dom sungho ⟢ who punishes you by making you ride his thigh, fingering your cunt and stopping just as your about to cum while spanking you-- making sure you'll never forget to follow the rules again <3
dom sungho ⟢ using you like a toy
sub sungho ⟢ dressing your pretty boy up and teaching him how to ride a dildo, what he doesn't know is your training him to take your strap <3
sub sungho ⟢ rocking into your hand as you pump him, his pretty clothes half off
riwoo
dom riwoo ⟢ cunt slaps <3
sub riwoo ⟢ who only wears his thigh highs when he wants you to peg him stupid
bunny hybrid!sub riwoo ⟢ poor little bunny humping the air while his owner laughs and films him :(
jaehyun
sub jaehyun ⟢ stupid mutt tried going outside on his own today, so you leashed him up and pumped him dumb
bp!sub jaehyun ⟢ when given the signal, jaehyun wastes no time humping your thigh like a bitch in heat
masochist!sub!jaehyun ⟢ hashtag that awkward moment when playing a kinky couples card game turns into you stepping on your subs cock !
taesan
dom taesan ⟢ he knows your horny. and he doesn't care. he's going to cum, and you're gonna stand there and help like a good girl.
dom taesan ⟢ teasing your sensitive nipples
sub taesan ⟢ in his pretty pearly lingerie, you've been edging taesan for hours... even the smallest touch to his cock makes him arch his back up and whine into the air. maybe you'll stop soon, maybe you won't !
sub taesan ⟢ pouncing on your sub as soon as he comes home from work-- you could care less about the kind of day he had, or if he's tired.
leehan
sub leehan ⟢ is such a squirmer for his mommy
sub brat leehan ⟢ who caused so much trouble for you that you had to call in back up!
sub leehan ⟢ who loves when you play with him in his pajamas
HAAAPPY HALLOWEEEEEN ! ~ 🍈
halloween is the one night a year a girl can goon to boynextdoor nsfw links and nobody is allowed to judge ~ 🍓
. ˚◞♡ ⃗ religion's in your lips even if it's a false god 𓈒 ✧ ˚. ᵎᵎ
۶ৎ ALTERNATIVE : boynextdoor when you pull away while making out ۶ৎ PAIRING : boynextdoor x reader ۶ৎ GENRE(S) : fluff ~ ۶ৎ WARNING(S) : yearner riwoo, long hair jaehyun, taesan pinning you to the couch (TRIPLE COMBO !!! NOT FOR THE WEAK HEART 😭🙂↕️) ۶ৎ WORD COUNT : 0.8k - 1.3k words / member
۶ৎ A/N : I had to indulge my long hair jaehyun delusions so this came out of it...
ˋ ⌞⋮ SUNGHO .ᐟ⌝ ˎˊ˗
It starts innocently enough—well, as innocent as making out with Sungho can be. He's always so controlled, so measured in everything he does, and that extends to this too. His hands are gentle on your waist, his lips moving against yours with careful precision, like he's trying to memorize every detail.
But you're feeling a little bold today. A little dangerous.
So when he deepens the kiss, tilting his head to get a better angle, you pull back just slightly. Not enough to fully break away, but enough that his lips chase yours for a split second before he catches himself.
His eyes flutter open, slightly dazed, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "What—"
You don't let him finish, leaning back in to kiss him again. He relaxes immediately, that little crease between his brows smoothing out as he cups your face with one hand. His kiss becomes more insistent, tongue sweeping against your bottom lip, and you feel his other hand slide from your waist to the small of your back, pressing you closer.
This time when you pull away again, you catch the exact moment confusion shifts into realization. His eyes darken considerably, pupils blown wide as he stares at you. The hand on your back flexes, fingers pressing into your skin even through your shirt.
"Are you..." he starts, voice already rough and lower than usual. He swallows hard, and you watch his throat work. "Are you doing that on purpose?"
The barely restrained frustration in his tone sends heat pooling in your stomach. You try to look innocent, biting back a smile. "Doing what?"
Sungho’s jaw clenches, and you see his chest rise and fall with a deep breath, a familiar sign of him trying to steady himself. He doesn't say anything for a moment, just watches you with those intense dark eyes, and you can practically see him trying to maintain control.
Then slowly, deliberately, he leans back in. Both hands come up to frame your face, and the way he holds you is almost possessive. His thumb traces your bottom lip, and his eyes track the movement with an intensity that makes your breath catch.
"Don't," he murmurs, and his voice has dropped even lower. It's not a request—it's a warning. "Don't pull away again."
But of course, you do.
The sound he makes is devastating, somewhere between a groan and your name, rough and frustrated. In one smooth movement, his hand slides to the back of your neck, fingers tangling firmly in your hair. It's not painful, but definitely controlling. His other hand grips your hip hard enough that you feel the heat of his palm through the fabric.
"I'm trying," he breathes out, and you can hear how strained his voice is, "to be patient with you."
He pulls you closer—or maybe pushes himself closer, you're not sure—until there's no space between you at all. You can feel the heat radiating off him, feel his heart racing against your chest, feel the tension coiled tight in his muscles.
“But you keep—” He breaks himself off with a sharp breath, the words failing him. He leans in, resting his forehead against yours, eyes falling shut as if he needs the contact to steady himself, as if proximity is the only thing keeping him anchored. When he opens them again, the look on his face is raw, unguarded, almost desperate. “Do you have any idea,” he asks quietly, voice strained, “what you’re doing to me?”
His hand in your hair tightens just slightly, angling your head back. The movement is controlled but barely, and you can see the exact moment his carefully maintained composure starts to crack.
"One more time," he warns, voice barely above a whisper but somehow more intense for it. His lips hover just barely above yours, so close you can feel his breath. "Pull away one more time and I won't be gentle anymore."
It should probably intimidate you, but instead it sends a thrill down your spine. You can feel him trembling slightly with the effort of restraint, can see the war between his natural control and his desire written plainly across his face.
"I'm serious," he continues, and now his lips brush against yours with every word. "I'm trying so hard to be good, to take my time, but you're making it impossible."
His hand slides from your hip to your lower back, then lower still, pulling you even more firmly against him. The kiss he gives you then is harder, more demanding, his tongue sliding against yours with clear intent. When his teeth catch your bottom lip, you gasp, and he takes full advantage, kissing you deeper until you're dizzy with it.
He pulls back just enough to speak, and his voice is absolutely wrecked. "So be good for me," he murmurs against your lips, and the please is unspoken but clear in his tone. "Stop teasing me, got it sweetheart?"
When he kisses you again, it's with single-minded focus, like kissing you is the only thing that matters in the world. His hand tightens in your hair, the other sliding under the hem of your shirt just enough that his fingers brush bare skin. The touch makes you shiver, and you feel him smile against your lips.
"That's better," he breathes, sounding almost relieved. "Much better."
This time, you don't even think about pulling away.
ˋ ⌞⋮ RIWOO .ᐟ⌝ ˎˊ˗
Riwoo kisses with complete focus and surprising intensity hidden beneath a gentle exterior. His hands are soft where they rest on your waist, his lips moving against yours with careful attention, like he's trying to get every detail just right.
You almost feel bad for what you're about to do.
Almost.
When he tilts his head to deepen the kiss, you pull back just slightly. His eyes flutter open immediately, wide and confused, lips still parted. "Did I... did I do something wrong?" he asks softly, concern evident in his voice.
"No," you assure him quickly, leaning back in. "You're perfect."
He relaxes at that, a shy smile crossing his face before you kiss him again. This time he's a little more confident, his fingers curling slightly into the fabric of your shirt. You feel him sigh contentedly against your lips, and that's when you pull away again.
"Oh," he breathes out, and you can see him trying to figure out what's happening. His eyebrows furrow adorably, head tilting like he's solving a puzzle. "Are you... do you need a break? We can—"
You cut him off with another kiss, and this time you feel the exact moment he realizes what you're doing. His sharp intake of breath, the way his fingers suddenly grip your waist a little tighter, the slight tremor that runs through him.
When you pull back the third time, his reaction is completely different.
“You’re teasing me,” he says, the words barely audible, more confession than accusation. His ears have gone pink, heat creeping up his neck, but his eyes give him away—there’s a new intensity there, a shadow beneath the softness you know so well. “You're doing this on purpose.”
Before you can respond, he's leaning back in, and this time his kiss is less careful. His hands slide from your waist to your back, pulling you closer with more force than you expected from him. When your lips meet, you can feel the desperation already building in the way he kisses you—deeper, more insistent, like he's trying to keep you from pulling away through sheer determination.
But you do it anyway.
"Please," he breathes out, and the sound goes straight through you. His voice is shaky, strained. "Please don't— I can't—"
He cuts himself off, pressing his forehead against yours. You can feel him trembling, feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest. When you look at him, his eyes are squeezed shut, jaw clenched like he's trying to compose himself.
"This is torture," he whispers, and there's a whine in his voice that makes your stomach flip. "You're torturing me."
His hands are restless now, one sliding up your back, fingers splaying across your shoulder blade, the other moving to your hip and squeezing. You've never seen him like this—usually so controlled, so precise in his movements, now barely holding himself together.
"Riwoo," you murmur, and his eyes snap open.
The look he gives you is devastating, pupils blown wide, lips swollen and red from all the kissing, cheeks warm with colour. It’s not just desire, but a soft, aching plea tangled with a frustration you’ve never seen on him before, unfamiliar and vulnerable, like he’s losing control that it both unsettles and exposes him.
"I need—" he starts, then stops, swallowing hard. His voice drops lower, rougher. "I need you to stop pulling away. I don't... I can't think when you do that."
To prove his point, he kisses you again, and this time there's nothing gentle about it. His hand comes up to cup the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair as he angles your face exactly how he wants it. His other hand slips under the hem of your shirt, and the feeling of his palm against your bare skin makes you gasp.
He takes advantage immediately, deepening the kiss, and you feel him shaking with the effort of maintaining some semblance of control. His thumb traces patterns on your skin that make you shiver, and he makes this small sound in the back of his throat that's pure need.
When you start to pull back again, his grip tightens instantly.
"No," he says firmly, and the command in his voice surprises both of you. His eyes widen slightly, like he can't believe he just said that, but he doesn't take it back. "Stay. Please stay."
The "please" softens it, but there's still an edge of desperation that makes your heart race. He's looking at you like the thought of you pulling away again might actually break him.
"I'm trying so hard to be good," he confesses, voice cracking slightly. His forehead drops to your shoulder, and you can feel his breath hot against your neck. "But you keep— every time you pull away, I—"
He doesn't finish the sentence. Instead, he presses a kiss to your neck, then another, and you feel his teeth graze your skin lightly. The hand in your hair tightens, and suddenly he's pulling your head back gently, exposing more of your neck to his lips.
“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” he murmurs against your skin, his voice dropped so low it feels almost dangerous. “To see me lose control.”
His kisses trail up your neck, along your jaw, until his lips are hovering over yours again. He's breathing hard, chest heaving, and you can see the internal war playing out across his face—the Riwoo who’s always gentle, always careful, pressed up against a need that’s sharper, more urgent, tugging insistently at his restraint.
"Well, congratulations," he whispers, and then he's kissing you again with an intensity that steals your breath. "You won."
This time when his tongue slides against yours, when his hands grip you tighter, when he presses impossibly closer, you don't even think about pulling away. You couldn't if you wanted to, not with how he's holding you, kissing you like he's been starving for it.
"No more teasing," he breathes between kisses, and it's still soft, still Riwoo, but there's steel underneath it now. "I can't take any more. Please."
And the way he says please—broken, desperate and so, so honest—makes you want to give him everything he asks for.
ˋ ⌞⋮ JAEHYUN .ᐟ⌝ ˎˊ˗
Jaehyun kisses like he's enjoying every second of it—which, knowing him, he absolutely is. There's a smile on his lips even as they move against yours, his hands warm and secure on your waist, thumbs tracing idle patterns that make you want to melt into him.
His hair has gotten longer recently, falling into his face as he tilts his head to deepen the kiss, and you can't resist reaching up to run your fingers through it. He makes a pleased sound at that, leaning into your touch.
That's when you pull away.
His eyes open slowly, still half-lidded and hazy, a confused smile playing on his lips. "Hm?"
You just smile innocently and lean back in, kissing him again before he can question it. He responds immediately, enthusiastically, one hand sliding up your back. But just as he's really getting into it, you pull away again.
This time, his eyes sharpen with understanding.
“Oh,” he says, the confusion easing as his smile shifts into a knowing curve. “Oh—I get it now.”
Before you can say anything, he's laughing that bright, delighted laugh of his. "You're messing with me right now. You're actually messing with me."
"I don't know what you mean," you try, but he's already shaking his head.
"Okay, okay," he says, still grinning. "So we're playing games? I love games."
He leans back in, but this time when you try to pull away, his hand comes up to cup your jaw, holding you in place firmly enough that you can't escape. His kiss is deeper this time, more purposeful, and you feel him smile against your lips.
Then he pulls away first.
"How does it feel?" he asks, voice teasing. His thumb brushes over your bottom lip as he watches your reaction with obvious amusement. "Not so fun when it happens to you, right?"
Two can play this game, apparently.
He kisses you again, and just when you're sinking into it, he breaks away with a playful smirk. "Oops."
"Jaehyun—"
"What?" He's grinning fully now, eyes sparkling with mischief. "This is what you wanted, isn't it? To play around?"
His hair falls forward into his face as he leans closer, and you reach up to brush it back without thinking. His expression shifts slightly at the touch, eyes darkening just a fraction, but the smile remains.
"You keep touching my hair," he observes, voice a little lower now. "Do you like it longer?"
Before you can answer, he's kissing you again, and this time you can feel the teasing energy start to shift more intensely. His fingers tangle in your hair, mimicking your earlier action, and when you gasp softly, he makes a satisfied sound.
You pull away again—you can't help it, it's too fun—and this time his reaction is different.
"Okay," he says, and his voice has lost some of that playful edge. He runs a hand through his hair, pushing it back from his face, and you watch his jaw clench slightly. "Okay, you need to stop doing that."
"Why?" you ask innocently, and his eyes flash.
"Because," he says, leaning in close enough that his lips brush against yours as he speaks, "I'm trying really hard to play along and be fun about this, but you're making it really difficult."
His hair falls forward again, tickling your face, and he makes a frustrated sound. In one smooth motion, he reaches back and gathers his hair, tying it up into a small ponytail with the hair tie he keeps on his wrist. The movement makes his arms flex, his jaw set in concentration, and you can't help but stare.
He notices, of course. The corner of his mouth quirks up. “Yeah,” he murmurs, gaze dropping to your lips. “You like that, don’t you, princess?”
He kisses you again, and with his hair out of the way, it's different—more intense, more focused. His hands grip your waist tighter, pulling you closer, and you can feel the shift in his energy. The playfulness hasn’t disappeared, but beneath it is a seriousness that wasn’t there before, an insistence that asks instead of teases, that wants instead of jokes.
When you try to pull away this time, he doesn't let you.
"Nuh-uh," he murmurs against your lips. "My turn now."
His hand slides to the back of your neck, holding you in place as he kisses you deeper. There's a confidence in the way he takes control, like he's done playing your game and has decided to start his own. His other hand slips under the hem of your shirt, palm hot against your skin, and you feel him smile when you shiver.
"See, the thing is," he says, pulling back just enough to speak, "I was having fun letting you tease me. It was cute." His thumb traces your jawline as his eyes lock onto yours. "But now I'm thinking about all the ways I could tease you back."
To prove his point, he kisses along your jaw, down to your neck, and you feel his teeth graze your skin lightly. Your hands come up to grip his shoulders, and one of them tangles in his ponytail without thinking, tugging slightly.
The sound he makes is somewhere between a groan and a laugh.
"Oh, so you can pull my hair but I can't—" He doesn't finish the sentence. Instead, his hand comes up to thread through your hair, gripping gently and tilting your head back. "That's not very fair, is it?"
His lips return to your neck, kissing and biting softly, and you can feel him smiling against your skin when you gasp. “There you go,” he murmurs, lips brushing your skin. “That’s the reaction I was looking for.”
When he pulls back to look at you, his eyes are darker than before, pupils blown wide. "No more pulling away," he says, and it's not quite a command but not quite a request either. His hand tightens slightly in your hair. "You had your fun. Now let me have mine."
He kisses you again, and this time there's no teasing, no games. Just intensity, heat and the feeling of his body pressed against yours. His hands are everywhere—your waist, your back, sliding up to cup your face, back down to grip your hips.
When you instinctively try to pull back just slightly, probably out of habit more than anything, his grip tightens immediately.
"What did I just say?" he asks, but he's smiling even as he says it. He presses his forehead against yours, breathing hard. "You're going to be the death of me, you know that?"
His hair tie has come slightly loose, a few strands falling free to frame his face, and without thinking you reach up to fix it. He catches your hand, bringing it to his lips instead.
"Or," he says, eyes glinting with mischief again, "you could just take it out. Since you seem so interested in my hair."
When you do, his hair falls forward, messy and perfect, and he shakes his head slightly to settle it. The movement is casual, but the way he's looking at you is anything but.
"There," he says, leaning in close again. His voice drops lower, more intimate. "Now you can touch it all you want."
And when he kisses you this time—deep, slow and purposeful, his fingers threading through your hair to mirror your touch in his—you forget all about teasing him.
You forget about everything except the way he's holding you, kissing you, like he plans to make up for every single time you pulled away.
"See?" he murmurs against your lips, and you can feel his smile. "Told you I'd be fun.”
ˋ ⌞⋮ TAESAN .ᐟ⌝ ˎˊ˗
Making out with Taesan is always intense. He doesn't do anything halfway. When he kisses you, it's with complete focus, like nothing else in the world exists. His hands are firm on your waist, his lips moving against yours with purpose and confidence that makes your head spin.
So really, you should've known better than to tease him.
But you do it anyway.
The first time you pull away, his eyes open slowly, dark and slightly unfocused. He doesn't say anything, just looks at you with a quiet question in his gaze. When you lean back in without explanation, he accepts it, one hand coming up to cup your jaw as he deepens the kiss.
The second time you pull away, you feel the change immediately.
His fingers tighten on your waist—not painfully, but noticeably. His eyes are sharper now when they meet yours, more alert. He's figured it out.
"What are you doing?" His voice is low, quiet, but there's an edge to it.
"Nothing," you say, but you can't quite hide your smile.
Taesan's jaw clenches. He doesn't move for a moment, just watches you with that intense gaze that always makes you feel like he can see right through you. Then, slowly, he leans back in. His hand slides from your jaw to the back of your neck, grip firm and possessive.
"Don't," he says simply, right before his lips meet yours.
This kiss is different, harder, more demanding. His tongue sweeps against yours with clear intent, his hand tightening in warning when he feels you start to pull back. But you do it anyway, breaking the kiss with a soft laugh.
The look he gives you could melt steel.
"You think this is a joke?" His voice is dangerously quiet, and the tone in his voice makes heat pool in your stomach. He's not smiling. Not even a little bit.
"Maybe a little," you admit.
Wrong answer.
In one fluid motion, Taesan shifts, and suddenly you're the one being pressed back against the couch. He's hovering over you, one hand braced beside your head, the other still gripping your hip. His hair falls forward slightly, shadowing his eyes, and the intensity of his gaze pins you in place.
"You want to play games with me?" he asks, voice still low, a controlled tone that somehow feels more threatening than if he were actually angry. "Okay. Let's play."
He leans down, but instead of kissing your lips, he goes for your neck. His mouth is hot against your skin, teeth grazing lightly before he soothes the spot with his tongue. When you gasp, you feel him smile against your throat.
"What's wrong?" he murmurs, lips brushing your skin as he speaks. "You can dish it out but can't take it?"
His hand slides under your shirt, palm flat against your stomach, and you feel him trace slow patterns on your skin. It's deliberate, teasing, and completely unfair. When you try to squirm, his grip on your hip tightens, holding you still.
"Stay," he commands softly, and the authority in his voice makes you obey without thinking.
He kisses up your neck, along your jaw, getting closer and closer to your lips but never quite getting there. When you turn your head to try to kiss him, he pulls back just enough to stay out of reach, and the smirk on his face is absolutely infuriating.
"Not so fun, is it?" he asks, voice laced with dark amusement. "Being teased?"
"Taesan—"
"What?" He tilts his head, looking at you with false innocence that doesn't match the heat in his eyes at all. "I'm just doing what you did to me. That's fair, right?"
His hand slides higher under your shirt, thumb brushing just below your ribs, and you arch into the touch without meaning to. He notices, of course. He notices everything.
"So sensitive," he observes, and there's satisfaction in his tone. His hand moves back down, tracing patterns that make you shiver. "I barely even touched you."
When he finally kisses you again, it's overwhelming. Deep and consuming, like he's trying to prove a point. His body presses close to yours, and you can feel the tension wound tight beneath his skin, the barely restrained control as he holds himself back.
You try to pull away—instinct, maybe, or maybe you just want to see what he'll do—and his reaction is immediate.
His hand flies up to grip your chin, firmly turning your face back to his. "Don't," he warns, and his voice has gone even lower, rough with frustration. "I'm not playing anymore."
There’s a dangerous edge in his gaze now, sharp enough to steal your breath. He’s always been intense, but this is different. This is Taesan with his patience worn down, his restraint fraying, control slipping just enough to show what he’s been holding back.
"You wanted my attention?" he asks, his thumb pressing against your bottom lip. "You have it. All of it. So stop running away."
He kisses you again, harder this time, almost punishing. His hand slips back into your hair, fingers curling with just enough force to steal a breath from you, and he doesn’t hesitate, using the moment to pull you closer, to deepen the kiss until the world tilts and everything feels hazy around the edges. His other hand grips your waist, thumb pressing into your hip bone hard enough that you know you'll feel it tomorrow.
"This is what you do to me," he breathes against your lips, and for the first time you hear how affected he actually is. His voice is ragged, strained. "You drive me crazy. You know that?"
His forehead drops to yours, and you can feel him trembling slightly with the effort of maintaining control. His breathing is heavy, chest heaving against yours.
"Every time you pulled away," he continues, voice barely above a whisper, "all I could think about was how to make you stay. How to make you want me so badly you couldn't even think about leaving."
He pulls back just enough to look at you, and the raw intensity in his gaze steals your breath. "So here's what's going to happen," he says, voice dropping into that commanding tone again. "You're going to stay right here. You're not going to pull away. And you're going to let me kiss you until I'm satisfied. Understood?"
It's not really a question.
When you nod, his expression softens slightly. "Good girl," he murmurs, and the praise sends warmth flooding through you.
This time when he kisses you, it's slower but no less intense. Thorough. Possessive. Like he's claiming you with every brush of his lips, every slide of his tongue. His hands roam your body with purpose, touching, gripping and holding like he's trying to memorize every inch of you.
When he finally pulls back—minutes or hours later, you've lost track—his lips are swollen and red, his eyes dark and satisfied.
"You're so pretty," he says, voice still rough. His thumb traces your jaw gently, a stark contrast to how tightly he was holding you moments ago.
He settles beside you, pulling you against his chest, and you can still feel his heart racing. His hand finds yours, fingers intertwining, and he brings it to his lips.
"Next time you want to tease me," he says quietly, pressing a kiss to your knuckles, "remember how this ended."
It's a warning and a promise all at once.
And the really dangerous part? You're already thinking about doing it again, just to see what happens.
ˋ ⌞⋮ LEEHAN .ᐟ⌝ ˎˊ˗
Leehan kisses the way he does everything else—with a calm, unhurried confidence that somehow makes your heart race more than any urgency could. His hands are gentle on your face, thumbs brushing your cheekbones as his lips move against yours with patient precision.
There’s an almost meditative quality to it—how he takes his time, as if he has all day to learn the shape of your mouth. It’s the same focused attention he gives anything that holds his interest—steady, observant, fully present.
Which is exactly why you're curious to see what happens when you disrupt that carefully maintained composure.
When you pull away the first time, he doesn't react much. Just opens his eyes slowly, looking at you with that serene expression he always has, like nothing in the world could disturb his peace. He tilts his head slightly, a small questioning smile on his lips, but he doesn't say anything. Just waits.
You lean back in, and he accepts it without hesitation, picking up exactly where you left off. His kiss is deeper this time, more intentional, and you feel one of his hands slide to the back of your neck, fingers spreading through your hair.
Then you pull away again.
This time, you catch the faintest flicker in his eyes. Not confusion, not frustration, more like… focused interest. Like he’s watching an experiment unfold and quietly filing away observations.
"Interesting," he murmurs, voice still soft and even. His hand stays where it is in your hair, not gripping, just resting. "Are you testing something?"
The casual way he asks it makes you laugh. Leave it to Leehan to treat this like a curious phenomenon rather than actual teasing.
"Maybe," you admit.
He hums thoughtfully, eyes scanning your face with that focused attention he usually reserves for his fish tanks. "I see." Then, simply : "Continue."
It's such a Leehan response that you can't help but smile as you kiss him again. This time his hand tightens just slightly in your hair—barely noticeable, but you feel it. When you pull away for the third time, you're watching for his reaction.
His eyes open slowly, and there’s a shift you can’t ignore. The calm is still there, carefully maintained, but beneath it simmers a heat that hadn’t surfaced before. He looks at you for a long, deliberate moment without saying a word, and the silence feels heavy, charged, far more unsettling than anything he could have spoken.
"Three times," he observes quietly. His thumb traces your bottom lip with deliberate slowness. "You've pulled away three times now."
"Have I?" You try to sound innocent.
"Mm." His gaze drops to your lips, and you watch his jaw tighten almost imperceptibly. "You have."
He leans in again, but this time it's different. Slower. More purposeful. His eyes stay open, locked on yours until the last possible second, and when his lips finally meet yours, the kiss is deeper than before. Consuming. His hand in your hair shifts, fingers curling just enough to keep you in place without being forceful.
When you try to pull away this time, you realize you can't move far. His grip isn't painful, isn't even really tight, but it's firm. Decisive. And the message is clear : he's done letting you control this.
He breaks the kiss himself, but stays close enough that his lips brush yours when he speaks. “I’ve been patient with you,” he murmurs, voice low and even, controlled that it feels almost mesmerizing. There’s an undercurrent to it now, a quiet shift that makes your stomach tighten, that sends awareness sparking through you. His gaze stays locked on yours as he adds, just as softly, “But I think we’re past that.”
His free hand lifts to cradle your face, the touch gentle but unmistakably claiming, a quiet possessiveness threaded through the softness of the gesture. "Do you know what happens when you test someone's patience?" he asks, and it's clearly rhetorical because he continues without waiting for an answer. "You find out exactly how much control they actually have."
He kisses you again, and this time there's no mistaking the intensity behind it. It's still controlled, still measured, but you can feel the restraint it's taking. His tongue slides against yours with clear intent, and the hand on your face angles your head exactly where he wants it.
"I have a lot of patience," he murmurs against your lips. "But even I have limits."
When his hand slides down from your face to your throat, his thumb against your pulse point, you gasp softly. You feel him smile.
"Your heart is racing," he observes, voice still that same quiet, almost clinical tone. But his thumb traces circles on your neck that are anything but clinical. "Interesting. Are you nervous?"
You shake your head, and his smile grows slightly.
"No? Then what?" His eyes search yours with genuine curiosity, edged with a darker intent. "Excited? Anticipating what I'll do next?"
He’s analyzing you even now, reading every reaction—and somehow that makes it worse.
"Let me tell you what I think," he says, leaning in close enough that his breath fans across your lips. "I think you wanted to see what would happen if you pushed me. You wanted to know what I'd be like when I stop being patient."
His hand tightens just slightly around your throat—not restricting, just present, just enough to remind you it's there. "Would you like to see?"
Before you can answer, he's kissing you again, and it's completely overwhelming. Still controlled, still measured, but intense in a way that makes your head spin. His hand stays on your throat, feeling every gasp, every quickening of your pulse, while his other hand finally releases your hair to slide down your back.
When he pulls you closer, you can feel his heart beating against your chest, faster than usual but still steady.
"You're not pulling away now," he notes, pulling back just enough to speak. There's satisfaction in his tone, quiet but unmistakable. "Why is that?"
His hand slides under your shirt, palm flat against your lower back, and the skin-to-skin contact makes you shiver. He notices immediately, of course he does. He notices everything.
"Cold?" he asks, but there's a knowing look in his eyes that says he knows exactly why you shivered, and it has nothing to do with temperature.
"Leehan—" you start, but he cuts you off with another kiss, this one somehow even deeper than the last.
"Shh," he soothes between kisses, hand moving in slow circles on your back. "No more talking. No more pulling away. Just focus on this."
When his hand slides higher up your back, fingers tracing your spine, you arch into him without meaning to. His other hand tightens on your throat in response just for a second, just enough to make you gasp, before relaxing again.
"See?" he murmurs, and there's a smugness in his tone now. "You're much better when you stay still. When you let me do what I want."
He kisses along your jaw, down to your neck, and you feel his teeth graze your skin lightly. "I could do this for hours," he says conversationally, like he's commenting on the weather. "Just finding all the spots that make you react. Learning exactly what you like."
"But first," he says, pulling back to look at you again, "you're going to stay right here and let me kiss you properly. No more games. No more pulling away." His thumb brushes across your throat, feeling your pulse jump. "Can you do that for me?"
It's phrased as a question, but the look in his eyes makes it clear there's only one acceptable answer.
When you nod, his smile is small but genuinely pleased. "Good," he says softly, leaning in again. "That's very good."
And when he kisses you this time—slow, deep and absolutely devastating—you understand exactly what he meant about patience. Because Leehan doesn't rush anything. He takes his time, thorough and methodical, until you forget you ever wanted to pull away in the first place.
Until all you can think about is how to get him to never stop.
ˋ ⌞⋮ WOONHAK .ᐟ⌝ ˎˊ˗
Kissing Woonhak is sweet and a little clumsy in the most endearing way. He's still figuring things out, but he makes up for any lack of experience with sheer enthusiasm. His hands rest nervously on your waist, and you can feel how fast his heart is beating when you're this close.
So of course, you decide to make it worse for him.
The first time you pull away, his eyes fly open immediately, wide and startled like a deer in headlights. "Wait, what— did I mess up?" His voice pitches up slightly in panic. "Was that bad? I can do better, I promise, just—"
"You're fine," you assure him with a laugh, leaning back in before he can spiral further.
He relaxes instantly, shoulders dropping as he lets out a relieved breath. "Okay, okay good, because I've been practicing— I mean, not practicing, but like, thinking about— you know what, never mind." His ears are already bright red as he kisses you again, and you can feel him smiling against your lips.
That's when you pull away the second time.
"Okay, what—" He blinks at you, confused. Then his eyes narrow slightly in suspicion. "Wait. Are you doing that on purpose?"
You try to keep a straight face. "Doing what?"
"THAT!" He gestures wildly between you. "The pulling away! You're messing with me right now!"
When you don't deny it, his mouth drops open in betrayal. "Oh my god, you ARE! I can't believe— I was so worried I was doing something wrong!"
"You weren't," you say, grinning now.
"Then why—" He stops, processing, and then his expression shifts between embarrassment and indignation. "You're TEASING me? Seriously?"
He runs both hands through his hair, laughing in disbelief. "I'm already so nervous and you're just— wow. Okay. That's how we're playing this?"
Before you can respond, he's leaning back in with renewed determination. "Fine. You know what? I'm not gonna let it get to me. I'm just gonna— we're just gonna kiss and it's gonna be great and you're not gonna—"
You pull away again.
"ARE YOU KIDDING ME RIGHT NOW?" His voice cracks spectacularly, and he falls back against the couch dramatically, covering his face with his hands. "This is torture! Actual torture! I'm being tortured!"
You're laughing now, and he peeks at you through his fingers. "You think this is funny? My heart can't take this kind of stress! I'm too young!"
"You're so dramatic," you say, but you're smiling.
"I'M dramatic?" He sits back up, pointing at you accusingly. "You're the one playing mind games! Do you know how hard it is to focus when you keep— when you—" He gestures vaguely, too flustered to finish the sentence.
His whole face is red now, and he's fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. "Every time you pull away, I think I did something wrong and my brain just goes—" He makes an explosion sound effect with his hands. "Like that. Complete malfunction."
"Want me to stop?" you ask, taking pity on him.
"YES! No! I don't know!" He groans, flopping against the couch again. "This is so confusing. You're so confusing. Why are you like this?"
After a moment of internal crisis, he sits back up with a determined look. "Okay. Okay, I'm gonna try one more time, and you have to promise not to pull away because I don't think my heart can handle it."
"I promise," you say, and he eyes you suspiciously.
"Really?"
"Really."
He studies your face for a long moment, clearly trying to determine if you're trustworthy. Finally, he nods. "Okay. But if you do it again, I'm— I don't know what I'll do, but it'll be something! A consequence! There will be consequences!"
The threat would be more effective if his voice wasn't shaking slightly and if he didn't look absolutely adorable while making it.
When he leans in this time, he's extra careful. His hand comes up to cup your face gently, and he pauses just before your lips meet. "You promised," he whispers, and for all the control in his posture, there’s a fragile note beneath it, almost pleading, almost vulnerable.
"I promised," you confirm.
This kiss is different—slower, more confident now that he's not worried about you disappearing. His other hand finds yours, fingers intertwining and squeezing like he's anchoring himself. When you don't pull away, you feel him relax completely, even smiling against your lips.
After a few moments, he pulls back himself, and the smile on his face is so bright and genuine it makes your heart squeeze. "See? We can do this! When you're not being evil, we're actually really good at this!"
"Evil is a strong word," you laugh.
"You literally tortured me for fun," he points out, but he's grinning now. "That's pretty evil. I'm dating a villain."
He's still holding your hand, thumb tracing patterns on your skin, and the simple affection of it is so Woonhak it makes you smile.
"Don't do that again though," he says quietly. "My heart rate still hasn't gone back to normal. I think you took years off my life."
"So dramatic," you repeat.
"So mean," he counters, but he's leaning in again anyway, bumping his nose against yours playfully. "You're lucky you're cute."
"You think I'm cute?"
"Don't fish for compliments, you already know you are," he mumbles, ears going red again. "Now can we please just kiss like normal people? No more games?"
And when you agree, his relieved sigh is so loud and exaggerated that you can't help but laugh against his lips.
Even as he kisses you again—sweet, enthusiastic and unmistakably Woonhak—he pulls back every few seconds just to check that you're still there, like he doesn't quite trust that you won't disappear again.
"Just making sure," he explains each time, and honestly? It's perfect.
📷 ) SYNOPSIS 𓂃 ﹕having an attractive and (semi) oblivious roommate is definitely not for the weak.
──── roommate ! leehan x fem ! reader ╱ ⌕ smau, fluff, comedy ( ? ) ∿ ˊᯅˋ could be somewhat suggestive…?, reader lowk down bad, use of petnames >3< ( 💬 ) HAPPY BIRTHDAY LEEHANNN my fellow dearest october baby ♡ #WeInSyncLikeThat i honestly don’t know what went thru my mind making this BUT it’s smth for my man so its okay 🤍
‘💬’ ─ why are my screenshots like that now. Apple. MemiMessage. Someone Speak Up.
boynextdoor x fem reader. | headcanons — wc (each): 0.2-0.3k
how they react to you calling them pretty/giving them compliments.
tags: established relationship, fluff, comedy, pet names used, they're a bunch of silly pretty boys hehe
a/n: it's been a hot minute since i've done headcanons 😮💨 these are kind of short but cute :P
park sungho
— it goes either one of two ways, depending on his mood: a) he gets all flustered and red in the ears if you catch him off-guard (ex. he's cooking, cleaning, on his phone, literally just existing and yet he still looks gorgeous); and b) he'll give you a look that's borderline cocky and says "i know i'm pretty" but replies with a soft "thank you".
— if you catch him off-guard, he'll stop and stare at you like ㅇㅅㅇ? before going red.
— sometimes you just genuinely mean it, other times you do it on purpose to see his reaction (because he's so damn cute).
— he'll try to reason like: "what are you talking about, i'm just crouching here wiping stains off of the coffee table... ㅡㅅㅡ;" but then he'll mutter a small 'thank you' afterward.
— it'll put him in a good mood for the rest of the day and it's the cutest thing you've ever seen—there's a faint but permanent smile on his face and a bounce in his step.
— exhibit b: sometimes, he purposely dresses up so that you'd call him pretty. he knows exactly what you like him wearing (he got a hold of your pinterest one day but he never told you that) and styles himself up in the way he's sure would leave you flustered and speechless.
— he usually does it when you have a date or an event to attend, also because he believes good outfits shouldn't be wasted.
— so you'll dress up too, but then he steps out of the bathroom and your jaw is on the floor.
— his hair is slicked back in the way you love, the button-up—folded at the forearms—and the dress pants he's wearing match him perfectly, and is that your lip gloss he's wearing?
— in short: he looks stunning.
— sungho knows he's got you—you haven't said a word since he walked in.
"what's wrong, babe? does my outfit not look good?" he asks you.
"what?? no! it looks.. good, sungho. amazing, even," you sputter. is it hot in here or is it just you? (it's you.)
sungho gives you a look, eyebrows raised like he's asking you a question. you know what he wants.
"you look pretty."
the grin that splits across his face is blinding. "thank you, baby. you look pretty too."
lee riwoo
— shy cutie™
— riwoo loves when you compliment him, especially when you call him pretty, but he never makes it obvious.
— he doesn't ask for it outright, but you glance at him and he's practically shooting stars at you with his pleading eyes.
— it's ironic too because every time you do, he curls up like a turtle and hides his face in your neck, cheeks and ears positively flushed.
— he tells you to stop but is so... far away... from wanting you to stop 😭
— throws the compliments back at you when he can't take it anymore; it literally turns into an entire compliment battle all the time (spoiler: you never win) and you both eventually come up with the weirdest things to compliment each other on.
"you look so pretty, riwoo! your hair reminds me of an albino porcupine!"
"thank you, my love. i love your nails, it's the exact shade of the red light in a stoplight." weirdos.
— also loves when you post him on social media and show off his style, it makes him feel so proud 😎 he's littered everywhere across your accounts and he gets so smug about it.
— reposts your stories with a "hehe >< thank you my pretty baby! <33" (he's actively kicking his feet and giggling while rewatching your story at least twenty more times)
myung jaehyun
— he loves being called pretty, handsome, gorgeous, whatever; he adores being complimented and basks in your attention all the time.
— shamefully asks for it at any time of the day; he doesn't care if you're at home or in public. he will sidle up towards you, wiggling his eyebrows, and ask, "hey, babe. don't you think i look hot today?"
— if you answer, he'll preen and give you an award-winning smile. if you're occupied with something else, he'll be all up in your space until you give him attention.
— if he's feeling extra playful, he'll snatch whatever's keeping you busy out of your hands and toss it (safely) somewhere behind him, pulling you into him and hogging you all for himself. you have no choice but to shower him with compliments until he's satisfied.
— on quieter days, the compliment from you makes him melt. you say a simple, "you're so pretty, jae," even when he looks like shit after a long day and he just... stops in his tracks, drops all his things, and flops to the ground.
he grins up at you with a lovesick look in his eyes from his heap on the floor. "you think i'm still pretty? looking like this?"
you cup his cheek, "the prettiest."
han taesan
— taesan gets taken aback at first, especially when you say it out of the blue. it's not that he's not used to you complimenting him, but it's usually things like, "you're handsome," or even better, "you look hot today, sannie." (he definitely doesn't ask you to call him that)
— being called "pretty" isn't normally in his list of favorite compliments, but that's not to say he doesn't like it.
— of course, he isn't han taesan if he doesn't try to play it off. be all casual and say, "not what you usually call me, but i'll take it. thanks, love." but deep down inside, he's on his knees screaming into the void, heart racing erratically.
taesan, probably: SHE THINKS I'M PRETTY WHAT THE HELL I'VE WON AT LIFE I'LL RISK EVERYTHING FOR HER TAKE MY MONEY MY TIME MY LIFE MY LAST NAME—
— he's dramatic. sue him.
— when he's sure you're not looking at him, he grins so wide he looks like an entire idiot. he has to bite his fist to stop smiling and blushing.
— it gets worse when you call him "cute". you're not wrong—you think your boyfriend is the cutest man alive, too akin to a cat when he's being silly, so you can't help but coo at him and call him adorable.
— on the outside? taesan frowns and grumbles like it's the end of the world. inside, however, he's running laps and jumping for joy.
— in all honesty, try as he might, he can never hide from you. even if he fights to keep a straight face, eventually, he breaks and gives you the sweetest smile ever (to which, of course, you call him a cutie ^_^).
kim leehan
— this man is a sucker for being called pretty. maybe because it's you, but also maybe because he agrees. he knows he's pretty.
— it's a very common compliment you give him, and he glows every time he hears it. the biggest grin that has his eyes crinkling in the corners, the softest 'thank you' you've ever heard. sometimes, he just stares at you, hearts for pupils, and grabs your hands and squeezes them tight in appreciation. every time you praise him, he shows his thanks in the cutest ways.
— because of his reactions, it makes you want to shower him with compliments even more.
"hannie, your hair is so cute today!"
"you look soo pretty in that sweater, baby."
leehan literally just existing:
you: my boyfriend is so hot 🤤
leehan: (੭◌ˊᵕˋ)੭* ♡
— you're his no. 1 glazer. so what? he loves it.
— leehan also isn't embarrassed to straight up ask you for compliments. he'll walk up to you, put on his best kicked puppy face, and say, "honey, compliment me. please." tugs on your sleeve or hugs you for effect. and honestly, who are you to deny him?
— five minutes later, he's pinned you down on the sofa, half on top of you, while getting his hair stroked and sweet nothings whispered to him. he's in heaven, do not interrupt him.
kim woonhak
— this man and his fake confidence!! like taesan, he'll act all cool at first; he'll go like, "who, me? i'm definitely pretty, i know that," but then one look from you and he'll break and blush like crazy.
— he'll be all loud about it too, trying to cover up being shy, like, "ahh, stop! don't say stuff like that!! it's so..."
"it's so what, woon?" you inch closer to him like a predator closing in on its prey, a mischievous look on your face. it's always amusing seeing your boyfriend flustered.
"stop that! you're scaring me!" woonhak yelps and runs away from you. you chase him down, cackling and calling after him, "my pretty babyyy, don't run away from meeee!"
— if anything, he loves it. it's just that he'd rather roll over in his grave before he'd ever admit it (you've made it your mission to make him admit it).
— sometimes, woonhak inadvertently asks you for compliments. at least, he thinks he's being sneaky, but he's quite literally the opposite of it. you think it's hilarious, but you won't tell him about it. let him live his delusion.
— he's dressed nice one day and is standing in front of a mirror. he runs a hand through his hair and sighs like he's troubled.
"hey, y/n."
"hm?" you look up from where you're cozily curled up on the couch, book in hand.
"...don't you think i look good today?"
you smirk at the back of his head. here he goes again. "do you? i didn't notice."
woonhak whips his head around, exasperation and betrayal written all over his face. "oh come on, babe! look harder." he raises his arms and twirls around for effect. you laugh heartily.
"no, i still don't see it, woon. i'm sorry."
"don't make me come over there and jump on you."
"just kidding! you look pretty, as always."
tag list (open!): @cinnamorollhyuka @ihanzzn @taestulipss @starriniqhts
⍣ I'm a full believer that Sungho would be whiny. Not in a slutty way, but in a “why the hell would you do that” way.
⍣ He’d be in the moment, just kissing and feeling you up, too into it to notice that your lips had found their way to his neck until after.
He lightly pushes you off his neck, your legs still straddling either side of him as you sit on his lap. His eyes go wide, and he feels his neck like he can somehow feel the hickey with his fingers. “Ah~ah! Did you leave a mark?” He searches your face, only to be met with a smile and mischievous eyes.
“Ah~ah!” he whines again, throwing his head back in disbelief.
⍣ He secretly loves that you try to mark him and claim him as yours—and he lets you know. 😉
⍣ He likes them on his collarbone or shoulders, especially when he’s wearing a tank top and can see them while walking around the house. (He also loves it when you mention them—saying they look good, or that he looks good as yours.)
𝑹𝒊𝒘𝒐𝒐:
⍣ I feel like he wouldn't really care. Maybe he'd be a little like, "Seriously? Oh, okay," but that's it.
⍣ Then he would be embarrassed for sure — mostly when he's outside, running errands, hanging with friends. They would tease him a lot. His ears would get red, and he'd try to hide them then.
⍣ He likes them on the lower side of his neck — specifically the left side, so he can see them in selfies.
He went to the bathroom to get ready after a morning makeout in bed. Looking in the mirror and finding a small red mark on his neck, he closes his eyes and breathes, suppressing a smile. "Baby?" he calls through the closed door. "What is this?" He rubs at it, making sure it's real before going on with his day.
⍣ When it fades, he'll be wanting another one — just so he can keep the reminder for himself that he is yours. (Loves being claimed, but not owned!)
𝑱𝒂𝒆𝒉𝒚𝒖𝒏:
⍣ Just like I mentioned before with Riwoo, he’d love to be claimed — maybe even owned a little 🤷♀️
⍣ He’s a proud show-off, always wearing low-cut tops so everyone knows he’s taken — even in the middle of winter.
⍣ During the moment, he’d be groaning softly, probably tilting his head back a little too far just so you have access to the whole thing.
His hands hold your hips down onto his lap, his hard on pushes into you as he grinds slightly into your covered area. Your hands placed on his sholders as you leave many marks on his neck and collar bone. You pull away and run your hand to his neck, seeing your hand on his neck with those marks turns something on inside you. You choke him a little, which earns a groan in response and a thrust up onto you.
⍣ He likes giving you two matching hickeys — if you leave one on the right side of his neck, you’ll find one on yours too. One on your left collarbone? There’s one on you as well.
𝑻𝒂𝒆𝒔𝒂𝒏:
⍣ I feel like Taesan would enjoy giving hickeys just as much as receiving them.
⍣ He loves the way they look scattered across the bottom of his neck and shoulders, especially against his black clothes and chunky silver jewelry. He would prefer to have hickeys, then not.
⍣ Just as much as he likes them on him, he likes them on you. He likes giving you them just so other guys will stay away. (though he'll never admit he's jealous) He likes giving them during sex too. Having coved your chest and the back of your sholders with them.
⍣ And Taesan? Definitely a groan and moaner. During sex: groans. During hickeys/kissing: moans, right into your mouth.
⍣ He does get self conscious of them sometimes, since he doesnt want to seem like a total slut or dominated by his partner (even though theres nothing wrong with that)
You straddle him after dinner, feeling a bit conflicted. You place a kiss on his temple before resting your head on his sholder. He holds your back and your head agaisnt his body, the warmth reassuring you. You look up and place a kiss to his lips. You hug for a while before you start to kiss again. And the neck kissing and shirt removal comes into place! You can't help but leave marks on his sholders, and after he asks nicely, you leave more on his neck. And all he would say when he sees them is, "This is all I get?"
...
"Baby." He pulls you in for a hug when he gets home from work. His lips meet your neck and leave a soft kiss. It doesnt take long before you guys are lost in a makeout session. His hands hold your neck up as he places kisses all over, leaving a hickey on it. (He's got a choke kink fs)
𝑳𝒆𝒆𝒉𝒂𝒏:
⍣ Oooh, Leehan. Kim Donghyun. I have so many mixed thoughts about how he might be behind his idol image — but let’s go with this one for now.
⍣ He’d love it when you straddle him; just feeling your thighs against his would drive him crazy. The weight of you on him would make him feel grounded and secure. He’d look up at you with eyes full of affection before you lean in closer.
⍣ I feel like he would love to be kissed right under his jaw or where his neck meets sholder. Hickeys on the other hand, anywhere and everywhere. He loves them to be easily visible if he needs them to be; but he doesn't want other to know that he's taken right away. He wants to build up that suspension.
⍣ He would most likely be silent when feeling good, but if you make him feel real good, he would probably moan vs. groan. Just small, quiet moans. 🙂
⍣ I also have the impression Leehan gets pussy drunk, so for you girls, I gotchu 😉 he would be leaving hickeys on your inner thights 100%
You would have his jaw underneath your lips as you kiss your way down his neck, nipping at it and leaving some marks on your way down. You pull the collar of his shirt to the side and leave a mark on his collar bone. You'd ask if he wants more, or if these were okay. He'd pull out his phone and look through the camera "Make them darker, you can't see them."
𝑾𝒐𝒐𝒏𝒉𝒂𝒌:
⍣ I feel like he’d be similar to Sungho — the type to get annoyed and whine at you, but secretly love every bit of it.
⍣ He loves it whenever you give him hickeys or any kind of mark. He wants them to be visible so he can show them off and act like he’s being all risky (?). Even when people tease him about it, he’ll whine and complain—but then turn around and show it off again, thinking it’s the coolest thing ever.
⍣ When your makeout sessions end and he doesn’t have a hickey, he wants to ask for one. But he’s way too embarrassed to actually say it, so he’ll drop subtle hints instead.
“Hey, babe,” he says, coming up behind you and placing one hand on your shoulder and the other proudly on his hip. “I’ve been thinking—I’m starting to really like the color red. I saw a pomegranate earlier, and I kinda wanna try one. But I heard they stain really bad, so I was wondering if you could do it for me.”
Why would he want you to stain your hands for his food? You stare at him like he’s speaking some new language he just invented, calling him crazy. He groans, whining and throwing a small fit when he realizes you’ll never get it.
“Hickey! Babe, give me a hickey!”
His ears are red, his eyes wide and shy. He stands a few feet away from you, looking both flustered and expectant. You can’t help but smile and laugh, padding over to him before pressing a kiss to his neck—leaving a big, bright mark that’ll make him feel even more embarrassed than he expected… but in the best way possible.
summary: when your crush leaves you all hot and bothered, you sneak off to get some relief. too bad that said crush hears you moaning out his name.
pairing: leehan x female!reader
warning: pure smut with a little fluff (fingering, oral (f), spanking, unprotected sex, leehan has a filthy mouth)
word count: 3.2k
notes: request! this was not supposed to be this long lol. i blame my period for this...
°‧ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 ·｡°‧ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 ·｡°‧ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 ·｡
you often regretted the day that your roommate introduced you to her friend group. they were all great, and you fit in perfectly. there was only one issue. you had the biggest crush on one of them- leehan.
it was all your fault really. you had no one to blame but yourself, but you couldn't help it. his soft eyes were so enchanting. you could stare into them for hours, and you have as you listened to him rant about a subject that you could honestly care less about. you also found yourself staring at his lips, watching the shapes he makes when he's not paying attention to you, wishing to know what they felt like against yours.
and god, his voice. you were pretty sure he could read you the encyclopedia, and you would be entertained. it was just so soothing, always calming you down. one time when you drank too much, you told him that. he didn't tease you for it which shocked you. instead, he told you to call him whenever you wanted to hear him, so now when you can't sleep, you call him. he'll talk to you about anything until he hears the soft breaths signaling that you fell asleep.
you knew you were down bad for him when he brought you with him to get another fish, and he told you which one would be perfect for you. so of course you got it, and now you have a fish named yin to match his new fish that he named yang. he helps you take care of it, often coming over to make sure you're following his directions.
your roommate teases you endlessly for you very obvious crush. she even brought leehan's friend, jaehyun into your teasing. they tried endlessly to get you to confess to him because you would be waiting forever for leehan to confess (jaehyun's words), but you always refused. you valued his friendship way too much to confess when you're not even sure he felt the same way. they were certain he did, but you still wouldn't do it.
lately, he's been leaving you hot and bothered. it didn't help that it's summer, so he's been walking around in tank tops and showing off his arms. today wasn't any different. all of you were at jaehyun's house playing a game, and the loser had to jump into the pool. leehan lost and didn't even take any of his clothes off before he cannonballed into the pool.
you felt nauseous as got out of the pool. his hair slicked back and showing off his forehead. his clothes were sticking to his body, and you swore you could see ab lines from where his shirt was clinging to his stomach. you felt like you couldn't take it anymore. so when he went upstairs to change, you told everyone you weren't feeling good before leaving. you played it off pretty good because none of them teased you like they normally did. your roommate even offered to go with you, but you refused.
that leaves you where you were now, softly moaning leehan's name as your vibrator ran across your clit. you imagined it was him laying on top of you, mouth running across your body while he held the vibrator to you, whispering everything he was going to do to you. your eyes shut in pleasure, back arching when you press the vibrator harder. right as you felt yourself getting close, you heard someone knock on your door, nearly making you jump out of your skin.
"yn." you heard your name being called from the other side of the door, and you nearly scream when you recognize the voice as leehan's. "are you in there?"
"just a sec!" you quickly shut off the vibrator before throwing it in your drawer. you fix your shorts before getting up. you run your hands down your shirt as you open the door. leehan was standing there with a concerned look on his face. you move back and let him in before shutting the door. "what are you doing here?"
"jaehyun said you weren't feeling good, so i wanted to come and check on you."
thankfully leehan wasn't looking at you, so he couldn't see your face. he did his usual, going to check on your fish before laying down across the end of your bed. you join him, leaning on the head rest as you cross your legs.
"you didn't have to do that. i think i just got overheated."
leehan looked over to you, slowly examining you to make sure you weren't lying. "so you're feeling better now?"
you wanted to say no. if he would've came five minutes later after you had gotten yourself off, you would've been fine. but now here you were, sexually frustrated with the one who is causing it laying right in front of you.
"yep. feeling much better." leehan hummed at your answer.
"then why did it take you so long to open the door?" you had to stop your eyes from widening at his question. you motioned to the bathroom that was connected to your room.
"i was in the bathroom."
"you didn't sound like you were in the bathroom."
you force out a laugh at him as you try not to freak out. "what are you? an interrogator?"
"no." he answered. "i just want to know why it took you so long to open the door."
"i just told you. i was in the bathroom."
"no you weren't." leehan argued with you. you shift under his gaze but was determined not to break like you normally did.
"is the heat getting to you too?" you ask. "because i'm pretty sure i was in the bathroom. i would know."
leehan clicked his tongue like he was scolding you. "you're lying to me."
"no i'm not."
"yes you are."
"what makes you think i'm lying to you?" you ask, getting fed up with him. he rolled over on his side, smirking at you and catching you off guard.
"i was standing at your door long before i decided to knock."
you felt your mouth dry up as you blink at him. he heard you. your friend heard you moaning his name while you pleasured yourself. you felt like you wanted to cry, especially since you couldn't tell how he was feeling. your mind told you he was teasing you due to the smirk on his face that still hasn't left.
you quickly untangle your legs before making a break for the bathroom. he tried to grab you, but you were too fast, closing and locking the door before he could get to you. you felt tears hit your cheeks as your back slides down the wall.
leehan knocked on the door. "yn, open the door."
"no." you willed your voice to come out strong, but it shook at the end. you knew leehan could tell you were crying be he cursed when he heard you.
"please open the door."
"please leave." you beg.
"i'm not leaving, yn." you heard leehan sigh. you could hear him shift like he was sitting down in front of the door. "i'm not leaving until we talk about this."
you kept quiet, not wanting to respond. you knew he wouldn't leave. he was too stubborn. once he said he was doing something, no one could stop him from it. "how long were you standing there?"
"long enough." he answered.
"can you just reject me and leave?"
"why would i reject you?" you scoff at his question.
"oh please. you were on the verge of laughing."
"i wasn't going to laugh." he replied softly. you shook your head, not believing him.
"then why were you smiling like that?"
"because i was thinking about how good you sounded while moaning my name." you nearly choke at his answer. "i had imaging how you sounded for months, and somehow you sounded so much better than anything i could've imagined. and its driving me crazy that you're locked behind this door, and i can't touch you."
you were stunned by his answer. you could hear the desperation in his voice towards the end. you quietly stood up before moving towards the door. "you- you like me back?"
you hear him shuffle as he quickly stood up once he heard how close you were to the door. "how could i not? you're like the most perfect person i've ever met."
you wipe your face, getting rid of the dried tears before you unlock the door. you didn't even get a chance to open it before leehan barged into your bathroom. you barely had a chance to look at him when his hands gripped your cheeks, pulling your lips to his. you gasped at the actions before kissing him back.
he kissed you deeply, hands roaming your body like he was trying to memorize everything about you. your back hit the counter when he backed you up. he easily lifted you up, sitting you on the counter as his tongue slipped into your mouth, exploring every inch of you.
you felt your head spin, and you tried to pull away, but he wouldn't let you. he chased after your lips, molding them to yours as he pulled you closer to him. his grip was tight on your legs, tight enough to leave bruises as he wrapped them around his waist. his erection was poking through his shorts, brushing against your heat and causing you to moan into his mouth at the friction.
"you drive me insane." his voice deep with lust. he moved his head, sucking and biting at every inch of your exposed neck, making you squirm in his hold. "it took everything in me not to barge in and fuck you when you said my name. you would've like that though, wouldn't you baby?" you nod desperately, too far gone to speak sentences. "is that what you want? for me to fill this pussy up the way she deserves?"
"leehan." you whimper, voice cracking with need as you cling to him. he bites your neck harder when his name leaves your lips. you hands grip the counter as you roll your hips against his, moaning again when his hips desperately bucked into yours.
his hands cup your ass, squeezing tightly as he pulls you flush against him before picking you up. "you're already a mess, and i've barely touched you. i can practically feel how soaked you are through your clothes, my desperate girl."
your back hit the soft mattress before leehan kneeled over you. his hands gripped your knees before prying your legs apart, exposing your core to him. one of his hands left your knee before his fingers ran over your shorts. you choke out a moan, lifting your hips at the contact. you hear him darkly chuckle at your desperation. "how bad do you want it, baby?"
"so bad- please." his hand leaves your core, running across your hip, leaving you whining at the loss of contact. his hand roughly kneed the smooth flesh of your thigh before slapping it, causing you to jump while desperately moaning his name again.
"i don't think you want it that bad. why would you run away if you wanted this?"
you shake your head at his words. "i want it- want you. i'm sorry for running. i didn't mean to. please, leehan."
leehan stops your pleas with his mouth, tongue coaxing yours, causing your hips to rut against his. he bites your lip at the action, holding your hips down before sliding his hand into the front of your shorts. you stutter against his lips as his fingers teasingly slide down your dripping cunt. "you're fucking dripping. all for me baby, right?" you nod your head, eyes rolling in the back of your head when his thumb finds your throbbing clit. "and to think you thought a vibrator would be better than me." you almost scream when his hand pinches your clit. "tell me. can your vibrator do this?"
you thrust into his hand, broken moans leaving your lips when he thrust two fingers into you. he doesn't give you any time to adjust, leaving you squeezing around his fingers as continued to shove his fingers deep inside of you. the wet sounds of your cunt along with your moans and whimpers brought a smile to leehan's face. "answer me, or i'm going to stop."
"p-please don't stop." you cry out. "it doesn't. n-nothing has felt even a fraction as good as you."
he rewards you, curling his fingers, hitting that spot that has you squeezing so tightly around him, he could barely move. tears prick your eyes, hips moving against his hand as he leans down. his lips brush yours, drowning your sounds with his lips. "why don't you be my good girl and take your shirt off, so i can see these pretty tits?"
his fingers don't stop moving at all, leaving you to try to sit up with shaky arms. your hands barely work which leaves leehan chuckling, before you pull the shirt over your head. you throw it before unhooking your bra, letting it slide down your arms before throwing it as well. leehan pushes you down, lips instantly finding your hardened nipple. your back arches into his mouth, whimpering when he bites the sensitive bud.
he marks every inch of your chest, leaving it glistening with his spit and bruises, making him groan against your lips at the sight of your trembling body. his name barely leaves your lips, legs tightening around his waist when your stomach clenches so hard it hurts.
"cum for me." he demands, hand finding your sore nipple before pinching it, causing you to cry out. "cum all over my fingers. make a mess."
you scream out his name as your orgasm ripped through your body. it left you shaking, clenching around his fingers that have yet to cease moving. he took his other hand, pulling your shorts down your legs, leaving him completely exposed to him. he stands by the edge of the bed, lustful eyes scanning over every inch of you. you tried to pull away from his hand that was still buried inside of you, causing him to slap your ass in warning.
"stop running from me." he growled, ripping his hand out of your cunt, leaving you moaning for more. he gripped your thighs, pulling you towards him. "roll over."
you did as he said, rolling over to your stomach and letting leehan position you the way he wanted you. your ass was in the air, leaving your face pressed into the mattress, back arched for him that nearly had him moaning your name. he rips off his shirt in one clean motion before kneeling down, lining his face up with your cunt. his hand held your folds open while he darted his tongue out, brushing over your puffy clit with a groan of how you sweet tasted.
he started out slow, tongue moving slowly as he circled your clit teasingly, smiling when he hears you moaning for more. "patience, baby. i'm just getting started." he presses a little harder, flicking his tongue over your clit before sucking the swollen bud, leaving you moaning his name clenching around nothing. "do you feel that? how much this pussy is begging for me? should i give her what she wants, baby?"
"yes. please, leehan." you voice full of need that leaves leehan straining in his pants. "i need you, so bad. please fuck me."
leehan groans at your words, shedding his shorts as he stands up. his dick hits your clit, making you moan at the feeling. you could feel him pulsing as he slowly ran his dick through your dripping folds, coating him in your slick. he soon got sick of the teasing, the two of you moaning out in unison as he slides into you in one slick thrust. he groans when he feels you clench around him at the stretch.
his warm breath was hot against your neck as he leaned over you, pressing his lips to your spine. "do you feel how well your pussy takes me? like you were fucking made for me?"
you can't do anything but moan at his words, lost as he completely fills you with his cock. he start out slow, tortuously slow, letting you feel every inch of him against your walls as he almost completely pulls back before thrusting back inside of you. his hands dig into your hips, nails leaving crescent shaped marks as he held you in place.
your eyes clench shut, tears pooling in the corners as he speeds up, slamming into you. your knuckles turn white from how hard your gripping the sheets. the only thing leaving your mouth was his name. "that's right, baby. let me hear you scream out my name. let every know who's fucking you stupid."
you cry out his name, eyes rolling back when his hands push on your stomach bulge. your back arches more with his touch, leaving your back the perfect canvas for leehan's lips. he leaves your entire back covered in bruises as he continues to slam into you, loving that you turned into a sobbing mess beneath him.
"my good girl." you cry when his hand threaded itself into your hair, yanking you up with a sharp tug, groaning when he feels you squeeze his dick. "you're just mine to ruin, aren't you?"
he could tell you were already there, tears running down your cheeks as you begged him. "leehan, please. i- i need you."
"you have me baby." he coos, tongue trailing along your cheek, catching the salty tears with a groan. "do you want more? are you going to let me fill this pussy, so she knows who she belongs to?"
"please."
he lets your hair go, your face pressing into the mattress as he picks up his speed. he groans when you squeeze around him, stomach coiling tightly, signaling your climax. his hand moved around you, mercilessly rubbing your clit. you see stars, clenching your eyes so tightly as you cum. leehan groans at the feeling of you, thrusting into you a few more times before he fills you with his release.
the two of you stay in that position as you come down from your highs. leehan leans over you, pressing sweet kisses to your spine which was a complete contrast to how he just was. his hands run soothing circles on your hips as he pulls out of you. you hiss at the loss of contact, letting leehan roll you over on your back before covering you with his body.
"you did so good, my sweet girl." you smile at the compliment, grabbing his face before kissing him which he responds to instantly. he runs his hands all over your body, massaging the tender areas, leaving you moaning into his mouth.
"we picked the worst time of the year to get together. we're all sweaty." you complain as you pull away. you were right- the both of you were covered in sweat. leehan's hair was damp and sticking to his forehead, and you could feel yours clinging to your neck.
leehan laughs against your lips before kissing you again. "it's not all bad."
"why's that?"
leehan wraps you around his body once again, making you gasp as he stands up. he laughs, kissing your cheek as he carries you back to where everything started.
"because now i get to clean you up before doing it all over again."
cw boynextdoor x gn!reader ꒱ bf!bnd, established relationship, kissing, suggestive ( if you squint ), slice of life, skinship, not proofread ( sorry not sorry) 1507 wordcount
◜ ᴗ ◝ i was planning on writing nerd!riwoo, but brainfog took over me and i wrote this instead ♡ reblogs and likes are appreciated!
myung jaehyun ♡s cheek kisses
he was originally a sucker for kisses on the lips, but after seeing the smile that you give him every time he kisses you on the cheek, he couldn’t help but fall in love with kissing your cheek. don’t even get him started when you kiss him back, he basically crumbles every time you do. he loves it when the two of you are cuddling and he has his face oh so close to yours, he just can’t help himself and presses a swift kiss on your cheek. ♡
“baby i’m going to the mall,” you giggled, bag in hand as you stood at the front of the door. all jaehyun could do was smile as you looked so cute, he leaned his head against the wall as a little smile creeped up his lips. “you look really pretty,” he cooed, smirking like a dork as he walked towards you. “oh really?” you batted back, trying your best to look coy. “yes, how could i not think so!” he chuckled. “be safe, okay? make sure to call me if you need anything.” he hummed, pressing a quick kiss on your cheek. you nodded, turning the doorknob. “love you, jae” you sang, making him practically fall backwards.
park sungho ♡s wrist kisses
sungho likes two things when it comes to physical touch, hand-holding and kissing your wrists. in his words “it’s way less awkward for me to kiss your wrists in public than kissing your lips,” even though it draws more attention than kissing, he wants to be “different”. it’s super cute when the two of you are outside and he clasps your hands in his—trying his hardest to warm your freezing hands, only for him to press his soft lips on your wrist. ♡
you were in the middle of trying out all of the cosmetics you bought from your local drug store, bottles of creams and oils scattered all over your bed. “what are you trying out now?” sungho hummed, curiosity all over his face. “i’m using this handcream, it’s vanilla scented and super smooth. honestly— it was worth it,” you rambled as you rubbed the cream in. sungho paid attention to each word you said as he stood in front of you. “come smell it” you cheered, raising your hand for him to hold. sungho bent his head down a bit to smell it, his eyes locked on yours with a cute smile on. “smells really nice, y’know i should buy it..” he said, holding your hand with such care. “it smells so good” he hums, pressing chaste kisses on your wrist before letting your arm fall down. “good, we can go back there and buy it together.”
lee riwoo ♡s hand kisses
this man is like cornfield levels of corny, so don’t be surprised when he jokes about being a gentleman. at first, he would kiss the back of your hand as a “funny” joke, but little did he know he would actually enjoy kissing your hand. whenever you’d come home he would always kiss your hand with a stupid smile attached to his face, giggling to himself about how silly he was. as no surprise to you, you actually became fond of his little joke, even if it was 1000 days old. ♡
riwoo jumped for joy as you brought groceries home, smiling like a dork as he ran over to hold the bags. “i’m so thankful that you brought food home, i am starving!” he sighed in relief, placing the bags on the counter. “you’re welcome,” you chuckled, sliding your slippers off before walking to the kitchen. “soo, what do you wanna eat? we could honestly eat a snack, and then we can cook later.” you spoke up, hoping that your idea fancied him. “yeah sure, i can wait a few more hours before eating,” he smiled, his hands taking the food out of the bags before putting them away. you nodded. as you walked over to the sink to wash your hands, riwoo grabbed your hand softly, holding your fingers in his hand before kissing your hand. “ohmygod! riwoo, i didn’t wash my hand, do you know how gross that is…” you stared at him in shock, “well… if i get sick, you’ll take care of me, right?” you sighed, you knew damn well you would.
han taesan ♡s top of the head kisses
lets cut to the chase. he is way taller than you, so it’s just so convenient to kiss you on the top of the head. that is the only reason he could come up with. plus, he can do it in public and no one would bat an eye cause he can just rest his head on top of yours after. he just loves how you don’t mind him doing that to you. he likes not feeling super embarrassed after kissing you, and you like how he touches you, so it clearly is a win-win situation. ♡
the two of you stood in the moving subway, holding onto the handle as you awaited your stop. taesan stood behind you, hand resting on your waist, holding you near him. you pulled your phone from your jacket pocket and opened the camera app to use it as your mirror. you stared at your phone as you fixed your shirt’s collar, making sure it popped the way you liked it. as you were busy fixing your outfit, taesan rested his chin on your head, watching you. you didn’t even realize he kissed your head multiple times. it just felt so natural, so you didn’t say anything and let him do it. taesan turned you around and mindlessly fixed your outfit—smoothning it out and helping you with your collar once and for all. “thank you, sannie” you whispered, making him smile. you turned around again and embraced his hand in yours.
kim leehan ♡s thigh kisses
this sounds really shocking, but truly hear me out. leehan likes any kiss in general, he will smother you in thousands of kisses. but something so intimate about kissing your thighs—it drives him wild. it isn’t even inherently sexual either, he just loves it when you let him kiss your thighs as it’s super rare for you to let him do it. he obviously cherishes the moment in his heart. ♡
a random show was playing as filler noise as you laid in your bed with leehan, scrolling through your phone as you wrapped your body around him. you turned your phone off after a bit of usage and placed it on your dresser. you turned to face your boyfriend again and smiled. leehan stared at you, his eyes lazy from sleep trying to take him. “ihan, you’re so cute” you muttered, kissing his nose. he giggled softly before yawning. you squeezed him with all of your strength. “you give me such bad cuteness aggression, what is your secret” you hummed, tracing your finger down his chest. “i’m not sure,” he whispered. you continued to squeeze him, the both of your bodies moving around in the bed. you finally let go after a bit and your leg was over his neck. “you’re crushing me with your leggg” he whined, moving you closer to him, making your thigh rest over his face. “and this isn’t crushing you?” you scoffed jokingly, shaking your head as a smug smile rested on his lips. without a word, a kiss landed on the back of your thigh, making you giggle. “do it again,” you laughed, and he complied, kissing you over and over again.
kim woonhak ♡s lip kisses
he’s new to relationships and very inexperienced when it comes to those kind of things. so, to keep it simple in his mind he just sticks to kissing your lips. besides, his lips are so kissable. who wouldn’t kiss him!? it could be cute pecks to making out with him, it doesn’t matter to him. as long as you kissed him he doesn’t care about anything else in the world. ♡
you sat on the bleachers as you watched woonhak play basketball, eyes glued onto him as he ran across the court, chasing the ball and trying his hardest to steal it from his opponent. you videoed him on your phone and tried your hardest to capture all the good moments of the match. as it reached the final minutes of the game and his team winning, you knew it was going to be alright. in a flash, woonhak stole the ball from the guy and ran to their net, “YES WOONHAK RUN!!!!!” you screamed, standing up and shouting at him to shoot. in no one’s surprise he shoots and scores, ending the game and winning for the team. you ran down the bleachers and without a doubt, woonhak ran over to you and hugged you, kissing you and squeezing your body with his. “i’m so freaking happy for you!” you cheered, making him smile like a dork. you kissed him once again and hugged him.
wizard! taesan x f! reader - howl's moving castle au
syn: a heart's a heavy burden. you realise this when he makes yours skip a beat for the first time.
genre: fluff, magic. wc: 3k
a/n: for @starriniqhts as part of my 1st anniversary event! tysm my aylin for requesting!!!
cw: insecurities, harassment by strangers
main masterlist
Being a dressmaker comes with its downsides.
It's a mess of fabric and string, tape strewn all over the tiny ground-floor room of the boutique that you have to bend your spine to gather it up after every consultation. Customers can get rude if you make them wait for longer than they expect, the stuffy heat of layers upon layers of dresses gets to your senses until you have to step out for air often, and you get your fingers pricked more than on occasion. A somewhat thankless job, considering the measly pay.
But being a dressmaker is child’s play compared to being the eldest daughter of three—which might as well be the hardest job in the world, really.
When you're staying overtime to bring into life a new design, they're expected to go home and scrub themselves clean—as ladies should. They have to prime their skin and coil their hairs, and they enjoy it, but you on the other hand—you’re wiping sweat off your brow well into the night during most weeks. They aren't all that different from you in age, but there's already been talks of them entering society, finding suitors.
You're no good for marriage. Dress-making is your calling. Your destiny.
It's hard, but it's the life you're most suited to fare.
And you're okay with it because you have to be. Any bigger a dream, and high expectations will simply crush you to dust—its best to keep to the known, the little cocoon of a life you’ve lived till now.
Today, today though—you can’t seem to stop look away from the shop window, and from the commotion that seemed to be unravelling through it.
You're so dazed by the trumpets and dancing petals and soldiers on white horses that you barely feel the shadow falling over you from behind.
“Boo!”
It startles you out of your stool, nearly bumping your elbow into the desk’s edge and spilling a pair of scissors and tape onto the wooden floor. Your heart only calms to a safe rhythm once you see that's it just your sister playing her tricks on you.
“Jiyu!” you reprimand feebly, catching your breath, scowling at how she’s giggling without a care. “What is it now? Father said you shouldn't keep hanging around here with nothing to do.”
“He made an exception today,” she tosses back easily, grabbing an eraser off the table to toy with until you grab it back. “Haeum and I convinced him with some sweet talk, of course. After all, it's the Queen’s parade! There will be soldiers to watch and toss flowers at. Do you think one of them will look my way?”
You want to roll your eyes at her bubbliness. She's always like this—the both of them, really. But you're honest when you say, “Yes, no doubt you'll catch everyone's attention. You're beautiful.”
Because she is. The way she smiles so brightly in response, teeth exposed and cheeks full like she doesn't think twice about her flaws—which don't exist—just drives home your point. They're both blessed with kindness and loveliness and beauty, and you were bestowed the duty to carry on the family business, hold up the finances that your father alone couldn't manage.
But it's okay when you love your family and you're quite happy with your job.
It's okay. Really.
“You should come with!” Jiyu brings you back to the present, hopping on her toes and swishing her frilly skirt all over your plain flat one. “C’mon, Y/N, you stay cooped up all day at that desk of yours. Surely you can afford a few minutes away to forage for some handsome fellas.” She winks suggestively.
It doesn't even bring a blush to your cheeks. She should know you've sworn off romance in this lifetime. It's not like you'll have any luck if you try anyways—true love and fairytale magic was for the privileged and the pretty. You were neither.
“It'll be fu-unnn,” she sing-songs enticingly, wiggling her eyebrows in a way that just makes her look even more endearing. “Maybe you'll meet a wizard! Or a flying ship like they've been saying they made. Oh, it'll be novel, won't it!?”
You've never been good at saying no to her requests; she's half your heart, really, and the other half is Haeum. You've been taught to care for them since you were a child—so it's a hard habit to break now. Wherever they go, and if they let you, you would follow.
She's about to try again when you cut her off with a swift, “Fine.” You gather yourself up, dusting off the eraser shavings and chalk powder off your clothes. “But only for a few minutes. Just to look.”
She seems more than happy to settle for that, launching to lead you by the wrist to the parade before you can even check to see if your face is clean yet. Thankfully, you do manage to grab a hat for your unruly hair before you've made it out.
It's noise and colours, everywhere. More vibrant than you have ever seen the city since the war was officially announced months ago.
Fork-tongued flags and streamers hoisted on poles, miniature copies in people's fists, a brilliant shade of blue gracing the city square. The sound of horns is louder than ever, the procession in the middle of the street filled with men in dark hats and big mustaches, in their stiff uniforms. Dancers twirling feathery sticks, in their dreamy dresses that float like air. And through the gap in the crowd, you can see the queen herself hoisted up on a man-powered carriage—her sharp eyes still notable under the solid gold crown.
“Wow,” you hear yourself whisper, tightening your hold on Jiyu’s hand without meaning to. “All this for her birthday… How breathtaking…”
“Isn't it?” your sister whispers from beside you, but her expression has gone distant and lovesick, swooning at the way a young man in uniform winks at her as he passes by. Once he's out of sight and hearing, she squeals in delight. “Oh, did you see that, Y/N!? He winked at me!! Where is Haeum-ie, she needs to know!”
The two are more interconnected than you were ever with either of them, two peas in a pod, so it only takes one small turn of Jiyu’s eyes to find Haeum on the other side of the parade, waving back at you like she'd picked up the conversation from all the way over there, strangely telepathic in the ways only sisters can be.
And without waiting for the people to finish passing by, Jiyu—who is the most impulsive out of you three—rush forward into the crowd to greet Haeum. You jab your hand forward to stop her by the arm, but she's too quick and lithe, already vanished into a mass of bodies.
First, the panic hits. You can't lose your little sister—you’d be dead before sundown if that happened!
Then you see both of them giggling to each other, swiveling around to wave you over, urging you to take a leap of faith and just maneuver through the crowd, too.
“I—” Complaints die on your tongue when you realise no one can hear. You take a step forward, trying to push past someone, but they shove backwards unknowingly. You end up whispering a sorry on instinct and going the opposite direction, again with no avail.
It feels like an awkward dance with yourself, like an ant trying to go around a crumb and failing miserably, pushing into excited people and the occasional lamppost blocking the way. In no time have you almost tripped over a dent in the pavement, spun around three times in dizzying speed, somehow carried by the wave of the crowd all the way to the emptier part of the street, behind everyone.
It's such a sudden relief that you immediately rush for the alleyway on the side, desperate to get away from the uncomfortable ruckus. Your sisters would be fine, you tell yourself to calm down, they have each other. They may be easy to impress with a couple flashy grins, but they can take care of one another at least. You just need to get back to them without losing yourself.
Which might be a problem. Because you can't exactly tell where you are right now—the city is big and maze-like to begin with, the festivities has rendered it somewhat unrecognisable during wartime.
It's your feet that do most of the thinking, moving on its own accord in the direction it feels is the most safe, leading you to a quieter, more shadowed, almost empty lane, seemingly in the middle of nowhere.
Until you hear footsteps approaching.
“Ooh, look, a lost kitten,” someone whistles out from behind you, and you turn in fear.
“Well hello there,” another one joins in a similar teasing tone—a man’s, deep and gruff like he sucks on a smoke-pipe all day. “Mind if you lift that hat of yours so we can get a better look?”
They smirk and guffaw between themselves, their looming height and intimidating soldier-uniforms coming into view when you brave a small peek. A gulp travels down your throat, and they seem to enjoy scaring you even more at that.
“I have to go—” you begin, but one of them shushes you softly, taking a step closer. It forces you to take a step backwards, but it's to your horror that you realise you've landed against a wall, with nowhere to run to as the two of them crowd you on either side. “My sisters are waiting for me,” you manage to spit out. “I need to go to them.”
“They won't mind though, would they? Surely they're busy celebrating out there. Doubt they'll even notice you're gone.”
Your blood freezes, their over-friendly demeanour sending a chill down your spine as they get up in your space. A discreet hand of yours slip into your dress’s pocket (that you'd stitched up for ease of carrying around your yarn in the shop), and thumbs around a tiny needle stuck into it. It doesn't hurt you, but you don't know how you can use it to distract them enough to run away. They keep flirting and proding even after knowing you don't want to engage.
“C’mon now, you don't need to lie to reject us,” one of them says again, sneering. “No need to make up sisters and obligations. I can tell you've got no one waiting for you. So why don't you come along and we can keep you company on a date?”
Tears begin to prickle in your eyes, but the second you think you're going to break, a lilting voice cuts through the echoing alleyway.
“There you are,” he smiles in a greeting, and your head shoots up. “I’m sorry I’m late. I was looking everywhere for you.”
A gentle weight falls over your shoulder—there, but barely touching. The soldiers’ brows furrow in confusion, then anger, as they take in the taller man who has interrupted the scene.
Flaxen hair that shines like sunlight, unmarred skin that seems to brighten up even in the grimy alley, looking so out of place. He has a thick, checkered cape, billowy white shirt underneath, and an emerald earring dangling from one of his ears.
You feel like you should know this person.
“Who in the world are you—” the soldier's protest is cut short when the blond man lowers his head just slightly, to whisper, “Take a walk. Don't come back,” in the most entrancing voice you've heard. It's commanding and playful at the same time. Like a spell, almost.
As though suddenly obedient, the soldiers stiffen like wooden boards, and they march out of the alley like their feet have lost control, panicking the entire time.
“What—”
“It isn't safe here,” the blond says, his silky hair brushing over your cheek when he leans to whisper like it's a secret, like you're being followed and he doesn't want eavesdroppers. “Come with me.”
And maybe it's the way he says it that's so compelling—like his voice is made of sugar and honey and melted wax, or the way he smells like sunshine in a field of flowers. Beautiful. You let him lead you out, your hand somehow having moved to hold his elbow he offers, all gentlemanly.
He walks like he's floating, soft and swift, through the streets and up a flight of stairs that land you at the long hallway-like balcony of several doors—a motel, you think. Downstairs, the procession is thinning in a distance, music reaching you in bits and pieces.
“My sisters are over there,” you hear yourself say.
The man next to you smiles. “I’ll take you there,” he hums. “But you’ll need to be brave for this next bit.”
You look at him, startled, but when that does nothing but bring his features even closer to your sight, it runs reddened heat down your ears and neck.
Everything is so… ethereal about him. As though he isn't real or tangible in any sense, even though your grip on him is solid, and you can wager that this isn't a dream no matter how much it feels like one. His eyes are brown, but there's green swimming in it, like little mossy fish. Then he does the thing that makes you backtrack on considering whether this wasn't a dream after all—he steps up onto the wooden railing of the balcony, and balances himself there like it's easy as pie.
“Now you,” he says, a twinkle in his eye.
“What!? No I can't—”
“You trust me, don't you?” He sounds confident, a palm extended for you to take, spine dipping like he's asking you to a waltz.
And you. You are scared. But you do still trust him, because a strange, inexplicable part of you thinks you know this man. That this is not your first meeting, even if you don't even know his name yet.
So maybe that's why you accept his hand.
“Extend a leg, then walk,” he instructs softly, not minding how you immediately grasp onto his shirt when it occurs to you how high you really are. A fall could injure you terribly.
“Walk? What do you mean, walk?”
“Like this.” He demonstrates by extending a long leg off the railing and into the empty space in front, coaxing you to follow. You press closer to him, not knowing what any of this is, but knowing it feels right to listen. “Good girl,” he adds with a smile when you manage to do it right, one leg in front of another, over air. And you're walking on wind in no time.
Not falling. Not plummeting to your death into the depths below onto the streets and people, but floating. Gliding almost—in a dance without a floor to stay afoot on.
“This is—I’m—”
“Wizardry,” he nods with a soft giggle, steering you over the chimney of a rooftop, gently leaping over the piped ledge and onto another house. “Magic is quite helpful, don't you agree?”
You nod in awe, watching the lamps and lights below turn into specks of shiny dust, like fireflies at noon. Beyond the city, there are ridges of mountains and valleys coming into view, touching the dips of the sky. You feel closer to the clouds than to the ground.
And his hands are curled around yours now—one around your palm, the other thumbing at your other wrist, slow, steady circles that test your pulse. It spikes and your heart jumps at a particularly low rumble from his chest that you only pick up because you're so close. Is this a dream after all?
“Here,” he is saying, and you don't even realise that your feet have touched solid ground, another balcony that you slowly realise is the upper floor of your boutique, where you'd started.
How had he known where to take you?
“Who are…”
He tilts his head, lowering your arms to your side and stepping back to take his spot on the railing again, ready to leave. You think he's about to disappear without another word like this was all just imagination, but he indulges you one last time. “Taesan. You'll know me by other names, but for you, I am Taesan.”
You test the name on your tongue, tasting magic, “Taesan…”
“That's perfect,” he flashes a perfect smile. “I’m going to see to it that they don't find you again, but stay put for a while before you go back out, alright?”
Wordlessly, you agree, a small smile twitching at your own lips. Something about him does that to you.
With one final curtsey, he floats backwards in lithe grace, like one of the petals that had fallen from a window. By the time you've rushed to lean over the ledge, he's vanished from sight. Gone as quickly as he'd come.
A wizard, maybe? You've heard stories from your sisters about magic users—its not terribly new to this part of town—but in all the retellings and anecdotes, there's a particular wizard that stands out, known to eat hearts of pretty young girls and leave them weeping all alone.
But him… He'd saved you. You don't think you were pretty enough to pull a trick on, so he'd sought you out and brought you to the safety of your home. A good wizard, you think, that has to be it. Jiyu and Haeum won't believe their ears when you tell them—rather, they’ll be too taken with a new object of their affections they would have picked out to fancy, some time during the parade.
Taesan, you echo in your head, gazing at the spot he'd been standing, trying to fashion out his figure from memory alone.
But something inside you tells you this won't be the last time you meet this man.
