Winter Blossom (m)

winter blossom (m)

pairing/wc: k.yeosang x reader (10.1k)

genre: alien au, secret relationship

warnings: smut, mentions of murder/injuries, petnames

summary: earth abandoned centuries ago, you travel the cosmos alone. you land on a smaller planet, meeting an exiled dweller that calls himself yeosang.

— part of the ...and it's snowing collab!

Space has always been noisy. Ships riding past you in the low lights, stars sparkling in far away galaxies, the rumbling of your own engines enough to fill what small amount of peace you have alone.

You sit in front of the navigation screen, eyes flicking over the map. You have little fuel left and perhaps you overestimated how much you'll be needing before the next port. It's several hundreds of thousands kilometers away and you barely have enough to make it halfway there. Sure, there's planets in between that you can land at but it's a risk. Most hate humans, hate their existence entirely. Once they see you, you may be taken – either killed or used for parts. You rub your face, looking over your options. You won't make it to the next large port, that's for sure. Waiting out in open space is unreliable – pirates can get to you quicker than a space marshal would.

You groan, a planet close enough for you to land on. One you haven't heard of before.

Elysium.

You glance to the side, typing up the name into your database.

Elysium. Planet primarily consists of thickened forestry and large oceans, similar climate to the planet Earth. Population of three million, ruling under a monarchy. Temperament toward humans is neutral. Climate: Snow.

It ticks off enough boxes for you to decide to land, setting the destination point for Elysium as well as instructions and identification to the port for approval. You grab your telecommunicator and walk off away from the screen, readying yourself to land in the next few days.

“Hey pretty girl,” you walk past the framed photo of your passed cat, pressing your lips on the glass before moving on. Everything is tied down, thankfully, nothing out of place. You jog down the corridor, glancing in each room. All of it is secure since no one has lived in for ages, commotion from prior years of having a crew absolute. It wasn't anything bad for why they left – you all had different ideas on how to make money. Yours was simple, collecting mostly artifacts and lost space junk, getting a heap of coins every now and then. It's a simple life. Alone, yes, but it's fine. Nothing you've haven't grown used to.

After checking all of the rooms you move back into the navigation room, throwing yourself on

the fold up bed you've stored there. You can't remember the last time you slept in your own bed – it's probably been months. Being alone has made you more wary of leaving the room without an attendant. Anything could happen between the distance of your room and here. You'd rather deal with it straight on than wasting precious seconds running toward it. You tuck yourself beneath the sheets, eyes glued to the wide windows showcasing space.

The port is quiet as you land. Ships stationed in several spots, but you only see a few patrollers out and about. You grab your mask and place it over your face, suit already on as you exit the craft. An Elysium, taller than you by almost a foot, comes toward you. You read in the brief biography that they're quite tall in comparison to the average human. That you can clearly see as he stands in front of you. Most of the other traits are the same except for pointer ears, irises a lighter blue. Skin pale and almost translucent, lips a light pink. As if they haven't seen the light of day for ages. His head tilts as he looks down at you, surprised.

“A human on Elysium? I never thought I'd see the day,”

You bow slightly at the guard, holding out your identification and paperwork. “Yes sir. I have all the proper paperwork. I'm here to fuel up before the next stop.”

“Ah, quite far from Candor,” he glances over the paperwork. “It looks in order. Unfortunately for you, we no longer have enough fuel for an aircraft the size of yours.”

“Are you sure? I checked the database to confirm you had the capabilities for fuel and –”

“Oh we do have the capabilities, human,” he nods. “But we've slowed down on our supply since not many land on our port. We can give you fuel, yes, but it will take a few weeks in human time to fuel up that tank enough to get you to the next destination.”

There's nothing else you can do. You take your identification back from him, knowing what you have to ask next.

“Where can I stay while I wait?”

—

You hold the glass in your hand, staring at the seeds swirling in the water. The bartender insisted that it was made for a human's palate, but you almost gagged at the taste. Water this acidic couldn't possibly be water at all. Your helmet and suit rests on the seat next to you. After a quick chat with the guard stationed at the port, and a small device placed beneath your skin, your body is accustomed to the climate of Elysium. You’re all but ungrateful, the heavy material of the suit would only make your stay feel so much longer. Your eyes move to the table, wanted photos seemingly solidified in the glass. Your gaze strays to one in particular.

His presence stood out amongst the fugitives. Hair darker than what you've seen around, eyes staring into yours. His beauty is beyond any of what you've seen so far around here – and that's saying something. Skin covered in … glitter? A birthmark on the left side of his face. Some would say it would lessen his beauty, but it only exemplifies it for you. Your finger traces the outline of his figure, reading the description. It's conveniently in a language you can understand.

Kang Yeosang, Prince of Elysium. Wanted for the murder of the King of Elysium. Bounty set at 4,979,990 Elp.

He is a prince? It makes sense, you can see his commanding aura through the thin paper. But why would he kill the king? You presume it's his relative, father or uncle maybe. You can only snort to yourself, shaking your head. He should have had a maid or butler perform the task if he wanted the throne so desperately. The bounty is high, though. Higher than you've ever seen it. Enough to set you for life and then some.

“He has been forgotten for over a century, human,” A voice pulls you away from the table. You look up, meeting the eyes of another Elysium. His hair is a deep blue, skin covered in bandages. He sits at your table without even a hint of an invitation from yourself, humming. “Neither Elysium high guard or the most elite bounty hunters have been able to find where he resides. This planet has been torn apart for decades. Most have accepted that he is no longer alive. I doubt a human like yourself would be able to find him.”

“Well stranger,” you take another slow sip of your drink, wincing at the taste. “I never said I would be hunting for the forgotten prince and neither do I want to, seeming as he hasn't been found in so long. Trying to read the emotions of a person you don't know doesn't seem to be your strong suit.” You roll your eyes, looking away from him. All you're trying to do is stay under the radar, keep to yourself. Weeks of avoiding unneeded conversation is going to be rough, but you'd rather not start messing up your plan right now with an Elysium that's trying to read your mind.

“You were thinking it, I could tell.” He shrugs.

You narrow your eyes now. Taking the bait surely, you continue, “And how can you read my mind? Is that an ability many of you have? Because it doesn't seem to be working all too well.”

“Ignoring that snide remark of yours, it’s because of your ship,” he glances out the door for a moment. “Before it was just you, there was a whole crew. You were bounty hunters back then, finding lost men and growing. You were quite notorious too, until that crew of yours broke apart. Quite unfortunate now, you could have found the biggest bounty yet if you came here back then.”

“I only deal in antiques now,” you retort. The past is the past. And notorious? You doubt the crew was that popular. Maybe relatively known, but not famous. Just reliable. “And I don't remember seeing you around the port when I was parking.” You would have remembered a face like his. His lips curve at your words, shrugging.

“I'm forgettable. My name is San, by the way,” he holds out his gloved hand. You take it, shaking it. “I'm the owner of this bar, and the man who will be showing you to your room next door.”

“You own both?” Your brow raises.

He nods. “Family business. Whenever you're ready just find me. I’ll be out and about.”

-

You stare at the lack of clothing in your carry-on bag, knowing you’ll have to go back to your ship soon to grab some more supplies. You rub your face, sinking into the bed. This is exactly what you didn’t want. Familiarity, staying longer than necessary. If the government let you rest on your ship you would have. But instead, you’re stuck in a hotel, waiting impatiently for your fuel. You glance at the door. Secured with makeshift objects you kept on your person, a bell twisted around the doorknob. San insisted that this place is safe, but you’d rather not take the chance. Especially as one of the only humans on this entire planet.

“Hell,” you murmur, looking out the window. The planet is known to be dark at night, which only adds more sense to why their skin glows. You look at the streets, shimmering Elysium walking every which way, bright against the streets. It is beautiful, enough for your eyes to continue to wander, lids growing heavy enough to fall unconscious.

The rattling is what woke you up. You leaned forward almost immediately, fingers reaching for the knife beneath your pillow you took off your plate at dinner. Coming up empty handed, you slide off the bed, hands up slightly. Your eyes barely get a chance to adjust to your dark room, but you see them. Their skin brightens up the room, glowing against the walls. They hold up the knife, crushing it between their fingers. You swallow, shooting a fleeting glance at the door. They stand in between you and your escape. You could jump from the window, but it’s several stories above the ground. You doubt you’d survive the landing. They take a step toward you and your body stiffens.

“What do you want? Elp? Artifacts? I have none, they’re all on my ship.”

They hesitate for a brief moment at your words. “Your ship?” Their voice echoes around the room, smooth and deep. Pretty, despite the circumstances. “You have a ship?”

You curse yourself, nodding slowly. “I do. It has no fuel, so you won’t be able to get anywhere with it.”

“But you have a ship,” they confirm. “You can leave this planet.”

“Is that what you want? What are you, a fugitive?” Their skin's luminescence softens at your words. It's almost enough for you to make out their features. In that brief hesitance, they look eerily familiar. You don't get the chance to look any closer though, skin back to where it was. “I can help you.”

“I need to leave. When will you be free to go?”

Good question. “Maybe a few weeks? They said it'll take a while.” Why the hell are you negotiating with a bright spot? Just as you open your mouth again, they interrupt.

“I will be back.”

They dissipate in front of you in a blink, gone from your sight. You drop your arms, chest throbbing, breaths quick. You stand still for a few more minutes. After realizing that they're truly gone, you drop your hands. The smart thing to do is tell San what happened. But your gut is telling you otherwise. It was strange to say the least. But you can't think of leaving to complain to San about someone who might just be a figment of your imagination in your tired state. You convince yourself as such, moving closer to the door. The bell and other contraptions are still in the same place you left them. You walk back to your bed, a cold metal touching your foot. Glancing down, you see the pile of dust.

The knife they crushed.

—

You soon convinced yourself it was a dream despite the circumstances. The knife could have been fragile. You could have somehow imagined the pile of dust. All of these explanations ignore the feeling in your gut. It dwells. No one has bothered you much for the past few days. A little talk here and there, but most left you alone. San, you've grown to notice, speaks to everyone and anyone around his tavern and hotel. And it seems that everyone knows him well, his loud laugh echoing around every room he's in. It brings you comfort. Enough to hide that sinking feeling.

You sit outside, staring out into the thickened leaves and trees. They're nothing like what you've seen, vines tight, barely any signs of movement. As if it knows you're watching. So still that your gaze moves to the rustling of leaves. You tense, glancing around. No one is out and about. Only you in this area. Just as you begin to stand, you see him.

His hair is long, pulled back from his face with braided strings. His eyes are iridescent, still on yours as he makes his way to you. His movements are elegant, hands tucked into his jacket, hidden from view. There's only one person he could be – the Elysium from your bedroom. As he moves closer, you see it. The birthmark near his eye, extending to his temple. Pretty, but deadly, in these circumstances. He pauses in his movement, noticing your shift of focus.

“You know me,” his voice is softer, hesitance wrapped around each word. “You told me you were a human.”

You can't begin to speak, slowly standing up from your spot. Having the exiled crown prince standing in front of you, especially after all San said about his disappearance. What kind of luck do you have?

“I am.”

His eyes narrow, “Then how do you know me?”

“You are the forgotten one. How could anyone not know you? I –” You glance back. “I don't want to be involved in whatever you're planning.”

“I want to leave the planet.”

“Leave? You've been gone for a century, you could have left anytime you wanted. They forgot about you. Why are you trying to hitch a ride with me? What's your plan?”

He stares at you, silent. Your irritation makes your fear lessen, waiting for his response. He merely sighs, staring at the grass beneath his feet. “Humans have rarely landed on our planet. Each time, they refused to help me. Which is why I am asking you.”

“And why would I help you? If someone caught me, I could be killed. You murdered the king. That's not a petty crime.”

His jaw tightens at the mention of the past. Knowing you very much made a mistake, you backtrack. “I don't know you well enough to listen to what you have to say.”

“So why do you listen to what the others say? Do you know Elysium well at all? Why listen to the words of beings you have never come across? Why not listen to my words?”

You pause, unsure of how to answer. Sure, you can listen to the masses, take their word for it and report that you certainly have seen the lost prince. Or you can keep this quiet, decide on whether you want to save him. The longer he stares and waits for a response, the more you're sure of your decision.

“Did you kill him?” You ask.

“Yes.”

“Did you do it on purpose?”

“Yes.”

“Did you have no other choice?”

“...Yes,” he takes a breath. “If I didn't, more Elysium would have been killed. I had no other choice.”

There is no wavering in his tone. He says it strongly, a furrow of his brow. Lost, maybe hurt. But he is sure.

“Okay,” you glance around. “I will get you out of here. But once we land at the next port, you're gone. And we will pretend none of this happened.”

“I'll follow your words, human.”

“y/n,” you correct. “My name is y/n.”

—

“You’ve been out and about a lot these past few days.”

San glances up from cleaning the glass, leg resting on the edge of the chair. You have avoided him since your encounter with the lost prince. You doubt he can read your mind, mostly, but being around Elysium when you’re hiding the most sought out of them all is not exactly something you’d like to do. Especially since you’re growing a soft spot for San. Another thing you didn’t want to do. Unfortunately for you - he’s too kind not to.

“Am I not allowed to explore the planet I'm inhabiting temporarily?”

He purses his lips, leaning against the arm of the broom between his clothed fingers. “You are, of course. Just strange, the way you’ve been acting. Anytime someone asks where you’ve been, you look as if you’ve seen a ghost. Just what are you hiding, y/n?” His brown lifts, glancing between your eyes. “Or is it best that I not know about it?”

Do you trust him enough to spill what you’ve been hiding? Yeosang has warned you, especially tonight, not to say a word. Out of fear or otherwise. So though San is trustworthy enough, you can’t quite tell him. Not yet, or ever, really. You merely shake your head, and he nods in understanding.

“Fair enough. I hope you keep your radio line open, y/n. I’d hate to lose contact with you.”

You leave the hotel tonight after weeks of staying, petrol finally filled to the brim in your ship. You’ve spent all day filling up your storage with preservatives enough for your long journey and then some. The guard was curious that you had so much, enough for several people. He even inquired as to if you’ve found a life partner on Elysium. You denied it and he only waved you off.

San passes you a small bag of snacks you ordered earlier and you thank him, your hands brushing against each other. The leather encompassing his holds yours for a moment, a small smile on his lips. “There’s a small map in there to an entrance to the docks that no one takes anymore, out of commission. It so happens to be behind your ship, exactly where you parked it. No one would see it since it’s out of view from prying eyes. Someone would advise someone else to take it, using that little pill in that bag. It’ll show whoever it is as someone else temporarily. Not long enough to hang around for hours, but enough. In case, of course.”

He lets go of your hand, smile wavering. “Be safe, y/n. I trust you, even though I haven’t earned your trust yet.”

“San–”

He holds up his hand, shaking his head. “Don’t want to know my friend. Safe travels, keep that radio on. Don’t forget me and call if your journey is too boring, or if you’re tired of him.”

He doesn’t say anything more, grabbing his towel and broom, disappearing into the back of the bar. You grip the bag tightly, grateful that you’ve met him.

–

“It is safe?” Yeosang holds the pill in his hand. You’ve thrown a large coat around his body, the scraps of clothing that he has now not merely enough to make him look like a normal Elysium. The snow does not seem to bother him the way it bothers you, he himself ignoring how the flakes stick to his cheeks. “You’re sure of this?”

“I am,” There’s no need to expand on how or who gave you those pills, exactly. But you think you can trust him. You hope you can. Since he knows what you’re doing, he could have spilled it long ago. But he didn’t, and that’s enough for you.

His soft eyes watch yours. There’s fear of the unknown hidden between the irises, the slow blinks. He has trusted you up to this point. You’re not sure why he decided to grab a random human to help him, but he did, and it’s you. You’ve gotten this far, you wouldn’t betray him. Giving up your life for him is definitely a stretch, but you’d help him in any way you can. And those worried eyes do nothing but make your chest swell. You will help the forgotten prince off this cursed planet. Taking your silence as an answer, he swallows the pill, grabbing the bottle from your hand and drinks the water. You watch him as he stands very still. As if he’s waiting for his death to come. Instead what you see – you can only describe it as magical.

The dark, black hair of his disappears into a lighter blond, softer features hardening, delicate nose changing. Kang Yeosang is nothing like himself. He seems to have shortened in height as well, leveled with you. His eyes stay on yours though, now brown eyes hesitate. Without thinking, you reach out, brushing his wavy hair away from his face. It is not Yeosang in appearance, no, but you can still see him through the disguise. You reach into your pocket, pulling out your small pocket knife, showing him his expression through the reflective metal.

He laughs, shaking his head, “How horrid,” his voice is obscenely deep. Almost obnoxiously so. “What a relief you didn’t want to kill me.”

“I wouldn’t have, you know that,” you roll your eyes.

“I do,” he agrees simply. “Let us go?”

You nod, slipping your fingers into his. He stills for a moment, letting you pull him out from the forest. There’s plenty of people around but none pay attention to either of you. Yeosang’s grip tightens in yours, stiffer as he stands close to you. He hasn’t been around his people in so long, it must be jarring to see them not give him a second glance. Not shame him for what he’s done. You’d like to pick his brain on what he’s feeling right now but you have a task to complete.

You look around, entering the port through the back. It is as San said, no one around, no one to bother the two of you. You quickly open the back door of your ship, ushering him inside. He is a bit hesitant as he stands there, almost forcing you to push him into the ship. He turns to you, eyes widening. “You are not entering?”

“Not back here, I have to go around the front and grab my papers before leaving. I’ll be back.”

You take a step back and he moves a bit forward again, as if to follow you. “Hey, stay in there–”

“You wouldn’t leave me, right?” His words are soft now, the tone of Yeosang’s voice you’ve grown accustomed to. “You would come back?”

You look around, before stepping forward. You hold his face between your hands, “I will not leave you, alright? I am coming back, just give me a few minutes. I’m not lying to you. I promise you this.”

The tension in his shoulders dropped slightly, “Okay. I will hold you to that.” His lips press against the inside of your wrist, stepping back. You quickly move down the ramp, shutting the doors. Ignoring the beating of your heart in your ears, the warming of your face. There’s no time to worry about that now. You have more important things to do, like lie to the guard and smuggle off a fugitive worth more money than you can comprehend.

-

It’s been a few hours since you’ve left Elysium. You know Yeosang is still on, from the rummaging in the room you told him to stay in. You haven’t entered only to give him privacy. In fact, you haven’t seen him since you closed that ramp. The magic has definitely worn off by now. You did want to check but decided against it. Whatever he’s going through right now you’re letting him process it slowly. Hopefully carefully, knowing you have valuables in the room he’s staying in.

You sit at the control table, slowly eating a snack San handed to you. You radioed him just after you left to let him know that you were safe and everything was handled, and he sighed very loudly in relief, explaining that he definitely was not sitting around waiting for your call (he was) or that he thought you might have been taken (he definitely did think so). You reassured him with simple words, not enough to say what you mean, but enough for him to understand. The call was quick, ending with a simple goodbye. You will miss him endlessly, but landing on that planet again wouldn’t be in your favor. That’s your first and last time ever in that sector. Or near it at all. The next port is a couple weeks away, but you have enough fuel to go much farther. You want to discuss with Yeosang and see what he thinks, but he still hasn’t left his room.

Very smart of you to take a banished prince into your ship without knowing anything but what he’s told you.

The hum of the spaceship's engines echoed through the metal walls as you stared at the cameras. You glance at the closed door of the guest quarters, mind swirling with apprehension. The decision to let a stranger on board has always come with its own set of risks, and you just cannot shake the memories of a past experience that had gone terribly wrong.

A few solar cycles ago, you did something similar, made the mistake of extending hospitality to a different traveler stranded on a desolate moon. The person seemed fairly harmless at first, grateful for shelter and food. As the days passed, you noticed a few things off - stolen data from your harddrive corrupt, and before you could even confront them they took the rescue sub and left, leaving you to deal with the aftermath of compromised security, and lack of an escape. It took you months to get something to replace it. The weight of that previous betrayal still hangs heavy on your shoulders; sleepless nights spent trying to repair the damage, the sense of disgust that lingered long after the unwelcome guest had departed, regret that you even trusted a person enough to leave them alone around your things.

Your fingers trace the edge of the data pad, a holographic display of Yeosang’s past. The background check had little, just a brief history of what happened. Nothing to tell you about him, really, just what his people now think of him. Still, you cannot shake the feeling that history might be repeating itself.

"Am I being too paranoid?" you murmur yourself, glancing at the viewscreen that displays the vastness of space outside. "Hell."

Perhaps establishing additional security measures?

You hesitate for a moment. You think you trust him, you do. You trust him enough to leave him around your valuables without thinking twice. So you drop your hand from the screen, shaking your head. If everything messes up, it’ll only be your fault, no one else’s. You move from your spot, approaching the small bed in the corner. Deep sleep will evade you since you’re on board with a fugitive, but your lids are too heavy to ignore. You tuck yourself beneath the blanket, blinking slowly as you stare out the windows. You made a choice. A big choice.

You just hope it’s the right one.

-

“You’re quiet.”

You look up from your food, Yeosang slowly approaching you. He wears the clothing you’ve left in that room for him. Though a bit tight, and silly looking, it’ll fit for now. Nothing like what royalty would wear. You reach back, passing him a bowl that you’ve already made for him. In case he decided to appear in front of you.

He widens his eyes as you sit it across from you, gesturing for him to dig in. You take another bite as he slowly sits down. “You made this for me?”

“You haven’t eaten in days. I know Elysium aren’t the same as me, but you have to eat, Yeosang. You can’t survive on just water.”

“I can for a few months,” he says. Just as you’re about to apologize for your assumption, you see the slight smile on his lips. You roll your eyes, continuing to eat. “I’m grateful for your presence, and your thoughtfulness, y/n. I wouldn’t have been able to choose anyone better to help me leave.”

You shake your head, “It’s nothing-”

“It is something,” he interrupts, “I essentially forced you to take me off that planet. And you obliged without much hesitation. You risked yourself for me. There’s no way I can repay what you have done for me, nothing. I can only remain forever in your debt.”

You think for a moment before speaking. “I trust you Yeosang, I hope you know that. I wouldn't have let you on this ship with me if I didn't. I know that you’ve done it for a reason, and if you’re not able to tell me now, it’s okay. And it’s okay if you cannot say it ever. And do not place yourself into debt with me. Call us even.”

“You place far too much trust in me,” he whispers, looking away from you. “A stranger you barely know.” He takes a deep breath, eyes glued to his bowl. You can see the weight of his unspoken pain. “I wish to tell you what happened.” His eyes flick up to yours, holding your gaze with a mixture of gratitude and. He speaks of his father, the king, who had become corrupted by power and had posed a threat to the people of Elysium. And how, in an act of pure desperation to protect his people, he had taken the life of his own father.

"The council, the people—they didn't understand," Yeosang confesses, words laced with pain. "They saw me as a traitor, an assassin. I was banished, branded a murderer when all I wanted was to save them. I didn’t know how to deal with that, when I tried to save them all."

You can feel the depth of Yeosang's isolation and loneliness, the weight of the truth hanging heavy in the air. There is no doubt from you. You believe him.

"I was almost killed in the process," Yeosang continues, his eyes reflecting the memory. " And I almost let them do it, thinking that my sacrifice would be enough to prove my innocence, but then I pulled myself out of that. They would just let the royal line die, they wouldn’t dig into the past and see. I am the sole heir to the throne, it died with my banishment. If I died then, no one would care to see why. They would just celebrate my end."

Your expression softens, nodding slowly, "You've been through so much, Yeosang. I can't imagine how difficult it must have been."

"I miss being able to protect my people," Yeosang says, a hint of sorrow in his voice. "But now, all I can do is hope that they'll forgive me someday, that they'll learn the truth about the danger my father posed and the sacrifices I made to try and save them."

"You’ll find a way to clear your name, to unveil the truth. It might take time, but…” This is much to say, much too soon. “If you need me, we can face it together. I can help you in any way you need me to."

Yeosang meets your gaze, a mixture of gratitude and vulnerability in his alien eyes. "I've learned to trust only myself, to keep my guard up against those who might see me as a threat. But being around you... it's different. Easier. You've shown me kindness, understanding. And for the first time, I feel like I can breathe."

Pushing the dwelling feelings inside your own chest, you nudge him slightly. "You’re not alone anymore. I'm here for you, and we'll navigate these fucked up stars together."

“Until the next port?”

You pause. “Right. Until the next port.”

His head tilts. “I just would like to know why you’ve let yourself become entangled with me. Why you have yet to throw me off this ship.”

There’s no explanation you can give that would satisfy his curiosity. In all honesty, you haven’t the slightest clue. If it were pure idiocy that you let him on your ship, let his words convince you. There’s just something that you trust in him. Something that makes you believe everything and anything that he says.

Oh, you are just an idiot.

-

The first thing you hear is yelling.

It's low because of the incessant engine humming in the background. Cutting through the sound, echoing around the hull of your ship. Your eyes flick open immediately, feet slipping into your boots without much thought. Just as you stand, the cold metal of a knife presses against your throat. You still, thoughts flashing back to your past.

“A woman alone on a ship this large? Have you no concern for your safety?”

Alone? They haven't found Yeosang?

You keep your gaze to the floor, trying to think of a way out of this. You haven't the slightest inkling on how many there are, but there's bound to be more than three. You're severely outnumbered, and you doubt the prince has ever fought anyone like you have. Isolation for over a hundred years – the two of you will either be forced into slavery or killed within the hour. Well, at least you would be. Once they see the bounty on Yeosang's head, they'll take him back. And all of this would have been for nothing.

“Do you speak, woman?”

“My crew left,” you say. “We went our separate ways. They left me the ship as a gift.”

“And what a pretty one it is,” he sneers, forcing you to stand as he digs the knife into your neck. You follow his movements slowly, heart racing as the cold steel of the pirate's knife pressed against her skin. Your mind races, trying to come up with a fast solution to free yourself. Your security system is too far for you to run to, and he would very likely stab your neck before you can yell a command.

“The others are searching this ship,” he begins to explain, forcing you into a seat. Panic fills your body. His knife lifts from your chin, steel digging into your wrists as he ties you into the seat. The knife drags along your arm as you cry out. All of your plans of overpowering him dissipate into nothing. You're only a human, after all. There isn't enough strength in your body to rip apart metal confinement.

The door to the room swings open, and before you could turn to see, an ax hits the middle of the pirate's face, blood splattering against your cheek. You scream, leaning away from the bloodshed. Hands wrap around your constraints and pull harshly, dropping them to the floor. You have no chance to look back before arms surround your body, pulling you close against him. His sweet, calming smell is familiar enough to calm your heart.

“You're safe,” he whispers softly, lips pressed against your hair. “You're safe.” Taking in his own words, his arms drop from your body. You look at him, shocked at what you see. His lips are bloodied, body covered in cuts and slowly forming bruises. Shirt shredded, barely hanging on his firm build. He blinks slowly, eyes steady on yours.

He could have died. He could have died so horribly, and you were stuck in a room with one man. Your trembling arms wrap around Yeosang, holding him as if you could shield him from the wounds that adorn his skin. The smell of blood lingers in the air. Tears welled in your eyes, blurring the sight of the injuries that coat his body. He could have died. And you're not sure how you could have lived with that.

Sobs escape your lips as you press your face into the crook of Yeosang's neck, "I'm so glad you're alive," she whispered, carefully choosing your words.

Yeosang winces at your hold. You almost oull away, until his grop tightens, wrapping your arms around him again. His concern is etched in the lines of his furrowed brow, betraying his actions. "y/n, you're hurt. Your body," he rasps, fingers delicately resting against your arm. "I should have protected you better."

Her grip tightened, as if by sheer force of will she could mend both their wounds. “Protect me? You're the banished prince, idiot. I'm the one who should be protecting you,” you reprimand ever so gently. "You're the one who faced the brunt of it. I'm just glad you're alive. I only have small cuts here and there compared to you."

Yeosang's eyes, a mix of gratitude and worry, meet yours. "But you've risked everything for me already. I cannot bear to see you hurt."

A soft smile plays on your lips, "Yeosang, I know the risks as much as you do. I can protect myself."

You can see that he wants to argue more, but his expression relaxes, a silent acknowledgment of your words. You let your fingers trace the outskirt of his wounds. He watches you for a brief moment, before speaking. "I'm sorry for worrying you," he murmurs, voice wary.

You shake your head. "Worry about yourself for once.”

Your tears mingle with the stains of blood on Yeosang's torn attire, clinging to him fiercely.

-

The vibration of the spaceship's engines reverberated through the metal hull, creating a steady rhythm that accompanied your growing sense of unease. Something you’re not able to grasp fully. As a banished prince, Yeosang exchanged his endless roaming in Elysium’s forest for you. And as each day passes, you find yourself stuck, grappling with a strange and undeniable attachment to him. It’s not like you wanted this to happen. In fact, you actively avoided him every chance you got after what happened on the ship. But the silent nights sitting next to one another in the navigation room, the soft smiles shown between the both of you, somewhere in between, things just changed. It was subtle. Soon small smiles were nervous ones on your end.

You cannot avoid the inevitable, that you know.

In the vastness of space, surrounded by the glow of distant stars and the gentle hum of technology, you find yourself sitting in the main room, eyes glued to the television screen. It’s a bit older than newer ships, you never bothered to change it since you rarely watched it. The artificial gravity comfortably keeps you glued to the couch, legs tucked into your chest, blanket over your resting body. Yeosang sits on the opposite end of the couch, not daring to touch you. That’s another story in itself.

Yeosang never really touched you since the brief hijack, nor comfortably since that first time, his lips on your wrist. He actually avoided touching you, slowly taking things from your hand, shrinking himself against a hallway wall. You know it’s for your comfort, but it only makes you yearn for him even more. You never considered yourself a touchy person, not really. Not until now. You wouldn’t be able to tell how many nights you’ve stayed up, thinking about his eyes on yours as his lips covered the skin above your quickened pulse. How he stayed there, longer than needed, before disappearing in the ship. How you wish you can tell him to do it again.

How infuriating.

So as you stare at the screen, you cannot shake the unsettling realization that you are becoming tethered to the person that you sternly told needs to leave when you arrive at the next port. Vulnerability, unfamiliar and raw, creeps over your body, your stomach twisting. How silly that the unknown, uncertainty of the space outside these walls seems vastly incomparable to the fear of losing him.

“You haven’t said a word about the main character.”

You glance at him from your spot, confusion crossing your features. “Hm?”

“Whenever we watch this show, you comment on how annoying the leading man is. How he doesn’t deserve the leading woman. Then, you grumble and groan everytime he says another cheesy line, and sigh when she falls for it. But you haven’t done that at all this whole time. Are you alright?” His pretty eyes rest on yours, brows furrowing.

No, you aren’t okay. You aren’t sure if you’ll ever be okay.

“I’m alright, Yeosang. Thanks for asking.”

“You’ve become easily readable, y/n. I can tell when you’re lying to me. You can say it, you know. Who am I to judge?”

“Just… old times. Things. Stuff, you know.”

He frowns, “That is bigger than the last lie you’ve told me.”

“Yeosang, it’s fine.”

He sighs simply, head turned back to the screen. “Fine, I am not one to push. I just, I don’t know, perhaps I believed that we’ve moved past this hidden information phase. That you somehow trusted me enough to let me know when you’re upset.”

He’s picking at you, it’s clear. You know if you told him straight that you didn’t want to speak of it he’d drop the topic immediately, but you haven’t. It’s very clear to both of you that you want to tell him. But on your side, you’re just afraid to. Yeosang, though not looking at you, waits patiently for your response, unaware of the angst within your heart.

Your fingers nervously play with loose strings of the blanket across your body, trying to find the right words, fear pressing down on your shoulders. He will reject you. Yeosang, despite his status now, is still royalty. He may very much only see you as nothing more than a commoner. Though deep down you know for it to be a lie, your mind wants to convince you that it is true. That he will never stoop down to someone your level.

“I’m fucking terrifed, Yeosang,” you whisper softly.

His mild irritation disappears at your words, body turning fully to look at you. You avoid his gaze as best as you can.

"You’ve… you’ve lived so much of your life as royalty. And here I am, a reject from my former crew, confined in a ship with a prince," your voice is softer now, hesitant. “I’m scared of my feelings for you. And I’m scared that you’ll find me disgusting, gross, and try to leave as quickly as you can."

Yeosang's eyes soften, “y/n–”

“Wait, let me just… let me say this, please.”

He closes his lips, a silent invitation for her to continue.

"And I wondered, what if this feeling is just because you’re nice to me, you know? What if I’m so deprived of kindness that the slightest glimpse of someone remotely caring makes me want you? I never wanted you to pity me, and I don’t want you to say yes when it’s not true for you as it is for me. I like you, I like you so much that I can’t even look at you without feeling it. It aches me,” your eyes burn, tears threatening to fall. “But if you find me as insignificant as I think, please just let me know. Let me know so I can move on.”

Yeosang's expression is unreadable. It scares you even more. He uncrosses his arms, hand resting on the edge of your blanket. "You are not insignificant to me, y/n. You never will be," he smiles. "I just hate that you’ve said all of this before I could confess my feelings myself."

That stuns you for a moment. The way he looks at you is enough to make you look away. He has never made you this nervous before.

“Look at me, please.”

You turn to him.

"Y/N," Yeosang begins, his gaze unwavering. "When I first saw you in that hotel, there was something different about you. I couldn't put it into words, but I felt a connection, a sense of trust that I hadn't felt with anyone in a long time."

Your eyes met his in a mixture of surprise and curiosity. You allow him to speak as he allows you.

"Back then, despite it being only weeks ago, I didn't know how to express my gratitude," Yeosang confesses, his fingers absently tracing patterns on the old couch. "You saved me, helped me escape. And in these past few weeks, spending time with you, I've come to see humans for who they truly are. Not just as a means of survival, but as individuals capable of kindness, understanding, and compassion."

A faint smile plays on your lips as you take in his words.

"I didn't realize it at first," Yeosang continues, "These feelings I've been grappling with—whether they were genuine or just a manifestation of attachment because you saved me. But right now, as you sit in front of me, gripping your blanket with such an enormous amount of strength, I just knew."

"Knew what?"

"That this would be it for me," Yeosang admits, "That I'm completely and utterly terrified of saying my next words, but I care for you deeply, and I want you to be mine. I have no reason to worry since you think the same, but I don't want you to have regrets. I don't care if you're not royalty as I was before. I cannot quite understand why you would think I ever cared about such a thing. I never even mention my former status to you unless you bring it up.”

He is right, of course.

“So what do we do now?” You ask after a moment of silence.

He shrugs, leaning further into the couch. “The same as we’ve done before, except now we know we both like each other,” his head tilts, eyes glued back to the television. “Ah, you’re right. He is quite a nuisance.”

-

And that is how it was.

Days melted into nights aboard the spaceship, neither of you mentioning what happened. The air shifted, no longer burdened by the weight of unspoken words. But still, there is a bit of awkwardness between you. Yeosang, no longer avoiding you or pressing himself against walls to avoid you, entered rooms you occupied and initiated conversations, his presence comforting enough. But other than that, he still avoided your skin. There was only one time he didn’t notice you around, your arm brushing against his to grab something from a cabinet. His skin flushed, body rigged as you lightly nudged him out of the way. After that, he rarely gives you his back, always sending you a smile, or keeping himself aware of where you are in the room.

The physical distance persisted, enough so that you could no longer handle being around him without bringing it up.

One night, as you tend to the plants in your nursery you finally sigh, looking back at him. He wears an old crewmate’s attire, tight against his fit limbs, leaving nothing to the imagination. It’s almost enough for you to forget what you were going to say, until his brow lifts, waiting for you to speak.

"Yeosang," you say, voice breaking the silence. "Is everything okay?"

“Hm?” he tilts his head endearingly, only making this much harder to bring up. You push past the unsettling feelings within you, glancing away from him.

“Do you not like touch?”

“What?” his voice is dripping with shock, almost appallingly so, brows furrowed so harshly they may as well rip his skin. “What makes you think that?”

“It’s hard not to when you avoid touching me every chance you get, Yeosang. I mean, I barely brush your arm and it’s like I’m some sort of disease? I don’t understand.”

“No, y/n, that’s not at all what I am thinking. I…” He rubs his face, moving off the wall, “I am filled with a never ending desire to touch you. It’s my fault that you don’t think so. I presumed that you knew of the mating practices of Elysium without even asking,” he rubs his arms, gaze sliding to the floor. “I don’t know if you noticed while on your brief time there, but on Elysium, all of us wear gloves to avoid touching each other. We only have skin to skin contact with prospective mates.”

You remember how his lips brushes against your wrist, his hand clearly wrapped around yours. How you pushed his hair away from his face, how you held it between yours. You’ve rarely touched him, but you’ve still done it, not knowing what it meant. No wonder he looks perturbed each time you’ve done so.

“I didn’t know. I’m sorry,” you whisper.

“And I should have presumed that you did not,” he murmurs. “Each time, every time you touch me, it’s an indescribable feeling. No one has touched my skin since my mother when she held me as an infant, y/n. You are the first since then,” his eyes land on your hands. “When I kissed your wrist, it was an act of confession. So when you told me a few days ago that you were scared I did not feel the same, I didn’t quite understand since I’ve already touched you. Again, another assumption that I didn’t explain,” he shakes his head. “Apologizes.”

“All we’ve done is assume,” you agree. “You don’t need to apologize.”

“I do, and I’m sorry again. I ... I didn't want to make you uncomfortable since touch as an adult Elysium with another is so much more than innocent. After what I said, though, if you’re uncomfortable, I can give you space."

“No.” You say quickly, an amused smile cast on his lips. “I mean, I don’t mind you touching me, Yeosang. You don’t have to ask. I’m comfortable with you.”

Relief washing over Yeosang's features, "Okay. You can touch me too, y/n.”

You snort, turning back to your plants, “Never thought I’d have a conversation like this.”

“Neither did I.”

The conversation fades into silence, your back to him as you dig out the leaves. You’re focused enough that you don’t hear Yeosang inching closer and closer to you, until a slow hand wraps around your waist. He pulls you into him with ease, breathing in heavily. You can hear your own heart beating against your eardrums, hands gripping the tools tightly. Sure, you expected him to touch you sooner or later.

But you just didn’t expect it to be this soon.

Yeosang’s lips brush against your neck, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake. “Can I touch you now?"

You lean into his body, humming, “Are you not already touching me?”

His free hand slips down, resting on the curve of your thigh. “Not in the way you want me to. Not in the way I desire, So,” his hand stills, “May I touch you?”

“Yes…”

His hand slowly drags against your pants. You watch as he does so, lips brushing against your neck. His lips caress your skin, breathing steadily. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” he says after a moment, causing a laugh to escape your lips. Though he does not move away from your body, you can feel his protruding lips pouting against your neck. You try turning around to look at him but he tightens his hold. “You’re not leaving, are you?” he whispers. “I can learn how to pleasure you.”

“Yeosang,” you try turning again, feeling how he reluctantly lets you go. You lean slightly against the framing of the nursery, stretching out your legs and wrapping them behind him. It pushes his body closer to yours, he himself grabbing the planters on either side of you, steadying his body against the framing. Entrapping you in his embrace. His eyes look nervous as they stare into yours. Without missing a beat, you reach up, cupping his cheek. His lids flutter, eyelashes brushing against his cheek.

“Why would I leave you alone?”

He swallows, gaze heavy as it rests on yours. “It is not an unfamiliar feeling.”

You lean forward, pressing a light kiss against the corner of his lips. He trembles. “I am not leaving you, Yeosang. I won’t leave you. As long as you want me around, I’ll be here. I won’t abandon you.”

His tongue drags against his lips, “You are sure of that? As long as you can be? I… You won’t leave me?”

“No,” your voice is firm. “I’m not leaving you. And I’ll teach you how to please me, pretty boy–”

An echo of metal cracking behind you stops you from continuing. You glance to the side, seeing his fingers digging deeply into the planters. Eyes widened, you turn back to him. His eyes are glazed over, glued on your every movement. Flicking down to your lips, he leans forward. You meet him halfway, hand resting on the back of his neck. Your tongue drags across his plush bottom lips, pulling him closer. A light gasp escapes his lips, and you take that chance to enter his mouth. He tastes sweet, as sweet as that smile of his. It’s something you very much can get used to.

You hear the planters crack again, his hands resting on either side of your hips, desperately clawing at the fabric. How delicate he holds you compared to the damage behind. He learns without you telling him how to kiss, clumsy a bit at first before calming himself down. Your hand slips down, following the curve of his broad shoulders, hesitating slightly as you touch the solid muscle of his arms. If there were any way you could be more enthralled with his very being you would have surpassed it long ago. You pull away to catch a breath, his head leaning against your shoulder, chest rising and falling quickly.

“Fuck me,” he murmurs, a strange set of words to come out of his usually proper speech. “We have done not a thing, but I am already too excited,” he lifts his head, thumb rubbing circles into your side. “How do humans fornicate? Is it like us?”

“Depends, what do you do?” Though he asked first, you cannot help but wonder about his answer. He pauses for a moment.

“From what I’ve learned, it is usually snowing outside. That is our peak fertility time. We strip bare, and fuck in the snow.”

“Yeosang!” You gasp, unable to hold in your laughter at his confused gaze. “You’re a riot.”

He continues on, as if you didn’t say a word, “We enter the mating partner through their anus and ejaculate after so much time. Depending on the Elysium, of course.”

“We are not having anal sex. Not now at least,” you say simply. “Humans, well, it depends on the genitalia of their partner. I’m assuming you have a dick?”

He tilts his head, thinking. “Yes.”

“Well, then…” After a brief history on what actually happens (brief as in, a forty minute lecture), Yeosang’s fingers are inside of you, moving quickly curving slightly. You moan against his ministrations, gripping the sheets beneath you, eyes flicking down to how easily he learned. His gaze never leaves yours, lips slightly parted as he watches you come undone.

“You’re so pretty, my pretty queen,” he whispers, a small smile gracing his lips as he feels you clench around his fingers. “So so pretty for me, my queen.”

“Yeosang, wait–” you grip his wrists, and he increases his pace. You’ve set boundaries earlier, your safe word being snow. “I’m going to cum if you continue.”

“Then cum for me, pretty. I want to feel you tight around my fingers,” he curls them slightly again, thumb rubbing against your clit. With warning, you moan, falling over the edge. He continues to move inside you, though much slower than before. Once you’re down from your high, he pulls out.

His free hand grips his pants, ripping them with eagerness. His hand wraps around himself, stroking his –

Two cocks rest between his soiled hands, his strokes slow and calculated. Your brain tries to wrap around where exactly in the conversation you had prior, when he told you exactly how many he has. He looks at your shocked expression, worry decorating his. “Darling?”

“You have two, Yeosang. I asked you if you had a dick and you said yes!”

“I do have one, y/n,” his expression still puzzled. “Humans do not also have two?” He swallows slowly, strokes slowing down. “Is this too much for you?”

“Ah, no,” you disagree immediately. “Just surprising.”

“I can only enter you with one, as to not hurt you,” he says quickly. “It’s what you prefer, of course. We can stop now.”

You think it through. Having one inside you is a job in itself, but two? They’re both pretty average and similar to a human’s, though a bit more prominent – skin softer-looking, and covered with shimmer, just as his skin is. You don’t want to end this, and clearly, neither does he. So with confidence, your eyes meet his nervous ones.

“We can try it.”

“…Both?” There’s a bit of hope in his voice.

Who are you to crush it?

“Both.”

-

note: no part two ;-;

Freak Show Talk | 3racha, lmh

𝙭𝙭𝙭𝙞𝙫. 𝙙𝙤𝙚𝙨𝙣’𝙩 𝙢𝙖𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙗𝙚𝙘𝙖𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙞𝙩’𝙨 𝙚𝙣𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝

! fwb, free use ft. all, fujoshi fem reader, poly, enm, angst, smut, dead dove do not eat. <1k wc. 18+ readers only !

!! this part contains graphic imagery that may distress some readers, proceed w caution !!

「Contents List」 「Act 1」  「© Dec 2023 by jl-micasea-fics」

Don’t let the porn fool you; showers are the worst places to fuck.

“God, Min—”

Still; it’ll do in a horny pinch.

Propped against the glass door with right leg hitched at his hips, Minho drives a steady, solid pace. The flow of hot water soaks him, rivulets caressing him and dripping iridescently down his svelte form. Having him inside you makes you bone-deep weak; you cling to his shoulders, try not to slip.

“Fuck, baby—” He speaks through wet lips, looks at you through sodden lashes. His eyes are glazed honey. “Want to pump you so full.”

You groan obscenely. He’s so fucking thick.

“You want that? Baby wants to be bred, huh?”

“Min, Jesus—”

He grins, perfect white. Water runs into his mouth, drips from his chin. “She doesn’t want it?”

“She does. She wants it. I want it— Fuck, please—”

Satisfied, his pace doubles. Smack, smack, smack. All speed from the dancer’s hips, his muscles trained by precision. Almost burns to touch him; the water scalds, blood runs fiery, lust singes the air that shimmers incandescently and presses you closer to one another. You wonder what he sees as he fucks you; what he thinks about. Does he feel it? This inexplicable sensation of walking a cliff edge? Does he look over it and welcome the rocks below? Would he slice his palm open and watch with glee as the red inks the ocean and spreads, spreads, spreads until it’s nothing more horrifying than a silent ripple? Maybe it’s just you. Maybe you’re the only one that would happily step off and come during the fall.

There’s something wrong with you, after all.

The rapid glide of his throbbing cock brings you to collapse, your g-spot so much abused you fear having to get out of this shower. Minho kisses you, his wet mouth slipping, and with his lips pressed to your burning cheek he holds out as you tremble and babble until reduced from the violence of orgasm, when he can fuck you full of his own.

It’s a near relief when he withdraws, cleans you down, attends gently to your sticky skin. Everything aches, the soreness between your thighs the most pleasant. Feels good to be used. To take what Minho gives you, what Changbin gives you, because you’re good for it. So good. Blissfully fucking good.

Maybe there’s nothing wrong with you?

Exhausted beyond sense, Minho puts you—and your little black box, so thoroughly well fed—to bed. Draws the blinds to the morning hour, to the rising life of the city, kisses your forehead and mumbles a promise of being there when you wake up.

You distantly hear him leave the apartment.

You dream of a brightly lit stage; of a man with red hair that shows dimples when he smiles. He sings like an angel, moves like one too. His beauty is second to none, his joy at his profession bestowing upon him a radiance that can’t be touched. He waves at the fans, and they adore him. Would give anything for him. They clamour and cheer and swoon; there are none so devoted as they. You stand in an empty corner, far from it all, nursing a darkness that writhes with life of its own. A darkness that is sentient to its emptiness. A monster. You try to keep it in, keep it close, but its hurts so much. It pushes and stretches your skin and cracks your ribs, and you can’t anymore: it escapes with violence and sweeps over the audience in a great tide, extinguishing their brilliant light. The man with red hair weeps as his fans scream and try to run, scrambling for the stage, yet they’re just out of his reach. He begs you to stop, falls to his knees and claws at his skin and pleads with you, “Stop, stop, please! Make it stop!” But you don’t know how. You don’t want this. Never wanted any of it. The darkness rears at the stage, having eaten all light but one. It glares down upon the man, haloing him. With tear-streaked cheeks and still on his knees, he looks at the great tide of black that swells and rises over him. “It’s my fault,” he sobs. “I’m so sorry.”

And your darkness swallows him whole; the man with red hair that showed dimples when he smiled.

There is, most definitely, something wrong with you.

sorry for the delay. health is having its way w me right now. why must brains have thoughts lolol. happy new year beanlings ♡

𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚, 𝙧𝙚𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙜, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙨 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙢𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 ♡ 𝙨𝙪𝙥𝙥𝙤𝙧𝙩 𝙢𝙚 𝙤𝙣 𝙠𝙤-𝙛𝙞 ♡

< 𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙞𝙤𝙪𝙨 | 𝙣𝙚𝙭𝙩 >

lovers in the night (m.)

pairing/wc; j.yunho x reader (11.3k) genre; sugar daddy au, exes to lovers summary; just out of your college with a freshly printed degree, you set out for a job that would fit your somewhat high standards. after a brief scroll through a sugar daddy website and a meeting set-up, you sit across from the one man you didn't expect to see — jeong yunho, your ex-boyfriend and apparently, a millionaire looking for someone to spoil.

warnings; smut (protected) (in the car ;-;), references to break-ups, heartache, lots of cursing, vomit mentions (does not happen, just referenced), reader is a bit mean but for reasons, miscommunication referenced (past)

part of the ...and it's snowing collab

The ad is absurd enough that you’re shocked you pressed on it in the first place.

Seekingsugar.com. Created for people looking for outside assistance in their financial woes. Income level required to be at a certain level. You could only snort at the number, over twice what you make now. Why someone would need assistance having that much funds for themselves is beyond you, but you digress.

Your finger hovers over the sign-up button. Your degree has gotten you a junior position at a law firm, but it isn’t enough to support yourself, your apartment, and the ever growing interest on the loans you’ve taken out. Enough so that you press the button, inputting your information swiftly before being presented with the homepage. You decide to hide your face in the profile photo to remain anonymous, hoping it would be enticing enough to grab someone’s attention.

Your description is fairly simple: your age, occupation – as vague as you can be – and list of interests. You also add that you’ve just graduated with your master’s degree, and you’re looking for someone to help. After putting enough photos up on your profile, you close your phone, throwing your blanket over your body and falling asleep soon enough.

...

The blaring of your alarm pulls you from your sleep, exhaustion encasing your body as you fling your hand to turn it off. You glance at the time, brows furrowed once you see the notifications. You wouldn’t consider yourself a popular person, a few text messages from your friends every so often, maybe one from your boss (of which you ignore until you’re fully awake). But now, you see dozens of notifications from the app you downloaded last night. You press your finger against the fingerprint reader, almost blinded by the amount of messages in your inbox. A lot are lewd, which was expected. You almost delete the app itself after a moment of clarity, until one particular message stands out from the rest.

yulips - isn’t it such a disaster?

Your brows furrow at the message. What exactly is he speaking of? Recognition breaks through your fogged mind, remembering the status message that you put before you slept: cannot believe i have to resort to asking people for money instead of relying on my employment.

You open his profile. It’s pretty simple - he owns an undisclosed company worth more money than you can even imagine. It’s verified by the site, so he’s legit. His profile states that he’s reached out to five potential receivers, as they call it. Photographs are similar to yours, pictures of scenery. Face hidden. And his age is around yours as well, give or take a year. Ignoring the bitterness that dwells beneath the surface at his net worth, you open his message, quickly replying before starting your day.

dandelion - i just simmer at my desk hoping that someday my manager would walk in and tell me my salary has doubled. unfortunately hasn’t happened yet :( 3

  Your day is busy, most of it spent away from your phone as you try to diminish the caseload. Despite it being the middle of winter (and it actively snowing daily), work hasn’t stopped in the slightest. Clients call to complain about their invoices, calls from other attorneys wanting to speak with certain individuals, your workload barely dented due to the endless notes you had to take. By the end of the day, you’re exhausted, body seemingly moving on its own as you slump into the train seat. Luckily you made it on before everyone else, bodies squishing into the car. You hold your bag close to your chest, finally open your phone. A message from this morning, about five minutes after you sent yours, sits in your inbox.

yulips - overworking employees is neverending, especially in the legal sector. i can count on one hand how many times i’ve been praised while working as an undergraduate at a firm. pretty positive the place is closed now though, so maybe that’s a plus

“Ah, so you were a lawyer?” You murmur.

dandelion - EXACTLY. weary as hell even now after my long day

You don’t expect a response right away, about to put your phone into your bag. It vibrates almost instantly, the night sky profile picture glowing on your screen. So he’s around to talk, then?

yulips - if you’re up to it, i can take you out myself to get some fresh air.

dandelion - you don’t even know my name, yulips. why would i agree to go out with a virtual stranger? you silly man

yulips - messaging isn’t really my thing, i guess. but if you’re not comfortable with meeting me right away, it’s fine with me. i still want to speak with you. hope this will make you feel better.

Another notification appears above his messages, your brow raised.

Yulips has sent you funds. Please review before accepting.

You gasp loudly, people on the train turning around to look at you. Apologizing profusely, you sink further into the seat, feverishly typing back to him.

dandelion - why did you send that??

yulips - i like you. and i want you to know i’m serious about continuing to talk to you. we can meet whenever you’re comfortable.

The amount of money he sent is enough to pay a month’s rent on your apartment, with a little left over. Your nerves rise, wariness creeping in. He’s verified, but he could be a creep. This website can only find out so much about these rich people. You could be setting yourself up for something horrendous. This was all silly, in the beginning. You didn’t think you’d get this far in communication with someone. Having that much money sent to you because he felt a little bad? Your mind just cannot comprehend it.

dandelion - this is too much.

You continue to stare at the amount, another message popping up.

yulips - you deserve it.

You cannot accept it. Not now, at least. Not until you speak to him more.

dandelion - how about i let it sit there until we learn more about one another? i know you’re serious, but i’d like to get to know you before anything else.

yulips - fine by me, my dandelion.

...

Weeks pass, the amount still sitting in the app. He’s quite hilarious - more often than not he messages you throughout his meetings, describing to you how exhausting it is to pretend to care. But he also tells you things you’ve never though of, how his business works from the inside, how his employees hide things despite him knowing of it. How he’s passionate about his work and wants the best, but doesn’t want to diminish the quality of his work for gains. He’s interesting to speak to, most of your day spent dwelling on how he’s doing. It’s humorous, being attached to a stranger through an app. He calls you his dandelion each time you message, teasing responses back and forth.

He hasn’t sent anything else since that initial amount, nor has he brought it up. You’ve been staring at it in your inbox, still debating on whether to accept it. The payment for your apartment is coming up soon and you can afford to pay it now without his money, but you’ll be living on scraps for the next two weeks until your next paycheck.

You sit on the park bench, scarf and hat wrapped around you as you message him.

dandelion - have the other people you've spoken to refuse to accept the money you gave them?

As always, his response is quick.

yulips - no.

You bite your lip, thinking. His chat bubbles appear.

yulips - i’ve sent money to two others. but we haven’t spoken as much as i speak to you. once they accepted the initial amount, they never contacted me back. it’s their prerogative, of course. but i made this account for more than just that.

dandelion - why did you make this account?

yulips - i was lonely.

Knowing him, or enough of him now, the message makes your chest tight. Loneliness holds every hostage, even completely different classes of wealth. Money does make people happy, it would make you happy. But rarely does it ever bring in true companionship. You don’t doubt that he’s been used often. You snort, rolling your eyes. Who would’ve thought that you would feel bad for someone like him?

dandelion - why did you send the money to me almost immediately then?

yulips - im used to being ignored, i guess. ive grown used to others asking that it was just an automatic response to send it to you. i apologize if it was offensive, that's not my intention. i just want you to stay around a while.

dandelion - did you think i'd leave, do you think i’m less than you because i don’t have the amount of wealth you do?

yulips - no.

yulips - never.

yulips - i’m not one to judge someone based on their economic circumstances.

yulips - and i don’t think you’re using me if you were wondering that. everyone falls on hard times, especially now. i wanted a friend, and wanted to help someone if i could. i didn’t realize how much we would speak. and that money is there for you, my dandelion.

You open your inbox, staring at the options. You do need it, whether or not you can admit it to yourself. You press accept, immediately getting a notification from your bank that money has been deposited in your account. He messages you back promptly.

yulips - that’s my girl.

...

“This is stupid,” you murmur, rubbing your sides. “Why am I nervous?”

“You’ve been talking to this guy for over a month now, y/n,” Mingi points out, a lollipop resting between his lips. “And you have no idea what the hell he looks like except for his neck and hands. I would be shivering in my boots if I were you.”

You look at him, frowning, “You’re supposed to make me feel better, asshole.”

“I’ll be there with you the whole time. You’ll be safe, I promise you that,” he pokes your side. “I’m serious. Just tug on your hair twice and I’ll save you from the creep.”

“He’s not creepy,” you roll your eyes.

“Then what’s there to worry about!” he stands, tucking in a strand of your hair. “If he’s not an ass, then you’ve hit the jackpot. And he’s the same age as you and not an old man?” He whistles, hand resting on his hips. “At least you don’t have to deal with wrinkly di–”

You slap your hand on his mouth, scowling. “This is not a sex thing. It’s a I-need-your-money-or-else-i’ll-be-forever-in-debt thing. And if you’re going to act like this then I’ll just ask Hongjoong to come along instead. At least he’s somewhat normal.”

Mingi gasps, eyes wide. “Hongjoong? Over me, your best friend?”

“We’re best friends? News to me!”

“Ha ha ha, you’re hilarious.”

Your fingers play with the edges of the outfit, knowing that Yunho’s money paid for it. In fact, he picked out the outfit based on photos posted on your profile of things you enjoy. He actually chose it well, the fabric resting against your skin comfortably. You didn’t dare look up the price of it, Yunho sending the clothing through a feature in the app. It fits you too well, even. MIngi nudges your shoulder, pulling you out of your lurking thoughts.

“I’m here for you, y/b. You know that, right? I’m joking. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“I know,” you nudge him back, grabbing your bag. “Ready to go?”

...

The venue is expensive. Neither you nor Mingi ventured out into this neighborhood, the window displays of clothing enough to turn you back around. Everything dripped in wealth, from the people walking down the sidewalks to the streetlights wrapped in holiday decor. Mingi kept his thoughts to himself, but you could see the worry in his eyes as he parked. Yeosang, his partner, was to meet him at the restaurant and dine with Mingi, keeping a watchful eye over you. You get out of the car, tugging down your shirt as you make your way to the front. Pausing, you look back at Mingi.

“You don’t have to.”

He holds up his hand, stopping you. “I wore my fancy clothes for tonight. I’m not bailing out now.”

“I’m being serious,” you place your hand on his shirt, stopping him. “I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable because of me.”

“And I’m serious, y/n. I’m not leaving without you, and I’m staying here with you. Don’t worry too much, and enjoy the rich guy.”

Explaining to Mingi that the “rich guy” feels like more than that to you would be pointless, so you merely nod. You enter first to not be seen with him, telling the hostess your name. Yulips told you that it would be reserved under dandelion. She smiles brightly at you, gesturing to the stairs behind her. It’s sectioned off, a reserved gate blocking everyone else from entering. You take a breath, thanking her and following. Taking a quick glance back, Mingi looks up at you with worry as he’s guided to the main hall. You nod at him in encouragement as he disappears from your sight.

Well, so much for him keeping an eye on you.

Your phone vibrates almost immediately, his icon popping up.

mingi - i should’ve known he would reserve a WHOLE fucking floor !!!! oh my god i hate rich people.

y/n - it’s fine, i’ll message you if anything is up.

mingi - still taking you home btw, i’ll wait in that car all night until i see you coming out…!>!>!

y/n - love u :(

mingi - :*

As Mingi said, the floor is empty aside from one table already lit with candles, a small salad resting in front of each side. You thank her as you sit, hands sweaty. He hasn’t messaged you at all today aside from a quick morning text, telling you how excited he is to see you. You doubt you’d be stood up, but what if this is some experiment for him? He is who he says he is from the website verification, but something could happen. You just don’t know.

“My dandelion?”

A man speaks up behind you, oddly familiar in tone. You stand, a small smile on your lips. It drops upon meeting the eyes of the man there. His eyebrows furrow, lips parting as he looks down at you. He holds a bundle of dandelions and tulips in his hand, fingers tightening around the stems.

Both of you speak at once.

“Yunho?”

“y/n?”

“Are you…” he trails off, looking down. “It makes so much sense now, hell.”

“How does this make any sense, Yunho? How could you be him?” You dig through your thoughts, finding nothing hinting at him being the same as the man you’ve been communicating with for weeks now. You open the app, immediately digging through the photos. You pause at the profile picture of him holding tulips. Never in your life did you think you would run into him on a sugar baby app. But you can see it now. The small necklace he wears with his birthday in roman numerals. He’s worn it since you’ve known him.

Knew him.

“I didn’t think it would be you,” he admits softly. “I saw the photos and thought that you two looked similar, but when we were together, you rarely took pictures of anything. I just, I didn’t know.” He looks around. His brown hair is longer now than before, more toned than the freshman college student you remember. There’s a bit of a shadow on his cheeks, ears red as they always are. His suit is expensive from just a mere glance, fitted and tailored to his body. He looks… good. You just didn’t think you’d be seeing your ex-boyfriend right now.

“Should we call it a night?” he asks after a moment, eyes flicking to yours. “I don’t want to force you into whatever this has turned out to be.”

Without another word, you turn around, sitting back at the table. Yunho seemingly freezes at your actions, before walking around the table, slowly sitting down. He places the dandelions in the vase to the side of both of you, swallowing slowly.

“Are we really going to do this right now?”

You shrug, taking a sip of the wine in front of you. “I don’t know, are we?”

“Hello Mr. Jeong and miss, what can I get you started with?” The waiter comes, interrupting the conversation. The frustrated look disappears off Yunho’s face.

“Whatever is easiest,” Yunho nods, and the waiter bows, quickly disappearing. You notice a kitchen on this floor, several staff inside cooking whatever Yunho has prepared. You look at him, his gaze stuck on you when you meet his eyes.

“Kinder to the staff than me,” you note, taking a small bite of the salad.

“I’ve been nice to you this whole time, y/n. Nothing that has come out from my mouth was foul.”

You merely snort, taking another bite of the salad, “Sure.”

The conversation ceases, quiet chewing the only sound heard from the two of you. Yunho seems to be stuck in his thoughts as are you, his gaze glued to his food. It’s not an uncomfortable silence, no, but it is strange. Sitting in front of your rich ex-boyfriend in an outfit he picked out for you. It’s silly even, the odds not in your favor in the slightest. The universe deciding that the two of you need to see each other again.

No matter the circumstances.

The waiter comes back soon after the lull in conversation, nervously placing down the plates in front of the two of you. You send him a warm smile and his body sighs in relief, leaving you two alone. Confused, you look up from your plate at Yunho. His jaw is tight, brows furrowed as he takes a bite of his food. Ah, perhaps the waiter thought Yunho was irritated with him.

“You could at least pretend to be nice,” you mumble, slowly taking a bite. You can only hold back your moan at how good the food is, trying to stay as neutral as possible in front of him. “The guy thinks you’re pissed off at him.”

His brows relax for a moment, a slow breath escaping him. “Why are we doing this?”

“You offered me dinner, Yunho. I’m not going to deny that.”

Your stomach twists the more you look at him, the pity only growing in size. You planned on marrying the man in front of you, planned your whole life out together. And now each time you look at him you think about the tears, the heartache.

“This isn’t good for either of us,” he says. “How the hell am I supposed to have a normal dinner when I’m sitting at a table with the girl who broke me?”

You scoff, “I? I broke you?”

“Did you forget you were the one who called everything off? You ended us.”

Your grip around the fork tightens. “I had to end things because you just didn’t care about us.”

“That’s not true--”

“Yunho, you were never home. Every fucking night I slept in that bed alone. I tried to make things work, I did. I dealt with that for years because I wanted you to be successful. I made you breakfast in the morning you didn’t eat and dinner in the evening you said you were too tired to swallow. I went to your study room and sat with you in silence because that was the only time we could spend together. I tried for you for years, but you didn’t try for me. I ended things because it seemed like I was the only one putting effort in for us. So I’m sorry that I want to enjoy a meal I can’t ever afford despite sitting at the table with the man that broke me. Not the other way around.”

His chopsticks hover over his plate, eyes glued to yours. There’s little anger in them. Yunho has always been an open book when it came to his feelings. The slight downturn of his lips, the focused gaze. The tremble of his hands. It reminds you of the night you told him over dinner that it would be the last. How he cried over the bed you shared, fists digging into the sheets as you grabbed your things. The broken I love you as you shut the door behind you, holding back your sobs long enough to break down once you parked in front of your friend’s house.

“You didn’t tell me.”

You didn’t. At the time you were so resolute in your decision that you didn’t bother to explain it to him. It should have been obvious, yes, but Yunho wasn’t around enough to see anything. You should have talked to him. The exhaustion of the situation was too much at the time for you to care about his feelings anymore.

“I know,” you say simply, taking another bite. “And if it means anything, I’m happy.”

“For?”

You look up at him. “I’m happy you’ve made it to where you are now. Those long nights led to something amazing, right? That’s all that matters now.”

“y/n–”

Your phone vibrates, your eyes flicking to the screen.

mingi - you did NOT update me on the rich guy ??? what’s going ON!!!!!!!!

You snort, opening his message and quickly typing back.

y/n - oh you’re going to lose it when i let you know what’s up later 😭

mingi - ARRRGGGHHHuhhhhh 🗣️

You put your phone face down, looking back at Yunho.

“Are you enjoying your meal?” The waiter comes back, body slightly turned towards you. You nod quickly, smiling.

“Thank you for your effort sir.” The waiter is flustered, rubbing his hands against his outfit as he glances between the both of you.

“Ah, there is no need to thank me miss. The next course will be coming shortly.” He speeds off, an amused smile on your face as you place your fork down.

“He’s a nervous wreck,” you point out, “What’d you tell him?”

“Nothing,” Yunho shrugs. “When I made a reservation, I told them to provide good service since I will be bringing a date. Nothing out of the ordinary.”

That could panic even the chefs in the kitchen. Especially given how wealthy he is, he could complain and ruin this whole restaurant. Surely he must know that. After a moment you grab your phone, quickly searching up his name. His face pops up in an instant. Largest shareholder of a vaguely familiar line of luxury hotels. It would take several months rent for you to even think of staying a night there without plummeting into more debt.

Yunho peeks at your screen, frowning once he sees what it is. You pull your phone closer to you. “Nosy.”

“You could have asked me.”

“You don’t seem up for conversation.”

“I’m trying to have a good time here, y/n,” his tone is exasperated now. “Were you not here to meet the man you’ve been talking with for months? Why search me up when you can just ask?”

You hold back another snide remark, placing your phone into your bag and looking at him. It’s difficult, he has only grown more handsome over the years of not seeing him. In fact, you’re quite nervous sitting here. He can ruin your life if he wants. You doubt he’d do such a thing, knowing him enough from long ago, but he could have changed. You swallow slowly, thinking.

“I was nervous to see you,” you start. “I thought you’d judge me immediately and toss me to the side once you’ve seen me. I didn’t know what you wanted from me.”

“I wouldn’t toss you to the side,” he says simply. “I’ve been speaking to you for over a month, it felt like I knew you already. In the first few messages I did think you’d ask for money and nothing else, but speaking to you was fun. I presumed that we would see each other more after this. Maybe I’d get a chance to show you more than what you’ve seen around here. Help you in life.”

He doesn’t quite say it, knowing there are listening ears out and about. But he infers enough. You two met on the website for a reason. You need money, and he’s willing to provide it.

“I don’t need it.”

“Hm,” he hums. “I know.”

“I’m serious, Yunho.”

“I know.” Despite the tone of the conversation and the circumstances surrounding it, his lip curves, eyes flicking to yours. “I am taking you completely seriously right now.”

Rolling your eyes, you take a small sip of your wine. “Super.”

“Why did you join the site, then? If you weren’t in need of funds, why would you join a site for exactly that?”

You decide not to respond, eyes focused on everywhere but him. It only allows him to continue.

“You told me of your woes. How your employer works you to the bone, how you think about quitting every day that you’re there but you don’t because it’s fiscally impossible. How you wished that your employer was at least kind to you, so the workload wouldn’t feel as bad. How all you’ve wanted was a break in between the chaos to enjoy life.”

“Yunho.”

“All I want to do is provide you a chance to do those things,” he says, thanking the waiter as he places another plate in front of the two of you. He lifts his knife, slowly slicing the steak. “I’d never ask you to quit your job because you find it ridiculous to rely on someone for your funds when you’ve made it this far on your own. But you’ll be able to take less hours, maybe take a vacation or two a month. Would you not enjoy that, a bit of a pause between your headaches?”

It is all you’ve ever wanted.

You hold your tongue, his mouth continuing to roam.

“I came here to see you, but I also wanted to convince you to let me spoil you. All I'm waiting for is a yes.”

Your head is spinning as he speaks. Still, after all of this - he hasn’t changed his mind? Yunho isn’t one to lie to your face, always honest in his feelings. He takes a bite of his steak, waiting for you to respond.

“You don’t find this uncomfortable? You and I?”

He pauses eating for a moment, “It’s crossed my mind.”

It feels like you’re trying to pull out information from him.

“But I think it’s more comfortable now that we know each other.”

“Oh you’ve truly lost it,” you laugh, shaking your head. “Why would I let my ex give me anything? It’s just stupid.”

“You have yet to leave the table, y/n,” he shrugs. “You decided to stick around once you saw me. You could have left right when you turned around but you didn’t.”

“I wanted a free dinner.”

“Keep telling yourself that.” He takes a bite of his steak. “I want you–” the words drip with tension, his heavy gaze set on your lips. You watch as his tongue drags across his own, before shifting to yours – “to be mine to take care of. Is that so hard to imagine?”

...

“You’re shitting me.”

“I am definitely shitting.”

“This is just,” Mingi rubs his face, eyes wide as he looks at you. He paces back and forth, tie undone and hanging on his neck, mouth agape. “What the hell?”

“That's what I said when I saw him. What. The. Hell.” And he's still so handsome. More than ever still the type of man you fall for. Only makes the bitterness in your mouth grow. “I don't think I can go through with this, Min. I'm in over my head.”

“You are not going to deny monthly allowances to see him because of dignity, y/n. You're not.”

“This is weird and you know it.”

He laughs. “It's the best and worst coincidence I've ever seen. I mean, you walked down those stairs like you saw a ghost. I really thought I had to go back up there and beat up some old rich guy. Started to imagine how much the legal fees would be.”

“This isn't funny,” you groan, struggling to hold your own smile back. “Take this seriously!”

He holds up his hands, “Fine. What do you think? He said to message him about what your decision is right? Did he give you a time limit?”

You shake your head.

“Okay, a patient man. Good,” Mingi sits down on the couch. “What are you thinking?’ Giving him a chance? You broke up with him because he didn't pay any attention to you or your relationship. Are you willing to go through something like that again?”

yulips - i was lonely

You close your eyes, “He's around those shareholders everyday. He tells me how they exhaust him, and how he looks forward to my messages everyday. He said that I relieved him from the mess momentarily. And… and he does for me too. I don't remember how it was to not have him only a text away. He's grounded me. He's made me happier than I've been in a while. So completely different from how I felt actually being with him years ago. But it was so long ago, Mingi. He could have changed.”

“He could have,” Mingi agrees. “You just have to decide for yourself if you're willing to have a relationship with him again, platonic or not. Are you ready to have him in your life again?”

“I don't know, Min. It's so much in a night and,” You rub your face. “I just want to sleep.”

You’re thankful he’s not one to take your tone as dismissive, squeezing your shoulder once before disappearing from your sight, door locked behind him. You sink further into the couch, thoughts scattered. Yunho has never been one to lie about his intentions. Despite breaking up with him in the first place, everything else was good. He was kind, smart, and caring. He just lost himself in his work and forgot about you. Now, you have to decide whether or not to let him in again. As the person who would be giving you money to spend on yourself. Your eyes flick to your phone, sighing loudly. You can find someone else. It would just take a long long time for it to get to where you are with Yunho now. Another month of deciding to meet them, an actual stranger this time.

...

You stare at the building in front of you, the name of the hotel embedded into the concrete beneath your feet. Yunho told you to meet him after his work has ended. You opted to stand outside and wait for him, still a bit hesitant on showing your face around his workplace despite his insistence. It is quite cold, the winter breeze chilling as you tuck your hands in your pockets. Just as it begins to snow, an older man with an umbrella runs out the hotel, beelining it to you. You take a step back and he seems to quicken his pace.

“Miss y/n! Mr. Jeong has insisted that you wait inside, his meeting is running much longer than he’d like,” the man says quickly, umbrella held above you. “I am Mr. Kim, his assistant. If you please,” he gestures to the front door. Your phone vibrates, Yunho’s icon from the app appears.

yulips - please.

A bit disgruntled and worried for the man holding the umbrella, you thank him, huddled beneath the covering as you make your way inside. The lobby is grand, crystals decorating the walls and hanging from the ceilings. Several trees decorated with lights line the lobby, a large one in the center of a water fountain. Ignoring the assistant for a brief moment, you walk over to the fountain, gazing inside. The water is abnormally clear, not one coin resting at the bottom of the marble.

You’re way out of your comfort zone.

“Miss?” Mr. Kim catches your attention once more. “If you would like, you can wait in his office.”

“Ah, that isn’t necessary-”

“I insist, Miss y/n.” He takes a quick step to you. “It is not on the orders of Mr. Jeong, but I believe that you did not want to be seen around with him. There are secretaries and others still out and about around his office, so there is no need to worry. And they are sworn to confidentiality, of course.”

You frown slightly. If he were a stranger, you’d definitely say no to the offer. But you humbly agree, allowing him to guide you through the lobby and to the elevator. The doors are massive as he types in the code for the 109th floor. You tug at your trench coat sleeves, unaccustomed to being treated like this. He stands by the opening for the door to let you out, the wet sounds of your shoes echoing around the hall. Employees are out and about, bowing briefly when they see you before running off to do some task. Worry riddles your body as you watch them. Yunho insisted that you take a few days off to catch up with him. An immediate no escaped your lips. It’s the holiday season but you firm rarely laxed in work, paperwork likely piling on your desk even now. But he persisted, asking how much vacation time you haven’t used yet, and threatened to call your firm to complain.

You took it as a bluff at first, until you walked into work the next day and saw the pile of work gone off your desk, the lead partner insisting that you leave for a week after your hard work. You questioned Yunho about it but he denied all accusations with a wink at the end of each sentence. Meeting him here was his idea, but now all you want to do is yell at him for interfering with your workplace. Hoping he didn’t say too much.

Mr. Kim stops just outside an office door, Yunho’s name etched into the gold plaque. You bow to him and he bows even deeper, holding out to you a lanyard and a small bracelet. Gold matching the nameplate behind you. You panic, shaking your head.

“I couldn’t take this-”

“It is your access pass, Miss y/n,” he explains as you hesitantly secure it on your wrist. “Though the guest rooms are of course restricted, you have access to the working areas if you need anyone or anything. It deactivates when you leave, and reactivates when you enter our hotel. Simple but sophisticated technology.”

“Can I give it to you once I leave? I don’t really need this.”

He furrows his brows, “You will be around often, Miss. It would be most advantageous if you kept it with you. Mr. Jeong made sure to design it himself.”

Your eyes widen, “Pardon?”

“It is one of a kind, Miss y/n. No one in this hotel has access to this technology aside from Mr. Jeong himself. Ah,” his watch beeps, notifications flying across. “You can use the bracelet to access his office. But I must be on my way. Anyone on this floor can assist you if need be. Thank you for visiting our hotel.” Bowing again, he runs off, mumbling words as he disappears around the corner.

You stand in the hallway alone now, phone tucked in pocket and wrist heavy with the bracelet. He didn’t tell you how to work it exactly, your hand brushing on the door handle. It unlocks almost instantly, the door slightly ajar. You did not plan for this, but you enter his office anyway, the door closing by itself with a light click.

His office is unremarkable, shelves clean and free of debris, desk lined with endless paperwork. Similar to yours in a way. His family sits in a frame behind the desk on the shelves. You take off your coat, placing it on the hanger beside the door. Your eyes roam for a moment, snickering once you spot the one thing you were looking for. Age has not changed Yunho much, a shelf filled to the brim with Spiderman comics. A small figurine sits in front of them all, the iconic crouched pose of the superhero in view. You don’t touch anything though. Even if you did know him before, you still don’t know this version of Yunho.

“Correct.”

The door opens, Yunho holding his cellphone against his ears as he shuts it behind him. His outfit is similar to the suit he wore to dinner, a dark blue with a red tie hanging from his neck. As always, he looks more than handsome. A coat is folded over his arm, listening intently to the conversation. His brown eyes glance to you, pausing for a brief moment. You wave at him, a smile on your lips. He stumbles over the edge of the carpet, before giving you his back. You snicker, sitting down at the small table in the middle of the room.

“Y-Yes,” he stutters. “The reply brief should be filed tomorrow. I’ll ask my secretary to forward you the docket update. Correct. Have a good holiday. Yes. You too,” he ends the call, eyes moving back to you. “I thought you wanted to wait outside.”

“Did you not tell me to come in?” You raise your brow, growing suspicious of Mr. Kim.

“Yes, I did. I just didn’t expect you to agree. Or if you did, I didn’t expect you in here,” he drops the coat back on the chair, glancing over your outfit. “Are you not cold?”

Your pants are a bit loose, but you wore fleece stockings beneath. You point to the coat hanger, “Nope. And you didn’t have to end your call because I’m here, by the way. I’d keep everything confidential. Attorney client privileged, yada yada.”

He rolls his eyes, amusement filling his gaze. “Are you my lawyer now?”

“I wouldn’t dare,” you laugh, shaking your head. “But speaking of lawyer…” You stand from your spot, moving closer to Yunho. You’ve forgotten how tall he is in comparison to yourself, neck slightly tilted back as you look up at him. “Something really interesting happened at the firm today.”

“Oh?” he avoids your gaze, finger dragging across the wooden surface of his desk. Guilt immediately riddled throughout every mannerism of his. “And what was that?”

“I walked into work today, expecting chaos since dozens of filings are due at the end of the month. And you know what the head partner said to me?” You raise a brow. “He told me that I should take the week off. The busiest time of the year, taking a week off. I laughed at him until I saw how serious he looked. I even tried to convince him to let me stay but he essentially pushed me out the building and told me to leave him alone. Very weird, right?”

“Completely and utterly strange,” he agrees. You glance to the side, the red of his ears a clear giveaway. “I wonder why he would do such a thing?”

“I thought so too, you know,” you hum. “Why would he let an employee who’s barely been there for over a year, have a week off? He was yelling at me just last week and threatened to fire me and now? Being nice to me?”

His embarrassed smile slips, “He did what?”

“Yunho…”

He thinks for a moment, “No wonder he was apologetic on the phone. I only asked for two days.”

“First,” you nudge him slightly. “You do not call my job and tell them to give me days off. Ever. I don’t care how long I work or how tired I am, you do not interfere in anything like that. You’re not my partner Yunho. That’s not how this works.”

“I’ll give you what you need since you’ll be missing days,” he says simply. “But I agree, I won’t call again unless he does something to you.”

“Yunho…”

He raises his hands, feigning innocence.

“I can protect myself. You know that well. And I don’t need…” Remembering your arrangement, you stop yourself from continuing further. You do need his money. The complicated feeling just continues to bubble inside of you. His hands rests on top of yours for a brief moment, squeezing before pulling away.

“Since you have the week off, there's no need to rush.” He grabs his phone, typing quickly. Yours vibrates, glancing at the amount on the screen.

Eyes widening, you look at him. “Are you crazy?”

“Your time in exchange for spending it with me. Fair deal, no?” He grabs his coat, slipping his arms inside. You're uttered speechless, his long arms reaching for yours and helping you put it on. “I can't wait for you to see what I planned.”

“You're a bit busy too now, right?”

His grin widens, “I took the days off. Partially. I'm sure something will come up while I'm gone. But you have me all to yourself for the next couple of days. And you're going to lose your mind when you see what I have.”

…

You stare at the motorcycle. The lights shine around it, glimmering in the garage as Yunho points at it quite enthusiastically, fingers wiggling. A small tree sits on top of the back seat, wrapped securely in lighted wires. It looked like Saint Nicholas himself threw up over the bike, red and green covering almost every surface. Even on his helmet, a Santa hat seemingly glued onto the surface. Yunho has always been an eccentric guy, but this is a bit heartwarming. You didn’t realize how much he enjoyed the holiday.

“It took me two hours to get everything secure enough to drive around with,” he crouches, finger dragging across the tightly woven wire. “My friend helped me get it stuck without ruining the paint. I’ve been stopped a few times, but nothing more than a slap on the wrist,” he looks up at you, wiggling his brows. “What’d you think?”

“I didn’t know you were a motorcycle guy, first off,” you grin, crouching next to him. “But this is cool as hell, Yun. Not cool enough for me to ride with you on it though.”

He pouts for a brief moment, before nodding. “Fine. I wasn’t going to give you your own decorated helmet or anything, by the way. Not on my mind at all.”

“No way…”

He grins widely, lifting up the back storage and digging out a helmet. Only slightly smaller than his, he holds it up in the air for you to see. It’s decorated just like his, Santa hat secured well.

“I figured that my dandelion might want to go for a ride at some point,” he says, staring at it. His fingers brush the tinsel. “Now I’m wondering if my sugar baby wants to instead.”

You scrunch your face at his works, “Never call me sugar baby again, just gagged a bit. And you know I’m afraid of bikes.”

He laughs loudly, echoing around the empty garage. Shrugging, he puts the helmets back in their spots, “I know, just wanted to see if you were still afraid. That accident still has you shaken up, hm?”

“You remember?” You can recall the night the two of you were together, seeing an accident in front of you. The man came out unscathed, the greatest luck in the world. But you told Yunho then and there you’d never sit on or ride one. He agreed at the time. It makes you chuckle a bit that significant things in your life often happened when he was around. “That was so long ago.”

“I remember everything I did with you, y/n. Big brain,” he taps his temple. “And I already had a feeling you’d say no, we’re taking the train instead. My car is a bit of a way around,” the look he gives you is sheepish. “Small walk, not too far.”

“Lead the way, daddy.”

His smile disappears in a moment. “Hm?”

“A joke, lighten up.”

“Definitely,” he murmurs. The word make little sense to you, but he turns. His fingers slip into yours without another word, pulling you along. You should protest, should tell him that you shouldn’t be seen with him like this, but you don’t. Out of selfishness is very much the reason. His hands are warm and soft, swallowing yours easily. He has always had pretty hands, that hasn’t changed. Delicate rings wrapping around his fingers, nails so neat you’re sure he has them done at the salon.

He turns the corner and you can immediately spot his car. It’s the old truck his friend gifted him once he passed his driving exam. You remembered how happy he was to own it, kissing the mirrors. You made fun of him then but secretly enjoyed how much joy it brought him. Only later did you tell him it was a gift from you. Purely because his friend ratted him out to you, and you couldn’t deny it. You were going to keep it all to yourself, knowing how he is with big gifts. The two of you struggled a lot back then, but you wanted to make him happy. And it worked.

The sex was definitely wild that night.

It looks still as old as it did back then, not much changing. He opens the door for you and you thank him, the familiar squeak and slam to force it closed. You laugh, running your fingers along the curve of the armrest. You stop at the end, staring. You etched your initials into it, telling him that it was your spot and no one else’s. Seeing it still there, though very faded, makes your chest tighten. If you partner broke your heart the way he told you you did, you wouldn’t gotten rid of that almost immediately. Him having it there, the small heart barely seen next to your initials…

You’re not sure what to think.

“Our girl is still running good,” Yunho hops into his seat, forcing his door closed. “A bit of a fixer-upper, but she always has been.”

“Maybe a run to the shop would do her wonders,” you note, looking at Yunho. “She sounds the same as she did almost a decade ago.” He shakes his head easily.

“Trust me, it’s happened. She turns on easy and off easy, just the little quirks I kept around. Makes her a bit of a heart turner, huh?” He winks at you, shifting the gear into driver. The spiderman air freshener hands on the rearview mirror, swinging as you two exit the garage.

You look at the road, the silence comforting. His hand shits on the middle armrest, palm up, hand open. In another time you’d easily place your hand in his, the car rarely silent as you two laughed and joked with one another. But it’s just different now. Still, the butterflies never went away. You continue to look at his hand, until he reaches up, placing your fingers into his. You look at him and he glances at you from the corner of his eye, his other hand wrapped around the steering wheel.

“Feels weird seeing you next to me after so long,” he admits. “No one really sits there. I drive alone most of the time.”

“That’s why you haven’t gotten rid of my name?” You joke, pointing to the door. “You could have scrubbed that out a while ago, you know.”

“Never,” his tone changes a bit. “It makes her who she is. No matter the memory. And why would I want to erase the mark you left on me?” he squeezes your hand.

You don’t say anything back.

“You have that face.”

“What face?”

He purses his lips, “The worried face. Concentrated. Your brows are all scrunched together, you’ve been biting your lip, barely focused on the road. And you’re rubbing your thumb hard enough to make a dent in my hand. You can talk to me, y/n. I want you to be comfortable with all of this.”

You stop moving your thumb.

“Isn’t this… a lot?” you ask. “Being with your ex-girlfriend in the car she gifted you? Holding my hand? This is supposed to be an arrangement kind of thing. A you give me money and I hang out with you kind of thing. It’s familiar right now. Too familiar.”

The light turns red, Yunho slowly coming to a stop. He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t pull his hand from yours.

“Yun?”

He closes his eyes for a second, a small sigh escaping him. “Hold on.”

He drives through once it turns green, the road a bit quiet this time of day. Neither of you break the silence, yourself nervous more than anything else to interrupt his thoughts. Yunho has his moments of growing silent. Holding in his feelings until he had the chance to settle them himself before speaking. Right now is one of those moments. He pulls into a quiet parking garage, thanking the guard as he enters. The truck slowly makes its way to the roof of the garage. He pulls it back into a parking space, hand leaving yours for just a moment. It’s enough to make your stomach flip at the lost of contact, waiting to see what he says. After shifting the gear to P, he turns, looking at you.

“Do you want to end this?”

“Huh?”

“This, what we’re doing right now? Do you want it to stop? Is it too much for you?”

No, you don’t want to end it. No, you want to still do this with him. And yes, it’s an absolutely terrible idea. “It’s not.”

“Are you sure, y/n? I don’t want you to have any regrets. I don’t want you to think I’m forcing you into this. This is all up to you, your choice.”

“Where do you stand?”

He shakes his head, “Tell me what you want first.”

“I…” I want you.

You aren’t a talker. Another thing that broke your relationship. “I want you.”

“You want me?” His tone is solemn, but you can see the inner corner of his lips quirk. “Like hanging out? Spending time with me?” He leans forward, the truck creaking. His hand covers yours. “Fucking me?”

“Yunho!” You laugh, face heating up at his words. “I am not letting you pay me for that.”

His joyous sound matches yours, shaking his head. “It came out wrong. I was going to ask if you wanted to fuck me.”

Yes.

Yes.

Yes.

“Now?”

His eyes widened, “Now? In our shitty truck?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” Or second, or third. Seventh, even. The truck has lasted a long long time and seen many many things.

Yunho moves with swiftness, hand reaching down the side of his chair and throwing the seat back. A loud crack echoes around the car, oh shit falling from his lips as he climbs in the backseat, hand gripping yours to follow. You do, giggling as you struggling to make your way over the seats. The very obvious thing to do was exit the car and put your front seats down to get back there easier, but neither of you are thinking clearly. Yunho pulls you close to him once you’ve gotten yourself back there safely, fingers gripping the bottom of your shirt. He pauses barely an inch away from your lips, soft brown eyes meeting yours. A silent are you okay in his irises. You nod, pressing your lips against his first. It’s soft, hesitant in the beginning. But then his tongue drags across your bottom lip.

"Yunho.." you mumble. His hand leaves your hips, tugging down the sweatpants you wear. His fingers tremble slightly as they touch your bare skin, a heavy breath escaping his lips.

“When I saw you in that restaurant, all cocky,” his fingers barely touched you, slightly grazing your skin. “Wanted you so so bad. Ah, so wet already,” he grins against your lips, finger pressing your clit softly.

“Fuck,” you whisper.

With the skill and knowledge of your body’s reaction, he guides your body flat against the seats, slowly pressing two fingers inside of you. A low moan leaves your mouth, and he grins, fingers curving inside of you. “You sound so pretty for me, my dandelion.” he leans to the side of you, lips near your ear. “Do you like it?" he whispers. You try lifting your hips, but he presses them down, stopping you from moving. ”I haven’t done this in years, baby. You gotta let me get you off myself.“ He makes a 'come here' gesture inside you, your hands reaching out to grip his forearm.

“Don’t stop,” you grip his wrist, noticing his pace slowing down. His lips press against your neck, teeth grazing the skin. “Yun–” His fingers move in and out of your cunt, lips hot against your skin as he bits you. You claw at his shirt, desperate to tug it off.

“How could you already do this to me?” he questions, grabbing your clawing hand and resting it against the front of his pants. Your hand cups the outline of his hard-on, squeezing it lightly. His knees buckle slightly, pressing into you. His pace quickens, you yourself burying your face into your arm, thighs squeezing his hand.

“I want you to come on my cock, pretty,” he whispers, slowly pulling his fingers out. You whine, as he presses a soft kiss to your lips. He tugs his pants down, slightly curve cock finally in sight. Yunho has always been pretty everywhere, and his cock was no exception. His finger slips into his back pocket, unwrapping a condom and slipping it over his length. He strokes it a few times, moving a bit closer to you. The positioning is awkward, your hands on the back of the passenger seat and gripping the backseat headrest. He smiles as he looks down at you, gaze flicking over each curve and corner of you.

“Yun, if you don’t fuck me already–”

He rubs his tip against the outside of your cunt, brows furrowed. Both of you know how large he is, sometimes too much for yourself to handle all at once. His eyes flick back up to you, “Okay?”

“Okay,” you murmur. He stares at you, one hand gripping your thigh and the other on your hip as he presses himself inside. You reach down between your legs, rubbing your clit slowly as he enters. Yunho was never one to push your hand away when you tried to get yourself aroused enough as he entered you, encouraging it even. Something else to concentrate on other than his cock pressed against your walls.

He fills you, a low breath escaping you as his hips finally met yours. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Still okay?”

“Perfect,” you whisper, and he laughs, a moan leaving him as you squeeze him. “Move, please.”

With one arm holding your leg over his left shoulder and the other steady against your hip, he slowly moved in and out of you, waiting until you were used to the feeling. Once a low moan escaped your lips, he picks up the pace. He moves his hips a certain angle to hit your g spot with every thrust, leaning down to press his lips against yours again. His kiss was deep as he moved his hips again, grinding against you with force.

A hand leaving your hip, he rubs your clit, “Pretty, so pretty for me.” He picks up the pace and fucks you harder, cock throbbing inside of you. You grip his shoulders as he does so, the sounds of sex echoing around the truck. After a while, his thrusts slowly grow inconsistent. “I want to come with you, my dandelion.”

His thrusts are slow and hard, hand covering your cunt, finger rubbing your clit quickly. “Come with me, please.”

“Yes,” you nod slowly and he moves his hand quicker, thumb desperately to make you come. You tighten against his cock, a low groan leaving him as he reaches his own end. You feel his condom being filled with his cum, hips pressed into yours as he lets go. He wraps his arms around your body, pulling you into his chest. The two of you sit there for a moment before he slips out of you, pulling his condom off his cock and tying it up quickly. You reach behind the backseat, a loose hoodie that he always keeps around resting back there.

Still, nothing has changed.

Small kisses to your forehead, you lift your own shirt up and throw the hoodie on, barely giving him a glimpse of yourself. It doesn’t stop him from keeping his eyes glued on you as you do so, a swat from you making him look away. He grabs the other clothing back there, sweats folded neatly. The two of you struggle to situate yourselves, laughs and jabs said to one another.

…

You look down at the fries, avoiding his big, brown eyes. Yunho decided to drive to this restaurant not too far away from the parking garage, the guard giving you two a glance over as you left it. You could only hide your face in embarrassment, hoping he didn’t notice how disheveled the two of you looked. And now here you sit across from one another, eating fast food.

“You never really hold my gaze,” Yunho says, the crunch of fries filling the silence. “Everytime I look at you, you look away.”

“You make me nervous.”

His eyes hold such adoration when they meet yours, open and true. You can barely look at him, it's always been this way. His eyes are what made you fall in love. Never have you seen any prettier.

“Cute,” he chuckles.

“I'm not cute.”

“Beautiful then.”

You cough, grabbing the cup of soda to clear your throat. “You really know how to make a girl feel good.”

“Not any girl. Just you.”

“Shut up,” the embarrassed, shy giggle spills from your lips. If you were Yunho, you're sure your ears would mimic the redness of his. “Is this your version of aftercare?”

“No, it’s yours. Remember when we were in college and we just slept together the first time-”

You cover your face in embarrassment, awaiting his next words. He’s usually quite self-conscious of speaking about taboo subjects in public. You suppose he has grown out of that phase.

“- and you told me after we were done that you wanted me to bring you to that new fast food place on the corner-”

“No…”

“And I didn’t because I was exhausted and you never brought it up again. By the time I wanted to do it we were already broken up. So here we are,” he gestures around, “About six years later, but we made it. As good as you imagined it to be?”

You look around the place. It isn’t as brand new as it was before, but you never really entered. A subconscious thought told you that you weren’t interested, but now you know better. Yunho promised to bring you here and he never did, and you yourself forgot about it. No wonder you hated looking at the sign. Your eyes flick to Yunho, teeth digging into your lip. You thought you would be able to do this with him. Able to be around him and not fall for the man. But he’s Yunho. There’s little not to love.

You just can’t give him what he wants. You can’t do this.

“Why are you looking at me like you’re about to disappoint me?” he asks, brow raised.

“We can’t do this anymore, Yun.”

He stops himself from biting a fry, “What?”

“This,” You gesture between the both of you. “Aftercare. Speaking about how we were back then, trying to fix something. We can’t.”

“I’m not trying to do anything. I want this to work.”

“We are too optimistic, Yun. Pretending like we weren't hurt isn't going to change anything. This relationship is just monetary, exchanged for services. I've talked to you about this already. Having sex with each other, I don’t… it’ll end up with us more hurt in the end.”

“I know. Trust me, I know,” he runs his fingers through his hair. “But the past month, has it meant nothing to you? Do you want to go back to what we were going to do, me sending you money and you having dinner with me, sometimes more than that. Is that all you want out of this? All you want from me?”

If he were anyone else, the answer would be a simple yes. But he is Jeong Yunho, one of the few men you've truly loved and never really got over. One that you wondered what happened to pretty often. He stands here in front of you, sweet dandelions between his fingers, vulnerable. He is now what you wished for him to be years ago. He's here. Present. Never has his eyes left yours since you've been speaking.

“No,” you say softly. “I don’t want this to end.”

“You don’t?”

“I don't know how we can be together,” you admit. “I don't know if I'm ready to be in a real relationship with you. It still hurts.” You had loved him hopelessly. But that was foolish of you then. You protect your heart strongly now.

“I'll wait for you. Anything you need.”

“That's the thing – I don't want you to wait for me. I want you to be with someone who's secure in your relationship. I'm not that person.”

“You have no clue, do you?” He laughs, shaking his head. “y/n. I've had flings, yes, but no other relationships. I didn't want anything else. After you, after us, that was it for me. I fucked, sure, but I never really loved anyone. Not like you. And I fucked it up by not communicating and being around more. I thought everything was fine when it wasn't. And you felt lonely. I never ever wanted you to feel that way, but you did. And it was my fault. I didn't get the chance to fix it, but I have you back now. Unconventionally, but you're in my life. And I'm willing to do anything to make us work. But I want you to know one thing: I won’t stop supporting you if you decide to not want all of the extra things. I still want to help you even if we can’t be together physically.”

This is wrong. Deep down you know it is. And you know that he knows it’s wrong. Both of you sit on opposite sides of the table in a restaurant he promised to take you to when you were in a relationship. It is all wrong. It is so wrong, that making another stupid decision wouldn’t be so bad, right?

“So,” you start, “We will fuck, and you will give me money, and we will spend time together. Nothing more?”

He smiles, “Nothing more.”

You hold out your hand, and he mimics you, shaking on it.

“Don’t fall in love with me,” he teases.

“I won’t,” you laugh, ignoring the blaring warning signs as you do so.

This will be okay.

It will work out.

Right?

Losing It. (masterpost)

A series of having virginities given to you. Sometimes they throw said virginity at you with full force, other times, they lovingly hold your hand, bat their lashes, and say some of the dumbest shit you’ve ever heard a man say in regards to getting laid for the first time.  ✤ or the one where you go through a list of the seventeen members and learn how they'd lose their virginity to you.

COMPLETED CHAPTERS ― 1/13

SERIES STATUS: active

NOTE― All chapters can be read stand alone and do not tie into the others. Each reader and storyline is different! 

SERIES WARNING―There are a variety of different scenarios here involving both very normal and loving sex, to some stories that may contain: sub/dom dynamics, religion kink, obsession, desperate behavior, and purchasing of sex work.

If any of these things make you uncomfortable, I urge you to scroll on and not put yourself in a position of discomfort. I did not write these fics to harm anyone. 

✤ this series is afab!reader. ✤ Warnings, tags, word counts, etc. can be found attached to each chapter. ✤ Disclaimer: some storylines and member order may be prone to change upon writing them. ✤ TAG LIST OPEN!! send me an ask off anon to be on the tag list for this series. you will be tagged for every chapter, not just the specific members you choose.

✤ Chapter One: Cherry Boy[l.c.]

A new relationship is always difficult to navigate, for Chan, it appears to be even more difficult. For you? You’re just left confused as to why your new boyfriend of a month and a half hasn’t made a move on you despite your very obvious attempts to invite him into your personal space. 

You soon realize that your boyfriend is a virgin, and that’s why he’s always running away with his hands covering his bits, even through a simple goodnight kiss. 

STATUS ― virginity loss: success EST WORD COUNT ― 5k+

✤ Chapter Two: LOSER. [j.ww.]

After adding some anonymous dude you found on your city’s subreddit looking for gaming friends, you find yourself confused when he suddenly ghosts you after trying to hold a non-gaming conversation.

Through his friends, you learn that he got cold feet because he’s never been with a woman before, and you decide that you’re just gonna have to show him that a man and a woman can be friends without the assumption that either of you want to fuck each other.

Except, maybe you’re not the best example to prove that, because now you can’t stop flirting with him. Now, you’re growing fond of the way he gets all flustered and turned on at the slightest implication of meeting face to face.

STATUS ― v card is hidden deep within his steam library EST WORD COUNT ― 5k+

✤ Chapter Three: Scoring One. [s.c.]

The second best hockey player on campus has a secret. Not that he cheats on his exams, or that he had a crush on the lunch lady growing up, it’s that he’s shamefully a virgin, despite his jersey sporting the big bold numbers of a six and a nine.

Thankfully, Soonyoung found out about his dirty little secret and provides him with a number and a promise that the girl on the other line has a thing for desperate dudes. What he didn’t know? He was just about to pay not only the number one party girl on campus to take care of his little issue, but his own little sister’s best friend.

STATUS ― v card is currently tucked in his pocket behind a picture of his little sister. CONTEXT NOTE― this fic does not include an age gap of more than two years. EST WORD COUNT ― 5k+

✤ Chapter Four: One unsolicited dick pic later. [l.sm.]

Never mind why he hasn’t managed to get laid, it’s not like he hasn’t laid in his room for years at night wondering the exact same thing. The current issue is the fact that his friends keep watching porn on the loudspeakers in the living room, he’s drunk, and he got the sudden confidence to send you a dick pic after not speaking to you since he wished you a happy birthday last year.

What he didn’t know though, is that you’ve had a crush on him since that time in third grade he punched Seungkwan for cheating off of his spelling test.

STATUS ― v card is currently sitting in your inbox unread alongside his raging hard-on. EST WORD COUNT ― 5k+

✤ Chapter Five: LOST DOG: FOUND [k.m.]

Mingyu had the chance to lose his virginity right around the time all of his friends did but, well, there were some mishaps. Unfortunately, years later, he is still lying about the loss of it and pretends that he definitely has sex on the regular. He probably would too, if it weren’t for the fact that he’s grown incredibly insecure about his body and what it actually means to sleep with someone.  

Now though, the 26 year old man lives on the floor above you and is known as the pet-sitter of the building. Which is kind of great because it’s far too expensive to board your dog for weekend trips every month. You approach him for the first time with the offer of a hundred bucks to watch your dog, and of course he accepts. 

The issue upon returning home? He lost your 70 pound dog. Like, the whole thing, he lost it. 

STATUS ― v card being handed to you with the leash your dog was supposed to be on. EST WORD COUNT ― 5k+

✤ Chapter Six: Thirst Trappers LIE. [k.sy.]

You find your very innocent best friend’s secret thirst trap account. To your surprise, the “I’m not ready yet” Soonyoung, who literally sleeps with at least seven different plushies, consistently swings his dick at onlookers online. Grey sweatpants, no boxers, thigh flexing, moaning and whimpering audios. 

Maybe he’s not so innocent after all. 

And just maybe you’re right about that, because what he meant by “I’m not ready to have sex yet” really just meant “please have practice sex with me because four thousand people are trying to pull up and i don’t want to be bad at it but i didn’t know how to ask you.” 

STATUS ― v card is actively blocking and reporting everyone who sends a dm EST WORD COUNT ― 5k+

✤ Chapter Seven: ISO: Anyone who wants me. [c.v.]

Vernon has never had a girlfriend and he wants one bad. Badder than bad. His group of friends get fed up with his consistent eye-rolls involving couples in public, them when they talk about their girlfriends or hook-ups, and ultimately decide to hold an auction at a campus-wide party.

He was feeling pretty ashamed about being announced as a virgin in need of some love, but the laughing didn’t bother him nearly as much when people actually start a bidding war. 

Apparently, these auctions happen once every few years  and it’s like, a whole thing or whatever. He just happened to be the lucky guy who suddenly has girls lining up for him with cash in hand. And you just happen to be the lucky girl to show him a good time.

STATUS ― v card is currently taped to his forehead EST WORD COUNT ― 5k+

✤ Chapter Eight: To whom it may concern, My desk is sturdy. [l.jh]

The worst thing about spending the night at work to reach deadlines is the fact that the new intern likes to hang out with him. Or rather, distract him. It's insane, really, how he's always about doing things by the book. His whole life revolved around rules and regulations, until he met you. He wanted to wait until marriage, and marriage was not in his books anytime soon. So, with all the stress on his back and you sitting across from him trying to get him to live a little, he decides to live a little too much.

STATUS ― v card framed on his office desk EST WORD COUNT ― 5k+

✤ Chapter Nine: How to be forgiven when you're (not) sorry. [h.j.]

Faith should be put into God, not the priest that consistently finds himself wanting to lead a pretty woman further from the union of God. He’s managed to hold off for most of his life from doing that, but all good things come to an end, he supposes. 

Marrying two sophisticated and loving members of the church was the easiest part of his night. The hardest part was pretending that their distant relative didn’t show up in inappropriate attire, with an even more inappropriate need to flirt with a celibate priest. For both him and his God, he finds himself praying more for his sanity than for the happy marriage of the two he just joined together. 

STATUS ― v card being used as a bookmark for his bible CONTEXT NOTE― this chapter contains inaccurate depictions of religious duties, sinning, blasphemy, questioning of god, and over all a blatant religion kink from yours truly. EST WORD COUNT ― 5k+

✤ Chapter Ten: Paying it forward. [y.jh]

CAMPUS NEWS: RICH NEW STUDENT LOOKING FOR LEGS TO SPREAD.

Being born into a rich family is great and all, sure, when the family isn’t so strict that Jeonghan wasn’t even allowed to close his own bedroom door growing up. Dating was off the table for him too, junk food, trash tv, and even choosing his own career path wasn't something he got to experience in life...yet.

Thankfully, those strict reigns loosened when he got into a college far, far away from home. Now? Jeonghan is out for blood, and by blood, he means he is out to experience all those first-times he missed throughout his teen years. First up on the to-do list: get laid.

STATUS ― brought his v card but forgot his wallet EST WORD COUNT ― 5k+

✤ Chapter Eleven: Friend Circles & Circle Jerks [b.sk.]

Seungkwan had his whole life planned out from the age of five. First, he would finish pre-school and get his diploma to become a doctor, mostly so he could buy a big mansion to live in with his family. Then, he would ask you, the neighbor kid next door, to marry him so that the two of you could stay up past seven in the evening. 

Well, it’s safe to say that the now twenty five year old Seungkwan did not become a doctor, nor did he ask you to marry him. To put it simply, you friend zoned him before he ever got the chance to tell you that he’s wanted to kiss you since he learned what kissing was. Still, he sticks around, picking up your little broken heart pieces from the ex that just dumped you. His hopes are high that, maybe, you’ll take notice of how he’s saved himself for you, and that maybe you’d really give him a chance. 

STATUS ― v card hidden behind his friendzone card EST WORD COUNT ― 5k+

✤ Chapter Twelve: 48 Missed Calls. [w.jh.]

Junhui dated you for three weeks in highschool. However, It was a simple act of curiosity between the two of you and it ended fairly quickly due to, well, being teenagers. 

That’s how it was for you, at least. For Junhui? Maybe it was puberty, or maybe it’s just the puppy love he had for you but, he really couldn’t just let you go. He has brushed off any other person who offers interest towards him for years now because of you. You’re the only person he wants, and despite this obsession he has, you still manage to not notice it. 

Which is why he still holds the title of your best friend. A very, very, protective best friend. 

STATUS ― v card stuck in limbo just like his obsession with you CONTEXT NOTE― this chapter deals with instances of manipulation, obsession, and over all our boy here has some strange ass vibes (this chapter is not in any way dubcon or noncon). please be aware of this. EST WORD COUNT ― 5k+

✤ Chapter Thirteen: Probably (not) a bad idea. [x.mh.]

When Minghao couldn't get a girlfriend throughout his younger years, his focus landed on none other than the world wide web. There, is where he decided how he intends to lose his virginity.  Several years and a very large porn addiction later, some lucky woman on one of the four different BSDM sites he signed up for will have the privilege of taking his virginity in more ways than one. He just knows he’s going to love every smothered, painful, wet, insulting second of it. 

STATUS ― v card is being used as a pickup line CONTEXT NOTE― this chapter has sub/dom dynamics in where minghao is an alt submissive man. there is ass-play in this. p.s.  it is not the greatest idea to lose your virginity to a stranger, especially if that stranger is found on a bdsm site. lower your moral standards for this one.  EST WORD COUNT ― 5k+

✤tag list: @aaniag @kissesfrmwonwoo @youronceupontequilas @kwanisms @sisterofsomeone @wonrangwoo @yawnkive @5xiang @mingyuonthemoon @listxn @sebongica @yawnkive @nishloves @sisterofsomeone @thepoopdokyeomtouched @ghostlycrystobalove @shiningnono @tomodachiii @porridgesblog @cheolctrl @notevenheretbh1 @jungkkoo @4cheezflatbred  @duchesskaren @flwrshwa @sexygrass @doljjongsmom @kpopcrazed @baalkoo @seonghwasprincess @pandoora-the-pink-goth @introdarling @ingloriousbasterdss @horanghaezone @starquokka @imprettyweird @kyeomray this is for tracking purposes, if you are on this list, you will be tagged to all fics in this series unless you state clearly that you would not like to be tagged in fics that contain darker content.

Freak Show Talk | 3racha, lmh

𝙭𝙭𝙞𝙫. 𝙣𝙤𝙗𝙤𝙙𝙮 𝙙𝙤𝙚𝙨 𝙞𝙩 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙙𝙤

! fwb, free use ft. all, fujoshi fem reader, poly, enm, angst, smut, dead dove do not eat. <1k wc. 18+ readers only !

「Contents List」 「Act 1」  「© Dec 2023 by jl-micasea-fics」

“I want to hear it,” Minho urges.

Your heart is so loud your vision trembles. You can hardly breathe. This can’t be real. He can’t be asking for the shameful, sordid details of such a private thing. It’s all locked in the little black box and to unlock it is to risk so much, but he asked, and so—

“He, um...” You glance at him; he listens intently. “He went down on me.”

Minho’s eyes drift down your body. “He made you come? On his tongue?”

A wanton shudder claims you; you nod softly. He licks his lips.

“Did he tell you how good you taste?”

“God, Min—”

“Did he?”

“He told me I... was pretty. Beautiful.”

Minho smiles. Like you’re discussing the weather. “What else?” His hand lingers at your upper thigh, the curve of his little finger settled shy of your groin. The tease has you throbbing; as does the topic of conversation, as does the man, as does everything in near vicinity with how tightly you’re wound.

“I— After he made me—” You try to slow your breathing. “He asked if I could stand.”

Minho quirks a brow.

“Then he... bent me over the counter.”

He draws his plush bottom lip between his teeth, indenting the flesh. “That how he fucked you?”

“Mhm.”

“Over the counter like an animal?”

“Yes.”

“Fuck.”

The hand at your thigh glides up and closes over your core, cupping gently. He crowds you with a lean, catches your gasp with a kiss, so passionate an invasion it might tear the skin. When he breaks, he speaks against your lips: “Did he blow your back out the way you wanted, baby?”

The heel of his palm grinds down and against you. You groan into a breathless, “Y— Yeah.”

“Tell me how good his dick felt.” He nips at your jaw. “Tell me how big he was.”

“God, I— He felt so— He was so big, Min. I never wanted it to stop.”

Minho keens, curses as he loses what remains of composure. He rises and drags you with him, makes hasty work stripping you, lips never too far removed. Whispers of wanting fan the flames as Minho gets naked, and when returned to the sofa you’re urged to straddle his lap, the promise of relief so close with him hard beneath you.

He runs his hands down your body, smothers your navel and chest with left-handed attention as the right drops to your wetness. “He’s still all over you.” He presses his nose to the hollow of your throat. “Can smell him.”

Fuck. He likes it. The suggestion of another man on your skin. He throbs to it.

“Can you take me as well as you took him, darling?”

“I can. Want you, Min—”

He draws a lazy smirk. “You have me,” he promises, and the slow intake of his girth sets upon you, your body drawn tight to accept him. When flush in the cradle of his lap, accustomed to the sensation of a God so snug inside you, he kisses you tenderly, a pant on his lips.

“Oh, fuck. You’re so—”

You kiss him with heat; words just won’t fucking cut it. You're both sensible to it anyway; the trust, the desire and wanting. This is the first time, and yet you’re so attuned you could be decade-long lovers. A slow rhythm is set in your gliding over him, every inch he offers felt so abundantly he trembles in restraint. He keeps you close, your hips and groin grinding you ever closer to crisis. Smothers your skin in open-mouthed affection, kisses your breasts and laves tongue over nipple when you arch to allow him indulgence. Soft hands canvas your spine and drop to the swell of your ass, appreciative squeezes felt as he throbs inside you.

It’s a different sort of sex to that experienced with Changbin; whereas the prior was swollen with carnal need to satisfy animalistic urges, this affair is altogether softer. Minho adores and with dark eyes wide open maps to memory the way your body moves on him, with ears pricked plays back the way his name sounds falling from your abused lips.

“Baby—”

You settle low, ride him deep, shudder with the delicious stimulation. Clutch his heated cheeks with both hands and kiss him.

“Can I...” His thought is broken by a moan. “Fuck— Can I come inside you?”

“You want to?”

He nods, eyes glassy. “Want to be the only one who does.” He takes your hands from his cheeks, holds them to his chest. “Did Changbin...?”

“No. No, he didn’t.”

He nods, and with control passed off and allowing him to set a pace of fucking such that your broken groans are mere seconds apart, he chases what he seeks. Tensed and muscled with honey skin iridescent, the sofa creaks with his rhythm, the grip on your hips sure to bruise. Gaze of delirium flicks between your face and where he watches his length disappear with a slickness of ease that worsens when you come; Minho snaps firm and holds, pants through your tightening with burnt complexion, runnels of sweat gathering in the dips of his throat and chest. In collapsing over him Minho attaches to your skin, thrusts once, twice, a third and fourth time before the fifth yields brutality.

When he comes, he does so with fervent strength. You feel every second of it, his request made good upon.

Some minutes pass before harmony restores, and though he retracts gently, your physical state is far from capable; you’re lifted from the sofa to his room, where he deposits you on the bed with promise of returning in a moment. The distance of running water is a comfort soon realised when he bathes with you.

In the small hours of the morning when sleep is broken by the shriek of a passing ambulance, Minho whispers through the dark: “I’m yours.”

Was always yours.

𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚, 𝙧𝙚𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙜, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙨 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙢𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 ♡ 𝙨𝙪𝙥𝙥𝙤𝙧𝙩 𝙢𝙚 𝙤𝙣 𝙠𝙤-𝙛𝙞 ♡

< 𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙞𝙤𝙪𝙨 | 𝙣𝙚𝙭𝙩 >

Freak Show Talk | 3racha, lmh

𝙭𝙭𝙫. 𝙞 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙝𝙤𝙬 𝙢𝙪𝙘𝙝 𝙞𝙩 𝙢𝙖𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙮𝙤𝙪

! fwb, free use ft. all, fujoshi fem reader, poly, enm, angst, smut, dead dove do not eat. <1k wc. 18+ readers only !

「Contents List」 「Act 1」  「© Dec 2023 by jl-micasea-fics」

A fortnight passes with an absence of 3racha.

It’d be like they never existed if not for the void in your gut. If not for the glittering streaks they've left in your sky like the fiery meteors they are. Were.

Nothing feels quite like it used to; like you hit the peak of what life could ever possibly amount to when you met them, and from there it’s all downhill. A plunge to dismal acceptance. You won’t go kicking and screaming. What would be the point? If anything you suppose you should be awash with gratitude; you experienced something so insane no-one would believe you if you told them. Met your idols. Fucked one of them. Butted heads with another. So blessed you are to have had Chan curse at you. The little black box clutches that one like a prized hog.

And all of that is without even considering the developments with your best friend, roommate and long-term chronic crush. He’s the only thing that makes all this bearable— wrapping around him soothes in ways he surely doesn’t intend, but you’ll cling to him just the same. Helps that his appetite is voracious. Not a spare second goes unfilled with his attention, and you’re rather accustomed to the intricate windings of the ceiling Artex now. Could trace them by heart with eyes closed. Indeed; intimacy is the easy part. Not so easy is accepting that he wants you. That it wasn’t a one-off. Wasn’t an accident. You, with all your rotten secrets and heinous inclinations. You, so adept at faking being normal. Lest you ever forget it’s not you that he likes, the little black box ever dutiful reminds you. He likes who you pretend to be, darling. Who you’ve been pretending to be since you met. Who you wish you were— a girl that can see beautiful men together without imagining how their dicks fit inside one another, how their lips lock, how their bodies move, how their lustful groans harmonise. So shameful a habit, but one forged from the toughest steel. A joke to even imagine breaking it.

It’s in the quiet moments that you think of the trio, when little else occupies. Still contracted as their choreographer, Minho dodges your questions when you ask about them, and it’s unlike him to be so cagey. You text Changbin every other day, but his responses are horridly polite. Like you’re not the girl he fucked in his parents’ record store two weeks prior. Like you’re not the girl he made come on his tongue or the girl he called beautiful or the girl whose greedy cunt he praised for being just that. Now you’re the girl on the other end of the phone that gets a yellow thumbs-up emoji, and that’s if she’s lucky.

So, yes. Something’s wrong; all of it’s wrong. You don’t know how to fix it. If you even should. They’re meteors, after all. Rare and dangerous; not to be chased for fear of cataclysmic consequence. You should just move on. Be grateful and move on.

Finishing an early shift at the coffee shop leaves you much of the day to play with. In relative high spirits following the successful avoidance of Supervisor Jin, now seems as good a time as any to bring on the fiery apocalypse. What have you to lose?

The sun is warm on your back as you walk. A dial tone rings steadily in your ear.

“Yo, what’s up?”

“Hi, Bin.”

There’s rustling from the other end, the sound of a door closing.

“Hi,” he whispers.

A cool reception. Okay.

“Are you— Is everything alright?”

“Fine, why?”

“We haven’t talked in two weeks.”

“What?” He laughs. Nervous. Off-brand. “We text.”

“Really?”

“Yeah?”

“You call that texting? One word responses and emojis?”

“I mean; yeah. What do you call it?”

“Alright. Forget it, I shouldn’t have called.”

And then he says your name. “Wait. Just— I’m sorry. I can’t really talk right now. I’m at the studio. Can I call you when we’re done?”

“Yeah. Fine.”

“Cool. Alright. Later, then?” And at the last second: “Miss you.”

Something’s wrong.

All of it’s wrong.

𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚, 𝙧𝙚𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙜, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙨 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙢𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 ♡ 𝙨𝙪𝙥𝙥𝙤𝙧𝙩 𝙢𝙚 𝙤𝙣 𝙠𝙤-𝙛𝙞 ♡

< 𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙞𝙤𝙪𝙨 | 𝙣𝙚𝙭𝙩 >