavy breathing, the ragged needy moans that spilled free—did they come from your mouth or his? Did they matter, really? This wasn't enough. You wanted more, even as his teeth scraped across your lower lip, his touch and kiss sending you further into oblivion.

Until the buzz of the dryer brings you crashing back to the real world.

Both of you draw back, lips barely touching as the loud buzz of the machine interrupts your world. A sluggish, sheepish laugh is shared as you part, moving to the machines. Yunho drops down onto a chair with a smirk still tinged with a deep crimson across his cheeks as you fold clothes, still working out the embarrassment and slight afterglow you experienced.

"So?" He asks softly as he hands off folded items to you. "Thoughts?"

"Need a few more tries to confirm," you answer just as softly. "You know, so I can give an accurate review."

He laughs, taking his own clothes out of the dryer to fold. "Wouldn't want a biased opinion now."

"Mmhm, exactly."

After finishing folding up the clothing, the two of you make your way back upstairs to your shared floor, teasing and poking, giving and stealing lingering, awkward glances along the way.

It isn't until you parted ways with an airy promise for another "chore" session together that a revelation dawned upon you.

It would be so very easy to fall completely in love with Jeong Yunho.

Yunho stayed true to his words to accompany you in the laundry room on the sixth floor, sneaking in kisses each time, leaving you wanting so much more each time. It was a fun, little secret shared just between you two. And then, eventually, it bled into other things. Like going on dates, a shared couch cuddle and a good movie, maybe an evening of food delivery, stolen glances, and hand holding. You met his friends, he met your friends, more dates came afterward, and then he became your boyfriend.

Yunho managed to convince the building's management to let him get a washer and dryer combination inside the apartment instead of having to trudge a bunch of floors down or up to the laundromat. What a plus. Now, not only could you easily wash a load or two, but you and Yunho could easily watch movies while you waited for everything to wash, dry, and fold.

You were sitting in your apartment one night after putting your clean clothes away, when a knock sounded on your door. You padded over and cracked it open, Yunho looking back at you from the doorway with an impish smirk.

"I think some of your clothes got mixed in with mine," he says, raising one of your lacy panties up as if to display it. "Looks like a pretty important thing for you to get back."

"My, my, Yunho. You sure you didn't just stuff it into your own hamper to bring over under the pretense of 'oopsies' and 'drats, how did these get mixed in?'"

He laughs and shoulders his way into your apartment, the front door shutting behind him with a kick of a foot. "Geez, you got me figured out! Don't expose me!"

Your shared laughter fills your tiny apartment as he picks you up and tosses you on your own bed, a huge goofy grin on his face.

"By all means, please steal away my panties if you wish."

"Oh? Should I get the matching bra too? Make it a matching set?"

"A truly insidious master plot!" You laugh. "What else do you plan to get while you're in my place?"

Yunho steals a sweet kiss and shrugs. "Figured a few kisses would make me feel better, and maybe borrow a girl in lacy undergarments?" He nibbles a bit on your throat. "Only if she doesn't mind."

"Hmm, fine, I guess you can steal away the goods," you murmur, tracing over his lips. "But, you know, the price of a kiss like that is really high. Might even need a couple."

"Are we bartering kisses for your lovely underwear?"

"Yes."

"Then, let's see."

The two of you hold one another, laughing in between long, drawn out kisses. Each kiss grows longer, deeper, and sweeter than the last, and soon, a hot need for something more than innocent kisses begins to consume you. Yunho's touches are soft, tender, and all-consuming, a strange mix of heady lust and gentle caresses that send a rush of adrenaline into your heart. You slip your hands under the bottom hem of his shirt, pushing it up to feel his heated flesh under the tips of your fingers. His back, his broad chest, the muscles under his skin, you want nothing more than to explore every single inch of him.

"Your kisses have gotten very... demanding... lately." Yunho's chest vibrates with his laugh.

"Oh?"

He nips your shoulder, dragging his lips along your flesh. "You keep kissing and kissing and then you bite and suck on my lips, like you don't plan to give me a chance to breathe again."

"Hmm. You don't seem to dislike it, do you?" Your fingers begin unbuttoning his shirt, fingertips scraping against his skin with a delightful friction.

"Absolutely not," his laugh is soft and husky, sending your heart into overdrive and leaving the world behind as his mouth begins mapping every single inch of your exposed skin. "But," he stops long enough to tear his shirt free from his shoulders and fling it aside, "it's awfully greedy of you."

You snort a giggle. "M-Maybe. But," you suck in a shaky breath as he licks up the side of your throat, "I'm not hearing complaints!"

"Not complaining at all." His hand fans out on your thigh, stroking upward, leaving an excited trail of heat wherever he touches, causing you to let out a heady gasp. He laughs breathily against your skin, "Only that," he hooks his thumb around the waistband of your shorts and tugs lightly, "I'm very happy that my girlfriend," the buttons were freed, zipper and all, "enjoys," he presses kisses against your thighs, "a man who puts a little bite into her kisses."

Yunho slips your shorts from your legs, tossing them onto the floor with a growing pile of clothes. When you both laugh at the realization that you were nearly naked, leaving only a lace bralette and matching panties, he can't help but bite your thigh. His tongue laps at the faint red spot, and he grins up at you. "Looks really pretty on you."

"Pretty, hmm?"

"It's definitely something a beautiful girl like you wears and a man like me wants to take off her." Yunho runs a finger up and along the underside of your bare leg, tracing along your shape, the pressure causing your entire body to twitch. "Unless the gorgeous lady says I can't take it off..."

"It means more laundry for me," you giggle.

He hums and gently kisses your knees. "True... But then... I wouldn't mind doing your laundry with mine next time, would that be acceptable?"

"Hmm, I dunno..." you pull his head down towards yours and nuzzle his nose, "what would my hot neighbor slash boyfriend want as payment for doing my laundry?"

"Mmmm," he nibbles at the plumpness of your lips and chases your breathless laughter, "you." He bends lower and kisses the swell of your breasts as he whispers, "All of you."

The sound that rips from your lungs is deep, and wanting, and more than pleased with his words. "Keep talking like that," you laugh against the crook of his neck. "Because I might actually fucking marry you."

His full body laugh causes the mattress to sink and move. "I didn't realize marriage was on your mind. Is that the way to your heart?"

"Oh fuck yeah. Completely. Marry me, we'll have four dogs, and three kids."

"Just like that?"

"Sure, fuck why not."

There's another bright peal of laughter from him as he sinks down on top of your naked flesh. "Shall we call the preacher before or after you give me my next kiss?"

"Dirty, filthy proposal. You're despicable." You groan and thread your fingers through his hair.

"Can't believe you'd consider marrying a guy who has only kissed you in laundry rooms," he murmurs in between long, dizzying kisses. "What is the world coming to?"

You let out a small laugh. "Yeah, it's awful, isn't it?"

"Jokes aside..." Yunho kisses his way down your throat, your chest, across your ribcage, and against the skin under your breasts, his words sending shivers up your spine, "Would you want to have dinner, spend more time together outside of the laundry rooms? Maybe go on dates?"

Your arms wind tighter around him, and your laugh is sharp. "Mmm, y'know what?" Your palm gently runs across his forehead, brushing away his messy bangs as you catch a hold of his full attention. "I'd like that. A lot, actually."

"Yeah?" The smile on Yunho's face grows wide and radiant.

"Yeah," you laugh, "and now I want you to show me how talented you really are with those lips."

He hums happily, the sound rumbling against you. "And what exactly shall my gorgeous neighbor ask of me in that area? Keep it civil."

"How about..." you muse quietly, tugging your bra down a bit to expose a hard nub of a nipple to the air of the room, "how about a kiss here."

"This isn't very civil." Yunho's nose runs over the upper portion of the breast. "But if the lady asks..."

"Mmmm, and one right here..." You drag the hem of your panties a bit lower on your hip. "A kiss."

Yunho, understanding where your game is headed, playfully takes the lacy hem in his teeth, dragging it down to expose a tuft of trimmed pubic hair before releasing it and resting his cheek on your bare thigh. "Where does my demanding little neighbor slash girlfriend want kisses now?"

"Hm..." you tap your chin and point downwards at a spot that he finds to be utterly delectable and beautiful. "I can think of one other spot for a kiss."

"Yeah?" His breath whispers across sensitive skin, tickling and sending you spiraling into heady excitement.

"Y-yeah..." your words are barely a whisper. "Gotta say... Kinda looking forward to it."

"Happy to indulge you."

And as Yunho drags the rest of your panties free from your legs, his mouth begins a thorough worship and appreciation of the most intimate area of your body. The squeals and gasps he could wring out of you, your hands clenching his hair and the sound of his name falls from your lips with abandon spurs him on until there is nothing left in his head but pure desire to hear you cum and cry out for him.

Out of all the men that ate you out in the past, none comes close to the skills of Jeong Yunho. The others were rough, amateur, quick and wanting. Yunho took his time, savored every reaction and gasp that came. There is no need or urgency or even demand in his motions. Every touch, flick, lick, kiss, and stroke of his tongue are in total control.

Your thighs clamps against Yunho's head, holding him there, begging him to never stop with soft pleads of 'don't you dare fucking stop.' He chuckles as he gently grasps your wrists, encouraging your hands to hold on tight to his head. And when his long fingers joins in, pressing into every spot that sends an electric pulse running up and down your nerves, there was little doubt that the world stopped spinning and nothing existed but him.

Lips, tongue, and two fingers dance across your center, plunging and withdrawing until everything begins to blur into one continuous pleasure. Before long, there is nothing to stop the moans and keening wails from escaping into the quiet evening as the rush of climax exploded into ecstasy and absolute joy.

Through it all, Yunho remains between your legs, happily drinking everything you gave.

"You," you manage after the rush and joy, your voice hoarse and raw, "have one hell of a tongue on you. I mean, I already knew it was talented," his shoulders move with soft laughter, "but fuck, I could've used you a long ass time ago."

Yunho emerged between your legs, a silly smirk dancing on his lips. "Good to know I can be of some service to my demanding girlfriend. Need a breather? Or more?"

You laugh, pulling his face up so that you can reach his lips, relishing in the taste of his tongue and your pleasure mixed on them, "Oh, definitely more but I can wait after dinner."

Yunho chuckles at this. "I'm kind of regretting the order this happened, because now I'm too curious to take a raincheck for dinner and just jump straight to dessert."

"You say this as though you weren't just finishing devouring me whole, just a minute ago?" You run a fingertip along his lips. "I wouldn't have any complaints whatsoever. Besides," you move and kiss his throat, licking and nibbling a line up along the soft skin and under his jaw, "I'm looking forward to returning the favor."

He sighs softly at this and hums in thought. "You," he laughs and kisses your sweaty brow, "you know what? Dinner can wait. After."

"Yes, after," you giggle softly as you crawl down his body, eagerly unfastening his belt and pants, and helping him tug the rest of his remaining clothes free. Your lips trail up his knee, along his inner thigh, and then across the other to do the same. "Dinner can wait. Dessert, on the other hand..." You glance up at him and catch a glimpse of his fully erect cock. "Can not."

Fuck, he's big. And you will savor every damn inch of him.

Yunho settles back, propped up slightly by pillows, his fingers combing your hair idly out of your face. "Have at it, my lovely, greedy little neighbor." There was another sharp, surprised gasp from you, accompanied by a laugh, and a groan of 'you did not just call me that'. To which he responds with a soft laugh, "Okay, my little girlfriend."

Your jaw tingles and you shiver at the way his title rolled off of his tongue. "That one works a lot better," you giggle, your teeth scraping along his length, the muscles on his legs jumping.

A rush of heady lustful pride floods your system and you shiver, eager and greedy and hungry for what Yunho would have to offer you. As your mouth wraps around him, his head falls back and his mouth opens with a soft sigh. His fingers didn't stray from your hair and he helps push it back off your face to watch in rapt wonder. You felt your body flush hotter and hotter, a thrill coursing through your core as your gaze met his.

God he's fucking perfect.

Your hand cup his balls gently, rolling them tenderly and watching the way he sucks his bottom lip inwards, the softest whine in the back of his throat. You lick along the length, tasting and testing and relishing in the feeling. The hard length and gentle flesh in your hands, the warmth of his body, it was everything.

When his hips begin jerking and bucking a little, you allow your throat to relax. Yunho watch in quiet fascination and pleasure. "You'll tell me if it's too much, yeah?"

"I got this," you smile and hold his erection still while taking him completely into the recesses of your mouth. Your tongue laps along his girth, tracing the thick vein on his underside, tracing it, flicking, and pressing with each inch. Yunho's breathing hitches sharply, a low rasping groan leaving his throat as his eyes nearly roll into the back of his head.

"Enjoying yourself?" you ask, not entirely expecting an answer.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" Yunho laughs, voice husky and spent and rough.

"Oh, I'm fucking living my dreams," you hum, bending over once again. "I could go all night."

Yunho laughs at your enthusiasm, and you continue lavishing him, wet and warm and insatiable in your hunger. Long fingers in your hair, the heavy weight of his length, the scent, and taste of his own sweat, your desire and want for him never burned so brightly in your veins. It didn't matter that your jaw began aching, that your thighs and core ache for his touch. You couldn't stop, you wouldn't.

A breathless "close" warns you and you take him deeper into the warm cavern of your mouth. Your body responds hotly, growing so moist with longing and heady excitement, and an eager ache. The next series of soft, sloppy noises you pull out of him only brought you closer and closer to orgasm. He tense, his length grew harder, thicker in your mouth. You held fast, welcoming the sticky cum splashing over your tongue and coating the back of your throat.

Slowly, you lift your head up and meet his gaze. Carefully, you swallow, knowing how he tasted and how your body was absolutely aching for his. With a smile you slowly crawl upwards. "So?" you ask breathlessly. "Good review?"

"Four. Fucking. Stars."

"Ooh, nice. Would you recommend?"

"Hell fucking yes I'd recommend that mouth. Sign me the fuck up, yes," he let out another breathy laugh and kiss your chest, "fuck yes. Over, and over, and over again. It's fucking gold, baby."

"Excellent," you giggle and cup his face in your palms. "Wanna recommend other things now? I got an appointment that's open and willing and totally empty if you wanna recommend."

Yunho's arms wound around your waist and flip you onto your back with another sweet kiss. "Wish granted, babe."

The months that followed, and the time spent, left nothing to chance. By the end of it all, the laundry was more than folded, there were a lot of meals cooked between both apartments, movies had been seen and many, many dates were had. You wouldn't have had it any other way.

Your hands reach around Yunho, wrapping your arms across his torso and clinging to him tightly. "So... I was thinking."

"Yeah?" He stops folding his clothes long enough to pay full attention to you. "You thinkin' a lot lately."

"Yunho,” you pout.

"Y/N," he places his shirt aside and fully turns his full attention to you. "Go ahead and tell me."

"Is moving in with you... is it something we could consider doing, together? Like... officially?"

"Officially? As in..."

You make a sweeping gesture around the two of your places. "As in the apartment."

His laughter rings in your ears and soon his body is holding yours in a tight embrace. "Ah, we should totally move in together."

"It doesn't have to be your place, but—"

Yunho silences your rambling by kissing you. When his lips part from yours, a brilliant and beautiful smile graces his features. "Baby, we can get a bigger place. Or better yet, our own house." He kisses your forehead. "With our own laundry room, and kitchen, and, yes, three kids, four dogs, and..." Yunho squeezes you tighter in his arms, "a husband. How does that sound?"

A laugh, shaky and bursting at the seams and filled with absolute joy broke the quiet hum of the laundry machines. "Are we back to joking about the marriage thing?"

"If this isn't the woman I'm gonna marry one day, then I don't know who else could top her," his hands cup your face, fingers tickling through your hair. "Let's keep folding our laundry together. One load at a time."

"Stoooop, you are just too cute, I can't," you reply.

His thumb brushes along your cheek and then across your mouth. "For real though, let's look for a bigger place and really settle down. Maybe start with a pet first."

You sigh softly in agreement and stand on tiptoes to kiss the tall man. "Definitely. Totally." Your heart thud and sings at his promise for the future. "And, not that the sex isn't super, mind blowing, incredible. But…if you actually end up being my husband, then... We. Will. So. Break. This. Thing." You lightly slap the washing machine.

"We can start breaking it now, you know," he lifts you onto the counter and nestles between your thighs, "After all, if we are moving out together, might as well christen the appliances that helped us meet and fall in love."

"Seriously?" you question.

"Very, seriously,"he answers with a laugh.

Your hands snake through his hair and you draw his lips close to yours, sighing softly against his lips before speaking. "Are we done with laundry? I feel like we should be done."

"Oh baby, we haven't even gotten started," his words tickles your mouth with every syllable and leaves the hairs of your skin standing on end. "We're in between loads for now."

"Then I propose," your thighs wrap tighter against him, "we start another load now."

"Oh really?" His hand teases up the inside of your knee, lingering close to the hem of your skirt and then climbing upwards, exposing your skin a little further with each soft touch.

"F-for real," you groan softly, your fingers clutching the fabric of his shirt.

He huffs and cups your cheek as his mouth assaults your sensitive neck. "Like last time?"

"Y-yes. Exactly. Just like last time. But this time you don't need to pull out," your thighs twitchs and press together, trapping Yunho's teasing fingers in their hold. "Give me your whole load, Jeong Yunho."

The loud, amused laughter that shakes through him was enough to send shivers up and down your spine and pool hotly between your legs. "If the lady says she's ready for my load, then the man will do his damndest to fulfill his responsibility to provide said load. Again, and again, and again." His fingers slip down the front of your panties, playing in the soft curls and gliding along your wet center. "Gonna give your hole the biggest load, baby."

"Right here on the counter?" you gasp out with a laugh.

"As much as I love fucking you on the counter," Yunho chuckles softly, removing his hands and picking you up off and from the counter and carrying you off towards his room, "it'll be more comfortable in the bedroom. No spills that way."

"How responsible," you manage as the cold air hits your thighs when he sits you on the edge of his bed.

"Just doing my civic duty," he wiggles his eyebrows.

Your chest rumbles with giggles as you lay back against the plush blankets, watching as he comes crawling after you. His lips and warm, tingling kisses return in full force to cover the expanse of bare skin revealed by his gentle tugging. When all was bare, your thighs wound around him and drew him closer to you.

Yunho chuckles and peppers soft, butterfly kisses across your abdomen, hands smoothing along your sides. "Don't worry, babe," he whispers huskily into your belly, sending a pulse of need running straight up through your body and nestling in your core, "I'll make sure that the next time, and the next time... And the time after, and the next..." His head trails lower, his lips following a slow, arduous path. "And every time after that... Our load is properly taken care of and completed."

You hum a small laugh and quip playfully, "Damn, is there a fine for unfinished loads?"

"You bet there is, and it'll come with a series of hickeys, and bruises," he answers.

"I'll take my chances then," you sigh, the tone teasing, but also bracing and ready. "Charge me up, baby."

His answering laughter was equal parts adorably sexy and oh so arousing.

Fuck, did you want this, right here and right now. To be filled and consumed and dominated by the very man who own you already, body and soul.

A soft, breathy cry escapes your lips when the full weight of him presses down. Your mouths meet, open and hungry and utterly wanting, teeth scraping gently on sensitive lips. Your back arches up when his fingers dance and toys with you, dipping between folds and sinking deeper and deeper still, and when he replaces the fingers with himself, there is a short moment where all sensation halts before a loud, gasping whine passes your lips.

His words, dirty, sweet, hot, loving, all reverberate through you, intoxicating you to the core. "Fuck..." You let out a long, ragged groan. "Fuck, Yunho."

A sweet, beautiful smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, eyes half-close and fully lost in ecstasy and passion as his pace gradually begins increasing in urgency and need and desire. "There's my sweetheart. That's my girl. Fuck... just like that..." The breathless moans spill, pushing you faster and faster toward climax. "That's my girl."

Arms wrap around his broad shoulders, your nails score down his back, his hips surging faster, burying him deeper, until all thoughts left your brain and all that remains was his touch, his body. You were alive, the world was alive, everything exists, breaths, pulsates in rhythm with him and your blood sings with the feeling. You are his and he is yours.

Forever.

He meets your lips again, swallowing the breathless whines and whimpers, before kissing your throat and along your clavicle. He pauses his thrusts momentarily, pulling out of you only to flip you onto your belly and urging your ass up into the air.

When his heat covers you once more, his fingers clawing at your hip to pull you even closer, and you bury your face into his sheets to cry out against them. "Fuck," you sob quietly, "ohhh, Yunho. Harder." You need him, everything, the unrelenting passion and unyielding love and comfort that surrounds you. "Oh my god."

He breaths another shaky breath into your neck. "Almost there." His tone is hot, sharp, ragged against the skin. "Got some of this load for ya. Not even halfway through the night. Hold on tight, baby." His voice comes as a rough command that sets your body on fire. "Gonna fuck this hole the rest of the night, just wait."

"Shit," was the only breathy, shaking sigh that you could form. "Oh my god."

Laughter bounced out of him, vibrating through you, bringing another bout of squeals. "Good fucking girl," he praises softly. "Fuck, baby. Such a good girl." He peppers soft, gentle kisses along the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent and letting out a long, deep moan. "You want every drop, sweetheart? Want every single load? Is that right?"

"Mm," your reply was short, sharp, and needy. "Every single drop, fuck."

Yunho drags your hips upwards, angling and pressing the blunt tip of him against the silken recess of your womb, urging himself forward to the hilt as his words fill your brain. "Fill you. Give you the biggest load you've ever dreamed about. Everything you want."

"Everything?"

"All the loads you need," Yunho continue, "hmm? Yes?"

"Everything, fuck,” your shoulders tremble, the sheer ecstasy that passes with his words bringing you to the edge of climax. "Please, everything."

"Good fucking girl," Yunho's grin and hoarse laugh leave you desperate, needy and wanton.

With one final push he has you seeing stars and exploding into orgasm. In the dizzying and wondrous pleasure-filled moment, he buries his face in your neck, shuddering against you, holding you impossibly closer still. His name echoes over and over, barely registering and it was all you could do but sink against the pillows, heaving for breath, unable and unwilling to move.

Eventually, he shifts off and rolls, a heavy, sweaty arm drapes over you and pulls you close. Neither of you said anything, simply staring at one another, breathing slowly and calming the pounding in each others' chests and heads. His gaze rakes slowly over your exposed form, watching the steady rise and fall of your chest, and finally resting against your eyes, so bright with contentment.

"I still got more in the tank," his thumb and forefinger pinches your chin gently between them. "So just to be safe, we shouldn't miss out on this opportunity."

You snort with laughter and hide your flushed face behind the pillows. "I hope we're moving in soon so there can be room for more clothes. Or better yet, storage space for our 'dirty loads'." You give another hoarse, rattling laugh. "Give me five minutes before you bring out another load."

"Tsk tsk tsk," Yunho playfully chides you, holding your hips gently and guiding your face towards his. He bends over to steal a kiss. "We are nowhere near finishing."

"Your tank doesn't ever run dry, does it?" you laugh softly.

"You are going to break this machine one day," came his mumbled retort but the sparkle of his smile said everything you needed to know.

"This machine better not break," you poke at his dick for emphasis before pushing him unto his back, "or there will be hell to pay, Jeong Yunho." You couldn't quite help the laugh in your throat, and the need that still flared inside.

"Remember, this is a delicate and rare machine. Handling is important,” he retorts with an eyeroll, a smile on his lips.

"How delicate and how rare?" Your laughter erupts, causing him to smile even brighter.

"Rare and delicate. And belongs to one specific and important person in my life," Yunho shrugs nonchalantly. "Sooo, handle me with extra care, babe."

"Dually noted and observed," you promise and reach to slide yourself home.

Fuck, you’re a wreck for him.

And, honestly... You were okay with that.

If his promises came with a load or two more, then all the fucking better for it.

[shadowkoo]

Oh, Baby!

→ Summary: Your brother has finally come around to the fact that you’re in a “serious” relationship with his best friend. However, that doesn’t stop Jungkook from testing his limits…

↠ jungkook x f.reader | 4.1k words | 18+ ↠ genre: smut, brother’s best friend, post-college au, vegas wedding au

→ Warnings: explicit & unprotected sex, fucking in a tiny airplane bathroom, fucking in a pool, getting fingered in an elevator, getting caught by your brother a lotttt, teasing, dirty talk, needy!jungkook, drunk sex, alcohol consumption, hangover symptoms, multiple orgasms, multiple sex scenes, exhibitionism

→ Networks: @ksmutsociety @k-vanity @keopihaus @studiosev7n @lapydiaries @bangtanwritershq @cosyhomenet

→ Author Note: the long-awaited second part to Oh, Brother! I hope you all love it as much as I do! Check out all of the installments of The Oh! Chronicles series here! If you want a teaser/spoiler for part three, you should join my personal discord server (I’ll be sharing a snippet soon!) As always, all likes, reblogs, and comments are much appreciated!

The bathroom door opens suddenly, and a pissed-off-looking Jaemin is standing there. His eyes drift to you sitting on the bathroom sink with your dress hiked up, then to Jungkook, standing in between your open, exposed legs, with his jeans loosened around his waist.

Jaemin’s face flushes crimson, the fury unmistakable as his eyes lock onto the scene unfolding before him. His fists clench at his sides, every muscle in his body tensing with barely contained rage.

Across from him, Jungkook lets out a nervous laugh, the tension crackling in the air around them.

“Oh, brother….”

𝑶𝒏𝒆 𝒚𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒓…

Jungkook taps incessantly on your shoulder, not stopping until you switch your attention from the view from the small window to him and take out your airpods.

“God, this flight feels like it’s never going to end. How much longer?” Jungkook whines, shifting in the seat next to you.

“We only have an hour left. Suck it up,” you reply, popping your airpods back in and restarting your music.

He gives you that classic puppy-dog face he always uses when he’s not getting enough of your attention.

You sigh, taking them out again. “What?” you ask, raising an eyebrow when he still says nothing. Before he can answer you, the overhead speaker crackles to life as the flight attendant makes an announcement.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we will begin our descent into Las Vegas shortly. Please make any final trips to the lavatories before returning to your seats, fasten your seatbelts, raise your tray tables, and ensure your seat backs are in the upright and locked positions.”

You're headed to Vegas for a post–college graduation celebration for Jaemin, Jungkook, and Jaehyun. It was originally supposed to be a guys’ trip until they found out you were coming. Then, suddenly, everyone invited their girlfriends. You didn’t mind, though. Honestly, you only wanted to come because you didn’t trust Jaemin and Jungkook not to get into another fight.

Jungkook had been unbelievably sweet the first time, he took everything from Jaemin without throwing a single punch back. He knew it was against the bro code to date you, sleep with you, or even think about you. You were so off-limits, yet he couldn’t resist you.

Once Jaemin finally cooled off, he and Jungkook talked things out after a month of silence. Since then, things have been smooth for the most part. Just a couple of minor arguments over dumb stuff, like best friends tend to have.

Still, you can’t shake the feeling that this trip has disaster written all over it. That’s why you were so dead-set on coming along. Jungkook caved first; he’s never been good at saying no to you. Jaemin agreed the next day, realizing that if Jungkook was bringing a girl, then he had an excuse to invite Kira, the girl he’s secretly in love with. And not wanting to be the odd one out, Jaehyun decided to invite his not-so-sneaky link along too.

“Will you come to the bathroom with me?” Jungkook asks, already rising from his seat, clearly expecting you to follow without question.

You blink at him. “What for?”

He doesn’t bother answering, and instead throws a look over his shoulder that makes your stomach flip.

With a sigh, you unbuckle and trail after him toward the back of the plane. He stops outside the lavatory and taps the door, eyes then noticing the small green indicator light that reads Vacant.

Glancing around to make sure no one’s watching, he quickly opens the door and ushers you inside. He slips in after you, locking the door behind him.

You’re immediately squished together, your back nearly hitting the tiny sink.

“What are you doing?” you whisper, annoyed and slightly breathless. “Both of us can’t fit in here.”

“I need you,” he murmurs, eyes dark and intense.

“Now?” you hiss. “You couldn’t wait until we’re in the luxurious king-sized bed that’s waiting for us?”

He leans in, brushing his lips along your neck. “I always need you,” he breathes. “I always want you. I always crave you.”

He presses hot, desperate kisses into your skin, moaning like he’s been touch-starved for days as your fingers tangle in his hair. His breath stutters against your neck when you tug just a little, pulling him closer.

“C’mon,” he murmurs, lips brushing your ear. “Don’t you want to join the Mile High Club? Now’s the perfect chance…”

His hands drift lower, fingers teasing the waistband of your sweatpants with maddening slowness.

You roll your eyes, breath hitching. “And what if we get caught? Then we’re joining the No-Fly List instead.”

But before you can talk yourself out of it, his fingers dip between your thighs, and your argument dies in your throat.

Your back hits the mirror as he kisses you hungrily, all lips and tongue. The cramped space is forgotten the second he slips two fingers inside you, teasing you with shallow thrusts and curling them to hit your sweet spot.

“Jungkook,” you mewl, clutching his shirt to pull him closer, needing more.

“Tell me what you want, baby,” he murmurs against your lips, his fingers now circling your clit, taunting you for what’s to come.

“Please fuck me,” you breathe, eyes glazed. You're already too far gone to care about consequences.

That’s all it takes. In one swift movement, he yanks your pants down, followed by his own. Wasting no time, he buries his thick cock deep inside you.

You bite your lip to keep from crying out as he starts to move, fast and rough, rocking into you over and over. Thank god you’re in the air, where the engines are loud and the small bumps of turbulence cover up any noises coming from the small space you two occupy.

“Oh my god,” you gasp, as he adjusts his hips to a new angle that has you on the verge of coming undone.

Jungkook is mid-thrust when someone starts aggressively knocking on the door.

Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang.

You freeze. He doesn’t.

“Ignore them, baby,” he growls into your ear, voice thick with lust. “I can’t stop now. Not until I come in this sweet little cunt of yours.”

His pace doesn’t falter as he speaks, hips slamming into yours.

“Fuck, I’m so hard for you. You’re dripping for me, so tight and so perfect. You hear that?” he grunts as he bottoms out again. “That wet little pussy’s begging for it. You’re such a cock-hungry slut, look at you.”

You moan, vision blurring, every filthy word driving you closer to the edge.

“I can feel you gripping me,” he pants. “You gonna come, baby? You want me to make you come all over my cock?”

You nod frantically, unable to form words. Everything in you is coiled tight, seconds from unraveling.

Your body arches against him as waves of pleasure crash through you, every nerve lit up, every muscle trembling. You clamp around him, moaning his name as your orgasm rips through you.

Jungkook doesn’t stop. He groans against your neck, fucking you through the aftershocks, his pace stuttering as he loses control.

“Fuck–” he chokes out, hips jerking as he buries himself deep one last time. His release shoots into you in hot, pulsing streaks, his whole body tensing as he moans your name one last time.

When it’s finally over, you gather yourself with a flushed face and shaky hands. Jungkook presses one last kiss to your temple before using some toilet paper to wipe his come that’s leaking out of you. You both try to straighten your clothes in the tiny mirror before unlocking the door to escape.

After opening the door, you’re met by the impatient glare of a teenage girl.

“I’m so sorry,” you mumble, sliding past her quickly. And then your heart drops.

Standing directly behind her, arms crossed and jaw tight, is your brother.

Jaemin stares at you both for a beat, his expression unreadable. Then he mutters, “God, you two act like newlyweds—fucking everywhere all the time.”

You can practically feel Jungkook smirk beside you. Cheeks burning, you drag him back to your aisle before he says something that would escalate the ordeal.

Turning your head back around once seated, you make eye contact with your brother who’s face looks just as pissed off. Like he’s silently calculating whether joining the mile-high version of Fight Club would be worth the federal charges.

The first few nights in Vegas were a blur of flashing lights and endless drinks. You danced until your feet ached and woke up with memories that felt like a dream. Last night was a well-needed break. The group opted for a low-key evening, which involved a quick dinner, a few drinks by the resort pool, and an early night to recharge.

Today, you’re still taking it easy. Lounging in the private pool that wraps around your suite, a hidden oasis high above the Vegas strip. The sun is warm on your skin, the water cool against your lower half as you lean on the edge and take in the view.

You close your eyes, breathing in the stillness, until the balcony door slides open.

“Where is everyone? All the rooms are empty.” Jungkook asks as he steps out, towel slung around his neck, sweat still clinging to his post-gym glow.

You tilt your head toward him without opening your eyes, resting your head on your arms. “Jaemin and Kira went to brunch earlier. And Jaehyun’s taking Sophia shopping as a way to make up for flirting with the hostess last night.”

He chuckles, stripping out of his gym clothes and easing into the water beside you.

“I told everyone we’d meet in the lobby at 10. DJ Johnny doesn’t go on until 11, so we’ve got plenty of time to get to the club.”

He hums in agreement, arms sliding around your waist as he pulls you close. For a moment, the two of you just float there in silence, the city stretching below and the desert sun catching the water in shimmering flecks.

“You look happy,” he says softly, his eyes scanning your face.

“I am happy,” you reply, smiling up at him.

He kisses you lightly at first. It’s sweet and unhurried, like he’s savoring this moment with you. But then it shifts. His lips grow firmer, more insistent. The hand on your waist slides lower, fingers pressing into your hip as his tongue parts your lips. The kiss deepens, turning molten. Your body responds instantly, pressing into him as heat begins to build beneath the surface of your skin.

His mouth trails down your neck as he pushes you gently against the pool’s edge. The water laps around you as his hands roam, exploring you, teasing you beneath the surface. You gasp when his fingers find their way between your thighs, and he smirks against your skin.

“Think you can handle me? I’m fully recharged and overflowing with energy,” you tease with a grin.

“You know the gym doesn’t drain me. If anything, it just pumps me up,” he murmurs, voice low and full of promise as he presses his hard length against you. “Think you can handle me?”

You chuckle, wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling him in for another kiss. He pulls the material of your bathing suit bottoms to the side before thrusting into you, the water adding a slow, gliding rhythm to every thrust. The city sparkles behind him, but you can’t take your eyes off his face.

“I love you,” you moan, breathless, pulling his face back to yours for another scorching kiss. Your lips crash together, tongues tangling, bodies clinging beneath the water like you’re trying to melt into each other.

“Let me show you how much I love you,” Jungkook growls against your mouth.

He grips your waist, lifting you just enough to slip out of you, only to slam back in, hard and deep. The water ripples violently around you as your hips meet with perfect timing repeatedly. You toss your head back with a gasp, eyes fluttering shut.

A low groan escapes him as he watches you come undone. One hand braces behind your back, the other reaches up to tug at the strings tied behind your neck. With a practiced flick, your bikini top slips loose and floats off beside you, forgotten.

His eyes darken as he stares at your bare chest, his mouth instantly descending to taste you. Jungkook leaves hot, wet kisses trailing over sensitive skin as he sucks a nipple between his lips.

You're lost in it, lost in him, until a familiar voice breaks your spell.

“Oh, shit,” Jaemin curses, immediately turning away, hand thrown up to shield his eyes. “What the fuck, you guys? Seriously?!”

You shriek, instinctively trying to cover yourself, but Jungkook barely flinches, holding you firmly against him, knowing that his broad shoulders hide you from your brother’s view.

From inside the suite, Kira peeks out, drawn by Jaemin’s raised voice. Her eyes widen the second she takes in the scene of you straddling Jungkook in the pool, easily able to figure out what you guys are up to.

Moving quickly to Jaemin’s arm with both hands. “Let’s go,” she says brightly, dragging him back toward the suite. “Give them some privacy.”

Jaemin mutters under his breath, still scowling. “Fucking hell. I take it back, you’re worse than newlyweds. At this point, you’re like like fucking horny teenagers.”

He throws a glare over his shoulder. “Jungkook! Don’t make me fuck you up again, bro. I will! Geez!”

“Oh, come on, Jaemin,” Kira laughs, tugging him away before his temper flares. “Don’t be such a cockblock. See you two later!” She shoots you a wink just before disappearing inside, her voice echoing faintly, still teasing Jaemin for his unlucky streak of catching you two.

You make a mental note to buy her a thank-you drink tonight.

But that thought vanishes the second Jungkook thrusts up into you again, dragging you back into the moment. The water splashes around you with every movement, slapping softly against the tiled edges of the pool.

Your head falls back, mouth parted in a silent moan as your body clenches around him again. And this time, there’s no holding back.

You’re not exactly sure how you ended up here.

When you and Jungkook slipped out of the club earlier tonight, ditching your friends in a whirlwind of whispered giggles and stolen touches, you figured it would end in another wild quickie somewhere. And to be fair, it started that way. He had his hands all over you in the back of the taxi, his mouth on your neck as the Strip blurred by.

But then, the car dropped you both off at the far end of Las Vegas Boulevard, where you ran straight into a group of strangers who swore they’d partied with you on your first night in town. Whether they were right or not didn’t really matter; they bought you shots like old friends and kept them coming, one after the other, until the world tilted sideways.

And somehow...you agreed to Jungkook’s crazy idea.

Now you’re standing inside a chapel bathed in neon pink light, next to a man in a bedazzled Elvis costume who smells faintly of old cologne and too much hairspray. Jungkook is holding both of your hands in his, his fingers warm and solid around yours. His grin is so wide it practically splits his face in half, his eyes crinkling with drunken joy as he watches the impersonator read the vows.

“Do you, Jeon Jungkook, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?” Elvis says in a dramatic drawl.

“I do,” Jungkook replies without hesitation, his voice thick with emotion, and maybe tequila. “With my whole heart.”

He slips a thin silver ring onto your finger. One he bought just minutes ago from a display stand outside. It’s slightly too big and also a little tacky, but somehow perfect.

Now it’s your turn. You blink up at him, your heart thudding wildly in your chest.

“I do,” you say softly, biting back a giddy laugh. “With my whole heart.”

“I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the Elvis impersonator declares with flair, throwing out his arms. “You may kiss!”

Jungkook’s hands envelop your face as he kisses you, sealing your fate.

The handful of drunk couples that are waiting for their turn cheer loudly as Jungkook lifts you straight off your feet. You wrap your arms around his neck, squealing as he carries you bridal-style down the narrow aisle and out of the chapel, laughing the whole way.

“I can’t believe we just did that,” you say breathlessly, still laughing as you cup his jaw and guide him into another messy kiss.

“I can’t either,” he says against your lips, eyes shining. “But god, I’m so ridiculously happy right now.”

He sets you down and pulls you close, forehead pressed to yours.

“Mrs. Jeon Jungkook, you make me so fucking happy. I love you, baby. So much.”

You can’t stop smiling and neither can he.

The next morning, your head feels like it’s still spinning. The light bleeding through the hotel curtains is too bright, stabbing straight into your skull. You groan and crack an eye open, trying to piece together where you are, and more importantly, what the hell happened last night.

Bits and pieces flash into your memory.

The pounding bass of the DJ set. Clinking shot glasses. Jungkook’s laughter against your ear, both of you cracking up about something that felt hilarious at the time. Though now you can’t recall a single detail.

You shift beneath the sheets, rubbing your eyes, when something cool and metallic catches your attention.

You pause, blinking.

There’s a ring on your finger.

A ring.

You yank your hand back and jump upright, heart now thudding in your chest like it’s trying to break free. In your sudden panic, your elbow smacks straight into Jungkook’s face.

“Ow! What the–” he groans, rolling onto his side. “Babe, what was that for?”

“Oh my god,” you whisper, scrambling out of bed.

Still half-drunk, half-hungover, and fully spiraling, you make a beeline for the bathroom and immediately hurl the remnants of last night into the toilet.

Your knees hit the cold tile as you clutch the porcelain bowl, your mind spinning even faster than your stomach.

Jungkook is at your side a moment later. Sleepy, shirtless, and concerned, he crouches beside you without saying a word, gently pulling your hair back and rubbing slow, soothing circles across your spine.

“Breathe,” he murmurs. “It’s okay. Just breathe.”

Once you’re fairly certain your insides are empty, you lean back on your heels, wiping your mouth with a towel and groaning.

“I feel like death,” you mumble.

“You look beautiful,” Jungkook says with a lazy smile, though his eyes are scanning your face carefully. Searching. Bracing.

He stands, reaching into the shower to turn on the water. Steam starts to fill the bathroom as he undresses and steps inside, then turns to hold out his hand for you.

You hesitate.

Your eyes drop to the ring on your finger again, then flick back to his face.

He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t need to. You can tell he’s watching you closely, reading every micro-expression, seeing if you have any doubt. There’s no trace of regret in his eyes, but there’s a quiet question behind them.

What are you feeling? And are we okay?

You reach for his hand and step in beside him.

You wash up quickly, letting the hot water rinse away the hangover haze clinging to your skin. Feeling clean doesn’t solve everything, but it helps ground you.

After drying off and throwing on fresh clothes, you sit on the edge of the bed and breathe for a moment. Jungkook's quiet, giving you space, but you can still feel his eyes on you.

Then, finally, he breaks the silence.

“C’mon,” he says gently. “Let’s get some breakfast and cure your hangover before you spiral again. I got a text from Jaemin, they’re waiting for us in the lobby if we want to join everyone for brunch.”

You nod, grabbing your phone and purse before the two of you leave the suite and step into the elevator. Oh god…how are you going to tell everyone…

Jungkook speaks again once the elevator doors close. “Well, last night happened.”

You exhale, almost laughing. “Yeah. I guess it did.”

You start picking at your fingernails, nerves creeping in again as the elevator begins its descent. Jungkook notices instantly.

“Hey,” he says, catching your hands in his. “Don’t do that. Don’t second-guess this. I’m happy. Let’s be happy.”

You look up at him. He gives you that soft smile, the one that always manages to settle your heart.

He pulls you into a hug, wrapping you up like he’s trying to shield you from the chaos of the outside world.

“It’s not how I imagined it, not even close,” he says, resting his chin on your shoulder. “But you know what? I love that I get to call you my wife now. I like that I’m your husband.”

He leans back just enough to nuzzle into your cheek, his lips brushing against your skin in a quiet, reassuring gesture.

And for a moment, your worries melt away. Because if nothing else, you’ve got him. And maybe that’s more than enough.

His hand squeezes your waist as the elevator descends, and you feel his fingers trailing lower, skimming the hem of your skirt with intent.

“Jungkook…” you murmur, glancing toward the mirrored walls, but he’s already moving, slipping his hand beneath the fabric like he owns you, because, well, after last night…he kind of does. And you kind of like that.

His fingers find your heat instantly, and your breath catches in your throat.

“So wet already,” he hums against your ear, voice low and dangerous. “You want to get caught, don’t you?”

You press your back against the elevator wall, heart hammering as his thumb begins to circle your clit.

It feels so good that you can barely stand. The pressure is building fast, your thighs trembling as he slides two fingers inside you.

“Fuck,” you whisper, eyes fluttering shut as he curls them just right.

“Don’t close your eyes,” he says, nipping your earlobe. “Look at yourself. Watch how fucking wrecked you look when I touch you.”

Your gaze finds the mirrored wall. You see your parted lips, the way your chest rises and falls, the dark hunger in Jungkook’s eyes as he watches you unravel.

He moves faster, fucking you with his fingers, thumb pressed tight to your clit.

“Scream my name, baby. Who makes you feel this good? Who makes you come uncontrollably?”

“Jungkook!” you cry out before you can think.

He sinks his teeth into your neck, not hard enough to hurt but enough to make you gasp.

“Wrong,” he growls. “Try again.”

“M–my husband,” you stammer, on the verge of falling apart. “My husband makes me come uncontrollably.”

“That’s right,” he whispers, voice thick with pride and lust. “That’s fucking right, wife. Now come all over these fingers. You’ve earned it.”

And you do, trembling, legs barely holding you up, biting down a scream as wave after wave crashes over you.

As the elevator nears the lobby, he slowly pulls his hand from between your thighs, sucking one of his fingers into his mouth like he’s tasting the best thing he's ever had before returning it for more.

“Wow,” you pant, trying to catch your breath. “Being married already has its perks.”

He smirks, using his other hand to brush a strand of hair from your face. “Baby, we haven’t even started collecting the benefits.”

The elevator dings softly as it reaches the lobby, and the doors slide open with an almost theatrical slowness, just in time to reveal a very pissed-off-looking Jaemin standing directly in front of you.

Judging by the way his jaw is clenched and the murderous glare aimed at the two of you, he definitely heard the tail end of that little scene. Probably more.

“You’re married?!” Jaemin’s voice echoes through the lobby, loud enough to turn heads. A few bystanders pause mid-step, curious and mildly entertained by the drama unfolding in front of the elevators.

Thankfully, he hasn’t seemed to notice Jungkook’s hand still slick from where it was between your thighs before he reluctantly slips it away.

Jungkook glances over his shoulder, letting out a sheepish laugh. “Well, the honeymoon’s off to a strong start. Guess your newlyweds joke actually fits now…”

Jaemin takes a slow, threatening step forward and Jungkook tenses beside you, instinctively bracing for whatever’s coming next, whether it’s a punch, a lecture, or both. But when his eyes flick back to yours, and he sees the worry written all over your face, his shoulders square a little more.

Whatever’s coming, he knows it’s all worth it.

“Oh, baby…”

⋆˙⟡ m.list ⟡⋆⟡ ao3 ⟡⋆⟡ wips ⟡⋆⟡ updates ⟡⋆⟡ shadow realm ⟡˙⋆

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©shadowkoo 2025. All rights reserved.

[yuta-nakamots]

Love Again - L.Jeno

Pairing - Ex-Boyfriend!Jeno x Female Reader

Genre(s) - Fluff, Angst, University!AU, Winter Guard!AU

Warning(s) - mention of a breakup

Summary - Every Wednesday, you rehearse a show about falling in love again opposite Jeno, the male lead and the ex you never truly got over. Between lingering touches and unspoken words, you start to wonder if the story you’re performing might still be yours to finish. 

Word Count - 6.9k

Author’s Note - This is based off of the team Black Gold’s show from 2019. Whether you’re familiar with winter guard or not, I highly suggest watching the video I have linked since it provides a lot of insight into aspects of the show and moments I will be describing in the fic. I know winter guard is a pretty niche thing and is mainly only popular in the US but nonetheless, it is an art form that I am passionate about and would love to share with others.

Taglist - @k-vanity @cosyhomenet @neocity-net @k-films @cinneorolls @dinonuguaegi @tinyzen @fancypeacepersona @yowmaman (join my taglist!)

Written for the Death of Creation Collab hosted by @ncteaxhoe. Part of my NCT Dream: Seven Days Collection.

Now playing: The Greatest Bastard - Damien Rice, Love Again - Baekhyun, Only Always - Jake Miller & Neriah, Hampstead - Ariana Grande

Your Wednesday nights always smell like sweat and gym floor wax. The overhead lights flicker once before holding steady, casting long reflections across the polished hardwood. Practice hadn’t started yet, but you’re already stretching in the far corner, spine curved over your leg, forehead nearly brushing your knee. Around you, the familiar pre-rehearsal buzz hums. Rifle straps slap against gloved hands, flags unfurl with a sigh, and Chenle is shouting something about forgetting his water bottle again. 

You should feel at home. You’ve spun for years, since high school, in fact. This team, this activity, it’s supposed to be muscle memory by now. But this year feels different.

Jeno sits on the other side of the gym, taping up his rifle. His posture hasn’t changed, shoulders loose, focused but calm. You haven’t spoken to him since your breakup five months ago. It was quiet and clean, no screaming, no grand spectacle—just silence where love and laughter used to be. Now, every Wednesday, you fall in love with him even though it’s choreographed, counted, and timed to the music. 

This season’s show is called ‘Love Again’ and it is romantic, lyrical, and painfully tender. The team’s director explained it as being about two people who lose each other and find their way back through something they both still believe in. You didn’t know the plot of the show when you showed up for auditions at the start of the season, nor did you know when you and Jeno were announced as the leads of the show. But the universe, or perhaps just the director, had a cruel sense of irony. 

Chenle’s voice beside you pulls you from your thoughts. “Ready to fake-love your ex for the next three hours?”

You shoot him a look, but your eyes dart away quickly. Jeno is already walking to the center of the floor, claiming his spot for warmups. You rise slowly from your spots, rolling through each vertebra of your back. This is what Wednesdays are about. 

“You’re doing that melodramatic yearning thing again,” Chenle mutters as he sips from his water bottle beside you. “Very poetic. Very heartbroken.” You elbow him gently, but the tension in your chest stays coiled. He always jokes like this, loudly and mercilessly, but there’s warmth beneath it, a silent way of telling you he sees what you’re carrying. 

Warmups start with stretches, dance basics, and across-the-floors. Pliés into relevés, turns into leaps, the usual rhythm of sweat and precision. The tarp beneath your feet is slightly slick from the humidity and heat, but your body moves on instinct. Still, your thoughts wander to a certain person with every pass across the floor. 

He somehow ended up next to you during flag warmups. His movements are quiet and deliberate, controlled even in warmups. There’s the same control in the way he extends his arms, like he’s always moving with meaning, and you hate that you remember what it felt like to be held by them. You try not to look at him. But your eyes keep catching on the way his shirt clings to him, the way his fingers flex after a catch. You look down, counting the beats in your head, breathing in for four and out the next four, then tossing.

After warmups, the director claps twice. “Water and then set for a dry run! From the top.”

Everyone scatters, grabbing equipment and a quick swig of water before returning to the floor with rifles and sabres in hand, flags rolled tight under arms, while the props team brings two wooden chairs and a large matching table to the middle of the tarp. After placing your flag, you take your place sitting on one of the chairs, the one on your left still empty as Jeno sets down his rifle. Once he’s sure it is in the proper spot, he makes his way to the center, his eyes scanning the floor like he’s already somewhere else. 

The music starts low, the soft plucking of a guitar, delicate as a memory. You begin moving through the opening choreography, climbing up onto the table with Jeno. At the same time, your teammates flutter around like leaves. Your body is familiar with the motions, but your mind is frayed at the edges. When the moment comes, the one where you’re supposed to meet his gaze while reaching out to him across the table, you look just over his shoulder. Close, but not close enough. 

It doesn’t go unnoticed. Chenle makes a subtle, exaggerated heart stabbing motion from where he waited off on the sidelines. You almost break character. 

The routine flows on, Jeno’s hands find your waist, lifting you with his strong arms, a turn, before finally separating, and both of you slide off the table. Each beat is perfectly timed, but something feels off. It’s like trying to perform underwater. Everything is there, but dulled by distance. 

You’re doing the show. You’re just not feeling it. Not yet.

The routine shifts, and you meet your cue to break away from Jeno and join the ranks of your teammates spinning flags. Your flag waits curled near the edge of the mat, your fingers curling around the cool metal, and your arms tightening into muscle memory. Across the floor, Jeno’s moving too, his sabre deftly swinging from his hands. This is the split of two lovers, torn apart and dancing in separate storms.

Your flag unfurls, unveiling its deep emerald green and fading into smoky lavender at the tail. Silks swirled around you as rifles and sabres were thrown into the air, all the equipment merging like oil and water. Controlled chaos. Emotional geometry.

You’re focused on the counts now, on the way the flag whips around you on count sixteen right before the prep into a toss, releasing on count two. Anything except the way Jeno’s figure flutters across the floor. Anything but the knowledge that soon enough, he’ll be in front of you again.

In less than a minute, you meet at the table again. He’s already there, waiting for you with his sabre firmly gripped. He handles it with precision before extending it toward you, hilt-first. You take it as the rest of the team stills around you, feeling like the world has slowed down. You draw closer to Jeno, and in a seamless move you’ve rehearsed a hundred times, he lifts you into a turn and flips you over his shoulder. 

Your body folds with the momentum, and for the briefest second, you’re suspended in his grasp with your face inches from his. You can feel the heat of his breath, and you can see the taut line of his jaw just as his eyes flicker to yours. Before you can fully process the moment, gravity is pulling you away, and you land on your feet as Jeno reclaims the sabre from your hands. 

You step away from him as the others flood in, flags blooming open in arcs of green and lavender, framing the two of you as you rise onto the table again. The music swells, and now comes the part you hate the most. 

Jeno’s hand finds yours, and your bodies slide and pivot around each other, the choreography meant to mimic forgiveness, ache, longing. His palm brushes your cheek while your fingertips trace along his spine. It’s nothing and everything at the same time.

Around you, the ensemble spins in hypnotic circles, flags moving like waves, but you’re only aware of how close Jeno is to you and the tension of unspoken words. You hold onto him a second longer than you should before climbing off the table, breath caught in your chest. Relief floods through you like cold water. You’re allowed to leave him now.

You walk away from the table, dragging the wooden chair across the floor, its feet rumbling faintly against the tarp. You head for your corner while Jeno mirrors you, chair in hand, walking the opposite diagonal. Neither of you looks back, not even once.

The ending pose approaches as the music returns to its quiet beginnings, guitar strings and vocals, bare and familiar. Across the floor, Jeno stops, then reaches out, giving you your cue. You lift your arm, just barely, but you don’t meet his gaze. You can’t. Instead, you stare at the light reflecting off the tarp, the hum of the gym’s overhead lights suddenly feeling louder than it should be. Your hand hovers in the space in front of you, floating in a story that isn't real. Or maybe it is.

Either way, it doesn’t matter. Not right now. The final note lands, and you let your arm fall. The final chord fades into the echo of breathing, yours and the rest of the team’s, heavy and uneven, echoing off the gym walls. The hush after a full run-through always feels a little like the aftershock of a dream. Disoriented, buzzing, not quite real. 

You sink slowly to the floor beside your chair, palms planted on the surface of the cool tarp, heart still pounding in your throat. Across the gym, Jeno drops his arm and lowers himself next to his chair, head tilted back against it like he doesn’t have the strength to hold it up any longer. 

“Alright, I give it a solid eight out of ten for emotional repression, and a ten for dramatics,” Chenle says, walking over and dramatically fanning himself. “Seriously, you two almost made me believe love exists again.”

You glance up at him, an eyebrow raised. “Was that supposed to be encouraging?”

He plops down beside you and shrugs. “Depends. Are you planning on pretending not to be in love with Jeno again next Wednesday, too? Because if so, I have notes.”

You groan and cover your face with your hands. “I wasn’t pretending to be in love. That’s literally the problem.”

Chenle leans back, hands firmly placed behind him, one leg shifting mindlessly. “Yeah, well, you were also very much pretending not to be in love, which is basically the same thing, just with worse lighting and more tension.” You let out a breath somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. Chenle nudges your ankle with his toe. “You okay?”

You nod, slowly. “Just…tired.”

Chenle doesn’t push, not this time. Just leans his head back, eyes on the ceiling. “Well, I’ll be over there pretending to stretch if anyone asks. But if you and Mister Dramatic Rifle Toss over there decide to actually talk and ruin the show by becoming functional people, please do it outside of practice hours. I’m begging you.” 

You chuckle softly as he stands and wanders off, muttering about winter guard being for “people with unresolved trauma and killer quads.” And then it’s quiet again. The kind of quiet that only comes after moving your body through something bigger than it knows how to hold.

You’re still catching your breath, and Jeno’s still across the gym, still not looking at you. Yet.

The gym feels colder the following week, the kind of cold that bites at your fingers and stiffens your limbs before you even begin. The air smells like floor cleaner and generations of dust. The silence after warmups is louder than usual.

Two more weeks. That’s all that’s left before the first show. Only one more practice after today, and that practice is the dress rehearsal. Today, there were no costumes, no makeup to hide behind. Just the raw bones of the routine and the quiet, mounting pressure to get it right. 

Your director claps her hands, sharp and expectant. “Full run. From the top. I want every breath intentional, every motion clean. This is your moment, so start acting like it.”

You take your position next to Jeno, seated at the table, the tarp stretched like a battlefield beneath your feet. You don’t look at him, but you feel him. The tension between you radiates like heat. 

The music starts. For some reason, every count is harder than the last. The lift near the end of the second chorus almost buckles your legs. Jeno’s hands are sure under your ribs, but your breath catches when you look down and meet his eyes, just for a split second. 

When the ending hits and the final chords fade, you collapse next to your chair, muscles trembling, lungs straining to catch up. Jeno hits the mat just as hard on the opposite side, shoulders heaving with effort, his arm still loosely extended from the final pose, his hand yearning for yours. It’s the most in-sync you’ve felt with him in weeks, and yet it feels like your bodies have been through war. 

“Alright,” the director says. “Better. Still not enough from the duet, though. Especially that lift, it’s gotta look effortless. Right now, it looks like you’re both terrified of touching each other.” Your stomach sinks. She points directly at the two of you. “Both of you, stay. Everyone else, water break. Take ten.”

You stay seated, hoping Jeno will say something first. He doesn’t, he simply drags himself to his feet. Chenle tosses you a sympathetic look as he walks by, but doesn’t say anything either, just mutters something to another member about “emotional constipation” and “god complex couple therapy.”

You slowly rise to your feet. You’re dripping sweat and everything hurts, but you move toward the front of the table to set for the lift, because that’s what the routine demands. You and Jeno take your places again, the same cue, the same breath. 

You meet his eyes this time as the director counts you in. The first time, you’re up and over. Your hands on his shoulders, his grip at your waist. It’s functional, and you land just fine. “Again,” she commands. The second time, your heartbeat’s pounding too hard for rhythm. You stumble, but Jeno’s hand steadies you, lingering on your skin. You don’t look at him as you come out of his hold this time. “Again.” The third time, you’re too fast, too tense. As you dismount from the lift, your foot catches the edge of his and lands squarely on his instep. 

Jeno hisses through his teeth, pulling back instinctively. “Seriously?” he snaps under his breath, limping slightly as he shakes out his foot. “Watch where you’re landing.”

You recoil, sharp from fatigue and frustration. “Maybe don’t let me go so close to your foot next time.”

His brows furrowed, jaw tight. “That’s not how the lift works. You’re supposed to step out wide, not crash land like a–”

“I know how the lift works,” you bite out. “I’m not the one who adjusted the timing.”

“I adjusted it because you were off count.” The silence that follows isn’t the same as before. This one simmers. 

“Again,” the director interrupts. No sympathy in her voice, just expectation. You both reset, not speaking. The fourth time, your muscles feel heavier than they should. You get through it, but the landing is shaky, and neither of you makes eye contact. “Again.” The fifth time, Jeno’s fingers falter just slightly at your waist, but you don’t call him out for it. You land clean, but still, the director isn’t satisfied. “Again.” Finally, after the sixth try, you both stay frozen in place longer than necessary, your gaze locked on his while his hands sit on your waist. Not acting, not performing, just…there.

He exhales, and his voice is low. “You okay?”

You glance down at the mat, then back at him. “You’re the first person who’s asked me that today.” 

Your director watches you both, eyes narrowing. She crosses her arms, then nods once. “Good. Finally starting to feel like you meant it.” Then, with a glance at her watch, “take five.”

You’re already sinking to the floor before she finishes speaking. Jeno lowers himself beside you, slower, one knee cracking audibly. Neither of you laughs. The silence returns, only now it feels less suffocating, just exhausted. 

Someone turns on the ancient electric fan in the corner of the gym. Its low whir echoes over the tarp as the blades speed up, sending blessed gusts of air over your skin. You both lie back, side by side, not touching, but close enough that your arms could brush if one of you shifted even slightly. 

The fan blades blur, a lazy halo of motion. You watch them spin for a long time. “Do you ever wonder what it feels like to be electrocuted?”

Jeno doesn’t laugh, just lets the question hang before he responds. “Depends…” he murmurs. “By the fan, or by you stomping on my foot again?” You huff something that might be a laugh, but it gets caught in your throat. The moment stretches again, softer this time. Then, almost too softly to hear, “sometimes it feels like that,” Jeno whispers. “Like we keep shocking each other every time we get close again.” 

Your chest tightens, and you can’t bring yourself to answer right away. The air hums between you. Someone shifts the fan, strong gusts of air brushing cool against your face now. You close your eyes. “Maybe we’re just bad wiring.” There’s another silence. “Or maybe we never figured out how to ground each other.” This time, when your fingers brush his on the floor, neither of you pulls away. 

A sharp voice cuts through the quiet. “Break’s over!” your director calls, already clapping her hands to rally the rest of the team. You flinch at the sound and open your eyes. Jeno’s fingers pull back just a fraction too late, brushing yours one last time before he stands. No words, just a breath that says something close to goodbye, at least for now. 

You both return to the mat in silence, but together, and this doesn’t go unnoticed. Chenle jogs past, late from his water break as usual, his gaze flicking between you and Jeno. He doesn’t comment, just quirks a brow at you like he’s connecting the dots. 

Practice ends two hours later. Everyone is drained, peeling off layers of sweat-soaked practice gear, mumbling about school assignments and dinner plans and the upcoming dress rehearsal. Once you’re packed and helped out with putting all the equipment away, you finally step outside into the chilled night air, gym lights still bleeding through the windows behind you, fading into the darkness while you walk towards your car in the parking lot.

You had just made it to your car when you heard footsteps behind you. “You know,” Chenle begins, “I thought you were going to kiss him for real back there.”

You turn around, finding Chenle leaning against his car, parked next to yours. His hair is damp with sweat, half a grin on his face. You try to smile. “You’re lucky I didn’t.”

“Mmm,” he hums, crossing his arms. “But you were talking. That’s new.”

You shrug, unlocking your door. “Doesn’t mean anything.”

Chenle doesn’t move. “Sure doesn’t look like nothing.”

You lean against your car instead of getting in. “It’s complicated.”

“You still in love with him?” he asks plainly, like he already knows the answer. 

You don’t respond immediately, instead opting to trace the edge of your keys with your thumb. “...Yeah,” you finally say. “I think I am, and I hate it.” Chenle’s quiet now. You take a breath, heavier than the others. “It’s been five months,” you continue, staring out across the almost empty parking lot. “It was clean, quiet, and no screaming. Just…the sound of someone closing a door and not coming back through it. One day, we were in love, and the next, he stopped showing up in the ways I needed. I stopped asking him to. That was the scariest part. We didn’t even fight for it.” Chenle listens, hands tucked into the sleeves of his jacket. “I think I keep hoping he’ll say he regrets it,” you admit. “That, maybe, he made a mistake. But then we get close like that, and I remember why it fell apart in the first place.” 

You close your eyes, and it all comes rushing back. It was late at night, you were sitting across from Jeno on the floor of his apartment’s living room, both of you eating something from takeout boxes. The TV glowed softly in the background, and he laughed at something on his phone. 

“You didn’t read my message,” you told him.

“Huh?” He didn’t look up.

“Earlier. I asked if you could come practice with me. I needed help with the new toss.”

“Oh.” He swiped a notification away. “Sorry, I got busy.” 

You nodded. It wasn’t the first time. There was another night, that time, you were waiting at the café near campus. Your coffee had gone cold when you finally got a message from him.

“Sorry, can’t make it. Had a last-minute meeting for a group project.” You weren’t even surprised anymore. 

The one that stayed with you the most was where he sat across from you on the gym bleachers after the first rounds of pre-season training, sweat soaking through his collar. You turned to him, searching his face for something, anything. “I feel like we’re drifting,” you said. 

Jeno just stared at the floor. “Maybe we are.” That was it. No promises of doing better, no arguing, just quiet.

Chenle’s voice pulls you from the memories. “Do you think he’s still in love with you?”

You shake your head, a tired smile pulling at your lips. “I think he’s still learning how to be close to anyone, and I just got tired of teaching him.”

The wind picks up, rustling the leaves along the pavement. Chenle tilts his head, like he’s studying you. “You know, you don’t have to figure it all out before the last show.”

You look at him. “What do you mean by that?”

He shrugs, kicking a pebble with the toe of his shoe. “I mean…just because you’re done pretending to be lovers on the floor doesn’t mean that’s the end of your story.”

You blink. “That’s a little optimistic, even for you.”

“I’m being serious,” he says. “You two, whatever you are, whatever you were…it didn’t just disappear because the counts ran out. You said you stopped asking him to show up, right?” He looks at you, and his voice softens. “Maybe this is him trying.”

You stare down at the pavement, jaw tight. “You think that changes anything?”

“I don’t know,” he admits. “But if you still care, maybe it’s not about changing anything. Maybe it’s about deciding whether it’s still worth stepping in, even when the timing sucks and the music’s messy and no one’s calling the counts for you anymore.” 

You let the silence settle again. A car passes on the street behind you, headlight flashing over your legs before fading. Chenle straightens, tugging his bag on his shoulder. “Don’t close the door just because the scene’s over. Some of the best parts don’t make the final cut.”

You smile faintly, blinking against the burn behind your eyes. Chenle nods towards your car. “Drive safe, alright?” Then he pulls open the door to his car and slips in, turning the engine on and shutting the door. 

You stand there for a moment longer, keys still in hand, heart heavier and lighter at the same time. For the first time in months, you wonder about not what ended, but what might still be unfinished.

The air in the gym is full of nerves and hairspray. You sit in the bleachers with your compact mirror propped open on your knee, brushing pink shadow into the waterline of your eye, not enough to look pretty, just enough to look ruined. The kind of pink that makes you look too raw, too real, like you’ve just stopped crying or maybe never did. You set the brush down, pick up the setting spray. One long spritz, then another. It mists your face and evaporates quickly in the stale air. 

Chenle climbs the bleachers and drops into the space next to you, already in costume. His top clings to him like a second skin, layers of gauzy nude fabric crossing over his chest and draping at the sides like extensions of himself. “You’re either gonna spin like you mean it,” he starts casually, opening your pack of bobby pins, “or keep dancing like you regret everything.”

You glance at him. “That was poetic. Kind of mean, but poetic nonetheless.”

“Write it down,” he jokes, sticking a pin between his teeth while he fixes a piece of your hair that came undone. “Make it the title of your next breakup playlist.”

You roll your eyes, but let him finish pinning the loose strand back into place. “You don’t think I’ve been giving enough?”

“I think you’ve been giving everything except the parts that count,” he states plainly. “You’ve been performing with grief, not love.” His words settle heavily between you. You don’t argue because he’s not wrong. He leans back to look at your face. “Today, just try. Let yourself look at him like you did the first time.”

You tuck your compact back into your bag and stand with the heap of your uniform in your arms. “And what if that’s not safe?”

Chenle shrugs, already rising beside you. “It’s not. But neither is standing still and acting like everything is fine.”

During the first run in costume, the tarp feels too stiff beneath your feet, the lights too bright overhead. You don’t feel beautiful or confident in the costume, just exposed, like someone peeled your skin back and decided the world should see what your heart and soul look like. 

The music starts, and you dance. Not like muscle memory, not like memory. Like emotion. You look at Jeno during the quiet guitar introduction, and for the first time in months, you let him see it, the grief, the ache, and the trace of what once was. He meets you there. Every catch, every lift. This time, you don’t flinch when his hands touch your ribs, and you don’t avoid his eyes when he turns with you in his arms. You stay in it, you stay with him. 

When the final pose lands, your chest heaves, and your fingers are outstretched towards him, as if you could touch him across the distance of the mat. If you could, you’d feel the way he doesn’t let you g,o and he’d feel the way you do the same. 

Everything goes quiet as silence fills the gymnasium until the coaches are clapping, someone’s crying near the sidelines, and your teammates are clapping each other on the back for a job well done. But inside you, it’s silent. Like something holding its breath has finally exhaled. You leave the floor like a ghost, floating more than walking. Your costume rustles faintly as you move, sweat cooling into your skin, turning the delicate fabric heavy. 

You don’t go far, just to the edge of the floor, where the old electric fan was buzzing on a metal folding chair. It whirs in low, choppy waves, like it can’t commit to one speed. You sit in front of it and close your eyes, letting it chill your body. You let yourself feel something, anything, after everything you just spilled onto that tarp. 

Your hands are still shaking. When you open your eyes, you’re not entirely surprised to find Jeno standing in front of you, behind the fan. He doesn’t speak right away, just sits beside you, his knee knocking yours. You can still smell the fabric glue on his costume and the fresh tape from his rifle, still see the glitter of sweat near his temples and in his hairline. Finally, he asks quietly, “do you think it’s too late to love again?”

You keep your eyes on the spinning blades. There’s a beat of silence between you, one that says everything. All the weeks you didn’t speak. All the things you meant to say. All the ways you tried not to look at each other and failed. Then you answer, just as softly, “it’s Wednesday. We always start over on Wednesdays.”

He lets out a short breath, almost a laugh. Not happy, not bitter, just real. Your shoulders brush. His hand is on his knee, gripping it tightly. Yours isn’t far. You don’t reach for him, but you don’t move away either. 

The following Wednesday arrives wrapped in sleep deprivation and road noise, your team crammed into charter buses and hotel rooms. Your hotel room hums with that strange, in-between quiet that only exists when two people are getting ready in parallel. Your other roommates are out, probably running through tosses in the parking lot or begging another teammate for extra hair gel while you and Chenle occupy the bathroom. There’s something sacred about this part, the getting ready, the ritual of transforming nerves into purpose. 

Chenle hums the melody of the show just slightly off-key as he paints highlighter across his cheekbones in the mirror. His uniform hangs on the bathroom door, the soft, gauzy fabric swaying slightly from the AC vent. You stand next to him in the bathroom, half-dressed in costume, with a hotel robe wrapped around you. Your makeup bag is open, a brush held loosely in your hand. Chenle glances at you in the mirror. “You’re thinking too loud.”

You blink. “Could you hear me?”

He turns to face you. “Yeah.”

You sigh and lean forward, bracing yourself on your palms. “I don’t know what I'm doing.”

Chenle raises an eyebrow. “With your makeup or your life?”

“Both,” you admit with a weak smile.

He places the broad fan brush down and steps closer to you, draping an arm over your shoulders. “Okay, what about it?”

You hesitate. “I’m nervous.” He hums, already expecting that much. “I don’t know if it’s the show, the expectation, or…Jeno,” you add quietly. “I feel like I’m standing on the edge of something, and I don’t know if I’m supposed to jump or run.”

Chenle is quiet for a beat. “What if you just…walk?” You look at him, lost, and he just shrugs. “Everyone always talks about big leaps and dramatic moments, but maybe today isn’t about that. Maybe it’s about walking toward what you want, one count at a time.” You’re silent, letting his words settle. The soft hum of the air conditioner is the only sound for a moment. Then, he adds more gently, “like I said before, you don’t have to have it all figured out right now, you just have to mean it. The emotion, the movement, the connection, you just have to let it exist. That’s what makes it real.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. “And what if I fall apart?”

“I’ll catch you, the rest of the team will, in fact. Or maybe just Jeno. And if none of us do, at least you’ll look stunning doing it.” Chenle picks up your makeup brush and holds it towards you. “Now finish your makeup before I do it myself.”

You laugh and take the brush from him, hands steadier than before. As you start blending the layers of pink near your waterline, you glance at Chenle through the mirror. “Thank you.”

He smirks. “For being your emotional support or your backup makeup artist?”

“Both,” you say again, this time feeling a whole lot more confident. 

A few hours later, at the school gym, everything shifts with the momentum of pre-show fear. The air is loud with other teams, rifles clattering against the floor, someone playing music too loud in a bathroom, an entire ensemble chanting warmups in time with a ticking metronome blasting through a Bluetooth speaker. 

You stand near the entrance to the warmup gym, waiting for the previous group to clear out. You’re cradling your single flag, costume already clinging in all the wrong places. Your hair is done, your makeup is fixed, but your heart is a mess. Pounding, aching, too full of emotion with nowhere to go. 

Chenle sidles up beside you, serene as ever, his uniform somehow pristine even in this chaos. He adjusts his equipment in his arms, the weight of two flags and a sabre looking light in his hold, while he gives you a once-over. “You look like you’re about to throw up.”

“Thanks,” you mutter. “Exactly the energy I was going for.”

He smiles, stepping into your space like he always does when he knows you’re about to spiral. “Listen to me,” he starts, adjusting the neckline of your costume without asking. “You’ve done the work. You’re here. You don’t need to prove anything, not to the judges, not to him, not even to yourself.”

You scoff lightly. “Poetic as always.”

The corners of his lips perk up. “Never not working on something new to say.”

You don’t get to thank him before the director calls for warmups, just as the previous team filters out the doors on the opposite side of the gym. Chenle is pulled away into a different conversation, another teammate drawing his attention away from you. 

You go to your normal spot in the warmup block and set your flag down, just about to readjust your costume, when Jeno appears beside you, quiet and steady. He doesn’t speak immediately, just reaches for a flyaway strand behind your ear and tucks it into place, his fingers brushing the curve of your jaw on its way down. It’s a small touch, quick, but it roots you and burns a little too. “You’ve got this,” he says, not loud or performative. His words are meant only for you to hear. “You always have.” Then he’s gone, walking towards his spot among the rest of the weapons, taking your peace with him. 

The minutes blur, and warmups feel all too fast. You’re corralled with the rest of the ensemble into a tight hallway, the lights from the gymnasium illuminating the familiar faces around you. Just as soon as the group in front of you starts their show, they’re already ending, and it’s your turn.

Following the introduction of your team and this year’s production, you take the floor in silence except for the hum of the crowd. The tarp unfurls like a storybook, each performer placing their equipment and taking their spots as supporting characters. You walk to your opening position with Jeno at the table, your eyes catching only briefly before you drop your head onto your arms, waiting for the cue of the music. 

The quiet plucking of guitar strings silences the room, and the first few counts are breathless as you begin the choreography with Jeno. Then the music swells, and so do you, dancing with every inch of yourself. 

This time, it isn’t grief that moves you, it’s longing, memory, and something dangerously close to hope. And Jeno, right next to you, meets every count with the same brutal honesty. He moves with you like he’s rewriting the ending to your story, holds you in his arms like he’s never dropped you. 

Your eyes meet across the table when they���re supposed to, and this time, you don’t look away. You see him, really see him, and it steadies you. The table beneath your feet becomes less of a stage and more of a bridge between the silence of your past and the clarity of now. Chenle stands on the sidelines, his lips pulled into a grin, making you break character for half a second, your lips twitching into the smallest smile before pushing yourself back into the music. 

The routine flows forward. Jeno’s hands find your waist again, lifting you with precision and something warmer, like he knows exactly what it took for you to be here with him, dancing like this. When he spins you in his arms, it’s not technique that keeps you sturdy in his grasp, it’s trust. The turn lands smoothly, and you separate, sliding off the table like water, but nothing is dulled now. Every motion burns with clarity, and the air is electric. 

When you reach for your flag, the metal is cool in your grip, but your body is burning in all the places where Jeno touched you. The silk blooms from your hands, green and lavender, arcing through the air with impossible grace. Across the floor, Jeno’s sabre flashes under the lights. You move separately, but for the first time, it doesn’t feel like pain. It feels like nostalgia, tension, buildup, a necessary pause before reunion, a breath before the confession.

When the music crests again and you return to the table, Jeno’s already there, sabre extended hilt-first, but now there’s no hesitation. You take it like a promise. The moment slows as he picks you up, flipping you over his shoulder, and suddenly, the air between you is charged, not with what you lose, but with what you might still have. Your face is inches from his, allowing you to catch the softness in his eyes, the unspoken “I’m still here” laced into every count. 

Then the moment is gone, gravity returns you to the floor, and Jeno reclaims his sabre, but everything is different now. The silence between you is no longer empty. It’s full of things you both understand but haven’t said yet. 

The final movement begins. The rest of the team surrounds you and Jeno on the table, their flags unfurling in hypnotic waves, but you only feel the weight of Jeno’s hand finding yours again. You rise together in the choreography, but this duet isn’t just choreography. It’s forgiveness given shape. When his gloved palm brushes your cheek, you don’t flinch. When your fingers trace the line of his spine, it’s filled with reverence. You’re not pretending anymore, you’re remembering, you’re asking, you’re answering. 

When it’s time to leave the table, your body resists for half a second, not out of fear, but from knowing what it means to let go with love. You step down, each breath trembling, and drag your chair with care across the floor. The rumble of wood against tarp feels less like a goodbye and more like a punctuation mark. Across the mat, Jeno does the same. Neither of you looks back, there is no need to. Everything has already been spilled out into the open.

The final notes return–soft guitar, haunting vocals. Jeno reaches out first, and this time, you lift your arm fully, deliberately, gaze locking onto his like a vow. It isn’t just a cue, it’s an answer. The last chord fades, and silence falls like snow. You sink to the floor, hands trembling against the cool tarp, lungs burning, but your heart isn’t caught in your throat this time. In the opposite corner, Jeno collapses beside his chair, chest rising and falling, arms limp, but his eyes are open, and they’re on you. 

The applause comes a beat later, crashing in like a wave. You’re swept up in it, teammates rushing to pull you into hugs, Chenle screaming something unintelligible, hands grabbing yours, voices cracking with adrenaline and joy. The world blurs at the edges, your body still vibrating from the music, from the way you danced like your soul was on the line. 

Backstage is a storm of motion–sweaty uniforms half-unzipped, smeared makeup, people crying for reasons they can’t quite explain. But your heartbeat is the loudest of it all, and it feels like you’re floating. 

A few hours after the chaos, the team having come down from their high, everyone is lined up on the gym floor, blinking under the harsh lights alongside the other teams. Banners sway from the ceiling like quiet witnesses. Your team stands shoulder to shoulder, toes to heels, hands gripped tight, bated breaths held. 

Third place is called for the division. Not your team’s show. There is a brief applause as the group celebrates before the gym falls into silence once more. “In second place…” The pause is too long. Static from the microphone crackles. Someone brushes against you. “Love Again!” 

The name crashes into you, and the gym explodes into screams and cheers. Your director, coaches, and staff throw their hands into the air, teammates leaping into each other’s arms. Chenle is whooping at full volume, practically screeching, while someone else is crying, maybe the same teammate from earlier, maybe not. You’re being hugged from all directions, and a silver medal is being placed around you, the metal cold and heavy against your skin. 

Amidst the commotion, you find Jeno, or perhaps he found you. Regardless, you both gravitate toward one another like you’ve been choreographed to do all along. In the center of it all, swarmed by sweaty uniforms, tears-stained makeup, and raucous laughter, you find a quiet meant only for you and him. 

Jeno puts an arm around you, his fingertips toying with the lanyard of the metal. He leans in close enough that you can hear him over the noise. “You walked toward me like you meant it,” his voice soft. “It’s been a while since you did that.”

Your throat tightens, so you simply smile. “Chenle told me I’d look stunning even if I fell apart.”

Jeno breathes a quiet laugh, eyes shining. “You did.”

There’s a moment, your shoulders brushing, heartbeats aligning, and the rest of the gym disappears. Then, softly, “it’s Wednesday,” you say. 

Jeno’s smile turns warm, familiar. “We always start over on Wednesdays.” 

The show may not have won gold, but with Jeno by your side it feels like you won something even better. You won each other again, and maybe this time, you won’t let go. 

Autoplay: If you liked this, you may also like Like We Just Met - L.Jeno

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[pars-ley]

Can I request a rockstar au with prompt 4 for Hongjoong, pretty please!?

Title: Bombshell

Pairing: Kim Hongjoong X female reader

Summary: Dating a rockstar means the perks of backstage sex.

Genre(s): Established relationship / Rockstar au / Smut /

Rating: 18+ (NSFW) MDNI

Warnings: Oral f.receiving / m.masturbation / fingering / sex backstage / ever so slightly nipping / brief breast play / Hongjoong being slightly insecure

W/C: 998

Banner: me

A/N: Thanks for the request, I love rockstar Hongjoong!

Dating a world-famous rockstar definitely has its perks…one of those was getting to watch the whole show backstage. Watching not only his performance but getting to see how his fans react to it too. There are downsides however, the main one is not getting to go on the whole tour with him. You have a job and a life that you can't simply drop everything for to follow him. You found this part the most difficult, especially recently with a world tour taking much more time than you were used to. The separation from him had grown too much to bear and so you conspired with his manager to surprise him.

You took the twelve hour flight and now, here you stand, backstage, watching as he plucks away at his guitar strings, and draws euphoric screams from the crowd.

Your feet can barely stay in place as the urge to run to him grows, seeing how close he is. Balling your hands into fists to try and ground yourself and your excitement while you wait for the song to finish.

As he plays the final notes and takes his farewell bow to the crowd, you move into his line of sight as he heads towards the curtain. His eyes widen and his mouth stretches into that brilliant smile you love so much. He runs to you, scooping you up and squeezing you tightly against him.

“Baby! What are you doing here?” he says into your ear, refusing to release you yet.

“Surprise!”

“I need you, baby.”

You hug him back just as tight, enjoying the way his arms feel around you, until he pulls back slightly to look at you, cupping your face in one hand. “It certainly is.” he says softly, staring at you like you hold all the answers to life’s questions. Leaning down he captures your lips in a passionate kiss. One that silences everything and makes time stand still. His hands slide down to your backside and massaging your flesh, and you feel his erection against you.

With your heart pounding frantically he pulls away breathing hard.

They are the words you've longed to hear. The absence of his touch and his taste has haunted you since he left. You needed to feel loved and wanted and whole again.

“Then take me.”

Grabbing your hand, he leads you away through the bustling crowd of people backstage and straight to his dressing room. The door shuts behind you before he's pinning you up against it, locking it as his lips explore your jaw and throat. Desperate hands caress you everywhere, not giving you a chance to catch your breath, but you don't need to, not when you have him.

“I missed you so much.” you whisper, barely able to think as his lips travel down to your chest. He lifts your top then pulls your bra down, revealing your breasts, before enveloping one of your sensitive buds with his mouth.

“You didn't get tired waiting for me?” He asks, peppering kisses back up to your face but with an edge of insecurity you have grown used to.

“I could never.” you reply, cupping his face and forcing him to look at you. “You're the only one I want.”

He smiles, and his shoulders relax, his movements more confident as his hands traverse their way down to your skirt. “Let me show you what you mean to me, and you'll never want anyone else.” He says, as he drops to his knees.

Reaching up, fingers tickling your hips, he slowly pulls down your underwear and helps you lift each foot to remove them. He lifts your lace thong up to his face and inhales, eyes rolling back in his head.

“I'm going to keep these.” he adds darkly, as he stuffs them into his jacket pocket.

The thought of what he will do with them has heat pooling in your belly, your core trembles as he lifts your skirt over his head and his warm breath fans out over your sex.

As soon as his mouth touches you, he's like a man possessed, licking and suckling every crevice in the most expert way. Your clit throbs as his tongue makes a figure of eight across it and when he slides a finger inside you, your body jolts off the door. He beckons at that spot inside until your toes are curling. You can't help but lift one of your legs and throw it over his shoulder to give him better access.

He slips another finger in, stretching you open in such a delicious way your hips buck forward. You grab his head and push him against you, grinding your sex against his face as you desperately chase your high, needing that release. His moan that vibrates against you shows he does not mind and when you look down you see his other arm moving rapidly, and you know he's touching himself too, something that has arousal dripping out of you.

Your core tightens and then erupts, clenching hard around his fingers as he helps you ride out your orgasm. Stars pop up behind your eyelids and you can't even silence the sounds of your pleasure as he sucks hard on your clit. The overstimulation is almost too much to bear. Gasping for breath and legs shaking, he finally relents and pulls away from you, as he lets out his own release all over his leather trousers.

You grab him some tissues and help him clean up before slumping down beside him.

“That was definitely worth waiting for.” you say, as you lean over and plant a gentle kiss on his lips.

“Oh, I'm not done with you yet, baby girl.” he replies, stalking over to you and forcing you to lay back on the floor. He hovers above you, and nips at your collar bone with his teeth, making you yelp, then looks up at you with a devilish smile, the one that has butterflies flying rampant in your stomach and says, “I hope you didn't plan on getting a lot of sleep tonight.”