[xomakara]

Ranching Hearts

SUMMARY |  You're an overworked accountant with little time for a love life. Desperate for a break, you join your girlfriends on vacation at a dude ranch. Mingi, the handsome ranch owner is instantly attracted to you and vice versa. But Mingi is about to lose the ranch and everything he's worked for. Will you extend your stay to help him out?

PAIRINGS | Mingi x Reader

RATING | Mature, NSFW, EXPLICIT, MDNI, 18+

GENRE |  cowboy!Mingi, overworkedaccountant!Reader, smut, modern Western au, country/ranch life

CONTENT/WARNINGS | profanity/strong language, filthy dirty thoughts, unprotected sex (wrap it up ya’ll!), fingering, oral sex (both female/male receiving/giving), dirty talk, praise kink, pet names, vaginal penetration, creampies, shower sex, outdoor sex, sexual innuendoes

LENGTH | 16,907 words

TAGLIST | —

NETWORKS |  @illusionnet @cromernet @wonderlandnet @k-vanity @othersideoutlawsnetwork. @ksmutsociety @eighteez-net

AUTHOR’S NOTE |  Hi hello. Thank you @aaagustd for the beautiful banner and thank you @kpopflowerfield for beta reading this! I really appreciate it💚 Show support by liking, commenting and reblogging. Love you all 💚

ATEEZ Main Masterlist

"Oh come on," Hyemi sighed, grabbing your arm and pulling you towards the van. "This trip won't be the same without you."

"You really need a break, Y/N," Jinhee muttered. "You're so overworked these days, and all that stress can't be healthy."

You pinched the bridge of your nose as the women clamored their agreements. Despite their arguments that it wouldn't be the same, they were all packed, ready to go, and stood around your luggage as you dithered. "Why a dude ranch?"

"Because we needed something in the middle, so everyone could get to it with ease," Bora said. "And we already paid in full, plus I saw some super hot photos of the cowboy who runs it."

“Cowboys? Seriously?” you asked, incredulous.

Jinhee tossed a magazine towards you. A six pack man filled the front page of it, and your brow furrowed at the photo. Something about the set-up felt artificial, and not only because the man was topless. His boots were pristine, not worn out like you expected. Was this guy actually a cowboy?

"Real life cowboys do not look like this," you announced.

“Have you ever met one?” Hyemi asked.

“Yes,” you replied.

"Seriously?" Hyemi leaned on your shoulder to look at the picture again. "You have been holding out on us! Have you—"

“I’m a country girl, did you forget?” you shook your head.

Bora hopped back onto the van, laughing as the other girls got in. "Tell us all the deets on the way there!"

"Oh, and Y/N?" Hyumi smirked and hit the van door twice to make sure you couldn't close it. "I put condoms in your bag, okay?"

"Maybe there's a hot cowboy, looking for someone to ride him instead of a horse." Hyemi cackled. "If you catch my drift."

"Can we please get going? I have no patience to listen to you guys go into a hyena-like laughing fit," you grumbled as your heart began to hammer away. The prospect of meeting a stranger—no, a possible lover was thrilling enough to make the argument to join them seem pointless now. With a sigh, you waved at Hyemi. "No promises, but I will come along and see what the place is like."

A squeal tore through the van and you cringed at the loud sound. As the chatter in the car began again, you couldn't keep the small smile off your face at the thought that maybe your vacation wouldn't suck. Maybe, just maybe, you'd find someone worth coming home to.

The road trip was filled with laughs and lots of chatter. Your fingers had scrolled through hundreds of articles by the time you arrived and pulled up in the long driveway of the ranch. The entrance to the farm was huge; large wooden signs pointed in different directions, denoting different barns, activities, and lodgings. In the distance was a house, which sat behind the largest barn and closest to the river you saw winding around the land. Your eyes widened at the view.

The air seemed purer, crisper, as though nothing from the city could touch such a remote place. Fresh grass coated the fields of the property, a stark difference to the worn and dull roads you passed as your taxi traveled from the main highways and smaller routes before it. Rolling hills gave the feel of being in a separate world; this place was idyllic, a hidden gem in a world of chaos.

Bora beamed, "This is fucking incredible. Look at the river!"

"Do you think people go fishing in it?" Jinhee asked. "Like, for fun?"

Hyemi smiled as she shook her head. "We can ask the man when we check in. Speaking of—" She grabbed the receipt from your hand and headed for the door. You didn't have time to follow or call out for her to stop, as a tall man appeared from the first barn.

His clothes were much different than the ones you'd seen in the photos in the magazine. A plain white shirt was tucked into well-worn and dusty jeans; black hat covered a mop of black hair and equally dark brown eyes looked over you in one sweep.

Your knees buckled when his gaze landed on you; was he as affected by the attraction as you felt? The tension in the air felt suffocating in its heaviness.

He had his hands pushed deep into his pockets as he watched the rest of your party empty from the vehicle and a light chuckle escaped his lips. "Ladies."

Hyemi took a few steps separating the two of you and held out her hand. "Hello, my name is Hyemi. This is our first time staying here. Are you Mingi?"

Mingi?

"Sure am," he drawled as you took in the deepness of his voice and his strong accent. His gaze moved between the four of you. "Is it just y'all here or do more folks drive down?"

"It's just us. But we heard about the dude ranch and it seemed like the perfect destination to escape the city for a bit and see the countryside. Y'know... uhm... horses, cowboys, nature, all that?" Hyemi asked with an eager expression.

A rumble left Mingi's lips as he fought a laugh. "Of course. Well, welcome to Sunflower Ranch. As your hosts, me and the other guys will provide anythin' ya need, be it horses for a trail or drinks and dancin'. We got plenty of stuff goin' on so if y'all would like to follow me, I'll bring y'all to the cabins."

Mingi reached into the van and removed some luggage with practiced ease and with one more glance at your figure, turned and gestured for the group to follow.

Hyemi smacked your shoulder, her voice hushed with awe. "He's checking you out."

Your own voice came out high-pitched and whiny as you walked to follow. "Who, Mingi?"

"Yes, obviously! He didn't give me or the others the same intense eye fuck as you did." Her eyes took a quick assessment. "Damn, maybe I should've bought some more sexy clothes."

Your heart hammered. "Don't you start—ugh, fuck—this whole weekend."

"Maybe we won't have to. Mingi looks like a man who eats pussy like—" Hyemi continued.

“Hyemi!” you scolded.

"Fine, fine. But I'm snagging the first cowboy that looks my way and it better be that hottie with the long luscious hair," Hyemi adjusted her outfit as she eyed a tall man coming your way to help with the luggage. "You can have Mingi. I'm gonna go and milk that tall drink of water and get a good ride while I'm here."

“You are insatiable,” you said, shaking your head.

"Ain't nothing wrong with enjoying yourself and having fun, Y/N. Maybe you should take a leaf out of my book and have a wild side while we're here. Fuck the stress," Hyemi laughed when your brows knit together in a scowl. You picked up the pace, aware of Hyemi giggling like a fool. It's a mystery how that girl managed to attract so many people when she can't keep her dirty little comments to herself.

You'll have to remind Hyemi not to go and make a joke like that in front of the employees of the ranch. The last thing you needed was to offend Mingi in any way or god forbid have her embarrass you further with her words, so you make a mental note and stick your earphones in. Hyemi will have a heyday of pointing out all the beautiful men on the ranch. At this moment, you can't deal.

As you and the others fall in behind Mingi, the closer proximity gives you a good chance to size him up. His large muscular frame was tightly confined in his clothing and damn did those jeans hug him in all the right places. Not a single thing you were complaining about. Your eyes fixed on that plump round behind, the thick muscles of his thighs and it was hard not to notice the long lengths of his legs. The guy was damn well hung. A blush bloomed over your cheeks when a snort of laughter escaped Hyemi. 

Caught red handed. 

How embarrassing.

"First time to a ranch?" The man with the long luscious hair asked, as he stepped in tune with Mingi. "I'm Seonghwa and I'm one of Mingi's many helpers. There's eight of us, including Mingi, that will be making sure ya ladies are well taken care of while on the premises."

Hyemi spoke first, taking a moment to flutter her long eyelashes. "That's good news, we want all of your help, right Y/N?" She nudges your side with an elbow and you nod slowly, pretending not to notice her sudden attraction for the taller man, which was borderline embarrassing, not to mention desperate. 

"Yes," you sigh. Hyemi pressed her body to your arm as her smile deepened. You side eye her, annoyed she was clearly up to mischief.

Seonghwa chuckled, "Whatever the ladies ask. Here we are. Y'all will be in the end cabin." 

Mingi pointed the building out, a row of four smaller structures of varying designs and sizes. "There is a bathroom that everyone shares since the one in the main house is being renovated right now. I would suggest you ladies shower in the mornings between seven to nine since the guys are usually in there in the early mornings."

"Noted," Jinhee nodded and clapped her hands.

"Just head on inside and we'll get your things settled," Seonghwa gestured to the open cabin doors and you and your friends began piling inside. The two men deposited your things inside and dusted their hands as they both exchanged nods.

A gasp fell from Jinhee as she took the building in. "Will you look at the lake! This view is incredible."

"Take a swim after dinner? Ladies night." Bora laughed.

"Are y'all interested in fishin'?" Seonghwa asked.

Hyemi smiled, her voice simpering. "Anything you'll teach me."

Your brow knitted as the flirting ensued. How anyone could do that so brazenly was baffling. If only you had such confidence... Then again, Hyemi wasn't one to get too attached. And given the look on Seonghwa's face, that wasn't going to be a problem here.

Once you get into the room you couldn't hold it in. "Damn, you're quick to pick."

"What?" Bora and Jinhee squealed and hurried to watch Hyemi.

“Seonghwa,” you said. “Looks like Hyemi made her choice already.” 

"Wow, we are literally five minutes in and you're already throwing yourself at a cowboy," Jinhee laughed.

"Am I a bad girl for wanting to ride him?" Hyemi sighs as she stares out the window, looking for Seonghwa.

"When are you a good girl?" You quipped.

“Never,” Hyemi giggled.

You sighed and ran your fingers through your hair. Hyemi could go for anyone here if she played her cards right. There's no shortage of people, and no shortage of looks on the ranch. "They did mention that there's six more of them running around."

Bora glanced out the window and nodded over to a handsome figure. "I bet he's one of them. Just look at those bulging muscles! Maybe he can throw me on his shoulders."

"He looks like he could pick anyone up and fuck them against the wall," Jinhee added as she stared out the window.

You let out an exasperated sigh. "God, I'm surrounded by a whole bunch of horny women."

The comment earns a laugh as you step outside. A slight breeze lifted the edges of your loose tee and cooled the skin that had already begun to warm beneath the sunlight. Taking a look around, your gaze focused on the large barn. Though it wasn't obvious what it contained, curiosity begged your feet to lead you toward the source of the loud voices and banging noises. As your steps led you close, the distinct sound of hooves caught your attention first.

Following it, the shadow of something massive and alive passed overhead and your gaze slowly tilted upwards. It took a few seconds for the creature to pass your gaze before it hit you. "Horses!"

"Big bastards, ain't they?" a deep voice said from behind you.

Jumping slightly, the soft laughter caught you off-guard and you turned, sheepishly meeting Mingi's gaze. "Sorry! I haven't seen one in years."

"Naw, not a problem, but why the interest?" He stepped in beside you, watching his hand move to adjust his hat. There was no denying the heat swirling inside, seeing this cowboy up close, smelling the mixture of sweat and spicy cologne was one hell of a rush and your head swam as the sensations washed over. Was he this beautiful and tall when you arrived? Maybe. Your head is full of lust filled thoughts, seeing him next to you in the bright midday sun just amplified the attraction tenfold.

Your words sounded faraway, even to your own ears. "Oh, uh... I-I grew up around horses."

"Really?" He tipped his chin and peered beneath the lip of his hat, those big brown eyes piercing and wide in wonder.

A spark flew inside, your stomach suddenly in knots. This guy had a pull, but you weren't sure if it was the charm and attraction or his expression, or the way his head tilted. "Uh, yeah. I grew up on a farm. Been a while, but I used to compete as a teenager."

“And here I thought y’all just came here to have a nice time away from home. Ya sure did surprise me,” Mingi chuckled.

You let out a small laugh. "My friends are city folk. I moved to the city for a job a few years back, but my family... They're all still in the countryside. Guess I missed it, even the early mornings and mucking out stables."

A chuckle rose. "Y'all wanna muck out the stables, just say. We can get it sorted out for ya. Free, too."

The way his dimpled grin warmed as you locked eyes made your cheeks heat up. "Maybe another time, if I'm up for it. Besides, I doubt my friends would enjoy it."

"Or just keep it our lil secret?" he winked.

You found it hard to break your stare away from his eyes. Something behind those pools of dark chocolate seemed to want to tell you something. A sense of ease lingered, you couldn't explain the calm you felt and the desire to be next to Mingi was hard to push away. Your tongue flicked to wet your dry lips and you smiled, "I'm sure we can work something out."

Mingi leaned back against the fence, watching the animals graze lazily in the green pasture. Your gaze followed and took in the other four horses. Some were big, some short with stubby legs. A couple had spots, another was entirely black, and the fourth horse was pure white and looked the biggest. The urge to stroke its neck tugged at you.

"Cute ones you have here," your smile broke the tension.

"Some are mules, and they're in need of some attention." His eyes went to the four mares and a hand came down, resting on your shoulder. "Ever ridden bareback?"

Your eyes widened.

"If the sight of horses excites yah so much, then what 'bout a nice ride? We could saddle the animals or..." The heat in his eyes was intense. "Maybe you're a daredevil and prefer it free. Up to you, darlin', I'm willing to oblige your needs. I'd give it to ya however yah wanted."

Words caught in your throat. "You want me... to ride... bareback?"

"However, you want, darlin'," he breathed as you inched closer. His other hand moved to touch your shoulder, giving you a brief rub before the same hand lowered to your hip.

Your breathing turned shallow, your knees weakening with each passing second. Heat seared the air around you, but you stayed where you stood, drawing courage to respond to the playful innuendo. "Okay, but if I break my leg, that's on you."

Mingi laughed and jerked his chin back towards the big barn. "I'm sure ya can handle this ride, darlin'. You said you've done this before. Now's a good time to refresh that knowledge, get to know the horses, and give them a workout. Think of it as the best type of warm up to really get you loose and warmed up."

A deep throb burned in your pussy.

Shit, had you gotten wet from some double meaning sex innuendos, and the suggestive smirk playing on Mingi's face made the butterflies swarm furiously in your belly. What the hell was happening to you right now? His finger pressed against your lower back, encouraging you to start walking toward the open doors of the barn and a gasp left your lips when you realized just how much the simple touch sent shivers throughout your body. You don't think you'd ever wanted to be touched so much before by someone.

Fuck... were you this desperate for a man that the simplest of touch would set you off?

"Picked the horse yet?" Mingi asked as your gaze landed on a massive black beast. Its tail flicked gently and a warm welcome flared in its eyes as Mingi led you over to the gate of its paddock. "I was thinkin' you should ride Raven here. He's a big bastard, but once you ride a stallion, any other horse becomes easy. How 'bout it?"

“H-huh?” you stuttered.

"Would ya like to ride a stallion?" He raised his brow, but a teasing smile played on his lips. His hands grabbed the rail of the pen as you walked through the gate and he leaned forward, bending a leg and resting it on the lowest bar. It should've been illegal to look that good when dressed for manual labor. "Have you ridden a stallion before?"

What kind of question was that? A million dirty ideas flooded your mind.

"It's been a few years, but I'd like to try one," your voice seemed huskier, low enough to get his attention, and Mingi lifted his chin, eyes scanning your face. A hitch of breath escaped him and you took it as encouragement, moving closer. He smirked, which only deepened his dimples. How easy it would've been to run your finger over each little dip on his face, but the act would be too bold, right? Too much for two strangers?

Yet he was inviting you to ride...

You moved over to the stallion, placing a hand against its nose as your fingers brushed against the coarse, yet soft hairs that made up its mane. Your lips pulled upwards when its head moved close to your body and leaned against it, eliciting a soft, nicker sound. "Hey, gorgeous."

Mingi opened his mouth but his words died when he caught your expression, noting the smile you were wearing. Damn, did you look good as you stood, hand petting his stallion, talking softly and exchanging pleasantries with the big creature.

As you interacted with his horse, the thought of him going behind and sliding his hands around your waist to steady the movement or hold you upright flashed, sending the blood to pool below. It took a conscious effort not to lick his lips, but damn it all to hell, was his mouth dry with the imagination running through his mind. "Do you... need help getting up, miss?"

You glanced at him. "I think I can manage."

Moving closer, he let his hands hang in a relaxed way at his side, hoping the thick material of his jeans hid the growing bulge. What the fuck were you doing to him so fast? He barely knew you, didn't know much beyond your name, yet his mind was in turmoil; he had never had such a physical reaction so quick, and for a woman to affect him in the ways you did wasn't helping his growing problem.

Said problem seemed to have a mind of its own, not to mention a penchant for ignoring the current issue.

You swung a leg over the back of his horse and he inhaled sharply. Oh, dear, sweet hell... how badly he wanted to see your thighs spread for something else entirely. To get between and taste you, bury his tongue against those smooth folds until your sweet sounds are lost to the wind.

Mingi bit his lip and offered you the reins as his mind imagined its way into an improper fantasy. Those damned city girl shorts you had on showed too much of your perfect plump ass. Nowhere near proper attire for riding a horse bareback or sitting in the saddle. That ass needed something thick and stiff to sink into, to take a punishing ride. The feeling of you on top was going to kill him.

"Good?" Mingi asked as he watched you settle onto the horse's back.

You grinned, eyes crinkling from the smile.

That was a look he'd not forget anytime soon, especially given the situation down south, which was ready to burst his seams if he was still thinking in those terms. When was the last time he felt so inclined? Never.

"A lot harder without a saddle, but it feels good," the smile is real, one that touches your eyes and makes him burn with curiosity. "I missed this feeling of being on a horse."

Mingi nodded. "I bet you did."

You couldn't help but stare at Mingi as you watched him converse and talk in a fluid manner with one of the men named Yunho, a very tall and attractive man with brown hair. You were sitting with the other girls at one of the benches waiting for dinner and there were lots of conversations. Jongho, one of the more quiet ranch hands, had served a bowl of steaming hot vegetable soup and bread to your table. The smell of the cooked carrots, onions and green peppers were all mixed in nicely with the savory taste of the broth. A bottle of ice cold water was placed next to you as well, it felt like a fancy restaurant serving amazing food. The bread was fresh and homemade, you noticed from the breadcrumbs when you bit down.

But you weren't talking, just admiring the view of a handsome tall and masculine cowboy. You took a gulp of your water and cleared your throat. The flutters came in as you looked back at him, not wanting to be obvious in your staring. But that didn't seem to go unnoticed as Bora tapped you with an elbow to your rib. You looked back and narrowed your eyes at her as she took a slurping spoonful of soup and giggled at the sound.

"So you were spending the whole time riding horses, huh?" Jinhee started and gave a quizzical smile to you.

“I... felt a little inspired today,” you said, trying to keep your voice even. “Mingi knows how much I enjoyed it, though. And it was fun. I haven't had a workout like that in a while.”

Hyemi looked up and glanced at you from her spoon of soup, her eyebrows scrunching, a face only for you and she returned to the spoonful of broth. "We are talking about the horses, right?"

"Hyemi," you whined out her name in annoyance, brows dropping in the center in a scowl, only for Hyemi to return a smug smile as she sips her spoon again.

"The first day's been wild," Bora spoke again and wiped the corner of her lips with a tissue as she chewed on the chunk of bread she cut off from the roll and chewed a bit.

You took a sip of water, happy at the sudden topic change. There's no telling what else your friends have to say or rather what they might assume. It isn't like you were expecting anything from Mingi. You were here to have a good time with the girls. That was your motto and motto only, no other reasoning or implications was to be associated, and certainly no fantasizing, so why would it cross their minds otherwise?

You smiled again and placed a napkin in your lap. "Thanks for dragging me out to come here. This reminds me of home. I didn't realize how much I was craving that country air until right now. Makes the food even better."

"Is the country girl happy?" Hyemi teased.

"Are you city girls happy?" You countered with an equally joking response.

"So, um, which one do you girls wanna choose tomorrow?" Jinhee asked and scooted her chair closer. "Ride the trails, fishing, hiking? I'm dying for some adventure here. I need more than the pasture, and these mountains look lovely. I wanna feel the dirt beneath my feet, wading through a shallow river."

"Oh," Bora responded with the sound coming from the back of her throat. "That sounds heavenly. Hey, Seonghwa!"

He paused his steps, glass and jug of tea in hand. "Yes?"

“Can you find a good trail for us to hike tomorrow? And a river with calm water for us to wade through?” Bora asked. “Jinhee really wants a thrill while we're here.”

Seonghwa nodded with a deep chuckle and made a step back towards the cabin to gather a list of activities for the four ladies. "San and Wooyoung are available, I'm sure they'd show y'all to the good spots."

Bora laughed, her voice catching the cowboy's attention. "Let's do the works tomorrow, shall we? Ride the horses, fish, cook the fish, then hike and play in a river. All that good stuff. Hyemi, you in?"

Hyemi smiled, that cat-like smile in place that revealed her dimples on the one cheek and nodded. "Yup, I'm in. "

“Y/N, what about you?” Bora asked.

You purse your lips as you think about it. "I was thinking about getting my hands dirty and mucking the stables."

Your girlfriends stare at you as if you'd gone bonkers. Even Hyemi gave you a hard stare, almost as if trying to figure out where the fuck that idea came from.

Bora had a perplexed look on her face, the wrinkling in the corners of her brow apparent. "You're actually going to do that? With those hands? You're actually willing to break a nail?"

"Yeah... Why not?" You said. "I used to do that all the time back home."

Hyemi sighed as a strand of hair blew across her face with the breeze, a sight that should have distracted anyone else. "Don't you wanna play with the sexy cowboys? Jinhee here is already eyeballing one named Wooyoung." 

You shook your head. "It's fine. Really."

"Will you muck stalls every single day while we're here?" Bora questioned.

"Of course not, don't worry," You patted the top of her shoulder.

"I guess you can't take the country out of the girl," Jinhee jokes.

"It's only for one day," your friends still looked unconvinced. "I just wanna muck a stable."

"Or, ride another horse," Hyemi quipped under her breath with a tiny giggle.

You rolled your eyes and picked up the remaining chunks of your bread, taking it as a chance to leave. "And I'm heading off. Good night, you three. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"Yes, mother dearest," Jinhee hollered.

You picked at the bread piece and swiped it, tossing the remnants into a nearby garbage. One by one you stepped into your sleeping quarters and began gathering a set of sleepwear and clean underwear, before padding toward the shared bathroom, determined not to be distracted by the languid caress of cool breezes that wafted gently over your bare arms and shoulders.

An evening shower was calling your name.

Stripping the dirty garments off and tossing them aside in a hamper, your hands found the water dial, turning on the warmth as steam clouded the mirror. You stepped in with an exhale, sighing out loudly. Fuck, a bath or shower was always a welcome break. The warm water relaxed and softened skin, easing sore muscles, and that was a welcoming feeling after the long afternoon horseback riding session.

Warm streams coursed down your body. Soothing sensations coated the entirety of your flesh. The feeling of fingers in your scalp, massaging shampoo in and the heady fragrance of honey-vanilla filled the room as you ran your conditioner covered hair through a comb. After letting the conditioner marinate into your hair strands for a while, you rinsed it clean and turned off the water, wiping down your hands, face and hair as you squeezed out excess water, standing naked as the last drops ran down the drain.

The door to the shared bathroom flew open.

"Shit," you shouted as you wrapped a large, clean towel around your wet body, glancing around to catch a shirtless Mingi. His cheeks turned beet red as his gaze averted out the window as he rubbed a hand over his mouth.

He shook his head. "Sorry, didn't think you'd...I didn't think anyone else would be up this late to shower."

You're eyeing him and he's eyeing you back, in fact, his eyes were eating you up. There was no denying how you enjoyed the hungry look in his eyes as they drifted along your wet curves, and you felt like the moment was to keep him busy and allow him to look his fill. "I just wanted a late night shower after all that riding."

“Don’t let me get in your way,” Mingi said. “I can go later, s'fine.”

You grabbed his wrist to stop him, pulling him back inside the bathroom and closing the door behind him and locking it. The tug made him move forward toward you and the end result was his muscled chest against your covered breasts, nipples protruding and rubbing against the hard muscles. You wanted to keep him and his perfect physique close, feeling his hard and chiseled edges press up against your body.

His expression seemed flustered.

"Join me," you said with a quick lick of your lips, sending him a seductive gaze and hoping that his brain was able to grasp the meaning behind that. "Or rather..."

A finger curled around the strap of your towel and gently pulled downwards, releasing the hold and leaving the fabric on the floor. Mingi's breath hitch and his lips parted. You leaned up as he dipped his head and met your lips, crushing against them softly, savoring the connection and the kiss. Your naked chest pressed against his own naked chest and his hands skimmed down your sides until he's gripping and pushing a thigh in between your legs, leaving your dripping cunt wide and open against his denim-clad thigh.

Your skin erupted into goosebumps and a soft moan slipped out of you when his lips connected to your throat and your teeth nipped playfully. A hand snaked downwards toward the growing erection pushing insistently against his jeans and Mingi growled into your skin as your palm pushed down slowly. The feel of that firm member, twitching beneath the constriction made your toes curl with the realization. You wanted that big dick in you now, wanted to get stretched open until you were stuffed to the brim with his cock.

But first things first.

With nimble fingers, you undid the front buckle, working on his belt and tugging the jean fabric down. The brush of Mingi's lips came off your throat and landed on the shell of your ear. His heavy breathing was a symphony. A sensational noise you'd wanted to hear.

"Damn, woman..." he husked and the roughness in his baritone made you shiver. "Need me that bad, don't you?"

"You were the one who said that you'd give it to me however I wanted," you said and felt the heat rush to your core as a pair of calloused hands clasped around your ass cheeks.

"I meant for ridin' horses," he was guiding your body backwards until your lower back hit the smooth surface of the bathroom counter and hoisted you up to sit on it. "And didn't imagine in my head that you'd make it dirty."

"That's what you say, cowboy," you placed a kiss to the edge of his mouth. The hands squeezing at your plush flesh was intoxicating.

His fingers slid upward along your sides, until those thick digits traced the curve of your waist and a single thumb reached up and brushed the edge of your supple breast. You're rewarded with a moan escaping your throat as his thumb found a hardened nub and twiddled, eliciting a string of heated moans as you closed your eyes in pleasure. You relished his touch as it moved back down to your thighs and he parted your legs, those talented fingers dipping low as the tips teased and pressed lightly at your sex. "So how do yah wanna get it, darlin'?"

"Surprise me," you replied, but Mingi didn't waste time as his strong, broad shoulders pried open your thighs. He gripped the fleshiness, fingertips digging as your stomach lurched in anticipation. What's he planning on doing? The cowboy dropped to his knees with a thud as you watched.

"Move backwards a little," he said in a gravely tone, not hesitating as you spread yourself before him, angling your body up and raising a leg over his shoulder to give the man better access. "Just relax and let me do my magic."

Watching the man on his knees, spreading you wide was such an erotic sight. His expression held lust and hunger and you felt a swell in your chest, aching to be touched and nibbled and licked at by Mingi's tongue. Then a palm presses to the inner-meaty of your thigh, nails softly digging.

His mouth is on you then, licking along the slit. The swipes tease and taunt you, making you throb for more attention. You want to fuck his face. How lovely and filthy a sight. That thick tongue swirling around the sensitive spot sends sparks to fly and dance throughout the room, soaking your inner folds. It's divine, indescribable even, what he's doing to you, and his skilled ministrations had your head falling back in bliss.

His thumb finds a pert nipple again and lightly grazes over it, massaging it slowly in small circles. There's a slight pressure as his middle finger travels between the inner lips, the cold feeling making you gasp and want to contract against his digits, wanting them deeper inside of you. "Holy shit, Mingi."

“Do you want me to keep going?” Mingi asked.

"Please," the word is more of a purr than a statement, and the sensation has you wrapping both thighs around his neck. The fingers curl and press right against that bundle of nerves, making your body erupt into a fit of moans. Then his mouth is back on your center, adding to the delicious teasing from his tongue and your toes are curling as you press the backs of your legs into him.

And you're lifting your body slightly upwards as if encouraging him further to work deeper into that spot. There's an almost growl emitting from him when you wiggle your hips and you swear there's a grin that appeared against your soaked sex. Mingi is fucking smirking, eating your juices like a damn meal.

“Gods, yes...” you moaned.

"Fucking delicious," he muttered against the folds, and when his other hand grips your ass to bring your pussy closer, you throw your head back and close your eyes, one hand gripping onto the counter top and the other finding a home in Mingi's dark hair. Your nails lightly tug at the locks, and you're rewarded with a groan against the hot, wet heat between your thighs.

"Shit, that's good," your walls clenched tighter around his fingers as he increased the pace. He works faster, sucking and nipping as the walls clamp down harder with each motion and sensation. There's a desperate tug now in your clit, pulling tighter. He's not only sending you spiraling closer and closer, he's edging you to your climax. "Fuck, that's perfect."

"Cum for me, darlin'. Cum on my mouth. It'll make my job that much easier." Mingi moans against your heat.

Oh, lord...

You shuddered and twitched as his fingers thrusting inside the pulsing, twitching sex made it harder to breathe and focus on his words. Your back arched in response and your body jerked violently in a trembling motion as that sensitive pearl continued to be manipulated by Mingi's experienced thumb, sliding slowly over the folds.

"That's it," he says softly and that's it, the coil bursts and unravels, flooding your whole system with relief and release. The tension evaporated. You came hard on Mingi's lips. So hard your walls clamped around his tongue and his digits as a few drops squirt out of your entrance and down your thighs, covering his wrist as he worked you through the orgasmic pleasure and high.

When the grip of your legs loosen and his arm retreats back to his side, you glance downwards and see the smirk forming on his lips. They glisten, plump and swollen from eating you out, but you reach a hand out and pull him towards your face and lock lips, your mouth finding his own, tasting the leftover mixture of his saliva and your nectar. A mixture which has you wanting to moan.

"We're not finished, cowboy," you whispered against his lips as you reached forward and gripped his now aching hard on in your hand, watching him squirm and writhe as his dick throbbed in response to your touch.

"Woman, I've been dying to be in since you rode that stallion." Mingi admitted.

You grinned. "Dying you say?"

"Fucking hard, and ready. Ready to be mounted by you," he grunted as you palmed the long length, applying the perfect amount of pressure to bring the cowboy pleasure. "Riding a stallion's one thing. Now you wanna ride something else."

Your heart stuttered in its beats as you replied with an answer. "Always."

Mingi chuckled, unlocking the door. "Let's save the rest for later, hmm? No point gettin' started on the main course, while the other guys are in the vicinity. Though I might wanna suggest taking this little show out of the bathroom next time, and doin' it in my bedroom, somewhere more private and quiet."

Your cheeks reddened and you bit back a tiny smile. "Maybe I'm okay with that. Being alone and having no prying eyes."

Mingi nodded, leaning in towards your mouth, grabbing the back of your head and tilting your chin up. He pecked a couple of small kisses to the edge of your lips, placing a finger along the top of your chin. "We have all week, darlin', don't worry. We have lots of time. Plus, I know exactly where to put a nice little hickey, so no one will see."

Hearing that and imagining that, made you shudder. You released a sigh as he kissed you, tasting remnants of your sweetness along the upper lip, his eyes twinkling. A single hand glided through your damp tresses and came up along your jawline as the kisses became deeper, exploring his mouth.

You could kiss him all night. But at the mention of 'week' it occurred to you that you'd spend every other night for the following seven days getting your fill of Mingi's dick. Couldn't have anything more perfect than that.

Mingi grinned.

And when he did, you melted.

Fuck the damn man-eater.

With your friends hiking the trails and Mingi tending to some of the work around the ranch, you find yourself somehow in his office trying to make some sense out of the paper mountain on his desk, after Seonghwa and San had warned about Mingi's flair for letting everything pile up for too long. You didn't mean to be in here, it's your vacation after all, but you needed a quiet place to escape to answer a few phone calls and emails.

When you stepped into the room with your tablet under your arm and some of your own work documents for reference and in search of a table, you didn't anticipate getting yourself involved and wrapped into Mingi's paperwork. Mingi found you in a flurry of folders and documents scattered across the office floor, filing cabinet drawers flung open as you frantically looked over receipts, trying to piece the puzzle together.

“Y/N, why are ya in here?” Mingi asked.

You raised your head and offered a sympathetic look. "Mingi, hi. I wanted to help."

“Ya know, you are a guest here. Ya didn't have to do that, none of this stuff, and my messy stack of papers ain't yer concern. You should be spending your vacation out riding horses with the others or soakin' in the hot springs,” Mingi said.

You bit your lower lip. "I couldn't stop looking, and it felt important. As an overworked accountant with absolutely no time for a social life, and therefore not dating anyone, and hence the reason I'm here for the week, this felt important. Maybe I could help."

Mingi watched carefully. "Help with what exactly?"

Your expression softened, though you tried to remain neutral. "Help with the muckstacks of financial records, the expense records, invoices and ledgers. I want to help."

"Look darlin', you don't have to," his hands pushed down on his jeans as he adjusted his stance. You wanted to look elsewhere, anywhere, at something besides the tight material pulling at Mingi's muscles and thighs and cock.

He had his full attention fixed on your face. It wasn't going to do you any good. There'd been enough interaction and temptation between the both of you as it was. "It's fine, just let me have a few moments and I'll take care of the mess later. Why are these files in so much disarray?"

He looked up in the air as if in deep thought. "These were put together and sorted by Jongho, one of the employees around the ranch and well, that guy's not good with math or anythin' related to the ranch's financial stuff."

You scanned around the cluttered office. "Well, at least his intentions were noble and I think we'll have some fun sorting this out later."

"Fun?" Mingi laughed.

You sighed. "All work and no play makes for a very, very dull girl. Besides, my friends are going to be gone for a while. And I might as well do something while they're gone hiking."

“Hiking? Why didn't ya go along?” Mingi asked.

"I prefer the company of the horses and other ranch activities," you said. "You can take the girl out of the country but you can't take the country out of the girl."

His grin had returned, lighting up his face. "They headed off with San and Wooyoung, or who knows, one or two more people might come down to help later. I'm guessing they'll be back around evening for some campfire activities."

"Guess that's something to look forward to," you said.

You brushed your thumb along the edge of the stack. A page had slid out and you picked it up, frowning at it.

"What is it?" Mingi asked.

"How has the ranch been doing financially? Your ranch has a nice reputation with its clientele and your reviews speak volume," you answered. "And yet these numbers, some of your expenditures here, show some discrepancies."

"A little money trouble," he answered with a shrug.

You furrowed your brow, turning to the calculator and scribbling some quick numbers, before jotting them down on a small notepad. Mingi is now hovering, watching you work as if mesmerized.

"Okay, these expenses are adding up, you've been a little irresponsible with some purchases but overall this should still leave your profits over what you're actually projected. So this money must have gone missing somewhere along the line, I'm guessing in payroll," you explained.

He's impressed.

"You can see that in such a quick manner and those pages I handed ya? No way..." He laughs then and you're taken aback. There's something boyish, gentle in the gesture and in that laugh. He's sexy, he's charming, and now this cowboy is full-on boyish and you find it undeniably alluring.

Damn it, you want him so bad.

You return his smile.

Mingi cleared his throat, a blush working up his neck and coloring his skin a dusty pink. "Darlin', you're amazing. S'much appreciated, and thank ya, i'd love your help."

"Of course," you replied and started sifting through the stack of papers, plucking some up here and there.

He had no clue as to why you'd even offer, when you were already taking time out of your vacation and then here you are doing his bookkeeping as well. "What made ya come on a week long horseback adventure in the first place?"

"I was persuaded by some of my friends," you responded. "They told me that they wanted me to tag along, that I needed to spend time away from my stressful and dead-end job. That I had spent too much time being a hermit and wanted to bring me on a nice trip to relax."

"No boyfriend to drag along or some such? A pretty thing like you not havin' someone special around makes me a little suspicious, honey. How many hearts have ya broken along the way with yer beauty?" Mingi asks.

You snorted and shook your head at the suggestion and shot him an incredulous look. "What about you, cowboy? Why don't you have a girl of your own, Mingi? I find that surprising. Seems like you would be scooping ladies up off the ground wherever you went."

He laughed. The sound is charming and a little intimidating. "Just haven't found a gal quite perfect for me. Guess I gotta be lookin' a little longer then."

You flashed him a half smile and went back to work, moving onto a small stack of receipts, jotting down things, calculating, and comparing numbers.

"Hey, mind if I stay in here a little while to watch you work? Yah know, keep you company and all," Mingi questioned.

You shook your head. "Don't bother me at all. I really appreciate the company."

So, as you began to scatter the papers all over the surface of the large table and organized a system, Mingi dropped himself down into a nearby chair and began observing your working and sorting, paying attention to what you were doing and trying to learn, much to your amusement.

Watching you at work was impressive as hell, and it didn't take you much time to notice the fact that his eyes never wandered. In fact, they seemed locked.

Mingi may not have been an educated guy, not in the books like you, but he was focused, you could tell. Mingi is driven. When he's on something, nothing comes between him and it until the job is complete. Right now, it's his ranch and what he wants. You have to admit, he's dedicated to what he wants, he wants his dream alive and well, and here you are.

At some point, you'd gotten lost in your numbers that you'd forgotten Mingi was there. Not until a large hand gently touched your backside.

"Why don't ya take a break from work and come outside with me," he'd suggested.

You're still startled from the small touch but not repulsed by it. A little tickled pink. "What for?"

He smiled and shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know, horse ridin', feedin' the animals. I'll let ya hold the baby chickens if ya promise to not run away with one, steal it and smuggle it to the city."

You tried to control the laughter but you failed, letting the bubbling up come through. "That wouldn't be very bright, I live in an apartment."

"Guess not then," he said.

You let out a small stretch. "But you know what, how do I say no? I would love to go riding with you."

The corners of his lips curved up a bit as you set down your pencil. You glanced outside toward the setting sun. What the hell, a change of pace was going to be interesting. You stood up from the small office table, where you'd been organizing and taking stock of inventory. "Lead the way, Mr Song."

"O' course," he said and made sure you were behind him, to follow him to the stables. "After yah, Miss L/N."

You both headed out towards the barns to catch a few more hours of daylight. You weren't expecting the view, watching Mingi trot out of the stall on his own personal horse, leading another towards your direction.

Your breath hitched.

Okay, sure you told the girls that cowboys don't exactly look like the men in the magazine because you know cowboys, you've met your fair share of cowboys before. Dated a few even. The picture of the cowboys didn't even come close to how beautiful this man in front of you truly was. He's gorgeous, simply and utterly breathtaking and you couldn't look away if you tried.

“You still with us?” Mingi asked.

Hearing him say that and knowing he's still on earth with you brought a rush of heat to your cheeks. Oh fuck... "Um, yes. Sorry, spaced out for a moment there. It's the accounting."

He flashed you an easy grin. "Take a break from those numbers, darlin' and come along with me. No point in being surrounded by such paper piles when you have something better to look at right in front of you. Ya'll have all week."

You let out a laugh as you swung your legs over and mounted the horse. Once you're situated with your balance and grip on the reins, you begin leading the stallion on the outskirts and just outside the property where you're able to view the vast space surrounding the barn and the ranch.

Mingi let himself have a big wide smile. He watched as you expertly climbed on the back of the horse, positioning yourself and getting into the saddle and not missing a beat. Sure there were other women that would throw themselves at him during their stay at the ranch, but all those women only wanted him for the view. For the image of a hot cowboy with abs and the talent on the rodeo. But not this girl. 

Not you.

You didn't come to the dude ranch just to make eye contact with him. You'd been riding the horses since a young age. You were the kind that liked nature and didn't wear high heels, didn't do anything extravagant or try to impress him with fancy and glamor. And that's the kind of woman that captured his attention, that could probably have him falling. He couldn't deny the attraction he felt for you. He was losing it, falling fast and there was absolutely no point in trying to stop it.

That was it for him. He was a damn goner. You were it.

“Darlin’?” Mingi called.

The wind pulled the words away, leaving you barely hearing what he's saying to you, and it's nice, so lovely, to hear his voice out here, where you're just enjoying nature and not buried into sheets of documents and numbers.

“Yeah, Mingi,” you replied.

“How 'bout a friendly race?” Mingi asked. 

A friendly race. He's asking you for a challenge. You lifted your brow and the corners of your lips raised. With his horse he can have an unfair advantage. After all, you didn't expect him to come saddling out behind you with his own horse. A big grin appeared on his face, while he had your stomach dropping. His features looked rugged under that damn hat of his and he's just got that dangerous sort of glint in his dark eyes. You shivered with thoughts, all the wicked and filthy images coming to mind.

“I thought you might go easier on a guest of yours,” you said.

“But I never had a guest who knew her way around a horse,” Mingi replied.

"True," you replied, gripping the leather saddle beneath you, the old material coarse against your palms.

Mingi narrowed his eyes. "So? Do ya accept then? I got a price of some sort for ya if ya win."

Your eyes sparkled at the challenge and you took a deep breath, clearing your thoughts. Your attention returned to Mingi. "And what is that, if I win?"

He raised his chin up, licking the edge of his lower lip. "Name the reward then. Whadda you say? Come on darlin', lemme get an answer from yah. Put me out of my damn misery."

Your chest flutters at the last word and at that hopeful expression in Mingi's eyes. What could a nice race possibly give you as a prize? Anything would be worth it. "Okay, Mingi, if I win the race, you have to do something for me."

“Like?” Mingi asked.

You were both traveling slowly across the landscape, both keeping your respective horses on a short reign so as to not gallop away too quickly.

“An exclusive date with the handsome cowboy who owns the ranch,” you said.

You watched him swallow as you proposed the suggestion. "Just that then? I'm a lucky bastard, I'd be thrilled if I win. Then I'd get a date with a girl as pretty as you. Winning a kiss, holding your hand for a single day could be nice."

The warm flush works its way down your neck and settles below your throat. You shift in the saddle, watching his head as he turns to focus on the ranch and the landscape in front of you. A white cap has now settled itself and a tiny breeze drifted around you both.

"And you?" you asked, your gaze falling back toward him, observing how the horse moved beside yours, watching how he adjusted his hands against the leather bridle.

"And I what, darlin'?" he asked, leaning forward and you notice his upper arm muscle bulging from under his shirt sleeves. He's staring forward and now you can see a pair of gray-blue eyes focused.

“Well, what's your end of the bet? What is the prize to you?” you asked.

You.

You reached a river flowing gently across the landscape, watching the currents change with every slight turn of the horse you're sitting on top. Beside you, Mingi adjusts his hat on his head as he leaned back in the saddle.

"Guess ya won this one," he said quietly.

You pull the reins and lead the horse around, coming face to face with Mingi. The both of you had dismounted and led the horses to the riverside, giving them a moment to feed on the fresh grass. The stallion is kneeling down near Mingi's horse, tearing the green shoots up and chewing the sweet tender grass blades.

"Better luck next time, cowboy," you patted the horse. "Now, don't we have a little business we need to attend to?"

Mingi, red in the cheeks and feeling warm all over, nods. "Ya won."

“That means the winner gets her prize. How about right now? Just you and me,” you purred.

"Sweetheart, there's nothing but the river and these fields," he smirked and lifted his hands. "What do you plan on doing here?"

"Showing you a little something," you murmured, your fingers grasping the hem of your shirt. Mingi's eyes grow wider as he watches you lift off the white cotton shirt to reveal a pretty blue lace bralette.

"Let's finish what we started the night in the shower," you muttered as you dropped to your knees, your hands grasping the leather belt on the front of his jeans. "Is that okay? Don't you want me to?"

"I do, sweetheart. I do," Mingi let out. "But you deserve to be in the comforts of a bed, not out here on the grass. Are you sure?"

“Mingi, right now, on this field or in the middle of that cold shower, it doesn't matter,” you said. “Right here, just us, as long as we're together is where I want this.”

"Then so it'll be," he says with a smirk. He walks to his horse and pulls out a thin blanket from one of the side pouches, draping it over the ground. "I don't want you to get dirty, and the grass is prickly."

Your hands had undid his pants, freeing his thick length from the fabric confinements and watched as his cock had already started growing. The warmth of his hardness against your palm. "I bet you fucked plenty of girls out in the open if you had a blanket ready."

Mingi laughed, but there wasn't humor in it, as you began stroking up and down his shaft. "Not as many as you're thinkin' sweetheart. I only have it on the days I'm riding out at night and sleeping out under the stars."

"Yeah?" you muttered, dragging his pants further down his legs. You glanced back at him and he's now  unbuttoning his shirt, letting it slide off.

"Yeah," Mingi answered, then stepped out of his jeans and tossed them on his boots. "Open up those pretty lips, darlin' and take me deep."

"You don't have to tell me twice," you grinned and inched closer to his crotch, guiding your tongue along his length.

Your soft wet tongue glides against his shaft. Mingi's not quite prepared and so you open wide as you suck him down, listening to him gasp when you bob down and back up again and begin sucking harder and harder, taking a few inches further in.

Your tongue swirled at the tip before you dove right back onto his thick cock, stretching your lips to accommodate his size, feeling him press back toward your throat and you swallow, letting it tickle down into your throat. He's already filling your mouth so well with just a taste.

"Good girl, just like that," he grunts and strokes your hair, using it as an anchor, tangling his fingers and weaving it through as you sucked his entire length. "Let me see those beautiful eyes."

And he's watching you now, his gorgeous brown eyes as they stay glued to your face, meeting his lusty gaze. That familiar hunger had come back, so intense, making you weak to the bones. You've been with plenty of men, plenty of cowboys, and none have ever had the same effect, have taken hold of you so fast like this.

"Such a filthy girl, your lips look amazing around my thick cock," Mingi is beautiful above you. His eyes shuttering close, his head falling back, lips parting in a groan.

When he opened his eyes again, they were darker. As he continues to rock in and out, he makes a low sound and places a large hand on the back of your head, his fingers digging in tight. He's pulsating in your mouth and you can feel his thickness throbbing, that thick head forcing its way back against your throat.

"Ah fuck. Darlin'... fuck, baby, that's good, too damn good," his voice groans.

You pull back, relaxing your throat and give yourself a moment of relief to catch your breath. You're using the opportunity to continue jerking and slicking your hand. Saliva and pre cum was spilling on your skin, creating a slippery friction.

You stared down at your hand, your fist moving in a pumping motion against Mingi's thick, wet cock. There's a bit more slickness at the tip, pre-cum dribbling down, running in a steady stream over his length. Mingi grasps your jaw. You have to tilt your head.

"Don't think you're done yet, pretty baby," Mingi reaches for the waistband of your shorts and pulls it down, then guides his fingers to slip inside of your panties and move them over. 

"Fuck," Mingi muttered. He can feel the warm juices spilling out of your soaked and sticky slit. He plays at your entrance, just teasing it before slipping his finger into you. You clenched tight and he smiled down at you, moving in a quick circular motion and back out. His hands move to pull the lace down further, revealing his glistening wet fingers, that's coated with your essence. He smirks, his expression dripping with filth. He licks them. 

"Darlin', there's something I gotta ask," Mingi's voice is deep and raw, filled with desire, and oh he can barely keep himself contained, wanting to dive into you and bring you to pleasure again. "Ever ridden a cowboy before?"

You rolled your eyes and smirked, biting down on your lower lip. "Maybe," you admitted, arching an eyebrow at him.

"Mm hmm," Mingi slid his pants the rest of the way off and took you by the wrist. He sits back on the blanket, his erection sticking up, angry and stiff, curving almost perfectly as he relaxes against the flannel material. He pats his thigh, a smirk working across his lips. "Come and mount me, cowgirl. Saddle on up."

With a smile, you position yourself over Mingi's thick cock, slowly sinking down inch by inch until you have the entirety of his shaft, stuffed inside. A delicious moan slipped out of you. It was just as full and stretched as it felt during the night at the shower. His girth split you and you're nearly shuddering with how the heat throbs between your legs. You're clenching against his thick length and it feels incredible. "Oh my god... Mingi, it's..."

"Gonna be a bouncy ride. Don't worry sweetheart, I'll hold you tight, trust me," he grinned at you, sliding his large hand across your ass cheek and grasping it, palming at the supple curve.

"Yessss..." you drawled out a moan and the moment you start moving, feeling him glide in and out of your slick passage. The ripples of pleasure began to ripple from the bottom of your toes and run all through. "Shit, you're gonna ruin me for anyone else. Mingi, god, this thick dick is gonna wreck me."

He licked his lower lip, thrusting up, pushing his hips and following you. "Feel good? Tell me, I wanna hear, tell me just how you feel, darlin'. Take all of this big fat cock you can get."

You leaned back, reaching your arms up to get a nice grip on Mingi's muscled shoulders. It was easy to steady your pace, his girth sinking into your warmth with his constant upward strokes. It was different, doing the motions in reverse, having a view of the man before you while still seeing his perfect cock slip in and out of you.

"This what ya needed, honey? Say my name," Mingi's voice is gruff and sultry, as you bounce your cunt against his cock, causing wet skin sounds that could be heard with every smack of his thighs meeting yours. His dark, piercing stare remained on you, focusing in, paying attention to the little details, especially every inch of exposed skin, everything that could send pleasure through your body.

"Fuck, it feels amazing," you whispered against his ear and sank your teeth on the skin of his earlobe. He grasped your ass and yanked you towards him, ramming his cock inside of you. "Yes, fuck, I love how good this is. It's going to ruin me, but damn, I don't even want it to stop."

A deep chuckle left his chest. His warm breath grazing the skin along the crook of your neck. "Ride this cock till you milk me for every drop. Use me for every inch you need. Whatever it is, whatever ya want, darlin', it's yours. You have control." 

Mingi stroked your face with his free hand. Your soft warm pussy clenched against his shaft as you continued riding him. Mingi groaned, his fingers pressed into the flesh of your thigh. "Fuck, that's what you wanted all day, isn't it? Just the promise of my dick deep in you. Needed me to fill up your pussy, sweet baby."

You've fucked a cowboy or two, in your experience, but man none of them compared to Mingi. None have held a candle to how fucking thick his shaft is as it reaches every spot inside. Even your toys have nothing on the stretch that you're getting from the man currently beneath you. Mingi's dick felt amazing sliding deep, your cunt sensitive and tensing. 

"Yes, yes. It's the only thing I've wanted," you told him. "Nothing better."

The corner of his lips tilted upwards, feeling a bit smug as he raised his knees and changed the angle. He's angling your movements now and it's hitting that glorious sweet spot with ease. 

"This dick the best you've had, sweet girl?" He grunts in between breaths. His strong thighs rocking, grinding, driving his fat shaft. "Nobody else is gonna fuck you this good, hm? No way any other cock will be this thick or nice, make you feel like this." 

He's taking your moans like a goddamn mantra of sweet noises. "Oh? What was that sweetheart? Come and lemme hear."

He pulled you flush with his body. Your cunt now kissing the base of Mingi's hard shaft.

"No one..." you managed to gasp out, breathless, and began working up the pace. Fucking him fast, feeling his thickness caress that special spot again. "Never.. felt this fucking good," your hands grabbed his hard pecs. "Oh fuck, Mingi!"

"Come on, baby, show me just how much ya love taking my fat cock," he grinned up at you, eyes bright and flashing with wicked gleams of light. "That's right, show me, sweet thing, c'mon. That's good, good fucking girl. Keep it like this and milk me til ya squeeze me dry. All the cum I've got for ya."

Hearing him talk was beyond hot. There is no doubt he has ruined you. Fuck any other guy. Mingi's the one you needed to be fucked by. Your hands found a grip on his solid muscular shoulders. Your pace never slowed down. Mingi was helping you out, setting the rhythmic beat, meeting the clap of your hips. 

"Oh yes. I'll be your dirty girl, no matter the kind of request, no matter how nasty. As long as it's you giving me all the cock," you purred. "Fuck, no one will ever compare. Want this inside of me everyday."

“Such a greedy little thing,” Mingi chuckled.

"Fuck, cowboy, yeah just like that. Ruin me," you whispered, arching your back, bouncing down, harder, faster, allowing him deeper. "Make me addicted to this big fucking cowboy cock."

Your dirty, sexy words drove him crazy, feeling him turn wild underneath you. In a split second he's switched you both, rolling so he's on top now. Your legs fell open wider, letting his full weight down on top of you. He's starting a vicious and wicked pace, just drilling into your cunt, rough, strong, slamming the base against you. "What would your friends think, huh? Sweet pretty thing like you, enjoying such a dirty fuck. Laying under me with such a greedy wet pussy."

"Don't care," you grunted. "I only fucking want you."

"Are you on birth control, Y/N?" His voice came in a husky tone. He kept moving, pumping into your clenching heat.

"Yeah, yeah I am. Mingi," you whined, your grip firm on his arm.

"Good, beautiful. Been dreaming about coming inside, fillin' ya up all warm. Making you drip out all my seed. Damn it," his lips found your own. He was moving as close to you as possible, leaving little room for his hands. He kept fucking hard into your core. "How much of me can you handle?"

"All, everything. I'm begging you," you met his lips with more force, loving his kiss, hungry for the taste. You held on to his head, not breaking the touch as he moved and pumped harder.

“Hang on then, you're about to get a damn gusher,” Mingi warned.

A throaty moan leaves you, feeling that hot gushing warmth filling you up. There's so much cum, already slipping out as he continued fucking into you, drawing out every last drop. His body shuddering on top, your arms holding on, squeezing his large form and you were moaning from the intense pressure of your orgasm rippling through.

Your pussy is flooded with Mingi's cream as he gently drops his mouth on your neck and kisses and licks away, continuing to spill his seed deep inside of you and you both enjoy the mutual pleasures of your orgasms. You closed your eyes, rolling in ecstasy, your entire body becoming relaxed and tired.

"Thank you, sweet girl," Mingi dropped his forehead on yours, catching his breath and gradually calmed his thrusting. He was looking down at you with such a content face, sweat slicking his hair. "Let's get ya cleaned up and then head back to the ranch."

Your friends watched the whole scene unfold between you and Mingi riding back in on the horses as they waited for your return. Jinhee sees the small smile on your face from her position near the picnic table, setting up for some good old fashioned dinner style campfire. She let out a silent squeal, squeezing her hands tightly and grabbing Bora by the forearm. "Y/N and Mingi are riding back."

"She looks so happy," Bora replied. "I think she really missed the country lifestyle."

Hyemi nodded. "She looks at peace here. I've never seen her this happy ever since she joined the firm. She could finally enjoy herself."

"She's actually been relaxed for once in her life," Jinhee teased, resting the platter of hotdogs and meat onto the side of the table and taking a long gulp from her s'mores stick. "Not wound up and frazzled with all her paperwork she brings with her everywhere she goes."

"Uh, ladies," Hyemi began, moving closer towards the women.

You rode up along the pasture with the tall cowboy not too far behind. You tugged on the reins, bringing the mare to a slow walk and allowing Mingi and his steed to catch up.

"Nice race, pretty lady," he gave you a wink.

"Can't believe I beat you at a race. Are you really rusty?" You laughed.

“Maybe you were pretty damn distracting along the ride back to the stable,” Mingi replied. “Distracting enough to leave me speechless. You sure damn well know how to leave an impression.”

You turned and watched him climb off his stallion and steady his footing, throwing the straps over the wooden bar. Once he's secured the animal, he offered you a hand and helped pull you down off the saddle.

Your feet finally touch the ground. "Pretty good for a city girl, am I?"

"Ahhhh but you're a country girl, remember?" He winked.

"That I am," you laughed. You patted the horse. "I'm not ready for my friends' teasing. They saw us ride back in."

"So they saw me get my ass whipped. Oh well, what's a man's pride anyway when he's faced with a beauty like yourself," Mingi replied and let out a smile. "Hey, you did earn your reward darlin' and I'm a man who keeps his promises. Now go on. I think your friends are waitin'."

He kissed you on the cheek, a small, chaste brush against skin. He's left you breathless, staring after him and your knees feeling a little weak, all too aware of how hard he can kiss. It wasn't fair to turn on that charm at a moment like now.

The women all giggled, waving you over once you've headed towards them.

"So...were those rosy cheeks because of a nice ride on your horse? Or because of a certain tall, dark, and handsome someone you were with?" Jinhee questioned, eyeing you from head to toe.

You were a mess and you know it, covered in sweat from your horse ride with Mingi, still filled to the brim with adrenaline and some hormones.

"You're asking me the wrong questions, I'm too overwhelmed and heated from the sun," you joked.

Bora crossed her arms, frowning, not buying any of the bullshit. "Something is different. That sparkle, the glint, in your eyes says there's something more to that cowboy we met the first day we came."

"Pssssh," Hyemi pipped up. "Don't lie, Y/N, we saw the look on your face when you were riding back. You looked happy, more happy than I'd ever seen."

Your shoulders shrugged and your lips pursed, holding back the excitement and pure happiness wanting to pour through.

Hyemi went up behind you and clasped her hands together. "Oh come on, tell us more. Tell us anything, everything!"

You were not going to tell your friends about having gotten eaten out in the bathroom by Mingi or even have sex out in the open fields, but you could tell them about the racing bet. 

You turned to them, facing the group as one. "Well, let's talk about that over some beer and dinner. I'm starved."

The sun set beyond the horizon and the glow illuminated the landscape. With the lantern lights, the campfires and the company, this is the most peaceful and happiest you've been in a long, long time.

The coolness of the evening washed over your skin and you felt free, carefree.

Not spending time worrying about money and expense statements for a single business, stressing and working non-stop every single week just to make ends meet. You're used to this, you've lived with the pressures of city life.

And being in this place? Back in the countryside and enjoying your old habits and life, brought you some type of solace and a level of contentment you never experienced.

The familiar crackle, pop of the fire as you sat around, snuggled in a quilt. The cold beer, the smores, and laughter. You breathed deep into the fresh air. It'd been so long since you'd seen so many stars in the sky. A couple nights in the city would yield nothing.

This was your heaven.

While the ladies gathered themselves and talked, you didn't feel a little lost on the side of the camp, looking up.

“Beautiful view, isn't it?” Mingi asked.

You jerked your neck in the direction of the sound. Mingi had sat next to you with a beer in hand and a curious look upon his features.

"It certainly is," you responded. "It's hard to look at the stars in the city. But this? Makes me not want to return."

He cocked his head to the side. "Surely this can't compare to your fancy job," he said.

Your shoulders raised. "Honestly? It isn't glamorous or exciting like the people might think. All I do is stare at numbers day in and day out and live for those paychecks. So the view here? Is something I missed about home."

"Ever thought about going back?" He questioned. "Thinking maybe that move was a mistake."

You let out a soft sigh. "Every single day. I'm thinking that I've made a huge mistake. Working in a place where I can be overworked and not paid what I'm really owed. I don't understand why I'm struggling in the first place, but I do know that there has to be a better option out there. But I wouldn't have met my friends if I didn't move to the city. But still, there are times when I want to go back."

He's so close to you, and in the darkness his eyes look like glitter, bright and reflecting the starlight.

You shook your head and broke out of the haze you were caught in. He leaned closer, closing in the distance and the gap between you. Your throat thickened as your skin pricked, an awareness washing over your body. His jaw works as he swallows hard and lets out a slow and hot, heavy breath. He wants, so badly, to press a sweet kiss to the corner of your lips. But he wouldn't dare ruin this, not with your friends just a few feet away.

"Then stay," Mingi murmured and lifted his head so his gaze could meet yours. The hand holding his beer shifted, and you could swear you saw his fingers move toward yours as a sweet offer. "Stay with us. I could use your help around the ranch, a woman with your skill could be the blessing I'm waiting for. Staying would give ya a chance to get out from beneath those numbers and back out here in the country. The ranch isn't far from the city so your friends could visit anytime."

The warm huff of his words breezes across your nose, and then it's his smell that surrounds you. His sweet musk and the deep earthy woodsy scent.

“You've been working on my papers so you already know how bad my books are. The ranch isn't thriving right now, not when I got these things just hangin' over me. But with a fresh pair of eyes? Maybe a new opportunity? I need your help, Y/N,” Mingi said. “In anything. Accounting, bookkeeping, the finances. Heck, if ya offered to help around the ranch, I wouldn't mind that either.”

You heard your friend's conversation still playing out, their soft, lilting laughter in the background. And Mingi's whispers as his mouth ghosted the curve of your ear. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," he muttered as he leaned his head closer, his hand cupping the curve of your face, bringing your nose closer to his and leaving a short gap between your lips and his. His lips pressed against the soft pillow of yours, kissing it briefly and ever so softly.

The world faded away. All that's left is Mingi. And it's just his voice, his closeness and the way his breath touches you and ignites tiny sparks underneath your skin.

He inhaled, taking a sharp, small breath as his face inches nearer towards yours, noses nearly touching and lips barely grazing against each other, a ghost-like touch and heat, making you warm. You breathed in his musk scent, an intoxicating pull that pulled you to him. He kissed you again, soft, not seeking any kind of tongue, and you didn't dare try either.

A warm wave washed over you, this warmth of desire spreading through and the blood humming with the light contact of lips brushing lips, both pulling each other closer.

His mouth fit so perfectly against yours.

You broke away slowly and looked into Mingi's eyes, heavy lidded. Your forehead dropped to his shoulder and the soft chuckles vibrated through his chest, causing a ripple against you.

The beer was forgotten and you were only holding onto the blanket around you, you heard the hoots and hollers of your friends that jolted you out of the fantasy. That you had to snap back into reality. Your lips are on fire and there's still the warmth that he left with that sweet little touch, seared onto your skin and igniting every part of your body.

He had sat up straighter, away from you, watching from his peripheral view and knowing there were eyes trained on the pair of you. He coughed and started to drink his beer, but you've both lost that brief moment of privacy and connection you just had moments ago. 

"Gonna think on it, darlin?" Mingi asked and reached over to grasp your hand and stroke a thumb over the knuckles, slow and intimate.

You couldn't breathe, and he chuckled and dropped his hand from yours. Mingi stood up and gave a brief smile, and a quick nod before tipping his cowboy hat at you. "Let me know." Then he walked towards Yunho and Seonghwa, who were eyeing him while drinking from their own bottles of beers, and slung his arms around both the ranch hands' necks. The three men laughed and walked back towards the direction of the stable.

Fuck you had it bad for Mingi. Badly. Like ridiculously fucking bad.

"Don't you even try to deny anything!" Bora pointed. "We all fucking saw that shit. You had heart eyes! Who the fuck are you and what have you done with our serious and strict workaholic friend who won't even allow herself time to enjoy the simpler life?"

"Was he a good kisser?" Jinhee asked, a genuine curiosity on her face.

"Yes," you mumble.

"Say that again? You're gonna have to speak up because even a mouse is quieter than you." Hyemi teased.

"For fuck's sake, yes he was a damn good kisser. Wouldn't you wanna be kissed by someone like him?" you let out a sigh of defeat.

Bora and Hyemi high five each other while Jinhee is cackling.

"She admitted it, pay up, girls," Hyemi held her hand out, awaiting a few large bills. She collected the money from Jinhee and Bora. "Didn't I tell you I called Y/N and her cowboy kiss?"

“Did you two do anything else? Anything kinkier than a sweet and chaste kiss?” Bora asked, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

"Uh.." you didn't know how much you should admit.

"Y/N, you dirty minx," Hyemi winked and slid a drink over your way. "But I won't press you, I just hope it was satisfying and worth your time."

You took a gulp and said, "It was more than satisfying."

"Well, well, well," Bora put her elbows on the table and leaned in, pressing her hands to her chin, resting her head against them. "What's gonna happen to our best friend?"

"Who knows," you sighed, allowing the cool crispness of the alcohol burn down your throat and calm your racing heart, wondering what would happen now. How did things progress further with a simple and brief touch of the lips? "Who the hell knows."

Mingi, Yunho, and Seonghwa wandered back up the pathway, walking towards the stable to call it a day and start to head inside to meet up with the other five men that were his ranch hands and friends.

Seonghwa had a big smirk plastered on his face, tossing his hand up and patting a hand against Mingi's shoulder blade, shaking his body. "Someone's got an itchin' for a certain lil lady."

Yunho was walking alongside, listening, giving Mingi a side eye.

Mingi put up a dismissive gesture, shrugging.

"My question is," Seonghwa started. "Is this about lust or love? Huh?"

"She's not mine to claim, Seonghwa, not just yet anyway." Mingi stopped to look up at the night sky, rubbing the back of his neck with the palm of his hand and taking off his hat. He brushed it along the curve of his leg, ridding himself of dirt before he returned it.

He heard some distant squeals and yells from the girls across the yard, coming closer. A beautiful night filled with beautiful memories. "A week isn't long enough to develop feelings for a pretty girl such as herself," he commented.

"Bullshit," Wooyoung groaned and his brows knit together. He swung a strong arm at Mingi's, cussing at the man who's got the bigger body structure. "All ya do is eat, sleep, and fuck. Those feelings don't exist?"

"She's different, okay? I can't explain why, I know this is very hard to believe considering I fuck around all the time. But Y/N? Man, she knows her way around a ranch, she knows business and books and that kinda stuff," Mingi breathed deep. His eyes followed as the group walked by. "She knows about the situation with the ranch and she offered to help with the papers when I never asked her to. No strings attached and she wanted to do it because she has a heart of gold and that kindness is why she decided to. It was just for fun but she is intelligent as fuck and knows her shit when it comes to numbers. Y/N could easily kick my ass if we were on even footing. Don't even question me man, she's special."

The girls continued to move around.

Mingi closed his eyes. "I'm not looking for another fling."

"Shit, is my pansy ass cowboy boss fallin' in love?" Jongho questioned and placed his palms on his chest, a loud groan. "Love makes you weak."

Mingi tried to shrug, a smile creeping to his lips. "Haven't ever thought of feeling this way until I met Y/N. Hell, I even asked her to stay longer."

"What?!" Yunho finally spoke, eyes wide and round as he looked over to his best friend.

“Yeah, yeah,” Mingi replied. “And I wasn't kidding.”

"Are you stupid?! Have you lost your mind asking someone who's got their whole life planned back in the big city, to stay here with the likes of us? Living like this in the country,," Hongjoong raised his voice.

"You guys weren't there when she was talking about missing home. Missing her family's ranch and having that time out of the corporate bullshit she does day to day. She's lost, she knows she needs to leave but doesn't have a reason. Maybe Y/N stays for the ranch, maybe she'll stay for me," Mingi suggested, grinning. "What do I have to lose?"

"Your sanity. Everything you have is riding on that little city slicker," San joked.

"Look, you can take the girl out of the country but you can't take the country out of the girl," Mingi interjected, laughing. He turned away from the others, walking toward his house. "Who knows, if this is about a one week fling, then fine. She goes and that'll be it. But Y/N stays a little longer and she fits right in here with us, then I'll be damned if I let her go back."

"Ya'll fucked, didn't ya?" Wooyoung commented, brows furrowed.

Mingi waved him off. "Piss off, you dickheads, leavin' ya to clean the mess in the stable and tuck the horses in for the night. Don't forget to give the chickens fresh water!"

Mingi kept a smile on his face, laughing when Seonghwa scoffed and he looked over his shoulders. "And go ahead and polish the stallion's boots because I'll be sure not to leave the stallion untied!"

San chuckled, mumbling. "That's what ya'll are..."

Mingi flung his hands back, his middle fingers up high, pointing both his fingers out for his group of friends. "I can hear ya, asshole!" He gave one final wave before stepping back into his house, calling for his dogs, and closing the door. 

He rested against the wooden frame, leaning his head against the entryway. He couldn't get this week out of his mind.

He didn't expect any of these events to transpire. For a girl, for a woman, for you, to make him feel so strong and alive. Mingi can't wrap his mind around it, the fluttering feeling in his chest that made him weak in the knees, whenever he's with you.

He exhales sharply and tries to close his eyes and breathe. But this time, his fantasies of you come rushing forward. He can see your beautiful body spread bare underneath his gaze, head thrown back, naked chest flushed and panting. He can see it all with clarity, and his cock gets harder thinking about it. And it makes his heart pound faster, and Mingi wants you again, badly, so so badly, but for a completely different reason. It wasn't a physical thing, not anymore.

After those events between you and him happened, everything has changed. The need for him and wanting his body has transformed. Mingi knew that somehow you felt the same way. Maybe you're the girl for him.

Mingi's body yearns for a good night's rest and he is quick to start a shower. He quickly strips and takes a hot, soothing shower, allowing the steam and water to wash over his aching muscles and body.

But he cannot shake the urge to see you, his soul cries for you, so he peeks his head out of the shower curtain. His eyes dart quickly around for any sight of his boxers, but they're nowhere to be seen. He checked and rechecked his laundry basket. Nothing, empty, nada. Mingi saw that those boxers were nowhere to be found. "Sonofabitch." He was hoping, praying that his dogs haven't gotten ahold of his boxers. Because of the teasing that'll happen with those smartass guys that work with him and him having to deal with their non-stop joking comments, that's something that'll really irritate him for an entire week. He shook his head and grumbled, a habit he had picked up from Seonghwa.

Fuck it. He quickly finished up and scrubbed his body, smelling of a soft forestry scent, and grabbed his towel from a rack in the shower to wrap it around himself. Water dripped along the toned muscles of his chest, sliding along his abs, the indents that the towel molded to. Water dribbled from his dark wet locks, splashed against the shower and floor. He was so engrossed in drying off, his legs swinging wildly to a beat as he danced and shimmied while drying his lower half, that he didn't even notice you entering his bedroom.

"Oh my god, Mingi," you hastily turned away and put a hand over your eyes. You peeked through the crack of the two fingers holding over your eyelids and Mingi couldn't help but laugh.

"You're so shy all of sudden? This is the same woman who was bouncing up and down on my dick for the world to see outside?" Mingi snorts and continues drying off his body. "Why are you here? Shouldn't you be in bed?"

"Couldn't sleep so I figured I'd help finish your paperwork, also-" you stopped. You almost blurted out that you missed the hell out of him and couldn't get him out of your mind but bit your lip and prevented yourself.

“What else? Your face is reddening up. What is it?” Mingi asked.

"Well, I, uhhh- " Your hands were clasping and wringing the hem of your pajama shirt, biting on your lower lip. The awkward silence between you was becoming so very obvious. And in the corner of your peripheral vision, you could see him shaking his head and scoffing, smirking as he reached for a pair of pajama bottoms and throwing the towel to the floor.

"If you want more, just say so." Mingi winked.

"Yeah?" you breathe. "You'll give me more?"

"Somethin' tells me that the bookkeeping stuff isn't what brought ya here in the first place." Mingi smiled as he pressed up against your body. Your chests colliding with his full and naked body. The rough texture and sturdiness of his body provides the support to your own body that is needed.

"Can we just lay in bed together instead?" You looked up with hopeful eyes and whispered against his collarbones.

"Now darlin', you don't gotta ask. If that's what makes ya happy." He threw himself on top of the covers of the bed. Gestured for you to come up beside him and welcomed the embrace with arms open, wrapping around your form. A tiny, perfect fit within his long frame. His muscular arms and legs trapping your smaller ones. You breathed a contented sigh. It felt perfect, being in his arms. "You're not gonna disappear in the morning are you?" Mingi asked.

You huffed a laugh, his fingers were stroking and kneading through your hair. "Not planning on going anywhere."

"Mmm…" his eyelids drooped as his thumb rubbed your scalp, melting into a warm state. "And if your girls are looking for you?"

"They can deal with me tomorrow. They're big girls. And I'm tired," you breathed against his bare shoulder.

"Yes ma'am. Do what you will. Although, I gotta say," he shifted, releasing your head to look at you, only for you to rest against the planes of his bare chest. You felt a few droplets of water trickle across your forehead. You both remained in comfortable silence. You heard his deep inhalation and felt his lungs expanding beneath your arms. 

"This is something I'd wanna wake up to every day," he whispered and brushed some stray hairs away, his thumbs stroking your jaw, and pulling your chin up. Your lips pressed firmly against his soft, full and puffy ones. "I like you, darlin'. Real, real bad. So I'd love it if you stayed."

He pulled the blanket up, covering your shoulders. He turned to switch off his bedside lamp. And then, it was darkness that settled. Only your quiet breath could be heard, and the deep evenness of Mingi's that you matched.

"Thank you for the week, Mingi," you whispered and tipped your nose up, brushing against the soft sensitive skin under his chin, trailing soft kisses along the skin there. "Really."

Some Months Later

"Mingi...The girls are going to be here soon!" you whined as your back was plastered against the wall, arms wrapped around his neck and his legs caging you. There is the light flush of your cheeks. Lips, red and bruised. Mingi's cowboy hat placed crooked on your head.

"Don't care, baby, we have a few minutes before they're due," his raspy and growling voice had you pressing your knees closer together, fighting off a soft whimper.

"So...rude," you sighed heavily and crossed your arms, avoiding him. "At least give me time to catch my breath!"

"No, baby, want ya now," Mingi groaned out.

"God, you're fucking impatient!" you groan and giggle as his head bows and peppers soft kisses across your cheeks.

"Yer fault for looking so sexy wearing my clothes." Mingi muttered.

"It's only a t-shirt, it's comfortable, okay,” you retorted.

"Mmhm...and my hat," he whistles low. "Love seeing you wear that and nothing else."

"When my friends get here, you better behave," you warned him.

Mingi nodded eagerly, nuzzling the crook of your neck, teeth grazing your pulse and biting a mark. He wanted everyone to know you belonged to him. "Yes, ma'am. Do I ever disobey yer orders, darling?"

"Yes," you quickly responded. "So often and I hate it."

His large warm palms grazed up and down your thighs and squeezed a handful of your ass. "Now, what do you really want, darling?" He rolled his hips and gave his stiff erection a light press against the area where your thighs met, giving a sharp hiss at the contact and pressure.

"Okay. maybe, I like you disobedient," you moan. "But can we wait until later? They'll be here and I-"

"Seonghwa and the guys can help them out," Mingi nipped at your collarbone. "It's not like the girls haven't been on the ranch before."

"I guess, just a quickie, maybe?" you glance over the clock hanging near your hallway, time is running low.

"How much time do you think we got? Five minutes tops?" Mingi laughed.

"Maybe five, or less," you dropped your eyes. You just couldn't resist him. You never could.

Mingi smirked. "Have I told you how sexy you are and how I want you all the time?"

You kiss him softly. "At least a hundred times in the past week." You slipped a hand down his chest and dipped a finger into his pants. His hips jerked.

"Hey," you heard a voice and footsteps coming from the door. "Yunho wanted me to─Oh damn it," and Bora started coughing to hold back a laugh, eyeing the way you clung onto Mingi. She turned back away quickly, hollering at the others. "They're still fucking! Don't bother knocking! She can't be separated from him!"

"Sonofabitch," he groaned. "I guess not today."

"I told you we didn't have enough time!" you pull down your top and slide Mingi's hat from your head, placing it back. You roll your eyes and tussle your hands through his hair. "Behave, yeah?"

"Never," his hand is on your back and he walks with you out of the bedroom. "Baby?"

"Hmm?" you give him a quizzical look.

"I'm happy you decided to stay. This all means everything to me," he whispers softly and leans down, embracing you in a slow, tender kiss, dipping his cowboy hat at you with a wide smile once he pulls away. "Love you, darlin."

You giggled and patted his shoulders, smiling right up at him, "Love you too, sweetheart."

After another kiss, you and Mingi walked towards the others and watched as Wooyoung showed Jinhee how to feed a horse. Bora was eyeing San and asking him many questions while Seonghwa and Hyemi conversed amongst each other. Jongho and Hongjoong were busy attending to a few others who were also out for riding and your eyes fell to Yunho and Yeosang. They were busy showing other guests a couple things to make sure they were riding safely and had your brows furrowed.

As soon as Hyemi turned to her side and noticed Mingi and yourself, she rushed over with excitement, arms around you. "The ranch sure is growing fast, it's looking great here!"

"I still can't believe you decided to stay. All because of one cowboy man," Jinhee patted her hands against your arm and sighed. "But if you're happy, then I'm happy for you."

"We missed you!" Bora ran from her spot over to you and latched herself onto you, tightly gripping at you and her.

"Not too tight," you let out a small laugh. "I can barely breathe."

"Oh?" She pulled away with her brows raised, grinning widely.

"Well," your hands fell to Mingi's biceps, fingertips massaging the warm muscles. He hummed happily. "I was waiting to tell you the news."

"What news is it that you couldn't tell us over the phone?" Jinhee cocked a brow.

"Turns out," you looked up to Mingi, then glanced over at the other men around. "We're getting married and..."

You shared a brief look with Mingi. A happy gaze over one another, warmth growing. Mingi's smile broadened and the smile crinkled as his arm dropped and reached out for your stomach, feeling the smooth, tiny curve there. And the fingers that curled over your hip pulled you close, leaning his head down. 

"Yeah," he breathes. "We got a new little rancher, ready to join our family."

"You're having a baby?!" Your girlfriends exclaimed in unison.

"I'm moving to the ranch now just so I can be here when the little one joins," Hyemi was hopping from foot to foot, giddy. "Do you have an extra room for me?"

“There's lots of rooms. Unless...maybe you're willing to bunk up,” Mingi said.

"I think Seonghwa's willing to bunk," you teased and gave a loud laugh.

Seonghwa lets out a laugh and comes over, his arm stretching around her, pulling Hyemi over his shoulders. His lids dropped in a lazy fashion. He let out a simple, yet attractive chuckle, "If the little lady wants."

Hyemi blinked. She gulped and slowly gave her approval with a gentle nod and her voice wavering slightly. "Yes please."

Seonghwa lets out a hissing laugh. And his expression softened, the usual blank look was washed from his face, making him look almost human and his lips quirk upwards as he gave her the friendliest smile anyone had seen on him. His brows wiggled. "I'd have you begging for me within a month."

"Excuse me, Mr. Park, you got your work cut out for you," she gives him a challenging smile. And Seonghwa tilts his head, curious at the cute remark. "Cause' I don't think you'd have to try."

Seonghwa wraps his arm around her lower back, pulling Hyemi tight against him. "I miss ya too, darlin'. Thought ya would never show yer cute face again."

You let out a laugh as you watched Hyemi's face turn rosy red in a flash and let out a squeak. You nod in her direction, your finger poking his chest and scrunch your nose playfully, "Have fun tonight, don't keep her out too late, mister. You have animals and people to take care of tomorrow."

Seonghwa smiled softly. "Yes, boss." He gives you a wink before guiding Hyemi back to his cabin, murmuring under his breath.

Mingi lifted you off the ground and gave you a twirl, followed by a long and affectionate kiss. Then his palms were splaying out across the slight protrusion in your abdomen, soothingly caressing his knuckles gently.

You saw the tender look that was on his face and your heart melted for him. His affection was so innocent and warm, and you wished he'd continue to look at you like this forever, every day, always, you were falling deeper and deeper in love with him.

Your hands gripped around his neck, fingertips curling through his dark locks. "I love you, Mingi, so much." You whisper.

Mingi set you down and he turned to see his friends smiling up at him. Yunho, Jongho and the other's were clapping softly. He was a proud father. Or, at least, soon-to-be-father and it wasn't going to change. This man and child are his and the love and adoration you give back to him is so special and Mingi's world is shining bright as you look right up at him and he would do absolutely everything for you to remain right in his arms like this.

He kissed your lips softly, chuckling softly before whispering against your mouth, "And I love you both, so fucking much, sweetheart."

[kangsyeosang]

YEOSANG & JONGHO 'BAD' 260703

[xomakara]

Road Trip

SUMMARY | You go on a road trip with Wooyoung and the guys.

PAIRINGS |  Wooyoung x Reader

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

GENRE |  smut, fluff, friends to lovers 

CONTENT/WARNINGS | profanity, flirting, teasing, unprotective sex (wrap it up ya'll), oral sex (f. receiving, m. giving), dirty talk, kissing, skin biting/nibbling, hair pulling, fingering, head squeezing, riding, skin pinching, multiple positions, creampies,

LENGTH |  10,480 words

TAGLIST |  @lovetaroandtaemin @ikeukiss @pars-ley

NETWORKS |  @illusionnet @cromernet @k-vanity @othersideoutlawsnetwork @ksmutsociety @keopihaus @cosyhomenet @winerys-collection @eighteez-net

AUTHOR’S NOTE |  I think the ending might be a bit too rushed but I hope you still like it regardless. Happy reading folks 💚

ATEEZ Main Masterlist

"Wooyoung! Hurry and come!"

Wooyoung watches as you slam the door to the van closed before running towards the beach to join the others. Even though you only ran for a short while, your hair had become unruly from the breeze. The shirt that Wooyoung let you borrow is large enough to cover the edges of your bottom, your too-short shorts peeking through. Wooyoung has spent more time than he would've liked thinking of the exact width of his hands, and how they could completely envelop your thighs and a generous portion of your ass, should he ever find himself in the position to touch them.

Finals are over and done with, and summer is well under way. Your best friend Wooyoung invited you to the annual summer road trip that he and his other friends from the ATZ frat take every year. They rented a pretty decent sized SUV and would spend the weeks on the road, ending back on campus in time for the school's end of summer party. You always wanted to join them, since you were good friends with all 7 of Wooyoung's other friends, but you've been busy working and saving up money to get your own place off-campus. This year is the first year you find yourself free.

Everyone is super excited at the chance to finally go camping on the coast. Usually, they spend their time at amusement parks, small attractions and malls along the route. Hongjoong took charge of booking their cabin, and it would be big enough to accommodate everyone, even if some people might have to share a room.

There are plenty of ways this is gonna suck, namely being trapped in a moving vehicle, for hours on end with 8 guys. And by "guys," you mean idiots, whose idea of fun included pranks, drinking, and vulgarity. They are quite a wild bunch, but who are you to complain? You're just as rowdy as the rest of them, if not more. They never let you live down that one time you got shit-faced drunk and streaked the quad during finals week last year. The eight of them spent a majority of the trip retelling the story between laughs, much to your disdain.

You watch as Jongho, Hongjoong, and Mingi race against Yunho, San, and Yeosang to a spot towards the pier, dropping their things. The waves roll up against the sandy shores, creating a soft ambiance as you soak the sun's rays, inhaling the ocean air into your lungs. Wooyoung jogs up to join you at the bottom of the hill and catches the smile tugging at your lips.

The way the bright summer sunshine shimmers in your eyes is truly enchanting. How many times had he passed you in the hall on his way to class, secretly thinking about how much the way your whole face lit up resembled sunshine? You were friends with many of his friends, but you'd always been his best friend, ever since middle school. 

He has an embarrassingly long memory of you two on your first school trip, sharing a room at the hostel and staying up late after everyone had already gone to bed. He was the first person you told that you had a crush on his older brother, and you were the first person to console him after his first heartbreak. The two of you spent your whole high school years together; every game, every class, every important milestone... you were always the first one he shared them with. You would always be the first one he sought out when he had something exciting to tell someone. You've seen a lot together over the years, and even though he wasn't totally ready, the possibility of something developing between the both of you has always lurked at the edges of his mind.

"Don't you guys dare throw Y/N into the water!" Seonghwa’s shout interrupts the thoughts in his head. Wooyoung watches San and Yunho trying to sneak up behind you, waiting to snatch you and dive into the freezing cold water. You have absolutely no time to prepare as Yunho and San sweep you up and launch you over their shoulders. Your screaming is quickly drowned out as you land right in the chilling sea, coming right back up a few seconds later for air.

"Oh, you're dead meat! Get back here!!" You bellow. Your friends erupt into hysterics at your dramatic reaction to your unplanned swim. While the rest of the boys continue to laugh their asses off, Wooyoung swoops in and helps you out of the cold water. "I'm cold, Woo. Ugh."

"I'll help you get payback, later," Wooyoung reassures you as he wraps an arm around you and leads you towards Seonghwa, who has a towel at the ready. "Let's get settled into the cabin first, and then we'll figure out how we can exact revenge on the two clowns."

"Sounds good," you huff, still grumpy. Once you've finished getting dried off, Wooyoung picks up your small duffel bag and makes his way into the direction of the cabin. His hand meets yours, briefly, and he opens his palm. A slight jolt runs up his forearm when you interlace your fingers. 

Wooyoung also has an embarrassingly long list of memories involving how warm your palm feels when clasped together with his own. For some reason, he always remembers the feel of them better than all the other things. He knows his brain is playing tricks on him, trying to convince him that the way your palms perfectly fit together is because your body was made for him. In those fleeting moments of intertwined hands, a heat blossoms within the depths of his soul. If he was just a little bit braver, he would have closed his fingers over your hand, squeezed it, and refused to let go until there was no more fight left in you.

...But he wasn't that brave yet.

"Jongho, being the winner he is, wants a room to himself," Hongjoong explains after you enter the door of the cabin.

"I won fair and square," Jongho's eyes gleam at his friends, a toothy grin spreading across his cheeks, reminding the group that he demolished almost all the others at an impromptu arm wrestling competition before the trip. They really should've seen this outcome coming.

Everyone paired off in the room they chose. Hongjoong and Seonghwa choose the room closest to Jongho's, Yunho and Mingi claim the other room on the lower floor, Yeosang and San choose the room closest to the top of the stairs. You and Wooyoung take the room furthest down the hall and it overlooks the beach from the window.

You have your reservations about this part of the trip, mainly because you’re the only girl traveling with eight boys. You often share a room with Wooyoung and vice versa. It makes  perfect sense. The two of you know each other's boundaries and aren't afraid to bring each other down a peg when it comes to annoying the other. After dropping your bags next to the door, Wooyoung surveys the room with its king size bed.

"Shit," Wooyoung curses at the sight of the single mattress. "I knew there was a reason Hongjoong gave us that look..."

"Hongjoong has some issues and needs a swift kick in the head," you laugh. Your friends would often joke about you and Wooyoung hooking up, despite the fact that there was absolutely nothing going on between the two of you, much to the others' amusement. You and Wooyoung often fanned the fire with the way you flirted with each other and teased the others, but never did it ever come to anything real. 

But what if it did?

A loud stomach grumble disrupts the air of contemplation. Wooyoung erupts in laughter after hearing your stomach's announcement. "Let's go get some food in you," he sniggers and throws an arm around your shoulder to direct you out of the room. "Sounds like your stomach's ready to eat me at this point."

"At least you'll be a tasty meal!" You chirp before wrapping an arm around his waist and following him down the hall. Wooyoung hopes you can’t feel the slight tremble beneath his skin, caused by the excitement coursing throughout his body. The way you fit perfectly into his side causes a spark deep down in his gut. There’s no better feeling than that, in his opinion.

When you make your way into the dining room, the whole group is discussing what their first activity should be for the day. You're eager to take advantage of the summer season and soak in the sun and salt air, so you vote on finding a secluded spot for everyone to have a picnic. Since you'd rather spend your time in the great outdoors, the others agree to take advantage and spend the day playing sand volleyball and swimming in the ocean.

As the others are sorting through their belongings to get ready, you go to grab your bag with your bikini inside. You put on your bikini, and before you're able to grab a coverup, Wooyoung emerges into the room and announces his presence.

"Are you almost done? I've got a towel, my sunscreen..." His eyes meet yours in the full-body mirror, and he trips. "Shit," he hisses and nearly tumbles forward, just catching his balance before the two of you collide. A scarlet hue coats the tips of Wooyoung's ears and spreads onto his cheeks.

It's not like he hasn't seen you in a bikini in all his years of knowing you. His mom often threw pool parties during the summer, and the two of you spent an exorbitant amount of time together during childhood. But you look nothing like how he remembers, all these years later. Growing up, you'd been just like him, skinny and awkward. Wooyoung noticed you changing, slowly, as if nature itself had molded your curves carefully to perfection. It started when your clothes became too tight in places Wooyoung had no business looking at.

"Wooyoung? Hello, earth to Wooyoung," your hand appears in front of his face, fingers snapping to capture his attention. 

Wooyoung looks at the bikini, immediately averts his gaze and scrambles over to where his duffel bag is. "Uh yeah, I'm- uh, almost ready. Shit, uh... fuck I'm-"

"You're acting so weird," you mumble quietly. Wooyoung slips back into the bathroom to gather his composure. Even though he felt his soul nearly depart, his best friend shouldn't see him break, especially because it's only her wearing a bathing suit.

Once you're both ready to go, the whole group walks over to a secluded spot near the cove. There were some families out and about enjoying the sunshine and ocean breeze, but the stretch of beach you and the gang find yourselves in is mostly unoccupied. Hongjoong unravels the beach blanket, spreading it out for everyone to get comfortable. The others pass around the bottles of beer and snacks that everyone brought. The delicious scents of grilled meat fills the space, and the clinks of ice floating in their drinks compliment the lazy sound of the ocean breeze.

"Wooyoung! Can you put sunscreen on my back?" You ask as you sit down and hold out the bottle.

"We're in the shade. What good will that do?" He argues as he takes the bottle.

"Come on! Better safe than sorry!" You huff and pout a little in Wooyoung's direction. "Do it for me, please!"

"Fine. Fine," he relents and scoots himself up behind you. To be fair, he'd rather be the one doing this instead of any of the other seven hooligans. Wooyoung probably wouldn't forgive himself, had they gotten even the chance to run their hands over any part of your soft skin.

"Let me undo the straps so you can apply sunscreen there too," you mention as your hands trail to the back to loosen the knots. You're holding up the front of your bikini, and the image alone makes his mouth dry.

"Uh... um..." his breath is taken away, like how a gust of wind carries the strength to sweep the air from his lungs.

"Woo? Hello?" your giggle rings across the otherwise peaceful coast as you tilt your head to face the source of your amusement. "Help a friend out? I don't want to get burned, even if it is just a little sun."

Wooyoung blinks away and starts working the cool cream against your neck, focusing hard on keeping his touch as light as he could, before spreading it lower to the parts that are going to be most exposed to the sun. He makes his way down from your shoulders to your upper back and downwards. All the while, his senses were working overtime, registering the silk-like sensation of your skin, memorizing the precise way his fingers dragged along, but most of all, Wooyoung is hyper-aware of the intimacy of the moment. Had anyone watched the interaction unfold, they might assume that he was just helping you apply sunscreen, like friends often did, but Wooyoung wasn't naive enough to completely deny the slight charge to his fingers at their first brush across your spine.

He's not in his right mind when his sunscreened fingers are reaching around your front and when his fingers brush against the bottom of your ample breasts. Your sharp intake of breath nearly short circuits him, sending a bolt of electricity directly through his cock, stiffening him in a second.

"Wooyoung...?" you voice quietly, letting the ends of the syllables hover in the space between you, "I think I'm all good now." You swallow as the hairs on your neck rise and a shiver rocks up from your belly, lingering on the delicious feeling of Wooyoung touching you like that, and the realization that something might happen, "I think I'd rather...put the rest myself." You offer gently.

"Ah yeah. Umm..." Wooyoung slowly slides his arm back, "Sorry I uh, slipped a bit," he smiles nervously and hopes that you can't read his thoughts as you face him once again.

"No harm done. Thanks, though!" you laugh and pat Wooyoung on the leg a few times.

You're not sure how, but the two of you manage to behave around one another and keep your feelings from showing throughout the rest of the afternoon. This might be hard, however, since whenever Wooyoung closed his eyes, all he could remember was the feeling of your hot skin.

What in the heck was that? As you walk away from Wooyoung in the direction of the shore, the space between your legs warms considerably as your heart rate picks up. You swallow at the memory of his featherlight touch grazing just beneath your breasts, as his front brushed up against your back. Your body reacts of its own accord, and your legs wobble and threaten to buckle. How the hell are you going to stay cool like this? Your blood boils with the heat rushing through your body, spreading, taking over. You turn the corner of a rock and dip beneath a shaded spot where you can catch your breath.

His hands were warm, so damn warm. And he was close. so damn close and... and his scent is making your brain a mushy, confused mess. As much as you would love to deny the warmth spreading between your legs and your fingers aching for you to take yourself over the edge, you're unable to. Fuck, fuck. If this keeps up... If he were to kiss you right now... you would let him.

Fuck.

You sigh out, try to calm the fuck down, and steady yourself against the cold stone of the cliffs. Once you've gathered the resolve, you make your way toward the group of your friends, who are currently deciding between a round of volleyball or a dip in the sea, or both. They are in various stages of removing clothing, eager to start their day at the beach. Wooyoung chooses that exact moment to join you guys and remove his shirt, making you falter a little before regaining your balance. The sharp angles of his face contrast the gentle waves of his bangs as they dance along his forehead, blown about by the ocean breeze.

You know your body is in deep shit the moment you see that his skin is flushed from the sun. 

Fuck. He's hot. 

With that revelation, a tiny bit of doubt rises up. This man isn’t anything like he was when you were teenagers, and it's suddenly glaringly obvious. Wooyoung isn't the kid you remember him being and neither are you. You're very clearly adults now and yet somehow... the feelings you had as a girl haven’t gone anywhere. Maybe Wooyoung isn’t aware of them yet, or perhaps he is, but you suddenly get a really strong sense that maybe you and Wooyoung are walking around with the same feelings, even as grown-ups now. It's incredibly unnerving, knowing what you know now, and knowing what's ahead, should he return your affections. It'd be really cool if someone told your stomach that, because it seems to be doing everything possible to throw your system out of whack right about now.

The sun, while merciful thus far, is nevertheless unkind in its attention to the lot of you. Mingi is the first victim, and boy was he a sight to see with a cherry red back, but before long, the group has endured its own round of sunburns. Ha, serves them right for not wearing sunscreen. 

Wooyoung hasn't really taken his eyes off of you, except to laugh at his suffering friends, and you really think about what it would be like if things went further and wondered if... well, if he had the same ideas about the two of you. If so, and you two ended up together, could things turn out okay between the both of you? You feel so lost when it comes to stuff like this because you and Wooyoung are essentially starting over from a zero base with each other, and honestly, it’s pretty overwhelming to be faced with the reality of that right now, and also what this summer holds for the both of you.

Your mind is swarming with ideas, when all of a sudden Seonghwa screams "DON'T YOU DAREー" as Wooyoung tackles you into the shallow waters, throwing you over his shoulder like a sack of rice and running for a short bit before splashing into the water himself. 

"Not again!" You scream but a shriek quickly turns into hysterical laughter as the sea engulfs the both of you. He surfaces first and grabs hold of you as soon as you resurface as well. You're grateful the water's hiding your tears from his little stunt.

"Your hair's all messed up!" Wooyoung laughs, and then begins untangling some pieces of hair stuck between others. A rush of embarrassment washes over you, but is immediately cut short when he brings a strand up to his nose and smells it. His smile gets softer and warmer after. "Hmmm, you smell good."

"It's the sea, you dummy," you giggle.

"You smell like the sea, and your shampoo, and summer," he says simply, then continues combing through your hair until he's satisfied that he’s removed all of its tangles. "Okay, perfect!"

"Is Wooyoung a stylist too? He sure does know how to treat the ladies right!" San remarks loudly, catching the attention of the rest of the gang. 

You see their smirks, and it makes you groan out in annoyance. You really can’t give them any more kindling to encourage them to meddle with you and Wooyoung, or god-forbid... actually intervene, because who knows what type of matchmaking shenanigans your idiot friends are capable of?

Wooyoung laughs, a hand splayed across your back as you both make your way back out of the water and onto the beach. "She's an old lady and needed assistance in fixing her hair." 

"I am not old!" you complain. "My bones and back creak sometimes, though," you mumble under your breath.

"See? An old lady."

"Oh my GOD shut up," you shove Wooyoung as the group erupts into a laughing fit and you hurry towards Seonghwa who is offering a towel to you. "At least someone isn't mean!" you stuck your tongue out.

"Ready to go back?" Hongjoong asks and stretches, offering to help roll up the blanket. The sky is starting to turn a multitude of colors as the sun is setting on the other side of the ocean. As much as you all want to watch the sunset on the beach, the gentle breeze in the air turns cold in the evening, and the thought of sitting in a wet bathing suit is less than ideal.

"Can we swing by one of the convenience stores first? I think my stomach just started rumbling again," you pout.

"What kind of hunger monster is she?!" Mingi shouts, earning him a solid flick against the forehead from you.

"I promise I won't let my stomach bug you guys," you rub your belly, "but this monster will not be quelled until it gets its meal!"

"Greasy food it is. Let's go!" Seonghwa orders, effectively ending all complaints. Everyone heads in the direction of the road, grabbing their stuff and locking up the cabin.

As you're walking, Wooyoung presses his body up against your own, knocking his hip into your side a couple times. You'd been joined at the hip ever since you were kids; everyone around you used to say that the two of you were as thick as thieves. So when Wooyoung slides up next to you like this, it isn't weird. You wouldn't want it any other way. The only thing you would wish for is the ability to know what he's thinking when you catch the tail end of a soft smile adorning the handsome curve of his lips, and a dusting of a blush that graces the tips of his ears.

The gang piles into a family van and races towards the closest convenience store on the roadside. "No dawdling!" San screams as he hops out the sliding doors. "Get your food and then go back to the cabin!"

"Don't forget to pay!" Hongjoong screams through the open windows as you and the other boys hop out. Everyone grabs what they came for and rushes to the registers. As you're making your purchases, Wooyoung meets you at the register and begins laying out his own items, clearly giving the impression of two people on a date, making dinner together.

The cashier gives the both of you a smile, the corners of her mouth stretching further as she watches how Wooyoung interacts with you. You notice the way she keeps looking between you and him, the growing interest in how closely Wooyoung places his hand on your wrist to prevent you from grabbing your wallet out of your bag. 

"You two are on a date, tonight?" she questions.

"I don't know if I'd call it a date when we have those hooligans waiting for us," you giggle and point towards the van. Wooyoung joins in laughing as Hongjoong turns back to flip the two of you the bird, and Seonghwa slaps his arm to reprimand him.

"My mistake!" The girl beams brightly and smiles wide at the pair of you, "You two just look really cute, so I got my hopes up a little."

Wooyoung softly thanks her and intertwines his fingers with yours as he pulls you towards the parking lot to join your other friends. You don’t have a chance to hear the response that Wooyoung mumbles, but you do notice that his grip is a tad tighter.

"Took you two long enough. Sheesh!" Seonghwa complains as you climb back in.

"But now we can get to eating and eating!" Yunho says excitedly, "Back to the cabin!"

Dinner consists of beef bulgogi and white rice, with an assortment of kimbap rolls to share. No meal is complete, especially not around here, without alcohol, though, so you grab everyone a glass and pour the chilled beer. In the evening, it's often a comfortable warmth in your chest that spreads and blooms the longer you all spend time talking and laughing.

Everyone is well fed, and more importantly, they are buzzed after several glasses. The only thing that hasn't waned is how warm you feel deep inside, the fire stoking within your belly. You realize it's getting late, the hour growing later by the minute.

"Is anyone ready for the main event?" Yunho sings as he stands from his chair, setting aside his glass on the table. He's also a lightweight, and giggly drunk at that. "Truth or dare? Spin the bottle, truth and dare edition. When the bottle lands on you, either choose truth or dare, or drink. Got it?"

"Fuck. Why not? Bring it, Yunho," Yeosang says. The others are either cheering in excitement or groaning in frustration.

"How 'bout you, Y/N? In or out?" San questions as the group looks over at you, eagerly awaiting your response.

"Let's do this," you breathe out a little and crack the bones in your neck and stretch your fingers, getting ready to take whatever's thrown at you.

A few turns in and you've landed with a couple shots, a couple questions and a dare. Thankfully, no one has tried to take advantage of your current, inebriated state and went all out with questions. Most were pretty generic, if not a little boring. Seonghwa has a huge crush on their philosophy professor. Jongho secretly collects pornographic literature and owns a few magazines. Even though Mingi won a hand-stand competition, he can't keep his balance. Hongjoong has a list of every man, woman, and gender-neutral creature that has caught his attention. Yunho would wear a skirt, if someone asked him nicely. San once hooked up with their librarian in the supply room. Yeosang was actually dating one of the phys ed girls and it's going pretty well. And lastly, Wooyoung...

"Dare," Wooyoung chuffs out, proudly showing that he wasn't afraid of any of their stupid dares.

"Hmmmmm..." San, Yunho, and Yeosang immediately put their heads together. Wooyoung, unfazed and knowing them for too many years already, waits calmly as the three brainstorm what his fate will be.

"Make out with Y/N for a full minute!" they all shout simultaneously, each pointing to their victim.

"You shitheads are gonna be in big trouble next round," he grouches. The boys all howl with laughter as they watch the color rise on his cheeks, dusting his ear tips pink.

You know it's just a stupid little kiss. So what if your heart's beating fast? So what if your palms are already sweaty at the mere thought of touching his mouth? Wooyoung is attractive and has always had girls falling over themselves to catch a date with him. So you would never understand the magnetic pull that drags you closer, leaving a lingering uncertainty over exactly how close you should get to his lips.

But even now, his hands slide through the thick strands of your hair to gently pull your face closer. The warm sweetness of his breath grazes over your lips, and as the last strings of courage fade, the drunken haze slips away. You close your eyes, and when your lashes flutter, you're startled back into reality when the wet warmth of a hot tongue slips against your lips. Wooyoung makes it look easy, this kissing game. His fingers are tracing small circles on the nape of your neck, and you melt. The instant spark that flew up your spine and ricochets up against your skull leaves you weak. You sigh, the moan dying in your throat, and you fall deeper under the spell of his kiss. It's in that moment, you can sense something building between your bodies, creating an energy so palpable you'd swear your clothes could've ripped in an instant.

A cacophony of groans and exaggerated sounds of disgust infiltrates your moment, effectively bringing back everyone from your trance.

"Go to your room if you're not going to stop it there," Yunho pouts and turns his back on the two of you, covering his eyes for extra effect.

"Yeah, please continue somewhere where none of us have to see it," San waves his hands. The both of you are still staring at each other, your hand gripping tightly to his wrist as you scramble back into the space behind you, putting as much distance as possible between you and your best friend.

The game continues on, and you are able to laugh everything off. No one really pays you any mind, and the rest of the evening is just spent laughing and singing with some drinks. There are a couple of card games and a lot more truth-or-dares thrown around. By the end of the night, you find yourself already sleepy. The boys, all together, decide to continue their silly game a little longer while you excuse yourself from the table.

When you're almost in the bedroom, Wooyoung comes up behind you and grabs you. "So?" he asks, with his warm body enveloping you, arms and legs spread on either side of your frame, wrapping you up.

"Yes? What's up?" you whisper quietly, surprised he came to you, instead of staying with the others. He wants to ask you something but hesitates. He needs to get it off his chest, he thinks to himself, otherwise Wooyoung won't be able to sleep at night. "Wooyoung, do you want to go further?"

He doesn't answer and tightens his hold. The air grows warm and heady, swirling the longer the two of you stay stationary. Finally, you take his hand in yours and lead him through the threshold. It's dark, but there is still just enough light filtering through the slats of the window to give the two of you a vague idea of what you are seeing.

But before anything can really happen, you were both snoring into the pillows of your shared bed.

The van is loaded up, and you are heading towards the next destination on your road trip. After several hours, the group is collectively losing their minds. 

"Okay, let's switch. My butt is sore," San groans and pops his joints as he exits the driver's seat, turning it over to Yunho. The exchange doesn't last long, and before you know it, it's only noon and everyone was antsy as fuck and impatient and frankly, driving Yunho to the brink of his sanity.

It’s your turn to drive the rest of the way, and the boys are clearly anxious about letting you take the wheel. "No no, come on, Y/N, I think Yeosang will want another go at it."

"No, it's my turn to take the wheel," you flash the biggest smile and snatch the keys out of his hand. "Any complaints, speak now or forever hold your peace." You laugh evilly as the boys quiet and silently file into the vehicle. "We'll vroom vroom!"

"If you get a speeding ticket, I won't defend you. Just so you know," Jongho shouts at you from the back as you're peeling away at the highway.

"Yeah, yeah!" you shout back and set up the GPS before pressing play on your favorite driving playlist. "We'll be safe. Now, strap up and shut up. Time for the fun part!" You step on the gas pedal, and the tires squeal a little bit as the boys scream out their disapproval.

In the time that you drive to the next town, the group settles into their respective spaces for the remainder of the ride, occupying their phones for entertainment and keeping each other company, taking occasional detours from the car to use the restrooms and stretching out their legs at the stop areas along the way. At some point, the others in the back start to drift off and snore softly, and you smile fondly to yourself.

It’s already been a long day and everyone is so tired out that once they finally get a taste of peace and quiet, they fall asleep, heads swaying on top of shoulders or curled up at the window side, wrapped in the plush coats. Even Seonghwa's head has rolled to the side, his own jacket being used to prop himself upright and his mouth hung open in slumber.

Not that the quiet bothers you, because it’s soothing having your favorite music playing quietly in the background as you drive. Wooyoung is sitting in the passenger seat and isn’t quite asleep, but the relaxed state that his shoulders have eased into assure you that the journey to his next destination hasn't been an unpleasant one.

There’s no sound except for the snoring and the love song that’s playing in the background, the mellow voice soothing your souls.

Wooyoung takes your free hand and intertwines your fingers. "Is this okay?" he asks quietly.

"Yeah, it is," you hum gently in affirmation, and he tightens his grip, letting out a small content hum of his own.

As you continue to drive, Wooyoung remains wide awake, occasionally lifting the cup to sip on his iced coffee that has mostly melted by now. His eyes scan the landscape, watching as the horizon speeds past him. At this point, you can feel the slightest pressure at your core building again. But this time, it feels different; more powerful somehow. 

He notices and breaks the silence first. "Are we... gonna talk about it?" His tone is even and careful, and there are no hard edges to his voice like before, just a gentle prod.

"What's there to say, really?"

"Don't play that," Wooyoung mutters, shooting you a look that says 'Really?'

You sigh and wipe your palms, shifting your grip on the wheel as the conversation turns heavy. "I honestly have no clue where we even stand," you admit. It's not a lie, but it sure does feel like one. "Where do you think we are?"

"Honestly..." Wooyoung answers carefully, making it obvious he’s trying hard to choose the right words, "Honestly, I don't know where we are going. I don't know. Not anymore." He waits, leaving a weighty silence to settle between you both, before speaking again. "But I really, really like you." He pauses for another beat, waiting as if expecting a response, then carries on. "Like, not as a friend," he explains quickly, then swallows thickly before starting again, "not as just... not a... as someone I grew up with."

"So..." you start, unsure how exactly to proceed. "Does that mean you have feelings for me?"

He considers the question for a second, but then responds bluntly. "I've never not had feelings for you," he mutters quietly. His reply is both unexpected and surprising and also, oddly reassuring.

"Good to know," you whisper, lips quirking upwards. "And I don't wanna sound corny but..." you start but trail off, not knowing where to go next. How do you express that what you really feel is that maybe there's a possibility that you and him have always belonged to each other without sounding lame as hell? "I really, really like you too."

There's an awkward pause, and you're glad the others are all asleep in the back, unaware of the confession of feelings happening in the front row seat. You wait as Wooyoung clears his throat and looks up at you. Your eyes dart to the rear-view mirror for a quick sweep to check the others again. Thankfully, everyone else seems to still be sleeping and completely oblivious. 

"Our next rest stop, and I'm going to kiss the absolute life out of you. Fair warning," you mutter so quietly it's barely audible, and you can almost feel the blush bloom across your cheeks.

He raises his eyebrows at you, but his mouth ticks up with mirth. 

"No complaints here," and he chuckles, the sound comforting you. Then, he throws his feet onto the dashboard, crosses his arms across his chest, closes his eyes, and settles in for a little while, to rest and dream of nothing but you.

Soon, you pull into a highway diner and wake the gang to stretch their legs and grab some food to snack on until the next full stop, giving you ample time and privacy to settle what needs to be addressed between you and him.

Wooyoung waits patiently as the group mills about, wandering inside and grabbing the table.

"Thank fuck, I needed a toilet. Like, so bad," Jongho complains loudly as he sprints straight towards the facilities at the corner of the entrance.

You head inside as well, getting a big smile on your face, already thinking about what you are going to eat for lunch and where your next adventure will begin. After a half-hour of chatting and scarfing down your food, and taking a good amount of time to relieve yourselves in the restrooms, the group makes its way to the parking lot once again.

"Whose turn is it to drive next?" you call out to the guys, who all groan in unison. "I can go again but this time I'll actually vroom vroom!" You rev the engine to emphasise your point and you hear laughter erupt out of the pack.

"No vroom vroom," Hongjoong laughs and steps up towards the steering wheel. "My turn, little monster. Hand it over." 

He reaches a hand towards you and pries the key from your grip. The rest of the crew pile into the van, and the radio plays loudly as Hongjoong races out the parking spot and swerves onto the road, successfully startling everyone within the vehicle and sending them toppling over each other.

"Oh, so I can't vroom vroom but you can?" you cross your arms in defiance in the third row, Wooyoung laughing next to you.

"I'm a great driver!" Hongjoong boasts from the driver's seat as he navigates out of the busy lot and into the rush hour traffic.

"I love you, but you drive like a demon possessed!" San shouts from beside him.

"Dramatic," Hongjoong chuckles. "Alright, settle in folks," he smiles over at the group. "The road's ahead of us, it's gonna be a looonnngg ride!" He floors the gas and merges onto the highway.

You settle closer to Wooyoung's warm body, and his hands pull you closer, cradling your shoulders. He places a featherlight kiss on your hairline. "Later," he mumbles.

A small sigh escapes as the warmth envelopes you whole. This would have to do. "Later," you whisper, nuzzling deeper into his embrace.

Night has already begun to descend as everyone was falling in and out of sleep. The adrenaline from the early start and subsequent stops is finally waning, leaving a nice sense of calm and security blanketing the entire crew.

Everyone seems relaxed. 

"Y'know..." Yunho suddenly begins, rousing from a long snooze. "I gotta take a piss."

"Yunho... We're in the middle of nowhere," you sigh, slightly amused but also quite annoyed, "can't you go for a few more miles?"

"A few more miles my ass! I gotta pee, like, RIGHT now!" Yunho continues whining. "Come on, man, please pull over at the rest stop coming up!"

"I gotta go too. We'll stop," Hongjoong acquiesces to his demands and pulls over at the next rest stop available.

Everyone piles out, and as they stretch their limbs, they go their separate ways to tend to their respective business. You and Wooyoung shuffle over towards a bench to sit down and relax, tiredly. "When we get back to Seoul," you huff out as you plop your ass down next to him, "I'm taking the longest nap known to humanity."

"We can nap together," he smirks, leaning in and letting his lips press against yours tenderly. The way his mouth fits yours perfectly leaves a shudder running all over your body.

"Just a nap?" you whisper into his lips.

"Just a nap," he promises, smirking harder now. "Unless you have another idea?"

"Oh, I'll tell you soon," you hum thoughtfully, wiggling your eyebrows teasingly.

A deep laugh reverberates in his chest, filling the cold air around the two of you, and for a brief moment, the two of you could forget the reason that you even met for this trip and focus only on each other. His mouth opens to continue, but another voice cuts through the serene tranquility. 

"We're about to hit the next town. Is anyone hungry?" Seonghwa stands before the both of you, clueless and unaware of the tension you both shared. "We're gonna spend a few nights at the next town and do some sightseeing and what-not." He grins at the both of you expectantly, awaiting a response.

"Oooo," you exclaim, genuinely excited to visit the next location, "yes, I'm starving."

"You're always starving!" Jongho yells over, and the others all laugh and agree with him.

"This will be interesting," Hongjoong chuckles heartily before announcing, "Look alive people, because the show is back on the road! Hustle your asses back into your seats, and fasten your belts tight!"

"Is it me or is he turning into a worse version of me every time he drives??" you blurt out, incredulous at how much of a reckless driver he’s becoming. "Who are you and what have you done with Hongjoong?!"

Hongjoong lets out a full body cackle at your remarks, shaking his head at your nonsense, "Settle in, crazy."

It isn't the town. It isn't the culture. It isn't the people. You have only one desire... and only one goal... to touch Wooyoung.

Or rather, let him touch you.

"Hurry back to the hotel room," you mutter through clenched teeth as the two of you ascend in the rickety elevator.

You know how you sound, desperate and thirsty and weak for him, but you honestly couldn't give a fuck. This has been going on for far too long; all this lust and frustration and pent-up desire that has built within the both of you. There was only one way to find release now. And it started by going back to your room and fucking like you meant it.

You and Wooyoung had to find the perfect opportunity to escape. While your friends were busy playing games and drinking themselves silly, the two of you snuck out of the room and booked it back to your shared space and fell into bed, panting and giggling and falling harder.

And now, here the two of you are, staring hungrily, heatedly, lustily into each other's eyes, breath ragged and bodies heavy with want. Wooyoung quickly puts up a Do Not Disturb sign outside the door before pushing his way back into the room and locking it behind him, and then the two of you meet, your fingers grasping his soft tresses tightly, pulling him closer.

"Are you finally going to kiss the absolute life out of me, now?" he whispers huskily, hands tangling through your locks.

"Maybe I'll do even more," you answer quietly, leaning in until your foreheads bump together gently.

"Yeah? Whatcha gonna do, huh?" he challenges, wrapping one strong hand around the back of your neck and the other cupping your jaw, thumbs pressing firmly on either side, a sensation so delicious you almost pass out.

"Fuck the fuck outta me, fuck me til I can't breathe anymore," you sigh and lean into him. You stare at his face and you can see that your words are really affecting him. But your mind isn't focused on what's happening anymore; no, all you can think of now is getting that cock between your thighs, buried in you.

"Yeah?" Wooyoung mutters. He slides his palm across your cheek and slides a thumb over your lips. It's such an innocent movement, but the implications send blood racing throughout your whole body, setting your skin on fire. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?" His thumb presses harder, testing you. Your mouth falls open and he slips his thumb inside, your tongue laving at the digit eagerly, your breath becoming more shallow. "Yeah, you'd really, really like that."

When his gaze meets yours, it's hot. Desperate. Lustful.

But most importantly...

Devoted.

"And I would want that too," he whispers and when his lips press onto your burning skin, they are so soft you don't notice his touch is the same. Everything changes then. His kisses are sweet. They leave a trail of butterflies in your stomach, goosebumps rippling in their wake. He bites your earlobe. His grip tightens on the nape of your neck and holds your gaze steady.

A moan catches in the base of your throat, spilling over his lips. It makes your knees go weak and your heart pound in anticipation. He eases your shirt off and drops it on the carpeted floor. His fingers caress your sides as if you were the most precious piece of art he had ever seen. When he cups your breasts and rubs the hardened peaks between his thumb and forefinger, it's enough to push you over the edge, leaving you weak and wet in need.

"Do you have any idea how hot you're making me right now? Just seeing you in that bathing suit the other day... It took everything in me not to rip them off you and take you right there in front of everybody," he hisses, breath hitching, and kisses your neck, his teeth grazing along your throat and earlobes, his thumbs still circling your nipples.

"You sure can talk big, Woo," you laugh breathily, raising your chin just enough that he can bite on it, your spine shivering in delight. "You can promise that I'll never need anyone else after tonight?"

"Trust me," his voice is raw, raspy even, dripping with arousal.

"What would that entail, hmmm?" you wonder aloud.

A chuckle vibrates his whole chest as he shakes his head and purrs, "I can show you better than I can tell you."

That's when things begin to escalate. That's when his hands slide down your belly, fingertips teasing at the hem of your jeans. He leans his head close to yours, lips brushing softly over your lips, tongue trailing along them before darting in and out, drawing the outline of them with precision, mapping each curve, tracing a line over every crease. His hands caress up and down your torso, caressing everywhere, while his tongue explores and savors you.

Your knees buckle as his hands drop lower, fingertips brushing the waistband of your panties, rubbing slow circles. A soft, blissful moan escapes from between his parted lips. He bites lightly on your neck, his hot tongue probing, teasing, licking along the sensitive flesh there. He tastes the sweet salty skin, taking it between his teeth, giving a light nibble to the point you'd feel it every time the pleasure inside you increased, the tension increasing between your thighs.

He pushes down your jeans and panties together. They drop heavily around your feet. As soon as your clothes fall onto the floor, your back hits the mattress and you find yourself pinned underneath Wooyoung. The sheets are cool but he's warm and the heat radiating off of him feels incredible.

His mouth travels down your torso, moving further and further lower. Every touch sets off fireworks through every nerve ending in your body, each wave more intense than the last, building slowly.

Your hips arch when he gets near your pussy, eager to have him taste you. "Wooyoung, please." 

You don't mean to beg. But that doesn't stop the pleading words escaping from between your lips.

He growls appreciatively, "Tell me how bad you want me."

Your voice is almost a whimper, "Really, really fucking bad." 

You bite down hard, swallowing the urge to shout out loud, as he parts your thighs and settles his shoulders between them, spreading them even wider. His lips hover dangerously close and all of the muscles in your stomach contract violently, anticipating his next move.

"Want me to eat you up, baby girl?" He teases.

A little, "Oh yes," is all you can get out. Your thighs squeeze tighter together.

And that's all he needs to hear. His fingers part the soft folds and dive straight for the most intimate part of you. When his mouth closes over your wet slit, you swear to god you've died and gone to heaven. His tongue flicks out and probes your aching entrance. He sucks greedily, greedily drawing all of your juices into his waiting mouth as your fingers tighten their grasp on his head. A choked sob escapes from your chest as he devours you, drinking up every last bit, and it sounds like a fucking symphony.

Your hips writhe in response, your clit swollen, aching to be touched, begging to be rubbed against his tongue. His mouth is pure fucking bliss, and when the tip of his nose finally bumps your engorged nub, it sends electricity dancing through you. Your body jerks involuntarily, a string of incoherent pleas tumbling from your lips. He spreads your legs even wider now, so far apart your ass lifts a couple inches from the sheets. Your heels dig hard into shoulder blades as his tongue flattens and runs the length of your slit.

You begin rocking, your hips undulating, trying desperately to get a rhythm going, but Wooyoung pulls away, removing himself. "Now, now. You have to learn to ask nicely if you wanna get fucked." A predatory grin flashes across his face. His finger ghosts along your mound and slides between your folds, gathering up some moisture from the tip, before teasing its way to the tip of your swollen clit.

"Please... please," you choke, thrusting up desperately, your back arching off the mattress.

"Say 'pretty please.'"

You moan, "I'll say anything you want, as long as you put your mouth back where it belongs." Your hand reaches blindly for him and pulls his face back against your pussy, running fingers through his hair, digging nails into the back of his skull and tugging sharply to bring him closer. "Pretty please."

Wooyoung grunts happily, sinking his chin against your slick pussy, your sticky sweet juices coating his chin. Then, with his other hand he runs his index finger lightly, feathering, stroking, feeling along the length of the hood of your engorged clit. With the tip he strokes circles over your tip, running his nail lightly over the hood before circling round, then moving it from side to side, creating friction, sliding it back and forth, coating it in wetness.

As your body writhes uncontrollably, his free hand begins circling your stomach, his fingers curling, exploring, dancing lightly up and down between the sides and center of your hips. They glide gracefully, caressing, playing a tune over and over again, rolling along every curve and contour of your torso, worshipping every inch, memorising, cherishing, loving the shape of every valley and hill, the plushness of every surface. He rubs along every indent and slope, down the insides of each thigh.

One finger, then two, then three plunge deep inside you, curling in a come-hither gesture and setting a brutal, pounding rhythm that has you panting, gasping for breath. Every flick of his tongue sends a jolt of pleasure rocketing throughout every part of your body. Your eyes squeeze shut and your toes curl as your thighs clench, trapping him against you. The bedsheets twist tightly under the ferocity of your grip. A storm of ecstasy builds within you. It rages wild and fierce and violent and hungry. Your brain shuts off. Your vision becomes hazy. The blood rushes in your veins like molten lava, bubbling hot, scorching, threatening to melt everything away. You lose all coherent thought except one single thing:

Let him eat the fuck out of you.

"Ohhhh yes..." You murmur into the sheets. You feel Wooyoung's lips curling into a smile. He teases you, withdrawing from you, the tip of his tongue stroking the smooth wet flesh of your swollen clit. "Fuckkk." Your hands fist his hair and pull his head deeper into your mound, grinding his face against your pussy. "Cumming..."

His tongue strokes every inch of skin possible. And every second brings another surge of euphoria. Each one is growing more intense. Each wave washing over and leaving behind nothing but pleasure. Nothing but euphoric bliss. Every. Single. One. And it seems like nothing but seconds pass until your orgasm finally crests and crashes over you.

The sounds of your moans and grunts fill the entire room as you writhe under his tongue's relentless assault. It feels like heaven and hell combined. You can barely see a thing; your vision blurs and streaks across everything around.

After he eats his fill, Wooyoung returns above and kisses you deeply. Tasting your sweet slick all over his lips. Sliding a tongue in your mouth and kissing you so filthy that your moans are getting trapped.

"Did you like how you tasted, baby girl?" he croons, and your nod vehemently, a giddy smile on your flushed face, your core throbbing in delight and pleasure, your mind completely hazed with the delightful sensations he'd elicited from your body.

Wooyoung grasps the neckline of his t-shirt, tugging it off with ease before carelessly tossing the garment off the edge of the bed. Your eyes dart upwards to the wall before you. He's stripped in a matter of seconds.

Now shirtless and very much naked, Wooyoung swaps positions with you and plants you on top. Straddling his hips, your eyes instantly fall on the tattoos embedded onto his skin. Hands slide up and down your thighs, squeezing gently, and Wooyoung runs his fingers over his own abdomen. 

"Go ahead. Enjoy the view," he winks, looking like the smuggest fucker ever.

You trace the lines etched over his ribcage, outlining every symbol inked into his skin. You explore his chest with your mouth, mapping every line, exploring every dip, and leaving marks upon marks in the wake of your lips and tongue and teeth. Your eyes don't miss a detail as you admire his broad shoulders and lean biceps, which flex as his hands grip your thighs.

"You act like you've never seen my tatts before," he scoffs, running his hands through your hair, stroking your head affectionately.

"Not this close and detailed before, no," you respond, eyeing him lovingly.

Wooyoung is all gorgeous, beautiful tattoos and chiseled muscles and every other aspect you've ever fantasized about. He looks like something carved by the hands of god. Everything about him exudes pure power and domination, from his striking eyes to his handsome features to his hardening cock between your thighs. It is everything, and you cannot resist sinking lower, hips rolling and sliding against the hard shaft and velvety sack.

"Why are you torturing me," he hisses as his teeth catch at his lower lip, biting down.

You bite your lip, trying not to laugh. It wasn't intentional. Okay, maybe a little.

"Well," you start, eyeing him in contemplation. He shifts himself on the mattress, hips thrusting, impatiently, but his arms are limp at his side, his body limp and languid, relaxed. He's absolutely content at letting you do as you please. And so, you decide it was time to please him. "Maybe you deserve it," you say, hand snaking its way into his hair, fisting his black locks roughly, while your other hand glides its way over his abs and toned belly. 

Your fingers dance up and down the grooves in between the toned muscle, memorizing the feeling and contour of his body. Your nails rake, teasingly, over his chest, stopping just below his collar bones. You give them both a light pinch and a tweak and enjoy watching him groan quietly in response, before continuing downwards, towards the protruding length below.

"Maybe you need someone to teach you patience. How does that sound?" Your fingertips caress downwards, traveling over his pelvis until you reach the base of his manhood. You wrap a fist firmly around the rigid organ. It throbs, twitching, pulsing. Wooyoung inhales sharply. He shudders and his teeth dig painfully into his lip, preventing any further noise escaping him. You look at his face and wait for him to meet your gaze. When his eyes land upon yours, they are dark, molten fire and hunger burns hot behind them.

"Maybe I do," he chuckles darkly, his hands trailing from your legs to rest atop of yours on his chest, a strong, possessive and reassuring hold.

"And you'd deserve it?" you add, moving a bit more closer to him, sliding your sex more closely towards his erection.

"Maybe," he breathes out, lips parting in anticipation, tongue darting out to lick and wet them.

You move to straddle his hips. Your eyes lock with his again, burning, melting. He raises his hands in surrender, silently giving consent, urging you to carry on with whatever you had planned. So you slide your hips towards him and the head of his cock slides up your dripping lips, and you know it will only be moments until his entire girth is fully sheathed inside you, stretching and filling you. You roll your hips again and gasp. And Wooyoung responds with his own soft grunt.

"Can't believe it... Are we really doing this right now...?" he gasps out, mouth open, cheeks flushed pink and eyelids heavy.

"We'll stop if you want," you respond, teasingly.

"Oh hell no, don't stop," he shakes his head, grip getting even tighter on you and cock harder underneath your warmth. "Keep going, keep going. We've gotten this far... let's just... continue..." he croaks out, breathy, chest heaving.

Slowly, you begin rocking your hips into him, and as you do, his cock eases deeper and deeper. Every movement sends electric bolts coursing through your body and leaves you tingling in sheer excitement. You build the momentum as his length plunges further and further inside you, creating an incredible sense of bliss and euphoria to rise within. The tight friction coupled with the exquisite sensations create a whirlwind inside that threatens to drive you wild, and it is not long until you find yourself lost. The sound of heavy panting fills the room, mingled with the soft slapping of wet skin on skin.

Wooyoung flips you onto your back, and he drives his hips harder and faster and rougher. And you welcome every strike eagerly, holding on to his powerful muscles, and basking in the immense ecstasy of the moment.

"Holy hell, woman, are you trying to fucking kill me?" he groans out through gritted teeth and the sweat trickling down his forehead as he continues pounding and pushing deeper inside of your clenching warmth.

Your hands tighten their hold on his back, clinging onto his form desperately, "Only a little bit, Woo. Only a little bit."

A snort escapes from the deep depths of his lungs, "Hilarious. This is the second best experience of my life."

You decide to mess with him, "Second best? Then what was first?" you can't help the giggles threatening to escape the confines of your throat as you watch his face soften.

"Loving you."

"Ugh, cheesy motherfucker," you playfully admonish, burying your face into the crook of his shoulder, stifling the grin threatening to spread across your face. "Love you too," you say, peppering a couple of sweet pecks along his face and neck.

The bed squeaks and you're sure whoever is sharing the wall next to you can probably tell you are getting laid. But none of that matters. All that mattered was the pleasure. You reach for his hand and lace your fingers together as you feel his thrusts become harder and faster.

The pleasure is unreal. Never before have you felt like this. Not once. Every sensation seems magnified as the pleasure rises within you. You revel in his touch. How he makes you feel loved, worshipped.

"I think I'm..."

"Me too, love," he whispers as you lock gazes again. "Together?" he asks breathily.

You can only manage to nod fervently, cheeks stained red and heart pounding rapidly.

And with the next roll of your hips and the deepest push that Wooyoung provides, your walls tighten around his cock. His fingers dig into the flesh of your hipbones. There's no turning back. You allow the sensation to fill and explode and burst forth from every crevice of your being. Everything stops moving, falling, falling... The room swirls. A bright, sparkling white consumes you, and for a brief moment the universe bursts forth and you swear that you have seen the beginning of time and space within these walls.

And then reality hits, and you lay spent, sweaty, satisfied and wrapped in Wooyoung's loving embrace.

And nothing would be the same after.

When you wake up in the morning, Wooyoung is already awake and gazing down at you in awe and wonder.

"This has been such a long time coming," he confesses, caressing your cheek lovingly.

You take his hand in yours and squeeze lightly. "Couldn't agree more, loverboy," you beam up at him, sending the warmest smile he's ever seen radiating on your glowing face.

"God, I feel so great right now," he laughs joyfully, leaning back onto the mountain of pillows behind him. "Just laying here and staring at you is bringing me an insane amount of happiness."

"Aw, come here, you sappy fuck," you motion him forward and he gladly complies, arms circling around your waist as you sit upright beside him, nestled snuggly against each other's frame.

It doesn't matter what you are wearing or what your hair looks like, you are radiant, perfect and stunning no matter what, and the thought brings the largest smile onto Wooyoung's face, because his feelings were reciprocated. And you both found that solace in knowing that you were all each other ever wanted, needed, wished.

"This vacation could not have been any more perfect," Wooyoung sighs contentedly, eyes falling close for a few beats of silence before he looks over to you.

"Maybe we should go on a road trip every summer," you suggest, shrugging your shoulders. "Just you, and me, and a whole bunch of endless highways and a destination in mind... how does that sound, Woo?"

"It sounds like a plan," he beams at you, grinning brightly.

You cuddle close to him and nod your head. "A plan indeed," you agree and kiss him lovingly.

"Just the two of us..." he trails off dreamily as you caress and cradle him close to your chest, the slow rhythm of your beating hearts lulling you both into a sweet slumber.

Yeah... that did sound pretty darn good.

[woosanasa]

ATEEZ FIC REC MASTERLIST

⛓️ - smut/suggestive 💋 - fluff 🥀 - angst

my fave works all in one perfect place!

18+ MDNI!!! you are responsible for the content you consume.

MULTI-MEMBER & MEMBER X MEMBER

series

discovering us @03jyh23 | wooyoung x san ⛓️🥀

oneshots

shy @minkieater | wooyoung x san x reader; roommates to lovers💋⛓️🥀

the pocket pussy incident @yeonlymine | yunho x reader x mingi ⛓️

KIM HONGJOONG

oneshots

deal @hongism | roommates to lovers hongjoong x reader ⛓️

hard to focus @belongjoong | virgin tutor!hongjoong x student!reader 💋⛓️

PARK SEONGHWA

series

wallflower @tenelkadjowrites | nerd!seonghwa x coworker!reader⛓️💋

oneshots

lemon aide @starrdustshuas | neighbor!seonghwa x reader⛓️💋

cockwarmer kit @yeonlymine | bf!seonghwa x reader⛓️

royally bound @arilevenatz | prince!seonghwa x reader

sunburn @sungbeam | academic rivals to lovers seonghwa x reader; college au ⛓️🥀

JEONG YUNHO

oneshots

fixation situation @sangis-puppy | best friend!yunho x reader⛓️

unscripted @arilevenatz | yunho x idol!reader 💋

nice guy @ateezlibrary | street racer!yunho x childhood friend!reader ⛓️

KANG YEOSANG

oneshots

gemini @ncteez | virgin!yeosang x reader 💋⛓️

spring will come again @belongjoong | childhood friend!yeosang x reader 🥀💋

CHOI SAN

series

be with you @oddinary4bts | college au san x reader ⛓️💋

wildfire @hwaslayer | asst. professor!san x grad student!reader💋⛓️

oneshots

bleed it out @sweetinsaniiity | bodyguard!san x heiress!reader⛓️

the art of climbing the corporate ladder @ennysbookstore | coworker!san x reader; office au⛓️🥀

in the blur of the rain @ennysbookstore | detective!san x bookstore owner!reader ⛓️💋

feel it @maho6any | neighbor!san x reader⛓️

u got it bad @yoongiseesawmp3 | baseball player!san x reporter!reader⛓️

and they were roommates @kisssan | roommates to lovers san x reader⛓️

blushing red @atozfic | brother's best friend!san x reader 🥀⛓️

SONG MINGI

series

rapid fire @killerkq | mingi x idol!reader⛓️🥀

oneshots

not too big @dvrktvnnel | mingi x reader⛓️💋

JUNG WOOYOUNG

oneshots

the off-limits rule @stxrrywoo | brother’s best friend!woo x reader💋⛓️

faking it @belongjoong | fuckboy!woo x reader; fake dating ⛓️🥀

eat you alive @maho6any | best friend!woo x reader⛓️

through his lens @mingi-buffering-24-7 | brother’s best friend!woo x older!reader🥀💋

right here @0097linersb | friends to lovers; bisexual!woo x reader ⛓️💋🥀

study games @muntitled | student!woo x tutor!reader ⛓️

february filth fest part two @multiwreckedmess | friends/roommates to lovers!woo x reader; aphrodisiacs⛓️

if without you @sorryimananti-romantic | roommate!woo x reader; childhood friends to lovers 💋⛓️

CHOI JONGHO

oh shit, are we in love? @mingigoo | basketball player!jongho x reader; childhood friends to lovers, college au💋🥀⛓️

on the dash @matchamatz | street racer!jongho x reader 💋⛓️

[hwaslayer]

ty for recommending wildfire 🥰🖤 i appreciate you!

[jksarchives]

TAEHYUNG

* UPDATING AS I GO *

❖ these things take time — by @laughing-with-god

There's something wrong with your boyfriend Taehyung. At least, you think it's him. — 16.5k [a, s]

❖ the dying of the light — by @taexual

Heartbroken, you and Taehyung part ways for a few days to give yourselves a break from each other. As you prepare to face your boyfriend again upon your return, you slowly start to realize that something about the Taehyung you’re texting isn’t quite right. — 5.3k [a]

❖ seven seas — by @readyplayerhobi

Atlantis is a myth; a hidden city, a sunken island, a missing continent. Only...it’s not a myth. Just hidden out of choice. As the daughter of an Atlantean and a human, you are a halfling that is unwanted by the underwater continent and misunderstood by the surface. But what happens when you finally go to Atlantis and meet an Atlantean who is oddly kind to you? — 25.5k [a, f, s]

❖ moonlight — by @borathae

Taehyung asks you to sneak out with him and you end up making passionate love to him in a hayloft. — 6.8k [f, s]

❖ one last time — by @erotica-ficx

Where it's your last time(?) with him... — ? [s]

❖ loving you is all i know — by @jiminrings

you feel as if the world would stop revolving without taehyung in it, so you protect him with all your might. taehyung thinks that heaven wouldn't fall even without you in it, so he revokes every fiber of your being. — 19k [a, s, f]

❖ stake outs — by @borathae

“You get yourself into some trouble despite having been told to stay at home and Taehyung is the one who has to save you. Bear in mind, he will always save you, but he will also show you what recklessness and disobedience get you.” — 7.8k [s]

❖ right amount of wrongs — by @taegularities

“Your heartbeat stopped. Then accelerated. Pain shot through the organ like an arrow. And then everything repeated.” How many times does he have to do you wrong until you make the right decision? — 15.9k [a, s]

↪︎ MAIN MASTERLIST

↪︎ FIC RECS

[fluffypuddingatz]

Beautiful Stranger

pairing: workaholic!san x singer!fem!reader

summary: San had always believed that nothing except his work could consume him. So what happens when you set a fire in his heart?

genre: fluff, love at first sight, drunk (or tipsy?) confessions, strangers to lovers

warnings: mentions of alcohol, tipsy San

wc: 6.7k

a/n: Well, basically it wasn't supposed to exceed 2k words (I guess?) but I got too possessed during the process. Ngl, this San made me giggle a little bit (⁠.⁠ ⁠❛⁠ ⁠ᴗ⁠ ⁠❛⁠.⁠). As always I wanted to thank my beta reader @xserenityrq who always takes time to correct my mistakes, your help and patient mean a lot to me thank you so much ♡. The title is from a song I really like but I'll indicate the song and its artist at the end of the story. Anyways, enjoy!

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊︵‧˚₊⊹⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨

San loved his job.

Maybe too much.

He loved it so much that he almost never slept. Or he would sleep at 2am, thinking of a new way of promoting the recent product made by the company he worked in. A toothpaste, strawberry flavor. Which was, according to him, totally ridiculous. If he was their customer he would've wanted to have mentholated breath.

But of course he couldn't just say aloud his thoughts. And his boss didn't expect him, or his colleagues, to have any sort of opinion. You just accomplish your task without asking any question.

And this just summarized San's life.

Waking up.

Working.

Eating.

Home.

Making dinner.

Showering.

Sleeping.

Again and again.

Nevertheless, San was happy. He could provide for himself thanks to his salary. He didn't have financial issues so he considered himself fairly lucky.

And he loved his job.

Right?

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊︵‧˚₊⊹⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨

Nevermind, he hated his job.

When San opened his eyes, he knew it would be a bad day.

It was easier to put a mask on and pretend he was happy with his job, that he liked being behind his computer screen from 8am to 7pm.

At least he had Wooyoung.

Wooyoung was the only person whose existence didn't bother San. He was the only colleague he ate with. He was loud but his presence strangely brought comfort to San's loneliness.

Thirthy minutes later San was ready. Well, physically ready but mentally, his mind was somewhere else, stuck in the soft sheets of his bed.

He sighed, taking a brief look of his reflection in the mirror of his bathroom.

His appearance was screaming ''zombie''.

Even though his tie was neatly done, his shirt was crumpled and his dark rings under his eyes were at least three inches deep.

He pushed his glasses up. At least his lenses looked clean.

Yesterday, his car broke down so the only option left for him was to take public transport. And here was another thing that annoyed him even more. He usually was lazy and sleepy in the morning, being around lots of people on public transportation was the last thing he wanted.

After he had locked the door of his appartment he took the elevator although he lived on the second floor.

Yeah, he was that lazy.

Suddenly, his phone buzzed in the pocket of his slacks.

Taking the phone out of it, he glanced at his screen.

It was a message from Wooyoung.

Wooyoung

Hi San :))))

Wooyoung

Tonight we'll have a drink at the bar I told you about. And of course, when I say we, I'm talking about you and me. :)

He didn't even ask if San wanted to go. And of course, as always, San would just accept it because it was useless to argue against Wooyoung. Not that he hadn't tried. But Wooyoung always ended up having the last word.

San

Can I at least know why?

The answer was immediate.

Wooyoung

Because you look like you're on the verge of exploding and you need a break from work.

San

I don't know what you're talking about.

Wooyoung

...

Wooyoung

You will come anyway.

San rolled his eyes but he knew Wooyoung was right. He needed a break. It's been three weeks since they last had free time and San's mind was really going to combust. But San wasn't the type of person to pay attention to his body's signals that clearly told him he was exhausted.

He needed this job even if he didn't like it.

Even if it makes him feel empty.

However, San didn't know if he was happy.

Was he?

He had a job with a decent salary, an apartment and food.

So why did it felt like something was missing in his life?

Why did he-

San felt a body bumped into him violently. And a sudden hot liquid on the front of his shirt.

Too hot.

''Oh my god, I'm so sorry- I wasn't looking where I was going-''

San slowly lifted his head, feeling his blood boiled under his skin.

That's it. He's going to explode. Here. Right now.

He was about to scold on this stranger but when his eyes landed on the person in front of him, his heart stopped.

The world vanished.

The sound around him muted. And suddenly it felt like he just got shot right into his heart.

Here, in front him, was standing the prettiest woman San had ever seen.

Awe quickly replaced anger.

And maybe a bit of embarrassement.

Embarrassement? For what exactly? It's not like he was the one who bumped into her.

A sudden rush of heat crept up his face.

What the hell was happening to him?

''I-I, no i-it's okay.''

He internally slapped himself for his stutter. He wanted to be mad at her, for ruining his day even more.

But instead he just got lost in her eyes.

Oh.

Her eyes are so...

So...

His chest tightened.

He couldn't do this anymore. He needed to run away before he turns into a blushing mess and makes a fool of himself.

So he rapidly passed her, continuing his way to his bus stop.

''Wait, your shirt is-''

San accelerated. Almost run.

Even her voice is beautiful.

It was only when he had reached his bus stop that he noticed he's been holding his breath. He checked his heart, putting a hand on his chest.

His heart couldn't stop beating rapidly. And his hands were sweaty.

San felt completely lost.

What just happened?

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊︵‧˚₊⊹⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨

You hated being late.

That's why you had never been late.

Almost.

There was some days or your alarm wouldn't ring.

And unfortunately, today was one of those days.

So here you were, running like your life depends on it, with two coffee in your hands. One for you, one for your father.

Even though you were in the rush, you couldn't skip your morning drink.

It definitely slowed you but you didn't care.

Your dad has been running a bar for years. It quickly became the most popular one in town.

Well it was half-bar, half-restaurant. But the fact is, this bar was different. It had a particularity. Something that had charmed many people around here.

You.

You've always loved singing since your were a kid. You had taken singing lessons, even had been a soloist in your choir group. You've never missed an opportunity to practice your vocals. People who had heard your voice have always been amazed by it.

You were never satisfied. You kept practicing.

But you loved singing.

Singing was like speaking a language you could feel and understand.

One day you asked your father if you could sing at his bar and just looked at you with surprise.

What you both didn't expect, was the amount of customers incading the bar after your first performance and with this, the surge of popularity that came with it.

You've been singing at the bar for a year and a half and you've never been more happy. You gave up on college to help your father while doing the thing that made you feel alive.

And you were being paid.

Because your voice was the particularity of the bar.

You and your father both agreed to keep this up.

But being his daughter didn't mean he would be more gentle. That is to say, he didn't tolerate lateness.

Your lungs were burning as you kept running.

Well, this situation could have been worse.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you hadn't noticed the man on his phone who was walking in your direction.

And the situation you didn't want to happen literally hit you.

You both had collided with so much force that your coffee spilled on the man's shirt.

You stilled.

Then, panic and horror rushed on your face.

Oh no.

This couldn't be happening right now.

What have I done in my past life to be cursed? Did I kill someone?

Say something. Don't just stand like that.

''Oh my god, I'm so sorry- I wasn't looking where I was going-''

You're cooked.

You're definitely cooked.

The man slowly lifted his head.

You closed your eyes, mentally bracing yourself for insults.

But then, nothing.

Your eyes hesitantly opened.

The man before you was looking straight into your eyes. But what you didn't expect was his expression.

Because he looked anything but mad.

In fact, it looked like he was...shy ?

Am I not supposed to be the one shy ?

You noticed the way his ears were pink and the way his face got redder the more seconds passed.

His eyes were slighly wide and his lips parted.

''I-I, no i-it's okay.''

Just as you were about to ask him if he was okay he suddenly passed by you.

''Wait, your shirt is...''

He didn't listen. Worse, he practically run.

''...dirty.''

Okay?

Did he just ignore me?

You sighed, running your hand over your face. At least he didn't scold me.

Even though his reaction seemed weird you couldn't deny that he was a cute stranger, with his glasses slipping off his nose. In fact, when you thought of it he looked really handsome despite the exhaustion on his face.

You chuckled.

At least he made the beginning of your day a bit better.

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊︵‧˚₊⊹⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨

''You look like shit.''

San shot Wooyoung a dark glance in the mirror, trying to wipe his now not-so-white shirt now that a trace of coffee stained on it.

''You're not helping.'' San grumbled.

''Wasn't trying to.''

''Wooyoung.''

''Alright, alright, I was joking. Jeez, you really need to relax.''

After San had arrived at his work place, Wooyoung had sent him a glare that screamed ''are you actually okay bro?''

San had ignored him and made his way to the washroom. Eventually he told him about his very interesting misadventure.

He didn't mention that he had found her beautiful nor the way his pulse had hammered in his throat.

''It enforces my point. Your need a break. A real one.''

''So the other breaks we've had weren't real? And what is even the difference between the previous bars we've already gone to and the one you'll drag me to tonight?''

The familiar smirk that San knew too well now, appeared on Wooyoung's lips.

''It's good you're asking me this because it is a different bar.''

''You always say that and we always end up in the most ordinary bar.''

Wooyoung rolled his eyes.

''Fair point. But this one is definitely cool. And chic.''

San frowned.

''Chic?''

''Yeah. But the most important thing is that they have a singer. ''

Wooyoung noticed San's confusion because he added: ''A friend of mine works there as a singer. She sings very well.''

''Is she a composer too?"

Wooyoung shook his head.

''No. She always sings famous songs or, at least, songs that catch the vibe of the bar. But it's been four months since I last saw her.''

''So that's why you've never told me about this bar. Because you forgot about your friend's existence?''

His question got him a fake disapproval glare from his colleague.

''It's a bit of a leap to say that.''

''Well, am I wrong though?"

Wooyoung rolled his eyes.

''Let's not change the subject.''

They continued to talk while San was trying his best to wipe his shirt. Unfortunately for him, his actions didn't do anything to reduce the dirty brown stain. Eventually, he gave up and decided he would stop by his house to change his shirt after work.

They left the washroom and headed toward their office. As Wooyoung rambled, San got lost in his thoughts.

Same routine.

He gathered himself to face another long and restless journey, with the same repetitive tasks, the same annoying boss and the same boring colleagues.

Yeah. A very long journey.

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊︵‧˚₊⊹⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨

You loved singing.

It was a fact. But you forgot that the soreness of it comes with long practices. Your dry mouth had always got you drinking liter and liter of water.

But seeing couples dancing together, the acknowledgement, the smile on people's face were all worth it.

And it was also the part you liked the most in your job.

Your father had decided to temporarly close the bar and reopen it at 7 pm. This way, not only he could clean the bar (with your help and and the waiters') but you could also rest your voice and revise the setlist for tonight's performance.

''Laufey again?'' Your dad sighed.

''But I love her songs! And you can't tell me that most of her songs don't fit the mood.''

''I agree with you but you've been singing the same songs for one year.''

You put down the setlist and turned your chair to face your father, his arms crossed on his chest, a fake look of exasperation. Well, not entirely fake because you've both already had this conversation.

''I don't see the issue. And the customers seem to enjoy it too.''

''For now.''

You closed your eyes trying not to let the annoyance be seen on your face.

''I'll change the setlist if we have one complaint from a customer. How does it sound to you?''

His eyes narrowed, staring at you as if he was weighing the pros and the cons in his head. As if you haven't said this a million times.

''Deal.'' He eventually says.

You faked a surprised expression.

''Woah, never thought you would be okay with that.''

''Stop being sarcastic or else I'll change my mind.''

You smiled widely before getting up and kissing his cheek.

''Thank you dad.''

He shook his head, a small smile on his lips.

There was one thing you were sure about your father. Despite his severity, he's been your number one supporter since your birth, even more after your first step. Your parents divorced and you weren't in good terms with your mother. She never took your passion for singing seriously and thought you would be better and more useful as a doctor.

But there was none of that with your father.

That's why you've always been grateful to have him by your side.

When the clock hit 7pm, your father notified you he had opened the bar.

You took a deep breath, eyes locked on your reflection in the mirror. Singing in front of many people has always made you quite nervous because doubts always remained in the back of your mind. You've done this plenty of times. There was no need to feel pressured. However, being on stage has always been intimidating.

But tonight was different.

You had a gut feeling.

You didn't know where this feeling was coming from. What caused so many doubts all of a sudden.

The most important question that remained in your head was:

Why do I have a bad feeling?

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊︵‧˚₊⊹⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨

San didn't know if he made the good decision by agreeing to accompany Wooyoung, because after leaving work, the only thing he wanted to do was to take his car and drive back to his sweet house and dive in his bed.

But here they were, in San's car, Wooyoung giving him instructions of which way to go after they stopped by San's house, giving him the opportunity to look more presentable without stained coffee him.

''You will see San, I'm telling you this bar is awesome. And if we're lucky enough, it might be even more cool since the last time I came in there.''

At this point, San didn't have the strength to contradict or respond to him.

He just wanted to forget.

So he just nodded, sometimes giving a short answer every time Wooyoung started to ramble.

When they arrived, he didn't expect the storefront to look like that. He had imagined it less...welcoming? Wooyoung wasn't wrong when he said the place looked chic. But not in an expensive way. Warm colors and lights highlighted its name.

Pretty Jazz

San lift his eyebrow.

What an odd name.

It's was very unique.

''Come on, let's go.'' Wooyoung pushed San toward the entry.

When they stepped in, the air immediately shifted. There were so many people already and it only opened an hour ago. And the place...

If on the outside it looked chic and warm, the inside was another story. It did keep the same warmth as the outside but the difference was in the mood. The place looked cozy but sophisticated with the neat tables, cutlery and red booths.

But what definitely caught San's attention was the song building the atmosphere. Or to be more specific, a voice.

The voice sounded so soft but also smooth. San was amazed by the way she controlled her voice and breath. The music was very jazzy but also catchy. It made San want to dance or have a dance with someone.

''I'm going to order drinks. What do you want?''

San shrugged his shoulders.

''I'll let you choose.''

Maybe he shouldn't have said this, considering the smirk on Wooyoung's face, but like he said earlier he didn't want to think too much tonight. He'll have time to regret his decision tomorrow.

''Find us a table.''

''Aren't waiters supposed to do that?''

''Yeah but they know me so I can do whatever I want.''

And he said it like it was an obvious statement.

''If you say so.''

Wooyoung sent him a blank stare before turning away.

San wandered across the place, between tables already taken. There was a huge crowd and if the restaurant-bar wasn't big, he would have to tell Wooyoung to find another spot.

San was searching for a free table not far away from where the voice was coming from. He wanted to put a face on this lovely voice.

When he noticed a free spot with a good view on the scene he hurried before anyone takes it.

He sat, sighing at the comfort of the seat.

But when he lifted his head and his eyes landed on the singer...

...he went completely still.

Oh.

Oh Lord.

The woman standing before him, on the platform with a micro, was wearing a long blue dress. The ribbons on the straps of her dress, flounces and the high heeled shoes, matching the color of the dress, made her look like a princess.

A princess with an angelic voice...

San's eyes widened.

...and the same princess who had bumped into him.

Oh no.

No, no, no.

His chest did this familiar squeeze. His hands started to sweat and he didn't have to look at a mirror to know he was blushing.

He closed his eyes.

Of all people existing it had to be her.

He remembered the sparkle in her eyes, her soothing voice apologizing for staining his shirt, the sweet scent of coconut, her-

''There you are!''

San jumped, his colleague slumped onto the booth seat. He looked at San suspiciously.

''Are you okay? You're very red.''

''Y-yeah it's just...It's getting really hot here.''

To emphasize his words, he pulled on his collar.

''There's AC here.''

San blushed even more.

''Y-yeah. Anyways.''

Wooyoung probed at him.

''You're acting weird today.''

San hummed avoiding his eyes.

Bad idea.

Because his eyes landed on her again.

Wooyoung followed his gaze before his face lights up.

''Oh, there she is. I didn't even notice her. She's very good at singing isn't she?''

San didn't answer. He just observed her. The way her dress moved gracefully whenever she spun, enjoying the melody of the music, the way her eyes closed while singing, her voice filtering into San's ears and reaching his heart, and the smile on her lips.

He couldn't take his eyes off her.

When the song came to an end, everyone applauded, cheering enthusiastically.

The woman bowed, moving the microphone back to her lips.

''Thank you so much for your support! As I always say, I'm always willing to bring not only comfort...''

She grinned.

''But also love.''

San's heart jumped.

''This one is for my heartbroken people. I hope you'll find some comfort in this song as I did when I had my first heartache.''

San clenched his fists.

How could someone hurt such a lovely soul?

Obviously, he didn't know her. But there was something, this pull, a feeling he couldn't put a name on, that told him she was too majestic to have her heart broken.

The first notes raised in the air. And this song seemed different from the previous one. It sounded less happy, more melancholic? Violins played, accompanying the melody coming from the guitar.

San hold his breath when her lips parted.

Feeling kind of sick tonight

All I've had is coffee and leftover pie

It's no wonder why

Even her voice sounded different here. More fragile. He noticed her closed eyes. Like she was remembering how hurt she felt that time.

Maybe she was remembering.

The song sounded so majestic but also held obvious pain. Even though San never had his heart broken, his heart squeezed like it remembered a past lover.

Then, came the chorus.

One day, I will stop falling in love with you

Some day, someone will like me Iike I like you

Her eyes opened.

Until then, I'll drink my coffee, eat my pie

Pretend that we are more than friends

Then, of course, I'll let you break my heart again

His voice got stuck in his throat.

He observed the crowd. Everyone else also seemed hypnotized by the song. There was some couple hugging each other, with a fond smile while listenning the song. Even Wooyoung looked touched by her voice.

By the end of the song, everyone applauded.

And San?

Well, San was now definitely a tomato.

His heart was hammering at a dangerous speed.

He was so lost in the mixing of his feelings that he didn't even notice Wooyoung waving at her.

It was only when he heard her voice near him he lifted his eyes.

''Wooyoung! It's been a while! How are you?''

His colleague stood up while she approached. They hugged each other.

San frowned.

''I'm good. I'm sorry I didn't visit you before, I was busy.''

She made a gesture like she waved his excuse.

''Don't worry about that. Oh, I see you're not alone.''

Wooyoung's smile deepened.

''Yep! Let me introduce you to San- ''

When he gestures towards him. He was still sat on the seat, eyes never leaving her since they interacted.

When his eyes met hers, he saw the way she stiffened. Her smile faded. Her eyes widened a slighly.

She recognizes him.

''Nice to meet you, San.''

San swallowed back an embarrassing squeak at the way his name rolled over her tongue.

San nodded.

''Nice to meet you too.''

They stared at each other not knowing what to do.

Wooyoung watched with hawk eyes.

''Want to join us? I need to make up for the lost time. And I'm sure you have good gossip for me.''

She broke eye contact while laughing at Wooyoung's stupid statement.

''Okay. Let's do that.''

San exhaled through his noise.

Yeah, there's no way he was going to survive this.

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊︵‧˚₊⊹⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨

You sure didn't expect this.

Seeing the beautiful stranger from earlier.

You called him that because it was true.

He's ethereal.

You tried your best to focus your attention on Wooyoung's words but you felt his burning gaze on you. Yo were used to having eyes on you, when you were singing, practicing while your father listened because you wanted his opinion.

But this time was different.

Because everytime you would glance at San, he was already watching you, his gaze holding this intensity you couldn't handle.

He didn't talk, letting you and Wooyoung converse.

At some point, Wooyoung stood up from the booth seat.

''Alright guys, I love you both but I really need to pee, otherwise my bladder will explode.''

You rolled your eyes at his straightforwardness.

''Yeah we really needed to know that.''

He left with a giggle.

Okay.

Now you were alone with San.

San who was still staring at you by the way. His eyes were glossy and his cheeks slighly red due to the alcohol.

You took the opportunity to take a good look at him. You noticed the way his dark hair was a bit messy, unlike this morning when it was neatly slicked back.

His glasses were on the table, some of his locks falling onto his eyes. You dragged your eyes lower. His tie was loosened, the first two buttons undone and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showing his forearms.

When your eyes lifted to his face, he was smiling at you.

And then you felt it.

Your heart skipped a beat.

It was your first time seeing him smiling. And his smile...

Why does he look at me like that?

...was full of fondness. Like you were something precious. Like you were a pretty shining sun.

You stuck your hands beneath your thigh to prevent them from shaking.

Because his expression unsettled you.

San unsettled you.

You broke the silent first.

''Hi.'' You said awkwardly.

''Hi.''

You wanted to look away. But you couldn't. Because every time, your eyes would find their way back to his.

''Did you enjoy the show?''

''I did. You have a nice voice.'' San answered, taking a sip of his drink, his eyes never leaving yours.

''Thank you.''

And you didn't know what to say else. You always find a way to talk. But strangely, today you were at a complete loss of words.

But you didn't have to. Because San continued.

''This song you've sung today...you must really like it.''

You didn't know if he was asking or he was stating.

'''Let You Break My Heart Again'? I do like it a lot. The first time I heard it, I had my first heartbreak. It was hard to heal from it. But I eventually did, and realized I wasn't the problem.''

You don't know why you told him this. You just felt like it. Somehow, it just came out naturally.

San's eyes hardened when you mentionned your heartbreak but softened at the end.

''I'm glad to hear that.''

You nodded shyly.

''Since when do you know Wooyoung?'' San asked.

''I know him since childhood.''

A flicker of surprise flashed through his eyes. You exhale a brief laugh at his expression.

''Well, our first meeting was actually pretty chaotic. Very long story.''

But instead of changing of subject, San leaned forward.

''Well, I have time. We even have the whole night. So tell me. I'm curious.''

His warm smile didn't leave him, his head a bit tilted.

You smile faded.

Okay, you were not prepare for this level of attention. You were certainly not ready for him say that.

His smile. His eyes. The calm in his voice.

You've never seen someone with such an empathic expression.

Maybe it was the effect of the alcohol.

Still, you couldn't take it anymore.

The question slipped before you could even think twice.

''Are you curious about how I met Wooyoung or about me?''

You both were surprised by your question.

''I'm sorry I don't know why I sai-''

''Both.''

You blinked.

''What?''

''I said both. I'm curious about how you met him and about you.''

Your heart fluttered for an unknown reason.

''Oh.''

San lifted his eyebrow, amused by your reaction.

''You don't want me to know more about you?''

''What? No, no, of course I'd like you to know me. I mean I'd like to know more about you too. I mean, who wouldn't?''

You stopped.

You did not just say that.

But the gaze he gave you clearly proved you wrong.

You stare at each other.

And you both burst out laughing.

You couldn't stop laughing and neither could he.

You felt something ease on your chest and a warmth spreading. You didn't remember the last time you had laughed like that. But it made you feel good. Really good.

And you could see San was feeling the same way.

It was only when Wooyoung came back that your laugh calmed down.

You and Wooyoung were still talking, but sometimes you would ask questions to San and he would answer it with this amused gaze that hadn't left him since you had laughed together. Sometimes you would shoot him a small smile and he would return it, but his was wider and cuter.

And just like that, in a light atmosphere, filled with quiet laughs and bickering, you thought it was the best night of your life.

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊︵‧˚₊⊹⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨

One month has passed since this night.

Wooyoung and San stayed until closing time. You'd hugged Wooyoung, thanking him for coming to see you.

And San...

You'd both shyly looked at each other before he gave you a brief hug, sliding a scrap of paper with his number on it in your hand.

Since then, you both texted each other almost everyday. At first, it was just simple messages such as ''Have a nice day!'', ''Have you eaten?'' or things like that. Until one day, you accidently called him one night. You didn't click on the call button on purpose. You were just rereading your previous texts with him, laying on your couch, but somehow your phone managed to slip from your hands, falling onto your face.

And your nose just did the work for you.

''Hello?'' A deep voice had echoed from your phone.

You had felt embarrassement running over your face.

''San? I'm sorry I didn't mean to call you. I'll hang up-''

''Wait, wait, don't.''

Your finger had stilled above the button.

''Can we talk? I feel a bit lonely...''

Your heart had throbbed painfully at his statement.

''Yes, sure.''

Since this call, you'd learned a lot of things about Choi San. For instance, you'd learned he was a hard worker. He often worked until very late at night, hence the exhaustion in his eyes and the paleness of his face. He worked in the marketing department of a company who sold toothpaste. You also had guessed that he didn't like his job. Everytime he would talk about his tasks, his boss, his colleagues and how hypocritical he found them (except Wooyoung), you could sense the bitterness in his voice.

Sometimes, he would even give you some tea about them. Some made you laugh really hard and some would make you clench your fists. Because they didn't deserve to have San in their team. He had to fix every mistake they made, and sometimes he was even the one to get scolded by his boss even when it wasn't his fault.

What hurt the most is that he seemed used to it. Wooyoung always came to his defense, but he didn't have much more power than San.

''The boss wouldn't believe me anyway.'' San had said during one late night call when you suggested he denounce them.

Despite that, he has always said that since you met, you were the best part of his day. And it made your heart flutter harder each time he said it.

''I like talking to you. I really like it.''

He couldn't see you but you were internally screaming, burying your face in your pillow.

You couldn't help but feel this strange feeling growing each day, every time you thought about him, every time he was asking about your day, everytime he praised your voice whenever you would sing some songs for him, every time he would make you laugh, every time he would sleep before you, the call still ongoing.

And all of that without seeing him.

Because you didn't see him, not since that night at the bar.

And you wanted to see him. You wanted to ask him to come to see you at the bar again.

You missed him.

And when the realization had hit you, it just made you widened your eyes.

Because, somehow, you realized he bacame your home.

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊︵‧˚₊⊹⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨

It happened faster than you'd expected.

Like someone had heard your wish.

That day, you were ready to give your best on stage, as usual.

Each time you sang, your eyes would look at the seat, occupied by everyone expect the person you wanted to see.

So when you finished your sixth song of the night, your eyes flew to the seat.

You felt your pulse hammering in your throat.

He's here.

He was sitting in the same place as last time. Your breath caught. San wasn't wearing his usual work clothes. He was dressed in casual clothes. He was wearing a brown leather jacket over a black t-shirt and black cargo pants. His didn't have his glasses on.

He was sprawled, one arm stretching out along the back of the booth seat, his hand on his drink, sometimes bringing it to his lips, eyes never leaving yours.

Considering the faint pink on his cheeks, you supposed he was already tipsy. And this just made him looked cuter. Cuter than the last time.

This time it was your turn to give him a fond smile.

He immediately returned it. He even gave you a wink.

You looked away, because again you couldn't handle his gaze. Or maybe you couldn't handle how you felt just from his eyes.

Suddenly, an idea popped up in your head.

You were supposed to take a brief break but you wanted to sing a last song.

For him.

And you already knew which one you wanted him to hear.

You faced the musicians behind you giving them instructions before approaching your father.

''I want to sing one last song.''

Your father raised his eyebrows.

''Are you sure? Your voice needs a break, I don't want you to overuse it.''

''Please, just one more song.''

He gazed at your face.

''Is it for him?'' He eventually says.

You choked on your saliva.

''W-what?''

''You think I didn't notice this man a month ago with whom you've chatted and your eyes searching for him at each of your performances since?''

You felt your cheeks burned.

''I c-can explain-''

Your father burst out laughing.

''I'm teasing you, don't worry. You have the right to fall in love.''

''I'm not in love.''

But you weren't convinced by your own lie. Neither was your father.

''No comment.''

You rolled your eyes but you felt his hand squeeze your shoulder.

''One song.''

You smiled at him, throwing yourself into his arms.

''I love you dad.''

''But I want you to introduce him to me.''

You took a step back giving him a desperate look.

''We're not even dating.''

''When did I say that I wanted you to present him as your boyfriend?''

Caught in your own trap you decided to run away, your father's laugh echoeing behind you.

When you got on stage again, San was still there. When your eyes met his, he asked something you could easily read from his lips.

Are you okay?

You nodded. He was always so attentive.

You approached the mic tapping gently the micro.

People stopped what they were doing, turning their focus on you, intrigued.

''I know it was supposed to be my last song...but I want to sing one more.''

People cheered. You smiled at their enthusiasm, but tonight you only cared about him.

''I've never sung this song but I want to dedicate it to someone who is here. It is called Beautiful Stranger by Laufey.''

You took a deep breath. You noticed the interrogative look San sent you but you ignored it.

You gave a nod to the musicians, giving them the green light.

Soft notes of guitar rose in the air. You closed your eyes. This time it wasn't because you wanted to feel the song...it was because you were too nervous to look at him.

Beautiful stranger, sitting right there

Looked up at me and my dark curly hair

Looked back for a second, didn't want to be rude

I tend to fall in love on the tube

Even with your eyes closed, you felt his eyes burning your skin. You know some lyrics aren't accurate to your relationship, but some definitely are.

But the aim of singing this song wasn't really to make him see himself through it. At least, it wasn't the main purpose.

After the first chorus, you opened your eyes, locking them immediately onto his.

Beautiful stranger, catching my stare

It's fate we collided right then back there

I wonder if he felt the same thing too

Innocent crush on the morning commute

San held your gaze. His face didn't express anything. But his eyes were glowing.

But my beautiful stranger will have to remain

A stranger until I see him again

By the end of the song, the place burst into applause.

But your eyes were only on him.

Your eyes were telling a million things that you wish he could understand. San didn't smile, but the fondness behind his eyes, and something else, betrayed him.

He stood up, his eyes locked onto yours.

And just like that, he left.

You didn't hesitate before you followed him.

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊︵‧˚₊⊹⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨

The fresh air of the night didn't do anything to calm San's heart.

Everything inside him was chaos.

He was desesperately trying to calm himself, fanning his face because he knew he looked like a tomato again.

''I can't take it anymore.'' He muttered to himself.

''Can't take what exactly?''

San's head snapped toward the voice behind him.

There she is. The one who stole my heart.

She approached him slowly.

His heart instantly flutters.

He clenched his fists. He felt like he was going to explode. Worse, he is exploding.

''Why?''

He saw her frowned.

''What do you mean by why?''

''Why do you do that to me?''

Confusion flashed through her eyes.

''San-''

''Everytime, there's this thing in me. I-I can't control it. Why does my heart ache whenever I look at you? How can you be so...so...''

Her eyes were shining. And suddenly he felt warmth on his right cheek.

Her hand was on his cheek. Gently stroking it.

He turned slighly his head, putting a soft kiss onto her palm. San heard her breath catch.

''How many drinks did you have, San?''

''Just one.''

She frowned again.

''One?''

''One and a half.''

''One and a half?''

''Two. Or three. Don't remember.''

He saw her chuckled again. And it was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard.

''You're so pretty. Did you know that?''

''You're not thinking straight.''

''Of course I am. Are you insinuating I am lying?''

A grin appeared on her lips.

''I didn't say that.''

''So take my feelings seriously.''

Her strokes on his cheeks stopped.

''Your feelings?''

''You make me feel less lonely. Your voice appeases my brain and makes me forget all my problems. And it's weird because it feels like your presence always manages to pull me out, like I was sinking under water and you would save me. I can't seem to stop thinking about you, your voice, your laugh, your scent, your eyes, the way you're always so attentive whenever I complain about my job, the way you comfort me, the way you always care for me when I work late. But also the way your eyes light up when people applaude, how gorgeous and angelic you look on stage and-''

He didn't finish that he felt lips on his, interrupting him.

His eyes widened. During a couple of seconds he went very still. Then, he closed his eyes kissing her back.

It wasn't a brief kiss.

It was a passionate kiss, holding all the feelings they felt for each other. But all above that, there was one feeling that definitely stood out more the others.

Love.

When they broke the kiss, their foreheads against each other, catching their breath, the night never felt more calm for San.

''I love you.'' He whispered.

She laughed, her lips brushing his.

''Yeah, I think I could've guessed it.''

San kissed the corner of her mouth.

''I love you too.''

San smiled. Their lips connected again. The kiss was less hurried. More calm.

But no less devastating than the previous one.

When they broke apart again, San wanted to chase her lips again but she moved her head away sending him an amused gaze.

''Do you know why did I choose this song?''

''Hmm...Because of the lyrics?''

Her smile deepened.

''Well it could've been because of that, but no.''

He frowned, staring at her lips like it could give him the answer. Eventually, he shooks his head.

She leaned towards his ear.

''Because in this universe, you're my beautiful stranger.''

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊︵‧˚₊⊹⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨

songs title : Let You Break My Heart Again by Laufey & Philharmonia Orchestra ; Beautiful Stranger by Laufey

[mingiatz]

Y/N never expected a mysterious door to pull her into a Grimm fairytale. After nearly drowning in a raging river, she witnesses a maid stealing a princess's identity through dark magic and is cursed into silence before she can expose the truth.

Now trapped in a kingdom that isn't hers, Y/N must navigate court intrigue, a stolen crown, an increasingly suspicious Crown Prince Jongho, and growing feelings that are determined to go terribly wrong.

Pairing: Jongho x Reader

Genre: Fantasy, Romance, Dark Fairytale, Royal AU

Tropes: Goose Girl Retelling, Slow Burn, Grumpy Prince x Feisty Heroine, Hidden Identity, Curse of Silence, Banter, Court Intrigue, Portal Fantasy, Stolen Crown, Forced Proximity, "She Knows The Truth"

Fairytale Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Jonghos Masterlist

To read the other members Fairytale Retellings go to the Fairytale Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

This is Part 5

The sky was gray.

As if the heavens themselves had grown tired of crying.

Jongho stood in black. Everyone stood in black.

The wind moved softly through the cemetery overlooking the hills beyond the castle. The same hills where geese wandered. The same hills where Y/N had laughed. The same hills where she had insulted him for the first time.

The same hills where she had stolen his heart without permission.

His hands shook. He hated that they still shook.

A week had passed.

Seven days.

Seven days since she had died in his arms.

Seven days since her blood had soaked through his clothes.

Seven days since her last smile.

Seven days since she had told him she loved him.

The wound should have dulled.

Everyone said it would.

Everyone lied.

It felt worse.

Every morning he woke expecting to find a reason to visit the goose fields.

Every afternoon he caught himself searching rooms for her.

Every evening he remembered she was gone.

And every evening it felt just as impossible as the first.

The grave stood before him.

Simple.

White stone.

No grand monument.

No towering statue.

Just her name.

Y/N.

Nothing else.

Nothing more was needed.

His eyes burned again.

Beside him, Liora squeezed his hand.

Not because she was the future queen.

Not because politics demanded it.

Because she understood.

Out of everyone present, perhaps only she truly understood.

The princess stood beside him dressed in black silk.

The fear that had once lived inside her seemed gone now.

Not completely.

Fear never vanished completely.

But she no longer bowed beneath it.

She stood straight.

Strong.

Exactly as Y/N had wanted.

Her father stood nearby.

The King of Valterre.

Elara stood beside Liora openly now.

No more secrets.

No more hiding.

No more shame.

Y/N had given them that too.

Another thing she would never see.

Jongho swallowed hard.

The priest continued speaking.

The words meant nothing.

He couldn't hear them.

Not really.

Everything felt distant.

Muted.

Like the world had been wrapped in thick cloth.

When the ceremony ended people slowly began leaving.

One by one.

The ministers.

The servants.

The guards.

The king.

Even Wooyoung eventually left.

Though not before placing flowers on the grave with tears in his eyes.

That hurt too.

Because Wooyoung never cried.

Not like that.

Eventually only three people remained.

Jongho.

Liora.

And Elara.

The princess looked down at the grave.

"I wish she could see this."

Her voice broke.

Elara wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

Jongho couldn't answer.

Because he wished that too.

More than anything.

Eventually Liora squeezed his hand again.

"We told my father."

Jongho nodded.

The memory surfaced.

Three days earlier.

A private meeting.

No politics.

No lies.

No obligations.

Liora standing beside Elara.

Head high.

Speaking clearly.

For herself.

For the first time.

The engagement was over.

The alliance remained.

Friendship instead of marriage.

Peace instead of sacrifice.

Exactly what Y/N would have wanted.

The thought hurt.

Everything hurt.

Eventually Liora stepped closer.

Then surprised him by pulling him into a hug.

Jongho froze, then slowly returned it.

"You kept your promise."

She sounded close to tears.

"You helped me find myself."

Jongho closed his eyes.

"No."

His voice was rough.

"She did."

Liora nodded against his shoulder.

"She did."

They stood like that for a moment.

Two people grieving the same woman.

Then eventually they separated.

Elara gently guided Liora away.

The princess stopped once before leaving.

Looking back.

Toward the grave. Toward him.

Then she smiled sadly and left.

Jongho remained.

Alone.

The wind stirred the grass.

The silence stretched.

Eventually he knelt.

One hand resting against the cold stone. "I miss you."

The words sounded pathetic.

His throat tightened. "You should be here."

Nothing answered.

Of course.

Nothing ever would.

Not anymore.

Eventually he stood.

Then walked away.

The stable smelled exactly the same.

Life continuing despite grief.

Jongho hated that.

Life should have stopped.

The world should have noticed.

Instead everything kept moving.

The horses still needed feeding.

The sun still rose.

The kingdom still needed ruling.

People still laughed.

He hated them for it sometimes.

Then hated himself for hating them.

One of the stable boys bowed.

"Your Highness."

Jongho nodded.

"My horse."

The boy hurried away.

Moments later his black stallion appeared.

Then another sound reached him.

Restless movement.

A snort.

A hoof striking wood.

Falada.

The white horse paced inside her stall.

Agitated.

Unhappy.

The stable boys looked nervous.

"She has been like this all day."

Jongho frowned.

The horse immediately looked toward him.

Then snorted.

Loudly.

Demandingly.

The stable boy blinked.

"That's new."

Jongho stared.

Falada stared back.

Then struck the stall door.

Again.

Impatient.

Almost purposeful.

A strange feeling settled inside him.

Old magic. Ancient magic.

Something familiar.

Without entirely understanding why he spoke.

"Saddle her."

The stable boy looked surprised.

"But Your Highness..."

"Saddle her."

Minutes later Jongho rode from the castle.

Not on his own horse. On Falada.

The white mare moved through the fields as if she knew exactly where she wanted to go.

Past the goose meadows.

Past the river.

Past the forest edge.

Farther.

Farther.

Until the castle disappeared behind the hills.

The ride felt endless.

Silent.

The wind cooled his face.

Eventually even the grief faded.

Not because it left. Because he had exhausted himself.

Until only emptiness remained.

A hollow ache.

A wound that no longer bled because there was nothing left to bleed.

Falada finally stopped beneath a massive oak tree.

The sun had begun setting.

Orange light painted the horizon.

Jongho slid from the saddle.

Then sat beneath the tree.

Back against the trunk.

Eyes fixed on nothing.

For a long time he simply sat there.

Silent.

Eventually the words came.

Because they always did.

And because nobody was there to hear them.

Except a horse.

"You liked her too, didn’t you."

Falada's ears twitched.

Jongho laughed bitterly.

"Of course you did."

The horse remained still.

The wind stirred the leaves.

Jongho looked toward the horizon.

"She was annoying."

A tear slipped down his face.

"She talked too much."

Another.

"She challenged everything."

His voice broke.

"She made me laugh."

The tears wouldn't stop.

"I love her."

There it was.

The truth.

"I think..."

His throat tightened.

"I think I always would have."

The confession disappeared into the evening air.

The world remained silent.

Then he laughed weakly.

Looking toward the horse.

"Listen to me."

Falada lowered her head slightly.

"I am talking to a horse."

The horse stepped closer.

Jongho wiped at his eyes.

"She made me feel..."

He stopped.

Searching.

For the right words.

Something large.

Something impossible.

Something he couldn't explain.

„Like I already knew her."

His voice softened.

„Like old souls found each other again."

The horse suddenly moved.

Closer.

Jongho frowned.

"Falada?"

The mare lowered her head.

Then touched her forehead gently against his.

The world vanished.

Light exploded.

Golden.

Warm.

Ancient.

Jongho froze.

A voice echoed through his mind.

Not spoken.

Felt.

Old as mountains.

Soft as moonlight.

You loved her well.

His breath caught.

The voice continued.

And she loved you.

Tears immediately returned.

"What..."

The horse remained still.

Yet the voice remained.

Do not fear.

Jongho's heart pounded.

"Who are you?"

A promise.

The answer felt strange.

Ancient.

Sacred.

A guardian.

Understanding crashed into him.

The queen.

Liora's mother.

The magic.

The amulet.

Something connected.

Something old.

Something watching.

His throat tightened.

"Can I see her again?"

The question escaped before pride could stop it.

Silence.

Then:

Yes.

The word shattered him.

Hope.

Painful hope.

The worst kind.

His hands shook.

"When?"

The answer came gently.

Not in this life.

The hope cracked, but didn't die.

You have a kingdom to guide.

The voice felt warm now.

Almost kind.

You have promises yet to keep.

Images flashed before him.

Liora.

Valterre.

His people.

The throne.

Responsibilities.

Life.

The future.

Protect Princess Liora.

Protect her kingdom.

Rule well.

The conditions settled around him.

And when this life ends.

His breath stopped.

I will ensure your paths cross again.

Jongho closed his eyes.

Tears fell freely.

No shame. No pride.

Only grief.

And hope.

Beautiful. Terrible. Hope.

"She'll remember me?"

The answer came immediately.

Some souls never truly forget each other.

The sunset deepened.

The world slowly returned.

The warmth faded.

The voice disappeared.

Falada stepped back.

Once again only a horse.

Only a mare beneath a tree.

Only silence.

Jongho sat there for a long time.

Looking toward the horizon.

Thinking of Y/N.

Of another life.

Another chance.

A future he would never see.

Yet somehow believed in.

Eventually he stood.

His chest still hurt.

The grief remained. The loss remained.

Nothing had changed.

And yet.

Everything had.

He rested one hand against Falada's neck.

"Then I'll wait."

The horse huffed softly.

Jongho smiled.

Then together they turned toward home.

Toward the kingdom he had promised to protect.

Toward the future.

Toward a life without Y/N.

A life he would endure because of a promise.

And somewhere beyond sunsets and years and lifetimes.

Beyond kingdoms.

Beyond magic.

Beyond death itself.

A door waited.

And perhaps.

One day.

Another soul would open it.

In another lifetime

The first thing Y/N did every morning was unlock the front door.

The second was turn on the coffee machine.

The third was admire her geese.

The order was important.

Very important.

"You're staring at them again."

Y/N looked up from the display shelf.

Her friend and coworker Mina stood behind the counter holding a box of fresh pastries.

Y/N glanced back at the ceramic goose collection.

Then at Mina.

Then back at the geese.

"They're cute."

"They're geese."

"They can be both."

"They hiss."

"They just have boundaries."

Mina laughed.

Y/N carefully adjusted a freshly painted ceramic mug.

White geese marched across the surface surrounded by little wildflowers.

It was adorable.

And apparently nobody understood her artistic vision.

Including Mina. Especially Mina.

The ceramic workshop café had been open for almost three years now.

It was Y/N's favorite place in the world.

Warm lights.

Coffee. Fresh pastries.

Paint.

Clay.

Shelves full of handmade pottery.

The gentle hum of conversation.

And geese.

Lots of geese.

Ceramic geese.

Painted geese.

Tiny goose figurines.

Goose mugs.

Goose bowls.

Goose plates.

Goose everything.

Her customers loved it. Or at least tolerated it.

Mina remained unconvinced. "I still don't understand why you like them so much."

Y/N shrugged.

The answer came automatically.

The same answer it always did. "They feel like home."

Mina paused.

The teasing immediately faded.

Because Y/N always said it like that.

Not joking.

Not laughing.

Just... certain.

As if she genuinely meant it.

Which was strange, because she had never owned geese.

Never lived near geese.

Never even particularly interacted with them growing up.

Yet somehow seeing one always filled her with warmth.

Comfort.

Familiarity.

Home.

The feeling made absolutely no sense.

Mina leaned against the counter. "Dream again?"

Y/N looked up.

Mina noticed. "Thought so."

Y/N sighed. Then laughed softly.

"How did you know?"

"Because every time you have that dream, you spend the entire day looking sentimental."

"Rude."

"Accurate."

Unfortunately true.

Y/N walked behind the counter and accepted the coffee Mina handed her.

The warmth felt nice against her palms.

Outside, people hurried past the café windows.

Life.

Ordinary life.

Normal life.

The life she'd always known.

Yet somehow.

Not entirely.

Mina sat opposite her. "So?"

Y/N smiled despite herself.

"The usual."

"The geese?"

"The geese."

"The mystery man?"

Y/N nodded.

"The mystery man."

Mina groaned dramatically.

"I swear at this point I know more about your dream boyfriend than some real people."

Y/N laughed.

The dream.

Always the same.

Always.

As far back as she could remember.

Since childhood.

Before she understood what love was.

Before she understood grief.

Before she understood anything.

The dream had always existed.

The details changed slightly over the years.

But the feeling never did.

Never.

"There was a field."

Mina immediately nodded.

"There are always fields."

"There are."

"And geese."

"There are always geese."

"And the guy."

Y/N smiled into her coffee.

"Yes."

Mina pointed immediately.

"See."

"What?"

"That smile."

Y/N rolled her eyes.

Mina ignored her.

The dream felt more real lately.

Sharper.

Like something was changing.

Like something was coming closer.

"I never see everything."

Y/N stared out the window.

"Not clearly."

"But?"

"The feelings are clear."

That was the strange part.

The strongest part.

The impossible part.

She remembered feelings more than events.

Warmth.

Safety.

Laughter.

Arguments.

Challenge.

Love.

So much love.

The kind that hurt.

The kind that changed people.

The kind that made the rest of the world disappear.

Mina listened quietly.

"The man is always there."

Y/N continued softly.

"Standing beside me."

The image appeared immediately.

A field.

Golden sunlight.

White geese.

And him.

Always him.

Dark eyes.

Dark hair.

A smile she could never fully remember after waking.

Only the feeling.

"What does he look like?"

Mina had asked that question hundreds of times.

The answer never changed.

"I don't know exactly."

"That's impossible."

"I know."

"But it is."

Mina sighed.

"You're telling me you've had the same dream your entire life."

"Yes."

"About the same man."

"Yes."

"You fall in love."

"Yes."

"You kiss."

"Yes."

"And then you die."

Y/N's smile faded.

Because that part always remained too.

The ending.

The painful ending.

The part she hated.

The part that always made her wake up crying.

The feeling of blood.

Loss.

Goodbye.

And him holding her.

Always him.

Y/N looked down at her coffee.

"I always die."

Mina's expression softened immediately.

The joking disappeared.

As it always did when they reached this part.

"And every time I wake up..."

Y/N struggled for the words.

"Feeling like I lost someone."

Silence settled between them.

Mina reached over and squeezed her hand.

"Maybe he was someone important in another life"

Y/N smiled weakly.

"In another life?"

"You never know."

Y/N laughed.

"What?"

"There is your soulmate speech again."

Mina looked offended. "I haven't even started yet."

"Oh no."

"Oh yes."

Y/N groaned.

Mina grinned. "I think mystery dream man is your soulmate."

"Stop."

"I'm serious."

"You absolutely are not."

"I am."

Y/N laughed harder.

Yet beneath it.

Deep down.

A small part of her wondered.

Because the dream never felt imaginary.

Not really.

The emotions were too strong.

Too real.

Too old.

As if remembering rather than dreaming.

Which made no sense.

Absolutely none.

Still.

Sometimes.

Very late at night.

She wondered.

The day passed quickly.

Customers came and went.

Ceramics were painted.

Coffee was served.

Geese were admired.

A little girl spent twenty minutes painting a goose wearing a crown.

Y/N nearly cried from happiness.

By evening the café finally emptied.

Mina headed home first.

Leaving Y/N alone to close.

The sky outside glowed orange.

Warm.

Peaceful.

Beautiful.

After locking up she decided to stop at a small coffee shop nearby.

A reward.

She deserved one.

Running a business was hard.

And muffins existed.

The logic felt flawless.

Twenty minutes later she emerged carrying a coffee and blueberry muffin.

The city glowed beneath evening lights.

People filled the sidewalks.

Cars rolled past.

Everything felt ordinary.

Y/N took another bite of her muffin.

Then immediately walked into someone.

The collision nearly sent both coffees flying.

"Watch where you're—"

The words escaped automatically.

Y/N grabbed the stranger's sleeve to stop herself from falling.

"Seriously, people can't just stop in the middle of—"

She looked up and everything stopped.

The city vanished.

The sounds disappeared.

The world disappeared.

Dark eyes.

Dark hair.

Tall.

Broad shoulders.

And a face she had never seen.

Yet knew instantly.

Her breath caught.

Impossible.

Absolutely impossible.

Because she knew him.

She knew him.

The stranger stared back.

Equally frozen.

Coffee forgotten.

Sidewalk forgotten.

Everything forgotten.

His eyes widened.

Not in surprise.

Recognition.

The same recognition exploding inside her.

For one terrifying second neither moved.

Then his expression changed.

Softened.

Like someone who had spent a lifetime searching.

Like someone who had finally come home.

Y/N's heart hammered painfully.

Because she knew that smile.

Not from memory.

From feeling.

From dreams.

From somewhere deeper than either.

The man smiled.

Small.

Disbelieving.

Beautiful.

And Y/N felt tears immediately sting her eyes.

His voice was rough.

Almost emotional.

As though he could barely believe it himself.

"I finally found you."

The words shattered something inside her.

Not painfully.

The opposite.

Like a lock breaking.

Like a door opening.

Like a missing piece sliding back into place.

Y/N stared.

Everything forgotten.

Then.

Slowly.

A smile spread across her face too.

The same one she had worn in dreams.

The same one she didn't understand.

Yet somehow felt completely natural.

As if she had been waiting for this moment her entire life.

Maybe she had.

And standing beneath the evening sky.

Looking into the eyes of the man she'd dreamed about for as long as she could remember.

For the first time.

Y/N wondered if some souls really did find each other again.

Epilogue

Some doors close with whispered grace,

Leaving only time and space.

Others linger, soft and near,

Their echoes carried year by year.

Eight were called beneath one sky,

Eight watched ordinary worlds drift by.

Eight crossed thresholds none should see,

And stepped into old destiny.

One sought gold where devils smiled,

And found a heart both fierce and wild.

Three golden hairs, a road through flame,

Yet love remained when fortune came.

One walked forests red and deep,

Where hungry eyes forgot to sleep.

Yet beneath the shadow of fang and wood,

A gentle heart forever stood.

One wandered roads of ash and snow,

Where only stubborn souls could go.

Through scorn and fear and winter's breath,

Love waited patiently beyond death.

One followed garlands pale and sweet,

To a house where danger dressed as feast.

Yet courage saw what charm concealed,

And truth became both sword and shield.

One learned that names hold power still,

That bargains bend to stronger will.

And where fate demanded gold and fear,

Love spoke the truest name to hear.

The Sixth for far away beneath another moon,

A princess wept beside a river's tune.

A stolen crown, a borrowed face, A kingdom bound by hidden grace.

A girl from nowhere crossed the tide,

And stood where truth itself would hide.

Among the geese, among the rain,

She laughed through sorrow, loss, and pain.

She taught a frightened heart to rise.

She taught a prince to compromise.

She gave away what few possess,

A love that asked for nothing less.

And though her story ended there,

With blood and grief and whispered prayer,

The oldest magic knew its part.

For death may still a beating heart,

Yet some souls never drift apart.

Yet even now the tale is not done.

For two doors still remain unopened.

One waits where feathers drift through air,

And silent vows become a prayer.

Six brothers wander wing and sky,

While one brave heart must learn goodbye.

There love shall bloom through sacrifice,

And patience prove its hidden price.

Another waits where crumbs are strewn,

Beneath a pale enchanted moon.

A path of sweets, a witch's grin,

And shadows hiding deep within.

Yet clever hearts and hands held tight,

May still transform the darkest night.

Two stories linger.

Two roads remain.

Two hearts still wait beyond the rain.

And somewhere magic watches still, Beyond the forest, past the hill. Patient as winter. Certain as spring.

Waiting.

For the next door to open.

Because every once upon a time Is merely the first echo of what is to come.

Fairytale Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Jonghos Masterlist

To read the other members Fairytale Retellings go to the Fairytale Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Taglist: @ninjakitty15 @dalsuwaha @starmee-lodurrson @luviebears @darjeelinglemontea @ffenjoyerdazme @moonlitcelestial @livonianmaia @m00njinnie @tinycloudz @whoreforjongho @shrimpwoo @soso59love-blog @armycarat2612 @yunhospinkyring @okiedokiespookie @lunaryoongie @firstdivisiongirl @autumnrainsings @meowmeeps @scoutyy @goblin-pop @hope122598 @sunnysidesins @hohongstiny @strawberrymars98 @arlixup88 @crystalclearskull

[minkiverse]

POLY!ATEEZ FIC RECS PART 2

Find other Ateez fic recs HERE!

The long awaited PART TWO!!! I started this last year and it is APRIL 😭😭 I will say this was exponentially harder than part 1 and that is mostly because I read so many fics that sorting through them with my limited tags has been rough lmao, suffice to say a part 3 will be needed. I also have ideas for more curated lists by genre or trope that I hope to work on next so look forward to that! As always please show lots of love to these authors!!!!!

DISCLAIMER none of these works are mine and majority are MATURE 18+, please review all warnings before reading!!!

Key:

✨ - My Favs

🔥 - Smut (MINORS DNI)

⛈️ - Angst

💗 - Fluff

🍑 - Humor

POLY!ATEEZ

The Leaders - @sorryimananti-romantic ✨🔥⛈️💗 Mafia AU ✧ Completed

A masterclass in storytelling and worldbuilding and IM NOT OVEREXAGGERATING!!! Yumi did such an incredible job with this fic and I typically don't like mafia au's but this one is just so well done! Luna is just such a great character in herself and how her story progresses along with meeting the boys its just so good! There were so many moments I was just jaw-dropped reading a new revelation in this fic asdfsdgsfh so if you haven't read it yet DO IT!

Truth or Dare - @shinestarhwaa 🔥 9th Member AU ✧ One Shot

Hotel California Book Two - @mint-yooxgi 🔥⛈️💗 Demon!Ateez ✧ Ongoing

I think this was the fic to make me realize how much I enjoy reading about men who are horrendously down bad, like the crazy kind of in love and obsessed and this fic is peak when it comes to that. And once MC learns her ability to basically control them through there obsession 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ yeah that's the good shit!

clair de lune - @atzfilm 🔥⛈️ Vampire!Ateez ✧ Reincarnation AU ✧ Completed

This author and their way of devastating me 😭😭😭 Just the most complex characterizations of the boys, so many moments when you root for them only to find out another horrible thing they've done 😭😭 one of the most resilient mc's out there that is a fact 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

Suns in a Black Sea - @remedyx 🔥⛈️💗 Alien!Ateez ✧ Ongoing

One fic that I'm so excited about because I love an alien fic and even with just 3 chapters I'm hooked 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ And MC being the only one they feel more comfortable with is soooooooooooooooooo good I love that shit 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ AND THE FACT THIS GOT UPDATED DURING THE TIME OF ME WORKING ON THIS LIST!!! thats what you call ✨manifestation✨

our leaves must fall before our flowers can bloom - @eightmakesonebraincell ⛈️💗 Hockey AU ✧ One Shot

Seeds of Love Pt. 2 - @remedyx 🔥💗Coven!Ateez ✧ Two Shot

Rock Will Never Die - @skzdust 🔥 Rock Band AU ✧ A/B/O ✧ One Shot but has Spin-offs

the essence of youth is summers with you - @eightmakesonebraincell ✨💗 Surfer AU ✧ Friends to Lovers AU ✧ One Shot

like i mentioned in my tags, i do not like summer, but this fics makes me so nostalgic for summer if that makes any sense asdgfh and just the way this fic plays out is so up my alley from the friends to lovers to the angst it just is sooo sosososo good

Sexual Education - @joonie-joon 🔥 Inexperienced!Reader ✧ Ongoing

nothing beats having 8 hot friends help you learn and explore sexually on vacation 🙌🙌

no, you dumb fuck. it's the elbow - @eightmakesonebraincell 💗🍑 Band!Teez ✧ College AU ✧ One Shot

MULTIPLE MEMBERS

Murphy's Law - @atzfilm 🔥⛈️💗 Multi x Reader ✧ Alien!Ateez ✧ Soulmate AU ✧ Completed

Oooh the angst in this is so good but the payoff 😩😩😩 its soooooooo good!! I don't want to spoil the end relationship of this fic but god the dynamics are so interesting not just with MC but between the members as well 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

the post-show high - @bombuni 🔥Jongho x Reader x Yeosang ✧ Band AU ✧ One Shot

three's company - @minkieater ✨🔥⛈️💗 Mingi x Reader x Yunho ✧ Ongoing

if you've been on my blog for long enough you'd probably understand how much I would love to be in a yungi sandwich and this fic OH DOES IT DELIVER!!! like my honest to god favorite part about this fic is how complex the relationship is between these 3 it is just so interesting to read about i've just been eating it up and YOU SHOULD TOO!🫵

double stuffed - @kitten4sannie 🔥 San x Reader x Mingi ✧ One Shot

Hotelroom - @shinestarhwaa 🔥 WooSanHwa x Reader ✧ One Shot

just between friends - @honeyhotteoks 🔥 Yunho x Reader x Mingi ✧ One Shot

for the love of the game - @kitten4sannie 🔥 Wooyoung x Reader x Yunho ✧ Baseball AU ✧ One Shot

As Above So Below - @bandgie 🔥Jongho x Reader x Seonghwa ✧ One Shot

play rough - @k-hotchoisan 🔥 San x Reader x Seonghwa ✧ Hybrid AU✧ One Shot

Untitled - @stxrrywoo 🔥 Yeosang x Reader x Jongho ✧ One Shot

happy new year - @yungistiny 🔥Yunho x Reader x Mingi ✧ One Shot

the fool's heart - @ateezlibrary ⛈️ Hongjoong x Reader x Seonghwa ✧ Royalty AU ✧ One Shot

Shy - @minkieater ✨🔥⛈️ San x Wooyoung x Reader ✧ Best Friends to Lovers ✧ One Shot

i love angst and i loooooooove when mc believes her love is unrequited I EAT THAT SHIT UP!!!! like her crash out after finding woosan together is so valid asfsdfgfhdghj i just love how viscerally they are into each other but still too dumb to see (especially shy im so sorry sweetie) special shout out to yunho who does a great job of setting things into motion lmao 🙌

Desire + the conclusion - @sorryimananti-romantic ✨🔥⛈️💗 Hongjoong x Reader x Yunho ✧ Royalty AU ✧ Two Shot (?)

another angsty fic 😩😩 mc being in love with and engaged to yunho while also struggling with her new feelings for hongjoong 👹👹 its sooooo good 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ honestly this is very wholesome because their feelings for eachother are just so pure like you feel the YEARNING in this between joong and mc and then you have yun and mc who like you just feel bliss reading about 🫠🫠 it's just so well done on its own and then yumi my GOAT decided to add a bonus chapter 🙌🙌🙌🙌

Team Red - @peacheeeliz ⛈️💗🍑 Yunho x Reader x Mingi ✧ Superhero AU ✧ SMAU ✧ Completed

Netflix and Chill - @stxrrywoo 🔥 Hongjoong x Reader x Seonghwa ✧ One Shot

Trophies - @outro-jo 🔥 San x Reader x Mingi ✧ Street Racer AU ✧ One Shot

Untitled - @sangis-puppy 🔥 Yeosang x Reader x Mingi ✧ One Shot

After Practice - @kjmalfoy 🔥 Hongjoong x Reader x San ✧ Friends to Lovers ✧ One Shot

Crushed - @sa1co 🔥⛈️ Yunho x Reader x Mingi ✧ Roommate AU ✧ One Shot

On the Mic - @crimsonbubble 🔥 Hongjoong x Reader x Yunho ✧ One Shot

SCENARIOS/TEXTS/HEADCANONS

ateez reaction to s/o being shy during sex - @nateezfics 🔥💗 Headcanons

ateez and their thirsty s/o - @kisshwa 🍑 Texts

Making out with Ateez - @sxcret-garden 🔥 Scenarios

ateez after a concert - @mingwrites ✨🔥Scenarios

not only is this so incredibly hot but the way it was written with how you almost travel with each member from the concert to the hotel (idk how to describe it but it is sooo like pleasing to read!)

ateez as pirates who fall for you (hyung line + maknae line) - @eightmakesonebraincell ✨⛈️💗 Scenarios ✧ Pirate AU

you get a little bit of everything in this fic suave pirate shenanigans, cutie patooties with heart eyes, interesting espionage and daring feats, and an endless time loop as one person desperately tries to save the life of their lover that they keep watching die in their arms :D anyway safe to say the san scenario has stuck with me asdfsdgsfdhh

make up sex with ateez - @nateezfics 🔥⛈️ Scenarios

Ateez sub headcanons - @last-words-ofashootingstar 🔥 Headcanons

top ateez member into pegging - @fairyofjaeyun 🔥 Headcanons

Arranged marriage with Prince Ateez - @nateezfics 🔥⛈️ Royalty AU

Hidden Pleasures - @belongjoong 🔥Drabbles (Ateez biggest kink)

when they make you repeat yourself mid-sex - @mingi-buffering-24-7 🔥 Scenarios

shy/flustered ateez - @blondechariot 💗 Scenarios

Ragebaiting them - @yunhotteoks 🍑 Texts

triangle eyes - @yeonlymine 💗 Drabbles (Trying the Triangle Eyes theory on Ateez)

whichu - @xoxiaojun 🍑 Texts (Needy BF Ateez)

Jealousy Baby - @kisssan 💗 Scenarios ✧ Dad!Teez

Yeah, I could be gentle - @kisssan 🔥 Scenarios (How Rough Ateez is)

call me pretty - @ateezlibrary 🔥 Drabbles (Ateez and petnames)

[alvadian]

this Yunho gives Saja boys vibe have to draw it right away

[dazzlingkai]

260726 — WOOYOUNG : BAD

[kangsyeosang]

[yungistiny]

practice makes perfect 2

[ J. Yunho ]

╚═════════

summary: in which your best friend has never gone down on a girl before and asks you to teach him how

warning: oral, fingering, face riding, coming untouched, masturbation, squirting, creaming, spanking, unprotected sex, creampie

genre: smut, friends to lovers

pairing: yunho x afab reader

word count: 17.4k

part 1 (stand alone mingi version)

masterlist

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

The Florida heat clung to you like it always did, thick, humid, stubborn enough to follow you from the parking lot all the way up the stairs and into the apartment, like it had a personal vendetta against your sanity. Your scrubs stuck to your back, your hairline damp, your whole body carrying that bone deep exhaustion that only came from twelve hours on your feet and one too many patients who needed more than you could give. Usually, just the thought of home, of him, was enough to take the edge off. Tonight, however, the second you stepped inside, you knew something was off.

It wasn’t loud. Yunho wasn’t the type to slam doors or throw things, not even on his worst days. No, this was quieter than that. The kind of wrong that settled into the room like a shift in pressure before a storm. His voice carried from the living room, low and controlled, headset on, but there was no warmth in it, none of that easy, teasing charm he usually slipped into without thinking. It was clipped. Distracted. “Yeah, yeah, I see it,” he muttered, fingers moving fast over his keyboard. “Just…. hold on.” No laugh. No playful scolding at his chat. No “hey, you’re home” tossed over his shoulder the second the door clicked shut. That alone was enough to make you pause.

You toed your shoes off slowly, setting your bag down by the door, eyes already drifting toward the glow of his setup. The room was dim except for the LED lights lining his desk, casting everything in that soft blue purple haze that usually felt cozy. Tonight, it just made the tension more obvious, sharper somehow, like it had edges. Yunho sat forward in his chair, elbows braced on his knees instead of leaning back like he usually did. His headset was slightly askew, one side slipping down like he’d adjusted it too many times. His jaw was tight, the muscle ticking faintly, and every now and then he dragged a hand through his hair like he was trying to physically pull himself together. That’s when it really hit you. It took a lot to get him like this.

Yunho was the steady one. The one who let things roll off his back, who joked his way through frustration, who turned everything into something lighter even when it probably shouldn’t have been. You’d seen him annoyed before, sure, but this? This was something else. Something heavier. Something sitting just under the surface, barely contained. You stepped a little closer, quieter now, like you didn’t want to spook him, arms folding loosely over yourself as you leaned against the wall just outside his camera’s frame. Close enough to see him clearly, far enough not to interrupt.

His eyes flicked to the side, toward his second monitor, towards the chat, and for a split second, something in his expression tightened further. Not anger exactly. Embarrassment, maybe. Frustration tangled up with something deeper. Your brows pulled together, concern replacing the last of your exhaustion as you studied him more carefully. Whatever it was, it wasn’t just a bad game or a rough stream. Something had gotten under his skin and Yunho didn’t let things get under his skin unless it mattered. You pushed off the wall, crossing the room slowly, your presence finally pulling his attention fully toward you. His eyes met yours for a second, and there it was, that flicker. Something guarded. Something he didn’t want you to see. But you knew him too well.

“Hey,” you said softly, just loud enough for him to hear you over his headset. “You good?” He hesitated. Just for a second. Then he forced a small, automatic smile, the kind that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah. I’m fine.” You didn’t believe him for a second. And judging by the way his fingers stilled on his keyboard for a beat too long… he knew you didn’t. “Okay.” You don’t push. Not yet. You’ve learned that about him over the years, when Yunho shuts down like that, poking at it too early just makes him retreat further. So instead, you give him an easy out, a soft landing. Your voice stays light, casual, like you’re not clocking the tension practically humming under his skin.

“I’m gonna shower,” you add, already turning toward your room and he nods, quick, distracted, eyes flicking back to his screen like he’s grateful for the escape. “Yeah. I’ll be out here.” You leave him to it, but the weight in the apartment follows you down the hall and the shower ends up hotter than it should be, Florida heat be damned, but you need it. Need something to wash the hospital off you, to melt the ache out of your shoulders, to give your brain a second to breathe. Steam fills the bathroom, fogging the mirror, curling around you like a reset button you wish actually worked. For a few minutes, it almost does.

But even under the spray, your mind drifts back to him. The tightness in his jaw. The way his voice snapped at his chat. The look in his eyes when he glanced at you, like he was already bracing for something. By the time you shut the water off, that uneasy feeling is still there, clinging just as stubbornly as the humidity outside. You dry off, change into your usual oversized tee and soft shorts, hair still damp as you pad down the hallway toward your room. The apartment is quieter now. No stream chatter bleeding through the walls. No clicking keys. He must’ve ended it early. That alone says enough.

You barely make it two steps into your room before you hear it, his footsteps, slower than usual, like he’s thinking about turning around with every one but then there’s a soft knock against your already open door making you glance up. Yunho’s standing there, one hand braced against the frame, the other rubbing at the back of his neck. His hair’s messier than before, like he’s run his hands through it a hundred times since you got in the shower. He’s changed out of his streaming hoodie, now in a loose tshirt and sweats, but the tension hasn’t gone anywhere. If anything, it’s worse up close.

For a second, he just… stands there. Like he’s trying to figure out how to say something he doesn’t want to say. You raise a brow slightly, sitting back against your pillows. “You gonna stand there all night, or…” He huffs out a quiet breath, something halfway between a laugh and a sigh, and finally steps in. The door creaks softly as he nudges it shut behind him, like he needs the privacy, like whatever this is… it’s not for the rest of the world. Just you. “Chloe dumped me.” It lands flat, dropped between you like it doesn’t weigh anything at all. You blink once. “Okay.” And honestly? That’s about as much reaction as he’s getting out of you. Not because you don’t care about him, you do, more than you probably should, but because Chloe? Yeah. No. You never liked her. Something about her always felt… off. Too quick, too surface level, like she was playing a part instead of actually seeing him. She’d only been around a few weeks, but even that felt like too long.

Still, you tilt your head slightly, studying him. “What happened?” Yunho exhales slowly, gaze dropping to the floor like it might have answers for him. “I don’t know,” he mutters at first, defaulting to avoidance. Then he huffs, shaking his head. “I mean…. I do know, I just…” He trails off. Yunho doesn’t usually struggle to explain things, not with you. Even when something’s messy, he talks through it, jokes through it, something. But now he’s just… stuck. Words caught somewhere between his chest and his throat as you sit up a little straighter, the shift subtle but intentional. “Yunho.” He glances up and you hold his gaze, softer this time, but firm. “Why did she dump you?”

His jaw tightens, and for a second, you think he might brush it off, change the subject, pretend it doesn’t matter. Instead, he looks away, hand dragging down his face like he’s already regretting opening his mouth. “It’s stupid.” Your eyes narrow slightly. “If it’s got you acting like this, it’s not stupid.” He lets out a quiet, humorless laugh at that, shoulders slumping just a fraction. “It kind of is,” he says, voice lower now. “I just….” He cuts himself off, shaking his head, like even saying it out loud feels like too much. And suddenly, whatever this is? It’s not just a breakup. It’s something he’s embarrassed about. Something that actually got to him.

You watch him carefully now, curiosity mixing with that familiar, protective instinct that always kicks in when it comes to him. “Yunho,” you say again, softer this time, “just tell me.” He goes still. Like the words are right there, right on the edge, and all he has to do is let them fall. He shifts his weight where he stands, like the floor suddenly isn’t steady under him anymore. His fingers curl against the back of his neck, rubbing there again and again like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. You can see the hesitation on him, thick, stubborn, sitting right behind his teeth. Which, of course… makes you lean into it. You tilt your head, watching him with that familiar look he’s known for years, the one that says you’re not getting out of this that easy.

“Okay,” you say slowly, drawing the word out just enough to get under his skin. “So it’s stupid, but you won’t say it… which means it’s definitely not stupid.” He huffs under his breath again, eyes flicking up to you for a second before dropping again. “You’re making it worse.”

“Oh, I’m just getting started,” you shoot back, shifting to sit cross legged on your bed, fully settling in like this is about to become a whole event. “What, did you forget your two week anniversary? Call her the wrong name? Please tell me you didn’t call her bro during…”

“I didn’t during…” he cuts in quickly, then stops himself, pressing his lips together and you catch that, instantly. “During what?”

“Nothing.”

“Yunho.”

He groans softly, dragging a hand down his face again. “Can you not do that?”

“Do what?” you ask, completely innocent. “That thing where you…” he gestures vaguely toward you, frustration bubbling just under the surface. “where you don’t let it go.” You grin, just a little. “You knew what you signed up for when you decided I was your best friend.” That almost gets him. His mouth twitches like he wants to smile, but it fades just as fast, the weight of whatever he’s holding onto pulling him right back down. The room quiets again, the tension stretching between you, thinner now but sharper and you soften a little, voice gentler this time. “Hey… I’m not gonna judge you.” That makes him look at you again. And there’s something in his eyes now, something caught between embarrassment and trust, like he’s standing on the edge of something he’s never said out loud before.

“You’re definitely gonna judge me,” he mutters. “I won’t,” you say, a little too quick and he raises a brow as you sigh, holding up a hand. “Okay, I might judge you a little. But like… lovingly.” That pulls a quiet laugh out of him, the tension easing just a fraction. Enough for him to finally stop pacing around it. “She said I didn’t know what I was doing,” he admits, voice low.

“Do what?” Your brain starts running through possibilities in rapid fire. “Okay, wait…. what, like you were too rough? Not rough enough? You didn’t communicate? Yunho, please don’t tell me you just…. lay there…”

“I didn’t just lay there,” he cuts in, a little defensive now.

“Then what?”

He goes quiet again. And this time, you don’t rush it. You just watch him. The way his shoulders rise with a slow inhale. The way his jaw clenches like he’s bracing for impact. The way his gaze flicks anywhere but you, floor, wall, ceiling, like eye contact would make it worse. “She said,” he starts, then stops and your patience snaps just a little. “Yunho.” He squeezes his eyes shut for half a second, like ripping off a bandage. “I’ve never gone down on a girl before, okay?” Your brain stalls completely. Because out of everything you expected him to say…. “You’re kidding.” His eyes snap open, immediate regret flashing across his face. “I knew it….”

“No, wait….hold on,” you sit up straighter, staring at him like he just told you the sky is green. “You’re serious?” He looks like he wants the floor to swallow him whole. “Yes.” You blink. Once. Twice. This is Yunho.

Yunho, who’s charming without trying. Yunho, who’s had girls orbiting him since high school. Yunho, who, by all accounts, should not have this be the thing he’s insecure about. “You’ve never….” you start, still trying to process it as he shakes his head, quick and firm, like if he gets it out fast enough it’ll hurt less. “No. I just…. never did. And then it became a thing, and then I felt weird about it, and then…” he gestures vaguely, frustration creeping back in, “this!”

You stare at him for another second. Then another. And the shock is still there but something else starts creeping in underneath it. Something quieter. Something a little more dangerous. “That’s why she dumped you?” you ask finally, softer now and he lets out a humorless breath. “Yeah.” And for a second, you don’t say anything. Because that? That doesn’t sit right with you. You stare at him for another second, the shock still settling, but now it’s tangled up with something else, confusion, curiosity, a faint spark of disbelief that refuses to die down. “Okay, but why?” you ask, brows pulling together. “Like…. not in a judging way, I just… how has that just… never happened?”

Yunho exhales, long and slow, like he already hates this conversation but knows he walked himself straight into it. His hand drags through his hair again, leaving it more disheveled than before. “I don’t know,” he mutters at first, defaulting to avoidance again. Then he shakes his head, forcing himself to actually answer. “I just… never did. And then the longer I didn’t, the weirder it felt to suddenly try.” You tilt your head slightly, watching him. “Weirder how?” His jaw tightens, eyes flicking away. “Like… I don’t know what the hell I’m doing,” he admits, quieter now. “And I don’t want to mess it up.” There it is. Not arrogance. Not lack of interest. Just… insecurity.

You shift a little on the bed, studying him more carefully now, that earlier teasing giving way but not gone entirely. “Okay,” you say slowly, “but you’ve done other stuff.” He glances at you, wary now. “Yeah.” You squint slightly, gears turning. “So… you’ve used your hands before, right?” His ears go red immediately. “Of course I have,” he snaps, shooting you a glare that’s half defensive, half embarrassed. And that somehow makes it worse. Because now you’re even more confused. You blink at him, leaning forward just a little. “Then what’s the difference?”

He opens his mouth and closes it right back. Then opens it again, clearly searching for an answer that doesn’t make him sound as out of his depth as he feels. “It’s just… different,” he finally mutters, frustration creeping back in. “It’s not the same thing.” You watch him for a second, the way he avoids your eyes again, the way his shoulders are just slightly hunched like he’s bracing for you to laugh or tease him harder. But you don’t. Not this time. Because now you get it. Not fully but enough. Enough to see that this isn’t just about what he hasn’t done. It’s about the fact that he doesn’t feel like he’d be good at it. And for someone like Yunho, someone who’s used to being steady, capable, reliable? Good at everything. That probably stings more than he’s letting on.

“You’re overthinking it,” you say finally and he lets out a short, dry laugh. “Yeah? That seems to be the theme tonight.” You hold his gaze this time, not letting him look away. “It is,” you say, quieter. “Because it’s not as complicated as you’re making it.” Something shifts in his expression at that. “Then what is it?” he asks, before he can stop himself and you lean back slightly, exhaling through your nose, buying yourself a second. “It’s about paying attention,” you say slowly. “Reading reactions. Adjusting.”

His eyes don’t leave you. “That’s it?” You hesitate. Just for a second. Because the answer is simple. But the implication? Not so much. “Yeah,” you say, quieter now. And the way he’s looking at you now, really looking, like he’s trying to piece something together in real time, it sends something warm and restless curling low in your chest. “That doesn’t really help,” he admits after a second, voice just a little rougher and you almost laugh. Instead, you tilt your head, studying him, something flickering behind your eyes now, something a little more daring than before. “What do you want me to do, Yunho?” you ask, light but not entirely joking anymore and he stills. Because now he hears it too. That shift. That dangerous little edge your voice just picked up.

“I just….” he starts, then stops, like he suddenly realized exactly how this sounds. And maybe… exactly who he’s asking. Your best friend. The one person who knows you better than anyone. The one person you’ve both been carefully not crossing that line with for years. And now? He’s standing right on it. “I just want to get it right,” he finishes, quieter. And something about that, about the honesty in it, the vulnerability, makes your heart start pounding. Because yeah. That’s Yunho. Always wanting to do things right. Even this. Especially this. And suddenly, the idea that someone made him feel like he couldn’t? Pisses you off. “Okay,” you mutter, more to yourself than him, grabbing your iPad and unlocking it. The glow lights your face as you settle back against your pillows again, tucking one leg under you like you’re trying to return things to something normal. Something easy.

You scroll for a second, half paying attention, half aware of him still standing there, still watching you like he’s waiting for something, even if he doesn’t know what. “I still don’t see what you want me to do…” you say, glancing up at him briefly, tone light, teasing just a little again, like you’re trying to break the tension instead of lean into it. Then you add, with the faintest lift of your brow, something meant to be a joke. “Show you?” But the second it leaves your mouth, the air in the room shifts, sharp, immediate, like something just clicked into place that neither of you can ignore now and Yunho freezes. His eyes snap to yours, all that lingering frustration from earlier gone in an instant, replaced by something else entirely, something caught between surprise and something much, much heavier. And you feel it too. That flicker in your chest. The one that says maybe… you shouldn’t have said that. Or maybe…. Maybe you should have.

You try to brush it off, a quiet huff of a laugh leaving you as you look back down at your screen. “Relax, I’m kidding….” But you don’t get to finish. Because he doesn’t laugh. Doesn’t deflect. Doesn’t move on like he normally would. “What if I wasn’t?” His voice is lower. Deeper. Rougher. And that stops you. Your eyes lift slowly from your iPad, locking onto his again. “Wasn’t what?” you ask, even though you already know and he swallows, the movement subtle but visible, like he’s trying to push past his own hesitation. “What if I wasn’t joking,” he says again, more clearly this time. “About you showing me.” There’s no humor in it. Just honesty. And suddenly, the room feels a little smaller. A little warmer. A little harder to breathe in.

Your fingers still against the edge of your iPad, screen forgotten, as you hold his gaze. The teasing, the easy back and forth, it’s gone now. Stripped away, leaving something a lot more real in its place. “Yunho,” you start, a warning and a question all at once. Because this isn’t just a joke anymore. “I’m serious,” he says, stepping a little further into the room without even realizing it, like something’s pulling him closer. “I just… I trust you. And you said it’s about paying attention, right? So…” He trails off, but the meaning hangs there anyway. You can feel your heartbeat picking up now, steady but heavier, your mind racing faster than you’d like it to. Because this is it. That line you’ve both been dancing around for years? It’s right here. Right in front of you. All it would take is one step….

You shift slightly against your pillows, exhaling slowly as you study him, really study him, his nervousness, the way his hands flex at his sides, the way he’s trying to act steady but isn’t quite pulling it off. He’s not joking. He’s not playing. He’s asking you. And maybe the most dangerous part? You don’t hate the idea. Not even a little. Maybe aching for it just a bit. “You’re really asking me that right now?” you murmur and he doesn’t look away this time. “Yeah.” For a second, you don’t answer. You just sit there, iPad still in your hands but completely forgotten, your thumb resting against the screen like you meant to keep scrolling and just… didn’t. Your eyes stay on him, searching, like you’re trying to read something deeper than what he’s actually saying.

Your best friend. The person who’s been there longer than anyone else. The one constant you’ve never had to question. The one you’ve spent years pretending you don’t feel too much for. And now he’s standing in your room, looking at you like that, like you’re the only option he wants. It makes your chest tighten. Because agreeing to this… it doesn’t just risk things getting complicated. It risks everything. You swallow, gaze flicking down for a second, then back up to him. He hasn’t moved. Still watching you, still waiting, like he’s already braced himself for you to say no. And that, more than anything, tips something inside you. “You’re serious,” you murmur again, quieter this time.

“Yeah.”

You let out a slow breath through your nose, heart thudding a little heavier now, your thoughts tangling together in a way that’s hard to sort through. You should say no. You should laugh it off, tell him to look it up, send him a link, anything that doesn’t involve…. “Okay,” you say finally and Yunho goes still like he wasn’t actually expecting you to say it and your grip tightens slightly on the edge of your iPad before you set it aside on your nightstand, the quiet click of it hitting the surface sounding louder than it should in the silence that follows. You don’t look at him right away. You need one more second. One more breath. “But,” you add, lifting your gaze back to his, something a little firmer settling into your expression now, like you’re drawing a line you’re not entirely sure you’ll be able to hold. “This is just practice.”

His brows knit slightly, like he’s processing that. “Nothing more,” you continue, voice steady even if your pulse isn’t. “We’re not…. this doesn’t change anything. Got it?” The words feel a little too deliberate. A little too much like you’re trying to convince yourself as much as him. Yunho watches you for a moment, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes as he nods. “Yeah,” he says, just as quiet. “Just practice.” But there’s something there. Something neither of you says out loud. Because if this was really just practice… it wouldn’t feel like this. You nod once, more to yourself than him, then push yourself up slightly, adjusting against your pillows before you glance toward him again. “Then… come on.”

And that’s all it takes. Yunho moves. Slow at first, like he’s giving you time to change your mind, each step measured as he crosses the room toward your bed. But there’s tension in him now, nervous energy, anticipation, something tighter and more focused than before. He stops just at the edge, close enough now that you can see the faint flush still lingering across his ears, the way his hands flex slightly at his sides like he doesn’t quite know where to put them. And for a second, neither of you says anything. Tension thick in the air. You feel it settle into your skin, into your chest, into the way your breath comes just a little slower than it should.

This is happening. Actually happening. And once you start… there’s no pretending you didn’t. Your eyes flick up to his again, steady despite everything swirling underneath. “Relax. You’re overthinking it already.” He huffs out a quiet breath at that, something almost like a nervous laugh slipping through. “Yeah… I do that.”

“I know,” you say, and there’s a hint of something fond in it, something that slips out before you can stop it and Yunho hesitates for only a second before he moves again, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight as he climbs onto the bed. He sits at first, stiff, unsure, like he’s not entirely convinced this is real yet, hands resting awkwardly on his thighs, shoulders a little tense. “You know you have to…” you gesture lightly toward yourself, voice calm but pointed, “take my shorts and underwear off first, right?”

“Oh…. right,” he breathes, the word coming out a little too quick, a little too flustered. A faint flush creeps back up his neck, across his ears, and you swear it spreads deeper the longer he looks at you like that, like he’s suddenly very aware of where he is and what he’s about to do. And for all his confidence everywhere else… here? He’s completely out of his depth. Slowly, carefully, he shifts forward on the bed, moving closer until he’s between your legs, his hands hovering for a second like he’s not sure if he should touch you yet, even though you quite literally told him to. “Yunho,” you say, grounding him a little. “You’re allowed to touch me.”

His eyes flick up to yours at that and something in them steadies just a little. “Yeah,” he says quietly, more to himself than you. Then his hands finally move. Tentative at first, fingers brushing lightly against the fabric of your shorts, like he’s testing the boundary even though you’ve already given him permission. There’s hesitation there, but also focus, the kind that comes from him actually trying, paying attention like you told him to. He hooks his fingers at the waistband of your shorts, glancing up at you once, like he’s silently asking if this is okay and you give a small nod. That’s all he needs before he slowly tugs the fabric down, careful, almost overly so, like he’s afraid of rushing it.

The movement is gentle, deliberate, and the closer he gets, the more his breathing changes, subtle, but noticeable, like the reality of it is settling in piece by piece. Your shorts slide down, followed by your panties, and for a second he just… pauses. Hands resting lightly against your legs, his gaze dropping, then flicking away, then back again like he doesn’t quite know where to look or how long is too long to be staring at his best friend’s pussy. It would almost be funny. If it wasn’t so… real. “Okay,” he mutters under his breath, like he’s trying to psych himself up and you can’t help it, a small, quiet breath of a laugh slips out of you, not mocking, just… soft. “Hey,” you say, voice gentler now, drawing his attention back up to your face. “Relax, remember?”

He exhales, tension easing just a fraction at the sound of your voice. “Right… relax.” But even as he says it, you can tell he’s anything but. Still, he shifts a little closer, hands settling more firmly now against your thighs, his focus sharpening again. Less hesitation. More intent. He’s trying. Really trying. And something about that, about the way he’s taking this seriously, the way he’s looking at you like this actually matters, almost makes you clench your thighs together because you can feel how wet you’re starting to get. Your fingers tighten slightly in the sheets beneath you, steadying yourself as much as him. “Good.”

Yunho’s hands hesitate again. Not because he doesn’t know what comes next, but because now it’s real in a way it wasn’t before. The line has already been crossed, quietly but undeniably, and there’s no pretending this is just some abstract idea anymore. From his angle, everything feels louder. Closer. The soft rise and fall of your breathing, the way your legs are relaxed but not entirely, the warmth of your skin under his hands, it all presses in on him at once, making his thoughts tangle for a second. Don’t mess this up. It’s the only thing looping in his head as he swallows, gaze dropping again, slower this time. His fingers shift, brushing lightly over your thighs again. Pay attention, he reminds himself. She said to pay attention.

He notices everything. The way your muscles tense just a little at the initial movement, then ease again. The shift in your breathing. The faint hitch you try to hide. It steadies him. Gives him something to hold onto as his gaze flicks up to your face again like he needs to check in, to make sure he’s not messing up already. And what he finds there doesn’t help. Because you’re watching him too. There’s something different in your expression now. Not just teasing, not just curiosity, something heavier. You’re trusting him. That thought hits harder than anything else.

From your side, the shift is just as clear. Yunho’s not joking anymore. Not nervous in that scattered, awkward way from before, no, this is different. Focused. Intent. Like once he stepped into this, something in him clicked, and now he’s all in. You swallow, fingers tightening slightly in the sheets beneath you. “You’re doing fine.” Yunho nods once, small but firm, taking that in like it matters more than it should. And then he shifts closer and you shift slightly beneath him, the movement small but enough to break the stillness that’s settled between you. Your fingers loosen in the sheets, then tighten again, grounding yourself as much as him. “You can…” you start, then pause for half a second, like even you didn’t expect the words to feel this heavy and his eyes flick up instantly. “you can show me what you know so far.”

The moment the words leave your mouth, the air shifts again. Yunho exhales slowly, his focus sharpening all over again, that nervous energy from before narrowing into something more controlled, more intentional. His hands adjust where they rest against your thighs, grip a little firmer now, like he’s anchoring himself before he does anything else. Don’t rush. Pay attention. He glances up at you one more time, just a quick check, and when you don’t pull away, don’t second guess it, something in him steadies. “Okay,” he murmurs. The hesitation doesn’t disappear completely but it changes. It becomes quieter, tucked underneath a kind of focus you’ve always known him for. The same way he locks in when he’s working, when he’s streaming, when he’s determined to get something right. Except now… it’s you.

Your breathing changes, just slightly and you don’t miss the way his eyes flicker in response. He’s paying attention. Exactly like you told him to. Slowly, carefully, he leans in closer, his movements measured instead of rushed, like he’s testing each step instead of assuming it. There’s a quiet intensity to him now as he moves. It’s not hesitant this time, not really. It’s like the moment you gave him permission to try, something in him snapped into place, and now he’s acting on instinct more than overthinking. His heart is pounding harder than he wants to admit. Every nerve feels lit up, every thought tangled together in a mess of don’t mess this up and just do something. So when he leans in, mouth closing around your clit, he goes in too fast. Too much.

You gasp, your back tensing slightly against the pillows, fingers gripping the sheets but not entirely from surprise. There’s a flicker of something else there too, something that makes his chest tighten in a completely different way. “Okay….” you breathe, voice catching slightly before you steady it, one hand coming down to lightly touch his shoulder, grounding him. “Don’t just instantly start…” you stop yourself for half a second, exhaling. “Don’t just go all in like that.”

Yunho freezes. Every muscle in him locks up, his brain short circuiting so hard it’s almost audible. For a second, he just stays there, stunned, trying to process what he did wrong and how fast he managed to do it all while trying not to groan at the taste of you now on his tongue. “Start slow,” you tell him, your tone shifting from correction to guidance, more patient than anything else. “Work me up.” He exhales, the tension easing just a fraction, and nods once against you even though you probably can’t see it. His hands tighten slightly where they rest against your thighs, grounding himself again.

This time, when he moves, it’s different. More careful. Less rushed. He takes a second to actually watch you first, your face, your reactions, the way your breathing changes even before he really does anything. He starts smaller, more tentative, like he’s testing the pace instead of trying to get it right all at once. His tongue making small licks between your folds, grazing your clit before repeating and your body relaxes slightly under him, tension easing into something warmer, more receptive. The earlier sharpness softens, replaced by something slower, something that builds instead of crashes all at once as a moan escapes you and that gives him confidence. You feel it in the way his hands settle more firmly, the way his movements grow just a little steadier, like he’s starting to understand what you meant. Not perfect. Not polished. But learning. And more importantly, listening.

A quiet moan slips from you again, softer this time, less startled, more… genuine. “Yeah,” you murmur, barely above a whisper now. “Like that.” And that does something to Yunho. Hearing you moan in pleasure due to him with his tongue buried inside you, the taste of you alone has him so hard he has no idea how he’s staying focused. He shifts again, adjusting, following the subtle cues your body keeps giving him as you start to roll your hips a bit and suddenly he’s not thinking in the same scattered way anymore. The nerves are still there, sure, but they’re quieter now, pushed aside by something stronger and your breath catches, sharper than before, your body tensing for a split second before melting into it when he thrusts his tongue as far he can, nose pressed against your clit, the friction from it and his tongue working slow strokes makes the control you’ve been trying to hold onto slip and before you can stop yourself, your hand moves.

Your fingers tangle into his hair. The contact surprising both of you and it sends a jolt straight through Yunho making his dick twitch. His hands tighten where they’re holding your thighs. Your grip tightens slightly in his hair without thinking, your body reacting on its own, shifting just enough to follow what feels good, grinding fully now, pulling at his hair when you feel groan, your walls clenching at his tongue as a loud moan tears from you. And Yunho pulls his tongue back, licking a stripe all the way back up to your clit before sucking it into his mouth. He’s no longer just about trying to get it right, it’s about you. The way your breath keeps catching, the way your body won’t stay still anymore no matter how much you try to hold it together. The way your moans are getting louder. Because of him.

His hands tighten again, grounding you, but it’s not enough. not when your reactions start slipping past your control. Your fingers are still tangled in his hair, your grip tightening without you meaning to, your body shifting against him in a way that’s no longer subtle and borderline riding his mouth. And you feel it building. Fast. Your body reacts before your mind can catch up, moving again, chasing the feeling without thinking and Yunho shifts one of his arms, sliding around your waist, holding you in place, not rough, but firm enough to steady you, to keep you from moving too much. And this? He wasn’t expecting this. Not like this.

And the added pressure of his arm around you, the way he’s holding you steady, only makes everything feel more intense, more overwhelming, like it’s pushing you closer to the edge you’ve been trying not to fall over since he walked into your room. Your grip tightens again in his hair, a sobbing cry slipping out of you that you definitely don’t manage to hide. Then Yunho pulls back. It’s not sudden, it’s like he realizes something mid motion and needs a second to breathe. His forehead comes to rest lightly against your thigh, his breath uneven now, a little heavier than before, like he’s trying to steady himself because verything feels… overwhelming. Not in a bad way. But in a way he wasn’t prepared for.

His pause almost throws you off. Your fingers loosen slightly in his hair, your breathing uneven as you try to come back down from where he just had you, your chest rising and falling a little too fast because you were so close. “Yunho…” you start, unsure if he’s stopping or just…. he moves again before you can finish. His hand shifts, sliding along your thigh again, more confident than before, less hesitant. Your fingers tighten back into his hair, your head tipping back into the pillows as you try and fail to stay quiet as he slips two of his fingers deep, brushing them up, curving them against your g spot and you realize he definitely wasn’t lying about how he knows how to use his fingers. “Don’t…. don’t stop,” you breathe, barely managing to get the words out.

Yunho keeps his head pressed to your thigh, watching his fingers thrust in and out of you, the wet sound echoing in the room, and he can see his aching dick twitching still in his sweats, the poor thing wanting nothing more than to replace his fingers as his hand tightens again in his hair, your other gripping the sheets, your breathing uneven now, moans and cries breaking out of you as he moves his mouth back down, keeping his fingers fucking you as he moans against your clit. “Fuck….. you’re…” your thoughts are jumbled but you register one thing, he’s really fucking good at eating pussy for someone who’s never had. “Yunho…” The sound of you moaning his name makes his gaze lift again, watching you now. And that’s when it hits him. This isn’t just practice anymore. The thought lands heavy in his chest, sharper than anything else so far. Because he knows you. And right now? You’re letting go in a way he’s never seen before because of him. Your best friend. Watching you come undone, legs shaking now, toes curling, your walls clenching his fingers, because of him.

He feels it before he fully understands it. Feels you clench his fingers again, wetness building, splashing his fingers and he knows then you’re about to come and he can feel himself start to grind, against the mattress, humping a little to get friction. “Yunho…” You cry his name out again as your orgasm slams into you. “FUCK….. please…. Oh my….. fuck eat my pussy….” your words are what does it for him. Yunho lets out a low strained sound as he moans against you, you still coming, squirting on his fingers that are still pumping into you faster, harder…… he comes, coming in his sweats, leaking down his own thighs as he finally pulls his fingers out of you and removes his mouth from your now slightly overstimulated clit.

Neither of you moves right away but then your hand loosens in his hair, falling back against the sheets as you try to catch your breath, your chest still rising unevenly, your thoughts struggling to settle into anything coherent. “Yeah…” you manage after a moment, still a little breathless despite your attempt to sound normal. You swallow, glancing at him, then away again. “That was… good.” It feels like an understatement and you both know it. And hearing you say that…. does something to Yunho. He looks at you for half a second, something unreadable passing through his expression before he looks away again, jaw tightening slightly. Because now he’s very aware of himself. Of everything.

He shifts back a little, creating space, one hand coming down almost instinctively, pressing lightly over the front of his sweats like he’s trying to ground himself, to hide it, to get a handle on it before it becomes too obvious that he came in his pants. “Yeah,” he exhales quietly, like he’s trying to steady his voice and not quite succeeding. He clears his throat slightly, pushing himself up off the bed, movements just a little too quick now, like he needs distance before he does something he shouldn’t. “I’m….. uh…” he starts, then huffs a quiet breath, running a hand through his hair again. “I’m gonna go shower.” He stops before walking out your bedroom. “Thanks. For the… practice,” he adds, the word sounding a little strained now, like even he doesn’t quite believe it anymore.

Practice. Right. That’s what this was supposed to be. You nod once, a little slower than usual, still watching him as he opens your bedroom door, like he’s not fully trusting himself to stay in the room any longer than necessary. “Yeah,” you breathe, clearing your own throat. “Anytime.” It slips out before you can stop it. And the second it does you feel it. The weight of it. And Yunho pauses again at the door. His hand resting against the frame, his back half turned to you like he’s debating something, like he might say something else. “Yeah,” he mutters, almost under his breath, then he’s gone. The sound of the bathroom door clicking shut down the hall echoes a little too loud in the apartment. And suddenly it’s just you. Lying there. Heart still racing. Body still warm. Mind spinning with one very clear, very dangerous thought…..

That definitely was not just practice.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

Yunho barely made it to the bathroom before shutting the door a little harder than he meant to. The click echoes, sharp in the quiet apartment, and for a second he just stands there, staring at nothing, chest rising and falling like he just ran a mile instead of… that. He exhales, dragging a hand down his face. Get it together. But it doesn’t work. Because the second he steps under the shower, water hitting his skin, everything comes rushing back at once.

The way you moaned his name.

He squeezes his eyes shut, head tipping forward as the water runs over his hair, his face, like it might wash the memory out. It doesn’t. If anything, it makes it worse. Because now he’s remembering everything else. The way you sounded when you couldn’t hold it back anymore. The way you grinded against his face. The way you squirted. How tight you were around his fingers…. “Fuck…” he breathes under his breath, the word slipping out before he can stop it as his hand braces against the tile, knuckles whitening slightly as he tries to steady himself.

He drags in a sharp breath, the heat of the water doing nothing to calm the heat already burning under his skin. His jaw tightens, his free hand curling slightly at his side like he’s trying to ground himself, trying to get a handle on the way everything is still buzzing through him….. but then he thinks about your hand in his hair, gripping and pulling…. “Stop,” he mutters to himself, like he can actually cut it off. His head tips back slightly, water running down his face as he exhales hard through his nose, trying to focus on anything else, anything that isn’t you. But it’s pointless. Because you’re everywhere right now. In his head. In the way his chest feels too tight. In the way his body hasn’t even remotely calmed down. And that’s when it hits him, clearer than before. This wasn’t just about helping him. Not really.

Because no matter how much he tries to frame it that way, tries to convince himself that this was just learning, just practice…. It wasn’t. It never would be. Not to him. Not even a little. His grip tightens against the tile again, breath uneven as he stands there under the water, trying to ride it out, trying to let the intensity burn off without thinking too hard about why it’s there in the first place. Because if he does… if he really lets himself think about it then he has to face the truth he’s been avoiding for years. That this? This has never just been friendship. And now that line? It’s gone. “Fuck me.” He wraps his hand around himself, stroking slow at first, eyes closed and picturing you splayed out on your bed only this time he’s not deep diving into you with his tongue or fingers. He’s sinking into you, dick stretching you inch by inch….

“Fuck…” his strokes pick up, imagining himself pounding into you, your walls clenching him. Your voice this time instead of “eat my pussy” being a sobbing moan of “fuck my pussy” that makes his abs clench, his dick twitch and a groaning whimper to leave him as he comes. His forehead presses against the shower wall as he watches his cum mix with the water by his feet and wash away down the drain. For a moment, it works. The tension snaps, the overwhelming edge dulling just enough for him to breathe again. But the second it’s over it hits him again. Harder than before.

He exhales sharply, head dropping forward, forehead pressing against the cool tile as the water keeps running over his back, his shoulders, his neck. His chest rises and falls, slower now, but heavier. “I fucked up,” he groans under his breath, voice rough, barely audible over the water. You. His best friend. The one person he’s spent years not crossing that line with, no matter how many times he’s thought about it, no matter how many times he’s shoved those feelings down and told himself it wasn’t worth risking what you already had.

And now? Now he knows exactly what it feels like. Knows how you sound, how you taste, how your body… he squeezes his eyes shut, jaw tightening. “Fuck…” he exhales again. Because there’s no going back from that. No pretending it didn’t mean anything. Not when it felt like that. Not when he’s reacting like this. His hand drags down his face again, water dripping from his hair, his lashes, his jaw as he tries to steady himself, tries to think of any version of this that doesn’t end in things getting complicated. But every path leads to the same place. You. “Shit….” He shakes his head because he doesn’t give a shit that Chile broke up with him. He never really did anyways. His ego was just a little bruised that’s all. Because now there’s only one thing on his mind.

He wants to have you moaning his name again.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

The next morning feels… off.

Not in a loud, obvious way. Nothing dramatic. The sun still rises over Florida like it always does, warm and blinding through the blinds. Your alarm still goes off too early, your routine still runs on autopilot, scrubs, hair up, coffee barely tasted on the way out the door. But something’s different. You didn’t see Yunho before you left. His door stayed shut. The apartment was quiet in that heavy, almost deliberate way, like both of you were avoiding the same thing without saying it out loud. You paused for a second before leaving, hand hovering near his door like you might knock but you didn’t.

And now, hours later, you’re paying for it. The hospital hums around you like it always does, monitors beeping, voices overlapping, the constant movement of nurses and doctors weaving through the halls. It’s familiar. Usually grounding. Today? It’s just noise. You’re physically there, checking charts, moving from patient to patient, responding when needed, but mentally? You’re somewhere else entirely. Back in your room. Back in that moment.

Your pen hovers over a chart for a second too long, your eyes unfocused as the memory flashes again, his voice, his fingers, the way he looked at you after, the way he said thanks like that somehow made it normal.

“Hey.” A hand snaps lightly in front of your face. “Earth to Y/N.” You blink, snapping back so abruptly it almost feels like surfacing from underwater. Your eyes refocus, landing on Wooyoung standing in front of you, arms crossed, one brow raised in that way that means he’s already clocked everything. “What?” you mutter, a little slower than usual and Wooyoung’s eyes narrow slightly, studying you like you’re a suspicious patient instead of his coworker. “You tell me. You’ve been zoning out all day.”

You glance down at the chart in your hands like it might defend you. “I’m working.”

“Mhm,” he hums, clearly unconvinced. “You’ve been staring at that same page for, like, a full minute.” You sigh under your breath, shifting your weight slightly, trying to shake it off. “Long shift.”

“Bullshit.”

You look up at him properly this time, narrowing your eyes. “Excuse me?” Wooyoung doesn’t budge. If anything, he leans in a little closer, lowering his voice just enough to keep it between the two of you. “I’ve seen you after long shifts,” he says, tone casual but eyes sharp. “You’re tired, yeah, but you’re not… whatever this is.” He gestures vaguely at you. “You look like your brain is buffering.” You huff out a quiet breath despite yourself, shaking your head. “I’m fine.”

“Right,” he says, dragging the word out in a way that makes it very clear he does not believe you. “And I’m the head surgeon.” You roll your eyes, but there’s no real bite to it as Wooyoung watches you for another second, expression shifting slightly, less teasing now, more observant. “Okay, so what happened?” You hesitate just ust for a second. And that’s all he needs. “Oh my god,” he says immediately, eyes lighting up with realization. “Something did happen.”

“Nothing happened,” you shoot back a little too quickly and he leans back slightly, arms crossing again, a slow, knowing grin starting to creep onto his face. “You’re a terrible liar, you know that?” You don’t answer. Because you know he’s right. And because if you open your mouth right now… you’re not entirely sure what’s going to come out. Wooyoung tilts his head, studying you again, curiosity fully locked in now. You look away immediately, jaw tightening slightly as you busy yourself with the chart again, anything to avoid his eyes.

Because how are you supposed to explain this? How are you supposed to say, I helped my best friend by letting him eat my pussy and now I can’t stop thinking about him and everything feels different, like that’s a normal thing to say in the middle of a hospital hallway. “It’s nothing,” you mutter again, weaker this time but Wooyoung doesn’t buy it for a second. He steps a little closer, voice dropping just enough to be dangerous. “Whatever it is,” he says, eyes narrowing slightly, “it’s definitely not nothing.”

You don’t answer him. Instead, you sit your charts down and grab his wrist. “Hey…. what the…” Wooyoung stumbles slightly as you yank him down the hall, his sneakers squeaking faintly against the polished floor as he tries to keep up. “Are you kidnapping me on shift right now? Because I’m pretty sure that’s illegal…”

“Shut up,” you mutter under your breath, not even looking back as you push through the double doors toward the labs. It’s quieter there, cooler too. The hum of machines replaces the chaos of the main floor, and for once, there’s no one around. You let go of him once you’re inside, pacing once, twice, like you’re trying to physically walk off the tension sitting under your skin and Wooyoung just stands there, staring at you like you’ve officially lost it. “Okay,” he says slowly, dragging the word out, arms crossing over his chest. “You’re either about to confess to a crime or tell me something insane.”

“I did something,” you say finally and Wooyoung’s eyes light up immediately. “Oh, I know you did. Get to the good part.” You glare at him and he holds his hands up. “I’m listening, I’m listening.” You exhale sharply, dragging a hand through your hair, already regretting this and needing to say it anyway. “Yunho came to me last night,” you start, voice lower now, more controlled but there’s something underneath it, something a little too charged to be casual which makes Wooyoung’s grin sharpen. “Your roommate Yunho? Your best friend Yunho?”

“Yes, Wooyoung, the only Yunho I know…. can you let me finish?”

He mimes zipping his mouth shut, but the excitement is very much still there as you take another breath. “He told me his newest girlfriend dumped him,” you continue. “Good,” Wooyoung cuts in immediately. “Don’t like any of them.”

“Not the point,” you snap, though you agree.

“Right, right….. continue.”

You hesitate again. “She dumped him because he’s never… done that before.”

Wooyoung blinks, confused. “Done what?” You stare at him and stares back. “You know…. eaten…. pussy before.”

“Oh my….” his eyes go wide, his entire posture straightening like he just got hit with electricity. “You’re kidding.”

“I wish I was,” you mutter as Wooyoung lets out a sharp, disbelieving laugh, dragging a hand over his face. “No way. No way that man made it to twenty six without…”

“I know,” you cut in, already pacing again. “That’s what I said.”

“That’s insane,” he says, almost impressed. “That’s…. wow. Okay.” You stop again. Because this is the part. The part where you either keep it surface level… or don’t. “He asked me how to do it,” you say, quieter now and Wooyoung tilts his head, still following, still amused. “Okay… that tracks, I guess. You’re you. You’d know.” You don’t respond right away and that’s what makes his expression slowly change. “Why do I feel like that’s not the end of the story,” he says slowly.

You press your lips together and look at the floor. “I didn’t just tell him. Wooyoung stares at you, brows furrowed. “You didn’t just tell him,” he repeats and you shake your head. “I let him practice on me.” The room goes completely still. For a solid three seconds, Wooyoung just stares at you like his brain has short circuited. “You what?” You throw your hands up slightly, already defensive. “It was supposed to be just practice.”

“JUST PRACTICE?” he repeats, voice jumping an octave before he clamps it down, glancing toward the door like someone might hear. He steps closer, lowering his voice but not the intensity. “You let your best friend, who you live with… practice eating pussy on you?” You wince slightly. “When you say it like that….”

“How else am I supposed to say it?” he demands, incredulous. “That’s exactly what it is!” You drag a hand down your face. “I know, okay? I know. It just… it didn’t feel like a big deal at first and then it just… happened.” Wooyoung stares at you, eyes wide, trying to process. “And?” he presses.

“And it wasn’t just practice,” you admit.

“Define wasn’t just practice…” he says carefully and you exhale slowly, your gaze dropping again. “It was… good,” you murmur. “Like…. really good. And he…” you cut yourself off, shaking your head. “It doesn’t matter. The point is… it felt like more.” Wooyoung doesn’t interrupt this time. He just watches you. “And now I don’t know what the hell to do,” you finish, finally looking back up at him. Wooyoung studies you for a second, all the teasing gone now. “You’re in love with him,” he says flatly.

Your stomach drops as Wooyoung exhales, running a hand through his hair, processing everything all over again but this time with a completely different lens. “And you let him do that,” he mutters, more to himself now. “I didn’t plan it,” you shoot back. “I know,” he says quickly, holding up a hand. “I know. I’m just…. wow. Okay.” He looks at you again. “What did he say after?”

“He…. thanked me,” you say, almost bitterly. “For the practice. Then went to shower.”

“Oh, he’s stupid,” Wooyoung sighs. And despite everything, a small, incredulous laugh slips out of you. “You think?”

“Yeah,” he nods, dead serious. “Because if he thinks that was just practice, he’s either lying to himself… or he’s about to have the same crisis you are.”

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

A couple days later, things feel… normal again. Or at least, they look normal.

From the outside, nothing’s changed. You and Yunho fall back into your routine like it’s muscle memory, passing each other in the kitchen, sharing late night takeout, sitting on opposite ends of the couch while something mindless plays in the background. You still talk, still joke, still exist in that same comfortable orbit you always have. But there’s something underneath it now. Something neither of you touches. You don’t bring it up. He doesn’t bring it up. So it just… sits there. Unspoken. And the more you both pretend it didn’t happen, the louder it gets in the silence.

Now Yunho’s alone. The apartment is quiet in that hollow way it only is when you’re not there, no soft background noise, no movement in the other room, no you. Just him, the faint hum of his setup, and way too much space for his thoughts to bounce around in. He texted Chloe. Thought maybe he could smooth things over, fix it, prove to himself that nothing had changed. That what happened with you didn’t mean anything more than what you both said it was.

So he met up with her. Told himself it was fine. Normal. But the second things started getting even remotely close to that territory again… it felt wrong. Not bad. Just… off. From Yunho’s perspective, it was like trying to follow a script he suddenly didn’t believe in anymore. The way she talked, the way she reacted, it all felt rehearsed somehow, like she was performing instead of actually feeling anything. And the worst part? He couldn’t stop comparing it to you.

The way you sounded, unfiltered, unplanned. The way you felt. The way you trusted him enough to let go like that. The sound of his name like sin and honey on your tongue. And no matter how much he tried to ignore it, it just… kept getting louder. Even the small things. The way Chloe moved. The way she responded. The way everything felt… It didn’t match. Didn’t even come close. And for some reason, he couldn’t shake it. By the time he left, he felt worse than before. More confused. More frustrated. Because now it’s not just about what happened with you. It’s about the fact that nothing else feels right anymore unless it’s with you.

When he got home, Yunho dropped onto the couch, dragging both hands over his face with a frustrated exhale. “What the hell is wrong with me…” he muttered under his breath. It’s not just that it was good with you. It’s that it felt different. Like something clicked into place that he didn’t even realize was missing before. He leaned back, staring up at the ceiling, jaw tight as he tried to piece it together in a way that makes sense other than the obvious.

He’s in love with you. Always had been.

“Fuck,” he exhales, sharper this time, one hand coming up to press against his forehead. Because he knows. He knows what the answer is. He just doesn’t want to say it out loud.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

Yunho tries to distract himself. He really does. Headset on, controller in hand, screen glowing in front of him, it’s the easiest way to shut his brain off, to fall back into something familiar where he doesn’t have to think too hard about anything outside of the game. For a little while, it works. His voice slips back into that easy, relaxed tone, laughing here and there, throwing out comments without really thinking. The rhythm of it is second nature, callouts, reactions, the occasional trash talk. Normal. But it doesn’t last. Because his mind isn’t fully in it. Not when you’re still sitting somewhere in the back of it, stubborn and loud no matter how much he tries to push it down.

“Hey,” one of the guys in his headset laughs, cutting through the game noise. “I’m telling you, bro, last night? Crazy.”

Yunho hums absently, not really paying attention. “Yeah?”

“Yeah…. she had me laid out, man. Like, fully…” the guy laughs again, unfiltered, “had me flat while she was on top riding my face like it was her mission, I’m not even kidding.” There’s a chorus of reactions, laughter, teasing, someone making a joke about him finally getting humbled and Yunho chuckles faintly at first, automatic.

But then his mind catches on it. And everything goes sideways. The thought of you like that, the way you’d look on top of him, the way he’d give in and let you have control…. his grip tightens slightly on the controller, his jaw setting as he tries to shove it away just as fast as it came.

“Yunho? You still there?” someone calls through his headset. “Yeah,” he answers quickly, a little too quick, clearing his throat as he tries to refocus on the screen. “I’m here.” But he’s not. Because now his thoughts are spiraling again, faster this time, harder to control. He drags in a quiet breath, trying to lock back into the game, but it’s useless. His mind keeps circling back, pulling him deeper into it whether he wants to go there or not. “Shit,” he mutters under his breath, barely audible over the mic.

“Bro, what?” one of them laughs. “You good?”

“Yeah,” Yunho says again, but this time it comes out rougher, distracted. Because now he’s stuck in it, stuck in that loop of thoughts he can’t seem to shut off, the line between what happened and what he wants blurring more and more the longer he sits there. And the realization creeping in underneath it all? It’s getting harder to ignore. “I gotta hop off,” he mutters suddenly.

“What? We just started…”

“Yeah, I’ll catch you later,” he cuts in, already pulling his headset off before they can argue and the room falls quiet as he leans forward, elbows braced on his knees, hands hanging between them as he stares at the floor, jaw tight. He doesn’t just want to pretend it didn’t happen. He doesn’t just want to move on.

He wants you.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

The front door clicks open as you step inside like you always do, bag slipping off your shoulder, keys dropped into the bowl by the door, the familiar weight of a long shift still clinging to you. The apartment feels the same. Looks the same. But you already know better. Because the second you walk in you feel it. That subtle tension in the air, like something’s been waiting…..

“Can you show me how to let a girl ride my face?”

Your brain doesn’t even process it at first, like it short circuits halfway through the sentence, trying to decide if you actually heard him correctly. “Jesus fucking Christ, Yunho!”

He wasn’t planning to say that. Not like that. Not the second you walked in the door, still in your scrubs, barely even inside the apartment. But the thought’s been stuck in his head for the last hour, looping, getting louder, mixing with everything else he’s been trying and failing to ignore. Now he’s standing there, frozen in place, staring at you like he might actually combust on the spot. “I….” he starts, then stops, running a hand through his hair hard enough to mess it up all over again. “That… came out wrong.”

“Came out wrong?” you repeat slowly, blinking at him like you’re trying to decide if this is real or if you’re still at work and hallucinating from exhaustion. “Okay, not wrong… just….” he exhales sharply, pacing once like he physically can’t stand still under your stare. “I didn’t mean to just say it like that, I just…” He cuts himself off again, clearly spiraling. “You just got home,” he mutters, like that somehow explains it, gesturing vaguely toward you before dragging a hand down his face again. “I wasn’t…. planning to…”

“You weren’t planning to ask me how to let someone ride your face?” you cut in, incredulously and he stops pacing. “When you say it like that, it sounds…”

“It sounds exactly like what you said,” you shoot back and silence hits the room before Yunho hesitates and breaks it. “I tried with Chloe,” he says finally and your irritation fades, replaced by something sharper. More focused. “And?” you ask, quieter now, and Yunho huffs a humorless breath, shaking his head. “It wasn’t the same.” From his perspective, saying it out loud makes it worse. Because now it’s not just a thought. It’s real. He glances at you again, holding your gaze this time instead of avoiding it. “Nothing about it felt the same,” he admits, voice lower now, more controlled, but there’s something underneath it, something heavier.

“You’ve been in my head all day,” he adds before he can stop himself, the words slipping out quieter this time, less frantic but somehow more dangerous. “And I can’t—” he cuts himself off, exhaling sharply. “I don’t know how to just go back to normal after that.”

“So instead,” you say slowly, heart pounding, “you ask me that the second I walk through the door?”

“Yeah,” Yunho admits, a little helplessly. And somehow, that’s worse. Because he’s not joking. Not deflecting. Not hiding behind anything. He’s just being honest. And that realization settles deep in your chest, heavy and impossible to ignore. Because if he’s being honest… for a second, you just stand there, still in your scrubs, bag hanging off your shoulder, heart beating a little too fast for how still you’re trying to look. Because you could push this deeper. You could ask him what he meant, why he’s thinking about you like that, why he can’t let it go. But that would mean admitting you can’t either.

“Well,” you say, exhaling through your nose like you’re brushing it off, even though your chest feels anything but calm. You drop your bag onto the chair by the door, kicking your shoes off like this is just another normal night. “Come on.”

“Come on?” he repeats, like he’s not sure he heard you right. You glance at him over your shoulder, already heading toward your room, that same dangerous calm settling into your voice again. “You asked, didn’t you?” you say simply and his brain stalls for half a second before his body catches up, pushing off the wall and following you without even thinking about it. There’s tension in his steps now, something tighter, more focused, because this is happening again. You feel him behind you before you even see him, the weight of his presence making everything feel smaller, warmer, more charged than it should.

You step into your room, turning to face him as he stops just inside the doorway, that same mix of anticipation and nerves written all over him as you cross your arms loosely, leaning back against the edge of your bed. “For the record,” you add, a little more casually than you feel, “I’ve only done this once.” Yunho’s brows pull together slightly. “Yeah?” You nod once, gaze flicking away for a second like you’re debating whether to say more. “With my ex.”

Yunho’s jaw tightens without him even realizing it, something sharp flashing behind his eyes at the mention of him. He never liked that guy. Not even a little. “Of course it was,” he mutters under his breath and you huff out a quiet humorless laugh. “Yeah, well… it didn’t exactly go great.”

“What do you mean?”

You shrug, but there’s an edge to it now, something a little more honest slipping through. “I mean he barely let it last five minutes before he started complaining.” Yunho’s expression darkens. “Complaining?” he repeats, incredulously. “Yeah,” you nod, rolling your eyes slightly. “Said it was weird. Too much work. Told me to stop before I could even….” you cut yourself off, shaking your head. “Doesn’t matter.” But it does. Because now Yunho’s not just thinking about what he wants. He’s thinking about that. About someone else being in that position with you and not even trying. Not paying attention. Not caring enough to let you actually come. “That’s…” he exhales sharply, shaking his head. “That’s stupid.”

You glance at him, a small, almost amused smile tugging at your lips despite everything. “Yeah. I figured that out.” But the way he’s looking at you now? It’s not amused. It’s focused. Intent. Like he’s already decided something. “Well,” you say, pushing yourself off the bed slightly, that same teasing edge creeping back in just enough to mask the tension. “Guess you’ll have to do better than him.”

Yunho huffs out a quiet breath, something almost like a disbelieving laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “Yeah,” he says, stepping further into the room, gaze locked on you now. “I think I can manage that.” You have to keep your thighs from clenching when you see his eyes darken. Your hands go to the waistband of your scrub pants, fingers brushing the fabric as you try to keep your breathing even, your expression neutral, like this isn’t a big deal, like this isn’t the second time you’re about to cross a line you’ve both been avoiding for years. The fabric shifts as you push your scrubs down, the movement simple, routine, something you’ve done a thousand times before after long shifts.

Yunho’s watching, quiet, still, but completely locked in. And there’s something different about him now. The hesitation from the first time? It’s still there, but it’s buried under something else, something more focused, more certain. His gaze tracks every small movement you make, every shift of fabric, every breath you take like he’s trying to memorize it. You step out of your scrubs, pushing them aside, leaving you standing there in your bra and panties for a second longer than necessary, like your body hasn’t quite caught up with your brain yet.

Yunho exhales quietly, like he’s been holding his breath without realizing it and you glance up at him, finally meeting his eyes, and for a second neither of you says anything. Because you both feel it. That shift. That this isn’t the same as the first time. “You still sure you want me to show you?” you ask and he answers without hesitation. “Yeah.” You shift your weight slightly, forcing yourself to stay grounded, even as everything about this feels anything but steady. Your gaze flicks over him once, quick, almost instinctive, before you look away again, like if you stare too long you’ll start thinking about it too much. “You should probably take your shirt off,” you say, voice coming out calmer than you feel. “It could get… messy.”

The words hang there for a second before Yunho blinks and huffs out a quiet breath, something almost like a nervous laugh slipping through, even as his hands move without hesitation to the hem of his shirt. “Right,” he mutters as his fingers catch the fabric, pulling it up and over his head in one smooth motion, something he’s done a thousand times before, something you’ve seen a thousand times before. It shouldn’t be a big deal. It’s never been a big deal. You’ve seen him like this before. Late nights, lazy mornings, passing each other in the apartment like it’s nothing. It’s always been easy.

Your eyes flick back to him before you can stop them, catching on the way his shoulders shift as he drops the shirt somewhere behind him, the subtle rise and fall of his chest, the tension sitting just under his skin like he’s holding himself together by a thread. Your breath stutters just slightly, and you have to look away again after staring way too long at his happy trail, swallowing as you try to pull yourself back together. You’ve seen this before. But your brain doesn’t believe that anymore as he steps a little closer, not rushing, but not holding back either, closing some of the space between you like he’s done thinking about it and just… moving forward now.

“Okay,” he says, voice a little rougher than before and you climb onto the bed first, shifting back toward the headboard, giving him space. Yunho follows a second later, slower this time, not unsure, but aware. More aware than he was that first time. He watches you as he gets on, like he’s trying to read every movement, every decision you make. This time, he doesn’t sit. He lays back and settles against the mattress, head near your pillows, eyes still on you, chest rising and falling a little heavier than normal. “If you need me to get up,” you say, a little more careful than before, “just let me know.” Yunho’s gaze doesn’t waver. “Okay.”

Your fingers hook at the waistband of your panties, your breath catching as your mind tries once more to catch up with what you’re about to do. This is a bad idea. The thought flickers but you ignore it. Because the second you glance at him again, really look at him, the way he’s watching you, the way there’s no uncertainty left in his expression, just something deeper, something wanting…..

You push your panties all the down, tossing them on the floor and Yunho’s hands come up without thinking when you move closer, settling at your thighs again, firmer than before. Not stopping you. Not guiding you. Just… holding. Grounding himself in the reality of what’s happening. Your fingers grip the headboard above you, steadying yourself, your breath uneven as you settle there, every nerve suddenly aware of him, of the space, of the fact that this is happening again but not in the same way. Not even close. Because this time you’re not just showing him. And he’s not just learning.

You start to lower yourself slowly. Your fingers tighten around the headboard, grounding yourself, keeping control of the pace as you hover just above him once he lays down. Your breathing is uneven now, chest rising a little faster as you try not to think too hard about what you’re doing. About who you’re doing it with. You keep your grip firm, easing down carefully, deliberately holding yourself there, not fully committing yet, like you’re still giving both of you one last second to back out and Yunho’s hands tighten on your thighs without warning, grip firm. stronger than before and before you can fully control the pace anymore he pulls you down.

The sudden movement steals the breath right out of you, your grip on the headboard tightening instantly, your body jolting at the unexpected shift. “Yunho….” his name slips out before you can stop it, sharp and surprised. He starts slower than you expect. His hands grip your thighs, anchoring you in place, holding you steady like he doesn’t trust you to stay there on your own, not anymore. Not when you’re already reacting like this the second his tongue thrusted up into you. And it hits him almost immediately. That difference. That clarity. He wasn’t crazy. You taste so good he feels his eyes roll back and a moan, deep and almost growling leaves him, vibrating against you.

“Oh… oh my….” You’re whimpering now, still gripping the headboard, legs feeling heavy where they are caged around his head. His nose is rubbing at your clit, tongue curving up into you…. then you start to move. Not even on purpose at first, just instinct, chasing the feeling, trying to stay grounded and failing at it completely and a low, rough sound slips out of Yunho again before he can stop it, something deeper than before. It sounds like he’s gone as his hands tighten again, pulling you even closer, not letting you pull away, not letting you control the pace anymore.

He exhales sharply, tongue pulling out to move up, lips wrapping around your clit, sucking it into his mouth and keeping it there as you cry out and really start rocking against his face. “Fuck…. right there… Yunho… don’t stop” your begging and pleading seems to only make him more pussy drunk. His dick is hard, he can feel it twitching, precum leaking and staining his sweats. And before he can even register what he’s saying, he pulls back just enough to mumble, “your pussy taste so fucking good.” Then he thrusts his tongue back into you, moaning loud at the taste of you. And his words make it build faster.

You can feel it, tight , overwhelming, impossible to ignore now. Every movement pushes you closer, your grip on the headboard turning almost desperate as your body stops listening to anything except the need to chase it. You’re not thinking anymore. Not about the line you crossed. Not the fact your best friend is eating your pussy like it’s his last meal. Not about anything except the way everything is pulling tighter and tighter….. and then you glance down. Just for a second. And you see him. The way he’s completely gone, hands gripping you, holding you there like he doesn’t want to lose this, like he doesn’t want to lose you in this moment. The way his chest is rising unevenly, the tension in him obvious, unhidden now.

And the moans he makes… low, deep and unfiltered….. and then you look back, see the length of him hard in his sweats, watch his dick leaking against the fabric, twitching… your hands drop from the headboard without thinking, tangling into his hair instead, gripping tight as everything finally breaks. Your breath shatters into something you can’t control, your body tensing hard as the feeling crashes over you all at once. “YUNHO…” you pull at his hair as you come, riding it out literally. Your hips move, grinding frantically against his face and he lets you. Loves it.

You’re barely coming back down when, thighs shaking, when you hear him let out the whiniest, neediest sound you’ve ever heard. Because just the feel of you riding his face, the taste of you dripping on his tongue, he feels his dick twitch once, twice….. and then he’s coming too. Untouched and aching. It’s overwhelming in a way he didn’t expect, his thoughts completely scattered, his body reacting before he can even process it, the intensity of the moment pulling everything out of him whether he’s ready for it or not. Fuck.

He groans again under his breath, quieter this time, but no less affected, his forehead pressing against your inner thigh now as he tries to steady himself, tries to come back down from something that hit way harder than he was prepared for as you slide away first. The movement is slow, almost reluctant, creating space between you where there hadn’t been any moments before. The room feels strangely quiet now. Not peaceful. Just… full. Your pulse is still trying to settle as you sit back against the headboard, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

Across from you, Yunho remains exactly where he is, sprawled on the mattress, staring at the ceiling like he’s forgotten how to move. For a second, you almost laugh. Not because anything is funny. But because he looks completely dazed. “Yunho?” You glance down and see that obvious stain on his sweats, his dick still hard despite the orgasm that ripped out of him. His chest rises and falls slowly as you feel your heart ready to run from your body. “Yunho, you good?” A knot forms low in your stomach. “Hey.”

This time his eyes close briefly. Not avoiding you. Just bracing. When they open again, something has changed. The uncertainty that’s followed him for days is gone. The nervousness. The excuses. Slowly, he sits up and the mattress shifts beneath his weight as you watch him carefully. “Yunho?” His gaze finds yours, voice low and hesitant. “It isn’t practice anymore.” The words land between you like a dropped match and your breath catches as your brows furrow. “What?”

For a second, he looks away and you see his throat work as he swallows. And suddenly the confident, easygoing Yunho you’ve known for years looks terrified. Not of you. But of telling the truth. “I didn’t need to practice that,” he says quietly and the confession sounds almost ridiculous now that it’s out in the open and a humorless laugh escapes him. “Not really.” Your heart pounds harder. “Then why…”

“I just…” He stops and runs a hand through his hair. “just wanted you again.” The world outside the room might as well not exist anymore after that confession. You stare at him as he stares at the floor a minute before his gaze lifts back to yours. “I tried to pretend it didn’t mean anything.” His voice is rough now. Honest in a way you’ve almost never heard before. “I tried to go back to normal. I met up with Chloe….. and all I could do was compare everything to you.” The admission leaves him looking almost angry. Not at you but at himself. “Every conversation.” He laughs once, short and bitter. “Every stupid thing.” His eyes lock onto yours. “And I realized I didn’t care that she dumped me.”

Your breath catches as Yunho stands and walks until he’s close enough that neither of you can pretend this conversation is casual anymore. “I’ve spent years telling myself not to do this.” His voice softens. “Because you’re my best friend. But I think I’ve been in love with you for so long that I forgot what it felt like not to be.” The room goes completely still. And suddenly every excuse you’ve both been hiding behind falls apart at once. No more lessons. No more practice. No more pretending.

For a moment, you don’t say anything. Not because you don’t have an answer. Not because you don’t feel it too. But because your brain completely short circuits. You’ve imagined this conversation before. More times than you’d ever admit. Late nights. Long drives. Quiet moments where Yunho smiled at you a certain way and you wondered. But those were fantasies. This is real. And somehow, reality hits harder.

Yunho watches the silence stretch. One second. Two. Three. Long enough for doubt to creep in and you see it happen. The way his shoulders tense. The way something guarded settles over his expression. Like he’s already preparing himself for the answer he doesn’t want and his gaze drops as he lets out a quiet laugh that sounds painful around the edges. “Right.”

“Yunho….”

“It’s fine.” It isn’t. You can hear that immediately as he takes a step back. Then another. Putting distance between you before you can even process what’s happening. “Just forget I said anything.” The words hit like a punch and your eyes widen. “What?” He shakes his head. A small smile appearing on his face, but it’s all wrong. Forced and tight. The kind people wear when they’re trying not to let something hurt. “We can just go back to normal.”

“Yunho….”

“I’m serious.” His voice is quiet now. “I shouldn’t have said anything.” Then he turns and walks out, bedroom door staying open behind him. And for a second, you just sit there. Frozen. Staring after him. Your heart pounding so hard it feels impossible to breathe. Because what just happened? The realization crashes into you all at once. Yunho loves you. Yunho is in love with you. And somehow, because you were too shocked to speak, he thinks you don’t feel the same.

“Are you kidding me?” You scramble off the bed so fast you nearly trip over the sheets. Your discarded panties are still scattered on the floor from. You snatch them up and pull them on while practically hopping across the room. “Idiot.” You aren’t even sure if you’re talking about him or yourself. Maybe both. By the time you reach the doorway, your pulse is racing. The apartment suddenly feels too big. Too long. Too far away. You find him in the living room.

Yunho is standing near the couch with both hands planted on his hips, staring out the window like he’s trying to figure out how to survive the next ten minutes. He doesn’t turn around when he hears you. Which hurts more than it should. Because Yunho always turns around when it’s you. “Yunho.” His shoulders tense as you march farther into the room. “Yunho.” This time he exhales slowly.

“You don’t have to say anything.” The quiet resignation in his voice makes your chest ache as he finally looks over his shoulder. And the look on his face almost breaks your heart. Because he’s already convinced himself. Already decided what your silence meant. Already started mourning something he never even got a chance to have. And suddenly all the shock leaves your body. “You absolute fucking idiot.”

His brows immediately pull together. “Excuse me?”

“I was in shock.” Now it’s your turn to be frustrated. “You just told me you’ve been in love with me for years! I didn’t know what to say!” He stares at you, frozen, trying to process. And when he doesn’t respond immediately, you throw your hands up. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting for you to say something?” The room goes completely silent. And Yunho’s expression changes. First disbelief. Then hope. “What?”

Your heart pounds. But now that you’ve started, there’s no stopping. “No, seriously.” You laugh once. “I have spent years trying not to be in love with you.” This time it’s Yunho who goes completely speechless and just stares at you. Like his brain has completely stopped working. Your confession hangs between you, raw and impossible to take back as you cross your arms over your chest, suddenly feeling exposed in a way that has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that you’re standing in the middle of your apartment wearing just your bra and panties and a racing heartbeat. “Honestly?” you scoff. “I can’t believe we’re even having this conversation.”

His brows knit together. “What does that mean?”

“It means,” you say, throwing your hands up, “I’ve been trying to get your attention for years.”

Yunho blinks. “Years?”

“Yes, years.”

His expression shifts from stunned to suspicious. “What are you talking about?”

You let out a disbelieving laugh. “Five months ago.” The second you say it, something flashes across his face. Recognition. “You remember.” His jaw tightens. Of course he remembers. A week before you’d finally broken up with your ex. Yunho had come home earlier than expected. Walked through the apartment door. And immediately wished he hadn’t. The memory hits him with perfect clarity. The television running in the background. Your moan. Your ex under you while rode him on the couch. The way you’d looked up when the door opened. The way Yunho’s stomach had dropped so hard he’d thought he might actually be sick.

He remembers forcing a smile. Muttering something about grabbing food. Pretending none of it bothered him. Pretending he hadn’t spent the rest of the night locked in his room trying not to think about it. Trying not to think about you. Or how he wanted to snatch your ex up and throw him out the window. His eyes narrow. Slowly. Dangerously. “What about it?” You hesitate for the first time since chasing him out here. Then you sigh. Because apparently you’re both doing honesty tonight. “I knew you were coming home.”

Yunho goes completely still and heart immediately starts pounding harder. “So?” he asks. The word comes out lower than before. Dangerous. Dark. “So I wanted you to see. I wanted…” You wince. “I wanted you to get jealous.” Yunho’s jaw clenches. “What?” Your confidence evaporates instantly. “I don’t know!” you snap, mortified. “I wasn’t thinking clearly!” His eyes remain locked on yours. “That was your plan?”

“It was a terrible plan.”

“It was a terrible plan.”

“I know!”

“You deliberately….”

“Yes.”

“To make me jealous.”

“Yes.”

The silence that follows is almost comical as Yunho drags a hand down his face. Then another. Like he’s trying to process the level of insanity he’s dealing with. And when he looks at you again, there’s something different in his expression now. Something darkly amused. Something that makes your stomach flip. “Five months.” You point a finger at him. “Don’t.”

“Five months,” he repeats.

“Yunho.”

“You spent five months thinking I wasn’t interested.”

“Well, you never said anything!”

“And your solution was psychological warfare?”

Your mouth falls open. “I was desperate!”

That does it. A laugh finally escapes him. Short and disbelieving. He shakes his head. Then his gaze drags slowly over you. And suddenly every bit of humor fades from his face. Because now he understands. All of it. The mixed signals. The frustration. The years of almosts. The fact that the two of you have apparently been running in circles around each other for ages. His eyes meet yours again and his voice drops. Low enough that it catches you completely off guard. “You fucking brat.” The second the word leaves his mouth, Yunho sees it. That tiny reaction. The way your breath catches. The way your eyes widen for half a second before you try to hide it.

And because he’s known you for years, because he’s spent years paying attention to things nobody else notices, he catches it immediately and a slow smirk pulls at the corner of his mouth. “Oh.”

“Oh?” you repeat weakly and his smirk grows. “That’s interesting.”

Heat floods your face. “Don’t.”

“You like that.”

“Yunho.”

“You do.” The confidence in his voice is unbearable. Not because he’s teasing. But because he’s right. And the worst part? He knows it. You watch him take a step closer. Then another. The distance between you shrinking until it feels impossible to think straight. “A brat trying to drive me insane” he says and your pulse pounds in your ears. “Yunho…” He stops directly in front of you. Close enough that you can see every tiny shift in his expression.

“Baby, you like that, don’t you?”

You open your mouth but nothing comes out. No denial. No argument. No sarcastic comeback. Just silence. Because for once, you don’t have one after hear him calling you baby. Yunho’s eyes flick briefly to your lips before returning to your gaze and yhe realization hits both of you at the same time. “Fuck,” you breathe before you reach up to grab at the back of his neck. Yunho barely has time to look surprised before you’re pulling him toward you.

The kiss happens somewhere between impulse and inevitability. Years of frustration. Years of wanting. Years of bad timing and missed opportunities crashing together all at once. For a second, neither of you seems to know what to do with the fact that this is finally happening. Then Yunho’s hands find your waist automatically, hands gliding down as your tongue starts fighting with his own. His hands reach your ass, gripping and landing a slap on your right cheek getting him a moan into the kiss out of you from it. “Fuck me…” he grabs you, lifting you and letting you wrap your legs around his waist and a laugh escapes you. “You are such an idiot.”

Yunho lets out a disbelieving laugh of his own. “Me?”

“Yes, you.”

“You had an entire secret jealousy operation.”

“It wasn’t an operation.”

“It absolutely was.” And despite everything, you both start laughing. And somehow that feels right. Because after all the tension, all the confusion, all the years spent circling each other… It’s still the two of you. Just finally honest this time as Yunho holds you tightly against his chest, lips finding yours again in a slow, claiming kiss that deepens quickly, tongues sliding together as his hands roamed down your back.

He brakes away only to trail hot, open mouthed kisses along your jaw and down the column of your neck, nipping lightly at the sensitive skin there. His fingers hook into the cups of your bra, tugging them down so your breasts spill free and he latches onto one nipple immediately, sucking hard while his tongue flicks over the hardening peak, then switches to the other, licking and sucking with growing hunger. Teeth grazing your nipple as he kisses and marks you, leaving red blooms across the curves of your breasts that would darken later as he carries you towards the couch and you slide down him until your knees hit the floor in front of him.

You reach up before he can ask and yank his sweats down in one motion, freeing his dick which bobbed heavily, still rigid and glistening with the evidence of his earlier release. The sight made your mouth water, he was thick, veined and longer than you had imagined, the tip flushed. You look up at him with a teasing smirk. "Twice now you've come just from eat me out. That's cute." Yunho's ears turn red but he doesn’t look away as you lean in without hesitation, tongue dragging along the underside of his dick to clean away the sticky cum clinging to his skin.

You take your time, licking broad stripes from base to tip, sucking the tip into your mouth to draw out every trace until he was clean and shiny with your saliva. Only when you had finished did he reach down, gripping your shoulders to pull you up to your feet, eyes locked onto yours, dark and searching. "You love me?" You answer by crashing your mouth to his, kissing him deep and messy and he groans into it, tasting himself on your tongue, the sound vibrating through his chest. "Of course you idiot," you murmur against his lips. Then you shove him backward onto the couch cushions. Your panties gone again in seconds, kicked aside as you climb into his lap, straddling his hips.

Yunho's hands grip your waist, his mind flashing to every time your ex had been here with you on this same couch. He was going to fuck those memories right out of the fabric. You didn't ease down. Both of you were too far gone, years of wanting crashing together in one desperate rush as you sank onto him in one smooth motion, taking every inch until your ass met his thighs and a shared moan filled the room. You started moving immediately, too impatient now, lifting and slamming back down in hard, hungry strokes that made the couch creak and Yunho's head fell back, fingers digging into your hips as he begged, "Take it, fuck, take all of me."

Your pace grew frantic, pounding yourself onto him with wet, slapping sounds filling the air. Each descent stretched you perfectly, his dick hitting deep. Pleasure coiled tight and then snapping. You cried out as you squirted hard around him, hot fluid gushing over him and soaking his lap and the sight undid him. Yunho flipped you in one swift motion, laying you back on the cushions and grabbing your legs to fold you in half, your ankles at his shoulders as he sank back inside you with a groan, thrusts starting slow and deliberate, building in force with every roll of his hips. “You're mine… I'm yours… Fuck…" The words came out strained as he watched your face, then looked down between your bodies.

The sight of you creaming his dick made him moan louder and pick up the speed, pounding into you relentlessly. "Say it… say you're mine." You were a trembling mess beneath him, words fracturing on your tongue. "I… I… I'm…" Yunho saw you unraveling and thrust harder. "I know baby… fuck you feel so fucking good." You sobbed his name, body locking up as your orgasm ripped through you, clenching around him, screaming as you squirted again, spraying between you.

Yunho followed right after, pounding through your climax before burying himself to the hilt, pulsing deep inside you, flooding you with thick ropes of cum that overflowed and leaked out around his dick. He stayed pressed there, grinding through the aftershocks, filling you until it was dripping down your ass onto the couch.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

A couple hours later, the apartment is so quiet it almost feels unreal. No tension. No confusion. No years of unresolved feelings hanging over every conversation. Just the low hum of the refrigerator and the occasional clink of a spoon against ceramic as you stand at the kitchen island wearing one of Yunho’s oversized shirts that hangs halfway down your thighs. The sleeves swallow your hands every time you reach for your cereal.

Across from you, Yunho leans against the counter in nothing but boxers, absently eating from his own bowl. It’s ridiculous. After everything that happened. After years of pining. After confessions and tears and fucking on the couch then again in the shower after finally getting everything out in the open. This is what you’re doing. Eating cereal. The realization makes you snort into your spoon and Yunho immediately looks up. “What?”

You shake your head. “No. It’s just…” A laugh escapes you. “We finally admit we’re in love with each other and somehow we’re standing in the kitchen eating Lucky Charms.” Yunho glances down at his bowl then back at you. “It’s a very emotional cereal.” You stare at him and he stares back. And then you both lose it. The laughter comes easier now. The kind that leaves your stomach hurting and feels like relief. When it finally settles, Yunho shakes his head and points his spoon at you. “By the way.”

You narrow your eyes immediately. “Whenever someone starts a sentence like that, something annoying follows.”

“You really thought making me jealous was a good plan?”

You groan. “There it is.”

“No, seriously.” He sets his bowl down. “I need to understand.”

“You don’t.”

“I do.”

“You absolutely do not.”

Yunho is already smiling. That dangerous smile that means he’s enjoying himself. “You knew I was coming home and thought, You know what’ll fix this situation? Emotional devastation.”

“I was twenty five and stupid.”

“Five months ago.”

“Details.”

He lets out a bark of laughter and you try not to smile and fail miserably. “Do you know what I did after that?” he asks and your grin fades slightly. “No.”

“I sat in my room for three hours.”

Your eyes widen. “What?”

“Three.” He holds up three fingers. “Hours.”

“Yunho…”

“I ate an old bag of chips because i didn’t want to leave my room and I’m pretty sure they were stale.”

You choke on your cereal. “No, you didn’t.”

“I absolutely did.”

“Oh my God.”

“And then I convinced myself I was being ridiculous because you were allowed to date whoever you wanted.” The admission is casual. Like he’s only comfortable saying it now because everything’s already out in the open. And something soft settles in your chest. Because suddenly that memory looks completely different. Not from your perspective. From his. A man hopelessly in love with his best friend trying to pretend it didn’t hurt.

Your expression must change because Yunho notices immediately and his own smile softens. The teasing disappearing. “You know,” he says quietly, “I think I would’ve told you eventually.” You lean against the counter. “Yeah?” He nods. “Probably.”

“Probably?”

“Okay, definitely.”

KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.

The sudden knock at the door makes both of you freeze. You glance at the microwave clock. 11:47 pm. Yunho looks at you. “Who the hell is that?” you ask.

“No idea.”

Another knock echoes through the apartment and you set your spoon down while Yunho pushes away from the counter. “Maybe Wooyoung got drunk and lost his key to his place again.” You snort as Yunho heads toward the front door and he opens it. And immediately stops.

You notice it before you even see who it is. The way his shoulders lock. The way his expression changes.

“What?”

Yunho doesn’t answer as you walk around the kitchen island. Then you see her. Chloe. Standing in the hallway. “Oh.” Chloe shifts her weight, nose turned up at you. Yunho still hasn’t said a word as she sighs, rolling her eyes. “Maybe I overreacted.”

Yunho blinks. “Chloe…”

“No, let me finish.” She holds up a hand. “And maybe I was kind of a bitch.” You cross your arms. Kind of? “Maybe I shouldn’t have said all that stuff.” Yunho opens his mouth again but Chloe keeps going. “And I get why you left suddenly earlier today.”

Yunho’s brows furrow. “What?”

Chloe sighs dramatically. “I mean… obviously you were nervous.”

You nearly choke on a laugh. Oh she has no idea.

“Nobody leaves mid going down on someone unless they’re nervous.”

Yunho looks like he’d rather be literally anywhere else. And before either of them can continue, you make a decision. You walk straight across the room and Yunho barely has time to register what’s happening before you’re standing beside him. Then closer. Then somehow even closer than that as you loop an arm around his and Yunho immediately knows you’re about to cause problems. The grin on your face gives it away.

“Sorry, Chloe.” Both of them look at you as you smile sweetly. “Yunho’s on a new diet.”

Chloe blinks in confusion. “A diet?”

“Yeah.” You nod completely serious. “It’s me.” The silence that follows is magnificent. For one glorious second, Chloe’s brain visibly buffers. Then realization hits and her eyes widen as your smile grows.

Yunho makes a strangled noise beside you that sounds suspiciously like he’s trying not to laugh.

“Are you….”

You gently push the door shut. “Have a good night, Chloe.” You stand there with your hand on the doorknob, looking very pleased with yourself. While behind you, Yunho is completely quiet until you turn around and then he is bent over laughing. Not a polite laugh. Not even a chuckle. But full on losing it. “Oh my God.”

You point at him. “She showed up uninvited.”

“I know.”

“And I handled it.”

“You absolutely handled it.”

You try to maintain your dignity but fail immediately when he starts laughing harder. “You called yourself a diet.”

“It was funny.”

“It was.”

“It was hilarious.”

Yunho wipes at his eyes still laughing. Then he looks at you and the amusement softens into something warmer as he shakes his head, smile pulling at his mouth. “God, I love you.”

And for the first time in years, neither of you has to pretend that those words mean anything less than exactly what they do right now.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

permanent tag list: @straycat420 @hannahlilibet411 @xh01bri @jintastic-yuyu @seungminniemin @ultrapinkvoidbouquet @wooyoungsbrat @lucid-galaxys-world @ecriggs1990 @straytiny127 @sannies-tiddies @hannahstacos @jiminthestreets-bonesinthesheets @love--in-stayville @hartsablaze @remi-young @bubbly-moon @fvxyxnh0 @herpoetryprincess @prchiquita8 @dreamgirlevilera @booposaurusrex @onecursedkitty @dvrktvnnel @atinynoona @metalheadatiny @uchihabbynic @eggielix @dodot04lover @thenumberoneangelcollection-blog @navydotz @auxiny @chanscappuccino @fixonmingi89

[blued-inked]

| The Choice - Choi San

(•˕ •マ.ᐟ || He thought the concert was the summit of his existence, the moment nothing would ever surpass. But while he was bowing to applause, his wife was bleeding out in a hospital room forty-five minutes away, choosing their daughter's life over her own, and waiting for a husband who never came.

/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <

Choi San x Reader Category: Angst Word Count: 13.6k

/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <

The final note didn't end. It lingered.

It vibrated through the stadium speakers, through the floorboards of the stage, through San's own chest as he held the mic to his lips with both hands, his eyes squeezed shut, his entire body bent forward like a man in prayer. The high note, that high note, the one he'd spent months terrified of, the one that had haunted his rehearsals and stolen his sleep, poured out of him with a purity that felt almost holy. It rose and rose and rose, impossibly high, impossibly steady, until it wasn't just sound anymore. It was light. It was heat. It was the sum total of every sacrifice he had ever made, distilled into a single, transcendent vibration.

Then the band cut out.

The silence that followed lasted exactly one heartbeat. One perfect, suspended heartbeat where San opened his eyes and saw sixty thousand faces staring back at him in stunned, reverent silence.

And then the world exploded.

The roar hit him like a physical force. It was deafening, a wall of sound so immense and so consuming that he actually stumbled back a step, laughing in shock. Confetti cannons fired from the edges of the stage, spraying gold and silver into the air until it looked like the sky itself was shattering. The lights went wild, sweeping across the stadium in great arcs of blue and white, illuminating a sea of light sticks that pulsed in perfect synchronization.

San stood at the edge of the stage, chest heaving, arms spread wide as if he could embrace every single soul in that stadium. Sweat dripped from his hair into his eyes, but he didn't wipe it away. His body ached. His throat burned. His legs were trembling from three hours of relentless performance. And he had never, never in his entire life felt this alive.

This is it, he thought, the grin spreading across his face so wide his cheeks hurt, so wide he probably looked unhinged, so wide he didn't care. This is the peak. Right here. Right now. Nothing has ever felt this good. Nothing ever will.

He laughed out loud. The sound was swallowed by the crowd's roar, lost in the avalanche of noise, but he felt it in his chest, a giddy, euphoric, almost hysterical burst of pure joy. All those years of training. All those early mornings in the practice room, dancing until his feet bled. All those nights he'd laid awake in a cramped dorm room, staring at the ceiling, wondering if he was good enough, if he'd ever make it, if it was all worth it. All those moments of doubt, of fear, of wanting to give up and go home and disappear into a normal life where no one knew his name.

This moment was the answer to every single one of those questions.

The music swelled again, the closing instrumental, the final build that would carry him to the end of the show. San jogged across the stage, his movements lighter than air despite his exhaustion. He was running on adrenaline now, pure and clean and intoxicating. He pointed to different sections of the crowd, making eye contact with fans who screamed and waved and cried. He blew kisses. He pressed his hand to his heart. He mouthed the words thank you, thank you, thank you until his lips felt numb.

At the center of the extended stage, he stopped. He stood there for a long moment, just breathing, just looking, just trying to memorize every detail. The way the light sticks looked like a galaxy of stars. The way the confetti drifted down like snow in slow motion. The way the screams rose and fell like waves on an ocean. He wanted to freeze this moment, to press it between the pages of his memory like a flower, to keep it forever untouched and perfect.

Well, he amended, a softer thought surfacing through the euphoria, maybe not nothing will ever feel this good. That's not fair. That's not right.

He touched his wedding ring.

It was a subconscious habit, something he did without thinking, his thumb twisting the simple platinum band around his ring finger, feeling the cool metal against his flushed skin. He'd worn it for two years now, and it still felt new sometimes. Still surprised him with its weight, its presence, its quiet reminder that he was more than just an idol on a stage. He was a husband. Soon, he would be a father.

Seeing her walk down the aisle, he thought, the grin on his face softening into something smaller, something private. That was different. Quieter. But just as perfect in its own way. And the baby. Holding our daughter for the first time. That'll be... that'll be its own kind of miracle. A different mountain. A different summit. But I'll get there too. I'll climb that one next.

He believed it. He genuinely, naively, with all the confidence of a man who had never known true loss, believed that life had a hierarchy of joy. That the beautiful moments were stacked like stepping stones, each one leading to the next, each one waiting patiently for him to arrive. He didn't know yet that the summit he was standing on was made of glass. He didn't know that in exactly seventeen minutes, his phone would buzz with the weight of four hundred missed calls. He didn't know that while he was laughing and waving and basking in the glow of his greatest triumph, his wife was lying on an operating table forty-five minutes away, bleeding out, alone, making a choice that should have been his to make.

He didn't know any of it.

And so he was happy. Genuinely, completely, blissfully happy. The last happy moment of his life.

/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <

The ending ment was his favorite part of any concert.

The lights dimmed slightly, signaling the transition. The backing track faded to a soft, ambient hum. The members, his brothers, his family for the past decade, stepped back, giving him space. They knew this was his moment. They'd watched him pour his soul into this show, and now they stood in a loose semicircle behind him, proud and protective, letting him have the spotlight one last time.

San lifted the mic to his lips. The crowd quieted, but only slightly. He could still hear individual screams cutting through the murmur, fans calling his name from different sections of the stadium.

He didn't mind. He loved their voices. He loved their energy. He loved that they were still so full of emotion after three hours of singing and crying and losing themselves in the music.

"I don't..." he started, then stopped, laughing at himself. The crowd screamed louder, as if trying to give him their words, their love, their everything. "I don't have the words."

He did, though. He always had the words. He was the one who stayed up late writing in his journal, the one who poured his feelings into lyrics and poems and rambling letters that he'd never send. But right now, standing here, looking out at the galaxy of light sticks and tear-streaked faces, the words felt too small. They felt like trying to catch the ocean in a cup.

"Every single one of you." He gestured broadly, sweeping his arm across the entire stadium. "Every face I can see and every heart I can feel. You made this. You made me. This moment is ours. Not mine. Ours."

His voice cracked on the last word. He wasn't ashamed of it. He let the tears well up in his eyes, let them spill over his lashes, let them trace clean tracks through the sweat and makeup on his cheeks. He had never been afraid to cry in front of his fans. It was one of the things they loved about him, his openness, his vulnerability, the way he wore his heart on his sleeve like a badge of honor.

"I've dreamed about this night for so long," he continued, his voice growing steadier, more earnest. "Since I was a kid. Since I first saw a stage like this on television and thought, I want to be there. I want to stand there and feel what that feels like. And now I'm here. And it's... it's more than I ever imagined. It's bigger. It's brighter. It's more."

He paused, his hand drifting unconsciously to his wedding ring again. The camera caught the movement and projected it onto the massive screens flanking the stage. The crowd screamed. They loved the ring. They loved what it represented, the softness beneath the fierce performer, the private love story behind the public persona.

"This," San said, his voice dropping into something quieter, something intimate, "is for my universe."

The screams hit a fever pitch, but San kept going, his eyes fixed on a point just above the cameras, as if he could see through the lens and across the city to wherever you were watching.

"You know who you are. You're probably at home right now, watching this on your phone with your feet up because your ankles are swollen and you keep texting me to stop jumping around because it makes you nervous." The crowd laughed, a warm, knowing ripple. "But you also told me to go out there and give it everything. You told me to shine. So this... this is me shining. This is me giving it everything. For you. For our little one. For the family we're building together."

He pressed his hand to his heart. The ring glinted under the stage lights.

"I'll be home soon," he said. "Wait for me."

The crowd erupted. The members behind him stepped forward, wrapping their arms around his shoulders, pulling him into a group hug that was part celebration and part comfort. San laughed, the tears still streaming down his face, and let himself be held.

He didn't know that the livestream you were supposed to be watching was playing to an empty hospital room. He didn't know that your phone was sitting on a table in the operating wing, its screen cracked where it had fallen, still connected to the broadcast, his voice echoing unheard through the sterile hallways. He didn't know that your mother was clutching your phone in both hands, sobbing, trying to get through to his manager, to anyone, to someone who could reach him before it was too late.

He didn't know any of it.

He just bowed, deep and long, letting the roar of the crowd wash over him one final time before he turned and walked off stage.

/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <

Backstage was chaos.

It was always chaos after a show like this, but tonight it felt different. Bigger. More electric. Staff members were running in every direction, their faces flushed with adrenaline and exhaustion. Stylists descended on him the moment he stepped through the curtain, unclipping his mic pack, dabbing at his forehead with towels, handing him a bottle of water that he grabbed gratefully. The members were scattered around the backstage area, some collapsed on couches, others still bouncing with residual energy.

San was floating.

That was the only way to describe it. He felt like he was walking six inches off the ground, his body buzzing with a joy so pure it was almost unbearable. He accepted the water, took a long drink, then threw his head back and laughed.

"Did you hear them?" he said to no one in particular, to everyone, to the universe. "Did you feel that? I can't believe we pulled off that high note. My throat is absolutely wrecked. I need honey tea. No, I need a whole gallon of honey tea. Someone get me honey tea. Does anyone have honey tea?"

A staff member laughed and promised to find some. San grinned and clapped him on the shoulder, then turned to the nearest manager.

"Did someone record the ending? I need to watch it back. I think I blacked out for a second. I think I ascended to another plane of existence. I think I saw the face of God and it looked like a sea of light sticks."

The manager laughed, typing something into his tablet. "We've got multiple angles. I'll have the editors send you the rough cut by tomorrow."

"Tomorrow's too late. I need it tonight. I need to show-" He stopped, his grin widening. "I need to show my wife. She's going to kill me for making her worry about the high note, but she's also going to be proud. She's going to be so proud."

He was rambling. He knew he was rambling. But he couldn't stop. The words were spilling out of him like water from a broken dam, all the joy and relief and exhilaration that had been building for months finally finding release.

A junior staffer approached him, holding out his personal phone. She looked young, an intern, maybe, or someone new to the team. She was holding the phone carefully, almost reverently, like it was something precious.

San glanced at it and waved her off with a grin.

"Give me five minutes," he said. "Let me breathe first."

The staffer hesitated. Something flickered in her eyes, uncertainty, maybe, or unease, but it was gone before San could register it. She nodded and stepped back, still holding the phone.

San didn't notice the way her hands were trembling slightly. He didn't notice the way she exchanged a quick, nervous glance with the manager. He was too happy. Too high on adrenaline. Too completely, blissfully unaware.

He turned away and headed toward his private dressing room, already unbuttoning the stifling stage jacket as he walked. The fabric was heavy with sweat, clinging to his skin. He couldn't wait to shower. He couldn't wait to change into something comfortable. He couldn't wait to call you and hear your voice and let you tease him about how dramatic he'd been on stage, how many times he'd cried, how he'd almost tripped during the second song and tried to play it off like a dance move.

He couldn't wait to come home.

/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <

The dressing room was a sanctuary.

It was small but comfortable, furnished with a couch, a vanity, a rack of spare outfits, and a mini-fridge stocked with water and snacks. The walls were soundproofed, which meant the chaos of the backstage area was reduced to a muffled hum. The lights were dimmer here, softer. It smelled like lavender from the diffuser someone had set up earlier.

San closed the door behind him and let out a long, shaky breath. The adrenaline was starting to fade now, leaving behind a pleasant, heavy exhaustion. His muscles ached. His throat burned. His feet were killing him. But he was happy. He was so, so happy.

He collapsed onto the couch, letting his body sink into the cushions. The stage jacket, a glittering, custom-made piece that had cost more than his first car, was half-unbuttoned, hanging open over his sweat-soaked undershirt. He didn't bother taking it off. He just lay there, staring at the ceiling, a lazy grin still tugging at the corners of his mouth.

I did it, he thought. I actually did it.

He thought about the high note. He thought about the roar of the crowd. He thought about the confetti falling like snow. He thought about the way the light sticks had looked, a galaxy of stars, an ocean of light. He thought about the ending ment, the words he'd spoken directly to you through the camera, the promise he'd made.

I'll be home soon. Wait for me.

A flicker of something soft and warm passed through his chest. He let his eyes close, just for a moment, and imagined you watching the livestream at home. You'd be curled up on the couch, probably, with your favorite blanket and a cup of the herbal tea the doctor said was safe during pregnancy. Your ankles would be propped up on pillows because they'd been swelling lately, and you'd be rubbing your belly absentmindedly, the way you always did when you were focused on something.

She probably fell asleep halfway through, he thought, and the fondness in his chest swelled until it almost hurt. Pregnancy exhaustion and all that. I'll tease her about it tomorrow. I'll kiss her forehead and tell her she missed the best part. She'll roll her eyes and say she saw the important bits, and I'll demand to know which bits those were, and she'll list all the parts where I almost tripped or messed up a lyric.

And then I'll kiss her again.

He smiled, his eyes still closed, and let himself float in the fantasy for a moment. The domesticity of it. The ordinariness. The way the greatest night of his professional life could end with something as simple as coming home to you.

This is what happiness feels like, he thought. Not just the stage. Not just the crowd. But the quiet moments too. The moments no one else gets to see. I have both. I have everything.

He was so wrong. He was so catastrophically, heartbreakingly wrong, and he didn't know it yet.

The junior staffer was still standing outside his door, holding his phone. She was staring at the screen, her face pale, her eyes wide with horror. The notifications were still coming in, a relentless, screaming flood of calls and texts that had been piling up for over an hour. She had tried to give him the phone. He had waved her off. Give me five minutes, he'd said, grinning like a man who had everything.

She didn't know what to do. She was just an intern. She wasn't supposed to be the one delivering news like this. But the phone wouldn't stop buzzing, and the messages on the preview screen were getting worse, and she could hear San's muffled laughter through the dressing room door, and she didn't know how to tell him that his wife was dying.

So she stood there, frozen, clutching the phone like a grenade with the pin already pulled.

And San, blissfully, mercifully unaware, reached lazily for his own phone, the backup he kept in his bag, the one he used for music and notes and mindless scrolling when he couldn't sleep.

He pulled it out, still grinning, still floating, and swiped it open.

473 Missed Calls.

/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <

The number didn't make sense.

For a long moment, too long, an eternity compressed into the space between two heartbeats, San simply stared at the screen. His brain refused to process what it was seeing. The grin stayed frozen on his face, but it had become something else now, something hollow and confused, the smile of a man who hadn't yet realized he was in free fall.

473 missed calls.

That couldn't be right. That was a glitch. A phone error. Maybe his number had been leaked and fans were spamming him, or maybe there was something wrong with the network, or maybe, 

He looked at the caller ID list.

"Mom-In-Law ❤️" ,  the heart emoji you'd added to her contact years ago, because you said she deserved it, because she was the sweetest woman you'd ever met and you wanted everyone to know it.

87 missed calls.

His stomach dropped. A physical sensation. A cold, sickening lurch that made his fingers go numb around the phone.

His own mother. 41 missed calls.

Your sister. 56 missed calls.

Numbers he didn't recognize. Dozens of them. Some with local area codes. Some with the hospital prefix he'd memorized during your first prenatal visit.

The text notifications were worse.

They crowded the preview screen in truncated fragments, each one a shard of a nightmare he hadn't known he was living. He couldn't read them all at once. His eyes could only catch pieces, jagged and horrifying, bleeding into each other.

Pick up pick up pick up

Baby in distress

Where are you San please

Emergency C-section NOW

They need you here

Please god please answer

She's asking for you

Losing her

San where are you

She waited

They're asking her to choose

She said you're not here

She said you're not here to decide

Where are you

Where are you

Where are you

The towel, when had he grabbed a towel?, fell from his face. He didn't remember putting it there. He didn't remember anything. The world had lost all sound. The triumphant cheers still echoing from the stadium, the muffled chatter of staff outside his door, the hum of the air conditioning, all of it vanished, replaced by a high-pitched ringing that filled his skull like a scream.

His hand started to shake.

He tried to unlock the phone. His fingers slipped on the passcode, once, twice, three times. A simple act made impossible by pure, unadulterated terror. He couldn't breathe. His chest had turned to concrete. The glittering jacket he was still wearing, the one that had felt like armor on stage, was now suffocating him, a costume of a person who didn't exist anymore.

He finally managed to open the phone. His hands were trembling so badly he could barely hold it steady. He pressed your mother's contact and lifted it to his ear.

She picked up on the first ring.

She wasn't crying.

That was the first thing he noticed. She wasn't crying. Her voice was a raw, hollowed-out shell, the voice of someone who had been screaming into a void for over an hour and had nothing left to give. It was worse than crying. It was so much worse.

"San."

Just his name. That was all she said. And in that single syllable, he heard everything.

"Eomma." His voice, the voice that had commanded a stadium full of thousands, was barely a whisper. It cracked on the second syllable, splintering into something small and terrified. "What... what happened? What's going on? Is she okay? Is the baby-"

"She waited for you."

Your mother's voice cracked, but didn't break. It was beyond breaking.

"As long as she could. The labor started early. There were complications, the placenta, something about the placenta, I don't-" She stopped. Swallowed. He could hear her breathing, ragged and uneven. "They had to do an emergency C-section. She was bleeding too much. They... they asked her what to do if it came down to it. If they could only save..."

She didn't finish the sentence. She didn't have to.

San's vision went white at the edges. The phone was slipping in his sweaty grip, but he couldn't tighten his fingers. He couldn't move.

"She told them you weren't there to decide."

The words landed like a physical blow. He felt them in his chest, in his stomach, in the back of his throat where a scream was building that wouldn't come out.

"What does that mean?" His voice was rising now, hysteria clawing at the edges. "What does that mean, what do you mean she told them that, what happened? What happened to her?"

"The baby is in the NICU."

The baby is in the NICU.

Not they're fine. Not she's resting. Not everyone is okay, just get here when you can.

The baby is in the NICU.

"And-" He couldn't say it. He couldn't form the words. His lips moved around your name, a name he'd whispered a thousand times, a name he'd laughed into pillows and sung into microphones and prayed into the darkness of early mornings. But the sound wouldn't come. It was stuck in his throat, trapped behind the concrete that had filled his chest.

There was a long, terrible silence on the other end of the line. A silence that told him everything he needed to know. A silence that confirmed the worst thing he had never imagined.

"I'm so sorry, San."

The phone slipped from his hand.

He didn't drop it. It just... fell. His fingers had stopped working. It clattered onto the floor, face-up, the screen still glowing. Your mother's voice was still speaking from the speaker, distant and tinny, words that he couldn't hear anymore over the roaring in his ears.

He sat there on the couch in his dressing room. Still in his stage clothes. Still covered in the sweat of his greatest triumph. Still smelling of confetti and adrenaline and joy. The glittering jacket hung open over his undershirt. His hair was damp and disheveled. His makeup was smeared from the tears he'd cried on stage, happy tears, grateful tears, tears of pure, overwhelming joy.

Those tears were still wet on his cheeks.

He could see himself in the vanity mirror across the room. A man in a beautiful jacket, sitting on a couch, staring at a phone on the floor. A man who had been a god ten minutes ago. A man who had stood on the summit of his entire existence and thought, Nothing has ever felt this good. Nothing ever will.

He had been right about one thing.

Nothing would ever feel that good again.

The high-pitched ringing in his ears grew louder, drowning out everything else. The muffled chatter outside the door. The distant thump of music from the after-party he was supposed to attend. The tinny, faraway sound of your mother's voice still calling his name through the phone on the floor.

San. San, are you there? San, please say something. San, 

He didn't answer.

He couldn't.

He just sat there, frozen, a boy in a glittering jacket, drowning in a silence louder than any ovation.

/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <

The door opened.

It was the junior staffer, the intern who had tried to give him his phone earlier. She was still holding it, his personal phone, the one with 473 missed calls. Her face was pale. Her eyes were red. She had been crying.

"San-ssi?" Her voice was small. Trembling. "I'm so sorry. I tried to, earlier, I tried to give you, I didn't know-"

She stopped. She didn't know what to say. There was nothing to say.

San didn't look at her. He didn't move. He just stared at the phone on the floor, at the screen that was still lit up with your mother's contact photo, a picture of her smiling, holding a plate of the homemade dumplings she'd made for his birthday last year.

"She's gone," he said.

It wasn't a question. It wasn't even really a statement. It was just... words. Sounds. His voice was flat, empty, completely devoid of the emotion that had poured out of him on stage just minutes ago.

The staffer didn't answer. She didn't have to.

San bent down, slowly, mechanically, like a man moving through water, and picked up the phone from the floor. Your mother's voice was still coming through the speaker, but it had dissolved into sobs now. He pressed the phone to his ear.

"Eomma," he said. "I'm coming. I'm coming right now. Just, tell her I'm coming. Tell her to wait for me. Tell her-"

Tell her I'm coming. Tell her to wait.

But she had already waited. She had waited as long as she could, alone in a sterile room full of strangers, bleeding out on an operating table, making a choice that should have been his. She had waited, and he hadn't come, and now there was nothing left to wait for.

"San." Your mother's voice, thick with grief and exhaustion. "San, she's already-"

"I know." His voice broke. Finally, completely, shattered into a thousand pieces. "I know. I know. I just, I need to see her. I need to see her. Please."

He was already standing. Already moving toward the door. The staffer stepped aside, pressing herself against the wall to let him pass. He walked out into the backstage chaos, the same chaos he had laughed and floated through just fifteen minutes ago, and this time, no one tried to stop him.

They saw his face.

They saw the phone pressed to his ear, the tears streaming down his cheeks, the glittering jacket still hanging open over his sweat-soaked shirt. They saw the man who had been a god on stage just minutes ago, and they saw what he had become.

No one said a word.

The car was waiting outside. Someone must have called it. Someone must have known. San didn't remember getting in. He didn't remember the doors closing or the engine starting or the city lights blurring past the window. He just remembers the phone call. Your mother's voice, still on the line, still saying his name, still trying to reach him through the impossible distance between joy and devastation.

"It's a girl," she said, her voice cracking. "The baby, it's a girl. She's so small, San. She's so small. But she's alive. She's fighting. They said she's a fighter."

A daughter.

He had a daughter.

You had given him a daughter.

And you had died alone, without him, because he had been on a stage, bowing to applause, thinking about how nothing had ever felt this good.

He pressed his forehead against the cold window of the car and closed his eyes.

Wait for me, he had said on stage, just minutes ago, a lifetime ago. I'll be home soon. Wait for me.

But you couldn't wait. You had tried, god, you had tried, but the choice had been yours to make alone, and now the waiting was over.

And all that was left was the silence. The empty seat beside him. The city lights blurring past in streaks of gold and white. The distant, echoing roar of a crowd that was still cheering, somewhere far behind him, for a man who didn't exist anymore.

/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <

The hospital rose out of the darkness like a monument to everything he had already lost.

San didn't remember the drive. The city had blurred past the car window in streaks of neon and shadow, headlights and streetlamps bleeding into each other like watercolors left out in the rain. He had pressed his forehead against the cold glass and closed his eyes and tried to breathe, but every inhale felt like swallowing shards of glass. The phone was still clutched in his hand, your mother's voice long gone, replaced by silence and the distant, tinny echo of his own heartbeat.

Now the car was stopped. The engine was still running. The driver was saying something, We're here, sir, this is the entrance, do you need help, should I park, but the words didn't reach him. They were sounds without meaning, floating in the dead space between one moment and the next.

San opened the car door and stepped out into the night.

The air hit him first. Cold and sharp, smelling of antiseptic and exhaust fumes and the faint, sweet rot of garbage from the alley behind the emergency bay. It was nothing like the air on stage, the heat of the lights, the smoke from the pyrotechnics, the sweat and perfume and electricity of sixty thousand bodies pressed together in adoration. That air had been alive. This air was sterile. Hollow. The air of a place where people came to die.

He was still wearing the stage jacket.

He realized it distantly, the way you realize you've left the stove on or forgotten your keys. The glittering, custom-made jacket that had cost more than his first car, the one that had felt like armor under the spotlight, was still hanging open over his sweat-soaked undershirt. The sequins caught the fluorescent glare of the hospital entrance, winking obscenely, a mockery of celebration. He should take it off. He should have taken it off in the car. He should have changed into something normal, something human, something that didn't scream. I was just on stage while my wife was dying.

But he couldn't stop to take it off. He couldn't stop at all. If he stopped, even for a second, he would have to think about what was waiting for him inside. And if he thought about it, he would shatter. And if he shattered, he would never be able to put himself back together.

So he didn't stop. He walked.

/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <

The automatic doors slid open with a pneumatic hiss, and the full fluorescent assault of the emergency room hit him like a slap. White walls. White floors. White lights that buzzed faintly at the edge of hearing, a sound like insects trapped inside the ceiling. The waiting area was half-full, a woman clutching a crying toddler, an elderly man with a bloodstained bandage wrapped around his hand, a teenager slumped in a plastic chair with her hood pulled up over her face. They all looked up when he walked in.

He saw the moment recognition flickered across their faces. The double-takes. The widening eyes. The whispered murmurs. Is that, no, it can't be, wait, is that Choi San? What is he doing here? Why is he dressed like that? Is that stage makeup? Is he crying?

He didn't care. He didn't care about any of it. Let them stare. Let them whisper. Let them pull out their phones and take pictures and post them online with captions like OMG Choi San just walked into the ER looking WRECKED, what happened?? None of it mattered. None of it would ever matter again.

He walked straight to the front desk. The nurse behind the counter looked up, her professional smile freezing on her face as she registered his appearance, the glittering jacket, the smeared makeup, the wild, desperate look in his eyes.

"Sir, can I help-"

"My wife." His voice came out as a croak, raw and shredded from three hours of singing. "She was brought in. Emergency C-section. Her name is-" He said your name. Your full name. The name he had whispered on your wedding day, the name he had written in the margins of his lyrics, the name he had shouted to the stadium just an hour ago when he told the world that you were his universe.

The nurse's expression flickered. Something passed through her eyes, recognition, pity, dread, and she turned to her computer, her fingers flying across the keyboard.

"Are you family?"

"I'm her husband."

A pause. The keyboard stopped clicking. The nurse looked up at him again, and this time her professional mask slipped. Just for a second. Just enough for him to see the sorrow underneath.

"Sir, I need you to wait here for just a moment. I'm going to call someone to come speak with you."

"No." The word came out harder than he intended, edged with something dangerously close to fury. "No, I'm not waiting. I've been waiting. I've been-" He stopped. Swallowed. His hands were shaking again, gripping the edge of the counter so hard his knuckles had gone white. "Please. Please just tell me where she is. Please."

The nurse hesitated. She looked at him, really looked at him, at the tears cutting tracks through his stage makeup, at the trembling hands, at the glittering jacket that suddenly seemed obscene in the harsh hospital light, and something in her face softened.

"Third floor," she said quietly. "Maternity ward. Room 314. But sir-" She reached out as if to touch his arm, then thought better of it. "There's a family waiting room. Your mother-in-law is there. She's been waiting for you."

San didn't thank her. He didn't say anything at all. He just turned and walked toward the elevators, his footsteps echoing on the linoleum, the glittering jacket catching the light with every step.

/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <

The elevator ride lasted a lifetime.

The doors closed, sealing him into a small metal box with mirrored walls and a Muzak version of a song he vaguely recognized but couldn't name. The music was soft and cheerful, utterly indifferent to the fact that his entire world had collapsed. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirrored wall and almost didn't recognize the reflection.

His hair was disheveled, plastered to his forehead with dried sweat. His stage makeup, the smoky eyeliner, the subtle contouring, the lip tint that was supposed to look natural under the lights, was smeared and streaked, turning his face into a grotesque mask. The glittering jacket hung open over a shirt that was soaked through with sweat, clinging to his chest and stomach. He looked like a man who had been to a party and stumbled into a nightmare.

He looked like a man who had been celebrating while his wife was dying.

The elevator dinged. The doors slid open. San stepped out into the third-floor hallway and immediately saw your mother.

She was sitting in a plastic chair outside a waiting room, her posture rigid, her hands clasped in her lap like a child waiting for punishment. She looked older than he remembered. Older than she had looked two days ago, when she'd come over for dinner and helped you fold baby clothes and teased San about his inability to assemble the crib. Her face was pale and drawn, her eyes red-rimmed and swollen. She was still wearing the same clothes from earlier, a simple blouse and slacks, now wrinkled and stained with something dark that San's brain refused to identify.

She looked up when she heard his footsteps.

"San."

Her voice was barely a whisper. She stood up, her movements slow and unsteady, like a woman who had aged ten years in a single night. She reached for him, her hands trembling, and San, San, who had been holding himself together by the thinnest of threads since the moment he'd seen those 473 missed calls, felt something inside him crack.

"Where is she?" he asked. His voice was still flat. Still empty. He couldn't let the emotion in yet. If he let it in, he would drown. "Where is she? I need to see her."

Your mother's face crumpled. She pressed a hand to her mouth, her shoulders shaking with a sob she was trying desperately to suppress.

"They're... they're still..." She couldn't finish. She took a shaky breath and tried again. "The baby is in the NICU. She's... she's so small, San. But she's alive. She's fighting. They said she's a fighter."

The baby. His daughter. The child you had carried for eight months, the child you had talked to in the quiet hours of the night when you thought he was sleeping, the child you had promised to love and protect and raise together. She was alive. She was fighting.

But you, 

"And my wife?" San's voice cracked on the word, splintering into something raw and desperate. "Where is my wife?"

Your mother looked at him. Just looked at him. And in her eyes, he saw the answer.

"No," he said. The word came out before he could stop it, a reflex, a denial, a prayer. "No. No, she's, she was fine, she was fine when I talked to her, she told me to go, she told me she'd be okay-"

"They did everything they could." Your mother's voice broke completely, dissolving into tears. "There was so much blood. The placenta, it detached, they said. They couldn't stop the bleeding. They had to... they had to get the baby out, and by the time they..."

She couldn't finish. She didn't have to.

San felt his legs give out. He didn't fall, not quite, but he stumbled, his shoulder hitting the wall, his hand reaching out to brace himself against the cold, sterile surface. The hallway tilted. The fluorescent lights flickered. The Muzak from the elevator was still playing somewhere in the distance, soft and cheerful and utterly indifferent.

"She asked for you." Your mother's voice came from very far away, muffled and distorted, like she was speaking through water. "Before they took her in. She was scared, San. She was so scared. But she kept saying... she kept saying you needed to finish the show. She said this was your dream. She said she'd be fine. She said she'd wait for you."

Wait for me.

That was what he'd said on stage. I'll be home soon. Wait for me.

And she had waited. She had waited as long as she could, alone and terrified, bleeding out on an operating table while strangers shouted and monitors screamed and a choice was made that should have been his. She had waited, and he hadn't come, and now, 

"Where is she?" His voice was a rasp, barely recognizable. "Where is she now? I need to see her. Please. Please, I need to see her."

Your mother wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. She nodded, a jerky, unsteady motion, and pointed down the hallway.

"Room 314. They... they cleaned her up. They said you could see her whenever you were ready."

Ready. As if there was any way to be ready for this. As if there was any amount of preparation that could make it bearable to walk into a room and see the person you loved most in the world lying still and silent and gone.

But San didn't say that. He just pushed himself off the wall and started walking.

/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <

Room 314.

The door was closed.

It was an unremarkable door, the same pale beige as every other door in the hallway, with a small placard that read 314 in plain black lettering. There was nothing about it that suggested tragedy. Nothing that hinted at the devastation waiting on the other side. It was just a door. An ordinary door. The kind of door you might walk through a hundred times without ever thinking twice.

San stood in front of it and couldn't move.

His hand was on the handle. He didn't remember putting it there. His fingers were wrapped around the cold metal, but he couldn't make them turn. Couldn't make them push. Couldn't make himself cross the threshold from the world where you might still be alive to the world where you definitely weren't.

Because as long as he stayed on this side of the door, there was still a chance. A tiny, irrational, impossible chance that this was all a mistake. A misunderstanding. A nightmare that he would wake up from any second now, gasping and disoriented, reaching for you in the dark. You would stir beside him, warm and sleepy and alive, and you would murmur what's wrong and he would say nothing, just a bad dream and you would curl into his chest and fall back asleep and everything would be okay.

But the door was real. The handle was cold. The fluorescent lights were buzzing overhead. And when he pushed the door open, there would be no waking up.

He pushed the door open.

/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <

The first thing he noticed was the silence.

Not the absence of sound, the hospital was full of sounds, the distant beeping of monitors, the muffled footsteps of nurses in the hallway, the soft whoosh of the ventilation system. But this room was silent in a way that had nothing to do with noise. It was the silence of absence. The silence of a space that had been emptied of something irreplaceable.

The second thing he noticed was the light.

The overhead fluorescents were off, replaced by a small lamp on the bedside table that cast the room in soft, golden shadows. The blinds were drawn, blocking out the city lights and the distant glow of the stadium where, somewhere, the after-party was still going on without him. The room was dim and quiet and almost peaceful, like a chapel. Like a tomb.

The third thing he noticed was you.

You were lying on the hospital bed, your body covered by a clean white sheet pulled up to your chest. Your arms were arranged at your sides, your hands folded neatly on top of the blanket. Someone had washed the blood away. Someone had brushed your hair and arranged it on the pillow. Someone had closed your eyes.

You looked like you were sleeping.

That was the cruelest part. You didn't look dead. You didn't look like a body, a corpse, a shell emptied of its soul. You looked like yourself, the same face he had kissed a thousand times, the same hands he had held in the dark, the same lips that had smiled at him through a video call just hours ago and told him to shine. You looked like you might open your eyes at any moment and smile at him and ask how the concert went.

But you wouldn't. You wouldn't open your eyes. You wouldn't smile at him. You wouldn't ask him anything, ever again.

San didn't remember crossing the room.

One moment he was standing in the doorway, frozen, his hand still on the handle. The next moment he was beside the bed, his knees hitting the cold linoleum floor with a thud that he felt in his bones. He reached for your hand, your hand, your beautiful hand, the hand that had held his on your wedding day, the hand that had rested on your growing belly for months, the hand that had waved at him from the video call and blown him a kiss and signed off with an I love you that he hadn't known would be the last.

It was cold.

Your hand was cold.

San had held your hand a thousand times. He knew the warmth of it, the way your fingers would curl around his, the way you would trace patterns on his palm when you were nervous or thoughtful or just wanted to touch him. He knew the calluses on your fingertips from years of writing, the small scar on your thumb from a kitchen accident, the way your knuckles would crack when you stretched your fingers in the morning.

He knew your hand better than he knew his own.

And now it was cold. A cold that had nothing to do with the hospital air conditioning, nothing to do with the chill of the room. It was the cold of absence. The cold of a body that had stopped being a body and become something else. Something empty. Something gone.

"No," he whispered.

He pressed your hand to his cheek, cradling it against his skin as if he could warm it with his own warmth, as if he could pour enough of himself into you to bring you back.

"No, no, no. Please. Please. I'm here. I'm here now. I came as fast as I could. I'm sorry I'm late. I'm sorry. Please wake up. Please. Just... just open your eyes. Please open your eyes. I need you to open your eyes. Please."

He was begging. He was on his knees on a hospital floor, still in his stage clothes, still covered in the sweat of his greatest triumph, and he was begging your lifeless body to wake up. He was pressing kisses to your cold knuckles, your cold palm, your cold wrist where there was no pulse and never would be again. He was sobbing, ugly, gasping, animal sounds that tore themselves out of his chest without permission, sounds he didn't recognize as his own.

"I should have been here. I should have been here. You told me to go and I went and I should have, I should have stayed. I should have told them to cancel the show. I should have been on the first flight home the moment you said you weren't feeling well. I should have, I should have been here. You needed me and I was on a stage. I was singing. I was bowing. I was so happy, I was so-"

His voice broke. Shattered completely into silence. He pressed his forehead to your cold hand, his tears soaking into the white sheet, and he couldn't speak anymore. There were no words for this. There was no language for the magnitude of what he had lost.

He stayed like that for a long time. Minutes. Hours. An eternity compressed into the space between his heartbeat and your silence. He held your hand. He pressed kisses to your cold fingers. He whispered your name over and over and over like a prayer, like an incantation, like if he said it enough times you might hear him and come back.

But you didn't come back. You couldn't. You were gone, and he was here, and the distance between the living and the dead was one he would spend the rest of his life trying to bridge.

/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <

At some point, he didn't know when, he started talking.

Not to anyone in particular. Not even to you, really. Just... talking. The words poured out of him in a broken, halting stream, fragments of memory and grief and guilt all tangled together.

"I'm sorry I didn't come sooner. I didn't know. I didn't know, I swear I didn't know. They didn't tell me. My phone was off. I was on stage and my phone was off and I didn't, if I had known, I would have, I would have been here. I would have been here. You know that, right? You know I would have been here?"

He paused, as if waiting for an answer. The silence that followed was its own response.

"The high note," he said, and a hysterical laugh bubbled up in his throat, choking and wrong. "I hit the high note. The one I was so scared of. The one I've been practicing for months. I hit it. I hit it perfectly. The crowd went insane. They were screaming so loud I couldn't hear myself think. And I thought, I thought this is it, this is the best moment of my life, nothing will ever compete."

His voice cracked. The laugh turned into a sob.

"Nothing will ever compete. That's what I thought. I thought I was at the peak. I thought I had everything. And the whole time, you were, you were here, you were alone, you were-"

He couldn't finish. He pressed his forehead harder against your hand, his shoulders shaking with the force of his sobs.

"They asked you to choose." His voice was barely a whisper now, muffled against the sheet. "They asked you to choose, and I wasn't here. You had to make that choice alone. You had to decide alone. And I was, I was taking a bow. I was waving at the crowd. I was thinking about how happy I was."

He lifted his head. His eyes were red and swollen, his face streaked with tears and smeared makeup. He looked at your face, your peaceful, sleeping, impossibly still face, and he felt something inside him splinter.

"It should have been me," he said. "If someone had to... it should have been me. Not you. You were going to be such a good mother. You were already a good mother. You talked to her every night. You sang to her. You read her stories even though she couldn't understand them yet. You loved her so much. You loved her so much and now you'll never get to hold her and it's my fault. It's my fault."

He was shaking. His whole body was trembling, his hands still clutching yours like a lifeline, like the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth.

"She's beautiful," he said, his voice breaking on the word. "Mom, your mom told me. She's beautiful and she's small and she's fighting. She's a fighter. Just like you. You would be so proud of her. I'm going to... I'm going to take care of her. I'm going to raise her. I'm going to tell her every day how much you loved her. I'm going to show her pictures and videos. I'm going to make sure she knows who you were. I promise. I promise."

He pressed a kiss to your knuckles. Then your palm. Then the inside of your wrist, where your pulse should have been.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry. I love you. I love you so much. I'll never stop loving you. Never. Not ever. You're my universe. You were always my universe. Not the stage. Not the crowd. Not the lights. You. Only you. And I didn't... I didn't tell you enough. I didn't show you enough. I spent so much time chasing that stupid dream, and the whole time, the only dream that mattered was you."

He fell silent. The room fell silent. The whole world fell silent.

And in the silence, San knelt beside your bed, holding your cold hand, and let the weight of everything he had lost settle over him like a shroud.

/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <

He didn't know how long he stayed there.

Time had stopped meaning anything. The clock on the wall ticked on, indifferent, but San couldn't hear it. The only thing that existed was your face, your hand, the unbearable stillness of your chest. He memorized every detail, the curve of your eyebrows, the sweep of your lashes against your cheeks, the small scar on your chin from a childhood fall. He memorized them because he was terrified of forgetting. Terrified that one day he would close his eyes and not be able to picture you exactly as you were in this moment.

He was still there when the door opened.

He didn't turn around. He didn't acknowledge the soft footsteps, the quiet click of the door closing, the gentle throat-clearing of someone who didn't want to intrude but had no choice.

"San-ssi?"

A nurse. Her voice was soft, kind, the voice of someone who had done this many times before and knew there was no right way to say what she needed to say.

"I'm so sorry to interrupt. But the baby... your daughter... the NICU team is asking if you'd like to see her. She's stable. She's doing well, all things considered. And we thought... we thought you might want to meet her."

His daughter.

The baby you had carried for eight months. The baby you had talked to and sung to and loved with every fiber of your being. The baby whose life had been bought with yours.

He should want to see her. He did want to see her. But the thought of leaving this room, of letting go of your hand, of walking away from you, of accepting that you were really gone, felt like a betrayal.

"I can't," he whispered. "I can't leave her."

The nurse was quiet for a moment. Then she stepped closer, her shoes making soft sounds on the linoleum.

"She'll still be here when you come back," she said gently. "We'll take care of her. I promise. But your daughter... she's been waiting to meet you too."

She's been waiting.

The words hit him like a punch to the chest. You had waited for him. You had waited as long as you could, and he hadn't come, and now you were gone. But your daughter, your daughter was still waiting. Your daughter was still alive. Your daughter was still fighting.

And she deserved to meet her father.

San looked at your face one more time. He memorized the peace in your expression, the way your lips curved just slightly at the corners, as if you had fallen asleep in the middle of a happy dream. He pressed one last kiss to your cold forehead, letting his lips linger there for a long, trembling moment.

"I'll be back," he whispered. "I promise. I'll be back. Wait for me."

Wait for me.

The same words he'd said on stage, a lifetime ago. The same words you couldn't keep. But he would keep them. He would come back. He would sit beside you until they made him leave, and then he would come back again, and again, and again, until the day he could finally join you wherever you had gone.

He let go of your hand.

It was the hardest thing he had ever done. Harder than any choreography. Harder than any high note. Harder than any of the sacrifices he had made to become the man standing on that stage tonight. Letting go of your hand felt like letting go of gravity. Like he might float away into the void without you to anchor him.

But he did it. He let go. He stood up on legs that barely felt like his own. He turned away from your bed and walked toward the door, where the nurse was waiting with sad eyes and a gentle, pitying smile.

"Take me to her," he said, his voice raw and empty. "Take me to my daughter."

/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <

The NICU was on a different floor.

San followed the nurse through a maze of hallways and elevators, his footsteps mechanical, his mind somewhere far away. The glittering stage jacket was gone now, someone had found him a plain hoodie, a pair of sweatpants, something that didn't scream I was just on stage while my world ended. He didn't remember changing. He didn't remember who had given him the clothes. He didn't remember anything except the cold of your hand and the silence of your chest and the way your lips had curved just slightly at the corners, like you were dreaming.

The nurse walked a few steps ahead of him, her shoes squeaking softly on the linoleum. She didn't try to make conversation. She didn't offer platitudes or condolences or empty reassurances. She just walked, steady and calm, leading him toward the one thing that might still tether him to the world.

The NICU doors were heavy. Reinforced. They swung open with a low pneumatic hiss, and suddenly the air changed. It was warmer here, more humid. It smelled different too, less like antiseptic and more like something soft and clean. Baby powder. Sterile blankets. The faint, sweet scent of new life.

"Your daughter is in Bay 7," the nurse said quietly. "You'll need to scrub in before you can hold her. I'll show you where."

San nodded. He didn't trust himself to speak.

/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <

The scrubbing-in process was methodical. Familiar, almost, in the way that routines could be comforting even in the midst of devastation. Warm water. Soap up to the elbows. A disposable gown over the hoodie. Gloves. A mask. The nurse talked him through it with the practiced patience of someone who had done this a hundred times, and San let her voice wash over him without really hearing it. He was somewhere else. He was still in room 314. He was still holding your hand.

But then the nurse led him through another set of doors, and he stepped into the NICU proper, and everything else fell away.

The room was dim. Not dark, but dim, soft lighting designed to mimic the womb, to ease tiny bodies into a world they weren't ready for. The walls were lined with incubators, each one a small plastic box filled with wires and tubes and monitors that beeped in quiet, constant rhythms. Parents sat in rocking chairs beside some of them, their faces exhausted and hopeful and terrified all at once. Nurses moved between the bays with quiet efficiency, checking vitals, adjusting tubes, murmuring softly to babies too small to understand.

And there, in Bay 7, was his daughter.

San stopped walking.

His feet simply stopped moving, rooted to the floor like the linoleum had risen up and swallowed him whole. He couldn't move. He couldn't breathe. He could only stare at the incubator, at the tiny creature inside it, at the life that you had given him at the cost of your own.

She was so small.

That was the first thought that broke through the static in his mind. She was so impossibly, terrifyingly small. Her body was barely longer than his hand, her limbs thin and fragile, her skin so translucent he could see the faint blue tracery of veins beneath it. She was swaddled in a tiny blanket, a knitted cap pulled over her head, and her eyes were closed, fused shut, the nurse had explained, the way premature babies' eyes often were.

But her chest was rising and falling. Her tiny fingers were curled into fists. Her mouth, a rosebud, a perfect miniature bow, was pursed slightly, as if she was dreaming of something important.

She was alive.

After everything, after the hemorrhage and the emergency surgery and the frantic fight to save them both, she was alive. She was fighting. She was here.

"Would you like to sit down?" The nurse's voice came from somewhere far away. "You can hold her, if you're ready. Skin-to-skin contact is very beneficial for preemies. It helps regulate their heartbeat and temperature. And it helps with bonding."

Bonding. The word felt foreign. Alien. He was supposed to bond with this tiny creature, this beautiful, fragile miracle, while you lay cold and still three floors below. He was supposed to hold her and love her and be her father, when the only thing he wanted to do was crawl into the bed beside you and never get up.

But she was your daughter. She was the last piece of you left in the world. And you had chosen her. You had made the impossible choice, alone in that operating room, and you had chosen her.

He owed it to you to hold her.

He owed it to her to try.

"I'm ready," he said. His voice was a stranger's voice. Hollow. Distant. But steady.

/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <

The nurse helped him settle into a rocking chair beside the incubator. She showed him how to position his arms, how to support the baby's head, how to keep the wires and tubes from tangling. Then she reached into the incubator, carefully, so carefully, and lifted his daughter out.

She placed the baby in his arms.

For a moment, San forgot how to breathe.

She weighed nothing. Less than nothing. She was lighter than a microphone, lighter than the rings he wore on his fingers, lighter than air. If he closed his eyes, he might forget she was there at all. But he didn't close his eyes. He couldn't. He was staring at her face, at the tiny nose, the delicate lashes, the rosebud mouth that was now opening and closing in a silent, instinctive rooting reflex.

She was looking for you.

The realization hit him like a freight train. She was looking for her mother. She was looking for the voice that had sung to her every night, the heartbeat that had lulled her to sleep, the warmth that had surrounded her for eight months. She was looking for you, and you weren't here. You would never be here. She would grow up without ever knowing the sound of your laugh or the touch of your hand or the fierce, boundless love you had felt for her from the very first moment you knew she existed.

And it was his fault.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. He didn't know if he was talking to the baby or to you or to the universe itself. "I'm so sorry."

The baby stirred at the sound of his voice. Her tiny fist uncurled, her fingers stretching out, reaching for something she couldn't name. San watched, barely breathing, as her hand bumped against his chest and then stilled, resting there, right over his heart.

She was so small that her entire hand covered less than a fraction of his chest. But the weight of it, the weight of her existence, her survival, her impossible, fragile life, pressed down on him with a gravity that threatened to crush him.

He thought about the concert. He thought about the roar of the crowd, the confetti falling like snow, the high note that had felt like touching heaven. He thought about how he had stood on that stage and believed, with every fiber of his being, that nothing would ever feel as good as that moment.

He had been wrong.

He had been so catastrophically, humiliatingly wrong.

Because this, this tiny hand on his chest, this fragile heartbeat fluttering against his own, this life that had been bought with the blood of the woman he loved, this was bigger than any stage. Louder than any crowd. More important than any dream he had ever chased.

And he had almost missed it. He had almost been somewhere else, somewhere far away, bowing to applause while his daughter took her first breaths without him.

A sob tore out of his chest. Then another. Then another, until he was crying openly, his tears falling onto the baby's blanket, his shoulders shaking with the force of a grief too immense to contain. The nurse, discreet and practiced, stepped back to give him space. The monitors beeped their quiet rhythms. The other parents, lost in their own private joys and sorrows, didn't look up.

And San held his daughter, your daughter, and wept.

/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <

He didn't know how long he sat there.

Time had stopped meaning anything hours ago. It might have been minutes. It might have been hours. The world outside the NICU, the after-party, the headlines, the fans who were just starting to piece together that something had gone terribly wrong, didn't exist. The only thing that existed was the baby in his arms and the cold, still body three floors below and the impossible distance between them.

At some point, the nurse came back. She checked the baby's vitals, adjusted a wire, smiled at him with gentle, professional sympathy.

"She's doing very well," she said softly. "Her oxygen levels are stable. Her heartbeat is strong. She's a fighter."

A fighter. That was what your mother had said. That was what everyone kept saying. She was a fighter, just like her mother. Just like you.

"What's her name?" the nurse asked.

San looked down at the baby. At her tiny nose, her rosebud mouth, her fingers still curled against his chest.

You had picked the name together. Months ago, curled up on the couch with a baby name book balanced between you, laughing at the ridiculous suggestions and arguing over the serious ones. You had settled on it one night, lying in bed, your hand resting on your swollen belly.

If it's a girl, you had said, I want her to have your mother's name. And mine. Together. So she'll always know where she came from.

San had kissed your forehead and told you it was perfect. And it was. It was perfect.

He told the nurse the name. Your name, woven together with his mother's, a legacy of love and loss and everything in between. The nurse smiled and wrote it down on a small card, which she tucked into a slot on the incubator.

"That's a beautiful name," she said. "Welcome to the world, little one."

/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <

The hours that followed were a blur.

Your mother came to the NICU at some point. Her eyes were still red, her face still pale, but there was something different in her expression now. Something that looked almost like hope. She sat beside San in a second rocking chair, and together they watched the baby sleep.

"She has your nose," your mother said quietly. "But her mouth... her mouth is all her mother."

San looked at the baby's rosebud lips, pursed in sleep, and felt something crack open in his chest. She was right. The baby had your mouth. The same curve, the same softness, the same way of pursing her lips when she was dreaming.

He would see your face in hers every day for the rest of his life.

"She waited for you," your mother said after a long silence. Her voice was barely above a whisper. "At the end. She was in so much pain, but she kept asking for you. She kept saying your name. She wanted you to know... she wanted you to know that she wasn't angry. She wasn't scared. She just wanted you to be happy."

San closed his eyes. The tears were coming again, burning behind his lids.

"She said to tell you," your mother continued, her voice breaking, "that she loved you. That she would always love you. And that she was so proud of you. So proud of the man you'd become. So proud of the father you were going to be."

He couldn't speak. He could only nod, his throat too tight for words, his hands trembling around the tiny bundle in his arms.

Your mother reached over and placed her hand on his. Her skin was warm. Alive. A reminder that not everything had been taken from him.

"She would want you to hold onto this," she said. "This little girl. This miracle. She would want you to hold on and never let go."

San looked down at his daughter. At her tiny chest rising and falling. At her fingers curled against his heart. At the mouth that was so perfectly, painfully yours.

"I won't," he whispered. "I promise. I won't let go."

/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <

The funeral was small. Private.

You would have wanted it that way, San told himself. You had never liked being the center of attention, ironic, given that you'd married an idol. You preferred quiet dinners to fancy galas, intimate conversations to grand gestures, the soft and private moments that no one else got to see. So he kept the funeral small. Just family. Just the people who loved you most.

The baby couldn't come. She was still in the NICU, still fighting, still growing stronger every day. But San brought a photo of her, a small Polaroid the nurse had taken during one of his skin-to-skin sessions. He tucked it into the pocket of his black suit, right over his heart, and he carried it with him to the cemetery.

The service was a blur of white flowers and soft music and words that people spoke into a microphone that couldn't capture the weight of what had been lost. Your mother gave a eulogy. Your sister read a poem. San didn't speak. He couldn't. Every time he opened his mouth, all that came out was silence.

But he wrote something.

The night before the funeral, sitting alone in the hospital room beside your empty bed, he had taken out a pen and a piece of paper and written you a letter. He folded it carefully, sealed it in an envelope, and tucked it into the pocket of the dress they had chosen for you to wear. A dress you'd picked out months ago for an awards show he was supposed to attend. A dress you'd never gotten to wear.

The letter said everything he hadn't been able to say. Everything he would spend the rest of his life wishing he'd said sooner.

You were the best thing that ever happened to me. Better than any stage. Louder than any crowd. You were my dream. The only one that ever mattered. And I'm sorry I didn't tell you enough. I'm sorry I spent so much time chasing everything else. I'm sorry you had to make that choice alone.

But I promise you, I promise, I will spend the rest of my life honoring it. I will raise our daughter to know who you were. I will tell her every single day how much you loved her. I will show her pictures and videos and the letters you wrote her when she was still in your belly. I will never let her forget.

And I will never forgive myself. But I'll try. For you. For her. I'll try.

Wait for me.

He watched them lower your casket into the ground. He watched the white peonies, your favorite, the ones he'd given you on your first date, fall from the hands of mourners onto the polished wood. He watched the earth claim you, inch by inch, until you were gone. Until all that was left was a headstone with your name on it and a hole in his heart that nothing would ever fill.

And when it was over, when the mourners had drifted away and the cemetery was quiet, San knelt beside your grave and pressed his palm to the freshly turned earth.

"I'll be back," he whispered. "I promise. I'll come back. Wait for me."

/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <

One Year Later

The awards ceremony was the same one he'd performed at the night you died.

San hadn't been on a stage since then. He'd thought about quitting. He'd thought about it a thousand times. Every time he looked at a microphone, he saw your face on that video call, telling him to go. Every time he heard applause, he heard the echo of the moment he'd realized you were gone. The stage had been his dream, his purpose, his reason for being, and it had become a monument to his greatest failure.

But he hadn't quit.

He'd written instead. In the dark hours of the morning, when the baby was sleeping and the house was too quiet and the guilt was eating him alive, he'd sat at the piano in the study and let his fingers find the notes. The songs that emerged were raw and broken and beautiful. Songs about love and loss and the impossible weight of an empty chair at the dinner table. Songs about a little girl who smiled like her mother. Songs about you.

The company had suggested he perform one at the ceremony. A tribute, they called it. A way to honor your memory. A way to show the world that he was still here, still standing, still fighting.

He'd almost said no.

But then he'd thought about his daughter, your daughter, who was now a year old, who had your eyes and your smile and your fierce, stubborn spirit. She was healthy now, thank god. She'd spent two months in the NICU before they let her come home, and those two months had been the hardest of San's life. Harder than training. Harder than debut. Harder than the night he'd knelt beside your bed and held your cold hand and begged you to come back.

But he'd survived them. And she'd survived them. And now she was a year old, toddling around the house on unsteady legs, babbling words that weren't quite words yet, laughing at the cat and the curtains and the way her father made funny faces to make her smile.

She was the reason he got up in the morning. She was the reason he kept going. She was the reason he hadn't given up.

And she was the reason he said yes.

/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <

Backstage at the awards ceremony, San stood alone in a dressing room that looked almost exactly like the one from a year ago. The same couch. The same vanity. The same mirror on the wall. For a disorienting moment, he felt like he'd stepped back in time. Like any second now, he would pull out his phone and see those 473 missed calls and everything would happen all over again.

But it didn't. The phone was silent. The dressing room was quiet. And San was not the same man who had stood here a year ago.

He was thinner now. There were lines around his eyes that hadn't been there before, silver strands in his hair that he was too young for. He smiled less. Laughed less. The easy, carefree joy that had once defined him had been replaced by something quieter. Something heavier. Something that looked almost like wisdom.

But he was still here. Still standing. Still breathing.

And in exactly ten minutes, he was going to walk onto a stage and sing a song he'd written for you.

His phone buzzed. He pulled it out of his pocket and saw a text from your mother. A picture. His daughter, your daughter, was sitting on your mother's lap, wearing tiny pajamas covered in stars, her dark hair sticking up in every direction. She was grinning at the camera, her rosebud mouth stretched wide, her eyes sparkling with the fierce, stubborn joy she had inherited from you.

Underneath the photo, your mother had written: She's watching. She knows it's her daddy. She's pointing at the screen and saying 'Papa.' Make her proud.

San stared at the photo for a long time. His thumb traced the curve of his daughter's cheek, the same curve he had memorized on your face a thousand times. Then he tucked the phone back into his pocket, took a deep breath, and walked toward the stage.

/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <

The lights were blinding.

They hit him the moment he stepped through the curtain, a wall of white and gold that made his eyes water. But he didn't look away. He walked to the center of the stage, the same stage, the same spot where he had stood a year ago and believed he was standing on the summit of his life.

The crowd was silent. Respectful. Waiting. He could see their faces in the first few rows, fans with tears already streaming down their cheeks, light sticks held high, a sea of stars that stretched into the darkness.

He lifted the microphone.

"Last year," he said, his voice rough and raw in the silence, "I stood on this stage and I said that this was the greatest moment of my life."

A pause. A breath. The silence was so complete he could hear his own heartbeat.

"I was wrong."

He let the words hang in the air. He let them settle into the hearts of everyone listening.

"The greatest moment of my life wasn't on this stage. It was in a hospital room, holding my daughter for the first time. It was in the quiet of the morning, watching her smile. It was in every second I got to spend with the woman who gave her to me. The woman who gave me everything."

His voice cracked. He didn't try to hide it.

"She's not here tonight. But she's watching. I believe that. I have to believe that. So this... this is for her."

He sat down at the piano that had been placed at the center of the stage. His fingers found the keys, muscle memory taking over, and the first notes of the song filled the auditorium. Soft. Simple. Aching.

And then he sang.

He sang about love. About loss. About the impossible weight of a choice made alone. He sang about a little girl who smiled like her mother and laughed like the sun and reminded him every day that life was worth living even when it hurt. He sang about promises and guilt and the long, slow road toward forgiveness that he was still walking.

He sang for you.

When the final note faded, the silence that followed was absolute. A held breath. A suspended heartbeat.

And then, slowly, the applause began.

It built like a wave, rising and rising, thousands of people on their feet, tears streaming down faces, hands pressed to hearts. It was the loudest ovation he had ever received. Louder than the concert. Louder than the peak he'd thought he'd reached that night. Louder than anything he had ever known.

But San didn't hear it.

He was looking up, past the blinding lights, past the ceiling of the venue, past the stars that were hidden by the city's glow. He was looking for you. And in the silence between the applause, in the echo of the final note, in the ache of his own breaking heart, he thought he felt you there.

A warmth. A whisper. A promise.

I'm proud of you.

Wait for me.

San closed his eyes. And for the first time in a year, he smiled, not the wide, brilliant smile of the man he used to be, but something smaller. Softer. Something that looked almost like peace.

He pressed his hand to his heart, where his wedding ring still hung on a chain around his neck, right beside a tiny Polaroid of a baby with rosebud lips.

"Always," he whispered. "I'll wait for you. Always."

[yungistiny]

GIVE ME TWO BOYFRIENDS

[wooyos]

getting adopted by her favourite kpop group

[wooyos]

hongjoong's asmr skincare routine | instyle

[nattyphyz]

THESE photos make me want to write THE MOST perverted fic with jongsang ever