#daydreaming about ✨him✨ | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

alohajix · 2 months ago

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𝐒𝐚𝐲 𝐌𝐲 𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐞

Description: you're new on the tour’s sound crew—professional, focused, and definitely not interested in falling for Harry Styles. But Harry? He takes one look at you and decides you’re his new favorite game. He calls you “new girl,” taunts you during sound check, and won’t learn your name… until you snap. And when the tension finally breaks? It’s filthy, rough, and everything you didn’t know you needed. Turns out, Harry’s mouth isn’t just good at running—it’s good at ruining you, too.

Warnings: a enemies-to-lovers dynamic, explicit sexual content, oral sex (f. & m. receiving), vaginal sex, light choking, spanking, dirty talk, slight degradation & no protection sex. Readers + 18.

Words count: ~8K.

author’s note: this one-shot was written based on this request (because let’s be real… long hair harry lives rent-free in our minds 🖤). if there’s something specific you’d love to see—any trope, dynamic, or filthy little daydream—feel free to send a request over on my tumblr ✨i love creating stories that live in your head the way they live in mine ♡ thanks for your request love, i had so much fun writing it!

*****

I wasn’t the kind of girl who got starstruck. Not really. Sure, I’d listened to One Direction in high school, but I’d never screamed at concerts or plastered my bedroom walls with posters. I was the girl who worked her ass off behind the scenes—setting up mic packs, running cables, keeping things moving for people who got to be loud and adored and center-stage. So, when I landed a spot on the North American leg of the tour’s sound crew, I promised myself I’d stay cool.

Then Harry Styles walked in. Tall. Tattooed. Hair long and messy like he’d just rolled out of someone’s bed. He was wearing black skinny jeans, a loose tank top, and a pair of sunglasses indoors like the world belonged to him—and maybe it did. His grin was lazy. Dangerous. Our eyes met for half a second. And he smirked. Just a flicker, like he knew exactly who he was and what he did to people. And to be fair… my stomach did dip. A little.

But then he turned to one of the crew leads, clapped him on the back like they were old mates at a pub, and didn’t even glance back at me. The spell broke instantly.

“New girl, huh?” one of the older crew guys muttered beside me. “Watch yourself.”

I raised a brow. “Why?”

“Harry likes to play,” he said with a shrug. “Especially with new girls.” Right.

The first three days were fine—long, exhausting, chaotic in the way only a live show could be. I got my bearings fast and earned my keep even faster. But no matter how focused I stayed, Harry made it his mission to get under my skin. Not in big, dramatic ways. He was slicker than that.

“Hey, new girl,” he called across the stage at sound check one afternoon, lips curled like he was holding back a laugh. “That mic’s not going to plug itself in.”

I didn’t look at him. Didn’t even flinch. Just walked past him with a coiled XLR cable in my hand and said, “Try using your hands for once, Styles.” A few heads turned. A few smirks twitched.

Harry’s brows rose. And then he laughed. “Feisty. I like it.” Ugh.

From then on, I became new girl. Not [Y/N]. Not sound tech. Not even hey-you. Just new girl.

“You following me, new girl?”

“Think about me last night, new girl?”

“Bet you dreamed about calling me daddy, didn’t you, new girl?” He said that last one with a wink. I nearly threw a mic pack at his head.

The worst part? He was obnoxiously beautiful. Even when he was annoying. Especially when he was annoying. He had that effortless kind of presence, the kind that made people stop and watch without realizing they were doing it. And I hated that I noticed. Hated that I caught myself looking. That I could smell his cologne when he passed behind me. That his voice got stuck in my head even when he wasn’t singing. I didn’t want to want him. And he knew it. That was the game.

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One night, after a show in Phoenix, the crew was packing up, and I was elbow-deep in tangled cords when someone stepped up beside me.

“You always this good with your hands?” I didn’t have to look up to know who it was.

“Do you ever stop talking?”

“Do you ever stop pretending I don’t turn you on?”

I rolled my eyes and kept working. “You’re not as charming as you think, Styles.”

“No?” he asked, squatting next to me like we were teammates instead of enemies. “You sure? Thought I saw you staring at my ass during ‘Stockholm Syndrome.’”

“That was me trying to figure out how someone that annoying fits into pants that tight.” He laughed. Not fake, not smug—real. It threw me for a second.

Then he said, “You’re fun, new girl,” and stood up again. “Don’t fall in love with me.”

“Oh, trust me,” I muttered under my breath, “you’re safe.”

Later that night, I couldn’t sleep. The hotel room was too cold. My thoughts were too loud. I replayed every word, every smirk, every stupid moment where he got too close or said something that made heat crawl up my neck. He wasn’t flirting. He was taunting. Toying. Poking at me like a lion with a new chew toy. And I hated how much I was letting him.

Still… a very small, very annoying part of me wondered what it would take to wipe the smug look off his face. Would he break if someone pushed back harder? Or would he just get worse? I’d find out soon enough.

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

The fifth city in six days, and I was running on caffeine and spite. The crew was beat. Everyone was a little snappy, a little sleep-deprived. But I kept my head down, did my job, and ignored the fact that Harry Styles had apparently made me his favorite new toy. He kept finding excuses to be in my space.

“New girl, that’s not how we coil cables,” he said one night with a mock-frown, arms folded as he watched me clean up after sound check.

I didn’t look up. “Then come show me how it’s done.”

He crouched beside me, slow and theatrical, and whispered, “Careful, sweetheart. You keep inviting me to show you things, I might start thinking you mean it.” I didn’t flinch. Didn’t give him the satisfaction.

“I’d rather chew glass.”

He chuckled, stood back up, and strolled off like he’d won the exchange anyway.

The boiling point came the next afternoon. It was a full venue rehearsal day, and the tech team had finally gotten Harry’s new in-ear monitors working after two days of complaints. I’d personally rewired part of the feed myself. It worked. It was flawless. Until he stepped on stage, tested the mic, then tilted his head with a frown.

“I don’t know,” he called out. “Something sounds off.” My stomach twisted. No way. No fucking way. One of the senior techs asked what the issue was. Harry shrugged dramatically. “Not sure. Maybe she set it up wrong.”

She. Me. I could feel the heat crawling up my neck. Everyone looked at me, then back at him. And that bastard? He was smirking. Something inside me snapped. I walked straight out onto the stage, every step sharp and steady, until I was standing right in front of him.

“What exactly sounds off?” I asked, tight-lipped.

He blinked, almost amused. “Not sure. Just feels… wrong.”

“You mean the perfectly calibrated audio feed I spent two hours fixing?”

He tilted his head. “Must’ve missed a wire, new girl.” And there it was again. New girl. Dismissive. Condescending.

The edge in my voice cut clean: “Do you actually have a problem with the sound, or are you just pissed I haven’t begged to suck your dick yet?” Dead silence. One of the other bandmates let out a low whistle.

Harry’s brows shot up—and for once, he didn’t have a comeback. He just stared at me. Mouth parted. Eyes wide. Shocked. Then slowly… so slowly… that damn smirk crept back in. He licked his lips, let out a laugh, and leaned in close enough for only me to hear.

“I’d pay good money to hear you say that again.”

I stepped back, fuming. “Then you better get your ears checked. Because your sound’s perfect. And you’re still a fucking headache.”

I turned and walked off stage without waiting for permission.

I didn’t see him for the rest of the afternoon. Maybe someone told him to back off. Maybe he was embarrassed. Maybe, deep down, I hoped he was stewing in it—tasting what it felt like to be called out in front of everyone, to be challenged. But that was the thing about Harry Styles. He didn’t back off. He doubled down.

It was late when I went back to the equipment room. Most of the crew had already cleared out, but I wanted to do a final check on the in-ear setup. The hallway was dark. Quiet. I was crouched behind the table, sorting cables, when I heard the door open. Then it closed. Then a click. I froze. And I knew before I even looked.

“Could’ve just told me you wanted attention,” Harry murmured, voice low and smooth as velvet.

I stood up slowly. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

He leaned against the wall, arms folded, all calm confidence. “You know, for someone who claims they can’t stand me,” he said, “you sure talk about my dick a lot.”

“Maybe because it’s the only part of you that doesn’t talk back.”

He laughed again—deep, rough. “God, you’re good at this.”

I stared him down. “What the hell do you want?”

He stepped forward. Not close. Not yet. But closer. “You were right,” he said, quieter now. “Sound was fine. I just wanted to see if I could get a rise out of you.”

“You always have to win, don’t you?”

“Not trying to win.” His eyes dropped to my mouth. “Just want to know what happens when you stop pretending you don’t want this.” A beat of silence passed between us. Hot. Tight.

Then I said it. Low. Dangerous. “Say my name.”

He blinked. “What?”

“I’m not ‘new girl.’” My voice didn’t shake. “You want to fuck around with me, Styles? Say my name first.”

For the first time, he didn’t smirk. His mouth parted. His eyes darkened.

“[Y/N],” he said, almost reverent. I swallowed hard.

“Good,” I whispered. Then he took a step closer. He didn’t say anything else. He didn’t need to.

The way he looked at me said it all—like I’d flipped a switch in him, like the cocky, smirking mask had slipped and something darker had crawled out from underneath. Hunger. Need. Control. He moved toward me slowly, like he was giving me time to stop it. To run. I didn’t.

He stopped just inches away. “You’re still mad at me.”

“Yes,” I breathed.

“You still hate me.”

“Absolutely.”

He reached out, fingers brushing my waist, light but firm. “Then why are you shaking?”

I hadn’t noticed. But I was. Because I wanted this. And it terrified me how much.

“I told you to say my name,” I whispered, still trying to hold some control.

He leaned in, lips grazing my ear. “I did.” Then he kissed me. Not soft. Not sweet. Nothing tentative.

It was rough and desperate and full of weeks’ worth of tension shoved into one messy collision. His hand cupped the back of my neck, tugging me into him, and my fingers gripped his shirt like I couldn’t help it. Maybe I couldn’t. He tasted like heat and adrenaline. His lips moved with purpose, tongue slick against mine, taking instead of asking. When I gasped, he groaned into my mouth like it lit him up from the inside.

His hands moved—trailing down my back, grabbing my ass through my jeans, grinding my hips against the hard line of him.

“You’ve been mouthy for days,” he muttered against my lips. “You want to be a good girl now or keep fighting me?” My head spun.

“Depends,” I breathed. “You done talking?”

That earned me a low, wicked laugh. Then he shoved the table behind me clear with one arm, sent cables and gear clattering to the floor, and lifted me onto it like I weighed nothing.

“You’re trouble,” he said, hands gripping my thighs, spreading them.

“You like trouble.”

His fingers snapped open my jeans. “Love it.”

He kissed me again—rougher this time. His hand slid between my legs, over my underwear, fingers pressing right where I needed him. I gasped. Arched. And that was it. Something broke between us. He dragged my jeans and panties down, baring me to the cold air. His touch turned filthy—two fingers dragging through my slick, slow and teasing.

“So wet for someone you hate.”

I reached down, grabbed his wrist, and pushed him harder against me. “Stop talking.”

He smirked. “Yes, ma’am.”

He dropped to his knees like it was nothing. Like it was instinct. And fuck—fuck—the second his mouth touched me, I forgot my name. His tongue licked a slow stripe up my center, followed by a soft, wet kiss to my clit that made my whole body jerk. He moaned like he loved it. Like I tasted better than any stage, any crowd, any ego stroke he’d ever known.

“Harry—”

His fingers gripped my thighs, holding me open, and his tongue didn’t let up. He circled and licked and sucked until my legs trembled and my head fell back. When I was close—so close—I felt him pull back just slightly.

“Say it again.”

“Say what?” I gasped, dizzy.

“My name.”

My fingers fisted his hair. “Harry—fuck—don’t stop.” That’s all it took.

He groaned and buried his face against me, devouring every sound I made as he pushed me over the edge. I came with a cry, shaking, thighs clamping around his head like he was the only solid thing in the world. And he stayed there. Licking me through it. Drawing it out until I was twitching and breathless.

When he stood, his lips were wet, his eyes dark. I didn’t think. I just grabbed his shirt and pulled him to me.

“Need you inside me,” I whispered.

He swore under his breath, dragging my shirt up and off, hands hungry and fast. His own clothes came next—belt clinking, zipper undone, jeans shoved low enough to free his cock. And fuck, he was big. Thick. Hard. Already leaking at the tip.

He caught my gaze. “You want it rough?” I nodded.

He grabbed my hips, dragged me to the edge of the table, and lined himself up. Then paused.

“Say it again.” I blinked up at him. “My name,” he said again, voice low and gritty. “I want to hear it when I fuck you.”

My throat went dry. “Harry.”

“Louder.”

“Harry.”

He pushed in. One hard thrust. My mouth dropped open—no sound came out at first, just a broken gasp.

“Holy shit—”

He didn’t wait. He pulled back and slammed into me again, harder, deeper. The table shook. I held onto the edge behind me, legs spread wide, trying to keep up as he set a brutal, punishing rhythm. His hands were everywhere—gripping my thighs, pulling my hips to meet every thrust. His eyes never left my face.

“You gonna give me another?” he growled. “Or was that pretty little moan all you had?” I whimpered. He grabbed my jaw, not hard, just enough to tilt my face up. “You’re not gonna be quiet now, are you?”

“Fuck you—” He fucked me harder for that. My head fell back with a cry.

“Already am, love.”

I didn’t remember how I ended up on my back. One second, I was clinging to the edge of the table, Harry slamming into me so deep it rattled my bones. The next, he was lifting me—arms around my thighs, carrying me across the room like I weighed nothing—and laying me down across the road case near the wall. He didn’t even slow down. Just shoved back inside me and picked up right where he left off. I could barely speak. Every thrust dragged a sound out of me I didn’t recognize. It was raw. Guttural. Desperate. And Harry looked like he was coming undone. His curls were damp with sweat, jaw clenched, tattoos flexing with every movement. His hands gripped my hips like he was afraid I’d disappear.

“You feel so fuckin’ good,” he grunted, hips slamming into mine. “So tight—so wet—fuck—been thinking about this for days.”

I whined beneath him, nails dragging down his back, and that did something to him—he leaned in, wrapped a hand around my throat, and whispered, “Say my name again.”

My body shook. “Harry,” I gasped, voice ragged. “Harry—please—don’t stop—”

“Yeah?” he panted, forehead pressed to mine. “You close?” I nodded, barely holding on. “Wanna come on my cock, baby?” he whispered, filth-soft and wrecked. “Wanna feel you squeeze around me—make you scream it this time.”

And then he angled his hips just right. I shattered. My legs shook. My back arched. My vision blurred as I moaned his name like it was the only word I’d ever known. He followed a heartbeat later with a strangled groan, burying himself deep as he came—hot and hard and endless. The room was silent except for the sound of our breathing. My body trembled beneath him. His arms braced on either side of me, head tucked against my shoulder, chest heaving.

Neither of us spoke. And for once… he didn’t smirk.

When he finally pulled out, he did it slowly, carefully. His hands stayed on my thighs like he didn’t want to let go just yet. He helped me sit up, still panting, still flushed. I looked at him. And for the first time since we met, Harry Styles looked… unsure. Not in a bad way. Just softer. Quieter.

He ran a hand through his hair, cheeks pink. “Didn’t mean to… that rough—”

“You did.” He blinked. I grinned, breathless. “And I liked it.”

That smirk—the one I’d spent weeks wanting to slap off his face—came back, but this time it was different. Warmer. Almost shy. He reached for my shirt. Handed it to me without a word. We got dressed in silence. Not awkward—just full of something that hadn’t settled yet. When I finished pulling on my hoodie, he cleared his throat.

“So,” he said. “Do I still get to call you new girl?” I gave him a look. He held up his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay—[Y/N] it is.” He stepped closer again. Not too close. Just enough. “I like saying it,” he added, voice low. “Especially when you’re falling apart.”

I raised a brow. “Cocky much?”

“Only when I’ve earned it.”

I shook my head, smiling despite myself. “Are you always this unbearable after sex?”

He grinned. “No. Usually I’m worse.” I laughed—actually laughed—and he looked almost startled by it. Then he said, quieter, “Wanna come back to mine?” I hesitated. “Not for that,” he added quickly. “Not unless you want to. Just… talk. Maybe eat something. You look like you haven’t had a proper meal all week.” My stomach grumbled. Perfect timing. He grinned wider. “There it is.”

I rolled my eyes. “Fine. But you’re buying.”

“I’ll feed you and say your name all night,” he said with a wink. “Sound fair?”

I smirked, brushing past him toward the exit. “We’ll see if you earn that privilege again.”

Behind me, he let out a low laugh. And this time, it wasn’t smug—it was real.

*****

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austinbutlerslovers · 17 days ago

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What Are We?

Label Mature 18+ Summary after frequent hook ups and feeling a lack of commitment, you ask Hank the question you’ve been ultimately guarding with your heart. ❤️‍🔥Passionate Smut❤️‍🔥 Hank friends with benefits • angst • possessiveness• claiming • pining • conflicted feelings • friends to lovers • sweet talk • dirty talk • body worship • clit play •nipple play •p in v • size kink • simultaneous orgasms •aftercare

✨ Heavy Inspo from clips of the Caught Stealing trailer

What Are We?

The late afternoon sun spills through the windows of Hank Thompson’s Brooklyn apartment, painting the hardwood floors in warm, golden streaks.

His space is open and lived-in, olive green walls, mismatched rugs, and a cluttered bookshelf stuffed with worn-out sports magazines and baseball memorabilia.

A faint hum of traffic drifts up from the street below, blending with the low beat of Ace Frehlys song New York Groove playing from the radio on the kitchen counter.

Hank lounges on the edge of his weightlifting bench, seated ceremoniously in the living room like a monument to his perfected physique.

He’s wearing a fitted black T-shirt that hugs his broad shoulders and sculpted chest, light blue jeans, worn just enough to look effortlessly cool, and a black backward Giants cap, his sandy blond hair peeking out from under the brim, curling just slightly at the nape of his neck

He’s holding a beer bottle loosely in one hand, his long fingers tapping against the glass in time with the music, while his other hand tosses a baseball lightly, catching it with a soft smack against his palm.

His motions are casual, almost absentminded, but it makes him look calm and confident, like he’s got the whole world figured out.

Bud, his tabby cat, darts across the room, chasing a balled up stray sock and Hank chuckles, a low, genuine sound as takes a swig of beer, placing the baseball next to him watching the action.

You’re standing at the kitchen counter, fingers fidgeting with the buttons of your dress, trying to focus on pouring yourself a glass of water from a pitcher.

But your eyes keep drifting over to Hank. He looks good…too good. The kind of good that makes your chest ache and your thoughts spiral. His blue eyes, bright and piercing in the soft light, catch yours for a split second, and you feel like you’re drowning in them.

His full lips curve into a half-smile, and you swear he knows exactly what he’s doing to you. He’s the most boyfriend you’ve ever seen him look, like he stepped out of a daydream you’ve been having for weeks.

And that’s the problem.

It has been several weeks of this—sneaking into his apartment after late-night texts, hooking up tangled in the sheets, whispering conversations after in the dark.

You’re falling hard, obsessed with the idea of him as yours.

But he hasn’t said a word about commitment, and the secrecy is starting to eat you alive. You want to be more than just his late-night hookup, more than the girl he texts when he’s bored. You want him, all of him, and the fact that he’s sitting there looking like that, so relaxed and unbothered, is starting to piss you off.

You slam the water pitcher down on the counter a little harder than you mean to, and Hank’s head tilts toward you. His brows lift slightly, and he sets his beer on the bench beside him.

“Yo, you good over there?” he asks, his voice warm but laced with curiosity, and Bud leaps onto the windowsill, tracking a bird with laser focus, his tail twitching, completely unaware of the tension behind him.

You force your composure, gripping the edge of the counter. “Yeah, fine. Just… thirsty.” It’s a lame excuse, and you both know it. You take a sip of water, but your hands are shaky, and you’re hyper-aware of his gaze on you.

Hank leans back bracing his hands on the work out bench, his knees spreading wider parting his thighs like he’s beckoning you to sit on them.

“You don’t seem fine,” he says, his tone gentle but direct. “You’ve been pacing around my apartment like you’re about to rob the place.” He teases with a sly grin, but his eyes are on yours searching, like he’s trying to read you.

You huff, setting the glass down and crossing your arms. “I’m not pacing,” you mutter, but you know you’re lying. You’ve been restless all day, your thoughts a tangle of want and frustration. You want to scream at him, to demand why he hasn’t made this real, but the words stick in your throat, and instead, you turn away.

Hank watches you for a moment, then stands, his steps confident as he crosses the room in a few easy strides, stopping just behind you.

You can feel the warmth of him, the faint scent of his cologne mixing with the hoppy tang of his beer. “Hey,” he says softly, his hand brushing your elbow. “Talk to me. What’s got you so wound up?”

You tense at his touch, your heart thudding. Part of you wants to lean into him, to let his warmth melt away this anger, but the other part, the louder part, is fed up.

You turn to face him, and those damn blue eyes are right there, locking onto yours, making it hard to think. His full lips are slightly parted, and you have to force yourself not to stare at them.

“I’m just…” You trail off, searching for the right words. “I’m tired, Hank.”

His brow furrows, and he tilts his head, “Tired of what? Me?” He asks, and there’s a playful curiosity in his voice, but you catch a flicker of something else…worry, maybe.

“No,” you say quickly, then sigh, running a hand stressfully over your forehead. “Not you. This. Us. Whatever this is.” The words spill out before you can stop them, and you feel a rush of adrenaline, like you’ve just jumped off a cliff.

Hank blinks, his hand dropping from your elbow. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, just studies you, and the silence makes your skin prickle. Finally, you nod toward the couch. “C’mon,” you say, your voice cautious. “Let’s sit.”

You grasp Hank’s hand like a lifeline, his calloused fingers grounding you as you follow him to the couch. You sink into the soft cushions, the worn fabric yielding under you both.

Hank sits close, his knee brushing yours, his presence warm and solid. He flips his Giants cap forward anxiously, the gesture betraying a flicker of nerves, before focusing on you.

His blue eyes are deep and impossibly pretty, like a clear summer sky as they lock on yours with quiet intensity.

“Okay,” he says, his tone calm but attentive. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

You take a deep breath, your fingers twisting in your lap. The words are right there, but they feel heavy, like they might break something if you let them out.

But you’re too far in to back down now.

“I want to know if I can take this seriously,” you admit, your voice quieter than you mean it to be. You meet his gaze, and it’s like staring into the ocean—beautiful, overwhelming.

“Us…I need to know what this is to you,” you ask, your voice quiet but firm, holding his gaze.

Hank looks into yours eyes with an unspoken understanding, and there’s a low lilt in his voice when he speaks, a mix of curiosity and something deeper.

“What do you need to take us seriously?” he asks directly. His tone isn’t defensive, but it’s not entirely open either—like he’s testing the waters.

You let the words slip out, your voice soft. “I need to know you’re in this for real,” you say your resolve gaining strength. “We’ve been sneaking around, hooking up, whatever. But I don’t just want to be some girl you call over anymore, I want more Hank. I want you. And I’m scared you don’t want the same thing.”

His expression softens, and he reaches up to take off his cap, placing it on to the coffee table. His hair is slightly messy, making him look less intense and more vulnerable as he runs a hand through it, then he leans closer, his knee brushing yours.

“I want you to know something, …” he starts, his voice low and steady. “I’m not …trying to play you, okay? I like you, a lot….more than I probably should.” He admits, and his words make your heart skip, but you’re not ready to let him off that easily.

“Then why haven’t you said anything?” you ask, your voice sharp. “Why does it feel like I’m the only one falling here?”

Hank exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look, I’m not great at this stuff,” he confesses, his eyes flicking down to the floor before meeting yours again. “The whole… relationship thing. I’ve fucked it up before. And I didn’t want to rush into something and mess this up with you. But I’m not just screwing around, either. I think about you all the time. Like, all the time.” He says giving you a small smile, and it’s so disarming you almost forget you’re mad.

“Really?” you ask, your voice lighter now, searching his face for any hint of a lie.

“Really,” he says, his hand sliding from the couch to rest on your knee, his thumb brushing absentminded circles. “I didn’t know you were feeling like this. You should’ve said something… I’m not a mind reader baby.”

The pet name sends a spark through you, and you bite your lip, trying to hold onto the last of your resolve. “I didn’t want to scare you off,” you admit, your hands unclenching in your lap. “But I’m scared of getting hurt. I’m already so into you, Hank. It’s freaking me out.”

He laughs softly, a warm, endearing sound, and his hand moves to cup your cheek, his thumb grazing your skin. “You’re not scaring me off,” he says, his eyes locked on yours. “I’m right here, and I want you, too. Okay?”

You exhale slowly, and for a moment, you just stare at him, letting his words sink in. His hand is warm against your face, his blue eyes so earnest they’re like a tide pulling you in—raw and unguarded, mirroring the longing building in your own.

You lean into his touch, your eyes searching his, and before you can overthink it, he closes the distance, pressing his lips to yours in a deep, consuming kiss, neither one of you able to deny whats building between you anymore.

His kiss is gentle and persistent, his lips soft and warm, tasting faintly of beer as his hand slides to the back of your neck, pulling you even closer as he guides you to climb on his lap.

You straddle him, your hands sliding through his sandy blonde hair as the kiss deepens. His fingers dig into your hips as he groans feeling your tongue sweep into his mouth, and the sound sends a shiver through you.

The tension you’ve been carrying for weeks fades away as he keeps you close, his strong embrace and searing kisses erasing every wavering thought, every lingering doubt.

You pull back just enough to catch your breath, and his eyes are lidded, his lips red and kiss-swollen as he looks at you like you’re the only thing that matters in his world.

“We good?” he breathes, his voice husky, and your thumb brushes along his jaw as you smile, your heart full and light for the first time in days.

“Yeah, Hank,” you whisper, pressing a kiss against his warm lips. “We’re good,” you confess, aching to feel him prove it.

You grab the hem of your dress, slowly pulling it up and over your head, baring yourself to him in only panties, your breasts level with his face, and his blue eyes darken as his hands slide down your sides, warm and possessive.

“Fuck, you’re unreal,” he says, his voice filled with awe.

He leans forward, cupping your breasts, his eyes fluttering closed as he indulges himself placing slow kisses along your collarbone, then down to your nipples.

He pulls one into his mouth, his tongue swirling, warm and wet, and you sigh, your fingers gripping his sandy blonde hair, holding the back of his head.

You’re so aroused by him, every sensation feels sharper, more urgent, and in between soft kisses and gentle sucks of his mouth, he whispers, “You’re so damn pretty.” his breath warm against your skin.

The heat of his praise, and the worship in his touch, fuels the ache inside of you with a need for more of him…all of him.

He tilts his head up kissing you hard, his tongue sweeping over yours, and you feel his cock, thick and hard, pressing against you through his jeans, the rigidness of his length brushing against you with every move.

He stands, lifting you effortlessly with him, and your legs wrap around his waist, his lips never leaving yours as his hands grip your thighs and he carries you to the bedroom.

The room is dim, blinds casting soft shadows over the bed as he lays you down, his hands claiming your breasts, your stomach, your hips, sliding your panties off with ease.

His black shirt is pulled over his head and tossed to the floor revealing his sculpted muscles, and you reach for him, but he’s already on you, his hands spreading your legs apart.

“I want you so fucking much,” he breathes, one hand gripping your hip as he shoves his jeans and boxers down in one motion. His cock slides out, thick, long, veined, the tip incredibly flushed pink, and the sight makes you desperate for him.

He slicks the head against you, teasing you open slowly, then he pushes in, the stretch intense, his size overwhelming.

You moan, nails digging into his back, urging him deeper and his blue eyes lock onto yours dark, reverent and filled with want. “You feel so fucking perfect on me.” he whispers.

His hand traces the curve of your jaw as his mouth finds yours, kissing you through the tightening pressure, until his pelvis presses flush against you, his cock filling you completely.

He grinds, the thick tip rubbing deep, and you moan, arching into him. His thrusts start slow heavy, raw, each one claiming you as his lips graze your neck, your jaw, his hand caressing your throat with a gentle squeeze.

His fingers slide down to your breasts cupping each one, his thumbs bushing your nipples until you sigh, your eyes closing lost in pleasure, his rough attentiveness in every move proving his desire for you.

“You feel how much I want you,” he breaths, his voice low, thrusting harder, and you nod, breathless, needing him to know you’re his.

His hips snap forward, biceps flexing, hair falling into his face as he drives into you, the length of his cock brushing every sensitive spot within, and your hands grip his back, urging him on as he groans, his face flushing pink.

“Gonna ruin you for anyone else” he rasps, his voice strained as you tremble, the pleasure building faster, and he feels it, thrusting harder, his hand slipping between you to rub your clit. “Say it,” he demands, eyes burning into yours. “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” you gasp, your voice breaking off as he pounds into you. “Hank, I’m yours.”

“Yeah?” he groans, his hair falling forward, his muscles taut. “Fuck, say my name.”

“Hank,” you moan overwhelmed, and he groans deeply as he starts to unravel, his thrusts turning erratic, his cock pulsing harder, and you shatter, your orgasm ripping through you, crying out his name. He follows moments later, groaning deeply as he comes hard, filling you with warmth as you tremble taking him.

Your bodies stay pressed together and his hips roll against you grinding out the last of his release, your hearts pounding in sync, the connection between you undeniable.

Slowly he slides his cock all the way out and collapses beside you breathless. He pulls you to his side, both of you naked and spent, and his hand glides over your back, tracing soft patterns as he stares into your eyes, quiet, content, and completely yours in the moment.

“You’re everything I want,” he says, his voice low and certain, and you nod pressing closer into him, your heart full. His warmth anchors you, and in his strong embrace your doubts slip away, his words a quiet promise keeping you satisfied and calm …for now.

END 🧢

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honeyhotteoks · 3 months ago

Text

across stardust - five (j.yh)

summary: you and yunho have worked together for years, idol and makeup artist, but until today you’ve never touched him skin to skin. when the world tilts on its head from just a brush of his cheek, you realize he’s so much more than a crush, he’s your soulmate. four | five | six | series masterlist 🔗read on ao3 ✨across stardust pinterest board

note: part five got away from me, so there will now be a part six which will end wrap up this story. this chapter is deeply emotional and full of moments that i truly hope everyone loves, though it's a bit of a plot direction i'm not sure anyone expected. additional notes at the end of the chapter to avoid spoilers. thank you all for your love and support on this fic, it means the world.

tags/warnings: idol!yunho, makeup artist!reader, fem!reader, soulmates au, soulmate identifying marks, soulmate tattoos, tattoed!reader, anxiety/nerves, lots of angst, lots of tears, mentions of functional vs. dysfunctional families, alcohol consumption (not heavy), needy/rough sex, sex with no prep, clothed sex, oral sex f!receiving, mention of handjobs, romantic af sex, lots and lots and lots of praise/ possessive petnames (i.e. 'my love', 'my baby'), overuse of jagiya, basically they're soooo fucking happy to be back together

pairings: yunho x reader

genre: fantasy, romance, smut || soulmates au

word count: 15.7k

It’s been too long since you’ve had a cup of Em’s herbal tea, that you’re sure of when you take the first long sip, cozied in the corner of their sofa and looking out the window at the little greenhouse patio room where Em tends to all her plants. It’s been five days since you left Seoul, and all you’ve heard from anyone is a single text message from Iseul that made your stomach roll.

I’m sorry - I’ll call you as soon as I can.

You had left your best friend a voicemail while Hana drove out of the city, short but to the point. You can remember the words perfectly - The company knows, things are bad and I’m going to Hana’s for a little while. Please tell him where I am, tell him I’m waiting.

The single text and the silence after that has left you feeling untethered for days.

The bond with Yunho has stayed mostly quiet. You can still feel him, his presence inside you will never fade, but he feels flat, shut down. It reminds you of that day in the airport, the way you seemed to lose connection with him when he steeled himself for the experience of being mobbed by fans. You wonder how much effort it takes him to mute his own emotions like this, you wonder if he can still feel you and the way you’ve cried yourself to sleep every night since you were fired.

A breeze passes through the open window in the greenhouse, leaves swaying and shuddering with the air, and you hear the sound of the watering can, of Em’s house slippers on the slate flooring.

For a brief moment, you picture a little house like this in the countryside.

Yunho somewhere in the kitchen, your flowers in the garden, and little hands beside yours in the dirt.

Your chest throbs, and you push yourself up to your feet before the quiet of the house lets you daydream anymore about a future that feels so much farther away than it did five days ago.

Em turns as you step down into the greenhouse, and you tap the side of your cup, “I think this blend is the best you’ve done,”

Em smiles, her kind face always putting you right at ease, “Yeah?”

You nod, taking another sip, “What’s in this one?”

“A mix,” She replies, “holy basil, lemongrass, dandelion root and nettle,”

You wouldn’t know the difference between one herb and another, but Em does and she recites the ingredients in a way that calms you and takes your mind right back to the present and away from wandering, painful thoughts of the future.

“Oh,” She nods, gesturing towards a large pot, “and gingko leaf,”

“Mm,” You nod.

Em finds a pair of shears and holds them out handle-side towards you.

“Putting me to work?” You smile, setting your cup of tea to the side.

“Hana’s cooking soon,” She nods and gestures towards a large box of pepper plants, “we need five or six of those,”

“Sure,”

It’s quiet for a moment as you assess the ripeness of the shishitos and while Hana refills her watercan from a hose in the corner, but when you start to clip a few off their leafy green plant, a voice catches you from the doorway.

“Should we take a trip?” Hana’s brightness fills the space, your sister always one to throw an idea at the wall and see if it will stick.

“A trip?” You blink.

“Jeju, maybe?” She offers, looking between you and Em.

“I’m unemployed, Hana,” You know she’s just trying to make you feel better, but your heart sinks and you scrub a hand over your tired face, “I should probably get a job.”

“It hasn’t even been a week,” She says, “what you need is a break.”

“Han,” You sigh, “I told you, Iseul knows where I am, which means he knows where I am. I can’t just leave.”

Em is quiet behind you, but you hear her set down the watering can and exhale softly.

“Iseul, the girl who ratted you out?” Hana says, her voice a little sharper than it was the last time she asked this question.

“I told you already,” You shake your head, “they lied about that.”

Your sister’s jaw tightens and relaxes, like she’s trying to keep herself from saying something. It’s been days of this. When you got to the house you poured the whole story out in a wash of tears, and ever since Hana has been upset at the wrong things and the wrong people. Em has been your calm constant, always a listener first, careful not to assume.

“I just think he should have found a way to call you,” Hana says, sinking into the doorframe and her eyes softening to something you can only describe as pity, “and I still don’t think you can trust Iseul, but after five days how hard is it to pick up a phone?”

“Han,” You chest aches, “Hana, I really can’t hear this,”

“I think you might need to hear it,” She sighs, crossing her arms over her chest, “I think you’re just sitting here in pain while he could do something about it,”

“Baby,” Em finally speaks up, shaking her head in your peripheral vision at her wife.

“I know, I know,” Hana says, “I’m just worried about you, I’ve never seen you like this and I know he has a very important job or whatever, but you’re,”

Your heart lurches, “Hana, I love you, but you do not know what this industry is like.”

“I just,”

“When they want to,” You continue, “they control every facet of your life. Yunho’s in trouble because of us, I’m not angry with him, I’m worried about him. If he hasn’t called me, I promise you he has a reason and I’m not going farther away from him while this is happening,”

She lets out a dejected breath of air, “Fine,”

“Iseul will call,” You add, “I don’t blame anybody but the company,”

“And if,” Hana starts to say.

“Let’s not,” Em interrupts smoothly, “y/n, how are those peppers coming?”

You blink, the sheers and the peppers in your hands forgotten with the sudden presence of your sister, “Uh,” you clear your throat, “good,”

“Great,” Em smiles widely and lightens the mood, “Han, baby, I’m getting hungry. Can we start the meat?”

Hana’s lips close into a little line and then she exhales slowly through her nose before nodding, “Yeah, I’ll get it going,”

“Great, we’ll be in soon,” Em says with gentle authority.

Hana nods, disappearing around the corner and you let out a heavy sigh, letting your eyes go unfocused again on the plant in front of you.

After a moment, Em rests a gentle hand on your back, “You know I love your sister, but when she makes up her mind about something,”

You nod as Em trails off, “She’s wrong about this though,”

Em hums in understanding and takes the shears out of your hands to finish clipping the remaining peppers off their vine.

“Something isn’t right,” You explain quietly, “I can feel him, but it’s so distant, he wouldn’t be pushing me away if there wasn’t a good reason,”

“I believe you,” Em replies.

“I want Hana to understand,” You confess, “I don’t want her to hate him,”

Em leans in, wrapping her arms around you in a hug and you let her, biting the inside of your lip to keep your emotions in check for what feels like the hundredth time today, “She won’t,” Em says softly, “but she loves you and needs to make sure her big sister is okay, okay?”

You nod.

“I’ll talk to her,” She says as she steps back out of the hug, “but for now, let’s go make dinner. Let’s open a bottle of wine and just forget about it for tonight. If you say Iseul will call, she’ll call. If you say he’s going to come for you, he will, but waiting for it is making you sick. Let’s let it go for a little while,”

Thick emotion sits lodged in your throat, but you manage a nod, “Okay,”

“Okay,” She smiles, cupping your cheek for a moment and wiping away a single stray tear, “come on,”

You follow her into the kitchen, where Hana has already started laying out cutting boards and pulling ingredients out of the fridge, but when you cross into the room she drops the bundle of green onions onto the counter and walks over to you, throwing her arms around you.

“Oh,” You hug her back, your eyes connecting with Em across the room who gives you a soft shrug and a knowing smile.

“I’m sorry,” Hana squeezes you, “I didn’t mean to make you upset again,”

“It’s alright,” You murmur, “I just want you to trust me,”

“I trust you,” She sighs, “I do,”

You expect a ‘but’, a follow up, something about how no matter how much she trusts you she doesn’t trust the people who made you feel this way, but if Hana thinks it, this time she holds her tongue.

At the sharp sound of a cork pulling free from a wine bottle, you both separate and turn towards Em who holds up a sizable bottle of red.

“Come on,” She says finding some glasses, “let’s get drunk,”

The tension in the room diffuses, and for the first time in days the knot between your shoulders loosens.

Em pours the wine, Hana sparks the flame on the gas stove, and you slide into place at the cutting board to start prepping vegetables. Within fifteen minutes, the warmth of the wine works its way into your system, Em has thrown a vinyl on the turntable and turned up the volume, and Hana is in her element with the stirfry.

You don’t see Iseul’s first call or her second, the music in the kitchen is too loud and you’re in the middle of your first real and good laugh since the firing, your phone forgotten on the island entirely. It isn’t until you’re walking past to get a look at the recipe on Hana’s phone that you see yours light up again with Iseul’s name and you hastily wipe your hands on your apron and reach for it.

You almost drop it as you fish it off the table, and Hana and Em go quiet as they watch you fumble to answer. There’s a single second of doubt, a moment of fear in your stomach about what she’s going to say, but you push it aside and pick up, “Hello?”

“y/n?” Iseul sounds relieved.

“Hey,” it’s all you can manage, and despite Hana’s nervous expression, you walk straight out of the kitchen to a quieter part of the house to finally, finally find out what’s been going on at home in Seoul.

“I know what they told you,” Iseul starts, her voice a little emotional, “but I swear to god, I didn’t tell anyone about you and Yunho.”

“I know,” You breathe, but you’re still relieved to hear her say it and the words come out in a sigh.

“It was Eunji,”

That gets your attention.

At the far side of the house you lean against the stairs until you’re sinking down onto them, disbelief in your voice, “Eunji?”

You weren’t as close with her as you were with Iseul, but you were still on the same team. You considered her your friend, you would have never done something like this to her.

“She saw you and Yunho together,” She explains, “she overheard us talking too, I didn’t know she had, she just… she put some things together, jumped to conclusions,”

“And she just reported us? Just like that?”

“It’s, yeah,” Iseul takes a breath.

“I don’t even know what she saw, what she thinks she knows,” Your gut clenches in disbelief, in anger.

“I think half of it was guessing, half of it lies. Saving her own skin,” Iseul says.

“Her own skin?”

“She’s been on a probationary action plan, apparently,” Iseul informs you, “she posted something on social media a few months ago that accidentally disclosed the members’ location, she got reprimanded and warned.”

“Fuck,” You blink, “I had no idea,”

“No one did,” She continues, “she sold you out to make herself look better,”

“Iseul,” You breathe, dropping your head into your hands, “what about Yunho?”

She’s quiet for a moment, but then she says, “It’s been bad here.”

Alarm shoots through you, “Is he alright?”

“They took his phone,” She explains, “they’re watching him and the other members like hawks, it’s like they’re rookies again.”

You swallow tightly.

“The staff was told you were let go for budget,” She goes on, “which kind of backfired on them. Everyone’s speculating who’s next. With how weird it’s been… I just didn’t know what happened in the meeting, I didn’t want to reach out and make something worse if something was going on legally,”

“Oh,”

“I talked to Yunho this morning,” She says and you straighten up, “he told me what happened, he told me what they said about you and that I was the one who… and Eunji was acting weird, sneaky, I’m just sorry I didn’t call before,”

“I know, it’s okay, I’m okay,” You breathe.

“No,” She manages, “I should have called,”

“Iseul, please,” You shake your head, “I don’t care about that anymore,”

She sighs, and then she says something else, her voice low enough that you wonder where she is and if someone could overhear her side of things, “They’re working on a plan,” she says, “he’s not giving up, and the members are with him.”

Relief fills your chest, “They are?”

“Yunho said they’re moving fast,”

Heat wells in your eyes, the start of tears, “Okay,”

“We didn’t have much time to talk, but he said soon,”

You nod, your hand tightening on your thigh as you get your emotions in check, “How did he seem? How is he?”

”Not good, babe,” She admits, “he’s… it’s obvious he’s not sleeping or eating.”

“I need to come home,” You breathe.

“No,” She insists, “not yet,”

“Iseul,” You massage a tight spot of anxiety on your chest.

“He said he knows you’re far, he can feel that you’re not in Seoul,” She continues, “when I told him you were with Hana he looked so relieved,”

Your eyes press shut.

“Listen,” She murmurs, “I have a letter for you,”

“A letter?” You take a deep breath.

“He asked me not to read it, just to get it to you. I mailed it to Hana’s this morning,” She says softly.

It feels like a lifeline.

“I know this is bad right now,” She says, “but tell me you’re okay,”

“I don’t know,” You offer, “tell me this is going to work out?”

“It’s going to work out,” She insists, “you’re not here, but people aren’t happy. Everyone has questions about your firing, even managers are asking questions. One of the security officers said the way KQ handled it didn’t sit right,”

“Are you serious?” Your eyes widen.

“People love you here,” She reminds you, “you’re family. I don’t know what happened in that room, but this is not going away like they want. You just have to stay strong.”

You wipe the threat of tears away and nod, “I want to come home,”

“I know,” She murmurs, “but trust him, I’ve never seen the members this serious. Something’s happening, something big,”

“I trust him,” You breathe, “I trust you,”

“We’ve got you,” She says, her voice stronger than how you’ve felt in days, “you’re coming home.”

For the first time in five days, you feel a real moment of hope.

“Babe,” She takes a sharp breath, “I am, I really… I’m so sorry,”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about,”

“I didn’t tell them,” She says, “but Eunji still heard something from me, if I had just,”

“You didn’t do anything that Yunho and I didn’t do ten times over,” You brush her guilt away, “sneaking off at the office, finding little ways to be together. We couldn’t help ourselves, and here we are. If it wasn’t her it would have been someone else, but you kept our secret, you didn’t do this,”

She’s quiet for a moment and then she makes a soft sound to clear her throat, “You’re my best friend,”

“You’re mine,” You reply automatically.

“Listen,” She says, “I’ve got to go, I don’t want anyone to walk in and overhear, but look for the letter. He said the plan’s in there. Stay strong, and I’ll text you and keep you updated, we’re gonna figure this out.”

You grab onto that thought with both hands, “Okay,”

“I love you, girl,” She says softly.

“Love you too,”

When the call ends, emotion floods your chest. You're terrified, relieved, grateful, hopeful, all of it at once for the first time in days. It took a while, but you finally know the truth of what you always believed, Yunho’s fighting for you, just like he promised he would.

Now you just have to wait.

It takes two days, but his letter finally arrives.

For two days you prepared yourself for what he could have written. You packed your bags for Seoul, you texted endlessly with Iseul, and you tried to find every chore under the sun around the house to help Hana and Em with to keep your mind off the impending something that was coming in the mail.

When the post finally pushes through the mail slot in the door on the second day after your call, you run to get it, searching through the pile of papers until you see a manila envelope with your name on it. It feels like the sweetest relief, yesterday’s mail just bills and junk, a little bit of heartbreak even though you knew logically mail from Seoul would take longer than a single day.

But it’s here now, safely in your hands. You sink back against the door and tear it open, getting to the sealed letter inside, Yunho’s messy handwriting instantly identifiable. With shaking hands you let the rest of the mail fall to the floor and you pull open the crisp white envelope to get at the folded sheet of paper inside.

y/n -

I love you, this first always.

Tears spill over and you blink hard to clear your vision before you start the letter over again.

y/n -

I love you, this first always. You must hate me for this silence, for how long it’s been, but please remember I love you and I promise everything I’m doing now I do for you. You’re my heart, you are in me always.

There’s so much to say, but I’ll do it in person. I have a plan, and the members are standing beside us. After they took you away, they made it clear that any contact with you from any of the members would mean a breach of contract. They still don’t know that we’ve already started working on negotiations, they think they caught us unprepared. Our outside attorney has been quietly advising us these past few days through Hongjoong, and we’ve put together all the plans and paperwork. It didn’t happen like it was supposed to, but we are going to push harder for renegotiation, and you’re a part of that. There’s so much to explain, so much legal jargon I’ve been researching for days, but we’re almost ready and all the risks seem worth it if you and I are together at the end of this.

I wish I could see you now, apologize for everything that happened. What they did to you was wrong, not just how they treated you as a person, but legally. I will explain it all when we see each other, but I have hope now and so should you.

We’ve organized a meeting, and I hope you’ll come. Thursday, at ten after our schedules we will be staying late for more practice and meeting secretly with the attorney in person. Monday morning we have a meeting with our CEO. I am fighting for us, and I need you by my side. I don’t know where you are, but I feel it in my body that it’s not here, not home. I’m asking Iseul to get this letter to you, and I’m asking you to trust me.

Please come home to me. I’m ready to fight for us, I’m ready for our story to start.

I love you, I’ll never stop.

Yours.

By the time you’re finished reading, your hands are shaking, tears tracking down your cheeks.

With the letter clutched in your hand your heart feels like it’s finally beating to the right rhythm again.

“Hana,” You call into the depths of the house, scrubbing away your tears “I need a ride to Seoul!”

One more day, just one.

Tomorrow, you’ll be back in his arms.

───────────────────────── ✧₊⁺───────────────────────

The drive home feels longer than ever.

It’s raining when you make it to the KQ studio space, a heavy dark downpour that leaves Hana driving slowly through deep puddles to get into the familiar parking garage. It’s fairly empty, it always is in the evening after eight or nine, so you’re able to park inconspicuously but still close to the lower access doors.

Everything feels like the plot of a film, clandestine meetings and back door business deals.

By the time Hana engages the parking brake, your heart is pounding in your chest. You breathe through it, unbuckling your seatbelt and hastily smoothing down your hair before pressing a hand to your anxious chest.

Hana kills the ignition and twists in her seat, “We’re coming in with you,”

“Yeah?” Your eyebrows raise.

“I’m meeting him,” She nods, “and you need backup.”

Em nods from the backseat and rests a warm hand on your shoulder, “You’re not going in alone.”

Your phone buzzes in your hands and you nod before you see the text you’ve been waiting for from Iseul.

“She’s downstairs,” You say, “let’s go,”

Quietly, you all exit the car, waiting for only the briefest moment by the lower door. Iseul pops her head out as the heavy industrial door swings open and you rush forwards.

She tugs you into a hug once you’re all safely inside and you can already feel the rising tide of emotion and nerves flooding through you.

“Hey,” Iseul manages, her voice cracking, “I’m so fucking happy to see you,”

“Me too,” You breathe back the rush of tears.

“Everyone’s upstairs,” She says as you break apart, “are you ready?”

“Ready for what?” You manage, “Yunho’s letter wasn’t clear on the specifics,”

“Shit,” She says, “okay you’re going to want to take a deep breath.”

“Why?” You glance to your sister.

“There’s a lot of people here, it’s going to be fine though,” Iseul tells you, hitting the button for the elevator.

“As long as he’s here I really don’t care if you have the entire National Assembly upstairs,”

Iseul laughs softly, “I’ll remember you said that,” she says, and then she turns to acknowledge your family, “hi Hana, hi Em, I’m so glad you’re both here,”

“Of course,” Hana says as the elevator doors open, “we’re here for whatever she needs,”

Iseul smiles warmly as you all step into the elevator.

As the doors close, you can hear them still talking - small talk about the rain, the drive to Seoul, but you can’t take it in. For the first time in days, you can feel him close again, and your heart picks up inside your chest. You don’t care what’s in store for you here, as long as you can see him again, feel his touch, as long as he’s still your center.

The minute the doors open your feet start carrying you forwards, just a quick walk down the hall and into the studio space you know so well. Past the room where they do their dance practices is a series of smaller studios, offices, and a conference room with a large lobby in the center. You don’t need Iseul to tell you where he is, you feel the pull of him, and you follow it all the way down the corridor and around the corner into the main space.

There’s other people here but you don’t take in a single soul except Yunho. He’s waiting for you, standing tall in the center of the lobby and watching for you, and the moment you round the corner and meet his eyes he’s moving.

Your bag falls from your shoulder to the floor and you rush forwards to meet him.

He scoops you up like he has to touch you, pulling you into his arms in a desperate embrace, and finally the feeling inside you snaps. A relieved sob bubbles up from your throat and you bury your face into his shoulder, clinging to his sweatshirt.

“You’re here,” He manages, his head pressed against yours.

You nod, tightening your arms around his shoulders, “I missed you,”

He makes a small, shuddering sound, his hand cupping the back of your head tenderly, and then all at once whatever walls he had maintained for days crumble to the ground. You feel him, his emotions, his mind, it all crashes into you. You know in a rush what he’s been dealing with for days. Unadulterated fear for you, shame in himself, betrayal, grief, and all encompassing anger. But beneath that, laced through every inch, is fierce determination and love, full and timeless for you.

He breathes out in a shudder of relief before pulling back so he can see your face, smoothing back your hair to look at you, to love you, “Hi,” he murmurs softly.

“Hi,” You touch his cheek as a smile spreads over his face.

He looks tired, like stress has run him ragged since you’ve been gone, but he’s real and he’s solid under your touch.

Behind you, Iseul gently clears her throat, and it breaks the spell. Glancing to either side you realize for the first time you’re not alone with him.

“Yunho,” You murmur, “what’s going on?”

He nods, “Right, of course,”

He’s hesitant to put you down, that you can feel, but he sets you back on your feet and chooses to hold your hand instead, fingers laced together tightly.

His skin feels so right.

Yunho straightens up, “Um,” he exhales, “okay there’s a lot to tell you,”

“Hey, y/n,” Wooyoung says from a few feet away and you grin when you see him and all the members off to the side, looking a little emotional themselves.

“Hey,” You feel so dizzy with happiness to be back here, to see so many faces you’d spent the last five years with.

You look past them and around the lobby and your chest tightens, it’s more than just the members. You recognize managers, and you hear additional voices down the hall where you know there’s a kitchenette. You hear the sound of the espresso machine, and to the right of the hall, you can see more figures behind the frosted glass walls of the conference room.

“Yunho,” You breathe.

Iseul said there would be a lot of people here, and she wasn’t kidding.

“I’ll explain everything soon,” He says, running his hands up and down your arms, “but everyone here is here to help us, to support us,”

“Your managers,” Your eyes dart that way again.

“Don’t agree with what’s happened at all,” He says firmly, “they’re like family to us, they didn’t want all of us to be treated this way,”

“Everyone knows?” Your eyebrows raise.

“Everyone here does,” He nods, “it’s all part of the plan for Monday,”

Your head is spinning already, “I don’t,”

“I promise I’ll explain,” He reiterates, “do you trust me?”

“Of course,”

“Then trust me,” He murmurs, “I promise, we’re going to be okay.”

He’s so solid, so confident, and you blink back a hazy mist of tears, nodding to him.

Yunho squeezes your hands and then he nods towards the doorway, “This must be Hana,”

You remember yourself then, pulling him over, “God, I’m sorry,” you tell her, “yes, Hana and Em, this is Yunho.”

Yunho bows deeply, and tight emotion catches in your throat, “Thank you both for taking care of her,” he says, “it’s… I’m honored to meet you. y/n speaks of you so warmly, I’m so glad to have you both here for us.”

Em smiles widely, nudging her wife, “We’re so happy to meet you,”

Hana nods, looking between the two of you, “Same,” he says, her eyes watering, “oh fuck, I’m going to cry already,”

Yunho smiles.

Em squeezes Hana’s shoulders and smoothly takes over, “It looks like you have a plan?”

Yunho nods, “Yes, the short version is that we’re all set to do the final review of the renegotiations and prepare to speak with our CEO on Monday,”

Your eyes flick to the board room, “Your attorney’s here?”

He nods, “Ready to walk us through the paperwork and confirm the plan,”

“And y/n’s involvement?” Hana clears her throat.

“She’s part of everything,” Yunho says calmly, turning to you, “we’ll go over it in detail, but we want things fixed for you too, not just our contracts.”

You nod.

“There’s more to it than that, but,” He looks a little nervous, a brief flicker of it in his chest, but he shifts his attention back to your sister, “will you both stay? I know it’s late, but,”

“We’re here,” Em nods.

“Thank you,” He smiles, “there’s a kitchen that way, bathrooms down the hall to the left, and plenty of couches. Can I get you anything?”

Hana and Em both shake their heads.

“Yunho,” Hongjoong’s voice breaks your attention and you both look to the side, “we’re ready to start,”

The members are filing into the boardroom and your heart seems to pound faster in your chest.

“We’ll be right here,” Hana assures you, “come get us if you need us,”

All you can do is nod.

“Ready?” Yunho wraps his arm around you, this time steering you in the direction of the board room.

”As I can be,” You admit, “I still don’t know what’s going on,”

“I’m sorry,” He murmurs, “and there is something else,”

You look up to him and he grimaces lightly.

“My family’s here,” He says softly.

“What?” Shock spreads through you.

“They came up when I told them what was happening, and they brought some paperwork I needed from home,” He sums up quickly, “a lot is going to happen over the next few days, and I needed them here,”

“You’re scaring me a little,”

“It’s okay,” He smiles, “I swear, trust me, remember?”

Anxiety tumbles in your gut as you round the corner into the conference room. Too much was happening, an overwhelming wave of information and whatever this meeting was would be no better you’re sure of that.

But Yunho’s hand is in yours, his heartbeat steady.

If nothing else is true in the world, you trust this man.

The conference table is a long, expensive looking walnut right for a business meeting, and Yunho walks you to two middle seats saved just for you both. The members circle on either side of you, and across the table you’re face to face with Hongjoong and a sharp looking man in a suit who you can only assume is their attorney. Their managers sit in extra office chairs that have been wheeled into the room, and you’re acutely aware that every pair of eyes in the room is on you and Yunho.

“Alright,” The attorney begins, “you must be y/n, I’m Attorney Choi,”

“It’s nice to meet you,” You nod your head.

“And you,” He smiles, and there’s genuine warmth in it, “everyone’s told me good things,”

Heat pricks at your cheeks.

He slides a few folders in front of himself and takes a quick sip of water. Your stomach tightens, remembering the folder packed full of lies from the last time you were in a KQ office.

Yunho’s hand smooths up and down your spine.

“Now,” Attorney Choi says, “let’s get started, we have a coup to plan,”

Your hands clasp together under the table, and you swallow nervously.

“Joong,” Yunho prompts softly, and you watch Hongjoong nod.

“Right,” He says, “y/n, I’m sure Yunho told you this part but Monday we are meeting with the CEO and we have some options.”

You nod, and Yunho’s hand continues the slow comforting line up and down your back.

“We have adjusted contracts ready,” He explains, “it includes everything we’ve agreed on as eight members. I’ll let Yunho talk you through those details later, but the most important thing for this conversation is that all romantic entanglement clauses are to be dropped immediately.”

“With everything you’re negotiating for,” You glance between Hongjoong and Yunho, “do you expect they will agree or not?”

Attorney Choi interjects smoothly, “They won’t, but we have a prepared list of changes and adjustments. Companies need to feel like they’re winning, like they’re getting the best part of the deal, so we’ll make them believe that.”

You nod.

“We also have separate documentation that concerns you,” Yunho says.

Attorney Choi once again jumps in, “Miss y/n,” he says, tapping a small stack of papers on the tabletop to line them up before sliding them over to you, “please review these. We intend to assert on your behalf that your termination was not only harassment, but unlawful.”

Your eyes skim the page at rapid speed and you can’t take in everything, but certain words jump out at you - misogynistic language, discrimination, libel, unfounded accusations, the list goes on.

“This we want you to explicitly agree to,” Hongjoong says, “we won’t pursue it if you’re not comfortable.”

Quickly you flip through the pages, glancing at Yunho, “You’ve read this?”

“Carefully,” He assures you.

You swallow, letting the papers fall closed so you can look up again, “I don’t want this to interfere with your ability to get a positive outcome in the negotiation.”

Hongjoong shakes his head, “You getting your job back is a positive outcome,”

“When push comes to shove,” Their attorney offers, “the courts don’t rule favorably for women in cases like these, I won’t lie to you.”

Yunho turns to watch you, his eyes studying your expression, but you simply nod, “I know.”

“That being said,” He continues, “no company wants this kind of story in the media or to spend time in court arguing the finer points of sexism. We use this to get your job back as part of the negotiation, and to give your relationship status with Mr. Jeong immunity,”

“I’ll do it,” You nod.

“You should read it through,” Hongjoong starts but you shake your head, turning to Yunho.

“You’ve read it, what do you think?”

He takes your hand, “It’s not without risk,” he says honestly, “but it’s our best option for keeping your name and your job in the negotiation process. I don’t want you left behind by whatever this this turns into,”

You squeeze his hand, “I trust you.”

He nods, the weight of that trust not lost on him, his thumb grazing slowly over your knuckles.

You turn back to Hongjoong, “I’ll do it,”

He smiles a little and then nods, “Alright,”

“What happens if they say no to everything?” You ask, “What happens if they don’t want to negotiate at all?”

Hongjoong looks around the table at his members, and then finally back to you, “We are prepared to walk away from KQ if that happens.”

Your stomach drops like lead, “What?”

Hongjoong clears his throat, “For a long time, we’ve discussed the future after this company. KQ has taken care of us up until now, but we won’t tolerate a hostile work environment.”

You grip Yunho’s hand harder.

“Mingi and I have talked about our own label since before debut,” He says and your eyes widen, “we always planned to do it someday, but if these negotiations go poorly, we are prepared to walk away as a group and rebuild under a new label, our own label.”

“But,” You flounder, “The money,”

Hongjoong nods, “It’s no small thing,” he agrees, “you’re right, but we’ve run the numbers. We can pay the debts we owe, and wash our hands of this company if we have to.”

You look to Yunho.

“Our families,” He says softly, “many of them have agreed to become primary investors in the label,”

Your eyes sting with tears, “But, that’s… this is too risky,”

“It is risky,” Hongjoong says, “but it is a risk we are all willing to take together for the sake of all of our happiness and success.”

You cover your mouth with your free hand, shock in every inch of your system.

“In all likelihood,” Attorney Choi offers, “your CEO is a pragmatic man. At the potential of losing their only senior group publicly, they will meet our demands. Their wallets would not easily recover from that level of revenue loss, that is a risk I am confident they are not willing to take.”

You let that sink in.

”They need us more than we need them,” Hongjoong says, “that we are all sure of.”

You nod, your voice a little hoarse from the shock, “What more do you need from me?”

“Right now, nothing,” Their attorney says, “be available if we need you to speak to KQ leadership directly, but otherwise your signature on a few documents will be enough.”

“You won’t need to talk to them,” Yunho asserts.

“I’ll do whatever it is you need me to do,” You tell them honestly.

Attorney Choi nods, “Then let’s begin and review the plan for Monday,”

Everyone nods, and you look at Yunho to see if you should leave, give them space to discuss the minutiae of contracts, but he holds your hand steady.

The review takes over an hour, and the plan is layered and detailed. Their attorney will do the talking in the meeting, and state their intent to renegotiate immediately. He’ll cover the high points of their requests, and position things carefully where your firing and mistreatment is concerned. Management will be present to lend their support, all members will be there to personally state their own commitment to renegotiation or termination, and you will be patiently waiting by the phone.

By the end your head is throbbing, every facet of the plan peeled open and examined to ensure the right outcome, but where they’ve all had over a week to come to terms with this plan, you’ve digested it at lightning speed.

“It’s late,” Attorney Choi finally says, “this weekend get some rest where you can, this may be a long fight ahead.”

It’s nearly midnight, and your head is fuzzy. You have an overwhelming urge to just sink into Yunho’s chest and beg him to take you home, but everyone’s still discussing little details amongst themselves and your head spins from all the information.

“I feel good about it,” San says, standing and stretching, “not to be too confident too soon,”

“Optimistic,” Seonghwa offers.

Yunho nods in agreement, but you watch his hand nervously tighten and release as he stands.

“Tomorrow we’ll,” Mingi trails off and then clears his throat “well, you’ll let us know,”

Yunho nods, eyes flicking to you for a brief second, “I’ll text you,”

Mingi smiles, “Alright,”

Yunho’s hands slide over your shoulders and he gives you a squeeze, “Ready?”

“Yeah,” You have to fight back a yawn, but you thank the attorney profusely before you turn to follow Yunho.

When you make it to the door though, he pauses and wraps an arm around you, “Listen, I know it’s late, but I have a few people to introduce you to,”

For a split second you don’t make sense of his words, but as you come out of the conference room and back into the lobby with the wide couches, it all clicks back into place. Sitting in the center of the room is Hana and Em on one couch, with Iseul perched delicately on the arm, and across from them on the opposite couch is an older couple and a young man in his early twenties that looks so similar to Yunho you think for a moment your sleepy brain is playing a trick on you until you remember his family is here.

Iseul looks to you, and smiles, gesturing as subtly as possible for you to take a deep breath.

Your eyes widen a little, and then Yunho steers you right into the conversational fray.

“Baby,” He squeezes your shoulder, “I want you to meet my family,”

You would have known it without him telling you. Now that you’re right in front of them it’s even more obvious, Yunho is the near spitting image of his father, though he’s a few inches taller, and Yunho’s brother is a younger, lankier, and tanner version of him, all three of them with the same kind smiles. His mother, though, you see Yunho’s eyes the moment you look at her.

“Oh,” You breathe, and suddenly you wish you had worn something different or done absolutely anything to your hair.

Those thoughts barely last though, because Yunho’s mother pushes her son aside to wrap her arms around you.

“Eomma,” Yunho chastises softly, “let her breathe,”

“Shush,” She says leaning back to look at you, her hands on your cheeks, “I’m meeting my new daughter,”

Hot tears rush up in your eyes, spilling over onto your cheeks, “I don’t know what to say,” you manage, “I’m so happy to meet you,”

“So are we,” She smooths your tears away, a motherly gesture that makes your heart lurch, and then she nods, “he said you were pretty,”

“Eomma,” Yunho’s arm wraps around you again, effectively shifting you back into his embrace, “give her some air,”

“It’s good to meet you,” Yunho’s father nods, “Yunho’s been talking of nothing else,”

Gunho snorts a laugh at his big brother’s expense, and when you glance up you see the pink blush on his cheeks, the redness of his ears.

You open your mouth to respond, but Yunho gives your shoulder a squeeze, “I see you met y/n’s family, I’m sorry, I should have done introductions before,”

Yunho’s father waves his hand, “We’re fine, how was the meeting?”

Yunho nods, “Productive,”

“You all have a consensus?” He asks.

“We’re set,” Yunho replies.

“That’s good,” Yunho’s father replies, “any contract changes?”

Yunho shakes his head, “All the same as before,”

He nods and then meets your gaze, “How do you feel about the language for your suit? Comfortable?”

“Oh,” Your eyes widen a little.

“Ah,” Yunho interjects, “I had our family attorney look everything over too, just to make sure I understood everything,”

“I see,” You smile, warmth in your chest at how attentive he’s been, but you look back up to his father, “but yes, I’m good, I’m comfortable with everything,”

“Good,” He nods, “if you have questions during the process, we can help with that too.”

“Thank you so much,” You hope you don’t seem too surprised at the overwhelming kindness of his parents, but you are, despite all of Yunho’s stories about them.

“For tomorrow,” His mother interjects, but Yunho smoothly cuts her off.

“I haven’t gotten to talk her through everything yet,” Yunho says, “but I’ll let you know,”

Her lips close in a small smile.

Gunho glances up from his phone at his brother with a look on his face you can’t place.

“Actually,” Yunho’s father turns to his wife, “yeobo, can you check something for me?”

Yunho’s parents turn to each other briefly, but Yunho turns his head towards you and keeps his voice low, “You okay?”

“I thought the meeting was Monday,” You ask your question as softly as possible, “why does everyone keep asking about tomorrow?”

He gives you a fast, close lipped smile, “I have to talk to you about something,”

Your heart gives a little lurch, “Yunho,”

“Just,” His eyes dart from your face back up to his family, “one second,”

He steps away, leaving you feeling suddenly adrift again, but as soon as he’s gone, Hana steps into your space.

“Hey,” She says, “Em and I are going to head to your place,”

“Okay,” You blink, “yeah,”

“You’re staying with Yunho, right?” She checks.

“I don’t,” You stumble a little over your words, “we didn’t talk about tonight, really,”

“We can wait,” Hana says.

“No, it’s late,”

Hana nods, but looks hesitant to leave if you need her.

“Go,” You tell her with a smile, “I’ll be fine, there’s extra bedding in my linen closet upstairs just make yourselves comfortable. If I end up coming home I’ll crash on the couch.”

“And you’re okay?” Em checks as she slips her jacket on.

“I’m good,” You promise, “Yunho said there’s more for us to talk about, but you don’t have to wait for that.”

Hana hesitates, and then she nods, “Call me if something’s up,”

“I will,”

They start to step away, Yunho still close to his family and talking to his parents quietly, but Hana interjects smoothly with a quick tap to Yunho’s arm.

“We’re heading out for now,” She says and nods in your direction, “you’ve got her, right?”

Yunho smiles widely, and you can see the clear potential for a fast friendship between them in the natural ease they have together, “Got her,”

“Alright,” She smiles and bows to his family, “it was wonderful to meet you,”

They exchange pleasant goodbyes, and you give Hana and Em one more hug before they go.

“Well,” Yunho’s father smiles at the lull in conversation as your family leaves, “we should get back to our hotel too,”

“We’ll see you tomorrow,” Yunho’s mother wraps you in another hug, “we’ll get to know each other a little better,”

“Tomorrow,” You start to say, but you’re sure you sound confused at yet another person who knows plans that you still don’t.

“Alright,” Yunho breaks through, pulling you back, “drive safely,”

Yunho’s father gives him a wry smile and then nods, “Come on, yeobo, give the kids some room,”

Yunho’s mother makes a dismissive noise in the back of her throat but smiles goodnaturedly and gives Yunho a parting kiss on the cheek.

You catch Gunho’s affectionate eye roll, a mirror image of Yunho’s and you stifle a laugh.

Yunho’s family makes their way out of the lobby towards the elevators, and finally he lets out a tense breath. You can feel the stiffness through the bond, the locked up intensity of his shoulders.

“Yun,” You lean into his side, “what’s tomorrow?”

“I’m sorry,” He says, “you must be so confused.”

“I trust you,” You remind him, “but so much is happening, I’m just trying to get my feet under me,”

“I know,” He murmurs, glancing around to see who’s left in the space.

“There’s more to the plan that we have to do tomorrow,” You search his face, “is that it?”

“Not here, come with me,” Yunho says softly, pulling you by the hand down the hall into one of the smaller, more private conference rooms.

“I don’t know how much more I can take,” You let out a nervous exhale, “I don’t know how you pulled all this together in a week,”

“Most of it was already in progress,” He shuts the door behind you.

“Is there something you’re not telling me?” You look up at him, “what’s happening tomorrow?”

“I’ll explain,” He nods, “but first,”

His lips collide with yours and you see stars, your bodies snapping together like magnets, and you make a soft, happy sound against his lips. Yunho stumbles back with you in his arms, bracing himself with one hand against the frosted glass wall of the conference room and you melt into him, clinging to his broad shoulders.

“I missed you,” He says between kisses, “I’m never letting you go again,”

You nod into a kiss.

“I’m so sorry,” His breath hitches, “it shouldn’t have taken me so long,”

You brush your fingers down his cheek, pulling back just enough to see his face, “Don’t,” you murmur, “we’re here now.”

“I’m trying so hard to fix this,” He confesses, leaning back from the wall and cupping the back of your head.

“You are,” You brush those thoughts of his away, “Yunho, I love you,”

You feel all the tenderness, the overwhelm, and he swallows tightly, “I love you too,”

Pressing up on your tiptoes you kiss him again, gentler this time as you rest your hand over his soulmark, feeling the tender thump of his heart under your palm.

Breaking the kiss, Yunho touches your hand and holds it to his chest, straightening up to his full height and taking a deep, steadying breath, “Okay,”

You nod, encouraging him forwards, rubbing a soft line over his chest with your thumb.

“I need to ask you something,” He confesses, “but I’m nervous,”

“Nervous?” You shake your head, “Baby, it’s me, you can ask me anything,”

He smiles, his shoulders relaxing just a little.

Soulmate bonds are such funny things. Six months ago, this man was a coworker, someone you thought about sometimes or someone that would make your stomach flutter, a little crush you were sure would fade. But a soulmate bond changes everything. If your parents had ever felt this, such an absolutely pure and transcendental love, you’re sure they would be believers too. That sudden click within you, the truth, potential embers of love suddenly stoked by the universe into a roaring flame, it’s not something you could fabricate.

You watch as Yunho nods, almost pushing himself towards saying whatever it is, and you think to yourself that no matter how awful this week has been, anyone would be lucky to find a soulmate as good and kind as he is.

“It’s me,” You murmur when he nods to himself again, “it’s just me,”

“I know,” He sighs, “fuck, okay, I’ll just say it,”

You watch him shake out his arms and take a deep breath before running a hand through his hair, finally facing you again properly and taking your hands in his.

Anxiety knots in your stomach and you’re not sure if it's his or yours.

“This is going to sound like a crazy idea,” He smiles a little nervously, “but I promise you I’ve thought about it, a lot actually, and this isn’t as impulsive as it’s going to sound, I promise,”

“Yunho,” You can feel the nervous energy pouring out of him, “I trust you, just,”

“Marry me,” He says in a breath, his hands coming up to catch your cheeks, “be mine in every way, be my wife.”

Your words die off on your lips, your heart beating harder in your chest. In a million years, you never would have thought that was the question on his tongue, “Y-Yunho,”

His smile widens at your shocked expression, but his thoughts keep pouring out, “We’ll have a wedding later, anything you want, as big as you want,” he says, “but come to the district office with me tomorrow. Marry me tomorrow,”

Words don’t make it to your lips, but tears flood your eyes and you just can’t stop yourself from smiling.

Yunho leans in and kisses your forehead, “Please,” he murmurs, “they can choose not to believe the bond is real, but they can’t doubt a marriage license,”

Your frantic heart stutters, and you wince.

“We’ll be together,” He continues, another kiss against your hairline before he leans back to look at your face.

You reach up, catching his hands and bringing them to your lips to press a kiss to his knuckles, “Baby,” you murmur softly, “I love you, but I want you to want to marry me for the right reasons, not because we’re backed into a corner.”

His eyes widen as he realizes his words, “That isn’t what I meant,”

“Okay,” You nod slowly, pushing him to say more.

Yunho laces your fingers together and gives you a squeeze, “When we renegotiate on Monday, whatever happens will happen, but people are going to find out about us,”

You nod.

“It’s only a matter of time, the more people that know, the faster it will get out there for everyone to see, for everyone to pull it apart.”

He’s not wrong, not at all.

“I know,” You nod.

“Jagi,” His voice is low, rough with emotion, “I want you safe. I want you to be able to come back to work, I don’t want you to make yourself smaller because I’m an idol.”

You kiss his knuckles again, breathing out a shaky sigh.

“I love you so much, and I want to be with you in every way. I want everyone to know who you are to me, and I want them to know there is no me anymore without you. Not at this company, in public, in private, it’s us,” He presses.

You soften at that.

“Let me give you my name,” He murmurs, “let me love you the way you deserve. Marry me, y/n, please,”

For the briefest moment, you think there isn’t a person alive who’s fighting harder for their soulmate than him, you feel that truth in every inch of your body.

It doesn’t change the facts though, you’ve done all the research, you’ve seen what a mere whisper of romance will do to a career, to a public opinion of an idol and their partner.

“Yunho,” You manage quietly, “there are no married idols, not our age. Think about your career, the group,”

“Then let’s go first,” He says, uncoupling your hands and cupping your cheeks again, his face determined, “someone has to. If not us, then who?”

You think of the airport floor, of screaming fans, of posts online full of hate.

“I don’t want to wait for someone else to get up the nerve,” He insists, “I want you,”

Your eyes flood with tears.

“We’ll do it together,” He murmurs, wiping away a stray tear with the soft pad of his thumb.

“Yunho,” You whisper.

“I don’t have a single regret about meeting you and I have no shame in loving you,” He confesses, “the only thing that would break my heart is knowing that I’m hurting you.”

Tears spill over, faster now as you take in his words.

His brow creases at your tears, his own eyes shining, “Sweetheart, you’re not meant to be an afterthought to my career,” his voice cracks gently, “you’re my partner, and I would risk everything I am for you,”

You know he means it, in each and every cell of his body. Some men would have buckled under all this pressure, would cling to their fame and their want to have both, and you know exactly where you would have ended up. Packaged away, made small, fearful of your own day to day life. Would today be the day you were photographed and exposed or would it be the next? Lies upon lies.

Even the strongest bond could buckle under all that weight.

You think of KQ’s attorney, smugly boasting about how he’s dealt with bonded couples before. Your gut feeling all those months ago was right, you aren’t the first idol soulmate bonds, but if you’re brave enough you can be the loudest. You can change things for the next couple, and the next after that.

You think of Hana’s fear, how she stood up to your parents and chose Em despite it all.

Your answer bubbles up from deep inside, “O-okay,” you say in a rushed breath, nodding, “okay, let’s get married,”

He exhales sharply, a wide grin spreading over his face, a relieved laugh on his lips as tears track down his cheeks, “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” You told yourself once before that you would hold onto him with both hands, so you do, “yes, Yunho, yes,”

He folds you into his arms and then hoists you up, hitching your legs around his waist and pressing his lips to yours in another, tender kiss.

You’re a mess of emotions, both of you hidden away in this little conference room, but you’re together.

After a moment though, a thought occurs to you and you break the kiss, “Did everyone know you were asking me?”

His cheeks grow pink, “Define everyone,”

Your eyes widen, your voice running high, “What if I had said no?”

“I was really, really hoping you’d say yes?” He grins.

“Everyone knew,” You bury your face in his neck, heat blooming in your cheeks and chest.

“Hey,” His hand runs up and down your back, “really, it’s just my parents and the members, and I guess our attorney, but if you said no that would have been okay, I swear, I would have just proposed again when you felt ready, it’s not,”

You laugh into his shoulder and shake your head, “I’m not upset,”

“You’re not?” He turns, his cheek resting against the top of your head.

“A little overwhelmed,” You admit, “and embarrassed that I met my future in-laws wearing a hoodie and looking like I just spent the past week crying my eyes out, but,”

“Hey,” He murmurs, “look at me,”

With a slow breath in, you lift your head and meet his eyes.

“I love you,” He says clearly, “they already love you too, they’re happy for me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” He says, unequivocally.

“What do the members think of this plan?” You ask him quietly.

“They understand why I want this,” He replies smoothly, “and what it means for all of us,”

You nod, and there’s nothing more to say. You trust him, so you trust this.

“Let me take you home,” He finally says, “it’s late, and we have to be up early now,”

“To get married,” The words sound so strange on your tongue.

“Yeah,” he smiles, “to get married,”

“God,” You laugh, “I have to tell Hana and Em,”

“I have to tell everyone you said yes,” He presses a peck to your lips before he lets you slide down from his arms, “and what time to get to the district office tomorrow,”

“I want Hana there,” You grab his hand.

He nods, lacing your fingers together, “Of course,” he says, “let’s get in the car, we’ll call her on the way home I’ll make sure she has everything she needs,”

“Okay,” You breathe.

Quietly, you slip out of the now empty offices and make your way to Yunho’s car. Your head feels like it’s spinning, your soon-to-be-husband’s hand in yours is the only thing keeping you grounded.

You tell your sister in a fresh wave of happy tears as the car weaves through the blocks of Seoul.

You listen as Yunho tells her every detail of how to get to the district office, what time, and what false name to give at the front desk so they’ll take her back to the right office.

Your eyes can’t help but find the clock, your heart picking up, in less than twelve hours you’ll be his.

───────────────────────── ✧₊⁺───────────────────────

For the first time in weeks, you wake up warm.

The room around you is unfamiliar, but his body is solid and comforting, his leg hitched up over your hips and pinning you in place like a weighted blanket. If he wasn’t here, draped over you, it’s possible you would have thought the night before was a dream. The long anxious drive, the way you felt when you first saw him again, and all the paperwork, all the plans.

Lying on your back you study the ceiling as the first threads of early morning light start to stretch through his room, Yunho’s voice asking you to marry him playing on a loop in your mind.

You’re not sure how long you’ve been thinking, but his gentle fingers on your jaw softly directing your face to the side is what brings you out of your head and back to the present.

“Hey,” You say softly when you meet his eyes, “did I wake you?”

A small smile spreads across his face and he shakes his head, “Mm-mm,” he murmurs, “you okay?”

“Yeah,” You nod, “just thinking,”

He shifts in the covers, body curling around you even more until you’re properly eye to eye in the middle of the mattress, “About?”

“Everything,” You confess, “yesterday doesn’t feel real,”

He hums thoughtfully, cupping your cheek, “I know what you mean,”

You let out a slow breath, rolling towards him, “Did I make up the part where we’re getting married today?”

He grins, a little blush in his cheeks, “No, you didn’t make that up,”

A nervous thrill bubbles through you, “This is so crazy,”

“Maybe,” He says, covering your hand with his, “are you still saying yes?”

“Yes,” The word leaves your lips before you can even process his question.

He dips forwards, kissing you tenderly before he laughs softly and pulls away.

“What?” You smile up at him.

“I just realized something,” He says with a smile.

“Hmm?”

“In a few hours, you’ll actually be my wife,” He grins wider.

You laugh, a nervous, elated sound, excitement and anticipation spreading through you in equal measure, and you shift forwards to catch his lips in a kiss, “Husband,” you murmur, “that suits you,”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” You nuzzle into him, pecking his lips again, “my husband,”

He nudges you gently, nose to nose, his plush mouth to yours as he lazily kisses you, savoring every breath, “I like that,”

Wrapping your arms around his shoulders you pull yourself closer, deepening the kiss before disconnecting your lips for a breath, “Are you sure I’m not dreaming?”

“Not dreaming,” You can feel the upturned curve of his mouth as he kisses you again, rolling you onto your back as he slides his hands up your sides.

You sigh pleasantly, body softening, “I missed you,”

He nods, “Me too, baby,”

“Married,” You laugh softly again, looking up into his deep brown eyes, “are we ready for this?”

He studies your expression and then replies, “Probably not,”

You blink, not expecting such blatant honesty, but he continues.

“But,” He kisses you again, gently, “all the best things that have ever happened to me, happened when I didn’t think I was ready,”

He’s right, it’s the same for you. You were hardly ready for him that day in Berlin, but nothing in the world would ever make you go back and give that up.

You nod, sinking back into his kiss, your legs tangling together under the duvet.

He makes a soft, happy hum against your mouth and slides his hand up to find your hand, lacing your fingers together.

His hand in yours sparks something in your brain and you pull back with a little suck of air, your eyes widening, “We don’t even have rings,”

He laughs, pecking your lips, and then leans back, “Actually,” he rolls off you, his expression suddenly a little sheepish, “we do,”

That gets your attention, and you lift up your head to get a better look at him, “We do?”

“Yeah,” He smiles, sliding away from you in the bed and leaning over the edge to pull the drawer of his nightstand open, “I meant to show you last night,”

Your stomach does a somersault.

When Yunho rolls back, he’s holding a small slate blue velvet box. You can see the box is vintage immediately, the velvet worn away on the corners and the front clasp an intricate brass clip, something companies wouldn’t bother manufacturing as nicely as this nowadays.

“Oh,” You breathe.

He places the box on the bed between you and takes a breath, “They’re simple,” he says, “I’ll get you an engagement ring later, but, well, these were my grandparents,”

Your eyes flick up to his face, the tenderness in his expression hitting you right in the chest, and then you gingerly pick up the box and flip open the front clasp. He’s right, they are simple, but the delicate details of the two white gold bands aren’t lost on you in the slightest. His band is slightly wider, but both of them are etched with little stars, a few of the stars encrusted with tiny diamonds.

“Oh, Yunho,” You sigh, your fingers gently tracing the rings, “they’re so beautiful,”

“They’re very special to me,” He nods.

You reach for his hand, “Is this why your parents are here? Did they bring these?”

His lips close in a thin line, the tips of his ears reddening, “Not exactly,”

“Not exactly or,”

He looks down at the box, cleaning his throat, “I’ve had them,”

For a moment you think he means that his grandparents left him the rings, that they’ve been in his possession the entire time, but you feel the start of his embarrassment through the bond.

“Baby,” You murmur, “how long have you had them?”

He smiles briefly and then sighs, looking up at you, “Since Paris,”

Your eyes widen.

“After we talked that night on the bridge,” He brushes your cheek, “I called my parents and told them I met you. I told them I wanted to have these for when it felt right,”

You melt, “You grandparents were soulmates?”

He nods, “Yes, they were together for sixty years,”

“That’s beautiful,” You murmur. You wonder what it must have been like to grow up in a household full of that much love.

“I want that for us,” Yunho says honestly.

All you can do is nod, emotion thrumming in your chest.

“God,” You grin, dipping into his broad chest with a laugh, “we’re so crazy, but I love you so much,”

He chuckles and wraps you up again, “Me too,”

“For today,” You say against his shoulder, “let’s just pretend everything is normal,”

“What do you mean?” He looks down at you.

“For today, you’re not an idol,” You smile, “we’re just us. We’re just two people in love,”

He smiles at you tenderly, “Just us,”

With your hand on the back of his neck you pull him down to meet your kiss, sinking into each other. In the early morning light you kiss like the past week was a dream, no fear or doubt, just each other. Nothing hanging over your heads except the promise of a life together.

Yunho shifts over you, dipping you back into the mattress, deepening the kisses with his tongue languidly probing your mouth. You sigh, your body feeling pleasant and warm, the first threads of your want and his starting to tangle together between you.

Yunho’s hand tightens on your hip as he shifts over you a little more, the weight of him above you making you dizzy, and he hums happily, “I missed these lips,”

“Mm,” Your fingers tighten in his hair, “me too,”

“Missed you under me,” His kisses peck across your jaw and back to your swollen lips.

A pulse of arousal beats inside you, but you shake your head.

“So pretty,” He murmurs, hands searching your skin.

As much as you want him, you push gently against his chest, “We have to get ready,”

“We have time,” He nuzzles you, nipping your lip.

“Mm-mm,” You shake your head again, your lips still locked to his.

Yunho’s hand slides up your body slowly until he’s cupping your breast, squeezing you a little suggestively and brushing his thumb over your hardening nipple.

Warmth blooms in your belly, but you pull back and shake your head, “Yunho, we’re getting married in like two hours,”

He grins, “I know,”

You laugh, “I mean, traditionally we wouldn’t even see each other the morning of the wedding, we really shouldn’t be having sex,”

Yunho looks at the clock, “How long do you need to get ready?”

“At least an hour,”

“Then we have fifteen minutes,” Yunho meets your eyes, a cheeky look on his face.

You sigh, about to protest, but then his thumb passes over your lips.

“No sex,” He agrees, “but you’re here in my bed, and I haven’t touched you like this in weeks. Let me take care of you,”

Your core flutters, nipples hardening and pebbling through your shirt.

He takes in the change in your expression and nods, “That’s it,” he murmurs, his hand sliding down your body and tucking between your thighs to push them open.

You let your legs fall slack, your breath warm against his cheek.

“Missed you so much,” He presses a kiss to your forehead as his fingers travel slowly up your inner thigh to the seam of your underwear.

Your breath hitches in your throat.

“Just stay nice and quiet for me, okay?” He shifts, his body sliding down in the bed as he slots between your thighs.

“Yun,” You murmur, “what about you?”

“Shh,” He tugs your underwear to the side, wasting no time getting his mouth on you.

You gasp at the sudden connection of his tongue to your clit, your hips jerking.

He glances up from between your splayed legs, giving you a look, and you slap your hand over your mouth in response, letting your head fall back into the mattress.

“Mmhm,” He hums.

You melt into the pleasure of his mouth.

It takes thirty minutes, your bodies so hungry for one another that one orgasm isn’t enough. He worships you with his tongue, makes love to your cunt with his hot mouth, and by the second dizzying wave of pleasure you’re quietly begging to touch him too. The clock forgotten as you stroke him to his own release, the taste of yourself on his lips as he kisses you into the sheets.

You’re a giggling mess by the end, frantically trying to get ready between needy touches. After your lightning fast showers, you’re making the most of every second, but he just can’t keep himself away from you.

He kisses your neck while you apply your makeup, squeezes every plush inch of your skin while you root through your suitcase for something to wear. When you’re finally ready, he kisses you again, hot and hard, nearly toppling you back into the bed and ruining your perfectly applied lipstick.

The moment he gets the text from his brother though, he sobers and gets himself together, the ring box tucked safely in his pants pocket.

You quell the dizzying heat between you with a cool glass of water, and by the time you’re walking to the car, all of this morning is forgotten in a haze of nervous energy.

The trip to the district office is strategic, both of you wearing hats and masks and scarves for a good measure of anonymity as you travel covertly in Gunho’s car to keep things as quiet as possible. At the district office, the doors open for you once you arrive, and it dawns on you that the offices aren’t properly open to the public yet.

You distantly imagined a courtroom and a judge, perhaps one dedicated to weddings, but you’re ushered into a modest office with a kind looking older woman who tells you both to take a seat like it’s any other meeting.

It turns out, when you don’t have a wedding dress or a big party, marriage is mostly paperwork.

Yunho’s family stands behind his chair, and Hana and Em stand behind yours.

You’re her first appointment of the day, early at only eight in the morning, and your district officiant offers you a cup of coffee before you sign yourself to each other in the eyes of the Republic.

“Ah,” Ms. Kim, the officiant, says with a laugh that says this happens all the time, “this is the wrong form, let me print off the right copy,”

Your chest feels tight, your palms suddenly clammy.

“This is the 609C,” She explains, gesturing to the paper in her hands, “but this is for divorcees, I need the 609A for you two,”

Yunho makes an affirmative sound, laughing along with the bureaucratic mix up, but you can only crack a smile.

Ms. Kim navigates to the file on her ancient computer, adjusts her glasses and leans closer to the screen, and then nods before hitting print.

“Alright,” She says, “let’s get you two married, yes?”

That lightens the mood a little, and you release the taut breath in your chest. Hana squeezes your shoulder, and you rest your hand over hers for just a moment.

Fishing the paper out of the printer, she checks the form’s number, nods, and then leans forward, “Bride, you fill in the top sections here and here,” she points out with a pen where to look, “and groom, you’re down here.”

“And then?” You say as Yunho takes the paper and starts to skim through it.

“I’ll take a copy of your documents, you’ll sign the bottom of the form, one of each of your witnesses will also sign, and then I’ll sign,” She recites, “I’ll stamp it with my very official seal, and then that’s it. You’ll be legally married,”

“That’s easier than I thought it would be,” You manage.

“Getting married is the easy part,” she smiles, “getting divorced has a lot more paperwork, I don’t recommend it.”

Everyone chuckles at that.

“Okay,” Yunho grins, picking up the black pen, “let’s do this.”

“If you’ll provide your birth certificates and identification cards, I’ll just go get those photocopied while you fill things in. Wait to sign until I get back,”

You produce the documents from your bag and pass them over to her, and then within a moment you’re alone with this form and your new family.

Yunho takes his time writing things out to keep the form legible, and you lean forward to see, “What does it ask?”

Without glancing up from the paper, Yunho reaches with his free hand, resting it on your knee and giving you a comforting squeeze, “The basics, nationality, family names,” he murmurs, “it’s alright,”

He can feel your bubble of anxiety, from all your witnesses watching to the strange sense of dread that you might get something wrong on the form.

You rest your hands on his, “Sorry,” you breathe, “I don’t know why I’m so nervous,”

Yunho turns, but his mother speaks first, surprising you all, “Yesterday morning you had no idea you were getting married,” she points out, “I had months to prepare for our wedding and I was still a nervous wreck,”

“You were?” The words slip out.

She nods warmly, “I was, but you’ll do fine,”

Yunho smiles and slides the paper to you, “Your turn,”

He rests his hand on our back as you fill in the form, and it’s hardly as scary as it seemed a moment ago. You fill in your details, double check that you both didn’t miss any boxes, and by the time you’re done Ms. Kim is back and your nervousness has started to morph into excitement.

You’re a few signatures away from being a wife.

You had never really imagined that for yourself, not in the way that other little girls did. You’ve never picked out dresses, or thought of your dream venue. You don’t know what kind of engagement ring would look best or if you’d want to write your own vows. You had never let yourself dream that far ahead, always stunted by your parents' sharp expectations and your own inability to slow down and let yourself picture something better, happier than their marriage. But now, in the span of a few hours, you’re about to be someone’s wife.

“Ready?” Ms. Kim says, handing back your documents, “Let me take a look at things,”

She skims the form with precision and then clips it to the front of your photocopied documents, and for the first time in your life, the thought of being married doesn’t fill you with panic.

You slip your hand into Yunho’s, a smile tugging at your lips, and Yunho gives you a squeeze.

“Perfect,” Ms. Kim says, “now, if you’d like, we can get those signatures and be done, but some couples like to say a few words and exchange rings if you have any. I’d be happy to talk you through that,”

“We have rings,” Yunho reaches into his trouser pocket and produces the velvet box.

His mother presses a handkerchief to her lips, and you see both of his parents’ eyes shining with tears.

Ms. Kim nods warmly, “So, please face each other,”

Yunho stands, drawing you up with him, and you face each other in the little space between the chairs. He’s handsome today, in a way that nearly stops your heart, dressed simply in dark charcoal gray trousers and a white button down, his dark black hair still a little tousled from his cap. He looks right for a wedding, and selfishly, you think he looks right for you too.

“If you have any words for each other,” She prompts gently.

You take Yunho’s hands, giving him a soft squeeze before dropping them, and then you turn to his parents, “Mr. and Mrs. Jeong,” you feel your throat tighten with emotion, but you continue, “I will never be able to thank you enough for raising Yunho,”

His father wraps an arm around his wife.

“For giving him the kindest home, the warmest love,”

You hear a sniffle behind you, no doubt Hana crying.

“You taught him to be a good man, and a good partner,” You continue, the honesty of it flowing out of you, “and I will work hard to deserve his love for the rest of my life, thank you,”

You bow as deeply as you can in the small space, and they thank you softly, the weight of the makeshift ceremony finally sinking into everyone.

When you turn back to Yunho, he’s hastily wiping away his tears.

Your parents aren’t here, and even if they were you wouldn’t expect him to do more than a short, perfunctory statement, so you glance towards Ms. Kim, “Alright,”

“Wait,” Yunho shakes his head, “hold on, my turn,”

Ms. Kim laughs quietly, and so do your witnesses.

Yunho holds your gaze, taking your hands in his. “y/n,” he exhales a deep breath, gathering himself, and then he speaks, “I can’t thank your parents for making you the woman that you are today, I think you did that all on your own, but I do have someone to thank.”

Your throat closes with emotion as he turns to your baby sister.

“Hana,” He smiles, eyes shining again, “from the first moment y/n talked about you, I knew your relationship was a special one. I am so grateful to you for being her sister, her friend, and her safe place.”

Hana takes in a sharp, wet breath behind you and you smile.

“We may not have it easy,” He continues, squeezing your hands, “but I know you will always be standing beside her, and I hope you know that I’m doing my best to live by what you said,”

Tears track down your cheeks.

“I’m putting her first,” He smiles, “today and always,”

He bows deeply, and when he rises up you’re both crying.

There’s a moment of silence while you collect yourselves, but sensing that the speeches are over, Ms. Kim interjects.

“Yunho,” She says softly, “do you promise to take y/n as your lawfully wedded wife?”

His eyes flick to yours, and you feel nothing but warmth and overwhelming love coursing through the bond, “I promise.”

“y/n,” She turns to you, “do you promise to take Yunho as your lawfully wedded husband?”

“I promise,” You nod.

“Please exchange rings,” She says.

Yunho takes the box and gently pulls out his grandmother’s ring.

Slowly, he slides it onto your left ring finger, “I love you,”

You take his grandfather’s ring from the box and follow him, the band slipping into place on his finger, “I love you too,”

“If you’ll both sign,” Ms. Kim places the paper back down on the desk with a pen, “you’ll be married,”

Yunho turns, his smile widening as he writes out his signature. In a haze of dizzy elation, you sign your name too.

“Congratulations,” She says, “you’re husband and wife.”

A giddy laugh bubbles from your lips, and without a moment’s hesitation or thought of anyone else in the world, he pulls you into his chest and dips low to capture your lips in a kiss. You can feel him smiling against your mouth, feel his overwhelming happiness, and you rest a hand over his heart, his soulmark.

When you break apart, you realize everyone’s clapping, and you hide in Yunho’s chest for a moment before stepping away and facing the room.

Hana barrels into you, squeezing you tightly.

“Han!” You laugh.

“That was a good speech,” She says, but it’s not to you.

”I meant it,” Yunho says.

Hana nods, but Ms. Kim interrupts once more.

“Last bit of paperwork,” She says, “I need two witnesses to sign off,”

Yunho pulls Gunho forwards and Hana unwraps herself from around you so they can both step up and sign.

“We’ll get these filed today,” Ms. Kim adds, “I got the check for the expedition fee, so you should be able to pick the official license up on Friday at the front clerk’s office,”

“That’s perfect,” Yunho nods, “thank you for agreeing to that,”

She smiles, a little knowingly, “It’s not the first time we’ve gotten the request from someone famous,”

Yunho clears his throat, “Right, well, we’d prefer to,”

“Ah,” She holds up a hand, “my lips are sealed. If you only knew the couples I’ve had in this office,”

You smile, “Oh?”

She takes the paperwork back and adds her own signature and stamp, “I could cast a reality show of my own,” she nods, and then makes the motion of zipping her lips closed, “but you’d never hear the details from me,”

“Thank you,” Yunho says earnestly, “for everything.”

“Mhm,” She smiles, “now, there’s a back entrance to the building if you’d like some privacy,” she checks her watch, “now that the building is open, if you go right out of this office and down the stairs to the garage.”

“Thank you,”

“Of course,” She nods as you all get your facemasks and hats, “congratulations again, you both have the real thing. Make sure to cherish it,”

Looking up at Yunho, you soften, “We will.”

The rest of the day is what you can only describe as a whirlwind.

Yunho’s parents have arranged a private lunch, just family, and you spend hours getting to know them better and being quietly celebrated as a couple, even though you still maintain your distance in case anyone from the restaurant or on the street recognizes him.

By the evening, you’re spent. A few glasses of wine combined with the crash after a week of drawn out stress leaves you feeling a strange mix of wired and exhausted.

Quietly, Yunho communicates to his manager that he won’t be coming home tonight, but that he will be back on Sunday and ready for work.

Hana and Em leave early to pick up their things from your apartment and check into a hotel, promising to stay close for the next few days as whatever unfolds, unfolds.

When Gunho drops you both off at your apartment building, you slip into the elevator without seeing another soul despite the early hour.

The hallway to your door is blissfully empty too.

You trade little glances with him, strange newness to the sensation of him beside you.

Your body thrums in the anticipation of being properly alone with him again.

You key in your door code, fingers trembling with anticipation as you push over the threshold.

The door is still swinging shut when Yunho yanks you into his arms, stumbling into the mirrored sliding closet door in your entryway, lips crashing onto yours, tongue dipping into your mouth to deepen it as your back flattens against the cool mirror.

You fold into him, the bond between you hot and humming, and you moan against his lips.

“God,” He clings to you, arms banded tight around you as he dives in for another kiss.

Arousal pumps through you, and you suck in a sharp breath as your fingers pull at the buttons of his dress shirt, “Need you,”

He nods, kicking his shoes off without missing a beat and walking you a little deeper into your apartment until he’s pushing you onto the kitchen counter.

Your fingers drop from his shirt to his belt, tugging at the leather until it’s free, your eyes glued to the clear hardness straining through his dress pants.

“Fuck,” He curses as your palm coasts over his clothed cock, and his hands push up the length of your silky dark green skirt, fabric pooling around your waist as he caresses your bare thighs.

You moan, both of you breathing heavily, the only sounds in the room your shared, heady pants and the zipper of his trousers as tug it down to free his cock.

He pulls your thong down over your legs, letting them hang slack around one ankle, and pushes your thighs open wider. His fingers slide up your thigh and brush against the bare lips of your sex, but your head is pulsing with need, an ache so real you feel like you might scream if you don’t feel him in you, and you push his arm away.

“Inside me,” Your hands anchor on his hips and you drag him forwards, “please,”

He groans, the bare head of his cock nudging your soft center, “Let me make you come first,”

You shake your head, “Can’t wait,”

He swallows tightly, his hands hard on your hips as you angle yourself on the counter, opening up wider to him.

“Mm,” He bites back a moan as his cock slides over you, “w-wait, I need to prep you,”

You surge forwards, capturing his mouth and shaking your head, “No you don’t,” you pant, “please, just fuck me,”

He chokes against you, a shudder through his whole body at the feeling of your raw need, and with a groan on both your lips, you feel his velvet cockhead catch deliciously on your entrance.

“Baby,” He breathes, his last soft protest, resolve crumbling.

Your fingers hitch onto his belt loops and pull him in again, his cock pushing inside you just an inch from his slight shift forwards. Your nails skate down his neck, your body trembling with need, “Please,”

With a soft curse, his hips snap forward at the same time as his wide hands tug your hips towards him, spearing you open on the full length of his thick cock. You gasp against his mouth, he’s stretching you wide, and while it’s not painful it is an aching adjustment and your fingers grip down on him tightly.

Yunho groans, a hot pant on your skin, “God, fuck, jagiya,”

His forehead drops to yours, your bodies connected in every possible way, but you stay still together, just feeling each other and adjusting to the sudden sink of him inside you. But your body needs him, and in a moment you feel yourself slicking up and clenching around him.

This time, he doesn’t wait for you to ask, doesn’t wait for you to beg. Fully in tune with you and your body, he moves. With one hand cupping your hip and the other holding your head, he starts to thrust, firm snaps of his hips that drag his hot length against every needy, aching spot inside you.

Pleasure arcs up your spine with each rhythmic connection of his hips to yours, until you both lose yourself to deep, insatiable need.

Your legs hitch onto his hips, your flats slipping off your feet and clattering to the floor, “H-harder,”

His breath catches, but his body complies, forehead hard against yours as he drives into you again and again.

“Ah,” His nails dig into your hip, “god,”

“Y-Yunho,” You moan, head dropping back into his hand.

Your combined pleasure starts to meld, after days of separation and weeks of not being able to touch like this, he feels your orgasm starting to build at the same time you feel his, and it spurns you both into frantic jerks of your bodies, needy moans.

“C-close,” You whine.

“Yes, yes,” He grits his teeth and groans, pumping into you, a sheen of sweat across his skin.

One of your hands slips off his shoulders to brace yourself on the counter, heels digging into his back, and your orgasm crests over you in a sudden uncontrollable wave, fast and unexpected.

You gasp sharply, nearly losing your hold on him, and he moans as the pleasure takes him under alongside you. Collapsing forwards, he rocks you back onto the counter, bracing himself fast with a hand against the backsplash to keep you from falling back into the tile, and with two more sharp thrusts he spills his release deep inside you, his cockhead pressed hard against your fluttering cervix as your walls spasm around him.

You’re both sweaty, half dressed and a mess, eyes locked on each other as you breathe through one of the most intense orgasms of your life.

“Oh my god,” You manage, voice hoarse.

His chest is still heaving, heart hammering, but he grins and flicks his head to move the dark hair that has fallen into his eyes, “Y-you okay?”

“Uh-huh,” Your legs finally start to relax off the anchor points of his hips, your muscles weak.

“Love you so much,” He says in a single, sated breath.

You nod, your smile spreading wide.

Slowly, he straightens up and draws you back up to a seated position, easing his cock out of your wet center with deliberate slowness.

You hiss at the sensation change, your hips sore from being spread so wide open and taken so roughly, but the hurt is deeply satisfying after so long apart.

“Are you,” He starts to say.

“Can we go to bed?” You interrupt, relaxing onto his broad shoulder.

“Let’s go,” He rights his trousers just enough so that they’re not falling down his hips, and then he pulls you into his arms, “are you sore?”

“Only a little,” You assure him, still breathless, as he starts to take the stairs, “the bed’s softer than the counter,”

“Mm,” his hand cups your ass, kneading the soft flesh, “I’ll kiss it better,”

You smile against his chest, his skin radiating warmth through the fabric of his dress shirt.

At the top of the landing he drops his head to avoid your low ceiling, and then walks you back to the bed, gently placing you on the edge of your mattress before dropping down to his knees between your splayed legs.

Yunho cups your cheek, kissing you tenderly and smoothing your hair back over your shoulder, “So beautiful,” he says, almost to himself.

You soften.

He leans back to get a look at you, his hands slowly tugging your black shirt out from the top of your silk skirt, pushing the fabric up to reveal the plane of your abdomen, your soulmark, the underside of your bare breasts.

You ease back on your hands, letting him touch you how he likes, his eyes studying your body as he reveals inches of skin.

Sinking back onto his heels, he pushes your skirt up around your hips, his lips, swollen from starving kisses, part at the sight of you half dressed and full of him.

Yunho’s hand passes over your thigh, the top of your sex, resting on your stomach as he looks up to meet your eyes, “My pretty wife,” he says softly.

The air feels thin, and you feel almost dizzy at his attentions, the sweet praise of his words.

You expect him to touch you more, strip you bare, devour you whole, but he looks at you with something you can only describe as awe, and takes a shuddering breath.

On his knees for you, he gives you a tender confession, “I’m yours,” he whispers, “you know that right?”

Yours.

His letter echoes in your mind.

“I know,” You murmur.

“No matter what happens,” He takes your left hand, pressing a kiss over the ring, “you’ve changed me, forever, and I’m yours,”

He breathes into your skin, and you brush your other hand over his hair, “Yunho, I’m yours too,”

He nods, head still bowed.

Emotion bubbles up in you, and you cup his cheeks, drawing his eyes up to your face, “Baby,”

There’s something in him you can feel but you can’t name, a guarded tightness, some kind of anxiety in the shadow of his heart.

He looks at you and waits, a little crease between his brows.

He’s told you every way he loves you, and you need him to know the same.

“I married you today because I want you, forever,” You swear to him, this more of a vow than your promise and shaky signature, “I didn’t marry you for the contracts, or my job, or because you asked.”

He swallows, his throat bobbing as he listens, really listens to your words.

“I belong to you,”

He blinks away a sheen of tears.

“Our bond, our marriage,” Your fingers brush over his face, ghosting over his lips, his jaw, “I’m here, I’m fighting for you too. I’m yours too, in every way that you’ll ever have me,”

His breath hitches.

You pull him in, drawing him closer, “Make love to me again,”

He sighs, the last piece of his guarded tension falling away.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders, “Yunho, please,” you kiss him softly, “love me again,”

You tumble back into the sheets, his kisses reverent on your skin, his touch gentle.

“My baby,” He sighs, lips traveling down your neck, “my love,”

You sink into the sensation of him, one body, one living soul.

“My wife,” he says softly, like a prayer.

You answer him with your body, with the untethered openness of the bond. Together you move, connected once more, rocking into one another with slow, deliberate motion.

One breath passed between you, slipped from his lungs to yours and back as you move together.

Dizzy sensation, an echo of your first time together, of your bonding.

Here, in every way, your story begins.

______________________________________________________________ end note: as i mentioned at the top, one thing i wanted to mention without spoiling was around the idea of marriage/weddings. in my research i found out that korean weddings are pretty different to american weddings, or at least what i'm used to, but i also didn't want to overly assume customs or traditions and get it wrong. what i went with was a bit of a blend to keep things semi-accurate but lean romantic. i.e. it's a 'district office' not a courthouse, but i actually don't know what those weddings are like outside of some youtube videos i watched from the pov of foreigners marrying a korean-born person, which may have unique aspects just because of immigration. as far as the vows, i did find that korean vows more accurately translate to "I promise" rather than "I do", which i went with, and it's more common (according to reddit threads and google and like three weddings i watched on youtube lol) to thank your partner's parents for raising them vs. custom vows to one another. i found some inconsistencies on whether or not women in korea take their husband's last names and also generally some mixed information about other customs, so i kept it simple and romantic. if you're korean or more familiar with those customs, please suspend a bit of disbelief for me on this one, i'm doing my best.

lastly, if you're interested, i wanted to note the kind of tea blend that em prepared for reader was actually specifically chosen, and is a real tea blend that i have irl. i picture em slightly green-witchy, so i thought this might be a fun tidbit to share;

holy basil for purification, luck, and banishing negative energy lemongrass for open lines of communication and emotional cleansing dandelion root for resilience, growth, and transformation nettle for banishing unwanted energy and protection of the spirit ginkgo leaf for promoting longevity of the mind, body, and soul

#honeyhotteoks update #yunho x reader #yunho ff #yunho series #yunho fic #yunho #jeong yunho #honeyhotteoks fics #across stardust fic #ateez ff #ateez series #ateez fic

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