whypisces

[whypisces]

( ✶. ) 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗮𝗽𝗶𝘀𝘁 ── “𝐃𝐑. 𝐇𝐎𝐖?”

𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒆. “Para sua surpresa: namorar um especialista em sexo não era nada fora do comum. Isso até 𝗠𝗶𝗻𝗴𝗵𝗮𝗼 decidir trocar de posição: de um 𝗻𝗮𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗮𝗱𝗼 sexólogo para, bom, um sexólogo 𝗻𝗮𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗮𝗱𝗼.”

─── 𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗮𝗽𝗲𝘂𝘁𝗮 𝘀𝗲𝘅𝘂𝗮𝗹! 𝘅𝘂 𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗴𝗵𝗮𝗼 × 𝗹𝗲𝗶𝘁𝗼𝗿𝗮. 𝗖𝗔𝗧𝗘𝗚✷𝗥𝗜𝗔: smut. 𝗣𝗔𝗟𝗔𝗩𝗥𝗔𝗦: 22.000. 𝗔𝗩𝗜𝗦✷𝗦: descrição de sexo explícito, dinâmica de dominação e submissão, pussy spanking, masoquismo, penetração, dacryphilia, ass play, tapas no rosto, squirt, cum eating, degradação, hate-sex & superestimulação. ─── 𝗡✷𝗧𝗔𝗦: não, eu nunca assisti dr. who.

— 𝗦𝗘𝗦𝗦𝗜𝗢𝗡 𝟬𝟭: Segunda-feira, 31 de março.

Poderia contar nos dedos quantas vezes já havia entrado no consultório do seu namorado. O motivo não era por recusa dele ou sua — honestamente, sequer existia um motivo. Só nunca havia um pretexto para que você estivesse lá. Por isso, quando Minghao insistiu que você fosse pessoalmente vê-lo ao invés de te esperar na cafeteria do outro lado da rua como sempre fazia, sua cabeça se encheu de curiosidade. E, modéstia à parte, era uma mulher muito criativa. Já contabilizava a vigésima quarta teoria da conspiração quando o elevador finalmente chegou ao seu andar.

Na vigésima sexta teoria, caminhava entre os corredores, observando como as diferentes especializações que compunham o edifício faziam com que o interior dele mais parecesse um mosaico. Nessa história, o único ponto positivo para a sensibilidade dos seus olhos é que as cores escolhidas eram todas sóbrias — felizmente, analistas tinham a tendência estranha de fugir de qualquer coisa que não remetesse a madeira velha e traumas parentais.

A carreira do seu namorado nunca se mostrou como empecilho para você. Pelo contrário! Não negava que o fato despertou um interesse maior no início, sentiu-se mais atraída e nem era pelo motivo mais óbvio. O ponto atrativo, na verdade, foi o fato de Minghao ser uma caixinha de surpresas logo no início. Desde a maneira que haviam sido apresentados um ao outro até o jeito galanteador que ele usou contigo já nas primeiras interações — nada conseguiu te fazer presumir que aquela área era a paixão do homem.

O próprio Minghao foi responsável por desmistificar muita coisa que havia em sua mente. Através dele, foi fácil perceber como as pessoas costumavam ser tendenciosas quando o assunto era sexo, não havia meio termo — era puritanismo ou depravação. E, especialmente para as que foram levadas a acreditar que “amor é divino” e “sexo é animal” da maneira mais pejorativa possível, a ocupação de Minghao soava como balela e você provavelmente saía como promíscua por escolher estar com alguém assim.

Tudo extremamente coberto de ignorância.

Existe sempre, é claro, o lado “inocente” da ignorância. Nem toda desinformação tem origem na intolerância e um exemplo perfeito disso foram suas amigas. Elas foram as primeiras a te interrogar sobre Minghao quando vocês assumiram o relacionamento, uma pergunta conseguiu ser mais inacreditável que a outra. O consenso entre elas era o de que você namorava alguma espécie de deus do sexo magnífico — ouvir seu namorado ser descrito como a própria reencarnação de Eros não deveria ser tão engraçado como foi.

Mesmo não sendo explícita quanto a todos os detalhes, você não foi hipócrita ao ponto de encenar a farsa da castidade. Era fato que Minghao sabia muito bem o que estava fazendo — por vezes, bem até demais — isso não deu para negar. Assim como era perceptível o quão mais fogosa você havia se tornado por causa dele.

Porém, existia um empecilho em ser mais aberta quanto às suas experiências com o homem: você não era de fazer propaganda.

Fosse dentro ou fora das ilustres ‘quatro paredes’, Minghao havia sido um verdadeiro achado e você não estava disposta a dividir nem mesmo suas impressões sobre o que ele era capaz de fazer com você. Pois, assim como cada detalhe que compunha Minghao, era tudo somente seu.

Vigésima oitava teoria, seu namorado abriu a porta com um sorriso doce.

Talvez devesse parar de pensar. Ele sempre esvaziava sua mente afinal.

“Doutor Hao?”, brincou, uma expressão comicamente séria no rosto. Não foi longe, ganhou um puxão pelo braço para enfim entrar na sala e um beijo cálido quando a porta se fechou. Encolheu-se o máximo que pôde no aperto dele, adorava livrar-se da responsabilidade de manter o equilíbrio. Tão acostumada a ser segurada com tanta posse que sequer cogitava a possibilidade dele te deixar cair.

“Pensou muita bobagem antes de chegar aqui?”, ele murmurou contra os seus lábios sem pretensão alguma de estar errado.

“Como você sabe?”

“Eu não te disse o motivo quando você perguntou.”, um sorriso condescendente pintava a boca. Costumava brincar com o quão ‘maluquinha’ você se tornava quando precisava esperar por algo.

“Você é um chato.”, resmungou, largando um beijo molhadinho na bochecha do homem. “Deveria ter falado só quando a gente chegasse em casa.”, nesse contexto, ‘casa’ se referia a qualquer lugar no qual vocês dois estivessem juntos — seu apartamento ou o dele.

“Não sou de levar trabalho pra casa, amor.”, sorriu ameno. “Bom, pelo menos não até hoje.”, a observação despertou mais curiosidade ainda e ficou nítido no seu rosto. “Vai fazer sentido.”, ele explicou. “Vem sentar, meu bem.”

Seguir a orientação foi um movimento irregular para quem era habituada a praticamente se jogar em cima de Minghao em qualquer ocasião na qual estivessem à sós. Sentou-se na poltrona oposta à ele, tudo formal demais.

“Eu quero te pedir algo.”, pela primeira vez, ele pareceu receoso.

“Por que não mandou mensagem?”

“Não é um pedido como namorado. É como profissional.”, a situação tomava ar mais misterioso a cada esclarecimento. Você não quis piorar, balançou a cabeça como quem incentiva que ele prossiga com o que estava prestes a falar.

“Eu tenho uma conferência em maio com alguns colegas de profissão.”, isso ainda não te dizia nada. Assistiu-o cruzar as pernas, alcançando uma caneta na mesinha ao lado para brincar com o objeto. “A proposta é que cada um de nós leve algo novo para ser discutido durante as reuniões, só que todos os meus experimentos ainda estão em andamento.”, acrescentou, girando-a entre os dedos. “E eu ainda não tenho conclusões produtivas 'pra nenhum deles. Mas tenho algo em mente.”, agora você também observava a caneta. “Quero testar os efeitos que a abstinência sexual tem na memória... só que é difícil encontrar algum casal que esteja disponível 'pra isso no momento. Especialmente porque o experimento precisa durar ao menos trinta dias completos.”, o tom desceu ao fim da última frase, pareceu ter concluído o que queria dizer.

“Eu…”, você iniciou. “Eu não entendi.”

“Qual parte? O experimento ou…?”

“O pedido. Como isso tá relacionado a mim?”, perguntou, confusa demais. Minghao sorriu sacana, sua inocência parecia ser muito seletiva às vezes.

“Eu quero testar os efeitos da abstinência com você, amor.”, esclareceu. Como esperado, tomar consciência do fato só fez com que mais perguntas surgissem na sua cabeça. Seu namorado percebeu isso facilmente, bastou observar o silêncio ruidoso que você fazia — provavelmente escolhendo quais dúvidas deveria sanar primeiro.

“No caso, a gente não vai transar por um mês inteiro?”, o óbvio nem sempre é óbvio, então perguntar não ofende.

“Não exatamente. O ponto da abstinência só recai sobre a parte de ter um orgasmo.”, seu namorado já havia te explicado que ‘transar’ é um termo muito amplo, mas você aparentemente custava a lembrar disso. “Algumas práticas de caráter sexual ainda serão permitidas, porque existe outra hipótese que eu quero testar. Mas nada que coloque a regra principal em risco.”

“Então… sem gozar?”, quis confirmar.

“Sem gozar.”

Ficou em silêncio outra vez. Não ser a única pessoa criativa do relacionamento tinha seus defeitos. Detestava quando Minghao te lembrava disso.

“Mas como assim efeitos da abstinência?”, franziu a testa. Não rejeitava a ideia ainda, só precisava colocá-la na balança para ser capaz de avaliar.

“Não posso te dar os detalhes, amor. Te influenciaria.”, tornou-se mais relaxado, parecia ser capaz de ver através de você — a falta de um ‘não’ imediato deixou claro que você estava sim muito aberta a cair no papinho dele. “Eu preciso tentar manter ao menos os outros 50% do meu corpus o mais neutro possível 'pra não interferir no experimento.”, metade do que foi dito não entrou nos seus ouvidos.

E, tinha certeza, Minghao era gostoso ‘pra cacete quando falava todo inteligente assim, porém parte do tesão sumia quando o assunto em questão era te deixar sem um orgasmo por tanto tempo.

“Não é antiético tratar alguém próximo de você?”, cruzou os braços. Seu namorado havia se metido em uma fria, agora teria que responder tudo que você quisesse.

“É.”, deu de ombros. “Mas digamos que eu não vou exatamente te dar a minha visão como profissional.”, inclinou o rosto, apoiando a ponta da caneta no queixo.

“Então ‘cê vai me dar sua visão como o quê?”

“Como parceiro sexual.”, disse, como se o fato melhorasse alguma coisa. “Boa parte dos exercícios que eu recomendo envolvem somente o casal, sabia?”, tentava a todo custo atribuir sentido à ideia, torná-la sedutora. “Pensa nisso como um exercício entre eu e você. Enquanto amantes.”, você mordeu um sorriso dentro da boca, o empenho dele em te convencer se tornava cada vez mais explícito.

“E se der errado?”

“Daí eu desisto do experimento.”, declarou, tentando parecer simplório. “Mas não tem como dar errado, meu amor. Você só precisa se segurar.”, a última frase te fez soltar um riso nasal. Como assim ‘você’? Ele não entra na equação?

“Sou só eu quem vai ficar em abstinência?”

“Já te disse que é um exercício pro casal, amor. Eu também vou participar.”, explicou e nitidamente já não tinha tanta paciência assim. “E, pensando bem, vai ser mais interessante ver os efeitos em mim mesmo.”

“E por que, em sã consciência, eu me colocaria numa situação assim?”, a essa altura você só perguntava para encher o saco.

“Você não precisa aceitar se não quiser.”, suspirou finalmente. Certo, você daria fim às perguntas. “Mas, como parceira da minha vida inteira e grande apoiadora da carreira do seu namorado, bem que ‘cê podia me fazer esse favor…”, fez charme, dando ênfase exatamente onde ele sabia ser necessário para te amolecer. “Eu te compenso no final, meu amor. Prometo.”, lambeu os lábios meio sugestivo. Sequer precisava de tanta cerimônia, você já havia concordado dentro da própria cabeça somente por ser Minghao falando — admitia ser manipulável sem um pingo de vergonha de si própria.

“Tá bom.”, revirou os olhos, como se estivesse prestes a fazer um grandíssimo favor — e, de fato, estava. “Mas é só isso? Só não gozar e pronto?”, pergunta retórica, você sabia não ser só isso.

“Vou precisar fazer algumas sessões contigo. Tanto para falar sobre o experimento, quanto para te ouvir relatar sobre algumas memórias sexuais e… testar os seus limites.”, tentou mascarar a própria alegria em te ver concordar. Um sorriso sem razão escapando quando um ‘sessões?’ meio confuso saiu da sua boca — sinal que você havia deliberadamente ignorado a última frase dele. “É como uma das que eu fiz com você no início do relacionamento, lembra? Eu preciso de uma opinião franca sobre as suas experiências sexuais passadas.”

Lembra.

Claro que você lembra.

Lembra do quão vergonhoso foi narrar abertamente sobre o fiasco que foi a sua primeira vez.

“Você já ouviu todas elas.”, torceu a boca só de pensar.

“Com outras pessoas. Não ouvi as que são sobre mim. Quero que você se restrinja somente a elas.”, céus, ele falava igualzinho a sua psicóloga. Talvez fosse o ar do consultório, não o via agir assim em casa — certificaria-se de nunca comprar incensos da mesma fragrância que ele usava no local.

“Pra quem tá aqui como meu ‘parceiro sexual’—”, fez aspas com os dedos, “— você 'tá sendo formal demais…”

“Te deixa nervosa?”, foi uma pergunta genuína, mas soou como provocação.

“É desconfortável. Só te ouço falando assim em palestra. Me sinto uma estranha.”

“Vamos fazer parecer uma conversa normal então.”, relaxou a postura mais ainda, as pernas se descruzando. “Não vou te interrogar, fala só o que tiver vontade.”

Ele queria mesmo iniciar uma sessão agora? Do nada? Típico de Minghao.

“Mesmo assim. É esquisito falar sobre você pra você.”, agora era meio a meio — metade um teste de paciência pro seu namorado, metade verdade. Ele revirou os olhos, um sorrisinho impaciente no canto da boca.

“Vem pro meu colo, amor.”, reposicionou-se, as pernas bem abertas. Você não era boba de negar o convite, levantando o tecido da sainha para conseguir se sentar confortavelmente.

Logo foi acolhida num beijo lânguido, com gostinho de saudade. Minghao nunca ia com sede ao pote, mas deixava sua garganta seca. Sentia sua língua contra a dele, chupava forte, gostava de babar sua boquinha só para produzir aqueles estalinhos barulhentos… tudo sem nunca largar a lentidão inquietante.

“É igual falar sacanagem ‘pra mim, meu bem. Sei que ‘cê gosta.”, sussurrou, o nariz roçando contra sua bochecha.

“Mas eu só falo quando tô com tesão…”, reclamou, como se estivesse longe disso. Envolvia a nuca dele entre os dedos, buscando por mais um pouquinho do beijo meio amargo — deveria ser o sabor de algum chá, já que o homem não fazia questão de os adoçar.

“Eu resolvo isso.”, te apertou pela cintura, a língua brincando com seu lábio inferior. “Começa pela nossa primeira vez, ‘mô.”, o timbre era manso, sequer parecia estar te pedindo alguma coisa. Desse jeito, foi fácil ignorar as circunstâncias nas quais estava metida, no fim das contas só descontava a falta que fazia ter passado o dia inteirinho sem o namorado. Suspirava, enchia a boca com a língua quente e os dedos com o cabelo macio, acolhia a pele do pescoço dele entre os dentinhos quando podia — pois sabia o quão fraco ele ficava com a ação.

O contato tornava-se mais cálido. O homem também forçava a abertura da própria boca para abrigar sua língua dentro dela, produzindo um ruído molhado extremamente obsceno. Ainda que a intenção fosse te deixar mais confortável, Minghao não deixava de ser controlador — prendendo seu maxilar entre os dedos, limitava seus movimentos.

“Amor?”, chamou num suspiro, franzindo a testa com a mordida dolorida que ganhou no canto da boca. “Primeira vez, lembra? Fala comigo.”

“Eu…”, precisou de tempo para raciocinar. Lambendo a boquinha babujada para engolir a saliva do homem. “Eu achei que você seria mais romântico.”, foi a única coisa na qual conseguiu pensar de imediato, seu namorado pareceu desconcertado.

“E eu não fui?”

“Até certo ponto. Mas você foi…”, lambeu a boca outra vez, dessa vez só por notar que ele não sabia tirar os olhos dela. “Mais safado do que eu esperava.”, o comentário fez Minghao sorrir meio canalha.

“Eu sou literalmente um sexólogo, amor.”

E ele provavelmente nunca havia ouvido falar em “Casa de ferreiro, espeto de pau.”.

“Só que você não aparenta ser do jeito que é. É tão certinho…”, esfregou as mãos contra o peitoral firme, admitia que o jeito meio recluso era um dos pontos mais atraentes nele. Precisou conter um sorriso antes de fazer o próximo comentário: “Não achei que ia me fazer de vagabunda logo de primeira.”, ganhou um apertão na bunda que te fez saltar.

“Não exagera…”, ele mesmo precisou conter o sorriso. Posturado, mas incapaz de esconder a carinha de puto. “Não foi tão sério assim.”

“Não. Eu molhando sua cama inteira não foi tão sério assim.”, ironizou, um revirar de olhos insolente acompanhando a afirmação. Minghao parecia ser muito fã da falsa modéstia que sustentava sempre que você mencionava o quanto ele te satisfazia — agia como se o ego gigantesco não fosse cristalino aos seus olhos.

“Tá vendo como é mais fácil falar quando essa bucetinha tá escorrendo?”, estalou a língua no céu da boca, dedilhando sua calcinha para comprovar o próprio ponto. “Soube abrir a boca rapidinho.”, alfinetou — seus ataques ao jeito equilibrado dele nunca passavam batido.

Os dedos esguios envolveram seu cabelo num rabo de cavalo mal-arranjado, mas firme. Sendo forçada a olhar para cima num movimento leve, sua primeira reação foi abrir a boquinha — Minghao havia te condicionado a fazer certas coisas inconscientemente, o primeiro impulso era sempre satisfazer. Uma expressão sacana surgiu no rosto do homem ao notar o ato, especialmente quando você expôs a língua sem nem hesitar, como se esperasse algo para engolir.

Das poucas certeza que tinha na vida, a maior delas nesse momento era a de que a sessão havia ido por água abaixo. Não havia mais nada em sua mente que contribuísse com o interesse dele em saber sobre a primeira vez de vocês.

“Eu não fiz isso na primeira vez.”, ele negou com a cabeça, a mão livre alcançando seu maxilar, o polegar adentrando a cavidade, pressionando contra o músculo molhado. Não houve espanto nas expressões dele quando você acolheu o dígito inteiro dentro da boca. Suja, chupou-o com gula, largando-o logo em seguida num estalo molhado que arrancou um sorriso do homem. “Okay. Disso eu lembro.”

“Vai me ensinar a te chupar de novo?”, piscou os olhinhos, doidinha para que ele aceitasse a sugestão.

“E eu preciso?”

“Precisa.”, balançou a cabeça rapidinho, adorava se fazer de mocinha desesperada. “Quero daquele jeitinho, Hao. Faz tempo que você não faz assim…”, abriu as pernas como conseguiu, insinuando exatamente ao que se referia, mas seu namorado não precisava de muitas explicações. O “jeitinho” nada mais era do que uma dinâmica de imitação que ele mesmo havia te ensinado como fazer.

No início do relacionamento, Minghao era habituado a usar o seu corpo para explicar o quê queria que você fizesse com o dele sob a justificativa de que a mecânica era basicamente a mesma. A estratégia para te ensinar a mamar ele direitinho — que consistia em você imitar com a boca exatamente o que ele fazia com a sua buceta — soou um tanto ridícula quando o homem te introduziu à ela pela primeira vez, mas quem era você para questionar um especialista naquela época? Obedeceu quietinha e desde então nunca perdeu o tesão em tê-lo dentro da sua boca.

Não precisou da mesma cerimônia que foi necessária na primeira vez. Conhecia todas as regras e o que cada movimento significava. Afastou a calcinha de lado enquanto seu namorado se esticou para pegar o lubrificante na gaveta. Era minucioso, fez questão de lambuzar a entrada do canalzinho antes de encharcar dois dedos da mão esquerda.

“A gente vai inverter dessa vez. Me mostra como você quer que eu faça.”, explicou, acariciando as dobrinhas molhadinhas. Você concordou novamente, mordendo a boquinha assim que se lembrou de um detalhe:

“A porta tá destrancada…”, miou cada palavrinha, nem se deu ao trabalho de dissimular um tom de preocupação convincente.

“Ninguém entra no meu consultório sem bater.”, te mostrou uma expressão descrente, conhecia o jeitinho fingido como a palma da mão. Colou a boca na sua orelha, como se houvesse a necessidade de falar ainda mais baixo — um segredo só de vocês dois. “E eu sei que você gozaria nos meus dedos se alguém entrasse, não se faz de sonsa.”, o timbre mais grave que o comum, dava para ouvir o sorrisinho. A bucetinha patética nem mesmo te deu a chance de o contrariar ou de fingir que ele estava errado, vazou bem nos dedos dele ao fim da insinuação.

“Não sabia que me provocar fazia parte do experimento.”, arfou, um carinho gostoso no clitóris te impedindo de falar corretamente.

“Eu te avisei que fazia. Tô sendo profissional, amor.”, contestou sério demais, finalmente se afastando para oferecer os mesmos dois dedos, agora na mão oposta, bem em frente ao seu rosto.

Você segurou o pulso dele entre as mãos, mantendo-o firme, o olhar fixo no do homem quando selou a pontinha dos dígitos. A intenção inicial não parecia ser sentir prazer, mas sim dar o showzinho que seu namorado queria. De linguinha para fora outra vez, você lambeu as digitais como uma gatinha, deixando a saliva escorrer sob o músculo. Minghao foi ligeiro em espelhar as ações, roçando o clitóris sensível com a mesma velocidade. Sentiu o estômago queimar com o carinho, sinal que estava mais carentinha do que gostaria.

Você encheu a boca o quanto pôde, o quanto conseguia ser sujinha não era novidade para o homem. Fez biquinho, cuspindo devagar bem em cima dos dedos esguios — a expressão deixando explícito que era em tom de desafio. Porém Minghao nunca foi de responder com facilidade quando era incitado à algo:

“Eu não vou cuspir nela.”, afiou o olhar, rindo da sua reação desapontada.

Contrariada, engoliu os dedos até a base sem fazer cerimônia, sabia que isso seu namorado seria obrigado a reproduzir sem contestar. Nem o fato do buraquinho estar gotejando impediu que a brusquidão fizesse arder e isso te obrigou a rir. Que porra, só conseguiu literalmente sorrir com o incômodo — pervertida ‘pra caralho, surpreendia até Minghao.

Agora, cheinha até a borda, não economizou em nada quando passou a mamar os dedos dele com gula. Tirava-os até a pontinha da boca, levando-os à gargantinha fechada sem dificuldade alguma, gemia dengosa quando o narizinho roçava o polegar curvado do homem — porque isso significava tê-lo esfregando os dedos bem no fundo do canalzinho.

Já rebolava sedenta, nunca tinha o suficiente. A cabeça subia e descia, um barulhinho pegajoso soava por todo o cômodo junto aos chorinhos quando tentava acolhê-lo na sua garganta. Os olhos semi-cerrados começavam a arder, porém não deixava de encarar o namorado. Ele permanecia com a mesma expressão impassível no rosto e ela te deixava encharcada em todas as ocasiões. Sentia tesão no ar de escárnio que ela carregava, como se ele não largasse tudo para te deixar cheinha de pau sempre que você pedia, como se ele não estivesse duro ‘pra cacete nesse exato momento… como se só fosse mais uma putinha no colo dele. Rebolou mais forte. Porra, tava tão excitada. Sentia o corpinho inteiro arrepiando.

“Tá tão gostosa, amor.”, o elogio acompanhou um selo casto na sua testa. O jeito brusco que os dedos lutam contra o aperto das suas paredes em nada combinam com a expressão de dó que pinta as feições do homem, que parece sentir pena do quão arruinada você se mostra quando busca por satisfação — como se ele estivesse te quebrando por vontade própria. E era exatamente o que ele fazia, vocês dois sabiam, por isso que seu corpo enfraquecia tanto, por isso que se sentia tão quente ao ponto de ter que se esfregar em Minghao, ainda que isso não fosse remediar a situação.

A garganta formigou com o nome do namorado, queria gemer ‘pra ele, resmungar sobre o quanto queria dar de verdade, repetir o nome do homem até que a palavra deixasse de fazer sentido dentro da sua boca. Porém sabia que no segundo em que largasse os dedos dele, teria todo o estímulo arrancado de você. Disposta a se dar mais prazer, acelerou o movimento, sugando os dígitos com mais fome ainda.

Entorpecida, não estava pronta para ser contrariada outra vez, entretanto não teve muita escolha quando assistiu Minghao retirar os dedos de você numa lentidão agonizante. Aquilo não era um espelho do que você fazia com a boca, afinal ainda tinha os dedos dele roçando na entradinha da sua garganta. Mesmo a remoção foi extremamente obscena, o fiozinho pegajoso e esbranquiçado que conectava o canalzinho aos dígitos dele só se rompeu quando ele afastou o suficiente.

O homem não dispensou a chance de provar, sugando os próprios dedos num grunhido satisfeito. Sabia ter te frustrado, porém queria te assistir lembrar do motivo por conta própria: o experimento.

“Agora eu preciso que você imagine isso acontecendo mais algumas vezes por um mês inteiro…”, comentou ameno, retirando os dedos da sua boca na mesma lentidão. “Consegue aguentar?”, ergueu as sobrancelhas em tom de confronto. Um riso desorientado fez seu peito balançar.

Então seria assim?

Sentia pulsação no meio das suas pernas rastejar pelo corpo inteiro — atordoada demais para ser capaz de oferecer uma resposta satisfatória no momento. Se aperta contra o vazio, goteja, quase dói, causa aflição e, ainda assim, você sabe que não pode fazer nada para remediar.

É excitante.

“Você podia ter avisado…”

[...]

Presa na mesma posição que Minghao havia te deixado quando te levou no colo até ali, você jurava que seu corpo seria sugado pelo estofado macio do divã. Hipersensível, notava que a palpitação no meio das suas pernas se dissipava aos poucos. Ponderava sobre o quão estranhamente gostosa era a sensação ainda que estivesse “insatisfeita”.

Minghao nunca fazia nada pela metade com o seu corpo. Definitivamente precisaria de um tempo para se acostumar com a nova dinâmica.

Não sabe quando passou a secá-lo descaradamente. Sentado numa poltrona logo ao lado, o homem parecia absorto demais com o que escrevia na caderneta apoiada em um dos encostos da lateral. Era lindo concentrado como estava. O corpo imponente, as sobrancelhas franzindo a cada pensamento diferente que surgia, a mão segurando a caneta, o volume que ainda não havia sumido no meio das pernas muito bem abertas, tudo parecia tão sexy…

Até que ponto essa fixação repentina nos detalhes era fruto do orgasmo que você não teve?

Riu para si mesma com o pensamento e foi o bastante para atrair a atenção do seu namorado – que retribuiu o sorriso mesmo sem saber do que se tratava. Te ofereceu um grunhido questionador, ainda sem parar de escrever e você se viu obrigada a surgir com algo para falar:

“Essas anotações são sobre mim?”, ajustou a postura, apoiando a cabeça em uma das mãos.

“São.”

“Posso ver?”, sorriu, sabia a resposta.

“Não.”, soou como uma pergunta retórica, ele riu desacreditado. “Eu nunca deixo meus pacientes verem o que eu anoto.”

“Por que não? Você tá escrevendo sobre eles afinal…”, questionou e nesse ponto seu namorado tinha total noção de que você só queria tirar uma com a cara dele.

“É antiético.”, usou a palavra no mesmo timbre que você havia usado mais cedo, fez questão de te olhar nos olhos — tornando as próprias intenções claras.

“Também é antiético socar os dedos na buceta de uma paciente sua.”, direta, sem filtro algum.

“Você é muito obscena às vezes, sabia?”, ele afiou os olhos, entretanto, contrário ao que disse, não pareceu minimamente balançado com o comentário.

“E você é muito careta pra um sexólogo.”, rebateu.

Minghao só pôde rir de canto dessa vez, voltando a escrever. O silêncio confortável se instaurou por mais alguns minutos até o som da caneta se tornar cada vez mais espaçado — sinal que ele finalmente estava acabando.

“Quais suas expectativas quanto ao experimento? Acha que consegue concluir sem problemas?”, te olhou interessado, provavelmente queria tomar nota da sua resposta.

“Confio no meu taco, amor.”, mordeu o lábio, convencida. Vivia para provocar o homem, não segurou a língua outra vez: “A parte interessante vai ser tentar te fazer perder.”, ganhou exatamente aquilo que não queria, um sermão:

“É algo sério, _____. Não uma competição.”, Minghao nunca admitia, mas tinha a mania de te chamar pelo nome sempre que queria passar seriedade. “Eu realmente preciso que você só se comprometa com isso se estiver disposta a ir até o fim.”, completou. Não soou irritado, mas definitivamente não estava para brincadeiras.

“Você não tem senso de humor…”, estalou a língua no céu da boca. “Eu me comprometo, Minghao.”, deu ênfase ao nome dele já que ele havia feito questão de te chamar pelo seu. Seu namorado pareceu finalmente se dar conta da escolha e mordeu um sorriso dentro da boca.

“Promete que vai respeitar as regras até o fim dos trinta dias?”

“Prometo.”, assegurou.

“Sem tentar nenhuma gracinha, amor.”, inclinou a cabeça, te conhecia bem demais. “Promete que vai seguir minhas instruções?”

“Já disse que sim.”, forçou uma insolência que era claramente de brincadeira.

“Excelente.”, sorriu amistoso, largando a caneta. “Vem cá.”, bateu nas próprias coxas, indicando onde te queria outra vez. Obediente, quase saltitou até ele. Seu namorado te olhou com adoração, satisfeito demais em ser objeto de alegria ‘pra você.

A admiração quase fez ele não perceber que você estava olhando para as anotações assim que se sentou. Quase. Ainda era um homem muito atento, tanto que virou a caderneta assim que notou.

“Espertinha.”, riu da sua expressão insatisfeita, selando o biquinho que surgiu nos seus lábios. “Meu bem?”, a voz grave, do jeitinho que ele sabia que você gostava de escutar. “Sua primeira instrução oficial é me fazer uma massagem quando a gente chegar em casa.”, selou seu pescoço. Tinha noção que precisava de pouco para te conquistar.

“Abuso de poder também é antiético, sabia?”

— 𝗦𝗘𝗦𝗦𝗜𝗢𝗡 𝟬𝟮: Domingo, 13 de abril.

Quase duas semanas haviam se passado desde o último contato que sequer fazia alusão a algo sexual entre você e o seu namorado. Parte disso era mérito do seu período menstrual que veio abrir o mês com chave de ouro. E, se descartasse todas as sessões de amasso no banco do motorista sempre que ele te buscava do trabalho e os acontecimentos nada inocentes que vocês tiveram no sofá quando, supostamente, deveriam estar assistindo a algum filme juntinhos… eram quase duas semanas.

A rotina não havia sido prejudicada. A noção de que sexo era conexão, mas não era regra foi discutida entre vocês dois logo no início. Tinha-o da mesma maneira que sempre teve, como se nada estivesse fora do lugar. Porém isso não te impedia de sentir falta ou mesmo de pensar vezes demais sobre a situação. Não te surpreendia. Sabia que memórias eram o maior sintoma de saudade — acontecia o mesmo quando você prometia a si mesma que comeria menos doces, sempre se pegava lembrando do quão bom seria ter açúcar correndo pelo seu sangue. Só que rememorar era sintoma leve. Minghao estava ali o tempo todo para remediar a situação. As mãos ainda em sua pele, o gosto na sua boca, a voz gentil no seu ouvido… parecia suficiente.

Ou, pelo menos, era no início.

O verdadeiro teste ao seu autocontrole havia começado fazia algo por volta de três dias. Seu namorado precisou fazer uma breve viagem a trabalho e o experimento, que aos seus olhos estava sendo fácil, finalmente se mostrou como uma pedra no seu sapato — grande demais para você conseguir ignorar. Era como se a ausência do homem finalmente te fizesse capaz de enxergar que você sentia falta dele em outros sentidos.

“Amor?”, o chamado te tirou do limbo no qual sua mente estava presa. “Ainda tá aí?”

“Tô. Acabei me distraindo, desculpa.”

“Certo… bom, foi só isso que discuti no encontro de hoje. E você?”, perguntou atencioso. “O que fez do seu dia?”

“Nada demais.”, mordeu um sorriso sapeca entre os lábios. “Só pensei em você.”

“O dia inteiro?”

“O dia inteirinho.”, acenou com a cabeça como se ele pudesse te ver. Não tinha receio em soar como boba apaixonada, especialmente por saber como aquilo amolecia o coração de Minghao.

“É sério, meu bem… fala o que você fez além disso, então.”

“Hmmm, fui pro trabalho cedinho. Ah, e comprei aquela sobremesa que você gosta na volta.”, mordeu a pontinha do dedo, já sabia o que esperar.

“Deixou um pouquinho ‘pra mim?”

“Depende.”, não esperou que ele questionasse. “Se você for bonzinho quando chegar amanhã, eu deixei. Caso contrário, eu comi tudinho.”, uma risada baixinha soou do outro lado.

“A gente conversa quando eu chegar, amor.”, assegurou. “E o quê mais?”

“Mais nada. Não fui pra academia, porque tava com preguiça e agora ‘tô aqui.”

“Mas ao menos tá fazendo os exercícios que eu te mandei?”, o questionamento te fez torcer o nariz, achou que ele nunca mais voltaria nesse assunto — que fosse coisa de momento. Lembra-se de como, na primeira vez que o ouviu mencionar os malditos “exercícios”, pensou que as palavras ‘assoalho pélvico’ deveriam existir só no vocabulário da sua ginecologista, ninguém mais. Namorar Minghao significava falar sobre tudo nesse mundo e às vezes você se esquecia disso.

“Eles são esquisitos, mô...”, resmungou.

“Mas fazem bem pra você. Já te expliquei os benefícios.”, a naturalidade em conversar sobre isso em nada te agradava agora, queria desviar o assunto da sua buceta o mais rápido possível.

“Eu sei disso, mas…”, suspirou derrotada, enfrentando mentalmente a vergonha para enfim murmurar uma confissão meio inaudível — você mesma tinha a noção de que soou ininteligível.

“Não te ouvi.”, ele te arrancou outra bufada em frustração. Precisou aumentar o tom de voz a contragosto:

“Eu fico excitada quando faço.”, torceu o rosto ao final da frase, talvez fosse mais produtivo ter guardado essa informação só para você. Ouviu um risinho contido do outro lado da linha e teve certeza: deveria ter guardado a informação. “Não ri!”, repreendeu em irritação, ainda que um sorriso enfeitasse sua boca também.

“Faz parte, meu bem.”, tentou apaziguar, a satisfação explícita na voz dele. Você sabia exatamente a expressão que ele estava fazendo. “A circulação sanguínea aumenta no local.”

“Que saco!”, revirou os olhos, o sorriso permanecia intacto. “Parece que tudo me deixa excitada ultimamente.”, resolveu chutar o balde. Se iriam abrir mão das amenidades para conversar sobre isso, faria questão de ser aberta… era o que ele queria, não era? Já haviam dançado em volta do assunto por tempo suficiente, desde o início da ligação. Você sequer sabe dizer porque sentia tanta vontade de falar sobre isso — talvez porque sexo fosse a única coisa na sua cabeça nos últimos dias.

“Só ultimamente?”, tinha um traço de sarcasmo na pergunta.

“Eu não era assim antes, Hao. Nem começa.”, fez bico. “Tô começando a ser agora que você tá me deixando passar fome…”

“Passar fome?!”

“Sim. Quero te comer e você não deixa mais.”, como uma pobre coitada, era assim que você soava.

“Essa conversa tá ficando esquisita, amor. O celibato já tá começando a afetar sua cabeça.”, não havia seriedade alguma nesse trecho do diálogo, Minghao estava acostumado com cada uma das suas peculiaridades — especialmente com as coisas estranhas que saíam da sua mente.

“Como que essa coisa vai te ajudar mesmo? Me lembra, por favor. Pra eu não desistir.”, aconchegou-se mais no travesseiro, sentindo o cheirinho do perfume dele na camiseta que usava.

“Não posso te dar detalhes, já disse. Mas pensa que a abstinência vai fazer com que você resgate as memórias de maneira mais eficiente. É isso que eu quero observar.”, um silêncio curto se instaurou logo após a frase, isso definitivamente não soou como um motivo válido. Ele sabia. Tanto que tentou ser mais claro: “Assim é mais fácil de você lembrar o que te fez gozar pra mim, amor.”

“Queria gozar pra você agora.”, não raciocinou, disse sem pensar. Um arrepio esquisito tomou conta do corpo assim que finalizou a frase, a mera menção a algo assim te tirava o ar.

Quando o silêncio pairou sobre a linha telefônica outra vez, você soube imediatamente que coisa boa não viria a partir daqui. Desde o início estava claro que o movimento natural seria tornar a situação cada vez mais complicada para vocês dois. Minghao gostava de brincar com a própria comida, era fato. Entretanto tudo era feito sob a premissa dele estar contribuindo para o experimento, tornando a ansiedade cada vez mais pungente para fins científicos apenas… só que ele não era o único analista dessa história. Você tinha as tendências do seu namorado na palma da mão, já havia perdido as contas de quantas vezes foi envolvida numa cama de gato só para ser observada de longe — era, até certo ponto, tão ‘especialista’ quanto ele.

“Quer, meu bem? A bucetinha tá carente?”, a língua até mesmo ardeu com a provocação barata. Você sentiu uma fisgada gostosa no ventre, Minghao era um filho da puta. “Não posso te deixar gozar, amor. Você sabe.”, houve um farfalhar de tecidos do outro lado da linha, ele provavelmente estava se ajustando na cama. “Mas posso te dar uma sessão. Pra você ao menos fazer carinho nela, sabe?”

“Não é justo…”, choramingou. Não sabia dizer se a proposta era boa ou ruim. Mas só de ganhar permissão para se dar um pouquinho de prazer, você se sentia cada vez mais tentada a aceitar.

“Não é.”, ele confirmou, o tom condescendente. “Mas vale a pena, sim? A melhor parte da coisa é psicológica.”, você não conseguia pensar no que havia de ‘melhor’ nisso. “O sentimento de antecipação aumenta…”’ acrescentou. O timbre descia aos poucos, tornando-se mais grave. “A ansiedade…”, aqui os neurônios patéticos já não raciocinavam muito bem. Era uma armadilha e você sabia. “A vontade de sentir de verdade…”, quase gemeu entre as palavras. Nada te impediu de apertar as perninhas. “É só nisso que você consegue pensar... Mais nada.”, outra fisgada deliciosa no ventre. Você concordou com a cabeça, como se ele pudesse ver. “Não é?”

“Hao.”, viu-se contra a parede. Você realmente precisava responder alguma coisa? Ficaria satisfeita só de poder se tocar ouvindo ele falar com você desse jeito.

“Fala pra mim, amor. No quê você tá pensando agora?”

“Não…”, choramingou a recusa. Não queria participar de porcaria de sessão nenhuma. Queria Minghao mandando e desmandando em você, te dizendo exatamente o que fazer com o seu corpo até você gozar.

“A gente tá nessa junto, _____. Não quer a chance de brincar com a minha cabeça também?”, sugestivo, agia como se vocês dois estivessem em pé de igualdade nessa história.

Cacete. E tem essa opção? Você sinceramente não se via conseguindo fazer isso nesse estado. Mas se fosse para agradar o homem:

“Quero.”

“Então fala pra mim.”

Houve um longo momento de silêncio outra vez. Você debatia consigo mesma se devia falar sobre o que havia pensado o dia inteiro, sentia-se acanhada ainda que o homem tivesse te dado o aval para isso. Suspirou. Se estava na chuva era para se molhar:

“Tô pensando em quando você me fez usar aquele plug no seu aniversário e me fodeu na bancada depois…”, a voz foi se tornando cada vez mais baixa a cada palavra dita, mas Minghao escutou — e escutou muito bem.

Você não precisava ver para vislumbrar o sorriso sacana que adornava os lábios grossinhos. E ele não precisou estar presente para fazer com que você se remexesse nervosa na cama, arrepiando numa excitação ainda meio reprimida.

“E por quê justamente essa memória tá na sua cabeça agora, amor?”, e lá vinham as perguntas difíceis. “O que tem de especial nela?”, tudo soou extremamente provocativo. No fim, Minghao era bom demais no que fazia: sabia bem como te lançar numa espiral de pensamentos.

“Eu não sei, eu…”, balbuciou. Havia sim uma resposta em sua mente, porém achava que entraria em combustão só de cogitar verbalizá-la.

“Sou só eu, amor. Não existe vergonha.”, ele assegurou.

Você precisou de mais alguns segundos, a cintura inquieta remexeu-se na cama enquanto tentava processar uma maneira de colocar seu tesão em palavras.

“Eu nunca tinha ficado cheia daquele jeito antes…”, sentiu-se contraindo só de lembrar. “Não sabia que era tão gostoso.”, a pele ardeu com a urgência de tocar no próprio corpo. Precisou afastar as pernas, os peitinhos se eriçando — era fácil demais para Minghao e ele nem precisava estar no cômodo. “Eu imaginei você no lugar do plug.”, mordeu a pontinha de um dos dedos após a confissão, nervosa.

“É algo que você tem vontade de fazer?”, a pergunta por si só te acendeu. Caralho, claro que queria. Senão não estaria se molhando inteira só por tocar nesse assunto.

“Sim. Só que você nunca disse nada…”

“Você nunca me pediu, amor.”

“Eu quero…”, miou baixinho. As pernas não paravam quietas, esfregando-se na cama para descontar a excitação. “Pra caralho.”, intensificou. Fazia pouco tempo que percebeu seu interesse extremo nisso, algumas preferências suas só passaram a existir quando Minghao apareceu na sua vida, nunca havia experimentado com mais ninguém.

“É? Põe no viva-voz e deixa o celular pertinho.”, pareceu ignorar o que você havia dito, mas Minghao nunca dava ponto sem nó. “Agora coloca dois dedinhos na boca, amor. E fecha os olhos.”, acrescentou quando ouviu uma confirmação sua. “Tá sem calcinha?”, pergunta retórica. “Usa a outra mão ‘pra brincar com a bucetinha, amor.”, murmurou e você quase saltou da cama de felicidade. Abrindo as perninhas totalmente sapeca. “Devagar. Só por fora.”, obediente, fez um carinho leve. “E mama os dedinhos, bebê. Deixa bem molhadinho.”, foi como um estalar de dedos no seu rosto.

Lembrou-se que estava de boquinha cheia, voltando a chupar as falanges com dedicação. Babou, deixou a saliva escorrer e fez todos os barulhinhos obscenos que pôde para o namorado, assim como obedeceu de bom grado quando ele pediu para usar os dedinhos encharcados na sua buceta. Mole de tesão, totalmente maleável.

“Eu preciso de detalhes, amor. O que mais você lembra?”

Estúpida com o estímulo, não conseguiu responder à pergunta. Os círculos que fazia no pontinho sensível se tornaram ainda mais apertadinhos ao ouvir a voz do namorado. O contato se espalhava aos poucos, esfregou também as dobrinhas dando-se conta do quão melada estava.

“Droga, Hao…”, choramingou, a ponta do indicador ameaçando alargar a entradinha.

“Tá gostoso, amor?”, soou entretido, parecia entender que você não estava mais em condições de manter uma conversa decente com ele.

“Tá…”, balançou a cabeça desesperados. “Eu ‘tô com tanto tesão…”, escorreu nos próprios dedos ao fim da frase, seu corpo confirmava tudo que dizia.

“Vai pegar o plug, então.”, a sugestão te causou incômodo não pelo que tinha que ser feito, mas sim pelo fato de ter que parar de se tocar.

“Hao-”

“Você sabe como funciona, não adianta reclamar.”, falou com um pouco mais de autoridade. “Anda, meu bem. Sei que você se preparou 'pra isso, não sou idiota…”, e essa autoridade se justificava no fato de te conhecer bem até demais. Droga. “Te deixo pegar o menorzinho dessa vez, não vou te fazer sofrer.”, nesse ponto já havia parado com o estímulo, levantando-se da cama com pesar.

O percurso foi quase humilhante, parte pelo quê estava prestes a fazer e parte por ter que suportar a lubrificação quente escorrendo entre as suas coxas. Tentou fazer pouco caso para si mesma quando voltou com o objeto e um frasco de lubrificante nas mãos, mas vibrava tanto em excitação que sentia o estômago arder.

“Peguei.”

“Muito bom. Fica de quatro na cama, amor.”, a solicitação quase te fez protestar. Caralho, era degradante demais, mesmo estando sozinha. “É mais fácil assim. Confia em mim.”, ele previu a reclamação. Você obedeceu com pesar, o corpo arrepiando completamente — quis enfiar seu rosto no travesseiro e sumir. “Agora você vai passar muito lubrificante, meu bem.”, cada instrução que seguia te lançava na mesma espiral de refletir sobre as coisas que você era capaz de fazer só por estar com tesão.

“Pronto.”, balbuciou, nesse ponto o rosto inteiro queimava.

“Devagar, amor. Quando você se sentir pronta.”

Contou até dez mentalmente, respirando fundo. Estaria mais receosa se não fosse pela memória teimosa daquela noite na sua cabeça, lembrando do quão mole de tesão aquilo te deixou. Forçou a pontinha com isso em mente, o corpo retesando com o choque de temperatura.

“É gelado.”, resmungou, os olhos apertados.

“É, não é? Tenta relaxar ‘pra entrar mais fácil. Brinca com ele um pouquinho.”, o jeitinho de manejar as palavras por si só te fez ceder um pouco mais. Mordeu a boca num dengo gostoso, roçando a pontinha no canalzinho mais apertado até se sentir relaxar. Fantasiou, lentamente tornando-se mais íntima com esse tipo de estímulo… tão perdida em pensamento que mal registrou quando conseguiu colocá-lo por completo.

“Amor…”, fez manha, ele entendeu.

“Agora deita de bruços pra se tocar. Sei que ‘cê gosta assim.”, o sorrisinho safado era nítido no tom de voz, te deixava mansa ‘pra caralho — deitou quase que no mesmo segundo. “Enche a bucetinha também pra ficar tão cheinha quanto eu te deixei.”, genuinamente acabaria enlouquecendo por ouvi-lo falando assim com você. A pele esquentou, o tesão tomou conta do seu corpo ao ponto de esfregar o rostinho na cama no automático. Encaixou a mão no meio das perninhas, contente por poder voltar a fazer carinho ali. Recolheu tanto melzinho quanto conseguiu, usando-o como lubrificação para encaixar dois dígitos no canalzinho. “Rebola nos dedinhos, amor. Tá tão apertadinha, não tá?”, o timbre do namorado não escondia que ele estava tão excitado quanto você. Falava manso, não te surpreenderia se ele também estivesse se tocando. “Se diverte e geme ‘pra mim, bebê. Vou te mandar parar quando for a hora.”, já se contorcia, forçando-se contra a sua mão. Murmurou um ‘uhum’ baixinho, mas nem sabe se ele ouviu.

Reposicionou a mão como pôde, pressionando os dígitos contra as paredes apertadinhas. O relevo do plug agora era nítido contra seus dedos, esfregou as pontinhas ali exatamente como já havia experimentado com o namorado certa vez e precisou morder a boca quando um chorinho dengoso escapou — ele ouvia tudo, você tinha noção. A carne tremia dentro da própria pele, sentia-se convulsionando sempre que repetia a ação. Era como ter seus dois buraquinhos estimulados ao mesmo tempo, a porcaria do plug te deixava fraca. Fez mais uma vez. Mais forte. Mais rápido.

“Por favor, por favor, por favor...”, repetia em staccato para o homem que respirava fundo contra o microfone do outro lado da linha. Cega pela própria gula, usou o polegar para esfregar o pontinho sensível. Esticando a mão de um jeito dolorido, já que não sabia desistir de manter os dedinhos socados dentro de você. Derreteu com o próprio carinho, a canhota perdendo a força até mesmo para sustentar seu corpo na cama. Outro chorinho, esse ainda mais manhoso que o anterior — ouviu seu namorado praguejar do outro lado da linha. “Eu preciso gozar…”

Perdeu o controle e foi nítido até mesmo para ele que sequer era capaz de te ver. A mão que antes se equilibrava no colchão agarrou a base do plug, forçou mais fundo, ameaçou tirá-lo… a combinação se repetindo até que você estivesse avidamente se fodendo com o brinquedo. Manipulada pelo próprio prazer, apoiou os joelhos contra o colchão, empinando-se em direção à porta. A cabeça cheia de Minghao, presa à fantasia de que ele era o responsável por te encher em outros sentidos também. Rebolou contra o plug, forçando o rostinho contra o travesseiro, porque honestamente já não sabia mais controlar o volume da própria voz.

“Porra, me fode…”, balbuciou o pedido. Apertava os olhos com firmeza, idealizando seu namorado atrás de você. Retirou os dedos da bucetinha sensível, apoiando a palma contra o colchão para erguer o tronco. A mão que forçava o plug agora tinha mais autonomia para fazê-lo. Tirava o objeto lambuzado quase que por completo só para enfiá-lo de uma vez só — com toda a força que tinha. O buraco mais apertadinho pulsava atordoado, totalmente desacostumado a ser usado dessa maneira.

Os olhinhos mantinham-se quase presos na parte de trás da cabeça, não paravam de revirar. A buceta pingava, pensando no quão gostoso seria se abrir inteirinha num dildo bem grande ou no pau do seu namorado. Foda-se. Qualquer coisa serviria. Só precisava de mais. Um gemidinho quebrado arranhou a garganta quando o rabinho guloso apertou o plug bem fundo — quase não conseguiu puxá-lo de volta.

Delícia. Ficou mais encharcada ainda.

“Tá doendo… por favor…”, pouco do que soou inteligível. Estava em estado de puro delírio, a mente tão fodida quanto o corpo. “Me m-machuca, Hao… ah, ah porra… me faz gozar…”, o pedido era inédito até para você que sequer tinha noção o que estava dizendo.

Minghao soube que era o suficiente. Que já havia descoberto até mais do que havia antecipado. Era hora de dar um basta, você não tinha mais discernimento para se fazer parar por conta própria.

“_____. Já chega.”, firme, alto o bastante para ter certeza que seria ouvido por você. E, de fato, foi. A percepção de que teria que parar com a brincadeira veio de imediato — era obediente demais afinal. Sentiu que ia começar a chorar por isso.

“Mô, por favor, por favor… eu preciso-”

“É o suficiente.”, interrompeu. “Já passou do limite.”, o tom de alerta fez você se contorcer. Suspirou derrotada, soltando a base do plug com muito pesar para finalmente colocar o telefone contra a orelha outra vez.

Respirava descompassadamente, o corpo tremelicando sempre que algum espasmo mais forte fazia seus buraquinhos se apertarem. Era como ter passado por um choque muito rápido, ainda não raciocinava o que fez ou o que disse — todas as energias focadas em se recompor.

“Tá bem, meu amor? Levanta ‘pra ir se limpar.”, a solicitação veio com certo pesar, geralmente era Minghao quem fazia isso por você. Ele concordou ao que ouviu um “espera” ser murmurado. Mas não conseguiu ignorar a rispidez presente na sua voz — te conhecia bem demais, sabia que se tornava arisca quando era impedida de gozar. Quis quebrar o gelo: “Dorme plugadinha ‘pra mim, meu bem. Já que 'cê ama se sentir cheia.”, alfinetou, nesse ponto não sabia se estava ajudando ou piorando sua situação. “Se ficar carente pode brincar com ele um pouquinho, mas você sabe as regras, não sabe?”

Você revirou os olhos e nem foi por bom motivo dessa vez. Tentava lutar contra a própria vontade de pular no pescoço do namorado — mimada, tudo culpa de não ter conseguido o que queria.

“Sem gozar…”, respondeu entediada.

“Isso. Você é tão bonita toda obediente, bebê.”, fez tipo. Você tinha noção que o tom adocicado na voz dele nada mais era que uma tentativa de ‘amansa-fera’ e, talvez, isso tenha te deixado mais chateada. Limitou-se a outro grunhido para concordar. “Vai passar…”, ele estava na ponta dos pés. “Pensa que é um jeito de ir dormir pensando em mim, meu bem.”

Inacreditável. Você riu em descrença, finalmente relaxando um pouco mais.

“Você é um insuportável.”

“Também tô morrendo de saudades.”

“Chato.”, já sorria abertamente. Minghao precisava aprender a parar de te quebrar tão fácil. “Eu te amo.”

“Eu também te amo, meu amor.”

— 𝗦𝗘𝗦𝗦𝗜𝗢𝗡 𝟬𝟰: Sábado, 19 de abril.

Endireitou a coluna quando sentiu os dígitos gelados resvalando bem no fim da abertura dorsal do vestido. Queria mesmo era se debruçar sobre a mesa, pelo menos assim estaria escondida o suficiente para retorcer o rostinho quando sentisse necessidade. Mas não. A situação basicamente te obrigava a manter a postura de boa moça: gentil e sofisticada.

Nos poucos dias em que teve o namorado de volta muita coisa aconteceu. Primeiro, quase queimaram a largada com a chegada de Minghao — habituados com reencontros quentes demais, ficaram próximos de arruinar o experimento logo na escada do prédio. O (quase) acontecido levou ao segundo strike: o homem precisou contornar a situação da melhor maneira que conseguiu, conduzindo a sessão número quatro no local mesmo — malas e tudo ao pé dos degraus como espectadores. Foi aí que, terceiro, Minghao resgatou mais uma de suas fixações sexuais: o apreço por ser estimulada em locais públicos. E isso explica o agora, ou o número cinco: um vibrador enfiado no meio das suas pernas em um evento de extrema importância para a carreira do seu namorado.

Por isso, nunca sentiu-se tão grata quando finalmente sentaram-se em uma das mesas mais ao fundo do salão. Se precisasse ouvir mais algum senhor de meia idade parabenizar seu namorado pelos brilhantes artigos publicados enquanto tinha-o brincando com sua sanidade com um controle dentro do bolso dele sentia que iria enlouquecer. Entretanto, desde que haviam se sentado ali, sua situação tornou-se dezenas de vezes pior.

A mente ficava turva a cada gole que dava na própria taça, encarava o movimento no ambiente com os os olhos desfocados. Numa espiral de agonia, concentrada em como a vibração era intensa o suficiente para te fazer arrepiar, mas não para te fazer gozar. Já havia tentado trocar de posição, cruzar e descruzar as pernas… nada adiantava. Nem mesmo encarar seu namorado com uma expressão de pura aflição era suficiente. Minghao se mostrava indiferente a toda situação, uma das mãos permanecia no bolso, porém não fazia a mínima menção de acabar com seu sofrimento — seja aumentando a velocidade ou desligando o aparelho completamente.

“Aquela é Eloise Fontaine, amor. O maior nome de casa.”, finalmente parou de ignorar o fato de estar sendo encarado por você, mas ainda assim não tirou os olhos do palco mais à frente. Você custou a desviar o olhar, porém o fez. Ainda que distante, a mulher parecia estar na casa dos cinquenta ou sessenta anos, os cabelos grisalhos em evidência adornavam o rosto. Possuía também um sorriso doce, tão aconchegante como uma vovó. Os traços remetiam a algo europeu — você não era a melhor em julgar pela aparência — e talvez isso explicasse o sobrenome.

“Ela foi minha supervisora por um bom tempo. Aprendi muito do que eu sei com ela.”, completou. Os olhos demonstravam uma admiração genuína pela mulher que agora discursava sobre alguma coisa que seus ouvidos mal captavam. “Olha ‘pra mim.”, pediu baixinho, observando suas expressões com atenção. “Eu vou aumentar a potência e você vai continuar me olhando. Sem se mexer.”, o aviso lançou um arrepio pela sua espinha. Respirou fundo, preparando-se mentalmente. Um clique soou baixinho, perto o suficiente para você escutar. O dispositivo foi rápido em obedecer.

Cacete. Mais forte do que havia antecipado na própria cabeça. Apertou os olhos, o corpo curvando num solavanco que você jura ter tentado conter — sem sucesso.

“Se controla.”, acariciou seu antebraço com a ponta dos dedos, assistindo a cena se desenrolar com certa curiosidade. “Quer ouvir algo engraçado?”, o questionamento era a última coisa que você esperava escutar de Minghao no momento.

Deveria ser piada. Literalmente.

“Agora?”, indagou em descrença.

“Agora.”, ele riu do tom ofendido, a cena era divertida demais. “A Eloise tem estudo muito famoso sobre exibicionismo, sabia? Com as implicações dele enquanto doença.”, a última frase te fez virar a cabeça meio incrédula, por alguns segundos até se esqueceu do inferno que se passava no meio das suas pernas — isso deveria ser ‘engraçado’? “Existem níveis, amor.”, ele sorriu abertamente, pareceu entretido com a sua reação. “Não é todo mundo que sofre disso como um distúrbio.”, esclarece, correndo os olhos pelas suas pernas só para assistir o modo como elas se apertavam. “Algumas pessoas só molham a bucetinha pro namorado. Sem nenhum problema.”, sorriu ameno. Mais um clique. A velocidade das vibrações permaneceu a mesma, mas agora era intercalada com um pulsar intenso.

A sensação contínua de prazer já começava a resultar em exaustão, numa fraqueza de quem só quer se aliviar logo. Aconchegou a lateral do corpo no homem o quanto pôde, ainda tinha em mente que precisava ser cuidadosa, só que começava a deixar de se importar com isso a cada pulsar insistente no meio das pernas. Impulsionou a cintura para frente num rebolar tímido que não passou despercebido pelo homem.

“Quietinha. Senão todo mundo vai notar.”, afagou seu cabelo com ternura, um sorriso sacana te fazendo arrepiar.

“Não vão…”, quase gemeu as palavras. Observava-o por baixo dos cílios, colocando-se numa posição de submissão proposital.

“É um evento cheio de especialistas nisso, meu bem.”, selou sua testa. “Eles com certeza sabem reconhecer um orgasmo.”, agora sua bochecha. Finalmente perto o suficiente para sussurrar no seu ouvido: “Especialmente se você for continuar fazendo essa carinha de vagabunda.”, o tom gentil o suficiente para não soar degradante. Você precisou morder o lábio inferior, agarrando-se aos ombros dele como se precisasse disso para se manter no chão.

Não era mais capaz de aturar o jeitinho tão sexy e meio traiçoeiro sem fazer absolutamente nada. Olhou de soslaio por bons segundos para se certificar que não estavam sendo observados antes de tomá-lo num beijo necessitado. Fez o melhor que conseguiu para não ir com muita sede ao pote — dada a situação —, porém acabou se perdendo assim que teve uma das mãos dele te segurando pelo rosto, te controlando. Minghao tinha a própria estratégia para manter as coisas interessantes, inclinava a cabeça o suficiente para esconder o ósculo, aproveitando-se disso para brincar com a língua dentro da sua boca.

A intensidade da vibração foi aumentada de repente. Você saltou, gemendo contra os lábios do homem. Uma das mãos foi até o interior da coxa de Minghao, apertando com força. O jeitinho que as pernas se apertavam fazia com que o brinquedo estivesse totalmente contra o seu pontinho.

Que se dane.

Já rebolava na porcaria do vibrador sem pudor algum.

“_____. Para.”, ele murmurou, interrompendo o beijo. Você sequer cogitou parar. Muito pelo contrário, acelerou o movimento. A boquinha bem feita se abriu, expondo a língua pro namorado — pedindo claramente para que ele cuspisse ali, numa provocação barata. Minghao teve o suficiente, desligou o brinquedo de imediato. “Você tá esquecendo de onde a gente ‘tá, _____.”, repreendeu entre-dentes. O apertão na cintura que seguiu do alerta quase te fez gemer.

Ficava fora de si quando era estimulada o suficiente, especialmente pela quantidade interessante de taças de vinho que havia dentro do seu corpo. Não conseguia se arrepender, se desculpar ou mesmo parar de provocar — não se Minghao não te colocasse no seu lugar e você faria o que fosse possível para que ele o fizesse.

Definitivamente não precisou de muito. Só a insolência de perturbá-lo num local tão arriscado como aquele tirou seu namorado do eixo e deu para ver na cara dele.

[...]

“Tira a calcinha.”, foi a primeira coisa que ouviu depois de bons minutos em completo silêncio.

No tempo que antecedeu o comando, fora arrastada até um banheiro mais ao fundo do prédio por um Minghao bastante alterado e colocada em cima de uma bancada como se não pesasse nada. Perdeu as contas de quantas vezes trocou as pernas no trajeto e quase foi de cara no chão, sendo salva somente porque o homem não largou seu braço em nenhum momento. Incapaz de reconhecer o local no qual se encontrava, respirava fundo para recompor a respiração.

“Mas… o experimento…”, atordoada. Levou somente alguns segundos para fazer o próprio julgamento da situação. O veredito? Ia ser fodida ali mesmo.

“Eu sei, caralho. Eu ainda lembro.”, refutou, não te deu nem tempo de elaborar. “Só que ‘cê não vai gozar, né? Não vai me decepcionar.”, parecia tentar te convencer ou convencer a si mesmo que aquilo funcionaria. Raciocínio lento, as mãos e os olhos ocupados demais em livrar seus peitos do vestido.

“Eu não sei. Eu-”

“Não vai, amor.”, negou, mais firme dessa vez. Os olhos subindo para os seus como se te desafiasse a contrariá-lo outra vez. “Me obedece e tira a calcinha.”, arrematou, não dando mais abertura para qualquer outra coisa. Você se esticou de um jeito estranho para concluir a ação, pois teve que fazê-la sem descer da bancada.

A calcinha e o vibrador foram parar no bolso de um Minghao satisfeito, já que obteve êxito na tarefa de tirar seu vestido do caminho, finalmente beijando seus seios como queria ter feito desde o início. A língua quente correu entre o vão, deixando um rastro de saliva pegajosa que logo te fez arrepiar por conta do ar frio do ambiente. Abocanhou um deles, mamando com uma fome ruidosa. Fazia jus à embriaguez que de fato experimentava, parecia tonto, meio mole só poder te tocar dessa maneira.

“Tô tão desesperado por isso, desde aquela porra de ligação. Nem sei porque inventei essa merda toda.”, a confissão saiu de forma despreocupada, enquanto ele alternativa para encher a boca com o outro seio. Os dedos alcançaram sua intimidade exposta, brincando com a lubrificação que vazava excessivamente. “Eu podia jogar tudo pro alto agora, bebê, sabia?”, colou a boca na sua orelha, o sopro quente exalando álcool e fazendo seus pelos se eriçarem. “Arruinar essa bucetinha inteira até te deixar chorando ‘pra mim.”, emaranhou os dedos no seu cabelo, pouco se importando com o local que eles tinham acabado de tocar.

“Não fala assim…”

“Shhhhhh. É a minha sessão, amor. Eu posso falar o que eu quiser.”, enfatizou o ‘minha’, como se não estivesse claro quem tinha o controle da situação. Um beijo molhado foi deixado na sua testa antes que ele te puxasse até que seu rosto estivesse enfiado no pescoço dele — graças a altura da bancada. Boa parte do cheiro de perfume masculino já havia se dissipado, mas o pouco que havia ainda reagia com a química do suor dele. Te inebriava, quase sufocava… quis sentir com a própria língua, porém limitou-se ao ‘ter vontade’ apenas.

O homem voltou a brincar com a sua bucetinha sem pudor algum e no sentido literal da palavra: como um brinquedo. Esfregava os dedinhos, fazia carinho, esticava as dobrinhas para exibir o lugar, alargava a entradinha com a ponta do dedo… estava te enlouquecendo. Efetivamente Minghao não fazia absolutamente nada que te desse prazer, só te enlouquecia.

“Porra…”, sussurrou, o timbre grave, mas você ainda foi capaz de escutar. A palma envolveu sua intimidade outra vez, apertando com certa posse. “Ela tá pedindo uns tapinhas, amor.”, lançou por alto, parecia ter resistido a esse pensamento desde que começou a te tocar. “ Deixa eu bater um pouquinho?”, o pedido manso te fez arrepiar, apertando as unhas contra os ombros dele. “Quero tanto isso, porra, tanto…”, o clamor acompanhou um cafuné gostoso, você roçou o nariz no pescoço dele para retribuir. “Deixa?”, repetiu o pedido e você ficou surpresa consigo mesma, uma vez que jurava já ter dito sim. Afastou-se, concordando com a cabeça enquanto o olhava diretamente.

Minghao apoiou a canhota no interior da sua coxa para te manter aberta. Ele não necessariamente precisava fazer isso, porém tinha experiência o bastante para saber que o primeiro tapa sempre te fazia assustar — acabava fechando as pernas involuntariamente. Envolveu sua intimidade com a destra, um carinho que sempre fazia para te livrar da tensão inicial. Você respirou fundo. Minghao nunca avisava.

E, de fato, não houve alerta quando o primeiro tapa veio. O susto inicial te fez saltar e a ardência leve te fez apertar os dedos contra o mármore da pia — sequer registrou a sensação, precisaria de mais que isso. Ele parecia satisfeito, envolvendo as dobrinhas com as palmas outra vez.

“Mais um?”, interrogou contra a sua orelha, um beijinho estalado sendo deixado no topo da sua cabeça. Você precisou respirar fundo antes de concordar. “Vamos deixar mais interessante então.”, o tom ameno causou um arrepio esquisito. Levou segundos para ser moldada como uma boneca novamente, teve suas pernas ainda mais afastadas uma da outra e foi agarrada pelo pulso até que uma de suas mãos estivesse exatamente onde seu namorado queria. “Eu preciso bater no lugar certo, amor.”, começou, arrumando o máximo que podia do seu cabelo atrás da orelha. “Abre ‘pra mim?”, envolveu seu pescoço com uma das mãos te fazendo olhá-lo nos olhos. Você soube exatamente o que fazer.

Seduzida pelo olhar inquieto do homem que parecia dividido entre uma leve embriaguez e tesão você executou o que havia sido instruída a fazer, esticando as dobrinhas com os dedos o quanto podia, agora totalmente exposta para o namorado. Sabia ser o que Minghao havia te pedido e teria fingido maior acanhamento se não houvesse tanto álcool em seu sangue.

Os tapas que se sucederam conseguiram te despir de todo o pudor que havia em se entregar para ele ali. Gemia, pulsava, contorcia-se em incômodo e ainda assim era incapaz de tirar os olhos dos dele. Talvez assim conquistasse a piedade do homem, mesmo que ela consistisse em tê-lo te fodendo como uma vadia pervertida. O biquinho crescia, os olhos se molhavam e Minghao tinha total consciência do que você estava implorando para ter, porém isso só conseguia deixá-lo mais exasperado — tão frustrado quanto você, pois odiava admitir que também queria tanto aquilo. Isso fez com o que o impacto não aumentasse em cadência, mas em força.

Nada te preparou para o quão anestesiada a situação fazia você se sentir, de repente não havia mais dor — era o mesmo que ter algo embaixo da sua língua, te entorpecendo, te embriagando… o ritmo permanecia igual, ele não tinha pressa. Gostava de te dar tempo para respirar entre cada impacto, porém falhou em notar como você gradativamente não se esforçava mais para fazer isso. A bucetinha pulsava, tão dessensibilizada quanto você e era incapaz de te deixar perceber a bagunça que fazia na superfície abaixo de você, o quanto pingava saudades do namorado.

As pálpebras pesaram, inclinou-se para frente, entregando o corpo frágil a ele e tendo total confiança que ele te traria de volta em algum momento. Deliberadamente tornou a própria respiração mais escassa, inspirando cada vez menos ar para dentro dos próprios pulmões. Mais um. O peito reclamou quando você não conseguiu responder a mais um impacto, inerte, completamente mole contra o homem. Mais um. A sensação de sufocamento fazia você se contorcer em aflição, os olhinhos revirando por trás das pálpebras.

Mais um.

Mais forte dessa vez.

A asfixia pareceu alcançar estado irreversível. Agora estava tão superestimulada que não conseguia voltar a respirar nem se tentasse se forçar a fazê-lo. Nesse ponto, a boquinha aberta também escorria, se babava inteirinha e, mesmo fora de si, sabia que só precisava segurar mais um pouco para conseguir o que queria. O clitóris inchadinho não cessava o pulsar teimoso, só precisava que Hao acertasse ali com força suficiente, só precisava que…

“_____. Respira.”, não.

Não, não, não.

“Sei o que você tá tentando fazer, não desobedece.”, o apertão no quadril que acompanhou o tom rigoroso te fez pulsar gostoso ‘pra caralho. Inquieta, rebolou buscando por algo que te preenchesse por completo. Você deveria ter calculado que Minghao não ignoraria o tempo que você ficou sem respirar.

Que asfixia te fazia gozar não era novidade para nenhum de vocês dois — e justamente por ser o autor da descoberta, ele foi rápido em perceber a tentativa.

“Respira.”, o comando conseguia ser mais doloroso que os tapas, pois significava abrir mão do orgasmo que você já sentia tão pertinho — estava a um passo de se molhar inteira, mal achava que dava para segurar.

Teimosa, fechou as perninhas num solavanco, apertando a bucetinha melada entre as coxas o quanto podia. A pressão te fez soltar um gemido desesperado, o canalzinho contraia sem controle algum — quis enfiar todos os seus dedinhos ali de uma vez só.

“Não goza, _____. Abre as pernas.”, soou mais firme, já que não foi ouvido da primeira vez. As mãos fizeram o trabalho de abrir suas coxas com muito esforço. “Sem apertar.”

“Hao, eu… porra, por favor…”, falhou em conseguir falar corretamente, o ar voltando para os pulmões como um soco — de repente sentia seu corpo inteiro de uma vez só. Enfim, abriu mão do que tanto queria.

A sensação foi embora ressentida, tanto que lhe deixou somente um incômodo dolorido entre as perninhas. Só aí teve noção do que quase havia feito, do que quase havia arruinado. Sentiu culpa, ainda que não fosse a única responsável pela situação.

“Me desculpa…”, saiu esganiçado, esbarrando entre os seus arfares. Minghao pareceu não dar muita atenção, ainda tão intoxicado quanto você.

“Respira. Respira ‘pra mim, amor.”

— 𝗦𝗘𝗦𝗦𝗜𝗢𝗡 𝟬𝟱: Segunda-feira, 21 de abril.

O modo como acordou naquele dia deixou claro que o tempo havia começado a agir sobre você de maneira muito mais intensa — ou “irritante”, seja lá como quisesse colocar. Se viu tentada a fugir dos próprios rituais e rotinas quando tudo o que pensou durante eles foi em ligar correndo para o seu namorado, mesmo que essa não fosse a melhor das ideias. O início da semana costumava ser um marcador de distância entre você e Minghao, ele com a agenda cheia de pacientes e sessões e você lotada com as próprias demandas e ocupações.

Levantou com o pé esquerdo. Nada estava bom e não havia o que pudesse ser feito para resolver. Fez tudo em total silêncio durante a manhã, como se fosse um fantasma dentro da própria casa. Evitou pensar demais, evitou a mensagem de “bom dia” do namorado, evitou o espelho, evitou lembrar do experimento e em como provavelmente o seu humor péssimo era fruto dele — se recusava a admitir. Evitou tudo que te fizesse ter vontade de entrar em si mesma e nunca mais sair.

O dia pareceu se alongar infinitamente quando pôs os pés fora de casa, até o café que sempre pedia no caminho pro trabalho demorou mais tempo que o normal para ficar pronto. Cometeu todos os tipos de erros bobos durante o percurso das horas e se deu o privilégio de ficar extremamente puta com todos eles. Só não se deu o direito de chorar. Esse não. Seria admitir derrota. Estava desregulada, totalmente fora do lugar. O tom frio da única mensagem que enviou ao namorado no fim do expediente provavelmente deixou claro boa parte de tudo o que Minghao precisava saber: não estava bem.

Esperou-o do lado de fora do prédio assim como informou que faria. Havia acordado consigo mesma de não falar sobre o assunto. Não queria seu namorado tentando remediar nada. E, por todo o trajeto que vocês fizeram até o seu prédio, conseguiu se manter firme na sua decisão. No entanto, deveria ter previsto que não iria passar batido por tanto tempo assim:

“Agora a gente pode conversar?”, ele se desfez do cinto de segurança. O carro estacionado em uma das vagas que ele encontrou — que, por sinal, era bem afastada, visto que essa era a hora em que os moradores já haviam votado para casa.

Você brincou com as próprias unhas, debateu consigo mesma os melhores jeitos de se livrar da responsabilidade de tocar nesse tema com Minghao, só que até mesmo seu silêncio pareceu incomodar:

“Amor…”, iniciou, porém não pretendia falar mais nada além disso. Queria que a iniciativa de falar sobre viesse da sua parte.

Suspirou. Trilhou um caminho confuso entre as ideias que tinha na cabeça, tentando organizá-las da maneira mais racional que conseguia no momento. Mas o que saiu não foi exatamente muito organizado:

“Eu sinto sua falta. Eu não sei, eu-”, gaguejou e sentiu-se mais frustrada ainda por isso, tanto que precisou calar-se novamente para pensar. “Isso tá me estressando tanto, Hao.”, desatou o cinto de segurança, já se sentia sufocada o suficiente. “É ridículo, droga, um saco.”

“Tô perguntando isso da maneira mais gentil possível, meu bem…”, o tom se tornou mais ameno ainda. “...mas você acha que tá relacionado com o que aconteceu no evento ou com a fase do ciclo que a gente tá?”, titubeou, como se andasse na ponta dos pés entre as palavras. Mente cheia, você não processou aonde ele queria chegar.

“Fase?”

“Período fértil, meu amor.”, esclareceu. “Sempre cai nessa data, lembra?”

“Não sei. Acho que as duas coisas.”, suspirou, o lembrete era mais alvo de irritação que de esclarecimento de fato, não queria pensar nisso. “Eu só tô sentindo tanto sua falta... você nunca ficou tanto tempo longe assim de mim.”, apertou as palmas das mãos de maneira impaciente. O coração pesado, de quem tenta explicar um aborrecimento que não sabe o porquê de estar sentindo — ainda que soubesse.

“Eu não ‘tô longe de você...”

“Não fisicamente.”, mirou de canto só para constatar que o homem ainda te despia com o olhar — mas longe de possuir caráter sensual, Minghao te fazia nua emocionalmente. “Quer dizer, é fisicamente sim. Eu- eu não sei.”, a linha de raciocínio que já não era tão estável parecia ruir mais.

“Respira fundo e tenta me explicar, meu bem.”, os dedos alcançaram seu braço, correndo pelo pulso até entrelaçar as mãos de vocês. “Você se refere a parte sexual, certo?”, esperou o ‘sim’ que eventualmente veio. “Eu não te dar esse tipo de atenção como eu sempre dei, faz com que sua visão sobre mim mude?”, acariciou sua mão com o polegar — queria deixar claro que não teria problemas com a resposta, seja lá qual fosse ela.

“É errado se eu disser que sim? Porque eu tô me sentindo péssima por isso.”, existia desconforto em admitir. Tanto que precisou fazer-se mais clara: “Eu sei que você me ama. E eu te amo com ou sem sexo, mas desde que isso tudo começou parece que eu tô sendo rejeitada o tempo inteiro.”

“Eu não tô te rejeitando, meu amor. Você sabe os motivos por trás de tudo que eu estou fazendo.”, moderava a própria maneira de falar a todo momento. Queria esclarecer o que estava acontecendo, mas não queria soar como se estivesse invalidando seus sentimentos.

Você, por outro lado, se sentia quebradiça. O contato entre as mãos de vocês quase ruiu o com seu pensamento novamente. De repente, não queria mais ter razão.

“Eu sei disso em teoria. Mas não dá pra ficar em paz com você dizendo não pra mim o tempo todo.”, encarou o jeito que os dedos se entrelaçavam. Minghao aparentava ter sido feito para te acolher de corpo e alma, talvez estivesse sendo estúpida por estar perdendo a cabeça com algo tão banal assim. Recolheu os próprios pedaços, diminuindo a situação por conta própria: “Droga, é ridículo, não é?.”

“Shhhhhh. Nada disso, amor. Eu te entendo, hm?”, só que ele não deixaria você minimizar algo que era tão importante ao ponto de te deixar mal. Levou o enlace até os lábios, beijando a parte dorsal da sua mão “É normal, é tão importante quanto qualquer outro aspecto num relacionamento.”, usou a ponta dos dedos para virar o seu rosto na direção dele com delicadeza.

O olhar que trocaram foi intenso, mas não durou muito. Minghao pousou um selo demorado nos seus lábios. Sem alarde, só queria sentir sua boca na dele, te assegurar que estava ali. Você suspirou devagar, acolhendo ainda mais o lábio inferior dele entre os seus. O contato findou-se, mas mantiveram as testas coladas.

“Existe alguma alternativa que você consiga pensar ‘pra tornar as coisas mais fáceis?”, o arzinho quente do sussurro quase te distraiu da tarefa de tentar responder à pergunta. Rendeu-se a um balançar de cabeça lento, negando. “Ou algo que eu deva fazer?”, outra opção, mesma resposta. “Amor, olha ‘pra mim…”, fez pressão nos dedos que ainda seguravam seu queixo, você se viu obrigada a olhá-lo nos olhos outra vez. “Me ensina a ser melhor.”, suplicou, as sobrancelhas franzidas. Naquele momento pareceu existir somente uma solução possível: que Minghao parasse de te dizer ‘não’.

“Eu quero uma sessão, Hao.”, esforçou-se para deixar o tom mais neutro possível. Estava consciente que o pedido seria alvo de recusa, foi um acordo silencioso que fizeram após o quase fiasco que se sucedeu na última sessão.

“Você sente que precisa de uma sessão ou só quer que eu te toque?”, a pergunta veio depois de um longo suspiro. Era explícito que ele desviou do ‘não’ imediato só para não te frustrar mais ainda.

“Eu não sei.”, sabia sim.

“Sabe.”, ele confirmou com a cabeça. Te instigava a racionalizar a situação, porém você não queria fazê-lo. “Tenta pensar com clareza, amor. Vai ficar mais complicado essa semana, mas a gente tá quase lá.”

“Por favor…”, choramingou, envolvendo o rosto dele entre as mãos. Colou as testas de vocês outra vez, um bico enorme nos lábios — fazia birra como uma criança.

“Aguenta só mais um pouco, meu bem.”

“Me ouve como namorado dessa vez.”, o rostinho tristonho chegava a ser comovente, mas não tanto quanto a vozinha embargada. “Eu preciso, por favor…”, roçou os lábios contra os dele. “Só hoje.”

Minghao suspirou. Era fraco. Muito fraco quando o assunto era você.

“Promete que não vai tentar quebrar nenhuma regra?”, o tom foi quase frustrado, ele não esperava abrir mão da própria decisão tão facilmente. Você precisou de muito para não deixar um sorriso enorme escapar.

“Prometo. Só preciso de você.”, balançou a cabeça avidamente. Selando a boquinha do namorado diversas vezes. Seu namorado amoleceu com a clara demonstração de gratidão, sorrindo apaixonado contra a sua pele. Não se aguentou, envolvendo sua boca em um beijo quente. O cuidado e devoção sempre te acertavam em cheio — num lembrete explícito que Minghao era seu homem, seu namorado. Ele envolveu seu cabelo entre os dedos, guiando a dança como sempre fazia e ainda assim conseguiu te enfraquecer com a demonstração de posse.

Não esperou ser convidada para saltar a marcha e se sentar no colo do homem, aquilo tudo era seu e, até certo ponto, tinha liberdade para fazer o que bem entendesse. Os corpos e as bocas se emaranhado num aperto erótico, a pele esquentando ao ponto do ar condicionado do carro se tornar insignificante. Agarrou uma das mãos que estava em seu quadril, levando até os seus seios, incitando-o a apertá-los. Lentamente se cansava do comportamento comedido dele, não queria uma simples demonstração de carinho, precisava que ele te tocasse com mais cobiça — como se precisasse disso tanto quanto você. Seu namorado finalmente deu um passo à frente, enfiando a mão por baixo da camiseta para ser capaz de livrar seus seios do sutiã. Os dígitos gelados roçando contra a pele cálida dos seus seios te fizeram ondular a cintura com fervor.

Encharcava-se fácil e perdia o controle com mais facilidade ainda.

As carícias arrastaram-se pela barriga, alcançando a barra da saia que havia se enrolado quase que por completo, subindo até sua cintura. Ele esfregou os dedos contra a sua calcinha, sentindo a renda molhada melar também os dedos dele, o polegar pressionou seu clitóris. Você arfou contra a boca dele, perdendo-se, ansiando por mais. Vibrou em expectativa quando teve a calcinha arrastada de ladinho e só não reclamou da falta de contato que sucedeu a ação, pois seu namorado abria o próprio cinto com certo desespero.

A boca secou, foi difícil impedir que a expressão de choque não se transformasse em uma de esperança, cogitando a possibilidade de Minghao simplesmente jogar a toalha sem mais nem menos. Moveu o quadril inquieta, a entradinha não parava de apertar — reclamando da sensação de vazio. Quase gemia sozinha, embriagada com a vontade de foder gostoso com o namorado.

“Eu vou entrar, mas a gente não vai se mexer. Tudo bem?”, o aviso fez seu estômago apertar em desapontamento. Quis fingir estar de acordo, quis muito… mas não podia, não conseguia. “É só ‘pra ficar pertinho.”, selou sua boquinha, consolando a decepção que ele parecia saber que viria. “Quero te dar a certeza que não ‘tô te rejeitando, meu amor.”, doce, lento o suficiente para a sua cabecinha ser capaz de processar.

Contra a parede, viu-se compelida a concordar. Ficar cheinha de Minghao era muita coisa se comparasse ao pouco que teve nessas últimas semanas. Respirou fundo quando o homem voltou a afastar sua calcinha, usando a glande para recolher parte da lubrificação que escorria. Pulou involuntariamente quando Minghao fez menção que iria entrar, nem sabe o porquê.

“Tem certeza que consegue fazer isso?”, ele quis confirmar, a mão livre arrumando seu cabelo atrás da orelha. “Respira fundo.”

A ponta resvalando na sua entradinha fez seu corpo saltar novamente, mas dessa vez Minghao não usou o movimento como pretexto para se afastar. Forçou sua cintura para baixo com lentidão, o olhar atento ao seu rostinho — havia presumido que seria desconfortável para você, já fazia tempo desde a última vez que sentiu algo te abrindo assim.

O arrepio que cortou sua pele fez um tremor esquisito rastejar pelos seus músculos. Tinha consciência do quão quebrável aparentava ser agora e isso estava explícito no modo como seu rosto esquentava. Cada centímetro te deixando deliciosamente fraca. Era cru demais para um momento tão ínfimo, não deveria ser digno de descontrole — mas foi.

A mente ébria experimentou dois segundos de sobriedade quando você percebeu que talvez acabaria tendo um orgasmo por conta disso, porém não poderia de maneira alguma deixar que Minghao chegasse à mesma conclusão. Foi esperta, escondendo-se no pescoço febril a tempo de ocultar os seus olhinhos revirando quando a glande rígida forçou abertura no fundo do canal apertado.

Custou a suprimir o próprio gemido, a vontade realizando-se de um jeito ou de outro com as unhas cravando os braços do namorado. Notou não ser a única a quase perder a compostura quando foi abraçada com vigor contra o corpo maior. Respiravam fundo, balançando numa sincronia aparentemente ensaiada. Não teriam ficado nessa por mais tempo que o necessário se não fosse pelo buraquinho carente que não parava de pulsar — o prazer que cada aperto oferecia estava gerando frustração em Minghao, iria acabar estragando tudo se continuasse a ter o próprio pau estimulado com tanta fome. Precisou intervir:

“Amor, o processo é o mesmo, tudo bem?”, pronunciou cada palavra entre arfares gradativamente mais controlados. Acariciou suas costas, queria que você voltasse a si mesma. Não funcionou de início, pouco do que ele disse realmente foi entendido por você. “Tenta me responder com clareza e pensa antes de falar.”, relembrou, apertando o abraço para confirmar que você o ouvia. “De 0 a 10, o quão difícil está sendo o experimento?”, você já havia respondido a essa mesma questão vezes demais.

Deveria ser fácil, não é?

Talvez fosse se você estivesse escutando alguma coisa de fato.

Forçou os seios contra o peitoral dele, queria compensar a falta de movimento com a proximidade. Sentia-se escorrendo, quase pingando e não dava para ignorar — mesmo tentando muito. Só sabia pensar em ser fodida até chorar.

“Amor?”, ele buscou resposta outra vez.

“Não sei…”, foi tudo o que conseguiu formular num sussurro. O ar quente arranhou o pescoço dele e o membro espasmou. Cacete, ele teve certeza que você sentiu. E comprovou isso com a rebolada nada tímida da sua cintura logo em seguida. Gostoso ‘pra caralho. Sequer seguraram dessa vez: gemendo um pro outro com tanto tesão que foi o bastante para perceber o quão próximos estavam de perder a cabeça como no outro dia.

Você ganhou um apertão dolorido no quadril — e provavelmente ganharia um pedido de desculpas muito arrependido depois. O corpo moveu-se junto ao dele quando Minghao respirou fundo, recuperando o pouco que ainda havia do próprio discernimento.

“Meu bem, sem se mexer.”, não precisou ver para saber que a ordem era séria. Ele tinha um tom muito específico para quando estava estabelecendo limites — limites que você nunca era estúpida o suficiente para testar. Não até agora. “Você sabe as regras.”, autoritário, sussurrou entre os dentes.

Porra, você ia se babar de tanto tesão. Como daria um jeito de explicar pro seu namorado que não queria conversar, não queria brigar, não queria ouvir sermão… não estava óbvio? Queria dar a buceta até ficar burra, droga, faria qualquer coisa por isso.

“De 0 a 10, _____?”, repetiu. O quão na pior ficaria se mandasse ele calar a boca nesse momento?

“Seis?”, incerta, chutou a primeira coisa que veio na mente e esperava muito que esse fosse um número entre 0 e 10.

“Você tem certeza?”, pergunta retórica. Roçando a ponta do nariz contra o pescoço masculino embriagava-se com o cheirinho gostoso dele. “Amor, você ouviu minha pergunta?”, quis confirmar. Você já trocava os sentidos na própria mente, queria experimentar a sinestesia de sentir o cheiro dele na sua língua. “Ei. Olha pra mim.”, mais que um pedido, Minghao fez questão de te puxar pela nuca. “Meu bem, tem certeza que você consegue se controlar?”, vislumbrar o rostinho avermelhado e os lábios cheios não fez bom trabalho em remediar seu estado, nem respondeu a pergunta — era como se ele sequer tivesse questionado alguma coisa. “Amor?”

“Consigo.”, finalmente, escolheu a resposta segura, a que ele provavelmente queria escutar. “Eu quero te beijar.”, tentou chegar mais perto da boca bonita, mas a pressão na sua nuca te impediu antes que pudesse fazê-lo.

“Responde o que eu tô te perguntando primeiro. Lembra que isso ainda é uma sessão.”, e de novo: rejeição.

Rejeição, rejeição, rejeição.

Era só o que ele sabia fazer ultimamente. Só o que fazia você sentir. E, especialmente hoje, é o último sentimento no qual você gostaria de pensar. O dado foi lançado outra vez, agora não via a situação com os mesmos olhos — não com a mesma paciência. Sentia-se a porcaria de um rato de laboratório, ele sequer lembrava que você ainda era namorada dele por acaso?

“Não revira os olhos pra mim, _____.”, alertou e você só notou que havia feito isso após ouvi-lo.

“Desculpa.”, cuspiu do jeito mais automático que já havia feito em toda a sua vida, não havia sinceridade alguma.

“De novo. De 0 a 10, o quão difícil ‘tá ?”, ele queria reagir com tanta hostilidade quanto você, mas estava claro que o lado profissional não permitia que ele o fizesse. Mais frustrada ainda ao constatar que Minghao estava agindo como se você fosse uma paciente, fez questão de ser seca:

“Dez.”

“Ansiedade?”

“Dez.”, mesmo tom, mesma irritação.

“Como você categoriza o seu humor hoje?”, tudo muito robótico, mas nada suficiente para mascarar o fato dele estar pulsando como a porra de um pervertido dentro de você. Jurava que ia surtar se ouvisse mais alguma pergunta estúpida.

“Arrependimento.”, não dava para expressar mais sarcasmo que agora.

“Eu preciso de respostas sérias, _____.”

“Eu não tô rindo, tô?”, forçou um semblante entediado. Minghao detestava insolência, você tinha total noção disso. E se ele não fosse aproveitar a ira que escureceu os olhos dele como deixa para te usar sem dó alguma, ele sinceramente poderia ir pro inferno.

“Você ao menos já escolheu a experiência que vai ser relatada na sessão?”, levantou o rosto, aproveitando o máximo que posição permitia para te olhar de cima. E você não ia sair de mãos vazias hoje, estava convencida disso.

“Tô pensando.”, fez pouco, deu de ombros. Desvencilhando-se do aperto dele como podia, desabotoou a camiseta que estava usando, expondo o sutiã rendadinho. “Preciso relaxar um pouquinho pra conseguir pensar melhor.”, sugestiva, desfez-se das alças, puxando a peça até que conseguisse expor os seios por completo.

“Só que você precisa me falar algo. Senão não faz sentido.”, Minghao não desviou o olhar do seu rosto nem por um segundo — conhecia-te como a palma da própria mão.

“Eu não consigo lembrar de nada.”, dissimulou, arrastando cada palavrinha dentro da boca. Disposta a ganhar a atenção dele a todo custo, exibiu-se mais ainda. Apoiou as costas no volante com cuidado, abrindo as perninhas para deixar exposto o ponto no qual vocês estavam conectados. Minghao foi incapaz de ignorar dessa vez, a lascívia encoberta por uma expressão de desaprovação.

“Então não acho que deveríamos iniciar a sessão até você ser capaz de lembrar.”, resistente até o último segundo. “Levanta, _____.”, os dedos pressionando seu quadril fizeram menção de erguer seu corpo. Irritou-se, ele só poderia estar brincando contigo.

“Não enche, Hao. Qual é...”, revirou os olhos e dessa vez havia sido claramente proposital, queria que ele visse.

“Você sabe as regras. A gente não tá fazendo isso por diversão.”

“Quando foi pra me mamar anteontem você não lembrou de porra de experimento nenhum.”, estava jogando cada vez mais baixo, tão tomada pela própria frustração que sequer era capaz de avaliar que esse definitivamente não era o melhor jeito de conseguir o que queria. Porém havia uma diferença entre seu objetivo final e a sua vontade atual, pois o desejo de agora era um só: tirar seu namorado do sério. “Por que as regras só valem pra mim nesse caralho?”

“_____, não testa minha paciência.”

E você definitivamente estava conseguindo.

“E você vai fazer o quê, Minghao?”, pronunciou o nome dele com o mesmo tom insolente que ele havia usado para falar o seu.

“Sessão encerrada. Sai do meu colo.”, sem expressão, sinal claro que havia perdido a calma. Você, no entanto, não se moveu um centímetro sequer para obedecer. E, se estivesse sendo sincera, sentia-se cada vez mais excitada em desafiá-lo. “_____.”, alertou. As mãos lutando contra a pressão que você mesma fazia para se manter no colo dele. Tinha força suficiente para te tirar dali no segundo que quisesse, mas claramente queria que a ação partisse de você — queria submissão da sua parte.

“Por que tudo tem que ser do seu jeito, hein? E se eu não quiser sair? E se eu quiser acabar com essa merda toda agora?”, o controle esvaindo-se a cada questionamento. Muito pior, livrou-se da postura aberta que havia se colocado, praticamente indo para cima dele a fim de tomar o que tanto queria.

“Eu já disse-”

“Você se acha tão superior com esse seu autocontrole ridículo, não é?”, desafiou, sem pudor algum. Os seios fazendo pressão contra o peitoral dele outra vez, faltava um empurrãozinho para que os narizes se encontrassem. Minghao pulsou, a porra espessa vazando dentro de você, porém o semblante permaneceu frio. Um erro. Seu tesão em arruinar a falsa expressão de desdém te obrigou a apertar todos os botões dele de uma vez só. “Porra, dá pra ver na sua cara que cê tá puto, amor. Para de fingir.”, riu baixinho. Deu risada sem acanhamento algum. Riu porque tinha completa noção de que, para um terapeuta, Minghao curiosamente odiava não ter controle sobre situações que o envolviam.

Agarrou um dos pulsos dele e precisou forçar as unhas na pele frágil para que ele aceitasse largar seu corpo. Puxou a mão do homem até que ela estivesse bem no meio das suas pernas e Minghao se viu desarmado demais para te impedir de forçar os dedos dele contra o seu pontinho. O contato fez sua cintura tremelicar, ainda não havia se livrado da sensibilidade patética que vinha de não ter tido a permissão de gozar em tanto tempo. Ainda que não fosse o objetivo ali, não foi estúpida ao ponto de não tirar proveito da situação: forçou um carinho gostoso contra o lugar inchadinho e seu namorado se viu cada vez menos disposto a te fazer parar quando sentiu você apertando ele com gosto.

“Bate aqui, vai. Desconta em mim.”, manhosa, sussurrou o pedido contra o rosto dele. “Você quer me foder, não quer? Tô tão molhada, Hao… tão fácil…”, rebolou com mais discrição, sabia que levaria bronca se deixasse muito óbvio. “Me fode… faz qualquer coisa…”, o homem apertou os olhos numa expressão sôfrega, os ombros relaxando em fraqueza. “Por favor, amor…”, choramingou mais ainda, um sorrisinho de canto surgindo ao notar que não era mais você quem “forçava” o carinho — Hao agora brincava com sua bucetinha por conta própria. Roçou a boquinha contra a bochecha dele, o corpinho voltando a arrepiar e derreter ao ser acolhido com tanto chamego. “Bate em mim, eu não tô me comportando direito…”, numa voz trêmula, apelou para o óbvio. Tava mole de tesão, cacete, as palavras saíam sem que você fizesse esforço algum. “Bate que eu gozo bem gostoso no seu pau.”, dengosa, pediu enfim.

Era baixa, injusta e sem limite algum.

Minghao respirou fundo. As mãos te apertando de um jeito nada agradável quando num impulso só suspendeu seu corpo, saindo de dentro de você num movimento de cintura rápido. Não se deu ao luxo de seguir encarando sua expressão desacreditada, fechando os olhos e indicando o banco do passageiro com um menear de cabeça. Pressionou as pontas dos dedos contra os olhos quando você finalmente obedeceu. Claramente alterado, sequer se deu ao trabalho de guardar o membro rígido dentro da calça — estava encharcado, a bagunça que você tinha feito dele pingava no tecido.

“Se veste.”, disse firme, os dedos ainda cobrindo os olhos.

“Por quê?”, soou contrariada ainda que soubesse exatamente o motivo, tudo fruto da repentinidade da mudança.

“Pra subir pro seu apartamento.”, finalmente ajustou-se dentro das próprias roupas. “Você não tá em condições de colaborar com o experimento hoje.”, não se deu ao trabalho de te dirigir o olhar e talvez essa tenha sido a parte que que mais te enfureceu.

Era isso, você havia virado nada mais que a porra de um experimento ‘pra ele.

“É brincadeira, não é?”, riu sem humor algum. Tão frustrada como nunca se sentiu, os olhos ardiam.

“Se veste, amor. A gente conversa quando você se acalmar.”

“Você tá sendo ridículo. Porra, você-”, gaguejou e a partir daqui impediu a si mesma de continuar falando, tanta raiva fazia as lágrimas escorrerem e você não queria dar esse gosto a ele. Vestiu-se sem capricho algum, só precisava colocar as roupas de volta no lugar. Fez questão de bater a porta quando deixou o veículo, pisando forte até chegar no elevador.

— 𝗦𝗘𝗦𝗦𝗜𝗢𝗡 𝟬𝟲: Quinta-feira, 24 de abril.

Caminhava entre os corredores, observando como o mosaico de especializações que compunham o edifício faziam seus olhos arderem mais. Nessa história, não existia um único ponto positivo sequer. Não havia chegado à uma conclusão plausível que explicasse o motivo de estar ali — especialmente sem aviso prévio. Só sabe que, em algum ponto do seu dia, sustentar a irritação que sentia por conta própria deixou de fazer sentido, Minghao merecia sim experimentar parte daquele sentimento junto com você.

Em outra situação se martirizaria por ter desobedecido o pedido da secretária que te pediu para aguardar enquanto avisava o homem sobre a sua chegada, porém só a noção de que ele estava sozinho no consultório foi suficiente para que você desconsiderasse a orientação da mulher, levando o corpo em passos pesados até o local. Ignorou até mesmo a noção de que ninguém entrava no consultório sem bater e finalmente ali estava, diante do homem ao qual você havia se recusado a dirigir à palavra durante três dias inteiros.

Embora supostamente fosse — ou devesse ser — o mais equilibrado daquela situação, Minghao enfrentava sérios problemas em abrir mão da postura orgulhosa. Parte disso poderia ser explicado no fato dele estar lidando com os sintomas de abstinência tanto quanto você, ainda que, por fruto de pura arrogância, se fizesse de rogado. Encarou a porta escancarada com a incredulidade que ofereceria a qualquer um que se atrevesse a abri-la sem avisar antes e não houve mudança na expressão quando percebeu que você era a autora da ação.

“Você não me avisou que iria vir.”, não era um questionamento e mesmo que fosse você não se sentiria disposta a responder. “A secretária também não ligou.”, acrescentou à informação, largado a caderneta que tinha em mãos na mesa. “Você sabe que eu não recebo ninguém sem marcar antes.”, o comportamento metódico e deveras impessoal não ajudava a remediar seu estado.

“Não sou a porcaria de uma paciente sua, Minghao. Para de falar assim comigo.”, reprovou-o, fechando a porta sem cuidado algum. “Tô de saco cheio de você me tratando como se eu fosse um rato de laboratório. Só…”, iniciou e não havia direcionamento algum para finalizar, mal sabia o que queria dizer — puramente descarregando os próprios sentimentos nele. “Só a porra de um experimento ridículo.”, a voz embargou, a garganta começou a se fechar, os olhos arderam… todos sinais de algo que você já conhecia bem. “É só ‘pra isso que eu sirvo?”

“Se você não tinha certeza se era capaz de cumprir com o acordo, por que aceitou participar?”, ele tentou relaxar na cadeira, mas a postura tornou-se mais rígida. “Você podia ter me dito não. Simples assim.”, típico de quem tenta assumir uma posição de defesa.

Isso te esgotou mais, nada que Minghao fizesse ou dissesse tinha o poder de corrigir a tensão que havia em sua mente. Avançou até o homem involuntariamente antes que pudesse decidir fazê-lo em plena consciência, o corpo decidia as coisas por conta própria.

“Porque eu não sabia que você ia agir como um escroto filho da puta.”, a cabeça dói num palpitar vertiginoso, engole seco. Não há tempo de distinguir entre as palavras que normalmente usaria para aquelas que estão rolando pela sua língua no momento. Minghao franze as sobrancelhas, reajusta a postura na cadeira, porém não reage. “Simples assim.”, reproduziu as mesma palavras, mas não no mesmo tom — o seu era cheio de sarcasmo.

“Acho que você ‘tá exaltada demais pra ter essa conversa agora.”, neutro, sequer parece que vocês dois estão na mesma sala.

“Eu tô exaltada demais pra qualquer coisa, Minghao.”, deu a volta na mesa, fazendo com que ele virasse a cadeira na sua direção. “Porque a gente só pode conversar quando você acha conveniente.”, agora tinha-o tendo que olhar para cima devido a proximidade. “Só dá pra conversar comigo durante as suas sessões ridículas. Aposto que ‘cê nem me vê como namorada mais, agora que eu virei a merda de um fantoche, não é? Admite.”, a retórica era quase perfeita, mesmo querendo pular em cima dele de tanta raiva. Despreocupada em admitir para si mesma que parte daquilo era mais exagero do que uma representação fiel dos seus sentimentos. O corpo esquentava, a garganta coçando com todas as coisas que surgiam na sua cabeça.

“Você sabe que isso não é verdade, _____. Você-”

“Então eu sou uma mentirosa agora?”, interrompeu. “Porra, desde o começo desse inferno ‘cê tá agindo como se eu fosse obrigada a fazer todas as suas vontades.”, exasperada, atropelou uma palavra ou outra. “Eu sou humana também! Sabia disso?! Você mais do que ninguém devia saber.”, já apontava o dedo na direção dele, sentia o nó da garganta voltando aos poucos. “Caralho, você quer que eu fique em paz com você me tratando como se eu tivesse errada por querer transar com você?”, só percebeu que falava mais alto quando assistiu apertar as têmporas com uma das mãos, como se a cabeça doesse. O gesto demonstra desdém mais qualquer outra coisa — intencional ou não — você se sente na borda, acha que vai surtar de tanta raiva se o senso de superioridade irritante não sumir imediatamente.

Pouco de você ainda queria dar a chance que Minghao precisava para se redimir — porque, acima de qualquer coisa, a discussão vinha da vontade insuportável que você tinha de ser dele outra vez. Ele esfregou as mãos no rosto num gesto impaciente, apoiando-se em uma delas logo em seguida. Suspirou ruidosamente, a tolerância parecia ter chegado ao fim.

“Acaba com o experimento então, _____.”, te olhou com tédio. “Goza.”, o tom oscilava entre desafio e ordem, não dava para interpretar. A expressão de descrença que pintou seu rosto não comoveu o homem. “Você me ouviu. Você não me deve nada, não é?”, rancoroso, parecia finalmente dar abertura para que a própria irritação escorresse pela boca. “Fode essa buceta até gozar. Não é isso que você quer?”, o linguajar completamente desinibido de qualquer compostura que ele fingia ter te fez fraquejar.

“Não…”, a negativa saiu automática, quase inaudível.

“Não?”, franziu a testa. Nesse ponto, não sabia mais dizer o que diabos você queria dele.

“Faz você.”, esclareceu. O homem pareceu não processar de primeira. “Eu quero que você faça.”, exigiu, como se o que pedia fosse seu por direito.

Minghao riu.

Riu na sua cara, sem um pingo de hesitação. Um riso incontido, mais baixo o suficiente para mal ser escutado. Ele esfregou as mãos no rosto novamente, mas por incredulidade dessa vez. Respirou fundo, estabilizando o próprio estado. O olhar carregava uma névoa estranha quando te encarou outra vez.

“Se a gente vai acabar com isso vai ser porque você fez, _____.”, convicto, como quem estabelece uma regra inquebrável. “Tira a roupa.”

Sua cabeça ficou dividida, não sabia se respondia pela necessidade do seu corpo ou da sua moral — isso era o que deveria ter acontecido no momento em que ouviu a ordem.

Não houve divisão alguma.

Foi vergonhosa a facilidade que você teve em trair o próprio orgulho.

Completamente nua, possuía discernimento suficiente para notar que essa era uma escolha extremamente proposital. Um demarcador de dominância.

E, cacete, seu corpo gostava tanto disso.

Sentou-se no colo dele sem solicitação alguma, previu que aquela seria a próxima ordem. Foi aí que percebeu estar mais ferrada do que imaginava. Seu aperto firme na camiseta de linho desatou-se ao ser segurada pela cintura — ainda que não estivesse de acordo em acabar com o experimento, Minghao não te deixaria cair. Quente, absurdamente quente, pensava estar febril. Era como se estivesse definhando aos poucos, fraca de tanta vontade. Se tornou totalmente vulnerável só por estar no colo dele, o corpo havia se entregado por conta própria.

A capacidade de ser racional te escorreu pelos dedos, os pensamentos fugindo um a um. Moldou-se num abraço carente, havia sido feita para encaixar em Minghao, ser totalmente dele. O rosto inquieto esfregava-se no pescoço masculino e as mãos buscavam por qualquer pedacinho de pele que a roupa social deixava escapar. Acolheu o pomo-de-Adão entre os lábios, o ventre se apertou com o peso dele na sua língua. Viciou-se rápido demais em encher o paladar com o gosto da pele dele, lambendo, mordendo e chupando cada pedacinho livre.

“Você prometeu, meu bem.”, a reclamação veio dentro de um arfar ruidoso. Com esforço suficiente dava para perceber o tom manhoso dentro das palavras. “Porra, ‘cê jurou ‘pra mim. Disse que ia ser boazinha, que não ia estragar tudo.”,

“Me desculpa…”, choramingou baixinho. Mentirosa, o roçar ininterrupto da sua intimidade contra a dele não mostrava arrependimento algum. Mordiscou o queixo do namorado, sentindo parte da semi ereção apertadinha contra o clitóris sensível. Rebolou com mais força, gemendo dengosa quando sentiu a entradinha expulsar um líquido pegajoso. Alcançou uma das mãos do homem, puxando-a até o meio das suas pernas com uma coisa apenas em mente: precisava ficar cheia.

“Eu não vou te tocar agora.”, negou com a cabeça e livrar o pulso do seu aperto não foi tarefa difícil. “Já disse: você vai estragar o experimento sozinha.”, o lembrete te fez ter vontade de chorar.

Não queria assim, precisava de Minghao.

Quis fazer birra, choramingar, reclamar até convencê-lo… só que o tesão falou por você: não conseguia parar de se esfregar no homem, patética demais. Abraçou-o pelos ombros, o rostinho se enfiando no pescoço dele outra vez. Reajustou o corpo, abrindo mais as perninhas para ser capaz de abrigar o relevo entre as dobrinhas encharcadas.

A cabeça apagou, presa num êxtase delicioso. Gemia para si própria como se quisesse constatar que finalmente estava livre para sentir todo prazer que queria — sem se limitar ou se privar de nada.

“Tá escorrendo tanto que chega a ser nojento, amor. Me sujando pra caralho…”, o sussurro grave ao pé da sua orelha fez os peitinhos desnudos se eriçarem, friccionou-os contra a camiseta do homem quando se contorceu em algo que misturava vergonha e muito, muito tesão. “Vai ter que limpar minha calça depois, putinha.”, cuspiu em escárnio e tudo que você conseguiu fazer foi produzir um barulho dengoso, como se reclamasse. “É o que você tá sendo agora.”, os dedos forçaram-se contra a carne do seu quadril. “Quem não sabe controlar a buceta é putinha.”, nesse ponto os gemidos já haviam se tornado mais ruidosos — Minghao com certeza fazia de propósito. “Como que eu vou sair daqui desse jeito?”

“Eu limpo…”, prometeu, a voz esganiçada. “Me desculpa.”, o canalzinho apertado pulsou. Porra, era tão humilhante. Humilhante o suficiente para te fazer ter vontade de gozar.

“Nenhuma das minhas pacientes se comporta como uma ninfo descontrolada, amor. Era só um mês, só isso.”, soava cada vez mais austero. Estava claro o quão desapontado com a situação ele se sentia. “Mas você não consegue, não é? Precisa agir igual cadela.”, o termo lançou um arrepio pela sua espinha. Definitivamente estava pisando em território desconhecido com Minghao — e amando cada segundo do quadro explícito de desequilíbrio dele. “Fala pra mim, _____.”, pausou. Uma das mãos envolveu seu cabelo, puxando até que o rostinho arruinado estivesse no campo de visão dele. “Fala que é uma putinha desesperada que não sabe se controlar, fala.”, cuspiu o pedido sem nem hesitar. Você travou, desarmada. Sentiu o ventre espasmar num aperto gostoso. Sequer reagiu, olhando para o homem totalmente estúpida. “Fala, porra.”

Cinco, seis, sete segundos que pareceram se arrastar. Não houve resposta ou obediência da sua parte. Minghao traiu a própria conduta. Resolveu que era hora de finalmente agir com descontrole.

Demorou para que você absorvesse quando o tapa te acertou. Seco, certeiro e barulhento. Forte o suficiente para fazer seu rosto se virar. O que começou como um formigamento doloroso no seu rosto correu pelo seu corpo inteiro rápido demais. A boquinha se abriu, gaguejando algum som estranho que sequer significava coisa qualquer.

Quis gemer, se molhar inteira de tanto tesão. Minghao te deixava doente, porra.

“Eu sou…”, começou uma frase que não sabia como queria terminar. “Eu… amor…”, Salivou, precisava gozar ‘pra ele. Assim. Desse jeitinho. Com ele puto ‘pra caralho. “Bate de novo.”, o pedido veio por puro impulso. De repente, rebolava sedenta outra vez como se precisasse disso mais que qualquer outra coisa.

“Não.”, negou prontamente.

Em vão. Deus sabe o quão teimosa você conseguia ser…

Sabia agir exatamente de acordo com o título que Minghao tanto queria que você repetisse: como uma putinha desesperada. Agarrou o pulso do homem como havia feito tantas vezes naquela tarde, puxou-o até seu rostinho. Os olhinhos arregalados num gesto penoso pediam — não — imploravam por mais um tapa.

“Solta, _____.”, ele murmurou entre-dentes. Lutando contra o aperto das suas unhas. Seus olhos já ardiam em frustração. Já havia pedido uma vez, não queria pedir de novo.

Droga, precisava… ele não conseguia entender isso?

“Por favor…”, balbuciou. A cinturinha não cessava o movimento, maltratava a bucetinha contra o tecido já encharcado fantasiando com a porcaria do tapa. Intransigente, ele sequer se moveu — disposto a te privar do que você tanto queria. Você não pôde evitar o biquinho adorável, presa na borda, esforçando-se inutilmente. Não sabia mais gozar sem seu homem. Precisava dele, inferno, de qualquer jeito. “Eu não c-consigo… Bate…”

“Você não ‘tá chorando ‘pra apanhar não, amor…”, negou em total descrença, um riso escarnioso adornando os lábios. “Só pode ser brincadeira, porra…”, franziu as sobrancelhas, bebendo cada detalhe da cena. Os olhos molhadinhos faziam o pau escorrer ‘pra caralho, mas nem conseguia ver diferença — você já tinha melado ele inteiro. “Se quer tanto apanhar faz por merecer.”, acolheu uma lágrima no canto dos seus olhos com o polegar. “Fala o que eu quero ouvir, vai.”, levou-o até a boca, sorvendo o líquido salgado.

“Eu sou uma putinha…”, a confissão saiu em dengo puro. Precisou se foder no volume gostoso com mais força para compensar a vergonha que sentiu. “E eu- eu não sei me controlar, Hao…”, e, de fato, não sabia — prestes a se babar só de sentir o pau dele embaixo de você. “Agora, por favor…”

Minghao assistiu à cena sem esboçar reação alguma. O único indicador de que havia ficado satisfeito veio quando ele arrumou os fios de cabelo que estavam presos à sua bochecha — como se preparasse o local.

Você engoliu seco. Fechou os olhos. Respirou fundo. Quase vibrava em nervosismo.

O estômago repuxou quando o segundo tapa finalmente veio. Você estava alerta o suficiente para absorver a sensação dessa vez, alerta para constatar que era gostoso sentir a ardência rastejar pelo seu rosto. Abriu os olhos e sorriu entorpecida com a expressão do namorado — de macho puto, pronto para te arruinar pra caralho.

Mais um. Do outro lado dessa vez.

Apertou os próprios peitinhos. A cinturinha tremelicou, sentia-se perto demais agora.

Mais um.

Choramingou o nome do homem, cavalgando dengosa contra o pau dele.

Minghao havia erguido a mão mais uma vez quando te assistiu travar.

Tremeu. Quase gritou. Tudo de uma vez.

Os olhinhos atrás da cabeça enquanto se esforçava para expulsar o gemido preso dentro da garganta. Os dedinhos se enroscaram no cabelo dele como puderam, puxando, machucando… desesperada demais por não conseguir lidar com o orgasmo ou mesmo parar de gozar. Minghao te abraçou com firmeza, tentando te fazer relaxar.

A entradinha pulsava muito, quase acompanhando o sobe e desce do seu peito que não cessava por conta dos arfares. O homem tentou te fazer sentar outra vez, fechando o abraço em volta da sua cintura, porém você saltou em sensibilidade assim que a pele resvalou contra o tecido outra vez — tamanha fora a intensidade do orgasmo.

Permaneceu de joelhos nas bordas da cadeira. O rosto enfiado no ombro de Minghao num curvar desconfortável. A carne tremia, pingava suor. Você soluçava baixinho, sentindo o sabor salgado das próprias lágrimas escorrer para a boca. Não sabe quanto tempo permaneceu nessa exata posição, despertando somente quando o homem apertou seu quadril.

“Tá tão burra de tesão que nem tá me ouvindo falar.”, resmungou num riso contido. Você finalmente sentou-se, menos sensível agora. Ele acolheu seu rosto entre as mãos, sorrindo para a expressão vazia, vulnerável. “Mandei ajoelhar, _____.”, esclarece, amenizando o tom. “Você consegue?”, o questionamento ganhou um breve acenar de cabeça da sua parte.

Ajoelhou-se no chão com pesar, despedindo-se em silêncio do calor masculino. Havia adotado uma postura completamente dócil, a cabecinha vazia, olhava para cima como se Minghao fosse uma espécie de imperador prestes a comandar toda e qualquer ação sua — e ele iria, você sabe muito bem.

“Agora limpa. Só com a língua, sem fazer gracinha.”, ele separou as pernas, ajustando o quadril até que estivesse na borda da cadeira. Você prontamente obedeceu, apoiando as mãos nos joelhos do homem, esticou-se até que estivesse frente a frente com a virilha dele. Quase sentiu vergonha do quão suja havia sido, do quão imundo tudo parecia. Entretanto, o que conseguiu experimentar foram saudades.

Sentiu falta de tudo. Do gosto, do cheiro, do peso dele na sua língua… jurou quase ter ronronado quando roçou a pontinha do nariz no volume à sua frente. O tecido da calça era grosso, mas não o suficiente para te privar de sentir o relevo contra a sua pele. Inclinou o rosto, os olhinhos imploravam a Minghao por uma clemência que você sabia que não iria ter.

Dessa vez, resvalou os lábios contra o tecido e se arrepiou inteira só de pensar em ter aquilo tudo lotando sua boca. Forçou os joelhos contra o chão de um jeito dolorido, apertando as perninhas ao se imaginar engolindo ele por inteiro. O líquido insípido que era acolhido por sua língua parecia tornar a fantasia cada vez mais verossímil, como se a bagunça que era forçada a limpar houvesse sido feita por Minghao, não por você. Inclinou a cabeça para abocanhar parte do volume, apertou os olhos quando mamou parte da extensão. Esfomeada, excitação escorrendo entre as suas coxas e pulsando na sua boca — como se os tecidos não existissem ali.

Minghao jogou a cabeça para trás, o abdômen ondulando num movimento involuntário. Agarrou uma mão cheia com o seu cabelo impondo um sobe-e-desce desmedido, simulando um boquete propriamente dito. Sua pele ardeu com a brusquidão, forçando as unhas nas pernas do homem para compensar o incômodo. Isso parece ter feito o homem voltar a si, tanto que te largou de súbito, usando de um movimento com as pernas para te afastar do local.

Vocês trocaram um olhar vigoroso, arfando quase que em sincronia. A farsa do autocontrole criada pelo seu namorado parecia ruir com cada uma das amostras de prazer às quais ele era exposto. Tão desesperado por alívio quanto você, não importa o quanto fingisse. Seu olhar recaiu sobre volume outra vez, sem que pudesse perceber. Salivava, porra, se babava inteira por pensar em ter aquilo em qualquer buraquinho seu, te preenchendo, te tornando inteira outra vez.

“Olha pra mim, amor.”, ele rompeu com o silêncio. Você ouviu, mas não escutou. “Pra mim, _____. Não pro meu pau.”, insistiu, finalmente ganhando o que queria. “Você entende o quão importante isso era, não entende?”, relembrou que você ainda estava acorrentada à culpa — ainda que no momento se importasse mais em remediar o que sentia no meio das pernas. Acenou a cabeça, só sabia abrir a boca se fosse para um propósito específico e Minghao estava ciente disso: “Usa a boquinha pra responder, meu bem. ‘Cê soube usar ela direitinho.”

“Sim… me desculpa.”

“Eu sei que não tô em posição de te obrigar a fazer qualquer coisa. Mas não era nada impossível, amor. Eu te pedi algo simples.”, não havia hostilidade alguma, ele nunca precisou dela. “Só que nem isso você foi capaz de respeitar e é decepcionante, _____.”

“Desculpa, não foi por mal. Eu-”

“Foi sim. Você sabe que foi.”, interrompeu. A calmaria excessiva fazia você se remexer desconfortável, talvez se ele estivesse exaltado não sentisse tanto assim — detestava tê-lo desapontado a esse ponto. “Tanto que tá se melando inteira por causa disso.”, disse como se sentisse asco do fato. Você se molhou mais, previsível. “É porque eu ainda não te dei o que você tá querendo, não é?”, a pergunta parecia retórica, mas ainda assim você se preocupou em oferecer uma resposta não-verbal — Minghao detestava respostas assim. “Amor.”

“Sim…”

“Então você entende que precisa se desculpar direito comigo, certo? Entende que eu posso fazer o que eu quiser agora.”, soava tão convincente e seguro desse fato que ele sequer passou por alguma espécie de julgamento na sua cabeça — só se questionava se a manipulação estava ali desde o começo ou se só havia aparecido agora.

“Entendo.”, abaixou a cabeça por um breve momento, simulando o arrependimento que provavelmente deveria estar sentindo — mas que não passou verdadeiramente pela sua cabeça em nenhum momento.

Minghao aproveitou-se do longo momento de silêncio que veio após isso para tornar a situação ainda mais tensa, como um bom terapeuta faria.

Finalmente assistiu-o se inclinar para baixo, na sua direção. O olhar ainda inexpressivo examinou seu corpo por completo, parecia decidir o que fazer a seguir. Você se remexeu incomodada, o tecido do carpete não machucava, mas o chão era firme o suficiente para fazer seus joelhos doerem. Ele esticou uma das mãos, afagando seu cabelo com um afeto digno de dúvida — era quase virtuoso no jeito que te tocava, como se você não estivesse completamente nua na frente dele.

Seu ventre esquentou quando o carinho traçou seu rosto, relaxou o pescoço por instinto, esperava por mais um tapa. O homem dedilhou seus lábios, colocando dois dedos dentro da sua boca sem pedir licença. Pode-se dizer que foi gentil, esfregando as digitais na sua língua com certa cautela. O silêncio começava a te deixar nervosa demais, não gostava de ficar à mercê dos próprios pensamentos quando estava com ele. Quase rompeu com a falta de diálogo, mas o homem o fez antes:

“Você vai beliscar eles ‘pra mim.”, explicou com neutralidade. Só se fez claro quando os dedos que saíram da sua boca esfregaram um dos seus mamilos com cuidado. “Forte.”, adicionou, erguendo as sobrancelhas. “Até eu mandar parar.”

Hesitou, foi a primeira coisa que fez. Encarou-o até ter certeza de que não havia jeito de fugir daquilo. A mão esquerda se ergueu com lentidão, acariciando um dos peitinhos com cuidado — confortando a si mesma do que estava prestes a fazer. Espremeu o biquinho entre as pontas dos dedos com certa leveza, fez corpo mole sem acanhamento algum. O medo da dor arrepiava, fazia o estômago repuxar.

“Mais forte.”, a instrução te fez saltar um pouco, tão perdida no próprio receio. Fechou o aperto um pouco mais, mordeu a própria boca em incômodo. “O outro também.”, era exigente e, infelizmente, nesse momento poderia mandar e desmandar em você o quanto quisesse — você não se sentia minimamente compelida a desobedecer.

Apertou também o outro biquinho, tentando imitar a força. Remexeu-se em desconforto, a bucetinha vazando com a sensação que parecia não ir embora.

“Mais forte, _____.”

“Eu não consigo mais forte.”, rebateu imediatamente. Entretanto, precisou de um único olhar reprovador para cessar a malcrição. Apertou mais forte. “Tá doendo…”

“Para de reclamar.”

“Hao, por favor…”, choramingou. Fingida, sequer se importava com a dor, muito mais concentrada em como a entradinha não parava de pulsar. “Amor, ah…”, gemeu e, ainda que tenha tentado fingir, soou como um gemido de puro prazer. “Por favor, eu não consigo…”, contraditória, apertava-os tão forte quando no início ainda que implorasse por clemência — parecia considerar mais doloroso ir contra a autoridade do namorado. Minghao nada disse, te assistindo cumprir com a ordem ainda que estivesse prestes a chorar.

Permaneceu assim, ignorando cada uma das reclamações e dos chorinhos dengosos. Seus dedos já tremiam, a dor escorria pelo corpo e começava a trazer dormência aos biquinhos maltratados. Os lábios começaram a tremer, os olhos molhando aos poucos… satisfez o homem enfim.

“Shhhh. Foi bom. Bom o suficiente.”, elogiou. Foi permissão suficiente para que você se libertasse do aperto — que doeu quase tanto quanto se você permanecesse se machucando. “Vem me beijar.”, orientou, mas não deu espaço para que você se levantasse. Ele abaixou o torso brevemente, te forçando a se esticar para alcançá-lo.

Ganhou nada mais que um selo demorado, sinalizando que havia feito um bom trabalho. Monótono, tinha noção de que precisaria se redimir melhor se quisesse mais que isso.

“Cadê sua calcinha? Pega ela ‘pra mim.”, você se esticou desconfortável pegando a peça na pilha de roupas ao lado da cadeira e entregou ao homem. “Abre a boca.”, o comando era esperado, mas ainda assim gerou uma expressão relutante da sua parte. Mas se manteve fiel a sua posição: só obedeceu. “É. É exatamente o que você ‘tá pensando.”, confirmou com a cabeça. Houve gentileza no modo com o qual ele empurrou o tecido pouco a pouco dentro da cavidade. A contra gosto, você se concentrou para respirar somente pelo nariz, ignorando o incômodo que era sentir o tecido dentro da boca. “Não tenho problemas com você sendo uma vadiazinha desesperada, amor. Sei te colocar no seu lugar.”, usou o indicador, colocando um pouco mais da peça ali — era fininha, caberia quase por completo. “Mas não posso te deixar ser escandalosa no meu consultório, posso?”, perguntou expectante.

Nesses momentos era relembrada do senso de novidade que ainda acompanhava Minghao. Acostumava-se com as dinâmicas aos poucos, especialmente quando assumia um lugar de submissão bem estabelecido. Estava tão deslumbrada com sensações e com o contraste entre vocês dois que simplesmente não reagiu.

“Eu te fiz uma pergunta.”, soou firme. “Eu posso te deixar ser barulhenta aqui?”

Seu primeiro instinto foi falar, produzindo um murmúrio incompreensível. Ele sorriu de canto com a cena. Finalmente negou balançando a cabeça. O homem deu-se por satisfeito.

“Agora você vai levantar, deitar na minha mesa e abrir as pernas ‘pra mim.”, e você obedeceu tão rápido quanto fez com todas as outras ordens. A madeira fria fez sua pele arrepiar completamente, porém o arrepio maior veio da sensação de exposição e vulnerabilidade que sentia por estar totalmente à mercê do homem a frente.

Minghao contrariou todos os planos que você fez em sua cabeça quando se pôs de joelhos no chão, sumindo completamente do seu campo de visão. Só o teve de volta quando o sente acolher o quanto consegue das dobrinhas da sua intimidade dentro da própria boca num beijo devoto. A língua corre por todos os cantinhos, acariciando e deixando escorrer. A cabeça se move de um lado para o outro lentamente, sugando cada pedacinho de pele, deixa beijinhos excessivos sempre que o faz — porra, parece até mesmo apaixonado pela sua buceta.

Contradiz toda a pose dominante e impiedosa quando mama seu clitóris com gula, esfregando-o com a língua num sobe e desce incontido. Seus dedos se contorcem, tenta não tocá-lo, impede a si mesma de respirar, pois teme que ele te prive do prazer no segundo em que você faça qualquer uma dessas ações. Revira os olhos quando ouve uma cuspida ruidosa se transformar na sensação da saliva espessa escorrendo até a sua entradinha. Minghao empurra a língua ali, levando o líquido junto. Você não consegue mais aguentar, geme alto o suficiente para competir com o tecido na sua boca. As costas arqueiam quase saindo totalmente da mesa.

Previsível. O homem te toma o prazer no segundo em que você demonstra senti-lo.

Levanta-se desdenhoso, livrando o pau da calça num movimento rápido. A extensão coberta de uma baba pegajosa te faz salivar, totalmente vermelho, as veias pulsando como se estivesse prestes a estourar. Minghao apoia uma das mãos na mesa quando força-o para dentro — sequer te toca ou tem o cuidado de avisar.

Cheia até a borda. O interior das coxas treme quando se abre mais ainda, expondo-se totalmente para o namorado. Ele aperta as sobrancelhas, vendo o buraquinho engolir a extensão por completo. Faz menção de sair só para assistir a entradinha contraindo, impedindo-o de ir embora.

Não houve alerta quando o primeiro soluço abafado rompeu o ambiente. O homem permaneceu inalterado, as estocadas propositalmente lentas. Arrastava-se no seu interior, rastejando para fora num movimento tão longo quanto a entrada. Era angustiante, deveria se sentir satisfeita, porém o prazer ficava por tão pouco tempo no seu corpo que mal conseguia registrá-lo. Balbuciou um pedido por mais, mais rápido, mais forte. Porém nada foi produzido de fato.

Frustrou-se. Muito.

O peito queimava, tudo parecia ser demais agora. Sentia o corpo tensionando, desconfortável. Droga, ia chorar. Precisava chorar. Todo o aborrecimento ficou nítido nos olhos molhadinhos, seu namorado percebeu de imediato. Abaixou-se, acolhendo o seu rostinho entre as mãos. Fez questão de te dar a falsa esperança de que iria fazer sua vontade.

“Você é linda, meu amor. Tão linda…”, selou cada pálpebra com devoção. Não houve alteração alguma no modo que estocava, permanecia lento, torturante. Seus olhos se encheram mais, prestes a derramar. “Porra, chora ‘pra mim, vai.”, pediu com carinho, atento ao seu rosto. Dessa vez fez questão de ficar totalmente parado — te privando até do movimento. Você já estava sobrecarregada demais, não foi difícil. As orbes transbordaram, o líquido quente escorrendo pelo rosto. “Isso, assim…”, ele acariciou a lateral da sua bochecha, porém não conhece a lágrima — deixou escorrer.

Fungando, você já buscava conforto em Minghao sem sequer perceber. Os braços envolviam os ombros do homem, abraçando-o com necessidade. A frustração não parou de escorrer nem quando ele voltou a estocar lentamente, uma das mãos se colocando entre os corpos de vocês para esfregar seu clitóris sensível. Parecia fascinado, não desviava a atenção do estado arruinado no qual havia te deixado. As fungadinhas sendo substituídas por gemidos cada vez mais manhosos, ainda que abafados.

Tentava rebolar o quando conseguia para compensar a lentidão dele, entregando-se ao prazer de tê-lo brincando com seu pontinho sem cessar. O orgasmo foi lento em te arrematar dessa vez, demorou a perceber que estava gozando, apertando os olhinhos quando finalmente se viu incapaz de resistir.

Ele se afastou num solavanco, o rosto retorcido numa satisfação dolorida. O pau pesado estava totalmente encharcado, pingando a mistura pegajosa que consistia no prazer de vocês dois. Minghao apertou a base com firmeza, como se tentasse impedir a si mesmo de gozar. Mesmo embriagada de tesão você foi capaz de observar cada detalhe na cena. O corpo molhado de suor, o peito subindo e descendo, a coloração avermelhada do falo que parecia inchar mais. Porra, precisava de tudo aquilo dentro de você. Que ele jogasse tudo bem no fundo e te obrigasse a segurar.

Apoiou os pés na borda da mesa, abrindo-se o quanto conseguia, pedindo por mais silenciosamente. O rosto franzido numa expressão chorosa, não precisava de muito para que o homem entendesse o que queria. E o homem só desrespeitou sua sensibilidade porque você fez isso primeiro. Voltou a estocar sem amarras dessa vez.

Porra, você se arrependeu.

O buraquinho estava longe de ter se recuperado, qualquer toque era insuportável. Minghao, por outro lado, havia voltado totalmente insensível. Agora estocava em tom de castigo, fodendo contigo do jeito que deveria ter feito no início — quando você ainda era capaz de aguentar.

Não havia discernimento nem para que você mesma reconhecesse o estado de delírio no qual se encontrava. O tremor incessante do seu corpo causava um ranger agudo na madeira. Engasgava-se com o próprio choro, ainda impossibilitada de respirar corretamente. Na sua cabeça já havia implorado para parar vezes demais, mas nenhuma palavra sequer atravessou o tecido encharcado na sua boca.

Não queria parar — talvez fosse seu corpo se defendendo involuntariamente de um possível desmaio.

Havia virado uma bagunça suja, regada a suor, saliva e porra. Intoxicada com o cheiro de sexo que lotava a sala e que contribuía para sua incapacidade de respirar. Esperneava como podia, o canalzinho não parava de reclamar da quantidade de estímulo que recebia. Não precisava abrir os olhos para ver o quão incisivo Minghao estava sendo, lutando contra a bagunça molhada no meio das suas pernas que insistia em fazê-lo escorregar para o lado de fora.

Estava tão sensível que achava que iria morrer se Minghao continuasse te usando desse jeito. As mãozinhas que se agarravam à madeira tentaram cobrir a bucetinha assim que sentiu outra estocada funda te fazer convulsionar. Os dedos resvalaram no corpo grande do homem, inútilmente empurrando-o pela virilha para que saísse de você — sem força alguma. Tornou-se ainda mais vulnerável quando sentiu os pulsos sendo segurados por uma das mãos do homem que os apertou para mantê-los juntos, incapazes de se mexer.

Não houve qualquer sinal de piedade quando ele se aproveitou do seu estado indefeso para esfregar o clitóris sensível com a outra mão. A ação te lançou numa condição de desordem física e mental impossível de lidar. Chutava a madeira abaixo de você, se contorcendo, chorando copiosamente e encharcando a calcinha na sua boca com saliva, as costas arqueavam-se ao ponto de doer… e, ainda assim, o homem não cessava o estímulo.

Minghao te quebrava como se não quisesse te dar a chance de ser reparada outra vez. Fodia o buraquinho de um jeito bruto, fazendo uma baba nojenta ser expulsa entre as dobrinhas. Grunhiu, mal conseguindo lidar com o jeito que seu corpo lutava contra o prazer. Pausou o estímulo brevemente para cuspir nos próprios dedos, esfregando a saliva espessa contra o seu pontinho. Reconhece exatamente quando te arruina mais uma vez. Seu corpo desliga. De repente não tem mais resistência para manter o aperto em volta do namorado, sente o momento exato no qual as perninhas escorregam na borda da mesa.

Só que vem diferente. Molhada demais.

Esguicha tanto que faz o pau dele sair de você. O líquido quente jorra bem em cima da extensão avermelhada, deixa ele pingando e você mal parece se dar conta disso, já que a cabecinha de puta só se preocupava com as lágrimas que ainda escorriam dos seus olhos e com o fato de não conseguir ser capaz de respirar direito.

Minghao, que já estava prestes a perder a cabeça, larga a mão da própria sanidade de uma vez. Vai pra cima do seu corpo sem sequer pensar, arrancando o tecido encharcado da sua boca, toma os seus lábios, esfomeado ‘pra caralho. É bagunçado o jeito como as línguas se encontram, os narizes se esbarram pelo caminho e tudo escorre. Não condizia em nada com jeito comedido que o homem possuía sempre que te tomava. Cada vez mais explícito o quão afetado ele havia ficado.

Era a porra do beijo mais sujo que já haviam dado em todo o relacionamento. Bruto, babando de propósito, gemendo sem controle algum. Ele te chupava com gula, os dedos te forçando a abrir os lábios como se pedisse, como se implorasse, para ter sua língua dentro da boca dele. Você não sabe como ainda é capaz de retribuir — se é que retribui de fato.

Minghao toma cada parte do seu corpo de um jeito desordenado, guiado apenas pelo próprio desespero em sentir prazer, em sentir você. As mãos apertam, puxam e arranham cada pedaço de pele que consegue alcançar. O quadril dele se move com o mesmo descontrole que é responsável por comandar o resto das ações dele, estoca contra a intimidade encharcada o quanto pôde — passando por cima da sua sensibilidade outra vez. O ósculo acompanhava a obscenidade, tentava lidar com ele gemendo na sua boca, mordendo, arfando, cuspindo e consumindo a própria essência sem parar um segundo sequer.

Os corpos contorcem-se em conjunto, perdendo-se em luxúria quando Minghao força entrada outra vez. Não fica claro quem que está se movendo ali, quem que busca por mais. A foda se tornando manhosa, esquentando ao ponto de quase derreter. Nada mais era ouvido que não o som de vocês gemendo na boca um do outro. Minghao sucumbia cada vez mais, burro de tesão por você, se esfregando na sua pele como se dependesse disso para respirar.

Mas isso não podia acontecer…

Não…

A destra do homem envolveu seu pescoço, forçando-o contra a superfície de madeira. Minghao era firme, se não podia ter controle sobre o próprio corpo ele ao menos buscaria uma forma de controlar o seu. Parecia cada vez mais arruinado, fodido ‘pra caralho. Revirava os olhos bem em frente ao seu rostinho, mordendo a boca como se quisesse arrancar sangue dali.

A canhota que se apoiava ao lado do seu rosto e que era responsável por manter o corpo dele suspenso acima do seu tremia, não sustentaria o homem por muito tempo. Ele estocava forte, mas compensava na lentidão. Afundava o pau inteirinho, rebolando quando chegava ao final só para conseguir forçar as bolas cheinhas contra sua pele quente.

Não queria gozar agora, droga. Não queria. Mas precisava tanto que sentia a porra do pau contrair com a dor.

“Goza dentro… ah, porra, porra… Hao, por favor…”, arfa entre as palavras. As perninhas prendendo-se em volta do quadril do homem com a pouca força que tinha, sente que vai chorar mais ainda se o homem não obedecer ao pedido. “Não para…”

A expressão do homem transfigurou-se numa raiva sem sentido, parecia lutar contra a necessidade de te repreender por querer tanto manipulá-lo a ir contra a própria vontade. Queria que você se sentisse culpada por deixar ele tão desorientado com o prazer, estapear o rostinho bonito até você ser capaz de entender que não era para ser assim: você deveria ser a única perdida em descontrole nessa situação, não ele. Aquele era um grande defeito, Minghao odiava abrir mão da própria autoridade. Odiava estar perdendo toda a compostura só por assistir seu jeitinho penoso de pedir por aquilo. Odiava não conseguir mais ser capaz de controlar as próprias estocadas.

Odiou o jeito que gemeu pra caralho enquanto te enchia de porra.

Veio abundante, fazendo jus a todo tempo que ficou sem gozar. As pernas tremiam, estocando lentamente só para fazer o pau esguichar mais. Em algum momento havia aberto mão de sustentar o próprio peso, visto que agora estava completamente em cima de você. O rosto molhado forçava-se contra o seu pescoço, as mãos agarravam seus seios — apertando a carne macia para descontar o incômodo existente em continuar se estimulando mesmo depois de gozar.

Tão necessitada quanto ele, você não demorou a tentar se dar mais satisfação. Precisava daquilo. Esforçando-se para rebolar como podia, encontrando as estocadas dele no meio do caminho. Cada partezinha de ambos os corpos reclamava de exaustão, porém nada conseguia reprimir a vontade. O prazer vinha dolorido e começava a machucar, só que tentar parar representava uma dor maior.

“Mais… me fode mais…”, choramingava num êxtase delicioso, os dedos envolvendo o cabelo de Minghao com força. Uma mordida dolorida foi deixada na lateral do seu pescoço, quase gritou. Não sabia se estava mais perto de gozar outra vez ou de perder a consciência. “Porra, por favor… mais…”, gemeu dengosa.

Sentiu arder quando o homem se retirou lentamente. Prendeu a cintura dele entre as coxas, esbravejou, esperneou… mas isso só na própria cabeça. Na verdade, foi incapaz de reagir tamanha era a fraqueza. Ele limpou os cantinhos dos seus olhos cheios de lágrimas assim que levantou-se para ver seu rosto outra vez. Sorriu ameno, parecia ter voltado a si — ainda que o tesão fosse completamente perceptível através dos olhos escuros. Selou seus lábios e te colocou no colo com delicadeza, ignorando todos os chorinhos patéticos de quem ainda implorava para transar. Minghao sentou-se de volta na cadeira, te aconchegando em cima das próprias pernas. Você quase ronronou com o carinho que recebeu no cabelo, as pálpebras se fechando como se fosse cair no sono.

Mas não.

Ainda precisava dele. Completamente insaciável.

Seu corpo havia virado gelatina. Sensível, assimilava o cansaço como um dengo muito prazeroso de se sentir. Sem forças para fazer movimentos bruscos, roçou o narizinho contra o pescoço do homem com lentidão — buscando conforto no cheiro dele. Preguiçosa, esticou-se para beijar a bochecha do namorado. Minghao tinha um ponto fraco gigantesco por isso, te achava adorável quando fazia esse tipo de carinho.

“Amor, cancela sua agenda de hoje…”, se fez o mais manhosa que conseguiu, deixando outro selo molhado na bochecha dele. Afastando as pernas o quanto pôde, se insinuou contra ele, exibindo o buraquinho arruinado — estava sendo bem clara sobre as próprias intenções: queria ser usada até desmaiar para compensar o tempo em abstinência.

“Eu só tenho mais dois pacientes, meu bem. Você aguenta.”, te ofereceu um sorriso provocativo. Era explícito o quanto gostava de te ver tão obcecada, babava o tecido da calça só de pensar em passar o dia inteiro fodendo com você.

“Mas eu preciso de mais uma sessão...”, choramingou baixinho, a ponta da língua tracejando a bochecha do homem num carinho sujo. Rebolou avidamente, um ruído pegajoso soando quando se esfregou bem em cima da glande vermelhinha. “Não consigo esperar mais.”, gemeu e já se melava inteira outra vez, dificilmente seria capaz de parar. “Por favor, doutor Hao.”

─── 𝗡✷𝗧𝗔𝗦²: eu apreciaria comentários nessa daqui como feedback, sabiam? me deixaria super motivada! tô curiosa sobre as opiniões de vocês também [🥹].

( ✶. ) © 2025 hansolsticio ── 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓.

[whypisces]

THE OFFICE 6.09 Double Date

[whypisces]

then i did hiromi higuruma and got shadowbanned on tiktok for it!

[whypisces]

[whypisces]

Scorpio/Capricorn/Sagittarius/Leo/Pisces/Gemini vibes

[whypisces]

Finding Nemo (2003) dir. Andrew Stanton

[whypisces]

the official april shower choreography, no clickbait

[whypisces]

[whypisces]

Hothouse Flower [Part 1]

Summary - Your five year relationship with him ended two years ago. You need to move on, have to, since you are the only one stuck in the past. Jeonghan moved on, happy, gallivanting away. When you finally agree to meet up a fellow heartbroken stranger set up by 'Get Love Quick', you didn't expect to see him there.

Tags: Jeonghan x f.reader, exes! au, second chance romance, angst, yearning, fluff, suggestive, SLOW BURN

Warnings: mdni, very suggestive (at least in the next part), fist fight, mentions of blood, just a very angry Jeonghan, swearing, and a lot of grammatical mistakes as English isn't my first language.

Word Count: 21k (this part, total 40k)

A's Note: I've been working on this for like four months. Please get ready for the angst and yearning. The birth of this story took place from Don't Wanna Cry Jeonghan falling onto his knees in yearning, and the song 'no one noticed by the marias'.

I wanted to write a story where reader gets to forget everything and be in the world of the fiction, enjoy momentary bliss instead of the bitter taste of life, at least for some time. So by the time you complete reading this part, next part would have already been uploaded. If I succeeded in making you forget everything and you enjoyed the fic please let me know so I can stare at your message for eternity in happiness.

Also I want to thank my two friends who have been patiently answering my questions, and kept on encouraging me all the time. If not for you two this wouldn't have happened. Thank you!!

divider credits to the rightful owner.

⌜ If anyone else were to kiss me, all they would taste is your name.⌟

— Clementine von Radics

“You should try this,” Seungkwan places the folded worn out newspaper on your work desk, looming over you like a dark cloud before rain. Nothing good is going to come out of this. 

With a sigh you minimize the word document you have been working on, and focus on the headline of the advertisement, Get Love Quick. “If you have time to find crap then you have time to prepare the deck.”

Seungkwan tsks. “I have time till this Friday.” He drags the chair from the next cubicle, making a home for himself. “Send in an application.” He shoves the paper back to you, sending your notebook flying.  “It’s high time for you to move on.” 

You reopen the word document glaring at the words and hit random letters on the keyboard with more force, “I have work unlike someone. If you leave me alone.” 

“Come on,” he insists, locking your system and turning your chair in his direction. “You have to get out of that four walls of darkness you call a room,” his gaze is firm, the frown line between his eyebrows makes you think. He isn’t going to back away like the other times, this time he is serious. 

You fall back into your chair, gnawing on your lower lip. The words on the newspaper glares at you, in mockery or a challenge, you couldn’t say. 

Find your other broken hearted half.. 

It’s been more than a year since you went on a date. You are sure that even the process of dating has changed by now. Fresh after the break up you were relentless, swiping right on guy after guy to rile up your ex, only to end up canceling most of the dates.

The two men you met were good, considerate and even attentive, something you begged from your previous relationship. Their questions and interest in your work, hobbies and daily life solidified their points in gaining the second date. 

If not for the constant comparison to a certain long black haired man, who would be cracking jokes on the other two for their pretentiousness. It’s safe to say that you didn’t get a second date with anyone. Eventually the fire to make your ex jealous and show him what he is missing has died down. 

“Are you still here?” Seungkwan shakes your arm. 

You faze out from your thoughts, “I'm not sure. It’s a lot of work.” You pull your hair to one side, playing with the ends. “I have to dress up, put on makeup and,” you suck in a breath dreading the worst of all, “I have to make stimulating conversations.” 

You click your pen, chewing on your lip, losing yourself in thoughts. What you don’t voice out is the fear of losing someone again and losing yourself in the process of clinging onto him to make him stay. You have done it once, and not sure you could do it again. Especially if it’s someone who is not your Jeonghan. 

Seungkwan holds your hands in his, he says, “you don’t need to put up an act this time.” 

“Hey.” A coworker greets you, crossing the office floor to the elevator. 

Seungkwan presses his lips in a thin line, nodding back at the intruder who is already out of earshot. “Anyway, as I am saying,” he goes back to the topic, “no need for an act. Be yourself and the right one will come.” 

The strong belief in his words sways your stubborn heart a little, a faint hope flickering in your chest. 

“Remember there’s no one you need to get back at this time.” He reemphasizes, “I don’t want to see you pulling that old shit.” 

You nod without a second thought, a little scared of his authoritative tone. 

“Good.” He presses your hand, eyes softening, studying you. “I have a gut feeling that this is going to be your turning point.” He adds, “a good one. You’ll find someone who understands you as you are.” 

The love in his words and caring gestures were what made you you till now. He always dragged you back whenever you were spiraling down the rabbit hole. He doesn’t have a reason to look after you, especially when even your mom has given up on you after a few tries. 

“Oh,” his soft voice makes your eyes moist, “I didn’t want to make you cry.” 

“I know.” 

He ruffles your hair, “straighten up and fight back, my warrior. You can do this.” 

You laugh, wiping the corner of your eyes. “Warrior?” 

“Frontline army?” 

You push him away, “go back, Seungkwan. Our boss is already glaring.” You backspace the crap you have written on the report. “We are one call away from the HR office.” 

“Ugh,” he fixes his tie, “that old retard should find someone else to stalk.” He slowly rolls away to the next cubicle leaving the chair in its rightful place. “Think about it. Okay?” 

“Thank you, Seungkwan.” 

“Anything for you.” 

—

You wake up with a start, your mind in a haze. The rotating ceiling fan spins your head making your dizziness worse. You fight with the comforter rolled around you to free your hand, the movements worsen the pounding in your head. 

“Ugh, Hannie.” You search for the other side of the bed, your fingers tracing the cold bed sheet. “Huh?” 

You open your eyes forcefully, the bright sunshine falling directly on you. You forgot to draw curtains again. The empty space beside you cracks your heart again, the unused pillow still in bright yellow cover mocks you. He is not in your life anymore. You pluck the pillow, hugging it to your chest and inhaling its scent. It doesn’t smell like him anymore. 

The warmth of this pillow doesn’t suffice the warmth of him, his midnight cuddles, kisses all over your face when he thinks you are in deep sleep. Your fingers grasp the edges of the pillow, legs curling into your stomach from the ache echoing your entire body.  

Longing for Jeonghan has become one with breathing. Each moment and thing is closely intricated with his existence, the reminder of him throwing you back into the pits of suffering. You eye your phone resting beside you, the temptation to check his whereabouts is gripping your chest. Your fingers hover over it succumbing to your desires, but no, not this time, not when he never cared about you. Does he even think about you? 

—

Jeonghan smiles at his date reassuringly, “it’s fine. It’s fine. Don’t panic.” He stands up from his seat, approaching her side of the table, “let’s go get you cleaned up.” He holds out his palm, interlacing their fingers.  

His confident stride leads them across linen covered tables, wafts of delicious food surrounding them. Familiarity with this restaurant propels his sense of direction, he took this path countless times. He grips her hand, almost crushing, anchoring himself to the present moment. 

She squeezes back, peering at him through his shoulder. He runs his fingers through his long hair strands, curling the strays behind his ear. She reaches out, tenderly running her fingertips at the back of his head. He ducks his head down, straightening his suit pants. Her steps stumble into one another, her cheeks blushing with embarrassment.  

The kitchen is bustling with waiters coming in and out with orders. A waiter carrying an order is craning his neck, waving his hand to gain Jeonghan’s attention. 

Jeonghan frowns at the unprofessional etiquette of the staff, and the waiter’s relentless efforts only irks him further. It strikes him, the reason behind the enthusiasm of the boy. Jeonghan exhales through his mouth. He knew it was a bad idea to dine in this restaurant, but two years is enough time for people to forget. 

Oh. How he never learns. 

The boy stops in his tracks confused at the lady hiding behind Jeonghan, and the rosary blush on her cheeks complimented with the shy glances at Jeonghan. He drops his hand, unimpressed. 

Jeonghan is annoyed, reading the judgemental stare he is receiving. He presses his lips in a thin line, not sparing another glance he leads his date to the washroom. “Go ahead. I’ll be here.” He leans on the wall opposite to the women’s restroom, pocketing his hands. 

She hurries in with a blush creeping up her cheeks, matching the red of her dress. He would have found it cute once upon a time, and would have even teased a little. But now, Jeonghan throws his head back a sigh escaping his lips, he can’t even bring to crack a joke or worse lead the conversation from topics other than weather or work.  

Silver lining out of all is, this is their second date. Maybe it can lead to something prominent one day. And he can go back to his old ways, find it in himself to laugh and joke around. His gaze flickers to the women’s restroom door, a memory creeping into his mind. 

You spilled wine on yourself on a date with him. He tsks, teased you for a klutz while leading you to the washroom. You expected him to stop outside but you should have known how crazy he was. He checked either side before following you in with a false pretense to help you wipe the stain near your chest. 

You rolled your eyes at him when his thumb caressed a little longer, understanding his actions. You pinch his arm and he bites his lower lip, suppressing a smile. He looks at you in mockery before squeezing your breast, eliciting a moan, he crashes his lips on you. 

“Been a long time,” the waiter reappears before him disturbing him from the memory of his ex. “I hope you remember me.”

Jeonghan’s jaw ticks. The boy, his name tag reads, Dino, is oblivious to Jeonghan's bubbling irritation. He continues, “well, if it was her,” he whispers, checking around for Jeonghan’s date, “she would have recognized me. I can’t believe you let her go.” He shakes his head in disappointment, sneaking glances at Jeonghan. 

Jeonghan stands up straight, looming over the younger boy. Darkness exuding from him, now he doesn’t need some little boy to preach what he missed out. 

Dino, bad with reading cues continues, “well,” he presses, drawing random figures on the serving tray, “can I… get her number?” 

Red flashes in Jeonghan’s eyes, “what?” 

Dino takes a step back, eyes shaking, “I-I-I me-mean..” he shields himself with the tray, “yo-you moved on, so, I thought–”

“Thought what?” Jeonghan spits.

“Th-that I sh-should shoot my shot,” Dino musters up courage, squaring his shoulders, head held high, “she is worth the–”

Jeonghan grabs Dino’s collar, “Fuck off you little—” 

“Jeonghan? Jeonghan?”

His date grabs his arm off the waiter, “are you crazy? Let him go.” 

His date looks at him in worry, her hand still holding onto his arm. Jeonghan snaps at her, “what?” She reels back from him, dropping her hand. Jeonghan closes his eyes, regaining his senses. “Sorry.” 

She nods, not meeting his eyes. He scoffs at Dino scurrying away without looking back. “Let’s go.” He leads the way back to their table. This time he doesn’t hold her hand. She jogs to keep up with his pace, reaching out to his hand only to fail. If she is upset she doesn’t show it when he slips his hands into his pockets. 

—

“I had fun tonight, Hannie.” She unbuckles her seatbelt, leaning into him, kissing his cheek. “Thank you,” she whispers in his ear.  

Jeonghan taps his forefinger against the leather of the steering wheel, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. “Yeah.” 

She holds his chin, gently nudging him towards her. Her thumb traces his bottom lip, her brown eyes focusing on the slight cracks and splits. “I don’t wanna ask what you are not gonna tell,” she taps on his lip twice, “but I can’t tolerate it happening again.” She holds his gaze, “if I am gonna have you I want all of you.”

He nods. 

She presses a kiss on his lips, her soft ones moving against his static ones. He closes his eyes, shutting down the images of someone who is not his date. He sucks on her bottom lip, the cherry flavour of her lip balm on his tongue. 

He unbuckles the seatbelt, slips his hand around her nape pulling her in. Their lips move in fervent need, tongues clashing, biting and nipping. Soft whimpers fill in the car, her hands roaming across his chest. “So hot.” She runs her hand through his long hairstrands, tugging at their ends, “You look—” she breathes as he nips her bottom lip “—fucking hot.”

He holds her roaming hand, intertwining their fingers, his eyes still closed, kissing her now swollen lips. 

Images of her clouds him, her cheeky smile when he catches her causing ruckus, her droopy eyes yet a blissful look of satisfaction, her kisses in the middle of the night, her taste, her, her, her everywhere. 

Her name slips past his lips in a shaky whisper. He backs away from his date, running a hand through his ruffled hair, “fuck.” He holds the hand slipping away from his grasp, “I am sorry. Sorry, it's just the,” he blinks at her teary face, “the..” he falters. 

“Goodbye, Jeonghan.” She exits the car. Her flowery scent lingering in his car, a constant reminder of what he fucked up just because he couldn’t forget his ex. 

He hits the steering wheel repeatedly. The ghost of his ex is still haunting him, in the corners of his apartment, the track sounds of her favorite sitcom, in his office, and fuck even in his car fiddling with the playlist. 

Does he miss you? He doesn’t (it’s killing him). 

Jeonghan ignites the car, clicking some random playlist on his phone. He reverses the car, driving through the silent empty streets, humming to the songs to clear his mind off the awkward date. 

The community he resides in is a mile away, small stalls and restaurants around the area are bustling. Familiar neighborhood eases his uneasiness. Few more minutes and he can go home to his whiskey and drown himself in sleep. He rolls the car to a stop at a red light. He keeps clicking on the next song. 

Her laughter plays on the speakers. Jeonghan drops his phone in a shock, startled to hear the voice he didn’t hear for months. Her giggles fill in his car, “Hannie, Hannie, baby,” cut off with a moan. 

Next song starts playing and Jeonghan stares at the screen with a frown. What just happened? He clicks on the previous song, the voice note replaying. A car honks behind him, he drops the phone checking the rear view, he accelerates through the green light, and pulls up to the side. 

The voice note replays again and again. The blinkers on his car keep flicking till a police car pulls up to check on him.

—

You fiddle with the silver band on your ring finger, staring at the blank application opened up on your laptop. It has been an hour, and not even one question has been answered. You let out a long sigh, still confused, still hesitant whether you are truly ready to give love a chance again. The questions are simple, What’s your heartbreaking story? The answer to them isn’t, you are not sure you can rehash your heartbreak in words, without getting the need to find him and see how life has been treating him. 

You close the laptop and throw it aside on the bed, burying yourself in the comforter, staring at the unoccupied side of the bed and bright yellow pillow. A stray tear wets your pillow, your hand tracing the empty bedside. 

—

Jeonghan punches in the words on his keyboard with force since he can’t punch the person in the face. He sits back cross-checking the draft email just in case his thoughts are translated into words subconsciously. Another visit to the HR will for sure land him in trouble. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” His senior, Soobin, raps his knuckles on the table. 

Great, Jeonghan can feel the universe breathing down his neck today. He folds the laptop screen, reclining in his seat listening to the rant.

“I can’t believe you messed up man.” Soobin rakes his hand through his hair, plopping on the empty chair, rolling the paper weights around the table. “She is the hottest one dude.” A sleazy grin on his lips, “a goddess in that red dress.” He mimics the shape of her waist line with his hands. Jeonghan raises his eyebrow at the detail. Soobin smiles sheepishly, adding, “She posted a picture on her account.”

Jeonghan wants to throw up at the vulgarity. “If you find her attractive then why don’t you date her?” He opens his laptop back, sending the mail.

“Have to wait till I break up with my current one.” He says with remorse. 

Jeonghan grits his teeth, irritation bubbling up in his chest. He tries to tone it down before it escalates into something like throwing him out of his room or worse, throwing a punch. He doesn’t have it in him to sort through another mess and complicate his already stressful life. 

Soobin, not heeding to any hints radiating from Jeonghan, dips his fingers into forbidden waters. “But, come on, man.” He leans in with a wicked expression, “admit it she is the hottest one out of all of your exes. And waaaay better than that sorry shit of your ex. I can’t believe you were stuck up on her. She was boring as hell, and I bet the sex was as dull as—” 

Jeonghan isn’t sure of his movements, how and when the things ended up in the way they did. Soobin is on the floor, spitting blood. Jeonghan holds the floor, helping himself to stand up from his senior’s body. Grabbing the opportunity, Soobin throws a punch. 

Jeonghan falls back on his ass, his ears ringing and knuckles ache like fuck. He clutches his head, watching Soobin scramble on the floor, sliding away from him. Their CEO is standing at the door barking at them. 

He stands up, flicking his hand and stretching his fingers. He grabs Soobin before he can go hide behind their head and puts his all into one last punch. 

The CEO drags bloody Jeonghan to his cabin while Soobin is taken to the hospital. “You were up for promotion next month,” the CEO scolds, “a director can’t hit a coworker in broad daylight.” 

This followed a two hour long lecture mixed with threats of termination. All the while Jeonghan stares outside the window, two birds coddling. Strangely, he is jealous of two birds for having something he once had. 

“Yoon Jeonghan!” The head of the company snaps, “do you feel any remorse for bruising one of our most important employees?” 

Jeonghan massages the ache in his hand, did he break his bones? He did keep punching Soobin’s jaw until he saw red. 

“He had it coming.” He stands up, buttoning up his suit. “I’m quitting. You can write it up as terminated or whatever makes your ass happy.” 

—

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!” 

You wake up with a jerk, disoriented. Light floods your room, blinding you for a second, and someone is singing happy birthday. A cake with a burning candle is shoved in your face, and were those cats on the cake. 

“Blow it,” a high-pitch voice screams in your ears. 

You blow the candle, still lost in the happenings in the middle of the night. Cheers and claps snaps you out of your drowsiness, awakening your brain. 

Seungkwan is busy squashing the remnants of cake on his girlfriend’s face, and your roommate is standing awkwardly near your bed end. You search for your phone, finding it under your pillow, you read the date. Ah, birthday. 

Messages from your friends and family flood your phone, a hope births inside you, maybe, maybe he remembered and wished you this time. You scroll through the notifications slowly in case you miss it. None. Tears brim your eyes, stupid heart, why does it still hope? 

“Come on, come on.” Seungkwan drags you out of your bed and into the living room, blasting music and orchestrating a sudden dance battle. You laugh at their antics, momentarily forgetting about the heartache.

— 

“We should go for drinks,” Seungkwan announces in the middle of you enjoying each bite of cold noodles. “Enjoy the fact you become a year older and wiser.” He stirs his chopsticks around the noodles.

“Overnight?” You raise an eyebrow, slurping in the noodles. 

The waiter refills the water jug, sets it on the wooden table with a clang. You grab Seungkwan’s glass, filling it to the brim before the waiter has an opportunity to do it. “Thank you,” you smile at the younger male, assuming a college student working for extra pocket money, “we got it. Go and take a breather.” You shoo him away. 

He bows in gratitude, scurries away grabbing the opportunity of a five minute break. You chuckle reminiscing about your days of waiting tables.

“Too kind,” Seungkwan berates, sipping on the water. “It’s gonna bite your ass someday.” 

“I can’t drink.” You go back to the main topic, “it’s weekday. I have an early meeting tomorrow,” you set the chopsticks down at the soar reminder, “a round of drinks sounds good tho.” You sigh wistfully, “but what can one do? I’m not young anymore to bound back after a night of drinking.” 

Seungkwan chews at his food a little louder for your taste. “This must be what they mean by growing pains. And you can’t handle drinks. It’s better to not have you drunk since we have an important meeting tomorrow.” He grabs the menu from the holder, skimming through the noodles section again. “Their noodles are tasty.” He murmurs, “ah,” he taps on a ramyeon picture. 

He flags down the waiter from before who approaches your table with merriment. Seungkwan narrows his eyes at the wandering gaze of the waiter towards you. 

“One ramyeon,” Seungkwan orders, “and a drink please.” 

“Anything else for the beautiful lady over here?” His dimple pops out waiting for you to swallow your food. 

“No, thank you.” You twirl the noodles around the chopsticks, you slurp the cold noodles enjoying the flavours bursting in your mouth. 

Seungkwan chuckles, “poor boy. Look at him walk away like a sad puppy.” 

“Huh?”

He shakes his head, “nothing.” He sets his chopsticks down, “did you hear that there’s restructuring happening? I just hope I won’t be transferred again,” he huffs, folding his hands, “I don’t want to leave Nari.” 

“And you,” he adds, after a beat. 

The meat floats in the broth, you dunk it deeper into the liquid. You prefer to not be mentioned at all rather than being added as an afterthought. Being someone’s priority is a luxury you realized, not after the break up, but rather when you were in a five year long relationship with your ex. 

The nights you laid on the bed waiting for your lover to join you were countless, his disinterest in your enthusiasm, and his laid back answers were the slow killers. Labeled as needy and clingy when asked for attention was the threshold point. And yet, you begged him to stay. 

A green feeling bubbles in your chest, stabbing the meat piece you nod to Seungkwan’s rant absentmindedly. You catch bits and pieces of how his girlfriend suffered from the long distance during his last transfer, and how he was helpless to pacify her. If only you got a transfer and Jeonghan was desperate for you back then, would he have realized your value? Does he realize your value now? 

The answer was glaring back at you. You have seen, stalked, his dates and flings profile, how happy he is, smiling at the pictures, posing intimately and sharing something that was yours first with strangers. How can he be happy after ruining you for anyone else? Making you incapable of loving someone else? Why, only you, can’t replace him where he is mingling as if you never existed?

—

You peek from your computer at the manager’s cabin. He is in a meeting with a team, and it doesn’t end for another thirty minutes. You click the third link of the web results for Get Love Quick. The cursor at the name field blinks, waiting for your input. 

It requires a lot more than momentary courage, you realized, your fingers hover over the keyboard hesitant. Are you really ready for this new step in life? The silver band ring glimmers under the fluorescent lights, you take it off and throw it in the drawer. You are going to fill in the form and submit it. If you are matched then it is a future you’s problem. 

Filling in the basic information was a breeze, you crack your knuckles preparing yourself for the big ones. 

What’s your heartbreaking story? 

The keys click-clacks under your fingers, momentary pauses, a tear rolling down your cheek. You hover over the exit button unable to articulate  it in words, but you don't want to give up. Not this time. 

By the time you press submit, the office is half empty. You check for your friend, he is clutching his head and looking close to breakdown. You clock out of the system for the day, grabbing your things and sauntering towards your distressed friend. 

“What’s wrong?” You grab an empty chair and settle next to him. 

Seungkwan looks up at you with red eyes, softly whispering your name. 

“Hey,” you panic, “tell me what happened?” You hold his hands bracing yourself. 

“My name is on the list for transfer,” his voice quivers, “I have to fill in an empty position at this new branch.” 

Your heart aches watching your friend breakdown. “Is there no other way?” 

He pulls his blue tie free, “I am not sure. God, I didn’t inform her yet. I just,” he exhales loudly, “I wanna try requesting the manager or the higher ups.” 

You nod slowly, gears turning in your mind. Seungkwan has been a steady pillar in your life even during the times of crisis. He didn’t walk away when you pushed him off your life. 

“By when you have to transfer?” 

“Soon, there’s an urgent requirement in Yangsan.” he answers, “I hate it so much. Why always me?” 

You pat his shoulders, “I know. But I think it will work out in your favor this time.”

He scoffs, shutting down the computer, and packs his stuff into his bag. “It never works out. One suffering after another is the theme of my life.” 

“Believe me, Seungkwan.” You smile. 

He pauses in his track, narrowing his eyes, “I know that smile. Don’t do anything stupid, please.” 

You smile wider. 

—

Jeonghan cradles nearly empty whisky glass to his chest, spreading his legs wide on the couch, reclining back. He sips from the bottle watching six friends lounging in the flat yapping on the TV screen, the laugh track accompanying the show irks him. How can one find comfort from this show? He can never understand it, but he never stops watching it again and again. 

He sips on the last drops of the drink, shaking it in hopes to get more out of it. He discards it on the floor, and grabs his phone. 

His thumb brushes over the date displayed on the phone. He used to be busy on this day in previous years, planning the day to its perfection, wooing his girl with carefully crafted plans and in the last two years buried in work. 

He misses his home being filled with delicious scents of his cooking her favourites, her laughter at some stupid reruns of sitcoms. It’s been so long since his home and his life has seen some daylight. 

His thumb hovers over her chat, uncertainty brimming up in his chest. He shouldn’t text her, he reiterates to himself. He scrolls through her unanswered texts right after their break up. 

Please. I’ll be better. 

-baby, May

Hannie… how can you do this to me? 

-baby, May

Don’t leave me, Jeonghan. Please, I can’t live without you. It can’t be that easy to leave me. I beg you. I’ll do whatever you want. I will text you less, call you less, and we can live separately and only visit once a day. Don’t leave me Jeonghan. 

-baby, May

[Voicenote 1:43 mins]

-baby, May

Jeonghan quickly scrolls past the voice note, he doesn’t have enough guts to hear you breaking down. If he does he will be standing outside your home, asking you to come back to this toxic union. Somewhere his mind nags, was it always toxic or were you scared to admit your wrongdoings?

Ridiculous

-baby, June 

For my sake? For my sake you broke up????? 

-baby, June

Be honest there’s someone else right?

-baby, June 

You wanted to get rid of me to be with her

-baby, June

Explains the late nights and unanswered calls 

-baby, June

YOON JEONGHAN YOU FUCKING BASTARD ASSHOLE AND AND I love you Jeonghan please… please reply I beg you

-baby, July 

I’ll change myself the way you want Jeonghan I won’t be needy please I will give you your space I would be one with the wall in your life as long as I can see you everyday I am okay with anything 

-baby, July

Did you loathe me that bad? I heard you already moved on. Is she prettier? Is she self-sufficient? Is she better than me?

-baby, August 

[photo of your date holding your hand]

-baby, August 

Ah so you really don’t care about me anymore. 

-baby, August 

I gave you five years of my life. You could have ended it in the first year. Could have spared me the heartache.

-baby, September 

It feels like dying. Is this how people feel in their last moments? How can you be so happy while I’m scraping myself off the floor? 

-baby, October 

Happy birthday

-baby, October 

Good luck with your life.

-baby, December

Jeonghan notices the unsent message sitting in the type bar. 

Should we try again 

He contemplates on sending it, but decides otherwise. He backspaces the message, he scrolls deeper into their conversation when things are rainbows and sunshine. 

Hannie Hannie my dear Hannie saw you again in the sky shining brighter than ever… my sun 🌞

-baby

😒

-Jeonghan 

Get back to work 

-Jeonghan 

He remembers smiling ear to ear in the office, rereading her message in the singsong tone of hers. He was fluid like water throughout his work that day, acing every meeting and task, humming all along. 

Saw a baby playing with a baby chick 🐤 

[photo] 

-baby

Sooooooooooo CUTE 

-baby

I JUST WANT TO GO AND BITE HIS CHEEKS 

-baby

Can I do that 🥺

-baby

Didn’t know our date is at jail tonight

-Jeonghan

Jeonghan laughs at their conversation. Rolling onto his side he scrolls deeper. He sniffles, tears falling onto the cushion. He wipes his blurry eyes, reading the conversation from another day.  

Rant incoming 

-baby

Uh oh  

-Jeonghan

That freaking bastard retard good for nothing asshole and the worlds most dumbest high paid person. How the fuck he got a job. Mr.know it all knows nothing. NOTHING EXCEPT MAKING MY LIFE HELL 

-baby

HAVE TO WORK OVERTIME AGAIN!!!!!!!!!!! 

-baby 

I MISS MY MAN!!!

-baby 

(I miss you too)

-Jeonghan

BUT DUE TO THAT FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT.. OH HANNIE MY PRECIOUS BABY MY LITTLE MUNCHKIN 

-baby 

[Incoming call from baby]

Jeonghan wishes he can go back to the time when you called him all the sweet things in the world. If the universe or whoever is out there, is willing to give them one more chance will he take it up? Maybe or maybe not. 

When will you be back? I miss you 

-baby 

… 

-Jeonghan 

Come on. It’s been like thirty minutes

-Jeonghan 

What can I do? 

-baby 

Your cum is still running down my thighs reminding me of you 🤷‍♀️

-baby 

FUCK 

-Jeonghan 

YOU CANT PULL THAT CARD 

-Jeonghan 

☹️ okayyyy don’t worry I pushed it all back in. 

-baby 

Happy golfing Hannie!!! Win and come home 🥰😘

-baby 

You DEVIL 

-Jeonghan 

I’m coming home

-Jeonghan 

😇😇😇

-baby 

Jeonghan locks his phone, closing his eyes, tears rushing out. A ripping pain in his chest makes him curl up into a ball, he holds himself, all the pain inside of him bursting out. The silence of his apartment is now broken with whimpers and cries for help. It's been so long since he felt something, he doesn’t want to continue to live in this pain. He doesn’t have the will or fighting spirit left in him. 

He messed with his career for the sake of his ex, he stopped going out with his friends, and it's been so long since he talked with his parents. Another sob escapes him remembering how you used to hold him whenever he felt low. Despite the thousand fights they had, you were always there to catch him. You are his sun, not the other way around. He is stupid, stupid, stupid. 

He ended things for their own good. He realised that no matter how much you love someone, sometimes you just end up hurting each other. He couldn’t bear seeing you standing in the middle of the apartment everyday mid fight with tears spilling out.  

He knows he is the problem, he wasn’t mature enough to handle his love with care, love and affection, the only thing you wanted out of him. He only gave you pain, sadness and a reason to cry. He was the source of your unhappiness. He tried to be a source of happiness, but things slipped right through his fingers.  

If only he could be more like how you wanted him, maybe today he would have been curled up in your warmth instead of the coldness of his apartment. 

—

The office is swarming, phones ringing, and hellos echoing around. You keep checking the manager’s cabin, eyeing the expressions of the director, manager and Seungkwan through the glass doors. It is hard to catch their words, or read their lips, as it is a few cubicles down from yours. You send a document to print, slipping on your heels, you march towards the printer next to the cabin. 

Seungkwan catches you, shaking his head subtly before answering to the director. The printer spits out the papers slowly with a wheezing sound, you adjust your hair straining your ears to catch at least a few words.

“... branch needs you,” the director’s firm tone makes you wince, “or…” you lose some words as the printer whirs loudly, and you swear you heard your name, “..can go in your place.”

“I am not sure,” Seungkwan replies, “I can’t..”

A colleague of yours watches you in suspicion, his eyes darting from you to the cabin you are eavesdropping. Fuck, he is HR. You bow in greeting, laughing, pointing at the old printer dying to print out some documents. He nods, mumbling a feeble, keep up the good work. 

You collect the papers just in time the director walks out of the cabin, noticing you, he smiles warmly in greeting before walking to his cabin. Seungkwan closes the manager’s cabin behind him, his lower lip wobbly at the sight of you. You step in with him to his cubicle, “what happened?”

Seungkwan lets out a big groan, “I have to start relocating by the end of the month.” He rubs his temples, “I have to tell her tonight.” He checks the time on his watch, “and she was looking forward to our date,” his voice shakes a little, “only for me to pour water over all her excitement.”

He plops down on his seat, keying in his password. You lean against his desk, thumbing the pages, “you know,” you muster up the courage, “I want to ask for this transfer.” You quickly add before he can jump in, “I really want this transfer, Seungkwan. I think..” you trail off, your voice dropping an octave, “I am done with this city.”

You blink back the tears with a laugh, you set the papers on his desk, turning away from him. “I am planning to talk it out with the manager, and,” you look at him from the corner of your eyes, “ask to get off your back.” 

He smiles, tapping his fingers on the armrest, “I don't want you to force yourself for my sake.” He raises his hand, stopping you from defending yourself, “someone going away in my place will loosen my burden but I don’t want that to be you. Got my point?”

“I understand, but,” you meet his eyes head on, “I really want to get out of this place, Seungkwan. I don’t have any fond memories left–” Seungkwan scoffs “–apart from our hangouts, of course.” 

With a deep inhale, you blurt out, “everywhere I go, I see us. I search for him everywhere,” you wipe away the stray tear, “I don’t want to live this way. Not when he is happy somewhere, in someone’s arms.”

Seungkwan evades your gaze, clicking on some email, “about that..” 

“I don’t wanna hear anything else.” You square up your shoulders, “I am going in now and ask for the transfer.” 

Seungkwan calls out your name but you are already at the manager’s cabin. 

—

“Cheers,” you clink the glasses with Seungkwan’s and Nari’s. You dunk the contents in a single gulp, a bitter sigh escaping your lips. 

“Congrats on the new role,” she congratulates, with a beaming smile, “I am very happy for you.” 

Seungkwan sips on his soju, not joining in the party of your transfer and beginning of new life. His girlfriend, not knowing the reason behind his silence, chats away about her new boss and the funny antics of his. 

Seungkwan grills the meat, the sizzling sounds of the meat grabs your attention more often than you let on. He places the cooked meat on Nari’s plate, your eyes fall on your empty plate, and the growling of your stomach. You pour yourself another glass of soju, laughing at the reenactment of the fall of her new boss. 

“I couldn’t not laugh!” she fans herself, “but I was the only one with a loud laugh. He saw me, I just hope he won’t get his revenge.” 

You grab the cooked meat from the grill, and blow on it, “he wouldn’t. You are one hard working person. He is lucky to have you on his team.”

She blushes, fumbling with her thumbs. Seungkwan drops the tongs, brushing her pink cheeks. You excuse yourself to the washroom, grabbing your phone. Few messages from your colleagues congratulating on the promotion, and also sad for the transfer. Your heels halt when the email from the Get Love Quick sits on your notifications. 

You open the washroom stall, and lock yourself in, calming your nerves. You open the mail.

Dear Heartbroken soul,

Thank you for choosing us to direct you to true love. We are sad to hear your pain, and with all the shit life threw at you, we just want to apologize on behalf of life. Along with the apology we also want to throw in some delight by informing you that, *drum roll*, your date has been fixed for this Sunday. Please find the venue details below. 

Ps. As a tradition of Get Love Quick the details of your date is a surprise. Builds the anticipation *wink wink*. 

With love,

Get Love Quick

It’s already Friday today, one more day and then you have a date. Your clammy fingers don't help in clicking the venue details in the maps. You rub your sweaty palms onto your skirt, and try again typing the details. This cafe is forty minutes drive away from your apartment. 

Is it worth it? You are about to move away from this place in a couple of weeks. You have to start packing away, look for a house in the new city, and break the news to your family and friends. Who would be interested in someone who isn’t available after the first date? Highly unlikely to convert this date into a long distance relationship. A part of you believes that there’s no aspect of you that will be appealing to the other person to make him leave everything too. 

For now you put the date on the back burner. You have one more day, and it's Sunday you to decide. 

Completing your business in the washroom, you saunter back to the table, slowing down, giving space to the couple kissing. You fiddle with the promotion mails on your phone, coughing into your fist before sliding onto your stool. Seungkwan hangs his hand around his girl, color coming back in his face. Ah, she does hold the key to his heart, no wonder he was desperate to stay. 

No matter how happy you are for them, to have each other through ebbs and flows, watching them, or spending time with a couple opens a part inside you that you aren’t proud of. It reminds you of what you don’t have in your life, or what you once had. 

“I’m done for the day,” you fake yawn, “my uber is on the way, I will meet you on Monday.” You sling your handbag, walking away before he can understand the urgency in your exit. 

“You didn’t even eat anything.” He points the tongs to your full plate, “why are you leaving so soon?”

“I’m tired from all those meetings, and I am not feeling good. Need some rest.” 

If he has doubts about your poor acting, he doesn’t comment on it. You greet them good night, exiting the restaurant.  

— 

The cafe is in a run down building, the ivy creeps all over the creaks, and the light illuminating the cafe name flickers. Sweet Life. No soul is seen around the empty street, a cat mewls from the garbage can, and rustling of covers echoes. The sun is already setting with an orange hue across the sky. You share your location with Seungkwan just in case, tugging the neckline of your dress up, you open the rusty door.

“Welcome!” A woman greets from the whirring coffee machine. “Please find a seat.”

You bow in a greeting, and turn to the almost empty cafe except for, your breath catches in your throat, one person. Your feet stay rooted, your gaze not moving from him, and him staring back at you with his lips parted. The exit door is two steps away, you can run away and sleep it off like it's a bad dream. 

The door rattles open, two sleazy men brush past you, stinking of alcohol. You grab the half open door, quickly slipping past the door, your vision blurry making your ankle twist a few times. You sit on your feet, leaning against the wall, rubbing your eyes and the runny nose with the back of your hand, your breathing becomes irregular. Seungkwan. You need him to tell you what to do. You search for your phone in your wallet, dropping the papers, lip balm and keys on the road. 

You gasp for air, breathing in through your mouth, hitting your chest. Five things. List down five things, you see a crumpled tin on the pavement, you smell stinky garbage, and you hear the crack of the door opening. Two black shoes step beside you, and you smell of him. 

Jeonghan separates a tissue from the stack, and holds the back of your head, wiping your tears. You push his hand away, shaking your head trying to get out of his grasp. He grips onto your neck, pulling you closer to him, his teary eyes glaring back at you. He cleans your wet cheeks. “Breathe in,” he commands, “one..two..do it,” he pleads. 

You turn away from his touch. He sighs, kneeling on one foot, “I get it,” his voice wavers, “I know you don’t want me here.” He wipes the corner of your eyes, and below your eyes, “but let's get you calm down.” He whispers, “please, ba–” he clears his throat “–not for me but for you, okay?”

“I-It’s be-because,” you gasp for air, “of y-you.” 

Jeonghan sits next to you, on the dirty pavement, “I know.” He holds a fresh tissue to your nose, “I am sorry.” His eyes run across your face, “I didn’t know, or else,” he trails off. 

You grab the tissue from him, and blow your nose, sitting on your bum next to him. “Or else you wouldn’t have come.” You hiccup, folding the tissue, “like always.”

He grabs the used tissue from you, stacking all of them next to him. He hands you a new one. Both of you sit in silence, his shoulder leaning against yours, while you catch your breath. 

He picks up your discarded items and puts them back in your wallet, “are you good now?” 

You pick on the ends of the tissue, sniffling, why is he my date out of all? Jeonghan clasps your wallet shut, drumming his fingers on the black surface of it, his long messy strands obscuring his face. 

He is here, next to you, after almost two years, breathing and you can feel his warmth unlike the Jeonghan in your dreams. But why now? When you were all set to move on with someone, anyone new. Leaving everything and him behind in a couple of weeks. What kind of cruel joke is the universe playing now? 

“Better than when you left me,” you reply. The bitterness in your words flinches him, he drops his head to his lap, fiddling with his thumbs. You scoff, “are you nervous now?” How dare you feel nervous? 

Jeonghan sighs, “I get it you hate me.”

“Hate, Jeonghan? Hate? You ruined me. You left me to tend to myself. I..” your voice wavers, remembering standing outside his apartment, begging him to open up, “what is the point anyway. Reiterating everything won’t change anything.” You grab your wallet from him, you hold onto his thigh helping yourself stand, “you will still be that bastard and I will still be.. me.” 

Jeonghan stands up, falling in step with you as you walk without any direction and your anger being the only navigator. “I’m sorry,” he holds your wrist, turning you to him, “I’m really sorry.” 

“Sorry?” You hit his chest, he stumbles back, “do you think saying sorry will heal me? All those nights,” you are crying again, “all…” you hit him, “those..” another hit “nights..” he accepts all your hits. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Stop saying that!” You shout. “You don’t even mean it.” You grab his shirt, his familiar warm woody scent cracks your semblance. “You don’t even.. mean it.” You inch closer, nuzzling into his chest, inhaling his scent. 

God, no!

You push him away, “no, no, no.” You turn around, running away from him and the dead feelings sprouting back. 

Few more steps and you will reach the road. Some taxis should be there for you to go back home. Before you can come into proper light, he tugs you back. 

“Please,” he begs, “one chance. One dinner,” he holds your hands, squeezing them. 

The streetlight falls on him, you forget your anger for a moment, reaching to his brown bruise on his chin and split lips. “What happened to you?” 

He leans into your palm, closing his eyes, tears falling onto your arm. He grips onto your other hand, “please, one more chance.” 

“What makes you think you deserve it?” 

Jeonghan slowly opens his eyes, his brown eyes flicking across your face, “you still carry my picture.” He holds up your left hand, tracing the print of the ring that used to be on your ring finger.  

You shove his hand away, “I’m not meeting you anytime soon. Or anymore.” 

You sink in the new details of him one last time, he lost weight, and the dark circles under his eyes are prominent. The bruise on his cheek is dark, and the split on his lip is red with blood. What on earth is he doing with himself? You don’t have it in you to know the reason, scared you will crumble here and now, taking him back into your life in a beat.

“Have a good life, Jeonghan.”

Jeonghan speaks up, halting you from moving away. “When you are not wanted or needed by anyone then you cease to exist.” You look in his eyes, the dark ones hold yours, “The moment,” he is towering over you, clad in black long coat, “you walked away, my existence went away with you.” He silences you, pressing his finger onto your lips, “I am an idiot who didn’t realize your worth and,” he brushes your cheek with his thumb, “took you for granted.

“I tried everything, baby,” he rests his head over yours, bending to your height, “nothing is you. I was searching for you in everyone,” his breath hits your forehead, “and no one is you. I am not asking you to take me back,” you look in his eyes, “yet. One dinner, one chance is all I ask.”

When he meets your silence, he calls out your name in a soft whisper. “Baby,” he pulls your chin up, “one dinner.” 

And you crumble like a historic building holding years of past, falling apart. You are nodding to his request even before you know. 

—

The day’s heaviness settles on your shoulder, the entire ride back home has been a blur. Pushing past the door, you enter your apartment, leaving your high heels and keys. Seungkwan is already at your flat, lounging on the couch, eating your snacks. He springs to his feet, rushing towards you, “what happened? Why are you crying?” 

You throw your wallet onto the coffee table, the potato chip bag crunching under your feet as you make your way to the couch. Seungkwan sits next to you, questioning you. Your phone vibrates on the coffee table, he grabs it at a lightning speed, opening it and his eyes going wide, dropping the phone on the carpet. 

“Fuck.” 

He pulls you into a bear hug. You sob into his shoulder, incoherent words leaving your lips in an attempt to explain what happened. He pats your head, cooing comforting words. 

“He is there, Seungkwan.” You rub your eyes, “he is my date. How can this happen?” 

“I am sorry,” he holds your arms, tears in his eyes, “I am so sorry. It’s all because of me, I shouldn’t have forced you to–”

“No,” you pick your phone from the carpet, unlocking it. “It would have happened sooner or later.” 

Did you reach home safely?

-Hannie

“Block him.”

Locking your phone, you hide it behind you. “Can’t.” 

He frowns, “why?”

You drop your gaze to your lap, “we are meeting on Tuesday for dinner.” 

The expletives leaving from Seungkwan’s mouth makes you shut your ears. “Hand me over your phone now.” He extends his palm, waiting. Your bottom lip quivers, you give a slow shake of your head. “For fuck’s sake.” He reaches for it, and you hold it with your entire being. 

“Listen to me, listen to me,” you plead, Seungkwan reclines back in his seat. “He just wanted one dinner,” you raise your arm when Seungkwan opens his mouth, “only one dinner. And with my schedule, I won’t be able to meet him more than that.” You reason. “I will be away, and he won’t be there. I think this will be the end.”

“End my foot.” Seungkwan snatches the phone from you, and hits the block button. “He is back at it again. Getting into fights, summoned by po—”

“Fights?” 

Seungkwan bites his tongue in grimace. “Nothing.”

“Seungkwan.” Your voice is firm, thinking about the bruises on his face. What on earth is he up to? Fights? You knew he had some issues managing his tongue but he never hit someone out of anger. “What are you hiding?” 

Seungkwan clutches his head in a groan, leaning back on the couch. “I’ll tell you if you promise me you won’t meet him.” 

You gape at him, your lips opening and closing without a single word escaping. Anger seeps into your thoughts, hating the way Seungkwan is interfering in your life. “I am telling you that it's going to be only one dinner!” 

He flinches at your sharp voice, glaring back at you. “And I know you!” He fights back, “I saw you. It's not gonna be a single dinner.” 

He holds your arm, handing you your phone back. “I am not against you,” he stands up, “I was with you, am with you and will always be.” 

Guilt crawls into your heart, god, it’s happening again. How can you lash out at Seungkwan? This is exactly why Jeonghan re-entering your life is catastrophic. The chaos he left took you long enough to calm it down. And now with your behavior you aren’t sure Seungkwan is going to stay with you this time. 

“I’m sorry.” You apologize, staring at the blocked contact on your phone, tracing his message. You lock the phone, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have,” you gesture between you two, “I’m sorry. I won’t meet him.” 

Seungkwan takes your hands in his, sitting next to you, “you have to believe me.” You nod, not meeting his gaze. “I know it seems tempting and you want to have him back but,” he tilts to the side, wanting you to look at him, “he is not worth it. Not worthy of your love.”

Flashes of Jeonghan holding you, calming you and wiping your tears and snort crosses your mind. The tenderness in his gestures, regularizing you out of the anxiety attack, and the desperation to meet you one more time. If this ain’t love then what is? 

But you don’t say this to Seungkwan, he wouldn’t understand you or Jeonghan. Your relationship with Jeonghan wasn't smooth sailing like Seungkwan’s is. You had your high tides, heavy rains and darkest sails but he was your port, your anchor, and the morning always came. 

“Yeah,” you pull your arms out of his hold. “Go home, Seungkwan, it’s late.” 

He is silent for a few seconds, but stands up ready to leave. 

“Should I know why Jeonghan is involved in fights?” You ask from the couch. 

Seungkwan holds the door open, turning to you, “it's better if you don’t.”

So it is because of you.

—

Packing your entire life and moving away isn’t as easy as you thought it would be. The boxes around you are overwhelming, and yet the packing is the only thing that’s keeping you sane. 

It’s been a week since your meeting with Jeonghan. Work has been hectic leaving you little time to think about the notifications of the blocked contact. It feels like a drink is placed before a recovering alcoholic, tempting yet restraining yourself. 

Your phone lights up again with another notification of the blocked caller. You flip the phone, tackling the old clothes into a box. Why did you buy all of these? Folding an old sweater your attention drifts to your phone. One call or text wouldn’t hurt, right? Or unblocking him is not going to hurt you. He is your Jeonghan after all. 

Shaking yourself out of it you shove the sweater into the box. You kneel down on the floor, bending to grab the clothes shoved inside of your cupboard. Jeonghan’s. Hoodies and oversized T-shirts of his you loved to wear. 

You pluck the blue oversized tee, running your hand over the softness, a laugh tumbling out of you at the memory.

He spent an entire week searching for the tee only to find you wearing it one night. He stood near the kitchen counter, hands folded across his chest, pissed. 

You didn’t dare to acknowledge him knowing he is waiting for you to give in. Or some explanation on why you searched for the tee along with him when you are very well aware where it is hiding.  

You chop the carrots into thin slices and pretend he isn’t standing near you. He scoffs, his slippers hitting against the wooden floors as he approaches you. You slithered to the side slowly, peeking over your shoulders. 

Anger is replaced with a lopsided grin on his face, he drags you to him by the shirt. He locks your wrists behind your back and grabs your face, leaving stinging kisses. Hearing your grumbles, and chasing lips for his’ in need of a proper kiss, he spanks your ass muttering, “punishment.”

You stuff his clothes into an empty moving box before it can pull you into the darkness of his memories. Wiping your tears with your shirt sleeve. The phone lights up yet with another notification. Another call from the blocked contact. 

A sob leaves your lips, why is he so insistent now? After all these months why is he adamant on talking to you. The urge to unblock him and text him is uncontrollable, but Seungkwan’s words run through your mind. You imagine his disappointed face once he knows that you didn’t listen to him, and honestly you are a little scared that he will stop talking to you. You are scared that the only person who cares about you will leave you, just like everyone else. 

Clearing the notifications you shoot a text to Seungkwan. 

Need to drop these off at Jeonghan’s. 

-sent

I’ll drop by and do that. 

-Seungkwan

One last glance at the box containing his clothes you are overcome by the need, and pluck one of his black hoodies. You pull over the hoodie, hugging yourself as you curl up on the floor next to a half filled trolley and dozens of boxes. 

—

Jeonghan is pacing around his living room, chewing on the unlit cigarette. He dials your number again and again. Blocked? How can you block him? You didn’t delete him away after the break up, but you did it now? Not when you agreed to meet him for dinner, and he can tell a lie, especially when it's coming from you. 

He drops the cigarette on the couch rustling through his drawers for the unused phone. It should have another sim, if he can contact you with it he can end this torture. Going to your house is also an option that he considered dearly, he didn’t want to cross that last boundary. Not especially when you are putting up a wall for some reason. Oh, how he so wants to fuck the rules. 

The knock on his door garners his attention from throwing the notebooks and mail from the drawer like a raccoon sifting through trash. He runs his hand through his unkempt hair watching Seungkwan standing outside his door. He leaves the door open, massaging the space between his eyebrows. Seungkwan visiting him will never end in peace.  

“Here.” Seungkwan throws a bag onto the couch. The bag bounces off the couch and falls on the floor. “Your clothes.” 

Jeonghan turns around at those words, frowning. His clothes? Why would Seungkwan have–ah. He pads over the strewn notebooks and papers on the floor, reaching for a new cigarette, his fingers shaky. The bits and pieces aligning themself, the abandoned dinner, blocked contact, and now—his clothes. He glares over his shoulder at the man who is ruining his life, along with yours. You would never ever even dare to discard a single message from him. 

“Don’t ever contact her.” Seungkwan warns, completing surveying Jeonghan’s dumpster called home. “She finally moved on.”

Jeonghan rests his hand on the wooden surface, the cigarette crushing between his fingers. He tilts his head to the side, giving a once-over at the friend of his ex. “Did she, now?”

Seungkwan takes a threatening step forward, “Don’t you dare, Yoon Jeonghan.” He fists his hand, “you are a bastard, and have you seen yourself,” he spits, “do you think she needs someone like you?” 

Images of you laughing at his mess and swatting his shoulder before dragging him to clean up crosses his mind. He loved those moments. 

“You don’t deserve a second of her attention.” Seungkwan continues, “Go back to your devious ways and party life. And leave her alone.”

He storms out of the apartment, leaving behind a seething Jeonghan. 

Fuck rules. 

—

You rustle under your blanket, the faint knock on your door stirring you out of your slumber. The night is up outside your window, the cool spring air blowing in, curtains flying in tune with it. Another knock. No one visits you at ten in the night, peeling off the thin blanket you step in the empty spots between trolleys and card boxes. Did Seungkwan need something from you? 

Your roommate winces at your sleepy state once you open the door. She looks over to her left scowling. “I tried.”

What? Your eyebrows pull in at the confusion, what’s going on? 

Jeonghan steps in, hovering over your roommate. The sleep goes away from your body, nervous system kicking in for the fight or flight response. What is he doing here? His blood red eyes doesn’t move away from you, drinking in your bed head, and the—shit, fuck, his hoodie. Your knuckles turn white from the deadly grip on the door handle, shut it. 

“Call me if you need me.” Your roommate steps away, giving space for him to come closer.

He crowds over you, his cozy scent mixed with cigarette smell messing with your senses. You push the door to a close on his face, his hand holds the door, his strength threatening over yours, he pushes it open with ease. If he was angry earlier, now he is pissed. His chest brushes your face, his hand coming over your shoulders, bringing you both inside your room, and shuts the door behind him, turning the lock in. 

“Why?” 

Desperateness clings to your voice. The grip on your shoulder causes you to jerk back, pushing his chest away from you. He backs away to the door, hands behind him. Your fingers hover over the light switch, wondering whether to turn it on or not. Seeing him might make it harder for you to handle all the emotions. The memories of him you have in this room, the ones that kept you going and also pulled you back, drove you crazy and now with him in the space won’t help you hold back anymore.  

The light stays off, the street light falling from your window is the only illumination outlining the shadow of him. You are standing next to the window a few feet away from him, your hands clasped behind your back. 

Jeonghan shuffles across the room, his hand tracing the edge of the table placed near the window, a few steps away from you but closer than before. He leans on the table with one hand, another stuffed in his jean pocket. A car headlights flashes across your room, he is wearing the blue t-shirt. He got his clothes back. 

“You aren’t picking my calls.” 

“Didn’t feel like it,” you answer after a beat.  

“You or Seungkwan?”

You snap your head from your fingers to him, “What?”

Another step forward. “You have so many protecting you,” he pauses, and adds with a slight shake in his voice, “from your villain.” He dips his head to the floor, his hair cascading his face. 

You prick on your fingers, locking them behind you. No, you can’t touch him. 

A chuckle escapes from him, he flips his head back, running his crooked fingers through the hair. “I earned the title.” He shrugs. “But,” he singled out his focus on you, “I would’ve stopped calling if,” another step, “you didn’t want me.” He tilts his head, the light from the window directly falling on him, his frown, “but for Seungkwan?”  

“I didn’t want to see you.” A half lie.  

His lip curls into a smirk, “you couldn’t lie then.” He nods to himself, “and you can’t lie now. So, don’t.” 

“Why are you here, Yoon Jeonghan?” 

He is toying with the bobble head on your desk. “Why do you think so?” 

The words rattles the last wall you are holding up. Tears prick your eyes, exhaustion creeps up your bones. “Stop,” your voice wavers, he looks up with confused eyes, “please.” 

The frown line between his eyes is prominent, he lets go of the bobble head and is standing next to you. His scent engulfs you, clouding all your thoughts. “Don’t cry,” his hand reaches for your cheek but stops, not touching. “Please.” The crack in his voice is too much. 

You step away from him, stumbling on the trolley. He stabilises you by your arm. You push away his grip, backing away to the bed. Pulling up the blanket you hide beneath it. A sob escaping. The bed dips, he holds your knee over the blanket. 

“Let me see you,” he pleads, “one last time, and I’ll leave. But don’t cry.” 

You shake your head. “You are the worst.”

“I’m sorry.” 

“Yo-you ca-can’t come-comeb-ack and.. and,” you hiccup, sobbing uncontrollably. “Ex-expect me-me to be ok.”

He pulls you into a hug, the blanket slips off your face. He pats your head, “please, don’t cry.” His cheek presses into yours, nuzzling his nose into your hair. “I don’t want you to cry. If being with me makes you cry then,” he grips onto your shoulder, pressing himself tightly, “then I’ll leave.” 

“You always leave.” You free yourself from him. Breathing in and out to regulate yourself. “Always.”

Jeonghan holds you down, “if you want me to stay, I’ll stay.” He brushes the stray strands off your face, “but if I’m going to be the reason for you to cry then I won’t. I don’t want you to cry, not again.

“I realise my mistakes. I shouldn’t have been the asshole, and ran away from our problems that day. I’m sorry. Hate me, hit me and slap me all you want till your anger subsides. But don’t cry. You and I, we both want each other,” he holds the drawstrings of your hoodie, “we are for each other. I’ll wait till you can accept me.” 

“Lies.” You turn away from his pleading face. “I have seen you. And your fuck buddies.” 

Jeonghan groans, rubbing his face in frustration. “I didn’t sleep with anyone. There was no one after you.” He clings onto you, “I did go out but it never worked.” 

You scoff, not believing his words. The pictures looked pretty chummy for you to believe that nothing happened afterwards, especially knowing how handsy Jeonghan can be. 

“I can dial all my dates and let them speak to you,” he pulls out his phone, opening the messaging app and scrolling through dozens of unanswered chats. 

You hold his hand before he hits the dial button. “No need.” Like Jeonghan, you can tell when he is lying or not. “But you moved on pretty quickly.” 

“I had to.” He answers quickly, “or else I would have sorted you back. And it wouldn’t have been a good choice.” 

“Why?”

“You weren’t happy,” his voice drops, barely a whisper, “and I wasn’t too. And it really gutted me to see you cry,” he sounds distant, like lost in a memory, “I hate to see you cry, whether we were fighting or not. It didn’t matter that I was angry at you. And when it became clear that I was the reason for you crying every night, I couldn’t do it any longer.

“I wondered maybe if I stepped away from–” his voice breaks “–your life then you would finally be happy. You don’t know how much my chest hurt when you were crying outside my door. Baby,” the nickname slips his mouth before he can hold it back, “I really thought you would be happy, and if I had known,” he wipes your tears tenderly, “it would break you this bad, I would not have done it.” 

“It’s for good.” You say, “we needed space. I was too much, too greedy for you and your attention.” 

“No–” 

You cut him off, “let me talk. I realized how it tortured you, I occupied your entire life. I restrained you, what not. I did later on hear from your friends on how.. how you cancelled all your plans and didn’t meet them.” You chuckle, fumbling with your fingers, “and that’s just the tip of the iceberg. I am sorry. Truly.”

“I don’t want–”

“And as much as we want to rework on our relationship,” you cut in again, “I don’t think it’ll work again. Not only because of our pre-existing issues, but there are few others.” 

He shifts uncomfortably, “like?”

“Like, I am moving away in a week.” You gesture around the trolleys and moving boxes. “I was that needy when you were next to me, imagine us doing long distance.” You chuckle imagining the disaster it will be, the tears shining on the edge of your eyes. “I might even kill you.”

“You are moving?” 

The smile vanishes noticing the hurt laced in his words. “Yeah. That should explain the mess in my room. You know how much–”

“You hate messy room. I know.” 

“Yeah..”

Silence cascades between you two. He is ruffling his hair, a tic whenever he is in distress. You pick on your finger not knowing what to say or how to.. end things again. It shouldn’t hurt as much as it did the first time, right? Maybe this time you may walk out unharmed as long as you don’t remember that Jeonghan wants to try things again. If only it was as easy as telling yourself to just forget. 

Jeonghan wouldn’t move from Seoul or quit his job where he put in his blood, sweat and tears. The long nights and weekends he invested, the ranks he climbed are too dear to him to lose now. You aren’t that special anymore for him to resign and find you. Bidding your goodbyes now is the right thing to do. 

“I–”

“Where are you moving to?” He asks. “What about your job? The lease? Your parents?”

You hear the unasked question. What about me?

“I am being transferred to another branch. Seungkwan was supposed to go but his girlfriend–”

Jeonghan snorts. “Explains. You are lifting your entire life just for a friend?” 

“He is my brother.” You snap. “If not for my father he will be the one to walk me down the aisle. Don’t downplay our friendship.”

“How can I not? He is the reason you weren’t talking to me. Me! He is ruining whatever we are having or would have.”

“Because he saw me. He helped me put myself back when you were galavanting with your dates and what not!” 

“This is too much to do for someone else. It isn’t right. If he is chosen he has to go no matter what.” 

You stare at Jeonghan in the dark, “this is nothing compared for people we love. If you loved someone then you would have understood.” 

Nodding to yourself at his silence, you pull your hoodie sleeves over your fingers. “I am not going to tell you where I am moving to, Jeonghan. It wouldn’t help either of us. I would be too stuck up in hopes that you would come, and you wouldn’t even bother to..” you shake your head, “what’s the point. We are running in circles.

“We had a good five years, maybe four before it all went down. But it's something I cherish for the rest of my life.” You cup his cheek, “have a good life, Jeonghan. Don’t drink too much, or smoke. Clean up after yourself, and,” you feel wetness crawling on your hand, “and, you are a good person. If we had met in different timelines where you weren’t distant and I wasn’t desperate, we would have ended up in an ocean side house with a little family like you always wanted.”

He rests his head on your forehead, his tears falling on your cheeks. “Bye, Jeonghan.”

—

Yangsan is a breath of fresh air. It’s more of a town than a city, reminding you a little of your hometown. Neighbors were friendly helping you lug your furniture up the stairs to the first floor. Your ears strained from listening to them go off about the highlights this city has to offer. Sparkly, full of life. 

Their words blend with the sounds of the ocean. You saunter to the balcony attached to the living room, sliding the glass doors. Salty air hits you in the face, a little treat for your sweaty self. The summer sun sits in the middle of the sky, shining brighter than ever you have seen, blinding you for a few seconds. Adjusting to the light, the blueness of the ocean pulls you further. 

The sounds of the waves rattles the serene feeling, an overwhelming emotion consuming your entire being. You gamble with the risk of staying near to the ocean, the stench and cyclones, but if you are going to live here for a year you want it to be somewhere you love. 

You got a feeling— a hunch, that you are going to love Yangsan. It’s about time.

—

Work at the new branch turns out to be better than your previous office—minus not having Seungkwan. The new role is full of heavy responsibilities as you have to carry a team of six. Growing closer to them was a task, and it took you three months to reach this point. 

“Thank you for all your hard work.” You beam at your small team cooped up in the meeting room. Tired smiles thrown back at you. “Should we grab dinner and have some—”

The team is already up, closing their laptops and hurrying out of the meeting room. You have never seen an enthusiastic team for a team dinner. Seungkwan and you had to drag yourselves to the dreadful and boring dinner which was borderline a self-boasting manager session. 

Hansol, one of your juniors, is closing his notes and capping his pen. Neatly coiling his charger cable, he sets everything on top of his laptop. 

“Hansol,” you approach him slowly, like getting near to a stray kitten afraid you might make it run away, “are you coming for dinner?” 

He straightens, rubbing his neck. “Ah..”

“I mean no big deal but the team would be happy to have you with us. Afterall you were the key player to lock in the client. You need to celebrate.” You persuade, or more like try to. 

Hansol is known for skipping the team dinners, happy hours and laying low until it’s crucial work. One month into the office, you heard the rumours floating around, Hansol moved back from Seoul. His childhood sweetheart and love of his life cheated on him. It’s his third year in this branch, and he still eats alone most of the time. You didn’t dig deeper, if time comes then he will be ready to talk about it. 

You would be lying if you say you don’t have a soft spot for him. You saw a part of you in him, in his absent stares, hunched back, and disassociated nature. Coming out of love can be heart wrenching, imagining a betrayal from the most trusted person is just dying. The dark cloud is always over his head, a smile as rare as a comet. All you could do is hope that he will find his happiness again. 

He traces his finger along the coiled charger. “I mean it's fine if you don’t want to,” you jump in scared that you are acting as your previous manager. “But I really appreciate all your help.” You smile when he finally looks at you. “Keep up the good work! See you on Monday.” 

Sunhee, your other junior is standing by the door, her handbag on her arm. Anxious eyes on the man trailing behind you. Turning off the lights you cross check the meeting room before closing it. 

“Are you going to your cats again?” Sunhee asks Hansol. 

“Ah..” he rubs the back of his neck, looking at her for a second before staring at the floor. After a brief moment he adds, “nah, coming for dinner.”

The girl’s cheeks tint pink, jaw slack open. You shake your head, walking to your desk and packing away your day. 

— 

The dinner turns rowdier than you anticipated. One by one of your co-workers are being sent home, leaving you with slightly buzzed Sunhee, Hansol, and two more of your co-workers waiting on their ride home. 

“I’ll pour you a drink,” Sunhee grabs the soju bottle, giggling at the swirling liquid, “round, round,” she mimics the movement with her head, “ah, dizzy.”

You slap her hand away from the bottle, “no more drinks. You are going home next.” 

“Whaaaaaaaaaaaat??!?!??” She cups her mouth, tears springing in her eyes. “You can’t do this to me!!” Coyly she flits her gaze to the man sitting across her, “Chwe Hansol!” 

The man, already tipsy with overly bobbing his head, said, “that’s me.” 

“Why??” She screeches, “for the love of the god—”

“Amen.” He bows. 

You throw your head back laughing at the ridiculous scene unfolding before you. 

Sunhee hits him with a crumpled up tissue. “CHWE HANSOL!” 

He straightens up, “yes, ma’am.”

“For the love of the god,” she repeats, he mutters another amen, “why? Why won’t you understand?” She continues over his giggles. 

His giggles die down. She slumps over the table, her long hair all over the place. You awkwardly look across the two, scratching your forehead wondering whether you should stay or give them the private space. 

The team has already gone home except for you three. Sending them home is also your responsibility as the sober one and as a senior. One look at the distressed girl next to you makes you slouch back giving them the time they needed. 

It’s no secret that Sunhee loves Hansol. From bringing in his favorite coffee to staying back overtime just so she could leave with him. Countless conversation starters only to end with a nod from him. 

“Look at me,” she pleads, “please look at me.” Her voice quivers, “I’m standing here waiting for you to look at me.” 

Hansol twirls the liquid in his glass, her words going over him. He doesn’t reply or even acknowledge her words, all her efforts and love are one-sided. 

You attempt to stand up and leave them to talk, maybe without you between them Hansol might talk. 

Sunhee grabs your hand, tear stained cheeks and bloodshot eyes, “if you leave he isn’t gonna stay. Please.” 

You concede, patting her back in quiet encouragement. 

“I answered you.” He replies after a prolonged silence. “It’s not gonna change.” 

Your heart breaks watching tears spill from Sunhee’s eyes onto her lap. Her attention is not wavering from the one boy who is actively avoiding her. You slip your hand into hers, pressing it in a reassuring way. 

She squeezes back, a wavering smile and she picks her bag. “See you on Monday, senior.” She salutes, laughing with tears. “Bye, Hansol.” 

“Can I drop you home?” You ask. 

“I sobered up. Thank you.” She walks out of the table, and her wobbly steps towards the exit. 

Hansol refills his empty glass, sipping on it in silence. You check for the notifications on your phone, another missed call from Seungkwan. You sigh, you have to answer him one day. 

“I’m a villain in your eyes right?” Hansol’s question cuts through the awkward silence. “A bastard who broke the sweetest girl on the earth.” 

You set your phone down, shaking your head vehemently. “No, Hansol.” 

He chuckles to himself, pouring another glass of drink. “The funny part is my sweetest girl on the earth broke me beyond repair.” He looks at you, but distant, lost in thought. “I feel something after so long,” his hand is over his heart. “I feel bad for breaking her. But she deserves more than what I could offer.” 

You frown. 

“It’s for her best.” 

His words trigger the angrier side of you. You shouldn’t mix your past with their future. Before you can restrain yourself a scoff slips past your lips. 

His eyes widen, “what?” 

“If you don’t have guts to change yourself, then don’t say stuff like ‘it’s for her’,” you say, “if you want her then pick your ass up and get your life together.” 

Hansol blinks. 

“I mean,” you run a hand through your hair, “thinking about it, if you are letting her go because she deserves more, then you should have at least a little bit of interest in her right?”

He doesn’t agree nor deny. 

“Do you doubt Sunhee’s capability of decision making?” 

“No.” His answer is quick. “Her decisions led us to achieve the highest returns.”

“See.” You refill his empty glass, “she knows you for years, she likes you, and she has an idea of what she will get out of this relationship. So don’t bullshit yourself saying she deserves more.” 

Hansol is lost in thought. His gaze on the exit where Sunhee disappeared. 

“She isn’t your ex. I can’t say she won’t break your heart,” your voice lowers, “you never know what life makes you do but you can’t deny something beautiful just so you are scared.

“And that’s where I’ll stop. I have already butt in where I shouldn’t have. Do you have a ride home?” 

Hansol checks his phone, “yeah. My neighbor is around and he said he’ll pick me up.” 

“That’s kind of him.” You comment. “People around here are more hospitable than the ones in Seoul.” 

“He is from Seoul.” Hansol clarifies, “he came here,” he ponders, “one or two months back? But he is always travelling back and forth.” 

“Ah. Seoul has good people too then.” 

“You are from Seoul.” He frowns, “you are a good person.” 

You turn pink from his compliment. “Th-thank you. I’ll be right back.” 

You take a much needed washroom break. The day has been tiring, and very long. Did you overstep in counselling Hansol? Who are you to lecture him on what he should or shouldn’t think? You couldn’t help yourself listening to him say the same words once you heard from your ex.

Washing your hands you wipe them off with a paper towel. Yoon Jeonghan. It's been six months since your last conversation with him. How is he doing? You are actively trying to not think about your life from Seoul, pushing everything away that reminded you of that time. Sadly, Seungkwan also falls into that category hence screening his calls too. 

Jeonghan must be living his dream. He isn’t the one to fall back in life. The grit and passion he has shown is enough testament. He must have moved on by now. Found a girl who is of his ideal type, not someone needy and clingy. 

You rush out of the washroom before you submerge yourself in self-pity. This is Yangsan. And this is new you. No more Yoon Jeonghan. No more… 

A man in a long black coat catches your attention for having a similar build as your ex lover. You search for his hair to make sure if he is your Jeonghan. Sadly he is wearing a cap. Your steps pick up its pace, following the stranger amidst the drunken men going towards washroom. 

The stranger whispers something to Hansol and exits. Hansol’s neighbour? 

“Senior!” Hansol waves to you, “caught you in the right moment. My ride's here, see you on Monday.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” You crane your neck to get a sight of the stranger but he is already out of the restaurant. “Did your neighbour come?” 

He nods. “I have to go. I’m sorry. He’s a bit short tempered.” He winces. “But thank you for all your help. Thank you.” 

“No problem.” You pick your own bag ready to leave. “Have a great weekend, Hansol. Remember to get some sun.” 

He smiles before leaving. 

You pay the bill at the counter, berating yourself. What were you thinking? Yoon Jeonghan here? In a nameless city? He didn’t put his feet anywhere remotely as close to a town. Even your trips while dating were to some exotic places. 

Why are you following some stranger? Why are you still looking for him when you ended things with him? When will you learn? 

—

You are at a restaurant again. This time Hansol chooses a seat next to Sunhee. During the one month since the team dinner, there have been little changes in Hansol. He has been starting conversations—not every single time but once or twice in a couple of weeks. He tries to attend the happy hours every Thursday. 

Biggest change of all is he doesn’t shut down Sunhee completely. He sits in his chair when she comes around and doesn’t leave like previous times. Talks in sentences instead of one or two word answers. All in all you are proud to see the change. 

“You are drinking tonight?” Sunhee holds the soju bottle, suspicious of your sudden need for alcohol. “Are you really sure you can hold your liquor?” 

You roll your eyes, “I should be asking you that. Do you even remember what you do once you are drunk? Should I remind you of the countless times I have to drag your screaming ass?”

Hansol snickers. 

“You too. You were the worst. How can you sleep in the middle of the road?!” 

Hansol plucks the soju from Sunhee and pours you a drink. “Enjoy your night, senior.” 

He is shutting you up with alcohol but you don’t complain, drowning it in one gulp. Ah, the bitterness. You missed the feeling.

“Pour me one too.” Sunhee shoves her glass into his face. “Why are you hiding it? I need a drink too.” 

“Another!” You slam your empty glass on the table. 

Hansol fulfills your request. You drain down the contents. 

“Slow down.” Sunhee attempts to steal your glass. You slap her hand away. “What’s gotten into you today?” 

“The rain doesn’t look like it’s gonna stop soon.” Hansol sighs, “I can’t believe we are in October already.” 

Sunhee nods, momentarily forgetting about you stealing the bottle and pouring yourself another drink. “It’s getting chilly. I have to take out my scarves and cardigans.” 

“October,” you sigh, dragging all of your hair to one side, “I hate octobers.” 

“And that’s because?” 

“Just hate it.” You shake your head, pouting. The table starts to spin, “hate it hate it.” 

“She’s gone.” Hansol concludes. 

“Not even half a bottle? You are drunk only from four glasses?” Sunhee throws her arms in the air, “I can’t believe you.” 

You giggle into your palms. “Hehe.” 

Sunhee and Hansol sit in silence, dropping everything to watch you, the ever uptight senior, always in control of every moment, giggling to yourself. 

“Did you see what I saw?” Sunhee nudges Hansol’s ribs. 

He gives an affirmative nod. 

“What I’m saying is!!” You stand up holding the soju bottle as your mic, “hello! Everyone!” 

The elder men all hooted back. Sunhee grabs your arm from across the table, whisper-yelling you to sit down. 

The overhead lights are brighter than your future, blinding you for a second. “Hehe,” you snicker at the futile attempts of Sunhee to make you shut up, “I love youuuuu guysss.” 

“Love you back, princess.” One of the drinkers calls back. 

Few other voices overlap your muzzled brain can’t decipher. You turn to the audience, “what?” 

A hand clamps your mouth shut, another hand dragging you out of the restaurant. “Touch alcohol one more time and you’ll see my—”

You fumble over your heel at an unseen step, falling onto your knees and hands. You giggle remembering something similar happened to you. You sit down on the wet floor wondering when you fell on the floor. 

It was related to someone you love. “Loved.” You mutter to yourself, sadness washing all over you, “loved.” You toy with the sleeves of your shirt. “Is he celebrating now?” 

Sunhee picks you up by your shoulder, “I can’t with you and this city. I am fed up. Stand up please. I can’t carry you all on my own. Where the fuck is Hansol?” 

You lean on her shoulder, wrapping your arms around her. “Why do you hate this city so much? I love it!” 

“Are you being serious now? What’s there to love about this city? No one loves this city except you.” 

“That’s not true.” You watch a car approaching you two. “Hannie will love it.” 

“Hannie?” She steals a glance at you. “Hansol? Since when did you two become nickname basis?”

Hansol gets down from the parked car, grabs you from Sunhee helping you into the car. He drops you on the seat, you plop down from the sudden release hitting the roof of the car. Your mind blanks out a second, pain vibrating throughout your skull. 

“Careful.” Sunhee chides from behind, helps you sit up in the seat before buckling you up. “Are you okay? Should we go to the hospital?” 

You smile, shaking your head. 

“Are you sure?” 

You nod. 

Hansol drives you home. The rain hits the window harshly, the water sliding down in a hurry. Your eyes droop, blinking slowly at the blurry window. It’s October 4th. The day you dread, his birthday. 

You honestly thought you were doing great. Going out, talking with new people, actively not pushing away people who show interest in you and even went on a date. It ended on a friendly note but the point is you moved on. 

Until a memory or a food or a tv show reminds you of him. In the middle of the day when you hear someone hum a song he used to sing, you have to spend thirty minutes in the restroom consoling yourself, or overwork yourself to death. 

Then you realised you can’t tear him away from your life. He is going to cross your mind, strangle your heart, and it will always leave a bitter taste of what could have been if you weren’t scared. If you were a little brave to accept him again, brave to loose Seungkwan over Jeonghan, and brave to face another heartbreak, you would have been celebrating his birthday. 

Sunhee tugs you to your flat, holding your arm and keeping you from rain. The umbrella pokes your shoulder now and then, you stretch your arm enjoying the rain drops on your hand. 

“Rain is pretty,” you mumble. A little sad that you are already under the roof. “Pretty, just like Hannie.”

“Hannie?” Hansol asks, confused. 

“Hannie, Hansol.” Sunhee doesn’t spare him a glance, helping you up the stairs. “I didn’t know you were close.” 

Hansol frowns, trying to squeeze between you two to face her. “I’m not close with her.”

“Keys?” She searches for the pocket you pointed in your bag. “Are you hungry? I can whip something up in a minute.”

You saunter into your home going straight to your bedroom. Opening your closet you grab the yellow pillow and fall on your comfortable bed. You nuzzle deeper into the pillow, mumbling his name. 

“I don’t think she is calling for me.” Hansol stands at the door watching you cry into the pillow. 

“Unrequited love?” 

“Or an ex.” 

—

The first time you have seen Jeonghan is at a party you weren’t invited to. The infamous yet rowdy party happening at one of the houses near your campus is always the talk of the town—a whisper shared between two, and then three. Next you were hoping you could at least get a glimpse of the dancing crowd and games. 

Seungkwan, your almost knight in shining armour, dragged you along with him in hopes of shaking off the semester end exams. You were going back home tomorrow for the winter break, and he is staying back to work to save money. 

Girls dressed in the shortest possible skirts, and moderately covering their assets you realized how outdated you are living. The long skirt you are donning is a hazard from the number of times you tripped, and almost dragged a stranger along with you to the floor if not for the wall. 

Meandering the long halls, and along the locked rooms, you rest against the railing of the veranda. In spite of the chaoticness there was no one accompanying you, Seungkwan took a detour when he saw his crush from the statistics class. The full moon is shining in the sky, shining tranquility upon the drunk hazed people, and from the clouds eclipsing the moon your gaze falls on him. 

He has neck length hair, mostly black, wavy at the ends. Bobbing his head to the chants from his group, “Yoon Jeonghan! Yoon Jeonghan!” He gestures his hand for them to chant louder, cupping his ear with a smirk. They comply, his name louder than the music blasting from a huge speaker. 

A beer bottle is passed to him. He chugs its contents in a single lift, his Adam's apple moving along with his each gulp. He throws the bottle to the side, brushing his wet lips with the back of his hand. People burst out in cheers. He ducks down his hair hiding his face, shaking his head once before he flips his head back, his hair forming a perfect arc. 

The clouds move away from the moon. His eyes fall on you. 

—

Yoon Jeonghan is a final year student you got to know at the beginning of the spring season. Another hushed whisper among your classmates about his scandalizing break up happened at the cafeteria. 

“He was drenched!” the girl beside you shrieks as slowly as she can without garnering attention from the professor but loud enough for you to hear. 

“I wouldn’t have done that.” her friend chimes in. “not gonna lie he looked hot.”

“And embarrassing! Who gets dumped near a trash can with chocolate milk dripping down their face.” 

“Yoon Jeonghan.”

—

Next time you hear about Yoon Jeonghan is from your best friend, Seungkwan. He is going off about his day, your daily ritual before sleep, when he comes to the part where his car has been crashed into (more like scratched but you weren’t going into details and spark another fire). 

“That bastard,” Seungkwan eyes flit to you, “pardon my words but that scumbag deserves it.” 

“Mmhmm.”

“He was so clearly in wrong, and he has fucking guts to say, ‘how much?’” Seungkwan’s face is as red as your pyjama pants. Should you be scared? “How much?! Where is the sorry and remorse? What happened to having decency?”

You nod. You swear you are trying your best to be empathetic to the victims of Yoon Jeonghan— the girl who got stood up in the rain, Seungkwan who got his car scratched, another girl who got dumped on the first date within ten minutes, another girl who you forgot about. 

“If you can’t drive then you should stay home tending your ego.” Seungkwan rants on. And you keep nodding. 

He is a menace. You know this, if you didn’t then you would be the dumbest person. But god isn’t he hot. That night still haunts your dreams, his eyes still on the back of your mind. 

You hear your name. “Are you listening?”

“Of course.” 

Would he kill you if you confess you are developing a crush on his enemy?

—

In a blink of an eye you were about to sit through your semester end exams. Library is bustling with drained and lifeless students, the smell of coffee lingers around you as you search for the row containing the textbook you are looking for. 

“History… literature.. AH!” You step on something, losing your balance. You fall on your hands, minimising the fall trying not to scrape your knees. “Fuck.” 

A male howls in pain. 

“Shhh.” 

Several shhs hit your face. 

You sit on your bum, brushing off your scraped hands. A head peeks out of the rows of the bookshelves. His frowning eyes soften landing on you, revealing more of him. Yoon Jeonghan. 

You tripped over his fucking feet. 

“Who sleeps on the library floor?” You scoff, picking up your textbooks. 

“Me?” He scoffs back. He crawls out of his hiding space, sitting in front of you. “Don’t you know to keep your eyes on the road?” 

Now you understand why Seungkwan hates Jeonghan. 

Jeonghan’s lips curl into a smile, as he clutches his ankle, “I think I hurt my ankle. What if I can’t walk?” He gasps, holding his chest. 

You roll your eyes at his antics. Yet with little apprehension you near him, crawling to him, peering over his outstretched leg. You poke a finger at his ankle with a frown. 

“Does it hurt?” 

You look up at him meeting his silence, curling your hair behind your ear so you can see him clearly. His eyes follow your hand as you do it, lingering at the side of your face before snapping to your eyes. 

“Ah, ah, it hurts.” He grins cheekily when you pinch his leg. “What? It takes time for your body to send signals to your brain.”

“I can’t believe you.” You stand up, dusting your ass off. You walk away from him, your heart clogged in your throat.  

Fuck that was Yoon Jeonghan and you had a conversation with him. 

“Hey,” he calls you. You turn around, hair obscuring your vision before you tuck it back, his head tilted to the side, “did we meet before?” 

—

The semester came to an end. You heard about the biggest party of the year from your best friend as you are stuck at home. 

Grad party of the century, and you are depressed that you missed your last chance of seeing Yoon Jeonghan.

Life works that way. 

— 

You aren’t sure whether to be happy as you are past the tumultuous student life or sad that you have finally become an adult. 

Adulting came with responsibilities, body aches, and magic ability to fall asleep anywhere and anytime. Tiredness is your second nature at twenty two. 

“I could have been sleeping but no. You fucking have to attend this fucking ridiculous reunion.” You exasperatedly throw your hands in the air. 

Seungkwan feigns a hurt expression. “That hurts right here,” he pokes at his heart. “It’s been a year since we last met and here you are nagging.”

“Gah!” You march into the restaurant, throwing the door open, only on someone’s face. “Ah,” you cup your mouth with wide eyes. 

Seungkwan slips past you pretending to not know you while the man you just hit is bent in half groaning in pain. 

“Is that blood!?!?” You gasp again. Seungkwan is now running to the others. He is so going to die tonight for leaving you at times of crisis. 

The man in the question stands up licking his thumb, “nah, that’s ketchup.” 

“You!” You gasp yet again not believing your eyes. 

“Yeah, me.” Jeonghan sniffles, touching his nose tenderly. “Why do you always inflict pain on me whenever we meet?” 

“What pain?” You frown. 

“You forgot?” He holds his left leg, “I still limp from the pain. And you forgot.” He clicks his tongue in annoyance, his eyes glimmering with mischief. “You wound me.” He later on adds touching his black nose, “literally.”  

You step away from the entrance to let the customers flow in and out. Jeonghan trails behind you, limping when you look over your shoulder and walking perfectly fine when you look at him in the glass reflection ahead of you. This man—

“But from what I remember I think I stepped on your,” you flit your eyes down his pants, “didn’t I?” You lie. 

His tongue pokes his cheek, interest blooming in his eyes as he watches you. “Well played.” He leads you to the boisterous table out of all, “remembering properly, didn’t you palm my—”

You hit his back with your wallet. “Fine! You win.” 

He throws you a boyish grin over his shoulder, snagging two empty seats and patting one to you. You comply, accepting it and settling yourself for the long night. The fatigue from work disappears at the sight of Jeonghan’s teasing smiles and intrusive questions. 

“We live ten minutes away!” He beams at the google maps displaying the route between his and your apartments. “So when are you bringing me homemade lunch?” 

He props his elbow on the table, resting his chin on his palm watching you suffocate under his scrutiny. You nibble on the chicken leg, suddenly shy. 

“Why would I ever do that?” You throw him a heated look. 

He grins, finally having your attention on him. “Why not? Korea is known for its hospitality. Are you denying it by not bringing me food?” 

This man’s audacity. A flicker in your heart. You toy the chicken between your fingers hundreds of thoughts running at a million speed. Is he insinuating what your overworking brain is thinking? 

“Why don’t you bring me food? You can tend to me to,” you pick up the chicken again, taking a big bite. You are starving for fuck’s sake. 

“Is this your way of roping me into your service?” He grabs a tissue, wiping your mouth as you chew. “Not only looks like a baby but is a baby.” 

He flicks his eyes to yours, cunningness apparent in them. His face glows watching the pinkness spread across your cheeks. 

“Should have opened the door harder,” you grumble under your breath. 

Yoon Jeonghan throws his head back, laughing. And man doesn’t his laughter tickle your insides, ending with a smile on your lips too.

—

You aren’t sure how you ended up here. It’s been two months since the reunion dinner. Suddenly there are two adult sized kids bickering in the middle of your flat. 

“That’s a lame movie.” Seungkwan points the TV remote at the Godzilla paused in the middle of roaring. Not a pretty sight and you are hundred percent sure those canines are gonna chase you in the dreams tonight. 

Jeonghan dramatically clasps his chest, bunching his eyebrows together. “You are saying that to an animal?” He searches for his phone, “should report you to animal protection authorities. Cruel cruel human.” 

Seungkwan grabs Jeonghan by the collar who just raises his eyebrow. “What are you saying?” 

And cue. Another WWE fight breaks out in your home. You pick up your delicate vase and move your coffee table away from them. Picking up the discarded remote from the floor, you plop on the couch exiting the movie and playing a recently released rom-com. 

Twenty minutes into the movie with you actively trying to catch the dialogues over two grown ups bickering, suddenly silence fills in. Did they finally kill each other? 

Two men loom over you. You gulp, setting your feet down ready to run. Seungkwan makes a grabby hand for the remote only to be blocked by Jeonghan’s body. He rests his knee on the couch next to you, the other leg between your feet, trapping you. 

You hide the remote behind you, not letting go of the chance to watch your most anticipated film. It’s Friday night, it's supposed to be your unwinding time from the week’s stress. And you haven’t tasted peace since Jeonghan started crashing in your spare bedroom regularly—despite having his own huge flat all to himself. 

He is a wall taking in Seungkwan’s hits. His fingers trail down your arm with a tickling touch. His fingers grazing your waist before slipping his hand between you and the couch. Seungkwan pushes him and Jeonghan crashes into you. His chest landing on your face. Your grip loosens on the remote momentarily as you try to push him off of you. 

He steals the remote from you, walking away in a second. Seungkwan berates you while you catch your breath, still feeling the softness of his shirt. 

Jeonghan resumes Godzilla sitting in the middle of the couch. The smirk never leaves his lips. 

—

Jeonghan is your unofficial roommate at this point. He is on your mind while grocery shopping and planning the dinners for the coming weeks. He hates greens and you can’t sit through another lecture on how we are stealing animals’ food. Ridiculous, yet you couldn’t help but nod along with his points. 

After getting used to his antics’ and finding him sprawled on your couch by the time you are home from the office, it is odd to not see him some days. 

You will find yourself sitting on the couch where he should have been and lay there for a few minutes wondering. Asking him will make it easier and can put your overthinking brain to rest. But there’s this meaningless fear of him finding out your crush. 

He is not home today, and the TV isn’t playing in the background. It is friday and usually he is at home, waiting for you. A sigh escapes your lips as you drop the keys in the bowl and neatly line up your shoes. You pause by the couch staring at the empty couch, what is he up to? 

Your shoulders snag realizing there is no movie night today. You can’t slowly find yourself resting against him, some days on his lap falling asleep as he runs his fingers across your hair. Is he on a date? Did he find someone? Is that why he is not with you now? 

Sadness engulfs you, the thought alone rattling your peace. What will you do if you see him with someone else? This whatever that is between you two is doomed to begin with. Seungkwan has been relentless about his hatred for your crush, throwing warnings everytime possible. 

“He is not right for you. I never saw him with the same girl.” Seungkwan’s words are an echo in your mind. “You deserve more than him.”

But you want Yoon Jeonghan. Whatever or however he is. You like him as he is. 

He doesn't reciprocate the same, apparently. You never find him looking at you twice or bringing up dating or anything he usually does. You heard stories of him but not one of them playing out in reality. Does he not see you as a girl? Are you his bro?

Before you can spiral into your downfall you rush into the shower to clean yourself of the miseries. 

—

One hour into a refreshing bath and re-energized version of you, you step out of the shower only to find you forgot to bring in change of clothes. Wrapping a towel around your wet body you open the bathroom door to rush into your bedroom. 

Watching over your steps trying not to slip and meet the floor, your eyes are rooted on the floor. A rustle of a bag of chips falling on the ground startles you. 

Yoon Jeonghan is standing across the hallway still clad in his work suit, his lips parted and gaze scanning over you slowly, lingering. You grab onto the knot holding your towel tightly, the sound of your heart too loud even to your ears. With a shriek you rush into your room slamming the door behind you. 

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck.” You pull your hair in frustration. 

Did he see you? 

Of course he did. He couldn’t move his eyes off of you. 

“Ugh.” You groan into void. How to face him again? 

You are prancing around your room—clothed, you learnt your lesson now. Wasting time inside so that magically the night will deepen and he falls asleep. You will go out once everything is clear to grab some food. Your stomach growls, not agreeing to the timeline. 

Jeonghan knocks on your door, “come out.” 

“No.” The answer is swift, surprising yourself. 

“I ordered chicken and beer.” 

He can’t know the cheat code to your weakness. How does he know it’s your favorite? You didn’t mention it to him. Did you?

He raps his knuckles again on the door. “Come on.” 

You trace the doorknob pondering. Your stomach growls yet again. You turn the knob opening the door, Jeonghan is leaning against the door frame, his suit jacket missing and the top three buttons of his dress shirt undone. 

You avoid his eyes, tucking your wet hair behind your ear. He inches towards you, lingering for a second before walking back into the living room. 

The dinner passes in silence, the usual chatterbox Jeonghan is concentrating more on his chicken. You frown when he lets you pick the movie without a fight or random game. Not wanting to let go of the golden chance you choose the cheesiest chick flick to rile him up. Only for him to watch it without a comment. 

In the middle of the movie, amidst the hero and heroine yelling their love for each other, Jeonghan’s hands rest over yours. When the couple on screen is kissing, he interlocks his fingers with yours. 

—

“I can’t believe you!” Yoon Jeonghan is pacing around your living room. “Why didn’t you say anything to me?” 

“Why are you yelling?” You shout back and shrink back into the corner of the couch receiving a glare from him. 

“Why? Why?!” He marches towards you, gripping your cheeks. “You exactly know why. Don’t play dumb.”

A storm is brewing in his black eyes, but still pretty, and still lovely. This is the exact reason you did what you did. Went on a date arranged by Seungkwan. 

It was okay. Your date was plain, boring. Ending the date quickly, you came home only to find a fuming Jeonghan. 

“I don’t know what you are talking about.” You push his chest, he doesn’t budge. “Let go, Jeonghan.” 

“She doesn’t know,” his voice is low, threatening. “Sneaking into my bed middle of night thinking I don’t know, and leaving before I wake up, what does that mean?” 

He curls the stray strand behind your ear, “stealing looks, clothes. What is my hoodie doing in your closet, baby?” 

“I’m not sure.” You fluster, gripping onto the couch, pushing yourself back into it as much as you can, away from him. 

“How was he?” He pushes your chin up, “look at me.” 

“Why do you care?” You snap. “You don’t even care. I am going crazy because you don’t even care—mmmph.”

He shuts you up, crashing his lips on yours. You imagined this moment countless nights, on your bed restless and desperate. He would do it slowly, sweetly just how he is with you. But you were wrong. His kisses are feral, biting and, and, so, so Jeonghan. 

He bites on your lower lip, soothing the sting with his tongue. You gasp, your tongues clashing for dominance. Slowly you follow his dance, letting him lead. You are sprawled on the couch, Jeonghan hovering over you, his knee nuzzled just right between your legs. 

He breaks the kiss, a wet string of saliva trailing behind his lips. The storms in his black eyes shifted into starry eyes, ethereal, luring you right into him. 

“Pretty boy.” You cup his cheek. He leans into your touch, closing his eyes, inhaling big gulps of air. “Mine.” 

His eyes snap open, a glimmer, possessiveness shining in them. He shifts, his knee pressing into your core. A moan spills from your lips before you can stop it, eyes fluttering shut from the bliss. He presses further extracting moan after moan. 

His name, a prayer, chanting the entire night as he makes sure you know just how much he cares. 

—

“Don’t panic,” Jeonghan chuckles at your panicky self, rummaging through the first aid kit. “It’s just blood.” 

You slam the cotton on the coffee table, glaring at him. The smile drops off his face seeing the unshed tears. A sour taste spreads across his mouth, he doesn’t like it. He hates seeing you cry, he realized. 

You weren’t a crybaby, even during the fights and silent treatment you didn’t cry. His heart softens, grasping the meaning, oh, you love him. If you asked Jeonghan later on which moment solidified his love for you, he would point out this exact moment. 

You tenderly tend his bruised hands and legs, wiping your eyes with your sleeves. Once neatly bandaged you put back everything in the kit not meeting his eyes. 

He calls your name. You shake your head. He sighs, pulling you onto his lap not heeding your warnings. He circles his arms around your waist, resting his face in your chest. 

“Home.”

—

You wake up with a jerk, heart beating against your chest like you were running a marathon. Squeezing yourself out of the tangled blanket, you wipe the wetness off your face, eyes. 

Jeonghan. You dreamt of him. It’s been so long since you have seen his smile, the dream Jeonghan was your Jeonghan, the one you fell in love with. 

It’s the day after his birthday, you want, need, to check who he celebrated it with. Who took your place in his life. You trudge to the living room searching for the phone, a dull pound in your temples slowing your body. Why did you have to drink? 

The phone is lying on the kitchen counter next to your bag, and you see notifications from Seungkwan. Twenty messages and three calls. You swipe off his ‘don’t do anything stupid’ messages and open your fake account. 

You sit on your knees, pushing your hair away from your eyes. It would be a lie to say you aren’t scared. If he has a girl again you don’t know how you would stomach it. Your thumb shivers before clicking on his profile. 

No update. No story. Or any post. You sit back on your butt staring at the dry profile. Did he finally choose to go private? Or did he figure out that bloom_234 is you? 

Or what if he didn’t have any girl last night. 

You click on his contact, still blocked. Should you unblock him? He doesn’t even know if you unblocked him, it’s been more than a half year. You unblock him before nerves get you. Or Seungkwan. 

—

“He is still sulking,” Seungkwan’s girlfriend rolls her eyes, “you know how he is.” She says with an exasperated sigh, summing up the childish acts of her boyfriend. 

It’s Sunday, and it’s been a week since you unblocked Jeonghan. He didn’t realise it just as you expected. You weren’t going to push it, or beg him this time. At least you leveled up one bit from being a pathetic loser to a loser. 

Call with Seungkwan has become inevitable as he threatened to revoke your right to be one of his groomsmen. He proposed to his long time girlfriend last weekend. 

“You would have known if you picked up my calls.” He berates when you pout about missing out on a precious moment. 

His girlfriend who was already brighter than the sun is shining like a thousand suns combined in her. The green feeling births inside your chest and you snuff it out before it can blazes over. 

“I’m so happy for you.” Your eyes prick from the overflowing emotions. “So so happy.” 

You really are. Seungkwan and you have been attached to each other since high school, seen every phase, every embarrassing moment and every key event of each other’s lives. And now marriage. 

They both smile endearingly at each other, Seungkwan kisses her ring clad finger before turning to you with a serious expression. Uh-oh.

“What were you doing all these months? Why are you avoiding me?” 

You flip the pancake, pressing on it with spatula. “I didn’t avoid you.” You hold the phone away from your face, “I was busy getting used to a new place and settling in. Mind you of the fact I have to set up everything on my own.”

Seungkwan barks into the phone, his voice loud to your quiet apartment. “You are avoiding me now. Show me your face.” 

You wince, setting the spatula down and picking up your phone. “Happy?” 

“This is exactly how a guilty person looks.” He sits up from the bed, rubbing his swollen face, “spill.”

“Spill what?” You sweat, despite the cold autumn breeze flowing in through your balcony. “Ah, there’s new love blooming in my office. Cute I have to say. Didn’t confess yet, but they are on their way.

“Can you believe Hansol also tried ‘Get Love Quick’ only to be paired with a man?” You continue not giving a second for Seungkwan to budge in. If he knows you have opened the gate to Jeonghan again, he will manifest himself next to you in mere seconds. “Well, that’s that. Anyway, Sunhee is excited that they are going out this friday. She said some place but I don’t remember where it is.”

Seungkwan calls your name in a warning. 

“What?” You whine, turning off the stove, leaning on the kitchen counter. “What else do you want me to do? I made new friends, I am not wallowing in self-pity, and I am not saying no to blind dates. What else do you want Boo Seungkwan? Should I write off my life now?”

“Did you talk with Yoon Jeonghan? Again?” Seungkwan discards your rant like removing a cherry from a cake. 

“I didn’t!” 

“Guys. Guys.” Seungkwan’s girlfriend snatches the phone from him. “You have to chill,” she chides her boyfriend. “And you,” she gets down the bed and walks out of the room, away from Seungkwan. “He is just worried about you. You literally ghosted us for months. You know how he gets.” 

You hold the bridge of your nose, letting out a long exhale. “Yeah, I am sorry.” You pick your breakfast to your couch. “It’s just.. Its too much. I mean I am human, what if I did text him,” you quickly add, noticing her alarmed expression, “I didn’t. Hypothetically, I am saying. He isn’t a bad person, you know.” 

“If he was so bad, why would I,” you trail off, not seeing the point in explaining yourself again and again to someone who just couldn’t get you. “Enough about me. How’s the celebrations going on? How did your family react to the engagement?”

She lets the topic change with a side glance. “They knew about it. He met my family and asked for their permission.” She huffs in disbelief, a smile on her face, “I can’t believe my family knows how to shut up. Usually, we kims are very bad at keeping secrets.”

“I had to prepone the date a week,” Seungkwan joins in, resting his chin on her shoulder, “her sister almost spilled the beans and I was pissing in pants the entire time. You had to be there to see it.” 

You chuckle, taking a bite of the pancake. “I missed it all, didn’t I? I am sorry, I wasn’t there to help you with your big moment.” 

“That’s okay,” Seungkwan brushes it off, his girl bobbing her head. “My big moment will be in six months, and I am gonna kill you if you miss it.” 

You screech, dropping your fork to the carpet. You promise him to be there with him for planning and executing everything, letting him verbally bind you to a contract having you to be a slave for him as long as he wants if you miss even a small event. 

You should’ve stopped yourself, should’ve seen the red light glaring but you concede away blind in happiness. 

—

Universe is plotting against you. The series of misfortunate events should speak for itself. It started with a client imposing an urgent task, throwing you off your work schedule. Your heater at home crashed forcing you to experience a free simulation of how raw chill autumn nights work. The repairman is out of town, ranaway to marry the love of his life. Administration is on look out for a replacement. And, you had to catch the new love birds making out at the staircase. 

Awkward is just another word as you currently sit at your desk avoiding your juniors. You weren’t mad per say seeing them break rules it's more of a shock, like seeing your sister make out. Sunhee has grown close to you over the days, especially after the disastrous night of her taking care of you. 

“Come on,” she swivels her chair next to you, “till when are you going to run away. I am sorry!” 

“What? Who?” You blink at her feigning innocence after almost reaching for the bleach to clean your eyes. “Did something happen that I should know of?”

Hansol stretches his body, walking away from you guys with his hands in pockets and whistling his way out. Sunhee grumbles under her breath, “scaredy-cat.” She turns to you, eye-to-eye. You push your chair away from her slowly, scared for your life. “You are almost 30, and you act like you haven’t seen a kiss or kissed someone.” 

That hurts your pride. “What?!”

She has a teasing lilt, “but that couldn’t be true.” Her eyes shine, mimicking you, “‘Hannie, Hannie, my Hannie will like Yangsan’.”

You shove her face off of you. “Shut up. We are in the office. And I am your senior. I can easily report you—” 

“Who is he?”

“I have a deadline. And you have one too.” You roll her away to her desk. “If you could go back to working I’ll be happy that I won’t need to pull another all-nighter.” 

She is back at your side in a beat. “Who is he? Tell me. It’s only fair since you know all of my love story—”

“Only because you shove it in my face even when I don’t want to—”

“—I won’t stop pestering you until you go on a date.” 

“Don’t you have a boyfriend? I’m flattered that you find me attractive but I like men.” 

“Ha. Ha. Funny.” She folds her arms, “on a blind date. With a man. That’s the only requirement for you right?” 

“Excuse me!” You are offended yet again. “My bar isn’t as low as you think. I’m one sophisticated woman.” 

“This Sunday at 6. Be ready.” She rolls away humming a song. 

Did you just get blackmailed into a date? 

—

The restaurant is bustling. You check the message from Hansol again to confirm your date is at the expensive restaurant of Yangsan. Checking up on the details of the restaurant, you had to recheck the city and pin code to make sure it’s in the city.  

People in their fifties, pepper hair and classy suits, a woman on their arm, file in and out of the wooden doors. You press the black velvet dress, smoothing down your jitters. It’s been so long since you dined in a fine restaurant. Three years to be exact. 

How bad does your date want to impress you to choose this place? Can you back out now? Is it too late? 

He’s waiting. 

-Hansol

You groan reading the text. There’s no way out of it now. You put the phone back in your purse clicking it shut. Rounding your shoulders you get ready for the date, it’s going to be alright. You flick your hair back, pulling your dress a little higher and you climb the steps to the door. A sweet valet parker beats you in opening the door for you. Mumbling a thank you, you wait for the attendee to finish up talking with an elderly couple. 

“Welcome!” The lady dressed in a red jacket and red lipstick beams at you. 

With a small smile, you check the message from Hansol again. “Hey. My reservation is for table 17?” 

She checks her iPad scrolling through her list before leading you through the oak tables, servers tending to customers, different scents of food hitting your nostrils, awakening your dead hunger. All the anxiety numbed you from the usual munching of your snacks, and the dread of the date now settled in your stomach. You may throw up if food hits your stomach but you may faint if you don’t eat anything in the next hour. Workings of your body never leaves you amazed. 

“Here you are,” she points to the empty chair, her red lips still stretched wide in a smile. 

You look up from your phone reading the sender’s name. Seungkwan. “Thank you,” you bow to the lady. Your phone vibrates in your hand, your life tilted on the axis seeing the man sitting at your table, supposed to be your date. 

Yoon Jeonghan is occupying the other chair watching you with his hooded eyes, hard to read, hard to decipher his feelings. You hold the woman’s shoulder before she can leave you two. “Are you sure this is table 17?”

Her perfect grin slips, a frown dancing on her face, checking the iPad yet again. “I am sure. This is the table. Is there any problem?”

Jeonghan shifts in his chair uncomfortably. You made the mistake of meeting his eyes, the darkness in them pulled you in, his eyebrows pulled in, and a breath escaping his parted lips. You can't believe that you are again here, in the same situation as few months ago, set up with Jeonghan coincidentally. He anticipates your decision, not saying a word or asking you to join him. Should you go along with this dinner or take a turn and make a run?

Your comments, reblogs and likes are very much appreciated as they encourage me to write more! Here is the like to part 2

[whypisces]

hi, i'm your new followers, can you do nct johnny ideal type like you did to haechan? thank you, have a nice day ^.^

"What’s Johnny Suh’s Ideal Type?"

Aphrodite said buckle up, babes. It’s giving chaos, comfort, and bedroom eyes

So I shuffled, summoned Aphrodite, and what does the playlist give me? “Maniac” by VIVIZ—because of course it did. That’s not a red flag, that’s a declaration. This man is drawn to people who are a little unhinged in the hottest way mysterious, unpredictable, but somehow deeply nurturing too. It’s giving “I will set your world on fire and then kiss your forehead.”

Emotionally? Soft chaos meets dependable ride-or-die.

With Uranus, Pisces reversed, and Sagittarius reversed, Johnny’s ideal partner is a walking contradiction: unpredictable, quirky, emotionally intense but also grounded and present. Someone who breaks his routine in the best way. Think: they meditate, then flash him their phone wallpaper and it’s a cursed meme of his face.

The Giver, The Caregiver, and The Companion show he needs warmth. He’s got that big masculine energy, but emotionally? He wants someone cozy. Someone who just gets him without him needing to say a word. Someone who’ll rub his back when he’s stressed but also call him out when he’s being dramatic. A partner who’s Loyal, Comforting, And Quietly Unshakable.

But plot twist The Warrior reversed + Outsider reversed? He’s also drawn to people who’ve been through some shit. He likes emotional depth. Trauma healing arc? He’s in. Someone who’s learned how to love themselves and now has enough love to give him? SOLD.

Physically? Bold, expressive, and a little undone.

Okay listen. Queen of Wands reversed, Knight of Wands, and The Tower said this man is not into boring. He likes someone visually striking not "idol perfect" but magnetic. They walk into the room and he notices. Unique fashion? Piercings? A signature scent? That’s his type.

And the best part? He wants someone who looks confident, even if they’re shy inside. (Low key would love that contradiction in a partner.) Someone who flirts with their eyes, maybe smirks in the mirror after putting on lip gloss, someone who kisses like it’s a dare. He’s obsessed with confidence that’s been earned.

He’s not looking for a muse. He’s looking for a co-star.

What does the relationship feel like?

Baby, he’s not afraid of commitment. But he wants movement. He wants fun, adventure, growth. A partnership that feels like building a tiny world where you two are the only ones who understand the rules.

But don’t get it twisted Emperor reversed and 3 of Swords reversed mean he's healed from past power struggles. He doesn’t want to dominate or be dominated. He wants an equal. A partner who challenges him but doesn’t try to control him. Someone who sees the real him behind the jokes and confidence.

He’s over the cool-girl archetype. He wants real. Messy. Raw. Home.

(Aka Hes looking for that Wifey material. The kinda girl he would wife up in a heartbeat.)

Fellow Idol or Civilian?

Okay, this one's juicy.

Knight of Swords + 6 of Cups reversed + 4 of Cups reversed says Johnny’s probably more open to dating a civilian but not just any civilian. She needs to know who he is and Still treat him like a human being, not a fantasy. Someone a little unpredictable (he said fuck not knowing me. I need you know who I am and still be like ok and?) but emotionally grounded.

That said, if it were an idol, it’d be one who doesn’t care about clout. One who’s off in her own little world. Someone who looks him dead in the eyes and goes, “I’m not impressed,” while being the most impressive person he’s ever met.

Overview for the Johnny Enthusiasts:

Johnny’s ideal type is emotionally intuitive but lowkey chaotic. A partner who’s deep, kind, unpredictable, and hot in a disheveled mastermind kind of way. Think: sexy bookworm who rescues stray cats and knows how to destroy a man with just one glance. Someone who can match his humor, ground his emotions, and make him believe in fate a little.

A civilian/fan he'd absolutely date. Especially if she makes him feel seen, sexy, and safe.

[whypisces]

What is Haechan's ideal type?

“What’s Haechan’s Ideal Type?”

Alright babes, light a cinnamon-sugar candle, put on a lip tint you didn’t need, and get ready because when I asked Aphrodite what kind of person makes Haechan’s Gemini-Venus soul go feral, she gave me a novella. Sabrina Carpenter’s “Nonsense” was playing and oh honey, that wasn’t a coincidence. We're talking about a man who flirts like he breathes, but behind that cheeky smirk is a whole tangled web of craving depth, challenge, and vulnerability.

Emotionally? He Wants That Soulmate Saga.

Pluto, Jupiter, Libra came charging in like main-character energy. Haechan is drawn to people who feel fated those who carry a little mystery, a little power, a little chaos wrapped in softness. This isn’t a boy who wants “nice.” He wants impact. You have to rock his worldview, not just slide into it.

With The Seeker, Advocate, and Scientist, he’s into curious minds. Someone who asks why, who debates, who makes him see the world differently. A partner that challenges him but doesn’t compete. Think: “tell me your weird conspiracy theories at 2AM and then kiss me quiet.”

But whoa The Mother reversed + 10 of Swords + Hermit says he has walls. Big ones. Emotional vulnerability? Terrifying. So he needs someone warm, patient, emotionally tuned in who won’t try to fix him, but will hold his hand while he does the work himself.

Physically? Pretty meets dangerous.

Listen. The boy’s got a type. It’s giving: Angel Face, Devil Aura.

With The Empress reversed, The Devil reversed, and The Jester reversed, he's not necessarily into someone traditionally elegant. He likes a bit of edge, a touch of chaos. Someone with expressive eyes, playful energy, a mouth that says “innocent” and a vibe that says “not even close.” Bonus points if they’re artistic, spontaneous, and have a style that’s personal not trendy.

He lowkey wants to suffer a little. (& we are back with the whole 4th/5th gen boys being a little traumatized & wanting to earn that love.) Like… a partner who flusters him, teases him, gives him butterflies and backtalk. Someone who isn't impressed by him. His dream crush could emotionally wreck him in the best way and he’d thank them for it.

What does the connection look like?

It’s not easy. It’s not safe. But it’s worth it.

With the Hanged Man, Knight of Pentacles reversed, and Five of Pentacles reversed, Haechan wants a connection that takes time to build. Something that feels like emotional rehab messy, real, and ultimately healing. He’s not about quick sparks he wants slow burns that explode once you’ve earned each other’s souls.

He’s also incredibly private. With The Storyteller reversed and The Warrior reversed, he wants a love that exists in quiet corners, Not all over IG. He’s more likely to show love through teasing, deep convos, random acts of affection not big declarations. But when he chooses you? He Chooses You.

Fellow Idol or Civilian?

Honestly? He’d fall for a civilian, and then panic about it.

While he could vibe with a fellow idol (shared schedules, mutual understanding. Not having to explain certain things.), his cards scream deep connection over clout. Haechan would prefer someone who doesn’t get blinded by fame, who doesn’t care about the industry, who loves Donghyuck not just Haechan of NCT.

But don’t get it twisted. Civilian or idol, you better be emotionally intelligent, a little spicy, a little strange, and ready to challenge and adore him in equal parts.

Overview

Haechan’s ideal type is emotionally warm but mentally spicy. A person with a sharp mind, soft heart, and a smirk that makes him question his entire life plan. Someone who won’t fall at his feet but will meet him eye-to-eye, soul-to-soul. Bonus if they roast him lovingly and look like an angel who escaped from a villain origin story. Probably a civilian. Definitely unforgettable.

[whypisces]

Seventeen's Thoughts on Love (Vocal Line)

Disclaimer: No facts, all alleged. This is my interpretation of the cards and energy I work with.

Alright, time to get to the vocal line for this series. Let's see what I can pick up from them. I am going to ask what their thoughts on love are. How past relationships affected them and what their exes or partners would think of them.

Jeonghan

I feel for him love revitalizes him. It gives him a boost of energy and sparks his inspiration and energy. I just feel love brings him life, joy and energy. And there is an excitement to his energy when it comes to love. I can see with love his energy shifts and he becomes more upbeat and happier. It is like he is a new person when it comes to love. So, he is someone that seems pretty fond of romantic connections. It just feels like a new start for him.

I see him wanting to serve and devote his time for his partner. Acts of service would be important to him. Doing a lot of sweet things for them. Taking care of them and tending to their needs will be important for him. I can see him being someone who just likes to do selfless acts for them. He would be very giving of his time and energy to them. I see him putting a lot of effort to make them happy.

Now, how past relationships affected him? Hmm, was not expecting the Emperor, he doesn't give off the vibe of control freak. This could be some powerful figure seems to get in the way of his connections possibly. Or maybe he struggles to let his walls down or he has some sort of need to control some things, or he seems to be too structured or rigid when it comes to his connection, or he may need to loosen up and not take things too seriously, could be the case. I am not sure what this means for him to be honest.

So how do exes see him? Hmm, he tends to have this lack mindset He may not think he has enough or is enough. He struggles to find the good in things. He may feel unworthy at times, or feel like he doesn't have much money to support the connection. Maybe for him, there is never enough or he may feel he doesn't have much to offer. 5 of Pentacles can also be abuse of power, and with that Emperor card, not sure that is coming from him or someone else, but there is something they felt was lacking in this connection. More so on a practical, money basis standpoint. Not sure why.

Joshua

Interesting to get the 4 of Wands, but maybe not. He likes love to be joyful, fun, eventful, comfortable and easy. For it to stay more positive and that it radiates good energy. It seems he wants to feel at ease and comfortable with someone and for the love to be effortless. I don't see him liking the drama or things to get too tumultuous in the connection. He likes things to be peaceful, cordial and to feel at home with someone. I can see him wanting marriage and that happy family home environment. He would like them to both bring the best out of one another.

He has this positive and idealist mindset when it comes to love. Dude is a bit more romantic than I thought, but more so he is optimistic about what love can bring. He seems hopeful about what love can bring to his life. I do not particular see him liking the down sides, but more so embraces more the positive aspects of it, so he may struggle to deal with difficult periods of the connection. But I can see him just imagining a fairytale romance. I see him visualizing how things would be, which may be problematic if reality doesn't match his fantasy of it.

How has past relationships affected him? Hmm, maybe he opened up too quickly, gave his heart up to soon. I see him being able to open to love or finding that person he truly loves and that may have changed his perspective of love and made him more hopeful of romantic connections. So, I can see a love opening up the floodgates for him to be more emotionally open.

How do exes and past partners see him? This is nice, the star, once again, he has that hopeful and healing energy. He seems like a very sweet, healing and comforting boyfriend to have. It seems he pours his love and energy to his partner and gives them hope about their future and he may have shared future plans with them. I feel he is dating someone at the moment. He seems pretty starry eyed and in love right now. I know I heard news of him dating someone, but never looked into it more, or if they are still dating, but there seems to be someone in the picture.

Woozi

Similar to Seungchol. He seems to struggle when it comes to love. There are things, triggers he needs to work through regarding his love life. There are shadows he needs to face. There are things about himself he needs to confront before going into a romantic relationship. He may need to work on childhood wounds. He may just need to confront parts of himself he isn't ready to face, but these repressed thoughts and feelings may need to be addressed for him to develop healthy loving connections. So, it seems like he will need some work.

I do see him as someone who would like an equal. Someone he can depend on and they can depend on him. They help one another out. And maybe help each other grow and learn together. So, he would want someone dependable and loyal. Love for him is a about helping one another out and being there for one another and for both to extend themselves to another. He would see his person as some sort of link, maybe even an extension of himself somehow.

How has past relationships affected him? I see there being a middle man, someone who has gone between his connections with others. Or maybe he has gained knowledge from others and got guidance from others to improve his romantic connections. I am seeing therapy with him as well, so maybe that is helping him work through his struggles, in return getting him to open up to love. But I see guidance from others has been helpful for him when it comes to love.

How do exes, past partners see him? This does not surprise me, he got the 4 of Pentacles. Selfish, greedy, why did I here entitled, okay. I can get a sense of control around him, this can be him, but others controlling him, but he can also be controlling and struggle to open up to them. He can be cold and closed off as well, so he may struggle to open himself up to love and be vulnerable I am sensing. I feel him with this one.

Dokyeom

I can see him finding love very freeing and expansive. This card gives me Jupiter energy, so he will want someone he can explore with and learn from. Love for him is the ability to grow, learn and expand his vision. He would want someone who can teach him more about life and get a different point of view of things. He would like to walk on a journey with someone else. I can see him wanting freedom and having that carefree spirit, so he may want someone with that vibe and energy. I just heard, let's walk together and explore, so yeah, that is the vibe he gives off regarding love.

He likes to be able to be a child again, or just be able to show his true nature and feel comfortable with a partner. He would like to be able to be himself and to explore the things he wants. I see him being a cuddle bear, very touching, tender and loving. I say physical touch may be important to him. He sees love as something that can be loving, tender and nurturing for his soul. He would want to freely be himself. There is a sense of freedom he would want in his relationships I am sensing. For him I think it would be important for him to nurture his needs, and his partner as well, so I can see love being liberating for him and this need to be who he is truly is and his partner to nurture that.

So how has past relationships affected him? Well, the Tower is a bit dramatic. There could have been some abrupt ending that may have happened, or a relationship that shaked his foundation. I can see a sudden breakup happening for him in the past. So, that may affect how he pursues his future relationships. Or maybe he feels relationships would be disastrous for him at the moment.

So how do exes and partners see him? He got the Hermit, so he is someone they felt needed his alone time. I hear, freedom again lol He is consistent. They see him as someone who can isolate himself and be very introspective and reflective. He may have an old soul. I felt he had more of a childlike energy, but okay. They may see him as someone who just rather stand on his own or he is someone who follows his own path. So, he may have not devoted all his energy to them or the relationship, but more so focused on himself.

Seungkwan

He is someone who puts a lot of effort into his connections. He seems very practical, detail oriented and maybe a bit of a perfectionist when it comes to love. I see him as someone who prefers long term relationships and stability and for things to grow slowly. I don't see him as the type to go to one person and another. He may take love and relationships seriously. But this card doesn't give me loving vibes. He seems more businesslike and realistic with this card. This does not give me lovey dovey vibes at all.

Yeah, wouldn't say he is much of a romantic. He is a bit mysterious. He may keep to himself. He doesn't share much at all. He may be the type who just knows who the right person will be. I see him being private and could just keep to himself and mind his own business. He doesn't give me someone on the pursuit for love and romance. It is like he rather focus on himself and his journey and look within himself than find a partner to love, so he doesn't seem as open to love right now.

So how has past relationships affected him? He got the knight of wands, this energy is sexual, passionate and he is someone who may run from love and connections. He kind of focuses on his own passions and desires. If he does date, it may just be for sexual pursuits. This energy is not the vibe of someone committed and willing to be in romantic relationships.

How do exes/past partners see him? Not surprised by this, 4 of Cups, emotionally detached and unavailable. He is not interested in love at all. I don't have much to say for him. His thoughts on love are not that strong. He doesn't engage in it all that much or entertain romance and loving connections. He is mostly focused on himself and his goals, which I relate, so don't blame him.

[whypisces]

NICOLE KIDMAN as SATINE

MOULIN ROUGE (2001) - dir. baz luhrmann

[whypisces]

WOOZI 'THUNDER' Official Teaser 1

[whypisces]

Undue Influence | y.jh

synopsis ➳ ❝ he is your sworn enemy. hell, you are literally at war with him right now. yet, you find yourself desiring him in a way that could be catastrophic. the only silver lining is that he might be feeling the same way towards you. or maybe it is all just a game.❞ pairing ➳ lawyer fem!reader x lawyer!jeonghan genre ➳ enemies to lovers, legal drama, smut wc ➳ 9.1k warnings ➳ this will have inaccurate descriptions of court and legal systems cuz i ain't no lawyer, lots of banter and sexual tension, cursing, mentions of child abuse, daddy issues, very brief hints of childhood trauma, corruption ig, kissing, dirty talking, fingering, one pussy slap, biting and teasing, Jeonghan himself is the biggest warning.

“You Honour, he fucking sucks ass!”

The courtroom plunges into a suffocating void of silence, as if the very air has been swallowed by a black hole, leaving only the echo of your childish outburst. Thick, heavy silence that drags on endlessly, echoing your very professional sentence through the air in an endless spiral. 

You remain frozen in your place, your eyes locked with your opponent who stands before you with his arms crossed and a cocky smile that keeps growing by the second. He looks like a cat that ate the canary, and the urge to punch his stupid face grows within you violently.

“Counselor,” the judge clears her throat. You slowly turn your head to face her, mortification written all over your face. You find her glaring at you. “This is a courtroom, in case you forgot. Not a middle school playground.”

You hear Jeonghan snicker beside you and you force yourself to take a deep breath as you straighten the lapels of your suit and clear your throat. “My apologies, your Honour. It will not happen again.”

The challenging look Jeonghan throws at you foreshadows otherwise, and mentally, you imagine punching his face repeatedly and kicking him in the balls. With that calming image in your mind, you look at Mina, your plaintiff, reminding yourself why you are here. 

You have a job to do.

You cannot lose to Yoon Jeonghan. Not again.

“Defense Counsel, would you like to add anything more?”

Jeonghan’s challenging gaze lingers on you for a second longer before he addresses the judge. “Yes, Your Honour. As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted,” he makes a point by looking at you. “My client also loves his child, but let’s not kid ourselves— he can provide the future this child deserves.” He pauses to look directly into your eyes, that cold, ruthless gaze reappearing in his eyes, one that you hate with a passion beyond language. “My opponent may argue emotional bonds, but the reality is this: money makes the world go round. And a child with access to wealth will have the resources to thrive, no matter what. That’s the kind of future my client can provide.”

You grip the table behind you to distract yourself from the rage coursing through your veins. 

The silence weighs down like a lead blanket after his words, and in the suffocating stillness, you hear Mina sigh from behind you, and a piece of your heart breaks. 

Suddenly, you have the urge to cry. This feels familiar, like that case two years ago. 

You were representing a key witness, and Jeonghan was defending a wealthy, high-profile businessman accused of murder. His flawless legal strategy dismantled the evidence you worked so hard to find, and it was an easy victory for him. It made you second-guess everything you thought you knew about the law. You had never lost a case before, and that singular case shattered your sense of invincibility. 

Your boss called you a sore loser after you quit your job as a prosecutor, but there was no other option for you. Prosecuting left a bitter taste in your mouth. So you packed everything up and took a big step, opening your own law firm and starting your journey as a family lawyer.

So that you would never be in a situation like that.

Yet here you are again, up against the same man who made you question everything.

The judge’s voice brings you back to the present moment. “Plaintiff’s Counsel, would you like to add anything?”

You blink and swallow. “No, Your Honour.”

“Very well then,” she leans back in her chair. “The court will resume on Thursday, April 17th, for the final hearing. This session is now concluded.”

As the room slowly empties out, you silently stare at Mina, who looks up at you with shining eyes. “We are going to win, right?” She asks, her voice cracking.

You hate how you doubt yourself.

Blinking a few times, you compose yourself. “We will. Trust me. This isn’t over yet.”

It isn’t. Jeonghan plays dirty all the time, and now, for the first time in your career, you will not hesitate to play dirty either. You have to win this case. There is simply no other option.

— 

Judge Beatrice’s voice stops you in your tracks when you are on your way to the elevators. “What was that, Attorney ____?”

You immediately whip your back and, clasping your hands together in front of you, mutter out a meek apology. “I am really sorry about that, Madam.”

She steps closer to you, her black robes flowing elegantly along with her movements. “That was very unlike you, Attorney ____. You lost your composure the last day as well. Whatever issue you have with Attorney Yoon, you don’t bring them inside the courtroom, is that clear?”

You stare at the ground, chewing on your lower lip. “Yes, madam. I am extremely sorry.”

“I am letting this pass only because your father was a colleague and a teacher I respected dearly. You know I don’t let shit like that pass in my trials.”

“Yes, Madam. Of course.”

“Good,” she walks past you. “Have faith in yourself, Attorney. You can win this case.”

You stand motionless in your place as the judge walks past you and down the hallway before shutting the door to her office with a loud slam.

You exhale a breath you have been holding.

Your heels click rhythmically on the glossy floors as you make your way towards the elevators, just in time to see the doors of one closing. You immediately push the button to open them back up and immediately regret your decision.

The elevator is empty except for Yoon Jeonghan, who looks up as the doors reopen. The moment his eyes land on you, they sparkle vividly, like a hunter spotting an exotic animal they have been looking for all day.

Your feet pull the brake at the last second as you stand in front of the open doors, your eyes fixed on his face, while you go through a mental debate of whether you should get in or not.

“Attorney ____,” Jeonghan hums sweetly and you know it is anything but sweet. He steps aside and extends a hand, silently asking you to enter.

The fear of looking like a coward has you gritting your teeth as you step inside, ignoring him completely.

Keeping ample space between the two of you, you find your place at one corner, choosing to stare at the ceiling of the elevator. You avoid looking at his face because if you look at it too long, you get violent urges like smashing his head against a wall and cursing him out in every language that ever existed. So, you close your eyes and take in a deep breath as the doors close. It is barely a ten second elevator ride from the third floor. You will survive.

Except two seconds later, you realize you won’t.

With a sudden loud thunk and a heavy vibration, the elevator comes to a halt. A second later, the lights fizzle out, leaving only the dim strips of emergency light on in the ceiling.

How delightful.

None of you moves for a second as the realization of the situation dawns on you. Then, Jeonghan presses the emergency call button, and the voice of a security guard comes through.

“I’m really sorry. This elevator has been having some issues recently. Hang in there for a bit. This should be resolved within 10 minutes.” Someone says.

Lovely.

You grip the handle of your handbag tightly.

Today has been an exceptional day so far. What are the chances you get stuck with Yoon Jeonghan, out of all people, in an elevator?

“He said it’ll take ten minutes,” Jeonghan repeats the information, turning to look at you.

You ignore him and stare at the floor.

“Oh come on,” Jeonghan leans against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. You can feel his eyes on you, and you find yourself wishing it were pitch dark in here. “We’re stuck here for the next ten minutes if luck is on our side. If not, who knows how long? Might as well make the best of it.”

You huff out a breath before meeting his eyes with a glare. “You know what your problem is, Mr. Devil’s Advocate?”

His brows rise and an amused, cocky smile kisses his lips. 

You hate it. 

“I’d love to hear it.” He entertains you.

“You argue just to hear yourself talk. Doesn’t matter if you’re defending a cheating husband, a billionaire with a God complex, or…hell— a rock in the middle of the street. If someone pays you enough, suddenly that rock has rights and everyone else is just ‘too emotional’ to see the truth.”

He chuckles, tilting his head. “Hm, depends on the rock. Is it a trust fund rock or self-made?”

Your nostrils flare, and your hands curl into fists. “See? This— this is why I cannot tolerate your guts. I cannot believe I’m stuck in here with you…Yoon fucking Jeonghan.”

Jeonghan chuckles, and you narrow your eyes at him. His eyes linger on your face, making you feel hyperaware of yourself. He traces his index finger over his chin in a thoughtful manner, as if he is scrutinizing you. “You know, I think you yell at me so much because you secretly enjoy saying my name.” He states with a smirk.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. “Oh, absolutely. It’s my favourite curse word.”

He laughs, the sound lighthearted yet throaty, and you immediately look away for whatever reason.

“This case is clearly stressing you out, sweetheart.” He hums, casually calling you with a nickname. “You should relax.”

“Unlike someone, I actually care about my clients.” You stare at the doors.

“Mhm. I do too. Otherwise, I would not have taken this case.”

“Oh please,” you cannot stop yourself from rolling your eyes this time. “Enough with the pretenses. Everyone knows Jun Gi is paying you millions for this.”

Jeonghan grins, flashing his teeth. “What can I say, I am just that good.”

You bite your tongue and stare at him silently, summoning all your hatred and disgust for him in your eyes. You whisper, “You’re shameless.”

He shrugs, nonchalant. 

A sigh of exhaustion parts from your lips, and you check your wristwatch for the nth time. Ten minutes are almost done. How much longer is it going to take?

“What’s the hurry, sweetheart?” Jeonghan singsongs. You grit your teeth, murmuring, “Words cannot describe how much I want to climb through the ceiling vent and leave you here.”

He flashes a grin. “That desperate to get away from me?”

“More like your huge ego.”

“You know what else is huge?” His smirk grows bigger as his eyes shine with mischief.

You scrunch your face in disgust.

“Why are you making that face?” His voice drips with innocence, but you know it's all an act. “I was going to say my winning streak. What was going on in that smart little brain of yours, dirty girl?” He raises a cocky brow, one of his hands working on loosening the knot of his tie. You were about to clap back by saying how unprofessional he is being, but his little action distracts you from saying the words out loud. They become a jumbled mess in your head as your eyes raptly trace the movement of his slender, bony fingers in the dimly lit space. He loosens his navy blue tie before unbuttoning the top button of his shirt, exposing his Adam's apple. 

For some reason, the view is hypnotizing, and you hate yourself for not being able to pry your eyes off him. At the same time, in the very back of your mind, an annoying part keeps repeating his words “dirty girl” over and over again.

What is wrong with you? The air must be thinning out in here.

Your gaze shifts from his neck to his face, and with sheer terror, you realize he has been staring at you all this time. Your heart drops and you immediately look away, wishing you were anywhere but here, stuck in an elevator with Jeonghan. The only man who pushes your buttons like nothing else. 

You don’t have to look at him to know there is a smug smile on his face.

“You keep looking at me, Attorney ____.” The statement is dripping with arrogance. You hate it. You wish it would go pitch black in here, and you could blend in with the darkness. Or, the elevator could just snap and fall down, and you would accept death happily rather than admitting that you were looking at Yoon Jeonghan.

Turns out you’re in luck this time because your wish immediately materializes with the sudden blinking of lights and a harsh jerk of the elevator that throws you off balance. You lose your footing and fall on the opposite side, right next to Jeonghan, clutching onto the handle to keep yourself stable. Then, the emergency lights fizzle out and it goes pitch black.

“Fuck,’’ he curses under his breath.

“I cannot believe I am going to die here, stuck with you,” you hiss, tightly gripping the handle. Your words lack the confidence you would have liked them to have because you don't like where this is going.

Be careful what you wish for!

“We are not going to die in here, okay?” Jeonghan’s voice has the conviction that yours lacked. Your reply is a grunt because, frankly, your mind is starting to spiral. 

Fortunately, the elevator makes another soft jerk, and the lights turn on again with a loud noise. Your eyes take a moment to adjust to the brightness, and half a second later, you are hyper-aware of Jeonghan’s presence next to you.

He is so close that his arm is brushing against yours. He is so close that the scent of his cologne tickles your nose and momentarily puts you in a trance. Unconsciously, your head moves, turning sideways to look at him, only to find his face too close to yours, his eyes already trained on you like a hawk. 

Your heart skips a beat. As unnerving as it is to be in such proximity to him that you feel his breath caress your face, you find yourself stuck and completely unable to move.

“You know, you are quite beautiful up close.” He whispers. 

Your mind blanks out.

You need to do something— smack his face, shove him away, yell at him. Something. Anything. You realize you cannot exercise that will on your body because you keep gazing at him, counting the little moles on his face that you've never taken notice of. In the back of your mind, a quiet voice tells you that he is getting closer to you, his face inching nearer and nearer.

Is he going to kiss you? Why does the thought delight you and send your heart racing?

Briefly, you wonder if it’s your imagination, but no, he is actually getting closer to you. So close that even without his lips meeting yours, you can taste them, you can feel them and the sensation is electric.

Your eyes fall closed instinctively and you wait for a kiss that never comes.

Instead, what comes is the ping of the elevator, which you hear a second later. When you open your eyes, the doors are already open and two maintenance workers blink at the two of you curiously. 

Like you have been zapped by a current of a thousand bolts, you and Jeonghan fly away from each other. Jeonghan clears his throat while you straighten your jacket and look anywhere but at the two men standing outside.

“You folks okay?” One of them asks.

“Yeah. Any longer and it would not have been fun.” Jeonghan replies, his tone lighthearted. 

Why is he so unaffected? You can still hear the pounding of your heartbeat in your eardrums, and your face is radiating enough heat to make you sweaty.

One of the guys says something to Jeonghan, continuing the conversation and you use that time to march out of the elevator, your eyes focused on the ground as you fan your heated face.

Fuck, what were you about to do in there? Kiss Yoon Jeonghan?

God, no.

The thought sends shivers down your spine as you briskly continue your way to the parking lot next to the courthouse. 

As you are fishing your keys out of your handbag, Jeonghan’s voice makes you stop in your tracks. “Attorney ____!”

You are unsure whether it is shame that prevents you from turning around. You decide it is sheer mortification that leaves you unable to look him in the eye and so, you just turn your head to the left and wait, indicating that you have heard him and are waiting for him to continue.

“See you next Thursday,” Jeonghan says and you wish you could see the look on his face. Is he affected like you are? It sure doesn’t feel like that from his voice.

You pause for a second and, once sure he has nothing more to say, you continue marching towards your car. Without sparing a second and completely avoiding looking at where he stands, you pull your Audi out of the parking lot and zoom down the street. 

— 

It is the fifth anniversary of the law firm that Judge Beatrice’s son started. 

A party isn’t really your scene, especially when most of it is full of boring middle aged men, half of whom you cannot tolerate the guts of. So, you make yourself comfortable in a corner, staying near your colleagues and sipping on champagne instead of going around for the sake of formality. 

“Girl, slow down with the drinks.” Lara, your colleague eyes the new flute of champagne in your hand. You huff out a breath. “Please don’t. Let me drink this expensive but free champagne in peace.”

“Dinner isn’t for another hour, you know.” She reminds and before you can reply to her, you are interrupted.

“I didn’t know this was your type of scene, Attorney ____.” Jeonghan’s sudden voice prompts your shoulders to jerk. You turn around and find him standing right there, dressed in a formal three piece suit and slick back hair that makes him look unfairly good.

Fuck. Your fingers grip the flute tightly. For a brief second, your mind travels back to the heated moment you shared with him two days ago in the elevator. Against your wish, your eyes briefly flicker to his lips, but you force your gaze back to his eyes.

“I don’t know what you mean.” Turning your back on him, you sip your champagne in one go. You find Lara looking at the two of you with narrowed eyes and before you can ask her to get you out of this, she struts away with a knowing smile. Jeonghan smoothly positions himself right next to you. “Oh, I just mean I have heard parties aren’t really your thing.” He aimlessly gestures with a hand around the space.

“Don’t know where you heard that from.” You murmur, picking up a flute off the tray as a waiter passes by. 

“I am not particularly a fan of parties either but I sure love it when I get to see you, Attorney ____, in a dress. In which, may I add, you look absolutely stunning.” He flashes a dashing smile.

You look away. “Hm,” you hum, “I pegged you as a party lover, honestly, Counselor Yoon.”

He gives you a dirty smile, leaning closer to you. “You would love to peg me, wouldn’t you?”

You half choke on your drink as blood rushes to your face. Jeonghan finds your reaction pleasing because he chuckles at you before finishing his drink in a quick gulp. Wiping your lips, you observe his profile for a while before setting down your flute and facing your body towards him.

“Are you flirting with me?” You cross your arms and cock a brow at him.

He smiles. Resting a hand on the table behind you, he leans closer and you instinctively pull back. Once again, his cologne assaults your senses, making your mind go blank. The perfume on him is different from the one he was wearing the other day. This one has strong notes of sandalwood and a bit of cinnamon, a dangerously addictive combination when it is on him.

“You tell me,” he drawls with a smirk. His eyes are bright, fiery pools of smoke and desire, so deep and hypnotising that your breath catches in your throat. “Am I allowed to flirt with you?”

You huff, trying your best to be annoyed as you shove him away softly. “Ugh, mind your business, Counselor. And stop invading my space.”

“If you wore a dress like this to court, I would let you win every damn case.” His eye contact doesn’t waver when he says the words.

They leave you stunned. You struggle to understand if he is just making fun of you or if he sincerely means them. You blink, watching him with a face that keeps warming up by the second, unable to say anything.

You are saved from the trouble when a few journalists, accompanied by photographers, ask for pictures of you two.

Ah, just what you were waiting for. 

One of the many things that you do not enjoy at parties like this is the abundance of journalists, going around with their cameras flashing and asking annoying questions. You find it pointless, especially because of know it is done mostly for flaunting.

Jeonghan smiles brightly, tugging you closer to him with a hand on the small of your back. His fingertips brush against the bare skin on your back, leaving goosebumps in their wake. You try to put some distance between the two of you, but he keeps you close, grinning at the flashing camera.

A reporter asks you, “You are working against Attorney Yoon in a case right now. Could you tell us how it has been so far?”

“I think Attorney Yoon is a very competent lawyer. He is good at his job, like I am in mine.” You give a professional, practiced smile to the reporter.

“Wow,” Jeonghan raises a brow at you. “Such sweet words coming from you.”

The camera's flash and you smile while muttering under your breath. “If you believed them to be true, then you are not as good as you think you are, Lawyer Yoon.”

He simply chuckles and pulls you tighter against his body, posing for the cameras.

“Who do you think is going to win this case?” A reporter asks and you resist the urge to roll your eyes. What kind of a question is that?

Jeonghan takes over, replying playfully but also professionally. “To know that, you need to wait till next week. Now, if you will excuse us, gentlemen.” He ushers you away from the reporters and towards a comparatively secluded part of the backyard, right next to the conservatory.

“Can you let go of my hand?” You huff, trying to free yourself. Jeonghan finally stops and turns around, regarding you with mischief, his solid grip still on your wrist. “Why? I promise I don’t bite.”

“Ew,” you tug your hand free and take a few steps away from him. You smooth out your dress, muttering underneath your breath, “I was stuck with you in an elevator this week. Can’t believe I am seeing you again so quickly.”

He pouts. “Aw, come on. You’re hurting my feelings.”

“Right,” your lips form a sarcastic smile. “Like you have those.”

Jeonghan does not reply and you try to pretend he is not right next to you, instead looking at the large estate of Judge Beatrice’s mansion. From this vantage point, you can see everything: from the manicured gardens to the sweeping line of tables draped in white linen, flickering lanterns dotting the pathway, and the silhouette of the live band. The scent of night-blooming jasmine wafts through the air, and every now and then, bursts of laughter rise above the steady, gentle hum of chatter among the guests.

“This place is actually beautiful.” Jeonghan comments.

“Yeah, when you don’t have reporters chasing after you, it is.” You reply, watching the last hues of sunset blend into the night sky. Despite having your sworn enemy right next to you, you feel oddly peaceful, a sense of tranquility settling in your heart like the hush after a summer storm.

“I have always wanted to own a mansion like this.” You find yourself whispering. Jeonghan turns his head to look at you and you feel his steady gaze piercing holes in the side of your face. Unable to resist yourself any longer, you turn your head to look at him. “What?”

“Nothing,” he replies, voice laced with a foreign tenderness that feels melodic to your ears.

In the muted lights of the garden, his face appears lethally gorgeous and you are transported to that moment inside the elevator two days ago. The same feelings bubble up from deep within you, making your breaths short and heavy as you fight a battle against pressing your lips to his.

It feels like a losing battle.

He gently hums your name. Your proper name, not as your job title and the hairs on your neck stand up. Hearing your name from his mouth feels sinfully good, like a taboo and you are forced to meet his gaze.

With bated breath, you watch him come closer to you.

“Jeonghan,” the word falls from your lips like a plea, tentative yet needy, soft yet urgent. He inches even closer upon hearing the word, pressing his body snugly against yours, his hot breath fanning your face, only a few centimeters of space left between your lips and his.

His hand explores your body, caressing the back of your thigh before going upwards, resting a bit too long on your ass before slithering around your waist. As if you were not already close enough, he tugs you even closer and soft grunts your name once more, his eyes growing heavy-lidded as his gaze remains trained on your lips.

You can almost feel fireworks go off inside your body. You are feeling sensations and desires you have never felt before, and a tiny part of your brain raises alarm bells, but at this point, you are too gone to care. You can never go back to how it used to be with him after you cross this line.

Somehow, you find yourself being okay with that thought right now. You briefly wonder if it is all the drinks you had finally catching up to you.

Your hands that were frozen by your side until now finally relax, and you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him towards you and resting your forehead against his. Your body finds a place next to him so easily and gracefully, it’s like you have always been together. Like yin and yang.

He inhales sharply and utters your name, his voice heavy with desire.

You make up your mind in that moment.

Without wasting another breath, you pull his face towards you and kiss him, slowly at first but it changes into quick and desperate as Jeonghan’s hands cup your jaw and tilt your face up to get better access. He completely takes over the kiss and your body, pushing your back against the wall of the conservatory and kissing you like he had been wanting to do it for ages. It feels like he is a man starved and you are his beacon of light, the way his hand grips your waist and pulls you impossibly close while devouring your lips. His tongue is in your mouth, tasting every inch of you and it is absolutely glorious; a breathtaking combination of all of your wildest fantasies combined. It is hard, bruising and wanton, taking your breath away yet leaving you feeling a high unlike ever before.

When he finally pulls away, the two of you gasp for air, faces flushed with heat and sweat. His eyes stay locked with yours and you clearly see the desire pool in them like molten lava. You know for a fact that he sees the same in you. You hate Jeonghan, you truly do but you have never wanted a man as much as you want him.

So much so that when he starts tugging you with him, you don’t question him or protest. Silently, he pulls you towards the entrance of the conservatory. He tugs on the door, and it comes open, surprising you. With the door closed and away from the noise and the crowd, his lips find yours with ease even in the darkness. One of his lands feels the skin of your thigh underneath the slit of your dress, his fingers gripping and squeezing your flesh while his other hand holds your face, tracing the slopes and edges of your jaw and neck with his thumbs.

“Jeonghan,” you sigh, grabbing his hand and pulling it closer to your core. His fingers brush over your panties and you shudder, burying your face in his neck.

“You want my fingers here, sweetheart?” His voice is deep as he starts tracing his mouth from your jaw to your neck. You make a barely cohesive sound of agreement and then, baffling you, he slaps your pussy, hard. Your mouth hangs open in shock and mortification, the sting of his slap leaving behind a delicious tingle.

“Answer me,” he whispers next to your ear, nibbling on the skin below your earlobe. Another sigh of pleasure falls from your lips, your eyes falling closed at his ministrations. “Yes,” you whisper. 

“You have it.” He hisses and, in one smooth motion, he pulls your panties aside and thrusts two of his fingers inside you. You squeal, hands fisting his jacket tightly as his digits easily slip in due to your arousal. “Oh god.” You moan, eyes rolling back as you feel his fingers move in and out of you with ease, hitting the perfect spot each time. Paired with the movement of his fingers and the heated look he’s sending your way, you know you’re not very far from your release. You are so aroused it is embarrassing but by now, you have gone past the point of caring.

He speeds up the movement of his fingers and you squeak, “Fuck, Jeonghan. I’m gonna…”

He chuckles. “So quickly, sweetheart? Are my fingers that good?”

“Mhm,” you hum, squeezing your eyes shut, grabbing onto his body like he is your lifeline. Come then. Wet my fingers with your sweet juice,” His filthy words make you moan out loud involuntarily, his thumb brushing over your clit, rubbing it swiftly and sending you over the edge, face-first into your orgasm.

It shakes your limbs as you stand there pressed against his body, feeling it wash over you, your pussy spasming repeatedly while he keeps playing with you throughout your high. When you finally feel the last of your orgasm ebb away and your mind starts functioning again, Jeonghan pulls his fingers out of you, dripping in your essence and licks his digits clean, never wavering eye contact with you.

You shiver, whether from the intimate act or from the cold, you don’t know.

Jeonghan watches you silently, his eyes carefully taking in every detail of your face. You see his gaze shift in the dimly lit space, a slither of light coming from outside falling directly on his face, casting it in a heavenly glow and adding a new shine to his wet lips. For a moment, your mind blanks out, transfixed by his beauty and the hum of pleasure echoing through your body. When the beating of your heart finally slows down and the high of your release starts wearing off, a chill runs down your spine and you grow cold.

The realization of what you just did hits you like a ton of bricks and you freeze, staring at him blankly.

Fuck. That should not have happened. He is a walking, talking red flag and you just got dirty with him. Hell, you’re going up against him in court next week!

Fuck, fuck.

This is the man you lost to. This man is your sworn enemy. You should not have let him in.

Especially…especially because deep down in your heart, you feel something for him that is serious and sincere. Past all your history and professional war, you feel something for him and after tonight, you know it will only amplify.

You have no one to blame but yourself.

Jeonghan leans closer to you, the glint of mischief returning in his eyes. He opens his mouth to say something but in a moment of panic, you shove him away and hurriedly fix the strap of your dress.

“I need to leave,” you announce in a broken voice, pushing past him and scurrying out the door. You take the back exit, marching away from the party as fast as possible while trying to keep your tears at bay.

Silly, silly girl.

—

The sky is gloomy today, much like your mood.

You stand in the hallway of the courthouse, pensively gazing out the window, your body humming with nerves. After your encounter with Jeonghan, your weekend sucked. With the memory of that night branded in your brain, you ran around nonstop, trying to gather some solid evidence against Jun Gi. 

You wish you could have done better.

The sound of heavy footsteps steals your attention as you turn around to find Jeonghan walking towards you.

You freeze in your spot, your hands gripping your handbag in a deathly hold as he comes closer and closer.

“Hey, ____.” Your name casually rolls off his tongue and for a moment, you struggle to find your voice. He looks as gorgeous as ever with his hair slicked back and dressed in a fine black three-piece suit. His face, as usual, gives nothing away, radiating composure and ease.

He looks lethal and you hate it.

“About that night at the party,” You find yourself speaking. “I hope you forget that. I just had one too many drinks. That’s all.”

Jeonghan blinks, slowly registering your words. “Wait, are you saying that it was a mistake?”

You clench your teeth and scowl at him, “Yes.”

“Ha,” Jeonghan scoffs, his mouth parting in shock. He rakes a frustrated hand through his hair, disheveling the styled locks. “Fuck, really?”

“Yes,” you hiss. “And I hope you won’t bring that up ever again, Mr. Yoon.” You don’t wait for his reply, shooting a final glare at him before marching down the hallway. 

It was a mistake. It was a mistake. You keep chanting the words over and over again in your head, trying to believe them.

The effort is futile because you believe otherwise. To you, it meant more. Sure, it was a moment of weakness, a lapse in your judgment. However, over the weekend, upon reflection, you realized that you have feelings for the insufferable, egotistical man.

There is no room for those feelings right now.

You have a case to win. If you lose today, you will not only lose to Jeonghan for the second time but also a mother will lose her child.

So, no room for feelings.

— 

Your closing statement feels heavy on your tongue, especially when you see Mina’s glossy eyes directed at you, hopeful yet petrified and you feel the crushing guilt overtake your entire being. You should have done better.

The financial statements of her ex-husband are the only weapon you managed to secure. He’s a powerful man, meticulously guarded. Digging up dirt on him has been like searching for a needle in a haystack. The few precious pieces of footage you submitted, like glimpses of his reckless lifestyle, wild spending sprees, late-night parties with young women, and drinking until dawn, you hope, are enough to plant a seed of doubt. It’s not much, but it’s a spark of hope you hold onto, praying that it just might turn the tide in your favour. So, you go with that.

You take a deep breath. “Your Honour, the primary concern in this case is the well-being of the child. The father’s spending habits reveal a pattern of reckless prioritisation— purchasing luxury items and throwing expensive parties while neglecting his son’s care. Parenting requires more than financial security; it demands consistent presence and responsibility, which my client has consistently demonstrated.

Additionally, we cannot ignore the situation with the nanny, Jeanie. Initially willing to testify, she suddenly withdrew without explanation. It is a suspicious change that raises concerns about potential interference. This only reinforces the need for caution when considering the father’s ability to provide a stable environment. So I urge the court to grant primary custody to the mother, ensuring the child’s best interests are prioritized. Thank you.”

You do not find any power in you to look at the judge’s face or anyone’s in the courtroom. Silently, you pad over to your bench and sit down next to Mina, your eyes trained on the ground. One of her hands comes to rest on top of yours, giving you a gentle squeeze of reassurance. 

Judge Beatrice asks, “Defense counsel, your final statements, please.”

“Yes, your Honour,” Jeonghan responds, standing up and buttoning his jacket. “But before that, I would like to apologize for the unexpected request at this stage. Some new information has come to light that I believe is crucial to this case. With the court’s permission, I would like to call an additional witness, Ms. Jeanie Miller, the child’s nanny.”

Shocked and bewildered at his statement, your head snaps up. 

“There was no mention of having a witness at the stand today,” Judge Beatrice says flatly.

“I understand the unusual nature of this late request, but given the gravity of the custody decision, it is imperative that the court hears her testimony,” Jeonghan states firmly.

"Wait, what?" Gun Ji stands up from his seat beside Jeonghan, a look of panic on his face. "That...that's not necessary!" Jeonghan ignores him, calmly keeping his eyes focused on judge Beatrice.

She gives him a long, keen look. “Fine, bring her in.” 

—

“After thoroughly reviewing the evidence presented and carefully considering the testimonies, this court determines that the child’s best interests must take precedence. Therefore, the court rules that the primary physical and legal custody of the minor child be granted to the mother. The father shall be given reasonable visitation rights as determined by the parenting plan. Court is adjourned.” Judge Beatrice finishes. The sound of her striking the gavel echoes through the courtroom. Beside you, Mina yelps out, her voice full of glee and unshed tears as she jumps up before engulfing you in a hug. However, everything surrounding you has faded into the background as you keep staring at Jeonghan on the other side, his face composed and content even.

His eyes meet yours and he nods, giving you a soft, subtle smile that almost feels like a mirage.

Is this a dream?

You just won this case. You won against Yoon Jeonghan.

But why does it not feel like a victory at all?

He yielded. He brought Jeanie in court and had her testify against his client at the very last moment.

Why?

A bitter taste of betrayal is left in your mouth as you watch him ignore Jun Gi’s yelling. It feels like you did not earn the victory but rather, it was handed to you.

The feeling is sickening.

—

With everyone gone, the courtroom is empty now, except for you and Jeonghan.

Your files lay spread out on the table but you don’t bother arranging them. You should have been out of here by now, going on with your day and even make plans to celebrate your victory. For some reason, though, you could not leave.

You stand with your arms crossed and watch Jeonghan, his back facing you, as he arranges all his files and puts them in his briefcase one by one while talking over the phone.

“Yes, I can be there in an hour…Okay, see you then.” He hangs up and sets the phone down, tilting his head to glance at you. “Congratulations, Lawyer ___.”

His words sound like sarcasm.

“Why did you let me win, Jeonghan?” Your voice is flat.

He turns around and frowns. “What do you mean, 'let you win'?” 

“You know very well what I mean,” you sneer, stepping closer to him, your heels clicking loudly. “Why did you yield? You have never done that before, and you have represented far worse people. What, getting in my pants changed your mind? You thought I would let you hit if you let me have this case?”

His mouth falls open, his eyes widening in disbelief. 

“Answer me, asshole!”

“You are better than this,” he replies, his tone quiet but his gaze turbulent, a swirl of emotions shining in his pupils. “You know better than this.” He pauses before scrunching up his face. “Let me hit? What…How could you even say that? Sure, I am a scumbag but even for me that’s low. You know I respect you.”

“Do you? You hiss, getting up in his face. “Do you really, Mr. Money Talks? Since I have known you, you have never done something nice without an ulterior motive. Tell me, what was it this time?”

“I have had enough of this conversation,” he grunts, turning away to finish packing his belongings. 

“Oh, I am sure you have. Now that I have seen through your shit, I bet you’re done, you pathetic asshole.”

He does not make a sound as he finishes packing, the sound of his briefcase shutting leaving an echoing boom in the thick, looming silence. Without acknowledging your presence, he starts walking away and you scoff in utter disbelief. His quiet footsteps echo through the courtroom, leaving behind a sense of emptiness and rage inside you that you don't know how to grapple with.

When he is almost at the door, he turns around and stares at you blankly. “For what it is worth, I really do respect you.”

The door slams quietly behind him.

—

1 week later

You stroll through the bustling streets of late-night Seoul, the faint hum of traffic mixing with the distant chatter of people at the little roadside shops, drinking with their friends. The air is slightly chilly, but comfortable, just enough to make you pull your coat a little tighter around you. 

It has been a week since your victory. Throughout the week, you have waited for that feeling of accomplishment to come to you, the sense that will force you to look on the bright side. It has not come. 

Victory should feel sweeter than this. You won the case, defending your client with everything you had. Yet, as you weave through the crowd, your thoughts keep drifting back to him— Jeonghan. You can’t help it. You keep revisiting your last interaction with him; that pained look in his eyes and the quiet depth of his words. It gave you a glimpse of a Jeonghan you never saw before, one you thought did not exist— one who has a heart.

You tell yourself it’s just the lingering adrenaline of a hard-fought case, but it bothers you more than you’d like to admit. So much so that you feel tempted to pick up your phone and just call him.

“____!” A sudden loud voice makes you jolt as you stop on the pavement and look around. You spot Kai, a law school friend and Jeonghan's colleague, sitting at one of the roadside restaurants, holding a bottle of soju with one hand and waving at you with the other.

You smile and walk over to him.

“Sit. Have a drink. It has been a while since we had a chat,” he smiles, offering you a seat. You grab a blue plastic tool and sit, eyeing the empty shot glass and some leftover food on a plate next to him. You tease him, “What? Got ditched by your date?” 

He snorts, pouring you a shot. “By date, if you mean Jeonghan, then yeah, sure.”

Your ears perk and you sit up straight. “Jeonghan was here?”

He hums, pushing a glass towards you. “Yep, he just left.” He downs a shot and makes a noise of satisfaction. “This guy, I swear to god. He’s been weird all week. Right after the hearing on Thursday, Jun Gi stormed into the office, calling him a traitor and whatnot. Jeonghan didn’t even flinch. Just sat there, cool as always.” He pauses to take a sip of his drink. “At some point, the guy shoved him. And, get this— Jeonghan threw a punch. Didn’t even hesitate. I swear I’ve never seen him like that. Gave Jun Gi a black eye and then kicked him out the door in front of everyone. Insane, right?”

Holy shit. You gape at Kai. “Jeonghan... hit him? His client?”

“Ex client, but yeah, he did. He never loses his cool like that, you know. I tried talking to him, but he just shrugged it off. I think this case messed with his head. Not like him to get that... involved.” You sit on the rickety plastic stool, stunned. The nagging in your brain finally becomes too much to ignore and you ask, “Did he say where he was going?" “Jeonghan? He’ll probably catch the bus. You know the stop two blocks down that runs till midnight.”

Your heart starts racing. “Thanks, Kai,” you murmur, quickly chugging a shot down before hurrying down the sidewalk. You pick up your pace, the chill of the night air pushing you forward despite the uncomfortable feeling of your heels digging into your feet. You don’t know what you’ll say to Jeonghan when you find him— you just know you have to.

You start running at full speed, pushing through the busy sidewalk and murmuring apologies to the people you bump into. The bus stop comes into view, fairly empty, and your heart stops, realizing you missed Jeonghan. However, a second later, your view gets clearer and you spot the man standing there with a cigarette between his lips, his jacket slung over his shoulders as he looks around with boredom.

“You!” You charge at him, yelling. “You! Explain. What really happened that day? Why did you change your mind?” You pant, catching your breath when you finally stop in front of him.

Jeonghan, busy blowing out a thin stream of smoke, whips his head upon hearing your voice, shock flashing in his gaze. His half-lidded eyes widen, before he frowns, “What the hell are you doing here?’’

“Answer me, Jeonghan.” You glare at him, still gasping for air. “What happened that day in court?” He keeps staring at you with keen eyes that make you feel like he can see through you, reading your innermost thoughts. He takes a drag of his cigarette before speaking, his voice smooth as always. “Since you're so curious...I did my duty at first, you know. I believed my client. That’s what a lawyer does…even when everything else tells you your client is a bastard.” “But you knew that from the very beginning. You knew he wasn’t fit to take care of his son. You don’t just flip like that. What made you change your mind?”

Jeonghan pauses, rolling the cigarette between his fingers, his gaze trained on the poison stick thoughtfully. “Look, I’ve defended plenty of rich idiots. Comes with the job. But this one... he just slipped up.” You raise a brow. “Slipped up?”

He smirks, but rather than the usual cockiness, there’s a shadow behind it that leaves you wondering. “Let’s just say I overheard him running his mouth on the phone. Something about how he didn’t really care about the kid. He just didn’t want to ‘lose’ to his ex-wife. Didn’t matter if his kid hated him. As long as he came out on top, he was happy.”

You frown, processing the information. Jeonghan flicks the ash off his cigarette, his tone a bit sharper now. “Turns out our model father also bribed the nanny to keep her mouth shut. When I got her alone and told her I’d keep her safe if she talked... well, a lot more things came into light.”

You hold your breath. “Was he…abusing him?”

Jeonghan huffs out. “Let me know if Mina wants to file a case against him. I have enough evidence to make her win.”

Fuck. You sigh, your gaze trained on the gravel of the pavement. “So that’s why you went against your client.”

Jeonghan scoffs lightly, still not looking directly at you. “Don’t make it sound noble. It was just bad strategy to keep lying when the truth was that obvious.”

You fold your arms and narrow your eyes at him. “You’re not that selfless. You don’t just risk your reputation for a lost cause.” Jeonghan remains silent for a beat, his jaw tightening before he finally looks at you, something unguarded flashing in his eyes. “Let’s just say... I’ve seen that look before. In that kid. Eyes that don’t know whether to hate or hold on because neither makes sense when your old man never really gave a damn. Figured I didn’t want to see another kid grow up wondering why he wasn’t enough.” He shrugs, as if it’s nothing, but the hint of vulnerability lingers. You catch it— just a flicker before his usual cocky smirk slides back into place. “Jeonghan…” “Don’t get all sentimental on me now. The kid just deserved better. That’s all.”

He takes one last drag of his cigarette and flicks it to the ground, crushing it under his heel as you silently watch him. The tension between you lingers, charged and unresolved. You want to say a lot of things to him, but you don’t know where to start. It feels like a cactus is lodged in your throat, pricking at your skin every time a word manifests on your tongue.

“I’m sorry!” You blurt out. Jeonghan’s head turns towards you slowly, his eyes blown out like he just saw Santa Claus flying through the sky. 

“I’m sorry, what?” He gapes.

You bite your lip. “I… am sorry. For the things I said that day. For…I don’t know…Everything, I guess.”

He keeps staring at you like you have grown two heads and you drawl out a groan. “Can you not stare at me like that?”

“I am…lost for words.”

You try to make a joke. “Wow, very unlike Yoon Jeonghan to be left speechless.”

“You tend to do that to me,” he murmurs so softly as if he did not want you to hear it but you do, and your heart starts drumming loudly in your ears. His eyes never stray from you as he flicks the cigarette to the ground before crushing it with the heel of his shoe.

Then, he takes a step towards you.

You don’t step back, looking up at his eyes, slightly breathless. His eyes shine, mirroring the lights of late-night Seoul and something deeper, something foreign. It is a look you have never seen before that fills you with hope and joy.

Jeonghan’s hand reaches for yours, his fingertips ever so slightly tracing the lengths of your fingers and your knuckles, giving you goosebumps.

“Your words really hurt that day, you know,” he murmurs, the look in his eyes deeply intimate. He comes even closer to you and you love it. You love having him in your personal space, feeling the warmth radiating off him, the smell of his cologne and cigarette mixing into an addictive scent. “But, now that you are looking at me like that, with those beautiful eyes of yours,” he pauses, tantalizingly slowly linking his fingers with yours. His tone is serious but also contains a softness that makes heat pool in your belly, “I have no choice but to forgive you.”

You make a broken sound of acknowledgement. Too busy trying to get your heart to calm down. You feel like a giddy teenager, ready to have your first kiss.

And boy, do you want to kiss him.

“But,” he pauses and you hold your breath. “When you say you’re sorry for the things you said that day…does it also include that?”

“What?” You blink.

“You said it was a mistake. Are you sorry for saying that?”

Your breath stops. You gaze into his eyes, deep, dark pools of honey and you feel a sense of vulnerability grow in you. Unconsciously, you hold his hand tighter when you whisper, “Jeonghan?”

“Hm?” He leans closer to you and it physically hurts not to kiss him.

“That night…was it a mistake for you?”

He remains silent, looking at you unblinking. His eyes search your face for something you don’t understand.

“No, it was not, ____.” He says quietly but the conviction in his voice is louder than anything. “I meant every word I said that night and I do not regret having my fingers deep inside your cunt. In fact, I crave to do it again.” Only Jeonghan can say something so filthy with so much emotion. Your breath stutters and heat blooms all over your skin as you fight to swallow the lump in your throat.

“Me too,” you whisper, hypnotized by his gaze. “It was not a mistake. I am sorry I said it was.”

The look in his eyes instantly darkens. His free hand snakes around your waist, pulling your body tight against his. Your arms find home around his neck and your eyes trail to his lips before you whisper, “I want to kiss you, Jeonghan.”

“What’s holding you back?”

Nothing.

You lean upwards just slightly and press your lips to his. His arms engulf you, pulling you in deeper into the kiss. It is perfect, it is magical. The taste of cigarette in his tongue, the caress of his thumb on your lower back, the feeling of his warmth encompassing you whole— it is all perfect.

The signature cocky smile is back on his lips when you break the kiss, that familiar mischief twinkling in his eyes. You cannot help but smile. 

“Wow, Lawyer ____.” He is grinning. “Does this mean you’re my girlfriend now?”

You feel giddy.

“Not so fast, Counselor. At least take me on a date first.” You tease, adjusting his collars. He leans down to come to your eye level. “How about this? You come home with me tonight and stay over. In the morning, I’ll take you out for breakfast. In fact, we will spend the whole day outside.”

“Sounds like a date,” you mumble, looking into his eyes.

“Yes, it is.” He hums, leaning back. His hand finds yours and interlocking your fingers, he starts walking. 

“You’re not going to take the bus?” You ask, trailing after him. He has that incredulous, love-struck smile on his face. “Nah. I feel like walking with you. What do you say? Shall we take the long road?”

You grin. “Yes.”

© startlightxsvt 2025 | All Rights Reserved. Do not copy, translate, adapt, or repurpose any of my works.

A/N: what was originally a 6k word fic turned out to be almost 10k. whew! i feel like i wrote another fic set in sibilance universe unintentionally. bc Jeonghan was a lawyer over there too?? anyway, i hope this was an enjoyable read. i'd love to hear your thoughts so do comment or drop an ask! as always, please like and reblog! toodles!<3

[whypisces]

Hii! I’ve been really enjoying your SVT readings, I love how you really go in depth with the cards! May I request a reading for Joshua like you did for S.Coups and Vernon? Thank you!

HAHHAHAHAH! This man wants an older woman with some religious drama that spiritual but not quite religious. And absolute freak in the sheets but will still turn around and be his mom's favorite person. I'm talking a walking talking contradiction he wants someone that will have him willing to do the nastiest things that he's ever imagined right after Sunday service.

"Joshua’s Ideal Type According to Aphrodite (and Ariana Grande in Positions)”

Warning: this man gives duality in silk. Sweet Prince energy who looks like a halo but kisses like a sin. Let’s unpack the layers, shall we?

Theme Song: “Positions” – Ariana Grande

"Cooking in the kitchen and I'm in the bedroom…”

We’re talking wifey energy with a wild streak. He wants the whole fantasy: Sunday worship & Saturday night worship (you know what I mean).

This man is ready to submit to a love that makes him lose control while still trying to play it sweet and cool.

Would he date a fellow idol or a civilian?

He’s leaning CIVILIAN. But not just any civilian.

Think Capricorn x Mars: he wants a queen in the streets, rebel in the sheets.

Aquarius reversed & Stage reversed? He’s over the curated image life he wants someone REAL. No masks, no media training. Just you, showing up with your chaos and curls, ready to rock his world.

He has has been sitting there and playing up the sweet Church boy / the innocent one for so goddamn long he needs someone where he can just be an absolute nasty little freak with. It's giving Vivid image of him having his hair pulled back like someone with acrylics just yanking his head back and like spitting in his mouth type of nasty okay. He needs someone where he can absolutely let his freak flag fly just let go of any curated image he's ever had not have to think about being this perfect little idol. None of that matters he is prepared and ready to sin. It's also giving older woman Vibes not really feeling an age range for him but definitely someone older than him. Sadly all of us younger girls / women don't really have much of a shop with this man but then again I feel like that makes sense he needs and wants experience and control.

He might flirt with fellow idols, but the one he brings home to meet his mom? Civilian. Deep. Spicy. Divine feminine in her soft villain era.

What He Wants Emotionally:

The Alchemist + The Caregiver + The Knight + The Mother =

He wants a soft place to land. Someone who makes him feel safe to be his weird, romantic, overthinking self. He wants the kind of woman who makes him drop the “good boy” act and say

"I usually don’t do this, but for you…”

He wants emotional intimacy that feels spiritual sinful. Someone he can be vulnerable with, but who also makes him sweat a little.

Justice reversed + Moon reversed + Queen of Cups reversed =

This is deep: he’s been burned before. There’s emotional baggage here. Trust doesn’t come easy. If you’re going to be in his heart, you better be real, raw, and ready to hold space for all his moods.

(because he feels everything, even when he doesn’t say it).

It's giving i sat there and trusted you but then you turned around and said it was too much vibes. He definitely has a past experience where he dated someone and decided to try and let the good boy act drop he was just being himself showing a little bit more of his freakier side. 100% believe that this is a man who likes being tied up with silk and ropes he is definitely a real bunny he also doesn't mind tying up his partner but like he would rather be the one tied up. Again we're getting a little NSFW here but like tie him up at him slap his cock and he would absolutely be in love with you and want to explode at any moment and I feel like he tried to show that side of himself to someone and they basically sat there but yet no that's too much. You are a bit of a fucking weirdo you little freak never talk to me again. So he needs someone who's like 100% going to be raw and open and be willing to explore be emotionally available and not judge him for any and all of his freakiness.

Also I do Wonder comment below if any of you guys were surprised to find out that he's looking freak? I don't think so but I also think that's just because again growing up in a mixed race family and multiple religious households I feel like religious people tend to be like a freakiest 99% of the time Ricky are you going to church but then you're also hitting up a BDSM Club on a Saturday so like it doesn't really make much difference you're getting freaky and fucking on Saturday going to service on Sunday and then acting like you didn't do any of that shit by Monday.

What He Likes Physically:

The Sensualist + Page of Wands + Knight of Cups =

Soft lips. Pretty eyes. The way your fingers move. The sound of your voice when you’re sleepy.

It’s not just looks. It’s your presence.

You might not be the flashiest in the room but you own your sensuality. Maybe you wear perfume that lingers, or your laugh hits him in the chest. You tease without trying. And that’s what gets him.

Capricorn + Libra =

He loves someone elegant. You dress like you could steal hearts in a gallery and break them in a jazz bar. Aesthetic matters to him. Clean lines. Silks. A signature accessory. You’re the person people turn to stare at just because of how you walk.

I feel like I've mentioned Marilyn Monroe a few times same thing with I definitely have mentioned Megan Fox and Jessica Rabbit at least once but like these women are the vibes. Fictional or real life who just embodied their sensuality used it as a weapon didn't shy away from it didn't run from it. Embraced it in all of its glories with the good and the bad and that's exactly the type of woman he wants. And in terms of sense again I keep thinking of like the Chanel sense probably because those are the sense that the older women in my life had but like yes like Mademoiselle Chanel or Chanel Number 5 something that smells rich and luxurious and like as soon as you smell it you know exactly what perfume that is and the fact that that person just sat there and probably drop like a couple of $100 for a bottle.

What Turns Him On (Emotionally + Otherwise):

A lowkey rebel. (The Rebel + The Jester + Stage reversed)

You don’t follow the rules. You flirt like it’s a game. You surprise him.

The kind of girl who says, “I prayed for you,” then drags him into the shower.

Emotional maturity, with just a dash of toxic hot girl. (Devil + Queen of Swords)

He doesn’t want chaos but he does want challenge. Someone who keeps him on his toes.

Secret Deal-Breakers:

Lying or sugarcoating (Seven of Swords reversed + Justice reversed).

He’d rather be hurt by the truth than comforted by a lie.

Emotional immaturity (Queen of Cups reversed + Page of Swords).

You gotta mean what you say and know what you feel.

Overly competitive or unavailable (Five of Wands + Eight of Pentacles reversed).

If you’re playing games, he’s out. Unless it’s the kind that end in kissing.

I feel like this makes sense once again. He needs someone who is mature and willing to hurt his feelings. If he fucks up he wants you to be super fucking blunt about it and tell him exactly how he fucked up even if he knows it'll hurt his feelings or it might come off as a bit more cold or calculating. He needs someone who doesn't do bullshit once again. If he's being a fucking idiot tell him he's being a fucking idiot. And if you're going to play games they're not going to be mind games but he doesn't mind other games particularly ones that may or may not mean that he may or may not have something vibrating on his body or also where he may or may not be caged you know things like that our games that he's willing to play. Also I'm getting risk coming through as in like you be willing to take those types of risk again something that he wouldn't normally do but for you he would. The whole I prayed for you and then dragging him into the shower to do Unholy things. He would probably also enjoy that for like concerts and stuff like I'm not even lying I feel like he would genuinely disappear 20 minutes before they have to go on stage just to have a fucking quickie and then end up on stage with his dick hard because you refuse to let him come. And he would be loving every fucking second of it. Is giving sexual deviance vibes. Like vanilla is nice but the shit's too boring. Adrenaline junkie but only if it means getting his dick wet.

Your Role in His Life According to Aphrodite:

You’re the Page of Cups + Knight of Cups + Ace of Cups = his romantic awakening.

You remind him that love doesn’t have to be perfect to be profound. That desire and devotion can coexist.

He looks at you and sees home and trouble and he thanks the stars for both.

You give him butterflies, but you also make him feel grounded. You inspire his softest love songs and his filthiest sinful filled fantasies.

Overview of Joshua’s Ideal Type:

Someone elegant, feminine, and secretly feral.

Spiritual, funny, loyal, and a little chaotic.

Soft in the heart, sharp in the mind.

Knows how to love deeply and blow his mind.

Feels like a Sunday morning + Saturday night combo.

He falls in love with someone who makes him want to write poetry, volunteer for church again, and then sin in the backseat of a black SUV under moonlight.

“You’re too good to be true... but I’m tired of running. F*ck it, I’m running with you.”

[whypisces]

The app glitched on me when I tried to do this so we're going to retry. This was actually a really interesting and very intense reading to do. Like he definitely has a peculiar type but also his energy in and of itself is very territorial like if you're mine you're mine kind of hot not going to lie.

"So... What Really Gets Jeonghan Going?"

So listen...when the first song that shuffles up is "Agoraphobic" by Corpse, and then "Heaven" by Julia Michaels follows right after?

Yeah, we're already in dark divine temptation territory. This isn’t light crush/ meet cute fall in love energy.

This is “I’m-obsessed-with-your-soul-and-your-stare-makes-me-malfunction” type of attraction.

Astro Cards Vibe:

Jupiter reversed: He’s not impressed by loud flash. Overconfidence? Try again. He likes someone who’s got that quiet depth. Very much black cat dark femme energy.

Mercurius reversed: Meaning he gets turned off by shallow convo and forced charm. If you’re mysterious but unexpectedly street & book-smart, he’s hooked.

Mars: But don’t get it twisted he lives for tension. Flirt-fighting. Power play. That "you challenge me and I like it too much" energy? Yes. He needs someone to match his freak. He's known for being very calculated and pretty damn good at cheating when it comes to games and he needs someone who could be just as calculating and would be willing to play like Uno with him while both of them are sitting there and planning psychological warfare at the same time.

The Oracle of Roses Said He’s Into...

The Artist + The Priest + The Gambler + The Rebel + The Hero

He’s drawn to people who’ve been through something who love deeply, think in metaphors, push boundaries, and have a spiritual or intuitive edge. Someone emotionally rich but not emotionally needy.

Bonus points if you can read him like a book he’s never opened.

Loki he kind of is attracted to people where it feels like they can read his mind. Someone who would be very good at reading body language so that he doesn't necessarily have to open up and say anything. Emotional intensity where the two of you are constantly on the edge but does not need someone who would look to him to fill too many emotional needs. Like y'all can be flirty and have so much fun together but like he also needs you to be able to go Do Your Own Thing regulate your own emotions.

Tarot Cards Say:

Knight of Pentacles + Knight of Cups + Queen of Pentacles: He’s into people who feel grounded yet poetic. You gotta give “I care, but I’m unbothered” energy. Soft-spoken but steady. Ethereal, but you still text back.

King of Swords reversed + Knight of Swords reversed: He hates arrogance. He hates know-it-alls. He hates people trying to impress him.

Five of Wands + Seven of Pentacles reversed: If it feels like a constant ego contest or emotional labor? He’s out.

Ace of Pentacles reversed + Nine of Pentacles reversed: He doesn’t care about your fame or fortune if you’re cold or fake, it’s a nope.

The Lovers reversed + Two of Wands reversed: Love has to feel like destiny for him he’s not into lukewarm “situationship” energy. He wants the one or nothing at all.

Who might he date?

Surprisingly? More likely a “civilian” or someone lowkey. Someone with main character energy but not spotlight thirst. He doesn’t want to share someone with the whole world he wants someone just a little off the radar, someone who sees him without the idol mask.

But if you want to be attracted and date a fellow Idol or celebrity they would have to be the definition of super super private like no one would know shit about their personal lives. Think Zendaya and Tom Holland vibes there's very little that people know about either one of them personally and that's exactly the type of public relationship he would have if it was with a celebrity you just wouldn't know shit matter of fact you probably wouldn't even know he was in the relationship until they were announcing like they're engagement.

What Turns Him On :

Intense eye contact that feels like a secret. Staring into your soul like the eye contact is so intense he's about to spill all of his secrets. Also someone with really pretty eyes I feel like eyes are one of the first things that he picks up on when he sees a person's face.

Thoughtful silences (not awkward ones) I cannot EMPHASIZE this enough he cannot stand idle chatter he hates small talk. If you are not sitting there and having deep conversations or conversations about meaningful shit he does not want to speak. So he needs someone who would be completely fine with being in the same room and not saying a word.

A soft voice with a sharp mind. Kind of like himself I feel like he has a fairly soft melodic voice and he wants someone with this in real life. And with a short mind like I said you have to be able to play Uno or like Monopoly and it feels like you guys are in the middle of filming scenes for like a mission impossible movie. Like you're not just sitting there and playing regular games you're playing mind games on top of having fun. Basically someone who can genuinely play mind games with consistently but in a way where it's basically foreplay.

Clothes that hint but don’t scream (think sensual not obvious) very dark feminine energy think those Pinterest boards that you'll see with red lipstick dark colors but not the ones where it's like super essential or super sexy but the ones where it's like understated like business casual with an edge. If it's super casual outfits it's probably going to be like a T-shirt and jeans for the t-shirts going to be like oversized tucked into the jeans and the jeans are going to be form fitting while also having some form of a jacket most likely his throne on top of it so like you get a bit of that they have sex appeal but it's not super in your face.

The kind of person who could ghost him… but doesn’t. If we would compare this to the reading I did for Sana I say he also kind of likes to chase but the difference is for him it's not like just the Chase and then getting into the relationship and the chase being over. It's more of getting into the relationship and it's just an extension of the chase like he still wants to have to work in order to get you to stay paying attention to him. Like he's not trying to sit there get into a relationship and all of a sudden you're not still kind of playing hard to get if anything he wants you to make him work harder.

For him he needs someone;

“WHO's the calm in his chaos. The whisper in his storm. The one who ruins him quietly.”

He basically wants a semi-healthy Wattpad fanfiction type of partner. Like down bad absolutely ruin him vibes on his part. While having a partner that is very dominatrix coded who pushes and challenges him. If I was to say what his role might be I would definitely say that he gives off switch leaning more towards dominant Vibes so he kind of needs a partner who's more on the dominant side and challenges that in him like someone who would make him have to submit to them to some degree but also understands like he needs to space. Only I can think of is like if you ever went through an omegaverse phase and you've read like the alpha x Alpha books that that's the vibes.