wonderland 2.0

22|she/her|♌♊♋

[writingdose]

[maidenless-soul]

this tickled me a bit 😭 honestly don't know which is the best one 😂

[yungistiny]

I’m gonna have to write about him aren’t I

[seonghwasss02]

helloooo??? @maidenless-soul @sparkseonghwa

[maidenless-soul]

the arm peek🫪 im ovulating or wtv yeosangs insta is😭

[yungistiny]

HONEYMOON

[ J. Yunho ]

╚═════════

summary: in which you and yunho are headquarters best sorcerers that hide your want for each other behind a wall of attitude (you) and shameless flirting (yunho) but one cursed hotel is about to break that wall down

warning: dom yunho, sub reader, violence, oral, squirting, spanking, unprotected sex, fingering, creampie

genre: rivals to lovers, smut

pairing: sorcerer yunho x sorcerer afab reader

word count: 6.5k

note: I have to split this in two parts because apparently tumblr thinks I wrote too much 😭

part two

masterlist

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Tokyo’s morning rush swallowed people whole. Crowds poured from subway exits beneath towering buildings, umbrellas bobbing beneath an overcast sky that threatened rain without ever quite committing. Businessmen hurried toward offices with coffee balanced precariously in one hand, students squeezed themselves onto packed trains, and tourists paused every few feet to photograph a city that hid far more than it ever revealed. Beneath all of it, several stories below the organized chaos of Shinjuku Station, another world stirred awake.

Jujutsu Headquarters was already alive. Sorcerers drifted through polished corridors with cups of vending machine coffee in hand, instructors barked orders toward training halls, and the faint hum of protective barriers vibrated through the walls like a heartbeat. Someone laughed somewhere down the corridor. Another team had apparently returned from an overnight mission covered in soot and curse residue, drawing sympathetic looks from the medics waiting nearby.

The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime as you stepped out, adjusting the strap of your weapon case over your shoulder as you made your way toward the briefing room, already mentally preparing yourself for whatever assignment Headquarters had waiting. Then you saw him. Leaning against the far wall like he owned the building. Yunho. One ankle crossed casually over the other, hands buried in the pockets of his black uniform, platinum hair falling effortlessly across the dark lenses resting on the bridge of his nose. A paper cup of iced coffee balanced lazily between his fingers while he chatted with an instructor who looked equal parts amused and exhausted.

You immediately looked somewhere else. Anywhere else. The ceiling. The mission board. The floor. The emergency exit sign. Anywhere that wasn’t him. Because the last thing you needed after the morning you’d had was to make eye contact with the man your subconscious had spent the better part of the night tormenting you with. It had been absurd. Ridiculous in fact how your dream state decided to conjure up Yunho behind you….. inside you…. you spent your entire commute trying to erase it from your memory and now seeing him in person was undoing all that hard work.

“Morning.” His voice reached you before his footsteps did and you still refused to look. “Didn’t realize they started letting oversized egos into Headquarters this early.” A grin tugged at the corner of Yunho’s mouth. “There she is.” He pushed himself away from the wall, falling into step beside you with effortless confidence. “I was starting to think you’d called in sick.”

“I considered it.”

“Miss me?”

You snorted. “I’d rather file paperwork.”

“Ouch.”

“It wasn’t meant to hurt.”

“No, it definitely was.”

“It clearly wasn’t enough.”

He laughed, completely unfazed, taking another sip of his coffee before studying your profile for a second longer than necessary. Usually by now you would’ve glanced at him, if only to roll your eyes. Today… nothing. Not once. And that made his smile grow just a fraction. “You’re not looking at me.”

“I am.”

“No.”

“I’m looking at your coffee.”

“My face is higher.”

“I’m aware.”

“Hm.” He tilted his head slightly, trying to catch your eyes as the two of you rounded another corner. “You lose a bet?”

“No.”

“Get cursed?”

“No.”

“You finally realize I’m handsome?” That earned him the reaction he’d been fishing for. Your head snapped toward him with a glare sharp enough to make a lesser sorcerer rethink every decision they’d ever made. “In your dreams.” The words left your mouth before your brain had a chance to stop them. And Yunho noticed. Of course he noticed. One eyebrow disappeared beneath his fringe as a slow, knowing smile spread across his face. “My dreams?” he repeated lightly. “Interesting choice of words.”

“I didn’t…” You stopped yourself, pressing your lips together and he chuckled. “You didn’t what?”

“I wasn’t…”

“Weren’t?”

Your glare intensified. “I hate talking to you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I absolutely do.”

“You enjoy it.”

“I tolerate it.”

“You seek me out.”

“I avoid you.”

“Not very successfully.”

You scoffed, turning your attention back toward the hallway ahead, determined not to give him another inch and Yunho’s grin only deepened. There was something different today. Usually your irritation came with quick comebacks and unwavering eye contact, meeting every tease head on like it was another sparring match. Today you were avoiding looking at him altogether. It was subtle. Almost imperceptible. But Yunho had spent nearly two years learning every variation of your moods. And this one… this one was new.

“So,” he said casually, slipping one hand back into his pocket as though the thought had only just occurred to him, “what’s got you so flustered this morning?” You let out a dry laugh. “I’m not flustered.”

“No?”

“No.”

“You’ve looked literally everywhere except at me.”

“I’ve seen enough already.”

His smile turned almost feline. “Have you now?” You finally looked at him again, entirely by accident and it lasted barely a second. Just long enough to catch the smug satisfaction written all over his face. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet,” he replied smoothly, holding the briefing room door open for you with an exaggerated little bow, “you still walked in with me.” You rolled your eyes as you stepped past him. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“I wasn’t.” His voice followed close behind, warm with unmistakable amusement. “I was stating a fact.” He followed after towards the briefing room that was already half full by the time the two of you walked in. Long tables formed a horseshoe around the center of the room, scattered with mission reports, half finished coffees, and cursed tool manifests. Floor to ceiling windows overlooked nothing but reinforced concrete, the entire level buried so deep beneath Tokyo that sunlight had long since become an afterthought. A large digital map of the city stretched across the far wall, dozens of blinking red markers scattered throughout the wards like fresh wounds. Conversations gradually died as instructors filtered toward the front.

You deliberately chose a seat at the opposite end of the table from Yunho and he ignored that decision entirely. By the time you sat down, the chair beside yours scraped across the floor. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” You didn’t even have to look. “I don’t think so,” Yunho replied easily as he settled into the seat, stretching his long legs out beneath the table. “Pretty sure I’m sitting.”

“There were six empty chairs.”

“And yet this one’s my favorite.”

“You don’t have a favorite.”

“I do now.”

You closed your eyes for exactly one second, wondering whether Headquarters would approve homicide if the victim was technically capable of surviving it. Across the table, a pair of Grade Ones exchanged knowing smirks.

“They’re starting early today.”

“They never stop.”

An older instructor cleared his throat loudly enough to reclaim everyone’s attention. “If the children are finished…” Yunho leaned back in his chair without the slightest hint of shame. “I’m finished.”

“I wasn’t talking to you.”

“I know.”

“That’s the problem.” A ripple of quiet laughter spread through the room and you pinched the bridge of your nose as the instructor sighed the weary sigh of a man who had spent far too many years dealing with Special Grades before pressing a button on the console. The map zoomed inward. Shinjuku. One district pulsating crimson. “The barrier appeared approximately three hours ago.” The room grew noticeably quieter. “Surveillance teams confirmed civilian evacuations were only partially successful before communication ceased. Four auxiliary managers entered the barrier. None have returned.”

Several sorcerers straightened in their seats as the instructor clicked again. Satellite imagery disappeared, replaced by photographs of an aging luxury hotel wedged between newer office buildings. “The Kurogane Hotel.” The name alone drew murmurs. Abandoned for nearly fifteen years. Scheduled for demolition twice. Both attempts ended in unexplained fatalities. Rumors had circulated among sorcerers for years that something had nested there long before Headquarters officially acknowledged it. Now… it had finally made itself known. “Our estimates place the curse somewhere between high Grade One and Special Grade.” Silence settled over the room. “You’ll be entering with one objective.” He looked around slowly. “Exorcise it.”

Several names appeared across the screen. Teams were assigned one by one. You barely paid attention until the final assignment flashed onto the display.

Special Grade Team: Yunho. Y/N.

“No.” The word left your mouth immediately but the instructor didn’t even blink. “No?”

“I’d like a reassignment.”

“You’d like many things.”

“I’d also like a different partner.”

Beside you, Yunho rested his chin lazily against his hand, looking entirely too entertained. “Aw.”

You shot him a look. “Don’t.”

“I think she hurt my feelings.”

“You don’t have any.”

“I’ve got at least one.”

“It died years ago.”

“It got better.”

The instructor rubbed his temples. “This assignment requires the two strongest sorcerers available.”

“I’m sure someone else can…”

“No.”

“There has to be another Special Grade.”

“They’re overseas.”

“A Grade One?”

“No.”

You gestured vaguely around the room. “Literally anyone else.”

“No.”

Yunho finally spoke again, sounding far more delighted than any reasonable person should. “I don’t know, I think this is fate.” You looked at him like he’d suggested burning Headquarters to the ground. “I think you’re delusional.”

“You’ve already spent all morning trying not to look at me.”

“I have not.”

“You absolutely have.”

“I’ve been enjoying the peace.”

He grinned. “I missed you too.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

The instructor clapped his hands once. “Lovers’ quarrel later.”

Neither of you hesitated. “We’re not lovers.” The synchronized response echoed through the room and a beat of silence followed before omeone at the back muttered, “That’s exactly what people who are lovers would say.” Snickers rippled around the table and you felt heat creep up the back of your neck, your glare sweeping toward the unfortunate Grade Two responsible and he immediately found the tabletop fascinating. Yunho, meanwhile, looked like Christmas had come early. “I don’t know,” he said, unable to resist, his smile growing wider as he looked sideways at you. “Kind of sounded like we rehearsed that.”

You turned toward him slowly. “If this curse doesn’t kill you…”

“You’ll try?”

“I’ll succeed.”

His laugh rang through the briefing room, warm and entirely too pleased with itself. “Ahh…. I love when you’re mean to me.”

“You are impossible.”

“And yet…” His gaze lingered on yours for just a fraction longer than necessary, amusement softening into something quieter, something that only existed when no one else was paying attention. “you’ve never actually asked them to stop pairing us.” Your retort caught in your throat for the briefest moment. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“I wasn’t.”

His smile never faltered. “I’ve seen the assignment requests.”

Your eyebrows knitted together. “What assignment requests?”

“The ones where every Special Grade gets to list preferred partners every six months.”

Your expression changed. “You never filled yours out either.” For the first time that morning… Yunho had no clever comeback but his grin remained, though now, there was something unmistakably satisfied in his eyes. Neither of you had asked for someone else. Neither of you ever would. The realization hung quietly between you, unnoticed by everyone else in the room, while at the front the instructor gave up trying to hide his exasperation.

“Wonderful,” he muttered dryly, gathering the mission folders. “Now that you’ve both finished proving my point… go save Tokyo.”

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

The assignment folder remained tucked beneath your arm as the two of you climbed the long staircase leading out of Headquarters and into the afternoon rush of Shinjuku. The moment the hidden entrance sealed itself behind you, Tokyo greeted you with its usual assault on the senses. Pedestrian lights chimed in every direction, trains rumbled beneath the streets, and the smell of grilled meat drifted from restaurants tucked beneath towering office buildings. Somewhere several blocks away, hidden behind layers of cursed energy, the Kurogane Hotel waited patiently for its visitors. You were already mapping the route through your head when the footsteps beside you suddenly stopped.

You kept walking for another few feet before realizing Yunho wasn’t beside you anymore. Turning over your shoulder, you found him standing outside a tiny family owned abura soba shop, one hand buried in his pocket while the other rested against the curtain hanging over the entrance. He studied the menu with the concentration of a man making a life altering decision before glancing toward you with entirely too much satisfaction. “I’m starving,” he announced, as though the two of you weren’t on your way to hunt something capable of tearing through an entire squad of sorcerers.

You stared at him for a long second before letting out a slow breath. “There’s a Special Grade waiting for us.” His shoulders lifted in an easy shrug. “It’ll still be there in forty minutes.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“It is.”

“You still stopped walking.”

Your jaw tightened. Damn him. “I stopped because if you die from low blood sugar before we even reach the barrier, I’ll have to explain it to Headquarters.” His grin only widened. “So you do care.” You scoffed. “About the paperwork.” He pouted. “Not about me?”

“Especially not about you.”

“Liar.”

You rolled your eyes with enough force they almost hurt, but he had already pulled the curtain aside and gestured dramatically toward the entrance. “After you.” You shook your head. “I’m not hungry.”

“You’ve said that three times.”

You gritted your teeth and followed him inside. The restaurant was warm in the way only small family restaurants could be, fragrant with simmering broth and fresh noodles. There were only four occupied tables, conversations hushed beneath the gentle clatter of bowls and chopsticks. An elderly woman behind the counter smiled the instant Yunho stepped inside. “Back again?” she asked warmly, already reaching for two menus. You looked from her to him with narrowed eyes. “Back again?” Yunho accepted the menu without a hint of embarrassment. “I come here after missions.” You arched a brow. “Often?”

“Enough.”

“She knows your face.”

“It’s a memorable face.”

You snorted despite yourself. “There it is,” he murmured as the two of you slid into the booth opposite each other. “Thought I’d lost you for a second.”

“You didn’t make me laugh.”

“No?”

“No.”

“That little sound just now?”

“Allergies.”

“In the middle of summer?”

“Very aggressive allergies.”

The waitress returned before he could answer, smiling politely as she asked what you’d both be having. You opened your mouth only for Yunho to beat you to it. “Spicy, green onions….” Your head snapped up immediately. “Excuse me?” He didn’t even bother looking at the menu. “She’ll have the same” You glared at him. “I wasn’t aware you could read minds.” He didn’t even look at you. “I can’t.” You clenched your jaw. “Then why are you ordering for me?” He shrugged. “Because that’s what you always get.”

You blinked. How? How did he know that? “I’ve eaten with you twice.”

“Three times.”

“It was two.”

“The convenience store after the Yokohama mission counts.”

“That doesn’t count.”

“You still chose spicy.”

The waitress looked between the two of you, clearly deciding it was safer to trust Yunho than interrupt whatever this was. When she disappeared again, you leaned forward, lowering your voice. “You’re insufferable.” He grinned. “You keep saying that.”

“Because it’s true.”

“And yet…” His chin rested lazily in his palm as he studied you across the table. “you came inside.”

“I got tired of arguing.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“You were curious.”

“I wasn’t.”

“You wanted lunch.”

“I wanted you to stop standing in the middle of the sidewalk.”

“Hm.”

“What?”

“I’ve noticed something today.”

You immediately regretted asking.

“You usually look me in the eyes when you insult me.” His voice remained light, almost conversational, but his attention never drifted from your face. “Today’s different.”

“It isn’t.”

“It is.”

“I’m looking at you now.”

“Barely.”

“I’ve looked at you all afternoon.”

“You’ve looked at my forehead. Mhm. My sunglasses. My coffee. My shoulder.” His smile grew slower this time, almost amused by something only he understood. “Everything except my eyes.” Your stomach tightened. The dream. God. Why now? You could still remember it with embarrassing clarity despite spending the entire morning trying to bury it beneath work. Yunho inside you. His tongue inside you. His hands… those damn hands holding you down while he…. STOP. Don’t think about it.

“You disappeared again.” His voice pulled you back so suddenly you realized you’d been staring at the table. “I’m sitting right here,” he continued quietly. “Where’d you go?”

“Nowhere.”

“Liar.”

“I’m thinking.”

“About?”

“The mission.”

He tilted his head. “No.”

You frowned. “No?”

“No.”

“You don’t know what I’m thinking.”

“I don’t.”

“Then don’t tell me I’m wrong.”

“I’m telling you that’s not the face you make when you’re planning.” He smiled to himself, almost imperceptibly. “That’s the face you make when you’re embarrassed.”

“I am not embarrassed.”

“You are.”

“I’m not.”

“You haven’t looked at me properly once since Headquarters.”

“I have.”

“You haven’t.”

“I literally am right now.”

“No.” He reached up, hooked a finger beneath the bridge of his sunglasses, and slid them down just enough for his eyes to meet yours fully. “Now you are.” It lasted less than two seconds but that was all you managed because your pulse stumbled so hard it almost annoyed you. The images from your dream crashed back into your mind with brutal clarity, and before you could stop yourself, your gaze dropped away from his again and of course Yunho caught it. He didn’t tease you. Not immediately.

Instead, he leaned back against the booth, a slow, satisfied smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as though he’d just solved a puzzle that had been bothering him all morning. “Well,” he murmured, almost to himself, “that’s… interesting.”

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

The rest of the walk passed beneath an uneasy silence. Not an awkward one. Those had never really existed between the two of you. This one simply carried weight. Yunho had stopped teasing after the restaurant. He hadn’t let the subject go, you knew him well enough to recognize that look hidden behind those dark lenses, but he’d tucked it away somewhere in that irritatingly observant mind of his. Every now and then you caught him glancing sideways at you, studying you with the same quiet curiosity he’d worn since watching you look away from him for what had to be the tenth time that day.

You hated that he’d noticed. You hated even more that there wasn’t a single believable excuse you could give him. How exactly were you supposed to explain that you’d spent the better part of last night dreaming about him with enough vivid detail that looking him in the eyes now felt borderline dangerous? You couldn’t. So instead… you focused on the mission. The closer the two of you drew to the Kurogane Hotel, the quieter the city became. At first, it was subtle. A little fewer pedestrians. The traffic sounding farther away.

Storefronts growing sparse between older brick buildings that had somehow escaped redevelopment. The towering skyscrapers of central Shinjuku gave way to a forgotten corner of the district where time itself seemed reluctant to move forward. Police barricades surrounded the entire block, yellow tape fluttering lazily in the afternoon breeze while several Auxiliary Managers stood waiting just outside the barrier. Their expressions shifted almost immediately upon seeing the two of you approach, relief washing visibly across exhausted faces. One of them stepped forward, bowing quickly before speaking. “The barrier hasn’t changed since our report. No one has entered since the last reconnaissance team.”

You lifted your eyes toward the hotel. It towered over the street like a forgotten monument. Twelve stories of weather blackened stone stretched into the gray sky, dozens of broken windows staring back like empty eye sockets. Ivy had swallowed nearly half the western wall, while rust stained the balconies in uneven streaks. The once grand entrance had collapsed years ago, cracked marble buried beneath decades of neglect. It looked… dead. Yunho followed your gaze before slipping his sunglasses a little higher onto the bridge of his nose. “Any movement?” The manager shook his head. “Nothing visible.”

“Good.” He smiled. “We’ll go wake it up.”

You rolled your eyes. “Must you antagonize everything?”

“It’s worked so far.”

“One day it’s going to backfire.”

He looked sideways at you. “If it does…” His grin returned. “you’ll save me.”

You snorted quietly. “I’ll think about it.”

“You always do.” Neither of you acknowledged the way those words lingered between you. Instead, you stepped through the shimmering edge of the barrier together and the temperature dropped instantly. Not cold. But….. wrong. The air became unnaturally still, heavy enough that every breath felt just a little thicker than it should have. Cursed energy rolled over your skin in slow waves, ancient and suffocating, carrying with it the unmistakable feeling of being watched. The hotel’s front doors hung crooked on broken hinges and one gentle push sent them groaning inward. You crossed the threshold first and Yunho followed half a step behind. And suddenly…. the world…. changed.

The decay vanished. Not gradually. Instantly. The cracked marble beneath your boots became polished black and white tile so pristine you could see your reflection staring back at you. Dust disappeared from the chandeliers overhead as hundreds of crystal pendants burst into warm golden light. The collapsed ceiling sealed itself with intricate plasterwork, every fracture erased as though it had never existed. Music floated through the lobby. Soft jazz. A woman’s laughter echoed from somewhere near the lounge. Someone rolled a luggage cart across freshly polished floors. The scent of old wood and expensive perfume replaced decades of mildew. You froze and so did Yunho.

The abandoned hotel… was no longer abandoned. Guests wandered through the lobby dressed in impeccably tailored suits and elegant dresses straight out of another era. Bellhops hurried between polished brass elevators carrying leather suitcases. Couples sat beneath towering palm plants sipping cocktails while cigarette smoke curled lazily toward the ceiling. Behind the front desk, a receptionist smiled politely as though nothing about any of this was unusual. Outside… it had been mid afternoon. Inside….. moonlight poured through enormous windows overlooking a city swallowed by night. The skyline beyond glittered beneath thousands of lights as you stared through the glass. “Yunho….”

“I know.” His voice had changed. Gone was the teasing. Gone was the cocky amusement. Every instinct he possessed had sharpened all at once. Without another word, he turned on his heel and strode back toward the entrance. The revolving doors stood exactly where they’d been moments earlier as he pushed through them. You watched him disappear outside. Then…. without o much as a blink….. he walked back into the lobby from the opposite revolving door and stopped dead in his tracks, brows knitting together behind those black lenses. “What…”

You hadn’t moved. Neither had the hotel. The receptionist still smiled pleasantly. The jazz never skipped a beat. A waiter walked between the two of you carrying a silver tray without acknowledging either of your existence. Yunho slowly looked over his shoulder toward the revolving doors he’d just used then back at you. “I went outside.”

“I noticed.”

“I didn’t.” His eyes narrowed. “I should’ve been outside.”

“You weren’t.”

“I know.”

Silence settled between the two of you. Not even the cursed energy felt hostile anymore. It simply… watched. Yunho walked back toward you much slower this time, his gaze roaming across every inch of the impossibly perfect lobby before settling once again on the windows overlooking the nighttime city. His hand came to rest unconsciously near yours as both of you stood close enough that the back of his knuckles barely brushed your fingers. Neither of you pulled away. Neither of you seemed to notice. “This isn’t an illusion,” he murmured quietly, his voice low enough that only you could hear it over the soft swing music drifting from somewhere deeper inside the hotel. “If it were, I’d feel cursed energy manipulating my senses.”

You swallowed, your eyes still fixed on a little girl skipping across the marble floor with a stuffed rabbit tucked beneath her arm. She laughed as she disappeared around a corner, chased by a woman who looked as though she’d stepped straight out of a photograph from the 1950s. “Then what is it?” Yunho didn’t answer. Because for the first time since you’d met him…. he looked genuinely unsettled. The lobby fell unnaturally quiet around the two of you. Not because the music had stopped. It hadn’t. The jazz still drifted lazily from somewhere near the ballroom, glasses continued clinking together at the lounge bar, guests laughed beneath glittering chandeliers as though the world outside didn’t exist.

It was… Perfect. Too perfect. Neither you nor Yunho moved for several long seconds. Then, almost simultaneously, the two of you turned toward the revolving doors behind you again. Yunho looked at you over the rim of his sunglasses. “One more time.” You nodded once. Neither of you spoke another word. He reached the revolving door first, pushing against the polished brass with enough force that it spun smoothly beneath his hand. You stepped in right behind him, the two of you completing an entire rotation before emerging… outside.

The afternoon sunlight hit your face immediately. The abandoned hotel stood exactly as you’d left it. Broken windows. Cracked stone. Police barricades. Gray skies. And for one brief, hopeful heartbeat, neither of you said anything. Then Yunho glanced sideways. “Well…”

“What?”

“We’re out.”

“We are.”

“So…” He gestured vaguely toward the building. “Want to try that again?” You looked at him like he’d lost his mind. “You want to willingly go back in there?”

“I’m curious.”

“You’re insane.”

“You’ve known that for years.”

“Fair.” Against every survival instinct screaming inside your head… the two of you walked back toward the entrance. The broken front doors groaned open beneath Yunho’s hand and you crossed the threshold first and reality folded around you once again. The ruined lobby vanished. Warm light washed over polished marble. The jazz resumed without missing a single note. The receptionist smiled from behind the front desk. A woman wearing pearls laughed into her champagne flute. Night had fallen once more beyond the enormous windows.

You stopped walking. Something…. felt wrong. Not cursed. Different. Your gaze drifted downward. Your boots… were gone. Your breath caught. Instead of your black combat uniform, a champagne colored satin gown hugged your frame, elegant and unmistakably from another era. The fabric shimmered beneath the chandelier light, the fitted bodice giving way to a flowing skirt that brushed your ankles with every stunned step you took. Long ivory gloves stretched to your elbows, a delicate diamond necklace rested against your collarbone, and a tiny jeweled clutch hung effortlessly from your fingertips as though it had always belonged there.

“What…” Your voice barely left your lips as across from you… Yunho hadn’t moved. For perhaps the first time since you’d met him… he looked genuinely speechless. The high collared sorcerer’s uniform had disappeared entirely. In its place was a perfectly tailored black pinstripe three piece suit that looked as though it’d been cut specifically for him sometime in the late 1940s. A crisp white shirt disappeared beneath a patterned tie, a silver chain draped elegantly across the waistcoat, and polished black dress shoes reflected the golden light beneath him. Even the dark sunglasses were gone, replaced by neatly styled platinum hair falling effortlessly over his forehead.

He blinked once. Twice. Then looked down at himself. “Well.” You were still staring as his attention slowly lifted and landed squarely on you. The joking…. stopped entirely. His eyes traveled over you before he seemed to realize he was doing it, lingering just long enough to make your pulse skip before snapping back to your face. It wasn’t crude. It wasn’t even intentional. It was the instinctive reaction of a man who had just watched the woman he’d spent two years unsuccessfully pretending not to want now standing in front of him looking like she’d stepped straight out of a 1950s Hollywood film. “You…” he started quietly.

You folded your arms almost instinctively before remembering the gloves now covering them. “What?”

“I…” He actually struggled for words. “You clean up nicely.” Despite everything… you almost smiled. “I was going to say the same thing.”

His eyebrow lifted. “You were?”

“No.”

“I knew it.”

“You look ridiculous.”

“I look incredible.”

“You look like you’re about to sell me a timeshare.”

He laughed softly, the familiar confidence beginning to settle back into place as he adjusted one of the cuffs on his jacket. “You noticed the suit.”

“I have eyes.”

“They’ve been avoiding me all day.”

“They’re avoiding your ego.”

“You’ve been looking at me for a solid thirty seconds.”

Your mouth opened then closed again. Because… he wasn’t wrong. You had been staring. Your gaze drifted back over him before you could stop yourself. The fitted jacket emphasized the breadth of his shoulders, the tailored waistcoat somehow making him look even taller than usual. Everything fit him so perfectly it almost looked unnatural. “Stop looking.” The words left your mouth before you realized what you’d said which made Yunho grin immediately. “I’m not the one looking.”

Your eyes snapped back to his face. “I wasn’t…”

“Weren’t what? Checking me out?”

“I was assessing the situation.”

“Mhm.”

“You’ve changed too.”

“So?”

“So…” You gestured vaguely toward him. “it’s weird.”

“It’s weird?”

“You know exactly what I mean.”

“I don’t.”

“You absolutely do.”

His smile softened just slightly. “You think I look handsome.”

“I think you look suspicious.”

“In a tailored suit?”

“Especially in a tailored suit.”

He took one slow step toward you. Then another. Not enough to invade your space. Just enough that anyone watching would’ve assumed the two of you had arrived together. “You know,” he said quietly, his voice almost disappearing beneath the music drifting through the lobby, “if we walked into a room dressed like this…” He let his gaze linger on yours. “people would assume we were here together.”

You swallowed trying to pretend your heart wasn’t pounding like it wanted to tear out of your chest. “We are here together.”

“I wasn’t talking about the mission.”

The space between you suddenly felt much, much smaller. Before you could answer… a cheerful voice interrupted from behind. “There you are!” Both of you turned. The smiling receptionist stood behind the front desk, her expression bright with recognition. “We were beginning to think the happy couple wasn’t going to make it to the gala.” You stared at the receptionist for a long moment, convinced you’d misheard her. “The what?” The woman looked pleasantly confused by your confusion, her perfectly curled hair never shifting as she smiled even wider. “The newlyweds, of course.” She clasped her hands together beneath her chin, positively beaming. “We’ve been expecting the two of you all evening.”

The words hung in the air and neither you nor Yunho spoke as you looked at her. Then slowly turned toward Yunho who looked back at you. Then… the corners of his mouth twitched. “No.” You pointed at him before he could open his mouth. “Don’t.”

“I haven’t said anything.”

“I know that face.”

“What face?”

“That one.”

He finally gave up pretending, a slow grin spreading across his face until it reached his eyes. “Newlyweds?” You closed your eyes for exactly one second. “I swear to God…” The receptionist let out the softest little laugh, completely misunderstanding the exchange. “It’s adorable,” she said warmly. “Every newly married couple argues on their honeymoon.” Your head snapped back toward her. “Honeymoon?”

“Of course!” She looked genuinely delighted. “We even prepared the Imperial Suite especially for the two of you.” She gestured proudly toward the sweeping staircase curling around the lobby. “The largest suite in the hotel. Champagne waiting on ice, fresh flowers delivered only an hour ago, dinner scheduled after the ballroom festivities…” Her smile turned almost dreamy. “It really is the most romantic room we have.”

You slowly turned toward Yunho again who was biting the inside of his cheek trying and failing not to laugh. “You laugh,” you warned quietly, “and I will exorcise you before the curse gets the chance.”

“I’m trying really hard.”

“I can see that.”

“I really am.” His shoulders shook once. Then twice. Then a soft laugh escaped him. You glared at him. “Will you stop enjoying this so much!”

“I know.” He nodded, trying unsuccessfully to compose himself.

“You think this is funny.”

“I think…” He looked around the impossibly elegant lobby before his eyes drifted back to yours. “this curse has excellent taste.” You let out an incredulous laugh. “Excellent taste?” He gestured openly between the two of you. “I mean…” His gaze lingered too long again. “Look at us.” Your pulse betrayed you again. Because he wasn’t looking at the dress anymore. He was looking at you. Really looking. Without the sunglasses. Without the usual joking smile hiding behind them. And for just a heartbeat, the playful confidence slipped enough for you to catch something warmer underneath. Something that looked suspiciously close to need. Close to wanting…..

“Don’t.”

His eyes flicked back to your face. “What?”

“Whatever you’re thinking.”

He smiled. “I wasn’t thinking.”

“You were.”

“I was observing.”

“You were staring.”

“So were you.”

“I was not.”

“You’ve looked at me three separate times since we changed.”

“I was making sure it was actually you.”

“And?”

“And unfortunately…” You folded your arms. “it is.”

He laughed again. “I’ve missed this.”

“You’ve been with me all day.”

“I know.”

“Then how could you miss it?”

“Because…” He stepped just a little closer, lowering his voice enough that only you could hear him over the jazz drifting through the lobby. “for a while there, I thought you were going soft on me.” You scoffed. “In your dreams.” His smile froze only for a fraction of a second. Then it returned. “Dreams again, huh?” Damn it. Not again. Your stomach dropped the instant the word left your mouth and his eyebrows lifted almost imperceptibly. “You’ve mentioned dreams twice today.”

“I…” You looked away immediately. “It’s an expression.”

“Mhm.”

“It is.”

“I didn’t say it wasn’t.”

“But?”

“But…” His voice dropped another octave, warm enough that it sent an entirely unwelcome shiver racing down your spine. “I’m starting to get curious what kind of dreams you’ve been having.” You swallowed. Your mouth suddenly felt impossibly dry. And he noticed. Of course he noticed. The bastard. His grin grew just enough to let you know he’d filed your reaction away for later. Thankfully the receptionist interrupted before you were forced to answer. “If the bride and groom would follow me,” she said brightly, retrieving an ornate brass key from behind the counter, “the ballroom festivities are just beginning. Everyone has been waiting so patiently for your first dance.”

“The what?” you and Yunho said in perfect unison making the receptionist blink. “Your first dance.” You looked at Yunho and Yunho looked at you. Then to your absolute horror… he smiled again. “Well,” he said far too casually, offering you his arm with infuriating gentlemanly confidence, “it’d be rude to keep our guests waiting, don’t you think… wife?” The receptionist led the two of you beneath a pair of towering walnut doors, her heels clicking rhythmically against polished marble before she pushed one open with effortless grace.

Warm golden light spilled into the hallway, followed by the swell of a live orchestra that seemed to wrap itself around every corner of the hotel. Violins floated above the low murmur of conversation while a trumpet carried the melody through the cavernous ballroom beyond. The room looked as though it had been lifted directly from another lifetime. Crystal chandeliers glittered overhead like constellations, their reflections dancing across a floor polished to a mirror shine. Women drifted through the crowd in satin gowns and elbow length gloves, their laughter blending with the music, while men in perfectly tailored tuxedos raised crystal glasses in quiet celebration. Every single guest turned the moment you and Yunho crossed the threshold.

Then… they applauded. The sound rolled through the ballroom until every conversation faded beneath it. You stopped walking. “Absolutely not.” The receptionist looked over her shoulder, confused. “Is something wrong, Mrs. Jeong?” Your eye twitched. “I am not…” Yunho leaned in just enough that only you could hear him. “Mrs. Jeong has a nice ring to it.” You didn’t even look at him. “Keep talking.”

“I’m complimenting the curse.”

“I’m going to kill you.”

“You’ve said that at least twelve times today.”

“And I mean it more every time.”

He smiled, entirely unfazed, while the applause gradually settled into excited murmurs. At the far end of the ballroom, the orchestra shifted seamlessly into a slower melody, the conductor lifting his baton before every musician seemed to turn their attention toward the center of the dance floor as the receptionist clasped her hands together. “Right this way. It’s time for your first dance.” Your stomach sank. “No.”

The woman blinked. “No?”

“I don’t dance.”

Yunho’s head turned. “You don’t?” You shot him a flat look. “Has that information somehow surprised you?”

“A little.”

“You’ve never seen me dance.”

“I’ve imagined it.”

“Of course you have.”

“I was right.”

“You don’t even know what I’d look like.”

“I know exactly what you’d look like.”

“Oh?”

“You’d overthink every step.”

“I would not.”

“You absolutely would.”

“I would improvise.”

“You’d threaten whoever asked you.”

“I am threatening you.”

He laughed softly, the sound disappearing beneath the opening notes of the orchestra as he extended one gloved hand toward you with an ease that somehow fit the decade around you perfectly. “Lucky for you…” You eyed his hand suspiciously. “I do dance.” Your gaze flicked from his face to the hand still waiting patiently between you. “I hate this hotel.”

“I know.”

“I hate this curse.”

“I know.”

“I especially hate you.”

“I know.”

“You’re enjoying this.”

“A little.”

“A little?”

“A lot.”

You sighed through your nose before finally placing your hand in his and the instant your fingers settled against his palm, the orchestra swelled. Around the ballroom, every other couple stepped politely toward the edges of the floor, leaving only the two of you standing beneath the chandeliers. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me…”

“They’re giving us the spotlight,” Yunho murmured, sounding far more amused than alarmed.

“I noticed.”

“It’s romantic.”

“It isn’t.”

“It could be.”

“It won’t.”

His smile softened as his free hand settled carefully against the middle of your back. There wasn’t anything improper about the touch. It was exactly where a ballroom instructor would’ve placed it. Professional. Respectful. And yet… you became acutely aware of it anyway. Warm. Steady. Close enough that every breath seemed just a little harder to ignore. “You look tense,” he observed quietly.

“I wonder why.”

“You trust me in a fight.”

“I do.”

“You’ve trusted me with your life.”

“I have.”

“So…” His thumb shifted against the satin covering your back. “trust me with one dance.” Your eyes lifted to his and for just a second… the ballroom disappeared. “Fine,” you muttered and his grin returned.

“I knew you’d say yes.”

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

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[maidenless-soul]

GOJO YUNHO GOJO YUNHO UGHHHDBDJDBXBSJSJS😩🥰🫪

[jiuchip]

ᯓ WAIT, I CAN MAKE YOU CUM TOO — OT6

℘ — p1harmony ot6 x reader    ▸   ⌜ 10.3k ⌟

synopsis ▸ ever since that night, the boys have been nothing but generous to you. so much so that you think it’s about time you give back to them, but of course, they (jiung) have to make things difficult for you: you can’t cum without making them all cum first. what starts as a simple challenge devolves into pure debauchery, and the night falls quickly out of hand. your hand, at least.

δ — nsfw (mdni), smut, unprotected sex, gangbang, meandom!hyung line, switch!maknae line, oral (m. rec), handjob, reverse cowgirl, face fucking, fingering, double penetration, anal, degradation, name calling, dirty talk, rough handling, just a whole lotta filth

ᯓ an — the long awaited sequel to wait, he’s never made you cum before? hopefully it lives up to its predecessor… but this is my gift to you for 2k followers!! still in disbelief, but so so grateful for you all <3 enjoy!

MASTERLIST

In hindsight, leaving your phone unlocked in that den of boundless wolves was a terrible idea, especially with what you left open and forgotten in your search tab in your late night delirium of morbid curiosity. 

But the popcorn was running low and everyone else was too hung up on their pointless argument of the day, so could you really blame it on them when you walk back out to the living room to see them hovered over Intak who had taken your phone to fact check the hot actress’s name?

Yes, but it’s no less mortifying. 

They stare at the screen, jaws agape, some faces (Keeho, Taeyang) beyond amused and some faces (Jiung, Jongseob) beyond red. 

And you have a hankering for exactly what they’re looking at. 

“What,” you start, slow and sharp. “The fuck,” their eyes snap up to you in unison, wide and glittering. “Are you doing?”

It’s silent. 

Until,

“I don’t know, noona,” Intak starts with a wide beam on his face, the apples of his cheeks tinged pink. “Why are you searching up how to give a blowjob?”

The popcorn bowl in your hand clatters to the kitchen counter as you immediately make way to lunge at him. 

But a body intercepts you, catching you around the waist and spinning you away from Intak’s shrieking self. 

“Shota, let me at him!” You yelp, thrashing in his grasp. “Give me back my phone!”

There’s commotion behind you as you continue to struggle in Shota’s iron grip, voices overhauling each other to fight for the phone. 

“Wait, there’s another tab!” You hear Keeho yell, sounding positively overjoyed. “How to please your man in six—”

“Stop!” You cry, thrashing even harder. Your body burns, your head feels dizzy, and you feel like you might actually throw up from embarrassment. 

Shota, sensing your distress, has the decency to let you go. 

You immediately bolt to where Keeho’s sitting on the floor beside Intak, snatching the phone from his grasp before he can even react. 

He jumps back when you do, startled by your speed. “Wait, I wanna see—“

“You,” you snap, ignoring him completely to glare at Intak. You’re seething, breathing heavy, and looking surely vaguely deranged. “Do you have no manners? What makes you think you can just take people's phones?!”

Intak gapes at you, jaw working around empty words as he struggles to defend himself. “I-I just wanted to search up if that was really her—“

“You idiot, I don’t care if—“ You immediately cut yourself when you see his eyes start to glimmer with tears, blinking in an attempt to push them back with no avail. “Okay, that’s not fair, you can’t just cry your way out of every problem.”

He grins then, expression switching in a split second. “Can I kiss my way out of it then?”

Your sputter, Jongseob cutting in before you can. “Please,” he scoffs, roughly shoving Intak’s arm. “Like you haven’t been doing enough kissing.”

Your cheeks flush, mind flitting back to all those mornings that Intak had made you burn your eggs while he kept you distracted with his head between your thighs. It was a lot more than kissing…

“Not enough with how you and Shota are always hogging her,” Intak immediately retorts, shoving him back. 

Memories of morning indulgences fade into late nights in Shota’s chair with Jongseob on the line over a forgotten game, and more late nights in Jongseob’s lap to “keep him warm” while he finishes a round or two. 

“You three are equally terrible,” Keeho cuts in while Shota snickers in the back, then adds under his breath, “Selfish brats.”

He’s not wrong. With how often the younger three steal you away, you rarely get more than a few indulgent kisses with Keeho. 

“We’re getting off topic,” Taeyang, ever the mediator, pipes in. He’s still smirking from where he’s sat on the couch behind Intak, watching you with slitted, mischievous little eyes. “Care to explain?”

Your defenses crawl up your skin, as they always do whenever Taeyang is in the picture. As far as intimacies go since that night two weeks ago, you haven’t shared much with him save for some teasing touches and lingering looks that make you wonder just why he hasn’t initiated anything more like the others. 

Well, like the others except Jiung, the only one who seems to be actively avoiding you. Your eyes glance at him without your permission. He’s tucked himself away to the farthest corner of the big couch, his gaze stuck down to where he picks at his nail. 

You ignore the sting in your chest—whatever, you’re not that greedy.

“If you must know,” you relent with a huff, turning your narrowed eyes back to Taeyang. The only way to fight his can’t-be-damned demeanour is with one of your own. “I just wanted to learn how to repay you guys.”

“Repay?” Shota asks with a blink and a tilt of his head from where he stands.

You shrug your shoulders, dropping onto the bean bag across from where the others are loosely huddled. “You guys have been… giving a lot,” you say for lack of better wording. “And I don’t want to just take and not give forever.”

The grin that grows on Keeho’s lips is smug and a little fond. “Aw, but I like taking care of my princess,” he teases with just a hint of condescension. “You know we like taking care of you.”

The admission is honest. And it makes something warm pool in your belly that’s not just arousal. 

“I know,” you mumble, shuffling to sit up straighter. “But my point still stands. I want to be able to make you guys cum too.”

There’s a pause that settles as they take in your admission, so earnest, leaving you squirming a little in your chair. You think you hear a hitched breath here or there. 

“Yeah?” Intak breathes out eventually, eyes wide and eager as he watches you. “Show us what you learned then,” he says, ever so eager. From your research.”

Your eyes snap wide open as you peer around the room, keeping your gaze away from the corner. “Here? Now?”

“Is there a better time?” Taeyang asks. He’s leaned back on his elbows, head tilted slightly so that his hair is wisped over his face in a stupidly attractive way. 

You almost glare at him. “I suppose not…”

“Don’t be nervous,” Keeho coos, then starts giggling at his own joke before he even voices it. “Even if we’re not easy it's not like you have to worry about making Jiung cum.”

Your stomach lurches when Jiung’s head snaps up to look at Keeho (and thankfully not you). “What happened last time wasn’t my fault!”

“Oh, then whose was it?”

“It was T—“ He stops himself, seeming to think better as his ears turn pink. He scoffs, crossing his arms. “Doesn’t matter. I didn’t get a proper chance last time.”

“Well, have you tried to redeem yourself yet?” Keeho asks with a shit-eating grin on his face, leaning over Taeyang’s lap to poke at Jiung. 

Jiung pushes himself farther away while swatting at his hand, refusing to look anyone in the eye. “I—That’s not—“

Taeyang snickers, watching Jiung with an equally amused grin. “Embarrassed?” 

They’re scary together, Keeho and Taeyang. You wonder just how much they would push Jiung, how much they have in the past. 

Jiung’s face turns fire red, and it makes you giggle. 

His eyes snap to you, and you purse your lips together, quickly averting your gaze. 

You can see him narrow his eyes at you from your peripheral. “I don’t think you should be laughing,” he says sharply, and it draws your gaze back to him, lips parting in shock. 

“Excuse me?”

There’s a shift in his gaze. You hate to admit how his gaze makes your skin prickle, like being simply acknowledged by him is what your body’s been craving. Gone is the fidgety, nervous mess that Jiung is whenever he would get near you after that fateful night. Before you is the Jiung who’d commanded you with just his voice, the one who’d made you nearly cum on just the sound alone. 

“How about you try it? You wanna make us cum?” He asks, and something about the way his eyes sharpen, the way his voice lowers, it makes you inclined to obey his every word. “Don’t cum without making us finish first. We’ll see who’s laughing then.”

It lights something in your chest, something hot and vengeful. You meet his narrowed eyes with your own. Jiung’s known to be stubborn but you’re no better, especially in the face of a challenge. 

“Does everything have to be a game with you people?” You scoff, though you’re already tracing him over, willing yourself to recall every one of his weak spots. 

Jiung notices, and places the pillow in his lap aside, like he’s giving you free reign to try. It makes you want to claw at him. 

“Didn’t you have a good time last time?” He asks with a raised brow. He shifts to sit closer to the edge of the couch, parting his legs almost in invitation. “Come on. Show us what you learned from your research.”

The way he says ‘research’ with a hint of condescension to his voice makes your head burn with the need to shut him the fuck up. It also makes the space between your legs burn, but you don’t concern yourself with that. 

Six pairs of eyes watch you as you rise to your feet and make your way to Jiung. It almost feels like that night, with you all exposed and vulnerable for the taking, except entirely different because now it’s not just one on one, or three on one. 

You barely survived the last time, and if this leads to anything like that… you can’t imagine how you’ll survive this time. Especially now that you can’t come.

You drop to your knees in the space between his legs, your eyes locked onto his heated ones. They’re dark, almost entirely swallowed by his pupils as he watches you. 

No one says a word as they watch you watch each other. Almost like they’re waiting in bated breath, unsure of who might lash out first. 

“And if I win?” You ask, resting your hands on his knees, a light touch that makes his legs give a minuscule twitch. “What do I get?”

He huffs out a tiny laugh, short and breathy as he reaches to card his hand through your hair, pushing the tresses back and nudging you closer with his hand on the back of your head. “As if you don’t have enough?” He clicks his tongue. “I didn’t take you for being greedy.”

But you don’t give to his push, your lips pulling up when his brows pinch together at your disobedience. “And I didn’t take you for being a pussy.” 

He scowls at you, but you cut in before he can retort. 

“It’s only fair.” You slide your hands slowly up the expanse of his thighs, his muscles tensing under the heat of your palms. You preen internally, at how you have him under the control of your touch this time. Is this what gives Taeyang his giant ego? “Reward and punishment, isn’t it?”

“She’s got a point,” says the devil, Taeyang, himself. He’s not too far now, moved closer to Jiung on the couch. 

Jiung works his jaw, his fingers gripping down and digging into your skull. “We can make you cum however you want. Your pick.” 

The prospect makes you smile. “I can work with that.”

“Good. Now are you gonna shut up and—“ He cuts off with a hiss, head tilting back when you cup your hand over the strained tent in his lap and firmly knead down. 

It’s a nice feeling under your palm, not entirely unfamiliar as Intak had guided your hand clumsily over himself during one of your quick chases for relief, but it’s never been anything exploratory. 

You shift your hand, finding the thick length of his shaft, and slowly drag a tight hand along it over the fabric of his pants. 

Jiung grits back a choked groan, his hips bucking up to chase the touch. 

“So sensitive,” you coo without thought, but you don’t get to savor it before he’s shoving your hand off of him and reaching for his waistband. 

“Don’t stall,” he says, pushing down his sweats and his boxers down to his thighs. You’re reunited with the sight of his cock, half hard as he takes it into his hand and gives it a firm tug. Your mouth goes dry at the sight of him, at the pearly drops gathered at his flushed tip. “C’mon.” He puts his hand on the back of your head again, urging you forward. “Show me what you learned.”

You could fight back. Or you could just make him weep. 

So you give under his pull this time, bracing your hands in his thighs once more, and rise up on your knees to take him into your mouth. 

Your lips wrap snug around his tip, the musky taste of him bursting on your tongue at the first swipe along his slit.

You hum at the unfamiliar taste, following your instinct to give it a suck to taste more of him on your tongue. 

Jiung’s fingers tighten in your hair, digging down to push you. 

You give under the push, sinking down to take more of his length. The intrusion is foreign and makes your throat clench when his tip brushes the back of your mouth, but the details from the article you’d read just last night flit back to you. 

You breathe in deep through your nose and let your muscles relax around him, and only then do you push to take just a bit more. 

It’s too much. Your throat clenches around him uncomfortably and you pull off immediately, coughing into your arm. 

Keeho somehow appears on your left (he must have moved at some point from Taeyang’s side) and reaches to brush your hair back. 

“She’s so eager,” he teases, almost obligatory, because then he’s wrapping a gentle hand under your jaw and guiding you back to Jiung’s cock. “Don’t take too much too quick.”

“We shouldn’t be allowed to help,” you hear Taeyang mumble. 

You flush under the careful watch, wrapping your hand around Jiung’s base as Keeho guides you to take Jiung back in your mouth regardless of what Taeyang says. 

“You’re just a bitch Tae,” Keeho says distantly, too focused on the way your lips stretch around Jiung, who’s already starting to look a little too affected so early on. “She went through all that trouble of learning, best we can do is guide her through it. Isn’t it, princess?” He hums, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to the apple of your heated cheek. He revels in the little whimper you let out, his own cock stirring in his jeans as he lets his hand join Jiung’s to push you down a little further. “You’re gonna take all our cocks aren’t you?” He whispers in your ear, chuckling at the choked sound you give. “Gonna make us all cum like our good little whore?”

He wants to push you more, but he gets yanked back by Jiung’s hand on the back of his collar. 

“Stop interrupting her,” he snaps, shooting him a nasty side glare before turning back to watch you as you slide up to suckle at his tip. 

Keeho rolls his eyes but relents, settling to palm himself through his jeans. He can be patient. For now.

But all of that noise goes over your head, because you’re too caught up in the heady taste of Jiung on your tongue. 

His hand stays a steady presence in your hair, not quite pushing anymore, but there to remind you that he will if he needs to. 

But he doesn’t need to, not when you start a steady pace of sinking down to take half his length then slip up and work the gummy head with your tongue while your hand works whatever you can’t fit in your mouth.

It’s clumsy at first, exploring and learning, but your movements become sharper by the second. The sounds are lewd, wet and filthy, mingling among the heavy breaths here and there not just from you. 

You glance up to see Jiung’s blown eyes steadfast on you, his cheeks flushed, his brows pinched and lips slightly bitten. He’s breathing heavily, a sure sign that you’re doing something right. 

The sight of him shoots electric heat right to your core, where you can feel yourself dampening by the second. Your thighs are pressed together to quell some of that helpless desire, but it’s not enough. Whatever, it’s not like you can do much about that anyway—you’re not sure you can handle one of Taeyang’s punishments if he deems you worthy of one for failing Jiung’s challenge. 

The state that Jiung was left in that night… you don’t think you’d survive.

You look up at him again. He’s got his head tilted back, lips parted as he pants. Your clit gives a pathetic throb—what you’d do to get him in that state yourself. Maybe you really are starting to understand Taeyang. 

Taeyang, who’s sitting at your right and palming himself through his sweats. He notices that you’re peering up through your lashes, of course he does, and gives you a lazy, smug little smile. 

But you don’t pay it any mind, your eyes locking onto the thick bulge straining the fabric. 

Your mouth slows down on Jiung, opting to stay and suckle at the tip as if you’re almost entranced by the sight of Taeyang’s hand wrapped over himself, pulsing down to relieve himself. Your hand gives an involuntary twitch. 

Jiung’s hips buck up, his tip poking up into the side of your cheek and nearly grazing against your teeth.

“Come on,” he whispers under his breath impatiently, and it spurs you back. 

You hollow your cheeks, sucking tightly around his cock as you slide down and up, and Jiung lets out a satisfied groan over you. 

“There you go,” he sighs, nails gently grazing into your scalp. “Good…”

It makes you whimper around him, the sound making him buck up into your mouth again. You can’t really tell if he’s getting close just yet, but you know you’re winding him up to it. Maybe you just need to double your efforts. 

But you can’t, because Taeyang takes the hand you have holding onto Jiung’s knee and places it right over his own erection. 

Your hand twitches at the sudden feel of him, your mouth faltering again, eyes snapping to the side to watch as Taeyang kneads your hand down with the guide of his own hand splayed over yours. 

He’s hot under your hand even through the fabric, thick and pulsing and impossibly hard. You’d nearly forgotten just how big he is. 

Without thinking, you reach up to his waistband and tug down. 

Taeyang smirks, lifting his hips to shuck his sweats and boxers down, letting himself spring free as he settles to sit closer, almost flush against Jiung’s side.  

Jiung doesn’t protest, can’t really when you eagerly grasp Taeyang in your hand. He can’t be that greedy when he’s given you such a long task. And he doesn’t quite hate the pained hiss Taeyang lets out when you drag your fist up his cock, the touch too dry to be pleasurable. 

But Jiung does hate it when you move off of him to reach over and take Taeyang’s cock into your mouth. He also hates that his dick twitches at the sight of your lips stretched around the thick girth as you struggle to take him in and slick him up with your tongue. 

Taeyang’s hand twitches at his side but before he can get his grubby hands on you, Jiung pulls you off of him with his hand back in your hair and not so gently pulls you back to himself. Fuck not being greedy, he is. For you he is, and he’s been watching the others have their fill of you for the past few weeks while all he did was watch from a distance and wallow at his own pathetic self. 

“Jesus,” Taeyang scoffs at his side, but Jiung can’t bring himself to care as he feeds you his cock again, sighing at the warmth of your mouth engulfing him. “Didn’t take you for a pusher, Jiungie.”

Jiung scowls at the nickname, gripping down on your hair when you sink further, enough to have him hitting the back of your throat with each bob of your head. He shudders at the sensitivity. 

“Tired of not getting what I want,” he muttered passively, blinking back the haze that’s starting to cloud his vision. 

Taeyang lets out a pleased groan, and Jiung glances over to see that you’re working him with your fist at the same pace you’re working your mouth. 

He watches as Taeyang’s face twitches each time you pass over your tip, twisting your hand around it with each upstroke. Whatever article you’d read on that must have been good. Or you’re just a natural. 

Whatever it is, Jiung feels a twisted sense of pleasure fester in his chest at Taeyang being so affected by so little. 

“Sensitive?” Jiung asks, not bothering to mask the condescension dripping from his tone. 

Taeyang opens his fluttering eyes and laughs breathily, looking down at where Jiung is starting to subconsciously buck his hips up to meet your mouth. 

“Don’t worry about me,” Taeyang says, brows pinching and teeth gritting when your hand starts to pick up the pace. “Close?”

Jiung doesn’t know what it is that sets off that competitive fire in him, but he thinks that somehow, cumming first would mean losing to Taeyang. And he can’t allow that to happen. Again.

“Not even,” he lies, willing that heat in his gut to loosen. But it’s there and it’s insistent with each swirl of your tongue over his cock, with each little suckle you give his tip every time you drag up. 

“Good. Me neither,” Taeyang says, and Jiung knows it’s a lie too. 

But you don’t notice, far too busy with the cock in your mouth and the other one in your hand. It’s difficult to coordinate with just them, but it becomes infinitely more so when someone settles behind you, lifts your hips, and starts grinding their hard-on against your clothed cunt. 

You moan at the sharp pleasure that bursts through your body. The groan behind you lets you know it’s Intak, and you’re not surprised in the least. 

You are, though, a little miffed when he starts a steady pace rutting into you, distracting you with the heady heat that climbs through your body with his dick slotted right between your aching folds. 

You lose track of both Jiung and Taeyang, your body honed in on the pressure that your body’s been craving for so long. 

And it makes Taeyang impatient, because he reaches over to dig his hand in your hair and starts to guide your head on Jiung with unabashed force. 

Your confused hum gets lost on Jiung as he moans, his hips starting to twitch and tremble under you. 

Another hand wraps around yours on Taeyang’s cock, bigger and rougher than Taeyang’s, and starts to guide your hand at a quicker pace, but with the mess of everything you can’t really care. 

So you shut your eyes and focus, trying to ignore as Intak ruts against you, and hone your efforts. 

It’s enough damage to Taeyang, who knows he’s probably fighting a losing battle because with your hand and Jiung’s hand working his cock, he knows he’s bound to not last. 

And when Jiung sets his mind to something, he’s usually not one to back down (save for some of his more… vulnerable moments). 

But he tries anyway, pushing your head down in Jiung’s lap and forcing you to take him down to the hilt. He only feels a little bad as you gag and sputter around it, but he’s not too guilty when Jiung lets out a choked moan and bows up off the couch. 

But he’s annoying, and he doesn’t cum yet, just spurs his hand over yours to move quicker on Taeyang. 

“You’re a fucking cheat,” Jiung gasps, pushing Taeyang’s hand off to give you some reprieve as you pant and recover. But you don’t waste time, taking Jiung right back down your throat. 

Taeyang’s retort dies on his tongue when Jiung guides your hand to give short, quick strokes at his sensitive tip. He curses as he pulses under the grip, digging his hand into the cushion. 

“You’re just bitter you lost,” he says anyway through his choked grunts. 

His body writhes under the sensation, gasping when your hand twists around the head of his cock before tightly sinking down. His hips start to buck up with a mind of their own, his eyes rolling back when your hand starts those tight, mind numbing strokes along his tip again. 

“You’re a… fuck…” he tries to speaking, but you’re fucking the words out of his head when you move your hand even quicker. “You’re just a s-sore fucking los-er—nngh!” 

Taeyang’s body tenses up off the couch, his head thrown back as he gasps for breath, holding on to the last thread of his control. 

But it snaps when Jiung leans in, whispering into Taeyang’s ear, breath fanning hot against his already heated skin. “Yeah? Then why are you about to cum?”

Taeyang cums with a ragged yell, spurting hot, thick ropes over your rapid hand. Jiung watches his body writhe through his orgasm—and something about the way he moans and whimpers, the way he trembles and twitches under your hand, the way his plush lips part for air, it does Jiung in. 

He curses, grabs your jaw and slides his cock back into your mouth (you’d popped off to focus on milking Taeyang for all he’s worth), and starts to ruthlessly fuck his cock up into your open, pliant mouth. 

He gasps as his orgasm builds, crashing over as he starts to shove his cock deep into your throat uncaring for the way your gag around him. And he seats himself in deep, grinding up into your face as he spills down your throat with a guttural groan, his entire body trembling through the overwhelming crash. 

You start to push at him eventually, and he lets go amidst his daze, his body going liquid into the cushions as you cough his release back over him. 

You’re pretty sure you’re seeing stars, your head spinning and mind reeling all at once. It’s only the insistent pressure of Intak still needily rutting against you that tethers you to reality. 

You don’t really get to recover, because Intak’s arms wind around you from behind and pull you to his chest, seating you on his lap over his needy arousal. 

His breath is hot and damp against your ear. “Can I eat you out?”

You nearly laugh through your daze at just how addicted he is to living with his head between your thighs. But that’s not what tonight is for. 

“No,” you say, reaching back to scratch affectionately into his hair with a pointed grind down on his cock that has him grunting.

You press your lips lazily to his cheek, Jiung’s cum smearing over his skin, but he doesn’t seem to mind it at all as he turns to you and licks it off your lip before kissing you half heartedly, his mind too caught up in grinding against you. 

“Gonna take care of you tonight,” you mumble into the kiss, lifting off of him. 

He lets out a little whine when you disconnect, only settling when he sees you just stripping yourself of your layers. You hear him hastily pull his own clothes too before pulling you in and slotting cock against your ass. 

You gasp as he starts rocking you down, panting into your ear. “Don’t care, just wanna fuck you,” he whines. 

You click your tongue, moving to raise off of him but his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you right back down. 

“Please, noona, just sit on my cock,” he pleads. 

You feel him against the swell of your ass, hard and pulsing with need, practically begging you to.

“You better listen.” 

Keeho’s voice pulls your attention to him as he raises from where he was sitting, his dick sitting long and pretty in his hand as he works it. 

You watch as he closes in on you, stopping to stand right in front of you. He strokes himself slowly as he peers down at you with lust ridden eyes, his tongue flicking out to wet his bottom lip. 

“If he gets impatient enough he’ll just take what he wants,” he says, voice deep and gravelly. He taps the head of his cock against your lip, smearing the wetness, but something tells you not to do anything without his direct command. “But you’re no stranger to that.”

“No,” you say, letting your breath brush over him. You fight a smile when you see him twitch in his hand. “Have you been watching us, Kyo?”

His smug expression falters for just a second before it livens back into a nearly wicked grin. “Maybe I have,” he says calmly, then hooks the head of his cock against the corner of your lips and pulls, popping out before he digs back in just to push against your teeth. 

You still don’t open. 

His brows twitch, a flicker of irritation that makes you smile. 

But not for long; because then Intak bristles under you, seeming to have had enough. He just wraps one arm around you and hoists you up, his other hand guiding his cock against your sopping cunt. 

You gasp at the blunt pressure, at the sheer size of him as he messily seeks out your hole. You’ve never actually taken him before, only seen him once, and you’re quickly reminded of his size, just shy of Taeyang’s. 

“W-Wait,” you try to say, but Intak ignores you completely. You gasp when he hooks against your entrance and pushes at the same time he pulls you down. 

The stretch as he pierces into you is devastating. Your mouth falls open in a loud cry, your walls clamping down and protesting at the sudden intrusion. 

And Keeho takes the opportunity to bully his cock into your mouth, sheathing himself in to the hilt and making you gag. 

It’s all encompassing, the feeling of being full from everywhere. Your head gets dizzier the longer Keeho keeps himself buried down your throat, cutting off all your oxygen as he keeps you pressed to his naval with a rough hand in your hair. Intak ruts himself even deeper and holds there, panting and whining at the tightness around his needy cock. 

You think you might pass out. 

But then Keeho pulls out completely, squeezing down at his base to stave off his quickly rising orgasm. The look on your face almost did him in, cross eyed and empty headed, purely blissed out. 

You cough, gasping for air as you try to recover, but Keeho doesn’t feel like being too nice tonight. 

“Open,” he says, and his dick jumps at how quickly you let your mouth fall open at his command. 

He grins, stroking his fingers gently in your hair as he holds you in place. “Good bunny,” he whispers, then starts to fuck himself into your warm, pliant mouth. 

You take it so well, humming softly around him with each stroke, gagging just a little each time he brushes against the back of your throat. The pace is languid, merciful for now.

Your eyes flutter closed, lost at the taste of him, at the feeling. But Intak looks like he’s about to burst into tears under you. 

He has to tap your cheek to gain your attention again, and when you blink your hazy eyes open, he places his hand under your jaw to lift you a little. 

“Come on, don’t forget about Takki.” 

Realization flits through the daze in your eyes, and you follow his pull to rise to your knees, bracing your hands against his sturdy thighs, nails digging into the rough denim. 

Slowly, you rise, and Keeho watches as Intak’s eyes roll back, as his body slumps back onto the seat of the couch behind him. 

And when you sink back down, slow and like it takes you a great deal of effort to impale yourself on his cock again, Keeho’s pretty sure Intak is gone. 

He just laughs at the sight, biting back a comment about how pathetic you both look, and lets you set the pace and adjust to his size. 

Soon enough you’re bouncing on his cock with ease, moaning around Keeho like a wanton whore as you chase the burning pleasure which each slam of your hips down on his. Your mission remains a weary thing in the recesses of your mind—you can’t cum without making them cum first. 

But it’s becoming more and more difficult by the second to heed to it, because with Intak filling you up, the ridges of his cock stroking every inch of your gummy walls so nicely, all your body wants to do is fuck until you can’t anymore. 

And you nearly get lost in that feeling, nearly let yourself chase that release. 

Until Keeho grips down on your hair and starts to pound his cock into your mouth, uncaring for the way it makes you gag each time he breaches your throat. 

“Fuck,” he hisses above you, his gut coiling at the sight of tears brimming your eyes. But you don’t protest, dutifully taking it as he ruins your throat while you keep fucking yourself down on Intak, though you get clumsier by the second. 

Intak is just a mess—moaning and writhing about how noona feels so good, gonna make him cum—he won’t even bother with that. 

Keeho’s too focused on you fucking yourself dumb, letting yourself be used like this. 

“You’re a fucking cockslut,” he laughs, voice breathy and ragged through his moans. He tightens his grasp on your jaw, digging his thumb into your cheek to feel himself through the barrier. “Bet you’re close from this, aren’t you?”

You nod on him, whining when he stops to rub his tip down on your tongue. 

“Yeah? You get off on being used like a cocksleeve?”

Your body gives a quick jerk, like the words were a physical thing threatening to pull your orgasm out of you. It makes his cock pulse dangerously against your tongue. 

He grits his teeth, cursing before he starts slamming back into your throat, his pace unforgiving. “Just made for this,” he gasps, the coil in his gut tightening each time you gag on him. You’ve stopping moving on Intak, and Intak starts whining under you, trying to fuck him self up and jerking your body with the movements, but Keeho doesn’t care. 

He continues to selfishly chase his orgasm, uncaring for the way you’re convulsing around him. You keep taking it, not pushing, not pulling, just taking. 

And it ruins Keeho. He pulls out completely with a pained grunt, fisting himself frantically to completion, holding you in place by the jaw as you gasp and cough and squirm. Thick ropes of his cum spurt out as he finishes with a low grunt, painting your face in pearly white streaks. 

Your mouth opens subconsciously, trying to catch his release, and Keeho groans, his cock giving another pathetic little kick at the sight. He indulges you, pushing his tip down on your tongue to smear the rest of his release before pulling back. 

You hum at the taste, your body nearly giving out, until Intak, who’s had just about enough, lifts you up and pushes you down onto all fours. 

You yelp, scrambling to catch yourself on your hands but Intak pushes you down with a hand between your shoulderblades, arching your ass up to meet his hips where he still remains buried inside you. 

“Sorry, noona,” he heaves. “I can’t wait anymore.”

Then he starts to piston into you with no restraint, punching your breaths effectively out of your lungs with each slam of his hips. It hurts with how rough he is, but it burns so good that he rapidly drives not only himself to his orgasm, but yours too. 

Alarms blare in your head, and you scramble to push him back but it’s a useless attempt. 

“T-Tak, no, ‘m gonna—“

He doesn’t care, holding your hips with both hands, bracing one foot down on the floor so he can pummel into you even harder. 

“Can’t stop,” he pants, barely sane as he chases the frantic heat. “C-Can’t stop, noona, need t’cum in y—fuck!”

His orgasm barrels through him unannounced and he fucks it out in you, babbling for you to take it. 

It nearly pushes you over. But you’re practically ripped away from him, you cunt empty and clenching around nothing but warm cum, as the world spins around before you’re dumped somewhere. 

That somewhere happens to be Shota on the love seat, completely bare of clothes as he wastes no time to shove his hard cock into you. 

You whine, writhing in his hold at the sudden stretch, though it’s not completely unwelcome. 

“No, stop,” Shota pleads, tightening his strong arms around you. “Stay, I’m so hard.”

“Yeah, noona,” sounds a silky voice from behind you, teasing and light as another wall of warmth hovers at your back. “Stay. Or Shota might cry from not getting his dick wet.”

Shota huffs, rutting up into you. “Shut up, Seobie, just get to work.”

You whine as Shota digs much deeper into you. He’s slimmer than Intak, but longer in a way that makes your toes curl. 

“Pushy,” Jongseob chuckles, pressing a warm kiss to your shoulder before he shifts. 

Your mind drifts immediately, too far removed from whatever Jongseob was doing as Shota slowly, shallowly fucks up into you. Not in a chase for anything, just as something to do as he waits…?

Your body seizes up taut, a ragged gasp ripping from your throat as you feel a wet pressure start to prod against your hole—not the one Shota’s currently buried in. 

“S-Seob!” You yell, squirming as you feel the pressure start to circle the tight ring of muscle. 

“Shh, relax,” he coos into your ear, barely pushing against your hole before he starts to circle it again. “It’s just my finger. Gonna open you up first.”

Fuck, you’d nearly forgotten you’d mentioned to him this was something you wanted to try. But you were too drunk on his cock at the time, delirious to what you were saying. It must have stuck with him, if he came prepared to seize any opportunity.

“B-But I’m supposed t’make you…” You trail off with a gasp when he tries to prod into you again.

He presses another kiss to the back of your head. “You will.”

Your knees tighten against Shota’s waist, your hole clenching in resistance when he tries to push in again. Your clit gives a pathetic throb, brushing against the base of Shota’s dick, and you’re quickly reminded of your burning need to cum. 

So you start whining. 

Taeyang knows exactly why. He’d been watching you intently as the others took their turn with you from where he sat, languidly stroking his newly hardened cock. 

“What is it?” He asks, doing nothing to hide the amusement in his voice. “Need to cum?”

You nod immediately, squirming, but Shota and Jongseob both hold you still. 

“Please,” you sob, your wide eyes flitting over to Taeyang. “Please, just once, need to… please…”

Taeyang’s about to respond, but Jiung beats him to the punch. 

“No,” he says, prompt and final.

Taeyang looks to his right, raising a brow at Jiung who watches on. He’s hard again where he’s tucked himself back into his pants, but he doesn’t touch. He just watches. 

Taeyang would be impressed if he wasn’t a little pissed off by him. 

His gaze turns back to you at the sob you let out, dropping your head to Shota’s chest as you accept your defeat. 

You’re still fidgety and tense, Jongseob getting a little frustrated when he’s not making any progress. So Taeyang, being the generous hyung he is, slips his hand out of his pants and gets up, making his way over. He doesn’t mind helping. 

You perk up a little at his presence, your eyes immediately locking onto where he’s straining against his sweats where it stands almost eye level with you. 

Taeyang scoffs, reaching down to pull himself out. “Come here,” he says, barely having to guide himself before you’re lifting up to take him into your mouth. He sighs at the wet heat wrapping around himself, brushing his thumb against your hollowed cheeks. “That’s it, you feel better with cock in your mouth, don’t you?”

He doesn’t mind helping as long as it gets him his dick sucked. 

You just hum around him, too dumb to properly respond. But it seems to do the trick, distracting you enough as you languidly suck on him to have your body relax. 

Even Shota latches onto your nipple, sucking and swirling his tongue around it to ease a steady buzz of warm pleasure through your body. 

It relaxes you enough that you don’t even notice Jongseob slip the tip of his finger past your rim. Until he starts to shallowly fuck it into you. 

You bristle at the unfamiliar feeling, too sharp and intruding for your body to handle. But Jongseob quickly grabs your hip, holding you down. 

“Easy, easy,” he consoles, rubbing his hand gently along your spine. “You’re doing good. Just relax, let me in. Just breathe.”

His smooth, low voice thrums pleasantly in your head, easing you down. 

You hum softly as Shota switches to your other nipple, sucking softly at Taeyang’s tip as Jongseob slowly pushes his finger in to the second, then third knuckle until his finger sits fully sheathed into you. 

“That’s it, baby,” he coos, slowly pulling it out just to push it back in. He kisses your shoulder at your trembling whimpers. “I know, love, I know but it’ll feel better soon, promise.”

And it does, slowly but surely. 

He manages to shallowly thrust his finger into you, the stretch becoming more bearable by the second. Your little whimpers spill around Taeyang’s cock where it just sits there on your tongue now, waiting, not pushing. 

Soon enough, Jongseob is pushing a second finger in, making your body crumble onto Shota’s chest. But he doesn’t stop, he guides you through it as he scissors you open. 

Taeyang guides himself back into your mouth with a hand on your jaw, the other carding through your hair. “You’re taking it so well,” he says softly, stroking your cheek with his thumb. You melt at the uncharacteristic gesture, blinking your bleary eyes up at him. “You’re just that greedy for cock, hm?”

He grins at the fresh wave of tears that pool in your eyes when Jongseob starts to push the third finger in, pouring more lube over your hole to make the slide easier. 

But it still devastates you, makes you wail when he sits all three of his fingers to the base. 

“That’s enough,” Taeyang says, showing you some mercy as he pulls out to let you gasp the air threatening to leave your lungs. “She can take it now, hurry up.”

Jongseob clicks his tongue at his pushy tone but pulls his fingers out anyway, watching your hole gape around nothing. The comment dies on his tongue as he slicks himself up generously before pushing against the tight ring of muscle. 

You jolt at the heavy pressure, far more daunting than his fingers. Your whine of protest is barely a whine at all, just a broken sound because you’re too far gone for anything else. 

Then he starts to push in, and it feels like you’re being ripped open, impaled by his hard cock, carved out to make space for him. 

You cry out, your nails digging into Shota’s chest at the overbearing intrusion. 

“Easy,” you hear Taeyang say from above, his fingers scratching down into your scalp. “Slower.”

He’s not talking to you, though you wouldn’t have much of a mind to listen even if he was. You drop your weight on Shota, who’s tense under you from how hard you’re clenched around him. 

Soon enough, Jongseob sheathes himself fully in you. And full doesn’t even begin to explain just what you feel. 

You hear your name, gentle against your ear. 

“Are you okay?” Shota asks from under you. His thumb comes up to brush away the tear rolling down your cheek. 

You let out a stuttered breath, swallowing down the tension in your throat. You breathe out, trying to let go of the tension everywhere else. 

Your body eases slowly as it adjusts to Jongseob’s girth, and you find yourself nodding. 

“Okay,” you manage to slur, whimpering when Shota presses a warm kiss to your lips. 

He uses it as a distraction to buck his hips up slightly, an experimental roll of his hips to see where you are. 

When all you give is a soft, pleasured hum as the base of his cock rubs against your aching clit, he starts to slowly rock his hips up until all you’re doing is panting into his lips. 

Jongseob doesn’t move just yet, not until he feels you relax more around him. He’s struggling too, at the death grip you have around him, but when you start to ease up, he thrusts into you once just as Shota thrusts out. 

You tense up again but it’s momentary, a choked moan escaping you. 

Jongseob thrusts in again, and again, then starts to fuck into you at a steady pace, pulling out when Shota pushes into your cunt. 

Your body is completely liquid, molten against them to mould and move as they please, as they take what they want. 

It doesn’t hurt anymore, it’s just a steady stream of burning pleasure that grows hotter the more frantic their thrusts become, the noisier they become as they fuck you in tandem. 

You give yourself to them mindlessly. 

Until Taeyang slides a hand under your head to lift you up, prodding his cock back into your mouth. 

You take him pliantly as he starts to fuck into the tight space, groaning low. 

“Perfect little cocksleeve, aren’t ya?” He gasps mindlessly, twitching in your mouth. 

Your only let your jaw fall wider, gagging around him when he starts to fuck into your throat, but you just take it. 

Shota’s whining under you, pretty scarlet lines blooming on his chest from your nails dig down. “F-Feels so good like this,” he gasps, slamming up into you as much as he can with what the tight space can allow. 

“So fucking tight,” Jongseob grunts from behind you, hands gripping tight on your hips as he pounds into you. “Shit, not g-gonna last long…”

You moan around Taeyang, your own body pushed closer and closer to its limits. Your neglected pleasure won’t stay intact for much longer, but the recesses of your mind still fears what might happen if you let go too soon. 

Taeyang cums in your mouth without warning, pushing in deep to spurt down your throat with a ragged groan.

“Fuck,” he gasps, pulling out as you start coughing, roughly pushing the little bead of release escaping the corner of your mouth back into your tongue with his finger. “Don’t waste it.”

You’re barely recovering from Taeyang, your body jerking under Shota and Jongseob’s brutal thrusts, when Intak shoves his way in, seating himself in your mouth. 

You bristle under the sudden intrusion but Intak holds you in place with a hand behind your head, starting to fuck frantically into your tongue. 

“Sorry, noona,” he breathes, his head tilting back at the warmth of your mouth. “C-couldn’t help it, need to cum again.”

You don’t complain, not that you can, as he chases his pleasure from you. 

Someone takes your hand, wrapping it around their cock for them to fuck into your fist—Keeho, you think, but everything is too blurry now to tell as the four men use your body, fucking you and your mind to tatters practically. 

You start to convulse under the onslaught of sensation, the coil in your gut winding tighter and tighter. 

It’s impossible to stop it now, you don’t have a tethered bone in your body to stop it from happening. 

You try to warn them, but it’s a fruitless attempt. 

Your orgasm barrels through you violently, snapping through your body like lightning as you jerk through it, wailing around Intak’s cock. 

It starts a chain effect, Shota spilling into you with a yell as your cunt flutters around him, Jongseob following soon after with how tightly you tense around him. Your hand and forearm grows damp with Keeho finishing himself in your loose fist, and Intak pulls out of your mouth just to paint your face. 

You’re floating somewhere between heaven and earth, body trembling with incessant tremors, mind vacant from anything but the pure bliss. 

Until the dread settles heavily over you. 

Jiung immediately stands to action when he hears the first sob escape you. 

He pushes his way through the bodies, practically knocking Intak to the ground and shoving Keeho aside, urging Jongseob off of you. 

He kneels beside you at the second sob, pushing his hand into your hair. But you turn your face away, burying it in Shota’s shoulder. 

“What’s wrong?” He asks, his heart climbing up his throat. Were they too rough? Did they hurt you? Fuck, he told them to be more thorough with their prep but—

“I failed,” he hears your tiny voice mumble, and his heart effectively crumbles. 

That’s why you’re upset?

Jiung lets out a breath, nudging Shota. Shota gets the hint, gently rolling your body down as he slips out of you with the hiss, moving aside to give Jiung way. 

But even as Jiung tries to pull you closer to him, you bury yourself further into the cushions. 

“Are you hiding from me?” You hear him ask, and even through the haze you can hear the pout in his voice. 

“I’m sorry,” you hiccup, trying to hold in your sniffles but it’s almost like you don’t have control anymore over your body with it being too spent. He slides his hand under your head, forcing you to face him but you squeeze your eyes shut, turning your face into his palm. You couldn’t meet his gaze. “I-I tried, I really did b-but it was too hard, and I couldn’t—“

Your words die when Jiung seals his lips over yours, softly kissing away your woes in an uncharacteristic show of affection. 

“You did so good,” he whispers into your lips, pulling back to rest his forehead against yours. “Don’t apologize.”

His heart swells at your wide, glittery eyes looking up at him in awe. “Y-You’re not gonna… p-punish me?” You manage to ask through your little hiccups. 

If he were Taeyang he would. But he doesn’t have what it takes. 

“No,” he answers, ignoring Taeyang’s little ‘weak’ from behind him. He’ll deal with him later. He stands up, gathering you in his arms. “Come on, let me get you cleaned up.”

“Hey,” Intak pipes up with a whine, sitting up on the ground. “Why do you get to take care of her?”

Keeho snickers from the other couch. “Yeah, Ung, you’re so selfish.”

Jiung merely kicks Jongseob, who yelps ‘I didn’t say anything!’ on the way to your room, telling them over his shoulder to, “Make her food.”

You stay curled in Jiung’s arm as he carries you to your bed, setting you gently onto it. 

He stands to get a towel from your bathroom, coming back to see you watching him intently where you’re splayed. He has to keep himself from ogling your naked body, clearing his throat as he sits on the edge beside you to gently run the towel over your face, working his way down the mess. 

“Jiung,” you say quietly. 

The sound fills him with warmth. He still doesn’t meet your eye. “Hm?”

“You’re still hard.”

His face burns, and he averts his gaze as he runs the towel between your thighs, whispering a quick apology as he brushes against your sensitive core. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, willing his voice not to crack. 

But then you wrap your hand around his wrist, tugging him down to your body. He goes down, watching you closely as you lift your weak body. 

His back hits the mattress, the warmth of your body engulfing his as you climb on top of him. He's about to protest again and tell you that you don’t have to, until you align your hips and grind down against his hard on. 

He cuts off with a whine, reminded of the arousal festered in his gut from watching the others take you apart. 

A full body shudder runs through him. You relish in the way his eyes roll back at the simple sensation. 

And then you’re on your back, Jiung climbing on top of you. He tugs off his shirt, but you don’t get the chance to admire his adorned skin before he’s devouring you in a deep kiss. 

You make a questioning sound as he slots himself between your legs, but he just shoves himself free of his clothes then presses the head of his cock through your folds, making you gasp. 

“Let me take care of you?” He asks, begs almost, as he teases at your messy hole, his free hand braced on your hip. 

You don’t have the mind to speak. So you just nod. 

Jiung seats his cock into you with one push, his body shuddering at finally feeling you around him. And it’s so enticing that he just can’t hold back. 

He wants to be gentle, wants to coax you to a sweeter release—but he can’t. 

He pounds into you desperately, shoving himself as deep as he can go with each frantic thrust, quickly going dumb in your pussy. 

His arms wrap around your waist to hold you in place as he splits you open, the rough slap of hips and loud squelch of your messy folds the only sounds besides both your ragged breathing. He buries his face in your shoulder, unable to hold back his whimpers. 

“You feel so—“ He whines, breaking apart with a deep groan when you clench around him, his hips stuttering. 

A moan breaks through your chest when he rolls in deep, just rutting against you desperately. Your arms around him aren’t enough to hold on, he thrashes your body in his arms with each buck of his hips. 

“Jiung,” you whimper, pulsing around him when he pulls out just to fuck his tip into you, teasing you in a way that melts your brain. “Ji, please, m’gonna c-cum, can I…”

He slams into you, his cock twitching inside of you before he pulls out just to slam back in, punching yells out of you each time. 

“Cum for me,” he breathes into your ear, then hooks his hands under your knees, folding them at your sides as he pounds into you, thrusting squarely into that gummy spot inside of you over and over. “C-Cum for me… just for me.”

This one doesn’t feel like the last one—when you cum, you break. 

Your vision whites out, your entire body going taut as your arousal sprays out of you, drenching Jiung and the bed. 

It only spurs Jiung on—he fucks you faster as he barrels through his own orgasm, muffling his cry into your shoulder as he pistons in deep and shoots into you. 

When Jiung comes back to his senses, it’s with his head on your chest and Taeyang standing over him with a bowl of ramen in his hand and a disapproving frown on his lips. 

“Taking care of her, huh?” He tsk’s, placing the bowl on the bedside table. 

Jiung just groans, turning to bury his face in your skin. “Fuck off.”

“Careful, don’t wake her.”

Jiung lifts his head to see your eyes closed, your lips parted as small puffs of breaths pass through. He pushes back the damp hair at your head, a soft smile tugging up at the peaceful sight. 

Taeyang snorts at the spectacle. Though he doesn’t quite blame it on Jiung for the dumbstruck look in his eye. 

But he needs to get to work. 

“Okay, be cooperative,” he says, and doesn’t allow Jiung to question before he rounds the bed to the other side and reaches forward to wrap his arms around both you and Jiung, tugging you to the cleaner area of the bed. 

Jiung bristles, opening his mouth to yell at him but quickly snaps shut when you start to stir. 

They both pause with bated breath, sighing when you lull off again with a breath, and Taeyang gets to work. He manages to pull the dirty sheets out from under your and Jiung’s tangled bodies and get fresh ones on. He wipes you clean after, tossing Jiung a towel of his own, but when he sees Jiung just blinking slowly up at the ceiling, unresponsive, he sighs and wipes him clean himself. 

By the end of it, Jiung is tangled with you again and half asleep. 

Taeyang is hesitant to leave, riddled with the urge to climb into the bed and gather you both in his arms (or maybe push Jiung off). But before he can make a sound decision, the door barges open. 

Taeyang hisses viciously towards the door just as Intak opens his fat mouth to yell something stupid surely, his arms suspended above his head where he’s holding up a can of Arizona.

His expression quickly morphs into apologetic when he sees what he’d nearly disrupted—but instead of turning around and leaving, he just pads in and makes his own space at the foot of the bed.

Naturally, Shota and Jongseob follow him in and take the corner edges of the bed flanking Intak.

Taeyang sighs, half considering beating them out with his shoe. He’s still not used to having to share you.

But he watches as Intak immediately picks a fight with Jiung instead (effectively waking him up) about letting him cuddle you but Jiung only tightens his hold on you.

“You’re clingy after sex,” Taeyang says with a snicker.

Jiung’s eyes snap up to him, sharp and eerily fox-like. “So? At least I’m not one note like you,” he grumbles, making sure to keep his voice low as he nuzzles into your shoulder again.

“One note?” Taeyang muses as he sidles into your other side. “Which note is that?”

“Rude.”

It’s not Jiung that answers.

Keeho finds his way into the room with an armful of gatorade bottles, making his way over to the people pile on the bed to hand them out. 

“It felt great seeing Jiung put you in your place,” Keeho says as he climbs on behind Jiung, wrapping his arms around him.

Jiung makes a sound of protest mid sip, trying to shake the other man off but Keeho just snuggles in harder.

“Maybe I should reward you for that,” Keeho adds lecherously, giggling when Jiung glares at him. But Taeyang doesn’t miss the blush tinging Jiung’s cheeks.

“Okay,” Intak starts, lifting his head. “If you three are gonna fuck can you just hand her over to us so—” He cuts off with a loud squawk as Taeyang chops him over the bed.

The sound wakes you, and you stir with huffs and grumbles. Jiung winces when your elbows start flailing out.

“You guys are so loud,” you grit, turning to bury your face into Jiung’s chest, like you’re trying to carve your way in and use him to drown out the noise.

Somehow, after everything, Jiung starts to feel shy at the display. And it only makes Keeho more annoying, who coos and pinches at Jiung’s reddening cheek.

Jiung doesn’t react, hoping he’ll bore himself out.

Intak pouts, still rubbing his head. “It wasn’t my fault, Taeyang hit me!”

Taeyang narrows his eyes at him. “How childish are you?”

Intak whacks his shin. “You’re childish.”

Taeyang sends him a kick, and Intak’s about to hit him again, until you groan. 

“God!” You snap, huffing and lifting your head to glare. “If you’re not here to sleep, leave.”

Intak immediately settles, mumbling a quiet apology as he attaches himself to your leg. 

But Taeyang, ever the contrarian, gets up to leave. “Whatever you want, princess.” 

Nobody protests. By the time he reaches the door, still nobody protests. It ticks him off, making him turn to glare. 

But then he sees you, a peaceful look on your face as you drift back off in Jiung’s arms, the others wrapped around you protectively in various contorted states. Intak had immediately taken Taeyang’s vacant spot to plaster himself to your back. 

Something about the sight tugs at his heart, pulling him back. 

“Fine,” he sighs dramatically, padding back towards the bed. “I’ll stay.”

He doesn’t miss the small smile that tugs on your lips as he climbs over the bodies to settle on top of you, wedging himself between you and Intak despite Intak’s quiet cry. 

“Simp,” Keeho whispers from behind Jiung. 

“Mhm,” Taeyang hums in agreement, shutting his eyes. “Aren’t we all.”

taglist: @jellyybelly, @jseobbie, @tintedsvn, @fixonfreak, @stxrxyyz, @hxraiiii, @peachy-x-k33n, @choxochip, @ozzysoatsolivesandpasta, @boptak, @kittyshotak, @oyasumiaikko, @straystar-8, @meow4seonghwa, @evemds, @willowedjelly, @velvetjoong, @seonghwaswifeuuuu, @delicatechris, @orchidves, @lycxee, @girlcrushd, @halaziasupremacy, @chandlxa, @soulssnucky, @snyngjhn, @jiungs-wednesdaygirl, @kyoluvrs, @princessthelsa, @nichozzystuffs, @mo8ny4951, @rockstartaeyang, @shmooooo, @cherryyberry1 @keymeadoww @p1issocool @tikfreakingtak @nota10butadefinite8 @snuckyyyy @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @kha0sblossom @sstrawbxrry @momochips @mydearandy @seomisaho @fairylix @ericlvr @kisseobies @saranghoeforanton

𓆩⟡𓆪 check out my masterlist for my other works

1 reblog/comment = 1 virtual kiss <3

© jiuchip

[jiuchip]

continued taglist - @jiungs-lil-rat @taptaptaeyong @brownie0panda @takkiursococky @embobema @hehebeanis @kp0pst4rr @hcneybeom @hoe4yunhoooo @edininwinter @equillisation @dreamerliya @teasuree @bbokarismeow @hyacinthusflowernymph @dmnspiit @just-agirl-lol @lorena4piwon @theoseob @jiuchocopie @violetwitchmcu @ninamarie1994 @inlovew-themoon @nataliasdiary @chelybeannss @lilmiyavmiyav @seobberri @kamxstar @weiner123 @jsshu @maidenless-soul @everjiung @cosmicsoulness @seobm1ssive @tylerdurden911 @v4ciaa @kateseobie @jae-rosewood @next2yul @cherryseob @corneliarstreet @mmiaasstuff @alienslostinworld @sisifortheo @lalazzzzzz @j-supwassup @aryussparkles @seobjectt @blondechariot @maytaurus20

[maidenless-soul]

this made me want more dom simp tae🫪😭

also not jiung putting tae in his place like 👀

[seonghwasss02]

…. how are we supposed to act rn?? @maidenless-soul

[maidenless-soul]

oh.....yeah i need that immediately🫪

[simpjaes]

HYPER-SEXUAL (s,jy)

If there’s anything in life that Jake wants, it’s to fuck. All day, every day, it’s on his mind. He fantasizes constantly, watches porn every free chance he gets, and ultimately has grown bored of his own hand to satiate his need. or the one where jake is inexperienced, incredibly perverted, and borderline addicted to sex but cannot, for the life of him, land a girl.

leave feedback and reblog to give jake another boner. 

minors do not interact. 

WORDCOUNT― 13.8k

PAIRING― jake sim x afab reader

CONTENT― smut, inexperienced but pervy and dominant jake, he kind of has an addiction to jerking off, im not joking like he has a boner every twenty minutes it’s probably a medical issue but, reader is really sex positive and lets jake go absolutely insane on her

NOTE― not proof read in the way it needed to be.  disclaimer: this is straight up just porn. it had a plot at one point but i deleted all of it and wrote this instead. also this is posted on my other blog [@ncteez] for mark lee. yes, i wrote it for both of them bc they both fit the shoe ok? ok.

smut tags under cut:: 

smut tags― jake isn’t submissive– just a loser, loads of masturbation, also loads of loads lmfao, jake’s dick is 8 inches in this one, public humiliation, dirty talk, teasing, pussy eating / face sitting, mentions of free use, unprotected sex, wayyyy way too much cum, raw grinding, attempts at deep throat, accidental face fucking, finger fucking, suffocation, riding, squirting, implications to the fact that orgasms are not the end of the fic bc they just keep going, some say they’re still fucking to this day. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“Feels so good! Harder! Fuck m-” 

Jake slams his laptop shut in an exasperated sigh. Frustrated, annoyed, fucking horny. 

Always horny. To the point that nothing excites him anymore. Not his hard-on being palmed at by his own hand, not the make-shift pocket pussy he’s made out of household objects, not the porn on page one or on page seventy-three. 

Honestly, even as hard as he is now, it’s arguable that he could just start punching his cock and he’d still remain in this state until something changes. And you know what sucks more than not being able to get off? Being hard so constantly that it’s just a state of living at this point. 

It’s sad. He could be washing caked ketchup off of a plate and his cock would still lend a little jump. A reminder that his hand is no longer enough. A fucking threat that if he doesn’t sink into a pretty hole soon, he might as well just kill himself. 

The idea doesn’t seem too bad anymore, as he lays flat on his back with his cock in hand on his messy sheets. He stares up at the ceiling with another long-winded groan, wondering why he has to have such an insatiable libido and probably twice as much stamina. If he could just get off he’d have at least a little bit of time in his day to feel normal before it takes hold of his brain again. 

It’s the fact that he’s grown entirely numb to his own hand and feels like he’s going crazy because he hasn’t been able to hook-up with anyone in nearly a year. Porn is boring, he swears he’s seen just about all of the good, bad, and bizarre. Post nut clarity barely exists because there is no clarity by the time he finally gets that hard-to-reach nut. Bad luck, maybe. Awful fucking miserable luck? That’s more fitting. 

For the sake of the girls in this city, perhaps it’s good that he can’t manage to land a hook-up. Surely they’d be unable to walk by the time he gets his fill, that is if he manages to get a fill at all. And it’s gotten to the point that Jake has almost entirely given up on finding a girl at all. One that’s willing to put up with his near-constant need to get his dick wet, anyway. 

Almost given up.

A thought crosses his mind as he lazily palms himself with a bored sigh, knowing he’ll end up locked up in an asylum somewhere if this doesn’t stop. The voice of Jay in his head doing little to make his cock soften, which is…not something Jake is proud to admit.

“Dude, you gotta put a stop to this shit. This is your third laptop this year!” Jay had said to him. “It’s only June!”

Maybe Jay was right, and maybe Jake should have downloaded the new app that was mentioned shortly after the scolding rather than immediately going to another, even more, shady porn site. “Heard this one was really good.” Jay had advertised. “Even got Jungwon laid.” 

Well, maybe it wouldn't hurt to try another app despite the immense amount of failure Jake has already faced regarding previous attempts with other platforms. After all, if it got Jungwon laid, surely it could get him laid too. 

Maybe this one really is better.

And at the end of the day, Jake does download the app. After all, creating a profile is easy, finding a girl though? 

We’ll see.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Ah. Okay. Nice.

Jake stays glued to his phone all night. He really had no hope that this app would offer him anything more than what the others did. But, oh. 

The app allows specific features, most of which are not aimed towards users looking for a relationship. Dick and body sizes are out in the open, there’s sections you can fill out regarding what you’re looking for in a sexual partner, how often you’re willing to see said partner, and if you’re looking for a regular fuck or a one time fuck. 

Safe to say, Jake’s profile went a little something like this: 

you can call me jake, im 24. just looking for a girl either for regular visits or a one night stand that’s willing to deal with a guy who literally suffers from chronic-boner syndrome.

LOOKING FOR: Female PREFERENCE: One Time Only, Occasional Meetups, On-call, Regular meetups, Permanent Friends-With-Benefits, Secret Meet, Virtual Meet, Audio Meet, Rebound C…[Click to see more] PARTNER REQUIREMENTS: N/A SIZE REFERENCE: 8 ½” hard, 4” soft, 5.6” circumference SEXUAL INTERESTS: Vanilla, Free Use, BDSM, Begging, Breeding, Dom/Sub, Dominatrix, CBT, Role Play, Public Humiliation, Edging, Spanking, Dirty Talk, Phone Sex, Virtual Sex, Group Sex, Humiliation, Cock Play, Cum Dump, Religion, Raw, Multiple Orgasms, Androgyny, Genital Piercings, Older Women, Body Art, Wax, Anal, Financial Domina...[Click to see more]

NOT INTERESTED IN: Cuckolding, Voyeurism OTHER: im not very experienced in most of these, i just watch a lot of porn

Embarrassing? Yeah, probably. 

Looks like a lot of women are into that though if his inbox is anything to go by, anyway. With him checking the app every few minutes to find ten new messages? Yeah, they’re feeling him. 

He can only imagine what the fuck Jungwon had on his profile to actually land a hook-up. Couldn’t have been any worse than his own, after all, Jake is desperate and so was Jungwon at one point. 

Apparently girls like desperate guys. 

Message after message, degrading comments and praise, all from either women clad in leather or sweet looking church girls who must have the app hidden deep within their phones. There’s barely anyone in between those two categories, actually. 

“Hi baby boy, you looking for a sugar mama?” 

“ur dick really that big? lol, what do you even mean by ‘chronic boner syndrome’?” 

“you’re so desperate to get laid, might as well just doxx yourself at this point…please.”

Arguably, these women are very forward and he has a great time sifting through the ones he’s interested in. Scrolling through all of these messages….does not help his case regarding his insatiable need to fuck something either so, naturally, he’s also 100% jerking off the entire time he’s doing this.

Still, never quite able to reach the orgasm he needs by this point.

Up until there’s a message that catches his attention. No degrading, no insults, no borderline-too-kinky insinuations. Which, given, Jake probably shouldn’t have selected the majority of the kinks just to pull more girls, but he did. 

And upon reading the message, he almost doesn’t know if this girl is real. 

“High libido, no girls around to help you out, I take it? Rough.”

One look at her profile spikes even more interest. Her sexual interests include a list of things he wishes he didn’t fit. But he does, though he’d never admit it. Inexperienced men, losers, virgins, micro-penis, big penis, praise (receiving), body worship–

Oh.

Fuck yeah.

He responds quickly, already feeling the orgasm within him bubble up as he tries to pretend he doesn’t go on a war path of responding to everyone after you, but still. Your message box with him remains in his mind as he awaits the response to his message of “you looking to help me out?” 

Every ping on his phone afterwards makes his cock twitch more, makes it dribble out little beads of pre-cum with each pass of his palm, only for him to sigh out of frustration that it’s just another person that wants to devour him whole. Which, he’ll take what he can get if his first choice never responds but still. He wants to get off to you.

He finds himself on your profile more often than anyone else’s too, looking at the same three photos you’ve posted, noting how you don’t seem super active on the app, but active enough to find him by some beautiful grace of God. 

You’re kind of perfect, honestly. Fairly mundane compared to most of the women in his inbox, but cool nonetheless. He can tell you have an eye for fashion but it seems to be more geared towards your real life self rather than the secret fetish/kink app you’ve got downloaded.

And that’s the thing. Most of these women, beautiful or not, are dressed in their best sexual attire just to message a possible fuck, while during their daily lives they probably wear conservative dresses and pant suits. Which….arguably that’s kind of hot. Then again, what isn’t hot to him these days?

You though. You have normal pictures posted just like he does. Your tits aren’t out, your legs aren’t open, you don’t have a pile of sex toys behind or beside you and yet still your pictures turn him on more than those who do. Insane how his cock twitches at just these three photos, fucking insane how he grows a near instant obsessed thinking about how you…uh, deal with the losers you seem to be looking for.  

Then again, maybe it’s the mystery of what’s under your clothes, or what’s in your stash of sex toys. Oh, whatever you’re hiding has got be so fucking hot. Naturally, he groans at the amount of sexuality you barely give. Thinking far, far too hard about it all, given the circumstances. 

Don’t get him wrong, he can get down with the hoes. In fact, he very much wants to get down with a hoe. But man, the way you stand out because you’re somehow….boring compared to everyone else?

Please.

Fucking pretty please, let him in between those thighs. 

And just as he scrolls again through your photos, that long-awaited orgasm hits him like a brick.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

A mere two days later you find yourself in the inbox with the self-proclaimed boner-god. He’s since proven his size with photos involving different objects beside said penis, and even a video or two of his frantic hands jerking off to you. 

Ah, he’s kind of perfect if you think about it. At first you thought that it was just roleplay for him or something. Where he plays a guy who can’t get enough, though he clearly probably does. It wasn’t until you were woken up at four in the morning with him spamming your inbox that you suddenly realized this dude is actually as desperate as he seems. 

Normally, being spammed awake by your phone pinging consistently would bother you. But goddamn was he needing it. Just three hours before now it was mostly casual conversation with him, albeit about hooking-up, but still. The two of you agreed to determine on the following day if you were compatible enough for a meet up. He said goodnight to you, and you said it back. 

Then you woke up to three dick pics, one voice note with a borderline pathetic apology (only because you could still hear him going at it), and then like fourteen messages of him trying to wake you up intentionally. 

JAKE_02 sent you a message: You awake?

Dick pic #1. 

JAKE_02 sent you a message: You’re so pretty, sorry lol

Dick pic #2 

JAKE_02 sent you a message:  Wake uppppppppppp! 

JAKE_02 sent you a message:  Please? :(

Dick pic #3, precum smeared across his fingers as he grips it. 

JAKE_02 sent you a message:  Do you already have me silenced?

JAKE_02 sent you a message: I’d let you silence me hahaha….

JAKE_02 sent you a voice memo: “Sorry about all this, I really meant it when I said I have a problem. You should probably just block me because I’m going to end up begging to see you otherwise”

Oh, he has an accent. 

JAKE_02 sent you a message: your profile says you like inexperience…..well i’ve only slept with like 3 girls, is that inexperienced enough?

JAKE_02 sent you a message: do you like to tease guys like that? like edge them and stuff? 

JAKE_02 sent you a message: oh damn, that’d be so hot 

JAKE_02 sent you a message: do you like it when guys beg btw? 

Etcetera. 

And, well, apparently he just has a lot to say. It’s cute how embarrassed he must feel basically getting himself off with a one-sided sext session with you as you were sleeping. At least, you hope he’s embarrassed. 

You let his messages simmer for a while, waiting to see if he sends anything else. And when he doesn’t, you respond. 

YOURUSERNAME: that was cute. 

It’s the way he’s instantly trying to respond that really gets you going. You chuckle first, knowing already that you’d probably help him out based on this situation alone. 

YOURUSERNAME: trying to wake me up because you can’t stop touching yourself? :( poor baby. 

JAKE_02: oh god please don’t say that

JAKE_02: im gonna end up awake all night trying to get it to go down again

YOURUSERNAME: that’s good to hear. so you can go for a long time then? 

Yes, you’re teasing him. 

JAKE_02: if you’d let me

YOURUSERNAME: you already got off tonight tho, didn’t you?

JAKE_02: i don’t think you understand just how bad it is. i’m already getting my dick out again

You lend yourself a sly chuckle after a deep yawn, knowing for a fact that you’re about to make him prove to you that he’s either still hard or really did get off only to get hard again by a mere few messages from you. 

YOURUSERNAME: show me?

And he does. Similar to the other three photos, only this time he sends a short video with his shorts pushed down his thighs and his cock raging hard and pathetic against his stomach. Again, he’s big, that much is true, but the fact that such a dick is always ready to fuck? To the point he’s desperate? To the point he’s embarrassing about it?

YOURUSERNAME: how bad do you wanna bury that in me?

Oh, shit. Jake could fucking die right now. You seem so willing, which is truly what he needs at this point in his sexual sickness.  

JAKE_02: i’ll come over right now. 

JAKE_02: let me come over and show you

YOURUSERNAME: let’s wait a bit for that, gotta meet officially before I let you fuck me

And you do intend to make him wait, knowing for a fact that you’re not meeting this guy tonight. There’s too much danger in that. Given how desperate he actually is, you can argue that if you changed your mind upon meeting, he very well may not care. Which, that’s something you need to worry about with any person you meet on such an app, but still.

Public meeting first. 

Always.

JAKE_02: right, right, that makes sense. 

JAKE_02: so can i see your pussy then

You stifle a laugh as if the man can hear you, he’d probably like that though. But yeah, no. As much as you know he’d enjoy that, it’s best to let him experience it for the first time in real life if all of this goes well. So, you settle with tits. 

Meaning, he has to settle with them too. 

And the photo is all but enough for Jake. The ping of his phone was far too exciting with the flash of the image sinking into his eyes. Sure, he wanted to see your hole open for him, he wanted to see your pretty hands spreading your lips for the picture, he wanted to see what he might get to fuck into someday– but…

This is good enough for him, honestly. Seeing your tits alone is hot enough, but it’s the fact that you only barely let him see. The plush skin of your lower breasts are peeking from under the shirt you're wearing, one nipple barely out, the other completely hidden. 

He moans out at it, holding his cock tight and painfully as he glares into the screen of his phone. God, he can almost taste it. 

JAKE_02: thats so hot…but….

JAKE_02: pussy….

JAKE_02: please show me your pussy

Another chuckle at how desperate he really is. You lower your phone just a bit, not at all intending to show him all of it but you do lend a panty shot with your legs spread. He’ll live with it, he doesn’t have a choice. 

And he does live with it because he cums almost instantly upon seeing just your thighs open. He wouldn’t have been able to hit climax so quickly had you already had this photo posted for all to see. It’s the fact that you sent it to him in the dms. It’s the fact that you presumably just took it for him. It’s the fact that he can almost see the outline of your folds, and the lines of your pussy that deserves to fucked open. 

When he doesn’t respond immediately, you know it was enough for him. Already you’re preparing to roll back over and get some more sleep, but your phone dings again. 

JAKE_02: tht was hot lol….um

JAKE_02: can u come to the mall tomorrow? i work at [redacted store name], u can come see that im actually very normal if u want

You stop for a second through another yawn, thinking long and hard about it. You shrug to yourself because tomorrow is a saturday and there’s plenty of public spaces to meet him in. And despite how fun it could be to tease him for weeks on end before officially meeting him, you, yourself, have been in a dry-spell lately. 

And he fits your interests perfectly. In other words, yeah, you could fuck.

YOURUSERNAME: you sure you’re not gonna take me in the back and fuck me on the spot? 

JAKE_02: ….would u want me to? 

YOURUSERNAME: no, i wanna bring you home if i think you could make me feel good

JAKE_02: hahah damn

JAKE_02: so you’ll come see me?

YOURUSERNAME: yeah, i’ll come see you

JAKE_02: ok cool :)

And then it’s silent for a long while. In fact, you’re nearly asleep again when your phone pings one last time. All you need to see is the notification to know that meeting Jake is gonna be fun. 

JAKE_02 sent you a message: for the record…i definitely will fuck you good

Sounds promising. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

You knew he was cute but holy shit, he’s like, cute cute.

Fucking handsome and charmingly cute. 

Perhaps even, hot. 

You stand from around a shelf to check him out. That same accent you’ve heard previously rings loud and clear in your head, and his hair is definitely a stylistic mess, the type of hair you can imagine grabbing and tugging to guide a tongue between your legs. His eyes are pretty and piercing yet equally as filled with some sort of wonder. His hands, his body.

 Oh wow. 

On any other day, you’d think he’s just some poser emo-guy working a shitty retail job so he can buy his first guitar and play it totally out of tune. But on this day, you’re aware that this is a man with a need that you very much wouldn’t mind satisfying. 

 Seeing him go about his work tasks behind the counter is another thing. Checking customers out both through the register and with his eyes when they walk away. You know he isn’t aware that you’ve actually shown up, and it feels nice to watch him in his element before he attempts to play himself up as a totally normal, cool dude. Especially now that you can see him secretly be a pervert on the clock. 

Customer after customer, he smiles at them when he hands them their items, he offers small talk and little chuckles that ring in your ears, and every single time one of the pretty ones walks away, his head turns to watch them leave for a few seconds too long.

Anyone can tell he needs it if they watch him for long enough. 

You’re not sure why this guy is getting to you the way he is, but there’s just something about the way that he carries himself in public that turns you on. You already know for a fact that he’s a horny motherfucker. You know that behind those charming smiles and laughs, he’s got a neglected cock needing to be used. 

No one else in this store is aware of it. You’re the only person here who knows he was spamming a stranger last night with dick pics and begging to see her pussy. 

It’s hot. 

And when you approach, Jake nearly doesn’t even know it’s you at first. 

“Hi, did you find everything you–” Jake stops mid sentence. “Oh, fuck. You’re here.”  He adds, trying to primp his hair into a spot that may look a little better than it did already.

You watch as he studies you for the first time, nervously darting his tongue out and against his bottom lip just for a split second before shifting his eyes behind you, and then turning to look around to see if anyone is within ear shot. 

No one is paying attention to either of you, and no one is going to hear what you’re about to say to him. Good.

“Do you wanna see my pussy?” 

It’s a joke, mostly. Kinda. 

You chuckle at his stunned reaction. His hands move to the counter as he clutches it and continuously looks around to make sure no one just heard those lewd ass words from a girl so goddamn hot. Like, oh god, it’s you. You really showed up to see him and already he’s not acting normal. 

No, no. You’re the one acting out of pocket, not him.

“I’m–” He tries to start, but his voice cracks in a very, very, embarrassing way. You hear him clear his throat before continuing. “I’m supposed to be showing you that I’m normal.” 

You tilt your head at him playfully, leaning against the counter and pushing your tits together with your arms. You wore this shirt here for a reason, and boy are you glad you did. You watch his eyes go straight to your chest and stay there. 

“Public Humiliation.” You echo one of his sexual interests to him from his app profile. “Dirty talk.”

Jake swallows around his words in stunned silence, feeling his cock wake up immediately. Fuck, this is the only place he finds peace of mind from…that. Yet here you are, with that soft and pretty voice reminding him of everything he wants but hasn’t been able to have. Standing there like you know he can’t bend you over right now and make you stop talking.

“Eight and a half inches hard.” You continue, leaning in even closer and moving your hand to the collar of your shirt. Tugging down just a little bit. “Five point six inch circumference.” 

Jake squeezes his eyes shut as he leans back with a sigh, pressing his hips against the counter for some sort of relief. To think the “boring” girl on the app wouldn’t be like this? God, he knew there had to be a catch considering you were on that app to find him in the first place. 

“Please–” He groans as his ears redden, lazily opening his eyes to look at your tits again. “Please don’t do this to me.” 

“I can imagine you’d fit it in me just right, wouldn’t you Jake?” You continue briefly, noting the bulge he blatantly presses against the counter. “Can you say ‘please’ again? It’s kinda hot.” 

“Please–” Jake blatantly groans now, his voice sounding hoarse and low. As much as he wants you to keep going, he’s at fucking work. He can’t be doing this. 

“Okay!” You gleefully agree as you switch up like you didn’t just fuck him up, lending him a bright and innocent smile as you lean back and away from him. “So you don’t want to see my pussy then?”

His relieved face falls right back into that of pained frustration as he narrows his eyes at you. 

“Right now?” He asks curiously, nodding his head without realizing it. Sure, he’s at work but like….your pussy is also at his work place right now.

“Yeah! Can you show me to the fitting room, actually?” You ask, louder this time in case anyone has moved around within ear-shot by now. Can’t make him lose his job, or whatever.

Jake swallows thickly with a nod, his eyes still narrowed at you but his mind racing a mile a minute at the fact that you’re really here right now, and this is what you’re doing to him? Enjoying his pain? Enjoying his suffering? Making it worse? 

Five minutes ago he was perfectly fine. You’re using his need against him and god, he loves it. Yeah, maybe he will take you to the back and try to fuck you at this point. Even if you said that you wouldn’t let him…what the fuck is this then? 

Really, he expected you to show up with an awkward hello and irritating small talk. He wanted to show you that he’s not always thinking about sex. Except he is, and it seems you want him to. You want him to think about fucking you. 

You really just walked into this establishment and asked him if he wants to see your pussy.

Of course he wants to see it. You already fucking know that. He wants to fuck it too, like, right now. 

And as he walks you to the fitting room, he has to try his damndest to adjust his growing cock. He nods to each customer as he walks by them, hands repeatedly going back to his lap to hide what he’s packing.

“Here it is.” Jake says in an unfocused voice, nearly staring a hole through you. “Now show me.” 

You dip your head in a smile, heading for the room and opening the curtain. Cheap ass store, really, most places have actual doors, but whatever. 

It’s easy to step inside and leave the curtain skewed a bit, knowing that Jake is hovering around the room, knowing that it’s probably protocol that an employee assist this space when it’s in use to prevent stealing and to prevent others from walking in on naked customers. 

You like the way you see him take peeks, trying to be discreet. You like the way he keeps his hands in front of his lap, hiding that you’ve definitely made him a mess of him already. You love the way he whispers a curse to himself when you sit against the bench in this small room and spread your legs wide open. 

You bet he loves the skirt you’re wearing for him today too. Though this wasn’t exactly planned or anything, you didn’t expect to be this turned on upon seeing him act as desperate as he sounds. You wore this shirt so he can look, and the skirt too…but looking this much wasn’t in your mind originally. 

He’s hot though. The way he needs it is hot. 

“Hurry up.” He groans, trying to make it seem like he’s frustrated but you know it’s just because he’s anxiously horny. 

And, well, you’re not actually gonna show him your pussy, but at this point you feel bad because he seems really stiff right now, almost robotic in the way he likely feels uncomfortably aroused in his least favorite place.  

“Jake,” You whisper-chuckle. “If you wanna see it, you’re gonna have to come in here and take my panties off of me.”

You hear him sigh, and see his eyes flick back to you through the small open space in the curtain. 

“You’re insane. I can’t come in there, I’ll lose my job.” He argues with a hushed tone, eyes fixated on the very panties he wishes he could remove. 

Even against his protests though, he reaches an arm in as he looks away. As if on extreme watch of other customers and employees roaming around. Probably pretending to grab a garment that doesn’t work for you, probably just doing normal, good-employee things. 

And, well, it’s pathetic really, the way he hopes for more. The way you offer more knowing he can’t get exactly what he wants. You actually feel a bit bad for doing this, especially because it wasn’t entirely in the plan. 

You really were just coming to meet him. It’s not your fault that watching him work turned you on solely because you know what he needs. So, you stand and walk towards the curtain, grabbing his arm and holding it in place. 

“Well–” You start, pressing yourself against the backside of his fingers, feeling him move his hand slightly against your clit. “Touch it then.”

He goes entirely silent but you feel the way he fumbles his hand, immediately grabbing your panties and moving them to the side just to really feel. And you let him, finding it somehow cuter in the way he doesn’t even ask. He does it like he needs to, like it’s instinctual to touch it. He feels for a second or two, probably closer to about five seconds before you step back. Really, it’s enough for him to know you’re wet, enough for him to suffer, enough for him to want more. 

Jake’s brain is on fire at it. Touching it before getting to see it? Goddamn, you’re so fucking mean.

And it’s silent for a few more moments after that as Jake keeps his hand in place, seemingly searching for a pussy just out of reach when you slide the fabric down your legs and place them directly into his hand. 

“When do you get off work?” You ask slyly now, ripping the curtain open and moving his hand for him, forcing him to shove your panties in his pocket. 

“Uh–” He stutters, swallowing again around his words before clearing his throat of the moan he really needs to let out right now. “Seven– I get off at seven.”

You nod with a smile, leaning in real close before patting his pocket. 

“I’ll text you my address.” 

And you leave without sparing him another glance, knowing that by the time his shift is over, he’ll probably pounce the second you open your door for him. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Jake suffers through the rest of his shift aggressively trying not to suck on his fingers. Fuck, he wants to taste you so bad, but to go as low as sucking the remnants for several hours just to hold him over? Truly, he’s at his wits end. 

Mostly because he absolutely does suck his fingers any chance he gets. Tapping his lips with them as he sees a customer off, licking against them discreetly, trying to make it look normal for him to have his fingers in his mouth so consistently. 

It’s not doing anything to hold him over though. 

He keeps glancing at the clock, and then at the message that reads your address. Just one more hour and he can leave. Just one more hour and he can bury his cock so deep into you that you’d never think twice about letting him do it again, and again, and again.

Oh god, really, he feels like he’s going insane as he checks out customer after customer. Every word they say somehow reminds him that he’s about to finally get laid again. 

“Can you wrap this up for me?” One customer said to him, nodding to a set of candles. 

Jake wishes you’d wrap him up in that pussy. 

“Do you have this in a bigger size?” Another customer had said to him as they held up a plush sweater. 

Jake doesn’t think you’d ever need a dick bigger than his. He’ll fill you up just right. 

“69.99?!” One customer argues. “The sign said it was 30% off!” 

Jake would sixty nine you all night long if you asked. He bets you taste sweet, you probably get really wet too. 

And by the end of the night, rain pounding on the roof, his last customer unfortunately has to hear a low groan leave his throat at their comments. He’s very quick to cover it with a cough. 

“Sorry for coming in right before you close, the rain is bad tonight and I forgot my umbrella, thank god you guys sell them! I didn’t mean to drip all over the floor like this, I hope you don’t have to stay late cleaning up my mess!” 

“I didn’t mean to drip all over your floor like this” Replays in his head, over and over again. God, he’d make you drip. He hopes you drip all over the floor for him. He’d get on his knees and lick it right up, god.

He needs to leave. Right now.

“S’all good,” Jake shakes his head after the initial moan and cough cover, trying to remain casual. “It’s my job to clean it up, after all.” He smiles, his brain stuck on the feeling of how wet you were when he touched you. Shiiiit. “Have a good night, stay dry!” 

And finally, Jake can close out his register and lock the doors. That, he does. Performing his end-of-night tasks at lightning speed with a cock throbbing so bad that he worries he might have to get off in his car before making it to your apartment. He genuinely needs to get off, especially knowing these pretty panties are in his pocket ready to be soaked in his cum. 

He doesn’t though, no. He holds off, thrusting his hips up and against the inseam of his pants with every passing second as he drives. He’s practically writhing by the time he gets to your place. Honestly, he moans with each movement because he’s sensitive. It’s so, so fucking sensitive. Everything feels good, he could genuinely cum the second you open your door if he’s not careful. 

Careful isn’t something Jake can be at this moment though, not when he lands a single knock at your door and you’re immediately opening it, looking at him with that same fucking evil smile you gave to him while he was at work. 

He looks at you and instantly lets out a frustrated moan before stepping in without another word. You feel his hands grab you much harsher than you originally thought he would, but you let him as you laugh out in a nervous chuckle. 

“Hello to you too.” You pat him on the back as his arms wrap around your middle. You hear him kick back against your door, slamming it shut before his lips hit your neck. 

He isn’t talking but goddamn you can hear what he needs to say through the way he presses his lips against you. He’s rough with it, kissing all across your exposed skin before slipping his hand right between your legs from the back as if he doesn’t have to chase anymore. 

You were going to jerk your hips back to make him chase, but his grip is too tight and he’s nearly lifting you off the floor entirely to get a feel. You were going to force him to look at you and the outfit you changed into for him, but again, he’s not having it, it seems.  He moans when he moves his lips up and against yours, hot breath desperate and needy as he finally speaks.

“Did it turn you on to torture me like that?” He nearly growls against your lips. “Got me so fucking hard.” 

You’re genuinely surprised with how he’s acting and talking. Then again, he’s desperate, that much is obvious if that monster bulge rubbing against your leg is anything to go by. Perhaps he may be desperate, but you guess that doesn’t always mean someone will end up submissive as a side effect. 

“It did.” You smile against his lips, pushing yourself forward to try and plant your feet back on the ground, chasing the ability to gain control over him. “Did you like that?”

Jake nods before shaking his head, allowing you to push forward, loving the way your hands reach for him and run through his hair before tugging. He did like what you did, but it doesn’t change the fact that it was fucking torture to stand there at work like he wasn’t losing his mind. 

“I’d like it more if we skip all the bullshit,” He starts, hand still attempting to reach the spot between your legs and lips landing at the corner of your mouth. “Could go all night.”

You nod to him, gripping his shirt and pulling him back to your living room couch and spinning him around, only to shove him back. 

“Is that a promise?” You ask, looking at the lazy way he spreads his own legs and rests his head against your couch cushions, eyes staring straight at you and cock twitching in his pants. “You gonna fuck me all night?”

“Yeah–” He breathes as if he’s in disbelief, hand reaching between his legs just to grab himself and squeeze as his eyes trail your body. “You have no idea how bad I need this.”

“Show me then,” You nod your head to his length that’s hidden under his pants. “Let me watch you first.”

Jake groans, rolling his eyes back both out of frustration and arousal, but he does as you say. His palm feels better with you watching, at least. He doesn’t feel so numb to the pleasure with you promising your body to him, at least. He doesn’t mind proving his size to you by shoving his pants down to his thighs and presenting said neglected cock to you either. 

It’s heavy, dark in color due to the blood that’s likely rushing throughout every inch of it. He feels sensitive to even the air in your living room as he twitches and aches to hear you talk again, to see you in front of him watching how he pleasures himself, wishing his hand is yours. 

“You wanna watch?” He says in a low-rumbled voice, tracing his fingers along the head of his cock and seething out a breath through his now, bitten bottom lip. “Wanna know how tight I want you to feel?” He asks now, bold and in the heat of the moment. You watch him when he squeezes the base of his cock tightly, you can almost feel yourself choke at that alone. 

“How wet you need to be to take it?” He continues, dragging his hand back and licking his palm before spitting into it. 

The wetness against his hand is horrifyingly pornographic. So wet when he reaches back down to his length, allowing you to hear it squelch and slip with ease. His breath is hitched while he does it too, which nearly has you seeing him in tunnel vision.

“Yeah…” You tune into him entirely, swallowing around the lump in your throat and feeling yourself drip already. “I can’t imagine how good–” You cut yourself short to moan at the way his other hand holds his pants down while he jerks his hand up faster and faster. “Oh god, you’re–”

“Wanna see how fast I can cum just looking at you?” He continues, hand only moving faster and faster as his grip tightens more, shamelessly grunting proudly over how he could probably cum now if he wanted to. “I told you, I can go all night.”

You pause, because goddamn. You thought he would be embarrassing, pathetic, needy. You thought he would beg, plead, and cry. But…you feel like you’re the one who needs to do that. God, you’ve never seen a man so desperate to fuck yet be so powerful about it. As if he’s in your face whispering, “You’re gonna let me fuck you, right? You’re gonna love it too, right? You’re gonna let me use you to take care of this little problem of mine, right? It’s what you want, right?”

If he were to say those things to you right now, you’d nod without a doubt. But…he doesn’t. He simply looks at you now, heaving out broken moans that sound too sexy to be considered pathetic. His hips chase each movement of his hand and goddamn does he fuck his fist hard.

Your mind is spinning watching him, knowing that he’s probably going to fuck you twice as hard as he fucks himself. And it’s not surprising to you at least that you can feel your own clit swell and throb for touch too. You easily move your hand between your legs, standing right there in front of him, toying with yourself as if you don’t have the power to ask him to do it for you. 

“Ah, fuck–” Jake groans, thrusting his hips up into his hand one last time before strings of his cum make a mess on his shirt. And it seems to go on forever too, spurt after spurt of it pumping out of him alongside his pretty moans and open-mouthed expression. You can feel your body react to him more than it ever has for anyone else, especially in the way….

“God–” You moan yourself now, watching him spread his legs and slouch more against your couch with a relieved sigh from his messy orgasm. But…his cock doesn’t soften. No, it stays stiff and heavy against his stomach, twitching and dribbling more and more of his cum out in little beads. 

The proof of his issue is right here, he really can and probably will go all night. And you say nothing else to him after that. In fact, he wouldn’t be able to answer you if you did say something simply because you find yourself stepping up onto your own couch, resting your knees against the back of it, and gripping his hair. 

Jake lets out a half-moan-half-hum, as expected, when he feels your hand drag his face under your skirt. You didn’t have to do that, but goddamn does he fucking love it. He loves how he can feel your knees buckle and force you to balance on the couch, loves how your cunt is just as needy as he feels, fucking adores the way you drip all over his tongue when he pushes your panties to the side and starts licking you up. 

It’s the fact that he didn’t even have to ask you to put it in his face. The slight taste against his fingers all night at work is nothing compared to the way you drown him now. He needs to do this for you. Hell, he needs to do this for himself.

“Jesus,” You breathe, rolling your hips on his mouth. He’s truly eating you like his life depends on it. You can hear his muffled hums at the taste, you can feel his shoulder shake as he starts jerking off again, you can feel the way his tongue goes deeper and deeper, licking each clench of your walls, only to pull back and suck the wet from your panties in a deep breath. 

He coos at it too, as if he’s in love with the moment, as if he truly can’t believe he’s finally got a pussy to lick. And he swallows each mouth full of your slick before muttering curses and promises against your swollen little bud. 

“Please,” He moans, nipping and licking against you. “Been so long since I’ve eaten pussy, rub it on me- fuck-” he continues to babble, heat-of-the-moment-talk coming out as far more arousing than cringe if you listen hard through your ringing ears. “Come on,” He continues, now neglecting his own cock and gripping your ass with both hands, shoving you back and forth on his face in painfully slow and harsh grinds. “Come on, harder.”

As if you can function at all right now with how rough he is about trying to pleasure you? Fucking hell, the words ignite something in you as you pull back and away from him. For a split second, you see his blown out pupils and fucked up hair as he licks his lips and presents that shining lower-half of his face to you. 

You don’t look for long though, no. Because you’re too busy pushing him to the side and forcing him to lay back on the couch instead. You resume your position afterwards, straddling the couch on either side of his head with your knees and planting your pulsing cunt right on his eager tongue. 

“You’re too hot,” You moan, feeling his hands go straight back to your ass to force more of those harsh grinds against him. “If you could see yourself right now–” Your eyes roll back in pleasure as you feel his moaned out chuckle hit you right in the clit. It’s like he knows he makes you feel good, but does he really? 

Does he truly understand how fucking good at this he is?

 “God, if you could feel how good your tongue is–” You continue, now losing yourself in the heat of the moment, feeling his fingers nearly bruise your ass with the death-grip he has on you. 

He nods his head in what little space he has as he spirals into heaven behind his eyes. The smell of you suffocates him, the taste of you drowns him, the weight of you is nothing short of sexy as hell. This is all he could ever want. A pretty girl using and abusing his face, much like he wants to do to you. But oh, there’s so, so much he wants to do after so long of having no one but himself. 

Eat you out, finger fuck you, slide his cock down that pretty little moaning throat of yours, grip that hair and kiss those tits. God, he wants to do everything right now but he can’t bear to push this perfect clit off of his lips. He cannot fathom losing the taste of you and the way you clench around the tip of his tongue. 

Oh fuck.

“Ahh- '' Jake moans open-mouthed against your clit as his brain hits a wall, his cock standing stiff from behind you as he spills out against himself again. Untouched completely, he cums without any effort where as previously it took him hours just to get off because he’d grown so fucking bored of everything. 

You’ve ignited him. His drive is higher than it’s ever been after being neglected for so long. God, he wants to fuck you so full that you can’t bear to leave him. 

“Fuck–” He continues, trying to lend licks between his jerking body to keep your arousal peaked. “See how bad I need it?” 

He finally manages to pull back, feeling you lift from his face just for a moment after noting the way his entire body is shaking. He’s not having it though, as he cranes his neck in chase of your dripping hole once more.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He adds now, enveloping his lips around your clit again and using both hands to force you right back down on his face. 

There, you feel the way he almost passionately makes out with your pussy. As if he’s thanking you for a second orgasm within the past ten minutes. As if he truly can’t stop wanting to fuck something, someone, anything at all.

Goddamn, what a fucking deal. All hail the hook-up app that brought this insatiable sex beast to your apartment.

“Jake–” You start, grinding down for him and feeling his hands now move to rub up and down your back. “Keep your tongue in me.” You choke out, gripping his hair to hold his face in place as you sit his tongue inside of you, short and jerky thrusts forward to bump your clit against his nose. 

He’s gotten off twice now, it’s your turn. 

And you watch as he drops his arms from you and grips your outer legs through it, letting you use his face until he can’t breathe. Both of you are seeing stars through it, your orgasm bubbling up so quickly that you can barely warn him when your hips halt in a stiffened clench and he’s finishing the job for you. 

Your legs squeeze around his head, your fingers pull his hair, and still he manages to find the space to tilt his chin up just to tongue-fuck you deeper, just to rub his nose harshly against your clit, up until he feels your quivering pussy spill all over his chin, down his throat, stealing any breath or moan he could possibly give right now. 

You’re out of breath by the time you finally slide off of his face, your hands immediately shooting to both of his cheeks as your sensitive clit drags down his stomach for the easy position change. You wince when you lick against his lips at the sensitivity, being sure to seat yourself right against his cock. 

“Hah–” Jake lends a breathy laugh against the way you lick his lips, his hands going right back to your ass and landing a sharp slap to it. “Couldn’t even get our clothes off first.”

You take a second to pull back and look at him, noting the redness against his cheeks and nose, likely from your panties consistently getting in his way and then you chuckle back at him. You’re thankful for the short break the two of you seem to be taking at the moment. Still, you lift up from him just to remove your shirt, exposing your tits in an instant solely because you didn’t wear a bra for this exact purpose. 

He’s still hard, despite two orgasms. You feel him rubbing it against you every few seconds, right up against your saliva and cum-soaked panties which, mind you, are insanely uncomfortable right now. It feels as if they’re slicing through your thigh with the force of how Jake managed to keep them shoved out of his way. 

“Just lay back,” You smile at him, allowing him a longer rest for now as you take it upon yourself to remove the barriers. “Let me take care of you now.”

Jake has hearts in his eyes as he watches you. Normally, a girl would already be falling asleep after all that, leaving him with not enough orgasms and no actual fucking. It’s not his fault he could do foreplay for upwards of three to four hours before going for the finale. Which, arguably, can and will last several hours longer. 

Still, you appear to not be finished either, with your breathless smile and gentle hands. He bites his bottom lip through a smirk as he watches you, tits on full display to keep him satiated for now as you move around on the couch to get his pants off of him. He helps a bit with a little kick, his cock still so sensitive and pathetically weeping for more. He feels lucky to have found you, almost baffled that he may have met his match. 

You lend several glances at his cock, not quite realizing the way he’s blinking at you right now. To be fair, it’s only natural to have your attention on that thing right now. You swallow around your nervousness regarding the size but equally want him to fuck you senseless with it. You already feel entirely fucked out, but…that. Oh, that could change your life, probably. You can imagine he won’t be as gentle as you expected before all of this too. Would probably shove it in all in one go and lose his mind at the feeling. 

He’s probably going to split you open and make it feel good for you too. Somehow. 

Anyway, enough of that. You’ve still got to get his shirt off, your uncomfortable skirt and panties too. 

You make quick work of it, as you stand to your feet and expose yourself entirely to him. Jake just watches, humming and moaning at each new expanse of skin you show to him. He keeps his hands to himself though, likely so used to feeling of them that they’d bring no pleasure at this moment if he were to jerk off to you doing this. And you just…look right back at him.

“Come on,” You smile at him again, lending your hand out for him to grab. “Bedroom will be more comfortable.”

Right. Bedrooms exist.

Jake follows, cock heavy and sensitive against his thigh with each step as he tries to get up close behind you. His eyes stay on your ass as you walk in front of him, and it’s not hard for him to keep his hands on it. In fact, he’s touching you as often as he can, trying to remind himself that he’s with someone right now who actually wants him. 

You seem to be willing to let him do what he needs tonight, and hopefully it won’t be the only time. 

You feel him on you, clinging so closely, hands constantly groping, lips always trying to reach the back of your neck and shoulders, to the point it’s actually difficult to get to your bedroom because you want nothing more than to turn around and shove him against the wall, all to try and take him into your mouth just to see if you can.

He doesn’t really let you think about that for too long though, because the second you get to your bedroom, he’s grabbing you from behind and lifting you in his strong arms. You writhe in his grasp with playful giggles, feeling the strong hold he has on you, keeping you in place against him as he stumbles forward with a deep inhale into your neck.

He’s quick to make his way to your bed, dropping you onto it, flipping you over onto your back, and immediately slotting himself between your legs. He hovers over you for a minute, looking directly into your eyes as his hair falls forward. 

Somehow, you’re more focused on his face than you are of his cock that he’s sliding up and down your core right now. You reach up to his hair, brushing it out of his face and feeling the sticky sweat at his scalp. 

“Could eat you out again.” Jake mentions, hips thrusting against you but eyes calm and level with yours. “Could lock me up in here and just use me all day if you want.” He continues, partially being serious about it, but treating it as if it’s some kinky joke instead. 

Because let’s be honest. If there’s any job Jake could do better than anyone else, it’s be a woman’s fuck toy. Always ready to go, always stiff and horny, always willing to please. 

“Could slide in right now and let you feel how hard I am.” His voice gets breathier as he talks, and you can tell he’s just imagining everything he wants to do. He probably worries he’ll have to go home at some point tonight only to resume his search for potential fucks to keep his need satiated. 

He probably thinks he’s going to exhaust you. 

“Could let you do all of that and more.” You respond, lifting your hips just slightly to press his cock between your bodies, throwing your legs around his waist simultaneously with the way you wrap your arms around his neck. “You want me to lock you up in here?” 

Jake nods with a sigh, squeezing his eyes shut as if he can imagine it. 

“Do you work tomorrow?” 

He shakes his head with another sigh, focusing on the way you keep humping up against his length, sliding yourself in whatever way you can against him. 

“Maybe I’ll just have to do that then.”

Oh, damn. 

The heart eyes are back. The very thought of being in this room all night and all day tomorrow drives his cock to pulse and twitch. Foreplay can come whenever, fucking can come whenever, he can cum whenever. There’s no need for a to-do list. No need for a specific structure of rules on how this needs to happen. Foreplay, sex, sleep. Not with Jake. 

Sex. foreplay. sex. foreplay. for hours. He’ll keep you up all night if he can, fucking and sucking every part of you, into the morning hours straight into tomorrow night. 

Free use with you from now until you’re tired of him. You can do anything you want to him but for now…

“Yeah?” Jake breathes out in excitement, arching his back slightly to let his cock land against your hole, and then he pushes forward slowly. The bulbous head spreads your lips and stretches out your slick pussy with ease as he continues to speak. “Feel that?”

Your eyes flutter shut at the sensation, fingernails already digging into his shoulders at the anticipation as your legs loosen around him. He continues to push forward, inch by inch, painfully slow as if he wants you to feel the burn and stretch even while being as wet as you are. 

“Ah–” He confirms for himself as he watches your face, wincing, mouth falling open. “Yeah, you feel it.”

God, yeah. You do. You feel the weight of his size inside of you, stretching you open so good he probably wouldn’t even have to move for it to hurt. But he does move, he does continue to slide in, savoring every second of your walls quivering and suffocating his cock. 

“Goddamn,” He groans, lifting up on both arms and bracing himself as he looks down, only to find he’s only slid half of his dick into you, and already you’re about as breathless as he is. “Didn’t realize how tight you’d actually be–” 

He chokes when he says it, sliding out little by little before fucking back in, pushing just a bit more into you.

“S’okay.” You try to reassure him, but it’s more for you than it is for him. You really didn’t think a cock could feel so big that it actually hurts, yet, here you are. “I’m adjusting.”

Jake moans at your broken voice, no longer holding himself back to look at your pussy grip him when he pulls out slightly. He looks at your face instead, witnessing how you take all of it in one solid movement from him. All of it, until he can feel his pelvis rest against your clit and your entire body stiffens in a tight hug around his body. 

“Mhm,” He leans back down now, humming against your cheek as he tries to control the urge to fuck. “Taking all of it, aren’t you?”

With those words, he slides out slightly before pushing back in again, trying to force your pussy to relax so that he can stop holding his breath. One hand finds its way to your leg to hold onto, the other holding himself up beside your head, and he just…watches. 

Little by little, he thrusts. Plunging into you in short-tight snaps of his hips just to watch your tits jiggle with the movements, up until he really, really can’t hold back anymore. 

You feel his cock leave you almost entirely, only to slam right back in and cause your vision to go white with a pang of pleasure. Your loud yelp pairs well with his relieved sigh of a grunt, and it appears that this is what breaks him entirely. 

That single, full thrust, lets him fall forward and nuzzle his nose against your neck and his body just goes. Instinctually chasing the deepest parts inside of you, hitting your cervix with each thrust only to drag back and make your toes go numb at the way your g-spot feels entirely too sensitive with this alone.

And god, Jake loves the way you cling through it. The way you moan each time he bottoms out, the way your nails cut into his back and the way your legs continuously fail to stay wrapped around him. He…

Oh no.

“I can go all night–” He breathes out through his relentless thrusts, almost as if he’s pleading with you. “I swear, I’m not done–” He continues to cut off his own words with choked moans as he pulls back and leans up, frantically forgetting to apologize over the fact that he’s already about to cum again.

And you feel him try to slide out, that face he made twice before already alerting you that he really must have so much to pump out of himself at this point. You don’t mind if he’s about to hit a third orgasm, in fact, you’re glad.

Your legs hold him in place as he fights to pull out, his eyes snapping to you in realization after the second time he tries. 

“No fucking way, you– you want it?” His eyebrows fall into that of a relieved release as he, too, falls right back down against your chest and lets his hips fuck freely. 

He’s not controlling it at this point. You feel him stretch you open more through his orgasm, rolling his hips but not pulling out even in the slightest now. Moving back and forth, as if trying to stuff you impossibly full while he releases those thick ropes of cum. It…feels so good even with the way the base of his cock continues to swirl and loosen you up in a painful stretch that almost feels like he’s ripping you open. Still, the pain is gone as he shakes on top of you, in fact, you feel your clit throb at the feeling of how big he is, of how hard he manages to stay. 

He didn’t even fuck you that roughly before this, but it feels like you’re already ruined. Ruined enough to want more. Enough to need more. 

“Bet that feels good,” You chuckle against his hair, feeling each pulse of him and loving the way he pants against your ear. “Not having to pull out, knowing you can fuck me for as long as you want.”

That only pushes his orgasm to hit harder. He thought he was nearing the end of it, but instead, his body goes into overdrive as more pulses of cum shoot out of him at your words. There’s so…so much of it he can give you. And if this is what you want, he’s the perfect man to do it for you. 

“Don’t say that, oh god–” Jake mumbles through the end of his orgasm, keeping himself tucked nice and deep into you as he releases his body weight and makes you feel slightly suffocated under him. “Please.”

Well, he minds his manners well enough, you shrug under him, clenching around his length unintentionally and reminding him that you genuinely can go all night, just like him.

Reminding him that maybe you really will just lock him up in this room all tonight, all tomorrow. He seems into the idea anyway, right? Both of you just free-use sex dolls for the time being…Hell yeah.

And as Jake catches his breath, he finally lifts up, pulling you with him, and sits you directly on his lap now.

“Keep going then, don’t let it get soft.” He nearly whimpers, solely due to the sensitivity his cock is now offering and the fact that after that third orgasm, he truly is gaining the ability to go flaccid between orgasms. 

And you follow his direction, though not entirely how he wanted you to. Instead of rolling your hips, you slip him right out of you and sink your face down between his legs, loving the way his cum spills out of you all the while. You don’t even say anything, not that you’d need to. He watches you, a smirk forming on his lips as he raises an arm and throws it over his eyes. 

“Shit, You’re so my type.” He groans out of the sexual frustration that still bubbles within him. You look so good down there with his cock just inches from your mouth. God, no woman has been able to go down on him for too long despite really fucking wishing they would. 

His hips always lose control, they don’t like face fucking, he’s too big to fit, they’re gagging too much, their jaw is hurting. What the fuck ever. Look at you, blinking up at him like you want nothing more in the world than to take it all down your throat. Ah, fuck, if you did that…

His hips buck up on instinct, forcing you to hold him down with your arms as you lick your lips. 

“You really live up to your promise, you know that?” You smile with warmed cheeks as you speak, blowing air gently against the head of his cock. It’s softened up a little, but it’s no longer going flaccid. You’re sure that the second you work it into your mouth, he’s going to be blocking your airways. 

Good. 

“You say that like I’m not overwhelming you with all of this,”  He chuckles as he moves his arm from his face and down to yours. “Most girls would have already sent me home.”

You circle your lips around the bulbous head, tasting the remnants of both you and him as you gently suckle before popping off and licking your lips. 

“Well, Jake–” You look back down and lend his cock a little kiss. “I’m not most girls. Besides, most guys get their nut and leave me hanging. You’ve gotten, what? Three orgasms by now? And you’re still in my bed? Wanting me to lock you up tomorrow too? What a fucking win.”

Jake rolls his eyes because you don’t even know the fucking half of it. If he were a normal guy, he probably would have done the same thing. Maybe not to you, but to others? Yeah. The thing is, he’s not like most guys. And you’re right in saying you’re not like most girls either, considering…your sex drive appears to be just as insatiable as his.

“Fuck, let me eat you out again–” Jake groans now, needing to pleasure you again, aroused by the fact that he’s basically met a female version of himself. Even if he’s just exaggerating and making himself believe such a woman could exist close enough to him. “Let me– Ahh…”

You cut off his words, dragging a loud and sensual moan from him as you sink down. Mostly to shut him up, mostly so you can return the favor for him from earlier before letting him have another lick of you. After all, you truly do appreciate him for all of this. 

“Mmf–” You mumble unintentionally, feeling each inch of his length that you swallow up pressing your tongue further and further down in your mouth. Up until you’re entirely open mouthed on him, gagging yourself when he hits your throat only to angle yourself up on your knees to point it straight down your throat instead.

It hurts, but you close your eyes in concentration, breathing through each gag, ignoring the dribble of saliva that runs from the corners of your mouth and– you swallow.

Mostly because you can’t suck. Again and again, you swallow around him just to stimulate his length, the girth stretching your lips out to the point you feel your jaw could break, but it doesn’t and it won’t. 

Within an instant of taking his whole length down your throat, you feel his hands in your hair. Your ears are ringing, otherwise you would also be listening to him choke on his words at how you’re doing this to him. All of it. You’re taking him in full, not leaving an inch out, seemingly proving that your mouth can be fucked just as good as your cunt.

He’s in heaven, head spinning as you stimulate him through each gag and sputtered out chokes of a moan. He can’t help it when he grabs your hair, he really doesn’t mean it when he pushes your head down while pressing his hips up. Essentially choking you and suffocating you in full with a paused hold. 

You brace yourself on his hips when he does this, squeezing your eyes shut and continuously gagging from the way he abuses your mouth with just that small movement, and then– he pulls back.

“Ahh,” He groans, snapping his hips back and holding you by the hair to keep you from chasing. “You like that?” He continues, letting you breathe but not answer at all before he’s pushing your head right back down, holding you there again and fucking his hips up repeatedly into your throat this time. 

The sounds are pornographic at best, concerning at worst. You, searching for air somewhere between his thrusts, the sounds of wet sputters, drooling, whimpered groans from him, and desperate gasps and gags from you. Truly, Jake is in heaven right now. With you, specifically, you’ve brought him to heaven.

For you, it feels like he does this forever. You’re losing the ability to comprehend what breathing ever was in the first place, thankfully though, Jake can see the tears pouring from your eyes and feel the way you fall slightly limp, letting him do as he pleases before he realizes– he may actually be overwhelming you now.

He snaps his hips back quickly, pulling you up and off of the last remaining inches of his weeping cock before taking a good, long look at your gasped breath and abused lips. Tongue licking out and eyes stained. 

“I’m sorry, fuck, I–”

Instantly you press yourself down on him once again, resuming your original position of sliding him in until you can’t stand the feeling in your throat, gagging and swallowing around him time and time again. You feel proud of it, proud of the pain, proud of the suffocation. 

Fucking proud to not be finished with him compared to every other person, apparently. 

“Jesus–” He groans now, his entire body slouching against your bed as he slams his head back and starts petting your cheeks. “It’s like you were born for this. For me.”

You hum around the gags, growing accustomed to swallowing him up and feeling your jaw strain. And just a few moments later, you pull up with a deep breath, a smile, and you start rubbing your jaw. 

“Maybe I was,” You try to talk dirty, wanting to drive him insane. “You taste so good.” You add, dipping down again to lick a long stripe up the underside of his balls up to his tip. “Any girl should be proud to say you’d fuck her mouth like that.”

A twitch, he rolls his eyes back and clenches his jaw. 

“How are you so…” He breathes out, reaching his hands blindly for you, only to feel you shift on the bed and essentially sit your tits into both of his hands. “perfect?”

You shrug when he opens his eyes, you’re now hovering over him, both hands covering his on your tits as you force him to squeeze and grope. 

“Maybe it’s best to not ask questions.” You tilt your head playfully. “Besides, if I’m lucky maybe you’ll stop trying to find other girls to fuck. They can’t take care of you like I will, anyway.”

Oh, you damn fucking right they won’t. 

“You can have it any time you want.” Jake smiles, relishing in your tits warming under his palms, watching the way you hover over him tall and proud on your knees. “Could play with you every day and never get bored.” 

You feel him move his hand from under yours, going straight between your legs and sliding not two, but three fingers into you with ease.

“Still so wet too,” He hums, eyes narrowing at you with that same pretty grin. “You always this horny?”

You shake your head. 

“Not usually, you just turn me on.” 

Jake feels proud of that. He doesn’t feel like the odd ball with a dick that can’t be satiated no matter how many pussies he plows through in a night. Which, again, for the past year has been a total of zero pussy. You getting turned on by that makes him feel…capable. Makes him feel like maybe he can be put to use by a pretty girl. 

Makes him feel like his need is wanted and well taken care of. 

“So, I can keep calling you?” He asks now, fucking his fingers up, loving the warmth and slide, anticipating for when he gets to bury his cock in you again. 

“Mhm.” You hum, closing your eyes to enjoy the pleasure of how deep even his fingers reach. Kind of ready for him to stop talking and just focus on what he’s doing to you.

“Even if it’s every single day?” He continues to ask, now using his thumb against your clit. “Even if I need you in the middle of the night?”

Anything he wants if he can keep hitting your g-spot like this. 

“Yes, Jake,” You sigh out of aroused frustration, now wiggling your hips to chase that stimulation inside of you. “I’ll give you the fucking key to my apartment if you want. Just let you walk right in and start fucking me.”

His fingers move faster at the image, the implication of not just free-use, but true free use. Real free-use. 

“Yeah? Wake you up with my cock sliding into you?” He urges you to keep talking, now removing his other hand from your chest and circling it around his cock. “Just walk right in and get my mouth on you while all your friends are here?”

You lend a surprised chuckle, but pay no mind to his words past the arousal it brings to you. You’d tell him about how you have a total of like two friends, and half of the time they’re too busy to show up anyway. Still, the image is hot at the moment. All of it is hot. 

“You’d let me?” He continues pressing every button both physically and mentally, unaware of how easy it is for him to talk as if it’s a normal conversation solely because it’s kind of his general state of living at this point. You, on the other hand, are not used to having a full conversation while your g-spot gets abused. “Even if you’re not home? Let you come home and find me fucking myself for you?”

Oh.

“Fuck–” You groan out at the image, feeling his fingers reach so perfectly, thinking of how it would feel to walk into your apartment just to see this pretty man chasing that tight ring of fingers his fist creates. Probably so turned on and frustrated that you’re not home…so frustrated that all he could do is drop to the floor and start fucking. “God, yeah.”

So that’s what you’re into. You love that he’s that pathetic to fuck. And lucky for you, he’s more than willing to continue to be that fucking pathetic. 

“Does that feel good?” He hums now, watching how you fuck yourself against his fingers, lifting slightly to lick against your nipple. “Can I use my cock again?” He babbles almost, brain on constant loop of you actually giving him free reign of your apartment someday so he can come and–”Please, do this on my cock.”

This is the second time he’s asked you to ride it, and you think that may be one time too many. You almost feel guilty for taking him down your throat first, but then again, you don’t. Your body vibrates knowing you’re about to split yourself open on him again, only this time having full control. 

“You want me to sit on it, Jake?” You smile, thrusting your hips down and sinking his fingers into you so deep that you physically can see his brain malfunction. 

The frantic nod he gives is somehow less powerful than how he lifts his hips, forcing you higher on your knees as his fingers slip out of you and immediately land in his mouth. 

Man, this guy must love the taste of pussy. The image of him doing that alone is insanely arousing to you as you lend him a short nod and slide back, your pussy sucking in the head of his cock instantly as if the two of you move together so well, that it was only natural to not need a guiding hand for it. 

He sinks his head deep into the mattress with the way you try to sink down on him. He holds his breath with those same fingers in his mouth, squeezing his eyes shut at how tight you still are, how wet you still are. 

And he’s shocked, almost, at the way you just keep sliding down. Not letting yourself re-adjust to his size, holding your own breath and bracing yourself on his abdomen just to keep balance and you wince through the stretch. 

“That’s it.” Jake soothes your hips as you sit, clenching around each one of his twitches inside of you. “Doing so good.” He breathes out this time, trying to hold back his moan just for a moment as he awaits your moan first.

And it comes quickly when you lean back rather than against him, arms by his knees as you practically present his cock to him buried entirely into you with this position. He lifts his head and stares at it before reaching his thumb to your clit, immediately pressing hard circles against it. 

“Ride it,” He pleads now. “God, please ride it.” He loses his mind at the image, really, as you do start moving. 

Pained whimpers falling from your lips as you circle your hips, fucking just an inch of him in and out of yourself, forcing the deepest part of your pussy to take the abuse more than anything else. And you know he loves it with the way his thumb stops rubbing your clit, with the way he can’t decide on if he should look or throw his head back and fall into the sensation. 

It’s really cute to witness, and you’d lean forward to kiss him if you had the strength to do it, but you don’t. In fact, all the strength you have is currently bubbling up inside of you with a sharp, almost burning sensation. 

You know exactly what this is. You’ve practiced it time and time again alone in this bed. 

“Oh, oh shit, Jake–” You groan as you frantically start moving your hips through the full and splitting feeling of him inside of you. Your voice sounds so panicked, it almost scares him. And honestly? Had he not have finger fucked you against your g-spot previously perhaps you could last longer on him, but no. 

“What– What’s wrong?!” Jake’s voice is broken when he quickly leans up, hugging around you as you continue to ride against him, faster now, chasing, chasing, chasing. 

Pushing, pushing, pushing.

“No, no!” You moan out, shoving him back against the bed and now lifting entirely from his length before slapping your own clit, fast, rough circled motions before each slap. “Oh, shit!” You nearly yell, witnessing it squirt from your body straight against his abdomen and chest. 

Jake just watches, mouth agape and eyes wide. 

“Oh–” He stares. “Oh yeah?” 

And you’re not even done when he seemingly takes full control. Allowing all that squirt to fall out of you, ignoring your shaking legs, tipping you straight back and plunging his cock right back into that release of pressure inside of you.

“You just weren’t gonna tell me you could do that?” He grunts against your ear, fucking into you so hard and so fast that your orgasm just keeps coming. It feels too good to speak, too good to breathe. 

Even as it subsides and you’re trying to catch your breath, he doesn’t let you. He just keeps going, grunting incoherently against your ear, snapping his hips harder than you think he’s probably ever done before. 

Honestly, with each yelp you let out, your sensitivity goes from being unbearably painful to–

“Do it again–” He urges you. “Give me another one.” Babbling, cooing, fucking moaning all over your neck until his lips hit yours. 

Somehow, that gives him exactly what he wants as he feels your legs tense up and fall open around him. Your pelvis slamming into his so hard that it’s, quite literally, splashing out of you in loud and painful sounds. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” He nods and whispers against your tongue, sucking it into his mouth before licking into yours, nearly rabid with the way he’s both kissing and fucking you, he can’t help it. He forgot words the second he felt the gush rush past his length, trying to force it out of you only for him to go harder. Like hell he’s not going to feel you literally squirt on his cock. “So fucking messy.”

At one point, you think you might have actually died. You’re not sure but you swear you saw him fucking you in third person for two solid seconds before being slammed right back into your body. The pleasure genuinely is so overwhelming that…well, suddenly you understand why girls probably think he’s too much.

But goddamn he’s…so good. Like, you remember him mentioning his body count through his one-sided sext session with you and you can argue his inexperience probably made this that much better. He’s a fucking natural. 

And as he continues fucking into you, all you can do is lend him a distant smile. You’re definitely not experiencing real life at this moment, and you know he sees it with the way he lifts and keeps his eyes on your zoned out expression. 

“Look at you.” He echoes against your walls. “So, so pretty.” 

And he just keeps doing that, whispering praises, working you through his presumed last orgasm of the night because he genuinely can’t not fill you up with his cum one last time before letting you rest. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

The rest didn’t last long, but to be fair you didn’t need it to. All night, and all day. That promise was kept and Jake remained insatiable throughout all the time he spent with you.

To the point you very nearly felt strange about him leaving. Like you’d grown so accustomed to having someone literally attached to you at the dick that you knew the loneliness and silence would hit you a little too hard once he leaves. 

And, well, he does leave in a sense, but not completely. 

Though you never truly meant that offer in the midst of sex-talk, Jake seemed to have clinged to the idea of it. Lock him up, but still give him the key. 

Never in your life would have imagined giving a person the key to your apartment, and yet…there he goes. Backing out of a guest parking spot in front of your building with your spare fucking apartment key in his pocket right next to those fucking panties. 

[maidenless-soul]

chefs kiss😩 truly i cannot explain what this did to me🫪

[lcvejjoong]

royal disasters

pairing : prince! mingi x farmer! fem! reader

synopsis : A clumsy runaway prince and a sharp-tongued farmer girl grow from unlikely friends to something more, but loving each other becomes complicated when duty and royalty threaten to pull them apart.

genre : slice of life, fluff, comedy, historical au, angst if you squint, romance, slow burn, royalty au

warnings : none

author’s note : i have 3 assignments due next week and im not even halfway done 😔 someone shoot me pls 🫩❤️‍🩹

word count : 3.6k

 The first time you met Prince Mingi, he was face-down in a muddy rice paddy screaming about frogs.

You were thirteen. He was fourteen.

And honestly, you should have left him there.

“You don’t understand,” the boy wailed dramatically, arms flailing while half-submerged in muddy water, “it looked at me.”

You stood on the edge of the paddy with your straw basket hanging from your arm, blinking slowly.

“It’s a frog.” 

“It was judging me.”

“It’s a frog.”

“It knew I was weak.”

You stared at him another moment before sighing deeply through your nose.

Summer heat pressed against your skin. Cicadas screamed from the trees. The village fields shimmered gold-green under the afternoon sun, and right in the middle of it all was a very tall, very dramatic stranger who looked like he’d never worked a single day in his life.

His clothes gave him away instantly.

Fine silk. Embroidered sleeves. Boots too clean for a traveler—well, clean before the mud. A jade hairpin tucked through dark hair that had mostly fallen apart from his struggle against the “evil frog.”

A noble. Possibly stupid. Definitely rich.

You crouched by the paddy.

“Why are you in there?”

He looked personally offended.

“I fell.”

“How?”

“I was running.”

“From the frog?”

“FROM THE HORSE.”

You pressed your lips together. Then snorted. Then laughed so hard you nearly fell into the water yourself.

The stranger pointed at you accusingly. “You are cruel.”

“You’re muddy.”

“You’re heartless.”

“You’re dramatic.”

He gasped like you’d stabbed him.

“You wound me.”

You held out a hand anyway.

He stared at it. Then at you.

Then dramatically placed his hand in yours as if you were rescuing him from certain death rather than helping him out of ankle-deep water.

The second he stood, he slipped again. This time he took you down with him.

The two of you crashed into the mud together with matching shrieks.

Silence followed.

“Oh no,” he whispered.

You slowly turned your head. Your basket of freshly picked vegetables had overturned into the water.

You stared at it. He stared at it.

“You,” you said calmly, “are paying for those.”

That should have been the end of it.

A ridiculous noble boy passing through your tiny farming village.

Instead, he came back the next day.

And the next. And the next.

At first, you assumed he was lost. Then you assumed he was lonely.

Eventually, you realized Prince Song Mingi of the royal family was simply insane.

“You live like this every day?” he asked one afternoon while following you through the fields carrying a sack of cabbages incorrectly.

“Yes.”

“There’s dirt everywhere.”

“It’s a farm.”

“There’s bugs.”

“You live outside too.”

“Outside with servants.”

You rolled your eyes.

Mingi huffed dramatically and shifted the sack on his shoulder. He was terrible at manual labor. Truly awful. Somehow every task became a disaster.

The first time he tried milking a cow, he got kicked into a fence.

The first time he fed chickens, they chased him.

The first time he attempted harvesting, he cut through his own sleeve and cried for ten straight minutes because “this robe was imported.”

But he kept coming back. Tall and smiling and endlessly talkative.

You learned quickly that Prince Mingi hated palace life.

“I can’t breathe there,” he admitted once while lying across the hill beside you beneath the evening sky. “Everyone watches everything. Every word. Every step.”

You chewed on a blade of grass.

“That sounds annoying.”

“It’s awful.”

“Then don’t be a prince.”

He turned his head toward you.

“That’s not how that works.”

“Seems easy enough to me.”

He laughed.

God, his laugh was terrible for your heart.

Big and loud and warm enough to melt mountains.

“You’d overthrow the monarchy in three business days,” he said.

“I don’t know what monarchy means.”

He grinned.

“Exactly my point.”

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

─────────

The village adored him eventually.

Mostly because he was incapable of acting like royalty.

He’d sit with the elders playing cards for hours. He helped children catch fish in the river. He bought sweet buns from the market and handed them out to random people before realizing he’d spent all the money his guard gave him.

Once, he tried helping repair a roof. He fell through it.

Mrs. Choi screamed so loudly half the village thought someone died.

Mingi emerged from the broken ceiling covered in straw holding a turnip somehow.

“I found this,” he announced.

To this day, nobody knows where the turnip came from.

“You like him.”

You nearly dropped your basket.

Your best friend narrowed her eyes at you from where she sat beneath the shade tree.

“I do not.”

“You made him lunch.”

“He forgot his.”

“You braided flowers into his horse’s mane.”

“The horse looked sad.”

“You smiled today.”

You froze.

“That means nothing.”

“It means everything.”

You glared at her.

Unfortunately, she was right.

You did like him. Which was stupid.

Catastrophically stupid.

He was a prince.

You were a farmer’s daughter who spent half her life smelling like dirt and onions.

Nothing about that ended happily.

So you ignored it.

Mostly. Okay, terribly.

Especially when Mingi smiled at you like you were sunrise itself.

Especially when he remembered tiny things about you. Especially when he started bringing gifts.

Not expensive gifts. Never jewels or silk.

Just little things.

A ribbon because he noticed yours fraying. A peach because you mentioned liking them once.

A tiny carved wooden rabbit because “it looked grumpy like you.”

You kept every single one.

Hidden carefully beneath your bed.

One autumn evening, the two of you sat by the river eating roasted chestnuts.

Mingi was unusually quiet.

You nudged his shoulder.

“What’s wrong?”

He tossed another chestnut shell into the water.

“My father wants me back at the palace.”

You frowned.

“For how long?”

His silence answered enough.

Your chest tightened.

“Oh.”

“They’re starting marriage talks.”

You stared straight ahead. The river blurred slightly.

“That’s good,” you managed.

“It’s terrible.”

“You’ll marry some noble lady.”

“I don’t want some noble lady.”

Your fingers tightened around the warm chestnut.

“You don’t get to choose.”

“I should.”

“You’re a prince.”

“And?”

“And princes don’t marry farmers.”

The words came out harsher than intended.

Mingi went still beside you.

Then quietly—

“What if I wanted to?”

You looked at him finally.

Moonlight caught across his face.

Too soft. Too sincere.

You forced a laugh.

“You’d survive one week married to me.”

“I’d survive forever.”

“You say that now.”

“I mean it now.”

Your heartbeat stumbled. He leaned closer.

“You know,” he murmured, “when I first met you, I thought you were terrifying.”

You snorted weakly.

“You cried over a frog.”

“It was a very aggressive frog.”

“It was sitting there.”

“It had malicious intent.”

Despite yourself, you laughed.

Mingi smiled immediately like he’d won something.

Then softer—

“You always laugh like that when you forget to stop yourself.”

Your breath caught.

Too close. Too warm.

You stood abruptly.

“I should go home.”

He grabbed your wrist gently before you could leave.

The touch was light. But devastating.

“You never answered me.”

Your voice came out smaller than intended.

“Answered what?”

His eyes searched yours.

“What if I wanted to choose you?”

You couldn’t breathe for a moment.

Because part of you, the selfish, reckless part—

Wanted to say yes. Wanted to tell him you’d loved him quietly for years already.

Wanted to let yourself believe impossible things.

Instead you pulled your hand away carefully.

“You should go back to the palace, Your Highness.”

The title hit him like a slap.

You saw it immediately. The hurt.

Mingi stared at you for a long moment before nodding once.

“…Right.”

He stood slowly.

For the first time since meeting him, he bowed formally.

Prince-like. Distant.

It made your stomach ache.

“Goodnight,” he said quietly.

Then he walked away.

You were miserable afterward. Truly unbearable to be around.

You snapped at chickens. Burned soup twice.

Accidentally dumped an entire basket of peppers into the river because you kept replaying that stupid conversation in your head.

Your mother finally grabbed your face one morning.

“If you sigh one more time,” she warned, “I will marry you to the blacksmith.”

You looked horrified.

“The one with the nose hair?”

“Yes.”

You burst into tears immediately.

Your mother sighed deeply.

“Ah,” she muttered. “So it’s serious.”

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

─────────

Weeks passed.

No Mingi. The village felt wrong without him.

Quieter.

You hated how much you noticed.

One evening, while gathering water from the well, you overheard traveling merchants gossiping nearby.

“The prince returns to court this winter.”

“They say the king favors Lady Han.”

“Poor boy looks miserable.”

“Royalty never marries for love.”

You carried the water home in silence.

That night, you cried so hard your pillow ended up damp.

Pathetic. Absolutely pathetic.

Winter arrived harsh and fast.

Snow blanketed the fields. The village slowed beneath icy winds and gray skies.

Then one morning—

“HE’S HERE!”

You dropped the potatoes you were peeling.

Children sprinted through the village shrieking excitedly.

Your heart immediately betrayed you.

No. No no no.

Absolutely not.

You marched outside trying very hard not to look eager.

Then froze.

At the village entrance stood a royal procession.

Guards. Horses. Banners.

And in the middle—

Prince Mingi.

Dressed properly this time in dark royal robes lined with fur.

Beautiful. Infuriatingly beautiful.

The villagers bowed quickly.

You didn’t.

Mostly because your body forgot how to function.

Mingi’s gaze found you instantly.

Then lit up. Actually lit up.

Like he’d been waiting only for that.

He stepped forward.

Then immediately slipped on ice.

Chaos erupted.

A guard lunged for him.

Another screamed. A horse panicked.

Mingi windmilled violently before crashing face-first into a snowbank.

You stared. The whole village stared.

Slowly, Mingi lifted his head from the snow.

“…I meant to do that.”

You laughed before you could stop yourself.

His eyes widened slightly at the sound. Then he grinned.

And suddenly it felt like no time had passed at all.

“Why are you here?” you asked.

Mingi sat at your family table devouring stew while your parents watched him with poorly hidden fascination.

“Official royal business.”

“You’ve been here three hours and challenged six children to snowball fights.”

“They were threatening.”

“They’re eight years old.”

“They lacked honor.”

Your father barked out a laugh.

Mingi looked extremely pleased with himself.

You tried not to smile. Failed horribly.

And Mingi noticed immediately. Of course he did.

He always noticed everything about you.

That night, he found you outside feeding the animals.

Snow drifted softly around the barn.

“You’re avoiding me,” he said.

“I’m feeding chickens.”

“At midnight?”

“…They’re hungry.”

Mingi snorted.

You refused to look at him.

Because if you did, you’d cave instantly.

And you couldn’t afford that. Not with him.

Not when he belonged to another world entirely.

“I missed you,” he said quietly.

Your chest hurt.

“You shouldn’t.”

“Too late.”

Silence settled between you.

Then—

“They chose someone for me.”

You froze.

Lady Han. Of course.

Something sharp twisted inside your ribs.

You nodded once.

“Congratulations.”

Mingi stared at you. Then laughed softly in disbelief.

“You think I came all the way here for congratulations?”

“What else would you want?”

“You.”

The word landed heavily between you.

You finally looked at him.

Snow clung to his dark hair. His cheeks pinked from cold.

And his eyes—

His eyes looked devastatingly earnest.

“Mingi…”

“I told them no.”

You blinked.

“What?”

“I refused.”

“You can’t refuse the king.”

“Turns out you can if you embarrass him publicly enough.”

Horror filled your face.

“What did you do?”

“I may have climbed out a window.”

“You WHAT?”

“And there may have been a horse involved.”

“Mingi.”

“And possibly a goose attack.”

You stared at him in absolute disbelief.

“…A goose attack?”

“It was protecting the gate.”

“That sentence doesn’t even make sense.”

“It was a very patriotic goose.”

You covered your face.

“Oh my god.”

Mingi laughed.

Then gently pulled your hands down.

His smile faded into something softer.

“I meant what I said.”

Your breath caught.

“I don’t want them,” he murmured. “I want you.”

The barn suddenly felt too small. Too warm. Too close.

“Mingi…”

“You know what my advisor said when I told him?”

You shook your head weakly.

“He said marrying for love is reckless.”

You swallowed hard.

“And?”

Mingi stepped closer. Snow crunched beneath his boots.

Then closer still.

Until you could feel warmth radiating from him in the freezing night.

“I think,” he whispered, “falling into a muddy rice paddy because I was losing a fight against a frog was reckless.”

You laughed despite yourself.

“I think coming back afterward was reckless.”

“Mingi—”

“And I think falling in love with you was the easiest thing I’ve ever done.”

Your heart pounded so hard it hurt.

Because this was real.

Impossible. Terrifying. Real.

“You’re an idiot,” you whispered shakily.

His smile turned brilliant.

“Probably.”

“You’d ruin your life.”

“Only if you reject me.”

“Mingi.”

He reached up carefully. Slowly.

Giving you every chance to pull away.

Instead you stood frozen as his fingers brushed your cheek.

Warm. Gentle.

“You know what the worst part is?” he murmured.

“What?”

“I don’t even think I started loving you gradually.”

Your stomach flipped violently.

“I think it happened the moment you called me stupid in a rice field.”

You burst out laughing. Then accidentally started crying immediately after.

Mingi panicked.

“Oh no.”

“You made me emotional.”

“I can fight the king but I cannot fight tears.”

“That’s your problem.”

“Please stop leaking.”

You laughed harder through tears.

Mingi looked desperately relieved.

Then softly—

“Can I kiss you?”

Your entire brain stopped functioning.

“…What?”

“I’ve been thinking about it for years.”

“Years?!”

“You’re very distracting.”

“You’re insane.”

“Probably.”

You stared at him.

At his nervous smile. At the way his hands trembled slightly despite all his joking.

And suddenly you realized—

Mingi was scared too.

Not of kings. Not of court politics.

Of you. Of your answer.

That realization melted something inside your chest entirely.

So you grabbed the front of his robe and kissed him first.

Mingi made a startled noise against your mouth. Then immediately kissed you back like he’d been dying to.

Warm despite the cold.

Clumsy at first because he smiled halfway through it.

Actually smiled into the kiss.

An idiot. Your idiot.

When you finally pulled apart, both of you breathless, Mingi looked genuinely dazed.

“…Wow.”

You laughed shakily.

“That’s all you have to say?”

“I forgot every word I’ve ever known.”

“That explains a lot actually.”

He grinned suddenly. Then scooped you clean off the ground.

You shrieked.

“MINGI—”

“I HAVE POWER NOW.”

“PUT ME DOWN.”

“NEVER.”

He spun once in the snow before promptly slipping again.

The two of you crashed directly into a snowdrift.

Silence. Then your horrified whisper:

“You dropped me.”

Mingi emerged from the snow looking deeply offended.

“I fell with you romantically.”

“You threw me into ice.”

“It was a gesture of affection.”

“You concussed me.”

“You look beautiful.”

You stared at him. Then burst into helpless laughter.

Mingi joined instantly.

Loud. Bright. Completely ridiculous.

The kind of laughter that made your ribs ache.

The kind that felt dangerously like happiness.

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

─────────

Unfortunately, dating Prince Mingi was a nightmare.

Not emotionally. Logistically.

For one thing, he kept sneaking into your house through the window instead of using the door.

“Why are you like this?” you hissed one night while he climbed inside covered in snow.

“The window feels more romantic.”

“You fell into the cabbage basket.”

“The cabbages attacked me.”

“YOU attacked the cabbages.”

Another issue:

The villagers knew immediately.

Not because either of you confessed. Because Mingi looked at you like a man who’d gladly start wars for you.

Subtle he was not.

At the market he carried everything for you while smiling stupidly.

At festivals he followed you around like an oversized puppy.

Once, during dinner at your house, your mother asked him to pass the salt and he handed her an entire bowl of soup because he was too busy staring at you.

Your father watched this disaster silently before muttering:

“He’s not very bright.”

“He’s trying his best,” your mother replied sympathetically.

“I’m sitting right here,” Mingi complained.

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

─────────

Spring came gently.

The fields bloomed green again.

And somehow, impossibly, Mingi stayed.

The palace protested constantly. Letters arrived daily.

He ignored most of them.

One afternoon, you found him lying in the grass beside the fields holding a royal scroll above his face dramatically.

“What now?”

Mingi groaned.

“My father says I’m disgracing the bloodline.”

“That sounds serious.”

“He also said my handwriting looks desperate.”

You snorted.

“Can I see?”

He handed over the scroll reluctantly.

You read silently. Then immediately started laughing.

“Mingi.”

“What?”

“You signed this ‘Farmer Prince Mingi.’”

“I was making a point.”

“You drew a chicken beside it.”

“The chicken symbolizes freedom.”

“The chicken is wearing a crown.”

“Royal freedom.”

You laughed so hard you nearly fell over.

Mingi watched you with that same soft expression he always wore nowadays.

Like he still couldn’t believe you were real.

Eventually he spoke quietly.

“You know… I used to think love would feel grand.”

You looked at him.

“What does it feel like then?”

He smiled slowly.

“Like home.”

Your chest nearly exploded.

So naturally you threw a carrot at his head.

Mingi yelped dramatically.

“Violence!”

“You were being emotional.”

“You kissed me in a barn.”

“That was different.”

“How?”

“…Shut up.”

He laughed for five straight minutes.

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

─────────

The king eventually visited personally.

Which was horrifying.

The entire village panicked.

People screamed. Children hid.

Mrs. Choi fainted directly into a cabbage patch.

And you—

You contemplated death.

“Mingi,” you whispered violently while fixing your clothes for the eighth time, “your father is the KING.”

“Yes.”

“THE king.”

“Yes.”

“Why are you calm?!”

Mingi shrugged.

“He loves me.”

“You climbed out a palace window.”

“He’ll get over it.”

“You insulted royal marriage negotiations.”

“He’ll get over it.”

“You started a goose incident.”

Mingi paused thoughtfully.

“…Okay that one might still be sensitive.”

You groaned into your hands.

The king turned out to be terrifying.

Tall. Sharp-eyed.

Dressed in intimidating dark robes.

He studied you silently across your family table while the entire village collectively held its breath.

Then—

“So,” the king said calmly, “you are the girl who made my son abandon diplomacy.”

You nearly choked. Mingi looked offended.

“I abandoned diplomacy long before her.”

“That is true,” the king admitted.

Then his gaze returned to you.

“And what exactly do you see in him?”

You stared.

Then very honestly answered:

“He’s funny.”

The king blinked.

Mingi looked delighted.

“You hear that? I’m funny.”

“You fell through a roof.”

“It was charming.”

The king rubbed his temples slowly. For one terrible moment, silence filled the room.

Then unexpectedly—

The king laughed.

Not politely.

Actually laughed. Deep and helpless.

“You truly are impossible,” he muttered at Mingi.

Mingi grinned proudly.

“I learned from you.”

“That is unfortunately true.”

Everyone stared in shock. Including you.

The king noticed immediately. Then sighed dramatically.

“My son,” he said dryly, “has spent four years writing letters about you.”

Your head snapped toward Mingi.

“FOUR YEARS?”

Mingi looked alarmed.

“Father.”

“He once described your laugh for three entire pages.”

“MOTHER OF GOD,” Mingi whispered in horror.

The king continued mercilessly.

“He compared your temper to a territorial goose.”

You burst into hysterical laughter. Mingi buried his face in his hands.

“I trusted you.”

“You wrote it in official royal stationery.”

“You said nobody reads those!”

“I lied.”

You laughed so hard your stomach hurt.

And when you looked at Mingi again—

Red-faced. Mortified.

Still looking at you with endless affection—

You realized something quietly. You could do this.

Maybe the future would be difficult. Maybe court nobles would gossip. Maybe people would sneer at the farmer girl beside the prince.

But Mingi would stand beside you through all of it.

Laughing. Falling into disasters. Loving you loudly without shame.

And somehow that made impossible things feel survivable.

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

─────────

The wedding happened a year later.

It was supposed to be elegant.

Royal. Refined.

Instead—

Mingi ripped his ceremonial sleeve climbing over a fence because he “wanted to see you early.”

A horse escaped. One of the ministers fell into the fountain.

And during the vows, Mingi got emotional and cried first.

“You’re crying,” you whispered.

“No I’m not.”

“You literally are.”

“These are royal tears.”

“That’s not a thing.”

“They’re expensive.”

You snorted so hard the priest lost his place.

The ceremony dissolved into chaos for approximately ten minutes.

Your mother nearly disowned both of you. The king looked exhausted.

And Mingi—

Mingi looked happier than sunlight.

When the ceremony finally resumed, he took your hands carefully.

Warm. Steady. Real.

Then softly—

“I know I’m reckless.”

You smiled.

“That’s true.”

“And dramatic.”

“Very true.”

“And occasionally attacked by birds.”

“Constantly true.”

The guests laughed quietly.

But Mingi only looked at you. Like nobody else existed.

“But if I had to live every lifetime again,” he whispered, “I think I’d still fall into that rice paddy.”

Your eyes stung immediately.

“Even with the frog?”

“Especially because of the frog.”

You laughed through tears.

And Mingi smiled like he’d just been handed the whole world.

Maybe he had.

Because when he kissed you, warm and sweet and grinning halfway through like always—

It felt a little like destiny.

Or maybe just two idiots finding each other in the mud.

© lcvejjoong, 2026

taglist [open!]: @darjeelinglemontea ❤︎ @fluffypuddingatz ❤︎ @luumiinaa @snow0-0fairy @snow0-0fairy-writes @life-is-a-game-of-thrones @unfxrgetwble @hope122598 @maidenless-soul @leewayout @klowiishere @fumakiluvr

[maidenless-soul]

this was so cuteeee🥹 you never cease to amaze!

[lcvejjoong]

spiderman: the cost of being a hero

pairing : spiderman!/neighbour! yunho x journalist! fem! reader 

author’s note: second part bc tumblr has a limit on words and all 🫩

word count : 2.8k

part 1

It doesn’t leave your mind.

It lingers.

Not the mask. Not the mystery.

Not even the story you’ve been chasing for weeks.

It’s the details.

Small ones. Insignificant on their own.

But together, they don’t sit right anymore.

Same injury. Same timing.

Same quiet way of brushing things off like they don’t matter.

You tell yourself it's a coincidence.

You force yourself to.

Because the alternative—

The alternative doesn’t just change the story.

It changes everything.

So you do what you do best.

You investigate.

But not him.

Not yet.

You watch.

It starts subtly.

Yunho leaves at odd hours.

You’ve noticed that before.

But now—

You pay attention.

The pattern isn’t clean.

It’s messy. Inconsistent.

Human.

But there are overlaps.

Gaps in time that line up just a little too well with sightings.

Moments where Spiderman appears, Yunho is… nowhere to be found.

You hate how your brain works.

You hate how it connects things before you’re ready.

Because every time it does—

Your chest does something funny.

Because if you’re right, the person who makes you coffee in the morning—the person who sits on the hallway floor with you, talking about nothing—the person who looks at you like you’re something soft instead of something sharp—is the same person you’ve been trying to expose.

And you don’t know what that says about you.

“Hey.”

You look up.

Yunho stands in front of you in the hallway, two cups of coffee in hand.

You blink.

“…You’re back early.”

He tilts his head slightly.

“So are you.”

Your eyes flicker over him automatically.

No visible injuries today. No stiffness in his posture. No signs of exhaustion.

Too normal.

“…Slow day,” you say.

“Good,” he smiles. “You look like you needed one.”

You take the coffee.

Your fingers brush his.

And the contact—

It lingers.

Longer than it should.

He notices.

Of course he does.

“…You okay?” he asks softly.

You nod.

“Fine.”

But your gaze doesn’t leave him.

You’re searching.

Not for proof.

Just…something.

“…You’re doing that thing again,” he says.

“What thing?”

“Looking at me like you’re trying to solve me.”

Your breath hitches slightly.

“I’m a journalist,” you deflect. “It’s my job.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs.

“…but I thought I was off the record.”

That hits somewhere you weren’t expecting.

Your grip tightens slightly around the coffee cup.

“You are,” you say quietly.

He studies you. Longer this time.

Like he’s trying to decide if he believes you.

“…Good,” he says eventually.

But something in his voice feels careful now.

Measured.

And you hate that.

That night, you don’t go to the rooftop.

You tell yourself it’s intentional.

Strategic.

If you’re going to figure this out, you need distance.

You need to think clearly.

So you stay inside.

Laptop open. Notes scattered. Photos pulled up.

Your screen glows with images of Spiderman in motion. Blurs of red and blue between buildings.

You zoom in.

Enhance. Compare.

Body structure. Height. Build.

Your stomach twists.

It matches.

Not perfectly. But close enough.

“Stop,” you whisper to yourself.

Because now—

Now it’s not just curiosity.

Now it’s dangerous.

A soft knock interrupts your thoughts.

You freeze.

You stand.

Walk to the door. Open it.

Yunho.

Your heart stutters.

“Hey,” he says, offering a small smile.

“Your lights were on.”

“…I’m working.”

“I figured.”

He shifts slightly. Like he’s unsure.

“I just—uh—made too much food,” he says. “Again. So… I thought…”

He holds up a container.

You stare at it.

Then at him.

And something inside you—something fragile—pulls.

“…You’re going to make this a habit, aren’t you?”

“Only if you keep accepting.”

You hesitate. Then step aside.

“Fine. But only because I’m busy.”

He grins.

Soft. Warm.

“Of course.”

He settles on your couch like he’s been there a hundred times.

Like he belongs there.

And maybe that’s the problem.

“You should take a break,” he says, glancing at your laptop.

“I don’t take breaks.”

“You say that like it’s a personality trait.”

“It is.”

“It’s a bad one.”

You shoot him a look.

He just smiles.

“Come on,” he nudges gently. “Five minutes.”

You hesitate.

But then you close your laptop.

“Five minutes,” you repeat.

His smile softens.

“Deal.”

You sit beside him.

Closer than usual.

Neither of you comments on it.

And for a moment, it’s quiet.

Comfortable And that’s new.

“…Can I ask you something?” you say.

“Anything.”

You hesitate. Just slightly.

“…What do you think about Spiderman?”

The shift is immediate.

Subtle. But there.

His shoulders tense.

“Oh,” he says lightly. “We’re talking about him now?”

“It’s my job.”

“Right.”

He looks away briefly.

Then back at you.

“I think he’s… trying,” he says.

“That’s generous.”

“It’s honest.”

You tilt your head.

“You trust him?”

A pause.

“…Yeah,” he says.

You watch him carefully.

“Why?”

He exhales slowly.

“Because I think…” he starts, then stops.

“Think what?”

“…I think he cares more than people realize.”

“That’s not enough.”

“Maybe not,” he agrees. “But it’s something.”

You shake your head.

“Caring doesn’t make you good,” you say. “It just makes you human.”

“Exactly.”

That catches you off guard.

“…Exactly?”

He nods.

“Maybe that’s the point.”

The silence settles again.

And suddenly—

You realised you’re not comparing evidence. You’re comparing feelings.

The way Yunho listens.

The way Spiderman speaks.

The way both of them look at you like you matter.

“…You sound like you know him,” you say quietly.

His breath hitches. Barely noticeable.

“Not personally,” he says.

Not a lie. Not exactly.

But not the truth either.

And you feel it.

That small crack.

“You’re a terrible liar,” you say softly.

He laughs.

But it’s strained.

“I’m working on it.”

“Do better.”

“I will.”

But his voice.

It doesn’t sound convincing.

The five minutes turn into an hour.

Then two.

You don’t notice when the conversation shifts from Spiderman—

To you. To him.

To everything in between.

“You don’t let people get close,” he says at one point.

You scoff. “That’s not true.”

“It is,” he insists gently. “You keep everyone at a distance.”

“You barely know me.”

“I know enough.”

You fall quiet.

Because the worst part is that he’s right.

“…It’s easier,” you admit.

“For who?”

“For everyone.”

He shakes his head.

“Not for me.”

Your breath catches.

The words hang between you.

Heavy. Real.

“You’ll get over it,” you say lightly.

“I don’t think I will.”

Your heart starts racing.

“Yunho—”

“I know,” he cuts in quickly. “I know. You don’t do this. You don’t—feel things like this. I get it.”

You stare at him.

Because he’s wrong.

You do feel it. And that’s the problem.

“I didn’t say that,” you say quietly.

“You didn’t have to.”

Silence.

And then—

Softly—

“…You talk about him differently,” he says.

Your stomach drops.

“…Who?”

“Spiderman,” he clarifies. “You act like you don’t trust him. Like he’s just a story.”

Your chest tightens.

“But when you talk about him…” he continues, voice quieter now,

“…you sound like you’re trying to convince yourself of that.”

Your throat feels dry.

“That’s your interpretation.”

“Maybe,” he says.

“…or maybe you care more than you want to admit.”

You stand abruptly.

“That’s not true.”

He looks up at you.

“Then why does it matter so much?”

Because he could die. Because you’ve seen the way he bleeds.

Because you said don’t die and you really meant it.

Because when he’s gone, the city feels colder.

“…Because it’s my job,” you say instead.

And even you don’t believe it.

Yunho does.

Or at least—

He pretends to.

“…Right,” he says softly.

But something in him—something quiet—breaks.

He leaves not long after.

At the door—

He pauses.

“…You don’t have to figure everything out at once,” he says.

You frown slightly.

“What does that mean?”

He smiles faintly.

“It means… some things aren’t meant to be solved like a story.”

And he’s gone.

Later that night—

You go to the rooftop.

You didn’t mean to.

But your feet take you there anyway.

And he’s already waiting, perched on the railing.

“Hey,” he says softly.

You don’t greet him. You just look at him.

And this time, it’s different.

Because now—

You’re not just seeing him.

You’re seeing both of them.

And it’s starting to hurt.

“…Can I ask you something?” you say.

He nods.

“Do you ever wish you could just… be normal?”

A long pause.

Then—

“…All the time.”

Your chest tightens.

“Then why don’t you stop?”

He lets out a quiet breath.

“…Because I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I did.”

You close your eyes briefly.

Of course.

Of course that’s his answer.

“…You’re going to break something like this,” you whisper.

“Yeah,” he says.

“…I already know.”

Your heart sinks.

“Then stop before it gets worse.”

Silence.

“…I can’t.”

And this time—

You believe him.

And somehow, that’s worse.

Because now—

You’re standing at the edge of something inevitable.

Something that’s going to hurt. 

No matter what you choose.

And for the first time, you don’t know how to write your way out of it.

You don’t sleep.

Not that night. Not really.

Your mind keeps replaying everything.

Conversations. Expressions.

Small, insignificant details that now feel like evidence.

The way Yunho hesitates before answering certain questions.

The way Spiderman does the same.

The way they both say I’m fine. Like it’s something practiced.

You sit at your desk, staring at your screen.

An unfinished article blinks back at you.

“Spiderman: Savior or Threat?”

The cursor waits.

Patient. Expectant.

You don’t type a word.

Because for the first time—

You don’t know what the truth is supposed to look like anymore.

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

─────────

It happens the next day.

Not on a rooftop. Not in some dramatic, cinematic reveal.

It’s just a moment.

Small. Ordinary.

And it ruins everything.

You’re heading home early again.

Another failed attempt at working.

Another day where your thoughts refuse to cooperate.

The hallway is quiet. Too quiet.

Your steps slowed.

An instinct.

Then—

You hear a noise.

From Yunho’s apartment.

A crash. Muted.

Like something—or someone—hit the floor.

Your heart spikes.

“Yunho?”

No answer.

You don’t think. You push the door open.

It’s unlocked.

And inside—

“Yunho—”

The words die in your throat.

Because he’s there.

Half-collapsed against the wall.

Mask halfway off.

Red. Blue.

Your world stops.

And for a second, you don’t move.

You don’t breathe.

Because your brain refuses to process what your eyes are seeing.

Because it doesn’t make sense.

It can’t.

But it does.

Slowly. Painfully.

Everything clicks.

The injuries. The timing.

The voice.

The way they both looked at you like you mattered.

The same person. Your neighbour.

“…Yunho?”

Your voice breaks.

His head snaps up.

And you see it.

Not the mask.

Not the hero.

Just him.

His eyes widen.

“What are you—”

Too late.

You know.

Silence crashes over the room. Suffocating.

You take a step back.

Then another.

“No,” you whisper.

Your hands shake.

“No, that’s not—this isn’t—”

“I can explain—”

“Don’t.”

Your voice is sharper than you expect.

He freezes. Because he’s never heard you like this.

Not with him.

“You lied to me.”

The words are quiet.

But they hit harder than anything else.

His chest rises and falls unevenly.

“I didn’t—”

“You did,” you cut in. “Every single day.”

“It wasn’t like that—”

“Then what was it like?”

Silence.

Because there’s no good answer.

“You let me—” your voice falters slightly, “you let me sit there and trust you.”

“I do care,” he says desperately. “That part wasn’t a lie.”

“But everything else was.”

Your chest aches.

Sharp. Unfamiliar.

“Every time I asked you,” you continue, “every time I tried to figure this out—you stood there and looked me in the eye and lied.”

“I was protecting you.”

You laugh.

And it sounds wrong.

“Don’t,” you say. “Don’t turn this into something noble.”

His face falls.

That hurts more than anger.

“You don’t get to decide that for me,” you say. “You don’t get to decide what I can handle.”

“I didn’t want you involved—”

“You already involved me,” you snap.

Your voice breaks at the end.

And suddenly—

It’s not about the mask.

It’s about everything underneath it.

“You let me care about you,” you whisper.

His expression shatters.

“And the whole time,” you continue, “you were just—what? Waiting for me to figure it out? Waiting for this exact moment?”

“No,” he says quickly. “I was trying to keep you safe.”

“From what?” you demand.

A beat.

Then—

“…From this.”

That lands. Straight on your heart.

Because now you understand.

Not just the lie. But the cost of the truth.

Your gaze drops briefly.

To the suit. To the blood.

To the reality of what he does every night.

“…How long?” you ask quietly.

He hesitates.

“…Before I moved in.”

Your stomach twists.

“So this whole time—”

“I didn’t plan it,” he says quickly. “I didn’t even know it was you at first. And then when I did—”

“You kept lying.”

“…I didn’t know how to stop.”

Silence.

Thick. Painful.

“You should go.”

His head snaps up.

“What?”

“You should go,” you repeat, voice steadier now.

“I’m not leaving you like this—”

“You already did,” you say quietly.

That breaks him.

You can see it.

“I never meant to hurt you,” he says, voice cracking.

“I know.”

And you do. You really do.

That’s the worst part.

“But you still did.”

He takes a step toward you.

You step back.

“Don’t,” you whisper.

He stops.

Because he knows.

If he takes one more step—

You might shatter completely.

“…Are you going to write about it?” he asks finally.

The question hangs between you.

Your career. Your story.

Your truth.

You look at him.

Not as a headline. Not as a mystery.

But as the boy who brought you coffee.

Who sat with you in silence. Who looked at you like you were something worth loving.

“…No,” you say.

His breath catches.

“What?”

“I’m not going to expose you.”

“Why?”

You swallow hard.

“Because… not everything needs to be a story.”

His eyes soften.

“…Thank you.”

You nod.

But it doesn’t feel like a victory.

It feels like losing something you never got to fully have.

“…You should go,” you say again.

And this time, he listens.

At the door—

He pauses.

Like he wants to say something. Like he wants to fix this.

But there are no words for this.

“…Don’t die,” you say quietly.

He closes his eyes briefly.

“…I’ll try.”

And then he’s gone.

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

─────────

Days pass.

Then weeks.

The hallway is quiet again.

No coffee. No soft laughter.

No warm, easy conversations that somehow meant more than they should have.

You throw yourself into work.

It’s easier that way. Calmer.

But something is missing.

And you feel it—

Every time you reach your door. Every time you glance at the rooftop.

Every time you hear sirens in the distance.

Your article changes.

“Spiderman: The Cost of Being a Hero.”

But this time, you don’t question his intentions.

You don’t tear him apart.

You tell the truth.

Not the identity.

But the weight. The sacrifice.

The quiet, unseen parts of being someone who chooses to save others—

Even when it costs them everything.

It becomes your most popular piece.

But it doesn’t feel like a win.

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

─────────

Months later.

You’re on the rooftop again.

The same one.

The city looks the same. Sounds the same.

But it feels different.

Quieter.

“You’re still here.”

Your breath catches. You don’t turn immediately.

Because you already know.

“…You’re late,” you say softly.

A small huff of laughter behind you.

“…Got held up.”

You turn.

Spiderman stands there.

The same. And not.

There’s distance now.

Not physical.

Something deeper.

“You look better,” you say.

“You too.”

Silence settles between you.

Familiar. But not the same.

“…I read your article,” he says.

You nod.

“Figured you would.”

“…Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For not… ruining my life.”

You let out a quiet breath.

“That wasn’t mine to ruin.”

Another pause.

Then—

“…Yunho—”

“Don’t,” he says gently.

Your heart jumps.

“…Right.”

Because that name—

It belongs to someone you don’t have anymore.

“I should go,” he says after a moment.

He should.

That’s how this works.

“Yeah,” you reply.

He hesitates. Just slightly.

“…I meant it,” he says quietly. “Back then.”

Your heart stutters.

“…I know.”

And you do. That was never the lie.

He nods.

Then—

He steps back.

“Take care of yourself,” he says.

“You too.”

He leans back, body falling backwards into the city.

And he’s gone.

You stand there alone.

The wind is colder now.

Or maybe—

You just feel it more.

But this time, you don't chase him.

You don’t call out.

Because some things—some people—aren’t meant to be held onto.

Only remembered.

And somewhere in the city—

A boy in a mask keeps saving the world.

And somewhere on a rooftop—

You keep watching.

Not as a journalist.

But as someone who once knew him.

Before he became just a story again.

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

─────────

© lcvejjoong, 2026

taglist: @darjeelinglemontea ❤︎@fluffypuddingatz ❤︎ @luumiinaa @snow0-0fairy @snow0-0fairy-writes @life-is-a-game-of-thrones@unfxrgetwble@hope122598 @diearama @honeybeehorizon @maidenless-soul

[lcvejjoong]

spiderman: the cost of being a hero

pairing : spiderman!/neighbour! yunho x journalist! fem! reader 

synopsis : A determined journalist chases a mysterious masked hero, only to unknowingly fall for her kind neighbour. When she finally discovers they are the same person, the truth shatters trust, leaving her to confront love, loss, and the cost of heroism.

genre : slice of life, romance, fluff, angst, slow-burn, superhero au, emotional drama, tragedy, closure

warnings : mentions of blood

author’s note : HAPPY YUYU DAY‼️🤍 still waiting for the pic of him in his customised spidey suit 👀 had to split this into two bc tumblr has a limit or sm shit i dont even know anymore 🙄 but hope yall enjoy this 🫶

word count : 3.6k

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

─────────

You don’t believe in heroes.

You believe in timing.

In luck.

In people being in the right place at the right moment—and getting credit for something anyone else could’ve done.

That’s why you don’t trust him.

“Spiderman saves a bus full of civilians.”

You stare at the headline on your screen, unimpressed.

“Dramatic,” you mutter, fingers hovering over your keyboard.

Around you, the newsroom buzzes with admiration.

“He’s insane—in a good way.”

“Did you see the footage?”

“I swear he caught the whole thing mid-air—”

You tune it out.

Because all you see is a gap.

There’s always a gap.

No clear footage of his face. No consistent pattern of identity. No accountability.

Just a mask. Just a myth.

And myths don’t belong in your city.

“Miss.”

You glance up at your editor.

“Tell me you’ve got something new,” he says.

You lean back in your chair, crossing your arms.

“I’ve got questions.”

He sighs. “You always have questions.”

“And that’s why people read what I write.”

He hesitates, then nods. “Fine. But I need something concrete soon. Either prove he’s a problem… or stop chasing ghosts.”

You don’t answer.

Because you don’t chase ghosts.

You expose them.

That night, you go home late.

Later than usual.

The hallway of your apartment building is quiet, dimly lit, the hum of flickering lights following you as you walk toward your door.

You’re halfway there when—

thud.

You freeze.

The sound came from the apartment next to yours.

Frowning, you glance over just as the door creaks open.

And a guy stumbles out.

Tall.

Messy dark hair.

And—oh.

He’s holding a bag of groceries that promptly slips from his grip, sending oranges rolling across the floor.

“…Oh my god.”

You blink.

He blinks.

Then immediately crouches down, scrambling to gather them.

“I’m so sorry—hi—um—I just moved in—I didn’t mean to—well, I mean, I didn’t mean to drop them—not that dropping oranges is like—illegal or anything but—”

You stare at him.

He keeps talking.

Fast.

Rambling. Flustered.

“…I’m Yunho.”

You don’t mean to smile.

But you do. Just a little.

“Clearly.”

He pauses, mid-reach for an orange.

“…Clearly?”

“You just said your name.”

“Right.” He laughs awkwardly. “Right. That makes sense.”

You crouch down too, picking up one of the runaway oranges and handing it to him before telling him your name.

His eyes light up.

In recognition.

“Oh—wait—like the famous journalist?”

You sigh internally.

“…Depends who’s asking.”

“My neighbor,” he says quickly. “Who I definitely didn’t just embarrass myself in front of.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You read my work?”

“All the time!” he says, a little too eagerly. “I mean—not like in a creepy way—just—your articles are really good. Like, scary good. Like—if I ever did anything illegal, I’d just turn myself in before you found me.”

You stare at him.

Then—

You laugh.

And it surprises both of you.

Yunho grins like he just won something.

And for a second, you forget how tired you are.

“Welcome to the building,” you say, standing up.

“Thanks,” he replies, gathering the last of his groceries. “Sorry again for the noise. I’m still… settling in.”

You glance at the faint scuff on his sleeve.

“…Rough move?”

He hesitates.

Just for a second.

Then smiles.

“Something like that.”

You nod, not pushing.

“Try to keep it down,” you say lightly, unlocking your door. “Some of us have early deadlines.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says, mock serious.

You roll your eyes—but there’s a hint of amusement there.

And as you step inside your apartment, you don’t notice the way he watches the door for a second longer than necessary.

Or the way his smile fades slightly.

Like he’s holding something back.

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

─────────

Later that night, you can’t sleep.

Again.

So you do what you always do.

You go to the rooftop.

The city greets you like an old friend—loud, restless, alive.

You step toward the edge, camera in hand, scanning the streets below.

Waiting.

You don’t know why.

But you are.

“Can’t sleep either?”

You spin around.

And there he is.

Spiderman.

Perched casually on the ledge like he’s been there the whole time.

Watching you.

Your heart kicks.

Not fear.

Recognition. Annoyance.

Curiosity.

“You again,” you say.

“Me again,” he echoes.

You cross your arms. “Do you just hang around rooftops waiting for journalists now?”

“Only the really intense ones.”

“Flattery won’t help you.”

“Wasn’t trying to flatter you,” he says. “Just stating facts.”

You huff softly, but there’s no real bite behind it.

He tilts his head.

“You look tired.”

You stiffen slightly.

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.”

“And you don’t look identifiable,” you shoot back.

“Fair point.”

Silence settles between you.

Familiar now.

“You wrote about me again,” he says.

“I write about a lot of things.”

“Yeah, but this one felt… personal.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You think highly of yourself.”

“I think you’re trying really hard not to trust me.”

Your chest tightens.

“…Maybe I just don’t.”

He nods slowly.

Like he expected that.

“What if I told you I’m just a normal guy?” he asks.

You don’t hesitate.

“I wouldn’t believe you.”

He laughs quietly.

“Yeah. That tracks.”

You step closer.

“People like you always say that,” you add. “ ‘I’m just a normal guy.’ But normal people don’t hide behind masks.”

His voice softens.

“Sometimes they have to.”

You hold his gaze.

And for a second—

You think of your new neighbour.

Of the way he smiled too easily.

Of the way he hesitated when you asked about the scuff on his sleeve.

You shake it off immediately.

Coincidence.

Nothing more.

“Or maybe,” you say, “they’re hiding something worse.”

That lands.

You can feel it.

“…You really won’t let this go, will you?” he asks.

You shake your head.

“Not until I know the truth.”

A pause.

Then—

“Be careful what you go looking for.”

Your lips press together.

“Why? Scared I’ll find you?”

He steps closer.

Close enough that your breath catches.

“Not scared,” he murmurs.

“Then what?”

A beat.

Then—

“Worried you won’t like what you find.”

And just like that—

He’s gone.

The wind feels colder this time.

Sharper.

Like a warning.

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

─────────

The next morning, you open your door.

And nearly ran straight into Yunho.

“Whoa—hi!” he says, stumbling back slightly, coffee in hand.

You blink.

“…Do you always stand this close to people’s doors?”

“I was about to knock!” he defends. “I made too much coffee and thought—neighbors share things, right?”

You glance at the cup he’s holding out.

Then at him.

Bright-eyed. Hopeful.

Completely open.

Nothing like Spiderman.

“…Fine,” you say, taking the coffee.

His smile widens instantly.

And something about it—

Something warm and uncomplicated—

makes your chest feel strangely… light.

“Good morning.”

You don’t realize it yet.

But you’ve already started falling—

For two people.

Who are the same person.

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

─────────

It starts with coffee.

It always does.

You don’t mean for it to become a routine.

You don’t do routines—not with people, anyway. Deadlines, yes. Late nights, always. But people are unpredictable, temporary, inconvenient.

Yet somehow, every morning—

Your door opens at the exact same time.

And so does his.

“Good morning,” Yunho says, a little breathless like he rushed just to catch you.

You eye him suspiciously. “You’re doing this on purpose.”

“I’m not!” he insists. “Okay, maybe a little. But only because you keep leaving at the exact same time every day. It felt… coordinated.”

“You’re weird.”

He grins. “You still took the coffee.”

You look down at the cup in your hand.

“…It would’ve been rude not to.”

“Right,” he says, clearly unconvinced. “Purely politeness.”

“Exactly.”

It becomes a thing after that.

Coffee.

Short conversations in the hallway.

Small, meaningless details that shouldn’t matter—but somehow start to.

“You didn’t sleep again,” he says one morning.

You pause mid-sip.

“…Is it that obvious?”

“You look like you fought three deadlines and lost all of them.”

You scoff. “I never lose.”

“Then you at least tied,” he amends quickly. “But like… barely.”

You roll your eyes.

But you don’t deny it.

Another morning—

“You always leave before sunrise?” he asks.

“Best time to think.”

“Or the worst time to overthink.”

You glance at him.

“…You talk like you have experience.”

He hesitates.

Just a second. Then shrugs.

“Something like that.”

You start noticing things.

Not because you’re trying to.

But because that’s what you do.

Yunho disappears at odd hours.

Comes back looking… tired.

Sometimes with faint bruises he tries—and fails—to hide.

“Walked into a door,” he says one evening, pointing to the cut near his eyebrow.

You stare at him.

“…Was the door fighting back?”

He laughs nervously. “It was a very aggressive door.”

“Mm.”

You don’t push.

But you don’t believe him either.

Still.

He’s easy.

Easy to talk to. Easy to be around.

And that’s rare.

Dangerously rare.

“You know,” he says one night, sitting on the hallway floor with you between your apartments, sharing takeout, “you’re not what I expected.”

You glance at him. “That’s offensive.”

“No, no—it’s a good thing!” he says quickly. “I just thought you’d be more… intimidating.”

“I am intimidating.”

“Yeah, but like—professionally,” he says. “Not like this.”

“Like what?”

He smiles softly.

“Like someone who laughs at dumb jokes.”

You blink.

“…I don’t laugh at dumb jokes.”

“You laughed when I dropped oranges.”

“That was situational.”

He grins wider.

“Sure.”

You don’t realize how much you’ve started to rely on this.

Until the night he’s not there.

You come home late.

Later than usual.

The hallway is empty.

Quiet.

No spilled groceries.

No soft “hi” or awkward rambling.

Just silence.

Your chest feels… off.

You ignore it.

Unlock your door. Go inside.

And then—

You hear it.

A crash.

Distant. Outside.

Your instincts kick in immediately.

You grab your camera and head for the rooftop.

He’s already there.

Spiderman.

Standing at the edge, breathing heavier than usual.

His suit is torn. Worse than before.

There’s something dark staining the fabric near his side.

Your stomach drops.

“You’re hurt.”

He stiffens at your voice, turning toward you.

“It’s nothing.”

“That’s not nothing,” you snap, stepping closer. “That’s blood.”

“I’ve had worse.”

“That’s not comforting.”

He exhales, like he’s debating something.

Then—

“…You shouldn’t be here tonight.”

You frown. “You don’t get to decide that.”

“I’m serious,” he says, voice lower now. “It’s not safe.”

“When is it ever?”

“Tonight is different.”

You study him.

The way he’s standing.

Guarded. Weaker than usual.

“…What happened?” you ask quietly.

A pause.

Then—

“Got in over my head.”

Your lips press together.

“You’re not invincible.”

“I know that.”

“Then stop acting like you are.”

Silence.

“You wrote that I was reckless,” he says suddenly.

You blink.

“…You are reckless.”

“Maybe,” he admits. “But someone has to be.”

“Or,” you counter, “someone has to be smart enough not to get themselves killed.”

That hits harder than you expect.

He goes very still.

“…You think that’s how this ends?” he asks.

Your throat tightens.

“I think that’s how it usually ends.”

For a second, neither of you speaks.

“…Would you care?”

The question catches you off guard.

“About what?”

“If I didn’t come back one night.”

Your heart stutters.

And you hate that it does.

“You’re my story,” you say carefully.

He lets out a quiet breath.

“…Right.”

But something in his voice—something small—fades.

“That’s not what I meant,” you add, before you can stop yourself.

He looks at you again.

“Then what did you mean?”

You don’t answer right away.

Because you don’t know how to. Because the truth feels too close to something you’re not ready to name.

“…I mean,” you say slowly, “people would notice.”

“People,” he repeats.

You hesitate.

“…I would notice.”

That’s all it takes.

Something soft breaks through his exhaustion. Something warm.

“Yeah?” he murmurs.

You nod, just once.

“Yeah.”

And for a moment, it’s quiet.

Not tense. Not sharp.

Just… quiet.

Then he sways slightly.

Your eyes widen. “Hey—”

“I’m fine—”

He’s not.

You move without thinking, stepping closer, grabbing his arm to steady him.

He freezes.

You freeze too.

Because this is the closest you’ve ever been.

Not just physically.

But like this.

“You’re not fine,” you say softly.

He doesn’t pull away.

“…I know.”

Your grip tightens slightly.

“Sit down before you pass out and make this worse.”

“Bossy.”

“Sit.”

He listens.

You help him lower onto the ledge, your hands lingering a second longer than necessary before pulling back.

“Do you always take care of masked vigilantes?” he asks quietly.

“Only the reckless ones.”

“So just me?”

“…So far.”

He huffs out a weak laugh.

And for a second he sounds like…

No.

You shake the thought away.

“Stay here,” you say. “I’ll grab something.”

“You’re leaving?”

“I’m going downstairs, not moving countries.”

“Still counts.”

You roll your eyes.

“I’ll be back.”

You don’t miss the way his shoulders relax slightly when you say that.

When you return, he’s still there.

Head tilted back, eyes closed behind the mask.

Breathing slow.

Steady.

Something about it—

About him—

Feels… fragile.

You kneel beside him, pulling out a small first aid kit you barely remember buying.

“Don’t make this weird,” you mutter.

“I’m not doing anything,” he murmurs.

“You’re existing dramatically.”

“Sorry, I’ll tone it down.”

You clean the wound carefully.

He barely flinches.

“You’re used to this,” you say.

“Yeah.”

“That’s not a good thing.”

“No,” he agrees. “It’s not.”

Your fingers pause for a second against his arm.

“…Why do you do it?” you ask quietly.

“Do what?”

“This,” you gesture vaguely. “Risk everything. For people you don’t even know.”

He’s quiet for a long time.

“…Because someone should,” he says finally.

“That’s not a reason.”

“It is to me.”

You shake your head.

“You’re going to get yourself killed.”

“Maybe.”

Your chest tightens again.

Frustration. Something else.

“Stop saying that like it doesn’t matter,” you snap.

“It matters,” he says softly. “Just… not more than this.”

You look at him.

Really look at him.

And for the first time—

You don’t see a mystery.

Or a headline.

You see someone who’s tired.

Who’s hurting. Who’s still choosing to go back out there anyway.

“…You’re an idiot,” you whisper.

He smiles faintly behind his mask.

“Yeah.”

And for the first time, you don’t argue.

You sit beside him.

Closer than before.

Not touching. But not far either.

The city stretches endlessly in front of you.

Lights flickering.

Alive.

“Don’t die,” you say quietly.

He turns his head toward you.

And even through the mask—

You can feel it.

That look.

“I’ll try,” he says.

But somehow—

That’s not enough.

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

─────────

Yunho doesn’t come home that night.

You don’t realize you’re waiting for him until it’s morning.

Your door opens at the usual time.

Out of habit. Out of routine you never meant to build.

Silence greets you.

No soft footsteps. No awkward “good morning.”

No coffee.

Your chest feels… wrong.

You ignore it.

“He’s just your neighbor,” you mutter under your breath, locking your door. “You are not emotionally invested in your neighbor.”

You repeat it once.

Twice.

It doesn’t work.

Work is worse. You can’t focus.

Every sentence you write feels off. Every headline too sharp, too dull, too something you can’t quite name.

Your editor notices.

“You look terrible,” he says bluntly.

“Thank you.”

“I mean it. Go home.”

“I’m working.”

“You’re staring at the same paragraph for twenty minutes.”

You glance at your screen.

He’s not wrong.

“…I’ll fix it,” you say.

“You won’t,” he replies. “Take the day.”

“I don’t take days.”

“You do today.”

You leave anyway.

Not because he told you to.

But because you can’t stop thinking.

About the rooftop.

About blood on red fabric.

About a voice that said I’ll try.

And somehow.

About Yunho.

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

─────────

When you get back to your apartment—

The hallway is still empty.

Your stomach sinks.

“…Okay,” you whisper. “This is ridiculous.”

You walk to his door.

Pause.

Then knock.

Nothing.

You knock again.

Louder this time.

Still nothing.

Your jaw tightens.

“Yunho, if you’re in there and ignoring me, I swear—”

A sound comes from inside.

You freeze.

Something shifts behind the door.

Heavy. Slow.

Then—

The lock clicks. The door opens.

And Yunho is there.

Your breath catches.

He looks… awful.

Pale. Hair damp, sticking to his forehead.

His hoodie hangs loosely, one sleeve slightly pulled down like he’s trying to hide something.

“Hey,” he says, voice rough. “You’re… home early.”

Your eyes narrow immediately.

“You look like you got hit by a truck.”

He lets out a weak laugh.

“Funny story—”

“Don’t,” you cut in, pushing the door open wider before he can stop you. “Move.”

“Wait—”

Too late. You step inside.

His apartment is… a mess.

Not in a careless, intentional way.

In a rushed way.

Like someone came in late, dropped everything, and didn’t have the energy to fix it.

Your eyes scan everything automatically.

Couch. Table.

Floor. 

And then—

You see it.

A roll of bandages.

Half-used. Sitting on the counter.

Your stomach drops.

“Yunho.”

He stiffens behind you.

“…Yeah?”

You turn slowly.

“Explain.”

He hesitates.

And that’s all you need.

“You’re hurt.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine.”

“I said I’m fine—”

“Stop lying.”

Silence.

Something in his expression gives in.

“…It’s not that bad,” he says quietly.

You don’t wait for permission.

You step closer.

Grab his wrist.

Pull his sleeve up.

He sucks in a breath.

And there it is.

A fresh bandage wrapped around his arm.

Poorly done.

Slightly stained through.

Your stomach tightens.

“…You call this ‘not that bad’?” you whisper.

He tries to joke.

“Okay, in my defense, I’ve had worse—”

“You need to stop saying that like it makes it better.”

The words slip out before you can stop them.

And suddenly—

You’re not just talking to him.

You’re talking to someone else too.

He notices.

Of course he does.

“…You’re doing it again,” he says softly.

You frown. “Doing what?”

“Talking like I’m someone else.”

Your grip loosens slightly.

“I’m not,” you say.

But it sounds weak.

Even to you.

Because you are.

Because last night, on the rooftop.

You said the same things. In the same tone.

With the same fear curling quietly under your ribs.

You let go of his arm.

Step back.

“…Sit,” you say.

He blinks.

“That sounded familiar.”

“Sit, Yunho.”

He listens. Again.

You grab the first aid kit from your bag.

When did you start carrying that around?

“You don’t have to—” he starts.

“Be quiet.”

He smiles faintly.

And something about that.

Something soft and trusting, makes your chest ache.

You kneel in front of him.

Carefully unwrap the bandage.

He tries not to react. But you see it.

The way his fingers twitch slightly. The way his breath shifts.

“…Idiot,” you murmur under your breath.

“Wow,” he says weakly. “You really know how to comfort someone.”

You ignore him.

Clean the wound. Rewrap it properly.

Your hands are steady.

Precise.

But your thoughts aren’t.

Because this—

This feels too familiar. Too close.

“You should’ve gone to a hospital,” you say.

“Didn’t want to make it a big deal.”

“It is a big deal.”

“I’m okay.”

You pause.

Look up at him.

“Stop saying that like it’s true.”

Silence.

And then—

“…You sound like you care,” he says.

Your breath catches.

You look away first.

“I care about people being stupid,” you reply.

“Ah,” he nods. “So this is professional concern.”

“Exactly.”

He studies you for a second longer than necessary.

But he doesn’t push.

“…Thank you,” he says instead.

And something about that hits harder than it should.

You finish wrapping his arm.

Start packing up.

But he doesn’t move.

“Hey,” he says softly.

You glance up.

“You ever think,” he continues, “that maybe some people aren’t trying to hide something bad?”

Your chest tightens.

“Then what are they hiding?” you ask.

He hesitates.

“…Something worth protecting.”

Your mind flashes—

To a rooftop. To a mask.

To a voice that said people get hurt.

You shake it off.

“That’s convenient,” you say. “For them.”

“Not really,” he murmurs.

You look at him again.

And for a second—

You don’t see your neighbor.

You see something else.

Something heavier. Something that carries more than it lets on.

And it unsettles you.

So you stand.

Put distance back between you.

“I should go,” you say.

He nods.

But he looks like he wants to say something else.

He doesn’t.

You reach the door.

Pause.

“…Try not to walk into any more aggressive doors,” you say.

He huffs out a quiet laugh.

“I’ll do my best.”

You open the door.

Step out.

But before you close it, you glance back.

He’s still watching you.

And for a second, you feel it again.

That strange, quiet pull.

Like something is connecting dots that you’re not ready to see yet.

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

─────────

That night you go to the rooftop again.

And he’s there. Of course he is.

“Hey,” Spiderman says.

You stare at him.

Longer this time. Harder.

“You’re late,” you say.

“…Got held up.”

Your eyes flicker briefly—

To his arm.

You can see a slight bulge of something wrapped around it. 

A bandage.

Your breath catches. Just for a second.

“Yeah,” you say slowly.

“Looks like it.”

He goes still.

“…You okay?” he asks.

You nod. Too quickly.

“Fine.”

But your mind is racing.

Same injury. Same place. Same timing.

Coincidence. It has to be.

Right?

“…You’re staring,” he says.

You blink.

Look away.

“Occupational habit.”

“Right,” he murmurs.

Silence stretches between you.

Thicker than before.

“…Do you ever lie?” you ask suddenly.

He freezes.

“…What?”

“Do you lie?” you repeat. “To people who trust you.”

A long pause.

“…Yeah,” he says quietly.

“Why?”

“…Because sometimes the truth puts them in danger.”

Your throat feels dry.

“And that makes it okay?”

“No,” he admits. “It just makes it necessary.

You laugh softly.

But there’s no humor in it.

“That sounds like something a guilty person would say.”

“Probably,” he agrees.

You look at him again.

Trying to  see through the mask.

“…If I found out who you were,” you say slowly, “would it change anything?”

His voice is barely above a whisper.

“It would change everything.”

And suddenly—

You’re not sure if you want the truth anymore.

Because for the first time, you feel like you have something to lose.

And you don’t even know when that happened.

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

─────────

© lcvejjoong, 2026

part 2

taglist: @darjeelinglemontea ❤︎@fluffypuddingatz ❤︎ @luumiinaa @snow0-0fairy @snow0-0fairy-writes @life-is-a-game-of-thrones@unfxrgetwble@hope122598 @diearama @honeybeehorizon @maidenless-soul

[hwaelysian]

snowbound - teaser.

𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭. 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐞.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: park seonghwa x reader x kim hongjoong 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: a snowbound train, a restless winter storm outside, and two strangers who make the night feel warmer than it should. some attractions are hard to resist, but in the stillness of the tracks, nothing is quite as it seems. 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: (?) 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: incubus!seonghwa, incubus!hongjoong, traveler!reader, confined space, aerophobia, snow storm, supernatural elements, slight gore, seduction manipulation, erotic content 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: reply/reblog for a tag.

𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐲.

[yungistiny]

frost and shadow

[J. Yunho + S. Mingi ]

╚═════════

chapter one: of shadows and winters wolf

summary: y/n had no idea running into the woods that day would end with her bound to the heir of the night court and forever twined between him and his best friend with winter at his fingertips

warning: under the influence of fae magic, more to be added

genre: romance, fantasy, throuple, smut

pairing: fae yunho x human afab reader x fae mingi

word count: 29.6k

chapter two coming soon

masterlist

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

The scent of bread drifted from the stone ovens of Briarwood village, clinging to the morning mist that curled through the cobblestone alleys. Market stalls lined the square, draped in faded silks and wild herbs, their owners bartering with low voices and warm smiles. A lute played somewhere near the well, a lazy, drifting tune that blended with the chirping of distant birds and the creak of merchant carts rolling past.

Y/N adjusted the hem of her dress, the soft fabric brushing her ankles as she stepped over a puddle of last night’s rain. The cream and burgundy of her gown glowed beneath the dappled sunlight filtering through the leaf heavy trees that surrounded the village, her sleeves billowing gently as she walked. Her fingers trailed along the edge of a cart stacked with lavender, the scent clinging to her skin.

“Don’t look now,” Jongho muttered at her side, “but old Liram is charging two silvers for a single apple again.” Y/N snorted softly, brushing her long hair over her shoulder. “Robbery,” she murmured. “Good thing we’re just window shopping.” Jongho smiled, that crooked grin that had stayed with her since childhood. He looked relaxed in his linen shirt and vest, a basket in one hand, a stick of honeyed nutbread in the other. It was an easy morning, like so many before it, where the world felt smaller, safer. But it only seemed small. Beyond the edge of the village, past the moss covered stones and gnarled birch trees, the forest waited. And beyond the forest lay the Fae Barrier.

Y/N didn’t look in that direction often. No one did. Not even the guards posted near the treeline. It wasn’t forbidden to live this close to the Fae realms, but it wasn’t encouraged either. Still… she’d always felt something stir in her chest when the wind shifted from that direction. Like the trees whispered a secret just out of reach. Today, she ignored it. She and Jongho had come for thread, maybe something sweet, and to enjoy the market while it was still safe. The raids had been getting worse, not from the Fae, but from men. Bandits. Desperate ones. But not this morning. This morning felt like a held breath. Quiet. Golden.

Y/N paused at a cart selling hand carved trinkets, eyes catching on a dark wooden figurine, wings arched behind its back, the face delicately carved into something beautiful. And sharp. She reached for it. “That’s not for you,” the old man behind the cart said. Not unkindly. Just certain. Y/N blinked. “Why not?” He shrugged. “Some things… know where they belong.” She let her hand fall but the figurine stayed with her as they walked away from the cart. Carved so small and delicate, yet it haunted her. Fae, she realized. “Still thinking about it?” Jongho asked, biting off another piece of nutbread. Y/N blinked out of her thoughts. “The carving?”

“No, the handsome blacksmith,” he teased, nudging her arm. “You were definitely staring.” She rolled her eyes, bumping him back. “Please. His beard looked like it was stitched on.” They wandered farther, laughter trailing behind them, weaving between stalls. Children played near the well, tossing flower crowns onto each other’s heads. Jongho stopped to chat with a merchant he knew from the city, and Y/N found herself drifting, slowly, quietly, toward the edge of the market. Past the dye stalls… past the fence of painted tin birds… and then she was near the forest’s edge.

It was a strange border. There was no wall, no magical shimmer, no warning. Just a thin, worn path veering off the main road, where the trees grew denser, their trunks pale and twisted like old bone. Birds no longer sang past this point. The air smelled different here, cooler, cleaner, but heavier too, as if each breath came wrapped in velvet. She shouldn’t have gotten this close. She knew that. And yet… something tugged at her. A gentle pull, like a memory or a forgotten melody brushing against the edges of her mind. She stepped forward. Only one step before a scream sounded.

Not hers. Not close. But near enough. Y/N spun, heart racing, skirts flaring. The market had erupted, shouts, metal clashing, the unmistakable crack of a torch being dropped. Jongho’s voice echoed through the chaos. “Y/N!” Bandits. Not Fae. Humans. Armed, desperate, and already tearing through the stalls like wolves through a coop. She turned to run back, but someone crashed into her. She hit the ground hard, breath gone from her chest, ears ringing.

Boots stomped past her, swords gleamed, people screamed. Someone kicked over a cart. Fire caught in a tapestry. Through the smoke and shouting, she heard him again, Jongho, calling for her. She tried to get up, stumbled, someone grabbed her wrist, a bandit trying to drag her but Y/N spun and started running. Not toward the village. Not toward the screams. Toward the trees. It wasn’t smart. But her feet were faster than her thoughts. She didn’t stop until the world grew darker, the light behind her swallowed by tangled branches and moss laden trunks. The sounds of the raid faded, replaced by a low wind rustling the leaves like a whisper in another tongue.

She turned in a slow circle, chest rising and falling. She was past the line. She didn’t know it yet. But something else did. She slowed only once her breath burned her throat, hands trembling as she gripped the rough bark of a tree. Her ears strained for noise, any sign of Jongho, of the village, of anything familiar, but there was only silence. Not peaceful silence. Predator silence. She turned slowly, heart hammering against her ribs. The forest here was older. Wilder. The trees leaned close together like they were conspiring. The air was thick, not just with mist but with magic, she could feel it in her skin, humming low beneath her flesh like a vibration. And then it shifted.

The birds didn’t flee. They had long since vanished. But something else moved. Branches snapped behind her. Heavy. Deliberate. She froze. Barely breathed. Another snap. Closer. Then she saw it. It stepped from the shadows like it had always been part of them, massive, hunched, and wrong. It’s back scraped the lower branches, it’s claws dragged against the ground, and it’s eyes… it’s eyes glowed gold through the gloom. Not the gleam of intelligence. The gleam of hunger. Its head resembled a wolf, elongated and snarling, but the bulk of it was too massive, like a bear, shoulders thick with muscle, haunches too wide, claws like daggers. Fur matted in patches, wet and dark, the color of rot and ash.

It sniffed the air. And turned toward her and Y/N bolted. Her dress snagged on underbrush, thorns tore at her sleeves, roots clawed at her feet, but she didn’t stop. She couldn’t. The beast behind her gave a growl that turned into something more, a deep, guttural roar that echoed through the trees, shaking birds loose from branches far above. The ground sloped downward and she stumbled, slid and kept running as the creature followed, crashing through the forest like a storm given form, branches cracking under its weight. It didn’t need stealth. It was terror. It knew she was alone, knew she was human, knew….

She tripped. Her knees slammed into moss and stone, hands scraping raw as she hit the forest floor. She turned, gasping, dress soaked in dew and dirt, as the beast approached. Closer now. Eyes locked on her. Mouth open. Teeth bared. But a shadow moved suddenly. Not hers. Not the creature’s. Something else. Something fast. Something silent as the creature lunged. Y/N’s scream barely left her lips before something else hit the clearing, a blur of motion, blacker than shadow, faster than lightning.

The creature snarled mid leap, twisted in the air, and then…. CRACK. A sound like bone shattering echoed through the trees making Y/N flinch, blinking against the blur, trying to make sense of what she was seeing. The beast lay twitching, chest heaving. And standing above it, unmoving, was a figure cloaked in darkness. Tall. Broad shouldered. Wrapped in a long coat of black that flowed around him like smoke. His hair, dark, messy, and windblown, fell across his brows, eyes burning beneath it like dying stars. He didn’t speak at first. He just looked at the dying creature beneath his boot, then lifted a hand, fingers splayed. The shadows around him moved. Tendrils of dark slipped from beneath his sleeves, from his palms, from the very ground beneath him, and wrapped around the beast’s body. It gave one last gurgling wheeze. Then stilled.

Y/N could barely breathe. Her hands trembled against the forest floor, dirt streaked across her gown, blood from her scraped palms dotting the pale fabric. She opened her mouth to speak, to thank him, maybe, but he turned on her with lightning speed. Before she could blink, he was in front of her, crouched low, one hand gripping her arm in a firm, cold grasp. “Why,” he hissed, voice low and sharp as a blade, “are you in our lands?” Y/N stared at him, wide eyed, heart thundering. His features were unreal up close, sharp, elegant, carved from something ancient and beautiful. Too beautiful. Then she caught a glimpse of his pointed tipped ears. Fae. “I…. I didn’t mean to,” she stammered. “I was running. I didn’t know…”

“You crossed the border.” His eyes flared, shadows writhing behind him. “Humans don’t survive here.” He yanked her to her feet, easily, as if she weighed nothing, and spun her around toward the direction she came. “Go. Now. Before something worse finds you.” She stumbled forward, heart pounding, legs shaking. But then, a voice like oiled silk slipped through the trees. “Well, well. Isn’t this a charming little scene.” The fae man that saved her stiffened behind her. His grip didn’t loosen, but he turned his head, just enough to glance sideways. Y/N followed his gaze and saw a man saunter into the clearing, hands behind his back, smile sharp enough to cut. He looked like nobility dressed in arrogance, pale hair slicked back, ears on display, cloak pristine, eyes like moonstone and just as cold.

“Tidus,” Y/N’s reluctant fae savior growled and Tidus smiled wide. “You know the law, Yunho. A fae saves a human life…” Yunho’s jaw clenched as Tidus continued, stepping closer with maddening calm, “She belongs to you now.” Y/N’s heart dropped like a stone. “Wait…. what?” she breathed, twisting to look between the two fae. “No. No, no, that’s… there must be a mistake. I only ran in here by accident. I didn’t know. I wasn’t trying to cross. There were bandits… real ones…. attacking the village, I just ran and didn’t look where I was going, I didn’t mean to….” Her voice cracked. Her hands trembled, dirt caked in her scraped palms as she took a shaky step back from both of them. “This isn’t fair. You can’t just say I’m… his.”

Tidus let out a slow, amused exhale, eyes gleaming as if this were the best entertainment he’d had in centuries. “Oh, sweetheart,” he purred. “Intent doesn’t matter. The magic doesn’t care about your reasons.” He stepped closer, his smile all thorns. “Fae law is simple. One of us saves one of you, and the bond is sealed. It’s old magic. Deep magic. Unbreakable.” Y/N looked to Yunho desperately, but he wasn’t looking at her. He was still glaring at Tidus, shadows curling slowly around his shoulders like smoke licking the edges of a flame. “And him,” Tidus added with a low chuckle, “him of all fae, Yunho, the crown prince of the Night Court, oh, your timing is perfect.” He gave an exaggerated sigh. “Your father is going to love this.”

Yunho’s jaw ticked. “Tidus….”

“He hates humans,” Tidus continued, grinning now, almost delighted. “Despises them, actually. Says they’re filth with no place in our realm. And yet here you are. Standing here with one across the border like she’s a lost kitten. A cute one, mind you.” Yunho stepped forward, barely, but the shadows at his feet surged making Tidus raise his hands, feigning innocence. “Now, now. I’m only speaking the truth. You saved her. She’s yours. And your father will either demand you cast her out and let the magic kill her, or accept her and choke on the shame of it.”

Y/N shook her head. “I didn’t ask to be saved.” Tidus turned toward her again, voice syrupy and cruel. “And yet here you are. Bound to the heir of the Night Court.” Her breath hitched. Bound. Her eyes snapped to Yunho, who still hadn’t looked at her. She was shaking. Cold. Confused. Her world had broken apart in minutes and now the pieces no longer fit. “I want to go home,” she whispered and Yunho’s jaw clenched again as Tidus just smiled cruelly amused.

Y/N didn’t think. She just ran. Her feet hit the forest floor hard, skirts gathered in her fists as she bolted between the trees, breath tearing from her chest in sharp, panicked gasps. Branches lashed at her arms, thorns snagged her sleeves, but she didn’t slow, not until she reached the edge of the clearing, until she could see the faint thinning of the trees where the forest lightened, where the air felt less heavy. Home was there. Just a little farther. She pushed harder….. and her body stopped. Not stumbled. Not tripped. Stopped. Mid step. Her foot hovered inches above the ground, muscles locked, lungs burning as if the air had suddenly turned to stone in her chest. Panic surged, sharp and blinding, as she tried to move again. Nothing.

Her fingers twitched uselessly. Her legs refused to obey. It felt as if invisible hands wrapped around her spine, her ribs, her very bones, holding her in place with unyielding force. “No…. no, please,” she whispered, terror clawing up her throat. “Please…” She tried to scream. The sound barely escaped her lips as footsteps crunched behind her, unhurried. Calm. Tidus’s voice came first, smooth and satisfied. “Told you.” She felt tears spill hot and helpless down her cheeks as the pressure tightened, not painful, but absolute. Like the world itself had decided she was not allowed to leave.

Yunho appeared in her peripheral vision next, shadows coiling around him like living things. He stopped a few steps away, eyes locked on her rigid form, and for the first time, he looked shaken. The magic thrummed between them, ancient and unmistakable. A low, resonant pull settled in his chest, heavy as a chain snapping into place. Bound. Y/N’s knees finally gave as the spell loosened just enough to let her collapse forward, but she never hit the ground. Yunho caught her. One arm wrapped around her waist, the other bracing her shoulders as her legs folded beneath her. She clutched at his coat instinctively, fingers digging into black fabric as she gasped for breath, body shaking. “I can’t…” she choked. “I tried to run. It wouldn’t let me.”

“I know,” Yunho said quietly. His voice had changed. Gone was the sharp edge, the command. What remained was low, controlled, threaded with something dangerously close to guilt. He straightened, lifting her easily against his chest, her head resting just beneath his chin. Tidus watched with open amusement. “Ah. There it is. The bond asserting itself. Strong, too. Must’ve rooted deep.” Yunho’s shadows flared, dark tendrils snapping outward before reining themselves back in. “Enough.” Tidus only laughed softly. “You feel it now, don’t you? The pull. The responsibility.” His cold eyes flicked down to Y/N. “She’s not going anywhere.”

Y/N’s grip tightened on Yunho’s coat as she looked up at him, eyes glassy with fear. “You won’t… give me to him, will you?” Yunho’s jaw set. “No,” he said. Firm. Certain. “I won’t.” Tidus arched a brow. “Careful, my prince. That sounded an awful lot like attachment.” Yunho didn’t respond. He simply turned, shadows opening a path deeper into the forest, away from the border, away from the life she knew. And carried her with him.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

They stopped just before the Night Court’s edge, where the trees thinned and the mountain cliffs began to rise like carved obsidian. Moonlight spilled over the landscape in silvery waves, illuminating the faint outline of a distant city carved into the side of the cliffs. The Moon City. A place built of secrets and shadowglass, where stars were caught in lanterns and the cobbled streets whispered with old magic. But Y/N didn’t see any of it. She was slumped against the base of a twisted silverwood tree, unconscious, her chest rising and falling in shallow, even breaths. Dirt streaked her cheeks. Her dress was torn at the hem. One of her hands curled loosely around the edge of Yunho’s coat, even now.

Yunho stood a few paces away, pacing the edge of a narrow ridge like a tethered storm. His hair was pushed back from his face now, shadows clinging to his shoulders like a cloak that refused to fall. His hands were clenched into fists. Every few seconds, a ripple of power surged from him, the kind that made the trees lean back. And nearby, leaning casually against a boulder as if he hadn’t just stirred an ancient law into chaos, Tidus. Smiling, arms crossed, perfectly unbothered. “You might as well just accept it,” he said lazily, examining his nails. “The girl’s yours now. You should’ve just let that beast tear her in half. Would’ve saved everyone the trouble.”

Yunho stopped pacing slowly and turned. Tidus grinned wider. “But no. You had to play noble. And now? Well…” He gestured vaguely toward Y/N. “If she even thinks about crossing the border again, that magic will snap her like a twig.” Yunho’s expression didn’t change. But the air around him grew colder. Still. “You think I don’t know that?” he said, voice low, controlled. Tidus lifted a brow. “I think you’re pretending it’s not going to get worse. You haven’t even brought her into the city yet, and already she’s shaking like a leaf. Just wait until your father sees her.” Yunho’s jaw flexed, and his gaze flicked briefly back to Y/N and Tidus followed it, then hummed. “She’s pretty. For a human. That won’t matter when Alec finds out. You think he’ll tolerate you dragging her into court? You think he’ll let her live?”

Yunho’s voice dropped, barely more than a whisper. “I’ll protect her.” Tidus laughed. “You don’t get it, do you? She’s not just with you now. She’s part of you. Every breath. Every wound. Every thought.” He tapped his temple. “That bond doesn’t just link bodies. It links souls.” Yunho’s hands curled tighter at his sides. Shadows pulsed once, dark and slow like a heartbeat and Tidus smirked. “You can try to deny it all you want,” he said. “But you feel her already. Don’t you?” Yunho said nothing. But his eyes drifted back to Y/N. And this time, they didn’t leave her as she began to move.

Y/N stirred beneath a stretch of woven velvet. The fabric was unfamiliar, soft but heavy, scented faintly of cedar and smoke. Her lashes fluttered. Her muscles ached. Her mind felt foggy, like she’d been drifting too close to some deep current, and just now broke the surface. She gasped. Sat upright. But before she could panic again, a voice, low and calm, cut through the haze. “You’re safe.” Her head snapped toward it. Yunho stood only a few feet away, hands folded behind his back. The wind tugged at his hair. His expression was unreadable, but his voice had lost the edge from earlier. We have to go,” he said simply. “We’re close to the city. I’d rather be inside the walls before the patrols shift.” Y/N blinked at him, throat dry. “City?” He hesitated for a moment. “The Night Court.”

Her stomach flipped. But before she could protest, the shadows behind him pulled apart like a curtain, and the path lit by soft floating orbs of pale blue shimmered into being. A road woven between obsidian trees, paved in black stone veined with silver, led them toward the jagged rise of the cliffs. And above, carved into the very mountainside, was something she couldn’t have imagined in her wildest dreams. The Moon City. It rose like a dream of starlight and stone, buildings etched with glowing runes, towers like blades of onyx piercing the sky, bridges suspended in air between spires of silvered glass. Everything glowed softly with magic. The city was alive with it, breathing, pulsing. And silent. Too silent.

Yunho approached her, offering his hand. She didn’t take it. But she followed, wrapping herself in his coat she still clung to. They walked side by side in silence for nearly a mile, Tidus trailing behind, the air thick with tension and unspoken thoughts. The cliffs loomed higher, and the gates finally came into view, two towering crescent shaped doors, wrought from black metal that shimmered with constellations. Each star etched into them pulsed faintly, as though sensing Yunho’s approach. The guards were already waiting. Four of them. Clad in black armor with helms like split moonstone, long spears resting against their shoulders. Their eyes, cold, fae, unblinking, tracked every step Y/N took. And when they saw her… they stilled.

One of them shifted slightly. Not reaching for his weapon, but close and Yunho caught it. “She’s with me,” he said. Quiet. Final, but still, they stared. Y/N felt it like needles along her skin. That she didn’t belong. That no one like her ever had. Because no human had ever walked these gates before. She swallowed, the urge to shrink back nearly overwhelming. But then Yunho moved forward, slow and certain. The gates didn’t creak. Didn’t groan. They breathed. Light shimmered through the veins of the metal, glowing brighter with each step until, whoosh, they pulled apart, silent as a sigh. And before them, the moon city opened like a secret. Yunho glanced at her once, just briefly as Tidus trudged past them, snickering to himself. “Stay close,” he murmured. “They don’t like surprises.” Then he stepped forward and Y/N followed him into the heart of the Night Court.

The Moon City was unnaturally quiet. Not silent, but hushed in a way that made every footstep echo. Every whisper carry. Y/N followed just behind Yunho, her head slightly bowed, though she kept her eyes moving. It was impossible not to. The city was breathtaking, beautiful in a way that felt forbidden. Buildings carved directly into the mountain glimmered with veins of crystal and silver lit runes. Shadow lanterns floated lazily through the air, illuminating cobblestone streets of black glass. Bridges arched over rivers of what looked like liquid starlight. Markets had closed for the night, but she could still see them, open air stalls draped in gossamer, bottles glowing faintly in their racks, silks that shimmered like fog. And everywhere she looked, eyes. Fae eyes. Fae ears. Fae beauty. All of them watching her. Men and women paused in alleyways. Children peeked from behind courtyards. Guard patrols stood straighter, spears tilting slightly toward her as she passed. No one spoke directly to them. But the whispers were already spreading like wildfire.

“A human?”

“Is she glamoured?”

“Why is she with the prince?”

“Has the heir lost his mind?”

Yunho said nothing. He didn’t even look at them, his presence was enough to keep them from getting too close, but it didn’t stop the stares. Y/N kept her head down. She could feel it crawling over her, judgment, suspicion, disgust. Her stomach twisted. Her boots clicked softly over polished obsidian stone, every step an echo of not belonging. And then the city parted. They reached the foot of a vast stairway carved into the mountainside itself. It rose into the dark like something out of myth, lined in glowing runes, flanked by statues of creatures she couldn’t name. Winged beasts. Cloaked figures. Something with antlers and a crown of thorns. And at the top, the Palace of Shadows. Not a castle, exactly. Not in the human sense. It was too… fluid. Parts of it flickered faintly at the edges, as though it wasn’t always fully there. Towers rose like midnight flame, curved windows framed in silver, the entire structure shifting with the light, blending into the mountain, into the sky, into nothing at all.

Y/N stopped at the base of the stairs. “That’s your home?” Yunho paused beside her. For a moment, his expression flickered, just enough for her to catch it. Weariness. “Yes,” he said. Then, quieter, “It’s not as cold as it looks.” She looked at the hundreds of steps. The shadows curling at the doors. The palace that looked like it was born from the bones of the moon. “I don’t think I believe you,” she muttered and Yunho’s mouth twitched. Almost a smile. Almost. But he didn’t respond. He just started up the steps. And behind them, the whispers followed.

The palace was even darker inside. Not with gloom, but with elegance. Velvet shadows clung to every surface, broken only by flickering wall sconces of silver fire that burned without smoke or scent. The air was cooler here, charged with quiet power. Every hall echoed like it had ears. Yunho walked with purpose, steps long and sure, and Y/N stayed close, practically glued to his side now, wishing his coat could make her disappear. The further they went, the more the shadows seemed to move on their own. Some doors opened for Yunho without him touching them. Some whispered as they passed. She tried not to look too closely at the portraits on the walls, some of the faces didn’t stay still. At the end of a long hall, two towering doors stood closed, carved from deep obsidian and inlaid with silver veins in the shape of a great crescent moon. Two guards stood before them, expressionless, armor gleaming black under the low light. They didn’t move, didn’t question Yunho’s approach. They simply opened the doors. And the throne room swallowed them whole.

It was massive, an open rotunda beneath a vaulted ceiling painted with stars that moved. The floor was polished black glass, reflecting every step like a mirror. Pillars rose like spears into the dark, and at the far end sat a crescent shaped dais. Upon it, a throne of jagged stone. And on that throne… Alec. Yunho’s father. The King of the Night Court. He was draped in deep violet robes lined in fur, crown like forged moonlight twisted around his brow. His hair was ink black and slicked back, no softness in the angles of his face. His eyes were silver. Piercing. Cold. He looked like a statue carved from ice and obsidian. Yunho didn’t bow. He only stopped a few paces short, standing straight, hands behind his back. “Father.” Alec’s gaze flicked from Yunho to Y/N. Slowly. Sharply. And the silence that followed was absolute. What,” Alec said, voice deep and razor edged, “is that?” Y/N froze but Yunho didn’t blink. “She’s human,” he said. Calm. Controlled. “I saved her life.” Alec’s stare sharpened. “So you’ve brought a pet.” He practically hissed.

“No,” Yunho said, louder this time. “I’ve brought someone who is now bound to me. The law was witnessed. The magic sealed it.” The room seemed to inhale as Alec rose, slow and deliberate. “You bound yourself… to a human?” Yunho’s spine straightened, chin raised. “I didn’t choose it. The magic did.” Alec descended the dais, each step echoing like a crack of thunder against the glass floor. “And yet you brought her here. Across the border. Into this palace. Into my court.” He stopped just in front of Yunho, his height matching his son’s, but his aura was heavier, oppressive. Then he turned to Y/N and his lip curled. “You should have let her die.”

Yunho moved subtly. A shift. A shadow curling tighter behind his heels. “Stop glaring at her like you’re going to rip her throat out,” he said and Alec’s eyes snapped back to his son. Dangerous. But Yunho didn’t flinch. “I’ll take responsibility for her,” he said. “Whatever it costs.” Alec was silent. For a beat. Two. Then, he smiled. But it wasn’t kind. “You will.” Then he turned and walked back toward his throne, robe trailing behind him like spilled ink. “She stays. But not in the guest wing.” Yunho’s brow furrowed. “Where, then?” Alec sat. “In yours.”

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The silence in the palace halls was thicker now. Yunho didn’t speak as they left the throne room, just walked with tight shoulders and a clenched jaw, each step sharper than the last. Y/N followed without question. Her pulse still hadn’t settled from Alec’s stare, and her hands had curled into fists just to keep them from shaking. She wasn’t sure what was worse, the king’s disgust, or Yunho’s absolute calm in the face of it. The corridors they passed were more ornate now, arched ceilings carved with constellations, floor mosaics of dragons and wolves and crowned stags. Lanterns floated in slow spirals overhead, casting silver light across the velvet lined walls.

Eventually, Yunho stopped at a tall black door etched with crescent runes. He waved a hand and the lock clicked softly, the door creaking open. Y/N hesitated as Yunho stepped inside first and glanced over his shoulder. “Come on.” The room inside wasn’t what she expected. It was large, but not cold. Dark wood floors, shelves full of old books, and windows looking out over the cliffside view of the city far below. A fireplace glowed low in the corner, flames blue. The bed, massive and low to the ground, was wrapped in black linens and draped with shadow thin silk. Candles burned without flame, just quiet orbs of silvery light hovering in glass. It didn’t feel like royalty. It felt like someone who didn’t want to be seen. Yunho crossed the room, grabbed a folded blanket from the window bench, and set it on the edge of the bed. “You’ll stay here for now.”

Y/N blinked, removing his coat and handing it back to him. “This is your room?” She had never stayed in a room so luxurious before. “I’m not staying.” His tone was clipped. “I’ll get a room arranged for you. Just… stay here until I come back. Don’t open the door for anyone. Don’t answer if someone knocks.” She stared at him but he didn’t meet her eyes. “I don’t want to be here,” she said quietly and Yunho sighed. “I know.” He finally turned to her. His expression was unreadable, but his voice was softer now, lower. “I don’t know your name….” She stared at him, hesitant before giving it to him. “Y/N.”

Yunho repeated her name quietly to himself before stepping a little closer, gripping his coat in his hand. “I didn’t ask for this either,” he said. “But I won’t let them hurt you. Not even my father.” Y/N swallowed hard, unsure if she wanted to scream or cry or just sleep for a decade. “Don’t be long,” she whispered. Yunho nodded once before he left. The door clicked shut behind him and Y/N stood alone in the middle of a prince’s bedroom, in a palace of shadows, in a kingdom that hated her. And for the first time since the raid, she let herself fall to the floor and breathe.

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The silence after Yunho left felt alive. It pressed into Y/N’s skin, crawling under it like cold mist. But eventually, her legs stopped shaking, and she rose slowly from the floor. The fire still burned low as she wandered. Not far, just enough to distract herself, to breathe. Her fingers brushed the spine of a book on a nearby shelf. Then another. And another. Hundreds lined the walls, the titles in languages she couldn’t read, some without titles at all, just symbols etched in silver or black ink. She pulled one free. Inside, hand drawn diagrams of constellations, circles of magic, binding sigils. But what caught her eye more were the loose papers tucked between books. Drawings. Dozens of them.

Some were rough sketches. Some were detailed enough to look alive. Wings. Creatures. Landscapes. A lone tree on a cliff beneath a cracked moon. One of an older fae woman that resembled Yunho in features. And in the margins, little handwritten notes. So…. he draws. She set the pages down carefully. Her heart still felt bruised, but there was something grounding in it. He wasn’t just a blade in black. He thought. He saw the world. Maybe even felt it. She turned toward the bed and froze as the door creaked open. Panic bloomed. She backed up fast, hands trembling as she nearly tripped over a velvet cushion on the floor.

A figure stepped inside. Tall. Broad. Not Yunho. Definitely not Yunho. He wore all black too, looser, draped, more casual, but his long coat was left open, inside silk white, revealing a loose shirt beneath and wide silver white cuffs at his wrists. His pale blue gray hair was pushed back messily, strands falling into his eyes. His presence was colder than Yunho’s, more unpredictable. His expression unreadable. Until he saw her and he stopped. Stormy silver unnaturally colored eyes, like the shade of a winters storm, scanned her, confused, cautious, and then narrowing slightly. His mouth parted like he might speak, but all that came out was… “You are not Yunho.”

Y/N’s heart pounded. “He’s not here,” she said quickly. “He said to stay…. he left… he said he was coming back with a room….” The stranger held up a hand, brow still furrowed. “Whoa. Slow down.” He stepped fully into the room, gaze sweeping over her, first at the dress, then the torn hem, then the faint smudge of dirt still on her wrist. “You’re a human,” he said flatly and Y/N’s spine straightened. “Seriously, is that stamped on my forehead?” He blinked. “No. Just… what the hell are you doing in Yunho’s room?” That got her. She opened her mouth. Closed it. Then, a little bitterly, “Apparently, I’m his problem now.” The man squinted. “What?” She stepped back toward the fire, letting her hands drop to her sides. “He saved my life. Something about fae magic. Bonded or bound or whatever it is you people do when you save someone and then treat them like they ruined your week.”

The stranger stared at her for a long beat. Then ran a hand down his face. “Oh, he really didn’t mention this.” Y/N crossed her arms. “You two close?” The stranger grinned then, almost like a wolf. “Close enough I should’ve heard about the mortal girl sleeping in his bed.” She blushed instantly. “I’m not… I’m not sleeping in his bed.” His smirk told her he didn’t believe it. Then he softened. Just a bit. “I’m Mingi,” he said, finally stepping closer and offering a hand. “I don’t usually walk into Yunho’s room expecting guests, but… guess tonight’s special.” Y/N hesitated… then shook it. “Y/N,” she said. “And trust me…. special’s not the word I’d use.”

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Mingi closed Yunho’s bedroom door behind him, still blinking like he wasn’t entirely sure what he’d just walked into. A human. In his best friend’s room. And not just any human. She looked like she’d gone through hell, scraped hands, torn dress, guarded eyes, but still had the fire to snap back at him with attitude. He grinned as he walked down the candlelit hall, hands in his pockets, steps light on the polished stone. “You are not Yunho,” he muttered to himself, mocking his own first words with a smirk. “No shit.” He turned the next corridor and found Yunho just ahead, deep in quiet conversation with one of the palace attendants, a young male fae dressed in crisp silver trimmed robes. Wooyoung.

They stood near the grand staircase that spiraled toward the private wings, and Yunho, as always, was composed. Even after tonight. Even now. “The room two doors down from mine,” Yunho was saying, voice low but calm. “Prepare it for a guest. Fresh linens, warm water. No questions.” Wooyoung bowed dramatically. “Yes, my prince. Yunho nodded once and turned just as Mingi stepped into view, arms crossed, that stupid smirk already stretching across his face and Yunho sighed the moment he saw him. “I don’t want to hear it.”

“Oh, you absolutely do,” Mingi said, laughing. “You have a human. In your room.” Yunho gave him a warning glare. “It’s temporary.” Mingi snorted. “Sure it is,” He drawled, stepping up beside him as Yunho pinched the bridge of his nose. “I didn’t exactly have a choice.” Mingi’s grin only widened. “You never bring anyone to your room. Not even the other heirs during court season. Not even me half the time.” Yunho scoffed at him. “Because you rifle through my shit.” Mingi grinned. “I still do, you just don’t catch me.” Yunho gave him a sideways glance, dry and unimpressed as Mingi leaned casually against the railing. “She’s beautiful…. for a human.” Yunho didn’t answer. Didn’t have to. The silence was already loud enough.

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The knock on the door came soft, but firm. Y/N startled, again, and turned quickly from the window where she’d been staring out at the endless, starlit drop below the cliffside. Her fingers were still twitching from nerves, every creak of the palace sounding like danger. But the door didn’t creak open ominously this time. It opened gently and Yunho stood there. Composed. Tired. Still cloaked in black and shadow, but something in his expression looked… softened. Behind him, leaned against the opposite wall with his arms crossed, was Mingi, grinning like he was watching a slow burn story of chaos unfold before him. “We’ve prepared your room,” Yunho said.

Y/N nodded stiffly, brushing her palms down the sides of her skirt. She didn’t move right away. “So I’m getting kicked out of your space now?” Mingi snorted behind him as Yunho’s eyes flicked to her, tired, patient. “I told you it was temporary.” Still, there was no sharpness to it. Just inevitability as Y/N walked past him wordlessly, catching the faint scent of cedar and night air as she passed. Mingi gave her a short bow that was equal parts mockery and charm. “Lady Human.”

“Oh, my gods,” she muttered.

They didn’t go far, just two doors down the hall, but it might as well have been another world. The door here was simpler, carved from dark wood rather than veined obsidian. Still elegant. Still royal. But not his. Yunho opened it for her and gestured her inside. The room was smaller than his, but still impossibly grand. Canopy bed. Fireplace already lit with that same blue flame. Windows overlooking the dark valley. A small dressing table, a wardrobe she didn’t want to think about filling, and…. a fae inside. Young looking. Slender. Raven hair falling into his eyes, which were sharp and dark as ink. He wore black and silver robes, fitted and stylish, sleeves rolled to his elbows. He was currently fluffing a pillow with unnecessary force.

“Oh,” he said brightly when they entered. “She’s cute.” Y/N blinked as Yunho sighed. “Wooyoung.”

“What?” The fae, Wooyoung, apparently, turned and gave Y/N a dazzling smile. “She’s the first human to ever sleep in the Moon City without being, you know, chained to a wall. I feel like that earns her a compliment.” He was joking, only half heartedly as Yunho gave him a flat look. “She’s your charge. Try not to scare her.” Wooyoung gasped, feigning as if he had been insulted. “Try? I thought it was mandatory.” Mingi chuckled behind them as Y/N looked between them, eyes narrowing. “He’s my what now?” Yunho turned to her, finally meeting her gaze. “He’s a servant of the lesser court. Assigned to this wing. He’ll assist you. Clothes, food, directions, anything you need. Just… be clear.”

“Please,” Wooyoung cut in with a wink. “Be very clear. I’m wildly efficient but tragically under supervised.” Y/N raised a brow. “And what exactly do you get out of this?” Wooyoung grinned. “Oh,” he purred, “I live for gossip. And your existence is going to turn this entire court on its head.” Y/N exhaled slowly and looked back at Yunho. “You sure I can’t stay in your room?” Mingi wheezed behind them but Yunho didn’t react. Instead, he simply said, “If you need anything, real help, ask for me directly. Not him.” Wooyoung gasped, offended. “I’m right here, you know.”

“I know.” Yunho turned to go, nodding once toward Mingi, who pushed off the wall to follow as Y/N stepped into her new room slowly, eyes trailing over the space. “Do you at least know how to make tea?” she asked over her shoulder. “Darling,” Wooyoung said, already opening the wardrobe with flair, “I know how to make scandal. Tea’s a warm up.”

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The door to Yunho’s quarters whispered shut behind him with a quiet click. He exhaled slowly and finally let the tension in his shoulders bleed out as he crossed the room. His coat hit the back of a chair. His fingers raked through his hair. He was halfway to pouring himself a glass of something strong when the door opened again without a knock. Yunho didn’t even look up. “Why are you still here?” Mingi strode in like he owned the place, tossing himself onto the cushioned bench by the fire, stretching long limbs like a lounging cat as Yunho gave him a pointed stare. “You said you were going home. For your brother’s wedding.”

“I was,” Mingi replied, flopping onto his side and stealing the glass Yunho had just poured. “But then my father started in on the whole marry someone respectable speech again.” Yunho raised a brow, crossing his arms. “You mean the speech he’s been giving you since you turned 100?” Mingi took a sip. “This time he named names.” Yunho turned back toward the sideboard, muttering, “Let me guess. Priscilla.”

“Priscilla,” Mingi groaned, flopping onto his back with all the grace of a dying swan. “She’s like two hundred years older than me. She calls me, little one. Little one, Yunho.” Yunho winced. “That’s a crime.”

“Right?!” Mingi sat up. “She has a collection of gemstone frogs. She said one looked like me.” Yunho looked vaguely horrified. “You made the right call.” Mingi grinned. “So instead of being force fed bridal ceremonies and betrothal contracts, I came back to find you playing house with a mortal girl.” Yunho shot him a glare over his shoulder. “I’m not playing anything.” Mingi just took another drink, smug. “You know, the last time you broke protocol, it was over me sneaking firewhiskey into the star chamber. Now it’s over a human with dirt on her knees.”

“Don’t push it.” Yunho glared. “You’re just lucky I came back when I did. Imagine poor Y/N opening the door to your father’s wrath instead of my face.” He raised the glass like a toast. “You’re welcome, by the way.” Yunho dragged a hand down his face as Mingi laughed softly. Then, a little more gently, “She looked scared, man.” Yunho didn’t answer right away. He just looked toward his door, toward the direction of the hall where her room now sat. “I know,” he said finally as Mingi tilted his head. “You’re already protective.”

“It’s the bond.”

“No,” Mingi said quietly, “it’s you.”

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Y/N had just curled up by the fire with a cup of whatever warm herbal nonsense Wooyoung had insisted she drink when he returned, arms dramatically full, eyes alight with purpose. “I come bearing gifts,” he announced, shouldering the door open with his hip. She blinked as he swept past her, arms stacked with fabric that shimmered like starlight and shadows. “Wait, what is all that?” Wooyoung grinned. “Your new wardrobe. You’re in the Night Court now, darling. You can’t go around looking like you crawled out of a storybook peasant tragedy.”

“I was almost eaten by a monster,” she muttered, setting the cup down. “Exactly,” he said, already laying the dresses out across the bed with delicate care. “Which is why we’re going full dark enchantress with your look. Let them stare, they’re going to choke on how good you look doing it.” He fluffed the first gown, sleek, corseted black with a structured bodice, intricate embroidery like vines across the neckline, and a matching high neck cloak embroidered with silver. Regal. Striking. Untouchable. “This one?” he said, “Screams, try me and die. It’s my personal favorite.”

Next, he spread out a softer silhouette, flowing black with sheer off shoulder sleeves that trailed like smoke, cinched at the waist with a delicate chain of star shaped charms. It was haunting and ethereal, less armor, more mystery. “And this one?” Wooyoung turned with a wink. “You wear this to stroll past the nobles who said you’d never last a week. Bonus if your hair’s still damp and you don’t make eye contact.” Y/N stepped forward, brushing her fingers over the last dress. Midnight blue velvet. Deep neckline. Beaded with starlight and snowflake glimmers. The sleeves were sheer lace, bell shaped at the wrist, and the bodice hugged the waist like a whispered threat. She whispered, “This is… beautiful…. It looks like…. Darkness and winter.”

Wooyoung placed his hands on his hips, eyes softening. “You are in the land of dreams, sweetheart. You should feel like one.” Y/N swallowed. She hadn’t worn anything this beautiful in her entire life. Let alone been given something like this. “I don’t even know how to put something like that on,” she admitted and Wooyoung’s grin turned wicked. “Lucky for you, I do. Now choose. Because eventually, His Broody Highness will come knocking.”

And Wooyoung didn’t joke, the knock on Y/N’s door was a single, firm thud thud about an hour later. Wooyoung raised a brow from where he was fussing with the collar of her cloak. “That’ll be your new owner.” Y/N groaned. “Please stop saying that.” He just winked, smoothing the fabric one last time before stepping back. “Just remember, chin up, spine straight, and if anyone even looks like they want to bite you, bite first.” Before she could reply, the door opened and Yunho stood there. He paused the moment he saw her. And stayed paused. His jaw flexed once. Then again.

Y/N’s throat dried. The dress was the midnight velvet one, deep blue that shimmered like ink under moonlight, cinched at the waist, long sleeved and low cut, the bodice sculpted like it was made for her. Her hair was pulled back loosely, two strands framing her face. The dark cloak hung from her shoulders like a whisper as Yunho’s eyes dragged down, then back up, and his lips parted. “That’s the one you picked?”

“She didn’t pick it,” Wooyoung said, smugly. “It picked her.” Yunho blinked once, expression unreadable, then turned slightly. “We’re going to dinner.” Y/N felt her heart pounding, nerves back at the thought of seeing any other fae, specifically Yunho’s father again. “Wait…. I’m going to dinner?” Yunho gave a short nod. “You’re with me. That bond didn’t exactly come with a, hide the human clause.” Wooyoung’s laughter was a delighted cackle as he flopped onto the bed. “Oh, this is so much better than I hoped.”

Yunho stepped aside, letting her pass. Mingi leaned against the wall just outside, arms crossed, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as his eyes did a slow once over of her outfit. “Well, shit. You clean up nice for a human.” Y/N scowled at him. “Thanks… I think.” Mingi snorted and fell into step behind them. As they walked through the corridors of the palace, dark stone, moonlit windows, walls pulsing with ancient magic, Yunho said nothing. Neither did she. But she could feel the heat of his gaze drifting toward her every few seconds like gravity had betrayed him. “You don’t have to bring me to dinner, you know,” she said under her breath. “I don’t even think your father likes you, let alone me.”

“I know,” Yunho murmured. “That’s exactly why I’m bringing you.” She stopped mid step. “You’re trying to piss him off?” He didn’t stop walking, just smirked as they kept walking. The dining hall of the Night Court was something out of a dream, or a nightmare, depending on your perspective. Columns of obsidian climbed toward a ceiling lost in shadow. A long table of carved blackstone stretched down the middle, its edges lined in silver that shimmered like starlight. Dark crystal chandeliers hovered above, swaying subtly despite the still air. Dozens of fae were already seated, laughter low and curious glances sharp as blades.

And at the very end of the table, on a throne made of twisted metal and bone… Alec. Yunho didn’t hesitate. He held Y/N’s hand, guiding her to the seat beside his, one of only two carved differently, for royalty. The instant she sat, the room shifted. Conversation stilled. Heads tilted. Eyes narrowed. A human. In the palace. At that table. “Brave or stupid,” someone muttered. “I’m betting both,” someone else replied. Footsteps echoed as a figure swaggered toward them, his silver tipped boots catching the light. Tidus dropped into the seat across from Y/N, grinning like a cat presented with a trembling bird. “You clean up well,” he said lazily, draping an arm across the back of the chair next to him.

Another figure slid into the seat on her other side, this one younger, leaner, wide eyed. “Hi!” the boy said, way too enthusiastically. “I’m Gunho. Are you really human? Like, real human? Not like cursed or half shifted or glamour disguised or….”

“Gunho,” Yunho warned without looking. “What? She’s cool!” Gunho beamed at Y/N. “I’ve never met a human before! What do you eat? What’s your favorite animal? Do you have dreams? Like visions? Are your teeth all the same size?” Y/N blinked. “Uh. Yes? Mostly deer. And yes.” Gunho lit up. “Amazing.” From the head of the table, a voice like cracked granite thundered. “Enough.” Alec’s face was carved from stone, lines etched deep across his brow, his silver streaked hair pulled back in a harsh twist. He hadn’t touched his wine. He hadn’t blinked since they walked in. And his gaze was locked on her. “Why is the human at my table?”

“Because she’s mine,” Yunho replied coolly, lifting his goblet without flinching. Dead silence followed as Mingi raised his glass. “To family dinners.” Gunho whispered, “So cool.” And Y/N? She stared at the head of the table at Yunho’s father whose eyes glowed like dull embers, a predator barely chained. Her heart pounded. Her throat tightened. But she raised her chin. If she was going to be damned for simply existing, she might as well look good doing it.

The meal was exquisite, even if Y/N could barely taste it through her nerves. Golden roast quail glazed in lavender honey. Wild mushrooms drizzled with blood orange oil. Fresh pear slices dusted in edible silver. Even the wine smelled like starlight. She tried not to show how much she was enjoying it. Alec lounged like a predator before the pounce, the flicker of torchlight dancing in his dark eyes. He’d barely looked at his plate. His attention was elsewhere, sharp and intentional. He turned to Mingi, voice slick with disdainful amusement. “I hear your brother has married.”

Mingi, fork mid air, didn’t even blink. “He has.” Alec took a sip of wine. “And your father says there’s talk of a betrothal for you next. To that girl from the Spring Court… what’s her name?”A pause, calculated and false curiosity. “Priscilla?” Mingi rolled his eyes and stabbed a piece of pear with unnecessary force. “Rumors,” he said, his tone casual but clipped. “My father has many dreams. Not all of them are mine.” Alec’s eyebrow arched. “I see.”

“I’m more of a lone wolf,” Mingi added with a crooked grin. His voice dropped just slightly, smooth like dark velvet. “I like things that don’t bore me.” His gaze flicked toward Y/N. She didn’t notice. Too focused on pretending the food was just fine, not incredible. Too focused on not reacting to Tidus swirling his wine while staring at her, or Gunho whispering about whether human blood was redder than fae blood under moonlight. But Yunho noticed. So did Alec.

The tension curled like smoke, invisible but suffocating as Alec leaned back, his eyes lingering on Mingi with something unreadable. “You should be careful what you chase. Unpredictable things have a habit of… biting back.” Mingi smiled, lazy, dangerous. “Only if you corner them.” And beside Y/N, Yunho smiled too. Because despite Alec’s threats, despite the magic binding Y/N to the palace, despite the chaos looming, Yunho had brought her to dinner. Sat her at the royal table. Dared his father to look her in the eyes and try to deny it.

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The palace was quiet in a way that felt unnatural. Not peaceful, just holding its breath. Y/N sat on the edge of the bed in her new room, the fire reduced to a low, steady glow. The dress Wooyoung had helped her out of lay folded carefully on the chair, replaced by a simple night shift of soft black linen. Even that felt too fine for her skin, too unfamiliar. She hugged her knees to her chest. The window was open, letting the cool night air spill in. From here, she could see the Moon City stretched out below, bridges of light, rooftops carved like constellations, shadows moving with purpose. Beautiful. Impossible. Not home.

Her throat tightened. Jongho should be here. But she had ran. Left him in the village. Bandits. Fire. Screams. Her name, torn from his chest echoing in the winds. She shouldn’t have ran so far. What if he’d been hurt trying to find her? What if the village had burned? What if he was searching the forest right now, calling her name at the edge of a barrier he couldn’t cross? The thought made her chest ache as she pressed her face into her hands, breathing in slowly, forcing the sob back before it could escape. Crying wouldn’t bring him here. Crying wouldn’t undo ancient magic or fae laws or the way the forest had frozen her bones when she tried to cross the barrier.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered into the empty room. To Jongho. To herself. To the life she’d lost in a single night. The fire popped softly. Outside, the moon shifted behind a veil of cloud. And somewhere down the hall, whether through magic, bond, or sheer instinct, Yunho paused mid step, a strange pressure settling in his chest that didn’t feel like his own.

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Y/N was starving. After barely touching dinner the night before, because, well, trauma, politics, Alec, and Tidus breathing near her, it was only the low grumble of her stomach and the scent of roasted nuts wafting down the corridor that got her moving. Wooyoung led the way through the winding halls of the palace, humming to himself and wearing what had to be his sixth outfit in twelve hours. “You didn’t tell me the food here smelled that good,” she said. “Oh honey, they don’t let just anyone in Jocelyn’s kitchen. But you’re with me. So, you’re welcome.” He pushed open a heavy stone door that led to the largest, coziest space she’d seen in the palace yet, the kitchens.

It was warm, bright with firelight and magically given sunlight from high arched windows, and filled with the scent of fresh herbs, spices, and baking bread. Counters lined with steaming dishes, copper pots hanging from the ceiling, and a long table set off to the side for the kitchen staff’s own meals. Behind it all stood a tall, broad shouldered fae woman with steel gray hair in a loose braid, sleeves rolled to her elbows and a wooden spoon in her hand that could double as a weapon. Jocelyn. She looked up. Paused. Then gave a surprisingly kind nod. “You must be the human.”

Y/N blinked. “Yeah.”

“You eat eggs?”

“Uh. Yes?”

“Sit. I’ll feed you.”

Y/N gave Wooyoung a wide eyed look as he gestured her toward the table like he’d just escorted royalty. “She likes you,” he whispered dramatically. “She once threw hot tea at a noble.” Y/N had barely taken her seat when the outside kitchen door creaked open. And a massive white wolf trotted in like it owned the place. Y/N jolted back so hard her stool nearly tipped. The creature was huge, long legged, fur thick and pale as snow, nose twitching as it trotted past the fire pit like it had done this every morning of it’s life. Wooyoung gasped, hand over his heart. “You were told not to do that in the palace anymore!” The wolf paused mid step, then slowly turned it’s head toward Y/N, stormy glacier eyes taking her in.

And then, in a matter of seconds, the fur shimmered, bones shifted, limbs reformed. The wolf became a man. And not just any man. Mingi. All tall, sculpted glory, hair a tousled mess, skin kissed by moonlight, completely and utterly… “OH MY GODS,” Y/N yelped, immediately turning away as her face lit up in crimson. “You’re naked!” And big. Everywhere!

“Good morning to you too,” Mingi said, grinning. “Seriously?” Wooyoung groaned, shielding his eyes with one hand and dramatically looking through his fingers like he weren’t enjoying the view. “Just dangling everywhere, why don’t you.” Jocelyn didn’t even look up from her pan. “Out of my kitchens with your nudity, pup.“

“You sure?” Mingi said, unbothered as ever, already pulling a nearby cloth napkin off the counter and casually wrapping it around his hips. “I’m hungry.”

“You’re lucky I like your dumb wolf face,” Jocelyn muttered as Y/N had both hands clapped over her eyes. “Do all of you do this? Is this a thing?” She was trying very hard not to look again. “Oh, darling,” Wooyoung said through tears of laughter, “you have so much to learn.”

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The Night Court library was massive, quiet, towering, filled with the scent of old magic and older parchment. Silver threaded curtains swayed gently in the high windows, and light filtered in through stained glass that painted the marble floor in shifting constellations. It was also Yunho’s favorite place in the entire palace. At least, when it wasn’t being used as a jungle gym by his younger brother. “Gunho,” Yunho called out from between two bookshelves, arms full of tomes. “That is not how you treat a first edition history of the Sundering.” Gunho peered down from his perch halfway up a rolling ladder, upside down and grinning. “It’s not my fault the Night Court’s library doesn’t have a section for humans. I’m researching.”

“You’re going to research yourself right into a concussion,” Yunho muttered, setting the books on a nearby table as Gunho jumped down effortlessly, landing with more grace than necessary. “You brought a human into the palace. What did you think I was going to do, ignore that?” Yunho arched a brow. “Yes. Or read quietly.” Gunho gave him a dazzling smile. “Disappointing you is kind of my job.” Yunho smirked despite himself. He was mid sentence flipping through an old map of fae barrier lines when the library doors creaked open.

Both brothers looked up as Mingi walked in. Barefoot. Hair a little damp. Wrapped only in a giant silver threaded blanket that looked like it had been stolen off a noblewoman’s chaise lounge. Yunho blinked. “Mingi.” Mingi threw up a hand like he was arriving fashionably late to a party. “Good morning, gentlefae.” Gunho wheezed. “Are you wearing a curtain?” Mingi looked down at the blanket. “Possibly.” Yunho sighed. “Why.”

“Well,” Mingi said, striding forward casually and plopping into the chair across from him, the blanket somehow managing to stay just barely appropriate, “someone, cough, Wooyoung, freaked out when I shifted back in the kitchen though I know he loves the view. Jocelyn chased me out. I forgot my clothes. Now here we are.” Gunho leaned forward, eyes wide. “So you were naked?”

“I am frequently naked,” Mingi replied. “It’s one of my best traits.” Yunho ran a hand down his face. “Please stop talking.” Gunho looked delighted. “You’re lucky Y/N wasn’t there.” Mingi smirked, the kind that just screamed chaos. “Oh, she turned bright red,” He said proudly. “Didn’t even yell. Just made this squeaky noise and stared at the ceiling like it was gonna save her.” Yunho tried not to react. But the twitch of his lips betrayed him. Gunho pounced. “Oh no….. she saw… THAT?”

“I think it was a lot for her to take in.” Mingi smirked over the rim of a teacup he definitely hadn’t had before as Yunho looked between the two of them, his chaotic brother and his far too comfortable best friend wrapped in upholstery, and muttered under his breath, “I should’ve let the monster eat us both.”

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The palace halls were quieter during the day, though never truly silent. The magic here was alive, embedded into the stone, humming low like distant thunder beneath their feet. Curtains stirred when there was no wind. Statues seemed to track movement with eyes that didn’t glow, but remembered. Y/N walked a little slower than usual, her bare fingers trailing along the cool marble banister as she and Wooyoung strolled through the upper gallery overlooking one of the inner courtyards. “I thought it’d be more crowded,” she murmured. Wooyoung, arms folded and an apple in hand he’d definitely stolen from Jocelyn’s kitchens, popped a bite into his mouth and shrugged. “The nobles come out at night. Like cockroaches, but with better cheekbones.” Y/N cracked a small smile. “You’re not like them.”

“Obviously.” He twirled the apple like a coin. “I’m employed.” They turned a corner into a long hallway filled with arched windows, sunlight spilling across dark stone in soft stripes. She paused for a moment, watching the wind stir the trees in the distance beyond the barrier. “Has Yunho’s father always hated humans?” Wooyoung didn’t answer right away. He bit into his apple again. Chewed. Swallowed. “Yeah,” he said eventually, not looking at her as Y/N turned slightly toward him. “Why?”

“I don’t know the whole story,” he said. “But there was a treaty. Long before you were born. Before I was born, even.”

“You’re how old?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he waved her off, then went back to pacing slowly. “Anyway, the Night Court and the human kingdoms had this fragile, don’t kill each other thing going. Trade. Borders. Magic exchanges. It held for a while. Until it didn’t.” Y/N’s voice was soft. “And?”

“Something happened. Rumors say the humans broke the treaty first. Others say Alec’s side did. The only thing everyone agrees on is it ended badly.” He stopped, gaze flicking sideways at her. “And that Alec lost someone.” Her throat tightened. “Someone he cared about?”

“I guess. Maybe a lover. Maybe a brother. Maybe even his first heir, this happened way before Yunho was born.” Wooyoung shrugged. “Fae live a long time. They carry grudges even longer.”

“And Yunho?”

Wooyoung’s smirk dimmed just a touch. “Yunho isn’t his father.” She nodded slowly as they continued down the hall in silence for a moment longer. Then Wooyoung added, “But don’t mistake quiet for soft. He’s got shadows, that one. Doesn’t always show them. Doesn’t want to.” Y/N swallowed hard as Wooyoung offered her the last bite of the apple. She blinked. “That was in your mouth.” He winked. “And yet I’m still irresistible.”

They’d just turned into a balcony hallway that overlooked one of the open training courtyards when Y/N paused, something catching her eye below. “Is that….” she started. Wooyoung followed her gaze. “Oh, well, look who decided to be clothed.” Down below, lit by the glow of soft magically given sunlight and climbing ivy, Yunho stood near the edge of the courtyard, dressed in black on black with his sleeves pushed up and a scroll in hand. Mingi lounged on a stone bench beside him, more relaxed, his silver blue hair catching the light, one foot up, tossing a dagger from hand to hand like he was born with it.

They looked like opposites. But they moved like magnets. They didn’t need to speak to communicate. A look. A nudge. A crooked smile. Y/N watched them for a beat too long before she glanced sideways at Wooyoung. “How long have they known each other?” Wooyoung leaned on the railing, watching with her, his expression unreadable. “Forever,” he said. “Since they were kids. They didn’t really have a choice.” Y/N frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Yunho’s the heir to the Night Court. Mingi’s the second son of the Winter Court. Their parents did a lot of political… dancing.” He waved a hand in a lazy circle. “So they were raised near each other during the first few decades. Education, combat, etiquette, magic. All the boring stuff.” She looked back down. Mingi was now poking at Yunho’s scroll with his dagger, clearly annoying him. Yunho smacked his hand without even looking up. Wooyoung smirked. “Mingi’s older brother’s the actual heir, so he got a little more freedom. Spent more and more time here. Yunho didn’t mind. He doesn’t trust a lot of people.”

“And he trusts Mingi?”

“More than he trusts himself,” Wooyoung said simply. “There’s loyalty, and then there’s them.” Y/N felt something soft pull in her chest. “They’re… close,” she murmured. Wooyoung arched a brow, hearing the undertone in her voice. “Don’t worry,” he said lightly, “I’ve only seen them kiss once, like a century ago.”

She flushed. “That’s not…”

He grinned. “It’s not not, though.”

Down below, Mingi looked up suddenly, his gaze snapping right to their balcony. Yunho followed his eyes, and for a moment, Y/N found herself caught between them both. Yunho’s brow arched. Mingi smirked and gave a lazy little wave and Wooyoung grinned as Y/N stepped back from the railing. “We’re leaving.”

“Aww, they were just about to argue over who noticed you first.”

She was already walking away. And behind her, Wooyoung just laughed.

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The library was quieter at this hour. The fake magical sun was gone and the permanent twilight poured in through the tall arched windows like wine. The magic in the room hummed low, as if the books themselves were dreaming. Y/N wandered slowly between shelves, fingertips grazing spines wrapped in soft leather and woven spellcloth. Most of the titles weren’t in a language she could read, swirling, beautiful runes that reminded her of stars dancing underwater. But she was determined. Somewhere in this sea of stories had to be a piece of her own world. A thread she could hold onto. She rounded a corner with a small stack already in her arms, mostly maps and histories, a few books of fae illustrations, when she found a low lit corner with a reading bench and a lantern already lit.

Carefully, she set the books down and flipped one open. Nothing. Another. Still nothing. She bit the inside of her cheek. It wasn’t like she had much else to do. Wooyoung was in her room, fluffing pillows and preparing her bath with far too much ceremony for a woman who still felt like a hostage in a silk dress. She turned another page. And another. “Looking for something?” The voice came from behind her. Low. Familiar. She startled, nearly dropping the book. “Gods… Yunho.” He stood just inside the shadows, barely more than a silhouette at first, until the lanternlight caught the edge of his coat. His hair was slightly tousled, the collar of his shirt undone just enough to make her thoughts trip as he stepped closer. “You’re not supposed to be here alone,” he said softly.

“I’m not doing anything dangerous,” she replied, glancing back at the shelves. “Unless reading counts.” His eyes flicked to the stack beside her. “Those are in high fae script.”

“I figured that out around book three.” She huffed and he gave a quiet hum, then moved past her to scan the nearest shelves. He pulled out a thin book bound in navy and silver, then another with a symbol she actually recognized, a star split by a tree. “These are in your language,” he said, handing them to her. “Poetry. Some translated folk tales.” She took them carefully. “Why are there even books here in my language?” Yunho tilted his head, watching her. “Because there used to be more humans here. Once.” Her grip on the books tightened. “You always show up when I’m alone,” she said quietly.

“I don’t plan it,” he replied. “You’re just… harder to ignore than you think.” That stilled her. Their eyes met across the bench. Yunho looked at her like she was part of a storm he hadn’t meant to walk into, and wasn’t quite ready to leave. “Wooyoung told me to tell you your bath is ready.” She clutched the books closer. “I’ll go in a minute.” He nodded. But he didn’t leave. Not yet. He just lingered, standing among the ancient stories, staring at the one that had wandered into his life and refused to play by the rules. “Do you have family?” he asked. The question was gentle. Almost careful. Like he was stepping onto thin ice and knew it.

Y/N’s fingers tightened around the books he’d handed her. She didn’t look at him right away, her gaze stayed fixed on the lantern, the soft glow trembling like it might give her away. “I did,” she said finally. Yunho stayed still as she swallowed. “I don’t remember much. I was little. Too little to understand why everything was on fire or why people were screaming.” Her voice wavered, just barely. “I remember hands pulling me. Someone shouting my name. And then… nothing. Just pieces.” She shook her head slowly. “I don’t even know who killed them. Or why. Just that one day I had a family and the next day I didn’t and the only reminder a ring my mother gave me.” Yunho’s chest tightened but he didn’t interrupt. “Jongho’s family found me,” she went on. “They lived near the village. Took me in like it was the most natural thing in the world.” A small, sad smile curved her lips. “He was younger than me by a year, but he decided immediately that I was his responsibility.” Yunho almost smiled at that.

“He’s not really my brother,” she said softly. “But he’s the closest thing I have. He’s always been there. Always. Even when I didn’t sleep. Even when I stopped talking for a while.” Her voice dropped. “And now I’m here.” She finally looked at Yunho then, eyes bright but dry. “I keep thinking… what if he got hurt looking for me? What if he crossed the forest line trying to follow me? That maybe…. something happened to him when the bandits raided the village…” The books slipped from her grip and landed softly on the bench. “I hope he’s okay,” she whispered. “That’s all I want right now.” Yunho felt the bond stir, not sharp, not commanding, but heavy. Emotional. A pull low in his chest that had nothing to do with magic and everything to do with her. “I won’t let anything happen to him,” he said quietly and Y/N frowned. “You don’t even know him.”

“I don’t need to,” Yunho replied. “He’s yours.” That made her breath catch as he hesitated, then added, “I’ll send word beyond the border. Carefully. No harm will come to him because of you. I promise.” She stared at him like she didn’t quite believe kindness could exist here. Then, slowly, her shoulders sagged. Relief. Exhaustion. Grief. “Thank you,” she said. “For that. And for… everything else.” Yunho nodded once, throat tight. “You should take your bath and rest.” And he left her alone with books and her own thoughts.

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The long table gleamed under candlelight, a stretch of polished obsidian set with dark crystal goblets and midnight blue plates. The dining hall of the Night Court was just as grand and cold as always, but tonight, there was something else in the air, anticipation. Y/N sat beside Wooyoung and across from Mingi, who hadn’t stopped grinning since he sat down. Yunho was quiet beside her, his posture relaxed but unreadable. At the head of the table, Alec finally lifted his wineglass, but it wasn’t a toast. “This year,” he said, voice smooth and heavy like oil, “we will honor the tradition of sending an envoy to the Autumn Court for the solstice festival.” Everyone looked up as Alec’s gaze flicked to Yunho. “You’ll go. As the heir.” Yunho sipped his wine. “Of course.”

“You’ll take your brother,” Alec continued, nodding toward Gunho, who lit up immediately. “Really?” Gunho gasped, eyes sparkling. “The Autumn Festival? I’ve always wanted to see it!” Alec nodded. “You’ll represent the court as our future.” Then Alec’s gaze shifted to Y/N. “And take your… pet,” he added, the word a deliberate insult dressed as formality. Y/N stiffened. Yunho’s jaw twitched. Mingi, however, leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. “Hongjoong always knows how to throw a good party,” Mingi mused, eyes glinting. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Gunho was practically bouncing in his seat. “They say the whole forest lights up in red and gold. I heard they build a bonfire the size of a mountain.” Tidus chuckled, eyes cold. “Well, that’s what happens when you invite fire witches to plan your décor.” Alec turned to him next. “You’ll go as well. As my eyes.” Tidus grinned like a dagger. “Of course, my lord.” Yunho didn’t say anything, but Y/N felt the tension coiling beside her. His fingers slowly flexed on the stem of his glass as Mingi kicked back in his chair, looking entirely too pleased. “Can’t wait,” he said cheerfully. “It’ll be nice to see Hongjoong again.”

“And Seonghwa,” Tidus added, clearly amused. “The Autumn Court’s second in command… still hasn’t forgiven you for what happened at the last solstice.”

“Oh?” Wooyoung raised an eyebrow, sipping from his glass. “Was that the thing with the cursed mask? Or the exploding wine fountain?”

“Yes,” Mingi grinned fondly as Y/N blinked. “What kind of festival is this?” Wooyoung grinned. “Chaotic,” He whispered. “But beautiful.” Yunho finally spoke, low and deliberate. “The Autumn Court thrives on spectacle. They’ll use the festival as a chance to show power, forge alliances… and test loyalty.” Alec smiled thinly. “Which is exactly why you must go. And take the girl. The court will be watching.” Y/N looked up at Yunho then, and for the briefest moment, something passed between them. Not just tension. Something deeper. Like fate cracking its knuckles.

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Y/N stood in the middle of her room, eyes wide as Wooyoung spread a selection of dresses across the bed like a painter laying out his palette. Rich velvets in amber and crimson, gold threaded silks, even a few pieces she was pretty sure weren’t exactly… made for warmth. Autumn Court fashion, apparently, did not believe in modesty. “I’m gonna freeze,” she muttered, picking up a sleeveless gown that looked like it had been dipped in molten bronze. “You’ll survive,” Wooyoung said brightly, folding a cape made of deep plum velvet. “Besides, once the bonfires start, it’s not the cold you’ll be worried about, it’s keeping the fae from trying to seduce you.” Y/N blinked. “That’s not comforting.” Wooyoung winked. “You’ll be with Yunho. No one’s dumb enough to touch what’s his.” He cocked his head and snorted. “Well…. except Mingi.”

Y/N sat on the edge of the bed, brushing her hand along the fabric of a copper colored dress. “What’s the Autumn Court like?” Wooyoung paused, hands slowing. “Hm… intense,” he said finally. “Think gold leaves and red wine. Firelight everywhere. Laughter that sounds like a challenge.” Y/N looked up. “Hongjoong is the youngest ruler of the courts,” Wooyoung said, quieter now. “He inherited it after his older brother died, over twenty years ago, in a war that no one talks about anymore. Not around here, anyway.” Her brows knit. “He must’ve been young.”

“Barely over a couple centuries,” Wooyoung nodded. “Practically a baby for a fae. He’s… different. Clever. Sharp. Doesn’t trust easily, but when he does, it’s for life.”

“Sounds like Yunho,” Y/N murmured and Wooyoung smiled to himself. “Yeah. They used to be close. Yunho stayed at the Autumn Court when we were younger, before Alec got colder than the walls.” Y/N glanced up. “We?” He waved it off. “I tagged along. Wasn’t supposed to, but Yunho snuck me in.”

“Of course he did,” she laughed.

“Oh, and Hongjoong’s partner, Seonghwa,” Wooyoung added, his voice turning almost dreamy. “He’s quiet, stunning, terrifying with a sword. A poet and a warrior. They’ve been together forever.” Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Is this going to be a place full of beautiful people with terrifying reputations?”

“You’re catching on,” Wooyoung grinned as he smoothed a folded tunic into her bag, then sighed and flopped dramatically next to her on the bed. “I hope San’s there.” Y/N tilted her head. “Who’s San?” Wooyoung’s entire expression softened in a way she hadn’t seen before. “He’s the heir of the Summer Court,” he said quietly. “Hotter than sin. Stronger than most. He’s like… sunshine and beauty. Has this laugh that makes you feel like you’re the only one he wants to hear it.” Y/N blinked. “Sounds like someone has a crush.”

“I’m in love,” Wooyoung said flatly. “And he’s been ignoring me for six months.” Y/N stared as Wooyoung groaned and rolled onto his back. “It’s not that dramatic. I just haven’t seen him since the last festival. And maybe I might have fucked him. And maybe he might have said it was a mistake. And maybe I haven’t stopped thinking about him since.” Y/N bit her lip, trying not to smile. “So it’s not that dramatic.” Wooyoung let out a sigh. “Exactly,” he nodded. “Completely normal amount of emotional damage.” They both laughed. The bag was almost packed now, gowns and cloaks neatly folded, boots and gloves tucked inside.

Y/N reached for one of the simpler dresses, something soft in burnt sienna, and ran her hand over it. “So,” she said quietly. “The Autumn Court, huh?” Wooyoung sat up beside her, grin returning. “Get ready, darling,” he said, brushing her hair behind her ear. “You’re about to step into firelight and temptation. Just don’t let anyone steal your heart, unless you’re ready to lose it.”

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The magical sun had barely disappeared when they departed the Night Court. Carriages painted obsidian rolled out through the towering gates, their wheels crunching over frost laced stone. Horses with black coats and glowing silver eyes pulled them forward as the shadows of the palace disappeared behind them, swallowed by thick forest and the coming light. Y/N had expected to ride inside with Wooyoung and Gunho, but found herself walking at first, arms tucked tight against her chest, breath curling in the cool morning air as the towering trees of the night realm began to thin and turn gold at the edges. She didn’t hear him until he was already beside her. “Too cold to be dramatic,” Mingi said, hands tucked behind his head, strolling with lazy ease like they were just heading down to a village tavern. “You could be in the warm carriage, you know.” Y/N glanced up, startled. “I didn’t feel like sitting.” Mingi tilted his head. “Too much royal tension in there?”

“Too much Gunho trying to convince Wooyoung to teach him how to flirt,” she muttered making him snort. “Gods help us all.” They walked in silence for a minute, the path ahead dipping into a stretch of land where the night court’s shadows slowly faded, gold and amber leaves scattered like confetti along the road, sunlight breaking through the high branches. The air was different here. Brighter. Warmer. “You’ve traveled before?” Mingi asked suddenly, eyes forward. Y/N shrugged. “Not like this.”

“Yeah, not many humans travel with a crown prince and his entourage,” he teased. She gave him a look that made him grin. “Don’t get all serious, I’m not judging. You’re doing better than most fae I know would.”

“Do they usually run from wolves?”

“Only if the wolves are naked.”

Her face went scarlet and Mingi let out a low, satisfied chuckle. “Sorry, sorry. I forgot you’ve probably never anything as well made as me before.” Y/N rolled her eyes biting her lip to smile. “I thought Jocelyn was going to beat you with a skillet,” she muttered. “Oh, she has before,” he said brightly as they lapsed into another stretch of silence, but this one felt… easier. Mingi walked with his hands back behind his neck, whistling something under his breath, a tune she didn’t know but sounded vaguely like a lullaby. Y/N kept her eyes on the trees, golden leaves spiraling around her feet.

“How long have you known Yunho?” she asked after a moment. She knew what Wooyoung had told her but she wanted to hear it from one of them themselves. Mingi didn’t answer right away. “Since I was a kid,” he finally said. “I was born in the Winter Court, but I didn’t exactly… fit.” She glanced at him as he shrugged. “My father’s the ruler there. Wanted a soldier. I wanted a library. Our families have been allied for centuries so…. I spent a lot of time in and out of the Moon City. When we’re thirteen, I told his father to kiss my ass after taking the fall for Yunho when we snuck out one night, it was Yunho’s idea but…. you’ve met Alec.” A small smile tugged at Y/N’s lips. “You’ve been best friends ever since?”

“More or less. I’ve tried to kill him a couple times in sparring, but he usually wins.” Mingi grinned as she laughed softly. “You’re good for him, you know,” Mingi added suddenly and Y/N blinked. “What?”

“He doesn’t talk to many people. Not really. Not like he talks to you.” Mingi slowed his steps, hands falling to his sides. “Whatever you’re doing…. keep doing it.” She opened her mouth, but he was already walking ahead again, spinning a maple leaf through his fingers as he went. Behind her, the sound of hooves drew closer, a signal that the carriages were catching up, and ahead, the forest opened up to an early rest stop, real sunlight spilling across a shallow riverbed where Gunho was already climbing out of the carriage barefoot. Y/N stood there a moment longer, heart strangely full. She didn’t know if it was the woods or the way Mingi looked at her when he spoke, but something in the air was changing.

They stopped by a lake, the sun hovered lazily overhead, golden and warm, filtering through the canopy as horses were unhitched and carriages rolled to a stop beside the shimmering shoreline. The water sparkled with flecks of amber and silver, and birds skimmed just above its glassy surface, wings brushing the air like whispers. Gunho raced down to the edge like a boy half his age. Y/N followed more slowly, stretching her legs with a soft groan, and Wooyoung immediately flopped beside her in the grass with a dramatic sigh of his own. “I swear, if I have to sit in that carriage another hour, I’m going to hex myself into a raccoon and run to the Autumn Court.”

“You’d make a very cute squirrel,” Y/N said, tossing a pebble into the water.

“Please. I’d be feral and sexy, like all raccoons are.”

Gunho barked a laugh and nearly fell in. A few paces up the hill, under the shade of an old willow tree, Yunho stood quietly, arms crossed, jaw tight, eyes fixed on them. Specifically, on her. “Getting a little obvious, aren’t we?” came a voice at his side. Mingi strolled up with easy steps, a waterskin slung over one shoulder, and leaned against the tree beside him like he hadn’t just dropped a live grenade. Yunho didn’t look at him. “What?”

“You watch her a lot,” Mingi said, picking at a loose thread on his sleeve, “especially when you think no one’s looking.” Yunho’s eyes narrowed as Mingi tilted his head, looking down toward the lake, toward the girl laughing with his little brother and Wooyoung, her hair catching the light. Yunho said nothing as Mingi shrugged. “It’s fine. I get it.”

“You do, huh?” Yunho’s tone was unreadable when Mingi finally turned his head. “You’re not the only one who watches, Yunho.” There was a beat of silence between them before Yunho met his best friend’s eyes. Dark brown almost black meeting stormy dark glacier. “So do you.” Mingi’s lips parted as Yunho’s voice was calm, cool, but cut like a blade. “You think I don’t notice?” he said. “The way you look at her when she’s not paying attention. How you always find your way to her side. You were a wolf in the kitchens, Mingi.” Mingi winced, chuckling. “Alright, maybe that was a little bold.”

“You were naked.”

“She noticed.”

They stood there a moment, silent, both watching her as she leaned back on her elbows beside the lake, eyes half closed, face tilted toward the sun. “It doesn’t bother me,” Yunho said finally, voice quieter now. “If that’s what you’re trying to test.” Mingi’s brow arched. “You sure about that?” Yunho’s jaw flexed as Mingi smirked. “We’ve shared things before.”

“She’s not a thing.”

“I know.” Mingi dropped the grin, gaze softening. “That’s why I’m not making a move. Not yet.” Yunho turned to him now, eyes sharp. “And if you did?” Mingi held his stare. “Then I’d hope you’d either stop me…. or join me.” The air between them grew still. “Come on,” Mingi said finally, pushing off the tree. “Let’s go make sure Gunho doesn’t drown.” He started down the hill, whistling again, lazy and off key but Yunho stayed where he was for a moment longer, eyes flicking back to her, just as she looked up, as if sensing his gaze. Their eyes met. And something unspoken passed between them. Yunho exhaled, slow and deep, before turning and following Mingi down the slope, boots crunching in the grass.

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The road to Emberhall curved through thick woodland, where sunlight broke through the trees in dappled bursts and the air carried the scent of moss and magic. They’d been riding for an hour since the lake, and the air had grown cooler with elevation, the landscape subtly shifting from evergreen to the deep reds and golds of autumn more. Y/N rode in the second carriage now, Wooyoung asleep beside her, mouth open, drooling on the shoulder of his cloak. Gunho had traded spots to ride up front with one of the guards, too excited to sit still. She was nearly dozing herself when the door swung open at a stop. “Trade you a snoring pixie for some better company,” Mingi grinned, already climbing in without waiting for her answer. She blinked. “Do you just… wander into any carriage you want?”

“Only yours,” he winked, pulling the door closed and flopping into the seat across from her, long legs spreading obnoxiously as Y/N folded her arms. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re not even denying you’re flattered.”

She rolled her eyes, biting down a smile once again. “Fine. Since you’re here, entertain me.” Mingi stretched lazily. “I’m very good at that.” She rolled her eyes. “I meant with information, not your thighs.” He looked offended. “How dare you assume I wasn’t going to use both.” Y/N laughed under her breath, then leaned forward, voice more curious now. “Tell me about your court. The Winter Court. What’s it like?” Mingi looked out the window for a moment, thoughtful. “It’s cold,” he said, unsurprisingly. “But not the bitter kind. It’s… still. Beautiful. Snow that doesn’t melt, rivers that freeze into crystal. The sky always looks like it’s on the edge of twilight. Quiet enough to hear your heartbeat.” Y/N blinked, surprised by the poetic edge to his words. “Sounds peaceful.”

“It can be.” He paused. “It can also be cruel.” She didn’t push, but he must’ve seen the question in her eyes. “My family isn’t like me,” he added, voice lower. “Not really. They’re pureblood fae, born of ice and legacy. I’m the youngest. My older brother, hell, most of the court besides my mother, think I’m too soft for politics. Too human.”

“Because you smile too much?” she teased gently. “Because I care too much,” he said with a half shrug and her gaze softened. “And the wolf?” Mingi blinked. “What about it?”

“Can… everyone in your family do that? Shift?” She asked and he chuckled. “Gods, no. My father can, barely. My brother? Not a chance.”

“Why you then?”

He grinned slowly. “Rebellion, probably.” She narrowed her eyes. “That doesn’t make sense.” He shrugged. “It doesn’t have to. The shift comes to those who aren’t born with it, if you earn it. The Winter Court worships control, logic, bloodlines. I… worship chaos. The wolf liked that.” Y/N stared at him, stunned.

“That’s… kind of empyreal.”

“Thank you,” Mingi beamed. “Finally someone says it.” They sat in easy silence for a moment, the road rumbling beneath them, the carriage creaking in rhythm. Then Mingi leaned forward just slightly, arms resting on his knees, eyes locking on hers. “You want to try riding my horse next leg of the trip?” he asked. “Your horse?”

“No, Wooyoung.”

She barked a laugh, and Mingi’s grin spread. “Kidding. Horse. Yes. I’ll ride with you. Teach you how to steer. It’s easy, and you’ll like it more than being cooped up in here.” Y/N hesitated. “Unless you’re scared,” he added innocently and she narrowed her eyes again. “You’re very annoying.”

“And yet, you’re still looking at me like you want to know everything. I’ll take that as a yes.” The caravan rolled to a gentle halt beneath the edge of a sun dappled clearing. The forest around them had begun to thin, and the mountain air held a brisk edge. It was just after midday, the warmest it would get. Someone up front called for a short break, and the guards dismounted first to stretch and check the perimeter. Y/N stepped out of the carriage with a deep breath, the scent of pine and fresh earth grounding her. “Come on,” Mingi said from where he was already walking towards his horse, untying the reins. “You’re riding this leg.” She blinked, laughing softly. “You were serious?”

“Dead serious,” he grinned, swinging himself into the saddle with the ease of someone born to do it. “You’re not spending this entire journey boxed up with Wooyoung and his drool.”

“Hey!” Wooyoung whined from inside the carriage.

“I thought we agreed not to out your snoring problem,” Mingi called back before turning to Y/N again, now holding a hand down to her. “Come on. I’ll teach you.” She hesitated, eyeing the horse like it might bite her. “It’s just a horse, not a manticore,” Mingi teased. “I read about those. They’re terrifying.”

“And this one’s not. Her names Nico. She’s sweet. She likes apples and compliments. Just like me.” He grinned and Y/N smirked. “That’s… disturbingly accurate.” Mingi wiggled his fingers. “Up.” She took his hand and let him lift her with zero effort, the world tilting for a moment before she found herself seated in front of him, his arms bracketing her as he reached for the reins. Behind them, a voice cut in. “Where are you going?” Yunho stood a few feet away, his expression unreadable but sharp, dark eyes fixed on Mingi like they’d locked blades in a duel before. Mingi didn’t miss a beat. “Teaching her how to ride.”

“Since when do you offer to teach anything?” Yunho asked, stepping closer. “Since now.” Mingi’s grin was wide, easy, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You jealous?” Yunho ignored that, gaze sliding to Y/N, who looked slightly too pleased with herself. “Are you sure you trust him with the reins?” He teased. “I trust him to make it interesting,” she said lightly, but her heart was thudding loud enough she swore they could both hear it as Mingi leaned forward just enough that his chest brushed her back, his lips near her ear. “Hold tight,” he murmured, loud enough that Yunho could hear too. Then the horse moved, slow at first, then breaking into a smooth canter as they veered off the path and into the trail ahead, just far enough to be out of earshot but still in sight.

Yunho watched them go, his jaw tight as Gunho wandered up beside him, chewing on dried fruit. “Are they flirting?” Yunho didn’t look at him. “No.” Gunho squinted. “They look like they’re flirting.”

“I said no.”

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The trees opened up into a quiet clearing where a narrow stream flowed lazily over smooth stones, its edges dappled with late afternoon light. Birds fluttered overhead, their songs distant as if giving the space some measure of privacy. Mingi brought the horse to a gentle stop, his hand resting lightly over Y/N’s as he leaned forward, murmuring by her ear, “Let’s stretch your legs before they fall off.” She laughed, stiff as she climbed down, her thighs aching in places she didn’t even know could ache. “You could’ve warned me horse riding hurts in all the worst ways.”

“I thought it would be more fun if you found out on your own,” he said, sliding down with that effortless grace again. His boots hit the ground beside her, and she felt the heat of him even without touching. She moved closer to the stream, crouching to splash cold water on her face and the back of her neck. The relief was instant. Behind her, Mingi didn’t move away, just crouched down beside her, the silence between them stretching as comfortably as the space didn’t. Then he said it, voice low and almost too quiet for the breeze. “You know, I’ve never met a human before.” Y/N blinked, glancing sideways at him. “Really?”

He nodded, eyes fixed on the water. “Not up close. Not like this.” She wasn’t sure what to say to that, so she offered the obvious. “What do you think so far?”

“That you ask too many questions,” he teased, his grin lazy and crooked. She nudged his shoulder. “You could’ve said that days ago.”

“I like the way you ask them.” And just like that, something shifted. He turned, eyes dragging over her face, not hungrily, not flirtatiously. Like he was genuinely studying her, like something about her was trying to answer a question he hadn’t even asked yet. “It makes me wonder,” he said, quieter now as Y/N tilted her head. “Wonder what?”

“If all humans have this…” His gaze dropped briefly to her lips before lifting back to her eyes. “Aura. Like you.” She blinked, caught off guard. “Aura?” He shrugged, brows furrowed. “Something hiding beneath the surface. Something… cloaked. Like a thread of energy wrapped tight. Waiting.” Her lips parted, not from understanding but from the chill that crawled down her spine. “You think I’m hiding something?” Mingi’s expression softened just a little. “No. I think you don’t know you’re hiding something.”

The words sat heavy in the air, their echoes swallowed by the bubbling stream. She looked away first, unsure why it suddenly felt like he could see straight through her. “Maybe I’m just weird.”

“I like weird.”

She laughed softly, glancing back at him, and froze. He was closer than before, his arm brushing hers, his breath mingling with hers, his grin slightly softer now. Not cocky. Curious. “I also like mystery,” he added.

“Of course you do,” she said, trying to play it off, but her pulse betrayed her. From a little distance away, Yunho watched. He’d followed on foot after Mingi veered off with her, telling Gunho to stay with the others. He wasn’t spying, not exactly. Just watching. Protecting, maybe. Or trying to understand why, ever since she’d stepped into their world, things had started to shift beneath his skin.

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By the time the sky turned dusky purple, the group had settled into a crescent shaped clearing surrounded by tall trees and thick underbrush. Horses were being tied off, bedrolls unfurled, and firewood gathered without needing orders, everyone seemed to know their role in the rhythm of travel. Wooyoung, unsurprisingly, had made friends with a traveling bard who’d joined them briefly for a warm meal and a round of stories. Gunho sat cross legged near the fire, wide eyed and beaming as the bard spun a tale about the Autumn Court’s labyrinth garden and a fae who got lost in it for a hundred years. The smell of charred meat and roasted roots drifted through the air, and somewhere beyond the trees, an owl called.

Y/N sat beside the fire, a thin blanket around her shoulders and her legs pulled up beneath her. Her body still ached in the best ways from the day’s ride, but her mind hadn’t stopped spinning since the moment by the stream. From across the camp, Mingi emerged from the shadows of the trees. He’d disappeared earlier, presumably to patrol the perimeter, and now reappeared with that same wild air to him, his hair tousled, the top few buttons of his tunic open. He didn’t say anything. Just caught her eye, held it a little too long, and then dropped down beside Yunho who had been quiet most of the evening, his expression unreadable as he cleaned his blade with a cloth. But now he glanced at Mingi, murmuring something under his breath. Mingi chuckled in response, low and amused.

Y/N couldn’t hear what they were saying. But the way Yunho’s jaw ticked, the way Mingi’s grin lingered, it made her wonder if they were talking about her as Wooyoung plopped down beside her with a satisfied sigh, pulling a piece of bread from his pocket and tearing it in half. “The bard says tomorrow we should hit the border of Autumn Court lands.”

“Is it really that different?” Y/N asked, her voice soft as she took the bread. “Oh, you’ll see.” Wooyoung smirked. “It’s warmer. Wilder. The trees are gold year round. And Hongjoong, he’s all poetry and fury. Seonghwa balances him out, thank the gods.” Y/N leaned her head on his shoulder. “You like it there.”

“I like San there,” he murmured without hesitation and she smiled into the firelight. “You should sleep soon,” Wooyoung added after a beat. “It’s a long ride tomorrow.” She nodded but didn’t move. Her eyes flicked toward Mingi again, who was now lying on his back in the grass, one hand behind his head, the other lazily tossing a pebble into the air and catching it. Moonlight glinted off the edge of his profile. Yunho was still by the fire, blade long forgotten, fingers now playing with a strip of worn leather, something that looked too sentimental to be casual. A wind passed through the camp. A stillness followed. And for a flicker of a moment, Y/N swore Yunho looked at her the same way Mingi had earlier. Like maybe she was the mystery neither of them had meant to stumble across… but now couldn’t turn away from.

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The fire had long burned to embers, casting a low, orange glow across the camp. Most of the group slept in quiet sprawls, bundled in cloaks and furs, the hush of the surrounding forest only broken by the distant hum of crickets and the occasional rustle of wind through leaves. Y/N blinked awake slowly, her body sluggish with sleep but her bladder persistent. She wriggled carefully from beneath her blanket, careful not to wake Wooyoung snoring softly beside her, and tiptoed toward the trees just past the horses. Her boots crunched softly against the grass and twigs, but no one stirred. No one, except Tidus.

He stood on the edge of the shadows like he belonged to them, his arms crossed, cloak draped around his tall frame, and hair faintly catching the moonlight. Watching. She didn’t say anything. Didn’t have to. He was always watching. Y/N continued walking anyway, disappearing into the trees just far enough for privacy. She crouched beside a large root, muttering under her breath about fae wine and borrowed waterskins. The second she stood and adjusted her cloak when she was done, she stilled.

He was there. Right behind her. Tidus stepped forward with quiet steps, his boots silent against the dirt and moss. “You really should be more careful, human.” Y/N swallowed, every muscle tensing. “I find it amusing,” he continued, voice low, almost playful in the most unsettling way. “How you, a thing born of dirt and weakness, have the heir of the Night Court now bound to you.” Her eyes narrowed. “I didn’t ask him to save me.”

“No,” Tidus said, tilting his head. “But you let him, didn’t you?” She said nothing as he stepped closer, a sliver of moonlight slipping between the branches and casting across his sharp features, eyes glittering with something too serpentine to be curiosity. “And now the damned winter wolf is sniffing up your skirts,” he sneered, gaze dropping with deliberate insult. “Is that what you do, girl? Cling to power because you’ve never had your own?”

“I don’t cling to anyone,” she shot back, voice sharp despite the chill that snaked up her spine. “You don’t know me.” He scoffed like he tasted something bitter. “I know enough,” he said, tone smoothing into something more poisonous. “I know something’s not right with you.“ Y/N’s breath caught, but she didn’t look away as Tidus smiled, slow and cutting. “You’d do well to remember whose land you walk now. And who you owe your safety to.” She stiffened. “I don’t owe you a godsdamned thing.”

“No,” he agreed softly. “But you will.” Then, without another word, he stepped back into the shadows, vanishing between the trees with a rustle of leaves.

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The morning sun broke through the trees in shards of golden light, bathing the forest trail in a soft amber glow. Dew clung to the leaves, and the horses’ hooves squelched against the damp earth as the group resumed their journey. No one seemed to notice how quiet Y/N was, how she flinched slightly when Tidus rode too close or how her gaze kept sweeping the shadows like they might whisper again. Wooyoung cracked a joke up ahead, Gunho echoing with a bright laugh, completely unaware. Mingi rode near the front with Yunho, both deep in conversation with one of the guards. Tidus, as always, trailed behind like a predator with too much patience.

By midday, the trees began to thin. The road widened and curved upward, the scent of burning leaves and honey sweet cider growing stronger in the crisp air. And then they saw it. The Autumn Court. Built into the curve of a mountain and nestled in a valley of crimson and gold, the court was a breathtaking mix of nature and craft. Spiraling towers of ivy covered stone glinted with molten copper roofs. Bridges arched over waterfalls, and curling vines wrapped around glowing lanterns suspended mid air. The trees surrounding the palace were ablaze with orange, scarlet, and deep burgundy leaves that danced in the wind like flames. Fae guards in deep maroon armor opened the towering gates as they approached, not a word exchanged. They knew who Yunho was. And who rode beside him.

As they entered, the air shifted, warmer, richer, alive with magic. Fae lined the inner courtyard, bowing with a flourish to the arriving party. Y/N couldn’t help but stare in awe, the colors, the sound of string instruments drifting on the wind, the smell of spice and citrus in the air. “Woah,” Gunho breathed beside her. “Do you think they’ll have honeycakes here?” Wooyoung smirked. “They’ll have everything, trust me. Hongjoong doesn’t know the meaning of subtle.” The mention of that name made Y/N’s head turn sharply. And as if summoned by fate itself,

there he stood at the top of the stairs. Hongjoong. Young, sharp eyed, eyes the color of autumn itself, draped in shades of amber and wine, red velvet. A circlet of bronze rested against his curled auburn hair. His expression unreadable until it broke into the faintest smile as he stepped down to greet them.

At his side, Seonghwa, regal and elegant, dark hair long and wavy as he greeted Yunho with a respectful nod before letting his gaze fall on Y/N. A curious flicker crossed his face. “Welcome to the Autumn Court,” Hongjoong said, voice smooth like the wind through leaves. “Prince Yunho. Prince Gunho. Mingi, my favorite stray wolf.” Mingi laughed. “Still better than being your least favorite cousin.” Hongjoong grinned, then turned to Y/N. His eyes scanned her, lingering just a moment too long on her neck, as if he could sense something there. “And this must be the human,” he said softly. “You’ve caused quite a stir in the lands.”

Y/N lifted her chin slightly, unwilling to shrink but Hongjoong just chuckled, amused. “Good. We like a little chaos here.” Behind him, Seonghwa only smiled. The Autumn Court was nothing like the Night Court. Where the Night Court stood tall in cold stone and muted shadows, the Autumn Court was alive, amber leaves curling on the breeze despite the lack of wind, the palace draped in warm golds and burnt oranges, it’s high archways carved from trees that still pulsed with magic. Music drifted faintly on the air, the sound of laughter echoing in the distance as if the walls themselves carried joy. Hongjoong stood at the grand entrance, arms outstretched in greeting as Yunho’s party dismounted. “Most of the guests will be arriving by sundown. The Solstice begins tomorrow night.”

He didn’t look much older than Yunho, but there was a weight behind his eyes, centuries of rule packed into a youthful frame. Seonghwa stood a few steps behind him, elegant in soft rust colored robes, a hand resting gently on the hilt of his ornamental sword. Y/N stepped forward beside Wooyoung, brushing back her wind tossed hair, her cheeks still warm from riding. She felt the weight of Hongjoong’s gaze once again, not lingering inappropriately like Tidus or curious like Gunho. No, his stare was sharper. Knowing. Especially when his eyes dropped to her left hand. “To bring a human to our lands, Yunho… I’m surprised your father hasn’t thrown a fit,” Hongjoong murmured, still watching her. But his tone didn’t carry disapproval. More like amusement. “That’s an interesting ring.”

Y/N froze. So did Wooyoung beside her, his brow furrowed. Mingi, just a few paces behind, looked up from adjusting his sleeves. Even Yunho, who had been greeting Seonghwa with a quiet nod, turned to glance at her as Y/N blinked, then looked down at her hand. The silver ring on her finger was simple. Worn. A thin band with a moonstone set in a crescent of tiny opals. No one had ever commented on it before. Not even Jongho. She wore it on instinct, always had since her mother had given it to her. “It was my mother’s,” she replied lightly, brushing her thumb over it. Her voice stayed casual, but something in her stomach twisted. “Nothing fancy.” But Hongjoong didn’t stop looking. And Y/N didn’t notice the way Seonghwa subtly tilted his head, the corners of his lips pressing together in realization. “I see,” Hongjoong said at last, his smile returning, but tighter now, like he’d just swallowed a secret. “Well. Let’s get everyone settled, shall we? The west wing has rooms ready. And Wooyoung, don’t even think about sneaking into the wine cellar before dusk.”

“I would never,” Wooyoung said, already planning how he absolutely would. Y/N let the moment pass, heart still uneasy. But as she walked through the glowing halls of the Autumn Court, something cold lingered under her skin. She had no idea Hongjoong had just seen a ghost. Not her face, but her mother’s. And that ring? It used to belong to his own mother once. Seonghwa walked with the kind of effortless grace that made it hard to tell if his feet even touched the ground. Y/N followed beside him with Gunho trailing just a step behind, eyes wide as they moved through the glowing halls of the Autumn Court. The walls were alive with enchanted vines and shifting light, the marble veined with gold that pulsed faintly like a heartbeat. Every corner of this place shimmered.

“I feel like I’m walking through a painting,” Y/N murmured, her voice quiet with awe. Seonghwa smiled, his hands clasped behind his back as he led them through an arched corridor. “You’re not far off. The palace was shaped by the Court itself, not built. Autumn magic tends to be more… dramatic. Hongjoong says it’s because the season is all about the bittersweet, life on the edge of sleep.” Gunho tugged at Y/N’s sleeve. “Is the whole court like this? Like, the trees too?” Seonghwa glanced over his shoulder, amused. “Would you like to see for yourself?” Gunho nodded so fast Y/N laughed. They stepped out through towering double doors and into the gardens, and Y/N’s breath caught again. The trees were aflame with color, burnt gold, blood orange, deep scarlet. Leaves drifted lazily through the air like it was always just on the edge of fall. Lanterns hung from the branches and glowed on their own, like caught fireflies. A narrow path led through the garden, twisting through hedges shaped into animals that bowed their heads as they passed. “The garden adjusts depending on the time of day,” Seonghwa said. “Sunset is the most beautiful. Though sunrise gives it a quiet kind of magic.”

“Have you lived here long?” Y/N asked, trailing her fingers along a bush that sparkled faintly with dew, even though it hadn’t rained. “For as long as Hongjoong has ruled,” he answered, glancing her way. “He inherited the court young, after his brother’s passing. It wasn’t easy for him. Still isn’t sometimes. But he loves this place. Protects it fiercely. I’m from the summer court originally.” Y/N looked up at the twisting spires in the distance, then down at the ring on her finger. She didn’t know why, but her stomach stirred again. “I think he’s a little scary,” Gunho whispered, as if Hongjoong could hear them from across the grounds and Seonghwa chuckled. “He can be. He’s sharper than he looks. And he doesn’t like being lied to. But he’s a good ruler.”

Y/N nodded, quiet. She could feel that already. That sharpness beneath the charm. That calculating look when he saw her ring. The way he didn’t question it more, just tucked the knowledge away. Gunho darted ahead, drawn to a pool at the edge of the garden where koi fish with scales like glowing leaves swam in lazy circles. Seonghwa slowed beside her, voice lower now. “If you ever need anything while you’re here… you can come to me.” Y/N looked at him, surprised as Seonghwa met her eyes calmly. “I mean that.” She held his gaze a second longer, then gave a small nod. “I appreciate it.” And as the garden flickered with golden light and distant music began to drift from somewhere inside the palace, Y/N had the strangest feeling in her chest. Like something was beginning. Or something very old was waking up.

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The sun had dipped low behind the golden spires of the Autumn Court, casting long amber shadows across the palace as the solstice approached. That night, the great hall was lit in full autumn splendor, chandeliers made of twisted vines and glass leaves shimmered above the long banquet tables, casting light like sunlight through trees. Candles flickered with flame that danced between gold and crimson, the entire room alive with warmth and magic. Y/N sat between Wooyoung and Gunho, her plate half picked at, though everything was delicious. The nobles of the Autumn Court were far more relaxed than she expected, laughing and drinking freely, their silks and leathers more earth toned and wild than the rigid darks of the Night Court or the chilling whites of what she imagined the Winter Court must be. But something still buzzed in the air, anticipation, tension, curiosity. She could feel eyes on her even when she wasn’t looking. Wooyoung leaned closer. “You okay?” Y/N nodded, sipping her wine. “Yeah, just… a lot.”

“It’s always like this before the solstice,” he said with a shrug, then grinned. “Tomorrow’s the real fun.” And just as he said that, the double doors at the end of the hall opened, and everything shifted. The music faltered for just a breath. Heads turned. Even Hongjoong looked up from his quiet conversation with Seonghwa. A fae man strode in with sun on his skin and arrogance in his step. The air almost shimmered around him, as if it refused to let go. Broad shouldered, deeply tanned, wearing a loose open shirt in rich burnt orange that clung to his chest like it wanted to fall off. His dark was pushed back by a bronze circlet, and gold hoops lined one ear. A sword strapped casually to his back. A few leaves still tangled in his hair like he’d walked through the forest itself and it hadn’t wanted him to leave.

Wooyoung groaned under his breath, nearly sliding under the table. “Of course he’d show up now.” Y/N blinked. “Who is that?” She asked. “San. Heir of the Summer Court. The golden menace. The heartbreak king. Love of my life.” Y/N choked on her wine as Wooyoung just patted her back, eyes narrowed at the man approaching the high table like he owned the place. San was all heat and confidence, bowing slightly to Hongjoong with a smile before scanning the table, and then his gaze landed on Y/N. And he stopped. Dead in his tracks. Y/N froze as his head tilted slightly, a curious glint in his eyes. Like he knew something. Like he’d felt something the second he looked at her.

He stepped toward them without hesitation as Wooyoung muttered, “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” San stopped right across from where Y/N sat and gave her the kind of smile that didn’t just warm the room, it set it on fire. “I don’t think we’ve met,” he said, voice smooth and rich like honeyed brandy. “I’m San.” Y/N stared up at him, still a little dazed, but managed, “Y/N.” He grinned wider. “Beautiful name. Fitting.” She opened her mouth, no idea what she was going to say, but before she could speak, Yunho’s voice cut in, low and flat from just a few seats down. “She’s bound to me.” His words hit like a dog pissing on his territory. San’s gaze flicked to him, still smiling, but there was a flicker of amusement beneath.

“Didn’t ask,” San said easily, then looked back at Y/N. “But thanks for the information.” And then he winked at her and sat himself right next to Gunho like he’d been invited.

Wooyoung hissed under his breath. Y/N just sat there, heart beating fast for reasons she didn’t quite understand, feeling like the real solstice storm had just arrived early as dinner stretched on under the glowing canopy of enchanted leaves that floated lazily above the long table, casting flickers of gold and russet light like dappled sun through the trees. Laughter echoed, goblets clinked, and the scent of roasted meats and spiced fruits perfumed the air.

Y/N hadn’t even realized how close San had settled beside her until she felt the warmth of his arm as he passed her the honeyed carrots with a small smile, his voice low and kind. Genuinely kind. “Try these. They taste like the ones we used to steal from the Summer kitchens when we were kids.” She smiled back, amused. “And you didn’t get caught?”

“Oh, I got caught every time,” he grinned. “Seonghwa tattled. Still worth it.” Across the table, Seonghwa gave an unbothered shrug without looking up from his wine. Gunho was fully engaged in a story San was animatedly telling, something about a phoenix hunt gone sideways, with Mingi chuckling along and Wooyoung poking fun from the far end. The energy had eased into something almost cozy, until Hongjoong leaned forward, eyes calm but calculating. His voice was casual, but Y/N felt the weight behind it. “So,” he said, tone light, “how did you end up bound to the heir of the Night Court?”

The table quieted, just slightly. Enough to make her spine straighten. Yunho didn’t look up, simply cutting into his venison with clean, methodical movements as Y/N cleared her throat, fingers brushing against the edge of her plate. “It wasn’t on purpose.” That earned a raised brow from Hongjoong. “It usually isn’t.” Yunho finally looked up then, his gaze dark but not unfriendly, voice calm. “She crossed the border. A creature nearly tore her apart. I stopped it.” Hongjoong hummed, eyes flicking to the ring on her finger again before returning to her face. “And you didn’t know about the laws.” Y/N shook her head. “We humans avoid fae.” San leaned in a little, not intruding, just present. “Must’ve been terrifying.”

“It was,” she admitted quietly. “And confusing. But… he saved me.” San offered a soft smile. “Then I’m glad he did.” Yunho’s eyes flicked to him for a heartbeat. San didn’t back down, just kept that same relaxed smile, warm and genuine. No competition, no sharpness. Just… him as Hongjoong studied her for another moment, then leaned back with a nod. “Interesting fate.” Seonghwa gently set his glass down. “More than fate, I think.” The tension broke, replaced with amusement and conversation again. Dishes passed hands, wine refilled, and as the night went on, Y/N could feel something shift ever so slightly once again. They weren’t just seeing her as a human anymore. They were starting to see her.

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The moon hung heavy over the Autumn Court’s spired rooftops, casting long silver shadows across the marble balconies and winding gardens below. The halls of the palace had gone still, silent but for the faint crackle of enchanted lanterns and the occasional rustle of leaves stirred by a midnight breeze. Y/N wandered barefoot, her cloak drawn tight around her shoulders as she padded through the quiet halls. Sleep had evaded her completely, her mind too full, her chest too heavy. Between Tidus’ lingering eyes, Hongjoong’s questions at dinner, and the quiet, slow burning tension with Yunho and Mingi, she felt stretched thin. Like a thread pulled taut. The gardens shimmered under the starlight, glowing softly with magic. She paused at the edge of the archway, breathing in the scent of honeysuckle and dew.

“You always sneak off when the castle sleeps?” came a calm voice. She startled, turning toward the figure approaching down the gravel path. Hongjoong. He wasn’t dressed as formally as he’d been at dinner, just dark slacks and a loose robe belted at the waist, barefoot like her. His hair was tousled, and moonlight caught the streaks of brighter red hidden in the auburn strands. “I couldn’t sleep,” she murmured. He nodded, falling into step beside her without being asked. “The Autumn Court does that to people. Too many voices in the wind. Too many memories.”

They walked in companionable silence for a few minutes, the only sounds the soft crunch of gravel beneath their feet and the distant chirp of insects in the trees. Eventually, they came upon a low stone wall overlooking the gardens, ivy covered and worn smooth by time. She climbed up, settling on the edge as he leaned casually beside her. “Do you remember your parents?” he asked, voice mild. Just curious. Maybe too curious. Y/N blinked at him. “That’s… forward.” He smiled faintly. “I’ve never liked small talk.” She hesitated, then exhaled, brushing her thumb across her ring. “Not really. They died when I was a kid.” Hongjoong held her gaze for a moment, then nodded, seemingly satisfied. “And you don’t remember anything from before?”

“No. Just flashes. My mother singing. Golden trees. The smell of firewood and citrus.” She smiled faintly. “And a man with ink stained fingers who used to read me stories in the dark. I always assumed he was my father.” Hongjoong turned his face slightly, eyes distant before he nodded toward her ring. “You said it was your mother’s.” She glanced down at it. “Yeah. She wore it all the time before giving it to me.”

“It’s an old ring,” he said softly. “Fae forged. From the High Court, long before the war.” She looked at him, startled. “How would you know that?”

“I’m old,” he replied without missing a beat, then pushed off the wall. “Come on. The moon will set soon.” She stayed seated. “Do you ask every girl with a ring about her dead parents, or am I just lucky?” Hongjoong smiled, walking backwards now, hands tucked behind his back. “Only the ones who remind me of someone I used to know.” There was something about the way he said it, like he was speaking to her and to a memory all at once, that made her chest ache as Y/N watched him disappear down the path, the shadows swallowing him like they were used to him slipping in and out of their grasp.

She didn’t know what he meant. Not yet. But something in her gut said Hongjoong knew far more than he let on. About the ring. About her parents. About her. And for the first time since stepping into the fae world… she wasn’t sure if she was ready to know.

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The next day dawned cool and golden, with a soft breeze that carried the scent of maple wood and morning dew through the courtyards of the Autumn Palace. Everywhere Y/N looked, people were preparing, draping velvet banners from balconies, lighting floating lanterns in the halls, and arranging blooming twilight roses in every fountain. The Solstice Festival would begin at sundown, and anticipation shimmered in the air like magic. Gunho had been swept off early to help string lights along the upper walkways, while Seonghwa and Wooyoung disappeared somewhere with a cart full of enchanted firecrackers. Y/N wandered the gardens with a warm cup of cider in her hands, grateful for a moment of quiet.

Meanwhile, Yunho and Mingi were walking side by side through the lower courtyard, their pace unhurried as they followed the winding stone path that led through the eastern gardens. Yunho had been tense all morning, his jaw clenched tight, a muscle ticking whenever Tidus was nearby. “She didn’t sleep much,” Yunho muttered, arms folded as he stared ahead. Mingi gave him a sidelong look. “Y/N?” Yunho didn’t answer, but the stiffness in his shoulders gave him away. Mingi sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “She’s strong. You know that, right?”

“She shouldn’t have to be.”

Before Mingi could respond, a silvery voice rang out behind them. “Well, well… I thought I recognized those brooding shoulders.” Yunho stopped walking. Mingi turned just in time to see a striking figure gliding toward them, tall, elegant, blonde and dressed in a sheer black gown embroidered with threads of starlight. Her curly hair was braided back with tiny crystals woven through the strands, and her green eyes shimmered with amusement as they landed on Yunho. “Drusilla,” Yunho said flatly, his voice like ice. “Fuck me,” Mingi muttered under his breath, already slowing his stride.

“Mingi,” she purred, “still slouching like you didn’t grow up in a palace.” Mingi gave her a smirk, not quite friendly. “Still slinking around like you own every room you walk into.”

“I don’t own them,” she said lightly. “They just know better than to forget me.” Yunho let out a long breath, clearly already done. “What are you doing here?” Drusilla blinked innocently. “You’re not the only one with an invitation to the Solstice, darling. I’ve just returned from the Spring Court. Their parties are all flowers and flutes. Boring.”

“And yet,” Mingi said, folding his arms, “you stayed for nearly a year.” She tilted her head. “And miss your charming company?” Yunho scoffed. “Don’t flatter yourself. We’re not interested.”

“Oh, I know,” she said smoothly, taking a step closer. “The Winter wolf and the Night heir… trailing after that little human like she hung the stars.” Mingi’s jaw ticked. “Careful.” Drusilla’s smile curled, too pleased. “Relax. I’m not here to start trouble. I’m just curious. I’ve never seen you two so… invested.” Yunho’s voice was flat. “Because it’s none of your business.” She sighed dramatically, then looked back at Mingi. “I suppose it was too much to hope we’d share a drink like old times.”

“You tried to put me in a coma once.”

“That was years ago.”

“It was three.”

She waved a hand. “Let me know if you change your mind.” Without waiting for a response, she turned and disappeared into the crowd, heels tapping against the stones like the ticking of a clock. Yunho exhaled harshly. “She’s like a damn curse.” Mingi was still watching the spot she vanished from. “She’s worse when she’s polite.”

“She’s going to stir shit.”

“She always does.”

Yunho looked at him. “You’re good?” Mingi cracked his neck. “Fine. Just… keep her away from Y/N.” Yunho’s eyes darkened. “I was already planning on it.” And with that, they turned toward the upper halls, where banners of dusk blue and silver fluttered in the breeze and the faint scent of spices signaled the festival preparations in full swing. Neither of them noticed the Drusilla still watching from the shadows behind the ivy covered colonnade, her smile quiet… and deadly.

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The chamber was warm with flickering lamplight when Y/N returned from her bath, her skin still slightly damp from the lavender scented steam. A soft knock came at the door, and when she opened it, she was greeted by a girl with wild ginger curls and curious green eyes. “Lady Y/N?” the girl asked, giving a polite dip of her head. “I’m Felicity. I serve under Lord Hongjoong. He asked that I bring this to you for the Solstice festival tonight.” In her arms, draped across careful hands, was a gown the color of burnished clay, rich, warm, and unlike anything Y/N had ever worn. The fabric caught the firelight like autumn flame, the bodice structured with delicate pleats that cinched the waist, jeweled accents forming a chain across the neckline and down the front. Y/N stared. “That’s… for me?” Felicity nodded. “It was chosen specifically for you by Lord Hongjoong himself.”

She stepped into the room, carefully laying the dress over the edge of the bed. “The fit should be perfect,” she added, smoothing a hand over the fabric. “He said it once belonged to someone dear to the Autumn Court.” Y/N tilted her head. “Really?” She didn’t know why the idea sent a strange flutter through her chest. Y/N stood still as Felicity moved around her with practiced hands, pulling the gown gently into place. The fabric slid over her skin like memory, soft, cool, and strangely grounding. She tried not to overthink the tightness in her chest as Felicity fastened the bejeweled straps at her shoulders and tugged the sides snug around her waist.

“You have the frame for it,” Felicity murmured, stepping back to admire her handiwork. “Corseted, but not stiff. Just enough to remind the room you’re not to be underestimated.” Y/N laughed softly, shaking her head. “It feels like armor.”

“Good,” Felicity grinned. “That’s what it was made for.” They stood in companionable silence for a moment before Felicity retrieved a small wooden box from the side table. Inside, nestled against crushed velvet, was a collection of delicate pins and chains, each made from gold and copper wire, shaped into tiny autumn leaves and twisting vines. She picked up a few and began gently sweeping Y/N’s hair back from her face. “You’ve got the kind of hair that’s too pretty to fight,” she hummed. “So we let it fall just enough to look like rebellion.” Y/N arched a brow in the mirror. “That sounds very Autumn Court.” Felicity smirked. “We do love a little chaos.”

She had just finished tucking the last pin in place when the door opened without a knock. “Hope I’m not interrupting some delicate lady magic,” came Wooyoung’s voice, dry and amused as he leaned on the doorframe, arms crossed and dressed to kill in dark slacks and a deep green tunic that shimmered with night-thread. “But everyone’s nearly ready, and Mingi’s threatening to drink without you if you take much longer.” Y/N turned, and Wooyoung stopped mid sentence. His playful smirk faltered, blinking once. Twice. “Shit.” Felicity grinned behind her, clearly pleased. “That’s the reaction we like.” Wooyoung stepped further into the room, eyes sweeping over Y/N like he wasn’t quite sure what realm he’d just walked into. “You… you look like a goddess. A really, really unfair one.” Y/N laughed, a little flustered under the intensity of his gaze. “It’s just a dress.”

“That is not just a dress,” he shot back, stepping around her slowly, like he was trying to memorize the way the fabric clung to her body and fanned around her hips. “Where the hell did Joong find this?” Felicity looked up from fixing a final strand. “It used to belong to someone important he said.” Wooyoung raised a brow, but didn’t press. Instead, he reached out and offered Y/N his arm. “Come on, autumn queen. Time to make everyone else look underdressed.” She hesitated, brushing a hand over herself where the fabric hugged just a bit too tight, almost like a whisper of something forgotten. But she took his arm anyway. “Let’s go set the whole court on fire,” he grinned and Y/N smiled. “Why not?”

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The lanterns were already glowing, suspended in midair like fireflies caught in amber. The entire courtyard had transformed, warm gold spilling from crystal chandeliers, the scent of spiced wine and roasted fruits thick in the breeze, and music playing somewhere in the background, soft and pulsing like a heartbeat as Yunho adjusted the collar of his deep navy tunic, trimmed in silver thread that caught the lamplight with every breath he took. He was still fidgeting with the bracer around his forearm when Mingi appeared beside him, holding two glasses. “Cheers to the Autumn Court,” Mingi grinned, handing one over. Yunho eyed the glowing contents warily. “What did you grab?” Mingi sipped first, then smacked his lips. “Elixir of Clarity. Or Chaos. I didn’t read the label.”

Yunho huffed a laugh. “Of course you didn’t. You always go for the drinks that look like they were brewed by madmen.” Mingi wiggled his eyebrows. “Where’s the fun in moderation?” Before Yunho could answer, a familiar, unwelcome voice curled into the air beside them once again. “I just can’t seem to miss the two of you, can I?” Yunho stiffened as Drusilla stepped into their space like she belonged there, hair pinned in a crown of crystal thorns, her dress made of something that shimmered like water and venom. She smiled at Yunho as if he were still hers, and tilted her head coyly at Mingi. Yunho didn’t bother with a reply, too busy draining his drink just to get through the encounter without saying something he’d regret. But then, midway through lowering his glass, his entire body locked up. Mingi followed his gaze a second later and froze as well.

Across the courtyard, beneath a canopy of woven vines and fae glass, Y/N stepped into the light. Wooyoung was at her side, gesturing wildly as he said something that had her laughing, bright and unguarded. She looked… radiant. The deep copper and green tones of her dress shimmered against her skin like sunlight cutting through forest leaves. Her hair was pinned back, wild in the way only magic could make elegant. Her smile hit Yunho like a punch. Next to him, Mingi swore softly. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” But the moment didn’t end there. Because as if the gods themselves were determined to twist the knife, Hongjoong approached from the crowd, dressed in regal Autumn Court finery. He didn’t hesitate, just offered Y/N his arm with that signature smirk, and she, completely unaware of the twin storms brewing across the courtyard, rested her hand against his sleeve. They walked off together, her head tilted up as he whispered something into her ear.

Mingi’s jaw clenched. Yunho didn’t speak. Drusilla blinked, sensing the sudden shift, and followed their gaze. When she spotted Y/N, her expression soured instantly. “Oh. Her.” Yunho didn’t even glance at her. His eyes were locked on the curve of Y/N’s smile, the way her fingers tapped lightly against Hongjoong’s arm. The soft sway of her hips. The weight of something he couldn’t name tightening in his chest as Mingi downed the rest of his drink in one go.

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Y/N didn’t realize how long she’d been walking beside Hongjoong until they slowed near the curved edge of the great reflecting pool, it’s surface catching the flicker of lanterns and firelight, moonlight tangled in its glassy ripples. Laughter rang like bells in the distance, music swelling and falling in waves that danced on the wind. “Stay close,” Hongjoong murmured, his voice low and amused. “The court’s full of charm tonight, but it still has teeth.” She gave him a look. “I think I can handle teeth.”

“Good,” he said, lips quirking. “Because they’re already watching.” Before she could ask what that meant, another figure stepped smoothly into their path, elegant, sharp featured, dressed in deep burgundy and warm golds. “Seonghwa,” Hongjoong greeted him with a nod and loving gaze. “Perfect timing.”

“I always am,” Seonghwa replied with a small bow. His eyes flicked to Y/N, and his smile softened. “You must be overwhelmed. May I offer you something to drink? It’s not too strong. Just something to settle your nerves.” Y/N hesitated, then nodded. “I’d like that.” He reached for a tray carried by a floating silver disc and handed her a tall crystal flute with a faintly glowing golden drink inside. It shimmered like sunlight in syrup, and when she sipped it, warmth immediately bloomed in her chest, not intoxicating, just… peaceful. “Thank you,” she said, looking up at him and Seonghwa gave her a small nod and stepped beside her, hands clasped behind his back. “The Autumn Court has that effect,” he said softly, eyes scanning the festival around them. “It gets under your skin. Sometimes it makes you feel things you forgot you were capable of.”

Y/N looked around, the arching bridges lined with candles, the way firelight flickered on copper leafed trees, the faint scent of apples and woodsmoke. There was something in the air, comforting and aching all at once. “It’s beautiful,” she said after a long pause. “It almost feels like… home.” Seonghwa’s head tilted slightly at her words. “Almost?” She didn’t answer right away. Her eyes drifted to the edge of the gardens, where soft vines curled along golden trellises, where music swirled and voices echoed. There was no concrete memory to cling to, no image of her mother or father standing on these very stones. But her heart thudded like it knew something her mind couldn’t reach. “I don’t know what home feels like,” she admitted quietly. “But if I had to guess… it would be something like this.” There was a beat of silence before Seonghwa spoke, his voice quieter than before. “You look like someone I used to know. Someone who once said the same thing standing in this very spot.”

She turned to him slowly, eyebrows lifting. “Who?” He didn’t answer. Just offered her another small smile, full of shadows and withheld truths, and then said, “Come. Hongjoong will want you to meet the other court lords before the next toast.” And though her legs moved, part of her lingered behind, still tasting the faint sweetness of the drink on her lips, still feeling the strange echo of something long buried stirring just beneath her skin. Y/N let herself be guided deeper into the festival, the music growing brighter, more playful the closer they got to the heart of the courtyard. Lanterns floated overhead in gentle swirls, casting amber light over revelers dressed in shades of fire, harvest, and midnight.

Seonghwa was the perfect escort, elegant, attentive, charming without being overwhelming. He moved like he’d been born to this world, like he’d personally choreographed the rhythm of the festival itself. She didn’t notice at first that he was steering her gently away from Yunho’s line of sight. But Yunho noticed from his post beneath a canopy of trees strung with lanterns, he watched Y/N like gravity itself had fixed him in place. Mingi stood beside him, one brow raised as he took a long sip of his too blue elixir drink, the kind that bubbled faintly and probably lit your veins on fire. “She looks good in the dress,” Mingi said, glancing at him sideways. Yunho didn’t answer. His jaw was clenched too tight. “She looks happy,” Mingi added, and Yunho’s eyes flicked toward him, sharp.

“Felix,” Seonghwa greeted warmly as they approached a wide circular table lined with other court envoys. “I’d like to introduce you to someone rather special.” The blonde prince turned, the starlight catching in the golden threads woven into his cream colored formal coat. He had sun kissed skin, bright amber eyes, and a boyish grin that made him look younger than he was, but the way he held himself, calm and confident, said otherwise. “This is Y/N,” Seonghwa continued. “Guest of the Autumn Court, newly arrived.”

“Ah,” Felix said, offering a small bow that was more flirt than formality. “So you’re the mystery that has half the court whispering.” Y/N blinked. “Am I?” Felix chuckled. “The festival’s not even in full swing and you’ve already made an impression. That’s rare here.” She opened her mouth to reply, but the words died when Felix reached out and gently took her hand, not in a claim, but something far more graceful. He brought her knuckles to his lips, eyes meeting hers over them. “Felix of the Day Court,” he said. “And may I say… the moonlight suits you, but I’d love to see you in the sun.”

Y/N laughed, genuine and surprised, and didn’t notice the ripple of tension that crossed Yunho’s entire body like a wave of shadow. Mingi leaned in and muttered under his breath, “Okay, now I want to hit him.” Yunho didn’t blink. Across the courtyard, Felix still held her hand, though now he was turning it slightly to examine the ring on her finger. “This is a rare piece,” he mused aloud, glancing at Seonghwa. “Looks like something from the old crafts of the Autumn Court.”

“Family heirloom,” Y/N said smoothly, pulling her hand back. “My mother’s.” Something unreadable flickered in Seonghwa’s gaze, but he stayed quiet as Felix smiled again. “A beautiful piece for a beautiful mystery.” From the shadows, Yunho took a step forward before Mingi gently grabbed his arm. “Don’t,” Mingi warned. “You storm in there now, it’ll be exactly what Drusilla wants to see. She’s already watching.”

Yunho didn’t have to look to know she was. But Y/N? She was laughing again, charmed by someone else, shining in the very court where she belonged without knowing it. And Yunho could feel it slipping. Whatever this was between them. Or maybe… it had never really been his to hold. He didn’t take his eyes off her. Even as the crowd swelled and laughter echoed across the courtyard, even as new music swirled through the air and Drusilla appeared again at the edge of his vision like a bad memory he couldn’t blink away, he couldn’t stop watching Y/N.

She was radiant in the dress, standing beneath a cascade of golden leaves, smiling with her lips tinted dark. She was laughing at something Felix said, the blonde bastard all charm and sunshine and easy grace like he wasn’t an absolute menace in charming disguise. Mingi let out a long exhale beside him, tipping back the rest of his bubbling elixir. His throat bobbed with the swallow before he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and muttered, “I’m going for a run.” Yunho turned just enough to glance at him. The tightness in his jaw matched Yunho’s own. “You sure?” Yunho asked low, though he already knew. Mingi’s eyes glinted under the lanternlight, that pale winter blue already starting to frost over. “Unless you want me to punch a Day Court prince in front of everyone.”

Yunho didn’t stop him. Mingi was gone with a quick flick of his coat, slipping into the crowd like smoke, out through one of the shadowed hedgerow paths, toward the forests surrounding the palace. The Autumn Court stretched for miles in every direction, thick with trees and magic and enough open space for a wolf to tear out his frustration without witnesses. Yunho’s fists clenched behind his back. Because he understood. Every second that Felix kept her attention, every moment she smiled at the prince like he wasn’t just a polished threat in golden wrapping, something ancient and possessive curled deeper into Yunho’s gut. She didn’t even know she was his. Didn’t know what the bond between them really meant. That he’d tasted her fear and her rage, had felt the way her pulse jumped when she touched him. That something in his blood recognized her, not just as the girl he had been tied him to, but something older. Something sacred.

And she was smiling for someone else. Someone not him. The ring on her finger caught the lanternlight again as she reached for a goblet from Seonghwa. And Yunho saw it then, Hongjoong wasn’t the only one who noticed. Drusilla, now standing a few feet behind Felix, tilted her head slightly and narrowed her eyes at the band of and moonstone. Yunho shifted on instinct, placing himself subtly between her and Y/N. But Y/N didn’t notice. Not yet. She was too busy existing like she belonged here. And Yunho wasn’t sure if he wanted to drag her out of this court and claim her under the stars… or if she’d look at him like he was the villain if he tried.

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Y/N didn’t notice her at first. She was too caught up in the shimmer of the court around her, the way the leaves above seemed to burn gold and crimson with no flame at all, the way laughter curled in the air like smoke, the faint taste of honey and spice still on her tongue from the drink Seonghwa gave her. But then someone touched her elbow lightly. “Darling, I don’t believe we’ve met,” came a voice as smooth and saccharine as syrup. Y/N turned to see a woman of unfair beauty, curly blonde hair coiled into elaborate twists, a tight gown of obsidian velvet, and lips the color of crushed berries. Her eyes were pale green, too pale, and glinted like frostbite beneath a smile that didn’t quite reach them. “I’m Drusilla,” she said sweetly, brushing an invisible speck from Y/N’s shoulder. “Of the Night Court.”

Y/N blinked, polite but instinctively on guard. “Y/N,” she replied simply. Drusilla’s smile curved sharper. “Oh, you’re the one.” Her eyes flicked briefly to Yunho across the courtyard, still standing stiff, jaw tight. “I see.” Y/N barely had time to ask what that meant when Drusilla produced a glass from seemingly nowhere, an amber liquid glowing faintly inside. “A welcome drink,” she offered. “Autumn’s specialty. You must be overwhelmed… and terribly thirsty.” Something in Y/N’s gut hesitated. But the woman’s tone was too smooth, too practiced, and she didn’t want to appear rude. She reached out, fingers brushing the cool glass and she didn’t hear how just before she grabbed it, Drusilla leaned in, her mouth brushing the rim of the cup as if to steady it. Her whisper was so soft it could’ve been mistaken for breath, “Mingi.”

The spell took root instantly. It wasn’t overpowering, no, Drusilla was far too clever for that. But it nestled beneath the surface of Y/N’s thoughts like a buried ember. A suggestion. A hunger. The moment the drink touched Y/N’s lips, warmth bloomed across her chest and coiled low in her belly. She blinked, startled by how sweet it was, how it fizzed with something strange… tingling. Drusilla’s grin widened like a cat catching sight of a canary. “I do hope you enjoy the festival,” she said, her tone honeyed. “It’s full of… surprises.” And then she disappeared into the crowd with the rustle of silk and secrets as Y/N stood there for a moment, glass still in hand, her skin now feeling a touch too warm. Her eyes flicked across the courtyard instinctively just in time to see Mingi reappear between two towering trees at the edge of the garden. Hair tousled, shirt open, eyes glowing faintly with the residue of his shift.

Her heart skipped. Her breath hitched. And without understanding why, her fingers tightened around the stem of her glass. Y/N pulled her gaze away from Mingi’s, the strange flutter in her stomach blooming wider, hotter. Her throat felt dry, her fingers still curled too tightly around the empty glass. She set it down on a tray a passing servant carried and forced a quiet breath through her nose. It’s just the drink, she told herself. Just the heat. Just the crowd. The laugh she’d shared with Wooyoung earlier felt like a memory from another night. The garden lights blurred slightly at the edges. She needed a moment. So she slipped between two tall hedges just off the main courtyard, her silk skirts brushing over the worn stone path as she made her way into a quieter part of the gardens. Lanterns glowed soft gold between the trees. Cicadas hummed. A breeze stirred the curling ivy that twisted up the archways.

Behind her, Yunho’s jaw tensed from where he still stood in the center of the crowd. A group of Day Court nobles had cornered him, not unkindly, but insistently, peppering him with questions about his father, about whether Lord Alec would be attending the Solstice, about the current standing of the Night Court’s alliances. His polite mask didn’t crack, but his eyes never stopped tracking her. Not when she slipped away. Not when he saw Mingi start to follow.

Mingi had only caught a glimpse of her across the courtyard, her eyes locking with his, something flashing in them he couldn’t name. His skin still thrummed from the shift, blood still buzzing from the run, but none of that mattered when he saw her disappear through the hedges, alone. So he went after her. Not because he sensed anything was wrong. But because he wanted to. Because the way she looked tonight, gown flowing like flame, eyes shadowed with something deeper than just mystery, did something dangerous to him. Something he wasn’t ready to admit out loud.

He found her standing at the edge of a fountain, palms braced on the cool stone lip as she leaned slightly forward, head bowed. The glow of the lanterns lit the edge of her profile, the soft curve of her neck. Her chest rose and fell in quiet, uneven breaths. “Hey,” he said, voice low making her turn slowly. And when she saw him, Mingi, still flushed from the run, eyes gleaming silver in the night, something inside her snapped. The spell didn’t demand action, didn’t puppet her body. But it amplified what was already there. A buried want. A locked door given the slightest nudge open. “I…. needed a second,” she said, voice quiet. Mingi tilted his head, walking closer. “I figured.” She didn’t step back. She didn’t look away.

“You okay?”

Y/N hesitated. She didn’t know how to explain the heat in her blood. The way her pulse raced at just the sight of him. The way the scent of moss and cold wind and him made her feel like her skin didn’t fit right anymore. “I think… something was in that drink,” she whispered and Mingi frowned. “What do you mean?” Y/N shook her head. “I don’t know. I feel… strange. Like I want to…” She trailed off, biting her lip. Her eyes flicked up to his, pupils dilated. “Like you want to what?” he asked softly, a slow smile curling at the edges of his mouth completely unaware as she laughed breathless. “I’m not saying that out loud.” Mingi’s brow arched. “Now I’m curious.”

She looked away, trying to collect herself. But the spell’s influence buzzed just beneath the surface, curling warm and electric. She didn’t know why it was him that made her feel like this, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that if he touched her now, even once, she’d melt right into it. Mingi, still unaware of the spell, took another step closer. “Come on,” he said, grin widening, teasing. “Tell me.” Mingi stopped just short of her, close enough that she could feel the cold forest scent clinging to him, like night air after snow. He cocked his head, lips tugging into that familiar, infuriating grin. “You’re acting like I just caught you doing something illegal,” he teased. “Relax. I don’t bite unless invited.”

Y/N huffed a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet,” he said lightly, reaching out, fingers brushing her arm. It was barely a touch. Innocent. Casual. And the world shifted. Magic snapped tight like a drawn bowstring and Mingi sucked in a sharp breath, his grin vanishing instantly as something cold and electric shot up his spine. The contact burned, not painful, but overwhelming. His wolf stirred violently beneath his skin, instincts flaring hot and fast, eyes flashing silver for just a heartbeat as Y/N gasped at the same time. Her knees went weak, not dramatically, not enough to fall, but enough that Mingi reacted on instinct, his hand tightening around her arm to steady her. That made it worse.

The spell bloomed fully then, unfurling like a living thing. Suddenly, he could feel her. Not just her warmth or the quickened pulse beneath his palm, but her presence, sharp and intoxicating, like standing too close to a storm. Every breath she took felt loud. Every flicker of her lashes felt personal. His wolf pressed hard against the surface of his control, recognizing something it wanted without understanding why. “Whoa,” Mingi muttered, voice dropping. “Okay. That’s… new.” Y/N looked up at him, eyes wide, pupils blown, her hand still curled lightly in the fabric of his sleeve as if she didn’t even realize she’d grabbed him. “Mingi,” she whispered, voice unsteady, “I really think something’s wrong.” He didn’t let go. Couldn’t.

His thumb brushed her skin before he could stop himself, and the contact sent another jolt through him, possessive, grounding, dangerous. His teasing tone was gone now, replaced by something more serious, more alert. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “I’m starting to think you’re right.” Behind them, unseen through the hedges, shadows stirred. Yunho had finally shaken free of the Day Court nobles. And he was already moving, because he felt Y/N’s panic, her confusion, because whatever had just flared between the two of them? He could feel it in his bones. His steps echoed hard and fast, but Mingi didn’t hear him. He was locked in, fingertips grazing over Y/N’s forearm, a touch that should’ve been playful. Teasing. Something light to get her to roll her eyes at him, maybe call him out for flirting when she was clearly entertaining someone else.

The spell was invisible, but it hit like a sucker punch to the ribs, his breath caught, pupils blew wide, and the teasing quip on his tongue evaporated like steam. His whole body jolted. Every nerve lit up, his heartbeat thundered in his ears, and a growl trembled deep in his throat before he even realized it was him. Y/N flinched like she felt it too, head jerking up to meet his gaze, her lips parting with a soft gasp, confusion storming across her face. “Y/N?” Yunho’s voice sliced through the spell like a blade. Too late. Mingi was already in front of her, half between her and Yunho without even thinking. He didn’t remember moving. But when Yunho stepped closer, reaching out toward her with concern etched into every line of his face….

Mingi growled. Low and warning. Not playful. Not teasing. This one was primal. Possessive. Laced with magic and instinct and a command that said, don’t fucking touch what’s mine. “Mingi?” Yunho stopped short. Eyes narrowed. His own chest rising. He saw it immediately, the change. The heat rolling off Mingi, the tension in his shoulders, the faint glow in his irises like the wolf was right there under the surface. Yunho’s brows furrowed, gaze flicking between the two of them. “Y/N…. are you okay?” But Y/N didn’t answer. She couldn’t. She was staring at Mingi like he’d just turned into something ancient and dangerous. Like something inside her recognized something inside him.

Mingi didn’t even blink. Didn’t speak. Didn’t move, except to shift his body half a step closer to her again, ignoring the alarm in Yunho’s voice and the pain clawing up the back of his skull as the spell was trying to finish binding them. This wasn’t attraction. It wasn’t a crush. This wasn’t even his wolf. This was something else. That’s when Hongjoong appears, weaving through the crowd with the unshakable ease of someone who’s been running shit since the day he could walk. His eyes flick from Yunho’s tense stance to Mingi’s glowing ones and then to Y/N, who’s still barely moving. “What is going on?” he mutters, stepping beside Yunho, brows furrowed.

“Something’s wrong,” Yunho says immediately. “This isn’t normal.” Before Hongjoong can ask anything else, Seonghwa catches up, gaze already sweeping over the three of them like a scanner. He steps into Y/N’s line of sight gently, voice calm but direct. “Y/N,” Seonghwa says. “Tell me exactly what you drank or ate tonight. Anything at all.” Y/N blinks, her breath hitching, lips moving like she’s struggling to form words. “I… a woman…” Her eyes flick toward Seonghwa for only a second before snapping right back to Mingi. Her voice is soft, hoarse. “Dru… I…. can’t remember her name. She gave me a drink…” Hongjoong’s jaw ticks. “What woman?” Y/N’s fingers twitch like they want to reach out. “Pretty. Light hair. Red lips. She…. she said it….. I didn’t think….” her voice breaks as her pupils dilate even more. “Everything feels hot.” Mingi’s fists clench at his sides, jaw tight enough to crack teeth. Yunho watches, horror washing over him as he realizes exactly what’s happening. This isn’t intoxication. It’s enchantment. And it’s working fast.

“She’s been spelled,” Seonghwa confirms quietly to Hongjoong, reading the signs with frightening clarity. “And Mingi…”

“Is the tether,” Yunho finishes, stomach sinking as Mingi growls again, lower this time, when Yunho takes a single step closer to her. This wasn’t random. It was a targeted spell. And someone knew exactly who to use against her. Hongjoong’s eyes narrow as he puts it together, a cold edge slipping into his voice. “Get her away from him. Now. Before this turns into something we can’t undo.” Seonghwa steps forward, calm but firm, his fingers already reaching gently for Y/N’s wrist. “Y/N. Come with me, okay? Just for a moment. Somewhere quiet.” But she doesn’t move. She doesn’t want to. Not with Mingi so close. Her body leans toward him involuntarily, eyes glazed with longing. And when Seonghwa touches her wrist, Mingi lets out a warning growl so visceral it echoes off the stones.

Hongjoong steps between them before it escalates, voice sharp. “Mingi. Stand down.” Mingi’s glowing eyes flicker to him, chest heaving, the animal in him fighting. But he doesn’t lunge. Doesn’t speak. Just watches Seonghwa’s hand on Y/N like it’s a mortal offense. “She needs to be separated from him until this wears off,” Hongjoong says again, quieter this time, for Seonghwa alone. “Get her somewhere safe.” Seonghwa’s expression shifts slightly, hesitant, unreadable. He turns, looking at Hongjoong, voice low. “If it is what I think it is… it won’t just wear off.”

“What do you mean?” Yunho snaps, stepping forward, anxiety all over him as Seonghwa’s face is solemn. “It’s a lust binding. It uses a name, spoken directly into the drink before it’s consumed. That drink latches onto the first connection it finds between the named and the one who drinks it. Amplifies what’s already there until it becomes… unbearable.” Hongjoong curses under his breath as Yunho stares at Seonghwa, something cold sliding down his spine. “So what happens now?”

“If she stays near Mingi…” Seonghwa glances back at her, at the way her breathing grows shallower the longer she’s apart from him. “It’s only going to get worse. Her body will start reacting like she’s running a fever. The longer she resists it, the more painful it becomes.”

“And if we separate them?”

Seonghwa sighs. “She’ll be in agony. And so will he. Once the spell starts feeding on both sides, it’s not a simple break.”

“So how do we stop it?” Hongjoong asks, voice steel. “There are ways,” Seonghwa says. “But none of them are easy. And some… aren’t reversible.” No one speaks for a moment. Mingi hasn’t said a word, but his breathing is ragged, every inch of him trembling with restraint. And Y/N, gods, she’s trying. You can see it in her. But her eyes won’t leave him. Her body aches toward him like a magnet and Yunho looks at Hongjoong. “We need to find the one who cast it.” And far off in the crowd, Drusilla watches them from behind a goblet of wine, smiling like a cat with bloody claws.

Yunho’s jaw clenches so hard it ticks, eyes still on Y/N, how flushed she is, how tense, how wrong this all feels. His voice comes low, sharp enough to cut steel. “She said, Drus… something.’” He glances over at Hongjoong, then at Seonghwa. “It has to be Drusilla. Her little games…. always trying to piss me off.” Hongjoong’s gaze darkens instantly. “Drusilla’s here?”

“She showed up today,” Yunho mutters. He flicks a glance at Mingi, who’s still struggling to breathe steadily, muscles coiled tight as a drawn bowstring. “She must’ve whispered Mingi’s name into the damn drink.” Seonghwa exhales sharply. “Then it’s worse than I thought. She didn’t just pick a name at random, she targeted them. She knew.” Yunho growls, low and dangerous. “She’s been away at the Spring Court for months. What the hell does she know about Y/N?”

“Enough to want her gone,” Hongjoong says grimly. “Or humiliated. Or ruined.”

“And now she’s used a spell that forces them together like heat mad animals,” Seonghwa mutters. “She didn’t want to just upset you. She wanted to break something.” Yunho’s eyes flash. “She won’t get the chance.” Hongjoong raises a hand to calm him. “Focus. If we’re right and it was Drusilla, then the only one who can fully reverse the binding is her. Lust spells that specific can’t just be unraveled with herbs or distance. We’ll need to confront her directly.” Yunho doesn’t even hesitate. “Then I’ll find her.” But before he can storm off, Seonghwa steps in his path. “You’re not thinking clearly. She’s baiting you. She wants you pissed off and reckless.”

Yunho growls again, louder this time, and behind him, Y/N lets out a low, soft sound like she’s trying not to whimper. Her entire body is shaking now, trying to resist the invisible thread pulling her toward Mingi. Mingi’s fists are clenched so hard his knuckles are bone white, chest rising and falling in sharp, shallow pants as Hongjoong speaks, voice low. “We don’t have long before the spell takes full hold. If we don’t intervene soon…”

“Then they’ll lose all control,” Seonghwa finishes, his gaze flicking to Y/N. The silence hangs thick, and Yunho’s hands ball into fists at his sides. “I swear,” he mutters, voice like a promise soaked in blood, “when I find Drusilla, I’ll…” Hongjoong cuts him off. “Get in line.” Then he looks to Seonghwa. “Get her out of here. Try a cooling potion… see if you can slow the effects. I’ll handle Drusilla.” Yunho’s eyes stay locked on Mingi and Y/N. The way they’re unraveling. The way she leans toward Mingi even as she tries to pull back. “Make it fast,” Yunho says. “Because if she touches him again…” His voice drops, quiet and furious. “There won’t be a festival left standing.” It’s not that Yunho was angry at Mingi. Not that he was jealous, never of Mingi…. but her being with one of them couldn’t happen like this.

As Seonghwa gently guides Y/N away, one arm around her waist to steady her trembling body, Yunho turns, sharp as a blade unsheathed. “You. With me.” His voice leaves no room for argument and Mingi doesn’t hesitate. He doesn’t trust himself near Y/N right now anyway, not when his hands are still shaking from how badly he wanted to drag her into the shadows and give in. Not when the spell still coils through him like fire in his veins. They move fast, cutting through the winding stone behind the festival grounds, slipping past clusters of fae too drunk or too distracted to notice them. Once they’re deeper into the estate and away from the festival, away from her, Mingi finally stumbles to a halt, bracing both hands on a pillar, head bowed.

“I….” he gasps. “Fuck, Yunho.”

Yunho stops, eyes scanning the dark halls for any sign of movement, but he doesn’t press them forward yet. Not when he hears Mingi’s voice crack like that. “I can think a little clearer now that she’s not around,” Mingi pants, still clenching and unclenching his fists. “But back there? I couldn’t…” He grits his teeth. “All I could think about was fucking her. Touching her. Claiming her like she was mine. It wasn’t just lust, it felt like something was clawing under my skin. I knew it wasn’t me, but it felt like it was.” His voice is hoarse, eyes burning as he finally lifts his head. “I would never touch her like that, not unless she wanted it, not unless…” He chokes on the rest, fists slamming into the stone pillar. “Not like that.”

Yunho doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t look angry. Doesn’t look jealous. Just steps in front of him, lowering his voice with that firm steadiness only Yunho ever seems to have, even when everything is falling apart. “I know. I’m not mad,” Yunho says simply and Mingi stares at him, stunned. “It’s you, Mingi. I trust you.” Yunho’s gaze is unwavering. “If it were anyone else, I might’ve ripped their throat out back there. But it’s you. And this isn’t your fault.” Mingi’s breath hitches. “The spell was meant to hurt both of you. To hurt me.” Yunho’s jaw tightens. “Drusilla didn’t pick your name at random. She knew. She saw something.” Mingi laughs bitterly. “Saw me trying to pretend I didn’t want her?” He presses his lips together, shoulders sagging. “I never meant for it to be like this.”

“I know.” Yunho steps back, looking out at the fae unaware. “But if we don’t stop Drusilla, she’ll try again. Maybe next time it won’t be lust. Maybe next time it’ll be something worse.” There’s silence between them for a moment as Mingi runs a hand through his hair, finally nodding. “Let’s find her.” Yunho turns, voice low. “And when we do?” Mingi grins, a flicker of his usual cocky fire returning beneath the leftover heat of the spell. “I get first bite.” Yunho huffs. “Only if you leave her standing long enough for my turn.”

The solstice bonfire burned tall, a roaring column of fire that cracked and sparked up into the night sky, casting flickering golds and oranges across the marble courtyard and cloaking the revelers in a fever dream glow. Yunho spotted her across the blaze, Drusilla. Standing alone like she’d been waiting. He stormed toward her, fists clenched, cutting through dancers and courtiers like a blade through silk. The fire mirrored in his eyes as he stopped just short of her, voice low and venomous. “Whatever the fuck you did to him,” he growled, “undo it.” Drusilla’s lips curled, slow and amused, like a cat watching a cornered mouse. “Him who?” she purred, but her eyes weren’t on Yunho.

They slid past him and Yunho’s spine went rigid. His body turned before his mind even caught up, only to find nothing behind him. Mingi was gone. Panic snapped through his chest like a whip. He spun back to Drusilla, who was now sipping from her glass with leisurely satisfaction, the faintest shimmer of magic still sparkling across her fingertips. She knew. Of course she did. “You planned this,” Yunho snapped. “Don’t act like it wasn’t coming,” she sighed dramatically, casting a lazy glance back toward the shadows. “It was written all over his face, your face. You think no one noticed how you both look at her?” Yunho stepped forward, low and threatening. “If something happens to them…”

“The only thing that is going to happen,” Drusilla said sweetly. “Is he’s going to taste her before you do.” Yunho’s jaw clenched so tight he thought he might break his own teeth. “I whispered his name into a simple little charm,” she said, brushing invisible dust from her sleeve. “Is it my fault the spell did exactly what it was meant to do? Or that your little shadow wolf is so very… repressed?” Yunho’s heartbeat thundered in his ears. His gaze cut through the crowd, scanning, searching… but Mingi was nowhere to be seen.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

Seonghwa led Y/N back to her room she was staying in, windows letting in the silver sliver of moonlight, but it all felt wrong. Too quiet. Too still. Too far from him. Mingi. Y/N paced like a caged thing, one hand clutching the goblet Seonghwa had given her. The drink inside shimmered with soft amber tones, laced with calming herbs and a hint of dreamroot. She’d barely sipped it. Her skin felt too tight. Her chest too hot. She kept pressing her thighs together, then pulling them apart again, trying not to think of him. His mouth. His voice. His eyes when they found hers across the festival. Her entire body ached and buzzed, and she didn’t know how to stop it.

Seonghwa had been gentle, concerned. He’d promised the others would handle it, said he’d find Wooyoung and send him to stay with her. That it would be alright. But it didn’t feel alright. It felt like something inside her was screaming for release. And then a soft knock sounded at her door. No…. not even a knock. A sound more like a whimper. Y/N froze as it came again, a low, broken sound, followed by a shaky thud against the door. Her heartbeat jumped to her throat as she approached slowly, hand on the handle. “Mingi?” she whispered.

Another pained noise. “Y/N…” Her breath caught as she opened the door and there he was. Leaning heavily on the frame, his chest rising in fast, shallow breaths, sweat beading at his temples despite the night chill. His shirt was still half unbuttoned, hair wild, eyes glowing the faintest white like an ice storm trying not to erupt out of control. “I can’t…” he rasped. “It’s too much, I…. fuck, I’m sorry…..” He looked like he was in agony. Like every part of him hurt. And when his eyes finally met hers, her whole body reacted, need slamming into her like a wave. “Mingi,” she breathed, stepping back instinctively to let him in, her voice trembling, “what’s happening to us?”

His answer was barely more than a whimper. “I don’t know. But I need you.” Mingi stumbled inside as the door closed behind him, jaw clenched so tight it looked like it might crack. His breath was ragged, every muscle in his body straining like he was trying to hold back a wave threatening to drown him. His eyes flicked toward the small table in the corner, anything to brace himself, to focus, not lose control. He staggered toward it, bracing both hands on the wood. Y/N flinched as a layer of frost burst out beneath his palms, crawling like veins through the wood grain, spiderwebbing across the surface. The goblet Seonghwa had left froze solid, ice crystals racing up its stem as Mingi’s fingers dug into the edge of the table with a growl torn from his throat.

“Mingi…”

“I can’t stop it,” he panted, eyes wide, glowing brighter now. “I thought if I found you, I could… fuck, I can’t even think….” His hands shook. Frost spread in a sudden burst down the legs of the table, the air around him growing cold and sharp. But the pain, the ache in her chest, between her legs, deep in her belly, was burning through her faster than any winter chill. And the moment he looked at her, Y/N moved. She crossed the space between them in a blur, her hands gripping his shirt, pulling him down, her mouth crashing to his. Mingi gasped against her lips, surprised for half a second, before he was kissing her back just as desperately. The cold of his skin only made the heat inside her burn hotter as her fingers tangled in his hair as his arms wrapped around her like a vice, pulling her against him. He growled, full, animalistic need, as he hoisted her up against the frozen table, her legs wrapping around his waist as her back hit the wood hard enough to rattle the goblet.

Every second their mouths met made it worse. The spell didn’t feel like magic anymore. It felt like hunger. Like years of wanting that had never been spoken aloud, suddenly igniting. Y/N whimpered into his mouth, her hands slipping beneath the hem of his shirt, feeling his abs clench under her touch, Mingi shivering violently from it. “Please…” she gasped. “I know,” he growled. “I know. I need you too. Gods, I…. fuck, I need you.” There was no space between them anymore. Just shaking hands, open mouths, fire in their veins, and the sudden shattering of every rule either of them ever thought they’d follow. And outside, the Solstice bonfires raged.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

Yunho didn’t knock, he shoved the doors open and hauled Drusilla inside, his fingers wrapped around her upper arm so tightly she winced. Her heels scraped across the marble as she tried to twist away, but Yunho was livid, nearly shaking with fury, dark tendrils wrapping around his ex lover from his fingertips as if his power too wanted to destroy her. Hongjoong looked up from the long table, his eyes narrowing at the sight. “She dosed Y/N,” Yunho snapped. “Lust spell just like we thought.” Drusilla only smiled faintly, brushing her hair back despite the bruising grip on her arm. “I didn’t dose anyone. She drank it willingly. I simply whispered a name.”

“Break it.” Yunho’s voice dropped to a growl as Hongjoong stood slowly, the air shifting, colder now from authority. “Drusilla,” he said calmly, too calmly. “You’re going to undo it. Now.”

“And why would I do that?” she purred, gaze sliding lazily to Yunho. “He’s the one with a leash around his neck. I just… jiggled it.” Yunho’s jaw ticked as Hongjoong stepped forward, expression dark. “If you don’t break the spell in the next five seconds, I will rip the ability to speak enchantment from your tongue, do you understand?” Drusilla’s eyes flicked between the two of them, still smug, but now calculating. “Fine. Fine. I’ll remove it.” She tilted her head. “It won’t undo what’s already happening though.”

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

In the room, the frost on the table had begun to melt beneath the heat of them as Mingi kissed her like he’d starve without it, his lips greedy against her neck, collarbone, then down, lower, his large hands tracing along her thighs like they were the most sacred thing he’d ever touched. Y/N gasped, her back arching, her fingers threading through his hair as he kissed a path down her chest, then further, teeth grazing, tongue swirling, desperate to taste every inch of her skin. She was trembling under him, but not from the cold. Her dress was already gone, somewhere across the room, discarded in haste. His tunic hung open, his body warm and powerful above her, breath hot against her belly.

“Mingi…” she whimpered, breath catching as his mouth pressed lower. “Please…” His hands gripped her hips, holding her like he needed the anchor. “You have no idea,” he murmured, eyes blazing, “how much I need you.”

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

Across the palace, Seonghwa found Wooyoung and San near the southern balcony, overlooking the festival crowd. “Woo,” he said breathlessly, already half turned to go, “you need to go to Y/N. Now.” Wooyoung blinked. “Wait, what? Why?”

“Y/N. She’s not okay. Mingi either. Spell, lust spell.” Seonghwa was already turning back. “Get to her room before she does something she’ll regret.” San stood slowly, brows knitting. “Did he say lust spell?” But Wooyoung was already gone, bolting through the hallway.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

Y/N was gasping beneath Mingi now, completely bare, her body flushed and straining, her fingers tangled in his curls as he mouthed at her thighs, her hips, her breasts, everywhere. His voice was low, hoarse as he whispered, “You taste like everything I’ve ever wanted.” She writhed under him, nails dragging down his back, both of them caught in the web of magic and everything that had been lingering between them. Neither of them hearing the footsteps pounding down the corridor.

Wooyoung didn’t bother knocking. He burst into the room like a man on a mission, chest heaving, voice already half formed, “Y/N, are you ok? Seonghwa said…” A sudden blast of frost exploded from Mingi’s hand without him even turning. It hit Wooyoung square in the chest and launched him backward, slamming him into the hallway wall with a thud that shook the nearby sconces. “Well that’s fucking rude,” Wooyoung groaned, frozen to the floor in a partial ice slick, arms out like he’d just been crucified by winter. “Mingi, you dick!”

But Mingi didn’t hear. He couldn’t. His world had narrowed to the woman in front of him, Y/N, flushed and panting, lips parted, body bare and trembling under his touch. His tunic gone now, his hands gripping her thighs like he’d die if he let go. And he was seconds from falling to his knees. His head dipped lower, breath hot against her slick heat, and Y/N moaned, hand tightening in his hair.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

Yunho and Hongjoong stood across from Drusilla as she chanted, her voice curling in ancient Fae, tongue tracing sounds meant for power, for pleasure, for corruption.

“Velaris en fae don ar’mi” Magic shimmered around her lips, a pulse of violet and silver. She gritted her teeth, not from effort, but resentment. Having to undo her own spell? Humiliating. And still, she did it. Because Hongjoong would destroy her if she didn’t. With a final word, the magic snapped and Yunho exhaled, felt it break.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

Mingi froze. It was like ice cracked in his chest. One second, his mind was molten, desperate, the next, it was clear. His breath hitched. His eyes locked with Y/N’s, and the haze shattered. She gasped, her hand still in his hair, her legs wrapped around his waist, both of them flushed and tangled and nearly gone. Mingi’s voice came out raw, wrecked. “Y/N?”

Her lips parted, eyes wide. “What… the hell just….”

Mingi stumbled back like he’d been burned, hand covering his mouth, his heart racing too fast to speak. The spell was gone. But everything it exposed? Still there. He burst out of the room like he was on fire. Except it wasn’t flame trailing behind him, it was frost, seeping off his shoulders in crackling waves, cheeks flushed, lips red, pupils still too icy. His chest was heaving like he’d just run through the goddamn mountains.

Yunho had barely turned the corner when Mingi nearly collided into him. “Mingi?”

“I couldn’t stop,” Mingi gasped, voice breaking, his hand gripping Yunho’s arm like it was the only thing anchoring him. “I tried, Yunho…. I swear… I didn’t want…. she touched me and it hurt not to….”

“Hey… hey,” Yunho said, voice low, grounding, arms catching him before he could collapse into a panic spiral. He pulled his best friend into a hard hug, a hand behind Mingi’s neck, holding him there. “I know. It wasn’t you. That wasn’t your fault.” Mingi shook his head against Yunho’s shoulder, guilt clinging like the cold still radiating from his skin. “I could have hurt her…. I didn’t mean to…”

“She’s okay,” Yunho promised, though he hadn’t looked, couldn’t bring himself to, not yet. “You’re okay.”

Wooyoung limped into the hall from where he’d unstuck himself from the wall, hair a mess, shirt half frozen. He blinked at the scene, Yunho steadying Mingi, both of them still raw, rattled and Yunho glanced at him, his voice tight. “Take care of her, please.”

Wooyoung straightened, already nodding, already stepping toward the door. “Of course.”

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[sknyuz]

hello!! I want to make a request ; is it alright if you can write about how seong je would be with a mute!reader? i just think it’d be an interesting dynamic ..! hmm other details i’d add is the reader often giving affection in a form of gifting (letters mayb?), cooking him a meal or quality time :) you may write this in whatever format you want!! thank youu and have a nice week (ps love your writing)

synopsis — seongje is a whirlwind of noise and chaos, but he finds unexpected peace in your silence.

now playing — sweet - cigarettes after sex pairing — geum seongje x gn!reader (hard of hearing, selectively mute) genre — hurt/comfort, slowburn, angst with soft moments, unconventional romance (nothing is conventional with seongje) cw — ableism/mocking of hearing disability, bullying, violence (including implied offscreen physical assault), power imbalance, toxic behavior, minor blood/bruising, strong language wc — ~2.1k

note: this was a pleasure to write <3 i hope i did ur request justice, anon. and please do not hesitate to tell me if i wrote something wrong or inaccurate to the experiences of hoh individuals.

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seongje doesn’t do “quiet.” he doesn’t do subtlety, either. his entire existence is loud—his presence is a storm that makes everything feel tense and unpredictable. that’s how he’s known: the unpredictable, impulsive force, the mad dog. so, when he sees you for the first time, it’s almost like a challenge.

you’re sitting there, silently, in the bowling alley, a forced audience to the bullying happening around you. the union’s delinquents have gathered, sneering as they taunt you. they wave your hearing aids in front of you like a sick joke, expecting you to react. but you don’t. you’re quiet, your face unreadable, eyes glued to the floor, trying to stay as small as possible, like you’ve done countless times before. it’s a game for them, nothing more than a way to make you feel like an outsider.

“hey, freak, what’s wrong? can’t hear us?” one of them mocks, swinging your hearing aids back and forth with a smirk.

the noise is deafening to you in a different way—a slow, rising pressure in your chest. you want to speak, to make them stop. but your voice won’t come, and the words you want to say die in your throat, replaced by that quiet ache of helplessness.

that’s when seongje steps in.

he’s not supposed to be there. he’s supposed to be in baekjin’s office, probably arguing or being a general pain in the ass—but the noise coming from the alleyway catches his attention. he comes striding out, a curse on his lips as he surveys the scene, his eyes lighting up with the familiar flash of anger.

“what’s with all the fucking noise, fuckers?!,” seongje shouts, his voice dripping with disdain as he eyes the delinquents, but his gaze lands on the one holding your hearing aids, who freezes up as soon as he realizes who’s standing in front of him.

“aww, you guys are really fucking pathetic,” seongje steps forward, his mood shifting from bored to dangerous in an instant. he slaps the delinquent’s face, knocking the hearing aids out of his grip, and catches them before they hit the floor.

the delinquent stumbles back, startled, and seongje doesn’t miss the way his bravado slips. “hey, if you want to get your ass kicked, i’ll be happy to oblige. otherwise, get the fuck out of here,” seongje growls, and his voice carries an unmistakable warning.

the delinquents scatter quickly, realizing they’re not really looking forward to get beat up by the wolf himself. seongje watches them leave with a bored smirk, but his eyes return to you, where you’re still sitting silently, your gaze downcast. his anger bubbles under the surface, but it doesn’t seem to be directed at you—it’s more frustration at how they treated you. and, maybe… it’s confusion. because why would he be frustrated?

he despises those who put on a front, acting all tough and dominant when they're around someone they know is weaker, but turn into cowards the moment they face someone like seongje. the hypocrisy makes him sick—they don’t even have the balls to face him.

you look up at him then, your lips parting as if to say something, but the words stay locked inside. seongje stares back, a little too long, before he gestures to the now-empty bowling alley with a roll of his eyes.

“shit, it’s way too quiet in here now,” seongje mutters, half to himself. “i need a fucking drink. you coming?” his fist reaching out to you, making you flinch, but he simply turns and opens his palm to reveal your hearings aids, offering it back to you, his gaze not even meeting yours.

you hesitate, a flicker of uncertainty crossing your face. seongje doesn’t wait for a reply. he knows how this works—he doesn’t need words from you to tell if you’re okay. you’ve already said more than enough with that silence of yours.

it’s a few weeks later when seongje starts to notice something he wasn’t expecting—something soft. you’re not the type to speak, but you show him things. you leave him little letters. they’re simple at first, just words on paper—carefully written, neat and soft. but each one has meaning. you might leave him a note after a chaotic day, telling him, thank you for helping me today—a gesture he’s not used to.

seongje can’t stop himself from reading them over and over, even if he pretends they don’t matter. he tosses the first one aside in an exaggerated motion, but later, when he’s alone, he pulls it out again, trying to make sense of it. there’s something oddly comforting in your words. something real. his usual sharpness dulls just a little when he reads them.

it’s a typical night, and you don’t expect anything to go wrong. seongje has always been unpredictable, but you can’t stop yourself from trusting him. there’s a strange sort of understanding between the two of you now. he doesn’t need you to speak, and you don’t need him to be anything but… himself. still, you don’t expect what happens when he calls you to meet him in a parking lot late one evening.

the dim light from the streetlamps makes the whole place feel cold and detached. you spot him standing there, leaning against the hood of a car, his eyes narrowing slightly when he sees you approach. but there’s something different tonight—something unsettling in his stance.

"come here," seongje says, his voice almost too casual for the tense atmosphere.

your breath catches in your throat as the boy on his knees comes into focus. you've seen him around before—he’s one of the delinquents from the union. the same one who’d been taunting you in the bowling alley, waving your hearing aids like some cruel joke. that memory hits you sharply, and your stomach churns with discomfort as you recognize him now, his face bruised and bloodied, a lip split open, looking like he’s been through hell.

but why is he here? why is he on his knees, shaking in front of seongje? what happened to him?

seongje stands over him, his posture casual, his grin wide and wicked as he watches the boy with almost bored amusement. he kicks the delinquent’s side lightly, like it’s a game, and the boy flinches.

"come on, kid," seongje says, his voice teasing but edged with something darker, something almost amused by the kid’s fear. "just like we practiced."

the delinquent on his knees doesn’t speak, his eyes downcast, probably too terrified to even look up at seongje, but his shaky hand lifts. you watch as he tries to make the "a" handshape, his fingers clumsy as he attempts to sign. seongje looks down at the boy, his grin stretching wider as he watches him fumble.

the delinquent hurriedly completes the sign, his hands shaking, his breath coming in short bursts as he struggles to perform it correctly. he spins his hand in a half-hearted clockwise motion, and you can tell how hard it is for him to even try. he looks humiliated, and maybe that’s what seongje wants—to make him feel small, to show that he’s the one in control now. like how the boy probably felt back in the bowling alley with you.

“sorry.” he signed.

as the boy finishes, seongje pats his shoulder with an almost affectionate thud, a grin still plastered on his face. “good job,” he mutters, voice dripping with mock praise. but his eyes flick to you, then back to the delinquent, as if waiting for some kind of reaction.

the delinquent scrambles to his feet, not daring to say a word, but you can see the fear still fresh in his eyes. without another glance, he stumbles off into the shadows of the parking lot, and seongje doesn’t follow him, not bothering with any more theatrics. “now that’s how you apologize,” he sighs contentedly, glancing at you from the corner of his eye as he walks back to where you two came from.

you don’t respond, but you follow him. because, despite everything—despite how messed up all of this is—he’s still the one who, somehow, happened to feel like the safest person to be around. despite his… unique antics.

despite the way he does things no one else would dare to. because even if he’s rough around the edges, unpredictable and loud, seongje never made you feel small. and that, weirdly enough, was enough.

seongje’s desk at the bowling alley becomes a quiet sort of shrine to you—littered with your letters and notes, half-crumpled from him rereading them over and over. he never bothers to clean it up. they’re scattered across the surface like leaves in a storm, but he knows exactly where each one is. it’s an organized mess, chaotic in the same way he is. but if anyone even looks at them too long—tries to pick one up, makes a joke about the handwriting, even breathes too close to the edge of his desk—they’re basically asking for a death wish.

“touch it and you die,” he’ll mutter without even looking up, one foot kicked up on the desk, cigarette dangling from his lips. it’s not even a threat—it’s a promise.

somewhere in between the late night meetups—where the world is quiet and it’s just the two of you—and the stolen moments in back rooms lit by vending machine glow, seongje softens. not in a way that’s obvious to most, but in ways you catch. like when he plays bowling with you late at night at the union headquarters, just the sound of pins crashing echoing through the empty lanes. he’s terrible at it, but he doesn’t care. he would fair better hitting someone at the back of the head with these bowling balls. he only really lights up when it’s your turn.

you roll the ball, knock down every pin, and before you can even react, he’s throwing his hands in the air, exaggeratedly signing applause, a wide grin stretching across his face.

“that’s what i’m fucking talking about!” he shouts, clapping loudly on top of the sign for applause he just made, just because he’s still him—loud, obnoxious, impossible—but now he’s loud for you.

yeah… to seongje, you’re like a stray puppy at first. small, quiet, following him around without saying a word, eyes always wide and watching. at first, he thinks it’s kinda funny—endearing, even. you don’t talk back, don’t flinch when he’s loud, and you’ve got this habit of showing up with little notes or food like some soft, strange ritual he doesn’t understand. he starts calling you “puppy” just to mess with you, ruffling your hair whenever you come around.

but somewhere along the way, that fondness stops being just a game. no, you’re not a pet to seongje. but maybe, you became an equal.

he starts waiting for your notes. starts leaving his office door slightly cracked, just in case you come by. he catches himself watching you instead of his phone. gets weirdly pissed off when other people so much as look at you wrong.

and the night he realizes it’s different—that it’s not just him babysitting some quiet kid—it’s when you sign “stay” with soft hands after a long night, and he does. no grumbling, no jokes, just settles next to you and doesn’t leave.

after that, it’s not a question. you’re not a puppy. you’re his person.

and yeah, maybe he never said you were dating. but everyone knows. you leave your food in the union’s fridge, your letters in his desk, your comfort in the chaos of his life. and he protects you, respects you, listens to your silence more than he’s ever listened to anyone’s voice. and no one in the union dares to bring it up or even question your soft presence in the nitty gritty bowling alley.

seongje is loud. like, really fucking loud. he talks with his whole body, yells when he's annoyed, laughs like he owns the air around him, and never knows when to shut up. he's noise and motion and chaos wrapped in one, dangerously sharp-edged boy. but you—you're quiet. not just in voice, but in presence. you move gently, offer kindness without demanding attention, speak in ways that don’t need sound.

and somehow, in all the noise of his world, your silence is the only thing that ever made sense. he used to think silence was empty, but now it’s where he finds comfort. he’s still loud, still volatile, still the type to throw a punch first and maybe ask questions never. but now there’s this... softness around the edges. a space he carves out just for you. like you’re the eye of the storm, and he’s always, always circling back to you.

in your quiet, he feels understood. and maybe that's the wildest thing about this whole mess—that a boy made of sound found peace in someone who never had to say a word.

note: aaa i feel like this so short >><< i wanted to give them more of a backstory but for now this is what i’m going with. if you’d like to see more of them that’d be nice 🫶 this is such a different take from collarless tho, and it’s nice to also write a softer character to contrast our tough collarless!reader to explore more dynamics with seongje.

i don’t aim to reform or soften seongje, but have the peaceful presence of the reader be incorporated into his life without changing his ideals and personality.

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[sknyuz]

collarless | geum seongje

synopsis — he’s always been collarless, all sharp teeth and no leash—until he joined the union, and you swore you’d never crawl back to that kind of life. but even strays remember home.

pairing — geum seongje x ex!reader

genre — exes to enemies to an even worse, third thing, angst, action, just exes with unresolved tension, hurt/comfort

cw — violence, blood, smoking, tons of swearing, toxic relationship dynamics, emotional manipulation, implied sexual tension, they beat each other up and then make out lol 50% fighting 50% longing (sorry to action haters, just scroll down to the divider for romance lol)

wc — ~2.6k

part of the “i can fix him!” trilogy

notes: badly wanted to write a fic where the reader isn’t a horribly treated s.a. victim with the depth of a kiddie pool and can actually fight back/toe-to-toe against seongje.

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the first time you punch seongje since you've last seen him, he laughs.

he’s leaning against the rusted frame of the garage door, a fresh bruise blooming on his lip, thanks to you, of course. one hand tucked into the pocket of his tracksuit, the other loosely draped over his ribs, his posture is loose but predatory, like a stray dog that’s been used to surviving on its own. his eyes flicker with a dangerous amusement, cold and hungry. “this your idea of a reunion, y/n?” he jeers.

you don’t bother answering—you slam your fist into his jaw, the impact sending a sharp crack through the air, like you’ve hit something wild and untamed.

“fuck off, seongje,” you spit. “the union doesn’t get to sniff around here without a warning. you think just ‘cause you’re one of baekjin’s dogs now, you get a free pass?”

he licks the blood off his bottom lip like he’s savoring it. “wasn’t trying to start a war.”

“then you shouldn’t have stepped foot in my area.”

“didn’t know you were this territorial, babe.” he chuckles dryly, as you ready your stance for another punch, already stretching your neck.

“you always this cocky for a mutt on a leash?”

he smiles, a wild glint flashing in his eyes. “didn’t wanna cause a scene, babe. just need your little bitch boss to pay us back the money he owes. which, if you didn’t know,” he tilts his head, slow and jerky, like a predator sizing up its prey, “is a-fucking-lot.” seongje laughs, the sound low and unnerving, dripping with manic amusement.

the collection wasn’t even a big deal. the union has far more boys than to send their right-hand man for something this small. seongje wasn’t here because the money was urgent. he was here because it amused him to get under your skin, to remind you who he was—who he still thought he was.

he shrugs, that cocky smirk never leaving his face. “had to, didn’t i? baekjin’s orders, y’know. thought you’d have missed me too.” he runs a hand through his hair with a lazy flick of his wrist as he saunters over to you, eyes glinting like he’s daring you to call him out.

then, with a casualness that somehow feels more dangerous than it should, he leans in slightly, his gaze flicking down to your lips for a fraction of a second before meeting your eyes again. it’s a move that feels too deliberate, too comfortable—like he’s testing just how much you’ll let him play with you.

you don’t need to hear more.

you swing again, remembering how he used to kiss you with that same reckless, chaotic energy. how every touch felt like a battle you never wanted to win.

his eyes darken—knowing. there’s a flicker in them, a sharp edge as he realizes you’re not backing down. and then, before you can react, he steps back to dodge, and steps back in as he throws a clean punch, landing square on your cheek.

you grunt, the impact rattling your head and bringing a ringing to your ears, but you don’t stumble. instead, you lean into the hit, using the momentum to drop low, kicking out your leg and tripping him on his shin. seongje stumbles, a grunt escaping him as he crashes to the ground with a sharp hiss.

“did you think i was gonna fall for that?” you sneer, standing over him, fists clenched.

he grins, his breath coming out ragged but amused. “nah. but i thought you’d make it fun.”

you raise your fist again. “you haven’t learned your lesson.”

but this time, seongje’s movements are quicker than you expect—he pounces, body weight crashing into yours, sending both of you slamming into the concrete ground. The air leaves your lungs in a whoosh, and before you can react, he’s already on top of you, his knee pressing into your side, pinning your arm beneath him.

you hiss through the pain, but even as your body aches from the impact, you narrow your eyes at him as he huffs, already sick of your persistence. “shit, you really want to make pretty faces like yours bleed?” seongje smirks, his grip tightening as he uses one palm to plant on the ground beside your head. his other hand catches your wrist, holding it above your head. “you always fight this hard, or is it just me?” he whispers, voice low and dangerous, as his knee digs into your other arm, restraining you completely.

his smirk never falters, but there’s something else in his eyes now—something dangerous, hungry.

you inhale sharply, then, in one quick, explosive motion, you slam your forehead into his with a sharp crack.

seongje’s eyes widen for a split second, disoriented. that’s all you need. you push him off, shoving him to the side and rolling back onto your feet, each move faster than before.

he blinks, trying to steady himself, but you’re already on him, throwing punches—one to the side of his head, another to his stomach, the force enough to make him cough out a ragged breath. a swift kick knocks his glasses clean off his face, sending them skidding across the gravel.

he looks up at you, his features twisted with annoyance, but also… something else. something almost familiar.

“you were going easy on me,” you murmur, voice low and dangerous, a smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. “didn’t want me to get hurt, babe?” you tease, the nickname slipping from your tongue almost bitterly. “you know… we don’t make out anymore. guess it wouldn’t hurt to give you a busted lip, huh?”

he glares at you, breath coming quicker, the tension between you both palpable now—old history, old fights, and the undeniable truth that things are never just physical with him.

“you never make things easy, do you?” he growls, but there’s a spark in his eyes. a challenge, an invitation.

“you should know by now,” you reply, ready to go again, both of you caught in a tangled mess of unfinished business.

you’re caught in a frenzy of punches, kicks, and curses, both of you battering each other with everything you’ve got. each hit feels like it might be the last, but neither of you is willing to give up.

seongje’s fast, like always, his body moving with a feral intensity that makes it impossible to land a clean blow. but you’re just as relentless. you always have been. you dodge one punch, counter with an elbow to his ribs, and then another to his jaw, but it’s not enough. he’s too quick, and the fight’s gone on too long.

a wave of frustration rises in your chest. this damn wolf doesn’t know when to quit.

you swing again, aiming for his ribs, but he dodges just in time, his body shifting insanely fast, too fast for you to land a proper hit. he retaliates with a sharp jab to your stomach, knocking the wind out of you.

“fucking hell, y/n,” he growls, and you hear the edge of something you can’t quite place in his voice. maybe it’s concern, maybe it’s annoyance, but then—everything goes black.

when you wake, the world is dim, but not like it was before. this is different—darker, colder. the smell of smoke hits your nostrils first, and it’s only then that you recognize it. you’re not at some random street corner or an alleyway. you’re somewhere familiar.

your eyes slowly adjust to the darkness, the shadows of the room taking form around you. and then it hits you: this room. you’ve been here before, too many times. too many nights spent tangled in memories you’ve tried to forget.

the dim light from the fading sunset seeps through a narrow window, casting deep purple shadows across the floor. your head’s throbbing, your cheek swollen, and your body aches with every movement, but none of that matters because you recognize this place. seongje’s place.

he’s standing by the windowsill, cigarette between his lips, smoke curling up into the air. his back is to you, but you can still see the familiar silhouette. his posture, the way his shoulders slouch just enough to give him that casual, laid-back look. the same posture you’ve seen a thousand times in this very room, in these very circumstances.

fuck him, you think, pushing yourself up onto your elbows. you wipe your mouth, feeling the blood on your lip, the cut stinging. this isn’t fair—bringing you back here.

you hear the soft snick of his lighter as he takes another drag from the cigarette, the sound too familiar.

“you’re awake,” he says, voice rough but not unkind. he turns around slowly, eyes narrowing as he watches you.

“you knocked me out,” you mutter, your voice still thick with the remnants of the fight. your hand moves instinctively to your aching jaw. you feel the bruise already forming.

seongje looks almost casual about it, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “wasn’t my intention,” he shrugs, but his eyes flicker down to the cut on your lip, then back to your face. there’s a pause, and his voice drops lower as he adds, “but you didn’t really make it easy, babe—and this was the only way to shut you up.”

you frown, trying to process the weight of his words. what the hell does he mean by that? his eyes catch yours, and for a moment, the space between you feels heavy, charged with all the old history and the years of tangled emotions that you two shared.

you take a deep breath, forcing yourself to steady your mind. “you could’ve left me there,” you snap, trying to mask the vulnerability that’s creeping in. “but you didn’t.”

his eyes flash with something—maybe irritation, maybe something else—but he doesn’t look away. he takes another drag from his cigarette, as if weighing his next words carefully.

“yeah, and leave you with those assholes?” he mutters, his voice low and dark, eyes meeting yours with an intensity that makes your breath catch. “no fucking way.”

your heart skips a beat at that, the weight of his words crashing over you. his tone isn’t what you expected—there’s something more beneath the surface, something he’s not saying. it makes you pause, just for a moment, before you shake your head, trying to brush it off.

“you’re a pain in the ass,” you reply, though it comes out quieter than you meant.

seongje just looks at you, the corner of his mouth twitching up into that familiar smirk. “old habits never die,” he murmurs, and you feel that old tension, that magnetic pull, surge again between you two.

his cigarette is still between his fingers, and without asking, he holds it out to you. you don’t take it, instead leaning in slightly, your lips brushing against his fingers as you take a long drag from the cigarette on his hand, the smoke filling your lungs before you blow it out, deliberately exhaling the thick cloud of smoke right onto his face.

he rolls his eyes at this, unbothered, the smirk never fading as if he’s used to this by now.

“still playing dirty, huh?” he mutters, clearly unfazed, like you’ve done this a thousand times before.

“and you’re still a fucking freak.” you shrug, the tension between you thickening with every word, the unspoken history, stained with repressed feelings, lingering just under the surface.

“a freak you’d kill for,” seongje says, finally facing you, narrowing his eyes as he flicks the cigarette out the window. “join the union,” he says simply.

you cock an eyebrow at him, your lips curling into a smirk, eyebrows quirked in disbelief. “if you wanted to get back together, you could’ve just said that. fucker.”

seongje doesn’t laugh, he just keeps watching you like he’s waiting, gaze a little more intense this time.

you shake your head, something colder behind your eyes now. “i’m not fucking insane like you, seongje.”

his jaw tics, but he doesn’t interrupt. so you keep going.

“you knew it back then, too. it was always gonna be one of us.” your voice is quiet, but steady. “and you knew me, seongje. i just needed to get by. keep my head down, earn some chump change, scrape enough to disappear when i was ready. the union—” you scoff, “—that shit was always too high stakes. too serious.”

you look away, jaw clenching. “i have dreams, seongje. i’m gonna go to college. make something out of this mess.”

you finally meet his eyes again. “so no, i’m not joining the union.”

seongje huffs out a low breath, then laughs—dry, disbelieving. “so that’s also a ‘no, we’re not getting back together’, huh?” he echoes, head tilted like he’s trying to make sense of you, a playful smirk playing on his lips, but his eyes flickered with something else.

you roll your eyes at this. then he chuckles, rubbing a hand down his face. “shit. you’re scary, babe.” there’s something fond buried under the sarcasm, though, something sharp and aching. “you always talked like you were gonna burn the whole city down just to make it to some fucking—loser, nerd, uni. still do.” he spits out.

he looks back out the window, tongue pressing into his cheek.

you can tell he’s pissed. bitter, even. maybe even... jealous? but you reach out without thinking—soft, deliberate—and brush a stray strand of hair from his forehead. your fingers linger just long enough to slip his glasses off, folding them in your hand.

if you were anyone else, he’d have snapped your neck for touching his glasses, let alone getting that close.

but you were you.

seongje doesn’t flinch, he doesn’t even move—just shifts his gaze, side-eying you from the corner of his eye, something unreadable swimming just beneath the surface.

“you always do whatever the fuck you want,” he mutters, but it comes out low, almost like a compliment.

“mhm,” you hum, fingers still ghosting along his skin as you cup his cheek. his skin is rough beneath your touch—calloused and scarred, the faint divots of half-healed cuts from fights and brawls brushing against your palm. it scrapes at your skin, grounding you in a memory you shouldn’t still want. a past drenched in adrenaline and bad decisions, but his warmth still makes your chest ache like it always did.

your thumb brushes just beneath his eye as you lean in a little closer, your voice barely a breath. “and i really wanna kiss your stupid face right now, you psycho.”

seongje’s jaw clenches under your touch. his eyes scan yours, gaze falling on your lips, then back to your eyes, like he’s daring you to do it. like he wants you to. you blink once, his eyes flick to your lips again, and that’s all it takes.

seongje grabs your face with both hands—rough, unfiltered—like he’s been holding back since the second you woke up in his room. the kiss crashes into you, all teeth and heat and the wild kind of need that’s only ever been his.

god, he needed this.

not just his lips on your or his fingers curling into the back of your neck, but you. the only person who ever made him feel anything beyond bloodlust. all the beatdowns, the turf wars, the payoffs—none of that ever lit his veins up like this. like you.

your eyes flutter close, gasping into his mouth as he deepens the kiss, urgent, almost clumsy with how badly he wants more. his hands are on your jaw, your waist, your back—everywhere, like if he lets go, it’ll all disappear. he groans desperately into your lips, muttering your own name against your skin.

you let him kiss you like he’s starved for it, like he’s still the boy who used to beg you not to leave his bed in the mornings, the boy who would let the world burn just to have you. you let him hold you like this means something—like maybe, for tonight, it does.

even though you know you’ll be gone by tomorrow morning, before the sun even touches the edge of the windowsill where you two once sat. no note, no goodbye. you’ve done it before, and you’ll do it again.

because he’ll always choose the union. the chaos. the blood in his mouth and the rush in his fists. because that’s just who seongje is—your wolf with red-stained teeth, always chasing, craving something darker. the mad dog.

but you?

you’ve got places to be. you’re not wasting time here leashed to him like this. you have dreams to run toward. dreams that geum seongje was never meant to follow.

if you liked this, i appreciate a reblog as well :3 it helps my works and writing spread to other ppl very effectively !!

note: just couldn’t stop thinking of love and leashes while writing this, so here u go lol

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[kairithemang0]

I've got a lot of respect for smut writers. you write something incredibly sexual, it's probably somewhat of a look into your own soul, and then bitches are too scared to leave kudos of comments half the time, so it looks as though everyone hates your work. And yet yall still do it, and I love that

[jiyongssi]

[maidenless-soul]

I survived Greyday 2023

so many more videos of the best night of the year but i miss being there<\3

[meloncha7n-deactivated20231126]

"are you the person who says goodnight to everyone at 9PM then stays up all night reading fanfictions at tumblr?"