#you stop dancing and you step outside with kim

[neproxrezi]

someone else could write it better than me but i love how the fucked up nasty shit you can make harry do/say/be in disco elysium isn't just like, random stuff caused simply by the player having free will and control over him but they're parts of who he is and who he has been

you're not a tabula rasa. you're a sudden shock of blank pages in a big, aged, damaged book and sometimes the paper you're trying to write a better man on is torn and you see something through the gaps nobody needed to see ever again. and it's just there now again, back to the surface

[nmjoo-n]

DREAM GIRL 💭 kim namjoon.

pair. writer! namjoon x f. reader | genre. age gap romance, obsession, love at first sight, angst | warnings. corruption kink, profanity, slight stalker behavior, daddy kink, pet names, unprotected sex, exhibitionism, power imbalance, just filthy sex tbh | word count. 3.7k

synopsis. “tell me pretty baby, have you ever been fucked up against a wall?” or namjoon is completely enamored by your angelic innocence, and absolutely has to claim you.

Kim Namjoon spent most of his time reading.

His most recent binge had been Murakami books, the woman through a man’s point of view, and while fascinating—it lacked depth. Intensity. This author clearly understood the peculiar sex very little, was entirely focused on his love for them, and their reaction to it. If it was Namjoon, he’d let them lead the narrative, while he’d step back and observe.

Women were to be observed, understood, before approached. This is how he found you, a perfect little angel in your white dress, sipping coffee outside his neighborhood’s café, softly talking to a grey, stray cat, your hand extended out for it, your fingers delicate in their calling. You stopped him dead on his tracks. He could do nothing but stare.

You looked so peaceful in your oblivion, your hair up and away from your face, a book propped on your knees. Namjoon’s feet moved without his knowledge, his mind replaying one thing—I have to see your face, your beautiful features, I need to meet you, sweetheart. Shamefully, his cock stirred in his pants, alerting him of his improper intentions. No matter. He couldn’t control his response to you, didn’t want to.

Walking in the coffeehouse, he leaned against the tall counter, head lazily falling into his open palm, gaze following your every move. Ordering his usual drink, he gathered the courage to approach you. You seemed to like this cat, so, perhaps an animal lover, and you most certainly were a reader—it was a start, an opening for him.

Clouds were beginning to gather, September coming to an end, but you paid no mind to them, your eyes scanning the pages of whatever you were reading. His writer brain was romanticizing your entire existence, was picturing you under him, in his arms, consumed, defiled, claimed. A pretty little thing dancing in the rain, running towards him, laughing, the outline of your breasts visible for anyone to see.

Henry Miller would’ve been one jealous fucker if he’d ever known you were out there, years ahead of him, a muse for the taking. Namjoon thanked every fucking God known for putting you in his way. Bukowski would be having a field day fantasizing about your honey dripping thighs and sweet pussy. You are every writer’s dream, sweetheart, and do you even realize?

“Beautiful choice,” he comments on the book in your lap, coming to stand over you, desperately trying not to lose it over your angel features.

You jump, startled, and look up to witness the most breathtaking man you’ve ever come across in your life, smiling down at you. You smile back without meaning to, your back straightening, your shoe clad feet touching the pavement.

“Anaïs is for the bold,” you retort, voice light, motioning for him to sit in the empty chair opposite you.

He’s massive, with strong arms and long legs. He thanks you softly and takes the seat, paper cup in hand, eyes piercing through you in an identifiable way. You shiver—blame it on the chilly day.

“Are you bold, then?” He asks cryptically, leaning into you. You feel exposed, but intrigued. So incredibly intrigued.

You falter in giving him your answer. You don’t even know his name. You don’t think it matters. “I—I try, I think.”

He smirks, and pulls away, taking with him his amber scent and magnetism. You miss it as soon as it’s gone. You reason with yourself, try to find an explanation for your thought’s reaction—your body’s.

“I’m Namjoon, sweetheart. What should I call you?” His voice was velvet; deep, and manly. It radiated through you.

Closing the book, you instead chose to hold your coffee cup between your hands, a distraction from the intense man pinning you down with those dark eyes. His black leather jacket accentuated his big shoulders, the buzz cut on the top of his head making him appear meaner than he actually was. Namjoon was older, you could tell. It scared you, but in the way rollercoasters make you nervous, or in the way thunder cracked in the night, somewhere far away, miles and miles from you. Bark with no bite.

“(Y/N),” you reply, licking your dry lips.

He follows the movement. “Pretty—(Y/N),” he tries it in his mouth, the sound sinful, inviting. “It’s beautiful.”

He sees your cheeks flush crimson, your head dropping to hide. Namjoon is an intuitive person, a risk-taking man. His fingers reach out, his index lifting your face to look at him. Your breathing has changed, you’re not accustomed to flirting, much less compliments from strangers, it’s all there for him to see. His innocent baby. He’d take his time with you. You deserved nothing less—he’d give you the fucking world, if you so wished.

“Are you a lover of books?” You ask, wanting to break the incantation, disperse the intensity of the moment.

His hand drops, the touch that lit a fire inside of you burning still, bright and strong heading lower, in between your legs, gone in an instant. You mourned for it, yearned for his hand to come back, touch you somewhere else. Your thoughts were shameless, your deepest desires but a breath away.

“You could say that,” he sips from his cup, calm and collected, legs crossed, studying you. “I’m a writer.”

“No way!” You exclaim, your cute reaction eliciting a laugh out of him. How adorable, he thinks, watching your nose scrunch up, your small, fuckable mouth curving in a smile that knocks the wind out of him.

“What about you, angel?”

“I’m a sophomore in college. Literature.”

Of course you are, his smart girl. He needs you to know, before he proceeds. He needs you to vocally say it’s okay for him to court you, to make you his. He won’t lay another finger on you until you do so.

“Sweetheart, you understand the age gap between us, don’t you?”

The part you dreaded. The truth. “Yes,” you say loud enough for just him to hear.

Namjoon leaves his now cold drink on the table, leans forward, forearms resting on top of his knees, fingers lacing together, a serious expression on his flawless face. Is this how it happens, you think? One day, out of the blue, no warning, no signs? Love, plainly in sight, asking you to accept it? You can’t say no. You don’t want to say no, knowing the difficulties, the struggles that entails.

“One word of yours and I’m out of your life. You’re holding the reigns,” he explains, but his eyes are terrified of you rejecting this, of scorning him, of sending him away after he’s found you, an oasis after a long dry desert.

He wants to love you madly. He wants to fuck you senseless, and ruin you for any other man. Most of all, he wants you to want the same things. Eight years isn’t a lot, but it’s a lifetime apart.

“You—you like me?” Your lips fall open, your chest deflates.

Oh, sweetheart, you might not be ready for what I feel for you, what I’m planning to do to you—it’s beyond words. Beyond reason.

“As soon as I saw you. I’m not a talkative person, (Y/N), I don’t walk up to just any girl.” There go those eyes again, haunting your soul, turning you inside out.

You blink, surprised at his honesty, at the bluntness of his words. In your twenty years on this earth, you’ve never been more sure of anything. This man will show you things you’ve never seen before, take you to places you’ve only dreamed of. He’s experienced, he’s an all rounded person.

He’s handsome. His mouth begs to be kissed.

“I like you too,” you admit, but refuse to meet his gaze.

He can’t have that. His fingers shoot out again, gently bringing your face level to his. Rain droplets release themselves from the puffy clouds. You don’t react to any of it, hypnotized under him, under his irresistible touch.

“It will be more than that. I need to know if you’ll be able to handle it, pretty girl. I’m not going to be your high school boyfriend.”

“I understand.” Your thighs clench together, your breathing erratic.

Namjoon notices, of course he does. “Are you a virgin, baby?”

Your eyelashes flutter, the red painting your cheeks turning a shade darker, your skin hot under his palm. He’s closer than ever, this broad man asking if he can take care of you. You’re endeared. Your heart is weak.

“I’m—no. A boy in my senior year,” you reply, embarrassed. Excited.

His eyes flash, something dark stirring in them, before it’s gone instantly. Jealousy. But, why? You couldn’t have possibly known, and even then…the danger. The forbidden. No, that couldn’t have been it.

Why hadn’t you waited? Who dared touched you before him? His muse, his perfect girl. Thoughts that had no place being voiced out loud, in fear of sounding insane. He would never admit to them.

“Then tell me pretty baby, have you ever been fucked up against a wall?”

His lips were but a breath away. You wanted to give in so badly, anything he wanted, you’d become pudding in his hands, melt away if that meant you’d be with him, if that meant he’d take you with him everywhere. His question. You stayed silent.

“Use your words, (Y/N). I’m not doing anything without your consent.”

You were so wet. So incredibly wet. If only he knew the influence his words had on you… He only had to reach a hand under your dress, touch your core. Then he’d realize just how inexperienced you truly were.

“Never,” you whisper.

You exchanged breaths, your eyes falling shut in the thought of his lips on yours, and it almost happened, the ghost of them faintly pressing, a gentle caress, before he pulls away completely, his hand finding yours, pulling you up with him.

“Sweetheart, you have no idea what you just did to me,” an arm wrapping around your waist, bringing you closer, your head at level with his chest, a man, standing before you, asking to have you.

“I should wait, I should take you out and make sure you’re fed, take care of you, every fucking inch of you, before I even begin to think—do you want this?” His voice is vibrating, filled with his desire, breath now tickling your ear, a whisper between lovers.

You just met Namjoon. You don’t know anything about him, nothing but your attraction to him. Your body’s reaction. So what if this was a bad decision? He didn’t look like a bad guy. Anais Nin wasn’t second guessing herself when she fell into an affair with Henry Miller. It just happened, their souls spoke to each other clearly. Could this be what was happening?

You wanted him inside you. You wanted what he offered, every bit of it. Yes, yes, yes.

“Take me with you, Namjoon.”

Together you run, belongings forgotten; the rain had turned from a faint whispering to a thundering roar in a split second, and it didn’t take long for the both of you to get completely drenched in it, tasting sky water, your small hand in his bigger one, holding tight, fingers intertwining.

He only had to look back once. Your dress was see-through, he could see your white undergarments, the silk of your panties, the cups of your bra. Namjoon growled, a guttural noise boiling from his throat. Immediately, he pulled you in between two buildings, a narrow alleyway leading to apartments’ fire escapes unraveling in the length of it.

Leading you under a small shed, he made sure you were against the wall, covered, while he let his arms rest above your head, your bodies touching. He looked down at you, his breathing labored, and he saw the skin glistening, the fabric sticking on every curve, those pink lips open, fast breaths exhaled.

He kisses you, then. Takes your lips as his own, traps you in his embrace. You taste like cold rain, but when his tongue slips past, there’s hints of coffee with milk. Namjoon smiles against your mouth, hands getting lost in your hair, steadying themselves at the nape of your neck, cupping your jaw, your chin—you fit right into him, so small, so precious. He’s going to love corrupting you, tainting you.

“Has anyone ever touched you…here?” His fingers bunch your dress up, dip under it, over your slick. You gasp—he marvels at your expression.

“No? Baby talk to me, use your pretty mouth,” he kisses you again, his digits moving over your panties. You’re moving with them, rubbing against them, it’s all wet wet wet—

“No one.” Your nails dig into his jacket. He sighs dreamily; you’re a vision for him. An angel send.

“Did that boy not know how to please you, baby? He just shoved his fucking dick in you carelessly?” His voice grew rough, anger rippling through him. “You deserve so much better than that, sweetheart. You deserve to be loved, to be caressed…”

With one hand slipping inside your panties, fingers curling, entering you slowly, the other one ran up and down your thigh, gripping at your waist, snaking its way to the small of your back, and back down. You couldn’t focus on anything but the pumping movements inside you, the long digits bringing you pleasure, making your cunt ache, clench around them.

Namjoon was hiding you from view with his entire body. This was only for him to see, but it also served as a test. To see how far you were willing to go with him.

“You’re doing so well, my sweet girl. So tight, so wet for me… I want to taste you, baby, I want to inhale you. Will you let me?”

Your moans were music to his ears. They started as low pants, your hand blocking most of them, your cheeks that familiar pink shade. He saw it happen, as his fingers curled a specific way, the way your legs fell open wider, the way your voice turned a pitch higher than before, unable to hold back, helpless against your pleasure. Namjoon was rock hard, stifled in his pants.

But that would come shortly. First, he needed to show you—what he can do. What you could have every single day, everywhere, as soon as you spoke the words. He’d cater to your every need, be whatever you wanted him to be. As long as he could have you, take you, own you.

A smack on your ass. Your eyes shot open, staring wide at him. He lifted you up at once, arm under those plump cheeks, his fingers still fucking your cunt vigorously. You yelped, held onto his shoulders in fear of falling, but quickly grew overwhelmed, your volume rising. Fuck him, you’re so fucking hot.

“Tell Daddy, my sweet girl—will you let me have a taste of your cunt?”

“Oh, please,” you whined, your head falling in the crook of his neck, your thoughts a jumbled mess. “Please.”

He needn’t be told twice. With your feet planted firmly on the ground again, he removed his hand from your panties, kneeling down in front of you, rain sipping through him, as he lifted your dress up. Namjoon looked up at you through his eyelashes, before he ripped that silk right off you, diving right into your slick.

Divine. He’s had a lot of sex, has tasted a lot of women, but none could ever compare to you, to your sweet fucking cunt. It was pure Heaven. And the way your back curved against the wall, pushing his head into you, his tongue swiping your wetness, sucking your clit—it was enough to make you cum. He slurped all of it up, fingers finding their way again into your warm hole. He’d blow, he fucking swears. Your beautiful voice moaning out his name, wet all over, a Goddess for him, as he laps your intoxicating juices. He drinks you up, he makes it his life’s mission.

“Fucking tell me, sweetheart, has anyone ever had a lick of this pussy? You know it belongs to me now, don’t you?”

You nod your head, losing your mind. He hasn’t even fucked you yet, and you’re convulsing this hard. His baby.

“Words.”

“Yes, daddy, yes! Please,” you sob, “please…fuck me, please…”

He locks you in place, his hands on your ass, determined to make you cum with his tongue, before his cock is anywhere near you. His impatient girl, so lost in feeling, such a slut for him, for what he’s giving you. He’s never had such a perfect woman.

When he started working both his fingers and mouth again, this time aggressively, his only motive was to get that pussy to drench him, to have your cum dripping from his chin. And it did just that when his thumb flicked over your clit relentlessly, tongue moving just underneath, three fingers deep. Your nails dug into his scalp, your entire body convulsing. He rubbed his stubby jaw on your lips, inhaling deeply. Your scent, uniquely yours—he now knew how you smelled. Truly. He would never be able to let you go.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you’re killing me. Ready for me? Ready to give me another one?” He muttered, hands on your breasts, dropping kisses on your neck, before unbuckling his belt, unzipping his pants. “I love the way you cum. I can’t wait to have you on my bed, have my way with you. You’ll let me, yes baby? You’ll let Daddy defile you, pretty thing?”

You looked down at his girth, swallowing thickly. Namjoon chuckled darkly, allowing you to see what would enter you. He pumped himself a couple times, his other hand rubbing your pussy, making sure you were wet enough for him. You just looked so fucking innocent, all fucked out. He attacked your mouth once again, biting down on your lip.

“Do you taste yourself? My delicious fucking girl.”

He enters you slowly, brows furrowed, savoring the tightness. Once he bottoms out, he stills in you, letting you get used to him, his will made of iron. Your fingers wrap around his biceps as you take a deep breath through the sting of his cock.

“Are you okay, baby?” He asks, worried.

“Yes,” you reply at once. “Go on.”

He hikes your thigh up and around his torso, as he lifts you up. You wrap around him and that’s fucking it—he loses it. His cock brutally starts pistoling into you, holding you tight against him. You meet his thrusts halfway, before it becomes too much for you to handle, instead becoming his personal little fuck doll to pound senseless. And he does. His moves are exact; sharp, and precise. He’s hitting everything inside you, the position as well as the thickness of his cock filling you up to the brim, until all you can think is him him him, inside your cunt, fucking you dumb.

“Call me by my name, sweetheart,” he pants in your ear, bouncing you on his dick.

“Namjoon,” you weakly moan, your breaths coming short, on the brink of passing out.

“My name,” he repeats harshly, ramming into you once, twice—

You throw your head back in ecstasy. “Daddy! Fuck, don’t stop! Keep fucking me please, please, I’m so fucking close daddy, please!”

“That’s my fucking angel.”

He does just that, until he can feel you spasming, until you’re screaming, begging, crying, coming on his cock, his desperate whore, getting fucked so good, isn’t she, bounce on my fucking dick, baby, ride it out, that’s right, milk me, fucking own me, my sweet fucking baby, you’re so beautiful, so fucking hot, give me a kiss—

“Where do you want me, baby? Tell Daddy, fuck you’re clenching me so goddamn hard right now, sweetheart, please.”

“Inside, please inside, I want your cum inside of me, please,” you beg, and he almost fucking chokes on his spit.

His thrusts are fast, hard and sloppy now, bruising your pussy, chasing after his own release, his mouth filthy—you want me inside this fucking cunt, don’t you my perfect fucking baby, my little slut, you’re gonna let daddy paint your walls white, won’t you, squeeze me dry, baby, fuck, come on, clench those tight fucking walls, goddamn you, I want to die in this pussy, please baby—

His arms tighten around you as he comes, and you let him; you let him calm down, for his breathing to even out, as he slips out of you, and carefully unwraps your legs from his hips, planting kisses on your shoulders, water dripping from his hair. The thunderstorm still hasn’t passed, raging on beyond the shelter of this shed.

“I’ve never experienced anything like this,” you confess as he fixes your hair, your dress, adjusts the straps, gives you his jacket to make up for the lack of underwear, and even though it’s several sizes too big on you—he cares.

It wasn’t just a lie to have a quickie with you. He took his time to explore your body, to study what makes you tick, what sends you over the edge. You didn’t even know his last name, but he knew his way around your pussy the best, better than you it felt like.

His eyes are fond, staring down in adoration. “I want to make you feel good for as long as you let me, sweetheart. I’m not here to hurt you.”

You hug him, then, your arms not quite reaching all around him. But it’s enough for him. More than enough. He thinks he’ll fall in love with you so easily. You’re the most adorable thing he’s ever witnessed. He wants to hide you away, put you in his pocket and carry you everywhere.

“What’s your last name?” You ask innocently, head still buried in his chest.

He barks a laugh out, squeezing you in him, the vibration of it radiating through you. “Should’ve mentioned it, huh? It’s Kim, angel. Kim Namjoon.”

“Kim Namjoon,” you try it. It sounds…wholesome. “Hi, Kim Namjoon.”

“Hello, baby.”

The two of you stood there for a long time, waiting the storm out in each other’s arms. Namjoon couldn’t stop smiling, didn’t want to, never wanted to, ever again.

You couldn’t stop staring at him—he felt like the sun peeking after the gray of the clouds. Warm, important.

[p1utofairy]

PICK A CARD

“kissin’ and hope they caught us.”

what will a night out with your future partner be like?

disclaimer ✩: 18+ mature themes. take what resonates, leave what doesn't. this is my early thanksgiving gift to y’all 💗 i’m so thankful for the constant support and feedback idk how many times i can say it lol but thank you. enjoy and have a great holiday!

PILE i.

i can see you two in a club/party setting. the music is so loud it's pulsing through your veins, it's not usually your scene, but your person is right by your side holding you close. their hand is resting slightly on your back/waist guiding you through the crowd — i feel like they'll smell really good too they have a distinct fragrance on that's comforting to you. i feel like you'll be so giddy and excited to be outside with them and be seen together. lots of heads will turn for sure. i feel like y'all are a power couple…like looking at you two walking in together just makes sense but it also triggers jealousy and disbelief in other people? you and your person may come from different backgrounds or have different aesthetics but y’all pair together very well. they’re gonna be looking so smug lollll your person is the silent but confident type, like having you on their arm will shut everybody up and they’ll love it. this person could be very popular or well-known in their profession…i'm getting a serena van der woodsen type of vibe so people can definitely be infatuated with them. you might not even like dancing but you will with them! you're gonna be on cloud 9 the whole night, pile 1. some of you might not smoke or drink but you’ll feel high/drunk off them the entire night it’s so cute! u are my high by dj snake and future vibes for sure.

PILE ii.

the atmosphere is sensual af, pile 2. it's giving the vibe of a private dinner at an upscale restaurant/bar or hotel. your person planned this out very meticulously, and they managed to pull it off without you knowing too many details. you’ll be so happy to be sitting across from them and enjoying their company — i feel like you both don't always have the time to just sit and unwind because you both have very demanding jobs/schedules. i see you two flirting a lot with your eyes and smiling so big…the energy is very warm and playful. the sexual tension will be very thick between the two of you lol they might make comments throughout the night about how good you look. the lighting seems very dim and red seems to be the major theme so you could be wearing a red dress, they might give you a bouquet of red roses, their shirt might be red — idk it's something along those lines lol the color red is just significant for some reason. the food, their company, and the ambiance will be 100000/10 and the night won't stop there 😮‍💨 cause when they get you back home? soon as i get home by faith evans just came to mind LOL yeah they’re going to want to make up for lost time and please you in any and every way that they can. OKAYYY PILE 222.

PILE iii.

ah this is my introverted pile! i don't think you get out much, pile 3. if you do it's usually because someone begged you to come out and socialize or you pushed yourself to go. you like having your own space and privacy, and sometimes it's a bit overwhelming having to constantly socialize and be around a whole bunch of people that may not mesh with you. i think that your person will be receptive to this, and will take baby steps to get you out of your shell. they’d take you somewhere where you can relax and be comfortable like a drive-in movie theater or maybe somewhere in nature…it's somewhere you both can be alone and in your own bubble tuning out the rest of the world. i can see them holding you close and you’re leaned back against them just so content and reveling in the precious moment. it’s a night you’ll never forget because you’ll realize just how much they mean to you, and how far you’ve come in this connection. it's reminding me of that picture of ariana grande and mac miller at coachella. so so cute.

PILE IV.

y'all are that cute couple that ride for each other, okay!!! y'all will be so in loveeeeeee my GOSH the passion and desire will be so heavy and evident between you two. lana and asap rocky in the ‘national anthem’ music video vibes — it's like that bad boy meets good girl trope. i feel like this person would want to take you places you’ve never been before…they’d want to get all dressed up in fancy clothes and go out on the town with you. there'd be multiple activities in one night. omg they're so spontaneous it'd feel never-ending! you two will be so giddy around each other lol always cracking jokes and laughing about any and everything. i don’t think that it matters where they take you per se, pile 4. you will have the time of your life regardless. they just know how to light up every room that they walk in and ensure that everyone is having a good time! it's so cute and refreshing, ugh. they're going to really sweep you off your feet. they might have a really nice car and you’ll love being a ✨passenger princess✨ LMFAO they might tease you about it too. this person will be your best friend just as much as they are your true love.

[hwaightme]

Motivate me

THIS IS 18+ ONLY MINORS DNI FOR CAPTAIN'S SAKE (nsfw tags under the cut) (masterlist)

📝 pairing: postgrad!hongjoong x afab!undergrad!reader 📝 genre: smut, fluff if you squint, psychology 📝 summary: every week, you met with your tutor, Kim Hongjoong. And every week, you told yourself to let go of your fantasies. But what if just a dive into self-determination was all what was needed to stop the hour from running out? 📝 wordcount: 10.2k 📝 warnings/tags: MINORS DNI, language, teasing, references to psychology studies, mention of losing one's mind, fantasising, day dreaming, university setting, lecture hall, mention of tests, hj fluctuating between hard and soft dom, tutor hj, lmk if anything! 📝 taglist: @doom-fics @layzfeelit @acciocriativity @izuijin @justhere4kpop @honey-lemon-goose @byuntrash101 📝 a/n: Good time of day~ sometimes one wonders if Freud would be a fanfic writer, sometimes one is just in the mode of 'head empty only Hongjoong'. Thank you so much for your love and support, biggest hugs

📝 nsfw tags: fingering, overstimulation (a bit), edging, sub!reader, dom!hj, a tid-bit of pain play - smacking/slapping/stepping on someone, exhibitionism(???), public sex, protected sex, a lot of petnames (sweetheart, pet, baby girl), sir, slave, degradation, humiliation, pet/master and slave/master dynamic

The ticking of a clock from a bygone era, clinging onto the wall by a rusty nail, a sword of Damocles over head of any professor to use the blackboards above which it was hanging. The distant shouts and laughter of students outside the lecture hall, enthusiastically recounting their weekend plans even though it was still the middle of the week– every attempt to erase the gruelling hours of study. The soft golden sunrays, not caring for the half-closed venetian blinds over the windows occupying nearly the entire side of the room, sneaking into the room and dancing over your skin as you cupped your head in your hand and leaned onto the desk.

You were here again, waiting to get your fix; a habit you could not quit. There was no real purpose for you to be meeting with Kim Hongjoong, revising the same material over and over until you could recount it in your sleep. You were doing well enough in your studies now, had other plans, other interests, and yet all the roads still led you right back to the psychology department building. Its carved mahogany pillars, antique tomes overfilling the grand shelves in the main library, the intricate plaster design in the myriad of maze-like, marble tile corridors. Your feet moved on their own accord, leading you to the same hall, again and again, hoping for some miracle.

The way you and Hongjoong had met could not be any more standard and uninspiring. It was the middle of the fall semester. You were an undergraduate student having trouble with a particular module, he was a postgraduate student conducting research with your professor as his supervisor, you asked for help, were appointed to Hongjoong as a tutee… and the rest was history. Truth be told, you had been terrified of having him help you study initially – from the few students who he had agreed to work with in the past, you had heard that he was strict, demanding, impatient and near despotic. He had a reputation of a judgemental man who counted down the seconds until he could free himself of the vermin that were his juniors.

How you wanted to laugh at this severe prejudice now! After the initial session where you two had established ground rules and expectations, and you had the bright idea of preparing a concise collection of syllabus requirements together with known assessment timings, it was as though someone had flipped a switch inside the young man. Hongjoong had perked up at your interest and had gotten rid of his cold demeanour once you had managed to remain proactive and engaged all throughout his ramblings – no easy feat when discussing human development and cognition.

And now, with two terms having passed by and the end of your academic journey approaching, you were still meeting. Hongjoong seemed to have an innate talent for thinking of something new to discuss with you – just so another session could take place. You strongly doubted that what was happening between you could still be considered a mere tutorship, however; While the core of your conversations remained locked in the realm of psychology and human behaviour analysis, the subtle nuances and implied deviations of meaning had taken on an entirely different palette.

The distance between you was continuously being tested, with a fleeting caress here, a playful touch there, but never anything beyond that. Even though you, supposedly, were training to be masters of understanding the human psyche, you were struggling, or perhaps more accurately, afraid to decipher each other’s intentions, instead leaving it to wishful thinking and irretrievable opportunities lost. Your heart remained in the paradise of the hours spent with Hongjoong but hoped that time could freeze. The clock on the wall was showing five minutes past five – quite unlike him to be late.

Part of you wondered if it was because, finally, Hongjoong began to grow tired of these sessions, of you. Perhaps those students were right after all, and you had merely been seeing what you wanted to see, falling into the trap of confirmation bias. But that hypothesis had no anecdotal evidence to support it – he was an ‘exact’ man, arriving and leaving on the dot regardless of any circumstances. Aside from staying over time once last term, resulting in him physically stiffening around you and being jittery for the next few meetings. You took it as anxiety or need for order, projecting what you had covered in class onto him.

The man in question was gazing at you through the window in the door, having spent the last few minutes trying to collect his thoughts. After having spent the last two terms in torturous denial, he could not find strength in himself to hold back anymore. And that started with this damn hour. It was like a shackle, constraining the two of you to a particular routine and forcing you to remain going round and round in circles. Hongjoong figured that you probably even struggled to ideate meeting him outside of these bounds, remembering the barely audible gasp and widened eyes when you accidentally bumped into him a couple of weeks ago. It probably had meant nothing to you, but to him it turned into a time bomb mechanism. He needed to do something, and fast, before the chances to act ran out entirely.

But look who was talking - at first opportunity he would jolt out of his seat and guide you to the door. He did not dare entertain the thought of going any further, for he knew, if he did so, there would be no going back. Such a move – out of line, and out of the allocated time, had served as the beginning of his highly unprofessional interest in you. That additional half an hour, last term in mid-December, poring over a textbook, one that he was not even able to read in the blur of his emotion and acute sensitivity towards your warmth, nearly right against his cheek, those thirty minutes had spelled his personal disaster.

Hongjoong had never expected to be anything but indifferent towards you. In the grand scheme of things, you could have been just a passing figure. But life had other plans and led him right into the trap that you had not realised you set. First, you came to be who he thought of when he worked - he grew accustomed to filtering papers and studies through a lens of what you could find interesting and relevant, inadvertently leading him to making double the efforts - for the both of you. Next, you transformed into his daydream, consuming his rest and innocuous musings - on multiple occasions he had caught himself contemplating what your preferences were between this or that, or whether you went to see the play you had told him about last week... He thought it would stop at that, alas, the control you had over his mind could not be contained. From day to night, you haunted him, your tasteful attire mentally exterminated by the unbridled desire that consumed him, from early echoes in-situ to hurricanes that left him shuddering in the privacy of his sin. Hongjoong was driving himself insane with you, and he was exhausted of not knowing whether you felt the same way about him.

There were signs, of course, hell, even the pretty little skirt and thigh high boots you chose to wear today were screaming at him and leaving him breathless. But this was all elements of uncertainty, at least until he was to make it the one goal to carry out his series of experiments and prove to both of you that you had long passed the stage of wanting. To one another, you had transformed into an unavoidable need.

It was another three minutes until he finally deemed it appropriate to press down on the door handle, and make his presence known. He expected the same reaction from you as always - a flutter of the eyelashes as you raised your head, how you studied him as though you were committing him to memory, and those soft, plump lips forming a coy smile in greeting. These traditionally insignificant gestures made Hongjoong go into overdrive and fantasise a totally different agenda for the tutorial. Maybe you knew what you were doing, maybe you didn't. But either way, he desperately wanted to become the only one to control those expressions, that inner world you only revealed to him in teasing snippets. Hongjoong simply wanted to own it.

“Did you read the papers I recommended?” It was something of a ritual at this point: he asked a question, you answered, then silence overtaking and lasting from the first exchange to the moment he sat right beside you in the same row, and then you began sharing musings on whatever topic of the week was.

Your head snapped up as soon as you heard the familiar dulcet tone. Finally, Hongjoong had decided to make an appearance, you had feigned ignorance of his lingering form, allowing him to loiter in the corridors while you took in the blissful ambiance of the quiet lecture hall, and considered possible reasons behind his silly actions. So, in a split second, you decided, if he was to be starting the session in an odd manner, it was only your duty to continue.

“Why were you late, Doctor Kim?” you asked, coquettish, emphasising the title that Hongjoong was in the process of trying to attain. He attempted to convince you on a number of occasions that you had no grounds to call him that, but the suppressed look of pride that graced his features, even if just due to the sense of superiority, made your little joke worth it.

The question made Hongjoong freeze in place, right at the entrance to your row. His grip on the leather briefcase he carried almost everywhere tightened, and he readjusted his glasses as a way to distract and calm himself. Evidently, you were onto him, seeing as you decided to veer off-script too. Had you been watching without him realising? With all his might he fought his darkening expression and stalked towards you without saying a single word in return. As he flipped the cushioned seat down and set the case on the elongated table attached to the next line of chairs, you unabashedly continued to follow his every move with your eyes.

Hongjoong’s look was what could be described as a simple elegance. Dressed from head to toe in black, each article of clothing fit immaculately, and highlighted his toned form in just the right places. The thin cashmere turtleneck, together with what you could only assume to be a tailormade blazer, perfectly accentuated his torso, and guided the vision from his delicate hands to his neck, and finally, to his bespectacled face. Effortlessly styled onyx locks made him appear every bit a gentleman, while the studded earrings hinted at a subliminal rebelliousness. His remarkable sense of taste, along with the way in which he could steal all your attention, were timeless truths.

Only once he was settled, his tablet set aside and stylus in one hand, knee almost brushing against yours as he turned a little ways towards you, did he recall what you had said, wondering whether he should let you keep calling him that, as a pleasant formality. In spite of the appeal that the notion had, Hongjoong chose to not entertain the thought any further, and instead let his discreet glances trail down your body, landing on the edge of the mini skirt where it had ridden up, only a little, but enough to give space for creative thought.

“I had some… business to attend to.” He could not think of anything better, but did not want the quiet to last any longer than it had already been. You were polite enough to not keep this particular conversation going, humming in return as you brushed a strand of hair behind your ear.

As you did so, Hongjoong caught the scent of your perfume, his favourite, which left him intoxicated. The floral notes with deliciously sweet undertones dealt permanent damage and taught him to search for you whenever there would be as much as a hint of anything similar. He bit the inside of his cheek as he watched you uncross and slide one leg over the other again. He was at his limit with you, this weekly hour having become a test in its own right.

Now that he was so close, the hall shrunk to a tiny suffocating chamber, where it was only you and him, and the setting sun lazily dragging across the sky outside. You had a tendency to forget just how quickly time could pass when with Hongjoong and were cursing the almost fifteen minutes that had already disappeared.  It was easy to form an image in your mind of him showing up later and later, until he would appear one minute before the end, and then not at all. Perhaps, you needed to start getting over your private teacher, but that was definitely difficult to start when you could sense his scrutiny – his special focus on your thighs did not go unnoticed, a win in your outfit selection books. His overwhelmingly tantalising presence. His hand suddenly tapping your shoulder, not remaining there for as long as you would like.

“So, about that reading?” Hongjoong tilted his head, and smiled softly, though his eyes held something unreadable.

“Of course.” Your voice had inadvertently dropped to a whisper, making the young man’s wandering observations cease immediately, snapping right back to you. After a short pause, he cleared his throat, and forced himself to steer back to the standard collection of lines you had abided by for long enough.

“Then let’s get started?” he wished the phrase would come out less as a question, but for today, or well, tonight in particular, he felt the need to ask for affirmation; subconsciously, he was testing the waters. “Explain to me, what is self-determination theory, and who are some prominent figures that helped develop it?”

You smoothed the pages of the notebook laid open right before you.

"The macro theory of self-determination, which has first been actively developed and brought to our modern understanding by Ryan and Deci, explores and evaluates the outcomes of actions related to human agency. This theory proposes three basic psychological needs, namely autonomy, competence, and relatedness, and introduces a relationship between the satisfaction of said needs, intrinsic motivation, and the regulation of extrinsic motivation.”

You kept your voice as steady as you could, reciting the passages you had highlighted while reviewing the material. Hongjoong was listening intently, nodding along to every phrase, humming in approval as you halted. His stylus remained hovering above the tablet, not touching it a single time. Before, he would litter page after page with critiques, ranging from semantics and your choice of phrasing to the way in which you would reference relevant works. The list of adjustments had been endless, but instead of deterring you, like it had done for your peers, it ignited a foreign motivation. You wanted to prove that you were better. That, give you one piece of advice, you would move ten steps forward and soar. This drive had been your saving grace as it helped you forget prior failure. Prevented unnecessary worry. Along with the fervent wish to impress your tutor came the consistency and dedication to the subject necessary for you to pass with flying colours. In a way, Hongjoong had made you. Crafted who you needed to be in the span of a few weeks. And permanently etched himself into your psyche.

The blank state of the page was a testament to just how intertwined you were, tied together so tight you could barely breathe. You would not be surprised if you moved in synchronicity, and your hearts beat at the same rhythm. All the usual words had already been spoken, leaving behind an electrifying atmosphere that needed a new, symbiotic approach. A fresh start. An unspoken agreement seemed to pass between you and Hongjoong, as with one final spin of the pen-like accessory, he returned it to the built in holder in the casing, and clicked the tablet locked. You paid unnecessarily close attention to the darkening of the screen, until you realised that the man beside you was doing the exact same, and you accidentally locked eyes in the reflection. The fraying edge of your notebook’s cover was suddenly beyond interesting, and you darted to fixate on the miniature tears. You demonstratively picked at the faux leather binding to expose a tiny portion of the cardboard underneath, and waited for Hongjoong to continue. He was yet to comment, but took it upon himself to stop the nervous motion by placing his hand over yours, and lightly shaking his head.

The innocent gesture, gone as fast as it had happened, did the opposite of soothing you – instead of the ticking of the clock, you were listening to the adrenaline-fuelled heartbeat, a staccato resonating in the eardrums. All you were hoping for was that you were not prudish enough to let blush coat your cheeks from a mere few seconds of contact. But your yearning was slowly becoming more and more of a problem, now that his leg was pressed against yours. Tick-tock. Tick-tock.

Hongjoong remained outwardly unperturbed, though the same could not be said for his inner world – that slight reaction from you, one that he was able to detect only because he was searching for it, was enough to set him ablaze and reeling. He needed to slow down if he wanted this to go according to plan. The now continuous touch was enough for the time being - discreet enough to not be outwardly suspicious, but if his investigation and desires were to align, a respectable next step.

“Good. Very good, now let’s take that apart, shall we?” he praised, and leaned on the table with his elbow, facing you. You were curious about what exactly did he actually want to take apart. “You mentioned human agency. Care to elaborate on what that means?”

An instinctive reach for your notes – a desperate cry for support from your brain that was currently going haywire, was cut short by a soft reprimand from your not quite tutor, not quite something more. He encouraged you to be a bit more patient, stating as a matter of factly that this was something you should be able to recollect without assistance. Maybe if you were being assessed by anyone else, just not him. Hongjoong was visually ravaging you, more and more of you, with each passing minute, and you were afraid that soon enough, you would lose control. You wanted to allow yourself to melt under his gaze, to sink into his momentary touches and feel more than just the enticing heat emanating from his body.

Back and forth, the two of you exchanged one fact after another, not once veering off into any other territory except self-development theory. However, within it, your communication had transformed into something a lot less bland for your excited tastes. In a brazen manner, Hongjoong navigated you through a myriad of themes, maintaining a level of seductive ambiguity that was sufficient to keep you guessing and riled up.

It was an odd stroke of luck, how you had been assigned to the one teaching assistant and postgraduate student who was your favourite eye candy during the lectures. He had agreed to attend only a few in the very beginning of the series, since he much preferred to follow his own rhythm, but had stolen your focus at once. Following a disastrous mock test, it was only common practice for your department to assign you to a senior buddy – even if they initially protested and explicitly, in your presence, rejected the deal. Had that been hurtful? Only a little, dissipating in a blink, especially since it led you to where you were now. With forty-five minutes having past, breathing shallowing out into haphazard gulps, and conversation deeply dedicated to extrinsic and intrinsic motivation.

Hongjoong currently had one arm resting on the back of your chair, almost embracing you, and the other gliding with a pen over your notebook, sketching out the diagram of the self-determination continuum from memory. While he was concentrating, you were indulging in the closeness, no longer as engaged in what he was explaining – you had shutdown some time ago, choosing to admit your fervid attraction towards him, at least to yourself. It was comical how you still could hum in agreement at all the right times, nod, or tilt your head. A couple of times you had even mustered a pout, which had made Hongjoong noticeably still.

“…Y/N.” he roughly called you out of your daydream, eyebrow raised. He was obviously unamused, but you could see something contradictory between his actions and the picture painted in his dark orbs. You could almost believe that he had been waiting for a slip up like this, an opportunity to scold you, to really teach you a lesson. “You know I don’t like it when you misbehave and do not listen.”

He could have used passive terms, different pronouns, phrased the comment differently, but no. This was Hongjoong we were talking about. The Hongjoong with his eyes glazed over, resisting the impulse to pounce on you then and there, hanging on by a thread of professional theory. There was not much other proof that he required from you, as you were obvious enough. It did give him a level of satisfaction to know just how severely he could affect you, however, his charms turned out to be a double-edged sword. The more responsive you became, the more intensely his desire resonated.

“But I was…” you trailed off, arguing just for the sake of it.

“Then repeat what I just said.”

“Uhm, that the motivation is regulated by means of punishment on one side,” you slowed your speech, raising one hand to point at the left side of the unfinished diagram with a perfectly manicured nail, “and inherent satisfaction on the other.” Your tone exposed your goal of making the explanation into a euphemism and made Hongjoong bite his lower lip. You were catching up to him in your guesswork, weren’t you?

You yearned for Hongjoong to act before you did something indecent. So, you eagerly played along. If he wanted you to be a little more needy, you were more than happy to oblige and act clueless. Anything for this hour to become an eternity.

You felt a hand being placed on your exposed thigh, between your skirt and boot, then slowly, tentatively, it moved up, closer and closer to the checkered fabric. Fingers flittered across your skin and made it under the material, stopping only right at the sensation of having found the concealed lace. As his other hand let go of the pen to cup your chin and direct you to meet his darkened, sultry gaze, you let out a soft gasp, and shifted your hips just a little, to highlight to yourself that he could have you right where he wanted, and you were ready to beg for it.

“Not quite. But of course, this is something you want to focus on, you…” he hesitated to continue the sentence, choosing to prolong the silence, and keep you frozen in place.

“You… what?” you tried to coax the inevitable change out of him. This limbo could not be left to remain between you.

“…need…” he forced out, fighting himself. Holding back. You felt the pressure on your jaw weaken, so you took to nudging his thumb out of position, making it graze your lips.

“Need?” you repeated after him and waited for a continuation. After a second, ten, thirty, you realised that Hongjoong was peeking at the omnipresent timekeeper above the blackboards.

It was the hour. It had not even crossed your mind, since normally it would be the duty of an obnoxiously loud alarm on Hongjoong’s phone to alert you. But today, it was dead silent. He was so unlike the tutor you had interacted with before, but so like the man who you wanted to belong to. You tuned into the ticking and the heat building up inside you. Leaning in closer, with the tension between your bodies having reached unprecedented heights, you fluttered your eyelashes a few times, formed a cute smile and made a simple request that you knew would be the trigger:

“Please, Joongie, can you help me revise?” the nickname made his cognition fuzzy, so he remained conflicted and held back.

“Shit, Y/N. You are making things really hard for me, you know that?” he breathed out, turning to peer at you through half-lidded eyes. In flash of confidence after being humoured by the phrase you reached out to put a hand on Hongjoong’s chest, tracing a line with a finger, all the way down until you reached the waistband of his trousers, and toyed with the golden buckle of what had to be a rather pricey belt.

“Oh yes, I do. Much like you know that I am in dire need of motivation.” enveloped in an uncontainable lust, Hongjoong let go of your chin, positioning his hand right on the back of your head, fingers snaking themselves through your hair, and pulled you in until you were a mere couple of centimetres away.

“Are you sure, pet?” his exhale was hot on your skin, and you tilted yourself into him, impatient with this back and forth.

“You sure ask a lot of questions, Joongie-”

Any further retorts were cut off by Hongjoong taking off his glasses and closing the space between you and crashing his lips with yours. You barely had time to react as he gave your hair a slight tug to angle you for a deeper kiss. There was no longer any pressure against your thigh, as instead, his arm had slinked around your waist, and was urging you to slide even closer. Without much resistance you let yourself be guided, twisting yourself and letting the seat which you had occupied return to its folded state before lifting a leg and moving to straddle the handsome brunette.

Though you now had a certain advantage, with Hongjoong having to tilt his head up a little, it did nothing to change just how quickly you unravelled at his touch. It felt like a hallucination, finally getting a taste of what you had been craving for too long. But, despite the fact that you were here, revelling in this united intimacy, it was not enough. A greed had awoken within you alongside the building unrefined high, provoking you to give into the animalistic hunger and quit pretending. Remnants of your usual elegance evaporated as the temperature rose, leaving the real, primal you. The tantalising possibility of having the numerous scenarios occupying the inner conscious erased your ability to form any coherent thoughts. You wanted to be capable of only one thing now, and that was devoting yourself to the man whose saliva was sending you into a frenzy. The man who was physically under you, but you constantly struggled to reach. The man who had you wrapped around his finger.

"Hongjoong..." you sighed into the kiss, earning a hum from your seducer.

Masterfully, without breaking away from the electrifying contact, he began to unbutton your silk blouse, only stopping once to admire you, whispering a string of praises. Each one cemented itself within you, as though it was novel, unheard of. It was reminiscent of a scientific discovery, like those words had no significance to you before he carefully selected them in your address. It wasn't long before your top was shrugged off, and found a home under Hongjoong's seat, having you remain only in your bra. You had ensured that every Wednesday, you were to dress your best at every layer, if not for exposure, then at least for confidence. And now it paid off, as your target audience slid his hands with the attentiveness of an examiner across from your abdomen to your chest, halting at the solar plexus.

Hongjoong leaned back to appreciate how worked up you already were, on the verge of mewling like a kitten for him to give you more. Before you could say anything, he manoeuvred to unclasp the article. The suddenness of the motion made your teeth click together, but instead of deterring you only added fuel to the fire in your core. Now having full access to your breasts, he did not hesitate to cup them in his hands, unrestrained, and proceeded to knead them, paying special attention to your aroused nipples with a few methodical flicks and teasing pinches. You were putty in his hands, fading into moans muted by Hongjoong’s tongue grazing your canines, exploring you.

His hands traced the contours of your body, gliding down to your hips and pulling the skirt further up until it was a flimsy accessory that left nothing to the imagination. Roughly grabbing your ass, he moved up towards you as you grinded once, twice, until you were on the growing bulge underneath his trousers. As soon as you were flush against him, you own movement growing sloppier by the second, he tilted his head back just a little and hissed by your cheek:

“So fucking selfish, baby girl. Demanding all this attention from me.” He moved to plant a kiss on your earlobe, nipping at the cartilage. You let out a shaky breath, returning the sensation by peppering a series of kisses across the side of his face, stopping right at the corner of his plump lips.

“You’re making me feel so good, Joong-” your hunger was not subsiding as you tried to capture his mouth with yours, only to be rejected by a harsh comment:

“That’s Sir to you, pet.”

“I knew you liked it when I-”

“One more word out of that pretty mouth of yours and I am not going to be so nice.” Hongjoong warned you, sternly, a hint of aggression behind his words. This made you wonder how he would be if completely enraged. Perhaps you would find out someday, but this time around, you wanted to try your best to be a good girl for him.

“Anything to help me learn my lesson…” you paused to glance into Hongjoong’s eyes, as wild as yours, “…Sir.”

“Little troublemaker trying to be the teacher’s pet?”

“Yes Sir.”

“Then tell me, what’s intrinsic motivation again?” he smirked as he kissed your jawline and breathed right against the side of your neck, making you whine. He took great pleasure in seeing how your head rolled back as he found a particularly sensitive region, and after giving it a quick introductory peck, began to hungrily devour, sucking and nipping at the skin until it grew a new shade of pink.

“Mpfh- this-” you gasped as he moved to treat another area with the same affection, peppering kisses across your collar bone and jugular.

“Well, isn’t that just lovely. So desperate to be satisfied that you are willing to do anything. Well tell me, what do you need to do to get what you need?”

“Anything?” a sharp slap resounded when his palm made contact with your ass, accompanied by a yelp from you. You had to steady yourself by grabbing onto Hongjoong’s shoulders, and refrain from shaking.

“Try harder, baby girl. As if I’d give you the answer just like that.”

“Make you… feel so good…”

“Lacking in originality, but I’ll give it to you. Well done, you’re catching on. Never disregard the extrinsic, Y/N. We all want motivation.” He dropped his voice low, mocking your earlier words, and planted one more kiss right on your collarbone, taking a couple of seconds to commit his artwork on your skin to memory.

You felt him adjust his positioning, and wrap his arms around your thighs, somehow managing to move you even closer to him. It was impossible to ignore your own arousal, as well as his that you could feel through your own panties, while in one effort, he carefully rose from his seat and planted you in front of him, right on the table. The desks were probably the newest addition to the lecture hall, having been completed out of a sturdy fibreboard. But that also meant that they barely registered any changes in temperature and shocked you with their coolness against your exposed flesh. When Hongjoong set you down on, he reached for the soaked material of your panties, tugging on the waistband a couple of times.

“But I like to lead by example, pet. I want to show you how I want you, and how you should want me.”

You were about to give a feeble response, but it got caught inside your throat along with a gasp for air, as you were overwhelmed by the feeling of Hongjoong’s fingers going under the fabric, along your sensitive folds and deep into your pussy. Taking it slow, he let his fingers glide right back out, now coated with your nectar, and he took to massaging your blooming clit, rubbing the region unhurriedly, only to move right down between the lips once more, and up again.

You desperately needed him inside you, and attempted to encourage this by bucking your hips just a bit towards him, but to no avail, as with his free hand he grasped your hip roughly, and tugged you back to the table. Once he decided that you were ready, Hongjoong easily slid his nimble digits inside, up to his knuckles, and commenced their ecstasy-inducing pumping at a steady pace, albeit slow for your preferences. But you knew better than to complain when your desires were still progressively being fulfilled.

“Look at you, pretty girl, so fucking wet for me already,” he picked up his speed, enjoying how rapidly that forced a lewd moan out of you and caused you to lean forward, seeking stability in Hongjoong’s body. With your foreheads pressed together, and your breaths becoming shakier, he continued to taunt you, “See how willing you are to bow to me?”

“Yes, shit, please, just don’t stop-”

“Enthusiastic, are we? Well, remember this for how I will quiz you later by seeing how you treat me. I want you to imprint this in your mind. Every damn second. How well your tight cunt takes to me, how you crumble beneath me.”

“Yes Sir-ah!”

He curled his fingers and stepped closer towards you, his body turned a little off to the side. The pulsing of his still-clothed erection against your leg, as well as the stimulation he was giving to your sex was making you see stars. You had dreamt of this for so long and were not holding back in letting Hongjoong know of your pleasure by the pants and hushed yelps that escaped your open mouth. Music to his ears.

“You’re such a slut for this, so fucked out from just my fingers. I bet you have thought about this before, haven’t you, Y/N?”

“Oh fuck yes, Sir, yes I have, I…” you could not finish your sentence as he began to pump at an even faster rate than before. The knot that had formed in your stomach since the beginning of the ‘tutorial’ you had together, which turned out to be prolonged intellectual foreplay, was now growing unbelievably stronger, and stronger, coiling light a metal spring.

“I’ll let you in on a secret – I have wanted to see you like this, squirming underneath me, for just as long.”

Though his words were an unabashed expression of salaciousness, you could read a genuine affection in his eyes. You could almost guarantee that there was a life, perhaps even a love beyond this common indulgence in carnality. At least you wanted to believe that that was the case, even though your focus was also fully lust-riddled, and your high was fast-approaching.

“Every time you would follow me with your eyes as I excited the room, or how you would shamelessly flirt with me though I did not give anything back… you really are so needy. Practically begging to worship me, huh?”

“Y-yes…” your speech was faltering, and you locked your hands behind Hongjoong’s neck, unable to stabilise yourself alone any longer. Your climax was imminent.

“Dreaming of when you could have all of me to yourself… so fucking dedicated. Do you think you deserve a reward?”

“You… decide… Sir…” you choked out, resting your head against the crook of his neck, inhaling his inebriating scent.

“Such a good girl, that’s right. I do decide. And because you are being so obedient, I am treating you this well. How does that make you feel?” He teased, purposefully employing the overused phrase. It made you recall where you were exactly, and just what you were doing, the shame spurring you on.

“Thank you, sir- ah!”

“Grateful, is that right?” voice husky, he confirmed.

“Yes… mmh, fuck yes please-”

You were drawing a blank – if before you were at least able to state a few words in an order that made sense, now you were approaching the edge of complete ruin and could no longer contain yourself. An intense warmth was spreading all through your lower half, shooting outwards to every neuron in your body, down to your toes, contracted in pleasure, and all the way to your dishevelled locks. Only a couple of seconds ago did shame flash before you, accusing you for whoring yourself out so impatiently and desperately inside a university classroom, but Hongjoong had a talent for making you forget. If he kept at it, you would even forget your own name. He was pumping faster and faster, his arm muscles tightening along with your grip on his blazer, crumpling the material. It was only a matter of seconds, your breathing shallowed, moans grew breathier – if you were a gun, then Hongjoong was about to pull the trigger. You shut your eyes on instinct, expecting the rolling waves of a climax to hit you, but-

Your ‘small death’ never arrived. With a whine you sent a confused glare in Hongjoong’s direction, searching for an answer, any sign from him. This was not fair. You needed his attention back this instant, how dare he cut this euphoria? Why was he so intent on driving you to the verge of insanity? You did not have a single chance to complain, nor to initiate payback, as Hongjoong groaned and picked you up, manhandling you to the ground. Astonished, you stayed compliant.

The carpeted floor did not bring much comfort, the artificial fibre digging into your bare back, and the whiff of an amalgamation of industrial cleaner and something similar to puddle water made you scowl. A look to the side revealed a pencil, evidently forgotten by a student from one of the classes earlier that day, but was still better than facing Hongjoong's unreadable expression as he hovered above you. He appeared to be listening out for something, a suspicion confirmed when you were about to speak, and he pressed a hot finger against your lips, making you state yourself while simultaneously silencing you.

“Not. A. Single. Sound. You hear me?”

You merely nodded, unsure of how else to respond. Not when Hongjoong appeared so frustrated. Only once he rose up, pushing himself up using the table did you manage to pick apart the sound of conversation from outside of the hall. There appeared to be a group of students passing by, taking their sweet time. In an efficient manner, he took out a handkerchief from his pocket, wiping his fingers. From your angle, though you could not exactly tell, but it appeared that the ghost of a smirk was dancing on his features. It did not take much deduction to figure out that he was enjoying the humiliating state you were in, your own horniness trapping you in a need to follow his orders.

As if to emphasize this, he picked the seat right above you to plant himself in, effectively masking you from view and leaving you quite literally at his feet. You noticed that Hongjoong had returned to his regular demeanour, calm and collected, unlocking his tablet for full effect, and behaving as though you were not there at all. As one final alteration to the scene, he tossed your belongings into your bag which was now right by your head and began to take some abstract notes. It was at that moment that you heard the foreign conversation get louder, and in a couple of seconds, the door being clicked open to reveal some unfamiliar faces.

After spotting Hongjoong seated in the very centre of the second row, looking very authoritative, aura occupying the entire room, they cowered back into the corridor, with just one of them remaining to prop the door open and call out to him.

“Sorry, is there something happening in this room?”

“Oh, sure is.” he uttered, pretending as though his focus on some incredibly important task was broken, and he was doing the group a favour by entertaining their pesky inquiries.

The attitude carried across effectively, as the student lowered his head sheepishly, but not enough to prevent them from raising their arm to motion towards the back of the hall and ask one final time:

“So, it’s fully booked? We can’t sit… like… up there?”

“Booked. And I am afraid you cannot.”

Waiting through this exchange was becoming unbearable, and each second was equivalent to an eternity amidst your arousal. Careful to not disturb the man above you, nor the items strewn across the floor, you gingerly moved your legs closer together, and inched your hand to your sensitive bud, seeking for more stimulation and what you deemed to be a well-deserved release. You did not realise just how sensitive you were, for as soon as you grazed the area, you practically let out a whimper, the only thing stopping you was you slamming a palm over your mouth on instinct. Trying to emulate Hongjoong’s motions, mind replaying the scenes from only a few minutes ago, you were easing yourself into self-gratification, abdominal muscles tightening. But this build-up did not last long either, as through your blurred vision, you noticed Hongjoong glowering at you, eyes turned daggers. Not long after, a new pressure found itself on the back of your hand and on your pelvis in the form of his lacquered moccasin. It was a raw, hateful move that degraded you to nothing but an object to be stepped on, but something about the forcefulness and intent made you desire for the charming, devious man to do it again.

“If you check out the department library there is normally some space. You aren’t in psychology, right?” he turned his attention back to the student across the room, ignoring your existence aside from a nudge for you to remove your hand from your still-dripping pussy, which you, albeit with hesitation, did.

“You are right, we do history, but our building’s packed so we ventured out.”

“Ah, then let me point you in the right direction.” He began to rise, making a show out of the inconvenience their intrusion was causing, exaggerating his body language; before he could fully stand up straight, however, the student stopped him and apologised profusely, settling for a couple of verbal pointers. You were astounded by Hongjoong’s ability to swiftly manipulate the environment and the people around him – equal parts dangerous and impeccably professional. He could make a home in anyone’s psyche, especially yours.

Once the disturbance had disappeared from the vicinity of the hall, Hongjoong rose from his seat and made his way swiftly to the door, slamming it shut; you remained still, mind hazy from the brush with almost being caught in your lecherous performance. You recognised the clicks that followed as him locking it, and a rustling as him rolling down the blind for the miniature built in window. There was no way you were going to be disturbed now. The world narrowed in, no longer escaping the boundaries of antiquity harboured in the theatre. Even the clock, still carrying out its duties, no longer held the same overbearing meaning.

“At any point in time, did I say that you could touch yourself without my permission? Or are you so filthy that you want to gather a crowd?” his question hung in the air, as he, seething, returned to the row. Raising your head slightly, you could now see just how turned on he was, with his erection almost threatening to burst out of his trousers, and a hint of discomfort on his face as he continued to storm down to you, stopping when his feet hit your boots. It was incredible how much restraint he had shown up until this point, but the temporary loss of control, and your light naughtiness was the final straw.

“Get the fuck over here.”

He roughly grabbed you by your wrist and dragged you to the front of the hall. He looked positively livid, but simultaneously, there was a burning desire within him to just have his way with you. The longer he kept at prolonging your lack of stimulation, the more agonising his arousal became until he could not take it anymore and needed you to take care of his problem. As he shoved you to centre stage, giving your ass a couple of well-placed smacks strong enough to leave redness, he began to unbuckle his belt.

When you stood in front of him, he caressed your cheek with one of his hands, only to switch it to a tight hold around your throat, so unexpected that you could not restrain a yelp. Pressing in his thumb until he could feel the contours of your larynx, he watched as you shuddered in pleasure at the change in treatment. You really were phenomenal.

“On your knees.” He pushed you down, letting go and dragging a finger up to your chin, and soon enough you were looking up at him, eyes glazed over with a fiery lust, spelling total submission.

“You have just been taking, and taking, and taking. That’s not quite fair, is it? And on top of that you are being so unbelievably naughty, that I am not sure what to do with you.”

“Forgive me, Sir, I didn’t mean to.”

“Oh yes, you did. You can’t control yourself. Need it all at once. I do not think I can let go of that too easily. You need to make it up to me.”

Dragging the belt out, he took a step closer to you, taking a deep breath in. In contrast to his spitting accusations, he very carefully moved your hair out of the way as he wrapped the belt around your throat, hooked it through and tightened it until it took on the appearance of a leash. He gave it a few tugs to check for your response, giving you a lewd grin once you nodded and mumbled the ever so sweet:

“Please.”

Dragging you until you were only centimetres away from his barely concealed member, he gestured for you to finish undressing his lower half. With a quick nod you rushed to unbutton and unzip the clothing.

“Convince me that I shouldn’t just leave you here like the desperate whore you are, since you are so self-determined.” You bit back a response, as you slid Hongjoong’s underwear down, and were more than pleased with the sight before you. Yes, you indeed were a whore for this man.

Taking the throbbing cock into one of your hands, you rubbed the ample amount of precum across its entire length, giving special attention to its base, which elicited a satisfied hiss from Hongjoong, and a lazy tug on the accessory around your neck. Understanding it as a silent command to hurry up, you leaned in and licked the tip, glancing up and batting your eyelashes as though you were the picture of innocence.

It drove Hongjoong wild, watching you as your mouth took over, with your tongue caressing the member up and down while you adjusted to his size. You had not even taken him in fully yet, and he was already concerned with just how desperate he was for more. Unable to sustain the leisurely pace which you had selected, he took a fistful of your hair with his free hand and tightened the belt with the other, yanking you back until just his tip was between your lips, to peer into your eyes. There you were, all pretty, jaw slackened to take him in, terrified that you had done something to wrong him any further. Hongjoong chuckled, high off the control he had, and in one swift motion shoved his length into your mouth until it hit the back of your throat, making you choke momentarily and have tears spring to your eyes.

“Do you think your sorry attempts are eloquent enough? I need to see better than that.” He challenged between laboured breaths, holding you in place.

The contraction of your throat, every shudder from your body, and finally, the vibration you emitted when you hummed in understanding before beginning to bob your head back and forth were unbelievable, overriding any fantasy he had developed before experiencing the real you. The stark difference between the you – a diligent student, an attentive tutee, a young, classic lady, and the you – a sex-driven fiend, an adorably acquiescent star of his consciousness, a vixen hidden behind a supposedly pure image, was making the sight even more addictive.

“Aahh… fuuuck, baby girl…” he muttered as you aided yourself with your hands, one running over and massaging his balls, while the other remained at the base, providing a rhythmic, slow pump.

Instinctively, Hongjoong rolled his hips to further speed up the movement; this time you were ready to take it, mouth widening and tongue lapping at his delicious cock, now lubricated by your hot spit. Your eyelids were growing heavier as your own desire began to build once more. The moans that the man was trying to muffle so as to not lose his sanity to you while he throat fucked you were a haunting melody to your ears that you undoubtedly would be hearing for weeks on end. You needed to be good to him and coax out a crescendo, you did have forgiveness to beg for, didn’t you?

The heat inside your core was growing steadily, making you squeeze your kneeling legs together to provide at least some support. The action did not go unnoticed by Hongjoong who let out an airy chuckle and brushed some stray hairs out of your face.

“You really are such a slave to my dick, aren’t you? Eating it up… such a good cocksleeve…” the words inspired you to go faster, seeking for more praise to fall from your master’s lips. He gripped the belt for dear life, making the friction around your neck rise, along with sinful sounds coming with each pump as you started deepthroating him almost entirely on your own, his hand that was on the back of your head merely following along with your motions.

He could sense that he was getting close, the aching in his abdomen, tingling in his extremities turning his vision into a blurry mess that would unlikely be fixed even if he were to perch his lenses back onto his nose. But he was far from done with you, as much as he wanted to shoot strings of his cum into your oesophagus and watch you swallow it all like a good girl. Unwillingly he grabbed your locks again, and guided you away from him, nearly regretting it when he heard you whine. Like you were the one who was being pleasured. Truly, one of a kind. Breathless and pouting.

“Are you ready to deliver a presentation, baby girl?”

“What-” confused, you asked, but after being reminded by the choking of the belt, added “sir?”

“Tell me what fucking theory you follow,” he retorted, huffing, and made you get off the floor, “now, up, c’m’ere, pet.” Treating you every bit like an animal, he pulled on the makeshift leash and took you to the lectern, moving behind it and making you face the hall. Now that you were standing there did you realise just how vast the space was, how many ghosts of inquisitive eyes there were, one in each seat. How willing you were to put this show on and embed it into the walls, the floor, the ceiling. Turn it into an altar of sin that you wanted to never leave.

“Bend over… that’s right, good girl.” He instructed you to lean forwards onto the wooden structure, and you automatically placed your hands on its edges. Spreading your legs, you enthusiastically gave Hongjoong access to your wet pussy, and sighed as he flipped your skirt up once again. Finally, you were about to get your fill.

You heard the crinkling of what could only be some kind of wrapper behind you, and glanced, curious. Hongjoong was in the process of rolling a condom over his rock hard member, shutting his eyes as he stimulated it. Smirking at you, he explained:

“See, I’ve been bringing these to all of our little meetings lately. There’s not enough time in the world to describe in just how many ways I want to ruin you, Y/N.” he chose to utter your name instead of the substitutes, voice dangerously low. He wanted you to remember this as a promise that he was not going to hold himself back anymore. Both of you wanted to live and fuck with no limits. You bit your lower lip, hiding a lustful grin.

“Show me an example, sir.”

That was enough for him to let go of the belt, leaving it to hit the lectern and dangle under you and take you roughly by the hips. Using one hand he positioned his cock right by your entrance, running it over your folds a couple of times, and without further hesitation pushed deep into you, bottoming out. Awestruck at how good you felt with your cunt clenched around him, he failed to stop a guttural groan from escaping him, which in turn made you respond with a few whimpers and a grinding of your backside, adding to his growing high. Slapping you back into submission, he pulled out fully, only to shove himself back in, revelling in the tightness of your walls.

“Don’t test me, sweetheart,” he warned barely present as he began to thrust with a slightly higher frequency, pressing himself flush against you every time.

You were barely remembering to breathe as Hongjoong’s pulsing cock was being pounded into you, stretching you out repeatedly. More on edge than ever before, you were feeling every touch, every graze, every exhale of his that could reach you. He was in a similar state, air knocked out of him as he rocked harder and harder into you until the temporary break after his prior build up was long gone. To curb the wave that was about to take over him, he bent closer to you. His clothing fell over your back as he teased your soaked pussy with his tip, it twitching from the contact. Missing the perfection that you offered, he could not keep up this game much longer, sliding his pulsating cock back between your soaked folds.

Beads of sweat were beginning to accumulate on Hongjoong’s forehead from the sheer heat of your bodies moving in tandem, your moans forming a harmony. The teasing was fanning the flames, the approach of your climax accelerating. He took the end of the belt again and tightened the collar-like hold it had on you, making your vision darken at the edges. Almost immediately he let go, intuitively knowing the limit of restriction. You adored the feeling of being his fuckdoll, existing as a vessel for the filthy noise your pussy was making as he continued to penetrate you. He moved a hand to your swollen clit to rub languid circles over it, and slammed his dick deeper into you, making you yelp at the heightened stimulation.

"Funny how autonomy is a basic need, and yet you are so willing to give it up for that same satisfaction. Are you that drunk off my cock that you lost rationality?

"Yes... Hong..joong... ah fuck! Sir!" You yelped when he suddenly bucked his hips upwards, delivering a particularly well aimed stroke that hit your g-spot.

As you gripped onto the lectern until your knuckles turned white, Hongjoong began to pick up his pace. He nudged one of your feet, a signal to spread wider, and placed one of his own on an elevated part of the platform, giving him a new angle, and fully unlocking the path to your orgasm. His touch was hot against your skin, with him continuing to abuse your overly sensitive bud, and the other surely leaving marks as he pressed his fingers into your waist.

“No more sirs, Y/N, aahhh shit, I want to- mfph, hear you scream my name. Yell who you belong to.” He commanded, going harder than ever. You tried to answer, but no sound came out of your mouth as you were enveloped in the ecstasy. He was immaculate, taking you apart how you had dreamt of him doing. Your arousal was unbearably close, and all you could think about was how Hongjoong’s cock was stuffing your sex, which was begging for release.

The knot in your stomach was about to burst; you followed the beautiful man’s demands and chanted his name like a mantra, fluctuating between barely audible and soaring to squeals at the top of your lungs, echoing right back at you and blending with Hongjoong’s carnal growls. He was catching up with you, his own desire starting to overflow. As your movements started to falter, he read you instantly, adjusting himself so that one arm was out to support you, while the other continued to help you in reaching that explosion of all senses. You grew completely silent as the awaited orgasm shook you, tightening all muscles, a knee-buckling attack, effectively immobilising you.

“Good girl, Y/N, come for me. Ah- you’re so damn beautiful.”

It was almost possible to count the constellations racing in your eyes from the overstimulation, which not even a forehead pressed onto the cool surface of the lectern could subdue. Your juices started to stream out of your overfilled pussy and treacle down your thighs. Hongjoong was entranced by how you were letting him enjoy you to the fullest, even after you have reached your peak. You were better than anything he could have hypothesised. You were his motivation.

“Fuck, Y/N, I’m about to-” he mustered before it all hit him, and he pulled you into an embrace to prevent himself from shaking too violently, whispering ‘Y/N’.

Your aroma, the fucked out, glazed over haze written all over you was making him want to fall in love because shit, you were perfect. To reel himself back into reality he shifted his focus back to you, even though his member was still throbbing aggressively, hitting your leg as he side stepped away. He became ever so gentle, removing his belt from your throat and peppering kisses over your shoulders, your neck, your face. He retraced the love bruises he had left, now tenderly pecking each one.

“You’re so wonderful, you know that?” He mumbled into your ear, unsure if you could even register that he was speaking to you, but your soft hum proved otherwise. “Thank you, Y/N, my sweet,” planting a kiss on your cheek, and then turning you for another on your lips, he expressed his gratitude, and helped you down into a seated position at the base of the lectern when you stated you needed a moment to recover.

Your eyes followed Hongjoong’s form, as he waddled from the bin to dispose of the condom, to the box of tissues tucked away on a shelf by the door. While he cleaned himself up, and as soon as he was fully dressed, moved to wipe away your release, you pondered how this all unfolded. You had been incredibly silly to think he did not want you, that was certain. Even now, on a post-coital high he was taking care of you diligently, moving away only to rush to take your clothes from where you had thrown them. He was treating you like the most fragile, precious being on this earth, a total contrast to a few minutes ago.

The clock, abandoned by its previously dedicated followers, was still ticking away but you and Hongjoong did the impossible, and remained in your shared hour. That was all either of you wanted, and felt you needed. Your breathing levelled out, and you leaned back, letting both your hands drop to either side of you. Hongjoong joined you, and cautiously took one of them, intertwining your fingers together. In a soothing pattern he ran a thumb over the back.

“Thank you.” You finally managed, to which Hongjoong beamed, and squeezed your digits.

You sat together in silence, sinking into the dimming surroundings, at ease, blissful.

“So… same time next week?” you wiggled your eyebrows and chuckled.

“Let me take you out for dinner first, say tonight?”

“I’d love that… but, so soon?”

“Perhaps, but you motivate me.”

[fillinforlater]

Dayeons Disciplinary Diary

Male Reader x Kim Dayeon (ft. Chaehyun, Xiaoting)

Length: 5794 words

Tags: disciplinary sex, sex as punishment, humiliation, degradation, sex in front of others, filming sex, humiliation kink, public sex kink, bratty idol, rough sex, dubious consent, getting threatened kink, facefuck, cum shot, anal, pearly gates sort of, teasing, sweaty sex, standing sex, full nelson, mentions of choking and spanking, a mating press and cock addiciton, angry sex, brat!Dayeon / strict!You

TW: it's better you read the tags tbh, but you can already leave if you dislike humiliation, degradation or dubious consent

Credit: @midnightdancingsol for editing

Inspiration: A cutie send me a rough idea and after months, I was able to come up with sth. I hope you read this <3

“Maybe.”

New job, old problems. 

The five oldest members of the famous girl group Kep1er are supposed to debut as a separate sub-unit. As someone with a lot of experience in planning, training, and preparing you were chosen as an external coach to give advice and guide the fairly inexperienced team. It’s a new task, sure, but the problems remain the same. So far, so unspectacular.

The issues however started the moment you left the first meeting and looked at the girls schedule: in between the usual variety shows and photoshoots they have dance practice for a full group comeback after the sub-unit debut. It limits the time the company gives you for meetings, vocal sessions—literally everything. 

Though a huge inconvenience, it’s nothing you can’t manage. It probably was the reason why they hired you, someone from outside the company, to deal with this in the first place. However, another aspect you were not ready for made your first problem seem like a first grader’s task.

Some of the sub-unit members, Chaehyun, Xiaoting, and especially Dayeon are very hard to keep in check. Their brattiness easily blows up a dance practice session, their delinquency disrupts entire meetings, and their obnoxious attitude consistently brings you to the edge of a tantrum. 

You’ve tried the usual methods, carrots and sticks. Over the first couple of weeks, it became obvious that no amount of carrots could help. Luckily, the company gave you extensive authority over the group. They only cared about the results, so it was time for you to switch from the carrot to the stick. 

Chaehyun was the first to be disciplined. She was mostly tagging along with her best friend Dayeon and it was mostly through her that Chaehyun got into trouble. So after only two sessions of edging and hair pulling, Chaehyun’s strong will to misbehave broke. She became diligent, not missing a single meeting and obedient, obeying every word the dance teacher says. She also became addicted to your cock, an unwanted, but amusing side effect. As long as she continues to be a good girl and give it her all, you give her what she desires. Every evening.

Xiaoting was a little bit tougher. She put up more of a fight because she wasn’t dependent on someone else to come up with a troublesome idea. If she wanted to mess up the choreography, she just did. If a meeting bored her, she would just leave. If another girl would annoy her, she would slap her. 

At first you expected her to be the worst case, but after edging her for one hour with your fingers and pounding her doggystyle, she was already whimpering. What broke her resistance entirely were the spanks on her fat thighs and ass. She later confessed that you were the first person to make her squirt—which is the reason she walks to your apartment every weekend to get her fair share of spanks.

Dayeon is still a work in progress. No edging, hair-pulling, spanking or rough fucking has made her submit to your authority. Even after she cried and whimpered in her mating-press while you slapped her tits in the morning, she would still skip the meet-ups in the afternoon. Her snarky remarks cannot be stopped, even after you fucked her face the night before. So you changed your strategy.

Five steps. Five steps to break Dayeon’s brattiness. 

Day 1: Take a picture!

“Dayeon, my office. Now!”

She was late again to one of the meetings. Of course. It doesn’t matter today, however. It’s a perfect set up to get your plan into motion. You’ve waited for this moment since waking up. 

Dayeon trots into your office. She wears the same outfit as she did during their debut promotions: a plaid skirt, open leather jacket and black crop top. Unlike back then, her hair is now dark brown, a change of style that really suits her.

“What?” she groans in annoyance and clicks her tongue.

“Why are you wearing this? Didn’t I tell you to stick to the training outfits?”

“Yeah, whatever.”

Deep breaths to calm down your nerves. Dayeon pulls out her cell phone  and with every tap on her screen your anger rises. Ten knuckles turn red as you squeeze the edge of the table, wishing to break it in half. You clear your throat and slowly ask in a threatening, deep voice:

“Dayeon, will you finally stop being such a brat? You need to be punctual, diligent, and focused on your comeback.”

Dayeon continues to type. Without looking up she snarls:

“Lol, no. What’cha gonna do about it?”

Everything happens in the blink of an eye. In uncontrolled anger, you snag her phone away, push her against your office door, and force her down on her knees. Dayeon wants to shout out something, but you press your crotch against her confused face and keep her mouth shut with your growing bulge. 

“I’ve had enough of your shit. You will soon regret being such a bitch.”

Fear and anger form in Dayeon’s eyes, but you pay them no mind. Open your zipper to free your cock. It jumps free like a loosened spring and its massive size covers Dayeon’s smooth face. Your other hand swipes across Dayeon’s phone screen and opens the camera app. You then point the camera down at the bratty girl and take your first picture. The flash blinds her for a second.

“What the fuck? Stop!”

Dayeon fights to set herself free, but her struggling hands and flailing legs are not enough to free her from your pelvis and thighs pressing her firmly against the door. You continue to take pictures from all angels to capture Dayeon with your cock over her face. She tries to hide from and interrupt you, so you grab her chestnut hair and roughly yank it. 

“Fuck you! Ah, you asshole!” Dayeon screams.

Punish her for opening it by easily gliding your cock into her mouth. It not only cuts off her screams, but also oxygen supply. Immediately, you begin to facefuck her against your door, loud thuds rhythmically echo around your spacey office. 

“No, “ you hiss, as rage fuels each of your thrusts into Dayeon’s face, “you’re the asshole, Dayeon. You will pay for your bitchiness. Smile for the camera, whore!”

Flashes rain upon Dayeon’s face as tears and drool spills down in copious amounts. Whines and gags would do perfect for a lewd audio to relieve your stress later. Her orbs are glistening messes, her drool makes the sensation similar to a squirting pussy and you feel yourself climaxing quickly. 

“Shit, your mouth is tight.”

You pull at Dayeon’s hair again and her lips press down on your shaft. She is like a vacuum, sucking you roughly in. In a last second effort, you pull out and unload a huge, angry load all over her features. Cum pools or trickles down from her forehead, eyes, nose, lips, cheeks, chin. Not one inch stays uncovered and not one thing stays undocumented. Hundreds of pictures, and you are eager to take even more.

“F-fuck, ah, you ass—” Dayeon’s first words after getting her throat fucked are cut short by you slapping your cock all over her face.

“Shut the fuck up, toy. Your phone is confiscated. I expect you to be at the training tomorrow.”

A harsh yank and you bring her down to the floor, deep breaths and shocked, terrified eyes star upwards toward you. You roll your eyes and walk back to your desk, acting like nothing happened mere seconds ago, as if you didn’t just treat her like a useless fleshlight.

“Get out of my office. Now!”

##

Day 2: Make a Video!

“Dayeon! Get to the practice room right now!”

Dayeon was at the practice, but her performance was utter nonsense. The moves were offbeat or in the wrong direction and she was lacking the energy and cockiness she usually had on stage. It derailed an otherwise amazing performance by everyone, especially Xiaoting and Chaehyun who were giving it their all. 

The dance teacher became frustrated and after all her scolding was shrugged off by Dayeon, she called you. 

Now, as the day comes to an end, you ordered Dayeon to stay behind for extra dance lessons. However, when you called her into the large white room with a light brown wooden floor and a mirror wall, the dance teacher had already left. 

“What? Where the fuck is she?” Dayeon curses and turns around to you. 

“I sent her home,” you nonchalantly say while you lay down an old gymnastic mat and set up a tripod next to it. 

“And how am I supposed to practice? Don’t tell me you know the dance inside out,” Dayeon chuckled viciously while imitating what it might look like if you dance. She is giving it her best to piss you off and you are going to use the build up anger for your plan.

“We still practice together,” you say, finally finished with your setup. A camera is filming from the top of the tripod down onto the small mat. Dayeon inspects the odd looking sight and moves next to you. With a jab to the side, she cynically jokes: 

“That is not how you film a dance practice. Oppa must be retarded.”

Before she can laugh, you grab her sides and slam her onto the mat. Dayeon yelps, in shock, in pain, you don’t care. She yelps again when you pull down her black sweatpants. Her simple, white panties get pulled to the side while you immediately invade her pussy with two of your fingers. The brunette moans and tries to wiggle herself free, but you spread her legs forcefully nonetheless.

“Come on! Show the camera your pink lips.”

Her most private part is on perfect display for the camera. When Dayeon tries to cover it with her hands, you slap her pussy. The usually feisty girl becomes shy, her face read all over when you spread her labia and rub her clit.

“Covering your face doesn’t help. To everyone who might watch this, this is Kim Dayeon of Kep1er. She has a pretty cunt, doesn’t she?” “Stop! This is unfair!”

“Her pussy is pretty and of course her face as well, but her character is very rotten, so we will need to teach her a lesson.”

“Hey! What are you—no, ah!”

You lift the light girl up a little and spread her cheeks to also present her tight and twitching asshole. Dayeon tenses again. Although she is the brattiest idol you ever had to work with, it is only now that she gets her first dose of effective humiliation as punishment. 

“Look! It’s Dayeon’s ass and her cute hole. So small~”

“Oppa, no!”

Finally, you tear off her panties and get beneath her. Dayeon is now in a pearly gates position, your cock right at her rear entrance, while you groan into her ear and force her legs to spread. You notice that her thighs are wet and so you search for the source of the slick. Dayeon’s pussy is dripping wet, almost gushing out her juices.

“Don’t tell me,” you hum to her, “you like this?”

“Wh-what?”

“Being humiliated.”

One push, and your cock slides into her ass. The tight ring tenses up around your girth, but you won’t be denied. No amount of pressure Dayeon’s amazing ass extorts onto you will stop you. Slow drags with loud groans from you show the potential viewer how incredible their idol feels. The best part is, you don’t have to tell Dayeon how they would react—her imagination is already doing this part.

“N-no, I hate it!”

Dayeon hides behind the palms of her hands. What she cannot hide however are her girly moans and screeches that boom from her lips to fill the studio and reach the camera’s microphone. You gradually pick up the pace and intentionally crash your pelvis into her ass with such velocity that her skin creates waves and her mind becomes numb. 

She begins to drool from her lips and through your relentless pounding, you nibble her neck as a reward, but also a way to stimulate her more and more. Dayeon’s juices drip down to your pistoning cock and her moans become shorter in intervals and more high-pitched. She is getting close to cumming on camera.

It would be quite a sight to behold, Dayeon’s orgasmic face and body on tape, but you are far from wanting to even give her pleasure in what is meant to be a punishment, a disciplinary measure. A few final thrusts to bring Dayeon to the edge and to make her believe that she will cum, then you pull out. Your hands reach for her bottom and you lift her rear entrance towards the lens.

“Everyone, look! Dayeon is gaping! She has such a big hole, cause she is a whore!”

“Ahh!”

##

Day 3: In front of your best friend!

“Dayeon, my office! Now!” you shout into the speaker of your phone, while slamming the desk before you, “How could you miss another meeting? Didn’t I make my point clear?”

“Well, idiot oppa,” Dayeon responds harshly, “my butt hurt from what you did to me, so I couldn’t go. Your fault!”

“Get over here right now!” 

You end the call and get up from your chair. This time you had to play your anger to hide your excitement for the next stage of your plan for Dayeon. You hastily send a text message to someone who is unlike Dayeon: reliable. If your calculations are correct, they should arrive with perfect timing. 

First is Dayeon. She doesn’t knock and just barges into your room with quick angry footsteps. You lean onto your desk, arms crossed, eyebrows raised and nod towards the door.

“If you’re not gonna knock, you can at least close the damn door.”

“Fuck you, oppa,” Dayeon snippily replies and slams the door shut. The second she does so, you move to the side to unveil your desk. Unlike any other day, it’s not covered with laptops, reports, training instructions, lyrics, data and coffee mugs. This time you set up a screen which plays your and Dayeon’s video from a couple of days ago, while pictures of her either getting facefucked or assfucked lay across the wooden surface. 

“You sick fuck!”

Dayeon scrambles to grab as many pictures as she can find. Each one she lifts reveals a handful of new ones, obscene positions of her on the gymnastic mat or pressed against your door, your cock stuffing her holes. 

You don’t just sit back and watch the play of the panicked girls trying to get rid of the embarrassing evidence, you actually join in and snag a couple of pictures from her or throw them across the room. Like a dog Dayeon jogs towards them, curses at you and searches for a trash can, while you laugh full heartedly. 

“Dayeon, look at the screen! That’s my favorite part.”

Her face fully colored in red, Dayeon takes a look and has to relive the final scene of her porn once more: you showing her empty, twitchting hole while she is begging for an orgasm. 

“You assh—”

“Oppa, you wanted to—oh my Gosh!”

What must feel like a torrent of peaking emotions, bouncing around in Dayeon’s mind and chest like a bouncy ball in a trampoline park, is something close to an orgasmic catharsis for you. Well, almost. This isn’t the peak after all, this is just Chaehyun, Dayeon’s best friend and bandmate, walking straight into your office and seeing everything.

The defiant brunette scrambles to hide all the nudes of her and jumps towards her friend to cover her shocked face, but it’s all for nothing. Chaehyun’s eyes are already glued to the screen, her feet mindlessly moving her towards it. Dayeon screams at the top of her lungs, flailing her arms around wildly, but Chaehyun just inches closer and closer.

“Don’t look, please! Oh my God, please, d-don’t… g-go away!”

“I-is this you, D-Dayeon?”

“Yes, it is,” you answer and cover Dayeon’s mouth with the palm of your hand. You’ve never seen someone pale of shock and red of embarrassment at the same time, so you bathe in what you have accomplished.

“Look at it closely. Isn’t her butthole cute~? The small blobs of cum oozing out? Her teary eyes while I jiggle her thighs and she likes it?”

Dayeon fights half-heartedly. Her struggle might look real to an outsider, but you feel how her muscles go weak and how she becomes hot and bothered. You don’t doubt that this is the most embarrassing moment of her life, but you also grow increasingly sure that she gets off to it. Quite a lot.

Dayeon’s isn’t the only one to get off to it though. Her bestie looks absolutely dazed by how her sparkling eyes look at the looping porn, the repeated pictures of her friend getting plowed in the ass over and over again. Chaehyun’s tongue begins to slowly slip out of her mouth along with some drool, while her hand travels down to the hem of her skirt. This is getting very far.

“S-stop, Chase, pl-please,” Dayeon begs through a gap in your fingers, but you silence her by stuffing them in her bratty mouth.

“I tend to agree,” you suddenly say, against the urge of your lower head to let this play out, “You two should really leave now.”

“What?” Chaehyun says, snapping out of her porn induced trance when you turn off the TV. You nod and push Dayeon against her. The both of them tumble and because they hold onto each other, the also both fall onto the ground, right in between pictures of Dayeon getting face fucked.

“Oh, and Dayeon: help Chaehyun carry out the trash. All of it.”

The awkward, humiliating search for every last picture is a delight for you. Dayeon and Chaehyun are too embarrassed to say a word. They just crawl on the ground and stuff everything they can find into a bin until it overflows. You play increasing annoyance by rolling your eyes when they look at you or groaning.

“Now get going! Make sure no one sees it!”

“You…!”

Dayeon’s shout is stuck in the back of her throat. Her small hands stuff the bin while Chaehyun holds it. She knows she has to walk like this to make sure that the bin can hold all of her indecent pictures. She also knows what she can do, to make all of this end. However, she stays defiant for today.

“You motherfucker!”

##

Day 4: In front of your friends!

“You did a great job today. You can leave early.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I can handle them the last half hour.”

“Thank you a lot boss!”

The dance teacher politely bows down, takes her stuff and leaves the practice room. After making sure she really is gone, you lock the door and turn towards the girls behind you. They have been dancing almost flawlessly now. It’s no surprise, their debut is in ten days and this dance had been the main focus on your schedule the last week. 

Last week was quite delightful. Everyone was at peak concentration and performance. Everyone was punctual and motivated. Everyone gave it their everything, even the delinquents. 

Xiaoting played a couple of harmless pranks which boosted the morale of the group, so you had no need to discipline her. She still went to your house on Sunday and rode you like a champion, while you smacked every inch of her body that is covered by her upcoming stage outfit. The red marks look perfect on her and when she squirts around your cock, you knew she would never be trouble for you again.

Chaehyun has been as professional as Yujin or Mashiro when it came to vocal recording and dance practice. She was super focused in meetings and nothing could distract her. However, her neediness increased tenfold after she saw the video of Dayeon and you. For the first time, she asked to be fucked in the ass and after painful minutes of getting used to it, she was begging to cum from it. Chaehyun wanted your load and you gave her a lot. She also wanted to be face fucked like Dayeon, so you wait after the recording were finished, put a collar on her with the word ‘Whore’ on it and made her cry for an hour straight. 

Dayeon however avoided you. No private meetings, no fuck session, nothing and frankly, there was no need for it. She has been reliable. Your plan is still in place if she fucks up and on this evening, you will test her. 

“Good job, everyone,” you shout while clapping. The song has just ended and four of the five girls look at you with anticipation. Only Dayeon avoids your gaze, her chest breathing heavily from hours of dancing at full speed and focus.

“Yujin,” you continue, “can you tell me what you noticed? Any big improvements or flaws?”

“Well, oppa,” Yujin starts, fidgeting lightly in her place, knowing that lying is not an option,”Chaehyun and I have finally gotten the part in the bridge right, the very tough one.”

“That is phenomenal! I saw it from behind, an impressive move.”

“A-and Xiaoting and Mashiro have been excellent as always, they make it seem effortless.”

“Very well. Anything more?”

“W-well, “Yujin stutters, looking into the large mirror wall at Dayeon, then at the parquet, then at you, “Dayeon messed up the part before the hook and the bridge twice each.”

You ponder for a second, your gaze shifting towards the brunette girl. Dayeon looks straight at you, fake innocence, but real fear in her orbs. Or is it something different that makes her look scintillating like this. She can be a very cute girl, but you have seen the real her over and over again. It’s not cute and not innocent for sure. 

“Okay then. Let’s have another round. Give it your best, everyone, especially at the hard parts. Don’t let yourself be distracted by me. Focus, okay?”

They all nod. You hit a button on a remote and the song restarts. Its fast rhythm is underlined by a quick discography right from the get go. It catches everyone’s attention and so it is important that the girls execute it flawlessly and with their usually impeccable charisma and stage presence. You of course excuse that they are somewhat tired and sweaty this evening, but you’re still ready to be a strict teacher if any mistakes happen.

The center switch from Yujin to Xiaoting is magnificent. Then a short pause hands the spotlight to Yujin and Mashiro dancing on the left and then Chaehyun and Dayeon on the right. Great execution, but then it happens. As everyone moves to their new position before the pre-chorus, Dayeon trips. Her body hits the floor and you immediately stop the music.

“Everyone, get back into position. Don’t let yourself get distracted,” you say brusquely, while stepping behind Dayeon. You yank her upwards at her arm and wrap your arm around her waist to shackle her to yourself. Via remote, you start the song once more, but the four other girls are not moving. Their shocked expressions lay on you and Dayeon.

“The song has already started! Focus, girls, focus!”

They get into rhythm hesitantly as Dayeon fights to free herself for a second. You make her freeze in shock by tearing down her shorts and simultaneously creeping your way up her torso. Your bulge rubs on her ass, covered at first, then released. She begins to realize what’s about to happen. Through the mirror you make eye contact.

No, you can’t be serious, don’t do this to me! she seems to scream with just her eyes.

You feel up her pussy to find that it’s moist and she is not stopping to get wetter. Her friends can see it. Those that are not focused enough on the choreography have already caught on and dance half-heartedly. No stage presence can cover up their shock, especially when you grab Dayeon’s hips and smash her onto your cock.

“Fuck!” Dayeon’s scream makes the lyrics become background noise. Everything except for her is uninteresting and you know that she’d want nothing more than to disappear into a deep hole. You on the other hand want to just fuck her hole, to make her red cheeks burst from the humiliation of being exposed, nude and punished for all her brattiness. To know that she can’t stand being used as a fleshlight and that each of her bandmates can see her thighs jiggle and pussy glistening is your ecstasy. 

“Ah, Oppa, no!” Dayeon moans out, her body twitching and eyes tearing up.

“O-Oppa,” Yujin stutters, “Wh-what are you do-doing?”

You look at the leader who broke the trance of disbelief first and spoke up. The furious thrusts into Dayeon’s tightness stop and you put her in a chokehold.

“I have to discipline Dayeon for messing up so much. Don’t let yourself be distracted, you’re doing great. Restart!”

The music does restart and so does your fucking. With Dayeon’s screams thoroughly choked out, she should not be able to interrupt the music. She will remain a distraction however, which is exactly why her body is in so much heat. You tear off her T-Shirt and the bra beneath, leaving the black in tatters. Dayeon might be more thrilled by this than you. 

You begin to nibble on her neck and use the mirror to watch how the four others can’t help but stare at Dayeon’s breasts bouncing along to your rhythm. Unintentionally, you have adjusted your speed to the rhythm of the title track and thus have fucked her faster than anytime before. She needs some air to keep up with it.

“No!” Dayeon screams the second you stop choking her neck, “Don’t watch! My boobs, don’t!”

Fully seated in her, like Excalibur in its rock, you stop to grope her tits and whisper into her ear. 

“Oh, you don’t want them to look at your? I can change that.”

Give her small tits a smack, then reach down to her legs. In one swooping motion, Dayeon is in a full nelson. Her pussy is now presented, like a turkey on a plate on Thanksgiving Day. You position yourself for more leverage, reach for her head and fuck to your hearts content. Dayeon cries and moans, the lewd sounds of her smooth, moist pussy not covered by the song's bridge.

You catch Chaehyun looking jealous and highly aroused. She is not even trying to have a facade of embarrassed shock like Xiaoting. You are certain the Chinese girl would love to be spanked by you in front of at least one of her friends, probably Yujin. Speaking of Yuji: she trips up everytime you change your speed. When you switched to full nelson, she even forgot her choreo for a second. Mashiro looks disturbed, sad, maybe even fearful. She is extra accurate, but her flush is ridding her of any stage presence. 

Everyone is getting into position to do the finishing pose as the song fades out. Everyone except Dayeon, who is still being bounced up and down your cock. Although she doesn’t squirt like a fire hose, her juices still spot the parquet in her delicious flavor. She is dozing off to a peak in ecstasy, when you suddenly pull out and drop her. On wobbly feed you guide her to her spot. She instinctively does the ending pose.

“Great job, guys! That wraps it up for today.”

You close your zipper and clap as five blood-filled faces stare at you, then Dayeon. The still completely naked idol scrambles to cover herself with hands, then her clothes. You teasingly grab her shorts and hold them high up, out of reach for her, but before it can develop into a playful activity, Yujin speaks up:

“O-Oppa! Y-you can’t just do that!”

“What? I needed to discipline her. You were also bothered by how distracting and lazy she was.”

“B-but not like this!”

Yujin covers her face and turns away. You drop the shorts and Dayeon reaches for them. Before she can put them on, you spread her legs to show everyone the pink of her pussy.

“Yujin, I know you probably think that Dayeon didn’t want this, but I found something out. She actually really enjoys this. Why else would she be this slick?”

You shove a finger inside Dayeon and wiggle it. The brunette can’t hold onto the clothes in her hands and begins to moan cutely. 

“I bet you hated it when I stopped and didn’t fuck you to orgasm, right?”

Dayeon shakes her head. 

“You are lying~ I bet you wished they would all stop hiding behind their hands—”

Dayeon shakes her head, slowly.

“—and watch as you squirt in front of them. You want them to watch! You like being fucked in front of people. You are an exhibitionist.”

Dayeon shakes in orgasm. 

“Yes! Look at me! Look at my pussy!”

Waves of clear liquid follow her first tsunami that splashes all over your hand and right before her friends. Xiaoting and especially Chaehyun are just standing and drooling, Yujin is a bit more apprehensive, while Mashiro tries to walk away. Through the mirror wall however, she still peeks at Dayeon trembling on your inserted fingers and squirting out every last drop. 

#

“A-are we finally done?” 

Dayeon’s question is barely audible in the night sky of Seoul. The front of the dance studio is only illuminated by the city's light pollution. White and orange light reflects off from the wall and onto Dayeon, who crouches next to you on the still warm concrete. She is the last one to leave. 

“Depends.”

After you sorted things out with Yujin, she and Mashiro went out first. The two didn’t like your method but couldn’t deny the results. Dayeon has never been more honest and lately, she was almost as obedient as a perfectly trained puppy. 

Xiaoting left as well, leaving a note that said You sicko, what the hell have you done? I want to punch you for showing this Mashiro… but also: spank my ass in front of Chaehyun or Dayeon one day, pretty please? Make it redder than my face today!

You had to force Chaehyun to leave. She was cock hungry to no end, but wanted to keep it more private. You only got her to leave after promising to make a wish come true. Before walking out the door, she kissed your cheek and whispered: Fuck my face into door, like you did to Dayeon. Then, do the things from the video with me. A whole night~

“Depends on what?”

Now, it’s only you and Dayeon. You sit down next to her, not wanting to ask to her dumb question, but unlike in the past, she didn’t sound sarcastic. Maybe she genuinely had no clue what you meant.

“Well, it depends if you finally behave.”

“I-I will! I promise to come to every meeting, learn extra hard, a-and rap—”

“Dayeon,” you say and put a finger on her quickly moving lips, “I want you to make this comeback the best thing out there. Use your skill and stage presence to blow everyone away and rock this era, okay? You’ve been getting in your own way and I can’t allow that.”

She blushes and looks away. A car passes by. Its light reflects in her brown orbs. Dayeon can be such a pretty and adorable girl, especially in a moment like this. A moment no one gets to just experience. A moment that makes you shake your head. Rule No. 1, never fall in love, even if they are perfect. Perfect idol, perfect face, perfect kinks. You can’t stumble like this.

“Don’t say this like you’re some white knight who did all these crazy things just to teach me this stupid lesson,” Dayeon giggles and pokes your cheek. You didn’t notice how close you got to her, but this was a good reminder to maybe get some distance between the two of you. Especially in public.

“You’re right. Making these videos and fucking you in front of others isn’t really knight like behaviour, but if I made you rethink your careless attitude and got you back on track, does it really matter? The means, I mean.”

Dayeon smirks and gets into a more comfortable position. Sitting on the ground, on knee up, her chin on it, the other leg stretched out. 

“You’re an idiot. What if I didn’t learn? What if I just miss the next meeting and fuck up the choreo in the last dance practice? What will you do then, Mr. White Knight?”

“I’d realize that you don’t care about your career. I’d order you into my office, remove your clothes violently and then put a choker with the word ‘Whore’ on it around your neck. On a leash, I’d guide you through the office. Everyone would see your bare body, every hole, along with your face. Randomly, I’d finger fuck you till you squirt and spank you for it.”

You get closer to her. Her breath is tickling you as she listens attentively, every sense of her body taking you in. You continue in a deeper tone.

“Imagine as they take pictures of you, videos of your ass, of the marks on your tits, of your blissful face with the choker beneath. This would not be enough. We have to go the extra mile. You know the reporters outside. When they have all gathered, I’d guide you outside and present you like a newly acquired object, before testing you. Live. The hardest thrusts that will make you squirm, scream and cum while the cameras flash and clatter. Your voice will be in the media, the greatest scandal in K-Pop history is Kim Dayeon as she screams for more cock as everyone watches.”

You stop. Her lips are close. Her thighs are close. Her smell is close. She is a heater in overdrive, her eyes barely open and her heartbeat louder than the next car passing by. She doesn’t say a word. Instead she moans. Arousal instead of fear, imagination of glorious pleasure instead of a nightmare. The greatest humiliation is in truth the greatest victory.

“I bet your idol career and public status is more important than that.”

She touches your chest. You can’t get out now. You’re stuck with her, the magnet that attracts you stronger than anyone ever has. She can’t possibly follow you on this one.

“Maybe?”

She kisses you.

“Really?”

You reach for the hem of her jeans.

“Maybe.”

(A/N: I lost the OG pic I wanted to use, but found this while searching. A very hot one, damn Dayeon)

[leviackermanscleaningbuddy]

SKZ DRABBLE-OT8

The one where some rules are meant to be followed and others are meant to be broken.

Or the twentieth installment of the skz!pack prequel series.

A/N: This one is rough, folks, buckle up. (It ends okay. I promise.)

Tags: SKZ, Stray Kids, Stay, OT8, SKZ Drabble, Skz!pack, skz!abo, poly!skz, omegaverse, pack!prequel, skz!pack prequel, prequel series, skz imagines, skz reactions, skz scenarios, ot8 x you, ot8 x reader, skz x you, skz x reader, bang chan, lee minho, seo changbin, hwang hyunjin, lee felix, han jisung, kim seungmin, yang jeongin, y/n, skz angst

Genre: Angst, Hurt, Comfort Ending

Warning: Mentions of Non-Con and Assault (no details)

Title: Love and Other Drugs

To be fair, you’d only gone to the frat party to piss him off. 

Parties-particularly ones hosted by drunk, dumbass alphas who thought they were hot shit-were not typically your scene, but your blood was running hot and you were feeling a little impulsive, and without even thinking about it, you’d hopped the next bus to the frat house. 

Which brings us to the present, where you’re sitting at the edges of said stupid party, sipping on a lackluster cheap beer, and trying to keep a headache at bay as the bass of some fast paced techno song blares from the speakers in time with the lights overhead. 

God, it’s hot in here. 

Your phone buzzes in your back pocket, and you shift your cup to your other hand so you can fish it out, glancing down at the brightly lit screen. 

When you see the name appear on the caller ID, you immediately grit your teeth and hit ignore, stuffing the phone once more back into your pocket. 

It’s the fifth time he’s called you since you stormed out of the dorm, and the fifth time you’ve ignored him completely. 

Fuck him. 

You take another swig of the bitter tasting beer and glance across the living room turned makeshift dance floor, taking in the crush of bodies as everyone sways to the music, a new song blasting from the heavy speakers in the corner. 

You don’t recognize this one either, and your headache is starting to pound behind your left temple. 

You feel eyes on you, and glance to the doorway to your left, leading to the hallway of the house, to see a group of frat boys leaning casually against the frame, staring you down. They’re openly ogling you, smirks on their faces, eyes trailing down your body, and you berate yourself for not grabbing a jacket to throw over your tight tank top before you left the dorm. 

You turn your face away, ignoring them, and down the last little bit of your beer. 

Probably time to leave anyway. 

Tossing the cheap red cup into the nearby trash can, you skirt around a group of giggling, drunk sorority girls swaying to the music, and head for the kitchen and the escape of the back door. 

You narrowly avoid running into an alpha leaving the kitchen, arms full of beer, and the liquid sloshes over the rims of the cups, getting your shoes wet, as he utters a hasty apology and continues on into the living room you just left. 

You slip past the few couples in the kitchen, making out and grinding against the counters, and finally reach the back door. 

You step out into the dark, cool air of the night and immediately breathe a sigh of relief. 

It’d been too hot in there, and it’s refreshingly cool outside, the music nothing but a low thump of bass beneath your feet now, laughter and chatter drifting distantly through the open doorway. 

It’s cold, making your skin prickle, but it’s only a short walk to the bus stop from the frat house. You’ll survive. 

Your phone buzzes once more in your pocket, but you doggedly let it ring until the vibrating dies out, feeling something akin to hot satisfaction flush low in your stomach at the slight act of open defiance. 

Good. You hope he’s worried. 

There’s a shorter buzz, an alert to a text message, and with a sigh, you give in, digging your phone out and pulling up the notif preview on the lock screen. 

(Y/N) answer the fucking phone. 

No, you don’t think you will. 

You stuff your phone back into your pocket, feeling smug, and take a step in the direction of the bus stop. 

A sound in the open doorway behind you has you spinning around, your wolf suddenly on high alert. 

“Well, well, well.” 

The trio of frat boys from earlier stand in the doorway leading back into the house, lit from behind by the faint light coming down the hall from the kitchen. They’re smirking at you, just like before, but you don’t like the predatory glint in their gazes, eyes fixed on you from where they stand. 

“Look what we have here, boys.” One of the boys steps off the porch and takes a step toward you, and you tense, ready to fight or flee, you’re not entirely sure. 

He lets his leering gaze drop slowly down your body, lingering on your breasts, and you resist the urge to try to cover yourself with your hand. 

He cocks his head, studying you with wicked amusement, and his lips quirk into the start of a wicked grin, blonde shaggy hair falling into his eyes, obscuring his expression. 

“Why so tense, sweetheart? We’re not gonna hurt you.” 

You swallow, your wolf growling, and stare him down as he takes another step in your direction. 

“Really? Because your intentions seem less than pragmatic.” 

“Ooh.” The guy mocks-the leader of their little troop if you had to guess- and looks over his shoulder to the other two guys still lingering in the doorway with a sly smirk. “Hear that fellas? She’s smart.” 

He turns his attention back to you. Takes another step. 

You take one backward, keeping the distance between the two of you. 

“We’ve been admiring you all night, honey. Pretty little thing, aren’t you?” He tilts his head again, narrowing his eyes, watching you like a bird of prey cornering a rat. “Haven’t seen you at one of these things before.” 

You hold your ground, staring him down. 

“I don’t usually come to these things. And now I’m remembering why.” 

The guy chuckles, tugging at his letterman jacket, puffing his chest, his eyes glinting. 

“Well. Maybe we need to show you a good time then, huh?” Another step. “Show you how fun these little get-togethers can really be.” 

The guys have left the doorway now, inching behind the taller man, eyes trained on you, and you risk a quick glance over your shoulder, seeing the illuminated bus stop through the trees to your left. 

Run, your wolf whispers in a low warning, and you don’t even have to think twice. 

You take off in a sprint, your sandals slapping the ground hard, and once again, you curse yourself for having left the dorm in such impractical clothing. 

You can hear the boys whoop behind you, like this is some sort of sick game, but you don’t look back, pressing yourself faster, harder, your lungs burning and your heart pumping. 

And then, cold fingers loop around your wrist and yank you backward, and the momentum is sending you flying, tumbling to the ground on your ass with a startled shriek. 

The taller kid, the leader, is standing over you, chest heaving, eyes flashing. 

You scoot away from him on your hands, ignoring the tenderness in your tailbone, and run right into another pair of legs. 

You don’t even have to look up to know that it’s one of his goonies. 

He crouches in front of you, eyes glinting wickedly, lips pulled into a sneer, and the stench of damp, decay-like a marsh in the middle of summer heat-is washing over you, strong enough to make you gag. 

“Hold her.” 

You try to get up and dart away again, but the goony behind you traps your arms at your side, his fingers digging into your skin, holding you frozen in place as you swear. 

“You motherfuckers-” You growl out between clenched teeth, staring daggers into the leader, who simply chuckles and stands, taking a menacing step toward you. 

“Ah, c’mon now.” He croons in a voice that makes you want to vomit, crouching down once more in front of you, reaching out to take your chin in his fingers. The smell of rotting reeds fills your nose. “Don’t be like that.” 

You gather up a mouthful of saliva, and spit in his face. 

His cocky smirk falters, and anger darkens his eyes, but only for a brief moment, before he laughs and reaches up to wipe your spittle from his cheek, clenching your jaw so tightly in his hold it hurts. 

You bite back your whimper behind your teeth. You won’t give him the satisfaction. 

He regards you for a moment, eyes dark, and then flicks his fingers at the guy still holding you still. 

“Pin her down.” 

You struggle as the other guy appears now, both goonies pinning your arms to the ground under their knees, and you kick and flail, but to no avail, finally resorting to screaming, hoping to god someone will hear you from the frat house and come to your aid. 

“Shut up.” The tallest boy hisses, slapping his hand over your mouth so hard it hurts. He smiles then, like he hasn’t just assaulted you, and starts to peel off his letterman jacket, his knees on either side of your hips. 

“Here’s the thing-” He remarks casually as he strips his jacket and throws it to the side, leaning back over you and pinching his fingers into your cheeks so hard it makes you whimper. 

He grins, tapping a finger along the bridge of your nose, like you’re a naughty child being caught doing something they shouldn’t. 

“-I like my women submissive, ya see? Pliant and quiet and docile. Of course-” He grunts, reaching down to undo the buckle of his pants, sliding his belt from the loops. When he looks up at you again, his eyes are golden, dangerous, scary. He grins wickedly. “-I allow them to speak eventually. If only to beg for my cock.” 

You growl against the palm of his hand, thrashing beneath him, and he grins again, sliding his other hand around your throat, pinning you to the ground. 

He leans in, breath ghosting your jaw. 

The smell of bog is overwhelming.

“Now, little birdie-” You see the flash of his teeth in the dark, the sharp edges of his canines, and you tense every single muscle in your body beneath his weight as he slips his fingers between your lips. 

“Beg.” 

It all happens in an instant. 

You bite down hard on his fingers, tasting copper, and he cries out, swearing vehemently as he struggles to tear his hand free from your teeth. You hold on doggedly, like a pitbull locking its jaw, and the salty, warm feeling of blood coats your tongue, sliding down your throat. 

The goony on your left releases your arm to come to his leader’s aid, and you suddenly release the guy’s fingers from between your teeth as you take the open opportunity and death roll to the unguarded side, wrenching your arm free from the other guy as he lets out a cry of alarm. 

You’re up and on your feet before the three of them have had the chance to recover. 

The leader is still swearing up a storm, kneeling on the ground, clutching his bleeding hand to his chest, but he motions with a jut of his chin for his dogs to chase after you in the direction of the bus stop. 

“What the fuck are you doing! Go get her!” 

You hear the pounding of their feet behind you and veer around a tree, catching the first guy off guard as you round behind him and send him to the ground with a swift knee to the junk. 

He collapses, groaning, holding himself, and you take the opportunity to kick him in the face, just for good measure, his nose crunching beneath your shoe. 

“Asshole.” You mutter beneath your breath, before you turn back in the direction of the bus stop. 

Arms go around your waist, and you’re lifted off the ground, kicking and struggling, as the third guy catches you just before the sidewalk. 

He wraps an arm around your throat, and tries to land a clumsy punch on your face, but you turn your head at the last second and take it on the jaw. 

It stings like a bitch, and you taste blood again for the second time tonight, but you don’t let it phase you. 

He’s struggling, gasping for breath after your run, and you use it to your advantage, putting an elbow right into his solar plexus, hard enough to make him drop you and collapse to his knees, just like his two buddies, on the sidewalk at your feet. 

“You bitch-” He gasps out, leaning over on his hands, coughing hard enough to go red in the face, spittle dribbling from between his lips. 

“Fuck you.” You hiss out vehemently, spitting on the sidewalk in front of his face, your own saliva tinged pink from the blow he’d managed to land on you. 

You turn without a backward glance and stalk toward the bus stop. 

Fucking fraternity alphas with their fucking god complexes. 

You’ve almost reached the bus stop, glancing at your phone to check the time-the next bus doesn’t come for fifteen minutes-and hoping the guys won’t have enough time to recover by then, when a car pulls up to the curb next to you and a door is whipping open fast enough to make you jump back. 

Anger reignites in your stomach as Changbin leaps from the car, stalking toward you, his hands in fists at his sides. 

All the previous adrenaline from the struggle with the frat guys feeds into the white hot anger suddenly coursing through your veins. 

He comes to a stop in front of you, chest heaving, and stares you down. 

“Where the fuck have you been?” 

You shrug and glance to the side, away from him, ignoring his obvious fury, if only to spite him just a little bit longer. 

“Out.” 

“Out?” Changbin echoes dangerously, voice shaking, and he steps toward you, grabbing your upper arm with enough force to hurt, turning you back to face him.

 You meet his gaze head on, holding your ground. 

“Out.” He repeats again with a slight scoff and an angry shake of his head, as if he can’t believe you, fingers digging into your upper arm hard enough to make crescent moons in your skin. There is rage dancing in the gold of his eyes, but you can’t bring yourself to care. “That’s all you have to say for yourself? We’ve been trying to reach you all goddamn night, (Y/N), we were fucking worried.” 

You have to stop yourself from laughing in his face. 

Worried? Really? 

His words from earlier, from the fight, echo in your head. 

‘You’re a goddamn fool if you think that changes anything.’ 

You don’t say anything, turning your head stubbornly to the side. 

You hear him suck in a sharp breath through his nose, and then there’s fingers on your chin, roughly turning your face to his once more, and when he pinches a little bit too hard, and you let out a hiss between your teeth, he looks at you like you’re the absolutely stupidest person on the planet. 

He probably thinks you are. 

“You’re fucking bleeding.” The fury swirls in his gaze, hot and angry, his fingers hovering over the cut by your lip, as if he’s not quite ready to touch you tenderly just yet. “What the hell happened?” 

You yank from his grip and stalk toward the bus stop. 

“I handled it.” 

There are harsh footsteps behind you, and then Chanbin’s hand is around your arm once more, yanking you to a stop as you whirl to face him. 

“Where the hell are you going?” 

You stare him down with all the coldness you can muster. 

“I’m getting on the bus and I’m going home.” 

Changbin scoffs, laughing in disbelief, the sound sharp and bitter and anything but humorous. 

“You’re not getting on the fucking bus, (Y/N).” 

You glare at him, hoping you can make him combust with your mind alone. 

“Like hell I’m not.” 

You pull from his grasp once more and turn. 

This time, you don’t make it more than a step before he’s pulling you back. 

The air smells like smoke, your throat burning as you breathe-in and out, in and out, in and out. 

You don’t turn around, and your voice is dangerously low when you say, “Let me go, Changbin.” 

He ignores you, tugging you back with him in the direction of the car, and you plant your heels, desperately trying to release yourself from the death grip he has on your wrist. 

You’ve got just as much anger fueling you, but Changbin’s a hell of a lot stronger than you. 

He stops in front of the waiting car, shoving you toward the door. 

“Get in the fucking car, (Y/N).” 

You cross your arms over your chest and glare him down. 

“No.” 

“(Y/N).” 

You glance up in slight surprise, and Minho is standing on the driver’s side of the car, leaning on the open door, watching the two of you with a dark expression of weary resignation on his face. 

He holds your gaze, his voice quiet, but firm. 

“Get in the car.” 

You swallow, and you can feel Changbin practically vibrating with rage beside you as you stare at Minho, unsure of what to do. 

But your feet are sore, and your jaw is starting to ache from the goony’s punch, and it’s fucking freezing outside, and so, reluctantly, you yank open the door and slide ino the back seat, slamming it shut behind you, just to make a point. 

Minho gets back in behind the wheel, and Changbin drops into the passenger seat, slamming his own door to make his own point. 

Minho lets out a sigh. 

You fume quietly, slouched in the back seat, arms over your chest, as they pull the car away from the curb and merge onto the road off campus and back to the dorms, and you’re determined not to talk to either of them, until Minho glances in the rearview mirror and asks, “What happened to your lip?” 

You stare out the dark window, watching the lights flash by. 

“Just some stupid frat boys.” You finally say, not meeting his gaze in the mirror, trying to ignore the sting in your lip as you grimace. 

Changbin whirls in his seat, pinning you down with a fiery glower. 

“See, this is why you never should’ve went to that stupid party on your own in the first place-” 

You jerk upright in the seat, red hot anger coursing through you. 

“Do you even fucking hear yourself?” You accuse, narrowing your eyes into a glare as you stare him down, his nostrils flaring in anger. “I’m an alpha, Changbin. An alpha! Just like you, just like Minho, but just because I’m a girl-” 

“And would they have attacked you if you hadn’t been a girl?!” Changbin roars, eyes flashing, and you swallow down the bile suddenly rising in your throat, watching the way his chest heaves in the dim light from the dashboard. 

Changbin sucks in a ragged breath, and folds his large arms over his chest, but he doesn’t take it back. 

You drop your gaze from his and stare out the window again.

‘Sometimes it’s not that fucking deep, okay, (Y/N)? Sometimes it just is what it is!’

Your hands are trembling, and you clutch the fabric of your pants between your fingers to stop them, forcing back the sudden urge to cry. 

Your eyes burn, but you won’t let the tears out, not for him to see, not when it would just prove his point. 

You feel Minho’s gaze on you through the mirror again, but you don’t look up, doggedly keeping your own eyes on the window, staying silent for the rest of the ride home. 

*******

When Minho parks Chan’s car in the parking garage, you get out without a word and head for the elevator without a backward glance. 

You’re sure they both have some choice words for you, but you’re exhausted and cold and upset and you really don’t want to fucking cry in front of either of them, so you step into the elevator and close the doors without waiting. 

Neither of them tries to stop you. 

You barely make it into your apartment, the tears blurring your vision as you fumble with the key in the lock, and slam the door before you’re collapsing onto the floor, arms going around your knees as your body heaves with silent sobs.

You stuff a fist into your mouth and bite down on your knuckles, hoping the pain will help ground you, help you get a grip, but it only serves as a reminder for the sting in your lip, the ache in your heart. 

It magnifies everything. 

So you let yourself cry, cry until your eyes are aching and your body is sore and your heart is breaking, and when the sobs have finally died down into shuddering breaths, you roll over onto your back and stare at the ceiling, not really looking at anything. 

Fuck. 

You reach blindly for your phone, seeing all the missed messages and calls from earlier, but there’s nothing new, and you don’t know why, but that fact sends a sharp stab of pain right to the middle of your chest, leaving you gasping for breath once more. 

You hadn’t expected him to check on you, but still, expecting and witnessing are two very different things, and the latter hurts more than you thought it would. 

You let your phone clatter to the floor beside you and fix your unseeing eyes on the ceiling once more. 

Your body hurts, and your jaw is throbbing, and taking the place now of the hot anger that had fueled you all night is exhaustion-heavy, stifling, numbing exhaustion.

‘I can’t tell you what you want to hear.’

Changbin’s words echo in your head and you screw your eyes shut, trying to make them evaporate. 

Tears start to creep from under your eyelids once again. 

It had all gone to shit, simply because you couldn’t keep your goddamn mouth shut.

And you were scared. Because you didn’t know how to fix it. 

‘I love you.’ 

It had slipped past your lips unbidden, your voice breathy, barely above a whisper, your hands palm down on his chest to keep yourself steady. 

Maybe it wasn’t the right moment-you still straddling his hips, him still buried inside of you, both of you still coming down from the high-but it had escaped before you could stop it, turning into something real and visceral in the air between you, and there was nothing you could do to take it back. Not now. 

You found you didn’t regret it. 

Changbin stared at you with wide eyes, lips slightly parted, skin still flushed, dark hair swept back from his forehead, still bearing the waves from your fingers, and when he didn’t respond immediately, you felt your face flush, embarrassment curling in your gut. 

Stupid, stupid, stupid. 

You slid off of him-your skin sticking to his, hot, sticky, bare-and avoided his gaze, darting to the bathroom as wetness started to slide down your leg and shame crept across your cheeks. 

It was probably only a few minutes, but it felt like years before Changbin appeared in the doorway. 

You didn’t look at him, in the reflection or in the present, and continued to wipe yourself off. 

There was an awkward moment of silence, and then he stepped to the sink, clearing his throat as he began to wash his hands. 

You tried not to look up at him. 

“Listen-” 

You laughed uncomfortably before he could say anything else, meeting his cautious gaze in the mirror as you tossed the used washcloth into the hamper, hurrying to fix this before it could get worse. 

“It’s fine. Don’t say anything. Just forget it.” 

Changbin stares at you, clears his throat once more, and nods, before glancing back down to the water running over his hands. 

You’re standing up to find your clothes when he speaks again. 

“I can’t tell you what you want to hear.” 

You freeze, hand on the doorknob, and something inside of you collapses. 

“What?” You question, keeping your voice from wavering, though your fingers are trembling on the knob. 

He turns and stares at your back, you can feel the heat of his gaze, and then he says carefully, “You know what I mean.” 

You breathe in and try not to let it back out. 

He sighs, long and hard, and you hear the counter creak as he leans back against the sink.

“Why’d you say it?” 

You’re caught off guard by the question, and you turn to face him now, brow furrowing. 

“Why wouldn’t I say it?” 

He stares you down, gaze hardening, and blows out his breath. 

You feel irritation start to replace the embarrassment in your stomach. 

“Why didn’t you say it?” You retort, crossing your arms over your chest. 

He rubs at the bridge of his nose with his fingers, clearly annoyed now. 

“Don’t make this emotional.” 

“Excuse me?” You gasp, irritation giving way to the start of anger. “Don’t make this ‘emotional’?” 

He sighs again, stepping past you to leave the bathroom. 

“You know what I mean.” 

You stalk after him. 

“Pretty sure I don’t. Why don’t you explain it to me?” 

He pulls on his shorts as you stand in the doorway, angrier than you’ve ever been. 

He barely gives you a glance. 

“Sometimes it’s not that fucking deep, okay, (Y/N)? Sometimes it just is what it is!” 

You stare at him like he’s grown a second head. 

“Me telling you I love you ‘isn’t that fucking deep’?” 

He stares at the ceiling for a moment, seeming to gather his patience, but when he glances at you once more, his eyes are flashing, dangerous, warning. 

“Don’t, (Y/N).” 

“Don’t what?” You snap, pushing past him to look for your clothes. You find your pants and tug them back on violently. “Oh, right, don’t make this emotional because it’s not that fucking deep and I’m just a stupid girl who said a stupid thing and has stupid feelings that you don’t reciprocate.” 

He sighs, long and frustrated. 

“(Y/N)-” “Don’t.” You whirl on him so fast you nearly lose your balance. You take in a deep breath and stare him down. “Don’t talk to me like I’m a child you’re disappointed with.” 

His gaze grows hooded. “Fine.” 

“Fine.” You snap back, pulling your hoodie over your head and searching for your shoes. 

You feel him watching you, but you don’t care. 

Tugging on your other sneaker, you snatch up your phone and stalk toward the door, throwing it open and heading down the hallway. 

You want to get out of here as fast as humanly possible. 

Unfortunately, Changbin has other ideas. 

He stops you at the door, fingers looping around your wrist, and you glare at him over your shoulder, throwing daggers in his direction. 

“Let me go.” 

He raises his chin and stares you down. “No.” 

You growl and try to shake his fingers off of you. 

“Changbin, Let. Me. Go.” 

He shakes his head, and you feel the anger rising in your gut. 

“Not until we talk about this like adults.” 

You scoff and sneer at him, clenching your free hand into a fist behind your back. 

“There’s nothing to talk about. You made that incredibly clear.” 

His eyes darken and a muscle ticks in his jaw. 

“No, I said I couldn’t tell you what you wanted to hear-” 

“Oh my god.” You huff out a humorless laugh, starting to feel slightly insane. “Can you please not repeat your obvious rejection over and over? Kinda sucks.” 

His gaze hardens. “I’m not-” 

“Oh, you’re not?” Your voice is verging on hysterical now, and you can feel yourself shaking, and you know he can too, his fingers still looped around your wrist. “Then what are you doing, Changbin? Hm? Please, enlighten me.” 

He stares you down, and you stare right back. 

The air is heavy with frost and soot. 

Finally, he lets out an annoyed breath between his teeth and releases his hold on your wrist. 

“Does it change things? Me saying it back?” 

You stare at him in open disbelief, dumbfounded. 

“Are you seriously asking me that right now?” 

“Of course I am!” He exclaims in angry exasperation, clenching his teeth and hardening his jaw. He growls in frustration and clenches his hands at his sides. “Because I don’t fucking get it, (Y/N), if it does, because why?” 

You cannot fucking believe him. 

“It changes things because right now, I don’t know where I stand.” You reply, keeping your voice level, though it’s strained, barely shaking. 

He stares at you like you’re stupid. 

“Where you stand?” He repeats, and you resist the urge to hit him square in the face. “You stand the same place you always have! Why does that have to change?” 

You groan long and low in your throat in frustration, and turn toward the door. 

“Whatever. This is clearly not working. I’m leaving. Just forget about it.” 

Changbin grabs your wrist again and you growl as you whirl back to face him. 

“Let go of my fucking wrist, Changbin.” 

His eyes are fiery, his lips pressed thin. 

When he stares you down, not saying anything, you feel the anger bubble over into something deadly, pooling in your stomach. 

“Do you wanna know why it matters?” You hiss out between clenched teeth, clenching your hand into a fist in his hold. You step toward him, but he holds his ground as you go toe to toe. 

You pin him with your glare, dropping your voice, low and dangerous. 

“It matters, because right now, what we’re doing here?” You motion between the two of you, your chest brushing his as you both breathe-in and out, in and out, in and out. “Could mean absolutely nothing more than an easy lay-not a single fucking thing.” 

His lips pull up into the start of a smirk, and it’s not amused. 

“And you think if someone tells you what you want to hear, that that changes things?” He leans in close, his breath brushing your lips, and you almost choke on the wave of smoke. “You’re a goddamn fool if you think that changes anything.” 

His words fill the angry, cold air between the two of you, growing bigger and bigger by the second, looming large and formidable and unforgivable

The only sound is your heart shattering into a million pieces on the floor at his feet.

You stare at him for another tense moment, and then you spin on your heel, and leave the apartment without a word. 

******

When you wake up, you’re still curled on the living room floor, the light streaming in through the blinds hurting your eyes as you slowly unfurl. 

Your back hurts, your muscles are stiff, and your lip is throbbing like a fucker. 

You risk a tentative brush of your tongue across the aching skin, and hiss through your teeth at the sting, your bottom lip clearly swollen and bruised, still tasting faintly of coppery blood.

You force yourself up from the floor, groaning as your joints slot back into place, and stumble toward the bathroom. 

You’re cold and achy and heartbroken and you need to shower. 

You can still faintly smell the scent of marsh on your skin from the frat guy, and it makes you want to violently gag into the toilet. 

Running the water as hot as it goes, you step into the shower and let the stream scald your skin, washing away any residue left from the night before, including the musky scent still stubbornly clinging to your skin.

The sound of your front door opening has your wolf perking its ears, but you’re not worried, because the only people who know your code are members of the pack, unless, of course, it’s him. 

Your stomach tightens at the thought, but when the light footsteps entering the bathroom aren’t immediately accompanied by a wave of smoke, you relax, turning your head into the water and closing your eyes, blindly reaching for your shampoo. 

You wait for the mystery person to speak, and after a moment, Hyunjin’s voice floats above the sound of the running water. 

You smell the tang of lemon cut through the floral of your shampoo.

“He’s kind of stupid, you know.” 

You know who he’s talking about, but you play dumb anyway, staying silent, waiting to see if he goes on. 

A long sigh, and then, “But even he’s not stupid enough to ever hurt you on purpose.” 

Your fingers freeze in the suds of your hair, and you let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding, resuming your movements after a brief moment of stillness. 

“He told me what happened.” 

You huff out a humorless, sharp laugh, as you lean your head back to rinse the soap from your hair, scrunching your eyes shut tightly, telling yourself it’s to keep the shampoo out, but in reality, it’s to hold back the new burn of tears threatening.

“Shocking.”  

He’d probably told the whole pack by now, so they could all laugh at your stupidity together. 

You see Hyunjin hoist himself up onto the counter by the sink through the foggy glass of the shower door, and you turn to shut off the shower, immediately shivering as the hot water stops rolling over your skin. 

Hyunjin waits in silence as you slide open the door and step out, wrapping a towel around yourself, your skin prickling in violent goosebumps. 

You don’t look at him as you towel off your dripping hair, but you feel his gaze on you regardless. 

Finally, he says gently, “He has a rule you know.” 

You flick your gaze up to him, unsure of what he’s talking about, and not certain if you actually care. 

He sighs and pushes long back hair from his face with an agitated movement of his hand. 

“To not say it back.” 

It takes a moment for your brain to catch up with the omega’s words, and he’s still staring at you, waiting for you to get it, and suddenly, you realize what he’s telling you. 

You glance at him sharply, voice sharper than you intended. “Why?” 

Hyunjin smiles sadly, kicking his legs against the cabinets as you fling the towel you used on your hair into the laundry hamper. 

“Because what happens when you tell people that kind of personal shit?” 

You huff a breath, halfway to a scoff, and roll your eyes, anger bubbling just below the surface of your skin once more. 

You slam a drawer open to find your face cream, and stare doggedly ahead in the mirror. 

“Oh, I dunno, maybe, relationships advance? Grow deeper? Novel idea, but maybe being open and vulnerable is a good thing when you care about someone?” 

Your words are staccato, acidic on your tongue, but Hyunjin doesn’t seem phased, staring at you until you return his serious gaze. 

“Let me rephrase the question.” He arches a dark brow, lips pulled into a thin line. “What happens when an alpha specifically shares something like that?” 

You stare at him, the anger making it hard to focus on what he’s asking you. 

Hyunjin heaves a sigh-he seems to be doing a lot of that-and points at you sternly. “You’re doing it right now, actually. Just in the opposite sense.” 

“What the fuck are you talking about?” 

You don’t mean to get sharp with him, but your head hurts and your jaw is starting to sting again, and you really wanna do nothing but lay down in your bed and never get back up. 

“It smells like a goddamn floral shop in here.” Hyunjin bites right back, his eyes flashing, and then he takes in a deep breath through his nose and closes his eyes for a brief moment, and when he reopens them, his composure has returned. “Don’t you get it?” 

You stare at him, feeling stupid and altogether too worked up for this conversation. 

“Pheromones.” He spells it out slowly, holding your gaze, his pupils large and dark. “You put out pheromones depending on the emotion you’re feeling strongly in the moment-good or bad-and those emotion driven pheromones have an incredible effect on the people close to you-again, good or bad.” 

It’s starting to click into place in your brain, and your anger is swirling away down the drain with every completed piece of the puzzle. 

Hyunjin must notice the recognition in your eyes, because he hops down from the counter and comes to stand in front of you, reaching up to wipe a stray droplet of water from the arch of your cheekbone. 

His gaze softens, and his lips turn up into the start of a sardonic smile. 

“He has a rule-to never say it back-because he never, ever wants anyone to feel like they owe him anything, just because of his secondary gender.” 

His tiny smile turns sad, and you feel your stomach hollow out at his next words. 

“Changbin is so insanely terrified of being a stereotypical asshole alpha-someone who just takes whatever they want and damn the consequences-that he never even lets himself consider having what he deserves.” 

It all makes sense. 

You feel like a grade A asshole. 

Hyunjin lifts your chin with his finger and gives you a soft smile, one that reaches his eyes. 

“Maybe he didn’t say it back, but he’s been showing you, all along, every step of the way.” 

You feel all the breath leave your lungs in one fell swoop. 

He’s right. 

Changbin had never once made you feel bad about helping Hyunjin through his heat without him, even though you knew, without a measure of a doubt, that he cared for the omega. 

Changbin had worried about you every time there was a thunderstorm, had let you sleep in his bed, held you until you stopped shaking. 

Changbin always arrived first to the campus cafe, and when you’d inevitably show up several moments later, he’d always already ordered you an iced americano, sliding it across the table silently and waving away your thanks. 

Changbin had called you five times last night, trying to make sure you were safe, that you weren’t hurt, that you weren’t being stupid. 

Changbin, Changbin, Changbin. 

It didn’t matter that he didn’t say it. He loved you.

A tear drops down your cheek unbidden, and Hyunjin swipes it away without a word. 

You sniff and rub at your nose. 

“God, I’m so stupid.” 

Hyunjin smiles ruefully and knocks you playfully under the chin. 

“Yeah. But so is he. So I guess you’re even.” 

******

You let yourself into Changbin’s apartment via keycode and make your way silently down the hall to the open door of his bedroom. 

You glance inside, and he’s lying on his back on his bed, reading one of Jisung’s mangas, held above his head as he idly flips the pages. 

He glances up as you enter the room, but keeps silent, as you sit down beside the bed and tuck your knees into your chest, wrapping your arms around yourself. 

You both sit in the silence for several long moments, and then you glance up at him, instantly noting the dark bruising painted across the knuckles of his right hand, the torn, angry looking flesh mottling various shades of black and blue and dark purple. 

“What happened to your hand?” You ask in a quiet voice, biting your lip, and Changbin barely flicks his gaze up from his reading to glance first to you, and then to the hand in question. 

He shrugs half heartedly and turns back to the comic. 

“Just some stupid frat boys.” 

You bite back the hint of a smile, and stare at the carpet beneath your feet, trying to ignore the warmth starting to curl deep within your belly. 

There are another few moments of quiet, and then Changbin surprises you by letting the manga drop to the bed, the noise startling you, as you glance at him once more from the corner of your eye and see his chest heave in and out with a long sigh. 

He reaches up to rake a hand through his hair. “Look, I know I should apologize-” 

You cut him off, turning to face the bed as you wave a hand in his direction.

“You don’t need to apologize.” 

He sighs again, and when he speaks once more, his voice is curt, clipped, as if he’s irritated. 

“Yes, I fucking do.” 

You push up to your knees and lean over the side of the bed on your elbows, staring down at him, his eyes widening slightly as you both come face to face. 

You stare him down seriously, holding his gaze, not letting him look away. 

“No, I’m serious.” You breathe out, long and steady, and offer him the hint of a small smile. “You don’t need to apologize.” 

He stares at you, brow furrowed in confusion, eyes dark and guarded. 

You huff a laugh and reach out to smooth the crease between his eyes. “Don’t look so worried. I’m not gonna hold this against you forever.” 

His expression grows slightly pained at your words, and his voice is a bitter murmur when he says, “You should.” 

You shake your head. “You were right though. You don’t have to say it. It doesn’t change anything.” 

He himself up onto one elbow, and you hurry before you can lose your nerve. 

“Look.” You wring your hands together, staring down at the comforter beneath them, avoiding his gaze now. “I get it. Why you have a rule about not saying it back.” 

Changbin shifts and then growls out, “Dammit, Hyunjin. I’m gonna fucking kill him.” 

You laugh and look up once more, and his lips are curved into the hint of a tiny smile now.

“No, it makes sense. And while I totally get it, I do, I also don’t think you should worry about forcing me into doing anything or saying something against my will just because of some stupid pheromones.”

 You take in a deep quivering breath, and look him straight in the eye. 

“Because I’m already pretty hopelessly fucking in love with you as it is, and I don’t think any amount of biology is gonna change that.” 

You swallow hard as he continues to stare at you in silence, and then he laughs, he laughs. 

“So you meant it then.” 

You shoot him a half hearted glare and cross your arms over your chest. 

“Of course I fucking meant it! Why do you think I got so pissed off when I thought you were rejecting me?” 

Changbin smiles ruefully. “But I told you I wasn’t.” 

“Yeah, okay!” You throw your hands up in exasperation. “I get that now, but I was a little too devastated to consider it in the moment!” 

Changbin chuckles again and tugs you to him. You let out a little yelp of surprise as you topple onto the bed, nose going into the side of his throat. 

He’s warm, and he smells like smoke, and the embers of a waning campfire. 

Comforting. 

He puts his hands on either side of your face and tugs you back just enough to meet your gaze as he arches a dark brow and looks down at you with open, affectionate amusement. 

When he speaks, his voice is sincere, warm, and it sends your bones to jelly and your heart thudding against the walls of your chest. 

“I’m sorry that I made you think any of that. I’m sorry that I hurt you by being a stupid asshole. I’m sorry that you ever thought I didn’t feel the same exact way about you that you feel about me.” His lips curve up into the start of a smirk. “And I’m also sorry that you didn’t get to watch me kick those frat boys’ asses to hell and back, but I’m not sorry I did it.” 

You laugh, slightly wobbly and watery, and swipe at your eyes with the back of your hand. 

“I’m also sorry I didn’t get to see that.” 

Changbin chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest, and he leans over to brush his nose against your forehead. You close your eyes, breathing him in for a moment, fingers clenching the material of the front of his hoodie. 

“Also. I had a rule. But I think it’s about time I start living a little less by the rulebook, and a little bit more by the trust you all seem to have in me, however misguided.” 

You open your eyes, and are met by the swirling gold of his own. 

His lips curve into the start of a smile, and his voice is barely above a breath, warm as it washes across your skin. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t say it back.” His brow arches up in question, lips parting. “But I can say it now, if you want?” 

You shake your head slightly with a disbelieving little laugh. 

“It’s not gonna change anything important.” 

Changbin slips a finger beneath your chin and raises your gaze to his own. You can feel your heartbeat pounding in your ears as he lets his thumb gently trace over the divot in your lips, the tender, healing bruise along your jaw. 

“I know.” His eyes flick back up to your own. “But what if I want to?” 

You let out the breath you’ve been holding. 

“Okay.” 

He leans into your space, his lips brushing your cheekbone when he speaks, and the the low, warm tone of his voice has your body instantly zipping with giddy electricity. 

“I love you too.” 

You glance at him sidelong, heart thudding against your ribs, and catching your breath, ask teasingly, “My alpha pheromones didn’t make you say that, did they?” 

He growls playfully and nuzzles his nose into your throat, tickling you, holding you tight as you giggle and try to weakly wriggle away. 

“No fucking pheromones were used.” He says softly, voice filled with relief, and you feel him grin against your skin. 

“No pheromones were used.” You repeat back quietly, cheeks sore from smiling, almost drunk with happiness, before you lean over to fit your lips to his and kiss him like you should’ve the first time. 

********************************************************************************

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[jigujellee]

ATTENTION -> got a secret, can you keep it? [ request: Jennie and Y/N (a backup dancer) relationship is a secret. Jennie found out on one of Y/N's friend that another dancer is having a crush on Y/N. Jennie got jealous and it's up to you what will happen next. Hoping for a fluff ending ]

jennie x reader fluff w very, very minor angst (dw tho) word count: 2.8k warnings: none

a/n: thank you for this request! it was really fun to work on :D i'm not gonna lie tho, i kind of struggled with the ending a bit bc i really just wanted to get it done ljdkhfaf but alas, here she is! this is slightly proofread, so pls don't mind any mistakes but i hope you enjoy it nonetheless <3

you’ve always admired private, lowkey relationships.

as you scroll through pinterest and instagram, you often come across photos of couples who don’t show their faces but they make it very clear that they’re together. the notion of being private but not a secret was something you’ve always wished to try with someone.

and for 4 years, you somehow managed to keep a private and secret relationship from the entire world.

when you first started as a backup dancer for yg’s best selling, record breaking, and globally known girl group otherwise known as blackpink, you knew that a relationship with the any of the members would and should not go any further than a work-friendly relationship. but that idea was thrown right out the window when the jennie kim, blackpink’s main rapper and lead vocalist, had made her move on you the moment you stepped into the dance studio for the first time. she was starstruck by the way your body easily flowed to the music, hitting every beat with such precision and power. what started out as just being coworkers evolved into a lovely friendship, and eventually into a relationship that you never knew was even possible in the first place.

but you were also aware that dating an idol had its drawbacks.

though you weren’t too big on pda, it would’ve still been nice to go up to jennie and give her a hug or a kiss on the cheek during work hours, especially when you knew she was exhausted after practicing non-stop. however, you were aware that your position as their backup dancer and the fact that you’re a girl dating a girl (wow shocker) would cause an uproar amongst the public. knowing this, you restrained yourself and maintained a strictly professional relationship between you and the girls. outside of the yg building, you and jennie are inseparable but once you step foot inside, all interactions with her cease unless there’s something to discuss about work. it’s been nearly 2 years since their last comeback, so you’ve been able to have jennie all to yourself; you’ve travelled together and attended her other schedules with her without causing too much suspicion. but now that the comeback has been confirmed and announced, it was time to return to work and act like jennie was nothing more than your senior.

you weren’t gonna deny that it felt good to be back in the studio again. you’ve always had a passion for dancing and you were glad that you could pursue something you actually enjoyed. not only did it pay well and provided good benefits, but it allowed you to meet the love of your life despite having to keep it a secret from the world.

when you walk into the studio, your eyes are met with mirrors that stretch across all the walls, speakers sitting in the corners beside a computer and sound control system - it all felt so comfortable to you. but when four familiar faces come in just minutes after you do, then that’s when everything really starts to feel like home. you bite back a smile when you make eye contact with your girlfriend, who does the same thing towards you. she always managed to make the simplest outfits look expensive. you couldn’t help but stare at how her white tank top accentuates her abs, and how she managed to make a pair of black jeans look designer. while you did your stretches, your gaze constantly shifts to her every once in a while but your view is soon obstructed when your friend and coworker, dany, shows up in front of you.

“hi y/n! it’s so good to see you again. i haven’t heard from you as much, how are you?”

“hi dany, i’ve been good. i decided to take a bit of a break from social media, just really take the time to wind down and relax” you say as you bend over and stretch to reach your legs. dany just laughs and gently rests her hand on your back.

“you didn’t miss me at all?” dany jokes, or so you thought. but you responded in a jokingly matter anyway.

“not at all, i was actually glad to be away from you” you smile.

“hey, you’re so mean!” she starts playfully hitting you, and you laugh as you try to get away from her until you’re interrupted by the sound of the choreographer clapping their hands together, indicating that it was time to start practicing.

“time to get started everyone!”

-

“okay, let’s take 10 then we’ll run it from the top”

it’s been a month since you’ve started rehearsing for the girls’ comeback, and you had to admit that you don’t have as much stamina as you used to. when the music stops and the choreographer calls for a 10 minute break, you attempt to catch your breath while desperately trying to find your water bottle from your bag, but it’s nowhere to be found. jennie notices you rummaging through your bag and grabs her own bottle to give to you, but to unfortunately, dany beats her to it.

“you should really bring your own water, y/n. you always finish mine”

“i never ask for yours just in case there’s any poison, but thanks” you joke. dany fake scoffs and acts offended but she’s glad nonetheless. after nearly inhaling all of the water, you felt a drop run down your mouth and you lift your shirt to wipe it off, along with the sweat that was drenching your face. instead of pulling up the collar of your shirt like a normal person would, you grab the hem and lift it up to expose your toned abdomen. dany’s eyes immediately gloss over your lower body and jennie doesn’t miss the way her eyes widen and sparkle at the sight.

“damn y/n, have you been working out these last 2 years? you look so good,” dany compliments. she manages to swiftly slide her hand over your abdomen, causing you to flinch and immediately back away.

“hey, watch it! i’m ticklish there,” you defend. despite your protests, dany chases you around the studio to try and tickle you. you fail to notice a pair of cat eyes that were burning onto you and dany as the two of you ran around like children.

jennie’s chest becomes a bit heavier and she subconsciously tightens her grip on the bottle that was still in her hand. she’s noticed how awfully close dany was sticking to you during practices, and it was becoming hard to watch. she bites the inside of her cheek, almost hard enough to bleed until another backup dancer approaches her.

“jeez, what a bunch of children. imagine being in your late 20s and you still try to get your crush’s attention by chasing them around and trying to tickle them” the dancer says, clicking their tongue and shaking their head almost disapprovingly. but nothing they said registered in jennie’s head until the word “crush” was mentioned.

“crush? what do you mean?”

“oh didn’t you know? dany has liked y/n for some time now. me personally, i think they’d make a pretty cute couple. a very loud couple but still cute, don’t you think?”

jennie’s eyes nearly roll at the thought of you and dany being together. “i don’t think dany is y/n’s type in my opinion”

“well, dany says that y/n is definitely her type so i’m sure she’d find a way to make it work”

the cat eyed girl clenches her jaw. what the hell was she even supposed to say to that? it’s not like she could explicitly defend your relationship since no one knew you were together. but wow, did it bug her to her core. is this what other people were thinking? did other people think that you and dany would be a great couple?

dany still tried to cling onto you and you desperately tried to get away from her, while jennie didn’t want to bother looking in your direction for the remainder of practice. the members, however, immediately noticed the change in jennie’s mood. when another 10 minute break was called, they decided to intervene.

“hey grumpy, what’s with the face? you look like you’re about to murder someone,” rosé says to her bandmate, who’s been trying to tie her shoes for the last 3 minutes or so.

“it’s nothing, i just really wanna finish and go home so i could sleep. i’m getting really tired already” jennie brushes it off. the other three girls all eye each other, knowing she wasn’t telling the truth but they silently agreed to not pry any further and just give her supportive pats and rubs on her back.

while waiting for the choreographer to get back, another backup dancer takes over the sound system and puts on attention by newjeans just to fool around and freestyle a little bit. the studio is suddenly filled with cheers and screams as a number of dancers made their way to the middle of the dance floor. when the chorus comes on, jennie rushes to the center without even thinking and starts dancing. the girls scream loudly as they cheer on their friend, who was literally sulking not even a few minutes ago.

“okaaay, get it jennie!” lisa shouts out. jisoo and rosé pull out their phones to record her and you do the same for you to watch later and laugh about it with jennie. you watched your girlfriend through your phone screen as she danced with so much energy, and when you look up from your phone, her eyes are already on you. jennie’s gaze doesn’t falter from yours as she continued to move to the music, lip syncing along to the lyrics.

one thing’s for sure

i know you’re the one

you got me looking for attention

the smile on your face doesn’t leave until dany makes her way to the centre and takes the spotlight away from jennie. you watched jennie stop dancing and noticed how annoyed she looked.

“watch me y/n!” dany screams over the music as she starts to dance, which caused jennie to slowly back away towards the girls. you put your phone down and just smile as you watched dany dance, who eventually starts making her way towards you and even had the audacity to press her back against you but you push her away while laughing nervously. in the background, jennie watches the whole thing unfold and if she was annoyed before, well now she was fuming. she hates it when other people try to make their move on you or when they're just too close to you for her liking, but what pisses her off the most is knowing that she can’t rightfully claim what’s hers.

practice continued for practically the whole day until late into the night. once it was finally over, the two of you met at jennie’s house and you noticed she was being very quiet for your liking.

“jen, you alright? you haven’t sa-”

“what do you think about dany? be honest with me”

“babe, you don’t need to worry about dany. she’s just really clingy, that’s all”

“you’re not answering my question. is there something you’re not telling me?”

“no no no no, it’s not like that. what do i think about her? well, she’s cool, very talkative for the most part but i think she’s a great dancer and i have a lot to learn from her”

“do you think she likes you?”

“where did you even get that idea, love?”

“people think you two would make a good couple, so it was just a thought i guess”

“that’s only what people think, but it’s not the truth”

“you don’t know that”

“okay, fine, i don’t know that. but what i do know is that even if dany does like me, it doesn’t mean anything,” you say before making your way towards a pouty jennie and wrapping your arms around her slender waist.

“i’ve known you for 6 years and i’ve been with you for 4. i had to watch sleazy photographers, fansites, and sasaengs ogle you up and down whenever you’re up on a stage and i always just want to go up there and claim you as mine. i know it’s hard to keep hiding in the dark babe, but i can guarantee you that i wouldn’t want someone else in your place”

jennie looks up at you with a pout still evident on her face, her eyes somewhat filled with tears but not enough to start falling.

“but wouldn’t things be easier if you were with dany?”

“i don’t need things to be easy, i need it to be you. it always needs to be you”

jennie pulls you for a long and warm embrace, and the two of you stay like that as you gently sway back and forth. jennie’s ear is on your chest and she listens to your heart beating so gently, and a smile slowly creeps onto her face knowing that your heart only beats for her. you both knew it would be difficult once you decided to be together, but with jennie, everything was definitely worth it and you'd do absolutely anything to keep the woman in your arms all to yourself.

-

you’re back in the studio the following morning, and you can tell jennie is in somewhat of a better mood compared to yesterday, but it changes yet again once dany walks through the door.

“good morning y/n baby!”

“ew, don’t call me that”

“awww, does my baby not like the name?”

you fake gagged and try to laugh it off as you change into a more comfortable pair of shoes for practice. dany rolls her eyes and sits down beside you, resting her head on your shoulder.

“you smell really good y/n”

“i know i do” you dryly reply as you try to tie your shoe. when you finish tying the last knot, you bring your head up and dany takes this chance to try and plant a kiss on your cheek but you push her away immediately.

“dany, what are you doing? we’re at work”

“oh come on y/n, one kiss shouldn’t hurt right?”

jennie gets up from where she’s sitting and makes her way towards you two. the studio suddenly goes quiet as they watch her march from one side to the other, silently wondering what jennie was gonna say next.

“hey dany, how about you learn to respect people’s personal space?and while you're at it, try not to go for people who are happily in a relationship” jennie snides.

“huh? what are you talking about? y/n isn’t in a relationship”

“yes she is”

dany gets bold and challenges jennie, crossing her arms and making her way towards the cat eyed girl but jennie doesn't back down.

“oh yeah? with who?”

“with me,” jennie says sternly as she pushes pass dany and grabs you by the collar to plant a kiss on your lips for everyone to see. when she pulls away, you look at her in shock and you whisper, “jen, what are you doing? we’re gonna get in trouble!”

you back up slightly, waiting for your girlfriend to explain her irrational behaviour but before she could speak, the girls' manager shouts out in joy which gave both you and jennie a confused look on your face.

“ha! i told you! you all owe me $50!,” he shouts as the rest of the staff groan and start fishing money out of their wallets.

“wait, you guys made a bet? on what?”

“on who would be the first one to expose your relationship. everyone thought it’d be you but i had a strong feeling it would be jennie, and i was right!” he exclaims in glee.

“so wait, we’re not in trouble?”

“well you two have been doing a fantastic job at keeping it a secret from the public, so we agreed to let it continue and we’d only intervene if things got out of hand”

“but how did all of you find out in the first place if we never said anything?” jennie asked. the manager and a few staff members pointed at lisa, who puts her hands up in defense.

“okay hey wait a minute, before all of you start pointing fingers i just wanna say for the record, jennie’s not exactly the quietest person when she’s on the phone with y/n”

jennie playfully glares at lisa, but you just stood there smiling. you thought you were being discrete about your relationship with jennie in fear of getting in trouble with the company, but as it turns out, people already knew and supported you in secret. you turn to your girlfriend who was ready to beat lisa up for exposing her, and you can't help but plant a soft kiss on her cheek because you didn’t have to completely hide your relationship anymore. the studio is filled with oohs and awws from everyone around you, causing jennie's cheeks to show a slight tint of pink.

“alright alright, enough chit chat! let’s get back to work everyone, we have a lot of preparations” the manager finally says after receiving his winnings from the bet.

before practice officially began, jennie pulls you in for a kiss once again.

“keep up the good work my favourite dancer”

[that-irrelevant-ricecakeaddict]

My Pretty Girl ♡

Idol! Seungmin × afab reader (established relationship)

Seungmin comes home one day, exhausted from a full day of recording and tiring choreographies, to see y/n crying. Being the concerned boyfriend he is, of course he immediately approaches and asks her what's wrong...

CW: Mentions of insecurities, reader was a victim of bullying and is extremely insecure of their appearance, suggestive(???), fluff

Seungmin sighed in relief as he stepped into the apartment, the heated interior providing a pleasuring contrast to the chilly weather outside. After a long day of recording new tracks and learning vigorous dance choreographies, he was looking forward to coming home and spending time with you, his favourite person (not counting the 7 Idiots that he worked with on a daily basis).

He walked into the living room, surprised that the lights were off. Usually when he came home late from his idol job, you would be up watching a movie or playing video games, nevertheless awaiting his arrival home. He shrugged off his winter jacket, squinting through his brown fringe as he glanced around the apartment.

"Y/N? I'm home!"

Silence. Seungmin furrowed his eyebrows, clearly confused.

"Y/N?"

His sensitive ears perked up at a small sound coming from your shared room down the hallway. He quietly padded over to the entrance, and looked round the slightly ajar door. The confusion on his face turned to shock when he recognised your silhouette shaking underneath the covers on your shared king-sized bed, accompanied by muffled sobs. He immediately strided over to the bed, sitting down next to your hidden figure and bending over to hug the lump of blankets that was you. You, on the other hand, snapped out of your sobbing trance the moment you felt your boyfriend's familar weight on you. You quickly ducked out from under the blankets, subtly using the back of your hand to wipe at your face. You threw back the covers and came face-to-face with Seungmin's dark, puppy-like eyes.

"Seungie? You're home earlier than usual..."

"What d'you mean? It's nearly midnight. I always come home around this time on weekdays?"

Your breath hitched at his words. Have you been crying for that long? You unknowingly started fidgeting with your nails, which were short and chewed down. Seungmin noticed this, and lightly gripped your wrists to stop you. Your teary eyes met his once more.

"Y/N, did something happen? Why were you crying?"

"...I wasn't crying."

"Don't lie to me, pup. Your eyes are red and still teary, and I could hear you just now."

Your gaze dropped, and you continued to stare silently at your hands in his larger, warmer ones. Nothing could ever get past Kim Seungmin, you knew that. Yet you still tried to hide things from him. You were snapped out of your thoughts by Seungmin's voice again.

"Why were you crying?"

"I...I just happened to come across some old screenshots from high-school, while I was clearing my gallery storage...it was screenshots of some old messages and photos that these girls in my class had sent to each other...they were all making fun of me and trash-talking me..."

Hot tears sprouted at your eyes as you recalled the cruel text messages and crudely photoshopped images of you from nearly a decade ago. Seungmin was quiet. Did he think you were being oversensitive, or something? Your heart almost jumped to your throat when he spoke.

"What...what did they say about you?"

"I don't know...they were calling me ugly, and...and making fun of my appearance...whatever, its fucking stupid, I know I'm overreacting-"

"You're not ugly."

You looked back up at your boyfriend, tears already starting to slide down your face at the painful memories. He kept a firm grip on your wrists, moving one hand to your shoulder to pull you into his chest.

"What?"

"I said, you're not ugly, Y/N. I tell you that you're the most gorgeous and sweetest girl I've ever met, everyday. Even if people still say bad things about you now, I'll stick by your side and defend you, because I love you and cherish the person you are on the inside-out, okay? You may not see it that way, but I do. You may find it hard to accept, but that's why I'm here."

He leaned down to your eye-level, flashing his signature dorkily adorable grin.

"You're probably not feeling too good about yourself now, aren't you?"

"No, Seungie..."

"Okay. Then let me remind you that you're anything but ugly, and that whoever says otherwise, I'll find them and beat them into their senses."

"...Seungie, you don't work out."

"...okay, I'll call Changbin-hyung to deal with them."

Your pout spread into a smile as your laughter filled the room. Seungmin smiled in satisfaction and cupped your face.

"There's that smile. My pretty girl's smile."

A blush made its way to your already flushed face as his thumb swiped over the remaining tears on your face.

"Even if you want to cry, don't cry alone. You're too beautiful for that. Promise me whenever you feel down, you'll tell me right away. You know I'll do whatever I can for you, right, pup?"

You nodded at his words, and he leaned back. He seemed satisfied.

"So, is there anything else you'd like your amazing and loving boyfriend to do to cheer you up?"

"Could you...would you help me forget those girls from high-school?"

Seungmin raised an eyebrow, taking a second to realise what you were asking for. A cheeky smirk appeared on his face as he pushed you onto your back, leaning down to graze your ear with his teeth. You sighed in relief as he peppered reassuring kisses down your neck and your exposed collarbone under your unbuttoned collar. Memories of your bullies and your insecurities evaporated into thin air as Seungmin got to work on you...

Hahahshshshshs idk where I was going with this 💀😭 I wasn't feeling too well about a similar bullying situation in school that happened recently, and my therapist called to remind me to take my delulu pills 😻 (jokes...partially...I have terrible humor omg-) Just some light fluff,, hope it could cheer you up if u were feelin down 😭😭

[arosesstorm]

purple lips ; kim taehyung , jeon jungkook

words count: short scenario

fem reader! x taehyung ; fem reader! x jungkook

warning: love triangle and alcohol

summary: Kim Taehyung realized he loved you, maybe it was too late?

English is not my first language loves, just trying my best, always, enjoy ;

There had been a moment, an intangible second in which the earth had slowed its motion, the stars had denied to shine and the loud music of the club’s speakers had stopped pumping in his ears.

Kim Taehyung had been on an infinite number of positions in his life: he had been the son of a farmer, the rookie with a dream, the visual of his kpop boyband, a drama actor, a good son, a bad man, a world pop star, a loyal friend.

He was things, he had roles, he played with them, sometimes he hated them, sometimes he took pride in them.

Kim Taehyung had lived a hundred lives, yet, looking at her, her dress too short on her, her red lipstick too bold for her, her fingers tangled in his hair, her eyes shining in pure devotion, her lips close to his neck.

When Kim Taehyung saw her that night wrapped in Jungkook’s arms, he suddenly felt faceless.

He didn’t know who he was, what role he was playing, what party he was attending.

There was nothing, of what taehyung had felt in his life, that was close to this new feeling, not a name with which he could call it.

No, it was 4 months deep into knowing you, under the old neon lights of a club, in the chaos of bodies dancing, that he knew, as clear as the night sky, he was in love with you.

"Did you see them?" Namjoon smiled by his right, taking his cup to his lips as he chuckled, after a sip he spoke again "looks like something’s going on".

And Taehyung felt the sudden urge to deny.

Nothing was happening, nothing was going on.

The man knew her, and she was just the right match for him.

Her and Jungkook on the other hand…too look-alike to make it work.

Taehyung was there and he was staring at her, so why was she over there, smiling at his best friend, her lips quivering in anticipation.

No, "Jungkook’s not right for her" he felt the need to spoke aloud, to which no one answered, so he just stared, he stared, he stared.

"Let’s go get a drink" jimin suddenly spoke, his body covering Taehyung’s view.

But taehyung didn’t move, not until he saw her laugh and leave Jungkook’s side, not until he saw jungkook fallowing her outside.

"Tae" jimin spoke, but his best friend dismissed the man quickly, aiming he himself for the exit.

Once taehyung reached out of the club, the night air meeting his skin, the darkness eating his up, he saw them.

Standing a feet away from jungkook, she was sweetly smiling looking up, like a little girl waiting to be rewarded.

Jungkooks hands were on her face, softly caressing her jawline, then her cheeks when taehyung finally stepped forward, "y/n" he spoke, in a tone so automotive she jumped, like a deer in the light.

"God" she chuckled then "you scared me" she had said, but taehyung couldn’t concentrate on nothing more than Jungkook's hands still on you.

"Jungkook, Jimin needs you inside, Hope got drunk again" he had said.

"Pretty urgent" he added, the need to see his friend off now a necessity.

the youngest softly breathed nodding his head, his hands finally leaving her face, at which taehyung took a breath of relief.

"See you later" the boy smiled, kissing her head and leaving her side.

"Coming to help, hyung?" He had asked, brushing by Taehyung’s side, when the man spoke "give me a minute".

Jungkook nod his head and left.

Taehyung’s eyes had never left her frame, not even as she stepped closer, her face one of joy, as she breathed "your timing is terrible".

It was a joke, but one Taehyung didn’t like at the moment.

"I’m sorry" he had said and then he had looked at her, like he never did before, like he despised her, like he pitied her and left.

Leaving y/n alone in the cold of the parking lot, under the clearest sky of the season, leaving her wondering why she was not so euphoric anymore.

© 2023 of Mia (arosesstorm). All Rights Reserved.

[justimajin]

The Profit & Love Statement » Pt. 19

↠ Pairing: Seokjin x Reader

↠ Genre: Fluff, Comedy, Angst

↳ 3.2k / CEO AU

↠ Summary: Through hours of endless training and hard work, Kim Seokjin is finally the CEO of Kim Electronics. He has everything at his hands - status, money, power. He owes it all to you, his rigid and sarcastic mentor who overseed his entire training. But as he steps into the shoes of becoming the CEO, he can only wonder what it means for your relationship now.

↠ Warnings: so. much. fluff. (love is *indeed* in the air)

↠ Next Update: Tuesday, November 7 (series masterpost here)

You wait outside your apartment complex. 

The sun is luminous and shining brightly, the orange fall leaves descending down from trees. There’s a slight breeze in the air, making you tug your loose cardigan closer to your form. 

It’s the ideal day to go out, and the ideal day for a date. 

A sigh passes though your lips. It was just yesterday when Jin was holding onto your hands, confessing that he wanted to ask you out. While you were most definitely taken aback with his words – you weren’t entirely against the idea. 

You can’t pinpoint when it happened exactly, when the intern turned CEO seemingly became someone you knew you could lean on, someone you would look so genuinely forward to seeing. Because as hazy as it was, something just felt right when you had simply nodded, watching his expression contort into utter bliss at your response. 

Which is why you’re currently standing outside, eyes flickering occasionally over to your watch. You’re dressed in a bright yellow sundress – something Yuna had picked for you the moment you told her who you were going out with. You muse how it was incredibly amusing to watch your younger sister fuss all over you, attempting to make your hair look nice and throwing a white cardigan over your shoulders. 

Glancing down at your attire, the corner of your mouth tugs at how proud she would be. 

A couple of minutes pass by, and Jin shows up right on time with his car. 

The moment you catch sight of him, your stomach churns a bit. You know you shouldn’t be nervous, but there’s no telling the butterflies dancing in your stomach about that. 

Yanking the car door open, you slip into the passenger seat as he grins at you. 

“You look nice.” 

“Thanks.” You muse, leaning over to grab your seatbelt and buckling it. He’s dressed in a white t-shirt and black ripped jeans, a dark blue baseball cap resting on his head.

As he begins to reverse, you throw curious glances at him. 

“So, where are we going?” 

His mouth curves into a smile. “It’s a surprise.” 

You frown, mind swimming around with possibilities.

Your most likely guess is that he’ll take you to some kind of restaurant, or that he’ll want to explore around an area with a ton of them. But after twenty minutes spin away, there’s a hand planting right against your eyes. 

Your field of vision is completely cut off. “Jin!” 

“You can’t see it yet!” He chides, but you scoff. 

“I can close my eyes then!” You hear a faint ‘oh’ come from him and he releases you, resuming back to his driving. 

“Promise me you’ll keep them closed, Y/N.” He insists. 

“I will, I will.” You firmly state, hearing faint sounds of voices surround you. After a couple of minutes, the car abruptly stops and you hear Jin click off the engine. 

The door to your seat opens, and he grabs onto your hands, slowly helping you out. 

“Can I look now?” You probe, having no vision this entire time.

“Not yet.” You hear him lock the car, before your hands are being guided again. Taking small steps, the voices only get louder and louder until Jin stops you completely. 

“Okay, open them.” 

They flutter open and your jaw drops. 

Jin has a huge mischievous grin, his eyes twinkling. 

Because right in front of you, is a huge amusement park. 

“Come on, Y/N!” You don’t even have a chance to retort anything before Jin grabs onto your wrist, pulling you along. “Let’s go have some fun!” 

You follow along reluctantly. 

You didn’t realize how truly childish Jin is. 

His eyes are practically shimmering, taking all of his surroundings in one by one as he whips his head back and forth. He begins to construct a scheme on things to do and how long they’ll take for the entire day, marking everything eagerly down onto a brochure he retrieved. 

You, in the meanwhile, are caught up between observing him and trying to recall the last time you came to an amusement park. It seems like only yesterday when your parents took you and Yuna, when you were just entering middle school and the latter was a newborn. 

You hear Jin let out a loud yelp. 

Immediately swiveling around, his eyes are latched onto a specific stall and it’s not long before you’re being tugged along. 

“We need to go on this!” He gestures to one rollercoaster with too many loops that has your eyes doubling. 

You harshly gulp, “Jin, I-I don’t think…” 

“Trust me, it’ll be fun!” His hand laces with yours, an action you can’t even bring your attention to when he’s running over. The roller coaster thankfully has no line up, and you’re truthfully not so sure if that’s a good thing. 

Jin sits on your left side as you get buckled into the ride, hand still clasped with his. It begins to move slowly and you throw anxious looks at Jin, who only seems to be ecstatic that it’s starting. 

The first dip happens and you scream at the top of your lungs. 

Your heart is thudding against your chest and the wind is smacking against your face, body practically coursing with sheer fear. 

However within mere seconds, that fear morphs completely into something else. 

Your heart rate and blood pressure rises and all you can think about is how thrilling it actually is, savouring the way the wind whips through your hair and how the anticipation only builds as you go through the numerous loops. 

Once you get off, you can only stare at Jin in astonishment. 

“That was so much fun!” 

He brightly grins, “What I’d tell you?” 

“Let’s go on that one!” Now you clasp onto his hand, dragging him to another one. Jin instantly recognizes it as the infamous teacup ride. 

He smiles as he watches you wait in line, eagerly anticipating the ride as you watch others spin around. It’s a side to you that he hasn’t had the opportunity to see, one you would probably just dismiss as being childish. 

But when you grasp onto him and drag him over to one of the teacups, he’s just grateful to hop on with you. 

You spin around, squeals and giggles leaving you as all the teacups rotates. Jin has to hold onto his hat, the cap nearly disappearing with how fast you’re spinning the centerpiece around. 

Your laughter is contagious and it mixes with his own. 

Getting off the rides, you’re eager to try more – but Jin beats you to it. 

He practically loses his shit when he sees the giant Mario House. 

You loudly gasp, not knowing they had one. 

“We have to go!” You're pushing Jin towards it and laugh when he picks up on speed, practically sprinting over as you run behind. 

“Oh. My. God.” 

Jin is at the entrance, eyes wider than you’ve ever seen them. 

There’s Mario merchandise everywhere – to clothing, stationary and even snacks. 

Jin looks like a kid that’s been dropped off at a candy store. 

You watch as his eyes are darting everywhere, grabbing onto a giant Mario plushie and showing you in awe. You urge him to buy it, amongst other things he shows you, even the giant Mario cap he replaces the one he’s wearing with. 

You’re soon leaving, with Jin holding two bags that are bursting with different kinds of Mario merch and you trailing behind him, eating a bag full of Luigi themed chips. 

“Where to next, Captain?” 

He checks his brochure, mumbling underneath his breath, “We’ve done two roller coaster rides, gone to the Mario house…” 

“Can we go there?” You innocently inquire and Jin glances up. 

His smile drops. 

You’ve picked the haunted house, the place that wasn’t even on his list to begin with. 

“Uh, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He shifts his focus back to his brochure. 

“Why not?” You whine. 

“Y/N, there’s a guy with blood all over his face at the front.” 

“So?” It looked interesting, and you’ve truthfully never been to one. 

Jin doesn’t budge, not moving in the slightest. 

A pout forms on your lips. “Please?” 

Jin lets out a deep exhale. He knows the saying that love can turn you completely blind and to be quite honest, he hasn’t felt that statement more than right now, especially when your bright eyes flutter as you continue to pout. 

Sucking in a harsh breath, he prepares his heart and nods. “Okay, let’s go.” 

You instantly beam, your whole face lighting up. Jin fondly smiles at your reaction, but then the two of you get closer to the haunted house and it disappears altogether. 

The man at the front handing out tickets is dressed as a zombie, “T-Two tickets for the haunted house.” 

He hums, taking out wristbands for the two of you and putting it around your wrist. When he reaches down, the frantic man whispers in his ear. 

“Has anyone died going in here?” Jin truthfully ponders and the zombie grins. 

“A couple.” His heart drops and the man laughs, “Just kidding, it's completely safe and not really scary.” 

“T-Thanks, good to know.” You grasp onto his hand, leading him in. Immediately, the creepy music fills his ears, alongside the faint echoes of screaming voices. 

“Woah.” You mutter, glancing around the room to see hanging spider webs, splatters of blood, and fake skeleton bones littered everywhere. 

It almost looks too real and you’re impressed with the level of effort. 

Jin, on the other hand, wholeheartedly agrees with your statements, letting out a shriek when a spider web dangles too close above his head. 

“Are you okay?” You ask right away and Jin shakes his head, clinging to your side. 

“L-Let’s just keep going.” 

You enter more rooms, all with more intricate designs and including more props, like coffins and bats. You’re more intrigued than anything, but that’s when you realize there’s a visitor in the room. 

The man dressed as a vampire shouts a low ‘Boo!’, getting an unamused expression from you and a jolt out of Jin, before he resorts to hiding behind you as a shield. 

“Nice place you got here.” You point to the coffin on the ground, and the vampire mutters a small thanks as you leave, making you smile. 

Jin is practically glued to you, head attached to your shoulder as he lets you lead. You whirl around, having seen the majority of what you were curious about. 

“Jin, we can leave.” You whisper, “I’m serious, there’s nothing more I want to–” 

Your words are caught in your throat, a man dressed as a serial killer standing at the end of the hallway near the exit. He grins, before letting out a low groan and sludging his way towards you. 

Your heart thugs against your ribcage and you turn, tugging against Jin’s shirt, “Nevermind, we need to run!” 

He picks up the cue right away, interlacing your hands and sprinting as fast as he can. The man is on your toes, happy he’s gotten two victims. 

You reach a dead end and there’s no exit. Frantically looking around, he emerges and you let out a loud scream. 

“Hey!” Jin envelopes you immediately, waving his trembling finger against the man, “Back off!” 

The man stares at him unamused, before letting out a sigh and leaving with a mumble of ‘Man, couples are no fun.’ 

As he leaves, you touch your chest, attempting to calm your racing heart. 

Jin holds onto your shoulders, “Are you okay, Y/N?!” 

“Y-Yeah…just wasn’t expecting a s-serial killer to come out of the blue…” You sputter out. 

He stares at you intently. “I’m taking this as we leave?” 

“Yes, please.” That’s all he needs to haul you up, leading you out of the haunted house. You’re relieved to find sunshine immediately, your eyes gladly adjusting to the light. 

“Well, I’m glad that’s over.” Jin remarks and you nod. “Let’s go eat?” 

You grab onto his outstretched hand, letting him lead you to a nearby food stall. 

Turns out eating after getting scared shitless, is the absolute best. 

Jin drags you to a stall that’s selling waffles, coming with an assortment of toppings ranging from strawberries to whipped cream. You both place your orders swiftly and you muse at getting to eat some after so long, too accustomed to serving them previously with your waitress job. 

Unfortunately, Jin beats you to the bill. You don’t even have a moment to search through your wallet before he’s yanking out his credit card, sliding it over the cashier’s terminal. It earns protests from you, to which Jin just retorts with that he’s the one that wanted to take you out so you should just let him dote on you. 

Moments like that make you completely forget you’re on a date with the CEO. 

The waffle is placed within your hands and you dig in, the sweetness from the cream and sourness from the strawberries tasting all too good. You laugh when Jin takes a particularly big bite, practically stuffing his face with it. 

“That was amazing.” You exclaim, tossing out both of your empty plates. Jin hums from behind you, seemingly lost in thought. 

Swiveling around, a pair of orange cat ears land on your head. 

Jin snickers as you raise a curious brow, scrambling to grab his phone from his pocket. 

You smile unamused as he takes your picture, “You had to pick a cat?” 

“Yeah, it seemed to fit you the most.” He cheekily smiles as you roll your eyes at him. “Oh! Here.” 

He hands you a huge cat mask from the stall nearby, taking your cat ears off. You put on the mask with a sigh, watching him glance around before his eyes widen. 

“Found one!” He turns to you, “Ta-dah!” 

You burst out laughing. 

“What?” He whines, offended by your reaction. 

Yet, you can’t help it all, especially when he’s chosen a huge white alpaca mask for himself. 

“It’s just–” You wheeze, “It’s so you.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?!” He clasps onto your hands, bringing you closer to his mask. “Hey, I’m cute, right?” 

“Very cute.” You remark, causing him to beam. He takes out his phone, placing his hand on your shoulder to take a picture. You throw up a claw hand, attempting to mimic a cat that makes Jin laugh. 

“I’m definitely making this my wallpaper.” He taps on the screen and your eyes sweep around, before they enlarge dramatically. 

You’re tugging Jin within moments, entering into a photobooth station. 

“Quick, pose!” Tilting his head towards yours, the flash goes off. It nearly blinds the two of you, but the image of both of your masks gets captured and the machine’s rounds up for another photo. 

You hurriedly gesture for him to take the mask off and he immediately smiles, snaking his hand around your waist as the second flash goes off. 

The flashes go off twice more, one with a picture of you two doing weird faces and another, with Jin insisting that you look like you’re fawning over him, which you comedically attempt to do. 

Laughter spills from his lips. “I don’t think Yuna is the only good actor in the family, Y/N.” 

You lean over, attempting to look at the copy of the photos in his hand. The photo he refers to has your eyes extremely wide and filled with adoration, a dramatic hand covering your gasping mouth as you look at Jin, who pulls his most confident look. 

It draws a giggle out from you, before your eyes playfully snap over at him. 

“Who says I was acting?” 

Jin plays along. “You’re right, you were taking a picture with me after all.” 

“The most handsomest man ever.” You retort, causing a soft smile to grace his lips. 

“Come on.” He grasps onto your hand, “The day’s not over yet.” 

You happily accompany him with a grin. 

You start to lose track of exactly how many rides you’ve been on. 

Jin takes you on the more popular ones first, making an immediate beeline for them. It makes you laugh when he practically waves his arms frantically, grabbing the conductor’s attention instantly for tickets. There’s lines crossed off on his brochure with the amount of rides you’ve been on and soon, night falls and you’re brought to the last one of the day. 

The high view you have is expansive, the tinkering and dazzling lights illuminating the entire amusement park. Your eyes latch onto it, hands pressed against the window of the spindling ferris wheel. 

Jin watches you with a grin, smile only increasing when you twist around, finger pointing towards the first ride you were on as it starts to glow with its own fluorescent lights. 

Leaning back, he clears his throat. “Did you have fun today?” 

“Huh?” You’re too memorized, but you catch his voice and his words sink in. 

You separate from the window, knowing you would have the view for a good couple of minutes thanks to the slow motions of the wheel. 

“I had lots of fun.” You confirm, turning to him. “I wasn’t too sure of where you were going to take me, but I’m glad it was here.” 

The corner of his lips curls and he directs his gaze to the right side, staring at the lights. 

“We’re always at the office. I just wanted to take you somewhere you wouldn’t take yourself,” He glances at you sneakily, “A place where you could have a good time.” 

You catch on, “Of course, because I’m such a fun person, right?” 

“Surprisingly so.” He mutters a bit too dramatically. 

You shake your head at his antics, words laced with gratitude, “Thank you, though. I genuinely loved it.” 

His gaze connects with yours and you both smile fondly. 

Jin moves forward, his knees bumping into yours. His expression falls, a flicker of uncertainty spreading through. 

“Um, can I–” His confidence crumbles, something that has you alarmed. “I-I don’t know if this is going to be weird or anything, and I’d hate to make you uncomfortable in any wa–” 

You lean forward, intentful eyes surveying him. “What is it, Jin?” 

“Can I kiss you?” 

Your mouth falls slightly agape, smile fading. 

Jin immediately shakes his head, “Actually, you know what, forget I said anythin–” 

In a split second, your lips brush against his. It’s a bit too short and very sweet, so similar to how your entire date has felt like. 

Jin blinks wide-eyed at your actions, “I thought you’d never ask.” 

You back up with a mischievous grin, finding it lowkey adorable that all his confidence manages to flee in instances like this – but Jin doesn’t let you be the only one with the element of surprise. 

He’s pulling you forward again, planting his lips on yours. A hum of content escapes you, the butterflies in your stomach blooming. 

A few moments pass and the ride conductor halts your cart, undoing the lock before prying open the door. You and Jin both step out at the same time, faces flushed and fluctuating gazes meeting. 

You let out a giggle and Jin intertwines your fingers, exiting the ferris wheel. 

Heading back to the parking lot together, neither one of you lets go. 

[w3bgrl]

billie + post-debut friends

kim chaewon + kang juyeon = wonyeon

juyeon’s contact: skz bias 🐹🐼

chaewon’s contact: wonnie fairy

one of juyeon’s only friends that she actually initiated. which is not to say that she went out of her way to say hello; it was actually a total accident they met!

around mid-2019 izone & skz happened to be working in the same building which lead to a lot of meek bows as they passed one another through the halls.

but when juyeon found herself running behind schedule after taking pictures of the sunset she decided to sprint back to her destination, moving with such haste that she ended up fully plowing into poor kim chaewon, knocking them both over in the process.

juyeon was not only mortified that she just body slammed a fellow idol to the tile floor, an incident that could likely be used as evidence against her in the future, but upon helping the younger girl up among her stream of apologies chu realized it was actually her bias!

thankfully chaewon was very graceful in her response and even mentioned something about being “honored!”

the girls quickly mended any wounds formed from their tumble (strictly emotionally as both had to later explain the bruises on their legs) and hurriedly explained their adoration for one another, notably juyeon’s participation in the voting for pd48 which just so happened to be in favor of said kim chaewon!

chaewon was absolutely thrilled to hear this and even more thrilled when juyeon asked, “can we exchange numbers?”

and the rest is history! juyeon texted her later that night to apologize again only to be met with the same dismissive response from the girl group member, reassuring her that she was actually happy it happened.

since then the girls have spent plenty of time outside of work to hang out and usually visit one another when their schedules line up!

ju was also the very first fearnot! if you stop by one of her lives you can often hear le sserafim playing in the background.

kang seulgi + kang juyeon = kang sisters

juyeon’s contact: bibi agi <3

seulgi’s contact: soogi 🐻

one of billie’s most popular friendships outside of skz is with that of red velvet’s seulgi; the Deft yet Ditzy Dancing Duo!

this friendship came about after seulgi, in her own words, had “grown enamored with billie’s stage presence and was encouraged by joy to reach out.”

although seulgi had secretly admired juyeon from afar for a few months before finally stepping out of her comfort zone to say hello, her role as a music bank mc during skz ‘case 143’ era would make for the perfect opportunity to greet her hoobae naturally with the same bright smile reveluv’s know and love, even though they were technically pitted against one another for first place (which was subsequently awarded to stray kids)

juyeon would later explain how friendly seulgi was prior to sharing the stage in wait for the results and afterwards personally came to congratulate them on their win, which is how they ended up exchanging numbers and setting up a coffee date.

and to their surprise, after eventually getting past the awkward phase with one another, these two found that they were almost perfectly compatible! bright and silly, talented and disciplined, seulgi and juyeon were like long lost sisters with a knack for their craft.

while they haven’t had the chance to work with one another just yet, they do hang out often, and billie was even featured on an episode of seulgi.zip!

the kang sisters have even been seen out in public together by eagle eyed fans catching them grabbing a bite to eat or shopping hand in hand <3

son hyeju + kang juyeon = 2ju

juyeon’s contact: ju hyung 😎

hyeju’s contact: wolfie hye 🤱

a new friend made from an old friend; son hyeju!

introduced to one another by juyeon’s hanlim buddy and hyeju’s bandmate, chuu, the girls were basically forced to talk to one another after jiwoo decided they would be good friends.

and though they were/are both quite shy and quiet when meeting new people, it became very apparent quite quickly just how right jiwoo was!

as it turns out, juyeon and hyeju are actually quite similar. they are often first perceived as intimidating by those who don’t know them due to their resting ‘i don’t want to be here’ face but, once given a chance to warm up, can be the sweetest and funniest girls you’ll ever meet.

since being introduced in 2020 2ju often kept in contact primarily over the phone as a result of loona’s strict management label, sending texts and memes throughout the day or calling at night to complain about so-and-so, leading to a strong bond being formed over the encouragement they lent to one another.

hyeju in specific really looked up to juyeon as somewhat of a role model — an older girl who specialized in the same position as herself while also offering her ear to listen to all of the struggles and complaints she was dealing with.

once again due to hyeju’s authoritarian company the girls weren’t able to hang out in person literally ever, but they remained very close over the phone for a long time up until the deserved downfall of bbc, which is when hyeju was finally able to dissolve her contract and live the most freely she had since predebut.

then, as later explained by the younger girl after redebuting under a different company, billie and hyeju got to have their first ever in-person interaction in late february of 2023. she would go on to explain how anxious she was to see joong, but juyeon couldn’t have been more excited. they spent the day together talking over hardships and enjoying the real company of their now-close friend.

2ju now make it a tradition to hang out at least once a month and talk out their frustrations over whatever mouth-watering meal they desired, even using their freedom to practice and fine-tune their shared passion of dancing together.

scary besties who love each other very much but would never say that out loud <3

[nerdieforpedro]

Do you know that hippo?

Part Three of the Rock & Doc Series

Tim Rockford x plus size OFC - Doc

Rating: Explicit for ending

This blog is for readers 18+ MDNI

Word Count: about 5.5k (things are moving along)

Summary: The engagement party of Doc and Kim's friend leads to some surprising discoveries. Gold it seems is Doc's color and keep an eye on those hippos. They've got major clues. Big things are happening at the precinct.

Warnings: disco, drinking, hippos, family dynamics, mutual pining, swooning, bad pranks, panic/anxiety, trench coat mention, blood, fatal injury, murder

Notes: We've got the more to the plot in this one! Keep an eye out for a mention of a Pedro character and the introduction of another. I've gotta thank @lady-bess (on Tumblr) for beta reading for me. Bouncing ideas off of @maggiemayhemnj always leads to good things. I hope everyone enjoys the twists. 😘

Main Masterlist/ Tim Rockford Masterlist / Rock & Doc Series

Saturday of the engagement party:

You already want to go home. You’ve just been dropped off by Tony, Kim’s beau of two years. She’s wearing a blonde wig, orange star shaped shades to match her orange strapless dress that she’s pulled up at least the fourth time after complaining that she doesn’t have enough to keep the dress up. The orange complements her mocha skin and since her dress is strapless, she was happy to show off her rose tattoo she had on her right shoulder.  The heels of her white thigh high boots click as you both make your way to the large double doors of your mutual friend’s home. Samantha had gotten engaged to some producer who was filthy rich or had enough money to rent a space like this. 

You didn’t need a wig. Your hair, when not slicked down with grease and tied with two different scrunchies, expands enough on its own to look like a seventies wig. It’s just not curly, your hair never did hold a curl to save its life. Kim thought it would be a good idea to pin a gold disco ball in your hair and wear tiny gold disco ball earrings to match. She also did your makeup which included gold eyeshadow, soft pink cheeks and a vibrant red lipstick. You wore a shimmering gold dress that tied behind your neck and had a gold chain that connected from the tie in the back down to where the dress hit your shoulder blades. The back of the dress was longer than the front with it hitting the back of your ankles. The front stopped mid-thigh and your gold bangles that donned both wrists jingled each time you attempted to pull it down. Thankfully, the dress wasn’t bunching anywhere that you felt. Kim told you to stop fiddling with it and to let the people see since you wouldn’t let your cherished detective see anything. You pinched her arm and the two of you bickered until you met the guests of honor. 

Sam and her producer fiance were happy that you came and that you brought gifts, though you weren’t sure if they really needed a stand mixer since you were sure Sam didn’t know how to boil water. Maybe the producer…whose name you did hear three times but it never stuck, cooked or baked. The party ended up being fun though, there was delicious food, excellent music and the other costumes were a sight to see. At one point there was a disco ball that came out of the ceiling and everyone did the electric slide. 

After the dancing when things took a weird turn, you stepped outside to get some fresh air. As the night went on, you started smelling weed and some other substances you usually tested for. You thought maybe you inhaled too much of the air inside but it called you miss a few times ... a man-sized hippo.

“Hey Miss! Lady! Ma’am!” The hippo keeps trying to get your attention and you scan the area to see if there's anyone else out here and if there’s anyone else they could be talking to. You see no one. Just you and this hippo, at least you can tell that it’s a costume. This has to mean you don’t have more than a contact high right? You’re just slightly dazed you hope.

“Yes sir? Or ma’am? How can I help you? I specialize in humans and not animals.” The hippo fails their arms and groans at your answer. You weren’t sure how else to put it without coming out and saying you’re an ME. You don’t know this hippo, they don't need to know that.

“You’re not too high right? I’m not an actual hippo. I need help getting this damn head off. You’re the first person I’ve seen who isn’t high as balls. Help a guy out, yeah?” You nod and watch as the hippo bends forward so you can reach the head. You pull and it comes off with some force with you stumbling back but thankfully not falling. The owner of the hippo head has fluffy brown hair and is shaking his head. “That feels so much better! Thanks! Fresh air! I missed it!” He has a beard that’s patchy but it doesn't quite have the gray that you like. He looks like he could be Tim’s younger cousin. The mischievous grin is one you’re sure you’d never see of the detective’s face though. 

“You look familiar. Do you know-”

“Now just because you helped me get this head off, doesn’t mean I’m going to give you an autograph. You seem nice but you gotta pay for those. I have back taxes.” You cackle at the last part of his sentence and he raises an eyebrow. “That's not funny. It’s why I have a new manager and accountant. I hated that my damn brother was right. He’s always right, damn perfectionist. Like his shit doesn’t stink sometimes. That’s why his wife left and all he has is murder. Whatever lady.” 

“No, no. I was going to ask if you knew a homicide detective, you look like him. A lot. I work with him so I was curious.”

The Tim-look-alike runs his eyes up and down, a fuzzy mitt on his chin. He seems to be thinking something, you're not exactly sure what. Some people just look like others and they’re not related. You could be wrong.

You adjust your glasses nervously and he points at them. “They’re blue! He mentioned a woman with blue glasses! So you’re her…he’s mentioned you quite a bit. You do the autopsies right…medical…specialist…something like that? Mentioned something about pens and menus. I didn’t really get that part.” You close your eyes. He told someone about the pens? Who was this guy? “You’re sexy. My brother’s an idiot or maybe he’s not. He loves his job too much is the damn problem. You’re already a lot nicer than his ex-wife, you single pretty lady?” 

Blinking is your initial reaction. So this man…is Tim’s brother?! Your hunch was correct and he was related. You were thinking of a cousin maybe but not his brother. “Did you just ask if I was single? You’re wearing a hippo costume and couldn’t get out of it.” Your hands are raised like you’re pushing away the very idea of him hitting on you. The man in the hippo is not amused.

“That was a design flaw in the costume. Wait, I’m Dieter Bravo, I don’t need to explain myself. I see why he likes you, the sense of humor matches up. If you’d ever like to get to know the more fun of the two Rockford brothers, you should look me up. But definitely watch my movies, I need those royalties. I might paint about what happened here tonight. Thanks again sexy MD. My brother is a bit of a stick in the mud, but he is very nice to the ladies. Wait, what’s your name?” A fuzzy arm wraps around your shoulder and it’s not bad considering the cool night air. You tell Dieter and he comments that it’s sexy for a sexy lady. Your eyes roll as the pair of you decide to head inside where there’s heat and grab some punch. It’s warming you both from the inside out. Dieter and you chat about Tim and Dieter’s lives when they were both younger. Dieter took to the arts early while Tim focused on police work like their dad. 

A fun fact you did learn about Tim: he enjoys photography. 

Dieter explained it’s a hobby he enjoys because he can’t paint like he can. But he also admits that if his brother wanted to, he could have been a photo-journalist, but the call of shield was too great and it went on the backburner. Apparently one of the many reasons Tim and his ex-wife split was due to him wanting to make one of the half baths into a darkroom and expand it a bit. Bravo also informed Doc that his ex-wife was about as fun as putting on a wet blanket while you watch grass grow on a cool spring morning. That made Doc give Dieter a solid belly laugh.

You mentioned that you’d heard rumors of how this woman was but never really asked about her directly to Tim or anyone else. Bravo shrugged and sipped his punch taking stock of what you’re saying. It appears you don’t just like his brother but you respect him by leaving his personal business alone. As smart as he knows his brother is, he’s kind of an idiot. The fact that he knows something his brother doesn’t is a wonderful feeling. Bravo will make sure to remember this.

Dieter explains that he took his passion for art from their mom. She also taught English part time and loved Greek mythology especially which led to his legal first name. He didn’t believe it fit him until he became older and really leaned into the latter part of the Greek god of wine and revelry’s purpose. 

“I’ll tell you pretty lady if you agree to do something fun.”

You squint your eyes at the younger Rockford brother. “What do you consider fun for me?”

“I think you should send Tim a picture of yourself in your outfit. Show him what he’s missing out on by sitting at home in his boxers or sleeping in his office gazing lovingly at his murder board.” This elicited you to choke on your punch and put a hand to your chest.

“I-I- who is that fun for exactly?! What is wrong with everyone this week?!” Knocking back the rest of your drink and pouring yourself more, you’re holding onto the table to keep yourself upright. “First the damn notebook, a bone song, now I find out and meet…”

“Name’s Dieter. Don’t say my real name.”

“Tim’s brother Dion and now you’re telling me to…to…why won’t anyone just let me fantasize?!” You take out your phone and shakily text Kim but she isn’t answering. You want to leave. NOW. Dieter pats your shoulder.

“Hay calm down. I dunno what set you off, but I was half joking. I think you might wanna call someone to take you home. You’re a bit too drunk.” He suggests as he guides you to a quieter room with a couch. You’re able to sit down and call Kim but she’s still not answering. You lean your head back on the soft fabric of the couch and close your eyes. Who else could you call? Just an Uber? No…you’re not alert enough for that. You could doze off at any moment. Alcohol tends to make you sleepy. Your phone slips out of your hand and Dieter grabs it before it falls on the floor. 

Bravo has a bad idea. A very bad idea and maybe a bit mean. He texts Kim who has sent four texts asking where Doc was, that she’s okay and she had liquid courage to call Tim. He’s going to pick her up. Kim then sent various emojis with eggplants, bones, water drops and peaches. The second part of his plan had Bravo texting Tim from his phone that:

Hey bro, I met a very nice lady, maybe a few years older than me. She seems a little shy but the punch is very good. She might want to hang out a bit more after a Power Nap. She’s got some full lips and thick thighs, who knows? She might make a pretty third wife, third time's the charm after all.

Dieter snapped a picture of a dozing Doc and sent it to Tim. He waited. Maybe the text was a bit over the top but based on her outburst, his older brother has likely been a huge closed off idiot. Sadly he’s been like that since he divorced his ex-wife, he should have put more laxative in that woman’s coffee the one time he made it for her. 

Rockford was in his office finishing up reports. Did he want to be? No. But it was this or do it Monday and Mondays sucked enough without extra paperwork. Plus he didn’t have anything else going on, only that his small black notebook was missing. He’d turned his trench coat inside and out three times and searched his desk, office, car and where he thought it might be in his house. He was going to do another sweep of the office before he left tonight.

His phone lit up but he paid it no mind and kept typing, putting the finishing touches on the fourth report of the night. A small smile crossed his face when he saw Doc’s name for the autopsy of the victim. His mind is drifting to thoughts of you again. He remembers meeting you when you first came. Hands cup the back of his head as he leans back in his chair. Tim’s eyes drift to his murder board and his ear itches. That’s odd. 

He hadn’t been sure about getting a new medical examiner three years ago after Old Loaf, the previous ME had retired. His nickname came from his van which he put bread stickers on (not ever the identifying ME logo though) and he usually played classic rock and his favorite artist was Meat Loaf. Weird man, but ME’s usually are. When Doc arrived, it was an adjustment. The precinct had been used to that old bread van riding around and arriving to crime scenes. When Doc started she was first confused for an intern and not the new medical examiner, to be fair, they weren’t told anything about gender or appearance. But they could have at least asked, Tim happened to hear about Doc from the Captain and his wife over dinner. They had him for dinner from the times he used to double date with them along with his then wife.

Tim interceded between a senior detective and Doc because he kept calling her ‘young lady’ and Rockford could tell with Doc’s hands on her hips and her in his face, something was going to happen. He was pretty confident it would be the senior detective hitting the pavement as she wasn’t budging an inch. Slowly she started winning over the officers with her humor and knowledge, she even kept the loaves on the ME van and added stars, a mermaid and a catfish decal to it as well. They enjoyed the new flair of the van.

Rockford had thought her to be confrontational from her interaction out in the field but quickly grew accustomed to spending extra time in the autopsy room and office. Asking her questions, bouncing ideas off of her and at times, watching her work gathering evidence in the field and her lab. Tim had long reasoned that he spent time with Doc because of work. Over the years they worked together, however, he denied that their relationship was changing. 

They’re colleagues obviously, but he knows the times you’re most likely to be in your office, learning about your music, trying to make you laugh, maybe doing a quick check of a few databases to see if you had any skeletons in your closet. There was some threat you made against your medical preceptor which is why he knew the detective was in more danger than you were. That didn’t bother Tim though, he can have a violent streak in him too if pushed. It was comforting that you’d understand some of the darkness even if it wasn’t quite in the same context. The pen thefts were weird but he enjoyed your eyes on him, watching him to see how he’d react. Now you’re in his car half the nights a week and he should ask you on a proper date but… you seem wary of him and not in the same way he is of you. Rockford could be reading into it too much, he tends to do that a lot more now. Maybe you’re actually wary of him in the same way? He could review his notes he took if he could find his damn black book.

“Rockford! What the hell are you still doing here? Go home!” Tim sits up and looks in his doorway. His balding Captain is there with his crooked toupee. He should just shave it off. Now that he thinks of it, he could dress up like Kojak. His wife would need to pick out his suits though, the Captain puts too many patterns together. The man is wearing a zebra print button-down, red pinstripe pants and a yellow tie. That’s what the Captain wears when not in uniform. His wife might be helping her sister with her baby again, he clearly picked his own clothes again. Tim finds himself thankful that he can match his own clothes without help.

“Sir, I’m almost done with some reports. Didn’t want to leave them for Monday.” Rockford responds. He picks up his phone to snap a quick picture of the Captain’s outfit, knowing Doc’s eyes would go wide before ending up face down on her desk in tears from laughing so hard. Tim swallowed. A quick flash of another thought flashed in his head of Doc face down in an entirely different situation. “Shit.” He muttered. The Captain nodded and left as Rockford saw some text messages from someone he didn’t expect. “He better not be asking me to stream any more of his movies. I’ve seen all of them three times. I told you to fire those two con-artists….” Rockford has finally opened his messages and it didn’t have to do with any movies.

Tim’s eyebrows shot up his forehead. He called his brother, seething and confused. When Dieter answered, he didn’t allow him to speak. “You tell me right now where Doc is. What the hell have you done…” The detective growled, making Dieter reconsider his plan. He knew Tim might be mad but had only heard that tone come out when he broke a guy’s arm for stalking Dieter early in his acting career before he blew up and thankfully before Tim graduated the police academy.

“Now see…what had happened was…I had a bad idea. Which I realize the full extent of now.” Bravo paused. “Your lady friend is fine. It seems she’s a sleepy drunk. I was going to poke fun at you but you’re clearly not in the mood-,”

“Dion. Stop. The. Bullshit.” Tim stated each word in the same simmering tone. He shut down his computer, put on his coat, and headed for the door to his office. “Address. Now.”

“Ahh…Okay let me just ask someone real quick. I was dropped off, you know.”

“Two minutes Dion.” 

“Yup. On it.” Dieter is fully aware that per his request Tim calls him Dieter even when it’s just the two of them. The last time Tim called Dieter ‘Dion,’ he may have had one dumpster full of compost dumped on Tim’s ex-wife’s lawn. It was a gift since she liked to garden and constantly prune his brother’s dreams. His card had said so. Tim did not appreciate the gesture at the time. He did later though.

Bravo sent Tim the address and he plugged it into his phone. He knew the neighborhood, on the richer side of the county. Why was she there? How did she meet his brother? Why is she drunk? Now he knows she’s a sleepy drunk, and that picture… He’d seen it. How could Tim not think about it, sure she was asleep but she looked radiant in the gold against her skin. It would be a lot better with one of his cameras he had at home instead a stupid phone camera. Not now Tim you need to drive. Dieter can barely care for himself, how is he going to look after Doc? He can’t fight at all, no matter how the stunt team tried to work with him. Let’s just hope she’s only drunk. What kind of party would she go to where he would be there too?

Your head is spinning a bit but you see the fluffy hair and the hippo suit. You’re sitting…that’s right! You fell asleep. With all these people, at a party. 

“I'm an idiot.” You groan sitting your head up, your body still feels heavy.

“Sleeping beauty is awake, your trench coat knight is coming. Could you tell him not to maim or murder me? Please? I gotta go to Milan to meet this screenwriter who might be able to get me in a Nic Cage movie he’s doing. It helps if I’m not dead.” Dieter gives you very pathetic looking eyes, but you’re not sure why.

“I don’t know who my knight is. What did you do?” You’re not entirely sure what Dieter is talking about. The room is still spinning a bit. You’ve sat up but you’ve hung your head to help with the dizziness.

“Why did I have to do something? You don’t even know me Doc.”

“Doc? You don’t call me that. It doesn’t sound right.” Your entire face contorts and Dieter holds his arms out whining.

“Tim calls you that. That’s your title, you’re a doctor. Or is it like a weird pet name between you two? I’m gonna ask him when he gets here. If he doesn’t harm me.” You pay no attention to his head tilt. Your body goes rigid, you’re hoping Dieter is just talking out of his ass.

“Wait…Tim is coming here? No, no, no,no,no!! What did you do? You insane weirdo hippo! Why haven’t you taken that off? You’re wearing something under that right? You’re not one of those….I mean. I’m not into it, but you do you Dieter.” Your surprise masks your panic for a few moments before it returns and to shoot to your feet. “Forget that, I’m not…I can’t see him like this. This isn’t…wait there hasn’t been a murder here has there?” A second wave of panic sets in, if Tim is coming here, there’s been a murder. You’re at a scene of a murder while drunk, wearing less clothes then you might wear to bed most nights and you’d have to explain not only to Rockford but the other detectives and officers why you’re here. Not a bad reason, but they don’t need to see you dressed like this. You’ve finally got everyone to call you ‘Doctor’ or ‘Miss Doc’ instead of ‘young lady.’ They’d never let you live this down.

Bravo rocks himself up off the couch and places his hands on your shoulders. You can’t take him seriously in that hippo suit.  “You spun pretty fast. I sent him a picture of you while you were dozing and he’s coming to pick you up. Your friend Kim knows you’re going with him. He’s not happy that I took a picture of you so could you just, make sure I live? I mean think of it as doing your brother-in-law a solid.” You’ve closed your eyes while he’s talking and are shaking your head. 

“This is…a nightmare…a damn nightmare…” You start laughing at the absurdity of it all. You almost wish Kim was here to sing her bone song and it would be a perfect nightmare. Dieter mentions that you should meet Tim out front, that way he won’t need to look for you and it may earn him a point or two. He also put the hippo head back on. If all else fails, he tells you to pretend to not know him as a hippo and he’ll just watch and then waddle away. You decide it doesn’t matter what Dieter decides to do, this is going to be so weird. 

On his way out, Tim went down to Doc’s office where he got a spare key from the maintenance guy Joe six months ago. He had told him at the time it was for when Doc was off and that had a sub-ME come in who he had to double check behind. Or course, that’s not at all what Tim does, but Joe bought it because like his younger brother, Tim might be able to pull off some acting when he needs to. Based on what she was wearing, she needed something to put over herself. It’s way too cool for her not to and despite the alcohol she drank, she’d feel it when she got a cold later. On the drive over, he tried to plan what he would say, sure he was pissed at Dieter and he’d yell at him later about that. Would Doc be weirded out that he’s coming to pick her up? Should he have called Kim? She's Doc's friend but he can’t stand her. Kim’s good at her job and keeps things organized, but she’s a damn…well he wouldn’t say block. Just, she always interrupts with that smug look like she knows how he feels about Doc and makes little comments. Doc’s oblivious but eventually with enough of Kim’s words, she’ll understand that he likes her as more than a work friend. He’s sure he can’t have that conversation with her, especially if she didn’t feel the same.

Dieter leads Doc through the house, getting lost in a few rooms before they finally reach the main entrance. In full hippo costume, Bravo waits near the double doors, just in case Tim comes at him, he can hide behind one. He knows the stairs will slow him down. Doc stands in front of the stairs and holds her breath as she sees the brown Crown Victoria she consumes large amounts of Chinese food in pulls to a stop next to her. She walks toward the passenger side door, but Tim puts down the window. “Hey Tim.” Your voice is hushed. 

“Wait. Don’t get in yet.” Something unexpected happens. It’s not that he gets out and opens the door for you or even that he has your lab coat, though you are curious how he has it since you lock your office before you leave every night. Tim says your name softly before helping you put your arms through the sleeves and he pulls on the collar so it’s a bit snug around your neck and by extension your chest. You’re left to look up at the man you’ve admired for the past few years, the same one you keep lying to yourself that it’s only admiration you feel for him. 

“Tim…I’m sorry you had to come. I-I’m not usually… Thanks for coming. And don’t kill Dieter, just rough him up a little.” You give him a weak smile, you’re ecstatic that he’s driving out to pick you up, but feel horrible that you’re hungover and in a flashy gold skimpy disco dress when you see your detective outside of work. You wanted to have seen him in a more elegant outfit or at least something that didn’t have all your thighs and breasts out. Why couldn’t you have heard him say you name over a nice dinner? Hell even some Chinese food in your office would have been better than this, you’ve got the beginnings of a hangover and it’s not how you wanted Tim to see you outside of work. You’re not sloppy, messy and a tad obsessive sure, but not sloppy.

“Don’t apologize Doc. You’re entitled to fun after-hours. Just keep it safer next time. I was worried.” Rockford tells you quietly. His hands are still on your collar and run down to pull the lab coat snug around your middle which you flinch from his knuckles grazing your stomach. He calls your name again in the same soft tone as he smiles, “I’ve got one too. Not as soft as yours, mine’s a hard spare tire. Um…” Tim realizes he may have said something odd. He shouldn’t be referencing your body in any way but he has now. He feels like he put his own foot in his mouth, it’s not what he meant to say. “I..the gold looks perfect on you.” Rockford is making an effort to focus on your face, but his eyes drift to your lips, a bright shade of pink and even though he’s pulled your collar tight, he can still see your cleavage. There was more of it than he assumed was under those scrubs of yours. “I didn’t mean to mention…You’re a beautiful woman. You look good in anything, let’s get you home.” 

If you could melt and fade away you would, where is this tender side of Tim Rockford coming from? Is it from pity? You could care less. It’s clear that he was looking at you, seeing past your usual scrubs, his eyes had scanned your form. Maybe this outfit wasn’t as bad as you thought and he’s seeing a fair bit of the goods as Kim would put it. Tim’s staring at them in fact after calling you beautiful. Does he… Is he attracted to me? I don’t think I ever thought this far ahead…dammit I’m thinking of that stupid bone song again. But I mean…

As Tim motions his hand for you to get in the car, the hippo who supposedly was worried about life and limb has a sudden outburst, “For the love of..?! What is this? You suck Tim!” A waddling hippo is coming toward the both of you continuing to berate his brother, “You’re going to do all that with her coat you damn tease? You didn’t even hug her or kiss her! No wonder Doc drank so much punch!” Dieter then turns to you, his large stuffed head bobbing about. “Is this how he is all the time?! I thought maybe you were being dramatic but I see you weren’t. This is swoon-worthy but you need to make it count big bro. Like she’s right here!” He points his gray mitts at you, your face feels like someone has put it under a lamp and it’s burning. 

“Dieter, Shut up! Now!” You scream and get in the car, slamming the door. “Tim, we should go. Take me home please.” You’re mortified looking straight ahead in the car, hoping that he won’t ask. Tim’s a detective, of course he’s going to ask. What will you tell him? He ruined the moment…can I get another take without the damn hippo?!

Rockford shakes his head and pushes Dieter’s hippos head enough so he stumbles back but doesn’t fall. “Go back to the party, dumbass. This isn’t one of your movies.”

Dieter regains his footing and yells at Tim as he gets in his car, “You’re right it’s not! In one of my movies, she’d be a lot more satisfied than she is right now!” Tim flips the bird toward Dieter out of his driver side window and over the hood of his car. 

As Tim drives off he sighs and turns on the radio. He has questions, but knows you're way too uncomfortable to answer any of them now. ‘I’m In Love’ by Evelyn “Champagne” King plays and Tim mumbles under his breath, “Of all the times…” Any other time I’d enjoy this song. It’s way too on the nose.

“Tim, I don't want to go home.” You’re watching the houses pass by as you speak. It could be the rum you drank, the fact that you spoke at length with a hippo who said he’s your ‘brother in law’ or that you’re now aware of how Tim sees you, at least in this outfit. “Can we stop and get something to eat? To soak up the alcohol, unless you’re not hungry?”

Rockford squeezes the steering wheel tighter, “Yeah we can. You feel up to talking while we eat at the usual place or you have somewhere else you want to Doc?” He’s keeping his eyes forward. If he looks over, his eyes will linger again and he needs to focus on driving. Supposedly. 

“Where we can get a burger and milkshake.” Is your request and Tim agrees, making a few turns toward the diner you’ve both talked about going to but haven’t been yet. It was supposed be for when another big homicide case came through but, well this could be considered a large case of a different nature. 

Back at the precinct, there are a few officers on the night watch milling about and taking calls. Things are calm, they’re looking forward to eight in the morning when their shift will end. One officer notices that the mascot for their precinct, ‘Sergeant Roderick Hipops’ named and gifted to the station by the Captain’s daughter when she was four, isn’t on the podium in the command room where the Captain will give updates and assign cases for the day. A couple of the officers decide to track the hippo down so they won’t be the ones that lost it. Their search leads them to the corridor outside of the morgue, where they find Sergeant Hipops, but he’s dipped in red paint. He’s wearing a navy police coat and a small hat in his permanent seated position. One officer points out that it’s too thick to be paint, it’s blood. Their search expands and crimson drops on the floor lead them to the morgue, where they discover a body.

Stevenson, Detective Tim Rockford’s partner, had a gunshot wound in the middle of his forehead on the slab where Doc normally performs her autopsies.

Part Two Part Four

Peeps who would let Tim take their photo 📸: @alltheglitterandtheroar @sin-djarin @morallyinept @yorksgirl @bitchwitch1981 @heareball @megamindsecretlair @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @magpiepills @yorksgirl @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @avastrasposts @clawdee @pascalsanctuary @readingiskeepingmegoing @rhoorl @inept-the-magnificent @pamasaur @agentjackdaniels @pedroshotwifey @tinytinymenace @anoverwhelmingdin

[seamayweed]

― Jeanann Verlee, Lessons on Loving a Prophet (x)

(image description underneath the cut)

[ID: 12 gifs of kim dong-won as hwang sung-rok and woo do-hwan as nam seon-ho in “my country: the new age”. the first and last gifs are in full color, edited to emphasize the teals while the rest is in black & white. gif 1: sung-rok is on his knees in front of seon-ho, falling forward after getting stabbed. seon-ho reaches out, but only manages to graze the fur lining with his fingertips, unable to grasp either sung-rok, or what is happening. the text says: “one; you know how this ends. there's nothing you can do to change it, so make peace with it now. ready your hands for the callus, shred the cloth for bandages, prepare the rosaries.” gif 2: their first meeting; when seon-ho tries to take general yi’s bow, sung-rok tells him to kneel, which he does. the text says: “two; when you meet him, outside the grocery, along the boardwalk, beneath the overpass, you will not know what he is. he will be neither too charming, nor too handsome. not thunder, not polish.” gif 3: in the burning apothecary, seon-ho takes a step forward towards a crestfallen sung-rok. the text says: “three; the day you fall in love, his mouth will spill your name. he will repeat. and repeat. he will not touch you. he will watch your hips. study whatever ample you have. will ask to watch you dance. when you turn to leave, he will use your name like a choke chain.” gif 4: sung-rok is looking back at the burning apothecary in quiet awe as seon-ho walks out, his silhouette wreathed in flames. the text says: “four; he will call you miracle. your face will unravel. this is his magic. when he begs you promise, say yes.” gif 5: sung-rok tells seon-ho to stop whining and presses a hand to his stomach wound; seon-ho’s fingers are curled tightly around his forearm. the text says: “five; when he offers his lips, take them. take his arms, his throat, take his toes. when he offers, gorge. swallow everything whole. gag. vomit. swallow more. do not hesitate. no time for polite or coy. take.” gif 6: the scene where sung-rok corners hwi, but his friends show up to fight sung-rok off and jeong beom calls him a yain; a barbarian. the text says: “six; when the minions call you whore, nod.” gif 7: sung-rok takes an angry step towards seon-ho who only looks up at him slowly from where he sits at the table, nonchalant. the text says: “seven; he will tell you of the others. how they went crazy in their sleep, awaiting his return. do not flinch. do not doubt your thickened fingertips. stand upright. you promised.” gif 8: seon-ho howls and cries in yeon’s room. the text says: “eight; when you find him in his room, thrashing the sheets, pressing his palms into the walls, howling, his face, a river—close the door. this is how he makes wine. leave him to his sorcery.” gif 9: seon-ho rips his arm out of sung-rok’s grip, leaving him behind to go and save hwi. the text says: “nine; when he explains how he cannot love you, that he will never be yours alone, when he tells how the meek and the gluttons, the tempted, the proud are his angels—do not mourn. smile. feed him. wash his hair.” gif 10: we see seon-ho from behind, kneeling on the ground after getting stabbed multiple times. the text says: “ten; he is a king among thieves. the leeches will hollow his skin, the crows, reduce him to bones. his own heart will empty him. allow for the bleed. be ready with tourniquet and prayer.” gif 11: sung-rok tells seon-ho he’ll get killed in his sleep if he keeps drinking like that, but seon-ho only smiles softly and gazes up at him, quipping back that he’ll have sung-rok to protect him. the text says: “eleven; in the dry burn of dawn, after the last of the lashes, the thorns and the spittle, when his limp body is laid at your feet, remember the night he loved you. the ember of his eyes and the way the words came like honey. gif 12: seon-ho looks off to the jurchens whose loyalty he just won while sung-rok looks at seon-ho, eyes shining with quiet, fierce pride. the text says: “twelve; you were made for this.” /end ID]

[hvcmixtape]

how can he ever resist you? mingyu's known that he's loved you for every single moment of his life since you came into it, but being your friend a has left him no choice when you push him farther than he can take.

pairing: mingyu x reader ; hopeless-romantic!mingyu, flawed!reader, fed-up!mingyu wc: ~1100 genre: angst ; tw: cursing, mention of a knife (non-violent), mention of blood (non-violent) note: this is for freya's (@angelwoozi) request for an angsty love confession from childhood best friend!mingyu, so i hope you enjoy it! inspired by the anime your lie in april! (listen to friend a while you read)

You’re a liar, and Kim Mingyu knows it.

You’re also unpredictable, short-tempered, and way too pushy. You’re far from perfect.

But there was never a moment where he had to ask himself what was this feeling that was stirring his heart. He just knew.

From the moment he met you on the school playground in the first grade, he picked up on your personality. But when you called out to him from the sandbox, choosing him out of all the other people in your class, yelling, “Hey! Come play with me!” how could he have resisted taking one of your dolls and standing it up right beside yours? He squatted right down next to you, repeating his name when you asked for it even though he knew yours from during the first day of school introductions last week. Above your heads were fully bloomed cherry blossom trees, a sign of a beautiful spring season.

How could he have resisted when you physically pushed him into the choir audition room in middle school because you knew he wouldn’t do it on his own? Mingyu could barely control his breath from hyperventilating, but when you braced your hands onto his shoulders and told him that he could do it, and you’d buy him an ice cream cone from the truck outside, suddenly he could breathe again.

How could he have resisted when you dragged him to the middle of the floor during your high school prom even though you both brought dates that were not each other? You held onto both of his hands, lacing your fingers together as you moved to the beat of “Dancing Queen” because you both turned 17 within a week of each other and within a week of prom, so it only was fitting that you danced together, having the time of your lives. 

And how can he resist even now, as your tears drench the shoulder of his cotton shirt as you lean on him? As much as Mingyu hates seeing you in pain, the promise he made to your mother to take care of you when she found out you were attending the same college is not forgotten, and this is how he’s taking care of you at the moment.

Passing another tissue to your hand, he makes sure you dab at the tears trailing from the corners of your eyes.

“Another one, please,” and he grants your request as you sit up to face away from him to blow your nose.

It’s almost like a routine.

You date someone for three weeks, it never works out well because of whatever reason, and he’s stuck here again in his dorm as his childhood crush cries on his shoulder.

“What was the reason he said again? Wonwoo?” The fact that he needs to clarify who speaks volumes about your dating adventures. 

You look up at him with bloodshot eyes and pursed lips, and his heart leaps to his throat, making him want to retrace his steps. It hurts him seeing you like this.

“He said I didn’t align with his plans for the future.”

Mingyu scoffed, wanting to yell that you “dated” him for three and a half weeks! If you could even call cuddling after he rage quits on his FPS game a date. Mingyu could have told you that his narcissistic classmate would be a shitty match for you, but what would ever stop you from making those decisions for yourself?

He pushes you off his shoulder.

“What’s wrong, Gyu?”

“You.”

Your eyebrows come together as you tilt your head. Pulling in your feet to cross your legs, you ask, “What are you talking about?”

“Do you even know what you’ve been doing?” Before you can say anything, Mingyu shakes his head. “Don’t answer that.”

Right now, in front of him, is a girl who he’s loved almost his whole life. Someone who he’s made the most memories with outside of his own flesh and blood, yet someone who barely knows that he exists at the very same time.

“You know, you have the worst taste in people?” He takes a beat to see your face fall further, but he can’t stop for too long. “Every single time, you date people who can’t love you, and you’re broken every time, and I have to pick up the pieces and put you back together. And yet, you still keep dating the same shitty type of people. No matter what they look like, they have the same rotten hearts on the inside.”

It takes everything in Mingyu’s power not to let the tears pinching his eyes flow, so he keeps speaking. “I would think that you’d be satisfied, but you’re never satisfied. And you’re always looking for more, and,” he balls his hands into fists, “And I’m literally here, (Y/N). I love you, and I’ve loved you a long time, and you’ve never seen me that way.”

“W-wait, you can’t just say that, Mingyu!”

“Okay.” He says tersely. “Tell me you’ve seen me that way, and I’ll stop.”

He knows you would lie about it, and he’s not taking any of your bullshit today. The jaw drop is enough for him to continue. “I wish you did see me that way, and I’ll be honest with you, I still want you to, but if you feel anything toward me at all, I don’t want to date you.”

The knife in his heart twists further when the word “why” is whispered just barely louder than the sound of your breath.

This strong and tough exterior he planned on coming into the conversation with broke down all at once. “You need to work on yourself, (Y/N),” his voice comes out gently, especially seeing as you’re starting to cry for another reason other than what you originally came here for. He wants to hug you and say it’ll all be okay, but he can’t. “You need to know what it’s like to be alone.”

Mingyu takes his thumb, swipes it underneath one of your eyes, and repeats the motion with the other. “And you deserve better, but I also deserve better. If that means we'll always be friends and nothing more, then that's okay with me. But I also want you to know that if your feelings change while you’re working on yourself, then we can have a talk about it.”

He presses his lips to your forehead as he pulls you into a hug, fully knowing this may be the first and last time he’ll have the privilege of doing so. He knows if he pulls away from the hug first, he’ll shatter. Mingyu whispers into the shell of your ear, “I have so much love for you, (Y/N). Always have and always will, but you need to love yourself before anything else happens. But don’t forget that I’ll always be your friend A.”

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[flowerprincesscherryblossom]

little flower - chapter two

pairing: hades!Kim Namjoon x persephone!Female Reader word count: 4879 warnings: fluff, angst, flashback, thanatos!yoongi, multiple pov series masterlist A/N: Hope you like it and that you have a wonderful day wherever you are💜

Although it wasn't the first time she's been to Olympus, the first time being decades before when she was still a growing goddess, Y/N couldn't help the excitement that filled every particle of her body, trying her best to seem calm and composed on the outside as her mother, who walked by her side with all the grace and eloquence that a goddess should have.

Approaching the golden gates both mother and daughter bowed to the three goddesses that guarded the entrance to the heavenly fortress. At the sight of the vegetation goddesses the Horae, Eunomia, Eirene, and Dike, bowed as well before opening the gates to let them pass, closing them once again after the goddesses entered the home of the gods.

As mother and daughter walked through the acropolis on the way to Zeus's palace, passing through the lesser palaces for the other gods and the stables for the immortal horses, Y/N couldn't help but be mesmerized by the stark contrast the houses in Olympus had to her own. Hers was a simple one, only big enough to have two bedrooms and a kitchen surrounded by green life on all sides. In Olympus, every building was built of marble and gold, with foundations of bronze and cloistered courtyards with golden pavements that surrounded each palace.

Although not envious Kore couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to live in a home that was bigger than her own, with more space than it probably unnecessary but still filled with marvelous things.

Approaching the god of the sky's palace Demeter stopped in her tracks, leaning towards her daughter and whispering. "Remember, if anyone tries to force you to do something you don't want, make an excuse to remove yourself and try to find either me or Athena and Artemis."

Staring to the left of her and taking a deep breath Y/N nodded, her face falling as she avoided her mother's stare by looking at the disappearing sun in the horizon, watching as the sky changed from an orange glow to shades of pink and violet. "Yes, mother,"

She knew that her mother simply worried for her safety, the young goddess having heard the countless stories from nymphs of how sometimes gods would force themselves on unsuspecting maidens and take whatever they wanted, but the feeling that her mother still treated her like a child with warnings like this always made its presence know, similar to a scratching sensation someone would get after touching poison ivy.

Y/N attention was pulled when she felt her mother's hand on her shoulder. Turning to face the goddess of harvest, the younger goddess gave a small smile upon seeing the worry in her eyes. Like before Demeter wasn't sure if she believed her daughter but decided to not address the subject, hoping that the celebration would help cheer the younger one's mood.

Entering the palace mother and daughter made their way to the central hall, their ears picking up the sound of boisterous conversations and laughter the closer they got. Stepping into the golden-floored hall Y/N looked around the room, taking notice of every god and nymph as she searched for the ones she'd be most comfortable with. All throughout the hall there was a mixture of people singing, dancing, talking, the majority of them having in their hands a glass of either nectar, ambrosia, or whatever else Dionysus had brought.

As she was distracted by the liveliness of the feast Y/N failed to notice the deity running up to her, taking her by surprise as they clashed into her and wrapped their arms around her figure, the force almost making her lose her balance.

"Kore you came!" the familiar voice squeezed her more into the hug before unwrapping their arms and setting their hands on the flower goddess's shoulders. "It's so good to finally see you after such a long time. Oh my God look how much you've grown! You're becoming such a beautiful woman. I have so much to teach you, like how to satisfy your lover or yourself if they suck at it."

Y/N's eyes widen at her friend's words, a bit shocked that she would say such crude things in front of the harvest goddess. The goddess of spring remained quiet, trying to signal to her friend of the older goddess's presence by constantly glancing between the two, at one point even catching her mother looking at her with a raised eyebrow and a smirk on her lips, but unfortunately, the goddess of love didn't pick up the signal and kept looking at her with a big smile.

It wasn't until Demeter cleared her throat that her friend took notice of the older goddess, of which she immediately pulled her hands away from the goddess of flowers and bowed to her. "Lady Demeter, it's a pleasure to see you after so much time has passed."

"Aphrodite," her mother gave a nod in acknowledgment, a somewhat forced smile having replaced the smirk. "I'm glad you are pleased with seeing my daughter again, but I would ask you to refrain from teaching her such depravities."

With a dry chuckle, the goddess of beauty stood straight and stared at the goddess of agriculture, the smile on her face as strained as her mother's. "Of course, please forgive me for saying such depravities," she said putting an emphasis on the word 'depravities' while linking her arm with Y/N. "I promise to be careful with my words to your daughter when in  your presence."

Y/N resisted the urge to roll her eyes, having grown somewhat accustomed to the bickering between the two goddesses, especially when the topic involved what the goddess of spring should or shouldn't know when it came to sexual pleasures, mostly because her mother had a destain for how explicit Aphrodite would go into with her explanations.

Not wanting to spend the time between two stubborn goddesses Y/N decided to change the topic that would, hopefully, please both sides. "Mother can me and Aphrodite go meet with Athena and Artemis?" she gave her mother her best puppy dog eyes. "It would be a shame to have come all this way and not be able to talk to them after such a long time."

The goddess of harvest raised an eyebrow at her daughter's words, knowing full well what she was doing, but with a shake of the head, Demeter thought it would be better to continue with the reason they were in Olympus in the first place. "Of course my flower," the goddess of agriculture wrapped one arm around her shoulders, pulling her daughter to her and planting a peck on top of her head. "Remember what we talked about before and enjoy yourself."

With a nod from her, both younger goddesses stepped away from the older one, bursting into laughter once they were at a safe distance. "You're horrible! Why did you tell me she was there?" Aphrodite said bumping into her.

"And miss you making a fool of yourself?" Y/N bumped her back. "Besides Aphrodite, you have two eyes that should've been able to see her."

The goddess of love stopped in her tracks, staring at her with wide eyes and letting out a gasp, her hand lying over her chest. "How dare you speak that way to me when I was only trying to help?"

"At this point, you should know better than to speak of such depravities in front of her," Y/N deepened her voice at the word 'depravities', both goddesses turning to stare at one another before bursting into laughter once again.

Both girls continued the path to their friends, regaining their breath in silence until the goddess of love decided to speak once they had almost reached their destination. "So, on a more serious note, have you decided?"

"On what?" the goddess of spring knew what the other was talking about, it was a topic that Aphrodite often brought up the few times they had been together.

Aphrodite glanced at her with a look of disbelief and an arched brow. "Y/N come on, you know full well what I'm talking about, stop pretending."

Releasing a deep sigh Kore shook her head in a negative motion. "Haven't thought about it, besides," her nails dug into the palm of her hand. "I honestly don't know what to do. If I swear before Zeus to remain a virgin and never marry I feel like I'll be doing it more for my mother's sake than my own. On the other end, I don't see myself being someone's wife at all, I don't feel the need to seek the pleasures you, and many others, enjoy."

Aphrodite gave her friend a once-over before speaking. "You know, if you ever want to find somebody you can always come to me, I've been told I'm an expert when it comes to love situations," she gave the goddess of flowers a wink and a smile.

At the goddess of love's antics, Y/N gave a small smile in return. "Thanks, but I'm going to say no," her gaze lowered towards her feet, finding a sudden interest in them. "But if I ever fall in love I want it to happen naturally and not because you had an influence on it," realizing her words the goddess of spring's eyes widen and she stares at her friend. "No offense."

With a chuckle, the goddess of beauty shook her head. "None taken," both continued their walk towards their friends, Y/N falling quiet, not wanting to further indulge in the conversation. "But in case you change your mind, you know where to find me."

"Pressuring the girl again Aphrodite? You know Demeter won't be pleased to hear about this," the goddess of hunt said playfully upon hearing the last bit of the conversation.

At the words Aphrodite furrowed her eyebrows and puffed out her cheeks, walking over to Artemis and pointing her index finger at her. "Al have you know that I wasn't pressuring Kore into anything," the goddess regained her composure, looking as regal as she always liked to present herself. "I was simply offering my services in case she might need them in the future."

Despite knowing that Artemis was simply pocking fun at her Aphrodite still give the goddess of the wilderness a strained smile, mostly due to having a soft spot when it came to people questioning her work as the goddess of love, beauty, and sexuality. In her eyes it was completely normal to be interested in such affairs, more so when it concerned someone in the same position as Y/N.

Before Artemis had a chance to respond however she was pushed to the side by Athena, the goddess of wisdom having chosen to put a stop to the bickering before it got out of hand, and making her way to give Y/N a hug. "It's good to finally see you again Kore," stepping back she put a few strings of the goddess of spring's hair behind her ear. "You've  grown so much."

"Thank you Athena," Y/N started playing with her fingers, having grown slightly embarrassed.

Letting out a chuckle the goddess of war took hold of the goddess of spring's hand and started to pull her in the direction of the table filled with food and drinks. "Now come, let's enjoy the feast."

"Wait, I still haven't had a chance to say hello to her," Artemis said making a fast pace towards them, with a giggling Aphrodite following closing behind.

These interactions were the exact thing that Y/N had been longing for, the nymphs that would keep her company would never be comparable to the three goddesses that surrounded her, there would always be something missing, and in the moment, the goddess of spring felt like nothing or nobody could ruin the happiness that filled her body.

~🌸~

The night sky had never seemed more beautiful and calm in Namjoon's eyes, looking as dark as the black color of his clothes while the Horae raised the stars, filling the dark blanket with bright dots whose shine was outdone only by the light of the full moon that stood high and might.

Taking as much of the sight as he could, the king of the Underworld slowly approached the golden gates, the Horae failing to notice him, their attention being focused on their current task. A thought in the form that one of the reasons they hadn't noticed him was because of how due to his dark clothes the god of the dead blended perfectly with the dark night, something that gave a little amusement to Namjoon as a smirk made its appearance on his lips.

Despite having contemplations about wanting to return to his realm in the back of his mind, the Lord of Riches loudly cleared his throat, hoping to catch their attention. At the noise Eunomia, Eirene, and Dike turned to look at him, their eyes wide and their mouths slightly agape, if it was either a look of shock or of surprise Namjoon couldn't tell, he simply gave them a nod of acknowledgment and patiently waited to be let inside.

The three goddesses looked at one another, not entirely sure how to proceed, for none had been warned of the king of the Underworld's attendance and the fact that the large majority of guests had arrived a couple of hours before.

The Horae gathered up and discussed what their next step should be in low whispers, shushed words that Namjoon could hear due to the short distance between the four individuals, however, he tried his best to ignore said words, his mind occupied with the conversation he had had with his minister prior to coming to Olympus.

After much back and forth between the three goddesses, with a sigh, the Horae reluctantly turned to him and bowed before opening the golden gates.

With another nod, the king of the Underworld passed through the gates and made his way to Zeus's palace, his ears picking up the whispered mumbles of the three goddesses he left behind.

As he passed through every palace the words Thanatos had said took front center in his mind.

~💀~

After the conversation with Taehyung the god of the Dead called forth the judges Minos, Rhadamanthus, and Aeacus, so the four could commence the judging of the souls' deeds before sentencing them to one of the three realms in the Underworld.

Time passed, something that was hard to tell due to the lack of sunlight and the fact that his realm was free from the concept of time, one by one each soul would enter the throne room, bowing to him before beginning to tell their life story, the more bolder ones going as far as requesting a second chance, all of which were denied, and slowly, Namjoon's attention started drifting little by little to the conversation he had had with the messenger god.

As another person stepped into the room the king of the Underworld started to entertain the idea of having a break from it all, and while Olympus wasn't the first place he would have in mind when it came to free time it would, at the very least, it gave him a chance to get out of his dark realm. It had been so long since Namjoon last saw the day turn into night that he had almost forgotten all about it.

Once the soul in front of him finished speaking and the judges had passed their judgment Namjoon cracked his neck and stood up from his throne, giving everyone else in the room pause. "That will be all for today," before either Minos, Rhadamanthus, or Aeacus questioned him the king of the Underworld turned to them. "I have business to attend in Olympus."

The god of the dead didn't say more, for no doubt everyone who worked for him had already heard of Taehyung's message, not even the Underworld could escape gossip. The three judges looked at one another before standing up, bowing to their king, and leaving the throne room towards their respective homes.

Rubbing his temple and with a deep sigh, Namjoon told the closest servant to have his chariot ready for when he returned and exited his palace, making his way towards the Elysian Fields, walking alongside by the river Lethe, every once in a while stumbling upon groups of shades drinking from the river in order to forget their earthly lives.

Arriving at his destination the god of the dead paused his steps and released a deep breath that he hadn't realized he was holding. With a shake of the head, the god walked at a slow pace towards the white poplar tree that he had placed in the middle of the Elysian Fields.

The king of the Underworld's emotions seemed to be at odds with one another the closer he got to the tree, feeling peaceful due to the general atmosphere of the place and from being able to visit one of the things he loved most, but there was also a feeling of melancholy from the many memories he had shared with the one the poplar tree symbolized.

Namjoon walked around the tree, his hand grazing its trunk before his thumb and index finger caressed the white and green leaves, not caring much about how he looked in the eyes of onlookers in the form of shades, it didn't matter how long or how short they had been in the realm of the dead, it would only be a matter of time before they learned the reason as to why the white poplar tree was extremely important to their king.

As he lost himself in memories of what it used to be Namjoon failed to notice the sound of flapping wings coming in his direction, only taking notice of the winged figure when the pale daimon dressed in all black from top to bottom entered his peripheral.

With a sigh the king of the Underworld turned to look at his minister, a smirk appearing on his lips. "You know, Taehyung might be right about your black and white aesthetic," he said teasingly, turning back to stroke the tree leaves.

Rolling his eyes Thanatos replied sarcastically, crossing his arms over his chest. "Ha-ha, very funny," his eyes turned upwards as his hand scratched the back of his head. "Also, as I keep telling him, gray hair doesn't go with said aesthetic."

"Whatever you tell yourself," the god of the dead said with a shake of the head and a chuckle. At the words the daimon gave his friend a hardened stare, his cat-like eyes burning into Namjoon's skull, making the Lord of Riches rub the back of his neck as the laugh slowly dissipated. With an awkward, and forced, cough the king of the Underworld decided to slightly change the topic of conversation. "I'm assuming that you heard of Taehyung's visit?"

Yoongi nodded, still keeping his arms crossed. "He passed me when he was leaving and told me everything, even though I didn't ask," the daimon said the last of his sentence in a low tone while scratching the side of his head, making his king snort. "Anyway, are you really going?"

Namjoon hummed in agreement, turning his gaze back to the poplar tree, grazing his hand on its trunk and leaves one more time before stepping away from it.

The god of the Dead made his way back to his palace, wanting to stop by his orchard before leaving, his minister walking alongside him, both of them in a pleasant silence.

Once in his orchard of pomegranate trees, the king of the Underworld made his way to the closest one, receiving a bow daimon and orchardist Ascalaphus as he walked, Thanatos choosing to remain by the entrance of the orchard, watching his king pull one of the rosy-hued fruits, dividing it in half with his hands, and giving one half to his minister.

Popping some of its ruby-red-like seeds into his mouth Namjoon noticed that Yoongi seemed pensive, looking at his half of the pomegranate as if he was Atlas and the orange-sized fruit carried the weight of the world. "Something on your mind?" the taller of the two asked, popping another seed into his mouth.

The daimon nodded, picking one of the many seeds covered in red gelatinous flesh, staring at it as if it contained the answers to any of his questions. "Just something I heard from the Moirai, simply debating if I should share or not."

The god of the Dead gave his friend an incredulous look before the both of them continued their walk towards the entrance of the palace. "You actually got a word out of them?" it wasn't that Namjoon didn't believe in Yoongi, the daimon of non-violent dead was nothing but truthful and blunt, sometimes more than he probably should, but centuries of living with the Moirai had taught the king of the Underworld anything, it was that the three of them were the most severe, inflexible, and, stern beings of the entire cosmos. Neither he nor Zeus could get them to bend their will. "How did you do that?"

"The same way Apollo did," the daimon shrugged and gave his king a cheshire-like grin. "Got them drunk."

"I don't imagine they were pleased with it afterward," the Lord of Riches let out a snort as he shook his head in disbelief, his minister shrugging again. "What did you find?"

Yoongi remained quiet for a couple of seconds, the internal debate of whether he should or shouldn't share due to how Namjoon would react to the words he had been told.

The words seemed to have a positive light on them, but the gray-haired, unlike the Moirai, didn't have the ability to know every single moment of someone's life. The how would the dark-haired one react kept weighting his mind, made even worse by the fact that a pair of expecting and curious eyes had such a great hold on him.

As the daimon remained in silence he saw from the corner of his eye how the spark that seemed to have been his king's eyes was beginning to dissipate, making the shorter of the two feel slight guilt even if he also thought he was in the right, nothing good would come from knowing one's own future.

Arriving at the front of the palace, Namjoon's golden chariot and the four immortal sable-black horses that drew it being overlooked by one of many servants, who bowed at the sight of his king.

"Were the Moirai's words about me?" the king of the Underworld said in a soft low tone, his question being only for his minister's ears, before walking away and approaching the chariot, giving each horse a once-over and running his fingers through each one's mane, a small ritual of sorts that the god of the Dead did on the occasions where he needed to use his chariot, before getting inside the golden mode of transportation.

Throughout all of this, the daimon had yet to give a concrete answer, not feeling the need to when his friend had seen right through him and choosing instead to remain in silence, the resolve to keep the words to himself diminishing by the second.

As the dark-haired one took the reins of the chariot the gray-haired one rolled his eyes and let out a deep sigh, every fiber of his being from the tips of his hair to the tip of his wings was telling him to keep it to himself but the look he could see on his friend, while Namjoon's facial expression remained impassive the look in his eyes told a different story, one of disappointment.

And so the daimon of non-violent death stepped closer to the chariot, making extra sure that the servant to not hear anything by giving them a glare. "I'm going to regret this," Yoongi whispered, pressing his fingers to his temple, and although he had murmured his words due to the close proximity the king of the Underworld had heard it, his attention now focused on his minister, an eyebrow raised at the sudden willingness to share.

With another deep sigh, the gray-haired one looked the god of the Dead straight in the eyes when he said his next words. "The Moirai said ' the bringer of death shall bring new life to the god of the dead ', at least in layman's terms."

The Lord of Riches continued to stare at his friend with a raised brow, intrigued by the words but also confused by them. "The bringer of death huh?" he said, more to himself than for Thanatos. "Who could that possibly mean?" his mind searched and searched for a possible candidate that could fit, but it always came up empty, no god or nymph that he knew of seemed accurate enough.

Looking over at his minister, hoping that the other would over some sort of help, of which he was met with a negative shake of the head.

With an expiration breath from both parties, the daimon rubbed his temple once again. "Even drunk those old hags are as cryptic as ever,"

Namjoon let out a snort but nodded at the words. "Although I agree, you can't deny that it would be out of place if their predictions were spoken normally,"

The daimon grumbled in a low tone. "It would certainly help," he quickly composed himself and scratched the back of his head before crossing his arms over his chest. "So now what?"

"I don't know," the king of the Underworld said with a deep sigh. "I don't have any idea of who this 'bringer of death' might be or what 'new life' means," he took a better hold of the reins, preparing to take lift. "It's best to not think about it too much."

The minister didn't believe his king's words, something that was apparent by the look he was giving, but Yoongi decided to keep quiet about it, not wanting the conversation to go on for longer.

Without any more exchange of words, the Lord of Riches pulled lightly on the reins and on cue the four horses let out neighs, starting with quick steps before they started moving faster and faster until they lift off the ground, galloping through the air as the earth above parted for the king.

~💀~

Namjoon hadn't been lying to Yoongi when he said it would be best to not continue dwelling on the conversation but he hadn't been entirely truthful either.  The words had been too important to be laid to rest on the back of his mind.

'The bringer of death shall bring new life to the god of the death' the phrase that kept taking hold of every single brain cell that he had, the phrase that he couldn't let go of due to its implications.

The king of the Underworld thought, hoped, wished, wanted, the words to mean that he would be able to find love once again.

Humans and gods each have their own perception of what the Underworld is, some say it's so cold that it freezes your blood into little needles that stab you from the inside, others say it's so hot that it completely melts the skin of your body.

But Namjoon knew the truth, it was dark and lonely, it always was.

It was to be expected from a place where restless souls lay to rest, and to many, that same applied to the king, he was the cold, the stern, the feared, the dreaded, the loathed, the one whose name is frightening to say, even shades in his realm feared to approach him, his tall and dark demeanor terrifying even the bravest warriors.

And while the god of the Dead would never deny that he wasn't as happy and cheerful as Hermes or Dionysus, that also didn't mean that he was everything and more that mortals and gods alike made him out to be, the same thing that made him be in a constant state of isolation.

Sure, the company of Thanatos, Charon, and Cerberus did help ease some of the feeling, it still wasn't enough to fill the hole in its entirety.

Namjoon longed for something more.

A partner, a queen, a wife. Someone to share his kingdom with, someone to share his godly life with, someone to care for and be cared for in return, someone to give him something that his current mistress couldn't.

Namjoon simply and plainly only longed for love.

But after eons alone, the effects of loneliness only grew more and more, so much so that at points it felt suffocating, and his dream of love diminishing to the point it could be mistaken with dust.

As he reached Zeus's palace the king of the Underworld stopped in his tracks and turned his eyes towards the moon once again, almost as if begging her to give him what his heart most desired, before shaking his head of such thoughts, and, with a deep breath he continued to walk forward, finally stepping foot in a place he had long since wanted to forget.

[haveanotherkpopblog]

An EXO Interactive

Boss

Pairing: Kim Junmyeon/Suho x You

Genre: Fluff, Non-Idol!AU, Office!AU

Word Count: ~1K

Warnings: TBD

Masterlist || Next>>

Today was Y/N’s first day of work. She hardly slept the night prior and her stomach continued to do somersaults as she tried to get ready. She had confidence in her skills, but the first day on a new job could be nerve wracking. Moreso when she considered she was now working for an exclusive company.

She stood in front of her full-length mirror, eyeing her outfit appreciatively. She wanted to make a good first impression on everyone by showing them she was a professional and should be treated as such. But she also wanted to be comfortable and approachable, coming off as stuck-up was not at the top of her to-do list. Simplicity was key: a nice blouse, black jeans, and black tennis shoes.

Stepping out of her room, she went to the kitchen to grab a water bottle. She didn’t know how this company was. In her old job, she was always traveling and barely had any time to stop and take a drink. Especially if she had to do a lot of setting up. Being a photographer wasn’t as glamorous as Hollywood made it out to be. There was a lot of running around: setting up cables, making sure lights were working and at the appropriate strength, dealing with whiny models who insisted they knew better than the photographer. The list was endless. She heard Nari’s door open and her shuffle out. She hadn’t known what to expect when she met the purple haired woman. She was loud and abrasive and nothing like the sort of person Minseok would have associated with. Yet, after only a few days spent together, you’d have thought they’d been friends for years. Nari was easy-going and fairly accepting of everyone.

“Morning,” she called, filling her bottle up with water. She mumbled something incoherent, hands stumbling around the counter for the coffee pot. Another thing Y/N had learned was that Nari was not a morning person. “Well I’m off.” She grabbed her camera bag and her portfolio and headed towards the door.

“Knock ‘em dead.” Nari raised her coffee cup as Y/N left to meet up with Minseok for coffee and breakfast.

***

As she stepped through the coffee shop door, coffee filled her nose as it wafted through the air. She hummed, content in the friendly atmosphere. She spotted Minseok already at their usual table, drinks ready. He glanced over then did a double take, smiling. She took the seat across from him. “How’re you feeling?” he asked as she sipped her coffee. “Excited? Nervous? Are you going to scream? Dance? Cry? Throw up?” “Yes.”

“Don’t worry your pretty, little head.” He laughed, eyes crinkling as he leaned forward. “You’re going to be just fine, and with that outfit, you’re definitely dressed to impress,” he assured you. “I have a friend who works there looking out for you as well, so don’t worry.”

“The amount of connections you have is crazy.” She smiled, taking another sip of coffee.

“You better get going. You don’t wanna be late on your first day.”

***

From the outside, the building seemed to disappear into the sky. Windows covered almost the entire perimeter, making the whole building sparkle and shine. Y/N took a minute to stare up at it. It was breathtaking, especially with the hint of a garden peeking over the roof. Taking a deep breath, she approached the front doors and stepped inside.

The inside was as modern and sleek as the interior of a building could be. The floor was bright, white tiles that reflected the overhead lights greatly. The furniture and hard surfaces were all black and looked in pristine condition.

On the dark colored walls, pictures of beautiful people dressed in beautiful clothing and standing in beautiful landscapes hung for everyone to admire. And as much as she’d have liked to admire them, she had to meet her boss, and that was a meeting she was not going to miss.

She turned to the front desk where a young woman, around her age, sat. She was flipping through a fashion magazine, her long, blonde hair falling freely over her shoulder. Her presence was slightly unsettling as she looked like she could be a model.

“Um, hello?” Y/N called, stepping closer to the desk.

“Hi.” The woman set the magazine down, her perfectly manicured hand flipping her hair over her shoulder. “How may I help you?”

“I’m, uh, I’m supposed to meet Mr.--Mr. Kim,” she stuttered out, mentally cursing herself. “I’m Y/N L/N.” The woman turned to her computer, typing. “Aha! Here you are.” Her voice was soft and airy, matching perfectly with her effortless appearance. “I’ll let Mr. Kim know you’re here.” She stood up from her chair, not very tall even with her black heels, and bustled away towards the hallway, her heels echoing against the marble floor.

The woman’s kind demeanor, even after she’d made a slight joke of herself, shocked Y/N. She was used to others snickering and throwing passive-aggressive comments at her. It was a breath of fresh air. She took a seat on the nearby catch, observing the people coming and going. There was a wide assortment of people to look at. Some wore extravagant clothing from Gucci and Valentino magazines, others were clad in torn jeans and oversized sweatshirts, and some were a weird but refreshing mix. None of them paid much attention to you, focused on their projects and with each other.

Heels tapping against the floor alerted her that the receptionist was back. She gave her a bright smile. “Mr. Kim is ready to see you.” She stepped aside, holding her hand out towards the hallway she’d return from.

Y/N stood, taking a deep breath. She followed the receptionist down the hall to an elevator. The entire elevator ride was silent, save for the soft jazz playing through the speakers. Once the doors opened, the receptionist placed her foot out, turning to face her.

“Now, you’ll go to the end of the hall and knock. Wait to be called in, and don’t worry. You’ll be fine.” She pushed Y/N out the elevator and let the doors closed.

Once she was alone, she let out a shaky breath, moving to the nearby wall. Nothing made her more nervous than someone saying, “Don’t be nervous.” It had the total opposite effect. She swallowed thickly.

Walking down the hallway, she gazed at the pictures that hung on the wall. They were gorgeous. They were mostly landscapes, but the picture that really caught her eye was the only black and white one. The picture was of a park, and sitting on the grass, smiling at something off camera, was a man with probably the best side profile she’d ever laid eyes on. “Another time,” she promised herself. She took a deep breath and knocked on the door. A muffled voice beckoned her inside, but she was not prepared for what, or who, she saw.

She was expecting her boss to be old, weird, a cigar connoisseur, or something like that. She hadn’t been prepared for a handsome young man, around her age, with beautiful blonde hair, sitting behind a desk littered with her photos.

Her breath caught in her throat as he glanced up at her with calm eyes and a kind smile. “Good morning, Ms. L/N.” He stood up, buttoning his blazer. “My name is Kim Junmyeon. It’s a pleasure to finally put a face to the name. He moved around his desk, offering his hand. “The pleasure’s all mine.” It came out breathier than she’d intended, but he made no mention of it. “I’m looking forward to working. Here. Working here.” He chuckled softly, folding his arms over his chest. She did her best to keep her focus on his face and not on the fact that she could see the outline of his biceps struggling against the sleeves of his blazer. “Ms. L/N, I’ve reviewed your work, along with some of my top photographers, and we all agree you have amazing potential.” He reached into his blazer and pulled out a pair of glasses, slipping them on. He turned around and grabbed a folder. “You demonstrate a clear understanding of the camera, and the models I spoke to sung high praises. You were remarked as ‘an easy-going person who made the whole experience amazing’ and ‘dedicated with a creative eye and strong work ethic’.” He set the folder down, removing his glasses.

“However,” he continued, “I see you’ve only ever worked as an intern, filling in when needed at your old job. You have a clear talent, so why didn’t you ever go for a raise or promotion?”

She puckered her lips before drawing them into a thin line, brows furrowing. “Well, I did ask for a promotion. For several years, but I was always rejected in favor of others and for other reasons.”

“‘Other reasons’?” He quirked a brow, crossing his arms over his chest again. “Self-respect and the refusal to subject myself to… unsavory acts.” She leant her head forward, watching as the light bulb went on in his head.

“Ah. Understandable. Well I can assure you Ms. L/N, I do not tolerate that type of behavior here, and hope you find this environment much more suitable.”

“Does that mean…”

“The job is yours,” he assured her. She could have jumped around the room from all the excitement bubbling in her, but she refrained, giving him a big grin. “Well, I’m pleased to have you as a part of the KMC family. I’ll go over standard rules and operations with you, then I’ll let Soo Min, the receptionist, show you around.

“In the office and on photoshoots, I ask that you keep a firm level of professionalism at all times. This is a business not a playground or high school. There are no rules against relationships, romantic or platonic, but PDA is to be kept to a bare minimum.

“Outside of office hours, please do not refer to me as Mr. Kim. This job ages me enough. Junmyeon is fine, and feel free to say hi if you see me outside of work. I want to build a friendly and familiar environment. If you have any questions, comments or concerns, please feel free to ask or email me.” “Of course Mr. Kim. Thank you so much for this opportunity. I promise to live up to the expectations.” She gave him a bow, cheeks starting to grow sore from smiling so hard. He flashed her a dazzling smile, bowing his head. He gestured towards the door and she had to refrain herself from running out. Everything had worked out great.