Venus

Black. Ateez. 24.

[wicked-disposition]

Majority of my works contain heavy dark content, that fall under the dead dove category, all of which are properly tagged. I write for Ateez, Bts, and Xikers. I am currently not taking requests. SPAMMING MY ACCOUNT WILL GET YOU BLOCKED. HATE WILL BE BLOCKED. DO NOT FOLLOW ME IF YOU ARE A MINOR. I STATE THE WARNINGS CLEAR AS DAY. IF YOU DECIDE TO KEEP READING AFTER THE FACT, THAT IS ON YOU. If you dislike anything I write, please just block me.

Happy reading!

Ateez

Bts

Xikers

[wicked-disposition]

hiiii my babes, i probably should have told you guys this earlier, but i’ve been super overwhelmed trying to get my ducks in a row on top of trying not to let depression take me out entirely. the fics i’ve been working on might have to be put on pause for a little longer during the month of june. I plan on taking a summer class starting tomorrow, and it’s going to be accelerated (pray 4 me 😭) so i’m going to have to give it all of my attention for the time being! i’m not leaving at all, just focusing on my studies for a bit and I promise I’ll be back with at least 2 to 3 fics ready for you. i hope you all understand. ily ❤️

[seokbite]

PROCEED WITH CARE ﹒❀ m.yg

─── HANDLE ME WITH CARE ꕤ⠀ՙ When Yoongi stays quiet every time you’re together, never letting a sound or reaction slip, doubt slowly takes root in your mind, leaving you wondering if he even enjoys being with you at all. The insecurity builds until, the next time, you force yourself into something more performative, but Yoongi notices immediately, and what starts as confusion turns into an honest conversation neither of you expected. ✶﹑

🥣 min yoongi x f ! reader ﹐☆ established relationship  ﹐ꕀ miscommunication trope slight angst slight arguing faking an orgasm smut rough sex missionary hickeys grinding hair pulling riding doggystyle ➜﹒minors do not interact

▹ word count ✶﹐11.6k

The room is dim, lit only by the thin sliver of moonlight cutting through the half-drawn curtains. The air feels thick, heavy with the scent of sex and Yoongi’s cologne, something woodsy and cool that always clings to his skin. Your back is pressed into the mattress, sheets already twisted beneath you from how long he’s been moving above you.

Yoongi is buried deep inside you, hips rolling in that slow, deliberate rhythm he always uses when he wants to take his time. Every thrust is precise, angled just right to brush against that spot that usually makes your toes curl and your breath hitch. His hands grip your hips firmly, fingers digging into your skin with just enough pressure to ground you, but never enough to bruise. He knows your body so well— better than anyone ever has.

It feels good. Of course it feels good. It always does with him.

His cock stretches you perfectly, sliding in and out with a wet, obscene sound that fills the quiet bedroom. Each time he pushes forward, the head drags along your walls, sending sparks of pleasure radiating through your core. You can feel the slight tremor in his thighs where they press against the backs of yours, the way his abs tighten against your stomach with every controlled roll of his hips. He’s sweating lightly, a faint sheen glistening on his collarbones and the sharp line of his jaw, but his face… his face stays almost serene.

That’s the part that’s been haunting you lately.

Yoongi is quiet.

Painfully, unnervingly quiet.

While you’re trying to lose yourself in the feeling of him— his thickness, the way he fills you so completely, the heat of his body pressed to yours, you keep getting pulled out of it by the silence. There are no desperate moans spilling from his lips, no broken curses, no rough growls of your name. Just the occasional low grunt when he sinks in particularly deep, or a barely-there groan that vibrates through his chest when his pace picks up for a few strokes. Even his breathing stays measured, controlled, like he’s meditating instead of fucking you senseless.

You bite your lip as another slow thrust drags a real spark of pleasure from you. For a moment, you let your eyes flutter shut and try to focus only on the sensation: the drag, the fullness, the way his pubic bone grinds lightly against your clit with every forward motion. It’s good. So good. Your walls flutter around him involuntarily, and you feel yourself getting wetter, slick sounds growing louder between your bodies.

But then your mind drifts again.

Why doesn’t he make noise? Does it not feel as intense for him as it does for you? Is he holding back because he’s not actually enjoying it that much? Or worse… is he bored?

The thoughts creep in like smoke, curling around the edges of your pleasure and slowly choking it out. Your orgasm, which had been steadily building, starts to slip away. The heat in your belly dulls, turning from a roaring fire into something distant and lukewarm. You clench around him on purpose, trying to chase the feeling back, but it’s already fading.

Yoongi doesn’t falter. His rhythm stays steady, deep, unhurried strokes that should be driving you crazy. One of his hands slides up your side, palm rough and warm as it cups your breast, thumb brushing over your nipple in slow circles. It sends a shiver through you, but it’s not enough to pull you fully back into your body. Your mind is louder than the pleasure now.

You don’t want him to know.

You don’t want him to stop or pull away or ask what’s wrong. So you do the only thing you can think of in the moment.

You start faking it.

A soft, breathy moan slips past your lips— higher and more theatrical than the ones that usually come naturally. You tilt your head back into the pillow, letting your mouth fall open as you force another moan out, longer this time, letting it tremble at the end like you’re right on the edge. Your hands slide up his back, nails digging in just a little harder than before, and you rock your hips up to meet his thrusts with more exaggerated movements, making sure your body moves like you’re lost in it.

“Oh… fuck, Yoongi,” you whimper, voice pitched just a touch too sweet, too performative. You clench around him again, purposefully this time, and add a little gasp at the end for good measure. “Feels so good…”

Your heart is pounding for an entirely different reason now. The lie tastes bitter on your tongue, but you keep going, layering on more moans and whines, letting your breathing come faster and more ragged than it actually is. You arch your back dramatically, pushing your chest up toward him, and let your eyes squeeze shut as if you’re overwhelmed with pleasure.

Inside, the real pleasure has almost completely slipped away, replaced by a tight knot of anxiety in your stomach. But you keep the act going, hips rolling, moans spilling out one after another, all while Yoongi continues to fuck you in that same devastatingly silent, controlled way.

His skin is hot against yours. His cock still feels perfect inside you. But your mind won’t shut up, and now your body is performing instead of feeling.

You just hope he doesn’t notice. You keep the act going, layering moan after moan as Yoongi’s pace stays steady and deep. Your voice sounds foreign to your own ears— too breathy, too eager, too loud in the quiet room. You tighten around him deliberately with every thrust, rolling your hips up to meet him with exaggerated movements, letting your nails rake down his back a little harder than usual.

“Yoongi… oh god, right there,” you gasp, forcing the words out like they’re being torn from you. Your back arches off the bed in a dramatic curve, breasts pressing against his chest as you whimper and whine, building the performance higher and higher. The real pleasure has long since faded into the background, drowned out by the loud buzzing of insecurity in your head, but you push through, faking the climb with everything you have.

Inside, your stomach twists. You hate this. You hate lying to him like this, but the fear of him realizing how disconnected you feel is worse.

You feel his rhythm falter just slightly— only for a fraction of a second, before he drives in deeper, hips snapping forward one last time. A low, guttural grunt escapes his throat, the sound vibrating against your neck as he buries himself to the hilt. His cock pulses inside you, hot and thick, spilling deep as he cums with that single, restrained sound. His body tenses above you, muscles locking up, fingers digging harder into your hips for a moment before he slowly relaxes.

You fake your own release right after him, letting out a long, trembling moan that peaks sharply and then dissolves into shaky little whimpers. Your walls clench around him rhythmically, body shuddering beneath him as if you’re riding out wave after wave. You even let your thighs tremble and your breath hitch dramatically, clutching at his shoulders like you can’t handle how good it feels.

When it’s over, Yoongi stays buried inside you for a few long seconds, breathing steady against your skin. Then he slowly pulls out, the wet slide of his cock leaving you feeling empty and strangely hollow. He presses a soft, almost absent kiss to your collarbone before rolling off you and sitting up on the edge of the bed.

The room feels colder without his weight pressing you down. You stay exactly where you are, flat on your back, staring up at the ceiling. The fan above spins lazily, casting faint shifting shadows across the white paint. Your chest rises and falls with breaths that are still too fast, but not from pleasure anymore. Cum slowly leaks out of you, warm and sticky against your inner thighs, a reminder of what just happened. Your body feels used in the best physical way and yet emotionally distant, like you watched the whole thing from somewhere outside yourself.

Yoongi stands, the mattress dipping and then rising as his weight leaves. You hear the rustle of fabric as he picks up his discarded boxers and sweatpants from the floor, the soft sound of him stepping into them. He doesn’t say anything. He never really does after sex. The silence that felt intimate before now feels like a weight pressing on your chest.

He pads out of the bedroom barefoot, footsteps quiet on the hardwood floor, heading toward the kitchen. You remain motionless, eyes fixed on that spinning fan, the aftershocks of your faked orgasm leaving a sour taste in your mouth. The sheets beneath you are damp with sweat and slick, clinging uncomfortably to your skin. Your heart is still racing, but it’s anxiety now, not desire.

A few minutes later, you hear the faint clink of a glass and the sound of the faucet running. Yoongi returns, the soft glow from the hallway light outlining his silhouette as he steps back into the room. He’s shirtless, sweatpants hanging low on his narrow hips, black hair slightly messy from your fingers earlier. In his hand is a glass of water, condensation already beading on the outside.

He sits on the edge of the bed beside you, the mattress dipping under his weight. The glass is cool as he gently presses it into your hand. “Here,” he murmurs, voice low and a little rough from disuse. His dark eyes search your face in the dim light. “Drink.”

You push yourself up onto your elbows, taking the glass with fingers that feel slightly shaky. The water is cold and refreshing as it slides down your throat, but it does nothing to ease the knot in your stomach. Yoongi watches you quietly, one hand resting on your bare thigh, thumb brushing absentmindedly over your skin.

When you lower the glass, he asks, voice tentative and softer than usual, “You okay?”

You force a small smile, nodding quickly. “Yeah… of course. It felt really good. You always fuck me so good, Yoongi.”

The lie slips out easily enough, but your voice sounds a little too bright, a little too rehearsed. For a split second, you swear something flickers across his face— those sharp eyes narrowing just a fraction, lips parting like he might say more. Your heart stutters. He knows. He has to know.

But he doesn’t push.

Instead, Yoongi lets out a slow, quiet sigh, running his fingers through his damp black hair, pushing it back from his forehead. The motion makes the muscles in his arm flex subtly in the low light. He nods once, almost to himself, then swings his legs onto the bed and lies down beside you.

“Come here,” he says gently, reaching for you. You let him pull you against his chest, your head resting on his shoulder, one of his arms wrapping securely around your waist. His skin is still warm, heart beating steady and slow beneath your cheek. He smells like sex and sweat and that familiar cologne, and for a moment the closeness makes the ache in your chest ease just a little.

“I love you,” he whispers into the darkness, lips brushing the top of your head.

Your throat tightens. “I love you too.”

He reaches over with his free hand and clicks off the bedside lamp. The room plunges into complete darkness, broken only by the faint moonlight seeping through the curtains. Yoongi’s breathing gradually slows, becoming deep and even as sleep claims him. His body relaxes completely against yours, arm heavy and comforting around you.

But sleep doesn’t come for you.

You lie there wide awake, eyes open in the dark, listening to the quiet rhythm of his breaths. The fan continues its lazy spin overhead. Every time you close your eyes, you replay the scene: your fake moans, the way you performed for him, the single low grunt he gave when he came. The insecurity gnaws at you, sharper now in the silence. You feel raw and exposed, even though he’s holding you so tenderly.

Hours seem to pass. The glass of water sits forgotten on the nightstand, condensation pooling beneath it. Your mind races in circles— wondering if he really bought the lie, if he’s truly satisfied, if something is wrong with the way you make him feel. Yoongi sleeps soundly beside you, completely unaware, while you stare at the ceiling again, the weight of your doubts pressing heavier with every passing minute.

The next afternoon, sunlight filters through the large café windows, casting warm golden patches across the wooden table. The scent of fresh coffee and sweet pastries hangs in the air, mingling with the low hum of conversations and the occasional hiss of the espresso machine. You’re seated across from Wonyoung in a cozy corner booth, both of you cradling warm lattes in your hands. She looks effortlessly pretty as always, long hair cascading over one shoulder, a soft pink sweater making her glow in the natural light.

You’ve been stirring your drink absentmindedly for the past ten minutes, the spoon clinking softly against the ceramic mug. The conversation started light, but you finally let it spill, the thing that’s been weighing on your chest since last night.

“So… things with Yoongi have been good, really good,” you say, voice quieter than usual. “But… during sex… he’s just so quiet. Like, almost completely silent. I mean, he’ll give a little grunt here and there, or this low groan when he pushes in deeper, and that’s basically it. Even when he cums, it’s just one low sound. Nothing more.”

You take a small sip of your latte, the warmth doing little to ease the knot in your stomach. “It feels amazing physically, he always makes sure I cum, he knows exactly what he’s doing. But I keep getting stuck in my head about it. Last night… I actually started faking it. The moans, the way I moved, everything. I felt so stupid afterward, lying there while he held me and told me he loved me. I couldn’t even sleep.”

Wonyoung’s eyes widen slightly, her perfectly shaped brows furrowing in concern. She sets her mug down and leans forward, elbows resting on the table. “Oh, honey… that sounds really tough. Have you tried talking to him about it?”

You shake your head quickly, fingers tightening around the handle of your mug. “No… I’m scared. What if I don’t like his answer? What if he tells me he doesn’t find me sexy anymore, or that the spark is gone for him? What if he’s just going through the motions because he feels obligated? I don’t think I could handle hearing that.”

Your voice cracks a little on the last part, and you look down at the foam art slowly dissolving in your coffee. The café suddenly feels too bright, too exposed. You can still feel the ghost of Yoongi’s quiet body against yours from last night, the way he fell asleep so easily while you stared at the ceiling for hours.

Wonyoung reaches across the table and gently squeezes your hand. “I get it. That fear is valid. But bottling it up is only going to make it worse. You two are so good together, communication is important, especially about something this intimate. Maybe there’s a reason he’s quiet. Or maybe he doesn’t even realize how much it’s affecting you.”

You nod slowly, chewing on your bottom lip. “Yeah… maybe. It’s just… Yoongi always been this quiet, from the very beginning. I didn’t really think much of it at first because everything else felt so intense. But then you told me about you and your boyfriend, how vocal he gets, the way he moans your name, how he tells you how good you feel… I don’t know, it made me realize how different it is with Yoongi. I started craving that too. I want to hear him. I want to know I’m making him feel as crazy as he makes me feel.”

Wonyoung gives you a soft, understanding smile, tilting her head slightly. “I remember telling you those stories. And yeah, my boyfriend is loud in bed— it’s hot, it makes me feel desired. But Yoongi… he’s always been a quiet guy overall, right? In everyday life too. He speaks when he has something important to say, but he’s not the type to fill the silence just to fill it. Maybe during sex he’s the same, maybe he just processes pleasure differently. Still… you should talk to him. Even if it’s scary. Tell him how it makes you feel without accusing him. Something like, ‘I love being with you, but I’ve been feeling a little insecure because you’re so quiet, and I want to know if you’re enjoying it as much as I am.’”

You let out a long sigh, shoulders slumping as you trace the rim of your mug with your fingertip. “You’re right… I know you’re right. It’s just terrifying. What if talking about it makes things awkward? Or worse, what if he confirms my fears?”

She squeezes your hand again, her touch warm and reassuring. “And what if he doesn’t? What if he opens up and you both end up even closer because of it? You won’t know until you try. You deserve to feel confident and wanted in every way.”

You manage a small, grateful smile, even though your chest still feels tight with uncertainty. “Thank you for listening. I really needed this.”

The two of you finish your coffees slowly, the conversation drifting to lighter topics— work, a new drama you both started watching, Wonyoung’s latest shopping haul. But your mind keeps circling back to Yoongi, to the quiet of last night, to the conversation you know you probably need to have.

When it’s time to leave, you both stand and gather your things. Outside the café, the spring air is mild and fresh, carrying the faint scent of blooming flowers from the nearby park. You pull Wonyoung into a tight hug, breathing in her familiar perfume.

“Thank you again,” you murmur against her shoulder. “For the advice… and for not making me feel crazy.”

She hugs you back just as tightly, rubbing your back gently. “Anytime. Text me later if you need more pep talks, okay? You’ve got this. Just be honest with him.”

You nod as you pull away, offering her one last smile before turning to head home. The walk back feels longer than usual, your steps slow on the sidewalk as the weight of her words settles over you. The sun is warm on your skin, but inside you’re still torn— part of you wanting to listen to her encouragement, the other part terrified of what Yoongi’s answer might be. By the time you reach your apartment door, your heart is already beating a little faster at the thought of seeing him again tonight.

-

That evening, you chicken out completely.

The conversation with Wonyoung plays on repeat in your head the whole walk home, but the moment you step through the apartment door and see Yoongi already there— barefoot in the kitchen, stirring something that smells like garlic and soy sauce, the words die in your throat. He glances up at you with that soft, small smile he reserves mostly for you, black hair falling slightly into his eyes, and your resolve crumbles. Not tonight. You’ll talk to him tomorrow. Or the day after. Just… not right now.

Instead, you both settle into a quiet movie night.

The living room is dimly lit by the glow of the TV screen and a single lamp in the corner. The couch is piled with soft blankets and pillows, the faint scent of buttered popcorn still lingering in the air from the bowl now sitting empty on the coffee table. Yoongi sits in his usual spot, legs stretched out, one arm draped casually around your shoulders as you curl into his side. Your head rests against his chest, the steady thump of his heartbeat beneath your ear, his body warm and solid through the thin black t-shirt he’s wearing.

For a few blissful hours, the sex issue fades into the background.

You laugh together at the ridiculous comedy on screen, his low chuckle vibrating through his chest whenever something genuinely funny happens. His fingers trace lazy patterns on your arm, occasionally brushing through your hair in that absentminded way that always makes you feel safe. You steal glances at his profile, the sharp line of his jaw, the way his lashes cast faint shadows on his cheeks when he blinks, the subtle curve of his lips when he smirks at a joke. For once, your mind is quiet. No overthinking. No insecurity. Just the simple comfort of being wrapped up in your boyfriend, the two of you tangled together like you belong there.

As the movie credits start to roll and the second film begins autoplaying, the comfortable haze starts to shift. The room feels cozier now, warmer. The blanket draped over both of you traps heat between your bodies. You become hyper-aware of how close you are, his thigh pressed against yours, the faint scent of his cologne mixed with the fabric softener on his shirt. Looking up at his face in the flickering light of the TV, something stirs in your chest. His expression is relaxed, peaceful, those dark eyes reflecting the screen. A sudden, sharp wave of want washes over you. You want him. Not just the quiet, controlled version from last night, but something more. You want to climb into his lap, feel his hands on you, lose yourself in him again— but this time without the doubts.

Maybe you were just being paranoid, you tell yourself. Maybe Wonyoung was right and he’s simply a quiet person in every aspect of life. Maybe last night was a fluke, and if you initiate tonight, it’ll be different. Better. You could make him feel good enough that he finally lets go.

The decision settles in your mind, warm and impulsive.

You shift slightly, turning your body toward him. Your lips find the side of his neck first— soft, slow kisses pressed just below his ear, where you know he’s sensitive. His skin is warm, slightly salty from the long day, and you breathe him in as you trail kisses down the column of his throat. One hand slides up under his shirt, palm gliding over the smooth planes of his chest, feeling the faint ridges of muscle and the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingertips.

Yoongi’s breath catches for just a second. He turns his head toward you, and a small smile tugs at his lips.

But the smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. There’s something off about it, too tight at the corners, a flicker of something unreadable in his gaze before it smooths out. It’s odd, a tiny detail that nags at the back of your mind, but you push it aside. You’re already too far gone in the moment, desire overriding caution.

Encouraged, you let your hand drift lower, sliding down his stomach until your palm presses over the front of his sweatpants. He’s half-hard already, and you rub him slowly through the fabric, feeling him twitch and thicken under your touch. A few firm strokes, your fingers tracing the outline of him as you continue kissing and gently sucking at his neck, leaving faint marks that will probably fade by morning.

For a moment, it feels promising. His body responds, hips shifting ever so slightly under your hand.

Then he moves.

Yoongi lets out a quiet sigh, long and heavy, the kind that carries weight. He sits up straighter, gently but firmly catching your wrist to stop your movements. His other hand runs through his black hair, pushing it back from his forehead, then drags down over his face, rubbing at his eyes and the bridge of his nose like he’s suddenly exhausted or stressed. The TV light flickers across his features, highlighting the tension in his jaw.

You pull back, staring up at him in confusion, your hand still hovering where he stopped it. The warmth that had been building in your belly cools rapidly. “Yoongi…?” Your voice comes out softer than you intended, laced with uncertainty.

He doesn’t look at you right away. His gaze is fixed somewhere toward the TV, shoulders slightly slumped. The comfortable cocoon of the movie night suddenly feels fragile, like it could crack at any second. The blanket slips down to your laps as the distance between you grows, even though you’re still sitting right next to each other. Your heart starts to pick up speed, that familiar knot of insecurity creeping back in, stronger than before.

The room is quiet except for the low dialogue still playing from the movie, but the easy laughter from earlier is long gone. The silence stretches between you like a taut string, ready to snap.

Yoongi sits there on the couch, still slightly leaned forward, one hand lingering over his face as if he’s trying to wipe away whatever thought just crossed his mind. The TV continues playing in the background, the low murmur of dialogue and soft soundtrack now feeling intrusive instead of comforting. The air in the living room suddenly feels cooler, heavier. Your heart hammers in your chest, the earlier warmth of desire replaced by a sharp, anxious flutter.

You can’t take the quiet anymore. “Do you… not think I’m sexy?” The question slips out in the middle of the silence, small and fragile, barely louder than a whisper. Your voice cracks on the last word, and you hate how vulnerable it sounds.

Yoongi’s head snaps toward you instantly. His dark eyes widen, the relaxed expression from the movie night completely gone. For a second he just stares at you, like the words don’t compute. “What the hell?” he says, voice low but sharp with disbelief. “Why would you even think that?”

The intensity in his gaze makes your stomach twist. You look down at your hands, fingers twisting together in your lap, suddenly unable to meet his eyes. The confession starts pouring out, slow and halting at first, then gaining momentum as the insecurities you’ve been carrying finally break free.

“Because you’re so quiet during sex, Yoongi,” you say, voice trembling slightly. “You barely make any sounds at all. Just… a grunt sometimes, or that one low groan when you cum. That’s it. Nothing else. We never really switch positions much either, you stay on top, controlled, like you’re holding back the whole time. It always feels good physically. Really good. You know exactly what to do and I cum almost every time… but lately I keep getting stuck in my head. I start wondering if there’s something wrong with me. If I’m not doing enough, or if I don’t turn you on the way I used to. If maybe you’re just… going through the motions.”

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, but you blink them back, swallowing hard. The words hang in the air, raw and exposed. You feel stripped bare, sitting there in the dim glow of the TV, the cozy movie night now feeling miles away.

Yoongi lets out a deep, heavy sigh. “Fuck…” he mumbles under his breath, the curse quiet but laced with frustration, not at you, but at the situation. He runs both hands through his hair, messing it up further, then drops them to his lap. For a moment he just sits there, shoulders tense. Then he shifts closer and sits fully beside you again, the couch dipping under his weight. His thigh presses against yours, warm and solid, but he doesn’t reach for you yet. He’s silent for another long second, eyes fixed on the floor in front of him, jaw tight. The pause feels endless, your pulse roaring in your ears.

Then he speaks, voice low and careful. “Was that why you faked it last night?”

Your breath catches. You turn to look at him, eyes wide with shock. “You… you knew?”

Yoongi nods slowly, still not quite looking at you. His expression is unreadable, but there’s a heaviness in it now. “Yeah. I could tell.” He pauses, swallowing. “I know your body. I know the way you sound when it’s real, the little hitch in your breath, the way your thighs shake, how your voice gets all breathy and broken. That wasn’t it. Not even close.”

He finally turns his head to face you fully, those sharp, dark eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your chest tighten. “Why did you do it?”

The question is gentle, but it still lands like a weight. You feel heat rush to your face, a mix of embarrassment and relief that he noticed, that he cared enough to pay attention. Your fingers fidget with the edge of the blanket as you answer, voice barely above a whisper at first.

“Because I go into my head about it… about how silent you are when you’re fucking me. It makes me think I’m not affecting you the way you affect me. That maybe it doesn’t feel as good for you, or that you’re not really lost in it. So last night I just… performed. I faked the moans and the movements because I didn’t want you to know I was doubting. I didn’t want to ruin it.”

The confession leaves you feeling drained, exposed. The room is quieter now, the movie long forgotten in the background. You can hear the faint hum of the refrigerator from the kitchen, the soft ticking of the clock on the wall. Yoongi’s presence beside you is steady, but the air between you crackles with everything unsaid.

He doesn’t interrupt. He just listens, eyes never leaving your face, that deep sigh from earlier still lingering in the way his shoulders remain slightly hunched. Your heart is still racing, cheeks warm with the vulnerability of having finally said it all out loud. You feel raw, like you’ve peeled back a layer of yourself and handed it to him.

Yoongi doesn’t speak right away.

Instead, he leans in slowly, one hand gently cupping the side of your face. His thumb brushes tenderly over your cheek, wiping away a stray tear you hadn’t even realized had fallen. Then his lips meet yours in a slow, gentle kiss. It’s soft at first— barely more than a press of warmth, then deepens just enough to feel reassuring. His mouth moves against yours with quiet care, tasting faintly of the popcorn from earlier and the familiar comfort of him. There’s no rush, no demand, just the steady reassurance of his lips and the way his fingers thread lightly into your hair.

When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests gently against yours, breath mingling warmly between you. His eyes are closed for a moment, silver lashes brushing his cheeks, before they open again, dark and earnest. “I’m so sorry, baby,” he whispers, voice low and rough with emotion. The apology settles over you like a warm blanket, sincere and heavy.

He stays close, forehead still pressed to yours, sharing the same air. “You’re the sexiest fucking woman I’ve ever seen,” he continues, the words coming out quieter than usual, but no less intense. “I’ve never once not been satisfied with you. Not even close. Every single time… you drive me crazy.”

Then he pulls back just enough to look at you properly. A faint blush creeps across his pale cheeks, coloring the tips of his ears pink. He glances away for a second, toward the darkened TV screen, as if the admission costs him something. His fingers twitch where they rest on your thigh, like he’s fighting the urge to hide.

“I’ve been holding myself back,” he admits, voice dropping even lower, almost shy. “Because… I get embarrassed. I don’t know why exactly, but if I fully let go… if I let myself indulge in you the way I want to… I was scared you wouldn’t like it. That you’d think it was too much. Too loud. Too intense. That it would change how you see me.”

The confession hangs between you, surprising in its honesty. Yoongi, usually so composed, so in control, looks almost vulnerable sitting there with that soft blush and averted gaze. It makes your chest tighten with affection and a rush of heat at the same time. You let out a low, soft laugh, the sound gentle and warm in the quiet room. It’s not mocking; it’s full of fondness and relief. You reach up, gently turning his face back toward you with your fingertips on his jaw.

“Yoongi…” you murmur, smiling softly as you look into his eyes. “You are the hottest, sexiest man I’ve ever been with. Seriously. Nothing about you letting go could ever be ‘too much’ for me. I want it. I want to hear you. I want to feel how much I affect you. All of it.”

You take his hand in yours, fingers intertwining slowly. His palm is warm, slightly calloused from years of playing instruments and producing late into the night. You give it a gentle squeeze, thumb brushing over his knuckles.

“Do you want to try?” you ask softly, voice barely above a whisper, but full of quiet hope. “Right now?”

He looks at you for a long moment, eyes searching yours. The blush on his cheeks deepens just a fraction, but then he nods— slow, deliberate, decisive. “Yeah,” he breathes. His voice has shifted, gaining a new edge of determination beneath the softness. “I’m going to show you just how much you affect me.”

The words send a shiver down your spine. There’s a promise in them, dark and heated, wrapped in that familiar low tone of his. The air between you thickens instantly, the earlier tension transforming into something electric and anticipatory. Yoongi’s hand tightens around yours, his thumb stroking once over your skin before he leans in again, closer this time, lips hovering just inches from yours.

The living room feels smaller, warmer, the forgotten movie long irrelevant. All that matters now is the way he’s looking at you— like he’s finally allowing himself to unravel, just for you. He leans in and captures your lips again, but this kiss is different from the gentle one moments ago. It starts slow, almost reverent, his mouth moving against yours with deliberate care. Then it deepens. His hand slides to the back of your neck, fingers threading into your hair as he tilts his head and kisses you harder, tongue brushing against the seam of your lips, asking for entry.

You open for him instantly.

The kiss turns heavy, hungry. His tongue slides against yours, slow and thorough, tasting you like he’s trying to memorize every inch. A low, barely audible hum vibrates from his chest into your mouth— the first real sound he’s let slip tonight that isn’t guarded. His lips are soft but insistent, sucking gently on your lower lip before diving back in, the wet slide of tongue and shared breath making your head spin.

Your hands come up to his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his black t-shirt as you kiss him back with everything you’ve been holding in. The earlier insecurity melts away under the heat of his mouth, replaced by a growing ache low in your belly. He kisses like he’s pouring years of restraint into this one moment— deep, consuming, and just a little desperate. Without breaking the kiss, Yoongi leans back against the couch cushions, pulling you with him. You follow eagerly, shifting until you’re sliding into his lap, knees settling on either side of his thighs. The position brings your bodies flush together, your chest pressed to his, the heat of him radiating through his thin shirt. His hands settle on your hips, gripping firmly as he tugs you closer, encouraging you to settle your weight fully on him.

You can already feel him hardening beneath you, the thick length of his cock pressing up against your core through the layers of fabric. It sends a spark of arousal through you, sharp and insistent.

Your fingers slide up into his black hair, threading through the soft strands. At first you just hold on, but as the kiss grows more heated— tongues tangling, breaths coming faster— you tighten your grip and pull. A low, broken groan escapes Yoongi’s throat. The sound is deep and raspy, vibrating against your lips. It’s not the restrained grunt you’re used to, it’s raw, involuntary, and it shoots straight to your core. You tug again, a little harder this time, nails lightly scraping his scalp, and another groan follows, louder this time, his hips twitching up into you instinctively.

“Fuck…” he breathes against your mouth, the curse muffled but unmistakable. His voice is already rougher, lower, the composure cracking. He kisses you even more desperately now, one hand sliding up your back under your shirt, palm hot against your bare skin, while the other stays anchored on your hip, guiding you to rock slowly against the growing bulge in his sweatpants. The friction is delicious, sending little waves of pleasure through you with every grind.

Yoongi’s breathing has grown heavier, no longer perfectly controlled. Each exhale comes with a quiet, shaky sound, half groan, half sigh as you continue to pull at his hair and roll your hips. His mouth moves from your lips to your jaw, then down to your neck, sucking and biting softly, leaving faint marks that make you shiver.

You can feel the tension in his body, the way his thighs are tight beneath you, the subtle tremor in his hands as he touches you. He’s letting go, piece by piece, and the sounds he’s starting to make— those low, gravelly groans that rumble from deep in his chest are everything you’ve been craving.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, lips swollen and wet, eyes dark with lust and something deeper. His hair is already messy from your fingers, falling into his eyes in a way that makes him look devastatingly attractive. “See what you do to me?” he murmurs, voice husky and strained. Another soft groan slips out when you roll your hips again. “This is just the start, baby.”

You roll your hips again, slower this time, dragging your core along the thick ridge of his cock through his sweatpants. The friction is perfect— hot, teasing, not enough and yet almost too much. A shaky breath leaves Yoongi’s lips, and this time it’s accompanied by a low, rumbling groan that vibrates straight through his chest and into yours. “Shit…” he mutters against your neck, the word barely formed but heavy with need. His hands tighten on your hips, fingers digging in as he guides you into another slow grind. "Feels good."

The praise hits you like a spark. You’ve never heard him talk like this during sex— never heard him say much of anything and it makes heat flood between your legs. You pull harder on his hair, tugging his head back slightly so you can look at his face. His eyes are half-lidded, dark and glossy, lips parted as another quiet groan slips out when you circle your hips just right.

You love it. You love every single sound he’s letting escape. Encouraged, you start moving with more purpose, rolling your hips in deep, deliberate waves, pressing down harder so the seam of your pants rubs right against his length. Each grind makes his cock twitch beneath you, growing fuller and harder until he’s rock-solid and straining against the fabric. The heat of him radiates through the layers, and you can feel yourself getting wetter, slickness starting to soak through your own panties.

Yoongi’s head falls back against the couch cushion, exposing the long line of his throat. Another groan tears from him— deeper, rougher, this time when you drag your clit along his cock again. “Fuck, baby… keep doing that,” he breathes, voice husky and strained. His usual composure is cracking wider with every roll of your hips. “You’re gonna make me lose it right here.”

You whimper at his words, the sound genuine and needy, and grind down harder, chasing the building pressure. Your hands stay buried in his hair, pulling and tugging in time with your movements, and every little yank draws another sound from him— a low curse, a broken groan, a shaky exhale that sounds almost like a whine. He’s talking more now, the words spilling out between heavy breaths as his restraint unravels.

“You have no idea… how much I want you,” he rasps, hips bucking up to meet your grind. “Every time I’m inside you I have to hold back so I don’t sound like a fucking mess…you feel too good.”

His hands slide up under your shirt, palms hot and greedy as they roam over your bare back, then down to squeeze your ass, pulling you even tighter against him. The new angle makes his clothed cock press right against your clit with every roll, sending sharp sparks of pleasure shooting up your spine. You moan softly, real and unrestrained, and Yoongi responds with a deep, guttural sound that makes your walls clench around nothing.

“Yeah… just like that,” he murmurs, voice dropping even lower. “Let me hear you too, baby. Don’t hold back for me.” You grind faster, more desperately, the couch creaking softly beneath you both. The fabric between you is starting to feel like too much, too many layers keeping you from what you really want. Sweat is already beading along Yoongi’s hairline, his hair sticking to his forehead in messy strands. His chest rises and falls quicker now, breaths coming in short, ragged pants punctuated by those beautiful, broken groans every time you drag your hips over him just right.

You lean down and kiss him again, messy, open-mouthed, tongues sliding hotly together. He groans into the kiss, the sound vibrating against your lips as his hips jerk up involuntarily, chasing more friction. One of his hands leaves your ass to slide between your bodies, pressing firmly over your core through your pants, rubbing in tight circles that match your grinding rhythm. “God, you’re so wet already,” he mutters against your mouth, voice thick with awe and lust. “All this just from grinding on me? Fuck… I did this to you?”

You nod frantically, pulling his hair again as another needy sound escapes him. You’re loving every second of it, the way his voice is getting raspier, the way he’s starting to talk dirty in that low, gravelly tone, the way his usual quiet control is shattering because of you. “Yoongi…” you whine, grinding down hard, “I love hearing you like this. Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

He lets out a shaky laugh that turns into a groan when you tug his hair particularly hard. His hips buck up sharply, pressing his cock right against your clit. The grinding has turned desperate, both of you breathing hard and chasing friction like you can’t get close enough. Yoongi’s hands are gripping your hips tightly, guiding every roll of your body against his, his cock rock-hard and throbbing beneath you

Then he pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes dark and glassy with lust. His voice comes out rough, almost pleading. “Ride me,” he says, the words thick and heavy. “Please, baby… I need you to ride me.”

Your heart stutters. You’ve never ridden him before. Almost every time you’ve had sex it’s been missionary— him on top, controlled and steady, quiet and composed. The idea of being on top, of taking him like this, makes nervous butterflies erupt in your stomach. But the way he’s looking at you, the raw need in his voice, the way his hands tremble slightly on your hips… you can’t say no. You nod, voice barely a whisper. “Okay… yeah.”

Relief and hunger flash across his face. Yoongi moves quickly but carefully, helping you peel off your shirt and bra, his hands warm and eager as they slide over your skin. He tugs your pants and panties down your legs, lifting you slightly so he can yank them off completely. You do the same for him, pulling his t-shirt over his head, exposing the lean, toned lines of his chest and stomach, then helping him shove his sweatpants and boxers down his thighs. His cock springs free, thick and flushed, already leaking at the tip, hard and curving slightly upward.

You’re both completely bare now, skin hot and flushed in the dim light of the living room. Yoongi leans back against the couch again, one hand wrapping around the base of his cock, holding it steady for you. His other hand rests on your thigh, thumb stroking soothing circles. You swing one leg over his lap fully, straddling him. Your hands find the back of the couch on either side of his head, gripping the cushions for balance. Slowly, you lower yourself, the head of his cock brushing against your slick folds. You’re so wet from all the grinding that it glides easily at first, but as you start to sink down, the stretch hits you.

Yoongi is big— thicker and longer than you sometimes remember in the heat of the moment. You pause halfway, breathing shakily as you adjust to his size, walls fluttering around him. The fullness is intense, almost overwhelming in this new position. A broken, needy sound escapes Yoongi the moment you start sliding down. “Fuck… oh my god,” he groans, low and guttural, head tipping back against the couch. His eyes squeeze shut for a second, lips parting as another deep moan rumbles from his chest. “You’re so tight… so fucking wet around me.”

He sounds completely gone already— pussy whipped in the best way. The usually quiet, controlled Yoongi is unraveling right beneath you, and you haven’t even taken all of him yet. You sink lower, taking another inch, and his hips twitch up instinctively. “Shit— baby, you feel incredible,” he rasps, voice strained and hoarse. His hands fly to your waist, not pushing, just holding on like he needs the anchor. “So good… taking me so well. Look at you…”

Another long, shaky groan leaves him when you finally bottom out, your ass flush against his thighs, his cock buried to the hilt inside you. His breathing is ragged now, chest rising and falling rapidly. You can feel him throbbing deep inside, hot and heavy, stretching you perfectly. “Fuck… I’ve wanted this,” he confesses, the words tumbling out between heavy breaths. “Wanted to see you on top of me like this… wanted to feel you ride me. You’re so sexy, baby. So fucking sexy.”

You stay still for a moment, hands gripping the back of the couch tightly, adjusting to the new angle and the overwhelming fullness. Every little shift of your hips makes him groan again, loud, unrestrained sounds that go straight to your core. Yoongi looks utterly wrecked already: eyes half-lidded and dark with lust, mouth open as more soft, desperate noises fall from his lips.

He’s never been this vocal, never this lost in it, and the sight of him like this— because of you—makes heat coil tight in your belly. You love it. You love how he can’t hold back the sounds anymore, how every tiny movement from you pulls another moan or curse from him. Yoongi’s hands slide up your sides, thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts as he looks up at you with pure reverence.

“Whenever you’re ready… babe,” he murmurs, voice husky and pleading again. “Please. I need to feel you move.”

You take a shaky breath, hands gripping the back of the couch tighter as you adjust to the deep, full stretch of him inside you. Yoongi’s cock feels even bigger in this position— thick and hot, pressing against every sensitive spot with no escape. The fullness is overwhelming in the best way, sending little sparks of pleasure radiating through your core with every tiny shift of your hips. Slowly, you begin to move.

You rise up carefully, feeling every inch of him drag along your walls as you lift until only the head remains inside you. The stretch when you sink back down is incredible, slow, deliberate, and devastating. You let yourself fall fully onto his cock, taking him to the hilt in one smooth drop. A soft, breathy moan escapes your own lips at the sensation, but it’s nothing compared to the sound that rips from Yoongi. “Fuuuck…” he groans, long and deep, the word breaking at the end. His head falls back against the couch again, eyes fluttering shut as his fingers dig into your waist. “Baby… just like that. God, you feel so good sliding down on me.”

The praise makes your stomach flutter. You repeat the motion— rising slowly, savoring the drag, then letting gravity pull you back down, impaling yourself on his thick length. Each time you bottom out, his cock nudges deep inside you, pressing right against that spot that makes your thighs tremble. The wet, obscene sound of your bodies meeting fills the quiet living room, mixing with the growing chorus of his sounds.

Yoongi’s hands slide from your waist down to find yours. He laces your fingers together, gripping both of your hands firmly in his. His palms are warm and slightly sweaty, thumbs stroking over the backs of your hands in a grounding rhythm even as his breathing grows more ragged.

You hold onto him like that, hands clasped tightly as you start to find a steady pace. Up and down, rolling your hips in a smooth, sensual rhythm that has pleasure building low in your belly. Every rise lets you feel the thick drag of him leaving you, every fall lets you feel the delicious stretch as he fills you completely again. The angle is perfect; his cock rubs against your front wall with every movement, and when you grind down at the bottom of each stroke, your clit presses against his pubic bone, sending sharp bursts of ecstasy through you. Yoongi’s groans grow louder, less controlled. “Shit… yes,” he rasps, squeezing your hands harder. “Ride me just like that. You’re taking me so deep… fuck, I can feel every inch of you.”

His hips start to buck up gently to meet your downward strokes, not taking over but adding to the rhythm, driving him even deeper. The new pressure makes stars burst behind your eyelids. You both moan together, your sounds mixing with his deeper, rougher ones. He’s completely lost in it now, no longer holding anything back. “Look at you…” he breathes, voice husky and reverent. His eyes are open again, locked on where your bodies connect, watching his cock disappear inside you with every fall.

You squeeze his hands tighter, using the leverage to bounce a little harder, finding a pace that has you both seeing stars. The couch creaks softly beneath you with every movement. Sweat beads on Yoongi’s chest, making his skin glisten in the low light, he looks up at you with dark, blown-out eyes. Every time you sink down, he lets out a broken groan or a whispered curse. “Right there— fuck, baby, right there…” When you rise up slowly, dragging along his length, he whines softly, the sound so needy it makes your walls clench around him. “Don’t stop… please don’t stop.”

You’re both panting now, the pace steady but building— rising and falling, grinding at the bottom of each stroke, hands clasped tightly together like an anchor. Pleasure coils tighter and tighter in your core, the stretch and fullness combined with the new freedom of being on top making everything feel more intense. Yoongi’s sounds keep feeding your own arousal, each groan and rasp pushing you closer to the edge. He squeezes your hands again, thumbs stroking desperately over your skin. “You’re gonna make me cum if you keep going like this,” he admits, voice strained and raw. “But don’t you dare slow down… I want to feel you fall apart on me first.”

You lean down slightly, lips brushing near his ear as you breathe out, voice soft but teasing, “Just like that, baby?” The words have an immediate effect. Yoongi’s eyes snap open wider, a low, guttural growl rumbling from deep in his chest. The sound is primal, nothing like the quiet grunts you’re used to. His fingers tighten around yours for a second before he suddenly releases your hands. Instead, his palms slide down to grip your hips firmly, fingers digging into the soft flesh with clear intent.

“Fuck yes… just like that,” he growls, voice rough and strained.

Before you can react, he plants his feet on the floor and starts thrusting up into you from below. The change is sudden and powerful— his hips snapping upward hard, driving his cock deep inside you with each powerful stroke. The new pace makes you bounce on his lap, breasts jiggling with every impact. The wet slap of skin against skin grows louder, echoing in the living room as he pounds into you relentlessly. You gasp sharply, hands flying to the back of the couch again for balance as he fucks you from below. Each thrust is deep and precise, the head of his cock hitting that perfect spot inside you over and over. The stretch feels even more intense now, your walls clenching around him with every forceful plunge.

Emboldened by his reaction, you keep talking, voice breaking with every hard thrust. “How does my pussy feel?” you ask breathlessly, the dirty words spilling out before you can overthink them. “Tell me, Yoongi… does it feel good?”

Another deep, animalistic growl tears from his throat. His grip on your hips tightens almost bruisingly as he pulls you down to meet his upward thrusts, impaling you harder on his cock. The pace turns punishing— fast, deep, desperate. The couch creaks loudly beneath you both from the force of his movements. “So fucking good,” he snarls, voice low and gravelly, eyes locked on yours with raw hunger. “Your pussy is so tight… so wet… sucking me in like it was made for me. Fuck— I’ve never felt anything this good.”

He punctuates his words with sharper thrusts, hips snapping up brutally. Each powerful stroke makes your head spin, pleasure crashing through you in waves. You can feel how deep he is, how perfectly he fills you, the slick sounds growing wetter and messier as you drip around his cock.

Yoongi’s breathing is ragged, mixed with constant growls and broken moans. “Keep talking to me, baby,” he demands, voice hoarse. “Tell me more… I want to hear you.”

You moan loudly, the sound genuine and unrestrained as he continues pounding into you from below. His hands guide your hips to meet his thrusts, the rhythm relentless. Sweat slicks both of your skins, making your bodies slide together hotly. His hair is completely damp now, sticking to his forehead, and his face is flushed with exertion and lust. You ride the wave of his thrusts, letting him take control from below while you still set the angle. “You’re so deep like this,” you gasp, voice trembling. “I can feel you everywhere… you’re gonna make me cum if you keep fucking me like this.”

Yoongi lets out another feral growl, hips stuttering for a moment before he doubles down, thrusting even harder. One of his hands slides from your hip to your ass, squeezing hard as he pulls you down onto his cock with every upward snap.

“Yeah? You like when I pound into you like this?” he rasps, eyes dark and wild. “My baby talking dirty now… fuck, it’s driving me insane.” The new dynamic has you both spiraling, your words pulling more sounds and filthy confessions from him, his powerful thrusts from below making stars explode behind your eyes. The pleasure is building fast and intense, your walls fluttering around his thick length with every brutal stroke. Yoongi looks completely lost in you, growling and groaning with every thrust, no longer holding back even a single sound.

Yoongi’s grip on your ass is bruising as he uses it for leverage, pulling you down onto his cock with every powerful upward thrust. He’s pounding into you from below with relentless force now, hips snapping up hard and fast, driving his thick length deep inside you over and over. The wet, filthy sound of skin slapping against skin fills the living room, mixing with his low, animalistic growls and your broken moans.

One of his hands stays firmly on your ass, squeezing and spreading you as he fucks up into you, while the other slides up your back, fingers digging into your skin. Every brutal stroke hits that perfect spot inside you, the angle making his cock rub against your front wall relentlessly. Pleasure coils tighter and tighter in your core, winding like a spring ready to snap. “Yoongi—fuck, I’m—” Your voice breaks as the orgasm crashes over you without warning.

Your entire body jolts violently on top of him. Your walls clamp down hard around his cock, pulsing and fluttering as waves of intense pleasure rip through you. Your thighs shake uncontrollably, toes curling, back arching sharply as you cry out. Bright sparks explode behind your eyelids. You grind down desperately against him, riding out every pulse, your slickness gushing around his length as you cum hard on his cock.

Yoongi groans loudly at the feeling, a deep, wrecked sound that vibrates through his chest, but he doesn’t let himself follow you over the edge. His thrusts slow just enough to help you ride it out, but his cock stays rock-hard and throbbing inside you, denying his own release.

The moment your shaking starts to ease, he moves.

In one swift, fluid motion, Yoongi pulls out of you, leaving you feeling devastatingly empty. You barely have time to whimper at the loss before he’s manhandling you with surprising strength. He flips you over the arm of the couch, bending you forward so your chest and stomach press against the soft cushions while your ass is raised high for him. Your knees sink into the seat, legs spread wide.

You gasp sharply as he grabs both of your arms, pulling them behind your back and pinning them there with one strong hand. The position leaves you completely exposed and at his mercy, breasts squished against the couch, cheek resting on the cushion.

Yoongi doesn’t give you a second to adjust.

He slams back into you in one hard, deep thrust, burying his cock to the hilt in your still-spasming pussy. The new angle is even deeper, stretching you wide and making your eyes roll back. A loud, broken moan tears from your throat at the sudden fullness. Then he starts fucking you hard and fast. His hips snap forward with brutal precision, pounding into you from behind like he’s lost all control. The sound of his pelvis slapping against your ass is loud and obscene, echoing through the room. Each powerful thrust rocks your entire body forward, the arm of the couch digging into your stomach as he rails you relentlessly.

“Fuck— yes,” he growls, voice rough and feral. His free hand grips your hip tightly, using it as leverage to pull you back onto his cock with every stroke. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it? Me losing control… fucking you like this.”

You love it. You love every second of it.

The way he has your arms pinned behind your back makes you feel deliciously helpless, completely owned by him. Every hard thrust sends fresh sparks of pleasure shooting through you, your sensitive walls still fluttering from your orgasm. The new position hits even deeper, his cock dragging along every sensitive spot inside you. You’re moaning loudly, unrestrained, pushing your ass back to meet his thrusts as much as you can in this trapped position.

Yoongi’s sounds are constant now— deep, guttural growls, broken groans, and filthy words spilling from his lips with every slam of his hips. “God, your pussy is gripping me so tight,” he rasps, pounding harder. “So fucking wet… you came so hard on me and you’re still this greedy for more?”

He leans over you, chest pressing against your back, lips brushing your ear as he fucks you even faster, building another orgasm dangerously quickly. You’re trembling, moaning into the cushion, completely lost in the overwhelming pleasure of being taken so roughly, so desperately by him. Yoongi’s pace never falters— hard, fast, deep, his hand keeping your arms securely pinned while he claims you completely.

Yoongi is fucking you so hard that the entire couch shifts beneath you with every brutal thrust.

Your arms are still pinned behind your back by his strong grip, your body bent helplessly over the arm of the couch as he rails into you from behind. Each powerful snap of his hips drives his thick cock impossibly deep, the wet, obscene slap of skin against skin echoing loudly in the room. Your pussy is soaked, fluttering and clenching around him with every stroke, still sensitive from your first orgasm. The overwhelming pleasure has tipped over into something almost too intense — your moans have turned into broken sobs, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes as your body jolts forward with every thrust.

“Fuck… you’re taking me so well,” Yoongi growls, voice rough and strained, but he doesn’t slow down. His hips piston into you relentlessly, the head of his cock dragging against that perfect spot inside you over and over. “Look at you… sobbing on my cock. So fucking pretty.”

He leans closer, chest pressed hot against your back, lips brushing your ear as he keeps pounding into you. “Tell me, baby… whose pussy is this?”

You can barely form words through the sobs and moans tearing from your throat. Every hard thrust knocks the breath out of you, making your voice come out shaky and wrecked. “It’s yours,” you sob, the words breaking apart. “It’s yours… only yours, Yoongi— ahh!”

The moment the confession leaves your lips, his free hand comes down hard on your ass in a sharp smack. The sting blooms hot across your skin, making you cry out louder. He doesn’t stop there, smack after smack lands on your ass, alternating cheeks, each one timed perfectly with a deep thrust. The pain mixes deliciously with the pleasure, sending sparks shooting straight to your core.

Your ass burns under his palm, but you push back against him desperately, craving more. You’re losing yourself completely— mind hazy, body trembling, tears streaming down your face as he claims you so thoroughly. Yoongi growls in approval, landing one particularly hard smack that makes your whole body jolt. “That’s right. This pussy is mine. Only mine. No one else gets to feel how tight and wet you get.”

Then he releases your arms only to slide his hand up and fist tightly into your hair. He yanks your head back firmly, arching your back deeper as he slams into you over and over and over. The angle is devastating — his cock drives even deeper, pounding that sensitive spot with brutal precision. The pull on your scalp sends fresh waves of pleasure-pain through you, making your sobs turn into high, broken whimpers.

“Fuck—yes, just like that,” he snarls, hips snapping relentlessly. “Take it. Take every fucking inch.”

You’re completely lost now, body shaking violently as another orgasm builds fast and unstoppable. Your walls flutter wildly around his cock, clenching down hard as the pleasure crests.

“I’m— I’m cumming— Yoongi!” you sob loudly, the words dissolving into a broken cry.

Your second orgasm hits you even harder than the first. Your entire body convulses, pussy spasming and gushing around his thick length as waves of intense ecstasy crash through you. Your thighs shake uncontrollably, vision blurring with tears, sobs tearing from your throat as you cum hard on his cock, soaking him and the couch beneath you.

Yoongi follows right behind you.

A deep, trembling groan rips from his chest as his hips stutter. He slams into you one final time, burying himself to the hilt as he cums hard, thick ropes of hot cum spilling deep inside you. His whole body trembles against your back, muscles locking up as he pulses and fills you completely. Low, broken sounds keep falling from his lips— raw, unrestrained groans and shaky curses as he rides out his orgasm, hips grinding shallowly against your ass to push every last drop into you.

For a long moment, the only sounds in the room are your combined heavy breathing and soft, lingering whimpers. Yoongi’s grip on your hair loosens gently, his hand sliding down to stroke your back soothingly even as his cock continues to twitch inside you. His body is still trembling slightly against yours, sweat-slicked chest pressed to your back, heart hammering wildly.

He stays buried deep, both of you panting and shaking in the aftermath, the intensity of what just happened hanging heavy and electric in the air. His chest is still pressed to your back, heart pounding wildly against your skin. Then, slowly and carefully, he pulls out of you with a wet, slick sound. A soft whimper escapes your lips at the sudden emptiness and the gush of his cum that immediately starts leaking down your thighs.

Your body gives out completely.

You slump forward against the arm of the couch, completely spent, limbs heavy and boneless. Your cheek presses into the soft cushion, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. Every muscle feels deliciously used— your thighs still quivering, your ass warm and stinging from his smacks, your pussy pulsing with the aftershocks of two intense orgasms. Tears of overwhelming pleasure still cling to your lashes, and your breathing comes in shaky, ragged gasps.

You hear Yoongi move behind you, his footsteps soft on the floor. He disappears for a moment, then returns with a warm, damp cloth. Gently, almost reverently, he cleans you up — wiping away the mess of your combined releases from between your thighs, along your folds, and down your legs with careful strokes. His touch is soothing now, completely different from the rough way he’d handled you just minutes ago. The warm cloth feels heavenly against your overheated skin.

When he’s done, he helps you shift off the arm of the couch and onto the cushions properly. You curl onto your side, still breathing hard, body limp and glowing. Yoongi grabs the glass of water from earlier (the one that had been forgotten on the coffee table) and refills it in the kitchen before coming back. He sits on the edge of the couch and carefully helps you sit up just enough to take a few slow sips. The cool water slides down your throat, soothing and refreshing.

You look up at him through heavy-lidded eyes as he sets the glass aside. Yoongi’s hair is a complete mess, damp strands sticking to his forehead. His cheeks are still flushed, chest rising and falling with deep breaths, but his expression has softened completely— those sharp eyes now warm and full of affection as he looks at you. “That was…” you start, voice hoarse and wrecked from all the moaning and sobbing. You swallow, a small, tired smile tugging at your lips. “That was the best sex I’ve ever had in my entire life.”

Yoongi lets out a soft, breathless laugh, the sound low and warm. He leans down and presses a tender kiss to your forehead, then to the tip of your nose, and finally to your lips— slow, gentle, and full of love. His hand cups your cheek, thumb brushing away the last traces of tears. “Yeah,” he murmurs against your mouth, voice still a little raspy. “Me too, baby. Best I’ve ever had. Hands down.”

He kisses you again, deeper this time but still so tender, lips moving softly against yours like he’s pouring every ounce of his feelings into it. When he pulls back, he rests his forehead against yours, eyes closed for a moment as he savors the closeness.

“I love you,” he whispers, the words quiet but heavy with meaning. “So much. And I’m sorry I held back for so long. I never want you to doubt how crazy you make me… how much you affect me.”

You smile tiredly, reaching up to thread your fingers through his messy hair. “I love you too. And I’m glad you finally let go. It was… everything.” Yoongi hums softly in agreement, shifting so he can lie down on the couch and pull you into his arms. He tucks you against his chest, one arm wrapped securely around your waist while his other hand strokes slow, soothing patterns up and down your back. His skin is still warm, heart beating steady beneath your ear now that the intensity has faded.

The living room is quiet again, the TV long forgotten, only the sound of your slowing breaths and the faint hum of the apartment filling the space. You feel safe, cherished, and thoroughly satisfied— the earlier insecurities completely washed away by the way he just proved exactly how much you mean to him. Yoongi presses another soft kiss to the top of your head, holding you close as you both come down together, bodies tangled and hearts even closer.

perm taglist ﹐ → @merakoo @rpwprpwprpwprw @littlejeanskirt @mikrokookiex

[wicked-disposition]

I feel so crazy right now…. I really need a fix of his dick 😩

[wicked-disposition]

The Tigers Bunny — J.WY

Synopsis: tiger hybrid Wooyoung has been looking for someone to carry his cubs for a long time. his bunny college classmate y/n seems like the perfect fit. he'll have you no matter what it takes-whether you agree or not.

tw: predator/prey dynamics, alpha tiger hybrid wy, bunny hybrid reader, dubcon, dacryphilia, knotting, semi-public sex, come inflation, breeding, mating bites. If you don’t like, don’t read or comment because you’ll be blocked, thank ya!

Wooyoung has seen you around multiple times, a pretty little bunny with your big wide eyes and cute floppy ears that you’d use to cover them whenever you’d get startled. Wooyoung’s never believed in perfect mates, but from the first time he laid eyes on you, he just knew you were meant for him—made to be his, to take his bite and carry his mark, to carry his cubs. He just had to have you, and he wouldn’t stop at anything to get you.

You were way too precious and innocent of a bunny for a predator as mischievous as him. Wooyoung could clearly see from the very beginning that you kept as far away from predators as possible. Your closest friends were all prey; he’s seen you walking around with them at your side multiple times. You were constantly together, and Wooyoung had yet to catch you on your own. That is, until now.

Granted, he didn’t think the first time he’d ever get to corner you would be in a public restroom during one of his free periods, but he’s always been an opportunist—and he was definitely going to take advantage of this situation. It’s very common for prey not to associate themselves with any predators, especially prey as fragile and easily startled as bunnies. Wooyoung knew you would never come anywhere near him willingly, especially not on your own, but that doesn’t stop him from creeping up behind you when he sees you dash for the bathrooms.

It’s easy for him to sneak in quietly after you, tiptoeing as he walks in front of every stall, noticing that only one of them is taken, which makes him smile. It’s just him and you, perfect.

With a pleased little hum, he leans against one of the sinks, crossing his arms over his chest, and waits. Taking a whiff of the air around, he sniffs past the smell of chlorine and focuses on the faint scent that makes his mouth water: warm milk and honey. The sweetest bunny. Wooyoung wonders if you taste as sweet as you smell. He’ll get to find out soon enough.

The toilet flushes, and Wooyoung’s toes wriggle in his shoes from impatience. He can’t wait to finally sink his claws and teeth into your skin, to touch those fluffy ears and grip them tight between his fingers. He hums a low tune as he waits, and the previous sound of movement from behind the door instantly quiets down. That’s good. Wooyoung wants you to hear him, to know he’s here, waiting for you to come out and fall right into his arms. He’s been waiting for this moment for a long time.

When the door finally cracks open, you tentatively peek your head out, big bunny eyes taking in your surroundings. As soon as they land on Wooyoung, they are completely overtaken by fright, and you let out a shaky gasp, loudly shutting the door once more. It’s not as if Wooyoung hadn’t expected that, but the reaction still makes him chuckle.

The tiger knows how light on his feet he can be, even your big bunny ears would most likely not be able to pick out the sound of his tiptoeing as he maneuvers his way to your bathroom stall. As carefully as possible, he presses his ear against the door. The sound of your rapid breathing makes him smile. You must be so scared—poor little bunny, cornered by the big bad tiger, with no chance to escape. Wooyoung’s gums ache with the need to dig his fangs right into your skin.

He doesn’t say a word, staying as quiet as a mouse for a long five minutes until you have calmed down enough. Wooyoung is known for his patience; he could sit right here and wait all day if he had to. Of course, he’d prefer it if you would come out sooner and he could quell the urge to be rammed balls deep inside you as fast as possible, but he’s still going to wait as long as he must. He can offer you that much.

When the lock on the door finally comes off again, Wooyoung’s ears perk up. His muscles tense, and he takes a long whiff of the air around. Acrid milk, no longer as sweet as it first was. You must be frightened out of your mind.

As soon as the door creaks open and the only part peeking out are your eyes, Wooyoung’s lips curl into a grin. The sight of the tiger so close makes you almost scream. Wooyoung’s arm shoots forward to stop the door from slamming shut again.

“Hi, bunny.”

His body slides swiftly inside the stall, door locking behind him. Your eyes are wide, so wide you fear they might pop out of their sockets. Your ears flop down and stick to your cheeks, a sight Wooyoung finds way more endearing than he should. He licks his lips hungrily as he stares you down.

Your shrill scream of terror is quickly silenced when Wooyoung slaps a hand over your mouth. The skin on skin contact makes your eyes instantly fill with tears that stream down your face. Wooyoung tuts and hushes you with uncanny gentleness.

“There, there,” he whispers, grabbing a hold of your waist before you can try to move away in the limited space there is left. “Oh, no, don’t cry.” He tuts in faux concern, peeling his hand off of your mouth just so he can pet over your ears—something you don’t find comfort in in the slightest.

You’re shaking like a leaf in Wooyoung’s arms, too scared to try to fight back or move away—just as he intended for it to be. You’re even more perfect than Wooyoung imagined.

You bring your hands up to tug your ears over your eyes, small hiccups falling from your mouth as you cry, wishing this was just a bad dream you could wake up from. The sight makes Wooyoung coo out loud.

“So cute,” he squishes your cheeks, and another gasp of fright leaves your mouth. You tug your ears even harder over your eyes. Wooyoung is concerned for a brief moment about them hurting.

“Can you look at me, bun?” When you do nothing but cry harder, Wooyoung begins to get a little frustrated. “Come on, just a peek.” His voice is still gentle, but the grip on your waist is getting stronger. “Look at alpha.”

Wooyoung is not one to proclaim his status out loud, mostly just lets his actions speak for themselves, but the word instantly has you dropping your hands from your ears, letting them flop uselessly. Wooyoung is pretty sure you’re not even breathing as you peer from behind your fluffy ears at him. Of course, the title would have anyone cowering before him. You’re just a small bunny, you’re in no place to try to defy a tiger, that’s an alpha at that.

Your teeth rattle inside your mouth as you finally meet Wooyoung’s eyes.

“There you go,” he smiles mischievously, smoothing a hand over your forehead to pull your ears back, which he admittedly tugs on a little harder than he should. Your gasp is a worthy reward. “Good bun.”

You swallow hard and try to stop your hiccups enough to be able to speak. “I–I have t–to go.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, stuttering over each syllable. Wooyoung frowns, taking a step forward, which makes you take one back. The tiger’s hands are still on your hips, his eyes sharp on your face. “Go? Already?”

You nod rapidly and exhale a loud breath when your back hits the wall, with no place left to move. You look around helplessly, knowing there’s no way for you to escape, but still hoping.

“Can’t let you go just yet,” Wooyoung says. “I need you to do something for me first.”Your bottom lip wobbles. “C–can’t.” Your head shakes from side to side desperately.

Wooyoung sighs dreamily. You’re so precious. “Yes, you can,” he speaks sweetly. “It’s so easy, will only take a little while if you’re good and do as I say.”

Wooyoung would take his time if he could—fuck you slowly until your cries and begs were no longer ones of fright, but of want. Knot you over and over until you were so full of his seed it would be impossible for it not to catch. Bend you in each and every way until your little body aches in places it has never ached before. Wooyoung’s eyes glow a bright gold with all the thoughts swimming through his head. The sight makes your breathing come to a stop.

The alpha licks over his lips. “I need you…” he trails a finger down your cheek, softly grabbing onto one of your ears and petting it lightly. “To carry something for me.”

You seem completely taken aback, your fear melting into confusion. “C–carry?”

Wooyoung beams, “Yes, carry! Think you can do that?”

Your nose twitches as you bring a sweater paw up to rub over it. Wooyoung could eat you right up. “M’ a strong bunny…” The whisper is so quiet, it’s almost as if you say it to yourself to spur yourself on.

Wooyoung laughs, head thrown back, his teeth on full display. The sight of sharp incisors makes you cower back even more against the wall. “Good, Very good.” Wooyoung is still lightly chuckling when he focuses his attention back on you. “Then it’s settled.”

Suddenly, his features turn stoic. The lightheartedness is gone, and the small amount of relief you had felt disappears as well. The hands at your waist become harsh, fingertips pushing into your skin until he’s gotten a good enough grip to turn you around, manhandling you until your front is pressed to the wall.

You cry out loud, “B–but,” your breathing is so fast, you might just send yourself into overdrive. Wooyoung’s nose pushes against your neck, breathing in your scent. his eyes roll to the back of his head.

“Y–you said—”

“I said?” Wooyoung rumbles, chest vibrating against your back.

You shriek and feel your eyes fill with fresh tears when the alpha’s fingers grab ahold of your skirt, swiftly tugging it down your hips and down your legs in one swift move. Your bunny tail trembles in fear, legs instantly squeezing together when you feel the cold air of the bathroom hit your bare skin.

“N–No!” You whimper quickly, shaking your head, your ears flopping along with your movements.“No?” Wooyoung questions, not hesitating once before grinding his crotch right against your backside, his dick pressing between your ass cheeks. “But you agreed.”

You’re so scared, so confused. You thought maybe you would have to carry the tiger’s backpack or his books. You don’t know how him having his dick pressed right against your ass has anything to do with “carrying.” The alpha’s hand trails over your stomach, the skin feeling soft against his palm. Wooyoung presses closer, taking huge lungfulls of your scent, which makes his dick throb even harder inside his jeans.

“Your body is so perfect, bunny,” You cry out weakly when you hear the sound of his zipper coming undone. “You have to carry them for me.”You’re more confused than you’ve ever been in your entire life. Your cheek presses against the cold wall in front of you, a frown etched between your brows. “C–carry?”

“My cubs.” Wooyoung says. “Gonna carry my cubs so well for me, aren’t you? Give me a healthy litter?” Realization finally dawns on you. He wants you too….

“No!” You try to protest, but you still don’t dare move. You’re too scared to. Wooyoung’s breath is hot against your neck, teeth barely scratching the surface of your skin. He could take a bite straight out of you if he wanted to. Tear you to shreds. You wouldn’t even get to blink once before you’d be dead. You sob uncontrollably.

“No, alpha, p–please—”

Wooyoung moans, delighted to hear his title being called from your sweet lips. He tugs his cock out of his pants, hard and wet in the cold air of the bathroom stall, smacking lightly right over your shivering tail. “Yeah, there you go.” He groans, pulling your underwear down. “You can cry, sweet bunny.” He doesn’t hesitate to part your ass cheeks, pulling the skin taut, until both of your holes are winking at him. “Cry for your alpha.”

You gasp feeling utterly embarrassed as your body presses further against the wall as Wooyoung exams you. You bite back a whimper at the feeling. But the response is obvious in the way your pussy starts to drip. Wooyoung smiles when he touches it, only for his fingers to come back sticky.

“Look at you, so perfect.” The first intrusion of his finger makes you squeak, your ears instantly slapping back over your eyes. The feeling is so unexpected and sudden. Wooyoung wastes no time in opening you up. Three fingers sink inside of you until the last knuckle in mere seconds.

“Can’t, s–stop!” you sob, as your pussy grips around his fingers tight holding them hostage. They’re twisting and turning inside of you so good, touching places you could never reach, you feel your mouth go slack as Wooyoung's fingers continue with their onslaught.

“Yes, you can.” Wooyoung says, almost as if he’s chastising you for doubting yourself. You can do this. You can carry his cubs. You’re gonna do so well, the alpha is sure of it. “Oh—” With one solid thrust against your bundle of nerves, you come undone pussy squeezing around his fingers inside of you so tight, he swears under his breath. It’s so sudden it has you screaming, which makes Wooyoung slap a hand right over your mouth.

Any other day, he would’ve loved nothing more than to have you scream for him. But right now, you’re not exactly in the most ideal setting. He steadily massages his finger against that special spot inside of you, as you come down from your high. Wooyoung is going to mate you right here and now.

As soon as his fingers pull out of you, he sucks them into his own mouth, savoring the sweetness over his tongue. If he could, he’d eat you out for hours. He’d suckle against your clit until you’re crying from overstimulation, fuck you with his tongue until you’re silly from it. He marks that on his bucket list for later. The blunt head of his cock feels wide against your entrance. Too wide to even go in. You’re still shaking from the unexpected orgasm, babbling nonsense when you feel Wooyoung trying to push his way inside.

“N–no, wha–” you sniffle weakly, your knees feeling numb. “Alpha…” Wooyoung inhales sharply. One moment he’s pressing against the entrance of your pussy, the next he’s buried balls deep inside your tight little hole. The shriek you release is muffled by Wooyoung’s palm that presses over your mouth in anticipation. Your walls spasm around the sudden intrusion, trying their hardest to accommodate it.

You cry, loud and whiny, your tears falling on the back of Wooyoung’s hand as the alpha groans in your ear, a snarl getting caught in the back of his throat. You feel so warm, so wet, so impossibly tight. Wooyoung might be popping a knot a lot faster than he originally intended.

“Fuck yeah, there you go…” he exhales into a moan, slowly grinding his hips until his cock is nestled deep inside your cunt, filling you up to the hilt. “Taking your alpha so well.” You feel dizzy, your eyes swimming inside their sockets, gargling incoherent sounds as Wooyoung pulls almost all the way out, only to slam back in and push you harshly against the wall. You feel like you’re going to come again with the way Wooyoung is fucking you. You wouldn’t mind bearing his cubs if he keeps fucking you just like this.

Wooyoung takes his hand off your mouth just so he can tug on your bunny’s ears, he’s harsh in the way he pulls them until your head is leaning on his shoulder, you crying from the feeling. “You’re my good bunny, aren’t you?” He accompanies his words with a harsh thrust, followed by a steady rhythm that has you leaking like a faucet around his cock.

“Can you say it? Say I’m Woo’s bunny, hm?” Your muddled brain doesn’t even realize this is the first time you’re hearing the alpha’s name. All you know and feel right now is the pounding right against your sweet spot that has you seeing bright white. “W–woo. I’m–” you sniffle, drool slowly seeping past your lips. “Woo’s b–bunny!”

You cry in fright and tug at your own ears in search of comfort when the tiger’s fangs dig into your skin, breaking the surface. You bite on your own ear, nibbling on it to try and calm yourself down, the endorphins releasing inside your body making you lose your footing. If there weren’t strong arms wrapped around your waist, you would be a crumbled mess onto the ground.

The slap of Wooyoung’s balls is harsh against your pussy. You whine weakly when you feel him getting even larger inside of you, if that’s even possible. You gasp and your ear falls from your mouth when you feel something swell inside of you. “Gotta sit still.” Wooyoung exhales harshly, pulling back to lick over the punctures he’s made on your neck. “Sit still so it’ll take, yeah?” It takes you a good few seconds to realize what the tiger means.

Sit still so that you’re guaranteed to fall pregnant with the alpha’s cubs. You’re too delirious to think about the implications that come along with that. All you can do right now is whine weakly and thump your foot as Wooyoung drives continuously into you, threatening to push the swollen base of his cock right inside of your cervix.

"M' a good bun." You sob, sniffling over and over. "Gonna…babies. C–carry babies." You think about them: cute little cubs and possibly baby bunnies. It's everything you've ever wanted. You never thought it would happen so fast; you're entirely not prepared for it, barely in your second year of university, but the choice has already been made for you. You'll carry Wooyoung's cubs like the good little bunny you are, the good little bunny you were always meant to be.

"Fucking—" Wooyoung curses, a loud growl resonating against the walls as he drives his cock up to the hilt, nudging into your cervix, knot plopping in mercilessly. Tears and snot run down your face as you feel Wooyoung's come make home inside of you; your tummy swells from the copious amounts of it. You're so warm, so unbearably full, you cramp up from it, foot thumping uselessly. Nothing but Wooyoung's low moans and your incessant babbling echoes around the otherwise silent bathroom. Both of your breathing is loud, harsh, and labored.

Wooyoung suckles on the mark he's left on your neck. As he palms down over your swollen stomach, Wooyoung's chest vibrates with a content rumble. He can feel it, he knows it'll take. He's gonna have you pregnant and showing by next month's come. Wooyoung will have healthy and beautiful cubs by the end of the year, and along with it, a cute and obedient bunny as his mate.

Things could not have gone any better than this.

[wicked-disposition]

me sitting up here wondering why this has 900 notes like this is not my best work at all yall 🤕

[wicked-disposition]

told my sister (18) that the next time i date a girl, i want her to be older than me because i think older women are hot, just for her to tell me that i am the older woman 🫩

[asesinas]

pairing: yunho x f! reader

synopsis: reader calls yunho after a fun filled day at work just to see his face. a/n: i was up at 2 in the morning thinking of something to do so i made these fake little video call things. i hope y'all like it cause i had fun making this!

[wicked-disposition]

Thank you guys for 100 followers! I’ll be back with more stuff soon 🤗

[wicked-disposition]

now I have 1.1k eeekkkk 🥹

[wicked-disposition]

thank you guys for 1.1k followers 🫶🏽

[wicked-disposition]

yall have no idea how insane this video just made me…. woo is really a ass man I can’t fucking breathe rn

[everyonewooeverywhere]

happy wip wednesday~ (i have disregarded the results of the poll)

[wicked-disposition]

thank you dee, for fulfilling my butch fantasies

[wicked-disposition]

hiii i’m new here! is there a part 3 of a tale of two houses?

yes! I’m going to continue it, I swear. just bear with me, please. it will probably be what I work on next after I upload my yunho fic. I haven’t given up on it I promise <3

[wicked-disposition]

the way people on twitter have been talking about bisexuals, specifically bi women, has me like 🫩 we can never catch a break no matter what and it’s so frustrating how the only time our sexuality will be seen as valid or queer enough is when we’re dating the same sex. and even then, it still isn’t because people will be so quick to label it a lesbian relationship just because they see two women romantically involved and automatically assume neither of them could possibly be bi. (this happened to me and my ex-girlfriend, who is also bi. the fact that people felt comfortable telling us one of us would eventually end up leaving the other for a man pissed me off to the max) also that whole stereotype type that bi women are quick to cheat with a man if they’re dating a girl is such bs like every tweet I’ve come across so far has upset me to no end. why are we never seen as valid enough for anyone? like fuck you all fr. (not you guys, ily, but if you’re biphobic then yes you read that right fuck you)

[sangis-puppy]

From Afar

Part 1 | Part 2 (in development)

pairing: serval hybrid!Yeosang x fem human!reader (feat. white tiger hybrid!Mingi and bsf raccoon hybrid!Wooyoung) (what a mouthful Imao)

genre: fluff, some angst if you squint?

word count: 10.5k (this got so out of hand-)

summary: you've always kept your head down at work, only caring to get your check and then go back home and repeat. But that changes one day, when you return from lunch to a gift on your desk with no idea who left it there. Your best friend, Wooyoung, is convinced you have a secret admirer, and you're both left trying to figure out who it may be that's made your days feel lighter with these anonymous gestures.

warnings: non-idol au, office au, hybrid au, strangers/coworkers to lovers, miscommunication, some angst toward the end, (yeosang struggles with insecurities), potentially incorrect office shit idk all my offices were virtual, i think that's it? If i missed something lmk!

author's note: sooo this is my exchange fic for @everyonewooeverywhere's secret admirer fic exchange! this is undoubtedly the hardest fic i've written so far because i wanted to make it perfect. At first, because my giftee was part of the reason I started writing for Ateez in the first place, and then because she became such a dear friend to me. So to my sweet @stxrrywoo, surprise! It's me, I'm your gifter :) and it was so hard keeping it from you Imao. I plotted myself into a corner so this will be a multi-part fic, but worth it for you my lovely Kay <3 I really really really hope you enjoy this fic :) (thank you so fucking much to @chimivx @redemptions @minkieater and @yeonlymine for keeping me sane while I was making this, I was so close to scrapping it like 73828 times, but they kept me going and I couldn't have done it without y'all! kisses for all of u!) Pardon any typos, I'm human!

main masterlist | fic exchange masterlist

It had been a day like any other.

You were returning from lunch to your cubicle, ready to crack into some work at your computer until the clock decided to finally drag its hands to 5PM. Then you can go home and repeat the same drab routine tomorrow until finally— the sweet reprieve of the weekend came round again. You were already dreading the emails you likely had received while chowing down on a sandwich, but when you reach your cubicle, something small and black catches your eye.

A mini figurine was placed on your desk. One that was most certainly not there when you powered down your PC to go on lunch. You look around the office, as if you'd be able to nail the culprit with a single glance, but everyone has their heads down, doing their own work or slacking off in their own ways.

Your eyes go back to the figurine and a glimpse of red makes you realize the figure on the stand was something very familiar to you. You pick it up and look closer, biting back an excited squeal as you realize in your hand was a miniature version of a black cat. Not just any black cat, a special black cat that belongs to a line of toys named Aniteez. Someone— no, an angel had left a little Wooyonyang on your desk.

Your brain immediately picked out the likely culprit behind this sweet gift and you quickly walk a few cubicles down toward your work (and overall) best friend, a raccoon hybrid named Wooyoung.

He was sitting in his cubicle, headphones in his ears and one of his many scratching fidget toys in his hands. His claws were slightly extended, scratching at the heavily reinforced sides to ease his animalistic urges and spare himself from having to pay his employer $500 for a new desk. His sensitive ears twitch to the beat of the song that plays, a habit you noticed he had when he helped you clean your house and music was blasting in the background.

He had a lot of little quirks thanks to his animal side, but by far your favorite is his permanent eye bags. Instead of the well-known 'bandit mask' raccoons have, he just had darkened eye bags that never go away no matter how much sleep he gets. In your opinion, it gave him that tired look a lot of people found attractive— if you asked Wooyoung he'd tell you he disliked it, but slowly he's learning to accept it as part of his animal side. Just like he had to learn to accept his brain's persistent need to wash all his snacks before he eats them.

Knowing Wooyoung's guard was entirely down, you creep up on him slowly. There was no way he'd hear you anyway with headphones in, but you still took immense joy in 'hunting' Wooyoung before pouncing on him with a hug.

Wooyoung jumps a bit, pulling his headphones out and turning to face you, his ears perking up as he registers who has popped up in his space.

"You scared the shit out of me," Wooyoung huffs out a laugh as he sets his headphones and cube aside, turning his chair to face you head-on, "You bored already? Water cooler break?"

You shake your head as you smile. Typical Woo, ready to abandon work if you gave him a reason to.

"Not this time, I'm here to thank you."

You expect the proud, compliment-loving hybrid to puff up his chest and wait for a shower of affections that you know he loves— but instead, Wooyoung furrows his brows.

"For...?" He replies, confusion clear in his tone.

"For...the gift? On my desk?" Your own reply comes out slow as you start questioning the conclusion your brain jumped to.

"Yeah, you got the wrong guy. I haven't been to your desk all day."

You narrow your eyes at your friend, but his usual tells are absent: no excited ear twitches, no fighting back a smirk, no tail swishes of excitement that usually appear when he's up to something.

"But..." You deflate a bit as you look at the Wooyonyang figurine in your hand, "I was just telling you on Monday how I loved Aniteez and Wooyonyang was one of my favorites."

"We did, but I didn't buy that." He nods to the little gift that now held more questions than answers for you, "I would've given something like that to you at your place, not work."

Wooyoung did make a good point, now that you think about it. Your gaze flickers between him and the figurine for a moment.

"Then, who put this on my desk?" You whisper to yourself, though Wooyoung can still hear you.

"Oooo wait, you must have a secret admirer." Wooyoung's rounded, gray-brown fur-covered ears stand at attention, a wide smile spreading on his face as the realization hits him.

"No, no, there's no way." You dismiss the idea immediately.

You were just one of many people working here; you didn't stick out purposely. You kept your head low and did your work so you could get your paycheck and go home.

"There's no other answer here, love. If I didn't put it there, and you didn't put it there, someone else had to. Someone you don't know. Hence, a secret admirer!"

The explanation is simple enough, but it still didn't make sense to you. Who would go out of their way to buy something like this and then give it to you and not leave even a note behind? You ponder that a bit more as you stare down at your newest addition to your cubicle.

This question floats in your mind as you continue your workday, eyes flickering from your little black cat figure and your computer screen constantly. Your thoughts drift to the mystery gift giver, gaze jumping from one co-worker to another, looking for any tell that may expose your mystery person— but no one stood out.

So you shut down and went home for the day once 6PM hits, looking at the mini Wooyonyang one last time before you make your way to the elevator.

The next day you come in, mind still spinning with thoughts of the gift you had been surprised with post-lunch. Would it happen again today? What would you do if it did? Was it a mistake? You were determined to find out.

The day drags on, as if it knows you're waiting for your lunch hour to hit, taunting you by never being where you want it to be— but 2 meetings later, your clock finally reads 1PM. You power down and swiftly head to the elevators. After pushing the down button, you look over your shoulder at the office space, noting how slowly everyone was trickling out to grab their lunch.

So many people. But one of them had to be your admirer.

The ding of the elevator shakes you out of your thoughts and you quickly enter it, squeezing in alongside far too many people who were eager to get some fresh air.

As you exit the building, you try your best to ignore the excitement beginning to turn in your stomach. Each bite of your sandwich seems muted, your mind and body too occupied with thoughts of what could be going on in the office building down the street. Just 33 more minutes and you'd be back to work. Back to your cubicle where maybe, just maybe, another little gift is waiting.

You write off the flips in your tummy as a fluke. You weren't looking forward to this, not even a little. If nothing is there, you'd be fine. It wouldn't make your heart drop one bit. At least that's what you tell yourself as you enter the building with 5 minutes left on your break. You fiddle with the bottom of your skirt as the elevator ascends to the 17th floor, tuning out the sounds of light chatter behind your foot taps on the white tiled floor.

The familiar ding sets you in motion, strides a little longer than normal as you make your way to your cubicle. You round the corner, eyes darting right to your desk and to your delight, you see something small and purple sitting next to your keyboard. Knowing that shade anywhere, you pick up your pace just a little and snatch up what is indeed a Sandeoki figure. The little purple cat smiles at you the same way you smile at it as you clutch it in your hand like an heirloom.

Remembering you're indeed still at work, you quickly glance around to make sure no one sees you geeking out over a 5-inch-tall figure. Thankfully, everyone is too into their own world to notice you standing there. Your smile slowly comes back as you walk off with a pep in your step to Wooyoung's cubicle.

Your ring-tailed best friend had a spreadsheet open, but his eyes were on his phone— sitting back in his chair with his top button undone. You pop up on his left, dangling the figurine in his vision. Wooyoung glances up at it before tilting his head back to look at you.

"Secret admirer strikes again, huh?" He asks, a small smile spreading on his face as he notes the excitement swirling in your eyes.

"Mhm! Sandeoki is now mine." You chirp happily as you set the figurine on his desk.

Wooyoung picks it up and looks over the figurine before sniffing at it.

"Hey!" You slap his arm lightly and he glances your way.

"Just checking something!" He laughs, putting the figurine away from his twitching nose.

As you go into a ramble about the second gift from your mystery person, Wooyoung is going through his mental rolodex. He's always been keen to scents and able to log a scent to a person pretty fast. You have a scent of lemon and sea breeze. His manager, San, always smelled like cinnamon. This scent reminded him of a bonfire, and it's one he is certain he's come across, but he can't remember where.

You slowly go quiet as you realize Wooyoung had spaced out on you. His ears twitch with his racing thoughts as he tries to pinpoint who left this scent behind and where. It was on the tip of his tongue, slipping through his fingers the longer he dwelled on it.

"Woo!"

Your voice brings him back to Earth and he blinks twice before his focus really settles on the woman standing in front of him.

"Where did you go?" You ask, curiosity clear in your eyes.

"Nowhere, sorry. Just had a thought." He dismisses your question as he crosses his legs, "but I'd like to say, told you so. This is the second time, it's an admirer. Someone has eyes for you."

You blush at the notion of someone having a crush on you, but it does fill your tummy with a warm feeling when you think about it. Someone who knew you well enough to get you figurines from your favorite collection. The only question is, who?

"I can't think of anyone who would know this except you, though. I don't really talk to anyone at work about this stuff." You speak your thoughts slowly, hoping an idea of an explanation may hit you, but nothing comes to mind.

"Quietly admiring you from afar then." Wooyoung hums, "It's like some cheesy office rom-com shit."

You roll your eyes despite that idea making your cheeks heat up ever so slightly. You wondered what this admirer could be like. What department did they work in? When did they first notice you? What made them decide to do this for you out of everyone in the office?

"I gotta vet them first though, make sure they're not some weirdo. I'll claw their eyes out."

Wooyoung's words are meant to be playful, but they make your thoughts take a turn you hadn't considered yet. You had been perhaps naively optimistic about this entire situation, but what if this mystery person was obnoxious and you two were incompatible beyond belief? What if they were a creep, or a weirdo who felt entitled to you since they got you gifts?

Your facial expression was a clear indicator of how sour your thoughts had gone, and Wooyoung is quick to quell the new worries swirling in your head.

"I'm sure they're nice! Or else why would they care to give you something you specifically mentioned liking? These figurines aren't the cheapest either, you know?" His eyes drift to the figure in your hand.

This was something that didn't happen often. If anyone deserved something positive to look forward to every day, it's you. He's determined to keep the mood light and have this experience be a positive one.

"Why don't we both try to feel them out a bit?" He suggests after a moment of silence.

You try to shake off the negativity that slipped into your brain by rubbing your thumb over the smooth plastic of Sandeoki's face.

"How do we feel out someone we literally don't know the identity of?" You lean on Wooyoung's desk, resting your hip on it.

"Me? I have my ways. You, however, aren't as cunning and innovative as me-"

"Oh, go to hell-" You interject, but Wooyoung continues as if you said nothing.

"If they're checking your desk every day, leave something behind for them. Maybe a note of some sort? Right where they leave the gift, if there is a common spot. They're sure to read it." He suggests.

You let the idea sit in your head for a while. It's simple, direct, but it could work. How someone speaks is as big an indicator as how they act. The more you can gauge, the better you can try to place a finger on this person and if they're actually someone you'd like to get to know.

"I'll admit, not a bad idea. Maybe I will." You reply, putting a finger to your chin as you think of what you could write.

Wooyoung smiles, watching the gears turn in your mind in real time.

"Well, think it over in your own cubicle? Some of us have work to do." He gently nudges your hip with a pen.

"You're gonna type maybe 5 entries in that Excel sheet before you pull out your phone to go on TikTok." You deadpan as you straighten up your posture.

"Whatttt? No, I'm employee of the month." Wooyoung's fluffy tail flicks behind him as he hides his smile by facing his PC.

"If you ever got employee of the month, it's because the rest of us got fired." You say as you turn and walk off.

Wooyoung throws a paper clip at you, but misses and you bite back a laugh as you return to your cubicle.

You set Wooyonyang's new bestfriend next to him, smiling as your little family grows. You force yourself back into work mode, opening up your emails to see what's been going on while you've been gone— but every once in a while your eyes drift to the little figurines in your peripheral and you can't help your small smile.

A full set feels like a bit of a stretch, but you'd be lying if you weren't inwardly hoping for it. So the next day when you shut down to go to lunch, you let yourself hope just a little to find a small friend on your desk when you return.

As the office gets emptier, most leaving around the same time for lunch, a certain hybrid sticks around to keep an eye on your desk. Far too curious to not figure out who your mystery suitor is, Wooyoung finds himself curled up under a nearby desk, snug and hidden behind the rolling chair that's entirely tucked under the desk. One more positive about his raccoon side is that he's able to fit into some pretty small spaces, and he actually enjoyed it. For a moment his eyes start to flutter shut, the comfort of the small, dark space making him want to take a nap.

He manages to snap himself awake using sheer willpower. He wasn't on this dusty floor hidden under his friend, Jongho's, desk for no reason. It was for the greater good of his best friend's heart! So he stays alert, his eyes attentive and listening out for any sound.

One thing Wooyoung didn't account for, is how boring it gets when you're stuck under a desk with nothing to keep you entertained. He's resorted to counting the loose threads on his shirt when he hears it.

Footsteps, coming down the very aisle he was hiding in. Wooyoung holds his breath, not wanting anything to give him away. Soon, a pair of black boots comes into view, along with black jeans that lead up to a button-up. Wooyoung sniffs at the air quietly, the smoky bonfire smell was starting to permeate the air and he knows for sure, this is your admirer.

At this angle Wooyoung couldn't see the head of whomever was hovering over your desk, so as quietly as he can he leans forward to get a glimpse of who had their eye on you.

He's welcomed with the sight of dark red hair with a tall, round pair of ears lined with golden yellow fur and black stripes. Considering he's looking at the back of this person's head, it takes a few moments before it hits him. He knows exactly who this is.

Kang Yeosang.

Wooyoung tried to rack his mind for things he knew about Yeosang. He comes up with a few: Serval cat hybrid, works in the IT department, a quiet type that only speaks when spoken to. Not much else to know about the man. Servals are typically solitary creatures, so it isn't shocking. What is shocking to Wooyoung is the fact that you caught his eye. The chances of you two crossing paths are pretty minimal unless you had consistent computer issues, so how did you catch his attention?

The raccoon hybrid's nails dig into the cushion of the chair he's hiding behind as the need to know everything burns in his chest, but the only way to know is to confront Yeosang. Was the knowledge worth putting himself in the middle of what seemed to be an innocent and sweet situation?

Absolutely. If this guy wanted to get you, as your best friend, he'd have to pass Wooyoung's strict test. But not now. Not here. Wooyoung simply notes it and waits until the footsteps entirely disappear before crawling out of his hiding space and wiping his pants clean. He looks off toward the hall that Yeosang had to go down to get back to the IT office and smirks to himself.

This was very interesting indeed, and he planned to get to the bottom of things for your sake and his.

28 minutes later, you're following your usual route back to your desk with a pep in your step. You round that corner for what's likely the 2000th time, eager to see if a new friend awaits you. Your wish comes true in the form of a pink bunny figurine sitting next to your mousepad. You quickly put it right next to Sandeoki with a small happy hop in your chair. You decide then and there you'd take Wooyoung's suggestion and leave a note for your secret suitor tomorrow. Whether they responded or not was up to them, but you hoped they did.

It was strange having something to look forward to on a day-to-day basis in a place you usually hate returning to. Yet as your clock nears 1PM the next day, you grab a sharpie and a piece of paper with your heart racing. The blank sheet of printer paper stares at you, mirroring your current thoughts as you try to think of what you want to leave for your suitor to find.

"Thank you for the figurines" doesn't really invite a response. A question would work better. "Do you like Aniteez?" isn't a bad option, but that also didn't feel right for some reason. You bounce your knee with a soft groan, frustration starting to build as an answer continues to evade you.

Why couldn't they just reveal themselves, and you could just talk to them face to face and figure it out from there? Who were you even trying to connect with?

That's when it hit you. An answer so simple you wonder why you hadn't thought of it already. You notice the close hit 12:58 and quickly write down your question.

"Who are you?"

Not wanting to give yourself the chance to chicken out, you place your message on your keyboard, leave a pen nearby, and head to lunch. Much like your previous lunch hours for the last 3 days, you find your thoughts tethered to your secret suitor and what they were doing right now. Had they left your gift today? Did they see your note? Would they care to respond? The anxiety and excitement mixing in your stomach is a new but welcome feeling. One that made the 45-minute commute to work worth it for the past few days.

You had to hand it to your suitor; they were getting some brownie points before they even showed their face.

This time, an orange, furry-tailed friend greeted you at your desk alongside your pen now being back in the little cup on your desk containing all your pens and pencils. You forgo picking up Jjoongrami in favor of checking your note first for a reply.

Underneath your message is: "No one. Do you like the figurines?"

You tilt your head a bit, a laugh bubbling out of you before you can stop it. What an odd reply. Sure, you didn't expect them to drop their name and address, but saying they were no one was certainly a choice.

You gingerly pick up the little squirrel figurine along with your note and take it to Wooyoung's cubicle where he's actually working for once. You almost consider leaving him to it, but you know there's no use when his furry ears lightly pivot toward you.

"Yes, doll?" Wooyoung asks, eyes still on his PC as he continues typing in formulas and parsing through data.

"It could've been San for all you know." You respond, walking into his space and sitting on his desk to his left.

Wooyoung's fingers pause to look over at you, his lips quirking into a smirk.

"San doesn't walk; he borderline stomps first of all. I could hear your heels clicking, as low as you may keep them. You also have a certain…rhythm to your walk. No matter what shoes you're in, I know you're walking when I hear it." Wooyoung explains, folding his hands over his stomach as he leans back in his office chair.

You stare at him for a moment, not expecting such an in-depth analysis of something as simple as approaching him.

"Is this a hybrid thing or…?"

"Yeah, though I'm sure humans could too if they locked in." Wooyoung says flippantly as he spins to face you.

You roll your eyes despite the smile on your face and Wooyoung's smirk turns into a full-blown smile, his small fangs on display now.

Despite being best friends for years, you still found yourself intrigued by his hybrid characteristics. It felt so foreign yet cool, like when you used to envy kids who had Heelys in elementary school because your parents wouldn't let you have a pair.

"Oh! I came for a reason. Look." You hold out the Jjoongrami figurine and the note you left.

Wooyoung looks at the figurine first before the note, but when he reads Yeosang's response, he has to stop himself from pinching the bridge of his nose.

This man had 0 game. That much was clear from his stiff response.

"He must be the shy type," You say as Wooyoung looks at the sheet of paper in his hands.

'Shy and bitchless type for sure.' Wooyoung thinks to himself with a mental sigh.

At this rate, Yeosang had little to no chance of actually getting with you. Wooyoung would know, considering he's been there for multiple situationships and a partner or two. Shy was cute, but he would have to woo you somehow to catch your heart and interest in a way that mattered. Yeosang was adrift at sea with no oars or even a map to direct him where he needed to go.

Time for what the raccoon hybrid did best, inserting himself into the picture.

"Yeah, definitely shy." Wooyoung agrees, handing the gift and paper back to you.

"But I don't know what to say now besides yes."

You twist your lips in thought as Wooyoung watches.

"Why don't you sleep on it and see if something comes to you by the time the weekend is out?" Your furry-eared friend suggests and you ultimately agree with him, deciding to let yourself have some time to think it over.

What a week this has been.

"I will, thanks Woo!" You ruffle his hair and he fusses at you, pushing your hands away as you duck out of his cubicle and go back to your own.

Wooyoung watches you go for a minute before his mind goes back to the situation at hand.

Yeosang was hopeless at this. Utterly hopeless. He couldn't exactly blame him for being an awkward type, but Wooyoung knew guidance was needed if Yeosang was to have a chance with you.

So as the day comes to an end, Wooyoung tells you to leave without him, saying he needed to finish up a last-minute assignment before he went home. You whined about it, but didn't want to spend even a second longer than needed in that godforsaken office, so you left shortly after.

Once the elevator doors close and Wooyoung knows you're gone, he beelines it right to the IT office. He pokes his head inside and sees the room half empty. A few stragglers are at their desks, faces drained of life in a way only a job can achieve. Wooyoung looks around and his ears perk up as he finds his target.

Yeosang stood by his desk, clad in a button-up, jeans, and sneakers. His head was down, dark red hair falling over his face as he packed his leather messenger bag to head home like everyone else around him. Wooyoung enters the space with the confidence of someone on a mission. A confidence that the serval hybrid immediately notices when the sound of approaching footsteps catches his attention. On instinct, his large, rounded ears flatten a bit— tail puffing up lightly as he's approached by someone not only after hours but after he's shut down his computer for the day.

"Any computer issue will have to wait until Monday." Yeosang's voice is flat, golden eyes narrowing ever so slightly as he prepares for push back of some sort.

The audacity of some of his fellow coworkers drove him up the wall, and usually those encounters began with someone who approached him with the energy Wooyoung exuded in abundance.

Wooyoung furrows his brows, ears tilting with his head as he registers the gently aggressive stance Yeosang has gone into. His eyes flicker to Yeosang's hands, noting his claws having slightly extended and digging into the leather of his bag.

"Oh!" Wooyoung says, now understanding the disconnect, "I'm not here for IT, I'm here for you." He clarifies, hoping to relax the man in front of him.

Unfortunately, his reply did the exact opposite. Yeosang's ears lower even more, gripping his bag tighter as his eyes flit around the room to his colleagues. None of them spare him a glance, too worried about leaving the building themselves to care about any sort of holdup that would get between them and freedom.

Yeosang realizes he's stuck in this conversation, and that makes his guard come up even more.

"Goodness— look, I just want to ask you something. We can talk on the way out. Please? It won't take long." Wooyoung reassures him, hands in the air in a surrender stance.

Yeosang considers the proposition for a few seconds, ears returning to their upright state as his internal assessment tells him Wooyoung isn't a threat.

"Okay…sure." Yeosang agrees, sliding his bag onto his shoulder. "As long as it's short."

Wooyoung nods and leads the way out, purposely taking a path that leads past the main area. He passes through the cubicles but when he gets to yours, which is naturally on the way to the elevator, he stops. Yeosang stops quickly as well, making sure not to crash into Wooyoung. Wooyoung turns around to meet Yeosang's confused eyes as the serval fidgets with the bag strap on his chest. Wooyoung pointedly turns his head to look at your family of figurines, half completed from this week alone. He waits for Yeosang to follow his gaze and soon enough, they're both staring at the little plastic figures kept neatly under your monitor. The raccoon hybrid's eyes are quick to pick up on the smaller tells. Yeosang's face stays stoic, but his ears twitch, and though short, his tail curves downward toward his legs.

"It's you." Wooyoung says softly, eyes boring into the side of Yeosang's face as he waits for a reply.

Yeosang's hands grip his bag strap tighter, jaw tightening as anxiety claws at his chest. In his mind, he had been so careful. How could Wooyoung have known?

"I'm not here to expose you. Like I said, I just want to talk. About this." Wooyoung continues once it's clear Yeosang wasn't going to speak.

The serval hybrid's eyes lower to the ground, cheeks turning a light pink as he realizes he's been caught. By his crush's best friend, no less. The usually reserved recluse feels like a spotlight is on him, one of his worst fears.

"Okay." Yeosang's voice is quiet, ears completely downturning as he accepts defeat in the moment.

Wooyoung knew Yeosang was the shy type, but his body language oozed nervousness and anxiety. If he were a meaner hybrid, he would be all over the cracks in his demeanor, animal side itching to assert some form of dominance despite him not even being a predator type hybrid— but he fights off the urge. That's not why he was here.

"Ever been to The White Whistle?" Wooyoung asks, continuing to lead the way to the elevator.

Yeosang blinks in shock, not expecting that to be what comes out of the younger man's mouth.

"Oh. You mean the pub?" He asks, trailing behind Wooyoung, still gripping onto his bag strap.

"Yeah. Let's go there. Get a drink." Wooyoung pushes the down button for the elevator and looks over his shoulder with a smile.

Yeosang blinks a few times, the serval and human side of him at odds with what's happening. His cat side tells him to say no and run. It tells him to keep his guard up and that Wooyoung can't be trusted at all. Yet his human side is shocked to have been given an invitation, and wanted to accept it. He wanted to believe Wooyoung meant well in his choice to approach him, but he's met some cruel people in his time.

What matters most is Wooyoung knows his secret. He knows about the crush, he knows about the gift giving. That alone is enough to get Yeosang to nod his head in agreement.

It's a quiet and tense trek to the pub just two blocks down. Wooyoung was trying to figure out how to address this best, not wanting to scare Yeosang before he could finish his evaluation of sorts. The silence was welcome by the serval hybrid, but at the same time, each quiet moment made his stomach flip with anxiety.

They sit down at a table in the back, setting their bags aside before finally locking eyes again. Wooyoung smiles, but Yeosang speaks before he can get a word out.

"Did you tell her?" He asks, a desperation in his tone that takes Wooyoung by surprise.

It's clear that Yeosang was horrified by the idea of you knowing he was your admirer.

"No, no I didn't. I wanted to talk to you first."

Yeosang's body relaxes at that, eyes slipping shut for a moment as his heart finally slows down its rapid beating.

"Thank you. I'm not ready to tell her yet." Yeosang says, looking at the menu before him.

"First round's on me." Wooyoung says when he notices where the serval hybrid is looking.

Wooyoung calls a waiter over and orders two beers before turning back to Yeosang.

"So, Y/N." Wooyoung starts, not missing how Yeosang's ears perk up at the mere mention of your name, "Why the figurines?"

Yeosang pauses as a beer is set in front of him, taking sudden interest in its nutritional information instead of the raccoon hybrid currently staring at him.

"I…may have heard you guys when you were talking about them in the break room." Yeosang confesses before sipping his beer.

The chill is welcomed and he takes a calming breath as Wooyoung nods.

"So you decided the best way to shoot your shot was to just leave figures on her desk? How does that translate into you getting closer to her?" Wooyoung asks.

Yeosang's nails lightly tap on the glass in front of him as he keeps skimming the ingredients in his beer.

"I…haven't thought that far ahead." Yeosang's ears flatten in embarrassment as his head drops lightly.

"So you burn a hole in your pockets buying these because…?"

"She likes them. I hung around to see her reaction and she…" Yeosang trails off, and for the first time since Wooyoung approaches him, he cracks a smile. A genuine smile.

"She?" Wooyoung gently encourages him to continue and Yeosang snaps out of his stupor, schooling his expression fast.

"Sorry. This must be weird since you guys are so close." Yeosang drinks more of his beer as Wooyoung shakes his head no.

"Not at all. Just say what comes to mind. I'm not going to tell her, and I'm not going to cut your head off or something. I came to you to talk about this, and that includes her."

The table is silent as Wooyoung's words sink into the air around them. Yeosang considers them, and perhaps it's his lightweightedness kicking in, but he's been bottling up his thoughts for so long and he wanted to let it out for once. Wooyoung can sense Yeosang's resolve weakening and decides to sweeten the deal to get the tight-lipped serval to give in.

"How about this? You answer my questions, and I'll tell you things about her that you wanna know, as long as it's nothing weird." Wooyoung offers, an easygoing smile on his face.

One that he knows disarms those around him easily. Raccoons are cute. Wooyoung is cute. When you combine them? He can be downright adorable in ways that make even the coldest hearts melt— and he can tell it's working on Yeosang the moment he bites the corner of his lip in thought.

"Deal." Yeosang nods, "Just, don't be an ass about it. I'm…not used to feeling things like this. It's been something trying to figure out how to work this stuff out."

Wooyoung watches the serval shift in his seat, eyes fixed on a point on the wall as he starts lightly chewing on the lip caught between his teeth. Wooyoung's eyes soften with sympathy.

Something most humans don't consider is how deeply embedded some animal instincts can be, especially when it comes to mates. Humans had feelings, but most were able to keep them as just that, feelings. Hybrids had a different struggle which is thanks to their animal DNA. Certain rituals, urges, cravings to claim were hard to ignore depending on which animal you shared DNA with. Certain predator types, like wolves, could experience physical pain when they deny those base instincts.

This fact was one of the main issues that led to humans seeing hybrids as lesser than. Human side ignored entirely and called animals despite having many similar features to those who talk down to them. Wooyoung knew all too well how hard it could be with his own animal being one to become very territorial during mating season.

"You don't want to scare her." Wooyoung says, voice gentle with understanding that made Yeosang feel seen for the first time since these feelings began.

"Terrified of it." Yeosang admits. "May sound bad, but I'm not one to really like people. Especially humans with how complicated it can get, but then here comes this girl who just…"

Yeosang groans, flustered and lightly irritated with the feelings you've caused in his chest. It wasn't close to mating season at all, so this was him. No instincts, no animal urges— just raw, heart-stopping, chest-clenching feelings from his human side that have been driving him wild.

"Tell me about it." Wooyoung encourages, even more curious to hear the serval's internal feelings if it was winding him up this much.

Yeosang takes a moment to force some clarity into his mind, not wanting to embarrass himself any further than he already has.

"She gets so excited when she sees the figurines. Her smile gets all wide, and her eyes light up, and then she goes to show you, and it's just…" Yeosang trails off, his cheeks flushing again as he pictures your bright face animatedly talking to Wooyoung after he's left a gift on your desk.

"It feels good. To make her happy, I mean. So that's why I've just kept doing it. No harm in that, right?" Yeosang finishes his thoughts, a casualness in his words that doesn't match the nervous twitching of his ears.

"Not at all." Wooyoung agrees, "It has been something she's looking forward to when she comes in."

Yeosang's smile widens at that, and Wooyoung can't help how his smile mirrors Yeosang's. The joy of seeing you happy was something they both found pleasure in.

"How long have you liked her?" Wooyoung asks, getting back into an interrogation mindset.

The irony of this question doesn't go unnoticed by Wooyoung. Just a year ago, when you two landed your current jobs, he found himself having a similar conversation with you about a 'really cute hybrid' that helped with account setup during your onboarding week. The first week of shared lunch hours were spent partially talking about pretty cheekbones, fair skin, feline-like eyes that somehow were still round and cute, belonging to the very hybrid who was currently shyly confessing to a similar attraction you held for him. Over time, as you realized you'd barely see the 'eye candy' of the IT department, you shelved your interest and focused on your work instead, having mostly forgotten about your first work crush by now.

Ironic how you'd caught Yeosang's eye too, but had no clue.

"A while now." Yeosang replies cryptically, not wanting to out himself entirely.

"A while." Wooyoung repeats, clearly unimpressed with the vagueness, "Weeks? Months? Years?"

"Months."

"Months? But you barely interact with anyone outside of IT issues, and the last time we had anything like that was-" Wooyoung's words cut short as a thought hits him.

"The shared network outage." Yeosang finishes the thought, sighing as he remembers the chaos of that day, "Someone fucked with the permissions and everybody's machines were having problems connecting. We had every department on our line, higher-ups up on our asses to fix it fast since time is money. I think I skipped lunch just to handle the inflow of tickets. So many people were being the fucking worst that day. Treating me like shit and I just had to take it."

Wooyoung gives Yeosang a moment to guzzle down more beer. The memory alone was enough to make Yeosang's fur puff up.

"It was one of those days that makes you contemplate quitting on the spot. Then, around 3PM, I was sent to a desk to help with a password reset. I was ready to get bitched out again honestly, but no. Y/N was sitting at her desk, and maybe it was just because everyone was being so nasty, but she smiled and said hi, asked me how I was doing. Something so simple, but it caught me off guard I just…stared at her like an idiot." Yeosang's hands come up to cover his face as he remembers it crystal clear.

You sitting at your desk, chair turned to face him, a friendly smile on your face. You were wearing clear lip gloss that day, and it framed your smile in such a way that Yeosang found himself immediately enamored.

"If I'm being honest, I don't even remember what the hell I said, but it made her laugh." Yeosang continues, corners of his lips still quirked up, "She was kind and patient as I led her through the steps, then at the end she offered me a candy she had as a thank you. It's stupid, I know, but I couldn't stop thinking about it after that. She was just being nice, but being nice isn't something I get much being a hybrid in a human-dominated space."

Wooyoung gives an empathetic nod, letting Yeosang know he hears him without cutting him off.

"Then it was just seeing her around the office, mostly with you in the break room. Sometimes at company lunches. Hiding her giggles behind her hand, smiling at something you said, rolling her eyes when the CEO gives his 'we're a family' speech. I just found myself looking for her when there was a chance she'd be around and well..." Yeosang sets his empty beer bottle aside, ears relaxed, "You see where I ended up."

Wooyoung sips his own beer, letting Yeosang's words hang in the air for a moment before a wide grin breaks out on his face.

"You're whipped."

"Fuck you." Yeosang grumbles, ears flattening as he glares at Wooyoung with no real heat behind his eyes.

Wooyoung laughs, setting his bottle down as he shifts in his seat, eyes gleaming with amusement but no judgment.

"Don't be like that, I'm just telling the truth! Honestly, it's cute."

"I am not cute." Yeosang snarls, cheeks turning an even darker shade of red as his fur puffs up again.

"Ah yes, sorry, predator hybrid." Wooyoung smirks, "Your actions and words are cute, Yeosang."

The raccoon hybrid's assessment was done. That explanation gave him everything he needed to know.

Once you get past the standoffish awkwardness, the hybrid in front of him was actually thoughtful, kind, and head over heels despite only speaking to you for work reasons. Wooyoung found himself strangely invested in this situation now, wanting a happy ending for both you and Yeosang.

"So you want to ask her out then?" Wooyoung asks.

Yeosang nods as he clears his throat, trying to hide how much he wanted to but Wooyoung could read him like a book. However guarded the serval thought he was, he was transparent as glass to someone who prided himself on noticing the little things.

"And when will you be asking her out?"

Wooyoung's question is met with silence that lasts quite a while. Yeosang peels the label off his empty beer bottle, slicing through it with his claws with ease, not wanting to look the glaring issue he's having in the eye.

"You will be asking her out, right…?" Wooyoung tries again, leaning forward in his chair expectantly.

Yeosang meets Wooyoung's eyes for a millisecond before averting his eyes back to the tattered paper he was leaving on the table.

"You gotta be—" Wooyoung groans, head falling to the table, "Yeosang, you're aware you have to speak to her to date her, right?"

"Yes, I know that!" He snaps lowly, but his anger isn't with Wooyoung; it's with himself, "I just can't right now. I still got some stuff left to give her. I'll build up the nerve, I just need time."

Wooyoung lifts his head, giving his new friend another once over. Tense shoulders, claws extended, ears uneven, fur puffing up again.

Defensive stance. He would get nowhere pushing now. So Wooyoung acquiesces and sighs, sitting up straight again.

"Alright, man. Just don't take too long." Wooyoung advises, reaching into his pocket and taking out his phone, "Give me your number. You're gonna need all the help you can get."

"You're…gonna help me?" The serval hybrid's eyebrows raise toward his hairline, skepticism in his voice.

Wooyoung hums affirmatively and Yeosang looks at the phone in front of him like it's booby-trapped.

"You want guidance from someone who knows her like the back of their hand, or do you want to keep fumbling around with no clue how to approach her?"

Yeosang ponders the posed question, and he realizes quickly that Wooyoung approaching him was one of the best things he could've asked for. He puts his number in and gives it back. The raccoon hybrid puts some money on the table before picking up his bag.

"Good talk." He says, a teasing smile on his face as he turns around, "I'll text you. Later."

With those words, Wooyoung leaves the pub and heads home.

The familiar sounds of the city streets allow his thoughts to flow a bit and the surplus of information he's received in the last hour from an unlikely new friend. He finds Yeosang awkward but well-meaning. Shy, standoffish, but the thought and care behind his actions is undeniable. Something you've been missing from your past partners, in Wooyoung's opinion, was someone who actually kept you in mind consistently. Something Yeosang is showing to do before he's even spoken to you on a casual basis.

Yeosang's blushing face flashes in Wooyoung's mind as he gets to his car and he huffs a small laugh. From what he's seen tonight, there's little doubt in Wooyoung's mind that you two would be a cute pair. You helping Yeosang out of his shell with kindness. Yeosang showing you a level of care and thought you deserve, making you feel appreciated. In theory, this could work out well— and call it a hunch, but Wooyoung found himself hoping in favor of his new friend.

At least he'd wingman to the point of seeing if your initial interest pokes its head again and something can truly bloom from there.

Meanwhile, Yeosang sits there for a few minutes after Wooyoung's departure, processing everything that's happened. His phone vibrates with a text from an unknown number, and it sinks in that he now has the support of his crush's best friend.

He slowly stands up, throwing his bag on and welcoming the cool evening air hitting his flushed face. This wasn't an outcome he saw coming, but he wasn't upset about it either. In fact, there's a small pep in his step as his sneakers hit the pavement in a beat that his head nods to despite no music being around.

Maybe he actually had a chance with you. At least that's what he's starting to believe as he makes his way to his bus stop.

Monday comes and like clockwork, at 12:58PM you find yourself with a smile on your face as you write a new note for your admirer.

"I do like the figurines! Why don't you let me thank you in person?"

You cap the pen, hoping you weren't being too bold but the need to know who this is was eating at you bad by this point.

Another uneventful lunch passes by and you're speedwalking to your desk a little under an hour later, moments away from checking the note and forgetting to even look for a new gift on your desk.

Then you hear your name being called from behind.

You grab the note, hiding it behind your back before whipping around and seeing a face you hadn't seen in a while.

Song Mingi. A white tiger hybrid you've worked with a few times on various projects. His round white ears are perked up, a wide smile that shows his canines, and rolled up sleeves that show off the dark brown tiger stripes that line his strong arms.

"Mingi! Hey! How have you been?" You ask, genuinely curious but also gently annoyed he stopped you from checking your note.

"Pretty alright! What about you? It's been a bit—" Mingi cuts himself short when he looks down and sees the figurine you had overlooked, "Is that Bbyongming?"

You look to your right and only now notice the figurine sitting by your keyboard. It was indeed a yellow little chick on a standee.

"Oh! Yes, it is— wait, you like Aniteez?" Your eyebrows furrow, not suspecting Mingi of all people to know about them.

The big, beefy tiger hybrid liked a line of cute little animals?

Mingi nodded his head quickly, ears flopping as he pulls out a yellow pen and holds it out to you. You noticed Bbyongming's head on the top of it staring back at you.

"Bbyongming is my favorite!" He says, enthusiasm coming off him in waves.

It was infectious and you found yourself smiling back at him as you sidestepped to show him your little collection under your monitor.

"Oh my god, those are so cute!" Mingi steps closer, hunching over lightly to look closer at them.

You get a whiff of his cologne as he steps closer, his large frame brushing yours as he approaches your desk. He smelled really nice, a mix of bourbon and something else you can't place. That was something you noticed when you first met Mingi. He had a certain scent he always wore, one that didn't send his sensitive nose into a frenzy and many seemed to enjoy. Despite being mixed with a solitary type animal, Mingi was pretty sociable and everyone on the floor knew of him to some capacity. A ray of sunshine in a rather meek office.

"These are a new drop, right?" He asked, his hand dwarfing the small figurine as he put Ddeongbyeoli into his palm and smiled at it.

"Yeah! Came out like three weeks ago, I think." You confirm, watching Mingi admire the smooth plastic before setting it back down gingerly.

Mingi opens his mouth to reply but then he sees the time on your computer screen and his eyes widen, fluffy ears standing at attention.

"Shit. I got to go, but let's talk Aniteez again soon, yeah?" He starts walking backwards, waiting for your reply with hopeful eyes.

"Yeah, for sure! See you!" You nod in agreement and Mingi smiles before spinning around and continuing on his way.

You watch him for a moment, admiring his broad back and how his muscles ripple under the cotton of his button-up. He made for really good eye candy, plus he likes Aniteez? What are the odds?

It's then you remember the piece of paper you had hidden behind your back. You pull it from hiding and quickly look over the note.

Under your message was: "Maybe soon."

You smile to yourself at the idea of your admirer coming forward and revealing themselves. Did they have a favorite Aniteez member too? There weren't many who showed an interest in little fuzzy animals around here, but—

Your train of thought comes to a screeching halt as an inkling of an idea suddenly hits you full force.

It was so obvious that you almost laugh in disbelief as you look at the little yellow chick sitting by your keyboard. You figured it out. You know exactly who this has to be.

With that thought you race over to Wooyoung's cubicle and grab his shoulders, excitement oozing off you as you shake him.

"I figured it out!"

Wooyoung turns to you, confused and slightly freaked out by the sudden hands on him, but he relaxes quickly when he sees it's you.

"Well, look at you. You seem pleased with yourself. Did you finally figure out why your PC keeps turning on randomly at night? I'm telling you your apartment is haunted-"

"No, dumbass. And stop saying my apartment is haunted before I move in with you!" You slap his arm and Wooyoung stifles a laugh.

"You'd be sleeping on my floor if you tried it, but what are you talking about now?"

"I know who my admirer is." You say with so much confidence it makes all playfulness drain from Wooyoung's face.

Warning bells go off in his head. There's no way you could know, but he doesn't say that, instead he straightens in his office chair.

"Oh? Who?" He asks, feigning nonchalance.

"So get this, I was about to check my note when Mingi— remember him? Tall white tiger hybrid with the stupid big shoulders? Anyway, he stopped by my desk to talk about the figurines and guess what? He also likes Aniteez! On top of that," You show him the note, "What are the odds of my admirer saying he may see me soon and all of a sudden Mingi stops by and talks to me about Aniteez after we haven't spoken in months? It can't be a coincidence! It has to be Mingi, right?"

Your explanation had turned into white noise in Wooyoung's head as soon as you said Mingi's name.

It wasn't Mingi. Wooyoung knew that without a doubt, but that fact is stuck in his throat, held back by his promise to Yeosang not to out him.

He didn't realize it until this very moment, but he was rooting for Yeosang and his plans ever since their talk at the pub after work. He'd even texted Yeosang over the weekend with some encouragement to come forward sooner rather than later. Going back and forth with ideas of how Yeosang could approach you and ask you out on a date. The standard of a flower or chocolates, maybe something more modern like making you a playlist or making his own valentines-esque card to leave on your desk, they'd even entertained the idea of trying to set up a dinner at the pub if Yeosang could find the courage.

Now here you were, eyes bright and smile wide for the wrong person— and it made his stomach turn.

This was bad.

"-ung, are you even listening?"

Wooyoung blinks out of his thoughts and tunes in just as you're questioning him. He looks at you, a flurry of emotions flowing through him but none being ones he can show without being suspicious. So he paints on his best smile.

"Yeah, sorry, I just started feeling a little sick. I need to run to the bathroom. Let's talk later! Love you!"

You watch Wooyoung step around you and walk quickly down the aisle with a confused furrow of your brows.

"Okay…see you…" You say quietly, mostly to yourself since Wooyoung was long gone.

You slowly go back to your desk, looking at the note in your hands and smiling a little.

"Song Mingi, huh?" You murmur to yourself, a feeling blossoming in your chest that felt warm and satisfying after being left in the dark for what felt like forever.

Meanwhile, Wooyoung pulls out his cellphone as soon as he's in the bathroom and texts Yeosang.

"We got a fucking problem. White Whistle after work."

Wooyoung's foot taps on the tiled floors impatiently as he waits for a reply from the serval hybrid. After a few minutes with no reply, he gives up, going back to his desk and praying you weren't there waiting. Yeosang would likely be caught up in work until closer to clock-out time.

Yeosang replies at 4:45 with a thumbs up but nothing else, and Wooyoung feels his agitation rising ever so slightly— but he tries to calm himself down. Yeosang had no idea what was going on so his nonchalance wasn't exactly unwarranted.

Wooyoung finishes the day on autopilot. running on muscle memory until he finds himself sitting across from Yeosang at the pub again.

"What's wrong?" The serval hybrid asks, noticing how tense Wooyoung was.

Wooyoung takes a moment to reply, trying to figure out the best way to approach it. The urgency poking at his nerves makes him cut right to the chase.

"She thinks it's Mingi. Giving her the figurines."

Yeosang blinks once, twice, the information running through his head on a loop but it wasn't sinking in just yet.

"Apparently, Mingi and her had a chat today after lunch about Aniteez. She's certain. The type of certain I know means she won't think she's wrong until proven otherwise." Wooyoung continues, leaning forward on the table, hoping Yeosang understands his underlying message.

"You want to tell her it's me?" Yeosang whispers, his voice soft as he realizes the position he's in.

His efforts were being awarded to someone else entirely.

"No. I want you to approach her." Wooyoung corrects him.

Yeosang shakes his head before Wooyoung even finishes his sentence.

"I can't. I already told you that I'm not ready—"

"Ready or not, the longer you wait, the more she's gonna fixate on Mingi, and you really won't have a chance with her." Wooyoung cuts him off, an intensity in his tone that makes Yeosang go quiet.

Mingi was big, beefy, friendly, a known face around the office. He was the exact antithesis of Yeosang and deep down, Yeosang was envious of that fact. If he were more like Mingi, he'd be able to confront you easily and just ask you out normally. He wouldn't have to scrape up courage just to reply to a note you left for him.

Alas, Yeosang was a slimmer build, muscular but not as broad as Mingi, awkward at best, easily faded into the background. In all ways that mattered in his mind, he lost in comparison to someone like Song Mingi.

Yeosang looks down, ears drooping as he battles between not wanting his efforts to benefit someone else and his fear of you potentially being let down now that you think it may be Mingi. It was easier when you had no expectations, but now you were expecting someone like Mingi to be your prince charming, not the quiet nerd in IT.

"You can't seriously be considering not saying shit." Wooyoung deadpans, staring at Yeosang who just drops his head into his hands, "Really? Even when you risk losing your chance, you're gonna be a coward?"

Yeosang's head snaps up at that.

"Excuse me? Pardon me for not moving at your pace. We can't all be as unfortunately forward as you, Wooyoung." Yeosang frowns, getting defensive.

"Unfortunately forward? I sure as hell wouldn't let myself get cucked out of a chance with a girl I like at least." Wooyoung fires back.

"You know why I don't want to tell her yet!"

"There's no time for that! I know Y/N. I know how her brain works. She's gonna hyperfocus on Mingi anytime she gets anything from you now, and she's gonna develop a crush that you yourself are cultivating because you're hiding in the shadows."

Yeosang finds himself growling, ears flattening as he feels backed into a corner.

"It's different now. She thinks it's Mingi. What if she gets disappointed if she finds out it's me? Look at Mingi and look at me, two entirely different types. I can't just—"

"You won't even try! That's what's killing me. You're giving brownie points to another man who isn't even aware he's in the race to begin with. You're going to lose to someone who isn't even trying. Is that really what you want?" Wooyoung hisses, a venom in his tone Yeosang has never heard from the otherwise friendly raccoon hybrid.

But Wooyoung's annoyance had peaked, and it made his tongue fly without his brain kicking in to filter for him. Wooyoung couldn't think to stop himself before he let his heightened emotions win.

"Whatever, man. If you don't care enough to put up a fight then why the fuck am I even here?" Wooyoung gets up, his stool scraping the floor harshly, "Maybe she is better off with Mingi."

Yeosang's retort dies in his throat at that, shoulders deflating as Wooyoung's words hit him right in a sore spot. He just stares at Wooyoung, not quick enough to mask the pain that settles into his eyes before he casts them downward.

Wooyoung throws his bag onto his shoulder before storming out of the pub, irritation leading his actions as he leaves Yeosang with his thoughts.

Thoughts that were eating at him even more now that Wooyoung voiced his insecurity unknowingly.

She's better off with someone like Mingi. Mingi is everything you're not. You're a letdown compared to him.

Yeosang slowly gets off his stool, pulling his messenger bag over his shoulder as he bites down on his tongue. He exits into the chilly autumn evening, the back of his eyes burning as he makes his way to the bus stop down the block.

He wouldn't cry. Not now. Not in public.

But as he sits and waits for the bus, he finds himself flipping his hood up to hide his turmoil from the world. His hand shakes as he puts it into his hoodie pocket to fish out his headphones. He pops in his buds, putting on a song that usually soothes his anxiety, but even that doesn't seem to be working. The familiar melody that felt like a hug most days was more akin to an itchy sweater in this moment. He bites down harder on his tongue, a familiar iron taste settling in as he splits his tongue open— but the alternative of crying in public was far worse than some spilt blood.

It felt like an eternity had passed by the time he finally got into his car at a local car park by the bus station, but it had only been half an hour of feeling like a pressure cooker on the brink of exploding. Finally within four metal walls he's familiar with, the outside world muffled by thick doors, Yeosang lets the dam break and the first tears flow down his face.

He cries in anger for feeling so inferior. He cries in mourning for a friendship he thought was blooming between him and Wooyoung. He cries in anguish at the thought of his carefully formulated plan leading you into someone else's arms.

And again, that voice in his head speaks to him.

"You didn't really expect a happy ending, did you?"

Perhaps naively, he did. He let himself have hope for a future where he could have you. Now he finds himself feeling more alone than he's ever been before.

But that's just life, isn't it?

Please do not translate, upload, or repost my works anywhere. Thank you for reading!

taglist: @aaa-sia @sugarbabymingi @dinkiplier

[wicked-disposition]

finished my matz fic finally (been working on it for the last couple of weeks) now onto my Yunho fic! hoping I can keep the momentum going 😁

[wicked-disposition]

When’s ur birthday!!! Shall we throw a parade :)

my birthday isn’t until September so I have months to go 😭 but I wouldn’t be opposed to a parade 🫶🏽

[wicked-disposition]

Will you be posting your matz fic to tumblr as well?

no probably not I’m sorry 😭 I think that mxm writing does better on ao3 and wattpad in terms of visibility (since that’s where i discovered it lol) I’ll be happy to drop the link when it’s finished tho if yall want but forewarning it will be bottom hongjoong.