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@yusalterego
YUSALTEREGO’S MASTERLIST
REBLOGS, LIKES AND COMMENTS ARE HIGHLY APPRECIATED!
not consistent in writing/posting for now
ATEEZ
Jeong Yunho:
everything
angst; jeong yunho x fem!reader
Choi San:
intruder:
smut; choi san x fem!reader
Song Mingi:
revenge:
smut; song mingi x fem!reader (ft. ex!yunho)
my work is +18 and for adults only. minors DNI
I.N 'RUN IT' WORLD TOUR — 260726
if a man won't give you what you want, there's always another who will.
🎤︎︎ wooyoung x fem!reader | college au, mini-series, part 7/? 🎤︎︎ 18+ | 9k words | reader is the host of a sex podcast, wooyoung is a frat boy whore, yunho is an angel sent from god above | smut minors dni, oral f!receiving, fingering, dirty talk, praise, slapping/spanking, no condom, yunho's mad sexy
YOU HATE CLEANING YOUR ROOM. You don’t know why you decided to start after showering, washing your hair, lathering your body in lotion, doing your entire skincare routine, sheet mask included. You came home ready to decompress, to start sorting through every single emotion you felt tonight and organize them into categories. Emotions toward Wooyoung, Yunho, yourself, why you can’t get Wooyoung out of your mind when Yunho is literally right in front of you.
Maybe you’re avoiding it, and that’s why you just threw a load of laundry in with nothing but a big tee shirt on, too distracted by the state of your room to even put on a pair of fucking underwear. You’ve piled all your dirty laundry into a corner, your hamper overflowing, and either folded or hung the rest of your clean clothes. You’ve been putting it off since Monday, even though you’ve been in your room each and every single night, the moment your lights go off, you’re occupied.
You dusted each surface, even hand-wiped your anime figures, cleaning out each spec of dust between the hard, plastic locks of hair with a goddamn Q-tip. Soft music plays from your TV, a random playlist, something to keep your brain busy so you can pretend it’s empty while you clean. All the trash, the half-drank coffee cups, the chip bags, the wrappers, receipts, you threw it all away, and the worst part is that you didn’t even do it because Yunho is coming over tomorrow.
It’s because you came home, looked at your bed, and your first idea was to lay on your bed and shove your hand under the waistband of your shorts. In the shower, fingers wrapped around the shower head, you stood perfectly still for at least forty-five seconds mentally convincing yourself to not turn the dial to the highest pressure setting.
Now, with nothing left to do but wait to turn your laundry over, your bare bed stares back at you. Not only is it painfully mortifying that you’ve masturbated more times in the past three days than you have in your twenty-one years of life, now you don’t even care that your bed sheets are in the washing machine. It’s a surface. A comfortable one.
Emotion organization could come later.
You don’t even crawl onto your bed. You lay on it, knees bent up, heels hanging off the edge, and slide your hand between your legs. Slow touches at first, light pressure on your clit, you sigh in relief, legs loosening, falling further apart.
There you go… Use me…
You circle your clit, eyes screwing shut, a sharper gasp tumbling off your tongue. It’s not enough, it’s not nearly enough, but it takes the edge off, calms your reeling mind.
So pretty…
His fucking face between your legs, his bronzy, tanned skin, his hair fucked up from knotting your fingers in his roots, the glint of focus in his eyes. The way his tongue felt, soft but solid, flicking so perfectly at your clit– you moan, chin tipping upward, hips twitching into your hand.
Give me one more, baby, you can do it again…
Heat pools in your belly, and you refuse to acknowledge the speed it took to get you here. Your fingers circle faster, other hand sliding beneath your tee, squeezing at your chest, pinching at your nipples. Your jaw cracks open, slacked, breath catching in your throat, a small squeak slipping through. You fantasize about his fingers slipping inside you, curling so perfectly, massaging against your front walls until you saw stars.
Three hard, aggressive knocks at your front door make you shriek. Your knees snap shut, hand splayed across your lower abdomen, terror washing through you, kicking your orgasm far, far away. You take a second to slam back into reality, forgetting for a second that knocks mean someone is at your fucking door.
They don’t seem to be patient, knocking again, three more harsh, aggressive pounds of knuckles. “Fuck,” you mutter harshly, hopping off your bed, pulling your shirt over your thighs. “I’m coming!” you yell, and you wish it were true.
Unlocking your door, pulling it open, your first thought is that manifestation is real, and this is the immediate consequence of your lustful thoughts.
“How the fuck do you know where I live?” is your second thought, one hand on your door frame, the other curled around the side of your door.
“You know I fucked Jen,” he says, like it should be easy to put two and two together. “I’ve been here before.”
“Didn’t you fuck, like, a long time ago?” There's a repulsed attitude in your tone. “Why do you remember?”
“What, a guy can’t have a good memory now?” His arms fly out on either side of him, brows kissing, top lip lifted.
“No,” you spit. “Leave.”
You move to push the door closed, but he pushes from the other side, and the strength of your anger isn’t enough to get the slab of wood closed. His words sling together, “It wasn’t even that long ago, fuck, Jesus fucking Christ you’re strong.”
You were seconds away from an orgasm, his face was getting you there. You need him to not be here, to not come anywhere near you for the rest of ever. “You need to go.”
“Why’d you leave the Penny?” he asks, and your muscles give ever so slightly. He gets the door open again.
“Because,” you start, and then stop. Crossing your arms, you frown in the middle of your doorway. “I don’t feel good.”
“You feel fine, don’t give me that shit.” He shakes his head, leaning up against your doorframe. “They’re all still there, Jen is going home with San.”
“I don’t care what she does.” You look him up and down, he hasn’t changed his clothes. He doesn’t seem drunk. His hair is still perfectly styled the way it was when you saw him over an hour and a half ago. “Since when did she give you the Jen-pass?”
“Since I came inside her,” he shrugs, tone flat.
You fake a gag, turning away, covering your mouth, “You’re fucking vile.”
“Stop avoiding the question,” he presses further.
“I’m not avoiding, there’s just more conversation to have–”
“Virgin.” You don’t answer. His head tilts, “What was up with Yunho telling me to stop calling you that, by the way? That’s my nickname that I created, I can use it as I please.”
“He knows I don’t like it,” you’re defending him, and you don’t know why. You didn’t want him to defend you. “Funny how listening to what a woman wants is a foreign concept to you.”
He laughs in disbelief, “What the fuck kind of jab is that? What are you even referring to? I listened to what you wanted and I made it happen, twice.”
Your hands find your face, ignoring the heat that spreads, you pretend it’s guilt. “Do not bring that up right now. You seriously need to go, Wooyoung.”
“Why? You got to come to my house and barge into my room,” he argues. “I can’t talk to you from outside of your apartment?”
“I don’t want you to talk to me at all!” Your hands leave your face, your words exasperated, far past your Wooyoung-limit. “I want you to pretend Monday never happened, I want you to forget I exist.”
“Well, that’s gonna be a little hard since you’re doing whatever the fuck it is that you’re doing with Yunho.”
“I’m getting to know him,” you say confidently. “I like him, I like spending time with him and I’m seeing where it goes. I don’t have to explain myself to you.”
“I didn’t ask you to.” His words fill you with fire all over again. Anger, and whatever else was cocktailing in your gut. His shirt fits him too well. His chain hangs too low. “You’re going to like him when you get to know him. Don’t get me wrong, he’s a whore, but he has a nice, loving side to him, too. I saw it tonight.”
“So you’re here to give me your blessing?” you ask, arms crossing over your chest again, shifting your weight to one foot. “Are you here to put in a good word, as his friend?”
“I’m here to find out why you left,” he says, and you wait, expecting more. More doesn’t come.
“I left because I didn’t want to drink at the Penny,” you respond, as short an answer as the one he gave you.
“Then why didn’t you invite Yunho home with you?”
“Why are you interrogating me?” Your brows furrow, one hand grabbing into the door again. “Do you want to hear about how he kissed me against my car? That if I kept kissing him, I would’ve begged him to fuck me in my backseat?”
Wooyoung’s lips bend, only on one side. “Yes. It convinces me that there’s a human in there, you’re not fully robotic.”
You laugh, but it’s hollow. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“It means you make rules for yourself that do nothing to benefit you, yet you still follow them.”
“Like what? That I don’t do casual sex? You think I’m robotic because I want to get to know someone before I fuck them?”
“I don’t think it’s because you want to get to know them.” He uncurls his arms from his chest, stepping into your apartment, and he does it so confidently, you let him. “I think it’s because you don’t trust your own instincts. Hook ups, casual sex, whatever, that requires trusting your own instincts.”
What the fuck?
“Fuck you,” you spit out immediately.
He continues, stepping forward, making you take a step back. Your front door closes behind him. “You won’t fuck anyone unless they’re dating you, because that means they’re committed to you. Right?”
You swallow, feeling ice cold, refusing to answer. You don’t trust your anger enough to keep your voice level.
“But you got cheated on,” he says, like it's a new piece of information. “You’re trusting your rules like they’re fucking gospel when they didn’t save you. You’re using them as a crutch so you never have to admit what you actually want.”
You don’t care that your voice is shaky as you ask, “How would you know what I want?”
“I can see it all over your face,” he says, a little louder. “I saw it when you were talking to Jungwon, I saw it while you were arguing with me, it’s even there when you’re talking to Yunho. You’re waiting to be chosen.”
“What does that have to do with my instincts?”
“If someone chooses you first, they make the decision for you,” he says bluntly, his tone even. He's serious, and he’s reading you like a fucking book. “That’s security to you.”
No one’s ever seen you so clearly. It’s terrifying, and it hurts, but it’s true. It’s all fucking true.
“What about you?” Anger returns tenfold, the question slicing through the air. “Being chosen might be security to me, but you don’t give anyone the chance to even think about choosing you.”
“I don’t want to be chosen. I just want to fuck.”
“That’s the lie you tell everyone, huh?” Your head tilts, eyes sharp, tone cutting. “Sex is the closest thing to vulnerable you’ll ever get, I think it’s because you’re scared of what comes next.”
“Scared?” He reiterates, grinning like it’s laughable you’d even suggest it. “I’m scared of what, a relationship? Someone nagging me all fucking day long?”
“Someone knowing who you actually fucking are outside of a bedroom,” you nearly shout, strain in your voice. “That’s all anyone gets to know about you. Your friends, everyone on campus, me. You’ve curated your own reputation, Wooyoung, and it’s for a reason.”
He doesn’t answer. It might be the first time you’ve ever rendered him silent. You heave a deep, grounding breath, and finalize the argument, “We both have rules, Wooyoung.”
He steps to the side, running his hands through his hair as he glances at the door, moving for it. “I’m gonna go.”
“No.” You reach for his wrist before he can grab the door handle. His skin feels warm, soft, it sends memories playing through your mind like a fucking movie wheel.
“No?” He pops a thick, ebony brow. “You have more you need to say? I think you covered it all.”
“As if you didn’t do the same shit to me. You started it.”
“And you fucking finished it,” he pulls his wrist from your grip, reaching for the door handle again. “I’m going.”
“Wait!” you try again, skipping in front of him, inserting yourself between him and the door. “Why are you so pissed? You can dish it out but you can’t fucking take it?”
You can feel the heat radiating off of him like this, even if the door is cold against your back. As if your air conditioner couldn’t touch him, or he’s so pissed off his body is steaming, you can’t tell.
“I’m not pissed,” he defends himself, a master at keeping his voice even when his eyes prove different. Almost the same size, sitting at half-mast, darker than usual, like the heat of anger plunging through him burns his vision.
The last time you were in this position, back up against a door, him in front of you, exuding control... Your toes press harder into the hardwood beneath you as the memories turn vivid.
“I can see it,” he tells you, voice lower. “I can smell it on you. Desperation.”
“I’m not desperate,” you argue, but it has less bite to it because you’re lying. “Smell it on me? Are you a dog?”
“You’re deflecting.” His lips curve, eyes flaring amusement. “What do you want?”
Your breath turns shallow, heart picking up speed. “I don’t want anything from you.”
“Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you,” he presses further, leaning closer. You can smell his cologne, it’s not strong, just masculine enough.
“You can’t,” you murmur. “You can only give me what I crave.”
“It’s the same fucking thing, you just don’t want to admit it.”
It pisses you off, the intrigue in his eyes, how he seems to have you all figured out. You don’t want to admit it. You don’t want to answer. You don’t want to talk.
You grab onto the thick pendant around his neck, fingers curling around the chain, and pull him down to kiss you. He meets you halfway, a collision of your lips instead of a kiss, fueled by anger, frustration. His hands fold over yours, uncurling your fingers from his chain, certain. He pulls away from you, keeping his forehead pressed to yours. You lean in for his lips again, but he pulls backward, refusing you the chance.
“No,” his tone is quiet, but firm.
You clench your fists, still swallowed by his palms. “Why not?”
He lowers your hands and takes a step back, you don’t like the way he looks at you. “I’m going. I hope you feel better.”
You’ve always thought you knew yourself pretty well. You’ve spent twenty-one years understanding your feelings, your morals, how you make decisions, what’s most important to you. Romantically you’ve always chosen stability over chaos, finding comfort in what seems mundane, but simplicity is easier to understand, it fits into a routine.
After Wooyoung left last night, you barely thought about kissing him again. What kept you awake that night, throwing your entire nervous system into a scramble of unease, is how effortlessly he read you, where the fuck that read even came from. The traits you possess, what you look for in other people, the standards you pride yourself in; your brain was grasping for straws, begging for reprieve, and it couldn’t find any. You feel like you’ve been stripped raw.
You tried to think about everything you loved about Yeonjun, what made him feel compatible with you when you met him. You only came up with surface level things, traits that fit into your life, your schedule. He wanted to marry you, yet you never truly let him in, you never let him see the side of you that you keep shielded, barricaded. Is it because you were scared that if he knew that part of you, he wouldn’t want you anymore? Wouldn’t love you anymore?
Did he ever love the real you to begin with? Did you only love him because he loved you?
You finally stopped fucking thinking when Yunho showed up at your apartment, two hours after you finished class. He texted earlier in the day, asking what you wanted to eat from the pho shop just outside of campus and brought it with him, still hot and fresh. Yunjin had left earlier in the day, letting you know she’d be out with Jihyo and the rest of the girls, and she’d either sleep there or go home with San again. Leaving only you and Yunho, all night long.
Which was perfect to eat on the couch with him, a show you’ve both already seen playing in the background in a language neither of you speak. You didn’t want to pay attention, you didn’t need to, because you’ve been talking since he showed up.
You’ve learned about his family, his brother, his parents, where he grew up, south of where you go to school. His classes, his major, communications, and why he chose it, what future he wants with it. He’s learned the same about you, your family, your mom and sister, that you’re a journalism major, and that you want to focus on digital journalism. The basic, getting to know each other shit.
He’s laughing at a story you’re telling now, both of your bowls on the coffee table, empty. He’s in comfortable clothes, sweats hanging off his body like he didn’t feel the need to impress you, which in turn made you feel comfortable in your own cozy clothes, because you didn’t have the brainwidth to perform. At all.
It doesn’t feel like performing with him, though. It feels like easing back into something familiar, something practiced. Routine. “I told her not to curse out the driver,” you’re laughing through your words. “She didn’t listen to me.”
“So now when you go out, either you drive, or the Uber is ordered with your account,” he confirms, and you nod. “I can’t believe they banned her.”
“Uber runs a tight ship,” you explain. “If you hang halfway out the window scream-singing, the driver will drop you off on the side of the street, and Uber will ban you. Just in case you were planning to.”
“I’ll tell Sannie, he’s the only one who would.” He’s sitting beside you on the couch, one cushion between you. “Maybe he and Yunjin are meant to be.”
“The more I interact with him, the more I agree,” you sigh. They would make a good couple, if either of them are interested in dating. Yunjin might get into a relationship for the right man, but you don’t know enough about San’s opinion on dating to make a guess.
“You don’t have any crazy stories?” he asks, brows high and curious. “That was the second story about Yunjin. You haven’t had any wild nights where you’ve gone off the deep end?”
Your lips scrunch, eyes wandering around your living room in thought. “I don’t think so,” you admit after a quick ponder. “I’m usually the one leaving early or keeping Yunjin on a tight leash. Dancing on a counter is probably the most scandalous thing I’ve ever done.”
His blonde hair is messy, freshly washed, frizzy and unstyled. He looks soft, especially in comfortable clothes, no jewelry. “You’re not much of a risk taker, huh?”
“No.” Your scrunched lips try to bend in a smile. “I don’t like not knowing what’s gonna happen. I’m most comfortable in situations where I can see an outcome clearly.”
He makes an ah sound, leaning forward, bending his elbow over the back of the couch to support his head, facing you. “Can you see a clear outcome right now?”
Your head tilts, “Like, with us?” He nods. “I can see a favorable outcome, but it’s not necessarily clear. Maybe I’m becoming a risk taker by hanging out with you.”
He punches out a laugh, “Oh, being with me is a risk?”
You smack your teeth, grinning. “You know that’s not what I meant.”
He smiles, too. “I know what you meant. And if it’s the same outcome as what I can see, then I don’t think it’s a risk at all.”
Your cheeks flush, smile spreading, covering your eyes with one of your hands. “You’re so corny.”
He laughs, reaching forward to pull your hand from your eyes, “You like it, you find it endearing and attractive.”
“You wish,” you jab, laughing with him. He holds onto your wrist, laying your arm flat over the back of the couch, only letting go to drag a finger over the inside of your arm. You snatch it back in a panic, blurting, “I’m ticklish, you can’t do that or else I’ll tweak out.”
His brows raise. “You should not have told me that.”
“I’ll actually beat your ass if you try to tickle me,” you bite.
His expression doesn’t change. “You’ll beat my ass? This six-foot-one ass?”
Damn. Confirmed, he’s over six feet tall. “Don’t underestimate my strength.”
“Don’t underestimate mine,” he sends right back, mimicking your tone.
Your lips bend, eyes flaring with excitement, you like how that sounds. He seems to like your reaction, because his smile grows, teasing, “I see that fuckin’ smile.”
“You don’t see anything,” you argue, turning your head to the side. “I smiled because you’re funny.”
“You smiled because you want to find out how strong I am,” he teases, leaning his cheek into his palm. “It’s okay, you can admit it. You were curious about my dick, now you’re curious about my strength.”
You gasp, turning your head back to him, feeling heat in the tips of your ears. “You’re making me sound like some kind of pervert, Yunho.”
“You are a pervert,” he says with confidence. “You just won’t succumb to your pervertedness.”
“Pervertedness?” You quirk a brow. “Is that a word?”
“It’s a word used to describe you,” he quips. “You and your pervertedness.”
“Fine.” You shift on the couch, facing him with your back straight, your legs crossed. “I admit it, I succumb to it, I was curious about your dick and now I’m curious about your strength. What now?”
“Now I wait until you’re curious enough to find out,” he says, like he was ready to give that answer. Heat pools, you resist the urge to uncross your legs and clamp your thighs together.
“How long will you wait?” you find yourself asking, thirsty for all the knowledge you can get tonight, a part of you secretly hoping he doesn’t want to wait anymore, and kisses you now.
Noticing the glint in his eye, you know he won’t. His brows furrow, lips still bent upward, “Is that a trick question?”
“Loser,” you drag. “Be honest.”
“As long as we’re still seeing each other and building a connection, I don’t mind waiting. I told you I’m patient, and I seriously wasn’t lying,” he says, and there’s honesty in his eyes, his tone even, calm. “Do you only sleep with people you’re dating? Genuinely curious.”
“I mean, in the past I’ve only slept with people I was dating,” you explain, shrugging. “It seems like an ongoing theme for me, but it’s more about comfort, opening up to someone who I know won’t hurt me.”
“I won’t hurt you,” he says softly. “And I’m not trying to get in your pants, I’m just saying that because I mean it.”
Sparks ignite in your spine, blending with the heat in your belly. You smirk, “You’re not trying to get in my pants?”
“Here we go,” he groans, full of amusement, head tipping backward. “You knew what I meant by that.”
You laugh, cuddling into the back of the couch, laying your head on the top of the cushion. “You’re sweet. Yunjin told me you’re the only good guy in your frat.”
His face bends like this is new information, and he’s impressed. “My reputation precedes me.”
“Is it true? Are you the only good guy in your frat?”
He’s quick to answer, “No.” He takes a second to think, to properly phrase his next words, “All the guys are good guys, great guys, for the most part they all have good intentions. People throw around opinions on character based on sex, and sometimes I don’t think that’s fair.”
Your brows raise. “Like…?”
“Wooyoung, for example. He’s a good guy, a really great friend, he’d give you the shirt off his back if you asked him for it, not even if you needed it. But because he’s had a lot of sex with a lot of people, that’s all he’s reduced to, and it’s used in an insulting way. Like he’s not a good person because he enjoys sex, I don’t think that’s fair.”
You nod, choosing to not add in your two cents. Instead, you comment on your observation, “You love your friends.”
“I love them all,” he says, and he means it, you can tell in his eyes, his smile. Wooyoung talks highly of Yunho, too, you wonder if they’re all close. “They’re my brothers.”
“That’s how I feel about Jen,” you explain, then correct yourself, “Yunjin. She’s my sister.”
“What about the other girls in your friend group? Jihyo, Momo, Sana…?”
You sit up to clarify, “We aren’t bonded the way your frat is bonded. They’re my close friends, yes, but Yunjin is my sister.”
“Yunjin gave me an earful about you last night,” he confesses, cheeks glowing baby pink.
“An earful?” Your brows raise, confused, scared, amused. “What the hell did she say?”
“To be patient with you,” he says, brows flat, insinuating that he was going to do that already. “She also told me you’ve never been in a relationship you were actually happy in. At least from her perspective.”
“Hm,” you start, folding your lips in between your teeth. “That’s not true, I’m not like, hard to please or something. I was fine with Yeonjun.”
“Fine?” He half-smiles, a huff of something like amusement passing through his lips. “I know you weren’t happy at the end, but to conclude the entire relationship with fine…”
“I was happy,” you correct yourself, feeling heat in your cheeks, your ears, your chest. “We don’t have to talk about him.”
His eyes flicker across your face, like he’s deciding whether or not to push the subject. “Okay,” he accepts, instead. “I’ve only been in one relationship, it was my freshman year, and it lasted like, six months. I don’t have much baggage to dig through.”
“Is that what we’re doing? Digging through baggage?” you tease. “We don’t have to talk about your past either, if you don’t want to.”
He studies you again, like you’re a puzzle he’s trying to figure out. “I don’t mind,” he finally says, tone careful. “I’m a pretty open book about that stuff.”
“I can tell,” you smile, trying to smooth whatever tension has just stretched between you. “I hear you’re popular.”
“So you have heard about me?” His eyes widen like you caught his interest, brows wiggling. “What’s the consensus? Do I suck? Am I a terrible fuck?”
You laugh, folding into the couch again, but you quickly realize you don’t have an answer. You’ve only heard that he sleeps around from Wooyoung, so you bullshit, “The girls say you’re a great lay, huge down there. Hard to take it all.”
He immediately frowns, “I do my best, that’s not my fault.” It only makes you laugh harder, and his frown turns into a pout. He whines your name before continuing, “I’m serious, I really do my best to make it pleasurable.”
“They said you’re a great lay!” you try to comfort him, still laughing. “Hard to take isn’t an insult, it’s an achievement in girl talk.”
“You swear?”
“I swear,” you nod, reaching across the back of the couch. He lays his head on your open palm, making your heart squeeze. “You think I’ll be able to?”
“Probably not,” he mumbles, his lips still pouty. “But I’ll try to make it so you can, comfortably.”
You can imagine it, his fingers, his mouth, him between your legs, stretching you out. You think you might start salivating. Your tongue pokes out of the side of your mouth, caught between your teeth. “What’s that mean?”
He snorts, eyes closing as he chuckles. “It means exactly what you think it means.”
You suck in a breath through your teeth, showing your bottom row. “Unfortunately, I think you might have to spell it out for me. Or you can show me.”
You can’t believe you just said that. It was a thought slipping out, but you don’t want to wait for something to happen. You want to choose. You’re capable of choosing.
He picks his head up, surprise written across his features. “Yeah?”
Timidly, you nod. “I think so.”
“You think so, or yes?”
“Yes,” you nod, more confidently this time. “I meant yes.”
He sits up, moving over to the cushion closest to you. “Are you sure?”
“Please just kiss me,” you beg, fingers curling into your sweatpants, adrenaline rushing through you so hard your heart pounds against your chest.
He shifts upward, using the same palm against your cheek as the night before, and kisses you. It’s the familiar soft, delicate press of his lips, no intent behind it, no heat; yet somehow you’re filled with fire anyway, blood carbonated beneath your skin, melting into his hand on your cheek, leaning into him, meeting his lips with your own passion.
You let him deepen it, following his pace, his tongue sliding between your lips, carefully exploring your mouth like he’s preparing for you to take back your yes. Your hands fly to his tee, fists clenching over the fabric, pulling him toward you, silently telling him you won’t.
His hands fall to your waist, pushing you backward, crawling over you as your back hits the cushions of the couch. With his hands pressed on either side of your head, he pulls away to smirk, “Eager for someone who said I think so.”
Your knees bend backward under the weight of him, fingers still tight in his shirt. “Sorry.”
His brows knit together, like someone had hit pause. “What are you sorry for?”
“I don’t– I don’t know,” you stutter, cheeks flaming, too coy for being under someone his size. You lean into his touch, his hand on your skin, “I don’t want to seem… I don’t know.”
“You’re in your head,” he says matter-of-factly. “I don’t think you’ve cursed once since I’ve been here.”
“That’s not true,” you object. “I said ass at some point, I’m pretty sure.”
He laughs, chin dipping downward. “Wow, I’m telling the sailors and the truck drivers they’ve been out-mouthed. You said ass.”
Your hands slide up over his shoulders, a silly grin on your cheeks. “I’m not in my head. I just want to be… I want you to like me.”
“I like you already,” he says, tone slipping into that comforting, velvety cadence again. Then teasing, he continues, “I liked you when you were burping after shotgunning beers with me.”
You groan, full of anguish, stealing your hands back to cover your face, turning to the side. “Why did you bring that up? I already removed that from my memory.”
He laughs again, leaning back on his knees to pull your hands from your face, using his strength to push you onto your back again, pinning your wrists on either side of your head.
Your breath catches, your heart a bone drum in your chest.
“Be you,” he orders, and it’s final. “I like you.”
You take a second, letting his words settle you, fingers flexing, feeling the weight of his hold, his grip grounding. You try to move your wrists, he doesn’t budge. You joke, “You are fuckin’ strong.”
His grin is satisfied as he leans down, whispering, “You haven’t even seen it yet.”
He kisses you harder this time, needier, his tongue slipping between your lips as soon as you meet. Your legs hook over his hips, back arching into him as he moves your arms upward, over your head, fingers sliding over your palms, tangling with yours.
This closeness, this heat, it’s different. There’s intent, determination behind it, like he wants you to feel reassured in the press of his body against yours. He lets go of your hands to press his elbows into the couch on either side of your head, whispering dominance into your mouth, “Keep them there.”
Your hips twitch, bucking into him, remembering his words from the night before. “Yes, sir.”
“What a quick learner,” he muses, smirking. He drops to bury his face in your neck, speaking into your skin, “Remember that for another night.”
Anticipation consumes you, fingers flexing, reaching for pillows you can’t find as he kisses your neck, tongue poking out to lick a stripe up the side, sucking on the sensitive spot beneath your jaw. You hiss, hips bucking toward him, elbows bending ever so slightly with pleasure.
“Fuck,” you mutter sharply as he reaches one hand between you, lips working your bones into jelly as his palm splays over your stomach, beneath your shirt.
“Tell me if I go too far,” he whispers, fingers traveling upward. “If you want to stop.”
“If you stop I’ll fucking kill you,” you push out in one breath, back arching, needing to feel how big his hand feels over your bare chest.
He huffs a laugh into your neck. “That’s better.”
“Take it off?” you ask, but it sounds somewhere between an order and a request. Heat thrums beneath your skin, one touch away from begging. You’ve needed this for too long to take it slow.
He reaches for your arms to pull you upright as he sits back on his knees. Manhandling you over his lap, he obliges when your thighs land on either side of his hips, his fingers reaching for the hem of your tee to tug it over your head. You refuse to feel shy at the exposure, you don’t have any time to as he pulls you back down to his mouth by the back of your neck.
His hands travel over your skin as his mouth works your brain into fuzz. “So soft,” he whispers, palms curled over either side of your waist.
Your back arches, a soft whimper falling off your tongue, bleeding onto his. One of his hands travels through the valley of your breasts, palm flat as his fingers slide up to your jaw, taking grip on bone as his teeth clamp over your bottom lip. You gasp, hips bucking into him and he lets go, smiling into your mouth, “Is that okay?”
No one’s ever done that before. The eternal ache between your legs grows and it’s instinct to roll your hips, nodding before you can think of the words, “Yes, yes.”
His head dips under your jaw again, hands falling to your hips, grinding you against him. You find purchase on his shoulders, fingers curling into his tee as he guides you, moaning as your core bumps over the tent in his sweats. “S-shit, Yunho.”
“Just like that, keep going,” he praises into your neck, his breath hot over the line of his spit on your skin.
Your eyes screw shut, hips moving with more confidence, and he trusts it enough to let his hands travel upward again, palms closing over your breasts, squeezing. Your hips stutter, a sharp whimper escaping you, nails leaving crescents in cotton, you wouldn’t be surprised if you marked the skin beneath.
He supports you with a strong grip on your back to arch you upward, lips moving down your neck, your chest, and at this angle, you can watch. Your hands reach for his hair, pushing it over his forehead as his tongue lolls out of his mouth, leaving a trail of saliva between your breasts before his lips start working on the right. Tongue swirling, lips closing over your nipple, your brows furrow in pleasure, jaw slack.
“Feels so good,” you whimper out mindlessly, gripping at his roots, focusing on grinding against his cock in his sweats, desperate to get pleasure building.
He groans, the sound vibrating your skin, making your face scrunch at the feeling. You can’t remember the last time you’ve been touched like this, someone paying such attention to detail, focusing on every zone that brings you pleasure. Your body swarms with heat, your spine begging for more, to release the knot of pleasure you’ve been building for a long, long time.
His other hand works the left, the pads of two fingers rolling over your nipple, squeezing experimentally. “Fuck,” you curse, pitch high. “Please do that again.”
He looks up at you, dark eyes hazy with pleasure yet clear with focus. His fingers pinch again and your hips pick up speed, moaning sharply as his teeth lightly clamp over your right nipple, he watches, gauging your expression the whole time.
“You like it,” he says into your skin, coming to a conclusion. “Pain.”
“I- I don’t know,” you blink, brain scrambling at the clear words when your mind is fuzzy. “I guess so?”
“You do.” It feels good, him deciding, him telling you. “We’ll have fun, you and I.”
Electricity sparks in the base of your spine, you and I. You like the sound of that. You smile, leaning down to steal his lips again, pressing your bare chest to his clothed one. It doesn’t feel right, not having his skin against yours, you reach down for the hem of his shirt and he helps you get it over his head, breaking the kiss only to let the fabric pass between.
You sigh when your chest meets his, arms folding behind his neck, hips still rolling against him, aching for more. You want more. You need more. “Yunho,” you whisper into his mouth, holding the back of his head, slowly sliding down to his chest. “More.”
His eyes flicker up to yours, reading your face again like he’s done too many times tonight. “How much more?”
He likes you. He’s told you several times that he likes you. You laugh with him, you feel comfortable with him. He’s safe.
“Everything,” you drawl, tone certain but full of every drop of arousal pumping through you. “Wanna find out if I can take it.”
“If you take it all,” he whispers, kissing the tip of your chin, “I’ll get you a trophy.”
You smile, a tiny laugh tumbling out. “Yeah? How big?”
“As big as my dick,” he quips, hands scooping under your ass. “Hold on to me.”
You’d yelp if you weren’t laughing as Yunho stands straight, carrying you smoothly through your living room, steps memorized like he’s been here more than once. Your arms stay wrapped around his neck, legs hooked around his waist until he brings you into your bedroom, pressing a knee into the mattress before laying you down gently.
“Wanna make you cum first,” he decides as he crawls over you, swallowing your body whole. “That okay?”
You nod, vibrating at the idea, “Please.”
He bends your knees backward, holding onto your shins for purchase as he leans down, pressing a short kiss to your lips. You suck in a breath as he tugs your sweatpants under you, pulling them down by the waistband over your hips, your knees, your ankles.
“No bra, no panties…” he tsks, shaking his head. “Plan this or something?”
Your lips bend in a smile, knees knocking together. Small, you mutter, “No.”
He hums, hands landing on the stretch of skin above your knees, pulling you toward him until your ass slides into the pocket of space between his thighs. He stares in awe, pupils dilated, licking his lips as he says, “You have no idea how fucking wet you are.” Your thighs push together again and his eyes flicker upward, a warning. “Don’t hide, let me see.”
You feel the stick as you slowly spread your legs again, and your face scrunches, cringing at the feeling. His hands slide down the inside of your thighs before he brings his right hand to his mouth, licking the pad of his thumb before bringing it back down to press on your clit. You shiver, a gasp of a moan slipping through your lips, a tremor racking through your body.
He eases you into it with slow circles, adding pressure and speed with every round. “Yes,” you moan through a pleased breath, chin tipping backward, legs falling farther open, hands sliding up your stomach, grabbing onto your breasts, squeezing.
“So sexy.” His words are mindless, his eyes on you, watching as you roll your nipples between your fingers. “Shit, I could watch you do that all night.”
“No,” you whine, head snapping forward again at the idea. “Gimme more.”
His other hand, holding your thigh, slides beneath his circling thumb, the pad of his middle finger spreading your wetness through your folds, around your entrance. Your brows furrow, moaning softly, hips twitching toward him, a silent beg for more. His middle finger slips inside without warning and the breath is stolen from your chest, jaw pried open.
“Fuck,” he curses under his breath. “So tight, baby, need you to relax.”
“I am,” you moan out, hips rolling toward him, meeting his pace.
He curls his finger, massaging against the front of your walls, making you choke out a moan, hands leaving your chest to claw at the duvet beneath you. Looking at him, he’s focused; analyzing, watching your reactions, probably gauging how the fuck he’s gonna fit himself inside you. He leans down, pausing both hands to spit on your folds, pulling out his finger to spread it around, then adding his index, too.
“Yunho,” you cry, voice shaky. His fingers are so fucking long, so deep inside that you might as well be having sex. You buck your hips, meeting his pace, pleasure spreading in waves, heat beginning to pool in your belly. “Don’t stop, fuck.”
He bends down, replacing his thumb with his tongue and your hands fly to his hair with the first flick of your clit. “O-oh my fucking god,” you cry, still bucking your hips into his hand, his flat tongue, shamelessly. “Yes, yes, yes.”
Your fingers tug at his roots and he grunts, his free hand landing a heavy smack to the side of your ass. Your moan is deafening, body twitching, toes curling over his back. He does it again and heat boils, a knot in your belly forming, pleasure building as embers of pain spread, skin going hot where he hit you.
“I’m close,” you whisper, voice shakier than it was before. The pressure grows, blooming, he doesn’t change his pace, he keeps his rhythm, a steady thrust and curl of two fingers, licking over your clit with his tongue. Your breath catches, jaw pried open, fingers tightening in his hair, and it’s the last smack of his palm hitting the same spot it did before that pushes you over the edge.
You damn near fucking convulse. Your body shakes so hard you can hear it in the bedframe, cries growing in pitch with the peak of your orgasm, thighs clamping around Yunho’s head, but he still doesn’t stop until you push him away.
“Holy fuck,” you breathe out as he slips his fingers out, popping them right in his mouth.
He hums, then licks his lips. “So sweet.”
A smile curves your mouth, “Liar.”
He crawls over you again, your legs bending with him, toes sitting on the waistband of his sweats. He lowers himself with the question, “You think I won’t make you taste yourself?”
Still panting, lips spread in a lazy grin, your head tilts. “Is that supposed to be a threat or something?”
He kisses you roughly, your arms wrapping around his neck, toes pushing on the waistband of his sweats. “You are a liar,” you say between kisses, “tastes like pussy.”
“Sweet enough to me,” is all he responds, reaching one arm down to his sweats, pushing them down. “I want you to ride me.”
Your smile falters, just a little. “Like, now?”
“Yes, now,” he says casually, sitting back on his calves, getting his sweats and his briefs down to his thighs. You would gasp if you didn’t know how big he is already— but bare, without briefs covering him, standing tall and red like it was begging for you… “It’ll be easier for you, I swear, this isn’t a ploy so I have to do less work.”
“You sure you don’t just wanna sit back and watch?”
“Are you nervous?” His eyes flicker upward as he gets his sweats off his legs and onto the floor.
“Not anymore,” you respond instinctively, knees knocking together again. He deadpans, and you sigh. “Okay, maybe a little.”
“If you’re nervous, you’re not gonna open up for me,” he explains, crawling up beside you on the bed. Your eyes bounce back and forth between him and his cock, intimidated but excited, you can’t keep your attention where he wants it. “Come here.”
He sits up, easing you over his lap again, your knees bracketing his thighs. His cock between you, so tall, so thick, you’ll feel it in your fucking stomach. Your mouth goes dry.
“You can take it,” he encourages, reaching up for your cheeks, making you look at him instead of his cock. “You’re a big girl, you can do it. We’ll take it slow.” Heat slices through you, making your eyelids flutter, your hips twitch. He grins like he’s just discovered treasure. “Oh, you’re fun. C’mon, big girl, let me stretch you out.”
“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath, not out of worry, but because of what big girl just did to you. Your hands find his shoulders, sitting up on your knees, and he spits in his palm before running it over his cock, spreading it over the tip, down the shaft. You want to see how far you can fit him in your mouth. Maybe you should find out if he’ll fit inside you first.
“Slow,” Yunho reminds you, fingers wrapped around the base as you line yourself up. You suck in a deep breath, lowering yourself down slowly, and you moan in relief the second his tip passes through the first ring. “Breathe,” he coaxes you as you slowly sink downward, face scrunching up at the stretch.
He’s thick, and even though you’re one orgasm deep and practically a fucking waterfall, with every new centimeter there’s a pinch, a slight level of discomfort that makes your thighs shake. He soothes you with his hands on your hips, sliding up to your waist, then your chest, massaging, mixing pleasure with the pain. Which, apparently, you enjoy.
“So big,” you murmur, toes curling, one eye still squeezed shut.
“I know, baby,” he soothes, leaning forward, pressing his lips to yours. A distraction, keeping your brain busy as you take the rest of him, his tongue slipping into your mouth, one hand resting on your neck. You feel him in your fucking guts when you’re finally seated, painfully aware that you’ve never had anything this big inside you.
“Give it a second,” he suggests, but instead, you start lifting your hips. He curses under his breath, head falling backward before he snaps it back, “Fuck, fuck, baby, hold on–”
“So big,” you moan out, words hazy, your mind cloudier. You’ve never felt so fucking full, it’s a completely new sensation and you’ve been itching for days to have something to fill you up. Lowering yourself back down, you moan, “Feels s’good, Yunho.”
“Yeah?” he asks, stunned like he can’t believe you’re already moving. His hands find your hips again, guiding your pace, his knees bending up. “Look at you, baby, riding like a big girl, taking me so well.”
You moan through your smile, craning your head back so you can look at him over the bridge of your nose and the look on his face is priceless. Cheeks pink, hair fucked up, pupils dilated, your belly jumps at the sight, making him grunt out a sharp noise.
“Fuck,” he grits out, fingers tightening over your skin. “Clenching around me, not gonna last if you do that.”
“Too good,” you tumble out, voice layered with hazy arousal. “Look so pretty, Yunho.”
“S-shit,” he hisses, hips snapping upward, making a sharp noise fall from your lips, piercing the room. “Fuck, I’m sorry.”
“Do it again,” you quickly blurt, leaning forward, lifting your hips. He holds them, pressing his heels into the mattress, fucking into you from below, making a serious, of pitched, stuttered cries and curses stutter out of your mouth. His cock rolls right over the front of your walls with each thrust, he reaches everywhere, making your shins lift off the bed, kicking at the air, the pleasure overwhelming. “Don’t– don’t stop, don’t fucking stop, Yunho.”
He grunts, lifting you again, turning you over in one quick motion, flattening you on your back. You yelp, but he gives you no time to process, his hands on your knees, pushing them to your chest.
Your moans die in your chest as he fucks into you, jaw slacked, brows furrowed in pleasure, only small squeaks slipping through with every other thrust. Your toes curl, watching his abdomen flex, his hips roll, the flex of his biceps on either side of your head. He’s so fucking attractive and he’s fucking you so hard it feels too good to be true.
“Kiss,” you manage to get out, reaching for him, his face. He lets go of your knees, elbows landing on either side of your head, never once losing his rhythm as he leans down, pressing his lips to yours. It’s a clash of teeth and spit and tongue, but your hands in his hair, his skin pressed to yours, his cock pressing on every spot you need it to… the knot of pleasure in your belly builds steadily, hot as hell.
“I’m gonna cum,” he whispers, his voice uneven, rough. “Need you to cum for me first.”
Mind so hazy, you reach a hand between your legs, fingers immediately rubbing circles into your clit. He looks between you, jaw slacked, panting, “You’re so fucking sexy, oh my god.”
You pull him down to kiss you again, hips rocking upward to meet his thrusts, moaning into his mouth, the band of pleasure in your gut running taut. “Gonna cum,” you whimper, your bottom lips touching, breath and saliva shared.
“Yes, good girl, cum for me,” he grits out, and the words make your jaw go slack, lips unresponsive against his, another squeak of pleasure escaping before your orgasm hits like a tidal wave. He kisses you, fucks you through it, groaning as you clench around him, thighs shaking.
He pulls back, hands on your knees again, pinning them together as he pushes himself to the edge, head tipping back. You’re still losing your fucking mind, a moaning, arching mess, and the sight of him doesn’t make it any easier. You could go again. You could go for hours, if he fucks like that, if he looks like that.
“Where do you want me?” he asks, voice edged like he was about to blow. You spread your knees, giving him skin to paint, and he pulls out at the last second, pumping the tip of his cock until thick, hot, white ropes of cum spill all over your stomach, your pelvis, your chest. He moans, face scrunched up in pleasure, hips bucking into his own hand as he fucks himself through it, and you can’t help but wish he’d done it inside you.
He collapses beside you, the both of you panting, eyes half-lidded and bodies covered in a layer of sweat. You stay there for a minute or two, just breathing, processing, feeling. You don’t think you’ve ever felt better, body spent in a state of fucked-out bliss, feeling stretched out and sated and perfect. You look to the side, his eyes closed, his cheeks pink, his chest rising and falling evenly. He speaks first.
“I’m getting you that fucking trophy.”
It takes a second for the memory to come back to you, but you arch with the punched, airy laugh that comes out of you, your hand reaching for his. “Should I put it next to the Gojo figure?”
He lays his palm open for you to tangle your fingers with his, opening his eyes, looking at you. “Do you think he just watched us?”
“I think he watched you.”
He grins, and it’s lazy, but it’s full of amusement. “Good.” There’s more to that good, but you don’t press him to explain. You don’t want to know. After another second of thinking, feeling, and breathing, he notices, “You washed your sheets.”
“How’d you know?”
He brushes his other hand over your duvet beside him, “They smell like detergent. The last time I was here, they smelled like your hair. Your shampoo, I guess.”
You coo, “Aww, you paid attention.”
He looks up, eyes calmer, softer, now. “I pay attention to more than you think I do.”
“Don’t be creepy about it,” you joke.
He laughs under his breath, a light, small chuckle. It could be easy like this, you think, with him. A calmness has spread over you, one you don’t fully trust. There’s a part of you that still isn’t sure that it’s right, but after everything, you don’t know if easy is the same thing as right anymore.
masterlist 🍬
insane insane insane insane i'm definitely going insane yunho what are you doing to me this is absolutely perfect i'm going insane
Blessing your dash with lovely photos of Yunho 😙
MR. POSSESSIVE ⋆˚࿔ — [p. sunghoon] part one
SYNOPSIS ⟢ Park Sunghoon can easily be described in three words: stuck-up, picky, and overly critical about everything and everyone. That was until he met you, who ticked off everything he liked in his head. One problem, he's got too much pride and ego to do anything about it. The other problem? His best friend, Jake, swooped in and took action before he could even build up the courage––and Sunghoon really hates when people take what's his.
pairing ⟢ grumpy downbad! sunghoon x fem! reader
genre ⟢ written, friends to lovers (?), university au
content warnings ⟢ smut with plot (18+), humour, profanity, use of alcohol, reader is with jake for a certain period in the story, sunghoon has a one-sided rivalry with jake, mutual pining but they don't know, sunghoon is stubborn in the beginning but should lowkey be prescribed xanax later on, everyone in the story kinda makes poor decisions (depending how you view it), homie hopping lol, softdom! sunghoon, unprotected p in v sex, multiple rounds, overstimulation, fingering, oral (m & f. receiving), mild ass play, nipple play, bulge kink, dirty talk, squirting, use of petnames (just baby), sunghoon is downright filthy in bed.
featuring ⟢ all of enhypen (7), giselle of aespa & anton of riize cameo(s)
word count: ~12k
author's note: official bambiens comeback with my first EVER full-length fic!! (please be kind to me), i genuinely didn't think i'd ever post a full-length fic –– let alone this one, like i thought this shit was gonna get sent straight into the basement. anyways, i hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing this!! also i haven't proofread this yet let me know if there are any mistakes please!
MR. POSSESSIVE PLAYLIST ⊹˚♬₊⋆
reblogs appreciated ♡
PARK SUNGHOON was always a hard guy to please.
Exhibit A (extracted from age 5): As a child, he’d make a fuss whenever his mom forgot to cut the crusts off of his peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.
To this day, he still tells his mom that he didn't throw tantrums over bread crusts because he was “picky,” but simply because he had “food sensory issues.”
Exhibit B (extracted from age 10): He liked his toy figurines organized in a certain kind of way –– aligned on his shelf, standing upright, facing forward. Nothing else, no exceptions.
One day, he found his limited edition Superman action figure fallen face flat on the shelf.
His parents earthquake-proofed all of their furniture.
…he later found out that his sister was secretly playing with his toys while he was at school.
Sunghoon didn’t come out of his room for three days after that.
Exhibit C (extracted from age 15): There were even instances in high school where he would get his grades appealed if he believed they were “marked incorrectly,” which, by the way, always got re-corrected in the end. Even if he really was wrong in the first place.
It was either his way or the highway.
In other words, Park Sunghoon was a complete perfectionist, and this fastidious behaviour followed him well into his adulthood.
Somehow along the way, he managed to score himself a scholarship and landed himself a place in a prestigious university.
But even when he got there he was sensitive about the minor details. He was extremely particular about his class timetable, stuck to a tight-grit schedule, and even had certain criteria of who could be his friend and who couldn’t.
And when it finally came down to choosing his university friends, he managed to pick people who were all in the same major, shared the same humour, had the same hobbies, and followed similar daily schedules as him –– but before you think of anything, no, they definitely weren’t as hypercritical as he was.
Don’t get him wrong though, despite his meticulous and seemingly strict nature, he still found time to fool around and have fun whilst in school.
If anything, Sunghoon considered himself as… quite the witty guy.
He kept a mental list of things he likes. He likes watching funny cat memes on his feed, playing games on his computer during his free time, going clubbing with his friends every weekend, and he also really likes how the shawarma shop beside his place always had a buy-one-get-one deal on Thursdays.
He also had a list of things he hates. He hates when he has to share his food, or anything, really; he hates when people chew with their mouths open, he hates when freshmen walk too slowly on campus, he hates when his roommates “forget” to clean their dirty dishes –– honestly, the list could go on and on.
But, for the past couple of months, what he hated most was his best friend, Sim Jake.
Sunghoon didn’t always hate him though. If he hated him from the beginning, one, he wouldn’t have befriended him in the first place, and two, he wouldn’t have asked him to be one of his roommates –– which, this entire living situation soon became an issue with him. An extreme issue, he would call it, even.
So, what was the catalyst to the start of Sunghoon’s immense hatred towards Jake, you may ask?
Well, it was you.
At this point, Sunghoon’s heard it all. With people constantly calling him “nit-picky” and “extremely demanding,” always complaining that he has these crazy high standards for everything and that there’s nothing — better yet, no one — he ever liked from the get-go.
How exhausting does that sound?
Though he can admit, they’re all right about him being nit-picky, extremely demanding, and right about him having those “crazy high” standards. But, they were a bit wrong about that last part.
Park Sunghoon wasn’t sure about a lot of things, but he knew he was sure he liked you.
He guessed he always, at least, subconsciously knew he liked you from the second the two of you met during freshmen orientation –– he hadn’t realized it back then, but you kind of just checked off all the boxes in his mind.
With his personality though, he had never admitted it out-loud –– even if it was pain-stakingly obvious to all of his close friends.
It honestly really was just a little crush to him at first. He started looking for your face around campus, teasing you whenever you were around, occasionally texting each other. You know, doing the usual shit slightly delusional people always do to cope with their minor infatuations who don’t like them back.
Surprisingly over time, the two of you eventually became a lot closer and hung out with each other more.
…and also became a little more flirtatious with each other (at least that’s what Sunghoon thinks, but he’s not too sure).
It got to the point where Sunghoon’s friends could tell whether he was in a good mood or not depending on whether he got a text from you that day.
You and Sunghoon were good, he thought things were going well –– he’s got game… right?
Until one day, Sunghoon’s fairytale-princess-dream of living a life with the two of you together all came crashing down.
To be honest, you’d never met Sunghoon’s so-called “best friends” the past two years you had been friends. You started to wonder whether they were real or if Sunghoon was just faking it and actually has no friends.
Eventually, you came to meet them –– Heeseung, Jay, Sunoo, Jungwon, Riki, and Jake.
Sunghoon really hated that. He never even wanted to introduce you to his friends, you guys just bumped into each other by accident.
In his mind, he kind of just wanted to keep you as his little secret. After all, he met you first, befriended you first, and liked you first. And again, Sunghoon really hated sharing.
And, it sounds a teensy bit toxic but he’d always been competitive to the bone, maybe a little too much. So when he saw you started getting a lot closer to Jake than you were with him, it honestly felt like a two-faced betrayal. But he couldn’t say anything –– his ego and stubbornness wouldn’t let him.
Sunghoon kind of just watched and let it happen, so he honestly shouldn’t even be that mad. At first, he tried to bury the thought of you and Jake being “best friends” in the back of his head. But it didn’t help when you started coming over to his shared apartment to hang out with stupid, freaking Jake.
He always wondered why you chose Jake and not him.
All of Sunghoon’s friends had just adjusted from the fact that they thought he liked you... to Jake being the one pursuing you instead.
You and Sunghoon never “fell out,” however, the friendship felt a bit more distant. But what was Sunghoon supposed to do about it? Beg you to become best friends with him instead? Whenever he thought this way, he’d always feel like he reverted back into a kid.
When you’d come over, you would say “hi,” and engage in like, three-minute small talk with Sunghoon, and then go into Jake’s stinkin’ room and giggle with him and probably have so much fun with whatever the fuck Jake is doing.
Sunghoon wouldn’t really know though, he couldn’t bring himself to ask what the two of you did when you left their apartment.
The most information he could get was when his other roommates would tease Jake about you. There was one particular time, however, where Sunghoon was royally pissed off over the two of you. According to him, this conversation was just so juvenile and hard-to-listen to this day.
Sunghoon was in the kitchen fixing their coffee machine while silently eavesdropping on his roommates by the couch. Jay lightly nudged Jake’s shoulder, “So, you and y/n, what’s up with that?”
The second Sunghoon heard Jay drop the first vowel of your name, his ears immediately perked up.
Jake chuckles, staying focused on the game in front of him, “Nah man, chill. It’s nothing like that.”
Liar.
Heeseung tsks, tossing his controller down after losing a match against Jake, “If it was just ‘nothing’ then you wouldn’t be texting her all day and hanging out with her more than your own roommmates.”
Right? Heeseung’s so right. If it really was just “nothing” then he wouldn’t have caught Jake kicking his feet up and down while on the phone with you.
“Guys, leave it, we’re just best friends.” Jake laughs.
Yeah right, that’s such bullshit cause Sunghoon had found out you two started dating, like, exactly a month later.
That was essentially the beginning of his own hell, agony, and his pure hatred towards Jake.
Sunghoon would see you waltz into his –– their, sorry –– apartment almost every day with a huge smile plastered on your face like shit was all sweet and rainbows and butterflies when he was suffering every waking minute.
Daily he’d see your annoyingly gorgeous face, hear your stupidly adorable laughter through the walls, and watch you and Jake be all lovey-dovey right in front of him. Sunghoon didn’t even know he could like a person to this extent, you just made him like this.
It actually made him sick in the stomach. That should’ve been him.
One morning, he genuinely contemplated jumping off of their balcony when you stepped outside of Jake’s room wearing his clothes. He wanted to shout, he wanted to remind you that you were his friend first, he wanted to ask you, “what do you see in him that you don’t see in me?”
But all he managed to spit out was, “Morning, you want coffee?” while gripping onto his penguin-shaped coffee mug so tight that it was on the brink of shattering into pieces.
Now, Sunghoon knew it was wrong, and that you’re now quite literally his best friend's girlfriend but what ever happened to “dibs?” He knew you way before than dumbass Jake did.
One night, Sunghoon couldn’t fall asleep. He had been tossing and turning for the past two hours trying not to lose his mind over the fact that you were sleeping over at their place, again.
He thought some tea might help soothe his worries and ease his anxiety a little bit, eventually bringing him to sleep, so he got up and made his way over to the kettle in the kitchen. He got his favourite mug out and had the peppermint tea bag sitting nicely inside when he heard a small pip-squeak coming from the rooms.
At first he couldn’t actually tell if that sound was coming from the rooms or if it was just the steam from the kettle, but then a pip-squeak turned into a muffled gasp –– a seemingly sexual sounding one, he believed.
Sunghoon couldn’t bear to stick around longer to figure out whether you and Jake were having sex. That was enough for him to abandon his cup of tea and trudge his way over to Sunoo, Jungwon, and Riki’s place in his house slippers and pajamas.
He even bought ear-plugs at the convenience store on the way there.
Sunghoon honestly doesn’t really remember much after he bolted out of his apartment that night. But according to them, he got to their place and sat in the corner of their living room with his knees to his chest –– refusing to tell any of them what the matter was –– eventually falling asleep on the floor.
Riki also did keep mentioning how Sunghoon started rocking back-and-forth while whispering to himself quietly, but everyone knows Riki has a thing for theatrics.
While yes, Sunghoon had thoughts about you that were most definitely against the bro-code, he never actually acted on them.
Like, yeah Sunghoon hated his best friend for stealing the love of his life, but that’s still literally his best friend –– whom he hates. It’s complicated, he can’t really explain it.
Over the course of a couple months, Sunghoon thinks he’s seen and heard it all, especially the arguments you and Jake would have. On those nights, he prayed he’d wake up to news that you guys finally broke up –– which never happened by the way.
Those arguments were usually petty and small, but a particular argument was unlike the rest.
One day, you ran out of Jake’s room in tears. Sunghoon was on the couch watching the evening news with the volume turned up so high at the time, he couldn’t even hear you guys arguing anymore.
But this was just usual protocol whenever you and Jake would argue, it felt almost invasive so all of the guys agreed to blast the TV and drown out the yelling sound.
At first, Sunghoon didn’t notice you crying hysterically –– not until he looked up and saw your face.
Sunghoon’s body reacted by itself. Without even meaning to, he found himself chasing after you to make sure you were okay. You two were still friends regardless of the fact that you were in a relationship with Jake, so he thought this was totally justifiable.
When Sunghoon finally caught up to you, he grabbed your arm, “Hey,” he spoke softly, “I can’t let you leave until I know you’re okay. What’s wrong?”
You finally turn to look at him, and he sees you: mascara running down your rosy cheeks, eyes all puffy, your nose running a little. It wasn’t long till you shrugged Sunghoon’s hand off your arm.
“Stop acting stupid,” you spat, “you guys are best friends, I know you that you know already. Really, what are you even here for? To seem like some good-guy-hero? Like, what, you’re gonna go on a whole tangent about how Jake is a great guy, that this is just some miscommunication, how he’ll apologize or that, maybe even I should be the one to apologize––”
Maybe Sunghoon shouldn’t have said what he said next, because it just made things worse.
“Is that really what you think of me, y/n? Like I’m just Jake’s loyal fucking lapdog running after you so I can take his side? He’s my friend, yeah, but why would you ever think that lowly of me?”
At this point, you started to feel really bad for snapping on him when in reality, he was just trying to help.
Sunghoon speaks in a tiny voice, “I don’t even know what’s going on in your relationship. I don’t even ask about it because it hurts.”
Your face of dishevelment slowly turns into confusion as you keep listening to Sunghoon, “What are you talking about?”
Sunghoon knows he probably shouldn’t be talking about this right now, that he should just end the conversation there and maybe try to gaslight you into thinking that he actually said something else –– but it all slipped out.
He lets out a frustrated sigh accompanied with a quick eye-roll, almost like he can’t believe the words that he’s about to say, “I met you first. We were friends first. I liked you first. But I just let you slip away and now you’re his –– and I can’t do anything about it. I’ve been forced to just watch you with him. You don’t even know how bitter I get seeing you guys together. He knew I liked you first, and he took you away from me. You were supposed to be with me instead.”
You have a boyfriend, this is your boyfriend’s best friend. This whole situation is fucked up. All you do is shake your head in disbelief, “What are you trying to say, what’s the whole point of this Sunghoon?”
A pause of silence passed by, and in those seconds of quietness, Sunghoon really tried hard to think, what is the whole point of him telling you this now? What did he think would even happen?
“I–I don’t know,” he stutters, “just– nothing. Just forget everything I said please, just forget about it. Let me get you an Uber home.”
The truth was, you understood what he meant completely and you couldn’t just simply forget about it.
But you had to pretend.
Just in time, you saw Jake jogging towards you two in your peripheral vision. It wasn’t long until Sunghoon noticed.
The second Jake came to you, Sunghoon took a step back and left.
You honestly forgot about your argument with Jake until he apologized and insisted he drove you home. The drive back to your place was silent. Your head was leaned against the car window with your hands between your thighs the entire ride.
Jake turned onto your street, eventually pulling up to the entrance of your apartment. The two of you sit there for a while, the only sound coming from his fingers lightly drumming on the console. Your gaze stays fixed on a tree outside, too embarrassed to break the ice first.
He moves his hand onto the steering wheel, “y/n, I’m really sorry.”
You turn your head slightly to look at him before pushing the car door open, “It’s fine, just don’t let it happen again.”
Jake watches you slam the car door shut, making your way inside and up the elevator before he drives away.
That night, you had a lot to ponder about –– not just because of the argument you and your boyfriend had, but also because of what his best friend had just confessed to you...
Fuck, why are you even thinking about Sunghoon again? Jake’s right here. Jake is your boyfriend… yeah.
⋆˚࿔
Mondays were always the worst for Sunghoon. At 8 a.m., he has Theory of Computation, then once that ends at 10, he has an hour to himself before he’s got three back-to-back classes till 4 p.m. On top of that, he also told Sunoo and Riki that he’d meet them at the library at 6:30 p.m. to get a headstart on their group project.
Great, he thought, so now he’s able to schedule an hour-long nervous breakdown before he has to compose himself like a normal citizen and attend to his responsibilities again.
Once he got home after his final lecture of the day, he sat on his desk chair (not his bed, he had his outside clothes on) and pulled out his phone from his backpocket.
“Google am I a bad person?”
Sunghoon’s staring at the searchbar waiting for the results to load on his phone, the floorboards creaking loudly because of how much he kept bouncing his legs out of anxiety.
All he’s done the past 24 hours was replay the conversation he last had with you, and the more he kept thinking about it, the more he started to feel like he really fucked up this time.
His first worry was you possibly telling Jake that he had just confessed his undying love for you –– but when he heard Jake say good morning the next day while making an omelette, he crossed that fear off the list.
'Cause like, what guy who's mad would make omelettes in the morning?
His second worry was that he might actually be a horrible person. Sunghoon always understood he was insufferable since birth, but never once has he thought he was a bad guy… until now.
Like, it’s a really fucked up situation right? He put you in a difficult position, and if Jake finds out then that’s goodbye to his best friend too –– oh god, what about his roommates? Will he have to find a new place to live next year?
A plethora of different worries began to plague his mind until he realized the search results had finally loaded on his phone. He saw countless people asking the same question on different forums, where he eventually found himself on r/AmItheAsshole, reading excerpts from literally Lucifer(s) themselves in attempts to make him feel better about his own situation.
At that moment Sunghoon came to the realization that, yeah there are definitely a lot of worse people in the world with way more questionable morals than him –– and that if he was considered a bad person, then the people of this Subreddit must think he’s made out of unicorns and sunshine.
Before he left his apartment again, he took a deep breath, tried to push his feelings down and go about his day.
When he finally arrived at the library, he found Jungwon and Riki at their usual spot. Jungwon spots him walking towards them first, prompting him to move his backpack on the seat beside him to the ground, “Hey, we saved you a spot.”
Sunghoon falls into the chair, “Thanks man.”
In front of Jungwon, Riki lays his head flat on the table, “Guys, can we rethink this. We have a month till this project is due. Isn’t doing this real early almost unnecessary?”
Jungwon continues typing on his keyboard, not once looking up, “It’s just in case, and there’s nothing wrong with starting early.”
Riki rolls his eyes and releases a big sigh before raising his head to look back up at his JavaScript for the nth time today.
Once Sunghoon had opened up his computer, Jungwon left no time to waste, “I forgot to ask, have you ever used a graphical interface for designing SQL queries before?"
“Yeah, have you?”
Riki looks up at the two of them like they’re speaking a completely different language, when in reality he’s supposed to be in the same major as them –– therefore he probably should know what Sunghoon and Jungwon are talking about.
“No,” Jungwon shakes his head, “But, that’ll aid us while building this thing.”
“I’ve had enough of this,” Riki groans and shuts his laptop, “Sorry Won, but I’ve been busting my ass learning this code for the past three hours we’ve been here –– I haven’t even eaten anything yet!”
He pulls out his phone, face immediately lighting up green, “Fuck it, I’m ordering UberEats, y’all want something?”
Sunghoon declines, “Nah, I’m good I ate before I left.”
Inside his backpack, Jungwon pulls out a tupperware filled with fruit and a bag of half-eaten beef jerky, “It’s fine, I packed myself some food.”
“Dude, what the hell,” Riki exits from the app, “Why didn’t you tell me you had food, my stomach has been grumbling for a whole hour.”
“Yeah, I know, I heard.”
Riki snatches the bag of opened beef jerky as a form of opposition against Jungwon, stuffing a handful into his mouth.
“Wait,” pausing mid-chew to swallow his food, “Anton just texted me, apparently his frat’s hosting a houseparty, mixer-thingy –– whatever the fuck –– on Friday.”
Sunghoon holds back a laugh, “Hell nah, remember what happened when their frat threw a party last semester?”
Unlike Sunghoon, Jungwon has no shame and bursts out in laughter causing the rest of the people on the floor to hush him, “Yo, we gotta go, Jake was legendary that time.”
Riki’s face falters as if he were recalling a traumatic memory, “Man, I don’t think Jake’s gonna act out, he’s been a different guy ever since he got a girl. Kinda miss the old him.”
After hearing your name being brought up in the conversation, Sunghoon looks up from his computer, fully immersing himself in the topic –– yet, he can’t bring himself to speak.
“Don’t make assumptions that he’s boring yet, I don’t think this guy has gone out since then, the guy’s a beast when he’s fucked up. Ya never know. Maybe he’ll surprise us.” Jungwon chuckles.
“Do you still have that video of him from last year?”
“Bro, of course I do. Chill, let me find it on my camera roll.”
At this moment, all of Sunghoon’s thoughts began racing.
He can’t help it but those feelings of resentment towards Jake are all coming back again. Maybe he really is a bad person after all, because the only thing he could say was, “I think we should go.”
This is the reason why Sunghoon thinks that he might actually be a horrible person –– because why would he want to see his best friend potentially fuck up?
From then on, Sunghoon decided that this was the last time he would be selfish ...he thinks.
⋆˚࿔
It was around 10 p.m. when Sunghoon had gotten home from the library. All of the lights in the apartment were turned off, which was kind of odd to him but he didn’t really pay much attention to it. He figures his roommates just went somewhere –– he honestly doesn’t care where.
In fact, he liked it when he was the only one home. It gave him some peace and solace. He never liked to admit it, but sometimes being with other people is exhausting.
Not that he doesn’t like being around his roommates, he does. It’s just a little daunting for him to be around people for extended periods of time. He really hates the way he thinks. He finds it a little embarrassing that he thinks it’s anxiety-inducing and overwhelming to be around other people sometimes.
He thinks his logic is flawed, and almost wishes he wasn’t like this. Look at Park Sunghoon, uptight, picky, critical, no-good-for-anyone –– yet he can’t stick around long if he’s surrounded by people or else he’ll freak out?
Whatever, he doesn’t have time to host his own pity party when he’s got bigger fish to fry.
In hopes of seeking relaxation after the day he’s had, he grabs a towel and heads toward the bathroom. Waiting for him was a nice, steamy-hot shower, preferably one that’s a little too hot that it makes his body physically produce steam.
What he expected to see when he walked into the bathroom was a fucking toilet, shower, and sink. But when he opened the bathroom door, he was greeted with a fucking toilet, shower, sink, and you who just happens to be brushing your teeth oh-so conveniently at the same time Sunghoon wants to shower.
Truthfully, you almost scared the shit out of Sunghoon when he saw your face, cause first of all, no one’s even supposed to be home right now (allegedly).
Your eyes widen when you come face-to-face with Sunghoon. This was the first time the two of you had seen each other since last night. He didn’t rehearse this meeting happening and now he’s internally freaking out.
Instead of the awkward encounter Sunghoon had anticipated, you spit out your toothpaste, finish brushing your teeth, and flash him a smile, “Hey, sorry I was just quickly brushing my teeth, you can use the bathroom now.”
A smile that almost convinced Sunghoon that maybe last night was all just a dream and didn’t actually happen in real life.
Straight-faced, he nods, clearing the doorway for you to step out. He watches you walk past his bedroom door and go into Jake’s room before he steps inside the bathroom.
Under the showerhead, Sunghoon lets the water run down his head, staring down at the drain. He had numerous thoughts running through his mind, but what stuck out most was why you just acted like nothing had happened between them?
When he looks up to grab his shampoo, he sees all of your shower products in the corner with Jake’s toiletries –– which made him come to the realization that actually, maybe nothing had happened between you two at all.
At the end of the day, you’re still Jake’s girl. Nothing changed that. Not even his stupid confession of love for you.
When he stepped out of the shower, he concluded that what really happened was: he shared his feelings for you on a whim, you basically rejected him, and now you’re probably just being nice to him, acting like everything is fine because he’s still Jake’s best friend after all.
Fuck, now he’s embarrassed. He should just forget about this whole ordeal –– right?
⋆˚࿔
For the rest of the week, Sunghoon was lucky enough to not bump into you anywhere –– not even inside their apartment. There were days where he knew you were over, but you never came out of Jake’s room whenever he was around.
All Sunghoon had been looking forward to all week was Anton’s frat party. It was basically an excuse for him to abuse alcohol and make bad decisions.
Once he came home from his last lab at 7:30 p.m. on Friday, he found his quiet sanctuary (his shared apartment) filled with all of his friends, quickly grabbing a beer from one of the cartons before ducking into his room to change.
Sunghoon tried to act nonchalantly, pretending like he didn’t actually care about what he was gonna wear to the frat party. It’s not even like he has clothes that would upstage anyone’s outfit, he was really overthinking it for no reason.
Knock knock.
“Yo, just come in, why’d you have to fucking knock?” he yells.
A small voice spoke through the crack of his door, “Oh, sorry, um, it’s just me, y/n, the guys need help picking up the keg stand.”
Sunghoon almost got whiplash from how fast he turned his head around to look at you; you hadn’t stepped a foot into his room, the door was slightly creaked open, and your head was down –– which he soon realized it’s because he doesn’t have a shirt on.
He swiftly grabbed the first shirt that was within vicinity and threw it on, “Oh sorry, I thought you were one of the guys, you caught me off guard.”
You flail your hands, finally looking up now that he’s fully clothed, “No! It’s okay! They told me to go and get you –– wait.”
Sunghoon furrows his eyebrows, wait for what?
All he could hear was your laughter, one that he recognized all too well, “Maybe you should change your shirt, Hoon.”
He immediately dropped his head down to look at what he was wearing.
…of course the shirt he had to grab happened to be the stupid t-shirt Heeseung gave him for Christmas that says “Mike Who Cheese Hairy” in bold.
Great, could Sunghoon’s life get any worse?
That night, he had a little too much to drink, actually maybe way more than he anticipated. But Sunghoon wasn’t the messy type of drunk –– at least that’s what he thinks.
He was never the type of guy who let himself get too intoxicated. He usually knew what his limits were. Oftentimes, he thought that overly drunk people in public settings were making a fool of themselves and that maybe those people just had a humiliation kink.
But as of right now, Sunghoon’s kinda having trouble holding his balance at Alpha Epsilon Phi’s mixer.
In his defence, he only got this fucked up because him and Jake were going back-to-back on that keg stand trying to outdo the other –– which only got the both of them hammered.
What made things even worse for Sunghoon, however, was the fact that 15 feet away from him were you and Jake.
Sunghoon was consumed in jealousy. How could he not? He can’t bring himself to look away from the painful scene in front of him, Jake wobbling against the island table with his hands wrapped around your waist while you fix his scruffy hair.
All he could think was: I’m drunk as fuck too. Where’s my help?
He scoffed and decided he’s had enough and went up the stairs. Using all of his strength, he managed to lock himself in a bathroom and finally took a deep breath out.
Sunghoon kept blinking his eyes while staring at his reflection in the mirror –– trying to desperately convince himself he’s not seeing double right now.
Thinking that he might be able to sober up, he turned on the faucet, cupping his hand and drank from the sink (he also splashed a bunch of water on his face, slapped himself 10x, and tried to pull trig, which he failed to do).
After 15 minutes had passed by and a hundred knocks later, Sunghoon decided to finally come out of his lavatory dungeon –– and of course the first person who he sees is Jake.
At this point, he’s just silently preparing himself to see you and him be all flirty and couple-y again.
Except, when Sunghoon gets closer, he realizes that Jake isn’t with you –– but another girl?
He immediately paused in his tracks, watching what was happening in front of him. Sunghoon was confused, where were you? Why weren’t you with Jake? And most importantly, what is Jake doing with another girl?
Should he say something? He should go up to him and stop him, right? But is that the best thing to do? What even is Jake doing?
The longer Sunghoon looks, the more uncertain he becomes. Jake seems a little too close to the girl, even if they aren’t kissing or doing anything… but why doesn’t this seem right to him?
Would this be considered cheating? Nothing sexual seems to be happening, just a bunch of teasing arm grabbing and touching.
But that wasn’t you, and you’re his girlfriend. If it wasn’t cheating, it still had to be fucking weird. Sunghoon was infuriated. Jake got the girl but can’t even treat her right?
He knew then that he had to leave before he made a scene.
When he came back downstairs, he couldn’t help but feel suffocated. There were too many people, the air was stuffy, it reeked of alcohol, and the soles of his shoes were too sticky to stay inside any longer. So he decided to step outside instead.
Sunghoon sat on a curb a couple of feet away from the fraternity, but still far enough that he wouldn’t be disturbed by booming bass or intoxicated party-goers. He figured he’d stay outside till his friends decide they’ve had enough with partying –– he wasn’t really feeling the vibe of the function anyways.
At one point, Sunghoon decided to just lay down on the pavement because he was drunk and he can. Out of boredom he began counting how many streetlights ran up and down the street, eventually dozing off in the process.
Coming out of a hazy state, all Sunghoon could hear was his name being repeated multiple times. When he opened his eyes, he came face-to-face with you.
You give a big sigh of relief, “Oh thank god, I thought you died for a second dude. Don’t scare me like that!”
“What? …y/n?” Sunghoon rubs his eyes, “Sorry, I accidentally um, fell asleep I think.”
You laugh while Sunghoon fixes his posture and sits up right again, “Can I sit beside you?”
To be honest, Sunghoon still kinda feels foggy in his half-woken drunk state, so he can’t really think properly, “Yeah, yeah, go ahead.” He pats on the ground beside him. You take a seat, bringing your chin to your knees, playing with the gravel beneath you.
“Are you not having fun?” You ask.
Sunghoon looks straight ahead and shakes his head, “Not really feeling it today.”
You nod in agreement, continuing to collect pebbles with your right hand.
After a beat, Sunghoon turns to look at you, “Hey, I, um, need to tell you something important.”
“Hmm? What is it?”
He lets a deep exhale out before bringing himself to speak again, “I saw Jake inside with another girl. They weren’t like, doing anything but it’s just weird –– I don’t know if this is cheating but I thought I should tell–”
Your eyes stay fixed on the ground, “I know.”
Sunghoon furrows his eyebrows at you, “What do you mean?”
“That’s why we were arguing last week. This has always been an issue with him, even if it isn’t physically cheating.”
Sunghoon didn’t know this. All he could hear during your arguments with Jake was the volume of the TV on max. Carefully, he asked, “Is this… not the first time?”
“No.”
You almost feel ashamed that you’re confessing this all to Sunghoon. You’re scared of what he’d think of you. You already know what he’s like, what he’s probably thinking of you at this moment. You’re aware of how pathetic you sound right now.
Before he could even think about what he was saying, he blurted it all out, “I don’t get it, then why don’t you just break up with him? Isn’t what he’s doing bothering you?”
That night, you and Sunghoon found out something about each other: the two of you probably shouldn’t be together while drunk.
“...I don’t know. Wouldn’t breaking up with him mean that I won’t be able to see you anymore?”
“What? Why are you saying that?”
“If me and Jake end on bad terms, does that mean that you won’t be there for me anymore?”
⋆˚࿔
After Jake had dropped you off at your apartment that night last week, you realized you were more angry than sad. All of those tears had dried up, and now you were yelling on the phone.
“Why would he do this now when he had all that time last year and make a proper move! It’s not my fault he didn’t man up sooner!” You ranted on the phone.
You didn’t know what else to do except call Giselle and ask for some advice.
“I don’t get Sunghoon, he never did anything about us for so long and now he wants to tell me that he wanted me first?”
“Well, what are you going to do about it? You’re with his best friend now,” Giselle asks on the other side of the speaker.
You wipe your mascara-streaked eyes with a cotton pad, “I would have loved it if he told me all of that a year ago, that’s what I wanted. He missed his chance and now I’m just stuck in a sticky situation.”
“But, you love Jake right?”
“Yeah...” you murmured, “Right.”
Before you were with Jake, Sunghoon was the one you wanted most.
To you, Park Sunghoon was like this shiny, perfect Ken doll that you wanted so badly but couldn’t get no matter what.
Contrary to popular belief, you had made your advances towards him –– just in different ways. So you actually never knew if he caught on or not. Over time it seemed like Sunghoon really had no interest in you at all, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t heartbroken over it at all.
You decided to move on after being sure that nothing would happen with you and Sunghoon. In all honesty, you were never that interested in Jake at the beginning.
It was always him starting conversations, making plans. And after a while, you started getting used to Jake’s company.
But for some reason, the closer you got with Jake, the further Sunghoon seemed to get. At the time, you knew not to think any more about you and Sunghoon –– it wasn’t happening and that’s final.
You came to learn that Jake was a pretty outgoing and talkative guy, the complete opposite of Sunghoon.
When Jake finally asked you to be his girlfriend, you won’t lie. You were taken aback. It’s true, you do like Jake… but what about Sunghoon? Were you really over this crush? Are you going to have to be around him all the time because he’s Jake’s best friend? You didn’t know if you could do that.
You snap back into reality when you remind yourself that Sunghoon just doesn’t like you like that.
And it wasn’t like you didn’t like Jake at all. So, you gave him a chance.
Sim Jake was extroverted, polite, and friendly –– maybe a little too friendly. Being in social settings with him almost felt exhausting sometimes. He was the kind of guy that was able to go up to anyone and be able to talk to them.
The first time he ever got too friendly with a girl, you tried to ignore it. You made excuses for him like, that’s just the way he is, maybe I’m being an overbearing girlfriend.
But then it happened a second time, then a third time, then it just kept going.
This was the main reason for most of your arguments.
The start of your arguments often looked like this: the two of you would go somewhere, Jake would get a little too close, a little too talkative to a girl, and you had to wait till you guys were alone to bring up your concerns.
“Jake, I just really don’t like how overly friendly you are with other girls. It makes me feel weird as your girlfriend.”
Jake doesn’t seem to be taking the conversation seriously, “C’mon, y/n you’re the only girl I have eyes for.”
You shrug, sitting on the edge of his bed, “Can’t you just, I don’t know, not… do that? I really don’t like it.”
He tenses his forehead, fixing his position on the bed, “...do you not trust me?”
Your eyes widen in shock, “No! That’s not what I’m saying at all!”
And that’s essentially how you and Jake got into that huge argument last week.
What a mess.
⋆˚࿔
When Sunghoon woke up the day after the frat party, he was met with constant panging in his head. He only remembers little bits and pieces of the night and genuinely cannot, for the life of him, remember how he even got home that night.
It was only till after breakfast that he found out Sunoo had called him a Uber home after he spotted him crying alone on the curbside.
Why was he even crying? He can’t remember, no matter how hard he tries to pull it out of his memory, nothing comes out.
Sunghoon’s roommates were usually out and about on Saturdays, so he decided to dedicate his Saturdays to self-care –– which in Sunghoon’s case, means watching cute videos of animals and yelling at his teammates over the mic that they suck ass all day.
He couldn’t even do that because of all that banging inside his head. Even after taking some Tylenol, it just wouldn’t stop pounding. So Sunghoon decided he should try to sleep it out on the couch.
After a couple of minutes of tossing and turning, Sunghoon finally found some tranquility –– but this was ruined the second he heard their apartment door slam shut.
Sunghoon almost fell out of the couch due to the sound, “What the fuck are you slamming doors for in the afternoon?”
When he looks up to see which one of his roommates almost broke their door down, he sees Jake –– his expression annoyed and Sunghoon’s presence totally ignored. Jake slams his own door shut without saying a word.
Sunghoon always knew not to bother Jake when he was upset and to just wait for him to feel better, so instead he sent a couple texts to Heeseung and Jay asking what’s up with Jake.
SUNGHOON What’s up with Jake He just came in slamming doors looking pissy and my head fucking hurtssss
JJONGSAENG think he and y/n broke up
HEESEUNG U being deadass?
JJONGSAENG yeah but jake didn’t tell me tho heard thru the grapevine u know how fast rumours spread on campus but pretty sure they did i’ll ask him later
Upon reading these texts Sunghoon sat up immediately. All those times he prayed for you and Jake to break up finally came into fruition. But was it right for him to be celebrating like this? Jake’s still his best friend after all.
His thumb hovers over your contact on his phone –– but what was he even going to do? Say, hey heard you and Jake broke up, I’m sorry. If you ever need a shoulder to cry on, I'll be waiting?
He felt incompetent and stupid thinking about this, so he just turned off his phone and kept trying to sleep.
Later that night, Sunghoon found out that you broke up with him and not the other way around. Sunghoon tried really hard not to smile when Jake was explaining what had happened between the two of them to their roommates.
They found out that you had broken up with him after he said, quote, “...she saw me with another girl at the frat and got so fucking upset about something and the fact that I was ‘acting out’ at the party, then she left without a word. It wasn’t until this morning she texted asking me to come over to talk. I didn’t know she was gonna break up with me?!”
At the frat? Was it the one Sunghoon had seen him with when he left the bathroom?
Truthfully, Sunghoon had been waiting for a text from you even though he knew it wouldn’t happen. After a week went by without hearing from you, he gave up on waiting.
Jake was up and running again in no time. He was the kind of person that could easily bounce back from adversities. He did admit, however, that he tried reaching out to you multiple times but never got a reply.
Sunghoon kept getting deja vu, but he couldn't quite put his finger on what’s so familiar –– until it clicked. Remnants of the night slowly started popping up again.
“What do you mean ‘I won’t be there for you anymore?’” Sunghoon asked you on the curb.
You turn your head on your knees to face him now, “I mean, would I lose you for good if Jake’s not in the picture anymore?”
Sunghoon didn’t know if he was absolutely plastered or if these words were actually coming out of your mouth right now.
“No,” Sunghoon shook his head, “No you won’t.”
The corners of your mouth turn upward, “Okay.” You stand up and brush off all the gravel from your clothes, “Are you going to be alright?”
His eyes stay fixed on you, nodding.
“Well,” you sigh, dusting your hands off, “I have to go back to the party. Text me, okay?”
Sunghoon was even more confused now –– on top of already being drunk and overly emotional –– so he burst out in tears. He tried his hardest to keep the tears from spilling out but the floodgates just wouldn’t close.
It wasn’t even just the whole him, you, and Jake situation that caused this –– it was also all the emotions that he had been building up for years.
Being Park Sunghoon –– stuck-up, critical, nitpicky, and insufferable since birth –– was hard.
⋆˚࿔
Sunghoon found himself stuck in a dilemma. On one hand, he has Jake, his best friend, and on the other hand he has you –– but he wants both.
It seems like an easy decision, right? Jake’s his best friend, so ultimately he’s gotta kick the girl to the curb –– except Sunghoon doesn’t want just anyone, he wants you.
He knew trying finding someone like you would be impossible.
It was truly a newfound feeling when he had experienced butterflies for the first time. He’s honestly never felt this deeply about a girl before.
So what else can he do but text you when you ask him to? …two weeks later after mustering up the courage to open up your messages on his phone.
SUNGHOON Hey How have you been?
YOU hey!!!! u finally texted me i’ve been good thanks for asking
Sunghoon taps his foot on the ground, biting his nails, thinking about what else he could say to you to keep the conversation going.
SUNGHOON That’s good I know a lot has happened the past two weeks
You assume he’s referring to you and Jake breaking up. The two of you haven’t seen each other since Alpha Epsilon Pi’s mixer.
Admittedly, the last conversation you had with Sunghoon really cleared a lot of the looming thoughts you had stuck in your brain.
It’s been two weeks since you broke up with Jake.
It’s also been two weeks since Sunghoon told you that you wouldn’t lose him for good.
YOU yea we should catch up let’s have a drink together like old times :))
⋆˚࿔
Like old times.
Sunghoon sat in a booth at his local university pub, just like he would last year. Waiting for you all the time.
In truth, Sunghoon couldn’t shake off the nerves of seeing you again after a while –– so to curb his anxiety he ordered two beers. One for you and one for himself. Well, at least that’s what he intended at first, but after he finished his bottle he still felt nervous so he drank “yours.”
You aren’t even late to meet him, he’s just way too early.
Ah fuck, he thought. If you still weren’t here and he’d already drank his own beer and “your” beer, and the two of you were meeting for drinks –– wouldn’t that suggest they were going to get multiple drinks?
Sunghoon covered his mouth, murmuring to himself silently, “Oh my god, how drunk am I gonna get. I can't embarrass myself” (Spoiler alert, he wasn't actually that drunk throughout the night, definitely just the placebo effect).
You actually arrive 10 minutes before your meeting time thinking you’d be early, but you were surprised when you saw Sunghoon sipping beer by himself, “Hey! You’re really early.”
“Yeah,” Sunghoon grins, “I guess you are too. How have you been?”
You seat yourself on the other side of the booth, “Well,” you sigh, “you already know what’s been going on with me and Jake.”
Sunghoon flinched at the mention of Jake’s name. Oh god, now he really was going to have a nervous breakdown. In the midst of this all, Sunghoon actually forgot about Jake in the equation.
Is it appropriate to be meeting his now ex-girlfriend for drinks? Like, just two of them? But wait, Sunghoon was friends with y/n way before him so would this be justified? Whatever, he needs a drink.
“Uh, yeah. Sorry about that.”
You figured you probably shouldn't have brought that up and sheepishly smiled, “Why would you be sorry? Let’s order some drinks!”
After three more beers, a long island iced tea, and a mojito later, it was safe to say you and Sunghoon had all the alcohol courage you could get.
The two of you were laughing about, god knows what, for the past two hours –– but the topic of conversation never mattered between you and him. You could talk to him about anything.
You stretch your arms up, “Do you think we should leave?” you and Sunghoon turn to look around the pub and realize they’re getting ready for closing.
Sunghoon ended up paying for all the drinks which made you feel giddy and thankful because your drinks were $15 each and you weren’t planning on going broke that night.
Outside of the pub, you and Sunghoon kept the laughter going. God, it’s been so long since you’ve hung out with him like this. You never realized how much you missed him.
“So…” Sunghoon drags out, “is this goodbye?”
You fish for your phone in your purse to check the time, “Wanna keep talking and have drinks at my place?”
He smiles at you, gesturing to the sidewalk ahead, “Lead the way Missy.”
When you finally arrive at your apartment, you push the door open and welcome him in, “My humble abode.”
Sunghoon had never been to your apartment before. Back then he thought it would be creepy and invasive if he asked to hang out at yours instead. He always knew you were a nostalgic and sentimental person, but your apartment unit really personified it. You kept all of the cheerleading medals you had stacked up in high school years ago, your fridge filled with photos of you and your loved ones, you even had a pile of every birthday card you’ve received in the corner of your desk.
Without meaning to, Sunghoon found himself meddling around your apartment inspecting everything you possessed. He wanted to know what you were like before he met you –– he wanted to know everything he could about you.
A finger taps on Sunghoon’s shoulder making him jolt, “You snooping around?” you tease.
He stammers, “No– sorry, I– I was just curious.”
You chuckle and walk towards the kitchen to grab some more drinks, “I’m just kidding, Hoon.”
Exactly like a loyal golden retriever would, he followed behind you quietly. You pass him a bottle of beer and take a sip of your seltzer. You prop yourself up the counter, legs lightly swinging from the ground, “So…”
In front of you, he puts a hand in his pocket and takes a swig of beer with the other, “...so” he repeats.
At this point, the alcohol wore off from the walk back to yours. Both of you were the right amount of buzzed –– giggly drunk.
“But seriously, how have you been? Like truthfully.” you ask.
Sunghoon tries to think hard about it –– but he’s always stuck to the same routine he’s had for the past three years. He scratches the back of his neck, “I dunno, life’s been the same as always. Wake up, eat, sleep, repeat all over again.”
You tilt your head, “Same old Sunghoon, doesn’t it get tiring sometimes?”
“What does? The routine?”
“No,” you fiddle with your fingers, “bottling everything up.”
Sunghoon’s surprised by your answer. He wonders what makes you think that, “What do you mean?”
You chug the remaining of your seltzer, “It’s just– it seems like you had a lot on your plate recently.”
At first, he wonders what you’re referring to. If he thinks hard about it, all he does is study, go to the gym, and play games. But when he finally realized what you were talking about he started getting flustered.
“...are you asking me this because of the conversation we had three weeks ago?”
He still remembers that night vividly. It had rained during the day, releasing the smell of petrichor and wet grass. The pavement hadn’t dried up yet where they stood –— he remembered because he kept his head down after Jake came to console you. He also remembers how he felt when he heard Jake come back from dropping you off. Straight guilt.
He laid in bed that night wondering what kind of “best friend” he was to say all of those things to you as if you weren’t dating Jake then.
But now he’s standing in front of you, at your apartment, in your cramped kitchen, a little too close to each other.
“...yeah, sorry,” you apologize, “it seemed like you had a lot on your mind then.”
Sunghoon steps a bit closer, slightly wedged in between your legs, “I did have a lot on my mind then.” he confessed.
Not once breaking eye contact with you, he takes a final swig of his beer before he lightly places the empty bottle on the counter.
“Would you tell me if I asked?” you let him slide in between your thighs.
He boxes you in when he places both hands on the counter beside you, “I’d do anything you ask, y/n. You know that.”
You could hear the water drip from the kitchen faucet with how quiet it was.
“What about now? Do you still have a lot on your mind?”
Sunghoon pretends to ponder about it for a second before answering.
“Yeah.”
“...what are you thinking about right now?”
He only looks at you, fixing your hair before tucking a strand behind your ear.
“Whether this is a good idea or not.”
Sunghoon slowly leans in, almost as if he’s asking for permission before making a move –– and when you wrap your arms around his neck, he takes it as a green light and presses his lips against yours.
He thinks he’s dreamt about this moment his entire university career; what it would be like kissing you. Well now he knows. He knows that your lips taste like the cherry chapstick you always wear, that you kiss him softly, and that you get all handsy while making out.
You drag your hand gently down Sunghoon’s chest and you assume he liked that considering you can feel him smiling on your lips.
So you begin to outline his entire body. You trace your fingers along his jaw, the curvature of his abs, his biceps. You gently tug on his hair which elicits a small groan from him. You’re everywhere, you were ravenous.
All that time back then, when you’d pine over ice prince Park Sunghoon and throw hints at him here and there –– he never got the message though.
But now you’re here, kissing Sunghoon, and you just can’t get enough –– and it seems like he can’t either.
Sunghoon caresses the outline of your waist, fingers slightly skimming up your skin, when he pulls away to pepper light kisses on your neck, “you know,” he mumbled, "I've been waiting for this moment ever since we first met.”
A small moan escapes your lips when he starts licking behind your ear, “Hoon,” you breathe out, “...do you want to go to my bedroom?”
He swears he can see stars now from how lightheaded he feels right now. He can’t even process that what’s happening is actually happening.
Is this real life?
Instead of exchanging words, he lets his body talk, picking you up from the counter walking towards your room, where he lays you down with the utmost care –– like you were his most prized possession.
Cautiously, he asks, “Do you really wanna…”
“Yes. I do.” You shut him up with a kiss, fidgeting with the hem of his t-shirt. You knew he understood the memo when he pulled away to throw his shirt to the ground.
He falls back into you, moving his knee between your thighs when he cups your face to kiss you again. This time, it’s messy, it’s desperate. Sunghoon wants to explore every inch of you, learn how your mind works, what you’ve experienced in life, what you haven’t, what you want to. He slides his tongue like he’s going to devour you.
Slowly, he peeled off all your clothes one-by-one until you’re left in your undergarments. You wish you had known what your plans were gonna be tonight otherwise you would’ve surely put on some better lingerie.
Sunghoon doesn’t give a fuck though, you were laying in front of him undressed and beautiful, how could he focus on something so miniscule when he has you all to himself? …but he also didn’t care because it’s going to come off anyways.
He unclasps your bra, exposing your bare chest. His kisses trailed from your throat all the way to your inner thighs. Now he was perched in between your legs next to your clothed pussy. He smirked when he saw how soaked your panties were, “You get this wet for me?”
You cover your eyes using your forearms out of embarrassment, “Just stop teasing, Hoon.”
“Hoon.”
God he loved hearing you call him by that nickname, he could feel his dick getting impossibly hard in his boxers. He’s going to absolutely destroy you.
Sunghoon delicately took off your panties before spreading your legs wider. He could see the slick from your pussy drooling onto the sheets already, and he swore he almost moaned.
You bite your bottom lip when he starts to place light kisses onto your pussy. He dragged his tongue from your fluttering hole to your clit. Park Sunghoon was a starved, starved man. He attaches himself onto your clit. He works his tongue until he gets you moaning, and when he’s decided he wants to hear you moan louder for him, he plunges two fingers in without warning.
Now he was knuckle deep inside of you, and those moans just kept escaping from your mouth, gradually getting louder and louder –– you pray you don’t get a noise complaint by the end of tonight. He pumps his fingers with vigor, eventually finding your most sensitive spot.
He’s still lapping at your pussy while he massages your spongy G-spot. Sunghoon assumes he’s doing a great job since your legs are shaking …and also because you keep cheering him on like he’s a D1 athlete, “Ffffuck… Hoon– Please just– don’t stop. K–keep going!”
When you start to thrash around he tightens his grip on your plush thigh, continuing to work his tongue and fingers inside of you. He could tell you were about to cum from the fact that your pussy kept pulsing while his fingers were in deep.
“W– Wait,” You grab onto the sheets, “Hoon wait, I think– I feel like I’m gonna pee.”
“So what? Just relax and let it out.”
You do what he says, your juices coating his tongue. You watched him suck up every drop. The squelching sound was filthy, his fingers still scissoring you open. He brings himself up to lick at your neck while his fingers stay buried inside of your pussy, “You like that?”
What a freak.
You never expected Park Sunghoon of all people acting this way in bed.
Your mouth drops open, nodding in agreement, “Uh huh…” Your breathing pattern still off from your last orgasm, “I fucking love it.”
He sucks at your neck, “Atta girl,” his fingers finally pull out of your cunt, dragging his hand up to one to fondle with one of your titties, “You gonna let me fuck you then?”
“Please.”
His lips curled into a devilish smirk, pulling out his cock out from his sweatpants. Teasingly, he raises his eyebrows at you, hand holding his cock –– silently curious about whether you could take the dick or not.
Saliva started pooling on the corners of your mouth and he hasn’t even fucked you yet. Sunghoon takes one good look at your swollen clit and puffy lips before he aligns himself at your entrance.
You’re horny and throbbing, you can barely hold your patience while Sunghoon seems to look extremely entertained taunting you by slightly pushing the head in before pulling out. He grabs ahold of your hips, bringing you closer to him.
You laid there biting your nails wondering if he’s ever going to actually fuck you when he slides his cock inside your pussy inch-by-inch without warning. He starts thrusting in and out, grabbing your face to sloppily kiss you. All that drool you’ve accumulated from your past orgasm had been licked clean from your mouth to your chin.
Sunghoon was insatiable. He started kneading your titties, his dick still fucking you nice and open. You probably still don’t know that he hadn’t even put the entire thing in yet. He starts rolling your nipples in between his knuckles before pinching them –– bottoming out completely at the same time.
You just had to lay there and take it. Everything hurt but felt so good at the same time. You hear the schlick-schlick-schlicking sound coming from his dick relentlessly pounding into your drenched pussy.
“Mmphf! Wait, Hoon it f– feels ssoo… good.” You manage to whimper out.
“You just–” thrust, “take it–” thrust, “so fucking well.” thrust.
He was inside so raw, so deep. You thought he was inside of you to the hilt, but when he pressed your thighs against your chest, he found a new angle and somehow managed to fuck you even deeper. You could feel his fat tip battering up against your cervix with every pump –– genuinely becoming scared at one point that his cock would slide into your womb. Your moans echoed throughout your apartment unit. It honestly sounds like pornstars having sex in here.
When Sunghoon felt your walls clamp down on his dick, he knew that you were about to cum soon. He began to really pound into you now, using his thumb to rub on your clit. It felt like he really did stretch you out. You look down at where the two of you connect and you cum at the sight of his cock plunging into you, forming a ring of milky white cum during the process.
Sunghoon groans at how tight your pussy walls squeeze him in as he fucks you through your second orgasm. You were already so overstimulated; his pelvis rubbing against your sensitive clit, his cock deep inside you, your nipples being rolled and pinched. You couldn’t take it anymore.
Your whole body is quivering at this point and Sunghoon is still spearing you in half. You push at his chest, “W– Wait, hold on.”
He pulls out and looks at you with a cocky smirk on his face, “What’s wrong, baby? Can’t take the dick?”
You pant out, “I just…” You bring your hands to your legs, attempting to stop them from shaking, but it’s no use, “...I just need a second.”
“You tapping out?” he tuts.
Despite having to take a quick breather, you quickly shake your head no.
You crawl towards him now, wrapping your warm hands on the base of his cock. He groans at your touch and revels in it. You lick the tip like it’s candy.
You wait till he lets out a couple more groans before you finally wrap your lips around him and slowly slide his cock down deeper into your throat, stroking the rest with a hand.
A sense of satisfaction washed over you when you looked up to see Sunghoon with his hair tussled, head thrown back, mouth agape. It only pushed you to do more. You relax your throat to prepare for the intrusion, gliding his cock down lower and lower. Sunghoon gently grabs a fistful of your hair enough to keep his balance. All you could hear were his groans of pleasure.
You try to keep all of him in your mouth for as long as you humanely could before pulling away from his shaft, sucking a big breath of fresh hair in.
You could see his eyes darken, “Turn around for me.”
Confused but still compliant, you follow his orders and turn your back against him. He places his hand on your lower back, moving it up your spine to delicately push you back onto the bed. He grabs ahold of your hips, perching them up.
Now you were face down, ass up on your bed.
Sunghoon smoothed the arch of your back with his calloused palm, finding its place at the nape of your neck. He growls lowly in your ear, “You gonna be good for me?”
“Uh huh,” you manage to get out.
He removes his hand at your neck, giving your ass a squeeze before entering inside you again. He hammers into you with the same drive and vigor, steadying your legs when he feels them start to tremor again.
You melt under his touch, the curve of his dick hitting that sensitive spot once again. The sound of your moans pushed him to go even further. He lands his two hands on the moons of your ass, spreading them wide open to see his wet dick pound into your dripping pussy, sliding deeper till he feels the resistance.
“Aargh,” he groans, swiping his thumb over the rim of your other hole.
“Fuuuck…” you whine out loud.
Sunghoon watches himself disappear in between your glistening pussy lips. The sheets beneath you two were pooled with your slick, you couldn’t control your moans anymore –– you knew you were about to give out and cum again any minute now.
Your pussy just squeezes him in right, he could keep fucking you all night. You push against him, fucking yourself on his cock when he starts laughing, “How bad do you want it, baby?”
You roll your hips on him, “I want it… bad.” you mewl.
He presses himself balls deep inside of you just to watch you struggle and grind on him to desperately reach your nth orgasm tonight. He caresses your asscheek when he’s decided he’s had enough fun watching you use him like a fuck toy.
Sunghoon starts thrusting into you again, slow and deep this time, jolting your body forward on the bed with each pump of his dick. When you feel him twitch inside of you, you knew his release was close –– his groans getting louder.
He starts pounding into you again relentlessly, feeling your gummy walls hugging him tight. You could feel him chasing his orgasm. His hand snakes its way to your lower stomach, brushing against the bulge of his bulbous cockhead before he presses down on it. The added pressure made your eyes roll back, gripping onto anything you could.
“Hoon… I’m gonna– I’m gonna cum.” you cry out.
“Then do it.”
You let yourself go, cumming so hard on his cock, you swore you were about to blackout from the feeling of immense pleasure.
He fastens the speed of his thrusts; you feel them become messy and sloppier. You hear his breathing getting ragged when he pulls out, stroking himself as thick ropes of sticky, white, cum spill onto your ass. You lay still on the mattress, still panting when Sunghoon finishes milking out every drop of cum.
Sunghoon uses the back of his hand to wipe off the sweat dripping down his forehead, “Wait,” he breathes out, promptly leaving the room to come back with a towel. He cleans you up when you start chuckling out loud.
“What’s so funny?” he asks, moving your hair out of your face.
“No, it’s just I haven’t had good sex in a while.” you giggle.
Confused, he asks, “Wait but, haven’t you…”
“Me and Jake never had sex.” you confessed.
Sunghoon’s eyes widened, “But– I heard you… in his room–”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you look at him, face puzzled, “Maybe we were watching a movie?”
He decides to drop the topic and just be glad instead. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you closer to him, “I wish I’d done something sooner.”
Snug against his arms, you chirp, “Well, why didn’t you? I was throwing hints all the time!”
Now Sunghoon didn’t know this, “...what do you mean ‘throwing hints?’”
You playfully slap against his chest, “Freshman and sophomore year I was waiting for you to make a move but you never did! So I just assumed you didn’t like me like that and tried to move on…”
One thing about Sunghoon was: he wasn’t really good with social cues. He was always in his own little bubble doing his own thing. But now that he thinks about it, you were pretty obvious –– it just didn’t click to him back then.
The two of you ended up dozing off after talking for hours, and before you knew it, the sun was up again.
Both of you were awoken by a couple of hard knocks at your door.
Sunghoon yawns, “Who’s at your door this early?”
Half-awake, you slip into some clothes you find scattered on the floor, “I’m not sure, maybe a package I ordered?” You rub your eyes, “These FedEx guys always deliver packages so early.”
You quickly leave the room to see who’s at your apartment door. While waiting, Sunghoon props himself up against your headboard, reaching for his phone. He placed a hand behind his head while he started scrolling through his missed notifications. For some reason, Sunghoon felt like he was forgetting something –– he wasn’t sure what.
Something was off, but he couldn’t quite pin what it was. Was he just being paranoid? He bagged the girl of his dreams, he just had amazing sex, and now he’s waiting for you in your bed shirtless, boxers on.
He tries to run through his mental to-do list in his head: he already submitted his assignments, it’s the weekend so he doesn’t have any classes, his rent isn’t due till next month, he did his laundry yesterday –– so why did he feel like he was forgetting something?
Sunghoon hears your voice echo throughout the apartment, “Jake! What are you doing here?”
Oh shit.
kay's note: r/amitheasshole which one of them do you think is the biggest asshole: sunghoon, jake, reader, or all of them, cause i was lowkey thinking about it myself but i'm not too sure either
copyright © bambiens 2026.
IF YOU'LL STILL HAVE ME ˒˒ yjw
sypnosis. your boyfriend is harboring a big secret, and it’s not a nasty affair or a foot in crippling debt. quite the opposite, actually: he’s out saving the city when you’re not looking. too bad you’re the journalist-in-training who loathes covering the ever-enigmatic spiderman when he’s all the city seems to talk about.
pairing. spiderman!jungwon x journalist!reader
tags. double life, fluff, comedy, established relationship, reader hates spiderman but ADORES her bf, won is a little shit in this, he’s also down horrible, they're both in uni, NOT proof-read, angst if you squint!
wc. 1.4k
now playing. tears - sabrina carpenter
you're don't know the nicest way to say that your job really fucking sucks sometimes.
you’re blessed, though! truly! you’ve earned yourself a nice little place in manhattan to spend the rest of your busy twenties in with yellow lights and a nice heater — plus the waived amenity fees. thank goodness for the waived amenity fees.
your job as a junior journalist at the daily globe is all you could ever ask for, really, and you’re only a senior in university. you ought to love and accept your role in it, grit your teeth, and claw your way up the ladder.
but if you have to write one more article about spider-freaking-man, you might actually lose your mind.
“it’s what the people wanna see,” your editor shrugged, throwing a file—your latest work—smack on top of the rest of the printed articles on his desk that were undoubtedly also about that spidery fool. “he is our national hero, after all.”
national hero, your ass.
you’d come to the daily globe to write about something of substance, like real-world happenings or breaking news that deserve to be broadcast to the entire city. what you didn’t come here to do, however, is spend your days writing about some kid in a red suit who uses up his free time beating up petty criminals.
if you had that kind of power, you’d go for the big guys. the people in power who actually matter. the ones who hide behind practiced smiles and polished speeches and actually cause all the mayhem that goes on in this city.
but alas, the idiots of new york apprently prefer web tricks and backflips.
and so you sink deeper into the comfort of your chair, glaring at the cursor on your screen like it’s done you a grave disservice.
spiderman saves subway crash victims — again!
you could physically recoil. you ought to request for transfer over to the daily bugle where they write about this costumed menace like a threat to society, but the thought leaves as quickly as it comes. then you’d still be writing about him.
as if your blasted day couldn’t get any worse, your phone buzzes from the pockets of your hoodie.
won 😼
will b late. give 5 mins tops. loeve yuo!
you
👍
won 😼
hwy
are tou mad?
you groan and slump over your desk. you don’t even grace his texts with a response this time, tossing your phone over your sheets and returning to your treacherous work.
your phone buzzes again, and you ignore it, typing away like you haven’t sent your boyfriend into a sudden frenzy with a text — or lack thereof.
somewhere a few blocks away, something explodes, and not metaphorically.
literally.
“OKAY — okay, listen!” spiderman pants, flipping over a metal pole flying through the air at speeds that should’ve crushed him. “i think we got off on the wrong foot, yeah?”
his opponent growls. it doesn’t help that he’s huge, either. like, concerningly huge and twice as angry.
jungwon, despite it all, has his phone wedged between his cheek and his shoulder with your chat still open. sent five minutes ago and still no response.
and he’s no fool, he knows full well that you’re upset with him for being late. again. and yet, something tugs at his chest anyway at the thought of his girlfriend being upset with him. spiderman, despite his wacky, superhuman abilities, is still human, after all.
another hit flies his way, and he blocks it this time.
“can you just hold it for a second?!” jungwon blurts, blocking attacks while suspended in the air with one hand while fumbling with his phone in the other as if he’s just made a reasonable request. “i’ve got important plans, you know!”
the mega-sized monster roars in response, slamming its arm into a pile of construction materials atop a building and sending debris flying.
jungwon yelps, but he jerks back right on time and shoots a web to restrain his enemy’s arm. still no text back from you.
he’s so, so screwed when he gets to your place.
that’s enough for him to lose his patience with this guy, because in one clean motion, he’s pulling at his webbing with all his strength and flipping up and over to use the momentum to send his opponent flying into the side of a building.
“okay, we’re done here. yup — great.” he pants, already thumbing at his phone in his hand as he shoots the last remaining webs to secure the villain he’d just been fighting in place.
5:54 pm, and still no response from you.
jungwom shoots out one last web, securing everything into place. and once he hears the sound of sirens in the distance, he almost physically recoil as an aftershock as he shoots up and out of the scene.
he doesn’t stop to speak to the authorities this time, nor does he drop by to gas himself up to some reporters — the only thing on his mind is you.
and with that, spiderman is cutting clean into the skyline in the hopes he can make it home to you in a flash.
you awake to the sound of loud, incessant doorbelling. like, the kind of doorbelling you only hear when teenagers are hoping to turn you into their next victim of ding-dong-ditch. you shift in your desk, groaning as you sit up.
how long have you been asleep for?
the doorbelling continues, just as persistent and just as annoying.
“jeez — i’m up, alright?!” you shout from your room, stumbling when you get up from your seat as you rub at your eyes. “im coming!”
after a few seconds of unattractive yawning and clumsily staggering towards your front door, you yank the door open.
the intruder doesn’t even give you a second to register before a pair of strong arms wrap around you tightly. like, really tight.
“won—?” you start, but your boyfriend doesn’t give you a chance to finish your response. instead, he buries his head in your neck and exhaling like he’s been waiting for this for hours.
he’s warm, and you almost lose your resolve there and then. almost.
you’re still as angry as ever.
“where the hell were you?” you grumble, and he holds you tighter like that’ll fix all the instances where he just upped and disappeared without a text or a note.
“proffesor held me back at the lab,” jungwon mutters tiredly against your neck, and your hands hover for a second before they settle at his sides. “‘m so sorry, baby.”
. . . what did you say about being angry, again?
“. . . you’re heavy.” you say, and your boyfriend laughs against you at your antics.
“i missed you too.” he smiles contentedly, and you’re huffing and dragging him to your room in seconds like he hadn’t just plowed a monster and caused irreversible property damage on fifth-street prior.
“what were you doing while i was gone?” jungwon asks, and you’re beckoning him to come tangle into each other under your pink covers once you shut your door behind you. he happily obliges.
“you know, the usual.” you sigh, blinking hard in your exhaustion as your boyfriend wraps his limbs around you. “writing about spider-shit and all his good deeds of the week.”
jungwon laughs at that, and it’s not defensive or teasing. if anything, the sound is something undeniably close to fondness.
“if i ever meet him on the job” you mumble into your boyfriend’s chest, wrapping your arms around him tighter. “i’ll tell him he’s ruining my life.”
oh, if only you knew.
“i think he’d listen,” he hums gently, just glad he’s evaded your wrath for yet another day.
after a while of listening to your breathing even out against him in slow repetitions, jungwon allows himself a moment of brief respite as he sinks deeper into the mattress and into you.
and as his chin rests atop your head, fingers subconsciously tracing shapes against your back, something tugs at him. something he has to let out.
“. . . i’ll make it up to you, i promise. i’ll make up for all of it.”
“i know,” you mutter half-asleep, blinking off to sleep like his word is the easiest thing in the world for you to believe. spiderman’s arms tighten around you just a little bit more, holding you against him like something precious.
tomorrow, you’d go back to hating spiderman. and tomorrow, he’d go back to being him.
but someday, in his wildest and most pleasant of dreams, he’ll tell you about all of it. the spider bite, the double life, and all the battles he’s fought and won since then.
someday . . . preferably when you don’t hate him anymore.
i'm delusional enough to hallucinate him even when he's not there in the content enha you will always be 7 for a crazy bitch like me idgaf no meds will help
﴾ got what you need
pairing: yang jeongin x f!reader
genre: one-shot, idol au, smut
word count: 10,9K
warnings: dom!jeongin & sub!reader ⋆ biting! ⋆ marking! ⋆ hand! & mouth!kink ⋆ hair!pulling ⋆ choking! ⋆ finger!sucking ⋆ katoptronophilia! (arousal of doing sexual activities in front of a mirror) ⋆ almost getting caught ⋆ small!manipulation, gaslighting and corruption ⋆ dirty talk ⋆ clit!play ⋆ overstimulation ⋆ squirting! ⋆ fingering (f.receiving)
summary: you always noticed them — his hands, big, fingers long and slender, so veiny, that you could feel every single one of them pressing against your skin…you tried so hard not to act on your own inner desires, but as more things started to happen, your control over your body began to waver — and you weren’t the only one
main masterlist
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He doesn’t even know what he is doing to you. Your lips fall apart, your own fingers grazing over your lips, face, trailing lower and lower, imagining they were his instead. With every simple move of his hand — gripping, holding, touching or even just extending — with every look, every fleeting glance, your whole body shakes from the inside, mind turning to mush. You tried to stop, feeling so awful after every single thought of his hands, but nothing was enough to keep you from denying yourself the small pleasure of even trailing your eyes trail over them. His hands — so big, so strong, fingers long and thin, veins pressing against his skin every time he so much as grazes over something, rings glimmering at you teasingly. You can’t stop yourself — not now, when you have finally, just barely, started to feel them pressing against you.
Jeongin…when you first met him, he was shy — always wearing a sweet smile on his face that deepened into the cutest dimples. That is how you remember him and that is what you thought he is always like. You still remember how your own anxiety radiated off you at the thought of meeting your best friend’s friends. However Felix, being his bubbly self, did everything he could to make feel comfortable — comfortable enough that you eventually started coming to their practice from time to time. At first, you didn’t want to get to know them, mostly of the fear that they might not like you, but that fear faded quickly, forgotten the first day you ever spent with them.
Like Felix, they all were nice to you. Some more quiet than the others, but they always intended to make you comfortable and included — from Chan, making you feel included in every conversation, to Minho making sure your plate is always full, to Changbin always putting smile on your face with his stupid jokes, to Hyunjin who you share your love for art with, to Han who secretly shares his sweets with you, to Seungmin whose bickering and nagging keeps you occupied most of the time, but with his and all of your new friends’ doings, it still couldn’t make your attention even a little waver away from him.
He is all the same — quiet, but after some time you have realized that maybe it is just you. With the others he is open, he is more himself and you? You keep your eyes on him. The beginnings were difficult for everyone — always careful with their words and actions, till they finally saw the small weight on your shoulders fall off. You didn’t even realize how truly you were nervous around them, but they actually were just acting careful around you, so they wouldn’t scare you off. Even him, but with him, you have never truly got close enough.
You were staring, awfully so and you wonder how the others didn’t picked up on it yet or even him. Maybe somehow they did, maybe they just didn’t want to embarrass you, or maybe they were just clueless. He was nothing, but kind to you, walking around you slowly like in waiting, but you always did nothing, but stare. He also, not like the others, didn’t touch you — not even a slight push nor a hug. You do know about his small dislike of someone touching him and you do respect it, keeping your hands to yourself, while also imagining what it would feel like to have his on your skin.
You wonder if he maybe did notice your eyes on him, nonmoving, glaring, but after some time you started to notice the small changes between you two. You don’t remember, when it was the first time you truly noticed them, but you do remember the time, when he got you a drink you have requested. You remember how his fingers wrapped around the cold can, leaving small imprints — you remember, when you went to take it, your own fingers didn’t even reach where his once were. Even just this lingering memory makes you shake, air getting stuck in your throat. Such a small gesture — simple, but it meant so much more for you. It also fully started your little obsession, with his hands.
You have never touched them, not even that time, too careful and trying to be respectful and with that you never truly appreciated, how nice his hands are. You for quite a while didn’t even realize yourself how much time you have spent looking at them. You always liked hands, you even had a particular picture of perfect pair of hands and he had them. It is almost one of the first things you notice on a person and not just in a certain way — how they hold a pen, phone or even how they squeeze at you, when you go shake your hand with theirs. However there was also a one way you like them the most — how they would hold you, grip at you or even pinch you. You didn’t want to think about him and his hands in that way, because you thought it was wrong, even pinching yourself every time it crossed your mind. Your skin was tender at the end of the day and even the slight sting couldn’t stop you and at one particular night, when you were on the brink of sleep, you decided to not hold yourself off any longer.
Your mind was already fuzzy, exhausted. You could feel the world around you turning into black spots before your very eyes, but you knew that it mostly wasn’t from the need for sleep. You couldn’t close your eyes, mind swirling, thoughts a mess, before every black spot before you formed into one solid picture. Him — right on top of you, caging you, body pressed against yours. His hands — trailing over your body, gripping, pinching your skin between his fingers. Your breathing has turned into quiet gasps as you followed his imaginary movements with your own hands. Oh, how would they feel running through your hair. How his fingers would pinch lightly at your peeks. How would he use them on you — pushing, scissoring, moving so fast, curling just right, till they reach the one delicious spot inside you and you just know it would be so good. He would know perfectly what to do to you — you would let him do anything and everything to you…You would let him wrap his hands around you, till your skin would turn tender. You would let him wrap them around your neck, your hips, your thighs, everything. You would let him fuck you onto his fingers, cunt leaking all over him, squeezing tightly, because you knew it would be too delicious to stop…You are a mess and a one thing that didn’t help was that he had finally started to feel comfortable around you.
You felt so dirty, yet you couldn’t stop, not when the thought of your hands replaced by his brought you to such ecstasy that it made your eyes roll back into your head. When he for the first time touched you — shivers of delight ran down your spine, world around you swirling. It was so simple again, but it being him was everything, but that. Shock — sparks alighting on the spot and you did nothing, but stare dumply at him, yet again he didn’t seem to notice.
One day, when you were outside in a small garden, it had happened. That night was warm, small wind blowing through your hair as you so desperately tried to put them behind your ear to take a small bite of Minho’s amazing cooking. You were frustrated, huffing lightly as your hand came to wrap around the small strand of hair, that kept getting inside your mouth every time you would try to take a bite. You were almost ready to rip it out of your head, till you felt a small graze of fingers against your temple and like your body knew, you froze. Standing before you, looking down at you, was Jeongin and for a split second you caught his gaze — staring, he was staring right at you…your lips. The food in your spoon almost fell off, watching him slowly and precisely put your stubborn hair behind your ear, before turning back around to the conversion he was having with Hyunjin, like nothing had happened.
Like he didn’t just touch — like he didn’t do something so intimate, right in front of the others, like he didn’t just stare at your lips….
Your appetite didn’t return, it just turned into something way more different. The first time he ever laid his hands on you…Maybe you were thinking too much, but you never have felt such a rush, when Felix did it for example. So simple, yet not. For the rest of that night, like every other, you couldn’t stop looking, thinking, dreaming about those hands. Everything he did with them was something so mesmerizing and you were absolutely smitten. That night is treasured deeply in your heart and how much you didn’t expect him to do it again and again.
You tried to keep your distance, even if it didn’t mean much since you kept looking at how his fingers moved — so elegantly that you truly couldn’t do anything about your staring, but he…he seemed to only move closer and closer to you since than. When he first sat beside you, your body almost froze, like you were certain a small move would make him move away. Maybe you did want that in some way, because his whole presence made your mind shut off — mumbling, muscles spasming yet frozen and you truly wonder how you could even press down on the buttons of the controller you were holding. The game you were playing with Felix was quickly forgotten, his whining and shouting, nothing but a background noice, but one sentence ringed in the air.
“Let me try.”
Your head didn’t turn to him, body so still you didn’t know if you should just fall over so the ground could swallow you whole. He never truly spoke to you and you have to wonder again how is it that he has you wrapped around his finger this much…that’s right his finger, the one touching yours. Your eyes stared down on the controller in your hands as he came to grab it from your grasp, hands momentarily wrapping around yours. His hands — so big and warm were almost galloping yours and you couldn’t fight against the small sigh leaving you. His touch was again so brief that you thought it was just your wild imagination, but it did happened and you did find the last bits of strength to look up at him.
He was smiling, dimples showing seemingly sweet, but something in his eyes flickered briefly, when he trailed his gaze over your features before looking away. You were a mess, truly a mess and there is no other word better to describe yourself. Since than he did so many things with his hands, when he was near you — hands running through his hair, till you got a whiff of his lingering shampoo, his fingers tugging at the zipper of his hoodie, tapping against the glass of his drink, fingers pressing against his lips, when he was deep in thought and every time you looked — every time you noticed how his head would slightly tilt into your direction and every time you looked away in shame. Every time your eyes met his, you naively thought he was only glancing your way, only looking at his new friend — but, oh…how wrong you were.
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Sweat — rolling down their flushed skin, chests rising in deep, rigid breaths, that you mirror lightly in your own way. You can see the exhaustion dripping off them, heads rolling back, muscles jumping, joints shaking as they slump down to the ground. You don’t know for how long you have been here, how long you have been lost in thought, but it was enough for them to feel their bodies screaming for relief. You tried to helped them the best you could, but you yourself didn’t see why you were even needed here in the practice room. Felix and the others, thought of you as a thing to lean on, a support and what kind be friend would you be not to stay…Even if you were just sitting on the couch watching — watching him.
Your best friend startles you a little, pulling you out of your thoughts as he flops down next to you, huffing, stretching. “Man, I am so tired–“ Felix whines to no one particular. However you do smile a little, when he turns to you to jokingly pout, before his lips part again to blow out puffs of air.
“We should take a break.” Says Chan, nodding at everyone, seemingly exhausted as well. The new comeback was a weight on everyone’s shoulders right now — nonstop practicing, trying to get perfect their dances that were already flawless. You had thought that maybe your presence might distract them somehow. However to them you were a calm presence, a shoulder to lean on. What they didn’t seem to realize, though, is that it was quite the opposite for you. It felt like torture in a sense…watching sweat drip down his face, trailing down his neck, pulling at his thin t-shirt in attempt to cool down a little, hearing the heavy breaths escape him between takes, the deep frown of concentration etched on his face as he danced.
You are more quiet than usual, fidgeting with your own hands, as your eyes travel from him to the others — no use whatsoever, because you still found yourself looking at him as he goes to sit down on the floor. “Want something to eat, before we continue?” Asks Chan, voice breathy and his question is already being answered by series of agreements.
You don’t know what time it is now, but you do feel small specks of exhaustion settling over you too. Still, as always, your mind and heart ignore the rest of your body, too occupied with the view infront of you. Jeongin had you mesmerized by his smooth movements, hair now slightly damp from the hours of practice and you couldn’t help, but wonder how much time had passed to get him like this — body sprawled over the floor, elbows holding his upper body up as he leaned back into the couch. Every time he would take a breath, his dark t-shirt would cling onto his chest. His head is rolled back, giving you a view of his long neck, your eyes following the prominent vein peaking from beneath the thin skin, Adam’s apple bobbing, looking good enough to bite and his hands…they keep twitching, like tapping into the rhythm of the music that already had stopped playing minute ago. You are distracted again, so much you don’t feel or hear the others moving around the room.
“Innie-ah, you coming?” Asks Hyunjin and that makes you turn away from him to the others, who look at their dark haired friend, who is still sitting on the floor. You don’t even realize, that they already moved to go get some food, your eyes meeting Felix’s and you do know he could see the way yours widened at the next words.
“No–“ Says Jeongin and you already feel a lump forming in your throat at the answer as he doesn’t even take a move to go with them. “Just buy me whatever.” He waves his hand lightly, your eyes flickering over the room back to him and you almost crumble, when he meets you in the middle.
You can feel the others now looking at you too in a silent question, which should be simple to answer in a sense, but you can’t help but almost stutter. You will be alone…alone with him, if you don’t go and you don’t know if you want that. No, you feel like your body needs that — feeling his and his presence only caging you in and the thought makes your seemingly exhausted body wake up from any kind of slumber it was in. Your body and heart speaks for you, but your mind screams at your answer.
“I don’t want anything — I will just wait here.“
Everything was said so fast and collected, but your gaze didn’t waver from his, because you physically couldn’t look away. You watch his eyes narrow a little, fingers twitching again and like a fly you follow the movement, almost blacking out at that, because he just saw you. He was you definitely looking and if you hadn’t turned away as if the sight of his hands physically burned you, it might have not look so obvious. You curse at yourself silently in your mind, glancing at the others, who nod at you in acknowledgment, before taking their leave and just as their presence started to fade, you feel his grow heavier — expanding, filling the space around you.
You are choking, thoughts a mess and for the first time you don’t think about anything and you just feel. You don’t hear, but feel the doors closing, the distancing footsteps, the way his breathing levels, the way his muscles stretch, when he goes to take a sip of his water. The way his fingers scrunch up the water bottle…You want to cry, scream, anything, because you don’t even recognize yourself anymore. You have never been so smitten, so mesmerized by someone and the worst part is that he might never know…
Jeongin swallows the last bits of water, before looking at you. Your legs are pushed up to your chest, sitting in the far corner of the couch, like you wanted to make yourself as small as possible. The dimmed light highlights the small frown on your face, watching silently, how you fumble with your fingers. It was quiet, nothing, but the small rustles of fabric from him, when he moves to stretch a little and the small hum of the air conditioning in the room. The small cold breeze does nothing for your heated skin, eyes looking down at nothing in particular, silently counting the seconds. You are pathetic — finally you have him alone with you and you can’t even do anything about it. You don’t even know what would you say…you don’t even know, if you are even capable of ever voicing your words out loud.
You don’t know if it is just you again, who feels the tension in the room, but you do feel how he suddenly turns his attention to you. You don’t move, his stare piercing through your body in a way that it is almost impossible for you to look back at him. You have no shield, no excuse — you can look at him, you are just not sure if you are capable of normally, without your emotions reflecting in your eyes. However you do see him from the corner of your eye stand up, pushing down his sweatpants that had ridden up his long legs. “Want some?” His voice cuts through the thick air and you can’t do anything, but nervously look up at him to know what he is asking.
In his hand is his now empty water bottle, fingers digging into the plastic little deeper than it is necessary. Your eyes meet his only, because he moves his occupied hand to his face to lightly flick off a small drop of sweat running down his jaw. At that you notice how your closed up throat is screaming in thirst, nodding slowly in plea, too scared to even open your mouth to speak. Jeongin mimicks you, before walking up to the small table in the corner of the room. You wonder why you both not just ignore each other, scrolling away on your phones before everyone gets back — you soak in each other’s presence.
You follow his every move, suddenly so confident with his back turned to you, watching muscles rip under his thin t-shirt. Everything goes slow around you, yet too quick at the same time, body twisting a little, when he turns back to you to give you your water. Your muscles spasm, legs falling down the couch in a sound way too loud in the silence of the room and you can’t help, but cringe at everything you are doing right now. You feel exposed under his eyes, even if he is just looking, even if his stare is always seemingly so nerve racking.
Jeongin stops right in front of you, making your frown disappear from your face so quickly you almost have a whiplash. Right before you is your water bottle, his hand wrapped around it — you go grab it slowly and unsurely. You keep your face straight as best as you can, but how can you, when your hand touches his…the reason you are so miserable. His skin is cold, kissed by the dripping water and you follow it, till it falls off the tip of his finger. You don’t know if you are moving so slow just to not crumble, hand lingering on his second too long that it seems intentional. However his touch — before you can melt into the leather couch any further is gone as his hand falls back to his side.
You feel your heart shatter not just from that, but also because you notice how your hands shake a little as you go to take a sip. The cold water though does nothing too ease your inner thirst, not when he is still standing before you…You swallow a little too hard, carefully glancing at him from beneath your lashes and your lips are left parted at the sight of him towering over you. He was always a bit taller than you, but from this angle you are even more intimidated. When did he move so close? You almost feel the material of his sweatpants grazing over you and you don’t move away from it nor into it — you are completely still, staring at him and he does notice the inner battle reflecting in your eyes. There is no use, you don’t have the strength to fight your emotions right now.
“Something wrong?” He asks you, voice smooth as ever, loud around you. You are completely drowning in his presence alone. Your lips go to press against each other, but your mouth is left open again, when you catch him following the movement. Goosebumps rise on your skin, words getting caught in your throat again, so you just decide to just shake your head, even if you are lying. Everything is wrong — with you and your obsession, kink, to the way he stands before you, talks, moves. How does he do it?
Your eyes travel away from him, just for a second to atleast blink, because it seems you can’t even do that, but then shock fills you. The move so quick and smooth you feel your mouth drying again, when he suddenly takes the water from you. Pathetically you want to chase the feel of his skin again, but you only look up at him in bewilderment. The way his fingers grazed over yours leaves a permanent burning sensation, that sends your stomach spinning. It seemed like he used your disbelief of such act to move closer, because your knee touches his leg briefly, but that isn’t the thing that makes you almost fall into unconsciousness.
It is the way he puts the rim of the bottle against his own lips, tongue sticking out for a moment and you visibly shiver at the thought of it being your lips instead. He takes a long sip of water, some of it rolling down to his chin, neck bobbing again. The way he makes everything look so good, should be illegal. Your mind shatter again, because he is drinking from the same bottle as you — he could have take a new one for himself. You knew how he is, when people get close to him, how he slightly pulls away from an unexpected hug, even if there is a smile on his face. He is definitely not smiling now…he is watching you from behind your water, small breath falling from him as he goes to wipe away the spilled water from his pink lips. “Sorry, thirsty–“ He shrugged, like that move didn’t just make you form into a puddle.
“It’s okay.” You mumble so quietly you don’t even hear yourself. You watch him relax his arms by his sides, also noticing, how he holds to bottle just with his fingers. You don’t know where to look right now, small silence between you two, before he so suddenly smiles down at you, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, nor it does last long as he tilts his head at you.
It was a silent question and you answer it by another wave of silence, not really sure what to do — if you want him to leave or let him get even closer to you. The quiet makes it hard for you to breathe, his presence and stare only intensifying it. You can see his own unspoken words circling in his eyes, yours nonblinking so you wouldn’t seem like a bigger mess than you already are. With his head tilted down at you, the move making your heart skip a beat, his lips form into a small frown. “You are always so quiet, when I am around…Did I do something?” Jeongin sounds sad, eyebrows furrowing lightly and you do nothing, but panic a little.
“No!” You say, voice a little too loud, making heat rush to your cheeks. With your now wide eyes you watch his frown deepen even more and you curse yourself for being like this around him.
“Really?“ He says, pausing a little, features softening, but his eyes hardening. “Then why do you keep looking at me?” You pause, breathing becoming short as you stammer to answer. He is only meaning now — not every day, every moment…You are again lying to yourself, but you have to, otherwise you would probably die on the spot. However the way he said it…no.
“I don’t look at you.” That is the most vile lie you have ever said and you are still looking at him, while you said it. You feel the world closing on to you at the thought of him noticing your nonstop staring — that’s it, you are only allowed to look at him from afar. Admire him, thing you will propably never have, but in some way you do wanted him to notice. In some twisted way, you want him to punish you for it…
Jeongin only hums lowly at your answer, gaze leaving yours, like in deep thought, before he twists his body a little to put the bottle onto the table behind him. Why does it feel like he is waiting? Maybe to see if you will crack? What if he did notice and now he thinks you hate him or something? Your mind is running wild, so distracted that you see him moving in the mirrors surrounding you, way before you feel him.
He humms lowly again, before he goes to sit right next to you, body so close to yours you do a double take to make sure you are seeing right. In the mirror you see him looking at you, feeling the hard glare on the side of your face, but you don’t meet it. You are baffled by everything he did so far — so out of character, so different from the smiley Innie you knew. For a moment think you think, that are dreaming. That you are only imagining his side touching yours, feeling every breath he takes. The small spasm of muscle, when he twists his body to face you a little more. However you see it and feel it, everything is happening so fast you can’t do anything about it yet again. His reflection — the smell of his sweat mixed with his perfume sends you into overdrive and when you see him move his right hand to you…you are left speechless again.
You let him, really you can’t even fight it, because you have been thinking about his hands, his touch every night and every day and now…now his hand comes to put your hair behind your ear. It is the same as before, but now his touch seems to hold a meaning, hand lingering on the side of your face. You let him trace his fingers over your jaw, all the way down to your chin, but he doesn’t make you look at him. You only watch him through the mirror, like you are not ready to face this reality of him touching you so intensely. His hair hides his gaze on your lips, but you do feel it, lips parting in silent gasp as he moves his hand back to your hair. Goosebumps rise on your skin, shivering, when he presses over the skin behind your ear, before you see him leaning closer, hot breath fanning over your ear.
“I know.”
That word…that word makes you freeze in your spot, panic, fear and something more striking you, head snapping to face him. He is close — his nose almost touches yours if you wouldn’t back away in on an instinct. Jeongin’s face is calm, hint of a smile on his lips at your state as your mouth keeps closing and opening. “What-“ You are in denial somehow, only to calm yourself down, but is it even possible with him being so close to you? You watch him remove his hand, with watchful eyes and with that his smile only widens, while you feel a lump forming in your throat. His leg is pressed against yours, reminding you of how close he still is to you and you almost whimper at the confident look you are given — he knows.
“You think, I didn’t notice?” His tone isn’t sharp, but it still does make shame and embarrassment reach you, because you have been caught. Jeongin doesn’t seem to be angry nor disappointed and that makes it all too worst, because he must already know the answer to why exactly you have been watching him. “You stare at me every time I turn away — hoping I won’t catch you, but I always do. So tell me…why and what is it you are looking at?”
You are ashamed. He already knows, but he still wants you to say it. His face is so close to yours, hand on the back of the couch and you know that if you would try to move away he will catch you — there is no way out of this. Though you don’t have the strength to admit yourself yet. “Nothing…” You whisper, head low, while he tilts his again.
“Nothing?” He repeats and now you hear a small hint of dissatisfaction.
“I…I am just looking nothing more, I swear-“ Liar — you are a horrible liar.
“Are you trying to convince me or yourself?”
You have never heard such tone leaving his lips before and you wonder if he is turning angry only because you won’t say it. How can you? You have been caught, but it is not like you were subtle about your actions to begin with. You are embarrassed to be acting like that — so desperate and pathetic, but you can’t control your needs and desires. You feel almost on the brink of tears just from how ashamed you are and you want nothing more than to run and hide, so you do. However you are only quick enough to sit up, hands immediately finding you, pressing you back into the couch and you do gasp out loud at that.
He doesn’t remove his hands from your upper arms, hold strong enough for you to see there is no use trying to escape. His fingers dig into you hard, but it is everything, but painful. You are forced to meet his gaze again and you quiver at the glare he sends you. “Talk, Y/N — can you even do that?” Jeongin leans closer to you, making your back press into the cushion, while he almost hovers over your body.
You don’t know what to do — cry, scream? In embarrassment, pain, but mainly relief, because seeing him like this leaning over your body sends shivers down your spine. “I am sorry–“ You whisper, gasping lightly, when he suddenly releases you from one of his hands to press against the spot next to your head, leather squeaking under his weight.
“Sorry for what exactly?” You almost shake your head, because you don’t particularly know the answer. You are sorry for everything, yet not, because your actions leaded to this. You don’t take your eyes off each other, chests rising so wildly they almost meet. Something then flickers in his eyes, features softening just for you to notice the change. “Sorry, that you don’t talk to me like you do to others?” You blink at the change of tone a little, his words striking small confusion, but you are no fool — he is being manipulative and it is working.
“I was trying to be…respectful.” That word sits heavy on your tongue.
“Respectful…” He repeats after you again. You let him turn you into nothing by a mess beneath his hands, melting at the way his hand travels up your arm. “You and I both know there is nothing respectful between us–“ Your state — wide eyes, lips parted, skin heated — your state makes him melt a little too.
“Us?”
Jeongin is shaking on the inside, because he knew — he wanted you to say it so bad, his grip tightens over your collarbones, thumb pressing into the bone. “Tell me, Y/N. Why are ypu acting so different around me — and don’t tell me you were only looking. I can see you mouthing the words…what do you want?“ It’s a demand, perhaps a plea for you to stop acting innocent.
“I don’t–“
He tsks at you, frown falling over his face, growing frustrated. “Why are you so scared…Did I do something to upset you?” Jeongin says, quietly, sounding so sincere, you stutter.
“No!” It comes out broken, ending in a pathetic whine. You can’t breathe, because it would make you breathe him in too. You realize your state at that…You can’t hide any longer, there was no use even at the start of this. “It’s me…” You confess, not fully, but he sees the way the invisible shield before you crack enough for him to press against you more.
Your legs are pushing against each other, his hand griping on to the cushion next to your head, while the other slides over your arm back again. You watch his eyes turn dark, making you tremble beneath him. Jeongin’s breath mixes with yours, gaze piercing through yours, till it suddenly drifts to your mouth. “Then tell — tell me, what you want and I will give it to you.” His words are like honey, but you hear something, that makes you choke…desperation.
“I can’t–“ You can’t move, breathe, but you do feel him and it is becoming absolutely intoxicating.
“But you do want to–“ His eyes meet yours again, small silence falling between you after that. You don’t answer, because it is so obvious — you need it, want it, you are just not sure if you can handle it. Your body battles with your mind as his hand comes to caress the side of your neck. You whimper, the sound so loud in the silence and so raw you have to close your eyes. His fingers tickle you and your breath turns into gasp, when you feel him blowing air on to the thin skin of your neck. That sound sends sparks of pleasure up his spine. You are too into everything to notice the slight shake in his movements, while his next words bounce off your skin. “Do you want me is that it? Or do you just want my hands?”
You don’t recognize him, he is completely dripping in sin and you are eating every last bit of it. With his lips so close to your skin, your eyes flew back open, staring behind him at the reflection of you two. “I…I want–“ You are speechless, watching him pull away a little to meet your gaze again, heart hammering against your chest as he puts his hands around your back to pull you closer. “I want everything.”
“Then take it.”
You pull your hands away from your chest to press them against his instead, gasping lightly when you feel his heart. “Please–“ Your hands grasp at his t-shirt, making it slide down his chest a little and your simple plea makes him snap.
Jeongin knew — he knew from the beginning. How your lips fell apart every time he would look at you. How your body stilled, every time he was near you and how you stared at his hands and everything he does with them. He firstly thought he was imagining it, thinking maybe, that you are too shy to approach someone new to talk to them, but he quickly realized it — you didn’t want to just talk, you wanted something more, him. The idea corrupted him, the idea of his friend’s best friend being so smitten by him to the point you would fall down to your knees the second he would touch you. Like now — pulling you closer to his heated body, eyes falling to your lips, that were always so delicious to look at. He couldn’t take it anymore, he had to grasp the opportunity to finally talk to you, to feel you. He finally has you, where he wants and he wonders, what would Felix think about the way you are acting like now. So desperate, so his…
The racing thought, the realization that maybe somebody might walk in and caught you two in the act is something he never knew he wanted. His tongue swipes across his lips, mouth so close to yours now, that you feel it grazing you, your small gasp for air being then swallowed by his hungry mouth. It’s hard, all so knowingly desperate and he drinks your small sighs of pleasure with greediness. The feel of his lips finally on yours makes you delirious, letting your body fall onto his, lips pushing harshly against his. It is all spit, tongue and teeth, everything, but sweet, making your mixed drool roll down your chins. His hands roam then, sliding up your back, then down to your hips, before one of them tangles in your hair.
You cry out sharply, when you feel him tug at your roots, head rolling back, the new exposed flesh being immediately warmed by his mouth. Jeongin doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow down, running his lips over you — licking, sucking, nibbling and you let him take it all. “Finally you have said it–“ He mumbles across your skin, groaning into you. “If only you had said it sooner.”
“Jeongin–“ You yelp, when he suddenly bites the side of your neck, the pain quickly melting into pleasure. You panic, suddenly realizing your position and situation — the others can be back at any given moment, you know nothing about how far away they are and also their is a possibility of someone roaming around the building, even at this late hour. If someone wrong sees you, it would get you two into big trouble. However his kisses, touches quickly pull you out of your racing thoughts.
You trust him maybe more than you should, considering that you can feel the slight sting at the side of your neck. The small appearing mark doesn’t seem to stop him, it is completely the opposite. His hand finds the back of your neck, too weak to fight him, making him twist you to his liking. Jeongin licks a long straight line up your neck, before blowing cold air, sending shivers down your spine. You are already shaking, legs pushing against each other a little harder, smearing your already leaking juices. The action is not missed, hands falling to your thighs, pinching at your flesh. You are hot — sweat dripping down the side of your face, breathing fast. His mouth then meets yours again, in a kiss so sweet you can’t help, but whimper.
“Been thinking about your mouth for so long.” The confession makes you fist his t-shirt harder, almost ripping it. You feel yourself clenching over nothing, legs pressing against each other, his hands only increasing the pleasure.
Jeongin pokes his cheek with his tongue, breathing heavily through his nose as he leans away to look at you. Just your look — just your slick, puffy lips and glossy eyes make his cock twitch. The thought of you being so open for him like this, so trusting, is something that maybe he wants to show off. You are a problem…sweet, delicious, addicting, making him act like this, but it seems you are too drunk to even notice the effect you have on him. His fingers tug lightly at the material of your sweatpants, feeling the heat of your skin even through the layers of clothing. He watched you too — he thought about you and how you would look…Under him, on top of him, gasping, whimpering, pleading for more and more, till you are left crying in pleasure and overstimulation. He wondered how you would taste like. How you would sound like, when he would suck at your clit just right — he thought about your mouth and how it would be like to kiss you. How you would wrap your lips around his skin, his cock…His eyes then flicker to the closed doors briefly. He wanted you — all of you, but not right now. However he will give you exactly, what you want and need.
You are left puzzled for a moment, when he suddenly pulls away from you, feet hitting the floor. He sits back, lifting his lower half a little and at that you notice the outline of his cock pressing against his sweats. You bite your lip at the prominent outline of him, watching him spread his legs wider, before he lightly taps his thighs. “Come here–“ He says, leaning back onto the couch. Your desperation makes you not skip a beat, all shame leaving the room from seeing him worked up just like you are. You sit up, crawling your way up to him, but before you can sit, his hands find your hips. “No, like this.” His strength surprises you, letting him turn you around so your back faces him, lifting you up to sit you on his lap. You feel it — his chest rising under you, his breath on the side of your neck as he pushes your hair to the side, his cock pressing right against your ass as you come to sit between his open thighs. His lips find your skin straight away, hands running over your legs and you gasp lightly, when you suddenly lift your gaze to the mirrors infront of you, only finding him watching you the whole time. “I want you to see–“ Jeongin watches your eyes trace over his hands that lightly tweak at your thighs. “What exactly were you imagining?”
He wants you to say it, even if he knows it, even if he feels you shaking under his hands. Your eyes briefly close to savor the feeling, twitching on his lap, making you press your backside harder to his cock. You feel him chasing the feeling, hips lifting you up a little to make you bounce one more time. It makes you gush even more, legs opening and closing, trying to ease the ache between your legs. You are in haze, completely drunk of him and you don’t care about anything but his touch anymore. “Your hands on me…” You say, the confession making his hands stop at the waistband of your sweatpants, fingers grazing over your exposed skin.
His lips press against your skin, biting down a little, making you feel the smile on his face, before you even see it. The sight is so dirty — so everything, captivated by how his hand extends over your lower stomach. “Where?” Jeongin is teasing, getting off your frustration, watching a sweet frown fall on your face .
“Please, just–“ You move around on his lap, the another graze of your bottom half across his cock, making him hiss lightly, before you see him putting one of his hands back in your hair.
Jeongin tugs lightly, your head tilting to your shoulder, meeting his wild gaze in the mirror. “I can give you what you want, you just have to ask nicely.” You whine at that, few tears gathering in the corners of your eyes, glimmering in the soft light in the room.
You are done fighting against the last bits of your self respect, cunt clenching again, when his fingers on you travel lower, till you feel them dipping under your sweats. “Jeongin — I want your fingers, please–“ There is no time to waste if he wants to give you what you want and your sweet voice echoes around him like a siren.
He turns to look down at you, tugging your head so it faces his and he curses at the pout you give him. Your lashes are wet, bottom lip quivering and that action makes his eyes roll into the back of his head. “Fuck–“ He kisses you again, briefly yet messily, moaning with you as his tongue rolls against yours, before he pushes away again, small string of saliva connecting you two. Both of his hands find your waist again, rolling the soft material between his fingers, tugging a little. “Take these off.” Your skips a beat at his words, shaking hands finding his.
You pull your sweatpants off, with his help, lifting yourself up a little and as you kick them off your legs, sitting back again, the feel of his cock is much more intense than before. You gasp as he moves a little so he is right between your cheeks, eyes opening wide at the sheer size of him. Your eyes then meet his again, but now in the mirror, following his line of sight to the dark, wet spot on your underwear. “Look–“ You already are — watching him and his hands traveling down your legs, the feeling making you press against him even more.
His hands are hot and heavy, gripping at the meat of your thighs, when you just a little bit close them at the sight of your juices coating your skin. Your smell is intoxicating, the feel of you trembling just as his finger dips lightly inside your thighs is addicting. Jeongin is staring straight on the wet spot infront of your black panties, low light hitting your slick skin just right. You jerk at the first ever touch of his fingers — they press against you, right over your puffy clit, the small move more than enough to make you moan. “Fuck, you are dripping–“ You whimper in response, looking down at how his fingers are getting coated with your juices.
“More–“ You say, already loosing your mind at how his fingers just keep pressing and not moving. Your hole clenches at the thought his fingers dipping into you. Even though if your tone is whiny, borderline desperate he takes it in a way that makes him snap a little.
“Yeah? Want me to fuck you, with my fingers?” You are still having a whiplash from his sudden change of behavior, but you only lean more into it. You nod wildly, head turning to look at him, but his gaze doesn’t meet yours, because you suddenly feel him tugging at the flimsy material of your underwear. He pulls them to the side, making them snap a little when he releases them. Cold air kisses your slick cunt then, you shivering lightly, shaking, when his fingers just barely graze over you. You don’t even have time too look down, mind to hazy from the quick touch. You don’t even look, when one of his hands come to grip at the side of your neck — not when his other, coated with your juices comes to press against your lips.
“Open.”
Your lips fall apart in a gasp, making it for him all too easier to shove his two fingers inside your mouth, pressing them down at your tongue. Your mouth wraps around his digits instantly, sucking lightly the taste of your sweetness inside your mouth. But then you look — you see how his own eyes gloss over, mouth opening as you lightly bite down at the tips of his fingers. The look you give him makes his other hand travel to the front of your throat, making a loud sound escape you, when he suddenly rips his hand away from your lips, maneuvering your head back to face your reflection as he finally moves to touch you.
His already used hand comes to cup you, his palm digging into you, smearing your wetness all over your skin and his hand. “Soaked–“ Jeongin groans with you, hand on your throat squeezing a little and he can feel how that action makes your clit twitch under his fingers. Small, precise circles are made, him expertly moving the hood of your clit away to touch you more deeply — it is even better than you imagined. He is so mean about it too…Pressing you against his chest, with his hand on your throat, making you watch yourself in the mirror, while he plays with you. His rolls your bud between his fingers, pinching it lightly, the small pain just a low, addicting buzz. Your stomach twists, body burning and jerking over his cock, that he keeps pushing into you.
Your breathing is fast, matching his, eyes on yours reflection instead of looking down and the sight makes your stomach flip. It almost feels forbidden — you feel more exposed. Jeongin swipes his fingers over you, extending them to get every inch of you touched. He traces over your slit, each time his fingers dipping lower and lower, watching you clench over nothing. You feel blood rushing to your face, little bit self conscious of being in such exposing position and him still being clothed, while you are spread wide open, but everything is way too good to say anything about it. “So wet, that I could slide right in–“ You gasp when his ring and middle finger slide lower.
“Please — I want it–“ You keep repeating it, head rolling back to rest on his shoulder, but you only receive a tight squeeze to your throat.
“Then look.” You do — him helping you look back at your reflection, just as his fingers dig deeper into you. There is no resistance, you are so wet you can feel yourself dripping down on the couch. You twitch a little at the sensation, mind swirling. His long fingers slide inside you quick, too quick for you to breathe through it. However only your body knows its limits and you are not even surprised that you only suck them right in.
Jeongin is losing his mind over, how your velvety walls keep closing onto him — so soft and slippery. The thought of him sliding inside you instead is great, hips lifting both of your bodies in hopes he would get closer to your cunt, only making his fingers go deeper in you. You whimper, eyes almost closing at the way the tips of his fingers reach your cervix, palm of his hand grazing over your clit. His other fingers then hook around you, wrist twisting, before he starts to scissor his fingers inside you, searching. “You have touched yourself to this?” He mumbles lowly, lips against your neck. “You wanted this for so long, that you imagined it every time I would just barely touch you–“ No question — he knows.
“Wonder if I can make you squirt–“
A cry leaves you, when he suddenly at that curls his fingers inside you, palm moving against your clit. The idea of you doing that is unfamiliar. You have never done that, you have never even been close to it, but the way his fingers reach so easily to the one gummy spot inside you, tells you he might be able to do it way to easily. “Don’t stop — Jeongin-“ You moan his name, when he starts to trust his fingers inside you, curling them up each time they slide into you.
“You are…so–“ He is a little lost for words. The way your body reacts to his touch — hips lifting to chase his touch, your nails digging into his hand still holding your throat, though not clawing at it for him to stop — your other holding his, that keeps thrusting into you…He is drooling. Wet, nasty sounds fill the room, his fingers increasing on speed, but now more pushing against you so his palms keeps hitting your clit. You are moaning, gasping, music to his ears, however even if he knows that no one can hear you inside this room, he also knows that when you would go close enough to the door you could probably hear the filthy noises coming from you both.
Jeongin’s hand on your throat leaves you, making you gulp in air, but your mouth is only able to take in few breaths, before his hands clasps it. “Shhhh— you don’t want them to hear, right?” Your eyes widen at that, loud moans of pleasure turning into whimpers as you wildly shake your head. “Huh…still I bet you would like that–“ His words makes you clench down on his fingers, tips of them now just curling inside you, palm moving against you.
You are way too easy — you already feel you lower tummy rumbling in the way too familiar pleasure, moaning against his hand as he moves his other to push his thumb against you. You are starting be aware of everything around you — from the way he keeps whispering sweet, nasty nothings into your ear, hot air blowing against your skin. How he moans every time your hips press against his, how you both look like nothing, but sin in the mirror — where are you and what are you doing right now, knowing your friends might be back any minute. Your wildest dreams coming true — him fucking you with his delicious fingers, feeling every vein pressing against you…is all too much for your body to handle.
Then with one particular push of his thumb against your clit, fingers not losing any rhythm, scissoring, curling, you slide a little down on the couch. Your leaking cunt and sweat is making it too easy for you to slide off, but then his hand on your mouth comes to catch you before you could run away from the immense pleasure. He tsks again at your doings, small breath, like a laugh, leaving him, hand grasping your thigh, before hooking it around his. That only makes his fingers go deeper into you, hitting your cervix each time. You are huffing, choking to get air back inside your lungs as you start to shake around him.
Jeongin notices your change way too quickly, turning his head from your reflection to your tear stained face. “Gonna cum, baby?” The nickname makes you whimper pathetically, eyes barely open, but they don’t leave the mirror in fear he would stop. “You don’t even know, how much better I can fuck you, with my cock–“ Your breath hitches, pleading for him not to stop talking, his words just pushing you more and more to the edge. You have never knew, only dreamed about him talking to you like this — the words, even so unexpected, making you run hot, seemingly coming off way more natural than you would have thought.
You are shaking harshly, feeling heat washing over you, mewling at the way he keeps the delicious pace. Your head rolls to the side, teary eyes meeting his and he almost coos at the way you are having such a hard time to keep them open. Your legs keep closing, but he doesn’t let you move away, hand digging into your thigh so deep you know it will mark — and he does want to mark you with purpose, even though he decided that he would probably never let anyone get close enough to see it…though the mark on your neck says otherwise. You feel it — the burn inside you, the way your body keeps chasing the pleasure, face screwing up, mouth open and slick, droll running down your face.
“Fuck – I’m gonna–“ You start to breathe in series of gasps, gaze shooting back to the mirror and then back to him again.
With your sharp moan, Jeongin kisses you again, deep groan leaving the deepest part of his chest as he feels your body stilling. Your vision turns white, your ears ring, head rolling back in ecstasy as your hands fly to grasps his arm to ground your self. The orgasm is so strong it leaves you voiceless, silent scream leaving you, but then…it doesn’t stop — he doesn’t stop. His hand moves, but only so it doesn’t touch your twitching clit, only to start trusting his fingers inside you again with a movement so fast your cry rings in the room. “What are you – Oh, fuck!” You can’t see, your vision is blurry, eyes though still being capable to follow his line of sight.
Jeongin is breathing harshly, tongue poking out of his mouth, watching his fingers disappear inside you. He holds you down the best he can, moaning when he suddenly hears the wet sounds coming from your cunt. Your juices start to splash, your still hot cum leaking out of you and drooling down the couch and you panic at the foreign feeling bubbling inside you. It is too fast, too much — you try to warn him, run away from the intense feeling, but you are too weak to do anything other than tremble on top of him. You are overwhelmed, overstimulation high and you scream as the feeling comes over you. “Come on, just one more — do it, soak my fucking hand–” He silences you for your own good, fingers pushing inside your mouth again to quiet down the loud cry, as the feeling you were trying so hard to hold back wins over.
Before your eyes close, you see yourself squirt around his hand, your juices reaching all the way to the ground and table before you, making you scream in small horror and euphoria. You have never felt something so intense, something so pleasurable that it made you cry. Your body arches off his and Jeongin in his state of awe lets your legs fall shut, his hand still working you up. Everything is a blur for while for you, shaking and quivering, feeling your slick pooling on the couch under you. “Oh, my-“ His hand stills at your small whimper of overstimulation, fingers slowly sliding out of you and he has to push your legs apart to even free his hand.
Jeongin is marveled by the sight before him, eyes drifting over your reflection to you. You are covered in thin sheen of sweat, skin blooming under his touch and he has to stop himself from not going back to give you more. You are spent — done, you almost can’t even move, body slumped weakly against his. His eyes then drift back between your legs, that are finally moving apart, muscles spasming in your legs and exposed tummy. You have soaked everything — your legs, the couch, even the table before you and Jeongin has to bite back a groan at that. He watches you breathe through it, small whimpers still reaching his also ringing ears, however he then decides to lift you off his lap.
You moan in small protest, blinking away your now dried tears, while he stands to grasp the small box of tissues off the marked table. “Here-“ Still a gentleman, even after turning you into a complete mush. He is gentle now, atleast when he goes to wipe away your juices from your body for you, seeing you are too weak to even do it yourself. Your eyes trail over him, watching his eyes clear a little, but there is still that spark, still the reminder of what he did to you just now. You then look down to his still covered cock — he must have adjusted himself, when you weren’t looking, because you can only see just a small imprint of him. The tissues are little too harsh on your sensitive skin, jumping a little at the sensation, but his hand, now softly laying on your naked thigh, calms you.
You are sticky all over, the room hot from the thing you have done, but there is no shame now. Something about the way he cleans you so softly, touch so featherely, eyes bright, you realize that maybe there is something more about to it, then just lust. Though you could not think about it too long, because the silence between you is interrupted, when a loud sound of nearby voices is heard flowing down the hall. “Shit-“ Your eyes widened, scrambling away from him, just as he puts your underwear back over you and you do ignore how it stick to you like a second skin. You don’t look at him, too occupied of grabbing your sweatpants off the floor to notice his lingering stare. You push them up, just as you hear the voices of your friends right outside the door, eyes widening then, when you look to the wet spot next to you. No time to think — your hands push down your wild, messed up hair, pulling them forward, fingers grazing over the sensitive spot on the side of your neck, wiping away the loose spit coating your mouth, before the door opens.
“Hey.” You say, voice scratchy, coughing instantly and you can’t help, but cringe.
The others fill the room, each carrying bags of food that hopefully hides the smell of sex in the room. Your eyes meet Felix’s, who stumbles in last, whose smile still sits on his face, but then gives you a small look of confusion at your tone. “Hey? We brought you something–“ He beams a little as he nears you, while the others come to put the food on the table that thankfully wasn’t the one before you.
The wet spot is hot beside you, a burning reminder of a still fresh memory and you really have hard time to meet the eyes of your best friend at that. “Oh…that’s nice.” You say, eyes drifting away a little, when he suddenly comes to stand before you, eyes full of worry, while yours full of shame and you feel you sick of lying to him.
“Everything good?” He asks you like the sweet friend he is, but his close proximity makes you quiver a little, but you do try to keep the smile on your face, even though you still feel the ghost of his friend’s inside you.
“Yeah-“
“Hey, why is there–“
Your heart stops, head snapping to Hyunjin, who points to the spot next to you, before drifting all the way to the floor and table, while the others come to stand around him. Your mouth opens like a fish, mind crashing to scramble to answer atleast something, when everyone turns to look, but then a voice cuts in to safe you. “Oh, I just spilled some water.” Says Jeongin and no one other than you hears the small tone at the end of his sentence.
Everyone thankfully doesn’t say anything else, but you still don’t meet their eyes, heart beating fast, when you lean over to grab the box of tissues, eyes immediately falling on the rolled up ball of used ones, sitting right on top of the still wet, glass table. “I will clean it.” You say, immediately pulling out multiple of tissues to press them against the wet spot next to you. The light and your shadow thankfully hides the true substance of the liquid and how it slides over the leather.
“Okay, we will just eat on the floor, I guess.” Says someone, you don’t even care who, you only care that Felix and the others go away a little to let you drown in your own embarrassment. You will probably never let anyone sit on the spot ever again — in a twisted, sick way you have now marked it as yours. The rooms fills with chatter and laughter again, plastic bags rustling in the silent panic you are experiencing, before pair of piercing eyes, makes you look up.
Jeongin stares at you, with a teasing glint in his eyes, that only you catch. And then — right then, he puts the exact same fingers that have been inside you into his mouth, tongue swiping across his digits, before he bites down on the tips of his fingers — a move that only highlights the crazed smile grazing his lips and by that, you already know you are in for a wild ride.
pmo — jeong yunho
when your super sexy hot boyfriend comes home tipsy after not calling you for fourteen hours and you can’t help but be pissed off — wc 4.3k, jyh x fem!reader, smut minors dni, ANGST (hehe), idol au, dom!yunho, degradation, raw (my bad), spanking, dom yunho agenda lives on. mentions of yungi bc im insane! last shottie before kinktober starts 🫡
You haven’t heard a singular word that’s left the TV screen in an hour. Sitting with your knees bent up to your chest, your arms crossed over them, your hair tied up, jaw set in anger, the silly sitcom on the screen couldn’t even pull a huff of amusement from your nose.
He was late. Again. Hours this time.
It seemed to be happening more often than not lately, with a comeback right around the corner he was holed up at the company building every day, dance practice, meetings, last minute promo recordings. You understood, being with him for years now, this isn’t your first comeback with him, nor is it your last.
But for some reason, this one had steam coming out of your ears, your mind betraying you, telling you he was out with his friends for drinks, he was hanging out in the practice room doing overtime, all because he didn’t want to come home to you.
It didn’t have sadness sitting heavy in your gut. It had ice cold rage burning through your veins, sweat nipping at your neck, your fingertips ice cold. How dare he leave you at home by yourself for hours while you waited for him? For him to be out at a bar, with friends? For him to be lingering at the studio without a care in the world that you were home, on the couch, patiently waiting for his arrival?
You were mid-sigh when you heard the keys in the door handle. You stood on socked feet as the door groaned open, the knob bouncing off the wall. You barely reacted, arms so tightly bound over your chest, mind whirling with your starting accusation.
Your six-foot oaf of a fucking boyfriend tumbled through the doorframe, already smiling, pink dusted over his cheeks. Your eyebrows shot to your hairline– You thought him being drunk was a long shot, your mind jumping to conclusions because you couldn’t get a hold on your emotions, but you were fucking right!?
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” your arms uncurl from your chest as you make your way towards him, feet sliding over the hardwood in quick steps.
“Baby!” His grin widens, throwing his bag to the floor, his jacket falling on top, completely missing how your eyebrows were slanted downward, how your lips pursed in a heart at the center of your face. “I missed you, today was so long. Mingi, Wooyoung and I went to the bar across the street and had a few beers to unwind after work, talk about the day.”
You keep your distance, a few feet away, arms curling over your chest again, weight shifting to one leg. You tilted your head, voice coming out in a tone of false amusement, “Have fun?”
He giggles, a soft sound, light and bubbly, your favorite song of his. Not right now.
“Yeah,” he nods, “Wooyoung and Mingi are so fucking funny when they’re together, I swore I was gonna pee my pants at one point.”
You nod slowly, lips pursed atop each other, eyes low and pointed, “That’s great.”
He pauses where he stands, one shoe off, the other halfway on. He furrows his brows, “You’re pissed.”
“No shit I’m pissed.”
His head tips back in a groan, arms falling limp at his sides as he kicks his other shoe off. Your hands start flying. “I don’t understand, Yunho, do you even think of me during the day? No text, no call, no nothing while I sit here and wait for you!”
He starts for the kitchen, long legs quickly carrying him there, you follow on his heel. “Do you even think of maybe letting me know?” He opens the cabinet, grabbing a glass of water. Your eyes follow him. “Tell me, Yunho, am I even a thought in your mind?”
“I think about you all the time, you know that, I’ve told you a thousand times,” his words have a soft, tired bite to them as he places his glass in the fridge, water pouring from the dispenser built into the door.
“Then why don’t you let me know you won’t be home so I don’t make double the dinner I made for myself?” Your voice raises, each word emphasizing the rage slicing through your body, “Or I don’t sit here on the couch like a fucking idiot, waiting for you to walk through the door to watch our show?”
He turns on his heel, droplets of water landing on the hardwood surrounding you. His voice matches yours, loud, strong enough to cut steel, “I just worked,” his tone lowers, punching every single syllable, “Fourteen fucking hours.”
“And I didn’t receive,” you raise up a hand, counting on your fingers, “A call, a voicemail, a text, a fucking Instagram DM. Did you message on Fromm today? Did your fans get a message when I didn’t?”
His eyes widen, lips curling at the corner, a laugh falling from his lips so empty that it hurts like a slap to the face. He walks away, a hand flying in the open space over his head as he heads for the living room, “Oh, you’ve fucking lost it.”
“I’ve lost it!?” You yell, still on his heel, “Excuse me for wanting to hear from my boyfriend of four fucking years while he’s gone for fourteen hours of the day!”
He sits down on the couch, knees spread, drinking from his glass. You stand before him, hands on your hips, rage steaming your skin, the room feeling ten degrees hotter. He chugs the glass, head leaning back into the couch, staring at you through lowered brows. His voice drops, low and steady, the type of anger that makes him calm. You don’t let it phase you.
“You need to stop yelling at me,” he said simply, “You’re being ridiculous.”
“What’s ridiculous is you not giving a fuck about me,” your tone is harsh, and as much as in your soul you know your words aren’t true, you say them like you mean it. “But by all means, go to the bar after work, get some drinks with your friends! Maybe you can even find a woman there to fuck you, or better yet, maybe you should have gone home with Mingi.”
“You’re losing your fucking mind,” he shakes his head with another laugh, “I worked my ass off today, I’m exhausted, I wanted a few beers to decompress so I didn’t come home and put a load on you when you’ve been waiting for me.”
“That’s what I’m fucking here for, Yunho,” your hands find your hair, tugging at your roots, head tipping up to face the beige, popcorned ceiling. “I’m here to help you decompress, I’m here to share your struggles, your hardships. What the fuck am I to you?”
“You’re my girlfriend that has her own struggles and hardships,” he leans forward, his eyebrows in his hairline, his words coming out strained. “You’re not here for me to put all of mine on you! I have coworkers and friends for that, I come home to forget about the bullshit–”
“You come home to get fucked,” you’re seething now, words harsh and low, “You go to work, sing and dance all day, and come home after a few beers looking for a hole to stick your cock in.”
His eyes nearly bulge out of his head. “You did not just say that.”
You point to the floor beneath your feet, “And I meant Every. Fucking. Word.”
Within a blink he’s standing before you, so close you can feel his breath on your skin, pink-tipped, long fingers wrapped around your jaw. He’s staring at you through lowered brows, his eyes heavy and cold, a darkness within the deep chocolate that sends a shiver down your spine, breath catching in your throat.
“You think I’ve been with you four years just for sex?” His voice is quiet, low, terrifying, his torso pressed to yours. Your eyes flare with anger, subtle excitement, socked toes curling into the hardwood, but you don’t answer. His smile is dangerous, it should have you nervous, scared, anything but the rush of adrenaline that floods you. “You think that’s all you’re good for? A hole to stick my cock in?”
“Fuck no,” you hiss, lips squished from his fingers cutting into your skin, “I think that’s all you’re good for.”
He drops your jaw, knees bending to grab you by the thighs, throwing you over his shoulder in one quick motion. Your stomach drops, a high-pitched yell leaving your throat as his legs bring you to the bedroom in long, quick strides, heart rising to your throat when he throws you on the perfectly made bed, his six-foot built towering over you.
You sit up immediately, jaw locked, steam pouring from your nostrils, “Don’t even think about touching me.”
His lips curve in a smile, amusement in his eyes, piercing through the irritation that squares his shoulders. “That’s all I’m fucking good for?” He takes a step closer to the bed, leaning down until his pink-dusted cheeks are centimeters from yours. You don’t move, eyes locked on his and jaw set, heart pounding against your chest. He smiles. “I work every damn day to make money for you, and that’s all I’m good for?”
Your lashes barely touch in a fast blink, ignoring how your stomach drops. That smile, his tone, he’s pissed. Fear licks up your spine, your forehead feeling damp under his gaze. You tilt your chin up, voice losing all its bite, “Yes.”
In a navy hoodie and sweatpants, black hair messily sprawled across his forehead, eyes crazed and wild and maybe half-deranged, the fear that nipped at your spine got confused with the excitement rippling on your skin. His grin spreads wide, and before you know it he’s pushing you back by your shoulders, head bouncing against the mattress. A hand curls under your torso, flipping you onto your stomach, and your eyes squeeze shut. Fuck.
“If that’s all I’m good for,” he starts, thumbs curling into the yoga pants on your waist, pulling them down just enough to expose your ass. “Then maybe I’ll remind you who the fuck I am. Who it is you’re speaking to like that.”
“I know damn well who I’m talking to,” your words come out airy, shuddering as he lifts your hoodie up to mid-back, pulling your pants down just a little more, chuckling when your squished thighs show him a peek of wetness between your legs, no panties to hide it.
“Hmm, I think you like it,” you can hear his smile as his warm palms run over your ass, squeezing the skin, “Being the hole I use when I come home. Being nothing but my fucking cocksleeve.”
You bite your lip to hide your whine, voice strained, “Fuck you, Yunho.”
“Fuck me?” His hands mid-squeeze, grip firm, “I thought you told me not to touch you. Didn’t think you wanted to fuck me.”
Your lips purse, fingers digging into the sheets below you, anticipation biting every inch of skin exposed, “I don’t. I don’t want anything to fucking do with you.”
He laughs and it’s a low, gravelled thing, laced with mischief like he could taste the lies on your tongue. He digs a knee into the bed, leaning down close to your ear, breath hot on your cheek, “You think I have the energy to put you in your place tonight?”
Your thighs clench together, a small whimper escaping your lips. You squeeze your face together, pissed that your body betrayed you, anger and anticipation and arousal mixing together to a cocktail between your legs.
He kneels off the bed, voice steady and sharp, “Count, or I won’t go any farther than this. You won’t get the privilege of being the hole I use tonight.”
Your eyebrows furrow before the first harsh smack lands on your ass. You cry out, head jerking up, bottom lip dragging against the sheets, the word count doesn’t process in your overstimulated mind.
“Oh, I must have misread the situation,” his voice is taunting now, the inflection of his tone rising and falling. “Thought you were just being a brat. You really don’t want to get fucked tonight, huh?”
Your mouth moves before you can think, “I- I do, I do.”
He lands another, right below your ass, the sensitive skin of your thigh. You cry out again, face hot, throat tight.
“Yelling at me on some stupid shit right when I get home, are you really that stupid? Did you forget how to count, too?”
“Two!” You squeal, legs bending at the foot of the bed, your toes just barely gripping the floor to hold you up.
“There you go, baby,” his hands running over where he had just hit you, a stinging heat in his palms now as he attempts to soothe the skin. “Knew you weren’t completely stupid.”
You choke out a quiet moan, body betraying you, temple falling to the mattress again. You have only a moment of recovery before he’s striking you again, harder this time, on the opposite, unmarred cheek, the loud slap ringing through the room.
You whimper, voice quieter, nearly broken, “Three.”
“You can take more,” he’s squeezing the skin again, voice a song of amusement and faux encouragement, “Keep up so you can earn my cock.”
He hits you again, followed by Four. Then again, followed by Five. He gets all the way to Ten before tears are streaming down your cheeks, darkening the comforter beneath your face, sobs shaking your shoulders. It hurts, but it hurts so fucking good you’re left confused and utterly brainless. Pain and pleasure morphing together, you wanted to cum, you wanted to sit in ice-cold water, you wanted him to tell you that you did a good job. You wanted your reward.
Why did you want a reward? Why did you get punished in the first place? You’re the one that’s mad at him.
He’s already tugging you towards him before you can get the words out, shaky and harsh but weakened by the tears streaming down your face, “F-Fuck you, Yunho.”
Pulling you into his lap, his lips bend in a pout as he wipes the tears from your cheeks with two thumbs, “Hm? Still? Thought for sure I would have spanked the brat out of you.”
“You heard me,” your voice is raw, anger returning with how your burning cheeks sting, “Fuck you.”
“Oh,” is all he says as he lays you on your back again, you hiss when the comforter hits your behind. His face reads nothing while he moves you as if you didn’t have any will of your own, pulling the hoodie over your head, ripping the hair-tie from your bun.
“I said don’t fucking touch me,” you bite as your hair falls around your face, “I’m not yours to use.”
He laughs at that, genuine and bright, “That’s exactly what you are, my love, you’re mine. I can do whatever the fuck I want to you.”
“No you can’t,” you move up the bed, wincing as your ass drags across the sheets, “I’m not playing this game with you tonight. All I wanted was a text.”
“Do you not hear yourself when you speak?” He crawls over you, hands sliding your yoga pants down your legs, “Remember when I asked you if you wanted to be fucked and you said yes?”
Your cheeks heat as he slides you down the mattress again, head landing in the pillows. You tip your chin, “It was a moment of weakness.”
“It was you giving in like you always do,” his hands land on your thighs, one sliding down to your pulsing core, “Because at your core you’re nothing but a fucking slut.” His fingers slip into your folds, spreading your wetness, “Ain’t that right?”
Your back arches involuntarily, catching your lip between your teeth to fight a moan. His thumb circles around your clit, tongue poking out to wet his lips, staring at you through lowered brows. He tilts his head when your breath catches in your lungs, “Answer me. Aren’t I right?”
Your hips buck into him, eyes dancing between his hand between your legs and his gaze that was cold and pointed. He smacks his teeth with his lips, pulling his hand away from your core to land a quick slap against your center. You gasp a moan, hips jerking, and his lips curve in a smile, “You answer when I speak to you.”
“Yes, fuck, Yunho, you’re right,” you gasp out, body twitching now, fingers twisting in the sheets below you.
“What am I right about?”
“I’m a slut!” You cry out as his thumb meets your clit again. Your head digs into the pillows, eyes fluttering shut at the pleasure, how his finger moves at the perfect pace with perfect pressure.
He uses his other hand to slip a finger inside you, curling slowly, his lips parting as he watches your body arch, relaxing into the bed, face morphing into sweet pleasure.
“That’s right,” he nods, voice taunting, “You’re a slut, my fucking slut. You don’t talk back to me, you don’t speak to me disrespectfully, do you?”
You shake your head quickly, eyebrows twisted in pleasure, hips bucking against his fingers. The sting in your ass adds to the pleasure at your core, mixing together in a bubble of euphoria, the pit in your stomach tightens. He adds another finger and fucks into you faster, thumb circling with harder pressure, voice still taunting as he asks, “Do you have anything you want to say to me?”
“I’m sorry,” you open your eyes, words coming out in a rushed, strained breath, “I’m sorry, Yunho.”
His grin spreads wide. He slips his fingers out, maneuvering you onto your front again, grabbing a pillow from beside your head to slide under your hips. “You don’t get to be stretched out.”
“Fuck,” you mutter absent-mindedly into the cotton pillows, hands coming up to grip at the plush. The stretch was always so much worse without an orgasm first, his cock was too long, too thick.
“Maybe if you’re good for me I’ll pretend you never said a word, maybe I’ll even let you cum,” his hands curl into your cheeks, spreading you open, ignoring how you hiss at the sting. He leans down, landing a fat glob of spit to drip down your folds before you hear him pull down his sweats, his briefs, no doubt just low enough to get his cock out, scrunched around his thighs.
“Take a deep breath for me baby,” his voice is soft for the first time tonight as he lines himself up, his tip spreading his own spit along your core, slapping his cock against you twice before prodding at your entrance.
You suck a deep breath in as he pushes into you slowly, whimpering at the stretch, at the sting. Always so fucking big, even after four years, you weren’t sure if you’d ever get used to it.
“Hah, fuck,” he drags out the words, low and velvety, his pleasure verbal. “Sucking me in like you always do, piss me off just to get fucked like a slut. I know you.”
You cry out a choked moan as he sheathes himself inside you slowly, letting you feel the curve of his cock, each pulsing vein, the mushroom tip settling deep inside you. You feel his hair on your stinging cheeks, eyes screwed shut, rolled back behind your lids, the pain so hot it sears your skin.
“Not gonna fight back?” He huffs a breath of pleasure and amusement, “Too fucked out to speak already?”
Your knees dig into the mattress, hips pressing back against him, “Move.”
He lands another harsh smack on your ass, your wail is immediate, piercing through the room. His voice is sharp, “Thought we went over how you fuckin’ speak to me. You wanna be used, left here without an orgasm and a cunt pumped full of cum?”
You shake your head, tears stinging your waterline again, “No! No, I’m sorry.”
“Act like it,” he pulls out just to slide back in, harsher this time, “Don’t just fucking say it.”
“I’m sorry,” you wail as he picks up the pace, building a rhythm as your fingertips claw at the pillows beneath you, “I’ll be good– I’ll be good, I swear!”
“I know you will,” his hands run over your hips, watching as your hot-red ass bounces against his cock, “This pussy wants to cum, that’s why you were acting up, right? Just missed me?”
Tears dampen the pillows beneath your cheeks, sobs racking through your chest, shoulders shaking as much as your ass bounced against him, “Y-Yes, Yun, just missed you, miss- missed your cock.”
His fingers tighten around your hips, a low groan tumbling through his lips as he fucks into you harder, “I know, baby, I know.”
Your hips fuck back onto him, accepting every inch of his cock, letting the overwhelming pleasure settle into your core. Tears spill down your cheeks as moan after moan slips from your lips, his cock bruising your cervix, curving so deliciously against the front of your walls.
“Fuck, Yunho,” you whimper, voice muffled by the pillows, “Wanna see you, need to see you.”
“Yeah?” He asks, taunting tone dulled by his pleasure-filled breath, “Gonna be a good girl?”
“Yes,” you cry, choking on the spit in your throat, “Gonna be good, g-gonna be your good girl.”
He pulls out at that, slipping the pillow from beneath you and throwing it off the bed, flipping you for the final time tonight. With one look at your splotchy, tear-stained cheeks he’s leaning down, connecting his lips with yours. It’s messy, hot, wet, teeth colliding and tongues trying to swallow each other whole. Your hands immediately slide under his hoodie, feeling the muscled, chiseled abdomen beneath, beckoning him to take it off.
He pulls it over his head and your arms slide over his shoulders, fingers twisting together at the base of his neck, tugging at the hairs that curl around his ears. He moans into your lips, cock grinding against your slippery folds, tip catching on your entrance.
“Please,” you whisper into his lips, a string of spit connecting your lips, “Inside.”
He reaches down, shimmying his sweats down to his ankles, then uses one hand to line himself up and you both watch as he slowly pushes himself inside, eyebrows twisting together and lips falling open in a silent moan.
“So fucking good,” he groans into you, “Pussy so sweet, missed it, missed you.”
You whine as he reaches the hilt, “So fucking deep, Yunho, fuck.”
“All yours, baby,” he catches your lips again, his skin pressed to yours, pelvis so heavy against yours as he builds a new slow, antagonizing rhythm, “All fucking yours.”
Your thighs wrap around his, hips meeting his thrusts, his cock barely sliding out of you with how close you keep him. So close together you don’t know where he ends and you begin, your moans pour into one melody, breaths hot on each other’s faces. Your nails claw into his skin, cries growing higher in pitch as his cock drags against your walls, massaging that spongy spot just behind your clit.
“Right there,” you breathe, head tipping back, and Yunho dips his head down to press his tongue to the column of your throat. Your toes curl, whining, “Shit, Yunho, fuck, missed you s’much.”
“My good girl,” he mumbles into your skin, picking up his pace, never missing the spot you think he was built to hit. “So fuckin’ bratty when she doesn’t get her way, just needed something to fill this tight lil’ pussy up.”
“Yes,” you’re reeling, gasping, your orgasm building steadily in your gut, “Needed you, needed this.”
“I’m sorry,” he finds your mouth again, kissing you harshly, muffling your moans. “‘M sorry I didn’t call.”
“It’s okay, shit,” you gasp, “I’m gonna cum.”
Your thighs unclasp from his back as he fucks into you harder, cock bullying that spot inside you, and your breath hitches in your throat as the pleasure finally spills, clenching around him, nails clawing into him so hard you’re sure you’ll leave red crescents in his back.
“Fuck,” he hisses, “So good for me baby, so tight, you want me to fill you up?”
You nod against his lips, mouth hanging slack against his, body still clenched tight around him, orgasm still flowing through you. “Yes, yes, need it.”
He chokes out a groan, staggered and broken, hips twitching as he loses his rhythm, fucking into you wildly. You cry out, “Yes, baby, so good– so good, stretching me out, cum inside.”
He moans at that, head dipping into your shoulder as he pounds his cock into you, broken thrusts turning to a nasty, slow grind. He whimpers as he spills into you, “I love you, I love you– so much.”
Your hands slide into his hair, scratching at his scalp as you feel his load fill you up, “I love you too, baby.”
Warm, heavy, full. You both catch your breath for a few, he lays with his head in your neck, your thighs lazily thrown over his, both of you ignoring the stick between you.
“Sorry for flipping out when you got home,” you finally mumble, voice coy.
He smiles into your neck, a warm, close-mouthed grin, “It’s okay, I gave you a valid reason to.”
“You should do it more often,” a smile grows on your own cheeks, “If it means you’ll fuck me like this.”
He laughs into your neck, sweet and light, your favorite song. “I fuck you like this without you being mad at me.”
“It adds to it tho, yanno?” You turn your head, kissing his hair. “Maybe next time you’ll have someone else with you when you walk through the door and I can berate him, too.”
“Like who? Mingi?”
You shrug, a smirk on your lips. He lifts his head, meeting your eye, reading the amusement but seriousness laying behind them. He blinks at you for a second, before his lips curl in a nasty smirk, too.
masterlist
speechless ➶-͙˚ ༘✶ senior year (3)
You're their president now, you have to show up. Why does it matter your dad is sick, or that your absent mother is weaseling her way into your lives, or that the boy you love hasn't spoken a word to you in months, or that your grades are slipping and you could lose your scholarship right before you graduate, or that your struggling with maintaining your friendships? You're their president, you have to show up for them.
the playlist | read on ao3 | masterlist <- start here
one ➺ 'satellite' - harry styles
two ➺ 'but daddy i love him' - taylor swift
three ➺ 'silver springs' - fleetwood mac
four ➺ 'blah blah blah' - kesha, 3OH!3
five ➺ 'good graces' - sabrina carpenter
six ➺ 'death of me' - pvris
seven ➺ 'joyride' - kesha
eight ➺ 'united in grief' - kendrick lamar
nine ➺ 'the winner takes it all' - abba
ten ➺ 'i can do it with a broken heart' - taylor swift
plumverse | talk to me
love songs from another room (j.yh); section two
summary: yunho’s a respectful alpha, the kind of guy that might notice you, the omega next door, but also notices you have a boyfriend. he smiles politely in the hall, he tries to stay out of your way, and he definitely does not listen through the wall to the way you sound when you’re in heat. but when your alpha is nowhere to be found, yunho does his best to keep you safe, and keep himself from crossing too many lines. section one | section two 🔗 read it on ao3 📚 fic masterlist
note: i know this one is coming a bit out of left field, but i had about half of this sitting in the drafts and finishing this has really gotten me back in the swing of writing after my break. i hope this one is a fun one!! outside of tnt i don’t really write omegaverse often, but when i do…. it definitely gets a little feral. i hope you all enjoy. please also note, there's a lot of consent talks in this one given that yunho and reader don't really start interacting until she's already in heat. that means there's a ton of push and pull, a ton of yunho trying to be a good guy, and some worry about line crossing from him after they do have sex. you should consider reader's consent here explicit and on page, however, i added the dubcon tag just in case to cover how you may personally interpret consent during a heat haze.
warnings: omegaverse dynamics, alpha!yunho, omega!reader, fem!reader, heat / heat cycles, knotting, neighbors to lovers, reader has a boyfriend at the start but the relationship is already bad before her heat, NO cheating, yunho is so respectful it’s almost annoying, mildly dubious consent, curvy reader, masturbation (f and m), lots of slick, dildos, oral f receiving, fingering, rough sex, switch!yunho (he gets pretty whiny and subby in this one guys….), gratuitous cum, no refractory period, creampies for days, low key high key breeding kink, praise kink for her and him, size kink (he calls her little omega but not in a specifically 'tiny' way more affectionate), aftercare, and an allusion to a negative sexual experience around a particular position that makes reader afraid, as well as openly discussing yunho’s concerns about the safety of her boyfriend/ex-boyfriend both while she is in heat and after heat
pairings: alpha!yunho x omega!reader
genre: romance, fluff, strangers to lovers, omegaverse a/b/o, smut
word count: 26k please note, this fic was too long for tumblr! please make sure you have read section one first or read it in full on ao3!
Yunho rocks you for a long time, and despite the haze of need you were in before he burst through that door, it’s not a knot you needed to settle you, it was him.
His body feels right around yours, his hands rubbing a soothing rhythm over your skin, his murmured words keeping your mind relaxed and soft. After a while, you end up laying on top of him, your legs tangled together and your cheek pressed to his chest, feeling the steady throb of his heart through the thin fabric of his t-shirt.
Your body still needs, it still wants, but for a moment you feel your omega relaxing at the comforting weight of his arms around you and the steady scent of rain that floods your nose.
“Breathe with me,” He murmurs, his voice deep and soft against your hair, “just like that,”
He takes an exaggerated inhale, one hand on your back that guides you into mimicking the rhythm. When you both exhale in sync, he hums warmly, a satisfied sound in his chest at the knowledge that just his presence is settling you.
“Yun,” You murmur, nuzzling his chest unconsciously.
“Mhm,” He soothes you, “I’m right here,”
Your hand slides off his chest, searching for his hand so you can interlace your fingers.
“You’re so hot,” He says quietly, concern evident in his voice, “how’s your head?”
“A little fuzzy,” You confess honestly.
“Fuzzy?” He brushes your hair away from your face again, cupping your warm cheek.
“Mm,” You nod, “it’s like… I know I’m me, and you’re you, but everything’s hazy, like the room is foggy,”
His hand tightens around yours.
“I t-think,” You lift your head, fighting the heaviness of your body just to look up at him, “I need a knot soon,”
“You’re hurting?” His brows draw together in concern, eyes flicking over your face.
“A little,” You admit, “but you’re helping,”
You can’t articulate the way that your body felt on fire, like your womb was an open wound of need, the way nothing you did, not one single orgasm properly sated you. You can’t explain how the moment his arms were around you that hunger dulled, just a background ache between your thighs, but for the past few minutes you’ve felt the thrumming need returning.
Yunho nods, and then sighs, his eyes hitting the ceiling as he lets his head fall back to the pillows, “Omega,” he says gently, “I know you said you want this, you want me,”
Your stomach flips, “I do,”
He nods to himself at your words, and then looks back at you, “I want to help you, I don’t want you to be in pain, but I am terrified of doing something you don’t want, of pushing you in a way that you’ll regret when your heat breaks.”
A nervous tremor builds in your belly, “You won’t help me?”
He cups your cheeks, shaking his head, “I will, sweetheart, I promise I will,”
“But,”
“I’m trying to figure out how,” He admits, “I want you more than anything, I’ve wanted you for longer than I should admit, but it would kill me to hurt you.”
“You want me?”
“Yes,” He says unequivocally, knowing how much you need clear words with your head this deep in heat.
“Then please,” You slide further up his body, until you’re nearly nose to nose, “don’t make me beg,”
His eyes close, the muscles in his jaw tensing and relaxing, and then he lets out a long exhale, “Let me try something, first?”
“Try what?” Your core throbs.
“Let me take care of you without a knot,” He says as he opens his eyes, “you’re this settled with just me in the room, maybe an alpha this close is enough,”
A small, aching sound bubbles from your lips, “Alpha,”
“I promise,” He presses a kiss to your forehead, “if it doesn’t work, then I will, I’ll knot you. But god, please let me try,”
You nod, your body trembling.
“Alright,” He sighs in relief, and rolls you both, gently depositing you on your back as he sits up and takes stock of the state of things.
The sheets are damp from your sweat and slick, and a couple of toys are scattered through the nest. When his eyes come back to you, it’s the first moment he really allows himself to take you in, stripped bare in the center of the nest.
“What?” You look up at him, anxiety fluttering in your chest at the way his eyes rake over you.
“You,” He murmurs, but more words don’t come.
Shame pricks in your eyes, and you start to close your legs, but Yunho’s eyes flick up to yours as his hand snaps to your knee.
“Don’t,” He shakes his head, “you’re beautiful, little omega.”
A hot pulse throbs inside you and you whimper at the petname, your legs going soft as he pushes them open wider, “Please,”
Any resolve he had left crumbles, you can see it, and he tugs his t-shirt over his head in one smooth motion before handing it to you, “Here, baby,” he says, “I’ve got you now,”
You bring the shirt to your face, your omega greedy for his scent saturating the nest, but your eyes are glued to his bare chest. He’s lean, a dancer’s body, a runner’s body, but you can see the defined line of every muscle as he lowers himself down between your open legs.
You whimper, your mind overwhelmed already.
“Jesus,” He breathes as he slides closer, “you’re soaked,”
Your hips twitch, an involuntary jerk as you feel his cool breath drift over your aching slit.
He glances up at you as he gets closer, “Can I touch you, sweetheart?”
“Please,” You open your legs wider to accommodate his broad shoulders, “yes,”
A flicker of a smile passes over his lips, and then he tilts your hips up to open you further, guiding your legs over his shoulders until your heels are resting against his back. With one warm hum, Yunho turns his attention to your needy cunt.
“Yunho,” Your voice is breathless, one hand tightening on his shirt.
He presses a kiss to your inner thigh, “Forgive me,” he murmurs softly, and then his mouth is on you.
The first touch of his tongue is molten, the firm press of it from your fluttering hole to your hard, aching clit has you arching in the sheets, “Alpha!”
He groans, his arms wrapping around your hips to get you closer, “Fuck,” he pants, his tongue burying inside you as he explores your tender folds.
“Oh, oh,” Your hips twitch again, but he holds you firmly in place this time, “god,”
His tongue circles your clit, little searching flicks as he gauges your responses. It’s not clumsy, that’s not the word you’d use, but it is imprecise. You don’t realize what he’s doing until you feel him double back with his tongue after you make a sharp sound and buck your hips. He doesn’t have a routine, he doesn’t run through a series of choreographed moves with his mouth that he’s sure will make you come like some partners would. Instead, he searches you, he seeks you out, and when he finds the little ways that make you tick, he catalogues them and leans in.
It’s intoxicating.
“There?” You can hear the grin in his voice as he figures you out, before he returns his steady sucks to your hardened nub.
“Oh my fucking,” Your words die with a moan when his hands tighten on your thighs, sucks and flicks just the way you need, “Yunho!”
He groans hard, the vibrations running through your cunt, “Yeah,” he pants, “moan, sweetheart,”
It tears from your throat on command, and you spread your thighs wider, hips rocking against him.
“Mm,” Yunho hums, burying his face deeper against your wet core, his tongue pushing deep into your wet hole as his nose nudges up against your clit.
“Ah!” Your hand flies down and laces into his thick hair, “Yes, there, oh, oh, alpha!”
Your body rolls, his tongue pushing in and out as you rub yourself against him, his breath hot and needy against your folds, but he never lets up. He’s drowning in your slick, his face shining in your wetness, and he looks like a man possessed between your thighs. His hips grind down into the mattress, and you imagine him doing that to you, pushing inside you, knotting you, caging you in with his body until you come over and over.
You’re close, pressure building in your belly, and then he shifts. You whine at the sudden loss of contact when he pulls back to suck in a sharp breath, but when he dives back in he’s shifted the pace to something that makes your entire body melt. Yunho pushes two fingers deep inside, finding that soft spongy place his knot would lock behind, and crooks his fingers hard to add delicious pressure there.
Your hand tightens in his hair, and he winces, but a smile pulls at his lips, “Yeah,” he nods, “come on, pretty girl,”
Your back bows, an incoherent moan and babble of words as you lose yourself. His fingers pump, in and out, pressure steadily working your sweet spot, and colors burst behind your eyes.
“Oh, you’re so close,” He praises, his voice rough with his own need, “fuck– yes, fuck yes,”
His mouth closes around your clit, and all at once your thighs clench tight around his ears, your body twisting in the sheets. Your orgasm slams into you, a blissful release that you’ve been chasing for hours, and you bite down on the rumpled fabric of his balled up t-shirt, muffling your pleasured scream.
Slick pulses from your core, his fingers never relenting, your pussy clenching around them again and again as you fall apart into ecstatic shakes.
Your hearing pops, ringing in your ears as your release crescendos, and then his fingers slow and his lips lift, and it all starts to turn to a latent buzzing.
“Shh, shh,” He kisses over your thighs, gently against your mound, “I know, I know baby,”
You’re sucking in heaving breaths through the damp fabric of his t-shirt, the electric taste of peach and petrichor on your tongue.
Yunho eases your hand out of his hair before he gently pries your locked thighs back open, “Baby,” he croons gently, his hands smoothing over your skin. His body shifts above you, and your eyes flutter back open as you feel his gentle hands along your jaw, “hey, hey, easy, omega,”
His pulls his shirt from your mouth, his eyes tender as he meets your gaze, and you take in a sharp breath, “Yunho,”
“Here, sweetheart,”
Without a thought, you lean up and press your lips to his. He’s still for a moment, and then he sinks into the feeling of your kiss, the heat of your mouth, the taste of you. He melts into you, you feel his muscles relax under your hands, and you whimper against him.
“Baby,” He breathes, his eyes shining with something rough and raw, gazing down at you softly before he kisses you again.
But despite your orgasm, pain lances through your belly and you break the kiss with a hiss, your hindbrain driving your words, “Knot,” you pant, “knot, alpha, please,”
His heart hammers against you, “y/n?”
“Hurts,” You whine, the sudden insistent need for a knot spurned by his scent, his proximity, and the orgasm that only promised more and more.
“Okay,” He exhales, nodding, “just relax, I’m here,”
You expect him to push down his sweatpants and take you right there, you can feel the outline of his hard cock against your thigh, but instead he adjusts his position so that he’s at your side. Yunho gathers you close with an arm under your back, and then takes the nearby knotted dildo from the tangled sheets with his opposite hand.
“No,” You shake your head, your voice hoarse, “I want you, alpha, please, please,”
“God, I know,” He drops his forehead against your temple as he spreads your thighs open wide again, “but I’ve got you,” He nudges your entrance with the head of the dildo, your body slick and dripping enough that the head slides in with ease.
“Oh, god,” You grip his hip and bury your face in his throat, “deeper,”
He pumps it in and out, letting your body stretch around it a little more with each stroke inside, “Breathe,”
You sputter on air, you didn’t even know you were holding your breath, and you whine against him, painful heat thrumming between your thighs, not from the toy but from the aching emptiness inside you.
“I’m right here,” He kisses your face, a soft nuzzle as he pushes the toy deeper until the bulge of the silicone knot kisses your entrance.
“Knot,” You sob, clutching his t-shirt as you cling to his bare chest.
“Hold onto me, little omega,” He braces your body against his and then slowly eases the knotted toy into your cunt.
Your hand tightens on him, and your hips buck as the toy sinks into you with a slick pop, the pressure of the fake knot just enough to push you right over the edge into an aftershock, a second heady orgasm washing through you.
It takes a minute for your vision to clear and for feeling to come back, but when it does you feel Yunho soothing you with soft touches and gentle murmurs against your skin.
“So good,” he kisses your hair, “did so good for me,”
Your tense hands relax.
He looks down at your face, studying your expression, “You with me?”
“Yeah,” You manage, blinking hard and taking stock of your body. It’s not a real knot, your body knows that, but it’s just convincing enough that your vision feels sharper and your body feels more yours.
“Floating?” He checks.
You shake your head, “Clearer,” you reply, shifting your hips and wincing at the feeling of the firm silicone still buried inside you, “why didn’t you knot me?”
“The toy worked, I think,” He eases you down to your back, “you feel better?”
“A little,” You admit.
He nods, eyes flicking over you, “You were in it when I came in before,” he explains, “I just… I was afraid you were more out of it than I could tell,”
“I get that,” You concede, “you’re a good alpha, Yunho.”
He smiles, ducking his head to avoid the compliment.
Your body pulses weakly around the fake knot, and you wince again, “Yunho,” You murmur, “can you help me get this out?”
“You don’t want to leave it in?” His brows draw together, “Wouldn’t that help keep your heat tamped down?”
“Maybe,” You shrug a little, reaching down between your thighs to find the flared base of the toy, “but it mostly hurts,”
His jaw ticks, “Do toys like this always hurt, or did I do something wrong?” He reaches down and covers your small hand with his, brushing his thumb over your knuckles.
“Always,” You assure him, “it feels great until you come down, and then it just feels wrong,”
He nods, “Let me help you, then,”
Your hand slips away, and you watch him as he sits up at your side, easing your legs open a little wider again. When his hand takes the base of the toy, your hand flies down to his thigh, “Gently,”
He meets your eyes, “We’ll go slow,”
You nod, fighting the urge to close your eyes and just let him get this over with regardless of how it feels.
Yunho’s finger softly slides down your slit, feeling the way you’re stretched around the toy, and he hums, before rolling to the side and grabbing a bottle off of the little shelf of supplies.
“Let’s try this,” He says, uncapping the bottle of lubricant and squeezing some out onto the place where you and the toy are pressed together.
The sensation of cold lube makes you twitch, a soft hiss from your lips as it slides over your sensitive flesh. He looks up at you with concern, but you just shake your head, “Cold,”
“Sorry,” He gives you an empathetic look.
“It’s okay, I’m okay,”
Yunho nods again, before sliding his fingers through the mess to be sure every inch of your sex is slicked up with additional lubrication. “Okay,” he nods, “just breathe, tell me to stop if it hurts,”
“Yeah,”
Gently, he starts to pull, and the knotted toy tugs at your soft spot. If he had been inside you, he would have waited until his knot had softened entirely, pulling out with ease and not an ounce of this strange mix of pleasure pain, but with a toy like this it always feels better going in than going out.
Your body starts to stretch to accommodate the bulb, and you make a soft, tight sound.
“Almost,” He soothes you, swallowing hard as he tries to gently uncouple you from the toy.
Your fingers tighten once again on his thigh, his sweatpants balled in your fist.
“Almost,” He says again, and you feel the widest part of the toy at your entrance.
You whimper.
“Omega,” He slides his thumb over your clit and circles softly, “relax, push out a little, I’ve almost–,”
Your walls clench and release, responding instinctively, and the toy finally releases from your channel with a slick sound.
“Good girl,” He murmurs, tossing the toy aside and soothing you with gentle touches, “I’m so sorry that hurt,”
“I-It’s okay,” You breathe, your legs trembling from the strange feeling of the tug at your insides and the warm relief of his thumb on your clit.
He gathers you close, shaking his head “Fuck that toy,” he says roughly, “I’m sorry, I won’t make you feel that again,”
You sigh.
“I didn’t realize,” He admits, “I… if you still want me, my knot, I’m here.”
You wrap yourself around him, pressing up until you’re looking into his eyes, “Yes,”
He swallows tightly.
“I’m okay,” You assure him, “the toy works wonders when I’m alone, but it’s not you, and Yunho, my body wants you, not just your scent.”
He sinks forwards, connecting his lips to yours in a tender kiss, “You have me,”
You live in his words for a moment, breathing the same breath and tangling together in the sheets. He cradles you close, like you’re something precious, and stays cuddled flush against you until the telltale ache in your belly starts to hum again.
You kiss him again, harder this time, and you’re sure he can taste the need on your tongue when he groans against you. Your hand slips down his bare chest, skating over his stomach until you reach the top of his gray sweats, “Did you wear these to torture me?”
He huffs a soft laugh, “Not intentionally,”
“Well you are,” You slip your fingers under the waistband, biting your lip when you feel that he’s not wearing anything underneath them.
His hips jerk and he takes in breath, “Baby,”
“I used to see you wearing these in the hall,” You admit, your fingers slowly creeping lower, “it made me so crazy,”
He looks down at you, his expression caught between arousal and amusement, “Yeah?”
“Mhm,” Your nails gently skate over his pubic bone, “gray sweatpants are easily the sluttiest thing I guy can wear,”
This time, he laughs sharply, “Oh yeah?”
“Oh, please,” You smile, “like you don’t know that,”
“I mean, I–,”
Your hand slides further, finding the hot hard length of his cock, and you close your hand around it. Yunho’s words cut off with a moan, and his eyes rolling back, his mouth dropping open in pleasure.
“God,” You stroke your hand up and down, learning the shape of him, “you’re so fucking thick,”
“Oh, Jesus,” He breathes.
Your omega swells with pride at the sound of his pleasure from just a few touches, and your body aches for him. With needy hands, you shove his sweatpants down and properly free his cock, slick rushing between your thighs at the mere sight of him. He’s thick and long, a picture perfect dick that you’ve really only seen in porn, the velvet head dark with arousal, precum beading at the tip already.
“Oh,” You grasp him again, sliding your hand up and down, catching the wetness at his tip and guiding it down his throbbing shaft, “you’re… I… I…,”
Yunho groans and grabs your wrist, stilling your hand, “You okay?” His voice is thready, his eyes blown wide with his own hazy need, but he slows things down at the way you stumble over your words.
A cramp ripples up your belly and you groan, “Yunho,” you release his cock, doubling over a little, “I want to make you feel good, but I – ah, fuck,”
He wets his lips and reaches for you, guiding you back down to lay beside him, “There’s time enough for that,” he says as he kicks off his sweats entirely, “I’m not going anywhere anymore,”
“Yeah,” You feel your cheeks heat, fever spiking again, the fake knot not enough to give you any real long term relief, “yeah, okay,”
You fall onto your front on the bed, pain rippling up your abdomen.
Yunho sildles closer, stroking his hand up and down the centerline of your back, and you can feel the way he’s finally allowing himself to be present for you in this heat in the way he touches you now, his hands firm and hot, an alpha to his omega. “God,” he sighs, “you’re so beautiful, omega,”
The rich tone of his voice sends a line of pleasure straight to your core, a cramp tightening in your belly and you curl into yourself against the mattress, “Oh, fuck,”
“Perfect,” He sighs, his hand heavy as it coasts down further, cupping the plush swell of your ass and giving you a squeeze.
A stammered moan flutters from you and you nod into the sheets, “Please,”
“Please, what, baby?”
“T-touch me again,” You widen your legs to try and prompt him.
“Touch you or knot you, pretty thing?” His lips trail down your spine, teeth nipping at your soft curves. Finally, finally he’ll give you what you’ve needed for hours.
The idea of his knot is suddenly so singular and your hips start to angle upwards on their own, “Knot,” you pant, “please, alpha,”
“Good girl,” He says, his voice rougher, huskier at the promise of what’s to come.
You shift in the covers, moving to roll over and face him, but he catches your shoulder in his hand and pushes you back down flat. Nerves light up through you at his firmer touch, but you wait.
“Present.” He gives the command like an alpha, his voice no longer laced with tenderness, and you feel your omega brain respond to him so naturally.
You move into position, propping up on your knees and tilting your hips up to open yourself up to him. You drop low, your chest still making contact with the bed below you, and your hands flat on either side of your head. Your eyes slip closed. You can hear him shifting, moving into position behind you but he hasn’t properly touched you yet and suddenly you’re trembling.
You’ve never liked it like this.
Presenting has always felt cold, biological and impassive. You’re supposed to want this position, something about it hardwired into your primal little brain, but you’ve never taken to it. You hate that you can’t see him right now, and you’re sure that even with the way your body is dripping and ready to accept him, this might hurt. It has before.
Your eyes press together more tightly when you feel his hands land on your hips, sliding over your skin appreciatively. It should feel good, but your mind is making little panicked flash connections, and you can’t stop the whimper that leaves your lips. Your hands curl into the sheets and you wish he would just get it over with already.
Yunho squeezes your hips, “Sweetheart?”
He sounds softer, like himself, and you cling to it.
“Can you hear me?” He says.
You nod, turning your head to the side a little as you do.
He shifts off the bed, no longer touching you, no longer directly behind you and you feel your muscles release their taut fear.
“Come here,” He directs you softly, his hands slipping under your arms to draw you up off the bed and out of presentation.
Your eyes open at that, and you meet his concerned gaze.
“There you are,” He brushes your hair back from your face, cupping your cheek as he moves onto the bed next to you.
“Y-Yunho,” You manage, your voice still sounding a little tight.
“I changed my mind,” He soothes you and eases down to lie on his back, “can you come up here, baby?”
You wet your lips, eyes flicking over him to see the way he’s stretched out long on the bed with his legs relaxed and his cock standing straight up at attention. “On top?” You ask him.
“Mhm,” He reaches for you but doesn’t quite touch you, he waits for you, “I want to see your face,”
Slowly, you maneuver your body over his, using his chest for leverage when you settle yourself over his hips.
“Gorgeous,” He rests his hands on your thighs, drawing his touch up and down in a smooth, comforting motion.
Tension bleeds out of you and you relax into him, his hard cock brushing the soft skin of your stomach as you let your muscles release. A final, nervous thought bubbles up, “I’m not too,”
“Don’t even finish that sentence,” He takes the words right out of your mouth, “you feel fucking perfect up there and I’m not even inside you yet,”
You groan, finding his cock with your hand.
“Fuck,” He curses softly.
You like how easy it is to get a reaction from him. All you have to do is touch him, even just softly, and he reacts like he’s feeling the sweetest pleasure he’s ever known. He’s genuine, open in a way you’ve never experienced, and you suddenly need to know what his face will look like when you sink down onto him.
“Alpha,” Your muscles flutter, slick dripping from your core, “I need you,”
He nods, his hands dropping to the side, “You have me,”
Lifting your hips high, you angle forwards and push his cock with your hand until you feel the velvet head of him connect with your entrance. Slowly, you sink down inch by inch, watching his face carefully.
His brow creases, plush lips parting, “Oh, fuck,”
“Do I feel good to you?” You manage, a little breathless, the sensation of his thick cock stretching you open from this position making you dizzy already.
“Incredible,” His hips jerk a little as you finally connect your bodies flush together, taking him inside you down to the base.
“Oh, god,” You shudder, pops of pleasure rolling through you.
His hands return to the plush curve of your hips with a tender squeeze, and his eyes coast over your thighs, the soft curve of your belly, studying your body like he’s desperate to remember it. A flicker of embarrassment passes through you, but it’s gone as soon as it comes when you hear him groan, his cock twitching inside you as he takes in the heavy fullness of your breasts.
“You have no idea what you’re doing to me,” He says, hands sliding up your body until they cup them, his thumbs gently passing over each hardened nipple.
Your hips jolt a little, “I’m not doing anything,”
“You could not be more wrong about that, omega,” He hums, a warm pleasured sound from deep in his chest, “you look like sin itself, gorgeous and full of my cock,”
You shudder at his words, fingers tightening on the smooth plane of his chest.
“You belong right here,” His hands drift down again, dragging along your body until he finds your hips, fingers curling around to grip your backside, “don’t you?”
“Mhm,” You nod a little, heat pooling low in your core.
He exhales low, biting his lip as he squeezes your hips, eyes sliding over your body again, “I could get addicted to this,” he murmurs.
A cramp pulses inside you, your walls tightening deliciously around his hot length and you clench a little, nails digging into his skin.
His eyes flick up to yours and he reads your expression easily, his hands coaxing your hips to move with perfect pressure so that you slowly start to drag your slick clit back and forth against him. Pleasure blooms through you and the last bit of tension from earlier falls away, your head dropping back as you let out a moan. He continues guiding your hips, “That’s it,” he murmurs, “there we go,”
You start to move on your own, widening your legs so you can grind down on him the way you need. Eyes falling closed, you focus solely on the sensation of his cock, the way it feels with each shift of your hips bumping gently against the perfect spot inside you.
“Yes,” Yunho groans, “oh, baby, that’s so good,”
You moan, letting it all go as heat starts to coarse through you.
His hands leave your hips and your head comes back up, a low whine leaving your throat at the loss of contact.
“Shh,” He soothes, this time gliding his hands over your arms until he reaches your hands where they are planted on his chest. He maneuvers you easily, interlocking your fingers together until you’re pressed palm to palm and you sit up a little higher.
“Yunho,” Your voice a soft whine, hips rocking again, “please,”
“I know,” He kisses the back of your knuckles tenderly and then shifts to brace your weight with your entwined hands, “I’m right here,”
“I need you,” Your hips roll again, desperate for him to do something.
“Take what you need, pretty girl,” He squeezes your hands, “I’m all yours, you take it,”
Any hesitation you would have had dissipates at the way he’s looking at you, his expression so readable and so genuine that all you can feel is wanted. Needed. This alpha so attuned to you and your body already that he felt it the minute you had to be back in control.
Using his hands as leverage, you shift into the position you need and start to grind, circling your hips down onto the taut muscle of his abdomen to get that delicious friction. He holds you steady while you find a rhythm, rolling your hips deep until you feel the head of his cock kissing your cervix and hot waves of pleasure buzzing through your body.
“Fuck,” He pants, “look at you,”
You’re desperate for it, your arms trembling as you grip him hard, bubbled whines from your throat as you chase your own release.
“Oh, god,” He groans, his muscles tightening under you, “are you close? Is my pretty omega going to come?”
“Yunho!” His words send you into a tailspin, the mere thought that you really could be his, wholly and completely, brings your orgasm rocketing closer and all you have to do is reach out and touch it, “Alpha!”
“Mm,” He hums, talking you through, “don’t stop, omega. Grind that perfect fucking pussy on me,”
Pleasure rocks through you, and you collapse forwards, pushing his hands back down onto the mattress on either side of his head. You’re so startlingly close to the edge you just need him to stay right here, stay right with you as you work yourself.
“Oh, fuck,” He groans, your bodies now slick with sweat and chest to chest as you jerk hungrily against him, hands still gripped together like a lifeline.
“I-I’m so,” You whine, shuddering above him, “I’m g-gonna come,”
“Yes, baby,” He encourages you, his lips at your ear, “fuck your alpha, come on his cock,”
Your body locks tight at his words, but you need more and you need it immediately. Shifting back up a bit you start to bounce, a frantic and stuttered pulse of your hips up and down as you grind to drag his thick cock in and out of your channel just enough.
He chokes a little beneath you, his hips jutting upwards into yours in a jerky reflex before he settles himself and lets you work.
“Yun,” You whine, your thighs burning already from the pace, “oh, God, please, please,”
“Don’t stop,” He urges you, “you’re so close, baby, I know you are,”
The sounds leaving you are tight, heady moans with little gasping breaths interlaced as you ride him, your body starting to tremble as pulsing, almost orgasms wash through you.
He shifts below you suddenly though, lunging upwards to capture a nipple with his teeth, latching onto you with fevered sucks and flicks of his tongue. The sharp, almost painful shock of it goes straight from your nipple down your spine and to the swollen bud of your clit.
You cry out, dropping your hips again to grind against him, needy and nearly out of your mind with desperation.
“Come, baby, come for me,” He pants against your skin, his tongue once again circling your pebbled nipple.
His command pushes you over the edge, your orgasm rushing up in a crash, your body breaking apart above him in ecstatic shakes and staccatoed sounds, blood rushing in your ears and your body locking up tight to ride it out. You’re a mess, a whining, moaning, dizzy mess, and he barely gives you a moment before he disconnects your bound hands and finally reaches for you.
“Good girl,” He murmurs, his voice set deep in his chest, “good fucking girl,”
Your eyes are pressed tight, still riding the sensations, but he gathers you close and in one smooth motion he rolls you. With you flat on your back now, knees splayed wide and his body still pressed into you, he crowds you even closer. One hand winds into your hair, the other braced on your waist for perfect leverage.
He kisses your mouth hard, just once, and then dips his head again to find your breast, groaning as takes your other nipple.
Sharp warmth spikes in you again, keeping you suspended and you grip down on his back, “Ah, fuck!”
With a sharp pulse of hips he drags himself out and back in, his hips connecting with yours hard, his cock deeper than you’ve ever felt him.
A startled cry leaves you, one hand flying to grip his head, fingers tight in his hair.
Muffled against your breast he moans, “Fuck, you’re still coming,”
“I-I can’t stop,” You whine, nodding even though his face is still buried in your chest.
Your walls flutter and pulse around him, tightening with every thrust and the drawn out peak of what feels like a haze of never ending pleasure.
He’s lost all sense now, consumed by the heat of you, and in his own fog of desperation he fucks you like he wants you to come forever. He thrusts hard and deep, his cock driving into you again and again, his forehead pressed against your chest so all you feel is his hot breath panting against you with every stroke.
“Baby,” He whines, “oh, fuck, y/n,”
You feel the base of his cock swelling, a knot forming just for you.
“Please!” You beg him for it, and he knows exactly what you need, your bodies more in tune now more than ever.
“Omega,” He shifts his thrusts and draws your hips upwards with his hand, “baby, hold onto me,”
You wrap your arms around his shoulders, ready for whatever he can give.
His thrusts start up again, hard and deep strokes, and every time his hips connect firmly with yours, you see stars.
“Alpha!” You grip him tight, your voice almost a sob now, “Come, please, knot me, please!”
He groans, position slipping a little until his lips are on your neck, hot pants against your ear, “Beg for my knot,”
Your orgasm starts to build again, a firm bubble inside you, “I need it, please, please, Alpha, give me your knot,”
He moans, twisting his face into the mattress, “Fuck, I’m going to fill you up,”
Your eyes slam shut, head rocking back against the bed, “Please!”
“So perfect,” He babbles, his knot swelling and his hands hard where they grip you, “fuck you so full of my cum,”
“Alpha!” Your nails dig into his skin, his words sending your omega brain into overdrive.
He shudders against you, scrambling against you to push your legs open into a deeper press and then you feel it, his knot pushing home and locking tightly into your wet heat. In the twisted position he drags his mouth down again, finding your nipple and locking his mouth around it again, sucking as you feel the pulse of his cock, hot ropes of cum pulsing into you as he ruts his hips just enough to rock his knot and push his cock in deeper.
You choke, your back arching as another wave of pleasure takes you, but he holds you in position to keep his knot pumping steadily into you.
He’s dizzy too, pressing frantic kisses against your chest, murmuring tender praises so low you only half hear him through the ringing in your own ears.
“So full,” His hips start to slow, now just lazily rolling to push you through your own orgasm and the last throes of his, “so pretty with my cum inside,”
His words have you in a fog, and you bite down on your lip to keep yourself from begging for more.
“So good,” He pants between kisses as he tries to catch his breath, “so good for me,”
Your body arches, a natural bend of submission and need, “Yunho–,”
He groans, “Say that again,”
Your head is back in the sheets, but you reach for him, threading your fingers through his hair, “Yunho,”
“Yeah,” He nods, his forehead pressed hard to your breastbone, “just like that, sound so fucking pretty,”
“Yunho,” The sound is stretched, aching, your cunt fluttering and tightening around his thick knot.
“Ah,” He chokes out, his hands hard on your waist and thigh, “ah, fuck, I’m g-gonna,”
You blink, looking down at the alpha clinging to you between your thighs as he ruts his hips in needy circles to grind himself deeper, to squeeze his knot against your sweet spot once more.
“Oh, oh, god,” He shudders, his already pink ears growing darker with a blush that spreads down his neck and chest, and you feel his cock kick inside you again, a second wave of hot cum pumping deep against the soft entrance of your womb.
You gasp at the sudden sensation, clinging to his sweat slick skin as he shudders. His hips pump once more, and then he slides up, pressing frantic kisses up your throat, finding your mouth and pouring every ounce of his needy energy into the connection of your lips.
“Perfect, you’re perfect,” He pants, and then with a tight sound he starts to move again, artless little humps that rock his knot inside you.
“Oh my god,” You jerk against him, nails digging into his shoulder as the warm pool of pleasure starts to build again.
“I’m still hard,” He whispers against your lips, kissing you again, “gonna fill you up again,”
”Oh, fuck,” The groan that leaves you is desperate, aching, “are you serious?”
All he can do is nod, his forehead pressed hard to yours as he pumps into you, making rhythmic little sounds that match each stroke, “Uh, uh, uh,” he pants, “baby,”
“Are you,” Your voice is breathless, your hand catching his cheek as you press your head into the bed to get an inch of space to look at him, “are you in a rut?”
He shakes his head, his hips never stopping, “N-no, no, I just,” He moans, his hands tight on your skin, “I can come a lot,”
“All the time?” Your words drown in a moan as he pushes deeper, your hands sliding to his biceps.
“When I’m really turned on,” he hisses, “it’s f-fucking embarrassing, actually,” The sound that leaves him can only be described as a whine, “sweetheart, say my name again, I’m close, say it, please,”
Heat floods you, and maybe it’s the fact that he’s almost a stranger, or maybe it’s the fact that it’s him, but you find a piece of yourself you’ve never tapped into when you hook your heels on his hips to hold him to you, “Yunho,” you say his name in a moan, “fill me up again,”
His eyes darken, his mouth falling open as he moves.
“Yunho,” You pant, “pump my pussy full, it’s all yours, baby, I’m all yours,”
“Ah, fuck,” He collapses over you, his hips slamming forwards hard once more, his face buried in your neck as he crushes you to his chest and unloads again, a third thick wave of his release shooting deep inside you.
Pleasure snaps in your gut at the sensation, you’ve never in your life felt so utterly filled, utterly sated, like your body was waiting exactly for his knot and you cling to him as another orgasm rocks through you. Your walls spasm and clench, milking him for every drop, and he curses softly against your throat at the overstimulation, his cock spurting another, weaker pulse of cum in response to your pleasure.
Black spots dance over your vision, your legs trembling even as you cling to him, all you can focus on is his weight over you and the feeling of his hot, wet breath with every heaving pant against your pulse point.
Something in you shifts, and your hand slides back to his hair, carding through it gently as you hold him, “That was so good,” you murmur, the soft assurance coming to your lips naturally, “that was so perfect, alpha, giving me just what I need,”
His lips break into a smile, you can feel it against your throat, and he shudders an exhale, “Don’t, I’ll get hard again,”
“You’re already still hard,” Your pussy pulses weakly around his length.
He shakes his head, “I’m locked,” he manages, referring to his knot, “but I need a second before I can come again,”
“A second?” You laugh a little, grinning as you look up at the ceiling, fingers still working softly against his scalp, “You just came in me three times in like two minutes,”
He nods, “I know, but trust me, I can go again in a minute, if you need—,” Yunho cuts himself off, lifting his head and finding your eyes, like he’s remembering all at once you’re in heat and this is the first time you’re having sex, “Are you alright? Did I hurt you?”
You give him a lazy smile, “Mm-mm,” you shake your head, “I feel amazing,”
In fact, you feel clearer than you ever have during heat, the thorough knotting tamping down your frantic need better than any toy or any partner you’ve ever had before.
He sighs in relief, his head dropping against your shoulder, “Thank fuck,”
You wait for him to say something else, but he just stays pleasantly locked inside you. After a moment you run your hand up and down his bare back, “So,” you can’t help but tease him a bit, “are you always like that? Or are you more into me than I thought?”
Yunho huffs a laugh through his nose and pushes himself up to look down at you, “Very into you,” he swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, “I’ve been trying to play it cool, but I think I blew that,”
You smirk at his choice of words.
He rolls his eyes, but he grins, “Oh my god,”
“You said it, not me,” You smile back up at him.
The feeling with him is easy, infinitely easy, and somewhere in the back of your mind you know this is just the beginning with him.
Yunho makes a soft noise above you, and you meet his eyes, realizing his knot is starting to soften as the pressure inside you starts to release. He winces as he shifts his hips, “I’m gonna pull out,” he says gently, “you ready?”
“Yeah,” You hold onto his biceps as he shifts above you, his muscles flexing under your fingers as he holds your hips in place and drags himself back.
The feeling of him pulling out is hot and a little sore, the size of him without his knot would be a lot to take, and even in heat you’re feeling every inch of his thickness now that your heat is momentarily sated. You hiss a little as he disconnects your bodies, the muscles in your abdomen tightening and releasing, and he looks up at you.
“What hurts?” He asks, still on his knees between your spread thighs, his hands hovering over you like he doesn’t want to make anything worse.
“I’m just a little sore,” You assure him, “and my hips are stiff from that position, but it’s no big–,”
“Hang on,” Yunho cuts you off softly, sliding off the edge of the mattress and reaching into a basket of towels. He wraps one around his waist and then returns to you with another, and a pack of wet wipes.
Heat blooms in your cheeks and you start to sit up, “You don’t have to–,”
He cuts you off again, “Relax, little omega,” he pushes you back down with a gentle hand pressing on your shoulder, “no need to be shy after that,”
“Mm,” You throw an arm over your eyes, “yes, but twenty minutes ago I was so horny I could cry, now I’m back to my normal level of shame and embarrassment.”
“If you’re embarrassed, I’m embarrassed,” He laughs, before adding, “this will be a little cold,”
You glance down, before promptly looking away as he takes one of the cooling wipes and starts to clean your sticky inner thighs.
“I mean,” He sounds a little sheepish, and you bet if you looked his ears would be red again, “I just completely lost my head and came like a teenager,”
You snort softly, and then jump a little when he slides the cool cloth over your tender sex.
“Sorry,” He soothes you with a sweep of his hand over your hip.
“It’s okay,” You sigh, letting your legs fall open a little more, “and I mean… the sex was good, the… you were… I mean that was,” you groan as he gives your thigh a teasing pinch, “it was hot, you fucking me like that. I liked it.”
“Yeah?” His eyebrows raise.
You let your arm fall away, and push yourself up just a bit on your elbows, “Yeah,” you confess, “I mean, honestly, it,” you gasp though, your words cutting off, as you feel a rush of his warm release flooding out of you at the position change.
His eyes flick down, and you watch every little thought flick over his open expression. His zeroes in on the sight of his cum pulsing out of you, his throat tightens with a thick swallow, and his lips part open before he shakes himself out of it. He clears his throat and glances up at you before bringing a fresh wipe between your thighs to get you cleaned up properly.
“You were saying?” He brushes by the obvious start of an erection under his towel and discards the wipes in a bin to the side of the bed before picking up another towel and shaking it out.
“I’m not really sure where I was going,” You confess, “but I liked it, my omega liked it too, it felt like you knotted me more than once, my head cleared up immediately,”
His lips pull with a smile, a swell of pride in his chest at that, but he simply nods. When he steps closer, he slides a hand between your shoulderblades and presses you up, “Sit up for one second for me,” he murmurs and you follow the guidance of his hands as he wraps the towel around you.
The first thing you notice is how luxuriously soft it is, more like a blanket than a towel. The cotton is so smooth and fluffy against your skin, and you hum pleasantly.
Yunho only smiles wider, before guiding you to lift your hips so he can tuck it around you properly and get you covered up. You tuck the free edge of the towel into the top where it crosses over your breasts, and then let him guide you into a reclined position against a mountain of pillows.
“Water,” He says next, grabbing two bottles from the side table and sliding back over to you. He leaves his closed and to the side for a moment, cracking the seal on yours, and then he lifts it to your lips, “small sips,”
Your omega melts, and maybe you do too, at the gentle way he cares for you.
“You’ve had an omega before?” You ask, taking the bottle to have a few more sips.
He shakes his head, “Not in the way you’re thinking,”
“And what way is that?” You smile.
“A relationship,” He says, “my two previous girlfriends were betas, and I’ve had sex with omegas, but it was a little different, those were pretty strictly hookups.”
“And this is…” You trail off.
“Hopefully not a hookup,” He takes a sip of his own water, “plus, with other omegas,”
A flare of jealousy curls in your belly and you shake your head, “On second thought, let’s not talk about you and other omegas right now,”
His eyes flick over you, the way your fingers are tensely knotted in the sheets at the mere idea of him and another omega, and he nods, “Got it,” he says, “moving on.”
You exhale, and then you add with a pointed look, “I think you knotted me so good I forgot I was still in heat for a second,”
He smirks, “Careful,” he says, “you’ll give me a big head,”
“Please,” You roll your eyes, “you know you’re good,”
His hand smooths up and down your thigh, “So are you,” he murmurs, “I haven’t come like that in a long time,”
“Me either,” You suddenly feel a little shy again, and when you pay attention to your body, a little achy too.
“Have you been with other alphas, or just,” Yunho asks, but you shake your head again and he falls silent.
“Let’s not,” You look back up, a feeling starting to build behind your ribs again, “I… I really just want it to be me and you right now,”
“Of course,” He soothes, “I’m sorry,”
Your belly twists, something hot bubbling under your skin again, and you take a dry swallow, “It’s okay,” you breathe.
Yunho studies you for a moment, and then ever so gently says your name.
You answer him with a small sound, something primal rising to the surface, and you slide across the mattress towards him. He reaches out, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into his chest.
You both just stay like that for a moment, both of you sitting up in the center of the bed, Yunho’s legs bent and facing the top of the bed while you stay half kneeling and facing the bottom. You let your head sink, let yourself open, and you drink in the comfort of his scent. Warm rain, damp earth, the metallic taste of lightning on your tongue. You’ve never scented anyone like him, but the smell takes you back to some place else, some other time. The woods behind your childhood home, the mountain air in Mudeungsan, the Han River in June.
“Shh,” Yunho murmurs softly, his hand cupping the back of your head, “I’ve got you, you’re safe.”
You drag in another breath, sinking into his touch, “I know,”
“You’re trembling,” Yunho points out.
Your fingers tighten on his bare back.
“Where are you, sweetheart?” He pulls you closer to him until your hips touch, “Tell me what you need,”
“You remind me of home,” You confess into his neck, “is that crazy?”
He swallows, his lips pressing against the side of your head, “Not crazy,”
“Can you hold me?” Your voice comes out small, the next wave of your heat building in your veins.
“Closer?” He murmurs.
You nod into his shoulder.
He shifts, his hands anchored on your hips as he lifts and maneuvers your body, drawing one leg over his thighs until you’re properly straddling him, your towel bunching up higher on your thighs as he guides you into a proper embrace.
“There you go,” Yunho croons, his voice every bit of the comforting alpha that told you it was safe to open your door to him, “breathe, baby.”
“I’m breathing,” You mumble into his skin.
“Hmm,” He murmurs, “your warming up again already,"
“Yeah,”
Yunho dips his head and presses a warm kiss to your shoulder, and instinct guides your head back to expose your throat to him. He kisses there too, a press of his lips on your pulsepoint, and he takes a deep inhale.
You shiver in his arms, need pooling low in your belly again.
“Mm, pretty omega,” He nuzzles your throat, his hand tightening on your backside, “did you know your slick tastes just like you smell?”
You gasp, nipples tightening into pebbled peaks under the plush towel.
“I never knew someone could taste that good,” He licks a stripe up your neck and plants a kiss just under your ear, “dripping sweet sugar, right on my tongue,”
Your legs widen, sliding you closer to him, your hips pressed over his with only his towel between you now.
“I could live between your thighs,” He whispers as his hand travels up your soft skin.
Your hips rock, you can’t help it, need guiding you into the reflexive roll, your clit catching on the fabric of the towel where you’re pressed against him. You make a small sound, not a whimper but close, and rock your hips again.
Under you, the firm press of his cock starts to nudge you more firmly as his cock thickens to its full hardness, and he makes a choked groan against your throat when you rock your hips down to press your cunt to his covered cock.
“Y-Yunho,” You manage, voice a little breathless.
“Hmm?” His hands flex hard on your ass, and you feel him fighting the urge to drag you against him harder.
“C-can you come again, yet?”
“Oh, yeah,” His lips migrate from your neck to your chest as he kisses.
“Fuck,” You groan, rocking again and letting your head fall back as your hands slide up his back, one slipping higher and sinking into his dark hair, “how is that even possible?”
He huffs a laugh, “I’m an alpha with an omega in heat in my lap,” his voice roughens as he breathes you in again, “a very pretty omega who smells like sin and who’s grinding, ah, fuck, like that,”
You whine at the praise, “Need you back inside,”
He doesn’t ask if you’re sure, not this time, instead he lifts you with one arm banded around your back while he shoves the towel around his hips open and out of the way.
“Come here,” He murmurs, his voice low, as he notches the head of his cock on your slick entrance.
You nod, your nails digging into his shoulder as he positions you.
“That’s it,” He watches the place where your bodies are joined, the slow swallowing of his cock as you sink down slowly, “good little omega, take me in,”
You choke at his words, a moan on your lips.
When he’s fully sheathed, you wrap your legs around his waist and he draws his legs crossed underneath you. It occurs to you here, you’ve never been so close to another person. It’s not just the way he’s buried deep inside you, it’s every inch of your skin that touches his. From thighs to hips, stomach and chest, your arms wrapped around his shoulders and his banded around your back.
Your eyes connect, and you smile softly, “Hi,”
He softens, “Hi,”
One of his hands slides down your back to cup your ass, shifting you so that he’s buried just a little bit deeper, and then his lips find yours.
There’s no way of knowing how long you’re locked together like this, glued to each other even without his knot pinning you together, but for what feels like blissful hours, you rock your body against him and he guides every slide with sure hands. You lose track of how many times you come, of how much of his release spills inside you, both of you unwilling to take more than a moment to catch your breath.
Your jaw aches from kisses, both of you a slippery mess between your interlocked hips.
This time, you barely talk, just hushed praises as you pump your bodies slowly together, the intimacy forming between you more than just nature and heat.
You never knew it could be like this.
Eventually you tangle together in the bedding, bodies in near constant undulation as your heat pulls you into its hardest peaks and valleys. Time stretches, yawns, moves on outside this room without you, and you stay right here in the hazy heat of his body and yours learning each other.
You fall in and out of sleep, in and out of knottings as the days pass, but eventually, curled together nose to nose in the nest, your heat fizzles out. You can feel it, palpable in your body like someone flicked a light switch, heat one moment and none the next.
You let out a slow breath and squeeze his hand, “Heat’s done,”
He nods, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, “Thought we were close,” he murmurs, “what do you need, sweetheart?”
A flicker of your last heat flashes in your mind, your boyfriend, ex-boyfriend, rolling off you. He had smacked your ass, told you that it was fun, but he didn’t so much as offer you a blanket let alone ask you what you need.
You blink up at Yunho, your naked bodies still tangled together under the fluffy blanket, “I like cuddles after,”
“Done,” He smiles, one broad hand sliding down your back and over your thigh to adjust your position, an inch closer together, “what else?”
“I’m pretty low maintenance,” You manage.
Yunho shakes his head, “You’re an omega, you have needs, I’m an alpha, I’m here to fulfill those needs,” he reminds you, “lay it on me.”
Your teeth sink into your lip for a moment, a knot of hesitation still lodged in your belly, but he doesn’t look away.
He waits.
Letting out a breath you let your body relax back against the pillows, “A hot bath,” You start off, “spicy food, lots of water, lots of touch.”
“This is good,” He’s grinning, nodding, “keep going,”
Your omega calms inside you, and your tense fingers release from their tight grip on the blanket, “I like the space cleaned after, I get a little overwhelmed if all the heat scents lingers. Maybe something sweet to eat, something comforting,”
He catalogs it all, you can see it in his eyes.
“I just…” You admit, “all I really want is to get clean, to curl up on your lap, and come down,”
“Yeah,” He softens, “I’ve got you,”
Yunho tucks you close, bringing your head the hollow of his chest, and you nuzzle closer to him, this stranger turned lover with one simple act of his kindness.
“Yun,” You murmur, your fingers trailing down the line of his spine absently.
“Hmm?”
“Did…” You barely want to say his name, “did Hyunshik come back?”
Yunho stiffens, and you wish you had never said anything, you didn’t want to break this moment between you. Yunho just sighs, “Yesterday,”
You perk up at that, pulling back to meet his gaze, “Did something happen when I was asleep?”
“No, no,” Yunho soothes you, his palm sliding from your arm to the warm center of your chest, “I just heard him through the wall. He was… upset you weren’t home.”
Your eyebrows raise in alarm.
“Listen,” Yunho says, “you’re not going back there. I won’t keep you here if you want to go, but you can’t go back there.”
You shake your head, “Hyunshik is an ass, but he wouldn’t hurt me,”
“He already has,” Yunho’s voice cuts a little firmly and he shakes his head, “maybe he hasn’t been violent, maybe he never would be, but I’ve heard him shout at you. Last night he broke something against the wall when you weren’t there, that’s enough for me.”
Your lips part, and you take note of all the tension in him. He’s angry, he’s furious, somewhere bubbling under the surface is an alpha’s rage at your ex, but not an ounce of it is for you.
“He doesn’t know the first thing about caring for an omega, about caring for you,” Yunho corrects, “everything you’ve told me showed me that, but during your heat, I asked you to present and you were scared.”
“Yunho,”
“Not nervous, not excited,” He holds your gaze, “you were terrified.”
“I just don’t like the position,” You feel the urge to slide away from him in the bed, but you stay put.
“But he does,” Yunho doesn’t have to say anything else, every implication is crystal clear in his words.
“Yeah,”
He sighs again, exasperation laced in the way he breathes, the way he drops his forehead to yours, “Baby,” his voice is tender as the endearment slips out, “I won’t push you, but I’m telling you, for your safety, and fuck, for my sanity, you’re not going back into that apartment.”
Your eyes drift closed and you nod.
“Also,” His voice is suddenly hoarse, pained, “you don’t have to stay with me, we barely know each other, and if I were a better man I would have figured out a way to get through your heat without knotting you myself, but,”
Something hot and angry sparks in your gut and you push him back, “Stop it,”
“I’m just saying, I should have,”
“Don’t make my heat about you,” You punctuate your words with a push at his shoulder, and his eyes widen, “I’m not some helpless little thing, and you’re not about to mope around like some tortured Victorian because you think you violated my delicate sensibilities,”
“Tortured Victorian?” His eyebrows raise, the smallest of amused smiles tugging at his lips.
“Yunho,” You bowl forwards, “I chose you, I wanted you. I was vulnerable and in pain, yes, but this heat was mine and you’re not ruining that by thinking I didn’t beg for every second of what we did together.”
His smile falls away, your words sinking in.
“So,” Your stomach flips as your next words come, “alpha,”
His eyes sharpen.
“You’re right,” You continue, “I don’t want to go back to my old place, I don’t want to see my ex. I said what I needed to in that text, and I’m done. If you don’t mind me staying here for a few days while I figure things out, that would mean a lot to me,”
“Stay as long as you want,” Yunho cuts in gently.
“Thank you,” You find his hand, squeezing it a little, “I’m not sure where you and I end up in all this, that heat was…,”
He smiles gently, “Yeah,” he nods, “for me too,”
You slide a little closer, reaching out to touch his cheek before you say it, “Right now can we just be friends?” You ask, “Just for a little while so I can figure things out?”
“I–,” He catches himself, whatever he was going to say dying on his tongue, “yes, of course,”
“You can ask me out then, if you still want to,”
“I still want to,” He assures you, his eyes warm and steady.
You nod, leaning in and pressing a kiss to his lips, “You’re not a rebound,” you murmur softly in the tender space between you, “and I won’t treat you like one.”
Yunho’s still for a moment, his heartbeat thumping under your hand, and then he sinks forward to catch your mouth in a heady kiss, dipping you back into the bedsheets, his body warm and heavy above you. His hands slide up your body, cupping you close as the kiss deepens, his tongue flicking against yours.
You melt into it, but just when you’re sinking, thinking about throwing everything you just said right out the window, he stops and pulls himself back.
Cupping your cheek, he nods, his voice breathless, lips swollen from the kiss, “Friends,” he says, “for now. When you’re ready, say the word, but that’s how I feel about you, heat or no heat.”
Your breath catches in your throat.
“Okay?”
“Okay,” You manage.
“And sweetheart,” He brushes your cheek tenderly with the side of his thumb, “this is your nest until you tell me it’s not, for however long. Don’t talk to me about another omega in here again, alright?”
Your heart stutters and stumbles in your chest, and all you can do is nod.
“Good,” He murmurs, his voice warm, “now, let’s get you cleaned up.”
“Yeah,”
“For today, while you come down, can I still hold you?” He checks, his fingertips skating over the soft skin of your hip under the covers.
“Please,” You melt.
He grins, rolling out of the nest and reaching back in to tug you up into his arms, the blanket still haphazardly wrapped around you as he lifts you and carries you towards the bathroom.
“Yunho!” You grip his bare shoulder.
A self-satisfied smile plays at the corner of his mouth and he glances down at you, “I’m not going to drop you,”
Your hand relaxes a fraction, but you still don’t let go.
“So, a hot bath first,” He says as he slides you onto the bathroom counter, turning to the tub to get the water flowing, “I’ll order us something spicy for lunch, and then we’ll go back to being friends tomorrow.”
“And today?” You smile.
“Today?” He checks the temperature of the water and adjusts the knobs to get it just right, “Today, we’re pretending I’m your alpha.”
Your stomach flutters with butterflies.
He smiles as he turns to you, resting a hand on either side of your thighs as he leans in, “Just let me get all the doting out of my system, okay? Then we can go back to the acquaintance phase of our relationship,”
You heart flutters, but you laugh gently, just a puff of air through your lips as you shake your head, “Yunho, I think we’re way past the acquaintance phase,”
He shrugs, “Wherever you want me, sweetheart.”
He steals another quick kiss, and then turns his attention back to getting the bath perfect, your heart beating double and triple time as you watch him.
You’re in trouble, you feel that down to the tips of your toes.
Yunho moves through caring for you with a tenderness that makes him feel like he’s been yours for years, not just for two days. He settles you into the bath, takes his time washing your hair, and then brushes it free of tangles. When he’s done, he leaves you to relax in the cocoon of the warm water, and he makes himself busy.
By the time you’re done, the nest is straightened up and the sheets and blankets are tumbling in the dryer. He’s ordered enough take out to keep you fed for a week, and he slides you into his lap without a second thought the moment you’re dressed and back to being a person.
He’s easy to laugh with, to relax with, to fall asleep with and to share a meal with.
He’s the kind of man that’s going to be easy to love.
Today blends into tomorrow, and the next day after that.
You never do make it back to being just friends.
pretty woman | JYH pt. 2
part 3 of the Night in Hollywood!series
☆ trope: 1990s inspired au, sugarbaby and rich older man, contract relationship
☆ pairing: exstripper!reader x billionaireceo!yunho
☆ warnings: reckless driving, a scene of physical abuse (reader gets slapped by someone), violence (bc you hand their ass back to them), profanity, drinking, smoking, blood, age gap (yunho is 37, reader is 26) SMUT — penetration, oral m and f receiving, teabagging, swallowing, hand kink, face stuffing, cum play, wearing lingerie, petnames, overstím, fingering, spítting, p sIapping, manhandIing, mating presses, size differences, creampies, loserforhisgf!yunho, overstimulation (m&f), i know i say it takes place in the nineties but i kinda fell off with that theme bc they have cellphones and don’t talk like it’s that time period so i apologize!
☆ synopsis: LIVING IN BEVERLY HILLS comes with its perks. But for two different people such as yourself and multibillionaire business tycoon, Jeong Yunho, both of you can’t seem to find what you’re looking for in the so called 'land of dreams'. So the proposal is simple really… let him spoil you with money, jewelry and clothes while in return, you stay by his side. . .
☆ playlist: material girl by maddona, oh, pretty woman by roy orbison, versace on the floor by bruno mars, dirty cash (money talks) by the adventures of stevie v,
☆ a/n: thanks for all the interest! please don't forget to reblog:)
☆ word count: 10k
m.list | pt 1 | pt. 2
AFTER A MUCH NEEDED COLD SHOWER, followed by drying your hair and changing your clothes, you situate yourself comfortably onto Yunho’s king sized bed, swimming in the sheets and leaning against the soft pillows with a happy, satisfied hum.
This grand, empty penthouse was now yours, and when the realization hits, it can only make you shuffle your bare legs and smile with content.
You could definitely get used to this.
You turn to see Yunho’s credit card was still placed on the bedside table nearby, hesitating for a moment before reaching over to grab it. The shiny lettering stares back at you as your thumb brushes over it, contemplating what to buy first for your dinner date tonight.
There was so much you wanted to do. You needed a dress, shoes, new makeup and definitely a few new pairs of underwear if you were going to stay for the couple following days.
With a faint idea of who to ask for help inside your head, you sit up to dial a number into the hotel phone, biting your nail as you wait for the other line to answer.
Moments pass, and for a split second you think she won’t answer until a groggy but familiar voice finally picks up.
“Hello?”
You let out a breath of relief. “Miko!” You cheerfully called out, twisting the curled telephone wire and leaning against the headboard.
“You won’t even guess what has happened to me.”
A faint yawn is heard over the line, the sound of objects clattering and curses spilling out of your half-awake roommate as she balances the phone against her ear.
Miko doesn’t think much of it, shuffling to lay back down under a hamburger wrapper she apparently fell asleep with, before mumbling back into the phone.
“Just tell me what it is”
“Look, I met this insane guy who—”
“Let me guess, he tried to cop a feel so you punched him back and now you’re calling me while locked up in the police station so I can bail you out” she responded in a bored manner, a headache drilling into her skull from the open curtains directing sunlight in your living room flat.
You shook your head, the excitement audible in your tone.
“Way better than that”
Miko sits up, sighing. “Where are you anyways? You said you’d come back last night with Hime’s milk” she mumbled, talking about her chubby black cat.
You shake your head at your roommate, grinning.
“I am sitting in the 50th story penthouse of the Beverly Hills Hotel, because I’ve just been promised eight thousand dollars to spend the next few days with some billionaire!”
The half-sober girl hits her head against the coffee table from surprise while reaching for a bottle of water.
“No fucking way!” she mutters with disbelief, rubbing the bump on her forehead.
“How did you even meet this guy?”
“Y’know that dingy gas station towards the end of the Boulevard?” you explained enthusiastically. “I helped him from getting robbed there”
Kumiko lifts one of her brows. “Robbed?”
You realize how it sounds, but proceed to insist it was a long story.
“Listen, I don’t have much time cause he’s taking me to dinner tonight. He’s left me his credit card and all, but I have no idea where to shop” you state, looking at the piece of plastic in your left hand.
“Said he wanted something elegant, or some crap” you muttered, rolling your eyes.
“Do you have any idea where to go?”
You hear a scoff come from the other end of the line, your roommate being appalled by your little knowledge of the city. You can already picture her smirking face when she responds back.
“Rodeo Drive, baby.”
After your call with Kumiko—who, in her usual blunt charm, shared a few sly tips on how to reel the billionaire in further; current stripper to former stripper—you step out of the Beverly Hills Hotel with Yunho’s black card in one hand and the three hundred dollars you earned last night in the other.
For once in your life, you can walk down the streets of L.A. without worrying about what you can or can’t afford, and that alone fills you with a freeing sense of happiness.
The morning sun glints off the sleek glass windows of luxury boutiques that seem to call your name one by one. It’s almost contagious, the way your grin refuses to fade as you eye each well-dressed mannequin, imagining which purse or which shoes Yunho might like best.
Finally, you decide to step into a high-end women’s boutique at the next corner, the glass doors sliding open with ease. Your eyes immediately landed on a simple black dress displayed on a mannequin at the front of the store, running your fingers over the fabric and taking in the understated yet elegantly conservative dress. Something about it feels right, and your heart stirs with anticipation. A spark of certainty whispers that this might be exactly what Yunho has in mind.
When you glance around, you lock eyes with a pretty brunette store clerk somehow already standing nearby. She’s tall, perfectly put together, and wearing a dark red lipstick on her lips that purse when you speak to her first.
“Hi,” you greet, flashing a smile and gesturing toward the mannequin. “How much is this?”
Her gaze drops, taking in your outfit.
The short hem of your skirt, the scuffed high heel boots, your messy hair that you didn’t bother to put together after wriggling under Yunho’s grasp that morning on his king sized bed.
The judgment towards you is instant, but she disguises it with a thin, professional smile.
“That one?” she asks, feigning surprise.
“It’s from our private collection. Most of our clients order those for galas, not… casual outings.”
You blink, unsure if you heard her right.
“Oh, I wasn’t planning on wearing it to a gala, I’m actually having dinner tonight.”
She stares you down.
“Right…” her tone falsely sweet. “It is a rather sophisticated piece. It might not suit your usual look.” Her eyes flick once more down your legs, then back up, deliberate and slow.
By now you’ve caught on to the judgement, and you can feel the air suddenly feel colder. A few customers nearby glance over, sensing the tension.
“My usual look?” you say as your brows furrow, putting a hand on your hip in confidence as your heels hit the floor loudly. “How would you know my usual look? You’ve just met me.”
She giggles, a blonde colleague who appears to be an exact evil copy of the brunette, coming to circle around you.
“Trust me, honey.” she sneers. “We know your type.”
You take a step back, pretending like you’re not hurt by their rejection, although the humiliation burns your cheeks too hot to dismiss it.
“Please leave.” the blonde shoots, looking at you as if you’d committed a crime by simply browsing in their store.
You glance at the two women, finding yourself at a loss for words. Without waiting any longer, you turn and walk out of the boutique with clenched fists.
And of course they don't stop you. In fact, you catch their reflections through the glass as the door closes, whispering something to each other that makes them chuckle out loud.
The feelings of humiliation and embarrassment settle inside you. You become self-conscious of your looks, bringing your jacket to cover your body as you quickly try to escape back to the hotel, thinking it would be better if the earth just swallowed you whole right now.
A group of upper-class businessmen stroll past, their tailored suits sharp and their gazes lingering a moment too long. A few whistles trail behind, low and mocking, and the urge to disappear tightens even more in your chest.
The ladies who follow behind have luxury handbags gleaming beneath the morning sun, one by one, passing you looks of quiet disdain. Their eyes sweep over you as if you’re clutter on their sidewalk, and almost each face of every passerby you cross seems to carry the same unspoken verdict:
You don’t belong here.
A cold breeze pushes against your back as you climb the steps to the hotel entrance. You’d held in your tears the entire walk from the boutique, but now they spill freely, hot and fresh against your cheeks. The sharp clicks of your high heels echo across the marble floor.
Too loud, too sharp and too out of place as well.
You try to steady your breathing, blinking fast to keep your vision clear, but each step feels heavier than the last.
From behind, a man's voice suddenly calls out to you.
“Hello, Miss. Is there anything I may help—”
“No, you may not!” you snap back, outstretching your arms in warning to leave you alone, while your voice cracks and betrays your efforts in hiding your disappointment.
You swipe the back of your hand across your eyes, smearing fresh, hot tears just to walk past the man wearing a pristine grey suit.
The elevator is the first thing you find, and you hurry toward it, pressing the up button again and again as if impatience could make it arrive faster. The floor numbers above creep along, changing at an agonizing pace, with a dozen more stops left to go.
A shaky sigh escapes as you shut your eyes and rest your forehead against the cool metal doors, muttering quiet, self-deprecating remarks under your breath.
You still when you sense someone approach — a faint trace of rose, an older presence settling beside you. The grey-haired man from the lobby stands a few steps away, polite enough to give you space, yet near enough to remind you you’re not alone.
Your jaw tightens as you jab the button once more, hoping movement will come before the silence grows any heavier.
You brace yourself for a harsh grip on your shoulder, already imagining the call for hotel security to drag you out. Instead, a soft blur of pale yellow fabric swings into view. A handkerchief is being offered to you.
Your glossy eyes lift to the grey-haired man, who only smiles with quiet understanding. You mumble a barely audible thank-you and take the handkerchief, dabbing at your tears before blowing your nose, loudly.
The man’s expression falters, color draining from his face at the unmistakable sound. He stiffens for a moment, then clears his throat and regains his composure, voice calm as he begins to speak.
“Would you like to tell me what is wrong? I can provide assistance for you in my office if you’d like” he nods, the wrinkles near his eyes creasing. You shake your head, dismissing him albeit this time a bit more calmly.
“I just need to get back to my room” you whimpered, shaking your head as you scrunched up the fabric in your hand.
“Do you have your cardkey?” he asks.
You shut your eyes in realization, cursing out loud again when you remember you forgot to bring it with you when you left.
“I assume you’re a guest here,”. snapping his fingers to summon one of his assistants. A woman with a tight, low bun appears almost instantly, her uniform crisp and perfectly pressed. She offers you a smile that’s all polish and professionalism. You glance between the two and let out a quiet sigh, frustration tightening your chest.
You fully expected they were going to have some sort of problem with you like before.
“Listen, I’m staying with a friend and I left my card key but I’m sure one of your little lobby people can believe me, when I say that I'm just trying to get to my room!” you say in desperation, overwhelmed with all their attention focused towards you.
The man nods again, sensing your distress.
“Would you like to discuss this in my office?” he offers once again.
You deflate, a sigh escaping your lips as you wipe the last of your tears and glance first at him, then at his assistant. With a reluctant shrug, you let him take the lead, looking forward to expecting not much help from them as well.
“Get the car ready in five,” Yunho says while sitting in the backseat of his limo, eyes flicking to his watch. Evening had already settled in.
The clock read 7:45, which was a bit later than he’d hoped.
“I’ll be back to get someone.”
His driver nods, steering toward the hotel’s front entrance. The sun’s long gone, and the outdoor hotel lights blink to life one by one, casting a soft glow across the marble steps. Yunho gets out the back door, briefcase in one hand, and cell phone in the other.
Making his way through the revolving doors, he’s about to dial the number to his room when a polite voice pulls his attention away.
“Good evening, Mr. Jeong,” a short, grey-haired man responds, hands respectfully folded in front of him.
“Your younger sister has asked me to inform you she is waiting in the piano lounge” he quips, watching as Yunho halts all movements.
“My, what?” the CEO repeats.
The stubby man looks around to see if anyone is watching, raising himself on his tippy toes to whisper unnecessarily secretively into the tall man’s ear.
“The young lady staying with you in the penthouse suite!”
Yunho watches the man retreat back to his feet, readjusting his tie before realizing he was talking about you.
Yunho chuckles softly. “Right.. Thank you, Mr?” he draws out, waiting for the man's name.
“Mr. Martinez” he nods, eyes turning into crescent moons. He whips out a card from his left breast pocket.
“My business card is-”
Yunho immediately heads toward the piano lounge in search of you, leaving the poor man behind, unaware.
Guests linger nearby, smoking and sipping glasses of whiskey and wine, the soft strains of a jazz band drifting through the dimly lit room. The warm glow casts a relaxed, sophisticated mood, but Yunho’s focus cuts through it all.
As he scans the crowd without success, his brow furrows. He can’t risk being late to such an important dinner.
“You’re late.”
Yunho whips his head back, having to take a double take to realize the woman standing in front of him is none other than you.
You stand confidently, arms crossed as you wear a beautiful black dress that looks as if the silk was sewn just for you. The bodice was practically designed for you, adorning elegant, sparkly black jewels sewn into clean lines. The soft fabric hugs you in all the right places, the neckline just enough to draw the eye, and your hair, loosely done, frames your face like you’d stepped straight out of his dreams.
Yunho blinks. Once, then twice.
“You..” his voice comes out lower than usual, being caught off guard.
You raise a brow, unfazed by his lack of response.
“Me what?”
Yunho’s lips part, as if to say something clever, but no words come. His gaze lingers, but not in the usual way men look. Not with hunger or entitlement, but with admiration. The poise, the difference between the girl he met in that convenience store on Hollywood Boulevard and the elegant woman standing in front of him now.
Finally, he exhales a small astonished laugh. “You look incredible.”
“You sound surprised.” lips curving into a small, amused smile.
“I am,” he admits, eyes never having left you since he first saw you.
“You’re beautiful. The dress is perfect.”
You tilt your head a bit, trying not to let the flattering compliments get to you.
“So you did notice the dress.” you smirk, your curves held delicately in place.
“I noticed everything,” he mutters quietly.
You smile, feeling a wave of internal relief wash over you from knowing that Mr. Martinez’s efforts, along with the help of his hotel assistants, called the luxury department store employees to get you perfectly ready for Yunho tonight.
“Shall we?” the tall man grins, extending his arm for you to hold. After trying to hide your smile but failing, you take his arm in your own and softly walk out of the piano lounge, the shiny polished marble floors reflecting every sparkle on the dress.
You still get that nervous feeling from stares and whispers coming from other guests, yet only this time, they’re left wondering just who the elegant lady Jeong Yunho was carrying by his side was.
“You’re stunning.” Yunho tells you from under his breath. You glance to the side and lock eyes with Mr. Martinez who stands from across the hotel lobby, smiling at you with a look of pride and genuine excitement.
When he sends a small bow, you grin and politely share it back, gratitude blossoming in your heart.
Dinner with the Choi’s starts smoother than you expected. Yunho invited you to a sophisticated three Michelin star restaurant that had a four month wait list in Beverly Hills. Walking through that front entrance while passing the lineup of guests waiting outside was intimidating, feeling as Yunho had his hand on your lower back to help guide you.
Just as he commanded everything else, he did the same with you, only gentler.
He politely introduced you to Chairwoman Choi, the relic he had warned you about during the limo ride there, and then to her grandson San, who was a high profile executive director at Marinex.
He was attending as well to discuss further details about business with Yunho. But when you catch the glare he shot at Yunho the minute he met him, you could tell with quiet worry that tonight wasn’t going to be an easy dinner.
The evening unfolds with soft laughter, clinking glasses, and the kind of polite conversation that fills the spaces between appetizers and main courses. You’d spent most of the night sitting beside Chairwoman Choi herself — a woman as sharp as she was composed, as her presence commanded the entire table without ever having to raise her voice.
“I like your dress by the way, dear,” she says at one point. Despite not sparing you a glance, her tone seems genuine.
The kind that’s laced with the authority of someone who was used to being listened to.
You smiled at the old lady and bowed, caught a little off guard but nonetheless thankful.
“Thank you, ma’am.”
You make a mental note to thank Mr. Martinez for the dress that you’ve been receiving compliments all night about.
She hums back, swirling the red wine in her wine glass with a small sigh, growing tired as she watches her grandson spar stubbornly with Yunho across the table.
Polite talk was over. Real business had begun.
“You’re nothing but a conniving, manipulating fraud, Jeong Yunho” San snaps, the grandson and heir to the shipping empire looking a bit red after having downed that last glass of whiskey in outrage.
He, just like his grandmother, are both strongly against Yunho buying their company just to break it up into pieces and sell off to his investors. The whole night had been Yunho steadily convincing and negotiating with the businessman, though you recognize a tipping point had come.
You glance over to the accused man sitting beside you, remaining unnervingly calm.
Almost untouchable.
Yunho’s gaze doesn’t waver, his posture relaxed.
“You can leave your filthy hands off my family’s legacy and buy some other bastard’s shipping company to add to your collection” he hisses, staring the multi-billionaire down with great determination.
You look over to see Chairwoman Choi’s thin lips stretch with pride at her grandson’s loyalty to the family business, eyeing him carefully and listening for Yunho’s reaction.
As you’re watching, you can’t help but think it’s incredible. One would think all the chairwoman seemed to be doing at the dinner table was sipping her wine while sitting in silence, but in reality, she was the puppeteer.
Every glance behind the rim of her glass, and every subtle gesture she made guided her grandson, shaping his counterattacks with precision.
“At the price I’m offering for this stock, you and your grandmother will profit immensely,” Yunho replies evenly, laying out the facts so the young heir could understand the profitable benefits of this business agreement.
“And believe me, Choi. I don’t plan on backing down with my offers anytime soon. You’ll have to accept what I tell you, especially now that your destroyer contracts are buried with the appropriations committee.”
The Chairwoman rolls her eyes, having enough of the banter as she takes the last measured sip of her wine. She then locks eyes with the nearby waiter who freezes in place, waiting for her subtle signal to come.
Even in silence, she commands attention, her presence cutting through the tension like a blade.
Incredible you mumbled with awe, eyes widening when you realize you’ve said it out loud to her.
The old woman chuckles softly but loud enough so that Yunho and her grandson look over.
San’s lips pursed in a thin line at the sight of his grandma making small talk with his opponent's partner, turning back to hurl more threats and unwavering promises of how he was going to fight back Yunho’s efforts to buy their company.
Yunho doesn’t listen, only to stare you down as he tries to read your thoughts in the middle of dinner. Surprisingly, you do the same back at him.
“It’s refreshing to see a woman who doesn’t hide behind too much,” the chairwoman comments after noticing your strong gazes, her eyes flicking towards you.
“Especially ones who don’t hide behind their man. There’s a certain honesty in simplicity.”
You sense she’s reading beneath the surface of your relationship, recognizing that while you’re here because Yunho asked you to be, there’s a genuine appreciation for the care and thoughtfulness you’ve brought to the evening. You didn’t hesitate to ask questions throughout the meal—wondering which fork to use, why the fish still seemed alive, or whether eating it while it twitched was inhumane.
The chairwoman found it quietly amusing that, despite contending with her grandson in a tense exchange, Yunho still took the time to answer every question with patience and respect, treating your curiosity with a sincerity that felt almost rare.
“It’s almost surprising how a sweet thing like you ended up here tonight. By none other than Mr. Jeong, too” she said, watching as San suddenly slammed his fists on the dinner table.
The sound makes you jump in your seat, a small yelp escaping your lips as you clutched your heart. The woman beside you doesn’t even flinch at her grandson's outburst, having grown accustomed to it at this point.
“My grandmother believes that the one who creates a company should also control its destiny,” Choi San declares, nostrils flaring with anger.
“People like my grandparents built the shipping industry in this country from the ground up, never once imagining they’d have to hand it over to scum such as yourself.”
Across the table, Yunho spares a moment to briefly glance at you, the faint trace of a smile tugging at his lips — it was a silent check-in, gauging how you’re handling your first experience of high-stakes business negotiation.
When you return a small nod back, swallowing your nerves to let him know you’re alright, Yunho focuses back to the discussion between him and San, uncrossing his legs to lean back into his armchair comfortably and smirk at the young business man opposite to him.
“Let me ask you a question, Mr. Jeong.” San mutters bitterly.
“If you were to get a hold of my grandmother’s company, which I doubt you ever will, what would you plan on doing with it?” He asked, resting his hands on the table as he leaned in menacingly, waiting for a plausible excuse.
Yunho stares him down. “Do as I have done best. Break it up and sell it off as pieces” he states emotionlessly.
His response sets off another one of San’s arguments to fire back, the loud noise coming from the men suddenly draining into background noise when the old lady turns to speak to you again.
“You remind me of myself,” she confessed.
You raised a brow in skepticality. “Me?”
She nodded, a grin ghosting along the edges of her wrinkly cheeks as she spoke.
“I was once as young, pretty, and innocent as you” she reminisces, her eyes grazing over the bustling city view from the windows of the private dining room Yunho had booked.
“And I was naive.” she sighed, the shiny pearls resting against her blouse rising up and then down slowly. “Far too fearless to be running my own company. ” She shook her head.
You listened carefully, feeling as if you were back home again and you were hearing your grandmother talk about her own stories from the past.
“You seem like the type of lady that had everything planned perfectly at my age” you tell her truthfully.
She looks at you, admiring your youth before San’s voice echoed in the room. Both women turn their heads to momentarily witness the draining banter still happening back and forth.
“Leave my goddamn company alone!”
“I can’t do that. I own ten million shares”
“I’ll buy your stock back then!”
“You don’t have the money,”
“Well I’m rich enough!” San shoots back.
The chairwoman shakes her head, focusing back on your conversation. She takes your hand in her own. They’re worn, fragile, and yet surprisingly steady and adorned with many shiny rings.
“Contrary to how people act or appear on the outside, one never really knows who they truly are unless you make an effort to understand them” she tells you. You look back at her with confusion.
“I certainly don’t appreciate your dinner date turning fifty years of me and my husband’s legacy into one of his dissections,” she begins, eyes shutting in distaste at the thought of how Yunho would sell off her company into pieces. She reopens them to continue.
“But I’ve known Yunho since he was a little boy.” she admits, eyes narrowing in on him. You look at her with surprise.
“You have?”
She nods. “I’ve seen him try very hard to follow in his father’s footsteps since the moment he was born. Yunho has only learned from what he’d been surrounded with since birth.” she states.
Money. Authority. Ruthlessness.
Her voice softens. “No one can learn much when they're surrounded with shadows, darling. But that’s all Yunho has had up until now. When his mother and father died during his senior year of boarding school, I couldn’t imagine how terrifying it must have been to see your own blood relatives —even if distant—rush to claim every scrap of your inheritance,” she confesses, forcing you to step back and absorb the full weight of such calculated betrayal.
Yunho had no parents. Even his own blood tried to steal his inheritance from him.
“That boy had to prove to others that he could protect his family’s legacy. Even when his father's vice-chair committee didn’t believe an eighteen year old could take over.”
She chuckled.
“But of course, he didn’t back down from that fight either.”
You glance over to envision the young, helpless boy who had grown into a powerful, leading man. Studying the subtle rise and fall of his breathing as he navigates the details of the agreement with San.
Her words replay in your mind, providing context with why Yunho needed to carry quiet strength and precision with every gesture of his. He had been lied to for all of his adulthood. By his money-hungry relatives nonetheless. And the chairwoman made another great point.
No matter how many walls someone could try and put up, they can always be broken down.
You wonder if perhaps that's why Yunho continued to keep you close. To him, you were an open book. A relatively small threat… at least, with what he knew about you so far.
You shake your head to get rid of that idea.
Only after the liquor is finished and his anger reaches a simmer, does San turn to his grandmother, shaking his head and urging her to head back home early for some rest.
“Let’s go, halmeoni,” he gently ushers his grandmother, getting up from his seat. The woman slowly stands with her cane, with the both of you also standing up to show respect.
“Yunho,” she smiles, calling the multi-billionaire by his first name because she can. She clutches her cane closer as she holds onto her grandson's strong arm for support.
“Your father would be proud to see his son upholding the family name,” she mutters.
Yunho is quiet, hands folded over one another as he stares down the elderly woman intensely at the mention of his father.
As she shuffles closer, you watch as the chairwoman’s eyes darkened in determination, whispering something that only proved she still had her mind and morals fiercely intact.
“But he’d be just as disappointed to see my grandson and I tear you apart.”
You watch as Yunho registers her promising threat, lips forming a small smirk before he takes a deep respectful bow to the elder.
“I look forward to it, ma’am.”
She ignores his response, turning to his left to see where you stood waiting patiently nearby.
“It was quite lovely meeting you, dear. You may come visit me in my sonamu garden sometime. You’ll love the red pine trees in the fall.” she grins, showing the rare sight of her teeth.
You copy Yunho and bow deeply with respect as well.
“It would be my absolute honour, Chairwoman Choi. The pleasure was all mine.”
San bows to you as well and bids you a well-mannered good night. But with Yunho, casting one final, piercing look at the CEO is all he thinks he deserves.
San turns and helps escort his grandmother away, noticing how she doesn’t hesitate to slap her grandson on the back and chastise him for having too much to drink tonight. The boy pouts, rubbing the pain away with rosy cheeks.
Once the Choi's are gone, you slump back down in your seat, a wave of tiredness washing over you from the long, intense meal.
Who knew dinner could be so hostile?
Yunho stood nearby, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear and petting your head softly. Somehow, you could tell this would be a habit of his towards you.
“You did very well tonight,” he praised softly. He knew business dinners could be exhausting.
That’s why his past dates never lasted long enough to earn a second one.
You closed your eyes, leaning into his warm touch as you slipped your sore feet out of your heels from underneath the draping table cloth.
“She’s one heck of a lady, but I can tell that she’s become tame these past few years.” he mutters, the gears in his brain recalculating the steps and strategies he needs to pull in order to seal this deal the next time he encounters the Choi’s.
“She’ll probably be leaving the business to her grandson now, judging by the way she sat mostly in silence tonight.”
In Yunho’s lawyer, Patrick’s eyes, tonight would’ve been a complete failure. He didn’t get Chairwoman Choi to sign the agreement, and there were hardly any productive developments from discussing business with her grandson, San.
Still, Yunho enjoyed dinner with you nonetheless, and found that your presence beside him helped very much.
The CEO lets out a hum at you when your soft, tired voice cuts him from his thoughts. You blink away the tiredness as Yunho’s palm continues to gently play with your hair.
“Can we go back to the hotel now?”
The large doors of the penthouse open, the soft shuffling of your tired bare feet echo throughout the front foyer. Your high heels were picked up in Yunho’s hands after you discarded the painful shoes the moment you got in the elevator of the hotel. You groaned, heading over to slump in his white cashmere sofa as he quietly locked the door shut, placing the red bottomed heels on the ground.
“Would you like to wash up first, or should I?” Yunho sighs, loosening his tie and unbuttoning the trail of his suit vest. He watches you turn your head that’s resting on the arm of the sofa upside down, a bold suggestion passing your lips as you shoot him a look he already knows means trouble.
“Why don’t we do it together?”
He stands still, one hand unbuttoning his white shirt while smirking at your words as he gestures to the master bedroom.
“Come on, then.”
Getting into said shower was more of a hassle than anything else. You had to have pried Yunho’s hands off your body at least ten times, seeing as they would latch onto any part you revealed when you stripped out of your cocktail dress and matching lingerie set.
“So soft,” Yunho whispers, kissing your temple as you both stand in front of the bathroom mirror. He held your form from behind, arms circling around your waist and holding you close to his bare chest as you rested your tired head against it.
Two hands roamed your stomach, fluttering kisses being constantly pressed against your bare neck and shoulders as Yunho ended his long, draining night with your warm body in his embrace.
“The water’s ready,” you giggled, reminding him how the shower head he turned on earlier was probably letting out warm water by now. You ignore his pleas to continue staying like this, intertwining your hand with his own large ones and bringing him into the booth to stand under the water. Both of you moan the second the water hits your bodies, as a reviving feeling returns.
Yunho even curses under his breath, standing tall to let the water hit his back while your fingers traced over his lean abdomen and strong chest.
The only sounds come from the running water, pit pats resonating as the droplets hit the shower booth floor. You look up at the naked man holding you in his arms, noticing his hair stick to his forehead as the water keeps his eyes shut.
“You didn’t speak much after dinner” you mumble, pressing a kiss to his clavicle.
He slowly opens his eyes, rubbing his face to look down at your damp hair and bare face as the water travels down the valley of your breasts. When you try to hold eye contact for a moment longer, Yunho diverts his attention away. He doesn’t want to discuss the earlier events of tonight too much.
With hesitation, you bring up what Chairwoman Choi told you.
“I’m sorry about your parents” you told him softly, holding him closer. You feel that he needs it.
Yunho stares down at you, pulling back a bit to look in your eyes and guess how you knew such personal details before you cut him off.
“The chairwoman told me.”
The shower head runs continuously, steam rising amidst the quiet space between you two.
“I thought back to what I said about your parents the first time I came here.” you say, focusing on Yunho’s chest, and the way it rose up and down with every careful breath he took. You recognized what a sensitive topic family could mean to him.
“I still meant it,” you admit, looking up at the dark orbs staring you down in intimidation.
“They would be proud of you.”
Yours and Yunhos hearts are so close as they are pressed against one another right now.
“The chairwoman is proud too” you say, moving to adjust your embrace and unknowingly nuzzling your breasts sideways against his body while the man lets out a low, painful moan.
Yunho doesn’t say anything back, choosing to instead pick you up carefully and press your body against the shower wall, your breath hitching as the cold surface sends shivers down your spine.
“Yunho,” you whispered. He doesn’t react to your words, choosing to lose himself in your body tonight.
You gasp when you feel something bare and hard brush against your body, realizing this was the first time Yunho’s cock was lingering near your lower entrance.
With his arms hoisting you up by the undersides of your thighs, you could spread them just enough so he could watch the water drain through your pelvis, your sopping hole getting droplets from the shower water above.
He watches your facial expressions with attention, the way your mouth contorts and soft breaths come out unevenly when his fingers insert themselves boldly into your entrance.
The water allows him to slide way too easily for your liking, as your breath becomes lost amongst the humid air.
“ah– fuck, yunho” you breathed, feeling his digits stretch you out for the third time that day. The glass doors and windows of the shower booth keep fogging up.
And yes, the third time that day was correct because someone decided it was a good idea to let off steam in the middle of an intense business dinner by dragging you into the nearest restroom and shoving their tongue in your pussy.
Your clit tingles with the way you remember how he muffled your moans by shoving your panties in your mouth as you let him taste your sweet nectar for the second time again that day.
You’re absolutely positive by now that Yunho was initially lying when he said he only wanted to hold you in his arms when you discussed the physical intimacy part of your contract. Along with the fact that he enjoyed occasional cunnilingus.
For one, he should’ve specified he wanted to hold you in his arms while he kisses you until you’re out of breath. And secondly, he should’ve specified that he enjoyed constant cunnilingus that fuelled nothing but an unsatisfied hunger of his.
“you’re still so tight,” he mutters in awe while shaking his head, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. Yunho dares to add two more fingers, bringing it to a total of three fingers stretching your cunt right now.
“shit!–” you groan, jolting at his touch.
While you do love the sensation, your eyes can’t help but drop back down in curiosity to witness his engorged cock bristle and twitch against your body. Yunho actually jerks back every time it does, hoping not to alarm you with the act of penetration.
At least, lnot just yet.
You feel unsatisfied with only your pussy getting the attention, a craving falling upon your sweet lips when you tell Yunho directly.
“Slap it on my tongue.”
You abruptly urge him to lower you to the ground, to which when he does, you push him back to let the running water flow through the gap between you.
You look up at the older man with lust clouding your vision, noting the dull ache in your pussy from the loss of contact of his fingers, and yet an even more insatiable want settling on the tip of your filthy tongue.
You needed to hold Yunho in your mouth.
Absolutely all of him.
His brows furrow at your actions, eyes wrinkling with the water getting in them, though a low groan escapes just when he realizes what you mean.
His line of vision traces down, back to where your attention has been this entire time.
“don’t fucking tease me,” he warns you with baited breath, running his fingers through your hair and firmly pressing you back against the marble walls, reminding you of his power over you.
Yunho had as much power over you to keep you under control, and yet you still fought back, your voice raising in protest.
“I’m not teasing!”
Sorry but he has to laugh. He’s seriously underestimating your mouth’s capacity.
“You’re going to struggle” he warns in a deep voice, begging you to just back down for once and stop challenging him.
But he knows you won’t ever consider that with the way you smirk and run your hands over his ass, giving him a squeeze while digging your nails into the flesh. Yunho jolts forward, his rigid cock brushing into your wet hairy bush.
“I don’t care” you whine, pulling him in with proper bait.
The tall man resists your hands pulling him in by his hair, raising his hands to cage you against the wall so that his thick, leaking cock be the bridge between your bodies.
You nearly cum when you hear Yunho finally place his command upon you.
“Help yourself, then”
A surge of pervertedness flows through his veins when you get down on your knees, face level with the member as he steps forward, accidentally hitting your cheek with it. You blink in surprise, glaring up at him as he chuckles nervously.
“Sorry, baby” he coos, helping you guide your mouth to latch onto his bulbous head properly, his large hands resting against the back of your head.
“Choke on it if you can.” He lets out, feeling your warm mouth expand with every inch you welcomed him with. You took him like a fucking champ.
Yunho tastes salty but fresh, his tip hitting the back of your mouth and playing a teasing game of tag with your uvula.
Your moans vibrate against his dick directly because he’s barely letting any space get between your mouth and his cock. So your whines don’t even come out perfectly.
“I want to hear you.” he still insists, fists clenching against the cool marble as he thrusts up hard into your mouth. You shriek, making eye contact with a rosy cheeked Yunho who stares down at you in amazement.
“Mhugh!” you slobbered, glaring up at him as you try and chastise him for using your mouth too much as per his wishes, but it all comes out sounding like complete gibberish.
Yunho can’t help but smile, unknowingly realizing how nice it was to have you choke around him like this.
“Mf fmg bick” you huff, trying to call him something along the lines of ‘you fucking dick’ but failing and just having to literally take his dick instead.
Yunho thrusts into you at a steady pace & works his magic to make you completely unravel beneath him. He places delicate strokes of affection through your hair, making a makeshift cover for your face with his hands when some of the shower water splashes in your eyes while you're working hard below.
Suddenly, you pull back for a moment, rubbing your fist to pump Yunho's massive cock as your head dips lower into his pelvic region and your mouth latches onto a bulbous sack of flesh.
“SHIT-”
You repeatedly conduct the motion of plopping Yunho’s balls in your mouth, your sweet lips encasing around them like a present needing wrapping paper. His hands fly to the wall for support as he watches you suck him with such fervour and enthusiasm.
“Just like that, sweetheart. That's it, suck those balls real good.”
Your nose touches the underside of his long member repeatedly, applying precise suction and pressure to his testes that leaves Yunho to rut his hips pathetically against your mouth.
Your knees begin to hurt a little, the pattern of the marble tiles indenting in your skin as you continue to let Yunho place his balls sloppily against your mouth and chin.
With the thumb of your hand rubbing the tip of his cock as well, smearing precum all over, he decides he needs to fill your mouth properly when he cums.
Yunho pushes away to hear you let out a loud breath for air, sighing with satisfaction and a cheeky smirk before he leans down to press his mouth against your own, teeth clashing and kissing you with absolute obsession.
“Mhm” you vibrate against his lips, still cock drunk as Yunho pulls away and stands back up straight to slide his cock into your mouth again.
Yunho’s strokes match their speed from before, going a bit faster this time and making your eyes roll to the back of your head.
“Such a pretty little thing you are.”
And that’s all it takes before the man finally pulls out in time to splurt his white semen all over your face, chin and body, watching the white ropes travel down in the drain as you gagged and shrieked in surprise.
“Yunho!” You said in an angry tone, though you loved his aiming skills that made sure to target placing his seed in between your breasts so it would slide lower. If his aim had been even lower and you were also in a different position, you might've even swirled it around your nub.
“Fuck..” he mumbles, immediately picking you up and pressing kisses along the column of your sore throat, praising you and thanking you for taking him so well. His lips are hot as they mumbles incoherent words against your body, practically worshipping you in his arms.
“So good to me” he purrs, though you slap him against the arm when you realize why there’s so much of him all over you.
“You liked shutting me up, didn’t you?” you croaked, accusing him as his hands massage your thighs, letting your legs wrap around his waist. Yunho supports you carefully as your eyes begin to narrow in on him.
“You liked stuffing my mouth full”
The billionaire does nothing but grin, pressing his lips against your for a proper kiss now, making you forget your words and shut your eyes in bliss. Usually he loves hearing you speak, but he finds that sometimes, it’s not half as bad shutting you up this way either.
The next morning, just as Yunho is about to leave for work, he pauses by your side. You’re still fast asleep, curled beneath the sheets as his expression softens, and the side of the bed dips with his body weight. A warm hand rubs your back, stirring you awake.
“C’mon, sweetheart. More shopping today” he says lightly, his tone teasing as he sets his credit card on the nightstand. He seems in unusually high spirits this morning, smiling when you let out a sleepy groan in protest.
When you sit up, stretching, Yunho studies you with mild confusion.
“I was honestly expecting you to buy a few more dresses yesterday,” he says with a quiet chuckle. He reaches for his watch on the stand nearby.
“I was surprised to see you didn’t go all out”
Your response lacks enthusiasm, wiping the sleep from your eyes tiredly.
“I didn’t like it as much.”
The shift in your tone makes him glance back, reading your face as the image of the two female store clerks is repainted inside your head.
Their stares. The judgment in their voices. How small they made you feel. The memory still stings. Yunho stops and turns to look at you while in the middle of putting on his wristwatch when he hears you then confess.
“They were mean to me.”
The man’s expression hardens. He leans closer, propping your chin upwards with his thumb so he could look at you properly.
“Mean to you?”
When the flashes of disappointment and embarrassment cross your face, you choose to hold back your response to his words, bringing your head back down to avoid eye contact with him.
Yunho shifts closer to you in silence before reaching for the phone on the bedside table, carefully picking up the receiver.
You furrow your brows.
“Who are you-”
He gently lifts a finger, quietly silencing you before the line picks up.
“Start the morning briefing without me, Patrick” he says, no further explanation needing to be given to his employee.
When he turns back to you, a small smile returns.
“Come on, sweetheart. I’ll show you how much fun shopping can really be.”
Yunho’s pace is unhurried as always, confident with every stride he takes along the concrete sidewalk of Rodeo Drive. It was the same place you’d visited just yesterday afternoon.
His fingers are laced through yours, the steady grip firm and reassuring, unbothered by the glances of those passing by.
“People are looking at me,” you huff, tugging at the hem of your skirt as you struggle to match his long strides.
Yunho corrects you. “They’re looking at me. And even if they were looking at you, forget them.”
A twinge of skepticism resides inside you. Even if you did have Yunho by your side this time, you’d still lack protection against the judgemental stares and backhanded comments launched by some other snobby sales associate.
“These stores are not nice to others,” you point out, shaking your head. “I don’t like it here”
Yunho lets out a quiet chuckle, eyes fixed ahead as his free hand slips casually into his pocket.
“Stores aren’t supposed to be nice to people, sweetheart. They’re nice to credit cards.”
You roll your eyes, but before you can reply, he stops abruptly in front of a glass-front boutique gleaming with white marble and gold accents. Turning toward you, Yunho reaches out to brush a loose strand of hair from your face, his expression unreadable.
“Alright,” he says evenly, “spit out your gum.”
You narrow your eyes at him, feeling a flicker of defiance rise.
There’s something about the way Yunho commands everything. So confident and unbothered. How he pulled you out of bed this morning despite your protests against shopping somewhere like here where you felt as though you didn’t belong. It makes you want to push back.
Knowing he’s watching, you turn your head and spit out your gum onto the sidewalk unpleasantly.
“Satisfied?” you hum.
The older man stares down at you, jaw tightening ever so slightly.
“I cannot believe you just did that,” he mutters under his breath, though a hint of amusement ghosts across his face when he catches your smug grin.
This time, when you step into the boutique, the atmosphere feels entirely different. A woman in a tailored blue blazer and pencil skirt greets you with a polished smile, the sapphire of her pearl earrings catching under the boutique’s soft lighting.
“Welcome! How may we help you today, sir?” she asks Yunho who steps forward first.
He releases your hand for a moment, looking straight at the woman as his voice drops into that smooth, low register that always had a charm for getting people to listen.
“Do you see the very lovely young lady standing beside me right now?”
The saleswoman’s gaze flickers toward you. Her smile wavers, though she tries to recover, blinking once before replying,
“Yes, sir. Of course.”
“Good,” Yunho says simply. His lips curve, though his eyes remain steady. His intimidating demeanour is deliberate.
“Then I suggest you get every associate you have in this place to help her find whatever she wants.” he states, eyeing him from afar as he leans in just a fraction to lower his voice to something almost conspiratorial. “Because we are about to be spending an obscene amount of money in your store today.” he promises, lips threatening to curve into a grin when he feels your hand slap him on the shoulder lightly.
A small hush follows his words, and for a moment, you feel every pair of eyes in the boutique turn in your direction.
Only this time, it's not judgement but sudden, sharpened interest.
The woman is sharp enough not to waste another second. She had suspected who the multi-billionaire was the moment he crossed the threshold of her store.
“Right this way, miss,” she beams, her tone switching instantly from polite to perfectly accommodating. Within seconds, she snaps her fingers, summoning a team of associates who rush over as if answering a royal decree.
You’re gently ushered toward a plush velvet seat near the center of the boutique. The cushion sinks beneath you, soft and indulgent, while a faint scent of jasmine drifts from the nearby display.
“You’re absolutely radiant, my darling,” the manager coos. “I can assure you we’ll find plenty of things you’ll fall in love with from our new spring collection.”
Before you can even reply, a flurry of movement surrounds you—heels clicking against marble floors, arms laden with racks of silk, chiffon, and cashmere.
“Hello Miss, my name is Emilia,” one of the consultants introduces herself with a polished smile. “It’s my great pleasure to assist you today.”
“How about these heels?” another girl asks brightly, presenting a delicate pair of red soles.
“This dress would look absolutely stunning on you!” chimes a second voice.
“And this scarf! Your hair color would just bring it to life!” adds a third.
It’s overwhelming—the abundance of choice, the rush of voices, the warmth of attention. Only yesterday you had been dismissed, judged, treated as if you didn’t belong. Now, here you were being the center of someone else’s orbit.
Your eyes instinctively find Yunho. He’s standing off to the side, phone in hand, his voice low and steady as he speaks to someone on the other end. When he notices you looking, he pauses just long enough to meet your gaze. The faintest smile of satisfaction tugs at his lips.
“Ladies!” the store manager suddenly chastizes, clapping her hands together,
“What are we doing not offering our guests their complimentary welcome drink?”
A soft laugh escapes you, warmth flooding your chest as a flute of champagne is placed delicately into your hand.
Yunho catches the sound of your laughter and, for a moment, Patrick’s voice shouting through the phone fades into meaningless noise. The warmth in your tone pulls his attention entirely, an unguarded sound that makes his chest tighten.
When you look up and your eyes find him across the room, you offer a small, genuine smile.
Thank you, you mouth softly, the words lingering between you like a secret.
Yunho’s expression softens. He waits until he’s certain you’re watching before forming his reply. Three words shaped carefully from across the sea of designer clothes and luxury shoes.
You deserve it.
After practically buying out the boutique’s entire collection of clothes and accessories, Yunho calls his limousine to pick you both up. The two of you leave the car’s trunk packed to the brim with glossy shopping bags, a quiet surge of satisfaction flickering across the rich man’s face as he settles into the back seat beside you.
“You just spent over ten thousand dollars on clothes, you know that?” you whispered to him, fidgeting with the end of his tie as your head rested against his chest. Yunho smiles, the amount being just a plain regular number to him.
“Your point?” he smirks, letting his hand wrap around your waist and slide down your thigh, enjoying the feeling of your body nestled next to him.
“They’re all for you. You deserve it” He repeats, knowing he’d do it again in a heartbeat.
You shake your head, unable to believe how casual Yunho was treating this.
“Don’t you need to go back to the office and make more money for me to spend?” you joked, looking up at him and feeling the way his chest rumbled with low laughter. You cling onto him with affection.
Yunho looks down and confesses something to you.
“I did something I haven’t ever done in my life today” he grins, realizing how you were slowly changing him.
“And what’s that?” you asked.
“I called the office, telling them I was going to take the day off with you” he muttered, leaning in to lock your lips in a slow, passionate kiss.
You let out a soft moan, both of you molding each other's body to fit with one another. Your eyes are closed, lost in the sensation before you push him back in realization.
“Wait, wait wait, you’re telling me you’ve never taken a day off in your entire life? All thirty-seven years?”
Yunho winces at your reminder about his age.
“Is that really so surprising?” he retorted back.
You lean back your head against his chest, the limousine moving swiftly through the streets leading back to the hotel.
“Well..yeah..” you muttered in awe, twirling your head around your index finger in deep thought. How on earth Yunho had managed to work like he did without any breaks made you wonder how he was still function to this day.
That’s when an idea pops into your head.
“You know what? we need to do something fun today” you declare, sitting up and looking Yunho properly in the eyes.
“Didn’t you think shopping was fun?” he asks, watching as you roll your eyes.
“Of course I thought it was fun! I just meant we should do something you’ve never done before. Something other than taking a day off.”
Yunho hums thoughtfully, the corners of his mouth curving into a grin as he tilts his head, studying your animated expression.
“And what exactly would that be?”
“Anything,” you say, eyes lighting up. “I could take you to explore parts of the city you’ve never seen, ride the subway downtown, maybe even visit the Port of Los Angeles and eat wiener dogs by the waters. Just… normal things you’ve never done before.”
Yunho laughs, considering your suggestion.
“Then why don’t I also indulge you in some trips to places you’ve never been before either?”
You quirk your brow in interest.
“We can take my private jet to see the opera “La Traviata" in San Francisco. I have a yacht we can use to cruise around the port, and you can accompany me for dinner at my favourite jazz bar downtown. Give you a taste of my world” he shrugs, watching as you smile at him, beaming at his words.
Your voice becomes quiet, looking the man straight in the eyes and feeling the comfortable silence settle between each other. You'd grown accustomed to this dream lifestyle with him, a part of your heart aches inside your chest when you realize you're going to have to leave it all so soon.
“Careful, Yunho." you teased, breath hitching when delicate fingers slid over the flesh of your inner thighs.
"You only have me for two more days and yet I'd say you’re thinking of keeping me for even longer”
He softens, slowly breaking down his strictly business facade bit by bit, with every moment of physical touches and soft whispers shared between you and him.
“I guess I need to be spending my time more wisely with you then.”
You hum in response, leaning back to your spot with your head on his chest as you hear Yunho take charge and call out to his chauffer.
"Get the jet ready. We'll be making a short trip tonight"
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pretty woman | JYH
part 3 of the Night in Hollywood!series
☆ trope: 1990s inspired au, sugarbaby and rich older man, contract relationship
☆ pairing: exstripper!reader x billionaireceo!yunho
☆ warnings: reckless driving, a scene of physical abuse (reader gets slapped by someone), violence (bc you hand their ass back to them), profanity, drinking, smoking, blood, age gap (yunho is 37, reader is 26) SMUT — penetration, oral m and f receiving, teabagging, swallowing, hand kink, face stuffing, cum play, wearing lingerie, petnames, overstím, fingering, spítting, p sIapping, manhandIing, mating presses, size differences, creampies, loserforhisgf!yunho, overstimulation (m&f), i know i say it takes place in the nineties but i kinda fell off with that theme bc they have cellphones and don’t talk like it’s that time period i apologize!
☆ synopsis: LIVING IN BEVERLY HILLS comes with its perks. But for two different people such as yourself and multibillionaire business tycoon, Jeong Yunho, both of you can’t seem to find what you’re looking for in the so called 'land of dreams'. So the proposal is simple really… let him spoil you with money, jewelry and clothes while in return, you stay by his side. . .
☆ playlist: material girl by maddona, oh, pretty woman by roy orbison, versace on the floor by bruno mars, dirty cash (money talks) by the adventures of stevie v,
☆ a/n: this is gonna be over 25k so I'll probably have to make it multiple parts! This is just a small taste for what's to come! I hope you enjoy reading:)
☆ word count: 13.2k
m.list. | pt 1
"DON’T MAKE ME FUCKING REPEAT MYSELF AGAIN."
An index finger barely hovers over the trigger of the gun, the man behind it swallowing down his guilt and fear with another sharp threat.
“Hand over the goddamn money or I’ll litter your brains all over the floor.”
The part timer, looking to be a kid not a day over eighteen, immediately does what he asks, scrambling to dump the change from the register, accompanied with the clatter of quarters and dimes spilling onto the glass counter.
The man looks down at the embarrassing amount, dissatisfaction flashing across his face .
“Are you fucking kidding me? You think this is a fucking joke to you right now?!” He barks back, shoving the gun closer.
“M-My boss came in earlier and collected all the money we had, I-I swear!” The boy's pubescent voice cracking as he stuttered over his words in panic. A reasoning voice cuts from behind.
“The boy says he doesn’t have the money–”
“And just who the fuck do you think you are?!”
Yunho immediately retreats back to his spot with the gun being pointed at him now, shrugging his shoulders and surrendering his hands high up where he could see them.
“No one, no one in particular.”
Tension rises in this small convenience store open late on Hollywood Boulevard, a man's attempt of an armed robbery going very poorly with only a few bills coughed up on the glass counter in front of him at the moment.
Yunho watches the man resort to more violence, grabbing the boy from the collar of his uniform and shoving the gun to his head, the poor kid whimpering as sobs left his body.
“Hey, hey listen” Yunho says, quickly stepping into the man’s view with his hands still up in the air. He’s pointing his gun back at him now, the boy’s collar still being gripped tightly in his opposite hand.
“Let me make you a deal” He negotiates, carefully reaching into his suit pocket. Eyes dart down anxiously to where a Burberry wallet is presented, the snarl on his face suddenly vanishing.
“It’s late–-I bet the kid wants to go home, you wanna go home, I really want to buy my cancer sticks and go back to my hotel—but I know that's not happening anytime soon with you and your twelve bucks.”
The armed man glances back to look at the tall, rich looking fellow straight in the eyes, cocking his gun as a warning to wrap it up.
Yunho takes a small moment to breathe before continuing. “I’ll give you all the money I have in this wallet” he promises. “All you gotta do is let both the boy and I walk away from this unharmed.”
A moment of silence passes for him to consider the deal, eventually dropping the boy who falls to the ground shaking in fear. When he fails to stand straight, souvenir keychains near the register go crashing down with him.
“Hand over the watch too” the robber demands gruffly. The businessman shrugs the item off, extending his hand to give the settlements. Was the watch he’s about to give worth four hundred thousand dollars? Yes. Yes it was. But Yunho knows cost and worth are two very different things, and no watch of his could amount for the price of his life. Just as he’s shrugging it off, the sound of the front door’s bell chiming makes everyone’s heart drop in a split second. The gun swings around to now point at a loud voice.
“I know, Pauline. But let's face it, he couldn’t have been eight inches! There’s no—”
Three pairs of eyes stare as a young girl walks in with her cellphone propped between her ear and shoulder, rummaging through her purse. That’s when you stop what you’re doing and stare, witnessing the robbery occurring in front of you.
“Lemme call you back Pauline..” you uttered softly to your cell, hanging up as fast as you could. The robber shoves his gun close to your face, blood pressure rising as he shouts threats all over again. “Don’t fucking move! or I’ll-”
“Jesus, you chose to rob a store on Hollywood Boulevard and this is the one you chose? The one where I get the milk half off for my roommate's cat?” You chastised the bewildered man, striding over to shove your finger nail into his chest repeatedly while you spoke.
“W-Who the fuck are you?” The robber flusters, beginning to crack under pressure. Yunho watches in amazement as you show up just to laugh right in the gunman’s face.
“Who am I?” You repeat back, dangly earrings swinging with your aggressive attitude. “I’m the bitch that’s gonna lasso your motherfucking balls like a cowboy and shove them down your throat unless you find another store to rob!” You hissed, shoving his armed weapon away with a low, threatening voice. “And get that gun out of my face.” you snapped, tired and hungry after a long day.
It had to be either you were incredibly brave or immensely stupid.
The cowardly man blinks at your bold actions, pathetically losing his intimidating demeanor and choosing to throw more insults at you to make up for it. “You dumb bitch, I’m gonna blow your brains-”
“Blow my brains out?” You mocked, crushing his ego once more. “It’ll be hard for you to do that when I know you don’t even have a real bullet in that revolver of yours”
He glanced down at his gun, beads of sweat already forming at the crown of his head.
You scoffed, having experienced countless robberies where the guy was too chicken to pull threats with a real gun. You roll your eyes as you walk over to the milk section, shoving him out of your way so harshly that he’s knocked into the selection of mothers day postcards nearby.
Yunho and the boy behind the register stare in silent fear when the flower adorned postcards go down with him.
“Fucking cunt…” he fumes under his breath. He struggles to pick himself back up, but when he does, he's so enraged that he grabs your arm with a harsh grip and pulls you back to slap you across the face in revenge.
Thwack!
The sound cracks through the air like a whip, curses flying out of you as you clutched your cheek from the impact. Why did guys always choose to hit women across the face? It was pathetic.
It takes not even a second before Yunho, who was standing nearby, lunges forward to get his hands on the asshole. That is, before you’ve already beaten him to it, whipping your torso so you feed him a straight, clean knockout in return.
It was like you watched it happen in slow motion. From the firm contact, the man plummets to the ground clutching his broken nose. Loud wails and cries of profanity escape from his mouth. The sounds don’t even come out clean because he’s caught choking over all the blood dripping into it.
“Timothy,” you huffed, straightening your top and ordering the kid behind the counter who looks like he might’ve urinated his pants already. “Go get a mop for the floor”
He glances once to the man bleeding on the store floor, then back at you before he rushes to find the mop bucket and dial 911. Yunho watches, speechless as you step back but wince in pain when you move your hand. Suddenly, he’s rushing over to examine your swollen knuckles.
“Are you alright?” he asks, worry laced in his tone. You glanced briefly at the stranger you didn’t know, trying to brush him off.
“I’m fine-”
“This is going to leave a bruise if we don’t get you treated” He warns, looking over to the freezer section as he grabs some frozen peas.
You watch carefully as the tall 6’ foot something man places the bag over your hand, flinching when the sensitivity of the cold hits you, retracting your hand backwards. “Get off!”
The man stops for a moment, looking at your face before he has the audacity to give you a stern look you’ve seen teachers give you all throughout grade school when you’d get in trouble. It miraculously shuts you up, forcing you to let your guard down and accept his help.
“Listen, I can’t pay for all this stuff” you firmly told him, trying to push your hand away though still, his grip didn’t weaken. The pain is relieved, but you’re nervous watching the stranger grab medical tape and bandages off the nearby shelf without looking at the prices, giving you an extra ice pack for your cheek while he was at it.
But then he mumbles, voice deep and struggling to concentrate.
“Just keep still. I’ll pay for it.”
Long, swift fingers work away at bandaging your knuckles like you were some Rocky Balboa of Hollywood Boulevard. To tell the truth, Yunho didn’t know what on earth he was doing. He was a businessman, not a nurse. He had never bandaged another person’s hand before, let alone his own. Same went for you because this felt foreign—feeling such care come from someone you barely knew.
When you swipe a small glance at him you’re surprised to see he’s someone tall, good looking and well dressed. With every strand of hair combed in place and a suit that looked tailor-made, he looked like he was on a page torn from the wrinkled American Vogue your roommate Kumiko had laying on her bedside table. And suddenly, Mr. Vogue is staring back at you.
“Thank you,” He says with sincerity while letting go of your hand roughly taped to a bag of frozen peas. “That was very brave of you.” Yunho stands with his hands in his pockets, awaiting your response that fails to come out as quickly as you wanted it to.
“It wasn’t a big deal.” you mumble.
The corners of his mouth lift at your response, the faint sounds of police sirens ringing through the streets from a distance.
Not a big deal? How could punching an armed gunman in a convenience store be not a big deal to you?
Yunho straightens as he tries to get a better look at your features with you staring at him, asking you politely “What is your name?”
When you tell it to him, he smiles, extending a hand for you to shake as he introduces himself.
“Nice to meet you, I’m Jeong Yunho.”
You stare at his palm, the businessman quickly reminding himself that your hand was bandaged as he awkwardly retracts it.
Yunho clears his voice. “You must’ve been very scared,” he says, undeniably intrigued at the girl who saved both his and the young employee's life tonight.
You shrugged. “You toughen up when you live around a place like this in Hollywood Boulevard” swallowing back the nerves to then ask him,“You’re not from around here, are you?”
He chuckles, even his laughs sounding upper class as shakes his head, “No, I’m not. I was passing by on my way to Beverly Hills,” he explains, running a hand through his dark locks while letting out a sigh. “Thought I'd be able to figure out where the hell it was after a quick cigarette stop but as you can see…” he trails off, leaving the rest for you to piece together.
Red and blue lights now flash outside the store, a police cruiser pulling up. The suited businessman glances back at Timothy who's still quivering a bit and reaches into his coat for some cash.
“For the peas and medical supplies,” you watch him say, eyes narrowing in when you secretly look over his shoulder and watch him open his wallet presenting shiny credit cards lodged neatly in Italian leather. He gives more than enough for the cost of supplies, causing you to crane your neck back and reevaluate just who Yunho was.
“And throw in a pack of American Spirits as well.” he adds just when the front doors chime. An officer strolls in with shades covering his hardened gaze, hands resting at his belt and standing tall to assess the state of the whole store. The scattered mothers day cards, the discarded handgun on the floor, the unconscious bald headed man left in a small puddle of blood beside you two.
“We got a call of an armed robbery and dead body?”
You and Yunho furrow your brows in confusion, whipping your head back at Timothy as you cursed him under your breath.
“I didn’t kill the guy?!!” you defended yourself in disbelief.
The boy cowers in fear, timidly handing the pack of cigarettes to Yunho who grins as he rips open the packaging of the box. He hands him back his change to take, but he shakes his head motioning him to keep it.
Timothy continues. “I-I thought that because he wasn’t moving..”
“Jesus christ” you spoke, clutching your head as you closed your eyes in stress. One eye peaks open when you hear Yunho comment.
“You did knock him out pretty good, sweetheart” he points out, watching with great amusement as a scowl forms on your face. He towers over you, his shoulders broad and strong as he leans against the counter with a cigarette lodged between his lips.
The officer shakes his head, pursing his lips thinly. “Regardless, I’m gonna have to ask you both for your cooperation” he states, walking over to you as he eyes your bandaged hand in suspicion.
Yunho watches him move closer as he’s dishing his coat pocket for his lighter. That's when you suddenly jolt when you feel a hand come to rest against the curve of your lower back, the soft contact being none other than him as he gently guides you away from the mess and inserts himself in between you and the officer. Almost protecting you.
“You’ll have full cooperation with my legal team, officer.” he smiles, presenting a business card in hand. The badged man peers from his shades, rereading the card that catches his attention.
He stands in front of you, grinning at him.
“Jeong Yunho of J Enterprises.”
One phone call with Yunho’s attorney and a bloody man taken in handcuffs later, the cop decides neither of you would need to stay here any longer, wishing you both a safe night as he drives off into the crowded street. You swear the only reason you weren’t charged had to have been because of something Yunho’s attorney said to the officer over the phone.
You two stand outside near the curb of the dingy convenience store, neon we’re open lights casting a glow on the highlights of your cheekbones. The night had felt so long already.
“Thank you” You mutter, looking at Yunho as you clutched your wrist in your opposite hand. “I appreciate your help tonight.” you told him, thankful that it wasn’t you riding in the backseat of that police cruiser.
Yunho smiles “Thank you, for saving my life.” You reciprocate, looking away from his eyes and keeping your gaze down at your shoes as you're unsure what else to say. His expression turns into a frown when he sees the left side of your face turning into a crimson shade, evidence of how hard the guy slapped you earlier.
“He’s going to be punished for putting his hands on you” he promised you, wishing he had stepped in earlier to prevent the impact.
You see the look of worry and regret forming on his face, turning away to hide your cheek. “It’s really nothing” you say before another firm response is promised to you.
“Rest assured my legal team will handle this”. He reaches for his cell to make another call to his lawyer before he catches the view of his black sedan parked a few feet away from the corner of his eye. Yunho stops for a moment, cursing under his breath as he realizes he was still lost and had no idea where he was.
When he looks down at you, an idea suddenly pops into his mind.
“Could I ask you for a favour? I normally don’t do this but seeing how the previous events have played out I figured you’re my best chance in keeping me alive tonight” he grins.
You raise your eyebrows, hesitating before asking. “What is it?”
“I need to get to the Beverly Hills Hotel and clearly I’m not that familiar with the roads within this area” he explains, motioning to the luxurious black car parked nearby. “If you’re able to direct me there I’d repay you back for your help tonight.”
The man awaits your response as you consider what he’s said.
“How much are we talking here?” you asked, concerned on the compensation aspect rather than the possibility that Yunho could be a dangerous person. Like some kinda American Psycho organ harvester. Goosebumps travel up your legs as the chilly night breeze prickles your bare skin under your mini skirt.
Yunho smiles, hands slotting themselves in his pockets. “two hundred dollars – cheque, cash, whatever it is you prefer, and a free ride in my limousine once we get to the hotel. Anywhere you decide.” he offers.
Yunho watches you ponder about your decision, clutching your purse closer. Suddenly, you're already making your way to his car, leaving him in his spot as your heeled boots echo throughout the empty parking lot.
“For three hundred Yunho, I’ll show you personal.”
His brows furrow at your counter-offer, calmly resting his hands at his hip as his broad shoulders straighten back.
“three hundred dollars. For road directions?” He repeats skeptically, his voice nevertheless calm. His feet slowly step towards you, reeling him in like prey. This was the only thing Yunho could make himself become the most calm about: conducting business.
“I can do anything I want Yunho, I’m not the one lost” you point out.
His arms cross against his chest, a wavering gaze on your bare shoulders revealed by your halter top, and a furrow on his browline. You flash him a sweet smile. “Oh c’mon Yunho” you purred, leaning to sit and rest against the hood of his sedan. Your heeled boots tap against each other from the inside as you remind him.
“I saved your life from death’s grip and you can’t even repay your guardian angel?” you pout. “You could just give me those hundred dollar bills in your wallet”
“Look, I appreciate the help but- did you look at my wallet?” he stops, momentarily realizing.
You shrug, batting your eyelashes all innocently now that he's caught you.
The man walks on over to you, his gaze never faltering with each slow step forward, making your heart pound against the cage of your ribs. You firmly tell yourself inside your head—chances to make money are never frequent so you might as well take the chance when you can.
When he stands only a few inches away from your face, the material of his pants hitting your bare knees as they brush against each other softly, he bends down to look you in the eyes and repeat his final offer.
“Two hundred dollars, and i’m driving” a grin ghosts over his lips. Lucky for him, you’re just as serious when it comes to business too, propelling you to lean in closer this time so your noses are almost touching. Under your facade of confidence you feel as though your heart might stop at any second.
“Three hundred, and I drive” you smirk, staying true to your motive. You reach into your pocket to unravel a stick of gum and pop it into your mouth, never breaking eye contact.
Yunho watches you for a long moment, chewing those bubbles as they pop against your glossy lips once, then twice. Just when it looks as though you’ve failed to convince him, next thing you know you’ve got him handing over the keys to the car and walking over to the passenger seat, a finger pointed at you in firm warning. Your eyes glimmer when you hear him.
“Drive slow.”
Yunho’s knuckles peek through the skin of his hand. They’re bone white, gripping onto the sides of the passenger seat as the polluted street air slaps his face. He should’ve stolen that steering wheel from your grasp the minute you pressed your foot on the pedal.
“That was a red light!” he states in disbelief, turning to give you a disapproving look when you rushed through the previous intersection.
The engine of the black sedan roars to life like a panther hunting the jungle called Hollywood Boulevard. With you driving in the front seat, it was on the prowl, racing down the street as city lights blurred past the vehicle. You briefly acknowledge his comment by glancing back and seeing the cars you left behind at the stop light. You quickly looked upfront and pressed your foot forward on the accelerator more.
“Oops” you merely reply, a feeling of satisfaction blooming in your chest when you see Yunho shake his head and look away from the corner of your eye, unable to stand your reckless driving. You respond by slamming the accelerator harder, Yunho’s heart not just racing from speed but from pure, unfiltered terror.
A car on the left rolls down its window, a series of inappropriate swears coming out of an old taxi driver. The CEO watches you lift your bum off your seat a bit, hanging out the window to argue back and flipping him off whilst swearing like a sailor.
“Jesus Christ!” He lunges forward, heart pounding against his chest as one of his hands goes to steer the wheel so the car is able to function even without the main driver looking ahead.
You huffed in frustration, sliding back in your street as Yunho’s fist clenched and retreated back to grip the car handle above. Thankfully, both your hands were on the wheel this time. The leather feels cool under your grip, feeling the foreign material up as you drive. “This is a hot car” you grinned eagerly, excitement flowing through your veins.
Yunho scoffs at your observation. He preferred his private jet over driving anyways.
You look to the side, glancing at him as you steer. “Yours?” you motioned to the vehicle you were both in.
“No.”
“Stolen?”
He laughs. “Not exactly”
When the car swiftly and safely surpasses other vehicles nearby, all thanks to your expert shifting of the gears, the CEO finally asks you. “How is it you know so much about cars?”
“I used to work a lot of jobs back home” you shouted as the wind aggressively kissed your face, feeling a breath of fresh air with all the windows down. “Before I moved to LA, I spent a summer working at an autoshop in my home town,” you grinned, recalling the memories of the sweltering summer you spent getting your hands dirty with grease and fixing up car parts.
When you fishtailed around a corner you ask him a question of yours as well.
“How is it that you suck at driving?” you honk aggressively at the car in front for driving too slow, surpassing it as you moved forward. Yunho exhales heavily.
“My first car was a limousine,” he confesses, watching as an upcoming stop light appears. He slightly sends prayers of gratitude when you press the brake pedal, slowing down before coming to a complete stop. You laughed at what you heard. “I figured” you tell him.
“How old are you Yunho?” you suddenly asked in curiosity, shifting straight in your seat and adjusting the front mirrors to fix your lipliner while you waited at the stoplight.
“Old,” he replies, not giving you anything specific. “At least older than you that’s for sure”
“And how old is too old?” you teased, shifting so you could face him directly, presenting a sweet view of your bare legs and a small something else under your mini skirt.
He catches it of course. He’s not blind. Yunho instead smiles calmly at you, finding your sudden seductress act quite amusing. You await his response patiently, never breaking eye contact as neither does he. After a short moment, when you finally go quiet and Yunho thinks you're deserving to know, the billionaire confesses to you. “I’m thirty-seven”
The light changes green. You look away before he can finish, already shifting gears.
“Oh cool! I’m twenty-six”
Yunho has to make sure he heard you right, judging by your carefree response that you weren’t so intimidated by this age gap between you two.
“College?” He asks.
You shake your head. “I’m focused on saving up at the moment” ignoring the tiny lump hiding at the back of your throat. You clear your voice. “Once I make enough I can go back.” you state definitively, serious about your future and financial plan. Yunho doesn’t seem to say anything more and you’re happy with that.
“So,” you begin changing the topic. “You here on vacation, Yunho?”.
“Business” He corrects.
“Oh?” you say, turning the corner as you leaned forward, focused on finding the hotel entrance. You think back to the bone white business card he showed the officer earlier.
“Do you like running your own company Yunho?”
Yunho laughs at your question, looking at you properly now. Your side profile was very pretty.
“I’m quite good at it,” the corners of his mouth lift.
Soon the car pulls into the entrance of the Beverly Hills Hotel, the gears of the car screeching their final choke. You let go of your clutch on the stick, Yunho’s nail marks already indented in the leather material from how hard he was holding on.
“Well,” you said cheerfully. “Here we are! Beverly Hills Hotel” you smiled, the soft golden glow of the high rise luxury establishment awaiting outside. Yunho adjusts his necktie, about to respond before you cut him off and expectantly hold out an empty palm, a small grin awaiting him.
“I prefer cash by the way.”
He doesn’t seem to find your comment amusing, reaching for his coat in the back seat to bring out his wallet. “You drive dangerously” he notes, handing you your cash. “And you should go back to school” he emphasizes, suddenly critiquing your life choices.
You roll your eyes when the bills gets placed in your hand and are accompanied with some unwanted grown adult advice. You quickly tuck it into your right knee-high boot.
“I’ll go back to school once the money comes in. Just watch me” you grinned.
Yunho’s gaze never leaves your body.
“I am.”
You hesitate for a second, swallowing back the feeling of butterflies in your chest. You feel too awkward to have his attention on you like this, so you quickly wrap things up.
“Pleasure doing business with you Yunho. Thanks for the peas” You winked, holding up your bandaged hand.
He realizes you’re leaving. “Do you need a drive back? I can call a limo driver-”
You put up a hand, silencing him as you shook your head and smiled. “Nah, I’m all good. I’ve had enough of fancy cars and bald men tonight.”
Yunho opens his mouth to say something before closing it. He thanks you one last time.
“Thank you. I appreciate your help.”
You smile, looking away when the car door opens to reveal a hotel valet flashing you a welcoming smile.
“Good evening Ma’am, welcome to the Beverly Hills Hotel”
You glance back at Yunho one last time, offering a small smile before placing your hand in the valet’s. As the car door closes behind you, the sound feels louder than it should — final, almost. Yunhos left sitting in silence for a few moments , the noise of the city fading beneath the hum of his thoughts, though all of them circle back to you.
You were simple — at least it appeared that way on the outside. But Yunho watched you talk these past ten minutes. You were sharp. You joked, you flirted, you called him out for his shit driving even though he’s certain you just earned him ninety tickets from speeding down Hollywood Boulevard. You were wild, eccentric, and not a single damn word from your sweet mouth felt fake. It felt real.
For someone like Yunho who's used to half-smiles and empty pleasantries, your honesty was jarring. Comforting, too. It was strange, feeling this at ease with someone he’d only just met. Most strangers he meets are either shaking his hand and sliding their business cards to him or pitching million-dollar deals when he’s trying to enjoy his drink.
The businessman glances at the digital clock in his car, the red numbers blaring the time which was a few minutes to midnight. He could go upstairs to his penthouse. Take a shower, light a cigarette, return a few calls to people who only speak to him when money’s on the table. That would be easier than what he wants to do right now. Familiar.
Or he could stop overanalyzing this and just be back in your presence.
He unbuckles his seatbelt and gets out of the passenger seat, beating the valet who tries to open it for him. ‘No need’ Yunho quickly extends a hand preventing him, instead slotting the keys to the sedan in the man's hand along with a hefty tip as he runs after you in fast, long strides.
You’re already walking ahead, heels clicking against the concrete pavement and admiring your hard earned money, the crisp green bills making your heart flutter with excitement.
Finally, you would be able to pay back your landlord and catch up on your rent. You continue to walk towards the nearest bus stop before the call of your name makes you turn around. You squint for a second, eyes widening and footsteps retreating backwards when a breathless Yunho rushes up to you and unintentionally corners you against the door of a nearby telephone booth.
“Yunho?”
“Do you have any prior engagements tonight?”
The question throws you off. At this hour? You were set on taking the bus straight home with your money, ready to pay off your landlord in the morning.
Yunho watches you hesitate to answer him. He speaks again.
“If you don’t... I’d very much appreciate it if you’d accompany me into the hotel”
Now you’re looking at him skeptically. First he asks for you to drive him here, now he’s asking you to go to his room with him? You think to yourself, it's a pretty shit way of him to ask someone out.
“Why?” you blurt, doubt and confusion all packaged in your tone and delivery.
Yunho feels the heavy gazes as hotel guests pass by, staring at the man and woman pressed against each other on the door of the dingy phone booth. He can tell they’re also looking at how you're dressed, your skirt and your high heels, and he looks down at your body for a moment. Fuck, he could tell you weren’t wearing a bra.
He leans back, giving you the space you deserve, rubbing his eyes at his poor execution of getting you to stay. How could this be so hard for him? What was it he even wanted to say or do with you?
You try to make it easier—or what you believe is easier—for him.
“If you wanted us to fuck, Yunho, all you had to do is ask-”
A woman gasps while passing by into the hotel and hearing your vulgar words, clutching her pearls and mink coat closer as her husband ushers her in, sending Yunho a critical look.
Two large hands clamped around your mouth the moment you blurted out what you thought were his genuine intentions. Your words are muffled, brows furrowing as Yunho immediately takes his hands off to cover your shoulders with his long black coat. He had to do something about your outfit.
The man mutters sternly under his breath, gritting his teeth as he adjusts the collar for you. “I’m not asking for that, I’m simply asking if you want to stay with me for a bit.” he sighs, running a hand through his hair.
“For tea?” he musters out pathetically, hanging his head in front of you.
You’re confused— maybe it’s because you’ve never had money, but did all rich folks invite their guests into their homes for midnight tea?
You grab Yunho’s chin, forcing him to lift it just a bit so he's not completely avoiding you. You smile, warmth blossoming in Yunho’s heart when he hears your voice answer him, two big round eyes looking up.
“Sure, let’s have tea”
The whole time, it’s quiet — the check-in at the front desk, the murmurs of guests whispering at the sight of Yunho and the mysterious young girl, the fifty-story elevator ride, and even when Yunho slides his keycard into the penthouse door. But that silence shatters the moment he flips on the lights, and a blazing crystal chandelier floods the entire suite with white brilliance.
“Wow” you blurted out loud, walking into the living room wearing hotel slippers far more luxurious than any pair of shoes you owned.
The room didn’t scream obnoxiously rich—It was quiet, curated opulence.
Floor-to-ceiling windows framed a glittering view of Los Angeles, the city sprawled out beneath you like it belonged to whoever stood in this room. For tonight, that person was Yunho.
The ceilings were high, impossibly high, making the entire space feel like it could swallow you whole. The walls were a soft cream, accented with classic crown molding and gold fixtures that glinted subtly under the warm lighting. Everything had been designed with restraint — no gaudy displays, no flashy logos — just pure, quiet luxury.
A white cashmere sofa stretched out in the center of the room, low and modern, its texture buttery soft beneath your fingertips. Beside it, a single dark leather armchair sat like a throne, clean lines and cool dominance in every inch of its structure. A glass coffee table rested between them, sleek and minimal, topped with a crystal decanter and two untouched glasses. Like it had been waiting for a scene just like this.
In the distance, a marble fireplace sat beneath a muted oil painting, the flames flickering low, more for ambiance than warmth. Thick drapes hung on either side of the windows, drawn back to let in the skyline. It was a view that made it clear you were a long way from home.
You turned in a slow circle, taking it all in. The kind of world Yunho clearly lived in every day.
Yunho unbuttons his suit with one hand, watching as you sit on one of the italian leather seats in the living room, legs crossing over one another comfortably.
“Your parents must be really proud of you.” you said aloud. He doesn’t reply to your response, simply letting his finger hook under the collar of his tie and loosen the piece of fabric.
He picks up a telephone nearby, pressing a button and dialing someone. You watched as he sat in the chair of a desk nearby, opposite to where you were. Watching Yunho in the soft light, for the first time in maybe ever, you felt like you’d stepped into someone else's story.
Gnawing at you from the back, you weren’t sure if you were meant to stay. And if he did want you to stay, you were even more scared of what that would entail.
“Hello, can you send up a traditional tea cart with some white peaches please?”
Yunho orders room service for you, keeping his promise and ordering a lavish tea cart to be sent to the penthouse. A few moments later, and here you were watching him roll up his sleeves as he pours you a glass of omija-cha.
“So you’re ivy league educated” You ask, walking over to him absentmindedly before sitting on the top of Yunho's desk. Yunho smiles, eyeing the way your ass propped against his faxes and files.
“What makes you think that?” he says, handing you your tea. You accept it graciously, looking down into the liquid ruby blend of scarlet and magenta, before bringing the rim of the glass to your lips and tasting the sweet but sharp tang of the magnolia vine tea.
Yunho smiles when he sees you immediately like it.
“I don’t know, you've got that…” you snap your fingers, trying to find the word.
“—sharp, useless look” you grin, watching Yunho throw his head back and chuckle at your description. You smile, watching him turn to open a silver lid hiding a crystal bowl of soft, fragrant white peaches, motioning you to pick up a fruit fork and try one.
“You should try one”
“Why?” you ask in genuine curiosity. He smiles, shrugging his shoulders as he tries to explain while watching your brows furrow at the sight of the peaches.
“They just pair well with the tartness of the tea.”
“..okay” you say as your eyebrows raise, stabbing a fork in one of the cut up pieces and biting into a delicate fuzz before juice rushes into your mouth instantly.
The taste of the peach was sweet and floral, tastebuds tingling with excitement from never trying such a delicious fruit before. Yunho watches as it trickles down your chin before you can catch it before diverting his eyes away.
It falls silent for a moment, the scent of the tea strong in the air as the steam wafts up to your nose. Yunho takes a long sip of his cup as well, locking gazes with you as you crunch on your peach. He’s analyzing you, just as you are trying to do with him, and it almost makes the corners of his mouth twitch in amusement. You were feisty, he’ll give you that.
You bit your lip softly just before speaking.
“Well, now that we’ve drank the tea and eaten the fruits, what else are you going to do with me?” your voice is soft and innocent without even realizing.
Yunho murmurs softly, never breaking eye contact as he sets his glass down on the cart.
“You wanna know something?”
You playfully swing your legs back and forth a little, settling into the moment.
Yunho leans closer. “I haven’t got a single clue.”
Your breath catches — the taste of peach still sweet on your tongue — as Yunho leans in, just slightly, his gaze warm and impossibly fond. The air feels heavier, stretched thin between the two of you. Then your eyes flick to the cup of tea in one hand and the empty fruit fork in the other, and it hits you just how long a supposed temporary meeting has managed to last.
“I hadn’t exactly planned this,” he confessed.
“Well, do you plan everything?” you ask, taking another sip. He nods.
The quietness is a bit suffocating. Even more than the feeling of uncertainty brought on by Yunho because you’re not so sure what his intentions were, only having followed him in because he seemed like a nice guy and you wanted tea. You push your bum off of his papers.
“Listen, I’m used to working on an hourly rate because of my job so can we get this moving along?” You make it clear to him, deliberately moving away from him to put the fork and cup on the cart with a clink.
“Somehow I’m sensing this time problem is a major issue with you” Yunho replies evenly, straightening to his full height.
You glance at the nearby clock and feel your stomach sink — the last bus must’ve left minutes ago. In just a few hours, you’d have to be up for your five a.m. shift at the diner, refilling coffee and waiting tables. You had no time for romance or peaches.
You sigh, running a hand over your eyes. “It is, so listen, Yunho. I really appreciate the whole gentleman seduction scheme you’ve got going right now, but if I stay any longer then I’m missing time to get ready for my shift, and I really need that job to pay for me and my roommates rent this month–”
“Let’s take care of that right now actually” he says, mindlessly searching through the mahogany drawers of the nearby desk for something.
You sighed in relief, thinking he was letting you go. “Great. Thanks for the tea, it was nice meet-“
“How much for the entire night?”
You stop in your tracks. Surely you heard wrong.
“Excuse me?”
Yunho says it without hesitation — not out of arrogance, but out of habit. He’s not used to not getting what he wants. Which is probably why it doesn’t quite register that asking the girl he likes how much she costs is… a little rude.
You blink at him, then at the checkbook he’s already found. Something uneasy twists low in your stomach — disbelief or even pity maybe. Turning away, your eyes drift to the curls of steam still coming from the tea cups. You exhale slowly, seeing him stare at you awaiting your price, and so you decide to play with him one last time when you scoff back.
“You couldn’t afford it.”
“Try me,” Yunho says, amused.
“A thousand dollars” you joked, the amount randomly falling out from your mouth.
Yunho takes a pen off the desk, biting the cap and holding it in between his teeth as he scribbles into the book.
“I assumed check works for you as well?” he says, the question coming out muffled from the cap in his mouth.
He's dead serious.
Your shoulder loses its strength, dropping your bag to the ground as you’re hit with overwhelming realization. You watch as Yunho proceeds to ask you for your last name, to which you mutter from under your breath in disbelief. He wasn’t joking.
He rips the piece of paper, handing it over to you and motioning for you to take.
You stare at his signature, then at his face before your hands reach out and grab it.
“There. Are you satisfied? Now, can we move on with the rest of the night?” He sighs, picking up his faxes and mail and flipping through them as he walks past you.
You clench your fists. You’ve done plenty of things for money before — things you weren’t proud of — but knowing there’s no other choice, you sigh, undoing the back of your halter top. One grand was just too much to resist. An upper class CEO brings a younger girl to his hotel room at this time of the night and pays her. You already knew what that meant. You need to brace yourself for whatever Yunho might ask next.
You take a deep breath, your heart racing; it’s been a while since you’ve done this, evident by the shakiness of your voice when you tell him.
“Just know, Yunho, I don’t usually do this—” The words die on your lips when you notice he doesn’t spare you a glance, already absorbed in a phone call, discussing business.
“Yes, that’s right, Vance,” Yunho says, twirling his fountain pen in one hand. “I’ll still need the numbers by next Wednesday.” His brows furrow as he jots something on the papers in front of him, utterly ignoring any and all distractions — including you.
Your hands freeze mid-untie, a surge of unease running through your body as your blood rushes to your ears, wondering if you misread the message.
You step closer to Yunho, taking another chance to give him his transaction. The favours presented in a simple strip show. Your gaze softens into the bedroom eyes you used to use. But when he lifts a single finger, pausing you, you can’t help but scoff out loud.
Yunho watches you from the corner of his eye, trying so hard not to react before he looks away, returning to Vance or whoever it was on the phone. When you continue to stare at him, he finally speaks to you.
“What is it?” he asks, brows furrowed in genuine concern.
You’re quiet for a moment, confusion and uncertainty lacing with your words.
“Aren’t you going to pay attention? To me?!” you gesture to your body.
Yunho shakes his head, acting puzzled. “All I asked of you was to stay with me for the night.” He gestures to the comfortable sofa in front of him.
You watch in exasperation. “I thought you wanted us to fuck?”
Yunho stares at you, Vance’s voice still speaking at him through the phone. Yunho tells him to hold once again, covering the bottom half and proceeding to embarrass you with his explanation.
“I meant that I’d appreciate your presence as a companion, not as a sexual partner.”
Vance’s voice stops speaking through.
“Feel free to order whatever you like from room service or watch TV. I have a few more calls to make, so I’d appreciate your understanding.” He dismisses, his tone still gentle.
When he goes back to the phone, which is basically right after, he glances down at some numbers on his papers. “Well I’ve got L.A. — I’m just gonna need Tokyo next.”
“Mhm” Yunho replies, watching as you slowly retreat away to take a seat in front of him in the living room.
You can’t believe it. You completely misunderstood. Yunho hadn’t asked you to stay for a lap dance, or for anything physical at all. All he wanted was someone to be there — just human presence. You’re so used to men treating your body like a transaction, like the only thing you had to offer was your curves or your touch. Every encounter in your past had come with an unspoken expectation: a hand on your shoulder, a lingering look, a request you didn’t want to fulfill but felt obligated to.
It was so easy to grow accustomed to giving and performing, to being a commodity in someone else’s story. And now, here, in this vast penthouse that stretches out like its own private universe, none of that exists. Yunho doesn’t even glance at you as he speaks on the phone.
He doesn’t ask for a dance, a touch, a kiss. He simply… exists, and he wants you to exist alongside him. The sheer normalcy of it, the ordinary, human simplicity changes your perspective of him in a moment.
You decide that if you’re being paid one thousand dollars to spend a night in such a luxurious penthouse, you’re gonna wanna do it the right way. You glance at the other telephone nearby, carefully picking it up and dialing the front desk, making sure you don’t disrupt Yunho with his call.
You don’t know it, but he actually watches you silently this time, looking down and smiling to himself when he hears your voice speak into the receiver.
“Hi, yes, um could you send up some extra blankets? The fuzzy kind? And some more peaches please?”
Eventually, a distinct area of the soft carpeted floors in the living room are scattered with compliments of the ordered room service. Rented VHS’s of old hollywood movies are stacked in a pile to your left, followed by a few packets of M&M’s and movie theatre candy all around you. You’re lying on your belly in front of the tv, eyes crinkling and nose twitching with every loud giggle you let out from watching the movie playing in front of you. The half-empty bowl of white peaches is there as well of course.
It's the early hours of the morning when Yunho finally finishes a good chunk of his work. His eyes hurt because he neglected his need for his reading glasses, thinking he was still young, and his back also aches from neglecting proper posture when sitting for so long. Nevertheless, Yunho felt better having you in his company. He liked watching you enjoy yourself from his seat, knowing that for once, the only source of sound being projected wasn’t from his tired voice
He’s never done this before. Never brought a girl home just to pay her one grand to mess up his carpet and stifle her giggles as she watches Gregory Peck movies while he’s on business calls.
He leans closer.
“What are you watching?” Yunho asks from behind, making you glance back to see bags under his eyes but a smile nonetheless.
“Roman Holiday” you laughed, clutching your stomach. It was a classic, something you always watched reruns of with your grandma on weekends.
“I’ve got a whole picnic over here, are you sure you don’t wanna join me?” You say, mouth curving into a happy smile. You watch as the CEO shakes his head gently, chuckling at your words as he undoes his tie and stands to walk over your torso and sprawled limbs.
“I’m going to take a shower. Please, continue with your movie” he says politely.
Your eyes follow his movements, your giggles growing quieter as you watch him walk away.
He didn’t seem to eat. Didn’t seem to drink. Didn’t even seem to rest. You wonder what the man exactly does for fun as you meekly trace the nearby polished walls of the penthouse with your eyes. The soft light glints off the marble floors, the sleek furniture, the massive windows revealing a sprawling cityscape below. It’s luxurious, intimidating, and somehow comforting all at once.
As you lay on your back, looking up at the crown molding and tall ceilings, for the first time in a long while, you realize it’s possible to just be. Without giving, without performing, without selling any part of yourself. Yunho didn’t seem to want much from you, except your company. You snuggle into the carpet more, the fuzzy blankets covering your body as you let out a soft sigh. Happy because at least you had a nice place to sleep tonight.
When Yunho steps out of the master bedroom, steam still clings faintly to his skin, damp locks falling over his forehead in soft disarray from his hot shower. The navy robe hangs loose on his shoulders, the faint scent of his body wash mixing with the cool air of the living room as he pads toward the fridge.
The faint hum of the appliance fills the area, the sound of a late-night movie still murmuring in the background when he opens the door and twists open a bottle of water, ready to take a sip.
Until something on the carpet catches his eye.
A small shape, half-tucked under a blanket, lying motionless on the floor.
You.
Fast asleep in front of the TV, the fifth movie of the night still flickers on the screen, casting pale light across your face. Your empty peach bowl sits beside you, a few stray peanuts scattered near your hair like little constellations. You’re a very messy girl, Yunho concludes.
He watches as your chest rises and falls softly with each breath, a faint snore breaking the quiet now and then.
For a moment, Yunho just stands there, a bottle forgotten in his hand. There’s something tender in the stillness — something that tugs at him unexpectedly. You look so peaceful like that. Unarmored. Younger, somehow, stripped of all the careful edges you keep up when you’re awake.
He sets the bottle down on the counter and crosses the room, each step slow, deliberate. When he reaches you, he crouches down, taking in the details — the way your lips part slightly as you breathe, the faint warmth radiating from your skin.
Then without a word, Yunho leans down and gently presses his hands beneath you — one under your knees, the other behind your back. He moves with a kind of reverence, careful not to wake you as he lifts you into his arms.
Your head naturally finds its place against his shoulder, a small sigh escaping your lips followed by a murmur of incoherence.
Yunho glances down at you one last time, expressionless before turning toward the master suite. On the screen, Audrey Hepburn is roaming through Italy, just as Yunho carries you away.
The next morning, sunlight pears through the curtains, casting a ray of warmth across your covered body. You’re dozing off in pure bliss, the covers soft against your skin. But it’s only so long before your eyes blink open, taking in the first item you saw across from you.
A white bath robe placed on an armchair nearby, awaiting your body.
A voice makes you jump. “Good morning.”
You turn in the sheets, messy bed hair surrounding your head like a crown as you squinted at the man standing in the middle of the doorway, wearing the same matching navy robe from last night. Shit, what time was it?
You try to grasp your senses together, craning your neck back to sit up straight as the blankets start to slip off the bed.
Yunho doesn’t mind. He doesn’t even seem to care. He simply walks over to you as you’re rubbing sleep out of the corner of your eyes and hands you the soft robe to cover up. You slept only in your halter top and panties, discarding your mini skirt halfway through the night unconsciously.
“Did you sleep well?” He asks, smiling at you as he brushes your hair out from your face, softly petting you with gentleness. You stare at him. Does he think you’re his dog?
You nodded, not yet coherent and aware enough of your surroundings to respond with words. Yunho brought his large hands down towards your jaw, grasping your chin so you could look up at him.
“Figured I’d save you the back pain from sleeping on the living room floor” He smiles.
For a moment, you both don’t say anything. You allow Yunho to watch you carefully, a knowing look creeping on his face that he thinks he successfully hides from you.
“Yunho” you say, breaking the void.
He hums, eyebrows raising as he continues to admire your features.
“I’m hungry”
He chuckles, letting his hand fall so that your hands could grasp the robe nearby and put it on. He gives you privacy by turning his back, thinking you’d simply want to change into your mini skirt before a flimsy top flings near his feet.
Yunho’s eyes widened for a moment, before you tap him on the shoulder, fully covered in the white robe and ready. He extends his hand, leading you out of the master bedroom.
The floor to ceiling windows reveal a breathtaking view of the city in the early morning, met face to face with a clear blue sky and warm carpet from the sunshine. That's when you suddenly find the room service cart awaiting you at the breakfast table nearby, letting the tall man guide you to your seat with your mouth gaped open.
“I uh, took the liberty of ordering everything on the menu.” He tells you softly, opening the silver lids to reveal stacks of warm blueberry pancakes, crispy bacon and strudels of all kinds calling your name. “I didn’t know what you’d like,” he tells you truthfully.
You stand with your mouth gaping before keeping it shut. “Thank you”
He nods.
It’s quiet, the breakfast table. No loud noises, no sounds of impatient cars honking their horns or angry landlords banging on the door for rent money. It’s partially due to the fact that you’re both so high up. Just the soft clatter of silverware against breakfast plates and the smell of expensive cologne lingering on Yunho's bathrobe.
Munching away on your choice of a carrot muffin, a long time habit of yours slips through, abandoning the breakfast table seats nearby and choosing to sit on the edge of the table—specifically on Yunho's morning paper. Yunho is about to slip the paper away but your ass has already conquered it. He looks at you munching away obviously and lets it slide, sitting back in his chair and containing a chuckle.
“So where did you sleep?” You inquired, inspecting your muffin and picking out the carrot bits to eat first.
“I had some more work to do so I slept on the couch” he says.
You shake your head at his workaholic lifestyle. “You work too much” you comment without thinking.
At the sight of your bare legs swishing back and forth over the edge, he shares an insightful notice.
“Yknow, There are four other chairs here as well”
You sheepishly look back, realizing he was right. With an embarrassed smile, you take a seat beside him.
“So what do you do, Yunho?”
Yunho reads the front page of the newspaper in his hands, not looking up but responding to the question. “I buy other companies.”
You furrow your brows. “What kind?”
“Ones that need help.”
“Oh so you rebuild them!” You stated enthusiastically, looking at him.
Yunho is quiet for a moment. But then he laughs.
“Somewhat so”
You think for a moment, before locking eyes with him. “So what do you do with the companies once you buy them?”
“I sell them.” Yunho’s answer comes flat, almost automatic, like it’s been rehearsed too many times. The weight behind it doesn’t match the ease of his tone. And when he exhales, the sigh that escapes feels heavier than it should. It makes you pause, your next question dying on your tongue just as the phone nearby rings.
He reaches for it on the counter, his expression tightening when he checks his watch and realizes who he promised to make a call with. The lines around his eyes deepen, the faint wrinkles near the edges of his brow becoming more pronounced.
“Please, help yourself,” he mutters absently, gesturing toward the breakfast spread before lifting the receiver. The words sound polite, but distant — as if his mind’s already miles away.
You nod, though he’s not looking anymore. Your fingers toy with the crumb of your carrot muffin, appetite slipping away as he disappears behind the heavy door of his office.
Inside, Yunho shuts the door with a soft thud, leaning against it for a brief moment before the familiar, clipped voice of his lawyer breaks through the receiver.
“She’s a fiery old lady, that chairwoman. One wrong word and we could wind up in court,” Patrick warns uneasily.
It was true. The eighty-seven-year-old chairwoman overseeing Marinex Shipping Company was infamous for being ruthless, sharp-tongued, and utterly immovable once she’d made up her mind. Madame Choi was a relic of an older business era. When deals were sealed with cigars and intimidation — she’d survived corporate wars that had buried men twice her size.
The press made her seem intimidating, when in fact all she is, is a woman who’d inherited her husband’s empire after his passing and built it into something ten times larger. But as her company was sliding into bankruptcy, Yunho’s lawyer insisted it would be too easy to take that empire off her hands.
“Well, there’s a lot that can go wrong with this, Patrick,” Yunho says dryly, dragging a hand over his face. “You know that’s why I love this job so much,” his voice heavy with sarcasm.
His temples throb — he hasn’t slept properly in days, not since the Marinex shipping deal started slowly falling apart. The company was supposed to be his clean win. Now it’s just another battlefield.
Patrick doesn’t bite. He’s known his employer long enough.
“You’ve already made quite the impression on her when you intercepted her deal with Nilsson Motors. We can’t afford you making another enemy, Yunho.” He can hear papers rustling on the other end — the impatient shuffle of a man who’s been at his side for years.
Yunho exhales, keeping it from passing through the speaker.
“Find a date for the dinner tonight,” Patrick orders. “A nice girl. Get her to make some small talk with Chairwoman Choi, keep her guard down and then make her sign that agreement.”
Yunho’s jaw tightens at the orders. There’s a long silence. Then, without another word, he slams the phone down. The sharp crack of the receiver hitting the cradle echoes through the office.
For a moment, he just sits there, staring at the dark surface of his desk, the ghost of his reflection looking right back at him.
Tired, bitter, and alone.
After finishing your breakfast — alone, once again — you wandered around the penthouse to pass the time. The place was big, quiet, and almost too neat, like no one really lived in it. You made sure to avoid Yunho’s office, figuring that was the one room you shouldn’t step into, and instead explored the long hallways and mostly empty rooms.
When you reached the one beside the master bedroom, you stopped.
It wasn’t a regular room — it was a walk-in closet, large enough to count as its own space. Rows of neatly pressed suits lined the walls, shoes arranged perfectly on the shelves.
Yunho was there, standing in front of the mirror, fixing his tie as he seems to be finishing getting ready for work. His brow was slightly furrowed on getting the knot right. If he noticed you standing by the doorway, he didn’t show it — just kept adjusting the tie with quiet precision.
You lingered for a second, unsure what to do. Technically you should be gone by now.
When you hear a soft curse fall from the older man’s lips, you instinctively pad over the soft carpet floor, barefoot and in your robe as your hands brushed against his.
“Here, let me help”
Yunho surprisingly doesn’t protest, sitting him down on a nearby couch as nimble fingers go to work at his tie.
The CEO’s hands become empty, awkwardly coming down and shifting as he hesitates to put his hands on your robed waist. You pay no attention to him, too focused on what you’re about to say.
“I’m sure you’re probably wondering when I’m going to leave” you chuckle awkwardly, continuing to work at his tie. You glance up for a split second, swallowing back nervousness as you assured him. “I’ll take my things and be out of here in less than a minute”
His gaze falters for a bit, looking down at you as you help him.
“I don’t mind, you can stay longer if you’d like.”
You try your best to not let your cheeks heat up, trying to keep yourself grounded and mindful of where you belong, and where you soon have to go back to. Finally, when you finish the knot, Yunho glances back at the mirror to see his perfectly made tie, courtesy of yourself.
He smoothes down the fabric. “Not bad. Where did you learn to do that?”
You casually sit down on his thick thighs, straddling them as you wrapped your arms around his neck and leaned in. Yunho watches carefully, letting his warm hands enclose your figure and keep you perched. You were like a monkey.
“I screwed the debate team in high school,” you joke, fingers idly playing with the back of his hair. He narrows his eyes just slightly, and you have to laugh nervously to prevent the shiver running down your spine at his possessiveness.
“I’m kidding! My grandma used to do my dad’s ties for work.. I picked it up from her.”
Yunho gives a small, knowing hum. He’s beginning to recognize this pattern with you — the way you throw him off focus with your words, testing how far you can push before he pushes back. But this time, it’s him who decides to shift the rhythm.
“I have a business proposition for you,” he says suddenly, leaning back against the bench behind him, his hands still resting lightly on your hips.
“What is it?” you ask, flattening his suit and collar.
“I’m in town until this Sunday,” he says. “I’d like you to stay here with me until then.”
You blink, looking up at him as the words sink in. All while Yunho holds you in his lap like you were his already.
“Really?”
He nods, a small smile tugging at his lips at the sound of your voice. “Yes. Would you consider spending the next few days with me?”
You can’t help the grin spreading across your face. But you’re also puzzled.
“You’re a rich, good-looking guy. You could get any girl you want for free.” you state what you believed was the obvious.
“Why me?”
Yunho shrugs, his tone calm and deliberate. “I’m tired of the usual options. I want someone who doesn’t pretend.”
You blink, surprised by how simply he says it — no hesitation, no charm layered over the truth. Just quiet honesty.
“They all want something,” he explains after a moment, eyes still on you. “Attention. Money. A story to tell others. I don’t want that anymore.”
You furrow your eyebrows, about to protest that you’re not really any different from those gold digging sugar babies if the reason you stayed the night was only because he was filthily rich and accommodating, but he cuts you off.
“I can tell you’re focused on the money.” he assures you. “Believe me, it was quite amusing though also painful, to have to decline your sweet little strip tease last night” he chuckles
From hearing that, embarrassment surges through you, instinctively punching Yunho in the chest and watching as he rubs the aching area while stifling laughter.
“You asshole! I knew you just brought me here just to have sex!” you wriggle out of his grasp, too angered to be in his lap although he firmly holds you down and seriously tells you.
“I can tell you need the money. You’re desperate.”
You bit your lip. He’s right. You needed this money more than any other LA trust fund socialite Yunho could’ve taken home instead last night.
“So what do you want from me? Why is it that you let me stay?” you ask him for the truth.
Yunho exhales, almost like he’s been waiting for that question. “I just need… someone who doesn’t make things complicated.”
You tilt your head slightly, studying him.
“You seem fun. Might as well hire someone who doesn’t fake half of it cause they need it” He shrugs.
You think about his business offer strategically.
“So…. No kisses? No sex?” you exclaim.
Was that disappointment in your voice?
Yunho blinks, not having guessed that you would be very inclined to offer such things, after the way he saw you nervously fumble with stripping for him last night.
He sighs, calling for your name and telling you genuinely.
“I’m not going to force you into anything”. He’s looking at you seriously now.
“But..” he begins, looking away with a small smirk on his face. “I wouldn’t mind if you let me hold you like I am doing right now every once and a while” he confesses, making your heart stop.
“That’s it?”
Yunho didn’t want rough sex? No backseat blowjobs? Just a cuddle buddy?
He laughs loudly at your reaction, throwing his head back. You straddle his thighs, unsure what was so funny to him.
“I do like the occasional cunnilingus once in a while” he mumbles, ears going a bit red like he was a teenage boy again. You can’t believe it.
This six foot something billionaire tycoon was wrapped underneath your bare legs and the most he was requesting from you was to taste your pussy? Occasionally???
“I mean…” you drag out loud, letting your mind wander. “We’re talking 24 hours a day, that’s gonna cost you”
Yunho meets at your gaze again, this time smiling.
“Oh. Of course” he chuckles, letting his hands fall from your body and making you pout a bit when he pushes you off his lap to negotiate business properly.
“Name your price.” Yunho states with his arms crossed, watching you stand in front of him as he manspreads on the sofa. He has glasses resting on the tip of his nosebridge, hair styled and well kept, just like the way he was when you first met him.
You narrow your eyes.
“Four days.. All which happen to be like last night….” You inquired for a moment.
Yunho cuts you off, giving you a wink. “They can be a lot better if you want them to be. I have a few private dinners scheduled with clients, but other than that, you’re free to take my jet and limo anywhere you’d like”
You ignore him for a moment, counting your fingers hesitantly before looking up and shooting your shot.
“Five thousand” you blurt.
“Four days would be four thousand, my love” he makes a point about each day essentially costing him one grand.
“Well then why don’t I throw in a few extra offers?” You smiled seductively, playing with the ties of your robe. That was a signal to Yunho.
That even your body could be his.
“Six thousand.” he settles, a flash of hunger evident with his gaze on your body. His heart pumps harder, shifting in his seat when he realizes just tastes of your cunt aren’t the only thing he’ll be getting.
You smirk, growing all the more bolder and raising the bid.
“Eight thousand!”
“Done.”
Yunho quickly takes this chance to uncross his arms as if he didn’t just promise you two thousand dollars everyday for the next four days, and hooks his arms around your waist to haul you into his grasp, ignoring your screams of happiness and laughter to perch you over his shoulder so your bum is beside his face.
“Yunho!” you called out, chuckling when you felt a small slap land on your asscheek. You stifle your moan by biting your lips, not wanting to expose that side of yourself to him just yet. But perhaps you already did with that persuasion technique back there.
“Now that you’re mine, there’s something I’d like to do to you that I hope you’d also agree to” he growls, his member stiffening inside his work pants.
Yunho carries you to the suite, only to throw you down on the mattress. It causes you to stare up at him with bating breath and squeeze your legs at the sight presented above you.
Yunho’s chest is tightened against his white shirt, the tie that you helped him with, straining at his neck as a hungry, dark gaze is set on your and your exposed ankles from under your bathrobe.
Two warm hands ghost over the skin of either leg, making your eyes flutter and struggle to focus with the way his mouth presses soft kisses to your calves.
“Please,” he asks, having always favoured the taste of pussy on his lips before heading to the office. “Could I have a taste?”
Your heart beats uncontrollably, a pool of slick already leaking down your thighs and making you squirm in discomfort from the throbbing need of your clit to be paid attention to.
You nod, his name ghosting over your lips.
“So it’s a yes?” he smirks, dipping his head down and nipping your ankles.
You moan this time, enthusiastically nodding as your eyes shut in neediness. Yunho doesn’t appreciate that though, as his hands grab onto your ankles and a surge of strength overpowers him, pulling you to the edge of the bed while looking at him in surprise as he gives you a firm order.
“Words.”
You linger on his lips for a moment, head falling back. “Yes.”
Yunho smiles, satisfied at your answer as he glances at the digital alarm clock on the bedside table near him. 9:34 am.
“I need to be at the office by 10” he informs you, ripping the tassels of your hotel robe open as your naked body presents itself to him like precious gold. He falters his actions for a moment, realizing that your halter top wasn’t the only thing you took off earlier, but also your panties. He groans in pain as he leans in, breath hitting your face to gently kiss you, hoping you’ll unravel yourself and let him in further.
“My driver is waiting to take me downstairs” he huffs with a whisper, trailing kisses down your neck as you withered under him. Your nails claw the bottom of his neck, careful not to mess his hair.
“That means you’ve got six minutes to cum on my tongue and fingers” he coos, brushing your hair out of your face and letting his long fingers brush over your puffy clit. You jolt, grasping onto the material of his Valentino suit and crinkling the expensive material.
“Are you listening?”
“Yunho, please” you begged, aching to see the vision of his face in between your legs.
He grunts in response. “Fuckin’ love how you beg” before sinking to his knees in front of the mattress and diving into your pussy, your lips swiping against his nose repeatedly like the way his credit card would be once you’re done with him.
“Mm, ah!” you moaned loudly, grasping onto any form of support near you as Yunho’s tongue expertly explored your mound. You were practically gushing against him, your pelvis abducting in and out in desperation and for more attention.
Yunho’s eyes shut close, enjoying the smell of your cunt and the texture of your slick. He’s eaten lots of pussies in the past, but yours might just be one of his favourites.
“Look at yourself,” Yunho shakes his head, pulling back to critically analyze your body movements like it was the fucking stock market. “I press my tongue against you and you’re begging for mercy” he chuckles softly, veiny hands squeezing the mounds of your thighs and butt. Yunho brings his middle finger adorned with his cartier ring and thrusts it in your walls repeatedly, watching your eyes widen and respond almost immediately.
“Oh, fuck!” you yelled, confusion blossoming inside that sweet little head of yours when you look down and realize not even half of Yunho’s finger is stroking inside you right now. His digits were just far too long, and he knew it.
“Such a nice girl” Yunho praises, kissing your cheek and nibbling on your ear. His fingers insert themselves into you faster, making your vision blurry.
He glances over to the clock again while his face is pressed against your own, whispering soft praises to your open mouth that wails with delight.
“9:37” he announces as if you’re listening to any crap coming out of his mouth right now.
“Please, Yunho, please please please” you mumble repeatedly, feeling his body on top of you trail down to combine his tongue and fingers into your sopping wet hole, pushing you right over the edge.
“I want to taste more” he hums, dying out with the background noise of the heavy panting.
“Shut upp” you groan at him, turning mean because he’s not letting you take his mouth slowly. Yunho ignores it, choosing to slap your ass once again.
“C’mon, sweetheart, don’t make me late to the office. That’s it, give it to me” he moans in a borderline begging way, looking up at you from his position. Your tits are soft, plush and jiggling to the rhythm he’s set with his fingers fucking inside you. The veins in his neck bulge, obsessed with having some morning dew fall onto his tastebuds.
Finally, when your eyes water and a tear slips down, Yunho sighs in pure bliss as a gush of wetness flows into his mouth and runs down his fingers, having to hold one of your ankles down from moving too much.
“Y-Yunho-” you mutter breathlessly, eyes squeezing shut.
Yunho just made you cum with his mouth and fingers in record time. With two minutes to spare.
As your cum slides down to your ass, you hear Yunho call out to you gently. “We may be going out for evenings, by the way” wiping the sweat on his brow as he leans back on his knees for some balance after previously shoving his face in your cunt.
You try and catch your breath, letting go of the silk bed sheets and staring at the man who readjusts his suit and wipes the corners of his mouth. He takes out his credit card from his wallet and places it beside your left ankle.
“You’ll need something to wear tonight.” he huffs, taking a deep breath and smoothing his hair. You simply nod, tiredness rushing over you as you shut your eyes and hear his steps walk away. You figure he’s off to work.
And perhaps you doze off too easily, because before you know it a warm wet cloth is grazing your legs, cleaning you up as a kiss is pressed to your bent knee.
“Nothing flashy,” Yunho reminds you, looking into your eyes and speaking softly but firmly. He pets your hair. “Not too sexy. Conservative.” he says, wanting you to pick out something nice tonight for the meeting with Marinex’s fierce chairwoman and executive director grandson.
He watches as you pick up his black credit card from the sheets, examining the piece of plastic that contained far more potential than you realized.
“Boring” you translated back, rolling your eyes.
Yunho corrects you with a pinch to your cheek. “Elegant.”
You stare at each other in silence, both of you swallowing down the intense oral session you just had and recovering so you could start your day. Yunho is the first to break the spell.
“I’ll be in the lobby. 7:45 sharp” he pats the side of your thigh, raising to stand and shift his trousers for a moment. You glance down for a second, wondering how he’s doing under there.
You prop yourself up on your elbows to look at his reflection in the full length mirror, your soft cunt coming into view from behind him. You’re not sure what compels you to say it, much less with that much confidence, but the words slip out anyway, directed straight at him.
“I’m gonna treat you so nice, you’re never gonna wanna let me go, Yunho” you grin.
For a moment, there’s a pause — just long enough for you to wonder if you’ve overstepped. Then you catch the faintest raise of his eyebrow, the ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips. And somehow, that small reaction tells you more than any words could.
Yunho glances back, watching your legs shuffle seductively on the silk. Like a snake wreathing through his sheets.
“Eight thousand. For four days.” he reminds you, making the smirk on your face shorten just a little when he retorts back.
“And sweetheart, I will let you go”
When Yunho finally makes his way down to the front lobby, his limo driver is already waiting for him patiently, guiding him outside to where the limo awaits. He greets him as he holds the door out for him, oblivious to the sin he’s just performed fifty stories above. It isn’t long before he stops his employer, pointing to his necktie.
“Aw shucks, looks like you’ve got some latte spilled on your necktie, Mr. J” leaning forward to try and help rub out the mysterious white stain.
Yunho looks down, a faint smirk ghosting his lips before he stops him, assuring him as slides into the back seat, holding the end of his tie in his hand.
“Leave it. I’ve got extras at the office”
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'could we fix you if you broke? and is your punchline just a joke? i'll never talk again, boy you've left me speechless. i'll never love again...'
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➳ college!teez x fem!reader (oc) - nice for what cast ➳ 13.4k (part seven of ten) ➳ 18+, explicit sexual content, drugs/alcohol, college life, all the drama, angst, mentions of anxiety/depression… IF I MISSED ANYTHING PLEASE LET ME KNOW!
september 22nd ~ monday ~ 8:28 am
“I miss when he used to sleepover.”
Yoongi looked up from his phone in the backseat, his eyebrows twisting together. Spread out in the middle of the seat of his own truck, he eyed his brother in the rearview mirror. “Odd thing for a father to say.”
Twisting around in the passenger seat, you gave your uncle the tightest smile and rolled your eyes. “Right?” Curling your lip entirely, getting a laugh out of Yoongi, you faced your father. “He stayed for dinner, maybe he’ll call and ask for a second date.”
Yeonjun smacked his teeth and lobbed a hand over to shove you while his brother snickered at his expense. “I just mean… This friend thing.” He softened, relaxing his shoulders under the baby blue hoodie he slipped over his cropped black hair before he left the house with Yoongi’s keys in his fist. “You’re friends. That’s it. Just friends.”
The sincerity in his voice, the genuine curiosity, the slight disappointment…
Shoving your hands up into your sleeves, you crossed your arms over your lap with a shrug. “We always were.”
One of his bands played through the radio, the volume low, nothing more than the shredding of the guitar heard. You recognized the riff immediately, a combination of chords that defined your life, for as long as you can remember, from the backseat strapped into a booster seat with a juice box in your hands to now. Yeonjun schooled you, he made sure you knew who was who and what song was which, never forgetting to mention he only listened to this band because an old friend of his adored them almost as much as he did.
Brows pulling together, he palmed the steering wheel rough from years of friction. “Is he… Is he like Keeho?” He glanced at you, and you smiled.
“Bi? Yes, he is, but that’s not… that’s not why we called it off.”
With a sharp inhale, he adjusted in his seat and nodded, really fast. “I think,” he started, then paused, then shook his head. “No, I don’t need to fully understand,” he muttered. “I guess, it’s just, yesterday,” he sighed, giving you a look, “Seeing you two in the lobby.”
Months flashed in his eyes, eyes he gave to you. Months of him walking out to the lobby with his brother and his doctor to find you and Wooyoung a mess of limbs in the chairs, or on the floor, or behind the desk with Kamara, sometimes sitting on her counter sucking on the last of the peppermints in her tiny ceramic puppy shaped dish.
“I used to hear you guys before I saw you,” he smiled. “Knowing that when I walked out the door you’d be there, he would be there.” He smoothed his fingers over his chin, resting his elbow on the console. “Sometimes I could hear you laughing while I was in there.” His hand slid down to his chest, over his heart.
Gulping, you whispered, “Dad.”
He glanced over at you and smiled.
“Are you okay?” you asked, “You said it was a good appointment.”
Scrunching up his face, he dropped his hand to yours and nodded, focusing on the road. “It was. I’m fine.” His eyes flickered to the rearview mirror, sharing a look with Yoongi.
Whirling around, you pushed his arm away. “Don’t do that,” you half laughed, “You said it was good, both of you did.”
Yoongi bobbed his head, his face not giving much away. In your twenty something years of life, since you can remember, your uncle has never been one to show much outward emotion. Unlike your father, hot headed and reactive, Yoongi kept it inside.
“It was good,” he said, unmoving, eyeing Yeonjun in the mirror.
Squinting, you pouted your lips when he looked at you.
Yoongi scoffed, pushing a laugh through his lips. “Don’t give me that.”
“Why?”
Looking anywhere else, he shook his head. “Because.”
Pouting more, you sighed, and prolonged it, and tipped your chin back. “Why?”
Yeonjun snickered. “Weak.”
And Yoongi was, and he is. Your plea, your childish act, it cracked him.
With the release of a breath, he sat forward and softened his brows. “They changed his meds.” Your stomach sank. “To something… stronger.”
“Stronger, wait, didn’t they say-“
His hand flew out to grab your shoulder before you launched yourself out of the passenger seat. “It’s okay, it’s a good thing, everything is doing what it’s supposed to be doing, everything is working right, it’s just… it all needs a boost.”
Shrugging him off of you, you turned to your dad who met your glare with a sheepish smile. “That is not everything is good.”
“Everything is good,” Yeonjun said. Settling into his seat, he took a breath and set his eyes on the road. “The past just wants to catch up with me.”
The past.
“When was your last cigarette?” you questioned.
Without sparing you a glance, he muttered, “July.”
“Your last alcoholic drink?”
He and Yoongi started to laugh before he sighed, “Alcoholic dri…” he faced you, “July. All in one night, before I ate concrete.”
A chill shot down your spine, your insides going cold. The thought of him going unconscious, hitting the floor, it’s a vision you could never stomach. Not then, and not now. “Don’t. Say it. Again.”
Yeonjun blinked, acknowledged your discomfort with a nod, and turned to the wheel. “I’m sorry.”
Brushing him off, you asked, “The last time you did-”
His hand cut you off, he held it up and laughed aloud. Once. “I haven’t touched a hard substance since the day you were put in my arms, don’t even try.”
Giving Yoongi a look, matching his curious brow, you smirked. “Define hard.”
Grumbling, groaning and mumbling something under his breath, Yeonjun screwed up his face and leaned against the door, keeping his right hand on the steering wheel. The years were another tough pill to swallow, no pun intended, another moment of time you couldn’t stomach.
And you know he couldn’t either.
It’d taken entirely too long to get him to do this. Talk to you. And vice versa. You and Yeonjun, you and your father, this was rare. Speaking to one another this way, talking about these things, the past, a chunk of important years that should break what the two of you have in half, equally weird as it was rare.
“I’m not judging you, Dad,” you said softly.
You used to. Heavily.
“You’re… working really hard,” you nearly whispered, “I know it’s hard. To be one way for so long, to live one way and then suddenly come to the absolute hardest of stops.”
He gulped. Giving his brother a look in the mirror, he pursed his lips and answered the question you didn’t finish asking. “July,” he whispered.
For a second you went numb. The pulse of the radio went distant, the floor of the car had been ripped out from under you, ice was injected into your veins. A buzzing awoke in your chest, around your lungs, trapped beneath your ribcage, stuck there, triggered.
Yoongi shifted in his seat, his eyes on your back, you could feel him. Words he spoke to you the night your father regained consciousness and woke up haunted you. Words Wooyoung agreed with. Sobbing into your uncle's shoulder, curled up in a ball on his couch while your father laid in a hospital bed a half hour away, you clung to Yoongi. Wooyoung’s fingers drew circles between your shoulders.
It’s not his fault. I know what you want to do, I know what you want to say, and trust me, Aura, when I tell you he already knows… He’s gotten so much shit from you and I, and it’s deserved, but… this time, we have to be on his side. Keep him in check, but be on his side. He needs support, he needs to be able to lean on somebody… Just, love him.
“I have a friend,” he said.
“What shall I call her?” you joked, getting a laugh out of both of them, breaking the sudden tension.
Yeonjun sucked in a deep breath, finally looking at you. “It’s a guy, and-”
“Congratulations,” you cooed, and he lobbed another hand toward you, shoving you at the shoulder. Yoongi laughed, his hand smacking his knee.
“Aura, please,” your father snickered, “He’s a guy, he’s been sober for over ten years, he’s got the medals, yadda yadda, whatever, he’s been helping me. We’ve gone out a couple times, he’s… he’s an old friend.”
“An old friend,” you said, narrowing your eyes. “All the old friends you have live in Contramano.”
He raised his brows and gave you a glance. “This one lives in Sicuro.”
“Oh,” you breathed, sitting backward. Relief didn’t begin to describe what you felt. “Sicuro, okay, well, good. He’s… He’s nice? He’s… safe?”
Yeonjun nodded, a proper smile lived on his lips. “It’s funny, really. The guy he’s become.” Shaking his head, his fingers found his chin again, memories flashing through his head as he pulled off the highway and onto a busy Delo road. “Being the one to help me through this, when I was the one who-”
“Don’t do that to yourself,” Yoongi cut him off, “His decisions were his own.”
Scoffing, Yeonjun shot him a glare. “C’mon Yoon, it wasn’t just him, it was all of them, and-”
“And, if they weren’t getting it from you, they would’ve found it somewhere else. And they did, didn’t they, and it put them in deeper shit.”
“Yeah, but I-”
“Yeonjun,” the strength in Yoongi’s voice startled you, the big brother coming out, “What did they tell you? What did she tell you when the two of you spoke?”
Shoving yourself in the middle, you asked harshly, “Who?”
Yeonjun sighed. “Who gave it to her doesn’t matter, Yoongi, I still-”
Yoongi was sitting forward now, his front pressed to the back of the driver's seat. “If she can forgive you, can’t you-”
Yeonjun slammed a hand against the steering wheel, his voice raised as he nearly shouted, “She shouldn’t forgive me, are you fucking kidding me? She has a daughter, I have a daughter. How the fuck can she forgive me? I don’t deserve that,” his voice broke as he sank in his seat, “I don’t deserve to be fucking forgiven for any of it, I don’t care what kinda gentle parenting, therapeutic bullshit they all eat for dinner over there, I don’t deserve forgiveness.” Sliding his hand over his face, he whispered, “And she didn’t deserve any of that. From all three of us.”
Blinking, jaw agape in shock, but mostly confusion, you drew your gaze over both of them and rested a hand on your fathers shoulder. “Take a deep breath, please.” He listened to you, and after a minute of needed silence, you asked, “Who the hell were you talking about, and please don’t say my mother.”
Yoongi sighed and sat back. “You want him calm and you ask that?”
Your glare pierced through him. “If it is, I think I should know.”
“Why the fuck would it be your mother?” Yeonjun spat.
Throwing your hands out to the side, you dropped a sarcastic laugh. “Uh, maybe because she’s been bothering us recently, I dunno, Junie. You’re talking about a girl and you won’t name drop which is hysterical ‘cause you both talk more shit than any bitch I know, so either it’s my mother or these people are a secret for a much bigger reason, and if they are being kept a secret, there goes your he’s nice and safe argument.”
Silence.
An entire sixty eight seconds worth of silence.
“You do want to tell her,” Yoongi mumbled.
Yeonjun smacked his teeth. “Yeah, when I feel ready to do so, asshole.” Yoongi’s laugh was maniacal. “Oh-ho, asshole? Maybe you are feeling better.”
Slapping your hands against your thighs, you groaned. “So you aren’t feeling better?”
Yeonjun sat his chin in his hand and sighed. “Good god, can we go back to you and Wooyoung, please? Are you sleeping with him?”
“Dad!”
Yoongi laughed, loud. “What the fuck!”
As if what he asked was normal, Yeonjun said, over the laughter, “I wanna know where the relationship stands!”
Clapping your hands together, you leaned toward him. “Friends, we are friends.”
“Wild question, dude,” Yoongi mumbled.
“I’m trying to make sense of it all,” your father said, “A lot has happened. You’re not with Wooyoung, you’re making up with Yunho now, the ATZ boys are bothering you again… why?”
Tightening the lock on loose lips, you folded your arms over your lap and relaxed backward into the oversized seat. “Because they’re annoying.”
The brothers shared that infamous mirror look.
Yoongi said, “And, you aren’t president anymore.”
“Right,” Yeonjun breathed. You could be sick everywhere. You wanted nothing more than to end the conversation. “And that, Aura…”
“Dont,” you grit your teeth. “I want to graduate, and graduate with decent grades. I’m on a scholarship, boys. I can’t risk that, remember?”
“Right,” Yeonjun whispered.
“Boys,” Yoongi parroted, getting a smile out of you.
Smoothing your hands over your sweatpants, you said, “Tori can do it. She’s got it.”
She’s had it since the start, the better fit for the gig, the shoes to fill, the drive for success, she’s always had it. Dumbfounded, really, how your name was written instead.
Yoongi shuffled around. “But…”
You spun around. “No buts!”
“I’m just saying,” he said, speaking with his hands, “How they went about it…”
“Thank you,” your father spoke up.
Whipping your head back and forth between them, you willed the calming of your blood pressure, but it didn’t work.
Yoongi asked, “Why did they wait so long?”
Yeonjun asked, “Why did they let you feel these things?”
“Exactly,” his brother agreed with him, “If they were worried about you, or their organization, or whatever the shit it’s called… I would’ve said something sooner.”
Yeonjun started, “Makes me think about…”
“No,” you whispered.
“Last year,” Yoongi finished.
“Yep,” Yeonjun nodded.
Pressing your lips together, you sucked in a breath. Tightening your arms around yourself, you shook your head. “It’s not like last year. Tori is my best friend. She wouldn’t hurt me.”
Yeonjun tapped his fingers on the wheel. “You’re a pistol, Aura, but you let people get in your head easily. Their voice turns into your voice, and suddenly that’s the truth.”
You sunk further down in the seat, your voice tiny. “Tori wouldn’t hurt me.”
Yeonjun sighed. “It’s man eats man in the real world.”
Yoongi bobbed his head. “Especially where you’re at.”
Yeonjun clicked his tongue. “People do things for their own benefit.”
“People can get selfish.”
“You’ve got big things on the line, Aura,” your father looked over at you cowering in your seat.
Yoongi hummed. “Imagine what being president gets you…”
Sitting up, you turned to face them for the last time. Yeonjun’s baby blue hoodie, Yoongi draped in black. “Tori wouldn’t hurt me. She cares about me.”
Yeonjun nodded, his brows twisting with concern as he reached out to cradle your shoulder. “...We know.”
“We also know how people like her work,” Yoongi muttered.
The truck turned onto a road not long before it pulled up to the curb in front of ITZ. The two story home that once filled you with hope and dreams, excitement and adrenaline, now made you sick. Getting out meant leaving your dad. And he’s not okay. And he’s on new medication. And he’s hanging around old friends. And he’s keeping things from you. And he’s not okay, but he’s lying to you about it.
Yoongi’s hand grabbed your shoulder, his brown eyes soft, bringing comfort. “Just be careful.”
“I’m fine,” you whispered, shifting your gaze over to Yeonjun who gave you the smallest smile, “Thanks for bringing me back.”
“Thanks for the surprise,” he whispered as he glanced over your shoulder out the truck window. He curled his brow and leaned forward. “Who is that?”
Turning, a sense of normality struck you. “Kaz,” you sighed, attempting a real smile. She wandered down the porch in ripped jeans and an ITZ crew neck. “Kazuha. New recruit. She’s cool.”
“Where she from?” he asked.
“Uh,” you giggled, “‘Mano.”
Yeonjun nodded ever so slightly, watching Kaz now watch him. “Oh…”
“Why?”
He studied the freshmen for a few seconds longer before he dropped his hands and sat backward, relaxing his sharp features. “They all look the same there, I guess.”
Huffing a laugh, shaking your head, you pushed the heavy door open and slipped out onto the concrete. “Okay… I’ll call you later.”
“Surprise me again,” he shouted as you slammed the door shut, shooting him a thumbs up and a smile as Yoongi climbed over him into the passenger seat.
They watched you hurry away, all the way to Kaz who stopped at the end of the walkway by the house, typing furiously at her phone. Her hair was pulled up in two little buns on top of her head, she looked adorable.
“Hey Kaz,” your tone matched one you’d used with her before, one equating a leader, but also a friend, “I’m sorry about yesterday.”
Pulling her phone into her pocket quickly, she flicked tiny pieces of bangs from her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. The smile she wore, one you couldn’t read. “You didn’t tell me Yunho had a psycho side.”
“Oh my god,” you muttered between a stifled laugh. Brushing your hands over your cheeks, you shook your head. “He doesn’t, he just has big feelings, yanno.”
“For you, right?” she asked with a cock of her head.
“I- Huh?”
“I mean,” she flickered her eyes around and clenched her jaw, “Obviously, if that’s why he popped off like that. Us girls didn’t even know what he meant… A video?”
Great.
“It’s… It’s nothing,” you stuttered, brushing the matter away with a flick of your hand.
She raised a brow, shifting her weight to her left foot. “You sure about that?”
“Yeah,” you sighed, rolling your eyes. Forcing out another laugh, shoving down the utter fear coursing through your veins, you said, “It’s nothing.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You haven’t seen the Board messages, have you?”
“Um, no,” you mumbled, scrambling for your cell phone, swiping it open. “I was at the doctors with my dad yesterday, I put it on do not disturb…”
Closing out apps, opening the one labeled Board, you tapped onto a few pages, clearing notifications from a typically quiet app, and then you tapped on some more, and more, and more…
Rumors, about Yunho, about a change in presidency, about you leaving…
Gulping, you opened a new message and posted it directly to the front page.
[Aurora C.] - I’m here. I had a family emergency.
Wonderful. Great. Great and wonderful. Add it to the list of things to worry about that grew a plethora of inches in the last two days.
“Emergency?” Kaz asked, peeking at her screen. “Is everything okay?”
“Sort of,” you breathed, sliding your phone into the pocket of your sweats. Gesturing toward the house, she followed beside you, walking in time. “My dad had a heart attack in July. Kinda… massive. He’s like, a miracle they say, but every doctor's appointment I hold my breath.”
She scuffed her shoes along the pavement as she watched you. “I’m so sorry.”
Shrugging, you said, “It’s okay,” because that’s the only way you know how to answer that after hearing it so many times.
“He’ll be around for parents weekend?” she asked, searching your eyes for an answer.
Her hope made you smile. “Yeah, finally,” you said, stepping up onto the porch with her, “Typical Junie, showing up at the last possible one.”
She paused at the door, squinting, and asked, “Was he the fox in the driver's seat?”
“Ew,” you squeezed your eyes shut and laughed, “Yes, don’t ever say that again.”
Giggling, Kaz slapped her hand over her mouth and gasped. “It’s just, I understand your mom.”
Reaching for the doorknob, her words stopped you in your tracks. Dead cold. Looking at her, hand mid air, you watched in real time as she clearly didn’t clock what she said. “Huh?”
“Your dad,” she giggled again, throwing a hand toward the truck that no longer sat at the curb, “He’s hot, I understand why she would have you.”
Your cheeks warmed. “Oh… That’s…”
The forest green door pulled open, revealing Tori at the threshold. “He is hot,” she said, her gaze draping over Kaz before it greeted you in uncertainty. “But only I can say that. Ror? Join me?”
Straight leg jeans hugged her curves. The satin edges of the white Chanel tank top she wore brushed her waist. Eyeing her up and down as you followed her through the house, not even giving Kazuha a proper goodbye. Tori’s eyes latched to yours and it was game over. A fire lived within them, much like yesterday when she’d caught you and Yunho out on the porch just the same.
“Sorry for going MIA,” you said covertly, brushing by girls hurrying about the halls. “Wooyoung took me to my dads appointment.”
She led you to the meeting room. Standing in the doorway, you stopped and she allowed you in first, closing the door behind her. “I don’t have long, I have a class in a half hour.”
You started for the desk, then side stepped and aimed for the mini sofa in front of it, plopping down with a sigh. “Oh, okay, sure, what’s-”
“Please tell me you know,” she muttered, sitting behind the desk, pulling herself into her rightful position. Elbows on the wood, hands folded, chin resting on the backs of her fingers. Her hair was curled, and her lashes were fresh. She looked pretty, and you wanted to tell her, but now was not the time.
Tell me you know.
Scrunching your nose, you let your eyes close for a second. “Yes,” you whispered. “I know. This… video, I know. I don’t even know what’s-”
“We traced it back to Soul.”
“Aha!” your cackle bounced off the walls. Lurching forward, stomping your feet on the ground, you shot her a most crazed look. “You what?”
“I’m sorry,” she didn’t find it the least bit funny. This wasn’t a joke. This was real to her. Something that should be real for you. “Everyone says Soul did it.”
Rolling your eyes, you held up air quotes, “‘Everyone says’, that’s no confirmation.”
She didn’t move. A statue. “Even the girls I met with about it, everyone says the same thing.”
“You met with… What?” She didn’t give you an answer. “Impossible. Nope.”
She finally budged, her hands pressed into the desk. “Ror, we know who he associates with.”
“Yeah, it should be us.”
Something of a groan left her. “Seonghwa isn’t tolerating it any longer.”
“What do you mean?”
She nodded, her glare fierce. “You know what I mean.”
In the three hours you’ve been awake your nervous system has never experienced such up and down. “No. No, don’t, please, he wouldn’t.”
And if you were still the president, Soul wouldn’t be facing expulsion.
Tori tilted her chin. “We talked about them all going, but, all other hands are clean.”
“Oh, sure,” you laughed, bobbing your head, sharpening your glare, “We gonna forget this summer, or…?” If looks could kill, you’d be dead on sight. “Let me talk to him first. Please.”
She dropped her eyes to the desk and sighed. Somehow, whatever piece inside of her that didn’t get instantly warped into presidential mode let you have it. “You have until tomorrow,” she said, then stood to leave.
Twisting on the sofa, you tested her. “Or, what?”
She turned on her toes. “Or he’s gone,” she whispered, heading toward the door once more.
Jumping to your feet, you shouted, “Tori!”
“What?” she spat, her curls wrapping around her shoulder with how fast she’d turned her head. “I need to go.”
Her tone, venomous.
“Nothing,” you sighed. “Have a good class.”
She left you with a huff and a close of the glass doors.
Tori wouldn’t hurt me.
Sitting back down on the sofa, you pulled out your phone and took it off of do not disturb, opening your messages and the few notifications there. There was one missed call waiting for you, but no voicemail.
{three men and a baby}
[you]: it was soul?
[kee]: what was
[wooyo <3]: No way…?
[tae bae]: impossible.
[you]: i said the same thing.
[tae bae]: who is saying that?
[kee]: what did he do
[you]: tori told me, we just had a weird meeting.
[wooyo <3]: Oh?
[you]: i have until tomorrow to talk to him about this or they’re kicking him out.
[wooyo <3]: Oh, wonderful.
[tae bae]: what the hell???
[kee]: oh the video thing!?
[tae bae]: good job babe
[kee]: thanks <333
[you]: i’m gonna hunt him down after class tonight.
[tae bae]: i do know there’s an atz party tonight…
[you]: of course there is.
[wooyo <3]: You gonna be in attendance, Ro?
[you]: yes. hell yes. and i’m gonna get every motherfucker there to speak.
september 22nd ~ monday ~ 9:17 pm
Two classes, one shitty lunch, and three phone calls with your dad got you through the rest of your day. Shoving the homework aside, the supposed essay you had to throw together in a month, you didn’t have half the brain to focus on it anyway, the idea of this party suffocated you. Hallways full of people, half you won’t even know, Soul wandering about, probably actively avoiding you, everyone beneath that roof knowing you had a video circulating somehow, and now Tori, getting ready at her vanity.
Deciding to come with you last minute, as though nothing had gone down between the two of you this morning, or yesterday, she had draped her arms around your shoulders when you arrived back at the house after your last class and opted in.
Slipping a baggy tank over a lacey bra, letting the frillies peek out, you turned to her. She brushed shimmer over her eyelids, her cheeks rosy and bronzed, her lips perky and glossed. Dragging your fingers beneath your makeupless eyes, you tousled your hair and admired her perfect waves.
“This time last year we had to sneak out our window,” she mumbled with a small laugh, swapping the shimmer shadow for liner.
“Don’t remind me,” you said with a smile. “I pray I never have to shimmy down the side of this house ever again.” Taking a few steps across the room, you jumped up to sit down on the edge of her bed and watched her draw one swift black line across her lid. “Any of the girls know yet? Officially? That we switched?”
Capping her liner, she blinked a few times and pursed her lips at herself in the mirror. “Not yet. You and I have paperwork to do and then we can have a meeting and tell everyone together.” She turned her chin, her eyes meeting yours. “That okay?”
“That’s fine,” you whispered, shoving your hands between your bare knees exposed by the barely there length of your mini skirt. “Can we tell Yuna together first?”
“Of course,” she nodded, “Let’s do it tonight.”
“Cool,” you breathed, “Thanks.”
Muffled noise from the hall leaked through the cracks in your shared bedroom door. Tori’s lips perked up in a smile. “Why’d we stop getting so excited for these things? You hear them out there?”
Underclassmen’s feet pounding on the floor, doors swinging open and shut, yelps for assistance with hair, or makeup, or an outfit. You and Tori used to rotate through Yuna’s closet, and she had made her way through both of yours. Next door, Ryujin and Isla’s floor, the place to be if you wanted Isla to touch up your face, to add to your hair.
Drawing your eyes around your room, your half disheveled, Tori’s half equally as messy, at least one thing hadn’t changed. “We know what to expect now, I guess,” you muttered.
“No boy in that house can surprise us anymore,” she said, tapping her long white nails on the lid of her shimmer.
“No they can’t,” you whispered, giving her a look. Both of your brows straightened as a few seconds of silence passed before you broke out into giggles. “It’d be nice to have just one though, right?”
Tossing her hair backward, she groaned between laughs and shook her head. “Who knows. Maybe the ATZ curse is done with.”
“ATZ curse?”
“Yeah,” she said matter-of-factly, standing up from her chair with the shimmer and shadow brush in her hand. “The ATZ curse,” she repeated, stepping in front of you, wedging her waist between your knees she parted herself. Blinking up at her, she furrowed her brows and stuck a finger beneath your chin, lifting it higher. “Evil boys, secret plots,” her voice turned into a mumble. She took the lid off her shimmer and dipped her brush in, delicately touching the tip to your eyelid. Shimmer dust sprinkled onto your cheek as she fanned it over your eyes. “Sure, they’re assholes, but it no longer feels malevolent.”
“Malevolent,” you whispered, eyes flickering to her pursed, focused lips.
She looked into your eyes and shrugged. “Evil,” she said, then focused back on glittering you.
“You think so?”
“I know so,” her voice quiet in focus, she dipped the brush in the shadow and finished your other eye, “When I tell you that Seonghwa isn’t tolerating it anymore, he’s not. He never did from the start. That’s why Hongjoong is in his back pocket, constantly.”
“Why?”
She twisted the lid on the shimmer and perked a brow. “Evil,” she shrugged again.
Tap, tap, tap.
Jumping a mile, you and Tori both, you ripped your gazes off of one another and whirled toward the window beside your bed.
“What the actual fuck,” she mumbled as you reached up to gently push her away.
Smile growing, almost tripping over jeans crumpled up on the floor, you leapt onto your bed and threw open the locks on the window. Curling your fingers under it, you yanked it up with one solid creak. You would’ve launched yourself out of it, but his arms came inside instead, catching you, pulling you into him. His heart pounded, much like yours, and his hands held you tight.
“It’s been a day guys,” Tori groaned, plopping down in front of her vanity to layer on more lip gloss.
Yunho pulled away from you, taking one hand to your cheek, his eyes fluttered about your face. “One day too long,” he said softly, and dipped his chin to catch your lips in a kiss.
Sliding your arms around his neck, tangling your fingers in the shaggy hair that grew in at the nape of his neck, you melted into his arms completely. An instant puddle. He had the power and full control to pull you onto the roof, steal you off of it and run away with you for all you cared. The push of his lips, the gentle sweep and teasing of his tongue on yours…
After twenty four hours of cold, he ignited a spark.
His body against yours, the grip of his hands, your fingers knitting in his hair, god, you could stay here all night… Pulling him through the window, soft giggles as he fumbled his way in, trying to not land on top of you, though that wouldn’t be the worst thing…
“Enough!” Tori declared, sitting backward in her beige rolling chair, tossing her lip gloss to the vanity.
Parting from him with a smack, his arm kept you pulled into his side. “Wanted us together so bad, now that you got it you’re complaining?”
His olive skin, his chronically tired brown eyes, the gentle curve of his nose, the pink of his lips, the curl at the ends of his grown out hair. The black t-shirt he wore, the denim hanging off his long legs, the silver chain he started to wear again hanging around his neck. His scent, his energy, his magnetic pull like you were but a moon sucked into his orbit…
Tori’s brows skyrocketed. “You’re together?”
The orbit spat you back out.
Whipping your wide eyes toward her, you laughed aloud. “Hang on,” you sneered, pointing at her, then at Yunho, poking the tip of your finger into the squish of his cheek. “Not together, you’re funny.”
Looking down at you, his smile softened. “Not together,” he said with certainty, then shot a look at Tori, “She needs time.”
Your best friend nodded slowly, flipping her brows over. “Sure, sure,” she said, then muttered, “She needs a little more than that.”
“Hey,” you whined, but the look she gave you shut you up.
Moving to her feet, she adjusted her dress and started for the door. “I’ll be downstairs,” she said, then glanced at you over her shoulder, “No longer than five minutes, please?”
Yunho scoffed. “Tell me what you really think of me!”
“Now that’s something I don’t do,” she winked, and disappeared, closing the door behind her.
Within seconds his hands were on your face, your lips were locked, and he had you pressed to your mattress. Suffocating kisses, a mess of slow, then quick, hard, gentle, parted lips and heavy breaths.
“Yunho,” you whispered, his lips trailing down your neck, beneath your jaw, teeth nipping at your skin. Pressing your hands to his chest, kneading his shirt in your fists, the strength to push him away dissipated when his tongue painted a stripe up your neck and his lips worked a little purple spot beneath your ear. If he didn’t stop, you were going to have a very pissed off Tori. “Yunho, Yo…”
He pulled away and smiled down at you. “What?”
Even this view, him on top of you, glistening lips, messy hair over his eyes, the caramel honey famished, ready to eat you alive- How you got him off of you, you’ll never know.
“We need to go,” you said, and he pressed a kiss to your cheek.
“I don’t wanna go,” he mumbled.
Smiling at him, you whispered, “Your room is over there.”
Any and all emotion wiped from his face. “You’re serious?”
Popping your brows, you whispered, “Maybe.”
He sprung up off the bed, moving faster than you’ve ever seen him move. Holding out a hand for you to take, you grabbed onto him and let him yank you off your mattress. Wrapping his hands around your neck, he nudged your chin up with his thumbs and parted his lips to give you a most perfect kiss, warping the part of your brain that liked to shut off.
There was something in there yelling at you. An emergency switch, the flood lights, some sort of generator back up power that finally allowed you to push him away though you were buzzing.
“Go,” you sighed, fixing your hair, smoothing your skirt, “I’ll see you there.”
He glanced behind him at the open window and laughed. “I have to go back down that way? I can’t use the front door?”
“Yes,” you said, “Go. You can use the front door when you don’t yell at our girls in coffee shops.”
Rolling his head backward, he groaned, “I’m too old for roofs now.”
Screwing your brows, you shook your head. “Then why the fuck did you climb up in the first place.”
Climbing over your bed, your pillows, he turned on the roof and leaned in, his eyes combing over you. “Because,” he huffed, reaching a hand in to pretend to squeeze you, “This.”
“You’re insufferable,” you smirked.
He winked. “You’re delicious.”
Managing the window shut, he fled from the roof.
And, you were alone.
For the first time in a long time, you stood in a forced silence brought on by no other factor than you stood here alone.
By yourself.
No Yunho to sway your feelings.
No Wooyoung to hold them in his hand and protect them.
No Tori to tell you what to do, to show you how to act.
You’re a pistol, Aura, but you let people get in your head easily. Their voice turns into your voice, and suddenly that’s the truth.
Homework waited for you. Unfinished assignments shoved into the bag that hung on the bedpost. Those decent grades you told Yoongi and Yeonjun you wanted to graduate with, a pipe dream at this rate.
You turned around slowly.
Tori took your seat. Your position. She’s the president, by your choice, you now have endless time to pull yourself together, to improve your GPA, to stay enrolled in a school you want to graduate from.
And, then do what?
Tori has had an internship since this summer. Mingi, too. Yunho, with what you know, is currently searching for one.
Where were you even supposed to start?
What did you even want to do?
You turned around slowly, looking into the closet that had never once been organized.
What did you know about the working world?
Kids grow up dreaming of what they want to do with their lives once they're of age, most begin before they’re legally able to do so. Typical shit, an astronaut, a singer, a fashion designer, a multi millionaire business owner, whatever the fuck kids dreamt of.
You and Keeho grew up dreaming of one day going out to dinner that was somewhere other than a neighbor's house. You dreamt of consistent warm showers and for your dad’s girlfriends to leave and never come back. Of never having to drive back to the police station to pick Yeonjun up. Of never having to ask Yoongi for twenty bucks ever again.
When Yeonjun disappeared to Contramano, you never knew what he got into, what he actually did, and as much as you didn’t need to know, a part of you always wondered what it was. How he was able to scramble enough money together in one weekend to ration throughout the rest of the month until he’d vanish all over again.
He didn’t work. Not officially. Not legally either.
Your throat tightened.
You turned slowly, facing Tori’s bed.
They would all graduate. They would all graduate with honors, flying colors, big dreams and the drive to chase them. They all knew what they wanted, they had goals to work toward, a future to create. A future Tori spent the summer worried about. A summer spent weeping over change that she now charged headfirst for, ready to make any at the drop of a hat without much discussion.
The school year began and everyone screwed their heads on straight and pulled their shit together.
And, you were… still Aurora.
Messy, unorganized, the girl with sloppy behavior, the one who sleeps with anything, nothing but a jester for the court to fuck with, entertainment.
Because who keeps coming back?
Who can’t leave any of them alone?
Who’s going to slither over there right now, guzzle down drinks to forget these thoughts ever happened, shove the feelings down within her until she finds a way to cope with the weight of them…
september 22nd ~ monday ~ 11:54 pm
“Open up, I’m coming back!”
Pushing off of Yunho, purposefully bumping him with your ass, he tumbled back with a tipsy laugh. Dropping to your knees in the middle of the dance floor, ATZ’s living room, San, in his slutty leather outfit, stood over you and pressed the tip of the bottle of vodka to your lips, pouring slowly at first, then all too much.
Snapping your jaw shut before you showed any signs of weakness, you gulped down what you held in your mouth, coughed once, and jumped onto your feet as a few bystanders cheered.
San grabbed the strap of your tank, pulling you into him. His slurred words and drunken eyes met yours, just as dazed. “Don’t tell me you’re his now, what’d I miss.”
Wrapping your arms around his wide shoulders, you pouted. “Will it make you sad if I am?”
“Uh, yeah,” he said, “I finally got you all to myself, and he swoops back in?”
The look on his face, one that would’ve broken your heart if you hadn’t already lost count of how much you’ve had to drink. Brushing his soft black hair from his forehead, you cooed and squished his cheek. “Oh Sannie,” you breathed, flickering your eyes to his lips to add fuel to the fire, “Thinking you had me all to yourself is your first mistake.”
Rising to your tiptoes you planted a kiss to his cheek, reached a hand back to smack him on the ass, and spun away to Yunho leaning against the couch waiting for you.
San pressed the bottle to his lips, some sort of envy warping over his features as he watched Yunho take you by the hand to spin you around and press you to his front. His hands slid down your body, he didn’t take his time, he palmed your hips and gripped your skirt in his fingers, like no time had passed, like this summer didn’t happen, like he didn’t have another female at his disposal while you frequented his bed. Yunho tucked your hair behind your ear, pressing his lips to it, whispering something in your ear San couldn’t and would never be able to make out over the fuckass noise in this house.
He was never a priority to you, in the nicest possible way, and you figured it worked both ways with San. Platonic sex, platonic hook ups. Really, really good platonic sex and hook ups. The first time you had him you kicked yourself for not caving sooner, but it didn’t matter now, and it wouldn’t matter ever. San wasn’t on the roster.
There was no roster.
Spinning in Yunho’s arms you wrapped them around his neck, meeting his lips with a kiss that almost missed and brushed his cheek. “Let’s go now.”
He laughed, pointing his gaze behind you. At San. “What’d he say to you?”
“San?”
“Yeah,” he said, eyes flashing with curiosity.
“Why?”
“I dunno,” he mumbled. “You were pushing me away before, then he touches you and you want to go upstairs?”
Leaning backward, hands using his shoulders for leverage, you twisted your brows. “Excuse me?”
He wiped his expression fast, jaw falling open. “No, no no, no, I didn’t mean it like that, I’m just- Ugh.”
You stepped back, letting go of him entirely. “Say what you mean,” you said, tossing your hands out, “Say it to my face.”
Even Yunho thought it.
“Rory, I didn’t mean it like that, I swear, it’s just, it’s San,” his eyes were wide, his words were jumbled, his shoulders tensed. “Any guy would feel insecure, he’s… him.”
Propping your hands on your hips, you smiled and titled your head. “He is Him, isn’t he,” you smized. He opened his mouth, but you didn’t stay to hear it. Alcohol fueled your feet. Spinning on your toes, meeting San’s growing smirk with one of your own, you sauntered toward him, looped your elbows together, and pulled him out of the living room toward the kitchen.
San held onto you tight, his bare skin sticking to your own in the heat of the house. Poking his tongue between his lips, he snickered, “They always come back.”
You shoved your elbow into his side eliciting a yelp from his pretty lips. “Shut up and make me a real drink.”
Taking his lip between his teeth, he scrunched his nose. “Yes ma’am.”
The wood of the house, the stairs, the walls, accented with rosewood, amplified the darkness the dim lighting attempted to stave off, unfortunately amplifying the sexy in air no matter which hallway, which room one ended up in. It’s been this way since the beginning. The depth of the darkness, luring you in, piquing curiosity.
Everyone fell victim to it.
And though you considered yourself somewhat of an ATZ survivor, the eyes that followed you and San as you passed by told you very much so that you were not. You were far from it. You haven’t survived anything, the trials persisted.
Boys of all grades, passing by in groups of three, groups of four, dressed in what you’d consider preppy jackass, they all looked at you the same, like an object, where San became their hero. He held his chin high like one, even if he didn’t mean to, you knew San always walked the halls this way, cocky, sure of himself, hunting down his next conquest.
Brushing by a huddle of your girls, new sophomores whose names you cannot remember for the life of you, you looked up at him and narrowed your eyes. “Who’s your roommate this year?” you asked, stumbling over your feet.
“RorSan! I love your work,” a boy shouted, walking by with his friends, all three of them with curly mops on top of their heads.
Sucking air through his teeth, San held you up and leaned in. Your noses almost touched. “Yeah, we haven’t talked about that yet, have we?”
Giving your head a shake, laughing at him, you shouted, “Our sextape!? No, we haven’t!”
“Okay, shut up,” he sneered from behind his teeth. Tightening his grip around you he pulled you into the kitchen where stragglers stumbled out with fresh drinks in red cups, in cans, in bottles. Your eyes followed a boy carrying two.
“Whadda you have?” you asked him, slipping out of San’s hold. The boy paused. He faced you, and his mouth popped open, his cheeks growing pink. Giggling, you reached for one of the cups. “Whatcha drinkin’?”
He blinked a billion times, his head shaking a bit in time with how he stammered, “Uh, um, it’s- it’s-”
“Aurora,” San said from behind the island counter. Slapping a smile on your face, you let the boy go and turned to San who filled up two cups himself. “Don’t talk to any of them tonight.”
Walking on your tiptoes, fidgeting with your skirt that rode up your thighs, you wobbled behind him and wedged yourself under his beefy arm. “Look at you giving me rules.”
He was plastered, he filled both cups with too much vodka, heavy pours for both of you. “They all watched me fuck you, Ror. Stay away from them.”
Oop.
Interesting.
Him saying that shouldn’t make you feel this way.
Warm.
Turning under his arm, you leaned against the counter and let his arm stay wrapped around your hip. A smile toyed with your lips, and though you tried to hide it, he stepped in front of you and gave you a tiny taste of Bedroom San.
“Get that fucking look off your fucking face,” his nose nudged yours, “That’s not a good thing. I’m pissed the fuck off.”
Heart skipping a beat, you pressed your thighs together and sucked in a shaky breath. “You are,” you whispered, half asking, half turned on.
He grit his teeth and sighed. “I am, ‘cause I know what fucked up shit comes of this. Hwa’s been on it since I heard of it, he said something about Soul, but I don’t…”
Sliding your hands up his bare chest, his sturdy, rock hard, defined chest, you looped your arms around his neck. “You don’t what?”
He swallowed, hard. Tipping his chin down, he looked into your eyes, softened his brow, and said, “I room with Intak this year.”
Clenching your jaw, you cracked a laugh. “Course you do. Who the fuck else would do something like this?”
San shook his head, his eyes flickering to your lips. “But, Soul had it. It was sent… from Soul. They never found anything on Intak.”
“What I’m not getting,” you began, rocking forward, your foreheads bumping together, “Is how we were recorded in the first place.”
Pressing his lips together, he poked out his tongue and tilted his chin, like he was ready to lock it in place with yours. “There’s a whole PC set up in there on his side. He streams, shit like that. There’s cameras.”
“That’s fucking it!” Grabbing onto his chiseled cheeks, you pulled him into you and kissed him, letting him bend you backward over the counter. Parting with a breath, you tapped his smooth skin twice and beamed, “You’re so smart, Sannie, good job.”
You pushed him off of you, sending him backward a step with hooded eyes and a strain in his tight leather pants. Grabbing one of the drinks he made, you took a sip and cringed. The San Special. Without a care if he followed you or not, you started for the hallway, but paused the moment you spotted Yunho.
“Hi,” you sighed with a smile, trying to walk past him.
He stepped in front of you, his glare bouncing off of San, back to you. “Where are you going?”
“San’s room,” you said, walking around him.
He stepped in front of you again. “I don’t think so.”
Craning your neck back to look up at him and his worried brows, you laughed once it all clicked into place. Placing a hand on his chest, you said, “Oh, you think… No, we have to-”
“You have to stay right here,” he said, his tone growing more stern the more he spoke. “I made you upset, I get that, but don’t ruin what we started ‘cause of it.”
Jutting your chin back, your smile faded.
“Don’t look at me like that, I just watched you kiss him, Rory,” he tossed a hand toward where San stood perched on a counter now talking with a few boys. “Did you kiss Wooyoung while you were with him, too? Is that what we’re doing?”
Oh.
Oh, no.
Taking a sip of your drink, you licked the liquor off your lips, glanced away from him, and rolled your eyes.
“What do you want, Aurora?” he asked. Someone shouted in the hallway, a girl, it sounded like Tori, she laughed after she shouted. Looking back up at him and his shaking head, he asked again, “What do you want?”
“To do something other than this,” you muttered, and you pushed by him, leaving him in the kitchen. Following the sound of Tori’s voice, you gulped down your drink and met her at the end of the hallway by the front door on the first landing of the steps. She stood with Yuna and Mingi, her arm around the waist of her boyfriend who held her around the shoulders. “Friends,” you said, sneaking up behind Yuna.
“Oh!” She yelped, then grabbed onto you once she realized who you were. Pulling you in, she squeezed you, her cheek smushing against yours. “Ror! I have been so worried about you, I’m so pissed our schedules are so opposite this semester.”
“Not much to worry about,” you shrugged, wiggling away from her, “It’s just me.”
“Are you kidding?” She kept one hand on your shoulder, her manicured nails digging into your bare skin. “This whole… situation going on? Are you okay?”
“Situation?” you asked, rocking on your toes.
She leaned toward you. “That video,” she whispered, and you giggled.
“Oh, yeah, that.”
Tori, concern written all over her face, she gestured to the cup you squeezed the life out of. “How many have you had tonight?”
Glancing at it, then at Yuna, then at Mingi, then at Tori, all three of them giving you the same face, you laughed and held it up. “I don’t remember.”
She took her arm from Mingi and gave him a raise of her brows. “We’re gonna go,” she said not quietly.
Jumping backward, losing Yuna’s grip, you waved a hand in front of you and shook your head. “No, no no, no!”
She sighed, giving her boyfriend a hug while he kissed her on the cheek. “Yes, we’re leaving.”
Bad. Very bad.
You wanted to stay. You had to stay. You needed to find Soul. You needed to find proof that it wasn’t Soul.
Catching Yuna by the wrist, you pulled her toward you and whispered, “I gave Tori president, she’s the president now.”
Her eyes went freakishly wide. “What?!”
Jackpot!
Yuna launched herself towards the couple, her mouth moving a mile a minute with questions, shouts of disbelief, some congratulations, but mostly questions, and you were free to vanish into the living room where swarms of people camouflaged you.
Dancing through them, recognizing a couple of your sisters, you spun around with them, one arm over your head as you downed the rest of the San Special. You thought about what Tori said, how neither of you got excited for these parties anymore. Twirling with the girls, shouting lyrics to songs years old, the room sideways and your balance nonexistent, you don’t know why you agreed with her.
You were having a great time.
These girls weren’t looking at you funny, the boys wanted your attention, dancing bodies passed by you, some taking you by the hand to spin you around, phones were held up, selfies were taken, flashes went off everywhere. You lost track of who you danced with, who you danced on, who pulled you into another group, who poured you another drink in the middle of the crowd. Arms held you by the waist, by the shoulders, you couldn’t see faces, you could barely hear voices, letting yourself get pushed around the room, nothing but laughter and singing ringing in your ears.
A pair of strong hands grabbed you at the hips, pulling you out of a group you were just catapulted into. They did what all of your so-called saviors did to you nowadays, they picked you up, they took away your feet privileges and moved you out of the chaos.
“Yunho, I swear-”
They put you down at the bottom of the stairs. “Yunho?”
You spun around and scoffed, falling straight into a fit of laughter. “What the fuck?”
“What the fuck indeed,” Seonghwa said, the slight widen of his eyes striking you from within. Long black hair swayed at his shoulders, at the black satin of the button down shirt he wore. “You think I don’t know what's going on tonight?”
Bending at the waist a smidge, locking your knees, you squinted and smiled up at him. “What?”
He huffed, glancing away before glaring down at you. But a smile ghosted his lips. “You, wreaking havoc in my house.”
“Wreaking havoc,” you snickered, crossing your arms over your tank that now laid a bit sideways, “Even if I knew what that meant, I assure you, Hwa, that no havocs are wreaking.”
He blinked once, then nodded up the stairs. “Go.”
Warm.
“Fun,” you whispered, biting down on your lip.
Reaching for him, he grabbed you by the wrist, pulling it down by his side. He curled his lip, “I said go.”
Tilting your head, you smized, “No.”
His sigh became a groan, then something of a growl. “Fucking brat,” he said through his teeth. He yanked you behind him, taking you up the stairs without a care if you were nearly tripping over your feet or the wood. “Not surprised you ended up back with him,” he said on the way up. On the second floor he didn’t stop, he stormed toward a bedroom and hurled you into it, letting you go. “How he handles you…”
Using the bed for leverage, catching yourself on one of the bed posts, you laughed breathlessly and turned to him, slowly, screwing your brows up. “You handled me once.”
“Once,” his jaw snapped. “Sit down,” he said, nodding toward the bed.
Clasping your hands over your front, you teased, “Yes, daddy,” and listened to him.
Seonghwa, a step out the door, turned in warning, his eyes pointed. “Don’t.”
“Why not? You’re the only guy I know that likes that,” you said, standing up, stepping toward him. With every scuff of your foot you had a song to sing to the siren himself. “I can say it again. It doesn’t scare me. It’s not weird. It’s sexy. Am I the only girl that likes it, too? Do you make H call you-”
“Sit. Down!”
Smoothing your hands over the door, over his, you pouted. “Gonna leave me here all by myself?”
A breath caught in his throat, his eyelashes fluttering for but a second. He shook his head, shook the feeling away. “Aurora, sit down. Stay here. Don’t come back downstairs, you’ll make more trouble for yourself. I’m going to get Yunho, I’ll bring him to you.”
You giggled. “It’s like DoorDash but for sex.”
Seonghwa released a breath, his eyes rolling for what felt like the umpteenth time. “Whatever. Don’t leave.”
Standing up straight, you saluted him and he finally let out a real laugh, shutting the door, shutting out the downstairs noise. Shutting out almost all noise, actually.
And, you were alone.
Not by your own choice.
By Seonghwa’s for some reason.
Wandering around Yunho’s room, you rocked back and forth on your feet and giggled to yourself. Not much had changed from last year to now, he still didn’t know how to clean his room. You giggled again. You were just as messy. Clothes from yesterday lived on his floor, his books were scattered, it looked like a project was laying out on the carpet waiting to be finalized.
Pulling open some of his drawers, peeking in at the folded clothes, you reached for a pile of shirts and pulled out one you recognized. A grey Nasara cut off he made himself, the N and the A cut in half on accident. He wore this that night at Wave, this summer, when he carried you out of the bar.
You sat on the beach that night. You sat in his lap on the beach. The way he looked at you, something you can’t explain, only something you were able to feel.
It hurt. It reached into your chest, grabbed onto your heart, and strangled the life out of it. How he could look at you like you were the only girl in the world when months before he had shattered your heart into a trillion pieces…
He wasn’t supposed to hurt you.
He was the one person who wasn’t ever supposed to make you doubt, make you worry, make you cry.
That’s how you knew you loved him, how you knew that this was what love felt like, because it hurt.
It hurt like a fucking bitch.
And now, to have him back, learning to trust him all over again, he stood in front of you and doubted you.
You turned around to study his bed and the nightstands on either side of it.
He brought her in here. She slept in his bed. They had sex in his bed. She stood in here, she did everything you did. She kissed him, she saw him naked, she touched him, she probably let him finish inside her.
Don’t go there.
“I’m gonna,” you muttered, throwing the shirt to the floor, storming over to the nightstands, pulling open every drawer until you found what you were looking for.
A strip of silver wrapped condoms in the top drawer.
“Motherfucker,” you spat, taking them out, throwing them onto his bed.
They were new. There was no way to know whether or not he wrapped it before they slept together. If these always lived in that top drawer though, it was news to you. He never brought them up. He never asked, and neither did you.
It wasn’t just on him, it was on you.
“Nope,” you said out loud, shaking your head, taking your hands to your cheeks to tap the thought away.
You spent that week alone, on your own, and whose fault was that? You could’ve called him. You could’ve told him. He deserves to know, kind of, doesn’t he? But, you lied. You decided to erase it from existence, warping reality, forcing everyone who knew into believing something else happened instead.
It wasn’t real. It didn’t happen.
At least there’s a chance Mina didn’t get to do that.
“Fucking bitch,” you mumbled, kicking one of his drawers halfway shut.
Time to leave.
Teetering toward the door, you pulled it open and popped your head out.
The coast was clear.
Giggling to yourself, you stepped into the hall and shut the door behind you quietly. Rubbing your eyes, adjusting to the dark, you smudged the glitter over your cheeks and wiped the rest on your skirt. No one was up here, and it didn’t sound like anyone was above you on the third floor either.
San’s room was up there.
That meant Intak’s room was up there. Intak’s room and his computers and his cameras and his spank bank of whoever the fuck else San takes up there.
You teetered to the other set of stairs.
Why wouldn’t he leak anyone else's video? Why yours? He’s had a personal agenda against you for god knows how long, and he decides to do this?
Each step was a chore, but you made it to the top, with only almost going over the railing twice. His room lived right at the top of the stairs to the left, and good news for you, it was unlocked.
Glancing behind you, at the silence, you smiled and slipped inside swiftly, closing the door behind you, leaning your back against it. You weren’t expecting a desk lamp to be on. Nor were you expecting two boys to be staring at you, startled.
“Oh good,” you sighed, stepping toward them. Their eyes dropped to your legs and drew up slowly from there. “You’re both here.”
Intak turned in his desk chair, his cropped black hair and tanned skin illuminated by the warmth of the lamp on the top shelf of his set up. “Aurora?”
You looked down at yourself. “Uh, yeah.” Directing your glare to the boy on the end of Intak’s bed, leaning over the frame to watch whatever it was they were doing on his PC, you didn’t bother to smile.
He didn’t know where to look. Your legs, your eyes, the lace of your bra, the glitter smeared across your face.
Warm.
You could hear them both gulp. You could almost hear them tremble.
“Hi,” Soul whispered.
“Talking to me?” you asked, tone all too nasty.
You watched him cringe. “Yes,” he whispered.
Taking yourself to the edge of Intak’s bed, you rested your hands on the duvet and leaned into Soul. His breath hitched.
You smiled. “It wasn’t you, was it?” His wide black eyes glistened in the lamp light. Shaking his head, fast, fried blonde hair splaying over his forehead, you nodded and reached out to caress his cheek. “S’okay. I knew it. You wouldn’t do that to me, would you?” He shook his head again and you giggled.
“If you knew that, then what are you doing here?” Intak asked.
Turning your chin, you eyed him as he chewed on the nail of his pinky, his gaze drawing down your body.
Warm.
Sighing, you stood up straight and looked at them both. “Hopefully one of you,” you shrugged, climbing onto Soul's lap. They both jumped, but Soul’s muscle memory clocked in and his hands wrapped around your waist, sliding down to the curve of your ass. Brushing your lips to his neck, arching against him, you felt him stiffen and let a breathy laugh fall from your lips. “I’ve been blue balled all night,” you whispered, pressing your lips to his cheek, taking your hands to his jaw, lifting it to look him in the eyes. Peering over at Intak, locked in on him, you parted your lips and laid them over Soul’s, the boy melting in your arms. His kisses haven’t changed. Rough. Too hungry. You didn’t care. “Help me,” you whispered to Intak before sinking into Soul entirely.
He hurried to his feet, his hands grabbing the hem of his shirt, unsure of what to do, or where to go. Grinding down on Soul’s lap, you reached backward and pulled him in by a handful of his tee. Lips locked with Soul, the boy's tongue already down your throat, you felt Intak press himself against your back, his tentative hands hovering over your hips.
Pulling away from Soul, the shiteating grin on his face made you laugh. You took Intak by both wrists and guided him, telling him without words where to touch you. Beneath you, Soul bucked his hips and gave you the friction you’ve been craving since Yunho climbed out your bedroom window. The sound that tumbled out of you had them answering with one of their own.
Taking a hand backward, you wrapped it around Intak and leaned your back to his chest. Swirling your hips in a circle over Soul’s lap, you tipped your chin up and beckoned Intak's lips closer with a single look. He wasted little time, and his hands gained the confidence you knew he possessed. His kisses, slower than Soul’s, worked like he knew he had to pace himself, like if he jumped in headfirst it’d be over before it started. His hands though, they were greedy. From your hips, to your thighs, to your waist, your ass, your tits– He didn’t stop.
Pulling away from his lips you sat forward and grabbed them both by the neck. Catching your breath, you eyed them both. “I don’t need all this,” you gasped, reaching for the hem of Intak’s shirt, telling him to take it off. You did the same to Soul, then pulled your skirt over your hips. “Someone just please make me fucking cum.”
“Fuck. You had months of this?” Intak asked Soul, voice shocked as much as he was breathless.
The smirk that grew on your boy's face filled you with pride. “Months.”
You slid your hands around his neck and pressed a soft kiss to his lips, whispering, “Show him, Soulie.”
Holding onto you, kicking Intak away, he flipped you over and hurried for the button on his jeans. “You’re serious.”
San likely wasn’t taking you to bed.
Yunho was yelling at you in the kitchen.
Seonghwa obviously cares too much about Hongjoong to involve himself, though he thought about it.
Blue balled didn’t even come close.
Wrapping your legs around his waist, you nipped at his lip, whispering, “Dead.” Lacing one hand in his hair you tugged at the roots and he groaned, kicking his jeans to the floor. “Fuck me.” Your other hand reached out for Intak, grabbing onto his arm. “Come here,” you breathed, pulling him on top of the bed beside you. Lips parted, his eyes were alight, best night of his life. “Kiss me?”
He moved on command without a word, tucking a hand behind your head, knitting his fingers in your hair. Even as Soul hooked a finger in your thong and pulled it aside, sinking himself into you agonizingly slow, Intak slipped his tongue along your teeth and drank up your gasp, humming his praise while his hands explored your body.
Soul snapped his hips twice, harsh, his length filling you up more than anyone else's, even San’s. Even Yunho’s. He turned your brain to mush in seconds, an intoxicated ecstasy roared through your body. He knew how to move, he spent months learning how to break you, it came as no surprise he could do it in less than a minute. Pushing down on your belly, angling his hips in a way that made your thighs shake, Intak couldn’t keep up his task, you couldn’t shut up.
“God. Fucking. Damn,” each thrust of his hips punctuated his words. “You think… You think you know… What it’s gonna be like… Right?” He spoke to Intak who could only watch you now, one of his hands toying with the lace of your bra, the other tightening around the sides of your neck.
“Right,” he sighed, dipping down to mark up your neck.
Soul groaned, then he whined, and you squeezed him tight. “Fuck. You think you know, you think you can imagine this shit… When I tell you, everything you think is wrong, believe me.”
He spoke about you like you weren’t even there. Writhing beneath him, tangling your fingers in Intak's hair, you reached the other up to lay it on Soul’s chest. “S-so good… Missed you…”
“Everyone else has to pull out the tricks right?” He smacked his teeth just as he shifted and pressed a thumb to your clit. You cried out for him, growing louder. Intak palmed himself in his jeans. Soul twisted his thumb and sped up the snap of his hips, black eyes locked on yours. “What’d I say?”
“Ev-every…” You gasped, back arching off the bed. Throwing your head backward, you couldn’t form words. It all came out in a mess of moans.
Soul smirked. “Everyone needs the tricks, Ror. Even San, huh?” Your eyes snapped open. “You’re filthy for him, you know that?” Pressing your elbows into the mattress, you sat up, but he wrapped his hand around your neck and pinned you back down. “Yeah,” he breathed, groaning in his chest, “I watched it.”
“You watched…”
“I did,” he whispered. “Felt good to know…” he started, twirling his thumb steady, but faster, eyes narrowed as you whined louder, and louder, and louder, and silence.
Your vision bled white. Your knees trapped him within you. Euphoria washed over you.
“…That I make you cum the fastest,” he finished, his grin triumphant. He planted his hands on the mattress, hovering over you. “Still want it inside you?”
Blurry. Everything. His voice. The room. His words though, warm. “Please,” you whispered. Intak pushed away with half a laugh, hiding his shock with a hand to his mouth.
Soul dropped down on top of you, pressing his teeth into your neck. “Slut.”
He came after three snaps of his hips, spilling into you with a groan. Barely letting him relish in his pleasure, you swallowed nothing but dry air and tucked your legs between you. Feet to chest, you pushed him off of you and moved onto your knees. Rubbing your eyes, glitter smearing on your fingers, on his bed sheets, you crawled up to Intak on his pillows and pinned him to the headboard.
“W-what are you… You wanna…”
You blinked at him. He was so cute. A pretty jumble of cheekbones, plump pink lips, and sexy eyes to top it all off. Out of them all, you thought for sure you’d have Intak first. Oh well.
Second is the best.
“Yeah, I wanna,” you deadpanned, straddling his waist. “Do you not wanna?” You furrowed your brows and threw a thumb over your shoulder. “I can leave.”
“No!” He sat forward, his anxious arms stringing around your waist. “Don’t,” he said. Soul’s soft laughter echoed in the air. “I just,” he whispered, glancing down between you, then back at his friend, then back at you, “I can’t… Do that as fast as he can.”
Pursing your lips, focused on nothing but boy in front of you, boy beneath you, you moved his hair from his forehead and leaned in to give him a soft kiss. His eyes fluttered shut. “Do you wanna cum?” you whispered, and he nodded slowly. You kissed him again. “Do you wanna fuck me?” He opened his eyes, dazed, and nodded. Nodding with him, you smiled and started for the button on his pants. “Then help me.”
A switch flipped. He latched his lips to yours and worked his pants off, pushing them to his knees. Soul appeared behind you, his hands sliding down your front over your shoulders and his lips sucking at your neck. Slipping Intak your tongue, you pushed his hands away and did the work for him, situating yourself above him. He didn’t listen. Grabbing your waist, he parted from your lips and pushed you down, wanting to watch the gasp, the face you made when he filled you.
He thrust his hips up and tipped his head back with a moan.
“Careful,” Soul warned, and Intak shook his head.
“You were right, you were right, you were right,” he mumbled. “I can’t, I’m gonna… I need… I…”
Soul’s laugh, music to your ears. “Look at him squirm,” he said quietly, taking a hand under your chin to hold you in place. “You haven’t moved and he’s gonna bust.”
You whined, trying to look up at him. “I wanna ride him.”
“You can’t, baby,” Soul whispered, “He’s done for.”
Intak gasped, his eyes squeezed shut. “Let her.”
Your lips perked up. “Let me.”
Soul sighed, then moved his arms underneath yours, setting you free. “Fine.”
“Yes,” you breathed, falling forward onto Intak’s chest. Snaking one hand around the base of his neck, you drug your lips over the shell of his ear and let him hear you. Holding onto you for sanity, he melted into the headboard, unmoving, a whining bitch. He panted, and twitched, not a brain cell left for his hands to use, all he could do was hold on.
You didn’t have much time.
“Why’d you do it?” you whispered to him, and he gulped.
“D-do what?” he asked, voice broken.
“The video,” you whispered, swirling your hips in a circle, “Why’d you do it? If you wanted it all you had to do was ask.”
“I-I-I didn’t,” he whimpered, bucking up into you.
“Liar.”
“I’m gonna cum,” he groaned.
You didn’t have the energy for games. Not anymore.
“Who did it?”
“I don’t know,” he whined.
“You’re serious?”
Digging his fingers into your hips, you met his eyes before he squeezed them shut. “Dead.”
He pushed up into you and finished.
Rolling off of him, leaving him to catch his breath, you didn’t give Soul an ounce of attention and moved off the bed. Situating your clothes, wobbling on your feet, feeling the ache in your hips already, you stared at the floor for a few seconds, then whispered, “Shit.” You took three steps toward the door. Then, you stopped. Turning around, you found Soul already looking at you.
He stood up and took one step closer to you. Tangling his fingers together, he gave you the slightest shake of his head. “It wasn’t us,” he said quietly. “I promise you. Don’t listen to them. I didn’t do it. We’re trying to figure out who did.”
Taking him in, the boy you gave so much to once upon a time, you nodded, accepting his answer.
Leaving the room, leaving the boys behind, in the quiet hallway you froze.
Cold.
You swallowed nothing, your mouth and throat utterly dry.
Looking down the staircase that spun, your stomach lurched, but you wouldn’t let that happen. Swallowing again, you grabbed onto the bannister and took a step. You took another and your knee almost gave out. Holding onto the railing, you were certain you’d leave finger prints behind.
You didn’t even know where you were going.
You didn’t even know who you were going to look for.
Yunho was right, you shouldn’t have gone to San’s room, but damn, he sucked right now.
Tori was right, you should’ve left when she told you so.
Seonghwa was right, you should’ve stayed put and sat down on the bed.
Your dad was right, can we go back to you and Wooyoung please?
It took you too long to get down the stairs, by the time you reached the bottom you could hear people leaving and feel tears streaming down your cheeks. You had no phone, you didn’t know what time it was, and you had no idea whether or not your friends were still in the building. You could wobble over to Yunho’s room, stay in there like you were supposed to, like you were ordered too before your mind pissed you off. He’d come up and maybe things would be okay, but he used to bring her in there.
Leaning against the wall you pressed your hands to your cheeks, sliding them over your eyes. The tears you felt grew into sobs. Quiet heaves of breath you wouldn’t let anyone hear. Sinking down onto the floor, your knees pulled into your chest, you cried in the corner of the wooden stairwell, the beautifully crafted architecture the only thing to partake in whatever the fuck was happening to you.
You couldn’t bother them. Your friends, how were you supposed to tell them any of this, tell them you didn’t know what you were doing, that you weren’t sure what you saw for yourself after you left the school, that you didn’t know if you even deserved anything after all of this, these four years of what?
“Only good for one thing,” you mumbled to yourself between sobs, sucking in harsh gasps of air. “Good for what?” You dropped your hands and laid your head back against the wall. “Good for what? He didn’t even want me.”
“I think I hear her.”
You clawed your hands in your hair, hanging your head over your lap. “He didn’t even want me, can’t even say good for one thing, he didn’t want me.”
“What’s she saying?”
“I dunno, she’s crying.”
“Shit, she’s a mess. Do you want me…”
“No, let me, you called. You’ve got lots of girls to watch over, let me take care of this one.”
A gentle hand touched your shoulder, jolting you upright. You moved in slow motion. Wiping your eyes with the backs of your hands, blinking in the dim light of the hall, your cries ceased for a few seconds until you made out who knelt in front of you and who stood behind him.
“Hey,” Wooyoung said softly. He wore black sweats. No jewelry. His waves were unruly. He’d been sleeping. Your lips trembled and tears welled in your eyes. “Don’t cry, it’s just me.”
“Hi,” you managed to say, voice rough.
Wooyoung reached behind him. Following his hand, you found Tori, who slipped him a water bottle. She smiled at you, you think, but her eyes read differently.
“They said they lost you,” he said, twisting the bottle open for you, handing it to you without a cap. Shaking hands lifted it to your lips. You couldn’t take more than half a sip. He glanced up the stairs. “Where’d you go?”
“No where,” you whispered, still crying.
Wooyoung nodded. His gaze dropped to your neck, to your chest, to the clothes you did a shitty job at fixing. “Yunho told me he said something to you that made you upset,” he said, and your wince told him plenty, “Is that why you’re crying?”
A breath shuddered through you. “I dunno.”
A door in the hallway up the stairs creaked open. Wooyoung and Tori glanced up at Soul and Intak peering down, curious about the voices they were hearing. They disappeared as fast as they appeared.
Wooyoung pursed his lips. It took him a second to look at you. He met your eyes and the tears fell faster.
“Okay,” he breathed, reaching his hands out for you, “Come on. You come home with me.”
“Why,” you sobbed, looking up at Tori who wiped her cheek, “She doesn’t want me either?”
She opened her mouth with a gasp, but Wooyoung pacified her with a raise of his hand. “You know that’s not true,” he said, his tone stern, yet gentle. “She cares about you so much she called me,” both him and Tori let out a soft laugh. You would’ve too if you weren’t crying. “She’s got a lot on her plate right now, okay, we all know that. She called me ‘cause you need someone who can give you all of their attention right now. That’s a true friend.” You looked at her and watched her wipe her cheeks again. “You should thank her.”
Tori shook her head, sniffling. “I don’t need that, it’s… it’s fine.”
Swallowing, you swiped a palm over your cheeks and whispered, “Thank you.”
Her bottom lip crinkled. With a nod she shrugged.
Wooyoung held his hands out toward you. “Come with me?”
Nodding again, you handed over your water and waited for him to grab onto you.
“You know,” he sighed, slipping an arm around your back, “I’m kinda tired of helping you off of these floors.” He shot you an innocent smile and used his thumb to clean your tears. “You’re gonna be okay, Ro” he whispered, giving your cheek the gentlest kiss.
NU home ✧ speechless masterlist ✧ talk to me ✧ ao3
you do not have permission to copy or translate my works without my consent.
Hotel California Mini Masterlist
“You can check out any time you’d like, but you can never leave.”
➢ Hotel California {H/A/M}
➢ Part Two
➢ Part Three
➢ Part Four
➢ Part Five
➢ Part Six
➢ Part Seven {S}
➢ Part Eight
➢ Part Nine
➢ Part Ten
➢ Part Eleven
➢ Part Twelve
➢ Part Thirteen {S}
➢ Part Fourteen
➢ Part Fifteen
➢ Part Sixteen {S}
➢ Part Seventeen
➢ Part Eighteen
➢ Part Nineteen
➢ Part Twenty
➢ Part Twenty-One {S}
➢ Part Twenty-Two
➢ Part Twenty-Three
➢ Part Twenty-Four
➢ Part Twenty-Five
➢ Part Twenty-Six
➢ Part Twenty-Seven - Final
End of Book One
Book Two
Playlist
the amount of times i have come back to this series is DIABOLICAL!! probably one of the best demon ateez series which i have read so far! the pacing was well thought out and it flowed incredibly well. can’t wait to see what this writer comes up with next!
‘after all the boys and girls that we’ve been through, could you give it all up if i promise to you, that i’ll never talk again, and i’ll never love again’
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➳ college!teez x fem!reader (oc) - nice for what cast ➳ 7.9k (part six of ???) ➳ 18+, sexual content, drugs/alcohol, college life, all the drama, angst, mentions of anxiety/depression… IF I MISSED ANYTHING PLEASE LET ME KNOW!
september 21st ~ sunday ~ 1:45 pm
{three men and a baby}
[tae bae]: tell me why yunho and aurora walked into blend together ordered together and sat together at t h a t booth…
[kee]: how dare you send this scenario in this groupchat
[tae bae]: i’m serious.
[tae bae]: *1 Attachment*
[wooyo <3]: Holy shit??????
[wooyo <3]: She’s m.i.a all morning and this is what happens?????
[kee]: her dinner was last night we don’t even get to hear about that first and we’re here
[wooyo <3]: Ro moves fast are we surprised
[kee]: no especially since it’s yunho
[tae bae]: guys he loves her so much, i can see it, and i’ve been seeing it. you both can’t see the way he’s listening to her, ugh.
[wooyo <3]: Keep an eye on them
[kee]: yeah let us know if you need backup babe
[tae bae]: i’m gonna bring them more coffee… gonna see if i can hear what they’re talking about…
september 21st ~ sunday ~ 2:23 pm
[tae bae]: oh it’s on. it’s so on. he said, and i quote, ‘it’s over? you’re mine?’
[wooyo <3]: Possessive much?
[kee]: awh
[wooyo <3]: No awh, that’s weird.
[kee]: give it up, she wants him, he wants her
[wooyo <3]: Okay, first of all, rude. Second of all, there is nothing to give up, Keeho, it’s done. As Yunho said, it’s over.
[kee]: hehe yeah okaaaaay whatever you say
[wooyo <3]: ENOUGH
[wooyo <3]: Where’d Theo go, get back here please, update.
[tae bae]: hang on princess, some of her sisters just got here
september 21st ~ sunday ~ 2:41 pm
[tae bae]: think we’ve got a problem.
[wooyo <3]: What.
[wooyo <3]: What happened
[kee]: am i getting in my car
[kee]: taeyang
[kee]: taeyang.
[kee]: TAE
[tae bae]: sorry, talking to shota. ror and yunho just left, they didn’t even say bye to me. all her sorority girls are still here. something happened at the frat, i don’t know, i can’t get words out of my brother. he’s really upset.
[you]: someone has a video of me. allegedly. tae you can tell soul he has one hour to speak or he’s dead to me.
september 21st ~ sunday ~ 3:00 pm
“It can’t be that bad.”
Scoffing, you sunk further down his leather seat and groaned. “Why must there always be something.”
Yunho reached a hand over and slipped it behind your neck, digging his thumb and his finger into the muscle while he focused on the road. “I’m telling you, it can’t be that bad.”
“You don’t know that,” you muttered, then threw your hands up. “I don’t know that. Half the shit I did this summer? Everything I did with Soul? Who’s to say he didn’t do something one of those times, or filmed something without me knowing, when I was drunk, or whatever.”
The car came to a screeching stop in the middle of the road, the car behind Yunho swerving as you jolted forward, your seatbelt catching you.
“Yo!” Hands flying for the dashboard, you sat backward and sucked down a gulp of air. His jaw tensed. His eyes narrowed. “What are you doing?”
He thrust the car in reverse, and down a one lane road drove backward, glare burning a hole in his rearview mirror.
“Yunho,” you sighed, grabbing onto his wrist gripping the shifter. He flipped his hand, offering it to you.
“Wooyoung know about any of this?” he asked, pulling the car out onto the street Blend was on.
You held in a groan. “No.”
“San?”
“No, if either of them did, they would tell me.”
He raised a brow and shot you a look. “You sure about that?”
“Positive,” you said.
He wound the steering wheel, cutting across the opposite lane to swing back into a spot in front of the coffee shop. Throwing off his seat buckle, setting your hand gently on your lap first, Yunho kicked his door open.
“Stay here,” he ordered, bending in half to stick his head in the car before slamming his door and storming inside.
Through the shades hanging in the windows, the booths shoved up against the glass, the slight tint preserving privacy behind it— Yunho disappeared, and you were certain all of the girls were still inside.
Pushing hair from your face with the back of your hand, you scrambled for your phone and swiped through messages.
[wooyo <3]: What the fuck??? Aurora???
[kee]: nahhhhhh, tell me not the kinda video i’m thinking
[wooyo <3]: Where are you
[kee]: it hasnt even been a month back yet what the hell
[wooyo <3]: Ro where are you
[wooyo <3]: I’m coming to the house. I’m sorry
[kee]: genuinely hate living so far from campus
[tae bae]: yunhos in here. hes pissed.
[kee]: live updates pls
[tae bae]: can’t really look down, he’s yelling at everyone
What the fuck?
Throwing off the seatbelt, kicking open the door, not a worry that the key still sat in the ignition, your feet burned holes in the concrete with every step, even as you walked into Blend, all eyes pointing toward you with the jingle of the door.
Then, they all looked back at Yunho.
“And, what about you?” he said, his tone stern, slightly raised, but he wasn’t yelling. He leaned over the counter, toward Theo.
“What about me?” he sassed back, slapping one hand on the linoleum. Yunho glanced at it. “I’ve been around a lot more than you have.”
“At her discretion,” Yunho snapped. “You going to let your brother get away with this shit?”
Theo curled his lip and narrowed his eyes. “My brother didn’t do anything.”
“Bullshit, he’s been causing her problems for a while now,” Yunho shot his glare toward Soul, “You gonna speak up or what?”
You hurried to his side, pushing past a few of the girls. Your sisters. “Okay, Yo, let’s not… let’s go.” Reaching for his arm, you gave it a tug. He didn’t budge, solid mass of muscle. “Yunho.”
“No,” he said, looking from you to the girls around you. “Who the fuck do you all think you are?” He shook his head, then nodded at Kaz who cowered behind Eunchae. “You,” he scoffed. “Manners exist. You always greet your seniors the way you did when you walked in here?”
Some type of panic erupted within you, forcing a nervous laugh from your lips. You tugged on him once more, and he gave in. “Yunho, please, we’re leaving.”
Theo watched in awe, taking it all in, a half made coffee sitting in his hands. Lips parted, eyes amused, you gave him a look before finally pulling Yunho out the door.
“What the fuck was that?” you spat, releasing him on the sidewalk.
Stumbling in his rage, he drug a hand through his hair and then tossed both of them aside, letting them slap against his legs. “I’m not gonna let people treat you like that.” Taking a deep breath, he slipped his hands into his pockets, searching. After a moment, he blinked and spun around, realizing he had left his keys in the car. In the ignition. Still running. “Shit.”
“Yunho,” you sighed, following him to the car. He pulled the door open for you, shutting it oh so gently after you slid inside. Much different behavior then the Yunho who just blew his top in front of many people you’re involved with. “Treat me like what?” you asked after the subtle slam of his door.
“A show,” he muttered, peeking over his shoulder before pulling out of the parking spot. “Their entertainment. You’re a person, Rory.”
Your heart skipped a beat.
Rory.
It didn’t feel real.
After he pulled onto the main road he relaxed in his seat, a slight slouch in his shoulders, a shimmy of his hips, the stretch of his legs in front of him. His sweats hung off of him, his thighs protruding through the fabric. He was driving, but you longed to straddle his waist and wrap your arms around him. Just the mere thought of existing in his hold flooded your belly with butterflies, like you were sixteen beside a crush. He suddenly made it hard to breathe.
“It’s fine,” you whispered, tearing your eyes off of him. Lacing your hands together you laid them over your lap. “I’ll handle it. I always do.”
The sigh through his nose filled the car with disappointment. “You don’t have to do it alone.”
“I’m not, I-”
“Rory,” he said, one of his big hands reaching over to cover both of yours. Your heart leapt into your throat, the butterflies were on speed. “Let me be here for you. Please.” He turned his chin, and it took you three whole seconds to muster up the courage to look back at him.
Honey brown eyes.
Devastating.
Sleepy, undone hair.
Devastating.
The butterflies flew up into your chest and ripped your heart to shreds. Devouring it entirely. Not a crumb left behind. As if each one bore his name.
“Let me make up to you the last year and a half.”
The last year and a half.
You didn’t need to ruminate. There was nothing to discuss, nothing to clarify.
The last year and a half, there wasn’t a single detail left unturned. There was no need for him to say what it was.
And as much as you couldn’t wait to watch him try, the butterflies choked. Gagging on memories, a poison in your heart, they overdosed on betrayal, beautiful wings withering into a pit of hurt that manifested as nausea.
“Fine,” you whispered, and he squeezed your hands. Phone buzzing in your pocket, you took a quick breath and removed your hands, his returning to the steering wheel. Pulling the text out, you said, “Just don’t talk to the girls like that again, please.”
He glanced toward you and held both hands up to address his surrender. And you trusted him.
[choi asshole #1]: Heading to the dr’s, I’m with Yoongi
Damn, that’s today.
[you]: keep me updated. <3
You swiped and rolled your eyes.
{three men and a baby}
[tae bae]: NOOOOOOO WAY
[kee]: what what WHAT
[tae bae]: yunho spoke on SHOTA
[kee]: shut the fuck u p
[tae bae]: okay so actually maybe he’s crazy, ror, are you good, where is he taking you, are you going to die
[kee]: okay hold up
[kee]: what did this man say
[tae bae]: i’ll call you.
[kee]: wooyoung where tf are u u’ll eat this up lolol
[you]: *replied to ‘wooyoung where tf…’* going to ignore this, cause…???
[you]: *replied to ‘okay so actually may…’* not going to die. he’s not crazy. he’s on edge. remember how everyone else was last year? he’s living it now, we never got to deal with this together.
“Three men and a baby?” Yunho asked, scaring you. Your phone dropped into your lap as you jumped and he laughed.
“Christ,” you gasped, lobbing a hand at his shoulder. He’d been leaning over the center for a few seconds.
He laughed, taking the blow. “Am I the only victim of this physical abuse?”
“No,” you glared at him, rubbing your hands together, his shoulder hurting your fingers more. “Keeho gets it too.”
Yunho pursed his lips and nodded, the tiniest smile gracing his lips. “I’ll take it. Who’s baby?”
Your stomach rolled and plummeted all at once. Whirling around in your seat after recognizing you were parked in front of ITZ, you grasped your chest, eyes wide, sighing, “What?”
He giggled, nodding toward your phone. “The groupchat, who’s the baby? Three men? Is it you?”
‘Who’s the baby?’
Must’ve missed that part.
Relief washed over you, your entire body going lax. “Oh, no, fuck no.”
He bobbed his head, slow, eyes dragging over your body. “Oh-kay,” he sang, then laughed again. “Then, who is it?”
“Kee,” you said, shoving your phone back in your pocket. “How much of that did you read?”
Rubbing his cheeks with one hand, he squinted and cocked his head. “Uh, not much, just that we… We get to deal with this together… Or, something.” His smile grew tenfold as you rolled your eyes and threw another fist at his shoulder, him actually catching this one. Yanking on it, he pulled you into him, your noses centimeters apart.
The butterflies twitched. Wings yearned to take flight.
“I know I said what I said before,” he spoke softly, “About stuff… being over, and us… happening,” he blinked, “But, I know there’s a lot that has to happen before that.”
“Talking,” you whispered.
He smiled. “Yes, talking. Lots of it.”
It sucked your body knew him. Really knew him.
There was no other word to put in that sentence. It sucked. Every fiber of your being needed him, screamed for him, needed him. Something primal, a deep rooted instinct, one you’ve ignored for a year that you didn’t realize was pure cause of-
“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked, pulling you out of an early onset spiral.
“L-Like what?”
He scrunched his brows together. “Like,” his voice dropped drastically, “Sad.”
Because you knew if he knew, he’d-
“I’m not,” you breathed. “Trust me, I… My dad is going to the doctors today.”
“It’s Sunday.”
“He sees a specialist,” you said, and he nodded. “They have select patients, and Junie fits the criteria. They schedule whenever the doctor can see them.”
Yunho drug a thumb over your fingers, you’d forgotten he’d been holding onto you. “I hope it goes well.”
With a smile you pulled your hand back and moved to get out of his car. “Thanks, they usually do, but… I get scared every time he goes.” Pushing his door open, he did the same, following you up the lawn.
“You’re allowed to be scared,” he shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets, taking up the space beside you. “If this guy is a specialist, he’s gotta be good right? Your dad’s in good hands.”
Giving a him look, you winked. “She.”
Yunho’s eyes went wild. “She, forgive me,” he bowed slightly, laughing with you. “She’s taking good care of him.”
Stepping up the porch of the quiet house, odd for a Sunday, an off day, you turned to Yunho who stood on the ground, tipping his chin up a bit to look up at you. “I’ll… see you later?”
Shrugging, hands still in his pockets, he gave you a smile. “Do we need invitations?”
Barging through bedroom doors, crawling on rooftops, pulling up a chair at the library when one spotted the other… It used to be easy.
His smile persuaded yours, corners of your lips perking as you shook your head. “No. We don't."
He nodded once, lips pulling down boyishly as he tapped a step with the toe of his sneaker. “Okay,” he said, hushed, like his own butterflies devoured his own heart, each one bearing your name. They called out to yours, an energy you could feel brewing between you, intensifying as he blinked soft eyes up at you, brows flipped and… down bad crying at the gym.
Theo was going to die.
Reaching out your arms, your hands brushing his shoulders, you leaned forward and let him catch you, all of your body weight hanging onto him, his strength keeping you on your toes on the porch. Wrapping your arms around his neck, he released a sigh into yours and chills shot down your spine. His hands pressed into your back, his grip, his hold, that feeling of safety, godamnit, you were balancing on your toes off the porch, and he was not going to let you fall…
It woke up.
The ten months you spent shoving it into a box, wasted.
Tears welled in your eyes. Your throat, it tightened. Butterflies wept, and it was going to take a lot more than just one day before they could fly again.
Gulping, you remembered what he said in the car.
You don’t have to do it alone.
Sucking in a shaking breath, you whispered, “Yunho…”
And the door to ITZ flew open behind you, Yunho meeting the startled gaze of the culprit catching you in the act before you had the chance to jump away.
But you heard her first.
“...I can place these orders, then we can- Oh!”
Tori.
Using your balance, you pushed off of Yunho and turned on your toes to face her and Mingi who wore the world's biggest, cheesiest grin. Tori however, glanced between you and Yunho suspiciously, almost like she didn’t believe what was happening in front of her.
“Okay, so you were right,” she said to Mingi, “They did leave together.”
He put a hand on her shoulder and bounced on his knees, his eyes stuck on Yunho. “I told you.” Sparing you a glance, he pressed his lips together, but couldn’t contain his joy.
Tori steadied her gaze, pointing it to the titan at the bottom of her stairs. Stepping forward, she crossed her arms and tipped her chin. “Why did I get multiple messages that you were harassing my girls?”
Breath catching in your throat, you turned to her, shock overriding every sense. She stood on business. Never faltering. Never taking back a word. She’d been prepped, informed, and ready.
Yunho held up his hands. “It was directed at Soul, I swear, I-”
“Let’s be honest with ourselves.” Tori narrowed her eyes.
He dropped his hands and his brows shot up. “I am, I just-”
“Blame me,” you said, trying to step in front of her. “He was defending me, I-”
She wouldn’t let anyone finish a damn sentence.
“Ror, those were my underclassmen,” she said with a snap of her jaw. Flashing you her done up eyes, fresh lashes, bronzed cheeks, she stood her ground, with or without noticing how your world shifted before you in less than a second.
“...Your-”
She turned. “Yunho, I’m glad this,” she gestured toward you, “is working out today, but please don’t yell at my girls again.”
Yunho, standing up straight with his arms tucked behind his back, nodded toward you. “I’ve already received those orders.”
“Well, now they’re official,” she smized, “And, if you-”
A black BMW pulled in front of the house, bumping music, parking across the street. Mingi perked up, Tori rolled her eyes, Yunho hadn’t moved. He gave you a look, one curious, one analyzing. You met his eyes, and all at once, a new found anger flowed through his veins.
“Is Wooyoung here?” Mingi asked.
You released a breath. “Oh, thank god.”
Familiarity fueled your feet, in seconds you’d flown from the porch halfway down the lawn.
“Hey,” Yunho called after you, “Where you going?”
Wooyoung's tinted windows begged you to keep moving, to come closer, to get inside, but you stopped at the sound of his voice, and you turned as he got closer. Behind him, Tori and Mingi whispered to one another, heading toward her car.
Shooting a thumb over your shoulder, you said, “To talk to him.”
Yunho stood centimeters in front of you. “Why?”
“Uh,” you stammered, not knowing you needed a reason. “Because, he’s my friend.”
He glanced at the car, then at you. “Friend? He’s your ex.”
“No he’s not, he’s my friend,” you said with a tilt of your head.
It took everything in him to not react how you knew he wanted to. “Aurora, everyone says you broke up.”
“Y-Yeah, well, we don’t… hook up anymore. We… ‘cooled off’, or whatever.”
“Oh,” he mumbled, looking down at his feet, “Okay, yeah.”
“Ro!” Wooyoung shouted from his window, the beat of the song he played flooding the quiet street.
Yunho looked at you and something flashed across his face.
“Just give me a few minutes, please?” you asked, and he shook his head.
“It’s okay, go,” he shrugged his shoulder toward the music, “I have a meeting I have to get ready for anyway, text me.”
Swallowing, hard, you nodded. “Okay,” you whispered.
A small smile snuck onto his lips. Closing the space between you, he stepped forward and leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek.
A flutter.
“I’ll see you later,” he whispered.
Smiling, you whispered back to him. “You gonna sneak onto my roof?”
“Maybe,” he smirked.
You furrowed your brow. “We have classes tomorrow.”
His nose brushed yours, your lips ghosting one another. Knees buckling, heart thumping, your yearn suffocated you.
“Who cares?” he whispered.
“Yo,” the sound barely came out, “You care, I know you do.”
His eyes fluttered shut, his forehead pressed to yours. “I care more about you.”
“You,” you whispered within the shared air, eyes glazing over with something rose colored, “Shit, I don’t even know your schedule, I have nothing to use against you…”
He smirked, whispering, “Checkmate.”
And his hands grabbed your waist, telling you what he wanted, what his lips couldn’t, what he didn’t want them to say just yet. He kissed you, a delicate moment in time, sealing his promise, this kiss much different than the one in the hall. This one was new. This one meant something new.
This was new.
It would be new.
“I want you to be mine, Aurora,” he whispered against your lips, pressing one more soft kiss to your hungry lips before he forbade you from taking more. “Thank you for today, for talking to me.”
A silly thing to share gratitude over, but necessary you supposed. “We should do that more often.”
He huffed. “Yeah, we should.”
Blinking open your eyes, finding him already gazing down at you, you blushed. “I have a lot of questions for you.”
“I have a lot for you, too.”
You smiled, biting at your bottom lip. “Bring your notes, come prepared.”
“For you, I will be.” Smiling with you, he stepped back, the loss of him more devastating than anything ever before.
Taking a deep breath, reeling in the drama, you told yourself that it meant he had to come back. You would have to see him again. And you would. You would make that happen almost immediately.
Reading you like a book, for filth, like he always could, he gave you a glimpse of the Yunho who sat beside you in English. A glimpse of the Yunho who used to wander two steps behind you in the library. After a once over, he shot you half a smile, then started for his car, leaving you weak in the knees.
This time you knew why.
How you never saw it before is beyond you.
It’d been a few hours and he already had you screwed.
Wooyoung honked his horn and you jumped, slapping a hand to your chest. Ripping your eyes from Yunho’s ass as he walked away, you glared at the tinted window and charged for it, leaping into the passenger seat, somewhat out of breath.
With one look he told you every thought in his head. “Already?”
You whined, throwing your hands up, ragdolling in his seat. “It’s too easy, I dunno.”
He pulled away from the curb after Yunho passed by, the two not sparing each other even a look. “What did you guys talk about?”
Sliding your hands over your face, you sat up and folded your arms over your chest. “You.”
“Great,” he deadpanned. “He have a problem with you getting in my car?”
“Not really,” you said. “I think. I explained,” you sighed, glancing out the window as he pulled onto the main street. Everyone and their mother were out for the day apparently, couples littered the sidewalks, walking dogs, shopping bags in hand. “We’re friends.”
Wooyoung shot a look and a scoff your way, spinning you around.
“What’s that for?”
He huffed. “Friends is funny.”
“Why?” you asked, narrowing your eyes.
“Nothing.”
“Wooyoung.”
Lifting a hand, he dropped it back on the steering wheel. “He lost you, twice. And still let you go get in my car.”
Mouth going dry, you asked, “Twice?”
Keeping his eyes on the road, he pulled into a highway entrance and bobbed his head. “When we first got together, before you guys existed, and then again, after the… thing happened. He must just really trust you.”
Staring him down, his unruly waves and his black hoodie and his dark denim baggy jeans and his silver jewelry, you scoffed. “Are you saying if you were him you wouldn’t trust me?”
He slapped the steering wheel, his teeth peeking through his lips as he breathed through a laugh. “I knew you were going to say that.”
“No, you didn’t,” your tone mocked him.
“Yes, I did,” he teased you right back, “And as much as you’re butterflies and rainbows right now about him, something is bothering you, what happened?”
Groaning, flopping backwards again, you asked, “You have somewhere to be?”
“Nope, I’m yours,” he said.
“Keep driving,” you half whispered, “My dads at the doctors, I don’t wanna sit anywhere.”
september 21st ~ sunday ~ 4:17 pm
“Since we’ve been back you’ve been with San,” he said, voice low, eyes pointed, taking in information, piecing it apart, “And… me.”
You nodded, facing him entirely, legs crisscrossed over the seat. “Yes.”
Holding up a hand, he said, “I did not do anything, you know that.”
Taking it in yours, you laced your fingers with his and set it down in your lap. “Of course,” you smiled, “If you did, I would cut your dick off.”
He cocked his head and snickered. “Sounds about right,” he released a breath and shook his head, “As much as San fucks… I don’t think he’d ever cross a line like that. Not without consent.” You agreed with a hum, and he smirked. “And he sure as hell wouldn’t share it with anyone else. He’s a freak, he’s not a jackass.”
“I don’t even know who he shares a room with though,” you said, thinking back to that night at ATZ with San. You had told Wooyoung almost everything. “What if his roommate did something?”
Thinking to himself, his smirk grew. “If San was in a sex tape, we’d be hearing about it right after it happened.”
A giggle slipped through your lips. “That night…”
The sound outside in the hallway grew. Doors were opened and shut, more voices filled the space. Muscles tensing, San felt it. Not worried in the slightest, he slid a hand down your back and leaned over you, pressing kisses to your shoulders.
“Don’t listen,” he whispered between slow kisses, the soft smack of his lips and gentle rutting of his hips into your center grounding you, keeping you in the room with him. “You and me,” he whispered.
“You and me,” you whispered, but your words twisted with a moan. Hooking a finger in your thong he tugged it aside and had his zipper down in a flash. He wore nothing beneath his pants, because of course he didn’t.
“Shut the fuck up!”
Your body jolted.
Soul shouted in the hall, laughter following.
His dipshit asshole friends.
“There were boys in the hall… I thought it might be Soul, or Jongseob, ‘cause it sounded like they were in their room,” you mumbled, toying with his fingers.
Giving you a once over, watching your fingers play for a second, he focused back on the road. “You think Soul would do that to you? The guy who would… forgive me… fuck you like an animal, then infodump Pokemon to us for an hour after?”
You laughed, but you didn’t want to. Soul was something else entirely, something you’ve never experienced. A little weirdo, but a sweetheart all packed into one gangly body wired with stamina. “I don’t know, what if it’s revenge or something?”
Wooyoung screwed his face up. “Revenge for what?”
“I dunno.”
He pulled his hand away to grab onto one of yours. Shaking his waves around, he sucked in a breath and let it out with a groan. “Not everyone is out to get you, Ro.”
Widening your eyes, throat tightening, for the very first time you felt as though he couldn’t see you. “Feels like it,” you whispered.
Like he could hear the thoughts in your head, his grip tightened, and in mere seconds, without a word, he steadied your heart.
You used to hate to admit it, but he was right.
Another aftershock of Yeji.
Minutes passed before you spoke again, the radio filling the comfortable quiet you used to speak to one another with a mere touch of your palms.
“That’s why he went into Blend and got mad,” you whispered.
“Wild way to handle that,” he muttered.
Dragging your thumb over his, tracing his knuckle, you smiled. “That’s Yunho… Wildcard.”
“Yeah,” he sighed, rolling his eyes. “Wildcard.”
Consistent, though, he was in his wildcard status. Yunho, the textbook definition of never let them know your next move, partnered with that one friend who always has a new hobby, new job, new circle of friends… No one knew what he would say next, no one knew what he would do next, no one could predict the pattern, because there was no pattern, Yunho flew by the seat of his pants. Forever unsatisfied. Insatiable for more. More, more, more. His big brain needed it, craved it.
Nausea sat in your stomach, forever associated with him.
Voice meek, you asked, “Where are we going?”
Wooyoung said quietly, “I’m just driving.”
“Okay,” you whispered, and he looked at you.
Clearing his throat, he started, “How was the dinner last-”
“I gave up my spot.”
Lips parted with an unfinished thought between them, he sang, “Uh… What?”
“President,” you said, then laughed involuntarily, “I gave it to Tori.”
He almost slammed on his brakes, frantically glancing over his shoulders at the traffic around him. “What!? Why?”
Letting go of his hand, you waved yours around. “You really have to ask?”
“No, I don't," he sighed, sitting forward, merging lanes, shooting you a glare all at once, “But, Ro…”
Clenching your jaw, you returned his glare. “She deserves it. I don’t.”
Silence.
After a beat, he sharpened his glare, and you wanted to gag. Stomach rolling into a ball, heavier than ever, your chest squeezed.
“I make and cause problems,” you said, trying to keep your cool, hiding the shaking of your voice. He dropped his head backward and loosed a breath. “I’m also irresponsible. I couldn’t handle the spot, she did it all anyway. I was in the way.”
A chill shot through him, one that had him figuratively shaking your words off and out of his energy. “Have you gotten any schoolwork done?”
Your brows flatlined as you snickered at him.
“Any?!” he asked, strength in his tone.
“Some.”
“May I suggest something?” He placed his elbow on the console separating you and pointed a finger at your face.
A smile tugged at your lips. “Always.”
Spinning his finger around, he came to a stop at a light and dropped his chin to give you a look. “Put the boys away, and focus on Aurora. You have to graduate with me, that’s an order.”
You giggled, and he smiled, his cheeks dimpling. “An order?”
“An order,” he breathed, grabbing the steering wheel with both hands, sitting backward in his seat.
On the screen in front of you, the one that told you what songs were playing through the speakers, a text popped up, from someone named Cirrus, in a group chat called, senior philosofuckers.
“Who’s that?” you asked, sitting forward to tap on it.
Wooyoung grabbed your hand and gently redirected it to his lap. “Someone in my psych courses, not important.”
You watched the message disappear, then turned toward him, fighting the urge to lean all the way over and pop a kiss to his cheek, or his nose. God, his nose.
“All your classes are going good?”
He nodded, ignoring your gaze. “For the most part. Not too hard yet.”
Rocking with the car as he pulled onto an empty street, you tucked your bottom lip between your teeth and nodded with him. “I hope they stay good,” you whispered, dropping your eyes to his lips.
Hitting you with a quick side eye, he almost laughed. “Me too, thank you.” Turning into a parking lot, he returned your hand to your lap and tapped it twice. “It’s been a week. You can do this.”
You retracted from him faster than he let you go and curled your lip. “Shut up.”
Shifting further from him, leaning against the car door, you peered out the window and perked up. You knew that building. You knew those cars. You knew this asphalt, every bump, every dip. The one story tall brick hell hole with tiny windows and sliding glass doors.
He’d driven you out of Delo and into Soro.
Parking right out front, he pulled off his buckle in time with you. “You, uh… You didn’t tell Yunho about-”
“No,” you said swiftly, twisting your brows in utter confusion, “And, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Right,” he said, lifting his chin, “What am I talking about?”
Narrowing your eyes, you whispered, “You’re crazy.”
He shrugged. “I am clinically insane.”
“You’re getting memories mixed up, you’re pre-dementia, or something.”
Sighing, he pursed his lips. “Something like that, damn.”
Tossing a hand toward the building, you pouted. “You really brought me here?”
Wooyoung took in the building, his gaze softening. Months stood in between you, hours spent inside this building together, endless time he selflessly gave up, for you. For your dad. He tried to smile. “You need him.”
Tears brewed beneath the surface as you blinked at him. “Come with me?”
Within a breath, he whispered, “Of course.” Stepping out of the car and onto the curb, you latched yourself to his bicep, wrapping yourself around his arm, curling your fingers in his. Pulling open the door for you, he led you inside with the occasional glance. A soft smile sat on his face, one small enough to go unnoticed by others, but this face you knew.
And if your heart could blush, she’d be a flushing mess of pink hues.
Wooyoung tucked your hair behind your ears before you stepped through the main doors of the lobby, a flicker of the past, a few months back, muscle memory. Except now you weren’t teary eyed and sporting bed head after a weekend of anxiously pacing your bedroom floor wondering how the next appointment would go.
He’d fix your hair. His thumbs would brush along your lashes, drying them. With a kiss to your cheek he’d aid you with a deep breath.
But today he stopped at the hair.
And you cursed your greedy heart for wishing he’d take it further.
Memories, that’s all it was, all you were left with. It’s what you asked for, it’s what you wanted, you said it yourself, that there was nothing left between you, that you were better this way. Friends. He’s the one person who never needed an explanation, he’s never once questioned you, who you were, what you wanted, nor has he ever gone to lengths to hold you back, from what you want, from what you need.
In a single year he’d completely rewired your brain, he’d taught you things you never once considered to be true, things you never thought existed, how to live, how to survive, how to be happy. Taught you how to enjoy life when it feels like there’s no end to certain suffering, then taught you how to reel back the dramatics for no other reason than to protect your own sanity.
An emotionally mature hot head, if the two could be true at once, Wooyoung earned the title, and he wore it with pride.
The things he’d done to protect you, and the things he continued to do to protect himself, logically moving through decisions with precision and thought, but for himself. No one else.
Unless you stood in front of him.
“Aurora! Wooyoung!” Her voice bounced off the cream colored walls and enveloped you in a hug, just as she did with her arms. Kamara, a five foot ten curvy beauty with espresso colored skin and a personality to match. Old enough to be your mother, she didn’t look a day over thirty. “Good to see you,” she sang, rocking you both back and forth in her arms.
“Kam,” you sighed, burying yourself in her, staying for as long as she’d have you. Wooyoung slipped from her arms, but his hand still cradled the small of your back.
“Want me to bring you back? They just got to his room,” she said, looking down at you, her eyes a warm milk chocolate.
You gave her a small smile. “We’ll wait out here, if that’s okay?”
Kamara glanced over your head into the empty lobby that housed six chairs, a coffee table, a singular bookshelf, and a TV on the wall. “We’re slammed, baby, I don’t know if you’ll find yourselves a seat.”
“Damn,” you mumbled, taking a step back under Wooyoung's arm, “Wanted to come hang behind the desk with you.”
Flashing you her stunning white grin, she shook her head. “Too bad this place has a rat,” she spat, glaring at the woman behind the computer on the opposite side of their office space. Edith was her name, a retired woman in her seventies with a long silver brain down her back.
Typing away, Edith shook her head and muttered, “Protocol. HIPAA. Safety violations. Patient privacy. Insurance fraud…”
Kamara flickered her eyes over to the two of you and almost lost it at the smiles you and Wooyoung wore. “She’s gonna keep going.”
“...Security breeches. It’s small back here. If I roll over a toe, she can sue me…”
“Oh, the toe,” you whispered, and Kamara widened her eyes.
“Look out for the toe,” she squinted, then she winked at Wooyoung. “Make yourselves at home, please.”
Edith turned around for only a second. “Nice to see you, kids.”
It wasn’t until she faced her screen again that Wooyoung whispered, “I think she smiled,” and accepted your gentle slap to his chest with a laugh.
Bringing you with him, he turned to the chairs and plopped you into one, facing the TV, and flopped down beside you. Pulling out his phone, he scrolled for a solid minute, eyes scanning texts. He typed one out with fervor, then slid it back into his pocket and sunk backward in the chair, his thighs parting as his feet stretched out, resting on the heels of his boots.
He was wearing jeans, and a hoodie, when he wore a hoodie here he would…
Fold his hands together inside of the pocket.
Like he just did.
If he wore a t-shirt sometimes his hands would slip under the hem and rest on his belly.
If he wore sweats instead of jeans he’d put his hands in those pockets, or he’d tuck his legs under him on the chair.
Sometimes he’d sit on the floor in front of you, and he’d let you play with his hair. One time he fell asleep, his head between your knees, resting on the chair, and you used the top of his head as a bookstand. You’d read almost every book that lived on that singular shelf, the fantasy series, the children's chapter books, the smutty mom novels that ‘weren’t porn’. At one point you’d woken Wooyoung up to have him read a page or two, the look on his face priceless when he read what the CEO’s beefy secretary would do to her before a very important meeting…
To think a little over a week ago you sat here as a different person.
Before your dads birthday, before everyone knew you and Wooyoung were over, before you made San your crutch, before your alleged OnlyFans career took off, before you ever heard your mothers voice…
Nine days ago you were the president.
Nine days ago you were Choi Yeonjun’s daughter.
Just his daughter.
And now you’ve kissed Yunho three times, you stepped down from the biggest position of your life to date, Wooyoung won’t let you get closer than holding his hand, Tori took on her new role really, really quick, and hasn’t even given you a chance to talk about it again.
Not even a message. A check up. An, are you okay?
Maybe you didn’t need one. You were pretty certain about giving it up, and it’s not like you were the world's greatest president, they were clearly fed up- Tori, Seonghwa, Hongjoong…
Seonghwa and Hongjoong… Still top of their board, in the highest positions, regardless of what happened last year, regardless of their involvement with Yeji and her master plan. Sure, Seonghwa owned up to his bullshit, he took your side, he had been threatened by the bitch as well, he did what he had to do for his safety, but Hongjoong?
Former president who kept Wooyoung on a short leash, who ran ATZ like his own personal cult rather than the organization it should be, personal growth and networking. He allowed the parties to rage, to rally on endlessly, people waking up there to do it all over again, a tumultuous loop. After Seonghwa stepped up the hype slowed, the parties varied, he managed them with strategy, the boys were happier, a certain freedom lingered in the air.
You shook your head and sighed.
The TV on the wall changed from a cooking show to an old sitcom from the 90s, one your dad raised you on. Glancing over to the desk you caught Kamara lowering the remote and shooting you a wink. It was a random episode this time, but the entire month of July, you and Wooyoung binged the show from start to finish, right here in this lobby.
All ten seasons, arm in arm, or with your legs slung over his lap, your head on his shoulder.
Peeking at him, he had his head resting on the wall, his neck stretched.
You did not want to sink your teeth into it. You did not. You really didn’t.
Clasping your arms across your chest to keep from reaching for him, you bit down on your lip and bounced your knee. Taking a short breath, you looked up at the show, the three sisters on the screen bickering over stuffed animals, and you took another short breath.
Hongjoong could totally be doing something. He has the money, he has the power, and if he has Seonghwa wrapped around his finger like you know he does, he can get that boy to do anything.
He’d need a motive though, and as far as you can see, there’s no reason for Hongjoong to want to pull you out of your spot or spread a video of you, aside from ITZ needing a legitimate actual president who pays attention and doesn’t fall into spirals speculating that everyone around her is trying to steal things from her and humiliate her at every given moment of the day.
Wooyoung grabbed onto your knee, ceasing your anxious bounce.
You froze, turning only your chin.
“You are going to fly away,” he mumbled.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered, and he frowned.
“Don’t be,” he shook his head, then slid an arm around your shoulders, “C’mere.” Melting into him, your head laying on his shoulder and your arm sneaking into his lap, into the pocket on his hoodie to hold his other hand, you sucked down a deep breath of pure Wooyoung. Comfort. “Have you been hearing from your mom?”
“I told her to lose my number today,” you muttered, and he perked a brow.
“You spoke to her?”
“Yeah,” you rolled your eyes, “And then I made Tori president.”
“I wonder if we could get the police involved,” he whispered, like he meant to keep the thought to himself.
“Uh,” you stammered, then laughed sarcastically, “Very bad idea.”
“I know,” he sneered through his teeth, “But, like, regarding her, yanno?”
You looked up at him from where you laid. “And have them trace everything back to my dad? I love him, but he’s not a fucking saint. With everything… They wouldn’t listen to us. We’ve started anew. No cops.”
He sighed, his eyes focused on the TV. The episode was at the cry your eyes out part, toward the end, where everyone kisses and makes up and the dad drags on and on about the life lessons learned…
“Neither of you know what she wants?” he asked.
“Nope,” you said. “We have absolutely no money, so it’s not that. I still have to pay you back for vacation by the way, I didn’t forget.”
He grimaced. “Please forget.”
“No, I owe you.”
“Ro, you don’t.”
Sitting up, you pulled your hands to yourself and faced him. “Yes, I do, you gave me-”
He looked at you directly. “Tori never cashed the check.”
The check he wrote you to give to her to pay for the vacation her father paid for because you felt bad for ruining her time in Haos. You never owed her money, you wanted to make it up to her. It being your guilt and assumption that you ruined her vacation. She’d done so much for you, too much, you owed her more than paying for half of the time you spent there.
“You’re kidding me?”
He smacked his lips against his teeth. “Serious.”
Just serious. Not dead serious. Not in this building. In this building where the walls listened and that lingered amongst the halls. Just serious.
Whipping out your phone you pulled open her thread.
[you]: you never took the Haos money???
[honey sweetie light of my life (no she didn’t make this her own name in your phone)]: what haos money?
You clenched your jaw.
[you]: hysterical. why didn’t you take it?
It took her two minutes to answer.
[honey sweetie light of my life (no she didn’t make this her own name in your phone)]: Ror literally what are you talking about
Gulping, you slid down the top panel and tapped on Do Not Disturb, putting your phone into your back pocket. Slouching, you dead weighted onto Wooyoung's side and sighed.
“What’d she say?” he asked quietly.
Blinking at the TV, a new episode began, you said, “She didn’t take it.”
“I told her to,” he whispered. “Trust me.”
You took a deep breath. “I do.”
Locking in to the TV, the new school episode that had you and Wooyoung doubled over in laughter before tearing up, you relaxed into him, hoping to turn your brain off, to shut everything out for a little bit. That worked last year when you came home, when you stayed with your dad, when you had a weekend with him and Keeho. Away from Nasara life felt lighter. Easier. Better. Happier.
To your right, the door to the office opened, professional voices giving their thanks, saying that they’ll see you next time, and take it easy… And then, your dad spoke.
Yeonjun said goodbye to his doctor, and your heart shot out of your chest, and you leap to your feet. Without a word, you rushed his way and threw your arms around him, sending him stumbling backward into Yoongi who carried papers from the doctor.
“Aura,” he released a breath and grabbed onto you, his cheek pressing to the top of your head. “I missed you,” he whispered, meeting eyes with Wooyoung who stood up to give him a wave.
Gripping fistfuls of his shirt, you swallowed away the lump in your throat, his presence enough to rid of the shadows you brought home with you.
You had to tell him.
“I missed you too.”
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