Dewdrops At Dawn

dewdrops at dawn

pairing: poly!ateez x fem!reader (ot8 x reader) [demon!au]

warnings: minors dni!! socially anxious reader, reader is implied to be neurodivergent but it’s never explicitly said, mentions of body insecurity, chubby reader, being followed, drunk assholes, cursing, demons, soulmates, reincarnation, blood, death, heavy suggestive content, mentions of angels being dicks (idk there’s a bit of angel slander but it’s just for plot purposes), a little gore, angst then lots of fluff, heavy sexual themes but no actual smut (again, minors please dni!!) (also, all suggestive content is 100% consensual, the reader just tries to evade their advances to continue their teasing), also the reader is mentioned to be some kind of atheist/not religious 

word count: 17.2k

a/n: nooo the boys’ demon forms are totally not based on the obey me characters at all, why would you even ask that /j lol welcome to another monster fic!! I’ve been writing this one in between like the moon and finally had the motivation to finish it! I hope y’all enjoy this one!! <3 

There’s an ache in your chest. 

It’s not stinging or painful, by any means - just an ache. The dull throb is usually easily ignored in most circumstances, with a shrug of the shoulders or a heavy breath. The pain is never enough to worry your already addled mind. It lingers constantly, not sated by any human means. 

You don’t know how to describe it to those who ask. The pain isn’t sharp, and it’s certainly not excruciating. It’s simply empty. That’s the only way you’ve learned to describe it. It’s a hole in your chest, aching to be filled - by what, you’re not quite sure. All you know is the ache feels null, like a void longing to be filled, or a chasm waiting to be crossed. There’s emptiness that cannot be filled no matter how hard you try. 

Some days are better than others. On these, you can manage your day quite splendidly; going about your daily tasks does not pose a challenge. Getting up in the morning was not as difficult of a challenge, nor was dragging yourself to university classes.

On other days, you can barely bring yourself to leave the bed. The emptiness drags a pit into your stomach and you can feel nothing but the ache that longs to be filled. You have yet to discover what you’re searching for, but you long for the day the empty pain is filled. 

Your friends, however, have an interesting way of comforting you. 

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LAVENDER BLOOD || PARK SEONGHWA

“you didn’t cheat death, y/n l/n

you only brought me closer.”

ateez modern day mythology AU — seonghwa love interest

pairing: gn!reader x god of death!seonghwa

genre: fic. angst, fluff, smut, etc

overall fic warnings: mature themes, foul language. mentions of death and scenes that include such acts. religion. modern day mythology retelling with a twist, this fic will include such details from well-known and maybe not too known storylines from those time periods. forced marriage. mentions of mental health, most specifically eating disorders and PTSD.

as i continue writing, this will be updated.

permanent taglist: @girlsbyaespa

ask to be ( + ) or ( - ) to either my permanent taglist or this fic only.

OVERALL: i am in no way claiming this to be an accurate representation of ateez/seonghwa or any of the other people i mention in my works—everything is strictly fictional and made to be read and enjoyed. they are merely reference characters. i am also in no way glamorizing or romanticizing anything i mention in my works such as toxic behavior and bodily harm, i won’t tolerate seeing such either. with such said, please don’t hesitate to leave your thoughts!

word count: 1,058

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INTRO / PROLOGUE

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Your fan, Mingi (part 2)

🎤 pairing: mingi x rapper!reader 🎤 genre: slice of life, mix of fluff and angst, music and the industry, slow burn 🎤 summary: a bulletpoint-style wordstream of what it would be like if mingi was stanning you 🎤 wordcount: 3.3k 🎤 warnings/tags: language, reader is a rapper, reader is a tattooed queen, mingi and reader collaboration, album of the year, big concert, toxic fandom (but it is overcome:)), mingi support, reader is a shining star, comfort, celebrity, hongjoong is proud dad, studio energy, write angsty rap, power couple, new future, new home 🎤 a/n: Hi <3 this is part 2 for Your fan, Mingi!! Part 1 can be found here. From the bottom of my heart thank you so much for your support and care, and as always, I greatly appreciate any asks, reblogs and likes!

You trusted Hongjoong. He was one of the only idol artists who you clicked with and remained connected to, and you had no regrets. He never pushed any subject you were not comfortable with, nor did he really mention idol life outside of music, composition, production and lyric writing.

Through him you had gotten to know more about the idol life, and just what it took for such a talented and prominent fourth generation group to do world tours, to do fansign events, to always be there for fans and create fantastic music.

There had been a couple of times previously that Hongjoong had implied that it would be interesting to collaborate with you, but you had brushed it off.

You had no idea whether you, having the standing that you did in the music industry, would benefit or suffer from such a collaboration. For you the thought of potentially having to have official big-scale promotions and delving into the political side of the industry was more than unpleasant.

It was clear that had you signed any contract for officially making a track with Hongjoong, you likely would have had to play by his company's rules, maybe even have had to fit a particular concept.

This time, however, Hongjoong had unknowingly hit you in your weak spot. He mentioned Song Mingi.

When Hongjoong and you had a listening session together, with him and yourself sharing some tracks, both released and in the works, you had fixated on the other rapper's voice and flow.

He had a unique tone, and a way of incorporating off-beats and delays that made you inadvertently shake your head and make the classic 'damn this shit is good' face. The highest level of approval.

You had not hesitated in informing your friend that Mingi was a gem in his team, and that you were grateful to have had the chance to listen to him.

And of course Hongjoong was going to remember that until the end of time and employ that information against you.

The text was simple, but did not leave much room for negotiation. Not that you would have refused anyways.

<MC MINION> hey Mingi loves you and wants to record a cover of your track Dum Spiro Spero. You cool with that + got instrumental?

You had to admit, you had been hopeful that a day would come when you could meet Mingi, especially after you had spotted him in the audience at your recent concert.

You were too cool to let your glee show, instead launching into one of your more challenging openers. Did you want to impress him? Yes. Did you want to spell out that you liked him? No.

It was lucky that your fans did not recognise him, or were polite and respectful enough to pay no mind, nor alert anyone on social media. So, in peace you could enjoy giving him the occasional glance throughout the show and let your inner fangirl perform a victory dance as you noticed he was completely enchanted.

So without any further thought, you sit send on an offer for them to come over to your studio and to make something completely new together. Bureaucratic shit could wait for a second, you had some self-wingwoman-ing to do.

They had arrived at record speed, much to your delight. And to say that your heart skipped a beat when you locked eyes with Mingi would be an understatement. You were envious of the unbelievable boom-bap that it had produced, barely being able to contain yourself.

Mingi was the same. Shining like a thousand suns, he stretched his hand out to you and once you did the same, could not help but admire the tattoos that were peeking out from under the sleeve of your oversized hoodie.

In a spur of emotion he blurted out a series of compliments, his hand still holding onto yours, him melting as you chuckled and sent warm words right back.

While deciding what the track was going to be, Hongjoong had suddenly decided to volunteer himself into an exclusively producer role, saying something along the lines of "the track will just sound better that way trust me"... which could be taken two ways.

Mingi swooned a little at the thought that Hongjoong was literally waving a green flag for him to make a RAP DUET with you.

While you, interpreting it as a subtle jab at your productions skills, clasped your hands together, uttering a low, "1v1 me dude I dare you"

Never before did Mingi see Hongjoong so unsettled, his hands flittering over your equipment as he laughed nervously. But in a matter of seconds a sweet smile returned to your face as you leaned back in the chair and said "you know that we are both control freaks right? Wait- Mingi? You a control freak or just freaky?"

His face slowly started turning beet red as he looked to his captain for reassurance. It did not help that you addressed him informally, catching him off-guard completely. But he did not mind. In fact, he liked it. A lot.

And with that buzz motivating you, you Hongjoong and Mingi began to write lines, lay down beats, nearly crash Ableton a couple of times, hold a mini-concert on some Launchpads, and made sure to include a catchy hook, credit to Hongthoven being in the house.

It was totally different seeing you work. Just as you were sweet and mellow when chatting away to him or Hongjoong, you were the world's energy personified both in the booth and while guiding Hongjoong if there was something he could not find, since the set up was slightly different.

Mingi could not take his eyes off you as you were recording your parts. The way in which you were fully immersed in the story spoke volumes about your professionalism, and how well you added vocals to his parts made his heart flutter. He could not help but imagine how this could sound live.

He wanted to take this out of the booth and into the world. To be that rap duo that everyone wanted to hear. So once it was his turn, he gave it all.

You were in awe. He was even better than before, and matched you impressively well. He had even used some of your beloved techniques, and took a rhythmic pattern from your part to emphasise its importance. You could not help but lean over to Hongjoong, who was looking awfully similar to a Cheshire cat, and whisper:

"I need an album with this guy."

"He's all yours. Trust me, he'll break KQ down if you tell him."

Now it was your turn to blush. Who were you? A school girl? Maybe. Maybe on the inside there was a little school girl. You didn't mind though. Not one bit. You liked it. And though you were still one to want to keep that tough girl persona, you admitted you had a soft spot for the gentle giant.

After the first day of working on the track had gone incredibly well, Hongjoong and Mingi had taken straight to management to convince them that this was going to be a hit. Later that same night, on an hour-long zoom call with you, your agent, Hongjoong, Mingi and their management present, you had all agreed on terms and were ready to make the track official for future release.

You knew that this was likely going to involve a lot more publicity, and was going to be something new, but Mingi had highlighted, when the topic of promotions came up, that he did not want to follow a hardcore route, instead opting more for the few but highly sought after appearances. Hongjoong simply agreed.

It was obvious to you that Mingi was doing this out of consideration for you, and it did make you think that maybe he saw you as weak, but that evaporated once the call was done and he messaged you privately.

<MC Mango> Hey Y/N! Just wanted to say that I am so excited to be able to actually make this track with you! Feels like a dream haha

<you> Hi Mingi, likewise :) super cool stuff, you coming to the studio @ 10am tomorrow right?

<MC Mango> You know it! Also, what's your favourite food?

Well that was random, but you decided to answer anyways

<you> Nachos are life.

<MC Mango> RESPECT! Okay thank you :D

<you> You mysterious man... O_O

<MC Mango> See you tomorrow Y/N :) <3

<you> haha see you :) <3

His addition of the heart made your heart do flip flops. You really were getting too soft. So you put on your noise cancelling headphones, and in your best nature, turned up an aggressive hiphop and trap playlist.

And yet, thoughts of him did not want to leave, so instead, you returned to tweaking what you had recorded today, listening to his wonderful voice many times over.

After a few more days of the two ATEEZ members basically living in your studio (and Mingi bringing nachos for you because of that one text you sent), you were officially finished with the preparation of the track, having mastered it to the highest quality attainable, and after that, it was a big time rush to tie up all the loose ends for the set release.

The way that this one song scaled in terms of production was unprecedented, and compared to your lonely nights in the studio or at most, five people working on an album, you could not help but feel like you did not deserve this.

You felt like everything was being taken out of your control, and there were moments when you, quite literally, had no idea what was happening, neither with your song nor with what the bureaucrats had lined up for you. It was all simply too much. Too loud, too much like a hive.

So walked right into your studio, and got to writing.

The words came naturally to you, and it was your fingers that were struggling to keep up as you let loose on the pages in front of you. The message was simple enough, but it resonated. The feeling of realising that you will never really quite know a person, or the wide network of people who are connected to you.

Just as you were finishing up, you noticed that the second verse seemed to have a slightly different voice. One that was too similar to a certain tall rapper. Oh you were in deep.

You were alerted by a soft knock on the door, and looked up to see none other than Mingi, poking his head in, evidently worried. You could not be happier to see him.

"Hey, you weren't at KQ so I figured I could find you here. What's up? Can I come in?"

He asked, ever so gentle. As he ambled across the room upon shutting the door behind him, you noticed he had a plastic bag in his hands. After seeing your line of vision stop at the object, he raised it a little, explaining:

"I brought some fuel. There were these cool new fusion kimbap rolls launched, and I wanted to try them with you."

With you. The words repeated in your head. You thanked him, and patted the seat beside you. There was no need for you to explain why you were taking some time out, Mingi understood in a heartbeat.

The only thing that mattered to him was that you were still here, smiling, and more than happy to see him. Be with him.

You slid over the lyrics you had written for a still untitled rough idea, asking him for his opinion. Brows furrowed, he leaned over, closer to you.

"Oh this flows... nice... oh I really like that line. Wait why did you write 'Fix On'?"

"Guess."

"Wait, no way. Is this us?"

"Well... it could be?" you left the question hanging in the air. Silence fell upon the room as he looked deep into your eyes.

"This... is going to be THE BEST ALBUM EVER LET'S DO THIS!" he almost deafened you with his scream for joy as he jumped up from the chair, taking you with him and wrapping you up in a tight hug.

At first you were frozen, unsure of what in the world you were supposed to be doing, but as seconds passed and he was not planning on letting go, you chuckled and returned the embrace, rocking just a little.

Another spark passed between you as both of you felt that this was definitely going to be much more than just an album.

As days turned into weeks, and one song turned into a mini album, your interactions with Mingi also changed. Instead of just staying in the studio to work, you now spent hours on end in the space just staying together to chat. Initially sat opposite one another, but recently, intertwined in a cuddle on the couch, both of you looking at either your phone or his.

When Hongjoong was in the studio too, he was constantly eyeing both of you with a cheeky smirk.

It had already been five times that the rest of the members, led by Yunho, crashed the studio 'to see how things were going' and to 'see Mingi because they have not seen him in so long'. Soon enough that had also changed to 'you know what just take him forever he doesn't stop talking about you anyways'.

Though you had not made it official yet, everything was progressing in that direction. Both him and you were evolving thanks to your collaboration, and had only one wish: for this to never end.

Mingi had helped you familiarise yourself with official photoshoots, and you had given him freestyling tricks for 'the future'.

Once the mini album dropped, it seemed that everything you knew combusted.

Initially, your fans, those fans who you held so dear and worked tirelessly for, were pouring in with nothing but disappointment and hatred. You were appalled. It was also obvious that they had not listened to any of the tracks, and they were just displeased that now you were 'searching for the mainstream, sucking up to popular culture and losing yourself'.

It would be a lie to say you did not spend nights after the release in tears, instead of celebrating. Hiding in your beloved studio, you could not stop yourself from composing sad track after sad track, trying to find an outlet for your anguish. You knew you should not have done this. You knew you should not have loved.

You did not answer Mingi's calls, nor his messages, but when he bust through the door, misty-eyed and crying out your name, you collapsed into his arms as he comforted you, promising you that he would always be there. No matter how hard things seemed.

Once you had calmed down, he took out his phone and started showing you some screenshots. Then went on Twitter, and then even searched up articles related to your collaboration. He wanted to show you that there was a different side to the story.

And oh how bright it was.

ATINY were overwhelmingly positive about this surprise release, praising both Mingi's and your talents, and diving into searching for more of your content.

You read the critics raving about each track, especially the first one, which you had made into the title track.

The public was calling for this to be in concert. On a show. Anywhere where they could feel this live. You took Mingi's hand and slipped your fingers through his, and he responded by bringing you closer, kissing your cheek.

"And finally, take a look," and he showed you one more page. Your social media page. With the follower count unlike anything you have ever seen before, even though you had experienced a crash just a few days ago. And a flood of comments of appreciation and gratitude. In that moment, you returned to Mingi, and pulled him into a hope-filled kiss.

It was interesting doing promotions as a new couple. Though you had not revealed the relationship, multiple public figures had commented on your 'unique chemistry' and 'what seemed to be musical telepathy'.

On a couple of shows onto which you had agreed to go, (given the condition that Mingi would be there too) you shined. Initially you were irked by their requests that you covered up your tattoos, but as it turned out, long-sleeved, form fitting turtlenecks and modern cyber and industrial wear quickly became your signature.

Your agent was ecstatic at your rise in popularity, and was now almost always on new phone calls, even negotiating with some brands who wished to do advertising with you.

And Mingi, well, he was falling in love with you more and more, as you shined brighter and brighter. During a small break in your promotions to accommodate ATEEZ's pre-filming, he continuously messaged you and even invited you onto the film set, where you had the chance to mingle more with the staff.

You had gotten to know a lot of them closely, even recognising some from the time of initial preparations for your album with Mingi, and took no time to present them with small thank you gifts, and helping them out when you could.

Their attitude towards you also softened, with one of the younger interns admitting that initially, she had perceived you as a much scarier and stricter figure, and after hearing some rumours. To this, you responded with a light-hearted laugh, and thanked her for the honestly.

How glad you were that Mingi had snuck out to see you that day, and that serendipity had brought you a friend in the form of Hongjoong.

Fast-forward a couple of months, and you were having the largest-scale concert of your career. Before, it used to be within the hundreds at most, the highest profile one having approached one thousand.

But now, there were a few thousand voices, all chanting your name. The venue was sold out in record time, and the first batch of merch that you had designed, with Mingi cheering you on in the background, was nearly sold out. The concert merch too, had been swept off the stalls.

It was exhilarating. You were alive. Before, it was you breathing life into the audience, sharing your energy with them, connecting to them and lighting up the room. But now, the exchange was mutual, and in some moments, you were flabbergasted at the pulsating force of the crowd. They were there for you. They were cheering for you. They knew your words by heart and were overjoyed to be in this time and space with you.

You were on the extended platform connected to the main stage that went further into the audience. A peninsula, surrounded by a sea of shimmering glow and the wonderful people attending. It was time for you to perform the title track of your and Mingi's album. You were seated on one of the two stools that were right in the centre of the 'peninsula'. One single spotlight on you.

The crowd roared, signaling Mingi's approach in the darkness. You felt his back press against yours, his heartbeat steady, giving you rhythm, giving you reassurance. While your microphones were still off, but he moved his away just in case, you heard him whisper to you quick words of adoration, and a cheerful 'let's do this'.

In this wide world, you had always thought that keeping your circle small, your fanbase small, and your music inaccessible was the only way to preserve identity. But you had grown. You had now understood that you had been selfish, denying those who wanted to dream the opportunity to do so.

Now on the stage, together with the love of your life and with the universe surrounding you, you were truly alive, and truly an artist.

CHAPTER TWO — UNWANTED HOUSEGUEST

lavender blood || park seonghwa

pairing: gn!reader x god of death!seonghwa

word count: 1,713

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taglist ( ask to be + or - )

@vemarkciraptor @girlsbyaespa @storminacloud @etrnalhwa @mingiholic @sugarrimajins @gemjimin @alanniys @teezers99 @bobrouxsky @miriamxsworld @woosmaid @actuallyalien @jackinmyarea @honey-lemon-goose @spicyduck13 @seonghwarizon

i am in no way claiming this to be an accurate representation of ateez/seonghwa or any of the other people i mention in my works—everything is strictly fictional and made to be read and enjoyed. they are merely reference characters. i am also in no way glamorizing or romanticizing anything i mention in my works such as toxic behavior and bodily harm, i won’t tolerate seeing such either. with such said, please don’t hesitate to leave your thoughts!

Keep reading

Be The Light (Part 1)

pairing: halateez (ot8) x reader

genre: Dystopian AU, angst, some fluff maybe, based off of ATEEZ's lore

wc: 4.2k+

warnings: language. violence. this is set in strictland. major character death. LOTS OF ANGST. Mentions of food. Let me know if I missed anything.

summary: You lost them, then found them again. And now that freedom is so near, you fear losing them once again.

a/n: I chose violence on the very first day of the year.

Tumblr is based on a system of reblogs, not likes. Please reblog my work. Feedback is always appreciated. Happy New Year!

OUR WORLD IS PERFECT AS LONG AS THERE ARE NO CRACKS.

FEELINGS ARE A WEAKNESS.

EMOTIONS ARE DISEASE.

WE WANT TO PROTECT YOU ALL.

DO NOT DOUBT US.

DO NOT QUESTION.

ALL OF THIS IS FOR YOU.

Z’s voice booms across the vast expanse of Sector 1. You keep your hood up and head down as you make your way through the streets, your mask hiding your displeasure when you see the blank expressions on the citizens’ faces.

The city itself is a reflection of Z’s ideology. Metal and cement dot the skyline, and each building reaching up to the sky has sharp angles. From a distance, they look like spikes emerging out of the ground, punctuated by the airships that hover close to the tops of the tallest buildings. The city is lifeless and grey, as soulless as the citizens that inhabit it.

You halt in your tracks when you see an Android Guardian in your path ahead and slip into a desolate street, gravel crunching underneath your boots as you take the longer route to the base. Flyers with HALATEEZ’s symbols have been pasted haphazardly, and the inaccurate descriptions on each make you laugh. You snatch one meant for Hongjoong from a wall, crumpling it up in your pocket. You’re sure your eight friends will have a field day when they see it.

Ever since The Movement spread in the other sectors, the hold the government had on the citizens has loosened. But Sector 1 is still under their stronghold. In light of the most recent victory, the government had quadrupled its efforts in a desperate attempt to regain control over the population. That effort included trying to capture the leaders of the rebellion that the government had fondly dubbed HALATEEZ. You’d taken on the name, using it to spread your cause further.

“All forms of art are prohibited. Those engaging in art, dance, music, or film will be treated as offenders and will be penalized.”

You roll your eyes at the announcement, “Next, they’ll be telling us to stop breathing. Breathing is a sin. Offenders will be fried with bullets.”

You hear a snicker from behind you and whirl around, your leg stopping mere centimeters away from a hooded person. You can’t see his face, but the ring-clad hand that had stopped your incoming kick is familiar.

“Wooyoung!” You hiss at the wide-eyed boy who’s pouting at you, “How many times have I told you not to sneak up on me? I could’ve broken your nose!”

“I think he has a pain fetish,” Jongho appears out of the shadows, smirking at the older boy’s appalled expression.

“Hey,” he whines. “Just because I once said I was attracted to Hongjoong hyung when he was rough with me doesn’t mean I have a fetish!”

“What are you two doing here?” You ask, talking over Wooyoung’s complaints. They flank your sides as if it’s second nature, and you resume your journey to the dilapidated building you’ve called home for the last couple of months.

“While surveying the general area, Yeosang saw that Z has stationed more Android Guardians around the route you’d take to come back,” Jongho whispers. “So we agreed to get you.”

The three of you slip into the shadows when you hear an approaching vehicle, and you hide just in time as the very next moment, a tank ambles past the street. The three of you wait for a few moments before Wooyoung steps out, his hand stretched behind him to signal you to stay hidden just in case. It’s not until he gives you the green light that you and Jongho join him.

“They were very eager to get out of the base,” your earpiece crackles to life, and Yeosang’s voice filters in. The amused lilt causes your own lips to curl at the corners.

“You can stay inside for so long before you get bored,” Jongho shrugs in reply.

“I just dropped by to let you know that the main entrance is close to the new checkpoint. So, take the back street when you get back.” Despite his monotonous tone, you catch the edge of worry in his words. You know he always worries, having lost his family in the new regime. It wasn’t until he found his childhood friend Wooyoung and joined The Movement that he regained some of his old snark.

“Noted, Yeo. Thanks for giving us a heads-up,” you murmur, following Jongho as he jumps over the fallen debris of a newly destroyed building and ducks beneath the boulder balanced between the balconies of two skyscrapers.

You breathe a sigh of relief when you spot the camouflaged entrance tucked behind an unassuming barricade. With a quick glance around to ensure no one is watching, you enter the base, closely followed by the two boys.

“Hongjoong was right,” you announce when you’re in the private area, catching the attention of the six boys scattered around. Unlike the common area where everyone who is part of The Movement is allowed, this space was only accessible to the nine of you. “It’ll take more than just a disturbance to execute the plan in the capital. There are Android Guardians everywhere, and that damned audio keeps playing 24/7.”

“It’s a desperate attempt to regain control,” Yunho smirks from where he had been engaged in a dance battle with San. “They won’t know what hit them by the time we’re done with the plan.”

“We’re as prepared as we can be,” Mingi rests his hand on your shoulder, easing some of your worries. But you can’t help but fear for everyone’s safety. This isn’t like the other plans, you’re dealing with the heart of the problem, and it won’t be easy. All of you will be in danger this time around.

“Now, now. Why do you look so sad? You’re our light. As long as you keep shining, we’ll all find our way back to you,” Seonghwa walks up to you, ruffling your hair affectionately.

Out of all eight of them, Seonghwa is still the one whose soft edges haven’t hardened, even though he’s the one who suffered the most under the Strictland government. His empathy always amazes you, and you’ve always felt that he’s the perfect balance to Hongjoong’s hardness. After all, being the Captain, the latter cannot afford to be lenient, not until you’ve gained freedom.

“You promise?” Your voice sounds fragile even to you, causing everyone to soften visibly.

“I promise,” Hongjoong places his palm on the left side of his chest, directly over his heart, and tilts his head at you. His gaze is sincere, but there’s something else that swims in his caramel eyes, and for the first time since you have known him, you cannot read his gaze. You’ve known him since before Z took over, and Hongjoong took you under his wing once The Movement was in place. Even though Seonghwa is his second-in-command, you command the same level of respect as the Captain.

It isn’t long before everyone heads to bed, wanting to be well-rested before the last leg of your plan is executed tomorrow. You, however, stay in the room, gazing out of the crack of the blacked-out window until dusk gives way to the familiar darkness. Sometime later, you hear the door click open once again.

“Can’t sleep?” San’s voice is quiet, and his footsteps even quieter as he makes his way to the ledge where you’re seated. Quiet as a cat, he settles in front of you, resting his chin over his knees while his arms curl against his legs. The image of your cause’s deadliest assassin curled up like a cat is amusing, to say the least.

“I’ll head to bed soon,” you shrug, going back to looking out of the crack. The stars are out now, and maybe, after tomorrow, all of you will be free to relish the beauty of the night sky and everything else that the world has to offer.

“The darkness isn’t so bad, is it? Especially when the stars are out in the night sky. It makes me truly wonder if we’re the only ones out there,” you muse quietly.

“We’re not,” his voice is filled with so much conviction that it surprises you. You turn to look at him with a raised eyebrow, and he scrambles to explain. “I mean, there are so many stars out there. There must be other worlds as well. And don’t forget about Hongjoong’s theory of there being other universes.”

His words bring back images of the two of you sitting on the roof of Hongjoong’s childhood home as you gazed up at the sky with his father’s telescope. He had taught you everything about astronomy. On one such night, a few weeks before the world fell into Z and his Android Guardian’s hands, Hongjoong had shared his theory with you.

“I read in one of my father’s books about parallel universes.”

“Parallel universes?” You echoed, confused as to what he meant.

Hongjoong hummed, “They are alternative worlds that are similar to ours but also have some fundamental differences. In some of them, other versions of us exist but lead vastly different lives.”

“So, like, in another universe, you might be a pirate raging the deadly seas and fighting monsters?”

He barked out a laugh at your words, “A very vivid example, but, yes, something like that.”

“It sounds like magic,” you mused. “Though magic doesn’t exist.”

“It does.”

You tilted your head in confusion, “What do you mean?”

“Magic is what you do to make the outcome you desire to become a reality,” he replied, smiling when a huge grin spread on your face at his words.

Even after the world was turned upside down, Hongjoong hadn’t stopped searching for a way to contact other universes. In fact, he doubled his efforts, hoping to find someone out there who would help to overthrow Z’s government.

“I wonder what I’m doing in another universe,” you wonder as you recall Hongjoong’s words from long ago. Maybe you are gazing at the stars there as well, but maybe you’re happier there. Maybe you live in a world that’s free of constant surveillance and fear.

“I don’t know about that, but I’m sure you light up the world in all other universes as well,” San’s eyes twinkle like the sky above as he gazes at you with a fond smile on his face. “You’ve been our light in this darkness, and I hope that you’ll be our light in the future as well.”

“Why does it seem like you’re saying goodbye?” You narrow your eyes at him, fear rising like a tidal wave within you.

“I’m not saying goodbye. We promised that we are not going anywhere, didn’t we? We’ll see each other in the New World after tomorrow, and then we can finally rest.” His eyes are ablaze as if he truly believes that they’ll come back to you, their light.

But even then, you can’t help but feel like you’re missing a very important piece in the puzzle.

“The Captain has been spotted!” You hear someone shout and hide behind a pillar as scores of Android Guardians run past you. Your heart hammers in your chest in worry before you stop short. The Guardians are going in the wrong direction; the last time you checked, Hongjoong was near the factory to the south of Sector 1 and not in the North, where the main warehouse is.

You take out the smartwatch Yeosang had designed for you and watch the eight dots light up the screen. Seven of them are in the south, at the heart of the government, but one of them is in the North. Your eyes go wide when you see the name against the dot. San.

“Now,” Yeosang’s steely voice sounds through your earpiece, and suddenly the world descends into chaos.

“People! Open your eyes for our lives! Keep your mind! Now is the time for freedom if we try! Listen, look, write! OPEN YOUR EYES!” Hongjoong’s voice intercepts Z’s message that is being played on loop. “One ray of light will be enough, just follow me. It is time.”

Then as if on cue, music starts blaring through the speakers, the familiar bass hammering in time with your heart. The citizens gaze in awe at the flashing screens where The Movement’s message is playing. But you don’t pay attention to any of it because right now, you can feel nothing but fury.

You should have known. San and Seonghwa’s cryptic words. The way Mingi and Jongho were unable to meet your eyes at breakfast. Wooyoung and Yeosang’s unnaturally stoic expressions. Yunho’s silence. Hongjoong’s unreadable gaze. You should have known.

You remember how two weeks ago when the nine of you were in a meeting, and Hongjoong had said it.

“What if one of us becomes the decoy, baiting the guardians to go in the wrong direction?”

You had shut down the idea fairly quickly, not wanting to risk any of the boys’ for the cause. But you had never thought they would plan this behind your back. You swallow the bitter taste of betrayal, turning to follow the soldiers when someone grabs your arm and presses you against the wall with their hand covering your mouth.

Hongjoong’s familiar eyes peek from beneath the hood as you try to squirm out of his hold. But he’s stronger than you, always has been, and you would have to hurt him badly to get out of his hold. Despite your anger, you do not want to wound him.

The mere thought of San getting captured and tortured is enough for you to sink into the depths of despair. He may be strong, but no one can win against battalions of Android Guardians. With the Captain’s armband, they won’t stop until they have him. A sob erupts from your lips faster than you can even register the tears spilling from your cheeks onto Hongjoong’s hand. 

“Y/N,” the earpiece clicks to life with San’s voice. He’s breathless, and you can hear the wind rushing past as he runs from those who are chasing him. Your stomach twists in fear as you close your eyes, blocking out everything but his voice, “I’m sorry, but this was the only way. There’s a small something for you in your room just in case.”

He omits the ‘I don’t make it’, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure out what he means. The idiot has always been too soft-hearted, always ready to sacrifice himself just to keep everyone safe.

“San,” you manage to choke out when Hongjoong’s hand slips from its place over your lips. “Please, don’t. Don’t do it— We’ll find another way, just, please. I can’t—”

You hear San’s breath hitch at the agony in your voice, “I’m sorry, my light. I’d do anything to keep you safe, and right now, this is the only thing that will keep them off your tracks. I’ll be okay. I’m a fast runner. We needed a distraction, and I agreed, don’t hold it against them.”

You hear an explosion, and San’s gleeful voice tells you that he has destroyed the main warehouse that houses all weapons. But the very next moment, you catch a soft curse, and then there’s a gunshot and a sharp intake of breath. Fear returns in full force, slamming into you like a tsunami.

“San?! What’s wrong?” You scream into the comm device. “Are you okay? What was that sound?”

“Hongjoong hyung will explain everything,” he manages to say between coughs. “Listen to him, okay? Remember, be the light.”

“SAN! NO!”

But your voice doesn’t go through; someone had cut off the connection, ensuring that they wouldn’t trace the comms back to you. The very next moment, you hear alarms and the panicked voices of your comrades.

“RETREAT,” Seonghwa’s voice is firm as he commands everyone. “Don’t look back, just go. We’ll regroup later.”

“Hyung,” Yeosang is next, and you realize he’s using the private channel to talk to you and Hongjoong. “The six of us won’t make it out of the building. They knew we would be here. San has been captured. They're after you, you need to take them to a safe place and tell them about Plan B. Stay safe, my light.”

There are a few crackles, and then the device falls silent. You’ve lost signal, and when you see the seven dots on your smartwatch turn red, your legs give way. You crumple onto the gravel, sobs wracking your body even as the world falls into despair around you. You can’t seem to care about the fact that if you stay here, you’d be captured too. What’s the point of it all when your family has been destroyed by the very forces you are fighting.

It’s only when Hongjoong kneels before you and brings you into his embrace that the ringing in your ears quietens a bit, allowing you to hear the sounds of the fight raging around you. You hate how much power he has over you, his mere touch grounding you to reality. You want to be angry at him, hit him into the next century. But you can’t, and you hate yourself for it. Hongjoong presses something into your hands but stops you from looking at it by keeping your face pressed into the crook of his neck.

“Listen to me very carefully,” his tone leaves no space to disobey, so you nod. “We had an inkling that this would happen, so we made another plan. I’ve been in contact with a group of people from another dimension of sorts, and they agreed to help you out in case something happens to the eight of us. They know the risks, and it took me a lot to convince them to agree to this. In four days, when the moon is full, use the Cromer to bring them here. Trust them. And if you can’t trust them, trust my decision to bring them here. I promise everything will be okay. I’ll find my way back to you. If not in this lifetime, then I’ll see you on the other side.”

The next thing you know, Hongjoong is pressing a cloth to your nose, and the sweet smell of chloroform hits you. You struggle fruitlessly against him, your movements slowing down as the chemical takes effect. The last thing you feel before darkness envelops you is a feather-light press of lips on your forehead.

When you come to, you’re engulfed in darkness. It’s so heavy and all-encompassing that, for a moment, you wonder if you have gone blind. You’re lying on your back, waiting for your eyes to adjust so you can figure out where you are. A shiver runs down your spine when you notice that you can’t hear anything. For the first time since Z has taken over, the world is silent.

It takes all you have to not start hyperventilating then and there. Trying to focus on breathing while there’s a pounding headache is harder than you had assumed it would be. Through the haze of your senses, you assess the state of your body. Nothing hurts except for the raging headache you have, and you seem to have no injuries. You focus on making sure each of your body parts is in one piece, following the checklist Seonghwa had hammered into you early on in your training.

Seonghwa.

His name brings the memory of what happened to the front of your consciousness, and you find yourself drowning in the realization of how you had ended up here. The gravity of the situation you are in settles onto your shoulders. You sit up, suddenly unable to breathe.

The clutter of something falling is what snaps you back into reality, and you wipe your tears to see what it is. An hourglass lies on its side, glowing an unearthly blue. You blink once, twice, before realizing this is what Hongjoong had pressed into your hands.

The Cromer.

Hands trembling, you reach out to hold it, the device feeling warm in your hands. You know how it works, having come across Hongjoong’s notes in his office. When you questioned him, he had explained to you in detail. 

“It works according to the moon phases. During a full moon, the ones who have the Cromer can travel from one dimension to the other. While during a crescent moon, you can deliver messages through dreams.”

You sigh, looking down at your wrist, and see that all eight dots have disappeared. Choking back a sob, you press a button on your smartwatch that bathes you in bright light. You’re thankful now that Mingi insisted on Yeosang adding a flashlight to these things. Assessing your surroundings now that it isn’t dark, you realize Hongjoong brought you to one of the secret hideouts that leads to a tunnel that opens directly into his office. You’re thankful that he had enough presence of mind even while being hunted down to give you this one last thing. He knew you’d not want to face the members of The Movement tonight.

Our Light,

We’re sorry that we broke our promise. We’re sorry that we couldn’t make it back to you. For what it’s worth, we hope you know that we tried our best.

We hope our Captain was able to tell you about Plan B and that you will be able to bring them to our universe. They’re nice guys, not as nice as us, but they’ll have to do now that we won’t be able to protect you.

Don’t be too sad, okay? Don’t let this obstacle dim your light. Keep shining. Keep leading The Movement. Keep bringing joy into other people’s lives. We believe in you. We’ll be watching over you from the stars. Take care of yourself.

Thank you for bringing all of us together, for giving us love, and for lighting up our world.

Be The Light.

Yours Forever,

HALATEEZ.

1. Eat and sleep on time. Don’t skip meals. And stay hydrated, little one. I am sorry I couldn’t find my way back to you, and I’m sorry that I couldn’t protect you or the others. Please don’t cry, okay? I can’t stand your tears. Thank you for giving me a family once again. I love you. —Seonghwa

2. I have never been good with expressing my emotions, but I am always thankful that you were by my side throughout all these years. Thank you for enabling me before and after our world changed and for staying even when I was being difficult. I love you, always have, and always will. I hope you will find it in your heart to forgive me for allowing San to do this. —Hongjoong

3. Shortie, thank you for pushing me to dance again. I had been working on a choreography for you. The recording is in one of the memory cards lying around in Hongjoong hyung’s drawer. Watch it when you miss us, okay? And don’t you dare shed tears for us; we don’t deserve it, not after we broke our promise to you. —Yunho

4. Every single day since you found Woo and I, I’ve thanked my stars that you were the one who came across us. Thank you for being kind even when I acted out and was a handful during the first few months. Thank you for not giving up on me. Don’t give up now. See that our cause is brought to fruition. Maybe one day we’ll meet each other, and you can tell us all about your stories from the New World. —Yeosang

5. I think you’ve figured out by now that I was saying goodbye last night. And if you are reading this it means I wasn’t fast enough of a runner to come back to you. It was my choice to be the decoy. Please forgive us for going behind your back like that. I’m sorry. I’m so, so, sorry for the pain I have caused you. Keep shining bright. —San

6. I don’t think I’ve ever truly thanked you for everything you did for me. So, here I am, telling this to you as I write my last words to you. I hope it doesn’t come to that, but if it does, just know that I’m really glad I met you in this life. Thank you. Stay safe, and keep shining. —Mingi

7. I wish I could’ve been a part of the New World with you, but unfortunately, that isn’t the case anymore. I won’t be there to protect you, so please, take care of yourself. I’m sorry that we broke our promise to you, but I’m sure we’ll find our way back to you in some form or other. —Jongho

8. Pretty sure the others’ words will make you cry, so here I am to brighten up your day as usual. There’s cake in the fridge, please eat it because I took a lot of pains to find fresh ingredients in this place. I can’t believe these people live like this. You should teach them how to cook food once you bring Z down. Carry us in your heart always. —Wooyoung

A laugh bubbles up in your chest, erupting even as tears trickle down your face. Trust Wooyoung to be the clown even when writing a goodbye letter. You curl up against the sheets on Seonghwa’s bed, grieving for your loss. You allow yourself tonight to break apart, consumed by the grief of losing your family. But tomorrow, when the sun rises, you’ll rise with it, once again assuming the role of The Movement’s Light.

summer nights (j.yh)

summary: he's your best friend and roommate, but during the heat of summer and the confinement of quarantine, you just can't seem to help yourselves.

note: 18+ content, minors DNI. // this fic is just pure self indulgence, but i'm kind of liking the cheeky college au yunho vibes, you can blame the new wonderwall photos

warnings: best friend!yunho, fem!reader, quarantine and talk of early covid times, sexual frustration, big dick!yunho, oral (m receiving), fingering, semi rough sex, use of toys, light overstimulation, basically reader is pent up and struggling to get off and hot bestie yunho helps out. please let me know if I missed any.

pairings: yunho x reader

genre: college non idol au; suggestive, smut, fluff, comedy

word count: 8.5K

my masterlist || read it on AO3 || the sequel; summer's end

              It’s a little impossible not to look at him when he’s like this. He’s been your friend since the start of college, but your roommate for only a little over four months. You didn’t think it would be this difficult. It’s not as if you didn’t know he was attractive, of course you did, but you had always found a steady friendly rhythm with him that never turned overly flirtatious, so living with him should have been safe. It probably would have been until the firm constraints of quarantine, and now it feels like you’re trapped in a pressure cooker.

              He’s collapsed back into the couch cushions, Xbox controller in hand and his headset askew, one ear off and one ear on. He’s wearing a pair of ratty gray sweatpants, ones that have been driving you particularly insane the last few weeks, and a fitted black tank top. Yunho’s eyes are trained on the screen, intensely focused. You watch him play, one thumb circling on the left joystick, his other clicking buttons calculated and quick, the tendons in his hands jumping.

              “I said on the left,” Yunho says through the mic, his voice firm.

              Your thighs press together unconsciously, four months of this absolute sexual drought was starting to take its toll and even his irritated competitive voice was frustrating you. You focus down on your phone from your spot on the opposite side of the couch and continue scrolling Instagram.

              “Obviously it’s our left, we’re going the same way, Mingi.” Yunho groans and you bite the inside of your cheek.

              It’s almost ninety degrees today and the two measly window units you have in the apartment are working overtime, but still not bringing the temperature down to a manageable temperature. Yunho’s skin has a light sheen of sweat across it, and you find yourself swallowing hard, trying to look anywhere else but at him.

              “Nice,” Yunho comments through his headset and you can hear the echo of Mingi and the other guys shouting through the one headphone that sits half off his right ear.

              When he takes in a sharp breath, hunching over with his elbows now on his knees to focus, you have to go. Climbing over the back of the couch so you don’t have to walk in front of the TV and break his concentration, you pass through the small breakfast nook and into the kitchen to open the freezer. Sometimes when you were sure he was going to be occupied for long enough, you’d slip into the shower and take care of this frustrated tension yourself, but lately even that wasn’t working. Four months without being properly touched was officially too much.

              You don’t hear him come into the kitchen until he chuckles at you, watching you lean into the open freezer, the cold frosty air passing across your cheeks.

              “Hot?” He raises an eyebrow.

              “Yeah,” you sigh and back up from the freezer to shut the door, opting to lean against the kitchen counter by the sink behind you in your small alley kitchen, “if I knew when we signed our lease that we were going to be literally trapped inside all summer I would have said let’s spring for the better place with central air.”

              “Same,” he steps past you to reach into the fridge and grab a water bottle.

              You watch him as he cracks the seal on the top and takes a long swig, the muscles in his throat tensing pleasantly when he swallows.

              “What?” he says, noticing the way your eyes are on him.

              You clear your throat, shrugging, “Nothing, I’m just out of it today.”

              “Ah,” he shrugs. After a beat he turns to you, “What are you doing today, anyways?”

              You sigh, “probably the same thing I’ve been doing since class ended? Nothing and more nothing? Maybe I’ll finally pick up a new hobby,”

              “You’ve picked up several,” he notes, a teasing glint in his eye.

              “Yes, I know, ha ha.”

              “I just don’t know why you thought picking up knitting in the middle of June would be a good idea,” he shrugs and starts to head back out of the kitchen. “Our air conditioner’s broken? Add more wool to the problem, that should solve it.”

              “Oh, whatever, at least I’m trying to fill the time,” You retort, heading back out to the main room with him, “I seriously never thought I’d say I wish classes would start up again, but at least I’d have something to do.”

              “Yeah,” he flops back down on the couch, tossing the controller onto the coffee table and taking another swig of water, “that and the not working thing is really kind of fucked.”

              “Yeah,”

              You had both worked as servers last year until Yunho lucked into a bar tending job at a better spot. When he brought you over with him it was the financial boost you needed to start really saving some money, but now with quarantine and the uncertainty, you are both eating into your savings month after month.

              “They said it should end by September,” he shrugs, “if we made it four months, we can make it two more.”

              “Flu season,” you shake your head, “it’s not ending.”

              He rolls his eyes, “you are the least optimistic person I’ve ever met.”

              “Realistic,” you counter.

              “Yeah,” he swipes a hand across his brow, “well if we’re still not working by October that’s gonna be tough,”

              “Yeah,” you can’t help but worry the inside of your lip with your teeth, the idea of it nerve wracking.

              “Mingi said his place might be hiring,” he notes, “but the pay isn’t great.”

              “It’s pay,” you say, “and hiring in the middle of a pandemic has to be a good sign, right?”

              “Maybe,”

              “I have to figure out what I can do from home,” you murmur, “I’ve only ever been a server, I don’t know who would hire me for a desk job.”

              He sits up a bit, and you can see his brain shift into problem solving mode, one of the many things you love about him. He thinks for a minute and then says, “You could do something like a call center?”

              “Eh, maybe,” you shrug, “not ideal.”

              “Transcribe stuff?” He offers.

              “I checked into that, the pay is terrible,”

              “Okay, so a last resort.” He thinks again, biting his lip, then looking up at you with bright eyes, “maybe you could finally do some freelance stuff? Maybe put a portfolio together, I could help with the website,”

              The way he’s looking at you makes you want to melt into the couch, but you manage, “Yeah, I could do that. It might take time to make it profitable, but it’s a good idea.”

              He smiles at you, “You should, you’d be good at it.”

              “I’ll think about it,” you agree.

              His smile quirks into something a bit more wry, and you know he’s about to say something sarcastic, “In the meantime there’s always OnlyFans.”

              That is not at all what you expected him to say, and you can barely respond, “What?”

              “Calm down, I’m kidding,” he laughs at your panicked expression, “I know you wouldn’t be comfortable with that.”

              “Yeah,” his soft laugh helps you relax, and you continue, “it’s not like I have anything against the people who do, I mean, get it if you can get it right?”

              He laughs again, covering his mouth with his hand before he says, “y/n, relax. Besides, I doubt you’ve ever taken a nude photo in your life.”

              A sharp pang of heat runs through you, but you can’t help but fire back, “Yes, I have?”

              Both his eyebrows raise high, “I didn’t think you’d admit to it if you had,”

              You never talk like this with him. Short of you both checking in to make sure your respective dates went well, and Yunho having a slight history of eyeing up your past partners a little too much to make sure they weren’t total assholes, romance and sex was not a frequent topic. Something about the thick summer air and the fact that you had been trapped inside for months on end in such close quarters with him had you getting a little bold. “Yunho, I’m not a prude. I’m just selective,”

              “I’m just surprised,” he raises his hands in mock defeat, “you’ve just always seemed like kind of a romantic, less college hookup.”

              “Yeah,” you settle back against the arm of the couch, “I guess you’re right, but being a romantic doesn’t mean I don’t hookup with people. It’s just been…a while. And it’s not like I’ve sent a ton of nudes or something, I don’t mean that, I just mean that I have, once or twice.”

              “You seem nervous,” he chuckles, “I’m not judging. I think it’s nice that you’re selective.”

              “Thanks,” you manage, not sure what to say to something like that.

              He lets it lie for just a minute and then says it, unable to help himself, “who are you even sending nudes to?”

              “Sent,” you correct, “Past tense,”

              “Still,” he presses a little, a smile still across his mouth and you know that he’s just being playful. If you told him to stop, he would, if you said you were uncomfortable he would back off immediately, but there’s something open there, and if you just step through you’re not sure where this conversation might go.

              You groan, “Okay, fine,” he grins, “but we’re never talking about this again and you cannot tease me.”

              “Cross my heart,” he says, and he mimes it, his finger dragging into an X across his chest.

              “Do you remember Park Seonghwa?” You say, and your cheeks heat thinking about the very short lived but very lovely relationship you had in sophomore year.

              His mouth drops open a little surprised, “Yeah, I definitely do.”

              “What?” You press him.

              “I don’t know who I expected,” he says honestly, “you could do worse. He’s a good guy,”

              “I know, it’s a shame,”

              “What is?” he cocks his head to the side.

              “We just didn’t really gel long term,” you shrug, “but he was a really sweet guy, the kind who plans dates and stuff? Plus, the rest,” you catch yourself, blushing harder and dragging a hand over your face, “I can’t believe I’m telling you this.”

              His mouth is pressed in a tight line, holding in a laugh before saying, “I mean you have to tell me now,”

              You sigh and let it rush out of you, “The sex was good, like really good. We just weren’t in love with each other so everything kind of faded after a while.”

              “You’re blushing really hard right now,” he grins, his tongue in cheek.

              “I said you couldn’t make fun of me,” you groan, “I don’t interrogate you about your sexual escapades.”

              “Escapades?” His eyebrow raises.

              “Whatever, you know what I mean.”

              “I know,” he shakes his head, “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to tease you. It’s cute,”

              Your stomach flip flops, “Great,”

              “But I’m sorry anyways, that it didn’t work out,” he leans back into his side of the couch and takes another drink of water, glancing out the window briefly before returning his eyes on you.

              “It’s fine,” you shrug, “it was a while ago.”

              “Mm,” he nods, “so that’s a no to OnlyFans, then?”

              He’s good at twisting moments back around towards a joke, keeping things light whenever there’s a serious turn in conversation. You give him a smile, “Yeah, that’s a no.”

              He takes a deep intake of breath and exhales long, bouncing his leg, tapping his fingers along the side of his knee. You love this energy he has, seemingly boundless and pouring out of him in the smallest ways. It’s been months since he’s been able to properly visit the dance studio and see most of his friends other than you, you’ve both been good and careful about the pandemic, but you can see that it leaves him tense.

              You’re about to ask him what he’s going to do with the rest of his day, when his head snaps back you and he says, seemingly out of the blue, “Just Park Seonghwa, then?”

              “What?” You ask, confused.

              “You said you’re selective,” he explains, “so you’ve only sent pictures to him?”

              You feel yourself blush again, heat spreading across your cheeks, and your stomach knots tight. He’s walking an invisible line that you’ve always kept cleanly between you, and you have no idea how you should respond. “Why do you want to know?” Your voice sounds smaller than you wanted it to.

              “I’m curious, I guess,” he shrugs, but his eyes don’t leave yours.

              You shift positions on the couch, desperately trying to ignore just how tight your shorts seem to suddenly be where the denim bunches against your core. “No, not just him.”

              “Interesting,” he says.

              “There was a guy I was talking to at the beginning of lockdown,” you explain, thinking back on your brief connection, “we were supposed to meet up for a date and then the stay-at-home orders came down, but we kept talking.”

              “Oh,” his eyes widen a little, “I’m sorry, are you guys still… are you seeing someone, and I have like no idea?”

              You laugh, “No, no,” you wave him off, “we eventually just stopped talking. We were just messing around for a while.”

              “Damn,” he shakes his head, “I thought I was just the most unobservant man on the planet for second,”

              You shake your head, thinking back to your time attempting to sext the guy you met on Tinder during the first month of quarantine. It was fun at first, but something about him just didn’t do it. He never knew what to say, was focused on himself, and he was cute, but he left you more frustrated than when you started talking half the time.

              “He wasn’t like… an asshole or anything?” Yunho cocks his head to the side when he asks, his eyes studying you.

              “No,” you smile at him, “he was nice just not really… helping,”

              “Ah,” he clears his throat, his eyes flicking away. Now you have crossed the line, officially. Standing in this strange new space where you’re alluding to your orgasms, or lack thereof, with a man who up to this point had made it clear he just viewed you as a friend.

              You glance down at your phone nervously, not a single notification to open and distract you from this. The apartment is quiet for a beat, just the sound of the wheezing window unit pumping tepid air into the room. Your head snaps back up when he says, “So he couldn’t get you off,”

              “Yunho,” your whole body feels tense and anxious at his words, “what are we doing?”

              “Talking,” he answers with no hesitation, and for the first time the way he looks at you feels different.

              “This doesn’t feel like talking,”

              He holds your gaze, “We can stop talking if you want.”

              You’ve already come this far, and whatever you’re about to do or not do might fully ruin the delicately balanced friendship you’ve crafted with him, but you’re pretty sure you don’t care. “We can talk,” you assure him.

              The space between you on the couch feels miles long. Your eyes flick over him, his position reclined against the back of his half of the sectional, his knees spread wide, and he bends his arm at the elbow to rest his hand against his lip, thinking as he watches you. Finally, he prompts you again, “He couldn’t, right?”

              You look down quickly, away from his intense gaze, “Not really,”

              “Why not?” He asks, his voice soft and low.

              “I don’t really know that it was his fault,” you admit, looking back up to him, “it’s been a while and I couldn’t really get out of my own head about the whole thing.”

              The heated flirting drops and suddenly he’s back to being your best friend, “are you telling me you haven’t come in months?”

              “Jesus,” you cover your face with your hands for a second, dragging your hands through your hair, “when you just say it like that.”

              “I’m really not sure how I’m supposed to say that,” he shrugs, “but seriously, like what… this whole time?”

              “I mean,” you nod, “pretty much.”

              “You haven’t come in four months?” He clarifies.

              You wince, and find yourself admitting, “more like… six?”

              “Six months.” He repeats.

              “You really don’t have to make me feel worse,” you pull your legs up to your chest, “it’s not for lack of trying.”

              “I don’t mean it like that,” he shakes his head, “I’m not trying to make you feel bad I guess I just… I mean is everything okay?”

              You laugh, sharp, and shake your head, “This is kind of mortifying, you know that right?”

              “It doesn’t have to be,” he assures you, “It’s just me, but if you don’t want to talk about it, we definitely don’t have to.”

              “No, it’s just,” you sigh, “I really don’t know if it’s just me, or my meds, or what, it’s just been like not working right.”

              “Oh,” he nods, and after a beat he looks up, “can I help?”

              “Yunho,” You level him with your eyes, “I appreciate your confidence here, but if I can’t get myself off, I don’t know how you’re going to, and I’m really not trying to have the most embarrassing sexual experience of my life with my best friend, who I live with, during a global pandemic.”

              “I highly doubt it would be the most embarrassing,” he grins at you.

              “Yunho,” you shake your head, “seriously.”

              “I’m sorry,” he says, softening a bit, “I just haven’t been with anyone since this whole thing started either, and with literally no end in sight I was just thinking maybe we could,”

              “Help each other?” You finish for him.

              “Yeah, basically,”

              “Listen,” you start to say, desperately ignoring the pooling heat in your stomach, “it’s not that I’m not interested, I just don’t want to disappoint either of us when we’re trapped together and make things awkward.”

              “So, you are interested?” He grins.

              “That was not the important part of that sentence,” you roll your eyes.

              “y/n,” he leans forwards, elbows on his knees, “I’ll drop it if you really want me to, but what if it’s good? We could try, just once and see.”

              “Yunho,” you manage, the indecision clear in your voice.

              “We’ll never talk about it again if it’s not good or not what you want,” he offers, “or you can tell me now to shut the fuck up and I will. I just haven’t been with anyone in months, and frankly you’re driving me fucking insane walking around the apartment in shorts that short.”

              “Oh my God,” you shake your head, laughing at his frankness.

              “Come on,” he urges gently, “I bet I can make you come.”

              A hot knife of need cuts through you, and you look down again, away from his gaze and focus for just a minute. This was likely the worst idea, and you can see forward into the future, his disappointment that he couldn’t get you there, and your continued frustration only now public and uncomfortable knowledge. His words ring in your brain. What if it’s good?

              It had been a while, but you can’t help the words that leave you, a challenge on your lips, “I bet you can’t.”

              “What?” it’s his turn to sound a little unsettled, and you look back up to lock eyes.

              “I bet you can’t make me come,” you say again.

              His eyes darken, and he drop his head a little, looking at you from hooded eyes, “Are you saying yes?”

              “I’m saying you can try,” he can’t help but smile at your words, “you can try, but it’s just this once. And you can’t complain afterwards or tease me about this.”

              The hot flirtation across his face fades instantly, “I would never do that to you,”

              “I,” you nod, “I know, it’s just embarrassing.”

              He reaches across the couch with an outstretched hand, “Come here,”

              You move without thinking, taking his hand, and letting him pull you over to stand between his knees. His fingers hook into the belt loops of your shorts, and he looks up at you, “I would never do that to you,” he repeats, “you’re my friend first, okay?”

              “Yeah,” you nod.

              “Just relax,” he says, and he squeezes your hips in his large hands. Your breath catches and he smiles at the reaction, squeezing you again to see if he can elicit the same response, “Do you have any hard no’s?”

              “Oh,” you blink, thinking for a minute and carding through your past sexual experiences, “Not really? I don’t love name calling, but I mean, it’s not a hard no I guess?”

              He smirks, “I wasn’t going to call you a whore on the first date,”

              “Yunho!” you smack his shoulder, and he smiles wide, laughing through the awkward tension and easing some of your nerves.

              “Alright,” he settles, “no name calling. Can I lead?”

              Your brow quirks up at his question, “As opposed to?”

              “You leading,” he smiles, “but I think that answers my question.”

              You blush, “Oh! Yeah, yeah, you can lead.”

              “Are we doing this now?” He checks.

              “If we’re not going to do it now, I’m going to think about it until we do.”

              “Fair enough,” his thumbs brush against the skin at the top of your shorts, soft and even.

              “Okay,” you drop your hands and rest them on his forearms, “um… where do you want to start?”

              He smiles up at you, “I want you to start by relaxing.”

              “Sorry,”

              “y/n?” He says.

              “Hmm?” You look down to meet his eyes, sucking in a tight breath of air when he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your shorts.

              “Shut up, okay?”

              “Got it,” you don’t know what you should do with your hands, with anything, so you settle for biting your lip and watching him.

              He looks down dragging his fingers across your skin until he hooks them further and uses his thumb to pop the button of your jean shorts open. You’re suddenly very grateful that you decided to shave your legs yesterday and you were wearing not completely unbecoming underwear, but your mind blanks out again when he drags down the zipper and pulls the shorts off over your hips. He taps your calf softly to prompt you to step up and out of them, and he kicks them back out of your way once they’re off you.

              The t-shirt you’re wearing is oversized, and it drops low over you, brushing the tops of your thighs. His gaze is hungry, and he gathers the fabric in his hands to push it up your body just enough, revealing the soft plane of your stomach.

              “Fuck, you’re pretty,” he sighs, looking you over.

              “You haven’t seen a girl in months,” you retort.

              He doesn’t look up, but you can see that he rolls his eyes and smiles, “Learn to take a compliment,” he says, “you’re hot.”

              You can’t even begin to formulate a response, he doesn’t give you a chance before he leans forward and presses his lips to your hip, softly working kisses across the top of your panties, hooking a thumb under one side and pulling them up a bit so he can move down the crease of your thigh before moving up and humming softly, a kiss against your stomach, your other hip, your other thigh. You’re trembling already, the sensation of another person’s skin on yours enough to make you dizzy, but his slow nuzzling kisses have you feeling weak and craving.

              “Come here,” he murmurs again, and leans back against the cushions. He directs you with his hands on your hips, stepping you back and sliding a knee between your open legs before pulling you forwards and prompting you to settle on him, straddling his thigh.

              When the tense muscle of his thigh connects with your clit, despite the layers of fabric between you, you let out a soft pant. He catches your arms in his large hands, sweeping down your skin and taking your hands. He pulls you forwards slightly, and settles your hands on his chest, before returning his hands to your hips.

              He tugs on your them gently, which rolls you forwards just a little on his thigh before sliding you back to your original position, the friction against your clit warm and firm. He tenses his muscles beneath you, watching your face carefully when you drop your mouth open a little and suck in a breath. It’s obvious to you now that he’s going to be good at this, and a nervous thrill runs up your spine.

              He rocks your hips again and you catch on quickly, planting your hands more firmly on his chest and rolling your hips yourself. You’re slow to start, maintaining a steady fluid pressure against your clit, and he keeps his hands on your hips as you move. His brows are knit together, his mouth open as he watches you, and you can’t help but pant a little laugh, “I thought you were going to make me come,”

              He smirks, “you haven’t come in six months and you’re in a rush?”

              “Fuck off,” you manage, and he tenses his leg again in response which has you gripping his shirt in your hands, warm pleasure coiling through you.

              He keeps one hand on your hip, but with the other he gathers the material of your shirt in his palm and pulls up, stopping just under your breasts. He watches you, his teeth catching his lower lip as he watches you grind yourself against him. His gaze is intense, and when he leans forwards just enough to move the hand on your hip up back and then back down to cup your ass, you sigh.

              “Yunho,” you mumble, swallowing the tense knot in your throat and he relaxes his hand, looking up at you immediately.

              “You good?” He murmurs.

              You nod, “Yeah,”

              He drops your shirt and sweeps your hair back from your face, tucking it behind your ear and keeping his hand cupping the side of your face, “Sure?”

              Your hips still, and you come back to center to meet his eyes, “I’m okay,” you assure him, “are you?”

              “Yeah, yeah,” he runs a thumb along your cheekbone, “I’m just checking,”

              “Can we move to the bedroom?” you ask, and he drops his hands to your hips to ease you up off his thigh. He lets out a pleased hum when he sees the dark wet patch of his sweatpants where you had worked yourself against him, and without thinking further he reaches out and catches his fingers against you, feeling your damp underwear.

              You stumble a step back, the sensation catching a moan in your throat, and he snaps a hand up to grab your forearm and steady you. “Fuck,” he laughs, “sorry,”

              “Let’s go,” you tug his arm.

              “Your room or mine?” He asks.

              “Yours,” you answer immediately, “your bed is bigger.”

              He takes your hand and leads you down the hall to the room at the back, and as he crosses the threshold, he remembers an image of you passed out on top of his bed covers the first month you lived here, a few too many drinks too early in the evening. He liked the look of you in his bed, he remembers. He turns and takes you in his capable hands, maneuvering your back to the face the bed and tipping you down onto the mattress.

              “Can I take these off you?” He pulls the side of your panties.

              “Yeah,”

              He pulls both sides down over your hips, and you lift them to make it a little easier for him. He groans softly when he sees how slowly they pull away from your core, slightly stuck to your wetness. He tosses them away, pushing your shirt up again, and dropping to his knees on the floor between your open legs. Immediately you’re anxious, something about this had always been so intimate, and he hasn’t even kissed you yet.

              You look up to the ceiling, your hands bunching in the sheets beneath you. Yunho’s hands coast up your thighs, dip up over your hips, smooth across your stomach, before he stops completely. One of his large hands covers yours, slipping his fingers into your fist to relax your hand, “Hey,” he says softly, “you want to tell me why you’re so nervous?”

              You look down at him, he’s still perched between your open legs, one hand on yours and the other warmly over your thigh. His eyes are warm, open. “I don’t know,” you say honestly.

              “Is it me? Or what we’re doing?” He asks.           

              “I think both,” you confess, “you’re my best friend, this is just… it’s a lot.”

              “Okay,” he slides away from you, his hand leaving yours.

              “Wait, I didn’t mean we shouldn’t,” you exclaim, sitting up and letting your shirt drop back over you.

              “We’re not done, y/n,” he shakes his head, “just trust me.”

              You nod and watch as he pulls back the coverlet and top sheet on his bed, nodding so that you can climb under the covers. He crosses the room and lowers the temperature on the air conditioning unit a few more degrees, making it whine as it kicks into gear and starts pushing cooler air into the room. Without preamble, he pulls off his blank tank top and tosses it to the side and shucks off his sweats and boxers.

              “Oh, fuck,” you breathe, and he smiles at you.

              “Yeah?”

              “I don’t know what I expected,” you say.

              “What?” He teases, “I work out, you see me work out all the time.”

              He’s right, you do. You’re not surprised by the lean tone of his body, broad shouldered and taut arms and abs, you’re stricken by the size of him and how you’ve never once considered that he might be bigger than your previous partners.

              “You know that’s not what I mean,” you clear your throat softly, “you’re just, uh,”

              “Perfect?” He jests, climbing into bed and pulling the covers back over him, “Well-endowed? A god among men?”

              “I was going to say big,” you laugh, and he crowds you a little, his fingers tickling your sides until you giggle, slapping his hands away, “god, you’re a menace.”

              “I aim to please,” he teases again, tugging the hem of your shirt up, silently asking you to take it off.

               You pull it over your head, tossing it over the edge of the bed and twisting to try and unhook your bra. Yunho slips a hand behind you, catching the clasp in between his thumb and first two fingers and slides it just right so that the hook and eye claps fall open.

              “You’re too good at that,” you comment, sliding the straps off your shoulders and pulling it away to toss it aside.

              “It’s really not difficult,” he chuckles, pulling you into his arms and further under the covers.

              You have the urge to cover yourself, very aware that you’re naked in front of him for the first time but tucked under the blanket and pressed against his chest leaves you fairly concealed still and you try your best to stay calm and let him lead.

              “Now,” he says, his voice low, “can you relax for me?”

              His words make you clench your muscles, and he feels you twitch beneath him. He studies your face for a moment and tries again, “Can you be good for me?”

              “Oh,” you breathe, gripping his back.

              He seems to have you figured out now, just enough, and he lowers himself half over you. He cups the back of your head, pulling you closer, and he finally presses his mouth to yours. His lips are soft, and he releases a contented sigh of warm air against your cheek. He holds you close, kissing you sweetly at first and then nuzzles you gently with his nose before dipping his tongue into your mouth and flicking it against yours.

              You moan into his mouth and his hands tighten on you as he intensifies the kiss, a little desperate, hot, and needy. It’s all the intimacy you need for things to start to slot into place in your brain. Yunho’s kissing you, and he’s frankly very good at it. You draw him closer, your arms around him and pulling him down against you, your bare breasts pressed tightly against his chest. He groans into your mouth at the contact, and suddenly his hands feel everywhere. Yunho kisses you again, softly biting your bottom lip, moving down your throat to lick and suck at your pulse points, nipping at your collarbone, tongue dragging a line down your chest as he turns his attention to your breasts.

              “Fuck,” you choke, dropping your head back against his pillows when he takes a nipple in his mouth.

              When you wind a hand into the back of his hair and pull him in closer, he sucks harder, sparking a line of pleasure straight to your core. He lifts up, his mouth leaving you, so he can settle on his side next to you. He pulls you close into his chest, one arm around your back as he supports you against his shoulder.

              “Yunho,” you whine as his hand presses down across the length of your body, and he shudders at his name on your lips like that, finally no pretense or anxiety, just wanting.

              “Spread your legs,” he murmurs, pressing his fingers between your tightly locked thighs.

              You comply immediately, and he pushes one of your legs open wider, your leg bending the knee and up by your side to give him the most access. He wastes no time, his fingers sweeping up your wet slit until he finds your firm swollen clit at the apex of your thighs. He watches you as he rolls his fingers, testing which way has you the most breathy and pliant, what pressure makes your hand on his back tighten and dig your nails in.

              “Like this?” He asks when he finds a good rhythm.

              It is good, a hot rush of warmth radiating up from your core. It feels good to be taken care of finally after so long, safe with him pressed up against you, his lips against your forehead, soft kisses as he works your body. When you don’t respond he kisses you and murmurs again, “tell me what you like,”

              “Here,” you catch his hand in yours, and he stills his fingers. You slide his hand down further, pressing the tips of his fingers inside you and he nods against you. You let your hand fall away as he starts to press two fingers inside you, pumping them softly to ease them in until his knuckles rest against you. He shifts you in his arms to get a better angle, curling around you slightly as he thrusts them up, curling them and catching against your g-spot.

              “That,” you stutter, “like that,”

              He grins, “There you are,”

              “Fuck,” you stammer, dropping your head against his chest, one hand tight against his bare thigh.

              He pumps his fingers faster, spurned on every time you gasp and moan. You shudder against him, hiding your face in his neck, tense pleasure curling up inside you. You rock your hips against his hand and he lets you help set the pace, but you can’t reach it. He feels incredible, better than anything you’ve done in months, but just like before it feels like you’re standing on the edge looking over and can’t reach.

              He presses up against your g-spot, rocking his hand and spiking a line of pleasure up your chest but when it passes, it passes. “Yunho,” you pant, and he shushes you, mistaking your words for encouragement.

              “Yunho,” you reach down and catch his wrist, pushing his hand away and he pulls his fingers from you.

              “What?” He murmurs, pushing back your hair and shifting so he can see your face, “you ok?”

              “Yeah,”

              “I thought I had you close, why’d you stop me?” he smooths a hand up your side.

              “You did,” you assure him, “I just couldn’t get there,”

              He dips his head to kiss you, his thumb massaging soothing circles into your hip, “Let’s try something else,”

              “It’s okay,” you brush him off, “let me get you off and then we can,”

              “y/n,” he interrupts you, “I didn’t think it would be that easy. Come on, lay back,” he eases you into the sheets and you scramble up, leaning on your elbows as he shifts out of bed, “where’s your vibrator?”

              “What?” Your cheeks flame.

              “We’ve lived together for months,” he explains, his gaze direct, “I’ve heard it, so come on, where is it?”

              You throw an arm over your face and groan, “Bottom drawer of my nightstand.”

              “See? Not so hard,” He shrugs it off and and you hear him pad out into the hall and through the door to your bedroom.

              While he’s gone you recover your breath, he was right, he did have you close. You were so frustrated and desperate for it at this point you didn’t know what to do, but when you see him return with a serious smirk you blush harder.

              “You’ve got a little collection going,” he says, “but this one’s industrial.” He holds up the wand and gives you a cheeky grin.

              “Oh my God, I really hate you,”

              “You really, really don’t.” He shifts back onto the bed and pulls back the covers a bit, “Now, I have some clever ideas on what to do with this, but I’m in no rush.” He tosses it against the mattress and shifts back over top of you.

              “You’re really having fun with this, aren’t you?” You nudge his chest.

              “Yeah,” he replies, “I definitely am,”

              Wrapped up like this, you feel closer to him that you’ve felt with anyone in a long, long time. You smile, kissing his shoulder softly and looking back up to meet his eyes, “Thank you, by the way.”

              “For what?” He asks.

              “Making this fun,” you tell him honestly.

              “Sex is supposed to be fun,” he replies, “and I don’t know what has you so tense, but you’re okay with me. I’ve got you,”

              It’s things like that that make you worry this might have been a bad idea after all, dangerous words for someone so close to the edge of falling in love with their best friend.

              You nod, not trusting your words for a minute, so you pull him back down for a kiss. You’re lazy and slow together, the kisses alone helping reignite some of the heat in your core, his hands, and the way they caress you making you wetter again by the second. You slide a hand between your bodies, reaching for him now and find his hard length pressed along your inner thigh. When you shift, closing your hand around his cock, he hisses against your mouth and pulls his head back.

              “Holy shit,” he groans, watching as you stroke your hand up from the base of his cock upwards, your thumb sliding over the head and smearing the pearl of pre-cum across it. Your hand looks small wrapped around him, and your muscles clench up at the thought that at some point tonight, you’d be fitting him inside you.

              “Here,” your hand leaves him for a moment so you can push at his shoulder, urging him to lay back, “let me take care of you,”

              He complies but shakes his head, “I’m not done with you,”

              “I never said you were,” you brush his hands away from you and slide down his body now that he’s flat on his back. His cock stands up perfectly straight and straining, and you’re not quite sure just how many inches he is but you know you’re going to struggle to take him in your mouth.

              You lick a stripe up his length, from base to tip, and watch as his head rolls instantly back against the pillows. He groans when you do it again, and when you hold him again in your hand and slide your lips over the tip of him to take just the first bit of him in your mouth, his hips jerk slightly.

              “Sorry,” he says, “fuck, sorry, it’s been way too fucking long,”

              You hum, a little laugh, and the vibrations make him groan again and he fists the sheets beneath him by his hips. You bob your head experimentally, seeing how much of him you can take, your mouth stretched around him and the head of his cock bumping the back of your throat. It’s uncomfortable, but not unpleasant, so you flatten your tongue along the underside of him and drag your head up and down again. You ghost your nails softly along his thighs as you suck him, hollowing out your cheeks and pulling back up to flick your tongue firmly against his tip again.

              He moans softly when you dip your head low again, taking as much of him as possible, but still not reaching the base of him. Your gag reflex fires a little and you cough around him, easing back up to give your throat a chance to adjust and blink back the sudden sensation of tears. You’re doing your best to even out your breathing through your nose and slide back down his length again when his hand snakes into your hair and he pulls you up and off him.

              “What, what’s wrong?” You look up to him, blinking fast, but the look he’s giving you now isn’t like before.

              “I’m not going to last like that,” he says, pulling you forwards and rolling you underneath him, “and I need to be inside you right fucking now.”

              He pushes your legs open with his hand and runs his fingers up your wet slit, rocking your clit a few times and eliciting a shaky moan from your lips. You nod fast, “Please,”

              He lines himself up with your entrance, catching the head of his cock on your clit, “Wait, wait, are you safe, should I,”

              “I’m good,” you insist, “I have an IUD, just please come here,”

              He’s slow when he pushes into you, incredibly cognizant of his size and the experience he’s had with past partners, but at the feeling of your walls pressing tight around him he pauses, dropping his head to your shoulder, “Oh fuck,”

              “Yunho,” you wriggle your hips, the feeling of him stretching you better than anything, “don’t stop,”

              He bites down on your shoulder softly, groaning as he pushes further, and when he’s halfway in he pulls away to check you, “You okay?”

              “Please,” you pull at his hips, desperate for him to be closer, “I need you,”

              “Fuck, baby,” he breathes as he watches the rest of his cock disappear inside you.

              You’re impossibly full, warm in places you didn’t know could be warm, feeling tiny sparks of pleasure with every minute shift of his hips. This is exactly what you needed, the full feeling of his cock buried deep inside you and his whispered words in your ear.

              “You gotta move,” you beg him.

              He pulls out almost completely and dives his hips back in, sinking himself as far as he can go and knocking your hips together. “You’re fucking incredible,” he pants as he pistons his hips again, “you take me so fucking well,”

              You choke at his words, arching up against him as he starts to fuck you faster. He kisses you hard, one hand tightly on your cheek and the other locked on your hip as he thrusts, “like you were fucking made for me,” he says against your mouth.

              “Oh, God,” you grip his arms, holding him to you as you rock your hips back up in time to meet each move of his hips.

              “You need me to tell you?” He manages, his lips hot against your ear as he covers you, his sweat slick body hot and heavy over you, filling you, “Do you want me to tell you how good you’re being for me?”

              Your broken moan tells him everything he needs to know, and he pushes the damp hair back from your face to watch you, your eyes screwing shut at his words, shocks of pleasure running up from your core to your chest.   

              “So good for me,” he murmurs again, dipping his fingers between your lips.

              You close your lips around them immediately, running your tongue across them, tasting yourself on his skin. When you open your eyes he’s staring down at you in awe, his brows tight together, mouth open and tensed, his eyes rolling when you take the length of his fingers in your mouth and suck on them gently.

              “Fuck,” he pants, and his pace falters, he pulls his fingers free and repositions, and when he drives into you with a well angled thrust that drags perfectly along your walls you rock back with a cry. Yunho catches your bottom teeth with his thumb and drags your head back down to keep your eyes on him. He’s close, you can feel it, but so are you. He draws your gaze, “say my name, baby,”

              “Oh,” you pant, “fuck, oh, fuck,”

              “My name,” he repeats, “say it,”

              You try, but it gets caught in your throat when he slams back into you and you whimper, your nails digging into his back.

              “Tell me,” he pumps his hips again, “you can do it,”

              With a gasp he pulls down on your hair, tugging your scalp with just the right pressure, “Yunho, Yunho, Yunho,” you chant, the knot of pleasure so tight in your belly you’re sure you’re going to burst, “please, please, baby, please,”

              When he pulls away from you, out of you, the cry that leaves your lips is desperate. He’s quick though, folding a pillow in half and lifting you like you weigh nothing, propping your hips up high at an angle you know is going to ruin you. He reaches across you and from the tangled sheets he pulls your vibrator out and clicks it on.

              “Yunho, I don’t,” you start and watch as he gets the setting right.

              “Shh,” he interrupts, stifling your soft whines, “you wanted to come,”

              You cry out when he sinks back into you, this new angle putting pressure in new places and stirring a sensation deep in your core. He rocks his hips, holding your thigh with one hand to grip you steady and gets his positioning right so that he can stay comfortable on his knees and thrust up into you just right. When he eases the vibrator down onto your clit you’re brain whites out, the sensations blending together in a haze.      

              “Oh fuck,” he manages, “tell me you’re close,”

              You whine an incoherent response, looking up at him through hazy eyes.

              “Yeah, you are,” he smiles, never slowing his hips, “just a little more, I want you to come for me, can you be good for me?”

              It slams into without warning, wrenching your body up and arched against him, your thighs a shaking mess. Distantly you hear his low voice, “Let go, that’s my pretty girl.” You can feel the flush of blush run up your chest to your cheeks, and when you’ve ridden it through and he doesn’t lift the vibrator you jerk your hands down, writhing and pushing it away.

              “One more,” he says, but you shake your head, “No?”

              “Yunho,” you shake your head desperately, pushing the vibrator away, the sensation far too much for the level of overstimulation, “please, I can’t,”

              “Okay, okay,” he clicks it off and tosses it aside, his hips still rolling into you just more slowly now, “I’ve got you,”

              “Come here,” you drag him towards you desperately, and he comes back down to lay across you, “please I want you,”

              “Fuck,” he chants again, “I won’t last,”

              “Come,” you urge him, holding him close and rolling your hips with his, “please, I need it,”

              He speeds up, desperate and panting, his forehead pressed against yours. When he rocks downwards, collapsing his weight a little further onto you, the angle of your bodies still propped up by the folded pillow has his cock drag perfectly over your g-spot again and you shake against him, gripping him tight and whining as another orgasm washes over you.

              When you clench down around him for the second time he jerks into you twice more, coming hard and hot inside you, your name on his lips on a loop. Your ears are ringing, your body boneless and you can barely catch your breath. When he moves to slide out of you, you whimper, and he looks down at you.

              “Oh my God,” he pants, rolling onto his side and gathering you up in his arms to lock you against his chest, “come here,”

              You shift as close to him as you can, feeling like you need every inch of his skin on yours. You’re already lolling in and out of a dazed sleep when his voice brings you back. “Hey,” his fingers stroke your cheek, “you’re okay?”

              “Okay?” You crack open your eyes, “I’m fucking fantastic,”

              “I didn’t hurt you?” He brushes a hand down your hip.   

              You shake your head and cup his cheek, “Perfect, you were perfect,”

              He grins, “I’ll remember you said that.”

              “Don’t you dare be smug right now,” you slap his chest softly, letting your eyes slip closed again.

              “I won’t,” he says, his voice shifting softer, and he nuzzles the side of your face, pressing kisses to your cheek, “That was… we should do that again,”

              “I don’t think we should ever stop doing that,” you agree, glancing up at him.

              He squeezes you tight, “Give me like twenty minutes,”

              “Yun, I’m kidding,” you hide your face in his chest, shaking your head as he laughs above you.

              “I’m not,”

              You smooth a hand down his arm, snuggling against him and closing your eyes again, “Let’s sleep first. Sleep and then I’ll let you do whatever you want to me forever,”

              He chuckles, the vibration of his low laugh against your cheek where you’re pressed against his chest, “Deal,” he says, “I’ll remember that too.”

~end~

a/n: i'm working on a companion piece to this since i'm just so soft for boyfy college yunho, so keep an eye out for that. for those of you looking for into the aurora chapters, i'm working on it too! new content will be posted soon, i'm just in a bit of a yunho mood.

update: sequel is now posted here!