genre & warnings: situationship to lovers, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, reader and hansol r biiiiggg idiots, suggestive content
desc: photos in the mirror, lips pouted cutely. photos on your macbook, scantily clad and sexy. photos on your digital camera, body exposed with a smirk on your face. however, none of them seemed to prompt your situationship, vernon, to even like your instagram story!
wc: 3.6k
𝄞: thirst trap by audrey hobert, pang by caroline polachek, claws by charli xcx
It had been exactly eight months and fourteen days since Hansol walked into your life. Like a whirlwind, he turned you completely upside down, riveting your senses every time he was within your vicinity.
It had been six months and nine days since you went on your first date, a cutesy expedition into the mountains, where he took you to his favourite hiking spot. Packing a picnic of all the foods you mentioned craving, sitting closely next to you whilst absentmindedly brushing your hands, kissing you sweetly under the sunset.
It had been six months and two days since you first slept together, heated and intense, his body eating up yours like a man starved. His whispered praises convinced you he was the one — his compliments utterly too much for someone who still hasn’t asked you to be his girlfriend.
You felt absolutely crazy. Suspicious and completely insane. Hansol spent every free moment dancing around your mind like a ballerina, his apprehension for anything pathetically raising such big questions in your mind.
‘What if there’s someone else?’ You whined to your best friend, Seungkwan, who had the lucky role of knowing you and Hansol a little too well. Seungkwan was sitting lazily on your loveseat, a coffee being sucked through a straw and into his lips.
He pauses his sipping, not bothering to tear his eyes away from his phone. ‘It’s Vernon, he couldn’t be bothered to tie his shoelaces up last time I saw him, he hasn’t got the stamina to two-time.’
On the bed, you were religiously taking selfies, your MacBook positioned to rehearsed perfection as you leaned forward, allowing your cleavage to be almost front-and-centre in the camera’s eye.
Seungkwan was unfazed by your faux sexiness, your pouting, jutting and head hanging, a familiar routine when you were desperate for your situationship’s attention.
‘But Kwan,’ You moan, pausing as three beeps and a camera shutter sound from your laptop, making you squint at the blurry pictures. ‘Oh, this one is good.’
You swivel the screen to show your best friend, whose gaze finds the selfie, ‘You’ve done better.’
With a vocal sigh of frustration, you strip off your cardigan and drop it to the bed, kicking it out of the view of the camera and ruffle your hair. ‘We’ve been going on dates, meeting each other’s families and fucking for months!’
The three beeps ring out again, the camera shutter effect flickering as you wordlessly turn the computer to Seungkwan as he holds his hand up in a ‘meh’ gesture.
‘Chivalry is dead, my love,’ he beckons, ‘Just ask him out.’ Seungkwan continues scrolling on his feed, the conversation a carbon copy of many the two of you have had before — Hansol being lazy, you overthinking it, and thus, Seungkwan has to rush to your side whilst you whine about your boyfriend-without-a-title.
‘I shall not!’ You feign offence, rolling to catch the lighting your fairy lights provide, your phone held centimetres from your face as you pull a sexy face. ‘I’m just getting tired of being in limbo.’
If Seungkwan had a penny for every time you said that, he’d be absolutely stinking fucking rich.
‘I’m going to tell you what I tell you every time.’ He says his iced coffee finished as the bottom of the plastic cup rattles with his empty inhalation. ‘Just ask him out.’
‘Just ask him out.’ You mimic back, throwing your friend a dirty look as he reaches lazily for your laptop and filters through the thirst traps you’d been taking. ‘You know him better than I do-‘
‘Debatable.’ He retorts.
‘Fine, you know him well enough. Tell me what he’s thinking, please.’ You beg, giving him the biggest puppy dog eyes you could physically muster, forcing him to fake a gag at you.
‘Oh my god, stop it!’ He exclaims, ‘That might work on Vernon, but it will never work on me.’
You sigh loudly, flopping onto your back once again and holding the camera above you.
‘____, you are the light of my life, my best friend on the planet, a star that shines in my galaxy, but I swear to god-‘ he pauses on a particular photo, his previous point lost in the wind as he eyes the photo up. ‘This photo!’
You scramble to your feet, perched on the arm of the loveseat and leaning over his shoulder. A saunter-y photo sits, your hair flowing and covering your face slightly as you pout and look away from the camera, a pencil between your lips seductively.
‘Fuck, that is a good photo.’ You stare in disbelief at yourself and lean on Seungkwan’s shoulder to airdrop it to yourself, the long and gruelling process of picking the perfect song beginning.
‘I just wish he’d decide what he wants.’ You say, the burst of I Don’t Understand But I Luv U by your favourite artist bouncing through the room.
‘Too sexy.’ Seungkwan offers. ‘I don’t think he’s consciously not choosing, I just think he already thinks you’re his.’
‘This?’ Fast Pace, another song by one of your favourite artists, comes bounding out of your phone speaker. ‘But I’m not! I haven’t heard from him in a day, and then he comes barrelling back in like we’re in love!’
‘Break-up song, next.’ Seungkwan says, leaning on his chin to watch as you scroll mindlessly through your playlist.
‘Ok, this?’ Spell, your most played song, rang out.
‘Yes, perfect!’ Seungkwan snaps in agreement, ‘A bit sexy, mysterious, no hidden meanings, I like it.’
You grumble in annoyance at his jab and press post — you’ve only put lyrics on your story, hoping Hansol would catch on like, four…maybe five times?
‘But I’m not already his, he needs to, you know, ask me?’ You complain, circling back to the previous point. ‘Oh, and maybe text me consistently, I have constant whiplash, I swear.’ You reach up to rub your neck as if you have actually been injured by Hansol’s whip-like behaviour.
Seungkwan just tuts at your complaints, his mind trailing to his other clueless best friend, who Seungkwan thinks is being very dumb at the moment. There’s only so much blame you can put on Hansol’s mindless nature before Seungkwan fears he may have to interject — and tell his best friend to get it together!
For the first hour, you watch the likes pour through, likes from your friends, likes from random men, even a like from your own mother. Yet not a peep of Hansol, not even a view, not a message, nothing.
‘Do you think he’s like, dead or something?’ Seungkwan was now rattling through your nail polish on the bed as you lounged with your head hanging lazily off the loveseat, your hand held up for Seungkwan to paint.
‘You’re unbearable.’ He mutters, concentrating with precision.
By hour five, three different guys have messaged you, including Mingyu, the guy whom you crushed on for almost a decade, yet you felt nothing but distaste and very, very intense longing — and to nullify your moaning, you and Seungkwan were both half a bottle of wine down, nattering mindlessly.
‘I can’t believe Kim fucking Mingyu replied to my story, but Hansol hasn’t even viewed it!’ You huff, blowing your hair out of your face in frustration and dramatically dropping your head onto your best friend’s lap, expertly moving as to not spill the beverage in your hand.
‘Shut up, he did not!’ Seungkwan gawked, watching your phone closely as you scroll through Mingyu’s account, ‘God, I think I might be drooling.’
‘Ew,’ you say, turning your head upwards to your best friend, who grabs your phone hastily and continues the stalk.
‘He is so gorgeous,’ Seungkwan coos, his eyes practically heart-shaped whilst he zooms in on a shirtless photo of Mingyu. ‘With all due respect to Vernon, I can’t believe you’re here mopeing because of a guy who wears rainbow tie-dye jumpers when Prince Charming is in your DMs.’
‘Hey,’ you slap his chest half-heartedly, ‘I like Hansol’s jumper.’
‘It’s a fucking crime to fashion.’ Seungkwan deadpans, and you bite your lip so as not to let out any sign of agreement.
By hour sixteen, you’ve woken up, bewildered and quite hungover. Seungkwan was passed out flatly next to you, just as he had many times; your teddy bear snuggled in his arms.
Immediately, your hands shoot to your phone, all notifications rendered useless as Hansol’s name stays absent. With a frustrated huff, you scroll slowly through the views, and your heart plummets when his profile is stacked amongst all the others. No like, no reply, nothing.
If the banging in your head wasn’t bad enough, your anxiety is now rife as you can’t help but feel sorry for yourself. Dragging yourself out of the bedroom, leaving your best friend to continue snoring, you trail to the bathroom — splashing your face to maybe ground you, brushing the stale alcohol off your tongue and attempting to tame your frizzy mane.
With an exhale, you beeline for your coffee machine, haphazardly preparing a beverage for yourself and your best friend, your mind sadly crawling to thoughts of Hansol, bitterness penetrating your brain as you think of his smile, his warm touch, his lusty gaze as he—
Knock knock.
Frozen, your eyes snap to the door, the coffee machine still buzzing in front of you as you eye the clock, who is knocking at 10 am on a Sunday?
Whoever it is does not deserve to see you in this state — head practically hanging in pounding pain, legs exposed, a huge hoodie concealing your figure, and a very dead look in your eyes.
Knock knock!
‘Get the door! It feels like someone is knocking on my brain!’ The coarse and sleepy voice of Seungkwan sounds from your bedroom, and you walk hesitantly towards the door, eyeing the wine glasses and empty bottles on the coffee table, the pillows and blankets strewn across the lounge, the dirty dishes in the sink. God, this place was a mirror of you.
Opening the door just a crack, you peek apprehensively out, the harsh sunrays making you squint as your head rattles with the brightness.
‘_____?’
Every nerve in your body seemed to activate, your hairs standing as the velvety smooth voice of Chwe Hansol infiltrated your senses. Forcing yourself to focus your vision, you drink him in.
He looked effortlessly cool, signature snapback resting on his head backwards with ease, dark wisps of hair peeking out. The brown in his eyes seemed to quiver slightly as you met them, the chocolate colour still bright even in this strange meeting. His attire was noticeably more put together, a black and red striped top and a pair of casual jeans adorning his figure — a difference from the usual sweats he showed up in.
To be honest, you thought he looked sensational. A picture of perfect boyness that could’ve had you falling to your knees. But, the stinging in your head reminded you of his lack of commitment, lack of interest and lack of anything.
‘What are you doing here?’ You croak out, squinting at him and attempting to conceal your unshowered and gross sweats from him.
‘I-, uh,’ He raised his hands, a bouquet of gorgeous carnations and lilies, hand-wrapped delicately. His other hand holding a shopping bag, snacks peeking out.
Normally you’d jump in joy and fling yourself into his arms, but that bitter taste wouldn’t budge from your tongue, the sight of him here after consistent on and off silence slightly too grating on your emotions.
‘Look, Hansol,’ you opened the door a crack more, just to let yourself stand in front of it, carefully speaking as to not alert Seungkwan — who would tease you both and practically have you both kiss just to coo. ‘I think we need to talk.’
Hansol’s outstretched arms slackened, his face dropping into an unreadable expression, one you’d never seen him wear. His eyebrows creased, and not like they did when he concentrated, no, his eyes also seemed to droop, his mouth seemingly fighting off a scowl at your coldheartedness.
‘Yeah, I also wanted to talk.’ He replies as you push the door open lightly.
Hansol couldn’t help but admire your casual wear, the oversized jumper that fit more like a dress, making you look so undeniably adorable, your hair swept off your face, and it let Hansol see all the features he was enamoured by — your smooth skin, your long lashes, your plump lips.
This was it. Your heart was practically in your throat as you let Hansol in, now or never ringing through your head. His tall figure felt like a shadow behind you, his scent infiltrating your senses as he stepped closer to walk into your apartment.
‘Maybe we should go to the balcony.’ You say with a quietened tone, your speech not lacking any tightness, especially as you refused to turn to speak to him.
Hansol didn’t miss the extra pair of shoes next to the door, or the extra wine glass next to yours on the table or the pillows that had apparently been strewn across the room. Was there someone else here? Had you found someone else?
His heart pounded in violent sprees, the hammering forcing a high-pitched ringing to pierce his eardrums. This was unfair, he shouldn’t feel like this, he shouldn’t be jealous of you and someone else — after all, he never made it official with you, he just presumed.
The cold air hitting his face forced the noise out of his body, the sound of the city floors below grounding him to this moment. Placing the flowers and snacks down on the patio table, he took to the railing, watching the late morning sun as it made the rooftops shine.
Behind him, you looked at his figure appreciatively, cherishing what might be the last few moments between you before this all goes away — soon to feel like a distant dream.
You leant over the balcony alongside him, leaving a strangely awkward distance between your arms. With a shy gulp, you opened your mouth to speak, not sure what you were going to say, but you had to say something, anything.
‘Is there someone else here?’ He questions with a hint of frustration. He couldn’t help himself, the thought of you with somebody else made him feel nauseous.
Your eyes practically bulge out of your head as you snap your head around to look at him. His jaw was tense, gaze unwavering as he refused to turn to look at you.
‘What?’ You exclaim, almost speechless.
‘I saw the shoes and the wine glasses.’ He says, forcing a monotone facade onto his voice.
‘You’re such an idiot.’ You reply, shaking your head. ‘Seungkwan is here, we got drunk last night, and he ended up crashing here.’
Well, fuck. Hansol felt like a dick. An immature and insecure boy who jumped to the worst conclusion instantly. You shifted uncomfortably — the first time he’d ever made you feel this way, as your heart panged in twisted sorrow.
‘I’m sorry.’ He finally turned to you, you now not meeting his gaze, your hungover brain struggling to decipher whether to be pissed off or angry.
After a few moments of painful silence, you speak, not allowing him to start, as you motivate yourself to tell him everything you needed to.
‘Look, Hansol.’ You speak, your voice icy in a way he’d never heard it. It terrified him, sending anxiety pulsing through every inch of his body. ‘What we’re doing, whatever this is, has to stop.’
‘That’s what I came here to talk to you about.’ He replies, faux calm in his voice.
‘So we’re in agreement?’ You push, the stinging of tears consuming you.
‘No.’
Again, you were frozen, his answer numbing your senses and rendering you completely and utterly transfixed in shock.
‘No?’ You stutter out, finally turning to face him. God, he looked so beautiful. The sun made his face glow in a way that could only be attributed to something angelic, and despite the tightness across it, a tear slipped out whilst you stared at him.
‘Hansol, are you serious? I feel like I’ve been strung along by you for months now. One moment you make me feel like the only girl in the world, and the next I don’t hear from you for days!’ You took a sharp breath, your words ragged and pointed as they spilt out of you. ‘It’s-’A strangled sob rips its way out of your mouth. ‘I feel like I’m fucking crazy Hansol, and I won’t let this happen anymore. It’s not fair on me!’
You breathe heavily, your head pounding after your outburst. Hansol just sat and took it all. Took the punches. Let them weigh on him as he carefully considered his next words.
‘You are the only girl in the world.’ He says shyly, your head still hung in an act of bitter defeat, and you scoff harshly at his words.
He panics and holds your hand, forcing your head to turn to his, you don’t withdraw your hand yet, lathering sourly in the warmth of his fingertips against yours. ‘I’m sorry I shouldn’t have snapped like that.’ You apologise with a sadness on your lips.
‘No, don’t apologise.’ He replies, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand tenderly. This would likely set you back months — this game of cat and mouse you fell into like a trap. ‘And I want to make this right.’
If your breath wasn’t hitched before, it most definitely was now.
‘I want you to be mine, my girlfriend,’ He says, confidence backing him for once, before cowering away as he continues, ‘and I didn’t want to ask you like this, but fuck it, I guess.’
He turned promptly, picking up the flowers which had been discarded and shimmying a CD case out of the plastic bag. It was decorated in a way that was acutely Hansol — stickers, drawings and the scribble of words on the front.
For ______, Love Hansol x
In your wordlessness, Hansol continued, a nervous smile on his face. ‘I spent so long thinking about how to ask you, I got so in my head, and I wanted to say the right thing, but I just worried too much about the wrong thing. So I made you this.’ He rambles as you stay dead still, the gifts still outstretched in his hands.
Hesitantly, you took the CD from his hand, looking at it closely, a few tracks on the list sticking with you:
this is how it felt when we kissed on the hike
Pang - Caroline Polachek
this is how i feel about you (lol)
claws - Charli xcx
It was so painfully him, so painfully you and him. So perfect, it was like he had translated your love language into music. Your heart had practically leapt out of your chest at his confession and his question, all that doubt and worry slipping through your fingers like sand.
‘Hansol,’ you say, that softness approaching like a ship sailing home.
Hansol had never been so relieved to hear your voice quirk in its usual way; he felt every nerve in his body relaxing as your face softened, a smile beginning to break through.
‘We’re such idiots.’ You say, your teeth shining as you smile widely and step closer to him.
‘I’ll be anything as long as it’s with you.’ He replies with a smoothness he didn’t know he was capable of.
With his romance, you bring your hand to the nape of his neck and tug his lips to yours. His warm, pillowy lips melt into yours instantly, adoration pouring into the kiss, like never before. Hansol’s arms found their way around your waist, pulling you flush to his chest in a swift movement, his lips not daring to leave yours.
Hansol drank in the feeling of you against him, allowing the adrenaline to pump into you as his tongue slid skilfully into your mouth, exploring those places he’d been so many times. But this time, it was different, there were no unsaid words and no cloudy mixed messages — just pure and beautiful passion.
‘Yes.’ You answer, ‘I’ll be your girlfriend.’
Hastily, you reconnect your lips, letting one of your hands cradle his jaw and cherish the smooth skin underneath, running the pad of your thumb along it like his skin was a masterpiece. Hansol’s smile penetrated the kiss, allowing you to withdraw slightly, foreheads resting against one another.
‘Took you long enough.’ A muffled voice rings out, and both of your heads snap to the sliding glass door. Seungkwan posed with a knowing attitude as he looked at you both, entangled with each other.
Giggles erupt between you as your lip gets caught between your teeth, and you turn your attention back to your boyfriend.
‘In my defence, I wanted to ask you months ago.’ He replies to Seungkwan’s jab, kissing your forehead.
‘Well, boyfriend, I’ve got a slightly less killer hangover. What do you want to do?’ You question with happiness dripping off every word.
‘Well, girlfriend, first, I want you to take the medicine I packed,’ He tilts his head to the plastic bag, ‘then, I want to sit and watch a movie with you whilst you recover,’ he teases, ‘and then when Seungkwan gets grossed out about how coupley we are and leaves, I want to make all of these months where you could’ve been mine up to you. How’s that sound?’
His proposal is a dream, and you nod. ‘I was always yours, you just couldn’t see it.’
desc: you and minghao were homebodies, in every sense of the word. comfortable meditating together in your garden, content sipping complex red wines under the parasol, happy reading your respective books with interlinked pinkies. however, his new subunit has dragged you and all of your friends to a huge party but god, you look a bit too good for minghao to contain himself...
wc: 7.8k..this was supposed to be a drabble
note: happy (belated) v8 release!! this is my celebratory post so pls enjoy and im sorry for the delay! this is the first piece of smut i've ever written lol so pls don't mind if it's not amazing.. this was supposed to be 2k idk what happened lol. tysm miss @binniebean0 for beta-ing once again, ur the best ma lav <333
𝄞: silver jubilee by audrey hobert, v8 by the8 & vernon
Partying was way behind you. Like a distant moment of the past that you revisit once a year and swear to never look back at again. The thumping music and the dazzling lights are not so enticing when you have a gorgeous fiancée who gives such good massages. A brilliant fiancée who buys you books every time he leaves the country — each one picked with perfection, always aligning with your exact interests. An insane fiancée who sees you in your slacks, sweat-ridden after a long and humid day at work and thinks it’s the prime time to make a meal of you on the kitchen table.
Yeah, so homebodies you had become.
Really, who would want to leave the house when the human incarnation of a god, Xu Minghao, your soon-to-be husband, led intense and relaxing meditation sessions for you? In your vast garden, greenery swallowing the senses, the small swish of the coi pond pattering softly to one side, your lean fiancée speaking with ultimate rest dripping off of every word. It was like your own personal heaven!
But alas, work calls — Minghao had been working tirelessly with Vernon for their new subunit. Slipping in the front door early in the morning, cap pulled low as his feet dragged against the polished wooden floors, fatigue radiating off his body when he quietly pulled your body into his and cocooned himself around you.
This was no new routine; you’d been with Minghao for years, through comebacks, daesangs, scandals, you name it, you stood by his side, a solid and hushed rock. However, there was once upon a time when you and he enjoyed indulging in the bustling Seoul nightlife, awake until all hours of the night and dancing carelessly under strobe lights. It was an era you both look back at with soppy nostalgia.
The bass vibrated through the darkened club, the sound of a hyperpop song penetrating your flesh and transforming into sweet endorphins, a buzz of adrenaline and raw energy surging through you. Beside you, your best friends Jun and Mingyu nodded nonchalantly along to the beat — sunglasses securely over their eyes, making them resemble a pair of handsome bodyguards rather than two idols on their night off.
A mix of tequila and soda zipped through your straw as you leaned on the wall between the two, their chatter rapidly adapting to include you. ‘I mean, I never coined them for the clubbing type,’ Jun shrugged, halfway through a conversation with his bandmate, who had his eyes narrowed at his phone in his hand.
The three of you had perched on a balcony, watching the dance floor swarm with bodies, arms flailing to the music, heads bobbing to the beat. Dark purple and white lights flashed, illuminating the floor in brief intervals, revealing people intertwined with one another, others busy looking at their keys and some drunken party-goers grinding with lustful gazes.
‘Well, they’re on their way.’ Mingyu shrugged, pulling your gaze away from your inspection of a particularly messy make-out session in the middle of the crowd – gross.
‘Who is?’ You question, lifting your drink lazily to your lips.
‘Remember Vernon and Minghao?’ Mingyu questioned, slinging his arm around your shoulders, his beer almost spilling onto your heels with his clumsy movement.
‘I know the names.’ You reply, nibbling on your straw and eyeing a broad-shouldered man, leant nonchalantly against the bar.
This was your routine: Jun and Mingyu would drag you to the club. Most of the time, the three of you partied yourselves out together, strolling home in fits of drunken giggles, Mingyu slung between you and Jun like a human piñata — letting his slackened body flop onto your sofa whilst you and Jun top-and-tailed. But occasionally, one of you would spot someone, get busy and be whisked away into the night.
‘They’re on their way.’ Mingyu finishes, and you shrug, preoccupied by the muscled man downstairs — Tall, dark and handsome.
As the music shifted, Jun pulled you eagerly onto the dance floor, ready to rock, twist, point, any drunken dance move that his body could conjure in the moment, a loud laugh escaping your lips when he pokes the person behind him.
The music was something booming, high-pitched vocals over a speedy tempo, making your hips sway with easy finesse, Jun matching you with a cheeky pout on his face. At some point, Mingyu had disappeared into the crowd to collect his bandmates, leaving you and Jun to continue letting the beat pump through your bodies.
Bodies slick with sweat stuck to yours, the alcohol-induced euphoria swimming through your system and rendering you careless, as all you thought about was feeling the music travel through your bones.
Through the crowd, your abnormally tall friend weaselled his way through, two drinks held haphazardly in his hand as he held them above head height, almost spilling the beverages on multiple unassuming party-goers' heads.
Behind him, two men materialised, both of whom you recognised from Instagram posts, music videos and whatever else your two best friends were involved in. The shorter of the two had a snapback perched backwards over his hair, and he sported a shy grin as he greeted you with a polite nod, ‘Vernon.’
Next to him, your gaze hovered, the second man making your breath hold tightly in your throat — He was gorgeous. The sort of gorgeous that is plastered on the front of fashion magazines. The sort that almost made drool slide down your chin.
Minghao, you can only presume, had a pale face, framed by a sleek black mullet, wisps of hair tickling his sleek cheekbones. The enticing dark chocolate eyes were sharp, and it felt as if Minghao’s gaze was swallowing you whole. Lazily, he dragged his eyes down your body, a small smirk on his plump pink lips as he consumed you with his look alone.
‘Minghao.’ He leaned forward with subtle ease, his strong hand ghosting your waist as his hot breath tickled your ear.
That was the night that changed your life.
Messy makeouts in the bathroom corridor, arms desperately pulling each other close, feeling all of your soft skin and lathering in the rosy scent of your perfume. Tugging his fluffy hair closer, dragging him lustfully to bed, arching your back involuntarily as his hot mouth met you.
You and Minghao were like two magnets, snapping together with force as soon as you met. There was no doubt in your mind that he was your person from the moment you set your eyes on him. And he — he was smitten, absolutely enamoured by you; he practically fell to his knees when you stepped out of your front door for the first date.
Now, six years later, you were each other’s forevers. The gorgeous engagement band on your finger confirms that. Minghao hunted far and wide for the ring that felt authentically you and him, searching across countries, visiting jewellery stores for hours at a time, researching different materials and styles.
An unexpected hunt on a work trip to Beijing made him stumble across a delicate twist of silver that was bent into two smooth spirals, a discrete diamond framed by the curving silver work. It was so perfect that Minghao didn’t hesitate — he signed the papers and strolled out of the store with a bashful grin on his face.
Then, on that starry evening when he got down on one knee, you felt your heart explode in your chest. Adoration surging through your body as you looked at your boyfriend’s sincere smile, his warm eyes glazed with anticipation as he bared his heart to you in an engagement box.
As the streetlights strobed softly through the private car's window, your ring glistened against your knee. A symbol of unrequited love that decorated your body every single day.
The vehicle was a buzz of your best friends, Jun squished in the middle, whilst Mingyu took up way too much space next to him, talking animatedly with Alice in the front seat. Both men were a concoction of shirts and cologne, sunglasses perched in their hair. It had been a long time since you’d been to a club, life moving in a gentle motion away from partying, so you were beyond excited to be indulging in one night of drunken fun with your best friends and fiancée.
Minghao was already at the bar the company had hired out, without a doubt networking, talking to devoted fans and bantering with his sub-unit counterpart.
You could already imagine his lean body, glistening in the low lighting, his shoulder-length strawberry blonde hair tickling his cheeks under a nonchalantly placed cap. Ring finger decorated with a shining silver band as he DJ’d. God, the vision practically made your panties wet.
‘What are you daydreaming about?’ Jun nudged at your side, all heads turning to yours as you rapidly snapped out of your drool-inducing vision of your fiancée.
‘Nothing,’ You reply, perhaps a bit too fast, the flustered expression on your features refusing to be wiped off. Trying to faux calm, you absentmindedly brush invisible dust off your dress.
‘You’re disgusting.’ Jun replies with a distinct scrunch to the nose.
‘What?’ You reply, with widened eyes and a sarcastic look of shock. Jun shakes his head at you, the car slowing as it swerves down a side street in Tokyo, vivid neon lights glowing above your heads.
Crowds of people hover by a bar and you can only presume that’s your destination. There was an atmosphere of anticipation, the beckoning call of music reverberating out onto the slim street, and the car halted, people ecstatically staring through the glass.
As soon as the door opened, you smiled and waved with the politeness you’d be forced to adopt the moment the tabloids caught wind of you. Teethy grins, small bows at fans, waves towards the crowd. However, as the audience swarming outside were struck with Jun and Mingyu's presence, you slipped through the entrance, staff easily directing you to the small stage, where the main act was fooling around.
The bar was packed from wall to wall, bodies crammed in as fans excitedly screamed, hollered and shouted at their idols. The air was thick with smoke that clouded heavily in the corners and dampened the lights. A loud and bass-heavy hyperpop track shook the room as it bounced with a tinny crunch out of the speakers and flowed through the atmosphere.
This environment felt like travelling back in time, the thumping of dance music and the scent of strong alcohol dripping nostalgia through you. The hum of bodies pressed into the space brought you back to those long and late nights of the past, dancing sweatily with strangers, not having a care in the world. As you rolled your shoulders, the muscles loosening instinctively, you felt the weight of adulthood dissolve as the atmosphere swallowed you.
The staff member broke the crowd, guiding you through the barricade with a polite nod. The blonde locks wisping in the busy air caught your attention — your fiancée, looking devastatingly gorgeous, was perched in front of a set of decks, headphones slung around his neck as his stare zeroed in on the buttons. Minghao’s hair was hanging carelessly along his shoulders, a slouching cap resting on his head. He had a pair of dark sunglasses shielding his eyes from the hundreds of phone flashes shining at him. As he bobbed his head along to the beat with effortless indifference, you decided his nonchalance was perhaps the most attractive thing on the planet.
There was a cloudy grey tank top hanging loosely off of his toned chest, his tattooed arms revealed to the world as they flexed when he held his hand up in motion. Minghao looked delectable, his body glistening in all the right ways as you watched with your mouth hanging. Even after six years, he still made you speechless daily.
As if your stare burned through him, his head turned straight towards you, his face softening in recognition as he quirked a sweet smile towards you. With a brief lean into Vernon, he stepped down and sauntered over to you, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek as he inspected you.
With discretion, he slid his arms around your waist, his smile converting into a smirk as he raked his eyes down your scantily clad body — your dress hugged all the right places, revealing a modest amount of cleavage and displaying your long legs for appreciation.
‘My love, you look beautiful.’ Minghao mutters in your ear, his hot breath fanning your soft skin, the surface puckering into an array of goosebumps. Your fiancée’s deep, seductive tone sent shivers down your spine, and you allowed your hands to rest on his shoulder, feeling the cotton beneath your fingertips.
‘Hao, you look-‘ There wasn’t even a word to describe how godly he looked. ‘Fuck, you look so good.’ You let your hand skim his bicep, squeezing the tough muscle lightly as he leaned forward, tilting your jaw to kiss you. His soft, plush lips, which you had the privilege of kissing daily, still sent electricity sparking across your body, the taste of mint gum and Coke infiltrating your mouth with ease. You both knew you could easily be here all night, wrapped up in one another, refusing to falter until you knew exactly how good his mouth tasted.
However, the hoards of cameras and fans watching closely ignited a consciousness that forced Minghao to apprehensively pull away, his lip caught between his teeth.
‘Proud of you, baby.’ You say wholeheartedly, sending him a sincere smile before pecking him lightly and running the pad of your thumb over his cheek.
‘I love you,’ He says back, his eyes practically oozing adoration. ‘Wouldn’t be here without you.’
To this, you smile with unrestrained happiness, letting your hands run lightly down his torso before giving his waist a squeeze and ushering him back to the decks. Throwing a quick wave at Vernon, who insisted on a sweaty congratulatory hug, you joined the rest of your friends who’d made their way to the viewing area.
The crowd was alive, chanting and buzzing at the two boys, who danced and waved happily, both radiating shy nonchalance whilst simultaneously bringing life to the room.
‘Put your drinks up!’ Your fiancée shouted, jumping excitedly with Vernon, his face radiating as joy rumbled through him — and you couldn’t help but appreciate how breathtaking he looked as euphoric glee zoomed through his skin.
Alongside you, Mingyu had arrived with a bottle of tequila, shot glasses lined up with precision. With a huge laugh, Mingyu poured one out, slinging it back before pouring another, then a line, linking his arm with yours to knock it back with the old trick you shared.
The sting of the spirit was dulled by the bittersweet flavour of nostalgia it arose on your tongue. It was a twisted sentiment to your early twenties, those party days, the ones that brought you and your friends together — the ones that brought your husband-to-be together, and it bloomed a subtle warmth in your chest.
Watching the man you cherished, so in his element, moving seamlessly to his own music, smiling wide enough to blind a nation, brought bliss to your heart and you inhaled deeply as if it could pause the moment.
Mingyu and Jun, dancing with drunken silliness next to you, expressions of happiness playing on their features. Roars boomed as Vernon and Minghao stood on the platform the decks sat on, dancing in sync to the songs they’d work tirelessly on.
And if you’re being honest, you don’t really party, you just sit at home, but tonight you were throwing it back to those long euphoric nights, letting your body sway freely and laughing wholeheartedly with your closest friends.
As the night stretched on, the bar darkened, the atmosphere still electric even as a different DJ took to the decks. Minghao had eventually shuffled his way over to you, sliding both hands around your waist as he nuzzled his face into your neck. The hair on your body stood up at your fiancée’s skinship, the thumping in your heart intensifying with his hot hands as they lightly massaged your skin.
‘Hey sweetheart,’ He said with a dipped voice, leaving a light kiss on the crook of your neck. You turn rapidly to face your hot, sweaty and frankly, very sexy fiancée, his cap pulled low as you join your lips with his; alcohol induced lust daring to poke through.
‘You were amazing up there,’ You breathed, a bashful smile appearing on Minghao’s face as you complimented him. ‘I’m so proud of you.’
There’s a glaze over his eyes that is somewhere between adoration and gratitude, the mixture making his chocolate eyes shine with unapologetic happiness. Instead of replying, he simply pulled you in once again, savouring the sweet taste of the plush lips you possessed.
The whirlwind of friends and colleagues then sweeps him away, people approaching with waves of congratulatory exclamations. You leave him with a tender kiss on the cheek, a reminder of how proud you are, and then disappear off to Alice.
With drunken confidence, the two of you dance, shaking your hair, swaying your hips, letting big hearty laughs tumble out of you. As the songs beat on, Jun and Mingyu materialise at your sides, moving exactly how they did all those years ago — Jun producing the strangest moves he could conjure, making you almost wet yourself in fits of giggles.
As Mingyu twirls you effortlessly, your sweet-faced soon-to-be-husband arrives, sliding in close to you, his body moving like liquid against you. The sensation of his hard chest pressed against your back made tingles shoot down your spine, the familiar scent of his musky beechwood aftershave wafting over you.
‘Back already?’ you say with a turned head, only his light curtains visible as he presses tickling kisses along your neck.
‘Forgot how attractive you are when you dance like this,’ He mumbles, nipping on a spot that elicits rather inappropriate sounds from you. The heat of the bar seemed to have settled on your skin as a heavy dew, your pulse racing at a quickened pace.
‘Hao,’ You exhale with heft, hoping the release would ease the growing heat between your legs. You lean your head into the crook of his shoulder behind you, his lips forced to disconnect with your neck as he grumbles quietly. ‘We’re in public.’
The shy and bashful Minghao that presented himself to the public was long gone — his shameless flirtation and risqué-nature penetrating through his persona. You knew this version of Minghao very well. It was the one shielded from his fans, one reserved specifically for you, the one that devoured you on a balcony the night of your engagement.
And his lusty gaze made the heat pooling between your legs feel more and more bothersome.
‘I can’t help myself,’ He says quietly, ‘you look too good, it’s driving me insane.’ His arms don’t falter from their secure place on your hips, tugging you impossibly closer. It felt like you were younger again, kissing carelessly in the club, letting the music take you both away as you indulged in one another.
‘Hao,’ A shaky breath leaves your lips, ‘We can’t exactly slip off, this is your party,’
With a sigh of frustration, he lands one more nip to the sweet spot on your neck, ‘We’re leaving as soon as it’s socially acceptable.’
It, in fact, was not socially acceptable to leave until three in the morning. In those hours, everyone had gotten impossibly drunker. Beside you, Mingyu, almost asleep, stood up, his speech slurred in that hilariously whiny way that was so reminiscent of dragging his tall frame down the dark Seoul streets.
Minghao had hovered around, often being pulled in every direction by various guests, his gaze hot on your figure as you continued to dance or mingle. You could feel eyes burn into your body when you bent over to pick up a spilt beverage, and he used it as a convenient excuse to practically run to your side — skilfully placing himself to conceal your exposed thighs.
Like a perfect scapegoat, Mingyu almost toppled over into both of you. The lanky man’s absent gaze was practically begging for bed, and who were you both to make him stay any longer?
‘We should take him back to the hotel.’ You say with a pout, bidding goodbye to Jun with a tight hug. Minghao had rapidly slipped off to also spout all variations of valedictions to the remaining guests.
Three slightly long, awkward hugs, around ten polite bows and countless ‘goodbyes’ later, you and Minghao had Mingyu slung over your shoulders, his body borderline slack between you as you both dragged him into the car.
As much as you could mentally thank Mingyu for always drinking himself into the perfect escape plan, you didn’t want to praise him for the impending spine problems his years of drunken slackness will inevitably cause you.
There were many ways you’d rather be leaving the bar. Through a back door, hands tangled in Minghao’s mullet, tugging when his lips hit that sensitive spot on your neck. Or in a private car, just the two of you, your hand eagerly stroking torturously slowly up his thigh, skimming his crotch with routine obliviousness.
But alas, Mingyu collapsed onto the seat with a thud, babbling incoherently as he lay his head on your lap. Minghao just tutted as he climbed into the passenger seat, turning to see you display a shrug, raising your hands in defeat.
Even through Mingyu's meaningless utterances, the sexual tension was rife — Minghao stayed glued to his phone, his hat low as his teeth nibbled on his lip in frustration. He was vying for a distraction, and his Instagram feed had never been so boring.
You, on the other hand, leaned on your wrist as you watched the busy, late-night traffic blur past the window. Neon lights and hordes of bodies meshed together in the dark night, the lowlight skimming your fiancées strong jaw, which was very obviously clenched, his plump lips glowing with each passing streetlight.
God, you were ready to devour him.
The minutes skidded by almost painfully, Tokyo dragging through your vision with snail-like slowness. Mingyu was fast asleep on your lap, muttering to himself drunkenly — If your head wasn’t spinning with visions of the gorgeous man in the front seat, you might find this heartwarming and so reminiscent of times passed. Mingyu follows his usual routine, getting too drunk and having to be hauled home by you or whichever oblivious friend was roped in to take half of his weight. Stumbling into the hotel elevator with someone hot on his trail, apologising profusely to whichever member of the public he may have embarrassed himself in front of. Then, collapsing onto the closest comfiest surface — the hotel bed, and passing out without a word.
It made you giggle at how his habits had never changed and how yours remained, too. Popping two painkillers onto his nightstand, filling up a cup with water. All the usual things that came as second nature. Minghao watched you closely with adoration. There wasn’t a day that he didn’t fall deeper in love with you, and today he really felt it. Even through the chaos, the stress, the pressure, your presence was ever-grounding; even if it made his brain scatter when he saw you.
Your fiancée lingered close behind you as you clicked the door shut slowly, the dim hallway abandoned at this heinous time. The warm glow made your body shine, the expanse of your neck exposed when you swept your hair to the side, your long legs practically glistening for Minghao to ogle. He traced the curve of your waist in your tight dress, biting his lip at the swell of your ass as you twisted to look at him.
‘Let me get out of the door first,’ You joke, recognising the lust dripping off of his gaze. Without hesitation, his tongue slipped out of his mouth, licking his lips as if you were his favourite meal.
You were.
The tether within Minghao had snapped, finally alone after hours of pent-up frustration, and he had you pushed up against the wall with lightning-quick agility. One strong arm wrapped tightly around your waist to pull his hips flush against yours, the other cradling your face with softness, the rough pad of his thumb savouring the feeling of your skin below it.
Without hesitation, he joined his lips to yours with desperation, his body aching to taste the alcohol on you — and now he could taste it, he felt utterly intoxicated. The plush of your lips was so familiar, but it never failed to make him feel like every hair on his body was standing on end.
‘Hao,’ You breathed out in a quiet whine, your hands lacing through Minghao’s soft hair with an instinctive tug as he let his lips begin their assault on your neck. He knew exactly how to make you fawn, his teeth grazing your sensitive spots as he left discrete marks along your exposed shoulder.
To be honest, he didn’t care that people were sleeping behind plywood walls; you were too delectable to treat anyone else with regard. A sick part of him wanted them to hear how good he made you feel, he wanted them to know that his fiancée would only moan like this for him for the rest of her life.
Your nails clawed harshly at his biceps as the feeling of his lips made heat pool pathetically between your legs, his lusted-over gaze burning through you when he pulled back to examine his art.
This was Minghao’s own personal Picasso. The sight of you, face flushed and screwn in an expression of blissful pleasure, a thin sheen of sweat coating your skin as your head leaned on the dark wall behind you, the expanse of your neck exposed and actively developing little bruises. The dress, which was, quite frankly, a method of torture designed specifically to make Minghao suffer, was bunching up and revealing your hot skin to his eyes.
‘Oh baby,’ Minghao sighs, letting his arms pull your body into his. You took advantage of his moment of weakness and began to pepper kisses up the column of his throat, trailing along his jaw and nibbling his ear gently, smirking as the skin under your fingertips rose in goosebumps. Sometimes you forgot how easily you affected him, the hotness of your breath eliciting his body to react rapidly, his eyes fluttering shut tightly as he groaned loudly and unapologetically.
The hallway had dissolved into a desire-driven blur around you both, the almost pornographic moans tumbling out of your fiancées mouth floating you away on a cloud of pure sexual need.
‘Baby, I need you.’ He manages to gasp out, your hand now feeling his toned stomach with daringly slow accuracy whilst your mouth continues to run circles around his brain.
‘Can’t have me in a corridor, Hao.’ You state between sloppy kisses, not parting from his skin for longer than a few seconds.
He turned his head and emitted a sound resembling a hiss as your mouth was forced to leave his body, ‘I’ll have you right here, sweetheart, don’t test me.’
The tone was icy, the dominance in his voice almost making your knees give way. His hand was resting with a strong presence on the back of your neck, his drooped eyelids penetrating you with so much intensity it was overwhelming.
Not willing to try your luck with Minghao — Knowing he’d bunch your dress up and tear your underwear off for anyone to see, you take his wrist in your hand, dragging him to the elevator. There’s a cocky smirk that’s landed permanently on his features, his eyes watching the way your ass giggled as you jogged lightly to the end of the hallway, pulling him along.
The doors slid shut, but before they could ring out a quiet ding! he has you pinned against the mirrored wall, his body heavy against your back.
It’s embarrassing the way you arch into him, your breath heavy as it already begins to cloud the mirror in small hues. Behind you, he has one of your arms secured to your back, intertwining his fingers with yours in an intimate gesture. Yet, his eyes are darkened as they scan your face in the mirror, the need rife in your hooded gaze as you meet his hungry look.
Your entire body is squashed against the mirror, making your cleavage bulge out of your skimpy dress, and Minghao can’t help but stare at it as he reattaches his mouth to your neck eagerly. The hardness of his throbbing cock is tough against your ass, and you gasp sharply when he smoothly thrusts himself against you.
‘Look at you,’ He coos with fake sympathy dripping off every word, his mouth ruthlessly working at your exposed skin. ‘Such a greedy girl, rubbing yourself against me in public.’
Your fiancées taunts make you impossibly wetter, and you attempt to stifle a moan that was escaping you. Minghao pauses sharply, squinting at your already fucked out reflection. ‘It’s too late to be quiet now, baby, you’ve already let the whole floor know how good my lips make you feel.’
It’s embarrassing. Almost humiliating, how he has you completely at his mercy before you’ve even swiped your room key — in the elevator where anyone could see you, where any innocent passerby could watch as your fiancée ruts his stiff cock into you, when any of his members could walk in to your face flushed and already fucked out before Minghao has even touched you.
As the elevator begins to halt, he releases his grip on you, taking your hand sweetly and pulling you into his side. It’s mind-boggling how versatile Minghao is, the doors sliding open with torturous pace as a fellow hotel guest nods politely to your fiancée, entering the space that held the ghost of said man, practically dry-humping you against the wall.
Minghao’s grip around you was tight, his hand absentmindedly tugging your dress to cover your exposed thighs as he smiled awkwardly and bowed to the stranger, keeping your head tucked safely into the crook of his neck.
You knew this was killing Minghao. Even the redness on your face did not compare to the restraint he was exercising with each passing moment.
The elevator slowed once again, and Minghao couldn’t pull you out of there faster, his cock painfully hard in his trousers; he was already facing your shared room by the time the door to the elevator slid closed.
Beep! The hotel door clicks open, and everything becomes a whirlwind. Minghao has you pressed against it with wicked ease, pulling your lips to meet his in a sloppy, needy kiss that radiates heat from him. Your hands are sliding beneath his shirt, letting your nails scratch along the toned muscles as his hand smooths over your ass, grabbing at it harshly as he attempts to pull you closer.
Minghao’s lips are working on the sweet spot below your collarbone, tasting the skin with unfaltering intensity. You let your hands roam, tangling them in his hair, scratching at his back, squeezing at his waist — you feel every inch of him like you’re learning where everything is.
With a rough tug, your dress is pooled around your waist, your braless chest bouncing out with the release of the cloth binding it, and Minghao lets out a long groan, his eyes closing as he lets his head slack. He is devilishly handsome, his jaw defined in the low light as it flexes at the sight of you.
‘Sweetheart,’ He speaks whilst he inspects every inch of you closely, bringing his hot mouth to your chest once again, his tongue drawing patterns against your skin as he brings one of his hands to toy with your nipple, his long fingers working automatically to pinch and caress you.
Loud throaty moans tumble out of you as he fails to neglect your other nipple, letting his mouth trail hot kisses around it before sucking with perfected ease. If Minghao’s arm wasn’t securely around you, the feeling would’ve made you collapse to the floor — he knew your body like the back of his hand, nipping and sucking on every single sensitive spot, touching every place that set your body on fire. Except where you needed him most.
‘Hao,’ You moan, and he just grunts against you, not faltering for a second from his heavy assault on your chest, the sight of him devouring you almost enough to have you cumming. ‘Baby, I need-‘
He pulls off of your nipple with a dirty pop, his pent-up gaze watching as the pleasure drops off your face with the lack of contact. It was filthy, the arousal that pumped through him when he watched you become absolutely desperate for him.
‘Need what baby?’ He questions, his movements so slow that they almost cease, making your eyebrows furrow and your lip jut out in a pout. Pathetically, you let your slender hand reach for the waistband of his trousers, but he’s like a hawk, pinning both of your wrists above your head.
It’s humiliating how turned on you are — completely under his control willingly. His frame is fully clothed, whilst yours is a mess, dress in a rushed bunch around your waist, panties dripping.
‘What do you need?’ He questions, gaze burning into you as he drags his eyes down your curves. ‘Use your words, baby.’
‘Need you,’ You whine, wiggling to attempt to reach for his waistband again, but his grip is steady, keeping you absolutely merciless.
‘Need what part of me?’ He blinks, big innocent eyes staring at yours like he wasn’t already ruining you without even a touch.
Your face is utterly flushed as embarrassment and arousal mix into a vicious vision of want, the outline of his hard cock practically pounces at you. Minghao uses this moment to let one of his big hands ghost over your panties, his touch so light that you buck your hips instantly, desperate for him to give your clit any stimulation.
A taunting laugh escapes his lips before his ruthless mouth is back on your neck, nipping and sucking as your head falls back in pleasure. The sudden attention forces a moan to escape you, and he stops, the brief contact ripped away so savagely that your brain is fuzzy with frustration.
‘I asked you a question, sweetheart.’ He repeats, letting your restrained hands fall as he tugs you lightly towards the bed, pausing as you near it. Without a word, he slips your bundled dress off of your frame carefully, discarding it as you kiss him, pulling his neck to yours before he even has a chance to appreciate your almost naked body.
‘Need your cock baby,’ You mumble against his lips, and he groans at your needy answer, his pants feeling uncomfortably tight around him, and you let your nails scrape his lower abdomen in that way that has his body in shivers.
Minghao is so enticed by you, the way your lips mingle with his effortlessly, the ways in which you know his body, the ways that can almost make him cum in his pants with just a feather-light touch.
You’ve slyly twisted, pushing him to sit on the edge of the bed, your lips not parting as you masterfully manoeuvre yourself between his solid thighs.
Minghao thinks this might be a mirage. A vision of ecstasy in a moment of desperation. You, his beautiful fiancée, on your knees in front of him, your lips swollen from his assault on them, tiny marks along your neck from his greediness to mark you. There’s a distinct thirst in your eyes as your hands fumble with his belt, and Minghao thinks it might be the most attractive thing he’s ever seen.
Like an expert, his belt is unbuckled, and his trousers are tugged down, your light touch carrying the weight of hours of teasing. As you let his cock spring free, he hisses, the scene in front of him so dirty he could cum right now.
Your fiancé's biceps are flexed as he holds himself up, leaning back and watching you with squinted eyes. His cock is so pretty, you sometimes forget, and it shocks you all over again – It’s pale and long, not too girthy but beautifully slender. The sight of it alone makes your pussy clench around nothing, the memories of it kissing your cervix infiltrating your mind.
Drool pools at the corner of your lips, and without further ado, you stroke your fingertips lightly along his cock, letting your thumb drag over the tip, a string of tangled grunts tumbling out of him as you spread the leaking pre-cum down his shaft.
After a few eager strokes, you bring your mouth to him, kitten-licking him with precision, his teeth gritted as he lets out a hiss, your warm mouth sending spikes of pleasure up his body. His cock was more than a mouthful, the salty pre-cum lathering your tongue as you gradually make your way down him, gagging as your nose grazes his stomach.
Your engagement band glints as you grip his thigh, beginning to piston your head, throaty moans slipping out of his mouth as you take him so well.
‘Fuck baby,’ He groans, and an involuntary sound of pleasure leaves you, your nipples perked in arousal as you speed up. Minghao runs his fingers through your soft hair delicately, the sensation prickling your skin as he gathers your locks and guides your motions with desperation. ‘You look so pretty.’
It was so filthy, the squelch of your mouth working against him and his heavy, breathy moans at free flow as the feeling of your tongue around him takes over. Minghao is seeing stars, the sight of you alone pushing him closer, yet alone the stimulation on his cock.
‘Baby, baby.’ He pants, his breathing climbing rapidly as his release nears, and he pulls your head away from him carefully, refusing to come from just your mouth – he needed to be inside you, watching your eyes roll back as he bottoms out. You pout, looking up at him with red cheeks, your lips glistening with his pre-cum and your spit. ‘I want to come inside you.’
His words make you ache, your pussy practically begging for something – anything at all.
Minghao lifts your jaw up to his, rejoining your lips. The salty taste of himself on you infiltrates his mouth as he pulls you onto his lap, his strong arms reaching to squeeze at the expanse of your ass cheeks as his cock is trapped between you both, nudging at your clit in selfish intervals.
‘Take this off.’ You whisper, hands already pulling at his shirt, and he whips it off, sparing only a second before his tongue is intertwined with yours again, your fingertips feeling his smooth skin and tracing his abs.
You push his body down, crawling over him to grind your clothed entrance against his hard cock. Pretty moans falling out of you as your clit gets the stimulation it was craving, forcing your eyes to squeeze shut as your body is submerged in pleasure. Your fiancée is breathless below you, your hair dangling down into his face as your expression presents as angelic, all-consumed by pleasure. Minghao always thought you were the most beautiful woman on earth, but god, you glowed in a different way like this.
Breathing shallowly, you continued dragging yourself against his hardness, your eyes locking with Minghaos as he tilts his head back into the mattress, his gaze lusty yet determined. Those strong arms working their way down to your wetness as you pause your movements, desperate for your fiancée to touch you.
‘Oh my poor baby, you’re soaked,’ He said, using his middle finger to trace circles over you, the panties ruined and your thighs almost dripping. You couldn't even muster a response, his light teasing pressing all of the right spots, and you drop your head to the crook of his neck as he continues his lazy circles. ‘Do you want me to stop?’
You knew it was a baited question. Minghao wanted to see you squirm.
‘No, please.’ You beg, your mouth hot against his sensitive neck as you speak into it, biting at the skin gently.
‘Look at me.’ He says sternly. Pressing one finger into your dripping hole, pushing your panties inside you. It was ludicrous and practically a sin to be so hopelessly at his expense, but you couldn't think past how good it felt.
‘Look at me.’ He repeats with a grit in his teeth, halting his movements to get your full attention. With a rapid snap of the neck up, your faces are inches apart, his hot breath mingling with yours as he scans your gorgeous face, your cheeks reddened, your lips jutted.
You were so beautiful.
‘Good girl.’ Before you can even moan, his mouth is back on yours hungrily, his hands gripping your waist tightly as he guides your soaked clit to rub against his painfully hard cock. ‘Stay just like this, baby.’ Then, in a subtle movement, he slides out from underneath you and discards the rest of his clothing, kneeling behind you.
The heat of his body radiated as he stroked himself whilst inspecting you, wetness dripping down your spread legs, pussy gleaming with arousal. It was one of his favourite sights, and he can’t help himself as he runs his hands up and down your plush thighs, squeezing your ass and letting the cool of his metal engagement band send shivers up your spine.
‘Hao, please.’ With desperation, you push your hips backwards, his cock brushing you, and you let out a hum of satisfaction.
Wordlessly, Minghao begins to guide his cock into your dripping hole, the sensation of you so tight and warm around him making a heavy groan fall from his throat. Similarly, tears begin to cloud your vision as sweet relief washes over you, the feeling of him dragging against your walls combined with his throaty sounds making you dig your nails into the soft white covers.
Slowly, he bullies his way into you, his member hitting every single spot that has you clawing desperately at anything you can. As he bottoms out with a hiss, a loud moan leaves your lips, the overwhelming feeling of his tip mingling with your cervix, making you clench around him.
It felt insane how well his body slotted into yours. Your pussy was moulded to fit his cock, your walls hugging it in every single place. There was nothing that could compare to the feeling of being conjoined with one another, ecstasy blasting through you both as you thrive in the overwhelming feeling of one another.
Unable to restrain himself, Minghao begins to fuck into you with a quickened pace, the room becoming a soundtrack of filthy sounds; his hips slapping your thighs, the squelch of your soaked hole, the mixture of grunts and moans the two of you emit.
Minghao’s eyes stare as your skin jiggles with each thrust, his fingers gripping your hips so tight that bruises will blossom beneath them tomorrow. His breathing is heavy as he relishes the euphoric feeling of you bent over, receiving him so willingly and squeezing him impossibly tighter.
The wicked thrusting has you seeing stars, the sensations overwhelming, and you start hurtling towards your release, moans running at free flow out of you as your fiancée only quickens his pace.
‘H-Hao,’ You moan, gripping the mattress below you as if it could receive some of the immense pleasure rippling through you.
‘Yes, baby?’ He pants out, letting one hand rub up your side in a soothing manner, his hips and arms doing completely contrasting things to your body.
‘I’m close.’ You sputter out, lathered in his deep strokes that were practically splitting you in half.
‘Mhm,’ He hums, only speeding up impossibly faster as he wraps a strong arm around your waist to pull you into him, not letting his cock disconnect from the comfort of your slick.
Your head is slack on Minghao’s shoulder as he holds your back tightly to his chest, letting his hand ghost over your neck. He nips at your ear as he continues to piston into you ruthlessly, your release within an arm's reach.
‘You’re doing so well, baby,’ Minghao whispers in your ear, tightening his grip on your neck as he chases your high. ‘Such a good girl, my good girl.’
That was all it took before you were tightening around him, high-pitched moans tumbling out of you. The coil within you snaps, sending your vision white, heat flushing out of you as you squeeze your eyes shut tightly.
Minghao keeps fucking you ruthlessly, holding the weight of your body as he chases his own release, small whines escaping your mouth as he overstimulates you. The grip of his hands gets tighter and tighter as he grunts in your ear, muttering incoherently as all he thinks about is how good you feel.
‘Fuck ____.’ He gasps, his breath taken from him as he spurts inside you, his warm milky release coating your insides, his thrusts becoming sloppy as he slows.
The room is swamped in the sound of heavy breathing, Minghao pulling out and helping you lie down gently, kissing your shoulders, all the way down your spine and then returning to kiss the crown of your head.
‘You’re so beautiful.’ He speaks with delicate sincerity, your sleepy gaze watching his naked figure disappear off to the bathroom.
‘I love you.’ You mumble, grinning shyly and nuzzling your face into the pillow. Your fiancée reappears with a wet towel, wiping you cautiously as he appreciates your gorgeous figure.
‘I love you more, my love.’ He replies, Your vision became as your body relaxed into the plush mattress. With a light but solid grip, you tug him onto the bed, his musky scent washing over you once again, and you sigh happily.
‘Just cuddle me, baby.’ You murmur, tiredness taking over you as he pulls you into his chest, placing the covers over the two of you. Peppering kisses on your head, he watches you gently doze off, and his heart feels like it could burst with how much he adores you.
Even submerged in sleep, your hand finds his, engagement rings clicking quietly together, and Minghao closes his eyes in contentment, letting sleep lull him away with you.
pairing: ex boyfriend to ?! yoon jeonghan x fem! reader
genre & warnings: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, suggestive content, reader is a bit of a dick...
desc: you broke up with jeonghan because you were bitter and miserable, desperate to love each other but failing to cut one another slack. seven months later, he looks amazing and sue you, you want to be wanted...
wc: 2.2k
𝄞: sue me by audrey hobert
You just wanted to be wanted. That’s all you wanted — needed. For him to want you. He’d stopped trying, stopped looking for you in a busy room, stopped making you tea in the morning, stopped replying to your texts.
Jeonghan was the love of your life, falling for him so delicately, each day was filled with intimacy and warmth, closeness and affection. But, by your third November together, it was cold and bordering on heartless. No small touches, no long glances. You were both stagnant.
‘I don’t feel like you fucking love me anymore, Jeonghan!’
‘Of course I do.’ He hesitated, ‘I’m just busy.’
And you know it’s selfish. You left him after all. Promising it was for the best, wishing that you’d find each other again and praying that he’d figure out whatever he was battling so deep inside that you couldn’t even get through.
‘I just can’t be second anymore,’ you inhaled sharply, tears stinging with an overwhelming presence. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘What?’
You got out there, slept with people, had drunken post-break-up makeouts and became a repetitive LEFT swiper. No one quite made you feel wanted like Jeonghan. No one quite made your heart race like him.
‘Baby,’ he said, his voice completely broken.
‘I love you, Jeonghan,’ you sniffled, the cold metal of the doorknob resting under your fingers.
It was June now, and you knew you were over it — you had to be. But, it had been weeks of these confusing thoughts, thoughts of him and the way he made your heart surge, thoughts of his sweet smile and small giggle. You were so confident you made the right decision — after all, you left. It would be incredibly selfish to whittle your way back in.
But, fuck. Doesn’t he look amazing?
Soonyoung had cleared his huge dining table, and an intense game of beer pong was being played, light music wafting through the speakers. It had been a long time since you’d been in a space like this, with all of your friends, including your ex-boyfriend.
Your eyes were drawn to him the moment you entered the vast apartment, like a magnet, he drew you in. Almost instantly, his eyes snapped to yours — like a predator, he could’ve swallowed you with his look.
He looked amazing. You swore if Mingyu’s arm wasn’t lazily slung over your shoulder, you might’ve fallen to your knees. Jeonghan’s black hair had grown out to shape his face almost perfectly, his skin dewy as he glowed in the low light.
You knew he’d be here — You knew coming here was a very bad idea. You’d been teetering on a knife-edge, scarily close to falling back into him for months now. Mingyu had begged you to come, promising to stay by your side the entire time, knowing your brain would betray you the moment you saw Jeonghan.
‘Gyu-,’ you moaned, letting your body drop dramatically onto the bed, ‘you’ve got to be kidding me!’
Mingyu had shown up at your apartment, a bottle of wine in hand, a pre-apology, and a cheeky grin on his face.
You could’ve strangled him in that moment.
‘Please, just one party.’ He begged, ‘He might be there, but don’t let that stop you! Please!’
Mingyu came and sat down next to you, offering a tender hand on your shoulder. ‘I just want us to get fucked up together and cause mischief.’ He almost sang the end of the sentence, wiggling his eyebrows excessively.
‘Kim Mingyu,’ you pout.
‘Tequila on me?’ He offered.
You rolled over onto your front, your chin almost resting on his knee. ‘You make those spicy margs again, and I’m there.’
‘Sold.’ He smiled widely, tugging you up and ushering you into the bathroom.
‘If I get back with him, it’s all your fault!’ You shout as you shut the bathroom door, silencing any retaliation from your best friend.
The gathering was fairly small, just your close circle, all of your friends dotted around the apartment in small clusters. You scanned for your other best friend, Joshua, whom you unfortunately shared with Jeonghan.
Completely avoiding the beer pong that your ex seemed to be dominating, you spotted Joshua on the sofa with Seungcheol and Wonwoo, chattering, whilst a live sports feed played on the huge flat screen.
‘Stop looking,’ Mingyu whispered in your ear, making you snap your head to him, sticking your tongue out before approaching the lounge area, the three men smiling and greeting you, Joshua practically lifting you up with his excited hug.
‘How did you get her out?’ He says in shock, looking at Mingyu behind you, who was already slouched on the sofa, beer in hand, eyes trained on the flat screen.
‘Spicy margs,’ He says, not letting his gaze leave the TV, bottle resting on the edge of his lips.
‘Oh, of course,’ Joshua exaggerates, dragging you down to the sofa next to him, passionate chat swallowing you, the heavy presence of your ex-boyfriend almost non-existent in this circle.
However, like a sixth sense, the hairs on the back of your neck stood, and you attempted to subtly turn to look.
It was like your heart sang for him, especially as your eyes met across the apartment, an instant flush racing up your cheeks as you snapped your gaze to the beer in your cup.
Avoid, avoid, avoid.
Diving into the conversation the boys were having just to get yourself out of panic mode — they chattered about something like post-university placements and the trajectory of the current corporate landscape. Whatever that means.
As your ears trained you out of the corporate jargon, you couldn’t help but think that this was a conversation Jeonghan would dominate. So smart and business-savvy, he’d throw in a quick quip, loosening everyone up before practically slapping them around the face with knowledge. Then, he’d turn to you, sending a frisky wink and gripping your thigh tightly.
For you, this chat did not resonate at all. In fact, your own ex-boyfriend might be more interesting. Spotting Hansol and Seungkwan lingering by the island in the kitchen, you sprang up, ruffling Joshua’s hair as he sent you a warm smile.
Rapidly making your way across the room, you ignored the hot stare you could feel penetrating you, instead greeting your friends with tight hugs and falling into chatter again.
As time stretched on, the conversation you were having with Hansol and Seungkwan had turned absentminded, and your eyes were glued to your shoes. Maybe you shouldn’t have come; the sneaky looks you were taking began to pang at your heart, and there was only so much more booze you could handle.
However, before you can begin to wallow in self-pity, a figure slid next to you, bumping your hip.
You didn’t need to look up to know who it was. That beechwood scent you’d smelt on your pillow, those tattered trainers that had been flung next to yours, that ring you bought still on his finger.
‘Beer? Still?’
Snapping your face up, you met those soft brown eyes you used to swim in. There they were, looking at you as fondly as ever, his eyelashes fluttering as he blinked.
Oh, Jeonghan.
‘Let me guess,’ you looked at his drink and straight back at his eyes, ‘Coke and Bacardi?’
You were both always so good at flirting with each other. Quick quips and flirty remarks were second nature in each other’s presence.
‘Guilty.’ He brings the cup up to his mouth, finally looking away from you.
A tense silence settled; you pulled your shirt down slightly out of awkwardness, your cleavage now in perfect view for Jeonghan.
‘Cigarette?’ He offers, flicking open a carton. Both of you were social smokers, finding nicotine very appealing after a few drinks. But right now, it was an excuse to get you both alone.
Nodding almost too eagerly, you push off the counter, tracing Jeonghan’s figure as you walk a little too close to each other. Everyone’s eyes discreetly peeking at the pair of you as you exit onto the balcony, the click of the door shutting prompting a conversation.
‘Ten dollars they’ll fuck,’ Chan said, to which his friends groaned, Seungkwan scolding him immediately.
The string lights wrapped around the balcony railing cast a soft glow, illuminating Jeonghan’s face as he settled next to you, only a few centimetres away, your arms resting over the railing, looking at the city skyline. His elbow brushed yours lightly; small jolts of electricity flowed through you with each minimal touch.
Silently, he held his carton of cigarettes up to you, and you slid one out and placed it between your lips. Jeonghan watched you intently, unashamed of his stare as he placed one between his lips. This circumstance is bitterly similar to many nights you’d spent together, drunkenly smoking and chatting, your chemistry bubbling in the late night. Yet this time, it seemed you had put the lid on, but everything continued to spill out.
‘How have you been?’ He asks, lifting a lighter and watching your skin as it warms in the orange light. You wanted to tell him to cut the bullshit.
‘Good, alright.’ You reply, your eyes tightly sewn onto the night sky. ‘You?’
‘Yeah, I’m good.’ He says.
‘How did the project end up?’ You questioned, a big work deadline at the forefront of his mind last autumn.
The awkwardness soon slipped off like a facade — the conversation beginning to flow, the rhythm seeping in like muscle memory between you, light slaps at crude jokes returning, shoulder nudges at shy compliments running back, lingering glances at each other’s lips circling. Conversation falling out of you both with ease, your minds distant from your friends, who were mostly uninterested in watching your silhouettes through the glass door after you’d been out on the balcony for ninety minutes.
‘I’m getting really good at pilates,’ you gloat, your bodies both rotated as you stand way too close for two exes. His breath tickled your cheek as he laughed, retelling his memory of your failed yoga in his living room, making you feel absolutely mortified about the excursion as you slapped your hands over your face in pure embarrassment.
What you both failed to mention was how, despite your failing, Jeonghan couldn’t help himself, splaying you over the carpet and devouring you for hours. The yoga wear was pinching your curves in every place that Jeonghan practically felt like a pervert watching his own girlfriend stretch.
Jeonghan’s warm hands gripped your wrists lightly, guiding your hands to fall from your face. The heat on your face intensified under his gaze — a look that held all those years of love, a look you’d convinced yourself he could no longer muster and fuck, you’d been so careful with him, but something inside you was exhausted with playing saint.
‘I think you’re the best guy,’ you admit — maybe it was selfish, bordering on egocentric. To strut back in and have him wrapped around your finger. But your ignorance failed to acknowledge you were wound as tightly around his.
Jeonghan blushed deeply. A shade his cheeks hadn’t been in eight months, the dark red dusting his cheeks practically every day by your side, a ghastly, rigid cheekbone in your absence.
‘You’re like,’ he was silent for a moment, drinking in your lusty, glazed eyes, the softness you had only exposed to him adorning them, fuck, he’s been dying to see that. ‘My dream bride.’
Fucking sue me, I want to be wanted.
Your lips met with a crash, your soft red ones mingling with his pillowy pink ones like magnets snapping back into place. Like an instinct, his hands were back on your waist, exactly where they belonged, your curves memorised in his brain like the back of his hand. The air buzzed, like the atmosphere knew two soulmates had found their way back to each other, his tongue gliding into your mouth with ease. You took the opportunity to slide your hand into his soft locks, the longer style easier to tug as his tongue explored all those places that had been empty since leaving him.
Your heart was doing flips, and you were convinced it could’ve lept with open arms into Jeonghans. The hair on your arms was covered by goosebumps as your body slotted into the one it was practically made for. Every inch of you was for every inch of him — Like kismet.
The pair of you didn’t care that your friends watched, some in shock, some with knowing smirks, some simply blinking at your intense display of affection. In this moment, it was just you and Jeonghan, fireworks between you, closeness and intimacy, years of brushing your teeth together, years of going to family gatherings together, years of talking about your future children together.
Who knows if this was an awful idea, if this would just put you both back into spirals of sadness. If letting yourself back in would rip the plaster off with viciousness. But with his scent swamping you, there wasn’t a speck of concern anywhere in your body.
‘Let’s leave,’ Jeonghan spoke breathlessly in small intervals when he could attempt to pry his lips off of yours. The small distance allowed you to appreciate his flushed face, so handsome with coloured cheeks, plump swollen lips and dilated pupils. You nodded gingerly to his request, and he slipped his hand into yours.
desc: all you can think about is your ex-boyfriend, jihoon, from day to night. so why not give him a drunken call?
wc: 3k
𝄞: wet hair by audrey hobert
The thunder crashed violently, shaking the window panes and booming around your candle-lit room. A bunch of dried flowers, a now bitter gift, rustled with each powerful gust as a draft poured through a nook you swore you’d investigate months ago. It was a miracle your candles had stayed lit so long as the breeze even wisped stray bits of hair in your face.
The house, in which you rented a small room, always seemed to creak in harsh storms, as if it were ready to give way to persistent gusts and heavy downpours. You used to check the roof, with your ex-boyfriend behind you on the ladder, there for emotional support — and to perform the job that you couldn’t when you realised how high up you were.
Jihoon, your recent ex-boyfriend of a month, made this room come alive in the two years you were together. He’d nailed frames with artwork you’d purchased to the walls, hung the gorgeous white linen curtains you hunted for, and even stained and polished the vanity he’d made for you. So, as you sat looking at your reflection on said vanity, a glass of red wine sitting prettily on a coaster, you couldn’t help but pout, almost pathetically.
The pair of you broke up over a misunderstanding, so silly and stupid, but you were both too stubborn to attempt to rectify it. Hence, the radio silence break-up that has you drinking alone in your room.
Half an hour later, the lightning unrelentingly shone through your pasty curtains. The wine bottle stood half-empty, the glass on the hardwood floor as you sprawled yourself across your red bohemian rug, the itch persistent against your exposed calves as you stared at the ceiling.
The landline, an old eighties-style phone which you were utterly obsessed with, rested on your bedside table with unwavering calm — as if it couldn’t ignite layers and layers of chaos if you used it.
Fuck it.
You scrambled up, the self-pity shooting adrenaline through you as you jumped on the bed with horrific elegance, picking up the receiver and kicking your legs with a tipsy, wicked grin on your lips. His number was like muscle memory, your fingers sliding over each individual key like a dance, rehearsed and repeated a million times over. However, when it came to pressing the dial, you paused, hesitation seeping through the alcohol-induced decision-making.
Suddenly, the crash of thunder made you practically jump out of your skin, your finger pressing the button in the fearful commotion. The long beep! snapping your attention towards the receiver in your hand.
‘Fuck, fuck, fuck!’ You begin panicking, with one hand raised as you look at the phone, analysing if you simply unplug the old thing, slam the receiver down or-
‘Hello?’
Jihoon’s deep, velvety voice paused your cursing as you froze, mortified that you’d actually gone through with this. Fuck.
‘Anyone there?’
That voice, the one you planned to have in your ear forever, flooded your senses, your body consumed in goosebumps, your breath held in your throat, apprehension trapping you. The voice you’d last heard the day you broke up, sadness breaking it, shakiness possessing his vocal cords. But now, it was sturdier; there was none of the softness you were used to.
‘Hey,’ you breathed out, tension evident in your greeting.
‘_-____?’ He said, shock dripping through your name. Even with astonishment tinging your name, it sounded exactly how you wanted it to.
‘I’m sorry for calling, this was stupid.’ You wimp, the brief interaction already overwhelming you.
‘No, no.’ He says, maybe too quickly, ‘It’s uhm,’ Through his pause, you can hear him shuffle, probably stepping away from his desk to concentrate on your voice. ‘It’s nice to hear your voice.’
A sad smile makes its way onto your wine-flushed face. You can hear his breath, slightly laboured, in what you can guess is anxiety. ‘Yeah, it’s nice to hear yours.’
Silence settles, and you open your mouth to speak. Jihoon didn’t rush you — he knew you better than anyone, he knew you picked your words carefully, even two glasses of wine deep, he knew that if you had something meaningful to say, you would get it out eventually. It was a big part of why you loved him, so patient for you, eager to listen to each word that came out of your mouth.
‘I’ You swallow. ‘I guess I just, I just missed you.’ You admit, dread pouring through you.
More silence continued, thunder booming yet again, and it shook you so hard that a squeal slipped out of your mouth.
‘I’m sorry, Jihoon, I shouldn’t have called.’ You say rapidly, embarrassment ripe in your conscience.
’No, uhm,’ He doesn’t say he misses you back; he wanted to tell you when he could see your gorgeous eyes, watch your face in case it twisted into disgust or, preferably, it reddened as you avoided his gaze, as it used to every time he complimented you. ‘What are you doing right now?’
You look down at yourself, your sleeping shorts and oversized jumper swallowing your figure, your room empty and pretty fucking sad looking on this stormy night. ‘Nothing.’
‘Let’s meet at The Mono, in say,’ a momentary silence ensues, ‘thirty minutes?’
Anxiety surged through you — this was supposed to be a drunken phone call, a spout of silliness to relieve your sadness. But here you were, agreeing without an ounce of reluctance. ‘I’ll be there.’
From there, the most chaotic thirty minutes of your life began. You slipped your pyjamas off and tore your wardrobe apart, trying on revealing dresses, too much skin, casual jeans, too laid back, and eventually settling on a pair of trousers and a shirt. Applying your makeup and trying to fluff your hair, you spied your appearance in the vanity, the light in your eyes flickering as you sprayed on perfume.
As you rushed out, you spied your car keys in the bowl. And then you remembered how you’d gotten yourself here. Red wine.
Through the whirlwind of getting ready, the storm raging outside had slipped your mind, and as you opened the front door, the wind hit you instantly. Then the sound of the rain battering the street. And finally, the boom and crackle of thunder and lightning.
Slowly, you eyed the wet street and turned to the umbrella by the door. It couldn’t be that bad right?
Wrong. By the time you’d made it halfway, your umbrella had snapped in two places, the rain drenching your styled hair and soaking through your shoes. How embarrassing, you thought. What is Jihoon possibly going to think?
It was too late to turn back. He’d be on his way; in fact, he was probably already there, your drink that he had preordered sat on the table as his fingers tapped his own glass.
Persisting, you fought the weather, and the soft light of the bar appeared in your view. The awning was rattling in the strong wind, and the street around was almost completely abandoned.
Mustering a light jog, you made it under the very shaky cover and tried to ruffle the rain out of your hair and pat your face dry. Imagining your appearance must be ghastly to any passersby, let alone your ex, who will probably presume you’ve gone crazy.
The bar hadn’t changed in the months of your absence: same vintage wallpaper, same low humming music and in your effort to appear nonchalant, you took a brief look around before leaning on the bar to order.
You actually couldn’t see Jihoon anywhere. The table that he always made you sit at painfully abandoned. The thoughts in your head raced. Was this all to make a fool out of you? It’s not like you to be nervous, in fact, you’d deny the emotion — just burn me at the stake, you thought.
The bar was busy on one side, with a group of men bantering and chattering whilst you stayed firmly glued to the opposite side, inspecting the menu like it was going to change your order. Absentmindedly shaking your wet hair and trying really hard to ignore the squelching in your shoes.
‘Hey, lovely lady.’ A man had broken off from his rowdy group to lean on the bar a bit too close to you, making you lean back slightly, using your arm to brace yourself against the stool.
‘Hi?’ You smiled politely, holding the menu close to your chest as if it could protect you from this man’s lingering glances — not the ones Jihoon used to give you that made you feel warm and fuzzy, the man’s gaze made you feel like prey under a predator’s watchful eye.
‘What’s your name, pretty?’ He continued to flirt as the bell rang, the storm slipping in as the front door was opened and briskly shut.
‘______.’ There it was. That voice. The gorgeous roughness and deep reverberation.
You turned to your ex-boyfriend, who looked perfect despite the storm quite literally battering you outside. His hair is dyed back to black, and it has grown long enough to surpass his shoulders slightly. The dress shirt he had on was slightly too long, yet it hugged his muscles tightly as his arms crossed over his chest, staring at the scene in front of him.
A displeased scowl was cemented to his face. And, as he meets your eyes for the first time, he can’t take a moment to appreciate their beauty, as you’re doing that — thing. The thing that screams help me please! and before he can even consider his actions, he’s stalking over to you and sliding his arm around your waist.
Electricity jolted through you at his touch, his arm exactly where it lived months ago. It sent subtle shivers down your spine, his scent consuming you, his body pressed against yours. Jihoon had a shit-eating grin on his face as he cocked his head sideways, the man almost scuttling away.
Your ex watched closely as the man returned to his friends, not faltering as he ordered both of your drinks and walked you over to your signature table. Finally letting go of your waist as you sat down and walking back to the bar to retrieve your drinks.
As you eyed your ex-boyfriend’s back, the ghost of his arm tingling the skin on your waist, your mind raced. What the fuck is going on?
But before you can jump into the pit you’d dug in your head, Jihoon is back in front of you, placing your drinks down carefully and settling across from you.
This time you actually take time to appreciate the small changes, his hair brushing his shoulders and framing his face perfectly, his arms only slightly more buff than before, but of course you’d notice, his eyes weren’t as warm as they used to be, but you could see the ice melting behind them.
‘Why is your hair wet?’ Is the first thing he says, and you stare at him with a shocked expression.
‘Oh,’ You reached up to shake it, rain still dripping out of it.
‘Sorry,’ he apologised awkwardly, running his fingers through the condensation on his glass. ‘I mean, leaving the house with wet hair will make you sick.’
Of course, he’s just concerned. Typical Jihoon, too vigilant and caring.
‘I walked here.’ You reply, refusing to meet his gaze.
‘You — walked?’ He said in disbelief, looking out of the window and then back to you. ‘In that?’
The rain now pattered the window harshly, the streetlight illuminating the trees being blown aggressively in the wind.
‘I’ve already had a glass,’ you explained sheepishly, ‘for, you know, nerves.’
Jihoon nods, muttering, ‘I would’ve come and picked you up.’
‘Huh?’ You ask, not quite catching his words. The awkward tension slipped back in after the display of affection that made you miss his arms even more.
‘I would’ve picked you up,’ he repeated gingerly, meeting your eyes. The contact makes your heart race, and you smile at him.
‘I couldn’t have made you do that.’ You say tightly, attempting not to put all of your cards on the table yet.
‘I would’ve,’ He said, crossing his arms. ‘Anyday.’
Blush creeps up your cheeks in pinkish splotches, and Jihoon practically lathered himself in the sight. However, his gaze felt heavy on you, the intentions behind this meeting cloudy.
‘What are we doing here, Jihoon?’ That’s it. That conviction you have. The one that you’d use when you were so frustrated and amping up to a breaking point. Ready to snap with sharpness. Jihoon used to think that tone was a lot worse than anytime you’d shout — so reserved but layered with emotion.
‘I,’ Jihoon doesn’t know how to say it, how to let the last month come crumbling down. He looks anywhere but at you, the painting above your head, your nails tapping the table nervously. But, when he catches your face, you’re looking at him attentively with an ounce of nervous apprehension in your eyes.
But the sight of you. Your complexion so smooth, your body curved in ways only he knows about, the quirk of your eyebrow when he begins to speak.
‘I shouldn’t have called Jihoon. I’m sorry.’ You look down, feeling your eyes begin to well up, gathering your bag and scraping the chair against the wooden floor.
‘I miss you too.’
You froze, like a deer in headlights. Your body rigid as you stood above him, he looked so small like this, so exposed as he looked up at you, his eyes scanning yours for something, anything.
‘What?’ You said instinctively, shocked at his confession. So many emotions seeping through you that you can’t quite decipher how you feel about it. You plop back down in front of him. ‘Like, actually miss me, not in a friend way?’
You’re overthinking, but it’s okay. Jihoon, the man who swore you’d marry and raise children with, right there, at the door to your life, knocking to get in.
‘_____,’ He cracks a small smile, the type that exposes his dimples and makes his chocolate eyes turn to gorgeous crescents. ‘I miss you.’
That was all the clarification you needed — to answer the knocking and swing the door wide open.
Your eyes swell with tears, and you feel mildly embarrassed that you’re crying in front of him as well as the entire bar, who haven’t batted an eye at you. Without further hesitation, you rapidly made your way around the table, crouching down next to him to hide your teary eyes and look at him.
His eyes were glassy as he reached up slowly, his hands shaking slightly as he touched your face and wiped your tears. You felt just the way he remembered, your skin smooth, your eyelashes soft yet tickling as he brushed them dry.
‘I don’t want to have an audience when I kiss you.’ He admitted, not daring to look away from your eyes.
Without further ado, you grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the bar in a hurry. The door slams behind you as the cold wind whips at the two of you, the rain already beginning to penetrate your just drying clothes.
Wordlessly, his hands found their place on your waist as he pulled you effortlessly flush against him, the rain dampening his hair as you both stared at each other, your hands slotting back on his neck.
Sparks erupt as his tether snaps, and he passionately kisses your lips, the feeling all-consuming and sending adrenaline through you both. Your lips were exactly the way he remembered them, even imagined over the last month, and he savours the lip gloss that he used to complain about.
The storm continued to rage on around you, both of you completely soaked through, yet you couldn’t care less; especially as his tongue found its way into your mouth, tasting the sweet cocktail he bought for you, your fingers running through his wet hair.
With a coy smile on your face, you pulled away, Jihoon resting his head against yours with an identical expression.
‘Don’t think we don’t have a lot to talk about.’ You say, lathering in the feeling of him against you again.
‘Trust me, I know.’ He replies, ‘But I don’t want to lose you, lose this again.’
‘Let’s try,’ You say, enveloping your fingers with his. ‘Harder this time.’
It was Jihoon’s turn for his eyes to well up as he nodded curtly, an appreciative smile dressing his face.
‘Do you want to come home with me?’ He asked, he knew you hated your house on nights like this, and the thought of parting ways, even overnight, made his heart pang.
‘I thought you’d never ask.’ You reply with a humorous tone, as Jihoon shakes his hair, further wetting you in the storm. ‘Hey!’
You push him away to shield yourself from the extra spray, and he follows, continuing to try to soak you further.
With a squeal, you run, but he’s using his strong arms to sweep you up again, bridal style.
‘Jihoon!’ You whine, pushing your head into his firm chest. ‘I’m already wet through!’
He chuckles, treasuring the feeling of you back in his arms, swearing to himself he’ll carry you like this forever if it means you’re his again.
‘Well, looks like we both need to change.’ He winks at you and begins to walk back to his car, trying his best to shield you from the storm that has already ransacked you.
‘Get me out of these clothes.’ You emphasise each word, trying to joke but knowing it was exactly what Jihoon intended to do.
genre & warnings: fluff (they're so down bad for each other :3) mentions of alcohol & substances
desc: your husband, joshua, took you to one of his very boring, very pretentious industry parties. where you are, quite frankly, miserable, but his gorgeous eyes fill you with joy, even from across the room.
wc: 2.2k
𝄞: chateau by audrey hobert
Since the day Joshua met you, he’s sworn you are an angel walking on earth, a gift to him every single day. Your kindness knew no bounds, and you gave a wide and gorgeous smile to everyone, regardless of who they were. You were so soft-spoken and polite, an image of perfection Joshua can’t quite believe he gets to call his.
Everything you did was done with such grace and happiness, it made his heart swell each time he saw you. Even the little things, like accepting mail from the postman — you bowed graciously and offered him a refreshment. Or the big things, like attending crucial and key industry events by his side, his gorgeous angelic wife, you felt like a trophy. He was so proud to be yours, it bordered on pathetic at times.
And — despite Joshua refusing to minimise you to just his beautiful wife, you had that charming way of wooing anyone you met. Your intelligence and wholeheartedness bleeding through you and striking everyone with a shake of your hand. And he could be across a banquet hall from you and still see your smile radiating, your warmth practically glowing.
Even on your worst days, days where you cuddled into his side, your smile upturned and heavy. He still thought you were the most beautiful woman he’d ever set his eyes on. Even when you got frustrated at his skincare sprawled across the his & hers sinks you chose out, he still thought you were the kindest woman he’d ever met. He thanked god every day that he got so lucky to have you.
Tonight, Joshua had flown you to Los Angeles with him — Making a trip of an industry event that Pledis deemed essential. Events like this always needed you, he thought, you were so observant, watching people unnoticeably and paying attention to the littlest things.
It was one of those qualities that no matter how much it could frustrate Joshua, it accounted for a big part of why he fell in love with you. He fell in love with you reading his facial expression like a book, he fell in love with you analysing his members’ body language like a professional, and he especially fell in love with your running commentary at these industry events. And given it may be a bit crude of you both to people-watch and whisper between yourselves, but god, didn’t he find it both entertaining and enticing?
So, here you were, the Chateau Marmot, a legendary hotel that people across the world dreamed of visiting. The hotel was absolutely gorgeous, an ode to French architecture; it felt like you were miles from Los Angeles. The ceilings and alcoves curved in delicate arches, creating intimate and nurturing spaces that housed all sorts of vintage lounging furniture, chaise lounges, chesterfield arm chairs, intimate loveseats.
But no one was sitting down. Everyone stood, almost awkwardly, murmuring to each other about their own self-importance, their successes and their achievements. Music played lightly like a pathetic attempt at easing tension as everyone you could see was standing a bit too rigid for an after-party.
Joshua was outside, and you kept catching glances of him as he politely nodded along to a story, a courteous smile on his lips as he listened to someone tell an animated and probably predictable tale. His skin had tanned in the Los Angeles sun, and it made him impossibly more handsome, his golden brown dyed hair waving away from his face to give way for his defined cheekbones and his bow-shaped lips, which were light pink.
At this point, you were a professional at stealing glances at your husband from across the room, your eyes always pulling your gaze to him like he was a magnet. Most of the time, he’d instantly look up and spot you, but this time, it seems politeness had stolen his focus completely.
You both nursed a glass of champagne, yet you were inside talking to a group of women. Some you’d seen at events like this before, others complete strangers. As intoxication increased through their bodies, they began to talk with transparency.
‘He just said something dumb on the way in,’ A woman spoke, her tone pissed off as she finished her glass and signalled for another. ‘He always makes the rounds without me, doesn’t even bother to introduce me!’
Poor girl, you thought, sympathy pouring out of you as everyone else in this makeshift circle comforted her. You send a sad smile her way as if to be in solidarity with her.
‘It’s fine.’ She continues, a new beverage materialising in her hand, ‘He sucks but, he’s rich.’ Her eyes widening with a maddening laugh, diamonds glistening in the chandelier lights, long dress blowing slightly in the breeze.
You held the grimace that threatened to slip onto your face tightly, forcing a few nods at her confession and beginning to drift from the conversation. It became evident to you as you looked at the variety of famous people around you that you’d rather be anywhere but here.
Without wanting to disrupt Joshua, you floated towards the bar, ordering a water and letting your eyes scan the room. It was like a cesspit of A-List people, and you downed the water and forced yourself to get stuck back in.
One conversation down. A man who owned a marketing firm and claimed he reinvented PR with his company. Second conversation down. A girl who complained about a Michelin star restaurant refusing to give her an influencer discount. Third conversation down and you think there’s drilling in your head. A couple who were openly arguing and trying to rope the entire group into the conversation.
Now your tether was wound way too tightly, and you nodded politely before excusing yourself to the bathroom. It felt like insanity here; this was nothing like the events you attended in Korea. Everyone was a lot more honest and a lot more drunk.
As the noise began to subside, you entered the luxurious bathroom, clad in plants of all different origins, illuminating the dark space. Extravagant porcelain sinks stood alone in a row, vast mirrors bouncing low light across the space.
Taking this opportunity to breathe, you tidied your hair and powdered your face, trying not to take notice of the jet lag beginning to creep into your consciousness. As you continue to eye your appearance, the door creaks open, a girl in a revealing dress entering with confidence, her head held high, chunky sunglasses sitting on the tip of her nose as she looks down it.
With an inward sigh, you took that as your cue to leave the bathroom, zipping your purse tightly and heading back towards the sad excuse of a party you were attending.
It was rare that things got you down, positivity your compass and your heart of gold husband allowing you to lead a life of happiness. There was not a day when you weren’t eternally grateful to be so happy — but today, today might be the worst you’ve felt in a while.
The room explodes back into your vision, the quiet hush of voices now amplified as alcohol and other substances take over people’s bodies. It seemed the population had doubled in the brief toilet break you’d taken, and you tried to scan the room for your husband in the sea of A-Listers.
‘Hey sweetheart,’ Your husband, Joshua, had snuck up beside you, sliding his arm around your waist with ease, his sandalwood cologne with a touch of patchouli engulfing you. He smelt like home, like small comforts and late nights in front of the TV, like making cups of tea and painting bedrooms.
The touch rooted you to your spot, his arm warm and anchoring in the busy environment. It felt, for the first time tonight, like it was just you two. Stealing a glance at your husband, you appreciated his bronzed skin, smooth and fair in the exhausted light, his hair framing his face like a rococo painting - he looked like he’d been painted to perfection, an image of royalty and beauty.
‘Hey baby,’ you reply with a sweet smile, leaning into his strong chest. As always, he looked sensational, his chest peaking out of the pale linen shirt he’d been styled into, his blazer long discarded in the cloak room as the Los Angeles humidity threatened to decrepit the formal outfits you both wore.
To this day, the sound of your voice using such nicknames still makes his heart flutter innocently, his body reacting the same way every single time.
‘You know I really love my job,’ He says, tugging at your waist to get you to face him. The buzzing room disappears with his chest against yours.
‘But?’ You quirk an eyebrow, Joshua’s open-ended question beckoning a follow-up.
Slowly, his eyes scanned the crowd, watching thousands of dollars of jewellery and some of the finest clothes in the world being pranced around the room — Men in huddles smoking cigars, women crowding around expensive bottles of champagne, and Joshua let out a loaded sigh.
Watching your husband exhale heavily, the crease appearing between his brows made your heart sink, the bitterness in your mouth surging at his disgruntled look.
‘I think that high school was better than this.’ He remarks in a humorous tone, attempting to dampen his confession. ‘Shall we?’
Raising his hand to yours, a beautiful smirk on his lips as your eyes meet. ‘If we must.’
You both floated through the room seamlessly, small conversations occurring in your wake, Joshua entertaining each one out of politeness, his arm tightly around you as he introduced you to each and every person, complimenting you constantly as he told everyone — ‘This is my gorgeous wife.’ Amounting to a heavy blush living permanently on your cheeks.
Eventually, Joshua steals you for himself again, exiting the busy building into a low-lit courtyard, a turquoise circular pool glistening in the moonlight with vintage parasols dotted around it, tassels swaying in the breeze.
‘This is beautiful.’ You manage to appreciate the towering hotel from the garden, the party a distant hum as only a few people litter the space.
‘You’re beautiful.’ He replies, looking at you and not the architecture around.
‘Mr Hong, that was ever so predictable.’ You grin at him, the pool reflections shining against him.
In this moment, all of the chaos from inside was forgotten, long pushed away to the distant side of your mind; Joshua, your lifeline, the love of your life and the most incredible man you’d ever met, was everything.
The way his eyes seemed to glow as he looked at you, an unwavering smile on his lips, and the gentle rub of his thumb against your hand, seizing the outside world.
‘Well, Mrs Hong,’ he replies, butterflies fluttering in your stomach, ‘I have to be truthful.’
Then, he joins your lips sweetly, the small but intimate kiss practically making you float.
‘Can I be truthful?’ You ask, his face inches from yours as he breathes you in.
‘Always.’
‘I really don’t care about this party tonight.’ You say with apprehension. Joshua’s smile widened even more, as if it were physically possible.
‘This might be the worst afterparty I’ve ever attended.’ He admits, making you both giggle — the strangeness of the Chateau apparent to both of you, like two people dancing on the same line.
‘I really didn’t care who they were or who they knew.’ You whisper, bringing his hand up to kiss lightly.
‘Me too!’ He says, ‘Too much name dropping and alcohol consuming for me.’
‘Agreed.’
A comfortable silence ensues as you relax in each other’s presence, two hearts so tightly joined resting in the contentment of one another.
‘Let’s go.’ Joshua continues, his arms engulfing you in a hug that has you swaying from side to side, his chin resting on the top of your head, him peppering you with kisses.
Connecting your hands like two adjoining puzzle pieces, you make the compulsory rounds. ‘It was so lovely to meet you!’ ‘Let’s stay in touch.’ ‘Thank you for being here.’
Bowing to the party host, you make your exit, feigning sadness about having to leave, the secret of your distaste locked between you and your husband like vows.
Joshua joins your side again, keeping his arm around your shoulders as you saunter out, the feeling of air flowing through you with ease returning as he kisses the crown of your head and guides you out of the front doors.
‘No more LA parties for a while,’ and with that, you leave the Chateau Marmont, more than happy to never return again.
NOW PLAYING: who's the clown? by audrey hobert ༘⋆𖦹 🎪 🎈
part of the ˗ˏˋ the album series ˎˊ˗
TRACK LIST
001: i like to touch people
[ track length: clean the disk! ]
⤷ a rocky upbringing had turned your habit of sleeping with people into a bit of a problem...until chan showed you that there was more to life...
002: sue me
[ track length: 2.2k ]
⤷ you broke up with jeonghan because you were bitter and miserable, desperate to love each other but failing to cut one another slack. seven months later, he looks amazing and sue you, you want to be wanted...
003: drive
[ track length: clean the disk! ]
⤷ your friends insisted the bar would be fun. is it ever?? however, soonyoung, the sexy stranger, is different from the stale men swamping, so why not put it in drive with him?
004: wet hair
[ track length: 3k ]
⤷ all you can think about is your ex-boyfriend, jihoon, from day to night. so why not give him a drunken call?
005: bowling alley
[ track length: clean the disk! ]
⤷ oh yeah, the bowling alley party you'd forgotten all about...and despite your apprehension to attend, seungcheol notices you the moment you walk in, confidently win, and then attempt to silently slip out, trophy in hand.
006: thirst trap
[ track length: 3.6k ]
⤷ photos in the mirror, lips pouted cutely. photos on your macbook, scantily clad and sexy. photos on your digital camera, body exposed with a smirk on your face. however, none of them seemed to prompt your situationship, vernon, to even like your instagram story!
007: chateau
[ track length: 2.2k ]
⤷ your husband, joshua, took you to one of his very boring, very pretentious industry parties. where you are, quite frankly, miserable, but his gorgeous eyes fill you with joy, even from across the room.
008: sex and the city
[ track length: clean the disk! ]
⤷ there he was, junhui, the one-night stand that might be different from the rest...if he had called you after
009: shooting star
[ track length: clean the disk! ]
⤷ ah, kim mingyu, the man who gave you the world but, couldn't commit. he shows you his cards, flashes a wickedly sexy grin and suddenly you're convincing all of your friends he's not a dick...
010: don't go back to his ass
[ track length: clean the disk! ]
⤷ wonwoo's nonchalance killed off your relationship. the 'amicable' break-up not feeling quite so amicable right now. but your best friend, seungkwan, quite literally begs you to not go back to his ass.
011: phoebe
[ track length: clean the disk! ]
⤷ you moved to the big city for your ex, who left you. and today it's your birthday, and you wished -- really hoped, that everyone would just leave the party you'd thrown. except soonyoung's plus one, seokmin, who is determined to cheer you up.
012: silver jubilee [18+]
[ track length: 7.8k]
⤷ you and minghao were homebodies, in every sense of the word. comfortable meditating together in your garden, content sipping complex red wines under the parasol, happy reading your respective books with interlinked pinkies. however, his new subunit has dragged you and all of your friends to a huge party but god, you look a bit too good for minghao to contain himself...
note: aaaahh!! i'm so excited to release this for you all!! releases will be as and when (i think), but i'm very, very amped up about this series that it's literally pouring out of me!!
pairing: idol! chwe vernon, long lost friend! chwe vernon x rock/country musician! reader, fem! reader feat. bassist! xu minghao, drummer! kim mingyu & guitarist! kwon soonyoung
genre & warnings: long lost friends to lovers, slow burn (pining!), angst, fluff, hurt & comfort, family problems, recreational alcohol, cigarette and drug consumption throughout, mental health issues prevalent as a plot point, communication problems, a lot of allusions to americana and religion, suggestive & sexual content — mdni! all characters are adults and exhibit unhealthy relationships with addictive substances, please take caution when reading!
wc: haha...400 words in this teaser. full-length fic...probably 25k+
note: my favourite fic i've ever written...she is HEFTY! i am actually british so apologies to any americans who find this grossly inaccurate. music plays a huge part in this story and is very central to the plot, and i wrote a lot of it with a playlist in mind! i am so excited to share the full fic with you guys soon...but for now here's some crumbs. a biiig thank u to @ts19009 who is STILL beta-ing this for me and saving my ass from silly mistakes and bad grammar & thank u to @binniebean0 who lets me yap and complain about how much i write...
𝄞: bleeds by wednesday (pretty much essential to this fic), siamese dream by the smashing pumpkins, we will not be lovers by the waterboys, being harsh by a.g. cook, how i'm feeling now by charli xcx...i could go on forever
As Hansol adjusted his jacket, the warmth beginning to seep through him, the lights dimmed, and the quiet tune faded. The crowd began to hoot, anticipation almost at its breaking point. A few figures appeared from the wings, throwing small smiles and shy waves at the crowd as the men, all dressed rather alternatively, approached their respective instruments, the centre stage microphone and guitar left untouched.
The drums began to hit lightly, the bass following in a repetitive thumping pattern, a lead guitar beginning to screech in varying lengths as the song built up momentum, the instruments becoming louder and louder. Another figure appeared, long hair flowing in the dark purple stage lights as the crowd roared, the mystery figure taking up the empty spot and slinging the electric guitar over her shoulder.
Not yet addressing the crowd, the figure began to tap various pedals with her boot as the music grew and grew, louder and tighter than before. The silhouette at the centre joined in, her guitar creating a gritty and repetitive strumming — contributing to the knife-edge the song was dancing on, the tempo picking up as the figure turned away from the crowd briefly. A jerk of a head resembling a solid nod was thrown by the darkened frame to each of her bandmates before she rapidly spun, the song reaching its breaking point as she screamed into the microphone, the lights illuminating you in a strobe fashion.
Holy shit. Holy fucking shit. It’s — you?
Hansol just blinked, his mouth slack with shock. You? Like, you — the girl whom he used to sit next to every day in homeroom. The girl who always had your hair neatly tucked away in plaits. The girl who would always offer a sweet smile and a healthy conversation to Hansol. This girl, he remembered being timid, your voice always hushed, and your circle very small.
But, Hansol couldn’t quite believe his eyes right now. This was you, confidently playing and singing to your own music. Thriving and bathing in the stage lights, your face, more filled than the thirteen-year-old face Hansol remembers yet, your cheekbones were still there, ever present. Your hair flowed as you rocked lightly, singing passionately, your voice flipping almost flawlessly as the song came to an end.
Hansol was utterly mesmerised, this girl, he regarded with softness and warmth, owning the stage like it had been her home all of her life.
a new series of seventeen drabbles (1.5-3k wc) based on a song from an album!
recently played:
thirst trap - chs
silver jubilee - xmh
up next:
phoebe - lsm
NOW PLAYING: who's the clown? by audrey hobert
an album obsessed with storytelling, each song witty and hilarious. this album is full of reader thoughts, the tune of romance and the unfortunate reverberation of toxicity. press play!
