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lovelovelove demon!haech

Young God | L.DH (M)

SYNOPSIS: desperation had this funny way of skewing one’s perception, and since you were, in fact, way past the point of desperation, it wasn’t a surprise that you jumped the gun without even questioning the absurdly cheap rent price of the seemingly perfect apartment unit. What you failed to consider was the reason why it didn't cost you and arm and a legand it soon came in the form of an incubus in your bathroom belting his heart out on a Sunday morning.

(alternatively: in which you were essentially scammed into cohabiting with a ridiculously clingy demon that lives off of sex. It could be worse. At least he staved off from sucking your soul out in exchange of you sucking something else—among other things).

GENRE: supernatural, urban fantasy, college au, slice of life, humor, rom-com, crack treated seriously, fluff, smut (full warnings under the cut! Please read them).

WORD COUNT: 35K

WARNINGS: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. incubus!hyuck, afab!human!reader, mild horror elements, mild blood and gore, crude language and jokes, some lore sprinkled here and there, none of these people have brain-to-mouth filters, bickering (as a love language or foreplay. you decide), egregious use of the em dash, cooking as a love language, wet dreams, dry-humping, handjobs, oral sex, face-fucking, masturbation, Jaemin, mild allusions to exhibitionism, mentions of edging, squirting, mc gets a little roughed up by another demon, hyuck kills said demon (as he should). unprotected sex (please practice safe sex unlike these two), creampie, tentacles (LISTEN. it’s not that bad I promise! They’re more like glorified ropes made of smoke if anything, but if you’re uncomfy with the idea but still want to read until the end, the passage starts at “Oh that feels weird” and ends with “You weren’t lying when you said you could take it,”)

NOTE: i fought hyuck-shaped demons writing this fic so please please pleaseeee lemme know what you think! do not let the warnings fool you, this is actually cuter and funnier than it should be despite the sexual undertones lmao 😭 All this came to life from pure self-indulgence and some of the dialogues that startled me awake on most of my nights lol.

PLAYLIST: Young God by Halsey — Eyes Roll by (G)I-DLE — Pretzel (♡) by NCT Dream — Galipette (BIBI Remix) by Lolo Zouaï and BIBI — Sunshine Of Your Love by Cream —Tastes So Good — Sabrina Claudio

“I’m the king of everything and oh my tongue is a weapon. There’s a light in the crack that’s separating your thighs and if you wanna go to heaven, you should fuck me tonight.” — Young God by Halsey

I.

The first red flag you should have picked up on was the ridiculously cheap rent price.

Which, given the circumstances, was almost unheard of in the current hellish state of the economy and being part of the lower income bracket. Safe to say you were this close to ripping your own hair out when you were notified of your rent’s increase in price. You could barely afford it and you sure as hell won't be able to now.

Life simply picked its favorites and it was unfortunate that you weren’t part of the silver-spooned minority playing the life game on ‘very easy’ mode. Thus began a very desperate search for a place. A dorm? Apartment? Bed-space? Literally anything. Hell, you’d even consider coach-surfing! You weren’t picky, and you sure as Hell weren’t in the position to demand even an ounce of luxury anyway.

So long as you had a roof above your head, you’d take anything.

Though it seemed that the level of desperation rolling off of you in waves was enough to take some sort of effect.

You had no clue what exactly you should call it (divine intervention?), but perhaps there was little power from projecting your urgency along with the rest of the piled up negativity onto the world to the point it pitied you; listened to your misery that a few days later, right when you were on the precipice of calling it quits and leaving your life in the hands of God, a miracle disguised as one of your classmates for an elective brought up a fairly recent vacancy from her apartment complex.

“If it’s anything like the unit Chaewon and I have, I think you’ll like it.” Yunjin reassured, smiling down at you from her perch on the desk. “Plus, it would be nice to have a familiar face around.”

Worrying about whether the place would fit your tastes or not was the last thing on your mind when you were a breath away from filing bankruptcy (could you even afford that?). It had come to a point where you’d be open to anything that all inhibitions and the ever present skepticism you’d usually have hanging around your head were promptly thrown out of the window because:

Huh Yunjin was not only a classmate, but also a friend.

Biases were a thing, so anything Yunjin said was deemed credible on all accounts by you.

You. Were. Desperate. Did you mention that?

And—look, desperation does funny things to your mind. Skewing your perception, for example, or maybe it was a thing exclusive to you because who lets themselves be labeled as ‘colorblind’ (theoretically) after mistaking firetruck red from verdant green?

The answer: you, duh. Though in your defense, promising anyone with a price that affordable would immediately have them fold, never mind the possible consequences that could follow.

Humans were fickle. Humans were simple as they were complex. Temptation came easiest to those who were in a near hopeless state, and you were very human to your core, stepping out of the lecture hall with Yunjin’s landlord’s phone number saved to your list of contacts, feeling heaps lighter than you did this morning.

Statistics showed that it was less likely for women to be colorblind.

It was also said that women were able to identify more colors than men, so it was quite telling that you’ve managed to consistently ignore every single glaring red-flag so far. Might as well be part of the statistics if this keeps up. Theoretically speaking.

(Family history made it impossible for you to have it. Your recognition of colors was no less than perfect. It was just a ‘you’ problem. Not to mention the non-existent survival instinct).

Though, there were some details that really made you think. And by some, you meant your landlord—correction, landlady, as Ms. Hong chided over the phone.

Ms. Hong was a woman well in her mid forties with a taste for anything glamorous. Slender fingers adorned with rings made of gold and wrists chained with the same metal among a few silver glimmering pieces. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary when polite greetings weaved seamlessly into pleasant small-talk, lasting long enough until you brought up the newly available apartment unit. Things took an odd turn then, with Ms. Hong skirting around, hesitant and vague when it came to answering your questions about the apartment.

It was all sorts of strange, now that you thought about it. Unlike Ms. Hong, your previous landlords had the tendency to overcompensate for the lackluster charm of their apartments. Promising to improve whatever that needed to be improved and then downplaying all the current issues that could have been classified as a health violation. All for the sake of milking you dry of your savings.

On that note, you couldn’t exactly tell if Ms. Hong even wanted to rent out the unit or not. You were no stranger to money-hungry landlords who would jump at the opportunity, yet the older woman’s tone was rather gravely when she listed down the possible expenses. Her lack of enthusiasm was becoming a bit too disconcerting, to say the least, that you had to cut her off from her tangent as soon as you felt the agitation creep up, emphasizing how this was a matter of life and death for you.

Begging would have been your last trump card if the landlady didn’t budge, but it seemed that the trembling in your voice finally shook her out of whatever bizarre headspace she was in that the sudden emergence of charisma that could belong to a representative trying to scam you into joining a pyramid scheme was strangely comforting.

That was another thing that flew over your head: the complete 180 in demeanor, completely blinded by Ms. Hong’s eagerness having you view the unit at your earliest convenience. 

Ten AM on Sunday morning.

That was your earliest convenience. Also your day-off and the one of many chances spent rotting away on an equally rotting mattress. It was a way to relax, but if it meant you’d be (hopefully) parting ways with your current shitty apartment and the shitty mattress that came with it, then by all means you could forget pretending to not exist for a few hours.

Though you couldn’t say you were optimistic. With your renting history, optimism had no room in your life when all you were left with was disappointment from the barely decent rooms you’ve been in and for sure, Ms. Hong would do just the same. It really wouldn’t be the first time. Certainly wouldn’t be the last either. 

But by some unexplained miracle, the outcome was quite the contrary, actually, and for the first time in your adult life, you were starting to see the light at the end of the longest tunnel you have ever been in.

Citrus and vanilla.

That particular scent was what greeted you first as you stepped into the unit which was already a thousand times better than what horrors you were used to and you thought it fit the earthy palette of cream, beige and green. The most surprising thing was that the unit looked to be fully furnished right from the kitchen to the bedroom and lord—the mattress was actually so comfortable that it took a lot of your self-control and the reminder of your (future) landlady waiting to not actually fall asleep.

But it wouldn’t hurt to indulge yourself a little, now would it?

Rolling over, you press your face into the linen sheets, humming in delight at the pleasant waft of freshly dried laundry. It smelt like home, It felt like home and you would definitely regret passing up the opportunity of moving here.

Years of hopping from one place to another, you never had the chance to feel at home. Not when your mind was a permanent whirlwind of worries that just didn’t seem to end no matter how much you tried to deal with them. It hasn’t entirely stopped, but you liked to think you were getting better at keeping them at bay.

One thing that caught your interest was that the sweet and tangy scent was particularly strong here. It wasn’t unpleasant, but a little overwhelming, wrinkling your nose at the intensity of vanilla. Then came the strong urge to look to your right and there you saw a candle in a glass jar burning away on the end table.

Huh, you never noticed that on your way in.

Ms. Hong sure knew how to give a warm welcome, a scented candle of all things. Although you weren’t exactly a fan of the smokey smell that would later stick to your hair and clothes, you appreciated the small gesture nonetheless. And sweet as it was, you were more cautious than to prolong your gratitude.

Risking the possibility of burning the entire unit before you could even sign the lease was the last thing you wanted and without thinking, you blew the flame out.

There was no time to doubt. This was—”everything I’ve been looking for.”

Ms. Hong blinked as you emerged from the inside.

“I’ll take it, but are you serious about the price? It’s fully furnished. Decorated beautifully too.”

All the cool nonchalance the woman displayed prior disappeared in an instant, standing tall and stiff as you watched her open and close her mouth before settling on a croaky, “come again?”

The reaction was strange, but you answered anyway. “It’s fully furnished,” you repeated. “Wouldn’t that, like, increase my rent?”

“What do you—what does it look like in there?”

“Something close to what you’d see on Architectural Digest,” you joked then went into detail about how everything seemed to fit the Pinterest board you’ve made—affectionately named ‘home <3’—and kept on updating since freshman year. It was a little eerie, now that you think about it. How the unit was catered specifically to your tastes.

It was comfortable and cozy. Cozy in a way that screamed slow Sundays of melting your brain with soap operas and endless looping of your daily music playlist to your heart's content. Comfortable in a sense where you wouldn’t mind being cooped up in here for hours on end.

Like you’ve said, it was no doubt everything you wanted in a home.

Though a part of you was a little rattled by how spooked Ms. Hong appeared. A mass of emotions crossed her face as you talked until her expression flattened into something unreadable, remaining tense with her posture despite the smile pulling at the corners of her full mouth.

“Are you okay, Ms. Hong?” You asked anyway. You figured it would give you brownie points, showing a little bit of concern. There could be some advantages to being the favorite tenant.

“Yes, yes!” She waved you off. “Nothing to worry about. I was just a little nervous that you wouldn’t like the place. Clearly, I thought wrong.” Ms. Hong laughed, maybe a little forced, but your spirits were too high for you to overthink it. 

“Honestly? I wasn’t expecting much, but I love it! I would move in today if I could, but I still have to pack.” Not that you had much to begin with when the apartment had what you needed, furniture wise, but you still had your personal belongings and it was close to sunset too.

Ms. Hong nodded solemnly, tilting her head and appearing thoughtful. “Good… good. And you’re absolutely certain that you want to move in?”

“I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.”

Going the poetic route seemed to be enough for Ms. Hong, wasting no time guiding you into her office to take care of the paperwork. The price remained the same, even with your insistence of increasing it for the sake of fairness, but your landlady (for real this time!) wasn’t having it and silently handed over the keys with a keychain where ‘66’ was inscribed on the golden plate, matching what was drilled into the paneled door.

You still couldn’t believe it, really. That you’ve managed to score a charming place within your price range and if the mixture of happiness and relief wasn’t already obvious enough from your cheek-aching smile alone, Ms. Hong didn’t dare comment on it, other than the amused huff she let out, watching you shake in anticipation.

Excitement was a rare emotion to feel these days, not when the weight of college and your part-time job rested on your shoulders, and maybe it was that very reason why the said excitement easily seeped into the questions your landlady had the patience to answer. You’ve never felt this light in a long time and something about the twinkle in Ms. Hong’s eyes said that she understood just as much.

However, the sentiment soon faded as quick as it came; you would have missed it if it weren’t for Ms. Hong calling out your name.

“Do me a favor, would you, honey?”

“Sure,” You looked over your shoulder, gaze inquisitive as the door handle twisted. The woman’s face was drawn into something serious, hands folded properly on her desk. “What is it?”

“Be careful.”

You would have laughed if it weren’t for the intensity in her eyes, and with how she spoke, it left no openings for a light joke. Two words that should have been taken at face value felt like there was more to it. You just didn’t know what.

Perhaps it was a customary thing. A reminder to each of her tenants to not cause trouble for her or anyone? Yeah, that could be it.

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Third time was definitely not the charm because how could you miss another clear warning? Ms. Hong’s nails were red too for fuck’s sake! That should have counted for something!

In your defense, with how well the first week was in apartment 66, no one could blame the carefree attitude now that you had a place that was safe and didn’t check every health violation by the book. Inviting friends over was easier, now that you didn’t have to feel sorry for yourself and your visitors for subjecting them to lounge in a barely habitable space.

Yunjin seemed very proud of herself, being the very reason why you were even here in the first place and she truly deserved the extra volume of wine poured into her glass, much to Chaewon’s chagrin. She quickly perked up when you offered her a variety of sweet treats you got on sale, thanking you with a smile just as sweet.

It felt liberating to come home to a place that exuded the warmth you needed right after a long, grueling day of academics, tutoring sessions and your shift at the hotpot restaurant a few blocks away from campus.

Other than your bed, the couch was another place where you’d occasionally try your very hardest to melt into and not think about your existence. If you wanted to be more productive, the small balcony you transformed into a mini nursery for herbs and smaller fruits and vegetables was there to keep you busy. The little gardening hobby went hand-in-hand with the nice kitchen. You finally had enough space to dance around amidst the prepping and cooking you had to do.

You were, quite literally, living the life.

Life has never tasted so sweet and it took only a week at most to make it look like you had your life together; as if you were one of those people on Tiktok who seemingly had their lives figured out based on their minute-long vlogs.

However, there was clearly a time limit to your peace, it being violently ripped away from you as the second week came around. Then did you start experiencing… things.

Strange things, to be exact and it took a lot to scare you.

There were a multitude of things to be frightened of for sure, but you were someone who’d been able to grow some resistance to them as you got older; thought that it’d be a waste to grow wary of the things that would normally creep people out, living alone. It wasn’t in your nature. Not when you miraculously survived being on your own so far, so what was left for you to be scared of?

That was what past-you would have said but for some reason, the world had this unwavering fixation on going against whatever you stood for because this current situation was an entirely different ballpark. 

And not finding any scientific explanation to back up the sudden disturbance in apartment 66 was what scared you. 

Sure, the smart thing was to raise it as a concern to your landlady, but when it came to weighing your options, you didn’t think the gripes and concerns for the place would be serious enough to be a problem for Ms. Hong to solve. Especially when it wasn’t exactly a maintenance issue.

Let’s be real here, do you think Ms. Hong would be able to do something about the things that go bump in the night? No. You wouldn’t think so. Unless she was able to shapeshift into a cat, going after the rat behind all the thudding, creaking and annoying scratching that woke you up in the middle of the night.

(You realized how utterly insane that train of thought sounded, so that was immediately scratched off. Shapeshifting? Really? That’s one way of letting someone assume you were high on something).

Normally, these hiccups were menial enough to ignore, rolling over to the cooler side of bed and quickly knocking out. Being a nightly problem? It’s a miracle you hadn’t torn down the dry walls yourself to look for the rats and deal with them. Only, you didn’t think the little critters were capable of producing such loud footsteps.

And that wasn’t even the last of it.

Things disappearing and then reappearing at the weirdest of places—house keys in the toilet sink, phone in the microwave and, mortifyingly enough, panties in the cupboards, to which has happened on multiple occasions, leaving you more irritated than scared, actually.

(There were some times where it had been useful though. Like when you were running late to first period and, lo and behold, your house keys and phone were waiting for you on the little nook just beside the door. Or having a fresh pair of socks laid out innocently next to your sneakers. Little things for your convenience for sure that it warranted a hesitantly muttered ‘thank you’ to the air despite being freaked out).

On the same note as ‘things going bump and scratch in the night’, hearing voices became a regular thing, too. There should be a joke written in there somewhere. How it was just your inner monologue increasing volume each night from the stress, but the disembodied voice said otherwise and you knew damn well your daily monologue did not comprise creative threats to your life and soul.

Hearing voices meant that there was, possibly, something else festering in the four walls of your home.

You didn’t feel as alone anymore, and that wasn’t you being all sappy or poetic. You could actually sense that there was an unspecified presence lurking in the shadows of apartment 66, like you were being watched. You could’ve sworn you’ve seen movement from your peripheral too, but for once, from what little remnants of survival instinct you had, you refused to fuck around and find out.

Those were damning signs that told you to leave. Anyone in their right mind would simply book it the soonest they could. And perhaps you had a few loose screws up there, because no one considered normal would manage through all the disturbances, and Hell if you were the one moving out. You fell in love with the place and the hauntings won’t ever change that.

Hauntings. God. You’ve truly lost it. What’s next, a 2023 remake of Casper The Friendly (?) Ghost? Could be. You were still very much alive and that could count as a ‘friendly’ gesture, ignoring the piling grievances.

But then you started having these dreams and you could guarantee that nothing was remotely friendly about what your brain routinely conjured during your slumber: the same dream over and over again.

Same bedroom setting. Same faceless man—seemingly made out of shadows—hovering over you, his weight keeping you from doing anything but squirm each time he leaned in close, whispering—hissing filthy promises as threats of eating you alive after swallowing your soul soon to be damned in Hell with each bite of his words.

And tonight wasn’t any different.

“Not resisting anymore, are you?”

Wait.

That’s new. Not the whole talking thing because the one thing that remained consistent was that this… entity couldn’t for the life of him shut the fuck up, nor could you smother him into silence yourself, minding the Herculean strength he exhibited in having you pinned down.

No, but his voice had character, now that the disembodied filter he had on the majority of the time was absent, leaving you to bask in the high, airy-smooth voice that would have been considered sweet if it weren’t for the fact that its owner showed otherwise through his actions.

How can I when I can’t fucking move? Was what you wanted to say, but it came out as a strangled mess of noises.

It’s always been a gamble. Your dreams, that is and you could never tell which bodily function you could lose in them. Tonight, you were certain that you could neither talk nor move, much to the figure’s absolute delight and this whole thing kind of painted him as your designated sleep paralysis demon.

The demon (maybe) nuzzled into the crook of your neck, breathing in deeply. “You smell delicious.” You could feel him shudder in anticipation, breath hot against your skin from the shaky exhale as he pulled back to stare you down. Or at least you think he did. You couldn’t tell. Other than the twin ruby red glow from where his eyes would have been, his entirety was bathed in absolute darkness.

“Interesting little thing, you are,” he crooned, “usually, any other human would be out the door the moment they could sense me. They’re so easy to scare, humans.” An icy chill ran down your spine at the laugh he let out. Deceptively soft and breathy if you weren’t reminded of your position—this thing straight out of nightmares being bracketed by your thighs. This was all so fucked.

Something akin to a purr rumbled from within him, pleased at the fact that you couldn’t do anything but lay there, unmoving. “You, on the other hand, stayed. Longer than what I had initially expected and lucky for you, I’m beginning to like having you around.”

Cool. So he liked you. Cool. Great. Amazing even.

What the fuck did that even mean?

Were you supposed to be relieved by that? Because it was the last thing you should be feeling in this compromising position. Which then begged the question: did it mean you get to live to see another day? You’d hope so because dying in your dream and inevitably IRL would fucking suck. You haven’t even stayed for that long and your death would be such a waste of money, really.

There it was again. Citrus and vanilla.

Now that you thought about it, this particular aroma was always present. Muted on some days, like a barely there trace of day-old perfume on clothes, and not so pleasant on others, including tonight—strong as this demon (surely) leaned further into your space. Hips pushed down, down, down with purpose as the sickeningly sweet scent increased in intensity, like he was using it to break your resolve, but you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. 

His determination didn’t seem to wane in the slightest from your display of stubbornness, only spurring him on further as his large, warm palms settled on your waist, giving an appreciative squeeze. As if fascinated by how solid you felt in his grip. You, however, were absolutely terrified of how solid he was. How this felt so real that you couldn’t stand being underneath the blood-red glare of his eyes.

The demon let out a huff of amusement the moment you screwed your eyes shut.

All of this was just a dream. A sick twisted dream—a nightmare. Soon as you get yourself to wake up, he’ll be gone. You’ll be free.

“Is it?” He tittered, “a dream? I don’t know, this feels all too real to me, human. Surely you can feel this?” You gasped. Shit. He had claws, digging into the soft skin of your waist. Apply more pressure and you were sure he’d end up breaking through the flesh and leave you bleeding to your very death.

He leaned in closer. Not like he was already too close for comfort before. “Feel me?”

Oh, fuck.

It’s like a sick fucking joke, really. The fact that the time where you truly had a grasp on your vocal chords, you let out the first sound of the night: a moan—followed by a continuous string of them prompted by the thick and hot something pressing incessantly against your crotch with each roll of his hips.

“There we go,” he drawled, lips brushing against the little space underneath the hinge of your jaw, your pulse at its strongest. “You were easier to play with in all your other dreams before, but it’s not like I don’t enjoy a bit of a challenge from a stubborn little thing like you. Let’s see what other sounds you can make, yes?”

He was dead set on pulling them out of you, too, settling on a rhythm that would let his length—straining against what you could assume was skin-tight boxer briefs—drag over your clit covered by thin cotton panties. He made use of his hands too; leaving warm trails of his touch along your skin, like he was leaving traces of himself, branding you his.

It was maddening, to say the least. That even in your dreams, you were still able to feel the rush of pleasure in its purest form thrumming underneath your skin just begging to be let out.

And if that wasn’t enough to wind you up, the same pair of hands curiously traced the bottom hem of your camisole before pushing it up, up, up and exposing your chest to your audience of one. He lets out this satisfied sound, a groan almost and tapering off into gentle cooing; gentle as his hands were in fondling your tits.

If you could move, then the smack he would have gotten from you was well deserved. Men were so easy. Show them your boobs and it’s pretty much all they care about until you stray their attention elsewhere. His dutifully remained on your heaving chest, however, and if you could see, you were sure he would be licking his lips, satisfied with himself as he bent his head.

Holy shit. You were going to die. You were going to be eaten, and then die.

The cry you let out was enough proof that you finally finally had gotten control of your voice; crying out from the sensation of impossibly sharp rows of teeth nibbling on your right nipple, already sensitive from the demon’s tongue laving around the bud. Taking it entirely in between unimaginably soft lips and suckling harshly that your body didn’t know whether to bow against the bed so he could take in more, or pull away from all of this being too much for your senses to bear.

“Aren’t you so cute?” He cooed the moment he unlatched from your other tit, subjecting it to the same treatment and his cock still rutting slowly but firmly against your clothed slit, earning him a drawn out whine. There’s a hand wrapped around your throat now, and you gasped at the pinpricks his claws left. “You make the sweetest of sounds, darling girl.” He said this as leaned in so close that his lips brushed against yours with every syllable.

“I can’t wait ‘til your soul is mine.” and there was no mistaking it; the drag of sharp teeth just below your jaw raised goosebumps across your skin.

Panic immediately swelled in your chest just as you regained full control of your body, smacking his hands away for your fingers to tangle into his hair and push him as far as your arm would let you, heart beating so wildly that it’s a miracle it hadn’t cracked your rib cage. Oh well, small miracles and whatnot.

It looked like he wasn’t at all expecting you to fight back. You thought so too, with his overpowering scent almost lulling you into compliance and, again, the unimaginable strength he had keeping you in place. Catching him off-guard was the smartest thing you’ve done so far into halting the all-consuming dreams—nightmares that all he did was stay still and it’s exactly what you needed.

“Get out!”

You woke up with a sharp intake of breath.

Your hand was still up in the air, fist clenched and arguably at the same height where it was originally resting stiffly on top of the entity’s head. Knees the same as they were before; bent and parted wide enough to accommodate his figure, and let’s not forget your ‘tits out’ situation because your tits, were in fact, still out. How vivid was that dream exactly?

The entirety of your room didn’t look out of place, minus the duvet, thankfully. Probably got kicked down from how you struggled in the nightmare. It was a rather chilly night—the slow beginnings of autumn, so you pulled it back up (right after you fixed your camisole) and settled comfortably underneath the softness of the covers for the second time of the night.

Your eyes slipped close.

“Oh? Going back to sleep already? How rude!”

Your eyes immediately snapped open.

What the fuck.

Nothing could have prepared you from finding a fully grown man sat like a fucking gargoyle at the foot of your bed. Knees bent with his hands right in between them, clutching the cotton tightly in between his fingers, judging by how his grip pulled onto your duvet. You pulled on it too, not willing to expose yourself at this time, and just because you were still petty enough in your sleepy state. You were cold, dammit.

No words were exchanged. No one moved either, but you did spend a long time just sizing each other up as if daring the other to do something. It was still too dark for you to make out his features, the only source of light being the full moon at its brightest which wasn’t much of help.

The thing tilted his head. “Hi!”

You were too tired for this. “I’m going back to sleep.”

“No, wait!” It took everything to not scream bloody murder when he hastily crawled towards the space beside you and sat on his calves, “I’m a demon.”

What? Like that made any difference.

“This is a dream.” It’s got to be because there was no way the man in your dreams was able to materialize right in front of you, claiming he was one of Hell’s spawn. He sounded like him, hell, he smelt like him, but the sheer ridiculousness of the turn of events made it a little hard for you to believe that this isn’t just a tamer, sleep-induced hallucination.

“No it’s not!”

You stared at him with narrowed eyes. Is it just you, or did he sound… whiny? Anyway, “yes, it is.” You groped around before grasping onto your stuffed bear’s limbs. If he doesn’t shut up right now then you’ll do it yourself.

Again, too dark to see his face, but you can just tell he was scowling. “Says who?”

“Me. Goodbye!” And you smacked him in the face with the stuffed toy so hard that he ended up toppling off of your bed with startled yelp. Your eyes slipped close again, pleased.

What a weird fucking dream.

II.

There was someone in your home.

In the bathroom, to be specific.

The trip to the morning farmer’s market didn’t even take that long. Thirty minutes at most to get what you needed for a hearty meal, and yet it was enough for someone to break in, apparently (in broad daylight too! Do people have no shame?) So much for living in one of the safest parts of the city. The advertisements were total bullshit.

Though, you actually weren’t sure if this was better. That it was something or someone tangible disrupting the peace and not the occasional, domineering presence you’ve grown used to. You had to admit, it was kind of funny that hogging the shower was next on their agenda after trespassing. Usually, it was followed by either burglary or first degree murder, but hey, who were you to judge?

It didn’t look like they’ll be out any time soon. What with the passionate rendition of Michael Jackson’s (may his soul rest in peace) ‘Rock With You’—complete with adlibs and all—you’d be lucky if they chose to stay in there and raise your water bill up to immeasurable heights.

At least a bunch of knives stuck to a magnetic rack was within reach if all goes to shit, but you still hoped that you wouldn’t have to draw blood first.

Leaving the stew to boil, you plopped onto the couch with as much grace as a newborn giraffe, sitting in a way where you directly faced the bathroom in case of the possible brawl you might push yourself into due to your lack of survival instincts, apparently.

Yet even with the forewarning, you weren’t exactly prepared to face who or what was on the other side of the bathroom door.

Your breath hitched at the sound of the door unlocking, followed by the click of the light switch and, for some reason, you had your gaze set resolutely at the bottom half of the door. The door opened and a tan leg popped out, and then another and—Jesus, how long do these legs go? Seriously, it should be illegal to have legs as long as that, having felt as if your eyes scanned like… miles upon miles of tan—

Right. This was an intruder in your home.

A man to be exact, and he had the gall to mirror your own shell-shocked face as if you were the one who broke in.

Though, you couldn’t deny that he was gorgeous. Inhumanly so as you took a closer look at his face. Sun-kissed all over as if the big ball of fire in the sky decided it wanted a human counterpart. Waves of dark hair fell just shy above his waterline and framing a pair of wide, darkened amber eyes (is that eyeliner?) burning with as much curiosity you had amidst your fight or flight response kicking in. He kind of fit the ‘tall, dark and mysterious’ archetype that BookTok lovers—er, loved, but there was very little mystery to be intrigued by. Not when his thoughts, feelings and intentions bled so opaquely on his face.

Amusement tilted every angle of his features, namely his sleepy eyes and heart-shaped lips. If you possessed half a brain, you would have thought he was harmless, yet the hair-raising grin that broke out on his face told you otherwise, making you bristle.

“Now where’d you run off to this early in the morning?”

You gritted your teeth, feeling a vein pulse on your temple. That voice.

Pretty privilege could be addressed next time because at this very second, you weren’t feeling privileged being graced by the so-called prettiness, but threatened to even fully appreciate what he’s got going for him. Physically wise.

Without thinking, your hand shot out to grab the closest thing to you, an empty vase, and hurled it with all you’ve got, aiming straight for the intruder’s face who didn’t seem bothered in the slightest. It was like watching everything in slow motion, how the decorative piece took its sweet time to smack his face and hopefully break his nose (best case scenario).

This was the worst case scenario, with the vase pausing in mid-air as if time just decided to stop being a thing, all in this demon’s favor.

You were actually going insane. That was the only explanation because no law of physics could explain the current state of the decorative vase—it’s still in the fucking air. Holy shit—nor did you think telekinesis could extend beyond the old, generic trick of bending spoons with your mind.

“Hey,” As if you weren’t terrified enough, the stranger peeked from one of the vase’s sides with a disapproving pout. You scooted further away until your back hit the arm rest. “I picked this out for you, y’know? Thought you’d like it.” With a lazy flick of his wrist the vase ended up floating all the way into the kitchen, much to your horror, to sit on top of the refrigerator.

“Maybe we shouldn’t throw things next time?”

Your eyes flickered towards him, dumbfounded.

“You… last night,” There really was no mistaking it. The voice already told you enough. It was all too distinct; the arrogance, the grating inflection that screamed he solely existed to get on your nerves, and it was working. “In my dream. That was you?”

“Wasn’t just last night, little human. I’ve been in all of your dreams since you moved here.” He shrugged, leaning laxly against the door frame with his arms crossed. “You were way nicer in them. Pliant,” he had two fingers up to prove whatever point he was making. “didn’t throw things at me,” and there goes the third finger.

Smoke was practically coming out of your ears as you sat up straighter, tense. “Oh, I’m sorry!” One of your hands flew to your chest, tone high and mocking. “I didn’t know I had to show proper etiquette to a fucking trespasser!” You scrambled for your phone. “Now, please leave or I will call the police—”

It happened all too fast. Too fast for your human brain to comprehend because just a second ago, you were really serious about involving the police in this. Now, you were flat on your back with the wind knocked right out of you and a lap full of the man plaguing most of your nights. The atmosphere felt heavier, now that the kittenish air surrounding him was gone and the very corner of his lips tilted down into a frown as he plucked your phone out of your hand.

“First thing’s first, no police. You won’t get rid of me that way. Second, this is my”— he pointed to himself —“home. My apartment. I was just nice enough to let you stay for how long you liked.”

“I paid for this unit you—you demon!” You didn’t even try to be subtle with the eye-rolling. Of course he would preen at the title. “If anything, it’s my apartment!”

“Okay? I tied a piece of me down to this place. My sigil is somewhere around here to prove it—meaning, I have higher authority.”

A sigil. Of course. This is your life now. Possibly sharing a space with a fucking demon of all things. Exciting, but not exciting enough to stave off your hunger and you were starting to get antsy. You were just arguing for the sake of arguing to blow off some steam and to get in the last word.

“I signed a lease. The lease has my name on it.” you said as if that was on par with whatever he was talking about (probably not).

“Technically, I signed away a part of my life, so.”

Fuck. Fine. He got you there.

“Are you always going to do this?” You resigned, wriggling underneath his weight. “You’re kinda heavy.”

“I mean, if it works, right?” The demon giggled, tilting his head with a coy smile as he put more weight onto your thighs, one hand falling behind to rest on your knee. “It’s not like you complained before.”

“Technically,” (“I do not fucking sound like that.”) “those were dreams—dreams, so they don’t count.”

Which meant that you had full control of your body out of the dreamscape, proven by the indignant yell the demon let out as he was unceremoniously pushed to the ground for the second time within the twenty-four hour time frame. It wasn’t enough to make up for the numerous times he had you under him, but for now, you were even.

“They sure do!” he exclaimed from where you left him still sprawled on the floor.

“Nope. This conversation is over.”

The stew was just about done, soup reduced to the right amount as you switched off the stove and range hood, bathing your apartment in still quietness besides the bustling from outside. The soft padding of feet came in quick succession until warmth hovered just mere centimeters behind you.

Turning your head, the demon was there, his chin just shy of resting onto the dip of your shoulder as he peered curiously at the steaming pot.

“Is that… kimchi jjigae?” he wondered, taking a generous whiff and appearing just as hungry as you felt. “It is kimchi jjigae.”

You snickered, all animosity fading into faint amusement, “I take it that you’d like some?” It was such a human reaction that you couldn’t help but smile, reaching for the ladle.

“Please?” he pressed, amber eyes all wide and imploring. “I haven’t had a decent bowl of the stuff in, like, weeks.”

“Well, make yourself useful. Set the table, yeah? And pass me two bowls while you’re at it. You know where they are…” you trailed off, looking at him in silent question. You haven’t asked for his name, or what he would like to be addressed as.

Somehow, the demon was rather quick on the uptake, curling his lips as he pushed off to do what you asked him to.

“Haechan,” he called over his shoulder, grinning as he reached for the cupboard’s handle. “You can call me Haechan.”

So.

There was someone in your home, and he was a demon sitting across from you, digging into his second helping of the kimchi jjigae you initially planned on rationing out for the entire week.

Like an actual living and breathing demon—an incubus. A demon dependent on sex, and from what you’ve heard from one of the girls utterly obsessed with the occult and anything spooky, Incubi and Succubi do, in fact, fuck to survive. A fuck or die slowly situation which earned Haechan a dubious look when he confirmed through a mouthful of pork belly.

(You weren’t too sure if you heard right when the mentioned occult-obsessed classmate later added that the human could literally go insane from the amount of life force they’d lost. Or that some incubi and succubi do it for the purpose of reproducing. Hopefully she was wrong because—well—because).

“Okay,” you let the spoon clatter into your bowl. “Okay.” you repeated in a way to soothe yourself before broaching on the topic, prompted by morbid curiosity because hello, who wouldn’t start questioning the ‘monster’ you were stuck with for an indefinite amount of time? “So! What, you fuck anyone that comes to live here?”

“Mm—one second,” he raised a finger and then swallowed. “This is really good and, well, yes and no?”

You hit him with a pointed look. “It’s either yes or no.”

“Nosy, nosy,” he tutted, heat creeping from your neck and up at the sight of his smirk. “Curious about my body count, aren’t you, sweet thing?”

“Uh,” you said intelligently, brain short-circuiting at the pet-name. “Am I allowed to be?”

Haechan beamed. “‘course! Honestly, I’d be more concerned if you weren’t. Humans are naturally curious, aren’t they? Kinda weird that you’re so calm about this though.”

He wasn’t wrong. You were the perfect picture of calm listening to him talk about his origins and any sane person would think Haechan was just talking out of his ass. It was likely due to the fact that you’ve become desensitized to most things and consequently, this was less weird than being offered cocaine right outside of campus.

“I’ve been through worse.” You shrugged and there was something absolutely hilarious about a demon of all beings expressing a mix of concern and confusion when you waved him off. “So what does ‘yes and no’ mean?” You pressed further, curious and maybe a smidge nosy.

Other than the hectic lifestyle you live, things were pretty much boring when it came to experiences outside of your academics and extracurriculars, and your part-time; the latter only holding a modicum of drama that involved teenagers and their own diluted version of pettiness and the occasional entitled ahjummas that were dead-set on making your life miserable than it already was with maintaining an absurdly high GPA to keep your scholarship. Not to mention you were barely scraping by with your savings.

Taking in Haechan and his brazen glory, you might as well live vicariously through him to feel something, right? Like one of those moms who’d force their own kid to live out their dreams. And so you were going to pry as much as he would let you. Haechan was shameless in his own way anyway, proudly so with how he was literally wearing a pair of your sleep shorts that left nothing to the imagination and a zip-up that was definitely his. You didn’t remember having one with horns attached to the hood and you wouldn't wear anything too on the nose if you were him.

(You could have sworn an ass cheek popped out when he was getting a drink from the fridge—Christ, you didn't remember the specific pair being that short—not that you were looking on purpose, no way. His thighs were literally displayed like that).

“Meaning, I don’t limit myself to just my tenant. The risk of them dying is lower that way. They get the time they need to regain the life force they lost while I go out, find a willing soul and… take what I need.” you pointedly ignored the glint of mischief in his eyes by taking a long, generous sip of your water. Haechan snorted at the loud gulp. “We’re not all evil.”

With what your dreams were made of in the past month or so, you highly doubt a singular demon would align their morals with yours. The thought was ridiculous enough on its own and apparently, it translated so well on your face—a grimace that said all that needed to be said—that Haechan had to laugh with crinkled eyes and a scrunched nose, both in which oddly made him look less of the sex-deprived creature etched into your skull, and more human.

“And I don’t really want a human’s death on my conscience. It’s in our nature, there’s no doubting that, but Hell isn’t lawless as you think it is. We have rules to follow. We still have to be kept in line and it just so happens that humans are—ah, how do I say this—precious,” he said with air quotations. “to our supreme overlord. Humans help keep Hell the way it is, and we try not to terrorize them too often.”

“Bit late on that, don’t you think?” you said dryly, being a victim of his terrorizing.

Haechan didn’t even look the least bit remorseful. “What can I say? Frustration is such a cute look on you, darling.” He cooed, a lop-sided grin stretching wide enough that a fang glinted underneath the overhead light as it caught on his lower lip. “I could just eat you up.”

“Please don’t,” You don’t even want to imagine the damage his piercing canines could do. “I’m not really into vore.”

Haechan giggled, resting his cheek onto an open palm. “You’re so funny.”

“Um!” you were beginning to feel like you’ve aged five years from this conversation alone. “That’s all I need to know, really.”

As interesting as it sounded (e.g; the logistics of Hell’s governance, rules Hellian’s had to follow, the social hierarchy and the importance of humans, surprisingly) you thought it was far too early to go into the nitty-gritty details of anything incubi or succubi related. The fact that Hell mirrored human society in a democratic sense with far more nuances than you would expect was all sorts of intriguing, but your curiosity on that could be satiated another time.

You cleared your throat. “Anyways, thank you for answering.”

Haechan hummed in response, going back to demolishing his food.

Right now, you were more inclined to know what this meant for you and your living situation.

Speaking of.

“Is that why the rent is so cheap?” you wondered, eyebrows knitting together. “Because it had you stinking up the place?” The chair creaked as you fell back against it, arms folding above your chest to scrutinize him more.

Haechan gasped, mouth falling open at the jab. “Excuse you! I smell great!” and as if on cue, the scent of tangy sweetness went up right up your nose, making you grimace.

“It’s a little overpowering sometimes,” you confessed, wrinkling your nose and by the strange act of mercy, the smell dialed down and the urge to keel over disappeared completely. “Seriously, is anything normal too much for you? You couldn’t say ‘hi’ to me normally?”

Haechan arched an eyebrow. “What about ‘sex demon’ screams normal to you?” Touché. “And my way was much more fun.” (“it was fun being a nuisance?” you mumbled) “If I was that much of a bother, why didn’t you complain to Ms. Hong?”

You just about mirrored his expression, “what does my landlady have to do about this?”

Like, yeah, Ms. Hong had her responsibilities being a landlady, including the comfort of her tenants and having their best interests at heart, but you didn’t think she’d waste her time with your… special predicament. Ms. Hong probably had better things to worry about anyway, so why did he bring her up? Better yet, why was there familiarity with the way Haechan addressed her?

“She only tried to banish me one too many times,” He huffed as he mirrored your posture. “I got so sick of it that I left my sigil here so she couldn’t do it anymore. She knows better than to tamper with demon magic.”

“Banish—again, what?” Your head was already spinning from the onslaught of information you’ve been fed up until this point. Add Ms. Hong and her involvement in this? It’s a miracle your brain hadn’t imploded on itself.

“You really don’t know?” Haechan cocked his head, regarding you with an unreadable expression for a short moment, just watching you silently process what he said until his face smoothened to show a little bit of sympathy. “Darling, Ms. Hong’s a witch.” He spoke slowly.

“I literally just found out that you, an incubus, exists. How was I supposed to know she was a witch?!”

Though it did make sense. How weird your landlady acted during the first meeting. How cryptic she was in answering every question you had prior to viewing the unit and she essentially begged you to ‘be careful’ before you left. She knew very well that apartment 66 was housing a demon and cut the costs as compensation, leaving you to figure out the fatal flaw of this damned unit.

Haechan shrugged. Okay, so he’s useless. Great.

With a heavy resigned sigh, the table clattered as you clutched your head. “She’s a fucking witch and she scammed me.”

“Can’t be scammed if you’ve gotten what you asked for—an apartment perfect for you.” Unlike yourself, Haechan found this absolutely hilarious. So nice to know that someone found amusement in your suffering. “with an added little something to keep you entertained, yes?”

It was obvious what he was hinting at: himself, looking up just in time to catch him flashing you a cheeky grin as you stiffened at the sensation of his foot brushing up and down your shin—which was a bizarre choice. Bizarre for you, but another Tuesday for him. The clock barely hit ten and here Haechan was, wasting no time shooting his shot so he could have his fun. Just when you thought your life couldn’t get any weirder.

How he knew of your wants, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out how he did. With Haechan and his display of freaky ‘demon magic’, you'd assume anything was possible for a Hellian like him, peeking into your head as if it was free real estate. Asshole.

“I don’t remember ever asking for you,” you grumbled, your foot pushing down on Haechan’s to stop him. God, were you seriously playing footsie with a demon?

“Oh? Then that’s too bad,” he said through a pout, mocking. “Unless you find a witch powerful enough to get rid of me and my sigil, I’m staying—and it’s not like you could afford to move again.”

And it’s all kinds of condescending. The way he talked, the way he leered, yet even with all the goading, he was right. There was no way you could afford another down payment for a new place that would surely have a higher jump in price, so you stayed quiet. It was a time like this where you wished there was a reset button to life. Why weren’t you born into money?

“Thought so. Glad we’ve come to an agreement.”

The self-satisfied smile he sported was all sorts of grating, but you weren’t going to risk what he could do to you if you threw a bowl to his head.

Demon magic was an entirely different thing still beyond your human brain’s comprehension, and his black-lacquered nails were like a silent threat on their own.

The scratches on your neck and waist serve as a reminder that Haechan had claws that could tear you apart, hidden in plain sight.

“I still can’t believe you didn’t know supernaturals exist,” Haechan said in slight awe and wonder, lightly swinging his feet from his perch on the counter. “I mean, it’s not like we’re hiding what we are. I’m sure someone warned you, or something.”

With the absence of any self-preservation skills, it wasn’t all too surprising that your Grandma took it upon herself to become the overbearing parental figure in your life.

Grandma was the exact person Haechan was referring to. You told him how she’s as superstitious as they could come and she, with her unwavering belief in anything supernatural, had tried to drill the same into your head. You had practically grown up with her making you do things that could hopefully stop you from going face-to-face with one; would even commission one of her equally insane friends for amulets or talismans to keep the malevolent creatures from latching onto you.

Being who you were, hyper-independent from such a young age to present, those little trinkets you were forced to wear ultimately ended up in the trash and Grandma had long given up on that alternative, fed up with you constantly “losing” them.

Too late now, you thought. When there’s Haechan on your kitchen counter, magic singing with each languid flick of his hand that wound around your wrists like how a cat’s tail would—soft, warm and grounding. Which you didn’t think was even possible when all he used it for was to dry the dishes you hand him, putting them away after with a wave of his hand. If Grandma could see you now, the old crone would likely keel over and die of a heart attack.

“Grandma was kind of insane,” you joked. Paranoid too as she would always call you home the moment the sun went down in fear of you being snatched away by some cryptid. “She was against me going to college, harping on how the city was too dangerous for her ‘sweet girl’. But I wanted different things and I never believed in anything she said.”

If you did, that would also mean you would have let her instill into you the fear of something you weren’t even sure existed. Perhaps struggling to keep yourself afloat wouldn’t even be a thing if you just stayed under Grandma’s roof, but that was another can of worms you didn’t really want to open today.

“Grandma was right, though.”

“Yeah,” you huffed, giving him a brief once over. “Clearly.”

Haechan hummed, preening under the attention. “She really is. Seoul’s infested with all sorts of creepy crawlies. Like, vampires make up most of its supernatural population. You’d usually find them in upscale districts like Itaewon or Gangnam. Bougie fuckers, I know.” he said, matching your own disbelief. “But they’re very generous. Can’t say I’ve had any boring times with the leeches either. Their fangs are really sharp. Sharper than mine.”

You didn’t need to put two and two together to get what he was hinting at. By the lecherous, wide smile that showcased Haechan’s own set of upper fangs, a little shorter than would you’d think of a vampire’s, it was enough to tell you that he’s had his fair share of hook-ups with the bloodsuckers.

You wrinkled your nose at the thought. An incubus and a vampire. That’s a very interesting picture to paint. “I thought humans were the default favorite for you demons?”

“I never said they weren’t,” he said. “Doesn’t mean that I can’t try anything else though. Like, Think of it this way—you have a favorite food to eat, right? Eat too much and you’d def grow sick of it. It’s like that.”

“So, in essence, you put off humans to grow… an appetite? To crave for them?”

“Awe, see? You’re catching on,” Haechan cooed. “Though, slight correction, I always crave for humans.”

He was fucking with you. He’s got to be, yet you didn’t think you were in a place to judge his choices. You were painfully human. You didn’t need to do anything drastic for sustenance.

“Whatever gets your fill, I guess. You look like you have it easy, picking out any willing human to be yours for the night anyway.”

You weren’t blind. You were the farthest from dumb too and just looking at Haechan was enough to tell you that he had it easy. That batting his eyelashes once or twice—three times, for good measure—would get anyone keeling over, scrambling to give what he had asked for before Haechan’s deceptive sweetness turned sour. Threatening. Deadly.

With the way he carried himself, how he talked, how his mind worked—all being from the hours-long observation you've mentally conducted—it was just telling how Haechan wasn’t necessarily a stranger to compliments. He was made to be desired. He was made to fulfill such desires, and you could only imagine how often he hears praises for the way he looked. You didn’t didn’t need to add on the number. It's not like he’d die from not hearing anything from you. Haechan could live.

What he could not live without, you were starting to notice, was to have his fun pushing your buttons. The shit-eating grin just told you as much.

“Don’t let that get to your head.”

“Too late! You think I’m sexy,” he sang. “As you should, actually.”

“I hardly think heavy eyeliner is sexy,” you quipped.

Haechan begged to disagree, letting out a wounded noise. “It makes my eyes pop.”

I hope they pop out from your skull. “Sure they do.” 

Here’s the thing: It did make his eyes pop. The unnatural amber shade was already ‘poppy’ as is, backlit by an incandescent glow, a detail the less educated would surely miss from being distracted by everything else. To you, it was the one damning trait that showed Haechan wasn’t at all human and the smokey darkness intensified that.

Haechan’s eyes were beautiful, hauntingly so, but you would rather gouge your own eyes out than to admit it out loud. You planned on wasting away for the entire day and you weren’t letting psychological warfare stop you.

Clearly, the parasite (see: Haechan) had other plans that involved ruining yours. It was like peace was never an option and here you were, given a demon to make sure you’d never find out what it would be like. Being at peace.

(Going back home to Grandma was starting to become a tempting out from this).

Haechan giggled despite the sarcasm, tilting his head to regard you with a look that was almost fond if it wasn’t for the permanent smirk etched onto his face.

“Oh, I’m going to have so much fun living with you, Y/N.”

You narrowed your eyes, “can’t say the same.”

“Don’t be like that,” he murmured as he poked the tip of your nose with his index finger, chuckling when you went cross-eyed. “I’ll make it fun.”

You scoffed, jerking your head away as if he burnt you. “Keep your hands to yourself, demon.”

Haechan only laughed as you made a break for your balcony with the idea of seeking refuge in the mini-garden that had been set up until the burn in your cheeks faded so no embarrassment, not even the slightest bit, would leave a trace.

“Something tells me you’re gonna want them on you soon,” came his reply as soon as you reached the halfway mark towards the sliding glass door. “and you can trust that I won't ever disappoint.”

He’s so fucking sleazy. You had half the mind to whirl around to pick another fight since ‘flight’ was immediately scratched from your choices, kind of like how the initial fear you had dissipated into nothing now that you were aware of what was haunting your apartment. All you felt was annoyance and my God did you want to fight him.

However, before you could even simulate a play-by-play of ‘Giving the Demon In My Home A Piece of My Mind’ in your head (with the hopeful outcome of Haechan reduced to a pathetic heap on the floor. Poetic, you thought, that an all too powerful entity was beaten down in that state), a surprised squeal interrupted your thoughts of murder, thanks to an invisible force hauling and backing you up against a sturdy, warm, smelling suspiciously of fucking tangerines—Haechan.

Boundaries were non-existent to Haechan it looks like, his arms loosely coiled around your shoulders like a snake luring its prey into a false sense of security as soft lips brushed along your cheek; warm and gentle before settling onto your temple.

“All you have to do is ask and I’ll be yours.”

III.

Having Haechan as a live-in something, was just.

Well.

Normally, the term ‘demon’ being attached to someone would already have some eyebrow raising expectations dealing with the macabre set in stone (mostly influenced by the very same supernatural dickrider classmate. You can never be too safe). Like him sacrificing a poor virgin on a pentagram scrawled onto the parquet flooring in haste, surrounded by candles as Haechan spoke in tongues. Or him engaging in orgies—also on a pentagram, but bigger for at least five people to pay their tributes to Satan through nutting one too many times. Which was? Good for them?

Only, the floor was spotless; hastily drawn pentagrams absent so there were definitely no virgins sacrificed (yet). No orgies either since the nights became surprisingly still, post-Haechan.

Having Haechan as a live-in something, was just, for lack of a better term, normal. 

Something close to dull if it weren’t for the constant reminders that this was a wretched so-and-so demon you were learning to deal with. The reality of it all was borderline boring that you hinted he was free to go ape-shit with his demonic duties. Many, many times until one odd look from Haechan, a silent prompt for you to elaborate, had you deciding against it and excused yourself to tend the small garden.

(He followed behind a second later, poking and prodding until you threatened to spray him with holy water).

In some way, Haechan had no problem adapting with your lifestyle. It was almost laughable how seamlessly he had woven himself into your routine built from years of being in survival mode. Like he was the cog that you didn’t even realize was missing from the machine and, dare you say it, Haechan has been a pleasant live-in something—a pleasant roommate.

What you liked most though, was that Haechan could cook.

Man, did the incubus know how to cook.

It was a quirk—perk, really—you had discovered after an offhanded mention of you routinely skipping breakfast to maximize time and efficiency (read: you were shit at taking care of yourself).

(“Hi,” you called out as you burst from your bedroom in a rush. “Bye. I gotta go.”

Haechan, who had been standing in front of the stove wearing a Pompompurin apron, turned his neck so fast that a crick was heard. “Wait, what?” His distress went pretty much ignored as you pulled on the sneakers you thrifted two weeks ago. “You haven’t eaten breakfast yet!”

Oh, you knew that. Mourned it really, but— “No time. I’ll take a slice of toast though,” you said just as the toaster went off.

The incubus shook his head. “No, you’re getting an egg sandwich. An Omelet sandwich. More filling than fucking toast.” Haechan scoffed and behind him, the two golden brown slices of toast floated as the spatula flipped a generous amount of the vegetable omelet onto one of them. 

Yeah, that was something you were still getting used to. Magic. 

“How’d you take your coffee?”

“Two sugars and one creamer. Both teaspoons.”

“Finally, a normal coffee order,” he sighed, appearing very relieved as he snapped his fingers to conjure a silver thermos before you could even question the weird reaction. “Go on,” Haechan encouraged, gesturing for you to grab it just as your sandwich hovered next to the thermos.

“Thank you..?”)

… and lunch.

(“Make sure to eat lunch, though.”

“Can’t either,” you sighed, stuffing the thermos into your backpack’s side pocket. “Club duties, tutoring sessions—” you ticked two of your fingers up “—plus, I’m on a tight budget until my next pay. My aunt can only sustain me enough.” That, and you’d rather not ask for help even if she insisted. Auntie meant well. You knew that, but she had her own family to take care of and you didn’t want to hear any of her useless husband’s unsolicited advice. Like, fuck that guy. Seriously.

“... dinner?” Haechan tried, sounding almost hopeful, only to balk at the thoughtful look you get while unwrapping your sandwich. You’ve got to be shitting me. “Damn, you live like this?”

Thoughtful turned annoyed which—yeah, Haechan thought he deserved that. “Not everyone has their parents paying for everything. Some of us do have to work.” You took a rough bite from the sandwich, muffling your next slew of words, “don’t you already know this? You have been watching me ever since I moved here.”

He understood anyway. “Not all the time,” he clicked his tongue, switching off the stove and range hood with a flick of his wrist. “I have a life outside being an incubus, y’know.”

“And what do you do in your spare time?”

He smiled something sinister. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”)

The bar was in Hell, apparently, because all it took for you to soften up was to get Haechan feeding you his food. Cooking was the last thing you’d expect from a demon and wasn’t salt considered the Kryptonite to demons and anything made up of evil and malice and shit?

(“Oh, most of us evolved past that. Hell, even Lord Satan’s immune to it. Some of the Hellians are deathly allergic though.” Deathly allergic. How fitting.

“So salt just picks out the weakest link?”

He laughed softly, nodding. “Survival of the fittest.”)

Whatever. You had no room to question Hell and its people’s lore when you were eating like a king, ironically being fed by one of Hell’s people.

Besides, food was one less thing to worry about. An equivalent to luxury; being sent to college with a full, Sanrio themed lunch box that could feed at least three people (see: YangYang. A blockmate you’ve recently gotten closer to whom you’ had caught occasionally staring hungrily at your lunch) and more often than not, you’ve been coming home to a set table and a man in a cutesy apron. You were starting to sense a pattern here.

“Just to be clear,” you began. “you’re not fattening me up just to eat me, right?”

“I thought you weren’t into vore?”

“Please be serious.”

“You’re still alive, aren’t you?” Haechan peeked over his shoulder, snorting. “If that were the case, I would have swallowed you whole that very Sunday morning.” The My Melody apron—pink and frilly all over—surely didn’t help his case.

It was like being held at gun-point by a bear; nerve-wracking, yes and you haven’t forgotten for a second that Haechan had the upper hand for simply being not of the mortal plane. Yet it was oddly endearing, now that you took notice of the gray crewneck that definitely belonged to your wardrobe, cinched around a lithe waist.

It still did make you think though. “So there’s no ulterior motive?”

Haechan whirled around to face you with a gasp, eyes widened in feigned innocence with a hand on his chest. “You don’t believe that I’m cooking from the goodness of my heart?”

You arched an eyebrow.

The demon sighed, lips forming into a slight pout. “Fine. Maybe this is more for my benefit than yours.”

“Haechan.”

Haechan raised both of his hands in what you think was placating. “You’re as good as useless when your life force quality sucks from your shitty eating habits. I’m doing myself a favor,” He shrugged. “If you’re eating good, then I’m eating good—that sort of thing.”

Okay, so maybe you still wanted to punch him in the head.

“Wow,” you said dryly, resisting the urge to get up and strangle him. “Way to make a girl feel special.”

There was a coy smile playing on his lips. “If it makes you feel better, you can just treat me as something that warms your bed,” the incubus brought his attention back to what he was doing previously, deciding against magic, weirdly enough. “In more ways than one. I don’t mind.”

The chair screeched along the floor as you stood up. “I’m gonna be late,” you sputtered, face hot to the touch and scrambling to escape.

Life was so much easier when you weren’t reminded of the possibility of Haechan running to you for his… sex thing. Actually, scratch that, life was so much easier when you hadn’t been made aware of him because there were times where you wondered when that would be. Multiple times. It wasn’t ever brought up; not by you, not by Haechan as he had been somewhat cordial, no mentions of anything related to his survival. At least directly.

In some way, this was different. It’s not often you’d listen to him blatantly offering himself for a test drive, and yes you do run away before Haechan could expound on it every time, yet something curls deep within your gut when you could feel curious eyes boring into your back as you ran off.

Haechan and his propensity for testing the lines was bound to get him smacked upside the head one of these days, but today wasn’t the day. He was smart enough on not exactly breaching the boundaries set, backing up before you could even get creative with damning him all to Hell.

“Here.”

You jerked your head up as you tied the laces of your sneakers and found another variation of a lunch bag dangling right in front of you.

“Thanks,” you said as you stood to your full height, still flustered and avoiding all eye-contact as necessary. “I’ll make sure to eat all of it.”

Haechan only hummed as you took your lunch from him, offering nothing else.

“You know, I’ve always wondered who makes your lunches,” YangYang started, sidling up next to you just as your phone pinged. “They’re all so… detailed. Is it your mom?” 

“Ever thought that maybe I made them myself?”

haechan 👹: hi you: what

Telling YangYang outright that your ‘roommate’ went through all the trouble didn’t sound like a good idea when Yunjin was within earshot. Apartment 66 was a one-bedroom unit and she knew very well that you lived alone, her living just right below you with Chaewon, too. Mentioning the roommate would just raise all sorts of questions that could paint you as mentally unstable if you told her about Haechan and his fucking sigil (that you still haven’t found!) that had gotten you in this situation. You felt mentally unstable just thinking about it.

haechan 👹: i miss you :( you: ?? you: what’s wrong with u

Not to mention your mom was as good as dead to you.

“Okay, fair. I don’t think your mom would prepare something so phallic either, lol.” You’d never have thought hearing ‘phallic’ and ‘lol’ spoken out loud in the same sentence would give you this much of a start, immediately looking up from your phone to catch him already holding your opened lunch box with one hand, chopsticks at the ready to poke and prod in the other. “This looks like a dick—look, cherry tomatoes as the balls—”

“Stop doing that,” you hissed, snatching your lunch from him, only to put it in the middle of you two so you wouldn’t have to see him sulk. “No one else is gonna steal my lunch from you.”

you: srsly you’ve been so weird lately haechan 👹: hungry ʕ>Ⱉ<‧ :ʔ you: ? eat something then lol

“So the dick wasn’t code for a quick fuck in the toilet stalls?” He teased, biting down onto the tips of his chopsticks with a sharp grin. “I’d be down.”

If looks could kill, YangYang’s guts would be splattered everywhere on the table.

“Absolutely not.”

You didn’t feel the least bit sorry when YangYang choked on the egg roll you shoved into his mouth.

With pleasantries came oddities and Haechan was never short on the latter.

It’s like this: It has already been established that Haechan was an incubus. A subclass of demons that made up a quarter of Hell’s population and his origins was also proven by the unrestricted use of his magic at home, yet he still liked to show off that he was exactly that.

There were times where you would catch him hovering an inch or two—sometimes higher—from the ground which you thought was rather unnecessary. Again, the blatant usage of magic for anything menial (e.g: opening cupboards, switching lights, turning on the TV that somehow materialized from nowhere when the remote was right next to him) and you found out the hard way that other than the claws, he also had horns and a tail.

Let’s just say Haechan had to stop you from calling 112 at three in the morning. Again.

(No. He didn’t have to get on top of you this time).

Still, having him around had been, more or less, pleasant. Except when he was stewing away on the couch, which also doubled as his bed, in this peculiar form.

From how often it happened, it became a little guessing game with yourself whether you would come home to Haechan in the form you were acclimated to seeing everyday: human and rather unassuming when his beautiful face did all the talking, or the form where he was completely embraced by his own darkness.

Literally.

Like right now and you had to swallow back a scream from how eerie this thing—Haechan came off, sitting on the couch with the inky black haze swirling around him. It rose and fell like tendrils made out of smoke, curling in the air and reaching out for nothing in particular. You’ve never felt so creeped out as you did now. For a moment, you expected that one of the ghostly limbs would shoot out and grab you.

“Haechan?” you called as you closed the door with your foot. The void™ looked over, his blood-red gaze making you flinch. Christ, that always freaked you out, but you smiled anyway  to appease him, if not a bit crooked and a smidge wary. “Are you okay? What’s with all… this?”

At that, the smoke stilled before getting sucked into his body, revealing Haechan and all his tan glory, sulking. At least he was wearing his own clothes today, a soft looking shirt and a pair of gym shorts that showed way more leg than you think was considered legal. He was comfortable enough to keep his horns and tail out with black, thick-framed glasses as the newest addition.

It wasn’t the first time you’ve seen him in such a vexed state. Haechan liked to complain. There wasn’t a day where he didn’t voice his grievances that you kind of expected a long-winded rant the moment you walked through the door, but as you looked closer, he didn’t seem to be in the mood for routine.

He seemed subdued. Sun-kissed skin took on a deathlike pallor and devoid of the usual inhuman glow, so unlike the deceptively beautiful incubus, unshakable even against the harshest remark you’d thrown at him. Now, he looked quite the poster-child for pity. Even his striking eyes lacked the ever-present sheen of mischief in them. He looked awfully plain, almost in a sickly way.

His pout took on a more dangerous route, so close to tugging on your heartstrings with how… pathetic he came off. “I’m hungry.”

“Uh-huh. Read your text,” you said, shoving your sneakers into the cubby.

He did know that he lived here way before you, right? This place was his as much as it was yours. A truth he’d always hold above your head to get his point across, which naturally meant that he was free to gobble up anything edible unless you tell him a specific food item wasn’t for his claws to sink in.

“You didn’t start on dinner,” you noted as you stalked into the kitchen for a drink. “Did you want me to cook instead?”

Haechan's face twisted, something a little pained as he let out a soft whine. “Not hungry as in hungry.” he patted his stomach. “I’m hungry as in—y’know.” Haechan made this intricate gesture with a hand. Like you were supposed to know what the fuck that meant—never mind, he was missing one hand. The crude motion he made soon after with it told you all you needed to know. What he was particularly hungry for.

“Ah.” No wonder he was so needy. Why he seemed sluggish; irritable at times as he almost snapped at you for not putting as much sweet chili paste he wanted in the tteokbokki that one time. It was actually kind of cute, that someone who acted like he was above everyone else was reduced to this. “Is that why you’ve been so clingy? Haven’t found anyone to bump uglies with?”

Clingy was one way to put it, but to be specific, for an entity birthed from all that was considered evil and dark, Haechan oddly had a cutesy disposition at times. The clinginess was very apparent though, reminding you of an overzealous cat shadowing your every move, getting in your way sometimes and not quite letting you have space. The apartment wasn’t exactly generous in that area either.

“My dick isn’t ugly,” Haechan scowled, blinking slowly as he slumped against the cushions.

You couldn’t help but to snort as you pressed the bottle’s opening to your lips. “Is it?”

An offhand comment, really, yet Haechan took it as a challenge anyway. Like he did with most things. You blamed it on his Leo placements. “I can prove it to you right now,” He pushed on as he sat straight up, making you freeze. “You’re talking to a very hungry and very desperate incubus.”

Oh. So you were doing this.

Well, it wasn’t like you were not expecting to be Haechan’s temporary object of desire. It’s just, he never outright asked you to sleep with him, making it easy to assume that he got his fix from somewhere else. Sure, there were hints dropped here and there, though you’d prefer if it was spelled out for you to avoid any misunderstandings.

Now it was spelled out for you. Succinctly. No bullshit or riddle-speak to force you into doing mental gymnastics to figure out what he wanted. Nothing could be clearer than the incubus threatening to whip out the monster hiding in his pants just to prove you wrong (as one does).

Also, maybe you should learn how to shut the fuck up next time.

Panic shot through you like an electrical current, choking on your drink when you caught sight of his fingers teasing the waistband of his shorts.

“Wait!” you wheeze after a coughing fit, a hand shooting out to stop him from flashing you. “Can I at least wash up first?”

“Oh,” Haechan actually looked dejected at this as his hand stilled. “Okay. Don’t take too long, or I’ll miss you.”

‘I’ll miss you’. Jesus Christ. Even the text was less weird. 

“I’ll literally be only a few meters away?” You sputtered.

“Ugh, too far.” he whined, slinking over the couch’s armrest like a lazy cat. Haechan gave the bathroom door a brief glance before his attention went back on you, eyes softer around the edges and almost pleading. “Can’t I just go in there with you?”

“What.”

“We don’t have to do anything! You can have your shower while I can just sit on the toilet and talk about my day!” Haechan explained. Like it was that simple. “Or you can tell me about yours!” He added as an afterthought as if that would make him sound less insane.

The long look you gave was enough of an answer before you all but rushed into the bathroom, completely ignoring the indignant yell from Haechan as you locked the door behind you.

This was probably the weirdest shower you’ve ever had.

Actually, this was the only weirdest shower you’ve ever had.

As if you weren’t embarrassed enough from Haechan offering to keep you ‘company’—which, again, was insane and very bold. Mostly insane—he spent the first five minutes pawing at the door, whining about how he “won’t do anything, really! Just let me be with you, please.” and maybe, maybe you did kind of entertain the idea for a good five seconds or so, before you were hit with how fucking ridiculous it sounded.

Though, admittedly, it was a little endearing, hearing just how desperate he can get, but also the fact that he could literally poof in if he wanted to. He just chose not to. A literal demon. In the flesh. An incubus with unimaginable power running through his veins he could use and abuse to get his way. And Haechan does none of that.

He was still outside. Still pawing at the door, all the while recounting his day spent lounging about the house since the lack of sex had depleted his energy to doing anything else, apparently.

(Seriously, what did he do in all his spare time?)

Other than that, it seemed the concept of consent wasn’t at all lost, that it still held some sort of value for the people assumed to not have any morals (the more you know). It could very well just be a Haechan thing, nonetheless you appreciated the rare instance of him not testing his luck against the boundaries you’ve set.

You made a face. Half at the way the lukewarm water sprayed onto your face bringing you out of your mulling, and half at the thought that Haechan could be sweet and considerate when he wanted to (or when it was convenient for him). 

He did have the face for it. That’s something you have regularly thought about—sleepy eyes, cute button nose, petal-pink heart-shaped lips and the array of moles smattered along his face and neck—yet sweet was the furthest adjective you’d attach to him, honestly speaking. You didn't think he was capable of anything soft, unless it was to manipulate a situation. Not when you were antagonized every waking day God forced you to face until you left Satan’s little minion on the couch for the night, just to do it all over again as soon as the sun bled through the blinds.

(With all the thinking time the shower has given you, you still didn’t know what his actual day-to-day schedule consisted of, though you could so tell that he fit ‘bothering Y/N, the boring human’ somewhere in there. It was one of his favorite past times).

Yunjin once mentioned that your resting face and the intensity of your glaring were the reasons why you were considered unapproachable, scaring off any potential suitor, too.

Like that was a problem. The guys at your university were mid at best and you wouldn't be caught dead with a guy who made getting his daily gains his entire personality trait.

Haechan was a different story entirely, somehow appearing flattered that you were trying to set him on fire with your eyes alone.

Both of you had migrated to the couch with you sitting criss-cross applesauce and a shoulder pressed against the couch’s backrest. Haechan took on a more laxer route; an arm propped up on the armrest to rest a cheek on his fist, torso twisted to face you without losing any of that comfort, and not even flinching when hit by the full force of your glare and furrowed eyebrows.

“So, are you a virgin?”

You glared even harder. “Shut up.”

“I’m just making sure! So I can adjust accordingly. Your first time should always be gentle and sweet, then we can talk about the other spicy shit you wanna try. Christian Grey style.” There was a joke being formulated here. You can literally see him working it out in his head. From the gleam in his eyes and the subtle twitch of his lips, you knew you were going to absolutely hate it. “Could I interest you in some nipple clamps?”

There was a version of Haechan in your head that had just died from spontaneous combustion, just like the other Haechans that died from different causes for simply talking his shit.

“I will clamp your fucking mouth shut, demon.”

“Stop,” he grinned, delighted by the reaction. “you’re gonna make me hard.”

“Freak,” you quipped, folding your arms. “and I don’t think Fifty Shades of Grey is a great representation of the B-D-S-M community. Or a reliable point of reference.”

“Yeah, I figured you’d be snooty with your smut choices.”

Please. You’ve read fan-fiction porn written better than what you’ve seen on the market, or (God forbid) BookTok. Obviously. The argument, however, didn’t make it past your teeth, and it was second nature to rebut against every jab Haechan hurled your way. It was a thing. Your thing. As in plural—for both of you, to engage in a back-and-forth until one of you conceded. It was a Haechan and Y/N thing to argue as if it were life or death.

And for the first time ever, none of you attempted to get the first word in. You could hear a pin drop in the silence that bit at the tail end of Haechan’s sentence and all that was left for you to do was to size each other up. Much like the night you woke to the demon sitting at the foot of your bed, gargoyle-like.

“Right,” you started, pushing yourself up to sit properly. Might as well get this over with. And for the sake of precaution, you can just threaten to waterboard him with holy water if he dared tell anyone else (does he even have any friends?) about what went on behind the manicured door of apartment 66. “How do we do this?”

Haechan inclined his head and smiled.

“Relax,” Haechan stressed as he tried coaxing you into sitting your full weight onto his thighs and then huffing when you couldn’t seem to just… let yourself go. “I’m starting to believe that you are a virgin from how tense you are.”

“Easy for you to say.”

He wasn’t the one who had unwillingly abstained from sex for longer than what was considered normal, and you honestly believed you'd forgotten most of what you've learned from the handful of meaningless hookups you’ve gone through. And yes, perhaps you were a little hesitant. You were pretty sure you have forgotten what a dick looked like too from not getting any on the regular.

Haechan was walking temptation himself. Sex on mile long legs that should be illegal, honestly, and being compared to his gargantuan pool of past conquests was terrifying to think about. What if you became his worst lay to date? That would actually obliterate the last ounces of your confidence and self-respect, and there wasn’t much to begin with.

Unsurprisingly, the incubus didn’t get where you were coming from, judging by the pointed look he gave you. “It literally is. I’m serious. Just sit down.”

And down you went on his lap with an undignified yelp as your fingers dug into his shoulder for balance. Even squirming to get out of his hold was too much work. Like, it was an actual struggle against Haechan’s tighter than tight grip. Fuck him and the abnormal strength. Escaping has never been so difficult until now, and you’d like to think you were rather good at it too.

“Last chance to admit you’re still a virgin,” he teased and sang the word ‘virgin’ just to further annoy you.

You felt your eye twitch. “Not a virgin. Just…” it tapered off into a sigh as you leaned back a bit for more breathing space, staring resolutely at the small, polished black horns protruding from his head. Was it you, or was it getting a bit warm? “It’s been a while for me.”

“Ah. Nervous?” Haechan supplied and the sigh of relief you released when his hands on your hips loosened their grip didn’t go unnoticed, his amusement made apparent with a soft chuckle. “Scared? I won’t bite unless you want me to.” Something told you he’d probably do it anyway. “and I’m not expecting you to like, be a pro or anything. You just sitting on my lap is already doing me wonders.”

Sitting on his lap was doing something for you too. Not quite falling in line with what Haechan was obviously hinting at, but a grounding feeling where all you could really focus on was how unnaturally warm he was. Going hand-in-hand with Haechan’s thumbs trying to meld circles into your hips became a good enough distraction to put the neurons firing off in your brain to a total stand still.

“Will kissing me help you calm down?” Haechan asked after a few beats of silence. “Or is that too much for you too?”

It was a very obvious bait only Haechan knew of to lure you in. The playful tone was too damning to let it fly above your head, yet you didn’t rise to clamp your teeth around the hook. This dragged on long enough and you were actually starting to get antsy because he wasn’t doing anything. He had every bit of power to do anything he wanted with you. You thought you sprawled above his lap was enough of a prompter for him to just take and take, but—

But.

Amber eyes. Striking as they always were even under the dim warmth of the accent lights, were less piercing as they gaze into your own pair. Something else lurked beneath the thin ring of amber, thinned by blown pupils. Something almost balmy and when you started to loosen up, Haechan wasted no time in gently taking both of your clammy hands to place them above his chest. He was warm here too, your palms curving over the slight swell of his pecs, silently marveling at the firm muscles.

Your eyes flickered a moment down to his lips. Haechan huffed softly with a wry smile. You looked away.

He was quick to catch your chin with a hand, however. “I’m gonna kiss you now.” He warned, moving closer and closer—

And Haechan takes.

Pillowy soft lips slot in between your own trembling pair in a gentle dance. Tentative almost, which you knew was your doing while Haechan remained patient in matching what you have set for your own comfort, surprisingly. Haechan was many things, and patient was less likely to be related to his person, yet it was all he was when he changed the angle and deepened each succeeding press of his mouth.

Technically, this wasn’t the first time you shared a kiss with him (them being in dreams), but this was the first time you shared an actual kiss, lucid. Mind ever present and attuned in the moment to feel and act upon Haechan’s lips. So very unlike the fleeting drag of his mouth from your own and down the length of your throat and Haechan kissed like he just knew what to do. Knew what would earn him a sigh, an appreciative hum, or even a airy moan you had just let out from a teasing bite on your lower lip.

And as expected, Haechan forgot what it meant to be patient.

Haechan cursed low under his breath as he pulled away, ripping his glasses from his face and throwing it onto the coffee table with a loud clatter before capturing your lips again, tongue slipping right past the seam of your lips to taste more of you. His hands were just as impatient, leaving his warmth everywhere and everywhere until he sets them onto your thighs encasing his own. Haechan wasted no time feeling you up, squeezing and rubbing the soft flesh as he went higher where one missing detail halted his movements.

He pulled away from you with a wet sound and pressed his lips to your throat, “Just panties?” He asked, voice low and hoarse.

“Easy access,” you murmured, running your fingers through the unruly, but soft head of jet-black strands and pulling him back by the hairs on his nape to take a good look at him. Pulling his hair seemed to do something, or maybe it was the fact that you’ve been hot and heavy with the way his cheeks glowed a faint rosy hue. You didn’t know an all too powerful demon could be reduced to a debauched version of himself through kissing alone.

It’s made clear to you again that you still have much to learn and at this point, you couldn’t even deny the feelings that conflicted with your head.

“Less talking and more kissing.”

You wanted him. You wanted Haechan and all the oddities that may come with him.

“Oh, darling girl,” He cooed. “I’m all yours.”

The gradual descent from soft and measured to desperate and graceless was an all-consuming sensation of the incubus pulling your chin down so he could easily lick into your mouth. Like this was his personal way of sucking the soul out of you, through the languid drag of his tongue against yours. It was hot, wet, Messy. So messy and the slick sounds of smacking mouths wasn’t enough to alleviate the raging fire burning underneath Haechan’s golden skin and with the way he was holding you so close to him, you would think he was trying to fuse your masses together from sheer willpower alone.

Kissing soon became a forgotten art form, becoming less invested in the sweet taste of him and more inclined to draw out rough, dragged out groans with the slow rocking of your hips. It was a heady feeling being able to have the upper hand, even just for a short moment because if there’s one thing that was painfully obvious about the demon, it was that he hated losing.

(It’s beyond you how he’s able to make anything into a competition).

And the shiver that wracked throughout your entire body from Haechan sneaking his fingers underneath the flimsy garment of your panties was all sorts of rewarding, gripping the bare skin of your hips to guide you into pressing impossibly closer to his hefty bulge. An almost perfect fit in between the apex of your thighs. He wasn’t done, however, because an arm wound around your waist to keep you in place, and an unprompted moan tumbled from your mouth from jerking upwards to match the languid circling of your hips. 

“Like that,” Haechan said, breathless and mouthing wetly against your neck and still keeping up with the pace. “Like it when I know you feel good.” As if your brain wasn’t scrambled enough already he just had to say something like that and so easily too.

“Me too,” you said in spite of yourself, coming out as a whine. Almost delirious from the constant bouts of the incubus marking up your neck, gasping at the playful bite at your collarbone like he was demanding more from you. “Pretty. Your voice. I like how you sound.”

Haechan soothed the bite with kitten licks, letting out a sound, high and incredulous as if it was squeaked out from him. It was a funny kind of sound and you would have laughed if this situation took a sharp left. “You’re awfully honest tonight,” he noted. “got something to tell me?”

There’s a lazy grin tugging at his lips when he gets pulled by his hair again, akin to a cat getting caught in a place he wasn’t supposed to be at. Not even a grain of guilt could be seen on him as Haechan looked particularly smug. All too knowing of an inside joke you were ignorant to. It pissed you off.

It showed easily on your face as you scowled down at him.

“It’s probably your freaky magic forcing me to be.” Sure you were just as bad as Haechan not finding it in himself to shut up when it truly mattered, but you couldn’t say the same when it came to honesty or vulnerability. There was a faint trace of the citrusy scent you’ve associated with him too, especially when his magic was used. Yeah, that’s got to be it. It’s his magic doing all this brain scrambling thing.

Haechan doesn’t fight you on it, surprisingly, still maintaining that smug exterior despite how much of a hot mess he clearly looked with blown-out pupils and kiss-swollen lips. 

“Is that right?”

“Yeah.”

Although It did sound like he was conceding (a rare feat on its own, really since Haechan loved to argue as well. Like he gets a kick out of hearing you go off on a tangent. Almost like it was foreplay to him), you can never be too sure with him, and the next course of action was purely motivated by getting him to stay quiet. Keeping your lips on his did the trick, of course. An occupied mouth promised you absolute silence, save from the noises you managed to pull from him.

Pulling away, you began your descent; open-mouthed kisses mapped around the tantalizing bronze of his neck, something he deeply appreciated if the pleased hum was anything to go by. Hands dragged lower and lower to feel the firm planes of his stomach barred by his smooth shirt, until you were off of his lap and kneeling in between his legs.

And the tent in his shorts looked just as impressive as it felt pressed against you. You didn’t want to assume, but some crazed part of you had occasional ‘what ifs’ centered around his power being a direct reflection of his size.

Was it crazy? Yes. Was it as crazy wanting his cock deep inside your mouth that it could possibly puncture your esophagus? Definitely. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity, and you sure as hell will be milking it for all its worth.

It was always such a treat catching the demon off-guard, preening at the precious sight of a rosy blush coating his cheeks. “What..?” The absolute bewilderment was cute, actually, and you just knew he was going to be even cuter when you reached out, grabbed a hold of his cock and—

“Oh, fuck.” Squeezed.

You leaned in close with your other hand on his thigh and asked, “Can I?” as you batted your eyelashes once, twice and lips pressed against the cockhead strained against the material the third time. Haechan’s own pair of lips parted to let out a soft moan, whether it was from the sensation of you gently trailing your nose up the length of his dick, or just at the mere sight of you doing so, it was rewarding all the same—that Haechan was at your mercy.

“You can do whatever the fuck you want,” he breathed out, clearly trying so hard to keep his composure.

This was it. Morbid curiosity conjured all sorts of images relating to what could be possibly doing a ‘is that a gun in your pocket, or are you just excited to see me?’ rendition. It couldn’t be just a normal looking dick, right? The idea itself was boring and it’s pretty obvious that boring wasn’t exactly exclusive to the demon. He was anything but boring. Well, you were about to find out anyway and with an encouraging nod from Haechan, your fingers hooked on the waistband and pulled to reveal—

“Why are you glaring at my dick like that?”

You blinked, glancing from the supposed monster that almost took your eye out from how it sprung out of its confines and slapped against his smooth stomach, to a frowning Haechan, clearly taken aback by your reaction.

“No underwear?”

“Easy access,” you should have expected that his shamelessness knows no bounds. Whore. “Seriously, stop glaring at it, hello? It’s not gonna bite you or anything.”

“I’m not,” you were squinting, leaning in closer and not minding Haechan’s squirming as you carefully assessed the shaft, marveling at its length and girth by giving it another squeeze and watching the precum bead from its head in mild fascination. “Just observing—I don’t know, I was expecting something else and not an actual penis attached to you.”

“An actual—what were you expecting?” He demanded, voice high, incredulous and sounding all too judgmental for your liking. “Something ribbed? Monstrous? Like those Bad Dragon toys? Tell me, are you a monster fucker?”

“Not a monster fucker,” you grumbled and then perked up, peering at him incredulously. “you know about those?”

He scoffed, like he was offended that you didn’t think he was up-to-date with current trends. “I have an iPhone. I use Google like everyone else, dude. Google is amazing.”

“Did you also know that you’re not supposed to call me ‘dude’ before I shove your dick in my mouth, dude? Or did Google not tell you that?” You paused.

God, maybe bickering was some kind of foreplay for him.

“Can you just suck me off, please?” he whined. “I feel like my dick will explode if you don’t. Actually, I’ll even burst into ashes and die.”

“… really?”

“Baby, please.”

“Fine,” you heaved out an exaggerated sigh, not acknowledging the word ‘baby’. “if I have to.”

“You’re the one who got on their knees!” Haechan squawked, “and don’t make it sound like a chore—”

You didn’t let him finish that complaint, quickly taking the sticky head of his cock into your mouth and sucked. Salt and the barest of sweetness hits your tongue just as Haechan choked on his own spit.

“Oh. Oh shit.”

Haechan properly moaned as a hand gripped on your nape when you took him deeper into the slick heat of your mouth, minding your teeth, and pumping what you couldn’t fit for now punched out a groan from him. Loud and guttural—mostly loud. Unabashedly so—that you just had to take a peek to see what he looked like, completely losing himself in the haze of pleasure you brought up on him.

His head had fallen forward, eyes shut and breath turning shallow the more you take in his cock with each bob of your head. This wasn’t exactly your first rodeo, going down on someone, but with the ache you were starting to feel in your jaw, you might as well be inexperienced because of his sheer size. Haechan wasn’t obscenely big to the point it was going to be an impossible fit, though he was definitely the biggest you’ve had in your mouth (about to have in your pussy. Maybe. Hopefully?) so far and somehow, as if letting his spirit possess you, you took this as a challenge.

Your eyes were still on him when you released him with a pop, licking a stripe from his balls up and digging the tip of your tongue into the slit when you reached his tip to gauge his reactions. What made him tense? What was the likely trick to pull every lewd sound from him? What could you do to make him lose all grip on his control and let him take the wheel? It was meant to be a sloppy job, sure, but this wasn't just having Haechan’s pleasure as your priority, it was yours too.

And watching him fall apart just from your hands and mouth alone was doing something for you, something for the dampness you were starting to feel in between your thighs.

You’ve settled on a rhythm that seemed to tick off almost all three from your blowjob checklist. The grip on your nape was tighter and the sounds falling from his lips became all sorts of harmonious. Haechan had such a beautiful voice, a unique tone that would have been such a waste if you hadn’t stepped up to make use of such a gift, and satisfaction curls from within you knowing you were responsible for creating such a wonderful song from having power over a monster.

“Fucking Hell,” Haechan whined, stuttering as your name rolled of his tongue. The hand that wasn’t occupied held onto your jaw, your cheeks caving in beneath his thumb and fingers for a tighter squeeze around his cock and making you moan and gag as drool seeped from the gaps and down his remaining length. “I—I wanna try something. You up for it?”

His hand left your nape, letting you pull away with a sharp intake of breath, eyes wet.

You definitely looked like an absolute wreck right now and yet Haechan stared like you were anything but a mess. It made your skin crawl. It made you feel so seen, but you didn’t really have the strength to push back against whatever ignited behind his eyes.

“What do you want me to do?” Jesus, you sounded so wrecked already.

Haechan looked relieved. “I want you to relax for me,” he said, the same hand that held your jaw now cupped your cheek. “I want you to trust me.”

“Okay.” He hasn’t done anything to make you not trust him so far. “I trust you.”

“Okay,” he repeated and his hand was back on your neck again, nudging you forward until your swollen lips pressed against his frenulum. “Relax.”

The faint citrusy sweetness increased in its intensity, so overpowering that it usually meant that a headache would soon come along, but it never did. Instead, there was a calmness that washed over your feverish skin, seeping into your muscles that unwound all the tension in your body and making you sag forward. While this—whatever this was—was happening, Haechan lazily flicked his wrist to jerk himself off, minding your face before squeezing the base of his dick and moaning softly when catching your eyes.

Strange. Everything felt so floaty. Like there was this sleepy haze encompassing your mind that numbed all your senses and rendering control over your own body next to non-existent, leaving Haechan to do all the work himself; one hand still remaining a heavy presence on the back of your head with the other guiding his cock into your mouth.

“Open up, sweet girl,” then fucked in the entire thing in one swift go.

It was an instant stretch for sure, but you didn’t gag. Not even a bit. It was like that particular reflex had been numbed into nothing as Haechan wasted no time settling on a brutal place, fucking up into your face, blatantly using you—your mouth like a cocksleeve with each rut of his hips becoming rougher after the other.

“Look at you just taking it, fuck.” Haechan groaned, pleasure just as visible on his face. From the faraway look in his eyes to his slackened jaw, freely letting him run his mouth. “You talk too much, y’know that? Always bitching about something and all I could think of was shutting you up with my cock.” He hissed. “Now look at you. So fucking pliant. Knew you were gonna be so good for me. ‘s like you were just made for it. Made for me.” you couldn’t help but whine as his fingers stroked your cheek full of cock.

It was a tight fit. So tight that it was the only thing you could think about, holding on to one of Haechan’s thighs to keep you anchored amidst the overwhelming fullness in your mouth. How you managed to keep up with the almost frantic thrusts, you had no idea, though it looked like you were faring well with pulling off every trick in the ‘sucking dick’ handbook if he was throwing his head back and gasping when you sucked particularly hard on the upstroke.

The sight was something else entirely. Pornographic almost, in a way the front row seat of the demon getting himself off left you squirming, hyper aware of how damp your panties have gotten that it stuck to your skin. All from watching and being used to get his fill.

You were so horny that you could cry.

You staved off your own pleasure to be of service to Haechan and you were just hit with how much you needed to be touched. A whimper broke out from you, garbled and broken when you couldn't even ask him to do something. Anything to make the ache go away.

“I know, darling.” Haechan gritted. You hadn’t even realized your eyes fell shut when they snapped open and met his pinched expression. “Just a little bit more. You can take more, can you? For me? I’m going easy on you for your first time. You should be thankful I did. Next time, I won’t be so merciful. I want to see you gagging for it. Choking on it. You’d do that for me, won’t you?”

All you could do was hum, nails digging into the meat of his thigh when he pressed your head forward until your nose digs into the nearly trimmed hair surrounding his groin. Still, you didn’t gag, but swallowed, still numb and the weight on your tongue was pleasant if anything. Your mouth felt so full and the pronounced ache in your jaw had tears brimming along the edges of your eyes.

You didn’t think you could wait that long, not when it clicked that you had both hands free. You made quick work of sliding your one hand down and into your panties, legs parting wide enough just as Haechan resumed his roughness. Your body burned hotter than ever, cheeks being the warmest, exponentially embarrassed by touching yourself in front of Haechan, whether he was aware or not.

It was quite the arduous task too, especially with the effects you were starting to feel when you remembered the tangy scent was there for a reason, like something was being taken away from you. This was probably the life force the demon was talking about, seeping through every pore to be taken and consumed until you were fit to do it all over again.

You were beginning to fall into delirium from the onslaught sensations of Haechan incessantly rubbing against the flat your tongue while chasing your own release by the quick work of your fingers along your clit. Delirious to a point where you felt things that weren’t even there, winding around your thighs and waist. You had thought it was the demon’s arrow-headed tail that somehow lengthened, but when you checked, it remained wrapped around your wrist, the one laid across his thigh.

The discovery wasn’t exactly alarming. Kind of weird, sure, like the many oddities of Haechan, but you just chalked it up as his magic keeping you in place. Invisible ropes coiling and uncoiling around your legs as their way to caress your skin, grounding you, and acting like they were an extension of him and his subconscious. Almost like they were t—

“Fuck. fuck,” Haechan whined, following up with a, “gonna come—gonna come!” with his grip growing tighter and tighter. You were close too. On the brink of it, admittedly, and that was from being so wound up, simply watching that you were kind of surprised you hadn’t cum all over your fingers the very moment they slipped in between your folds.

On a surprising act of chivalry, Haechan did try to pull out from being buried in your mouth in what felt like hours of being reduced as some hole he’d get to use, though the moment he warned you again, you silenced him with a tearful glare and sank until your nose crushed into his pubic bone again, all the while holding onto the hand that never seemed to leave the back of your neck just to prove a point.

Blunt nails dug into the skin of your nape as Haechan shoots thick streaks of his cum down your throat with a choked off groan just as you moaned around his length, falling apart just shortly behind. Thighs shaking in exertion from kneeling and the orgasm that jolted through your veins that, in return, dissipated the fog of the spell? Magic? that acted as a numbing agent for your throat. It was then that you gagged. Almost violently as the sound wasn’t at all pretty, nor sexy, given the current setup.

You were fine though, albeit teary and out of breath as you took Haechan’s thick cum like a champ, swallowing every single, tartly sweet drop with the cockhead pressing at your soft palate. Once he slumped against the couch did you then pull him out of your mouth, sliding your tongue  back-and-forth at the underside of his cock to tease and bring him to the beginnings of oversensitivity.

Haechan could only whine, lazily trying to pull you away, to no avail.

You let up, snickering at the withering glare he gave you.

Out of everything you tried, this was probably your favorite way of shutting him up. Granted, Haechan was mostly the benefactor from getting his dick sucked, it was loads better hearing an artful mix of his moans and whines than him actively trying to make himself out as the insufferable villain in your story with words alone.

“You’re a peach, Y/N,” Haechan said after gathering the much needed oxygen back in his lungs. “The sweetest peach. I could eat you up. C’mere.” You damn well hope he won't. Being eaten is like the worst way to die, even if you knew it was a little jokey-joke he’d often tell just to see you squirm  “Let’s take care of you.”

Oh.

Oh. Right.

“It’s fine,” you waved him and the offer off. “I—um, finished.” You cringed. What are you? A wench from the Victorian period?

Haechan looked so incredulous for a man who just got his soul sucked out through his dick. “You did? Show me.”

Taking a deep breath, you steeled yourself, sitting a little straighter and pulled your hand out from your panties. The evidence was quite clear too, coming in the form of glistening fingers that Haechan immediately noticed and before you could even blink, he had you on his lap once again to stick his tongue into your mouth. One hand around your throat, not necessarily choking you, and the other sneaking underneath your top to squeeze your tit.

“Think you can ride me?” Haechan asked in between the rushed push and pull of your lips. “All this just from sucking me off? I could just slide right in no problem,” his fingers slid into your underwear, warm fingers dragging over your clit and shallowly dipping into your hole as he said this. “Fuck, you’re just full of surprises, aren’t you? You have no idea how much I wanted to fuck you since you first walked into the bedroom. You want that, don’t you? Say yes.”

Burying his fingers deeper into your wet heat, you keened, pressing both your foreheads together. “Yes.”

Haechan’s smile was absolutely degenerate.

“Good girl.”

Just then, the front door slammed open.

The surprised scream that left you was next to ungodly as your arms flew around the incubus’ neck as his fingers pulled out from your panties—

“Honey, I’m home!”

And in walked a man you had never seen in your entire life, apparently ripped all to Hell because of fucking course the first thing you’d pay attention to was his tits. Visible even under the shirt that was meant to be oversized with the sleeves falling past his elbows, and sadly, you were no better than a man. His pecs looked insane and in your defense, they looked at you first!

“Oh. Oh, was I interrupting something?”

“Yes. Fuck off.” Haechan hissed just as you exclaimed, “who the fuck are you?”

The stranger completely skimmed past the demon, more interested in your presence.. “Now aren’t you a catty little one,” at this, Haechan pulled you closer which was followed by a soft laugh. “How cute—and my eyes are up here, sweetheart. Can’t blame you for staring, though.”

Chastised by the call-out, your eyes immediately flicked up to meet—Oh. Damn.

A glossy pair of lips parted to show two rows of perfect teeth. Far too many teeth that you thought were impossible for a human to have, but that didn’t erase the vital fact that this random dude was handsome. So, so handsome to the point your brain was struggling to comprehend that this man was real. Soft and sharp sculpted with such precision it’s as if he was crafted by the gods themselves. A full head of silver hair, one side artfully pushed back to show strong eyebrows and round sparkling eyes, staring right at you.

“Is she another one of your humans you fuck to survive?”

Well, handsome in a way it was better for him not to talk. You know, to keep up the illusion.

Haechan tongued at his cheek. “What are you doing here, Jaemin?” 

“Ah, right.” Jaemin casually strolled further in like he owned the place, the front closing by itself with a wave of his hand. Wait— “Lilith has been bothering Satan who has been bothering me to ask you when you’ll visit home.” Jaemin explained, then followed up with, “when do you plan on coming back home? I think more than five decades of complete radio silence is a bit much even for you, Haechanie.”

Oh great. As if one wasn’t already enough, another demon—by the damning sign of Lilith and Satan and Hell being mentioned—was under your roof.

You felt Haechan go rigid under you and you turned to him, confused at the sight of him slightly panicked. You had never seen him this panicked. “Um, never, actually!”

“I beg your pardon?”

“It’s stated in Hell’s handbook,” It’s a real thing? “that I can’t leave the mortal plane when I’m tied down.”

Tied down? Did he mean the sigil somewhere in the apartment?

“Right,” Jaemin drawled, a thick and strong eyebrow arching in question with a fleeting glance towards you. “okay, so where is her mark then?”

“Here!”

Searing pain immediately bloomed on the inside of your wrist as soon as Haechan took hold of it, making you gasp as you watched delicately curled lines take shape into the sun. A small, inky thing the size of a coin branded on what was once the smooth plane of your wrist. Haechan’s sigil was now a permanent part of you too, a pretty little thing if you only knew what it meant.

“Well,” Jaemin coughed, glancing between you and the incubus. “Congratulations. Haechan is now yours, as you are his. You’re now bound to each other until death.”

Never mind. The sigil was positively the ugliest thing to be tattooed on your body.

Haechan was already looking up at you, terrified.

“I can explain—”

“I’m going to fucking kill you, demon.”

“Haha… is that plain water in that spray bottle, or is it actually holy water?” Haechan asked, his placating smile waning as each second of you not answering passed. “Please tell me it’s just water.”

Haechan shrieked, falling to his knees and arms coming up to block his face when you all but jerked the bottle towards his direction with a sardonic smile.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

It took you three full days to forgive him. After getting on his knees to eat you out against the kitchen counter, of course.

“I’m not against tattoos or anything, but,” you took a quick moment to observe the mark he left on you with little difficulty in understanding just why this was even a thing. “do you have to mark everyone you sleep with? Is this for you to keep track of them?” The thought then immediately left a bad taste in your mouth. Did this mean that you were simply part of the crowd Haechan would entertain only when he needed to?

“I haven’t been sleeping with anyone else.” Haechan confessed, quiet. “It’s kind of the reason why I’m hungrier than usual.”

“Oh.”

That made a lot of sense actually. Venturing out in search of a willing body was a thing for the first few months of being under the same roof. Haechan would always let you know of his plans for his nightly plans out of politeness that nights alone had become routine as well. Then somewhere along the way, it became a seldom occurrence. Twice a week. Once a week. Once every two weeks until you had realized he spent more of his nights with you, but less energized than what you were used to seeing when he was ‘full’.

That still didn’t answer your question though. Why was he keeping himself from taking what he needed to survive?

“Why all this then?”

“This isn’t just binding you to me. It’s more than that,” he muttered, taking your wrist and twisting it upwards to stroke the sun inked into your skin. Tender, as if your wrist was fragile enough to break at the slightest pressure. “And It’s for my own peace of mind.”

IV.

Naturally, it became a regular thing, being bonded to an incubus aside.

Since his choices had downgraded to a singular source, there wasn’t a day where Haechan didn’t have his hands all over you, or in you since it was an unspoken thing that he liked giving as much as he liked receiving and it was treated as simply an extra thing of routine that you started seeking him out on your own accord, too.

Haechan wasn’t picky when it came to a time and place either. He had you laying on the floor once after betting he could make you cum on his tongue more than once (two was enough, but since he was competitive to a fault, he had you begging—had you crying for him to stop after the fourth time). You gave him head in the dingy stairwells of the apartment after a bad day.

In the storage room. In the shower. The supposed off-limits rooftop. On the poor dining table you had to disinfect two times before Yunjin came over with the incubus disguising himself as a stray, black mainecoone cat. You ate on that thing, yet you spread your legs for Haechan to devour you until he was satiated. It was like an unspoken game of who can out-horny the other with little regard to privacy.

On most occasions, it was beneath you to even think of it, but the memory of Haechan holding you down on top of the working dryer and fucking your thighs in the basement slash laundry room, had you thinking otherwise. It was the most fun you’ve had in a while. Arguably your entire life, honestly.

Fucking around with Haechan was good. Great. Perfect even that all you could do was want him in every possible way you could think of. With every kiss, every touch accompanied by wicked promises breathed into your skin, Heaven was brought to you each and every time Haechan took you into his arms, having a piece of salvation for himself.

It should have been enough, oscillating between having his dick in your mouth and/or hands, or Haechan lapping at the aching center of your thighs until they quivered, or both at the same time. The classic ‘69’. (which almost always turned into a competition on who could make who cum first).

Yet greed had gradually reared its ugly head the longer you listened to your closest friends’ sexcapades that extended beyond heavy-petting and oral, because Haechan never dared to push further. The irony of a creature literally embodying temptation, yet never allowed himself to be tempted by a willing body was almost laughable, if greed and impatience hadn’t put together a simple, yet straightforward question.

“Why haven’t we had actual sex yet?”

The knife slipped from Haechan’s hand. A bloody disaster if magic hadn’t been an inherent part of the incubus’ origins. It paused in mid air before it could even reach the ground and levitated back into his hand.

“Can we talk about my day?” This was the fastest you’ve seen his face go from neutral to exasperated.

“You barely leave our apartment, what is there to talk about?” you pointed out. “and this is serious! Are you, like, trying to abstain? What’s the vegan alternative of taking my life force without actual penetration? Porn?”

Dead eyes stared right at you. “You’re not funny,” Haechan said, “and if I was abstaining, I wouldn’t have let you sit on my face last night.” Okay, fair point.

“Then what gives?” You groaned, acting as his shadow as he moved about the kitchen. “We’ve done everything but stick your ‘monster’—“ (Haechan’s eyebrows pinched together. “Why is monster in air quotations.”) “—cock inside me. Am I—” you paused, dread creeping up your system for a plausible reason why you aren’t getting dicked down like you deserved. “Am I not sexy enough?”

That startled a laugh out of him, the previous, bordering on dour front fading completely for his sunny smile to take its rightful place on his lips. “You’re plenty sexy, and cute too, apparently. C’mere.” It was almost easy walking yourself into his space, sighing as his warm palms rested on your hips. “Kinda miss when you were meaner. Did I successfully sucked the attitude out of you?”

“Oho. Didn’t realize I was getting a free show.”

You stiffened at the sound of the awfully familiar voice belonging to the current bane of existence and spun on your heel to find Jaemin on the couch, Switch joy-cons in hand.

The mortification of him listening to you essentially whining at the lack of penis-in-vagina action didn’t even get the chance to settle in when you were more annoyed at Jaemin seeking refuge in your home. Again.

“Don’t you have any other supernatural friends to annoy?”

Jaemin, totally unbothered by the visceral reaction, only gave you a sharp smile, like a shark getting a whiff of fresh blood, that raised all sorts of alarm bells. Terrifying thing, Jaemin. “Hey, sweetheart,” how he made a greeting sound so condescending, you didn’t know. Maybe it was a Jaemin thing. “You’re home early. How’s school?”

He looked to be in the middle of another session of rotting his brain by playing Animal Crossing, a mint green bunny speaking to him—his in-game character—in aegyofied gibberish. It was like looking at two Jaemins the more you scrutinize them side-by-side. One less demonic than the other, but still an uncanny resemblance.

“We don’t take in strays.”

Jaemin barked out a laugh, letting the joy-cons fall into his lap. “That's funny, coming from you.”

“I legally live here.”

“The legality of your living situation is nothing compared to my centuries of knowing Haechan,” Jaemin turned towards said incubus to bat his ridiculously long eyelashes that you held an irrational jealousy for. “right, Haechanie?”

“I hope your human crucifies you, actually.” Haechan quipped. Equal parts unimpressed and disgusted. 

Jaemin gasped, eyes widened in disbelief. “That’s so uncalled for!”

“It’s what you get for giving your human rat heads and all the other weird shit as courting gifts.” You wished Haechan was joking, but it was the truth.

The first night Jaemin came in unannounced was the very same night that he, a demon who took care of striking deals with desperate humans in exchange for what they treasured the most—A Dealer, you remembered Jaemin specifying for you—realized that maybe the feelings he was harboring for his assigned human went beyond what was considered platonic. That then created a domino effect of him asking for advice, you giving advice with Haechan’s own input and Jaemin, a man of tradition, somehow fucking up in the process which revolved around his… questionable tastes in gifts.

(Also, don’t cats hunt for small animals to give their humans as ‘gifts’ too? There’s a joke to be made here somewhere. Something about Jaemin disguising himself as a demon while actually being a cryptid. An Eldritch horror in a human skin suit).

“I’m heading out to get some stuff for dinner.” Haechan said. “Talk some sense into him, will you? He gave his human a bracelet made out of teeth.”

“The entire thing is made of teeth?” He nodded, grim. Then you turned to Jaemin who resorted to whistling a tune as if what he did was socially acceptable. “Jaemin!” You scolded, like you birthed him yourself.

“What? It’s either a freshly harvested human skull for her candles or teeth from the dental clinic I work at, take your pick!” Jesus Christ, this was actually worse than talking to YangYang and he says pretty fucked up shit on the regular. And the dental clinic made so much sense, you know, with Jaemin’s wide smile and many, many teeth.

“I’ll see you in a bit okay? We can have some fun when Jaem’s gone.” Haechan winked, placed a quick kiss to your cheek before turning to Jaemin and it was impressive how the softness he had for you hardened into something stern for the other. “And try not to give my human an aneurysm. You’ve done enough damage to yours.”

And then he was gone, like, he disappeared into a puff of hot pink smoke, leaving you to marinate in the warmth of being flustered by the sudden, but not unwelcome act of affection in the middle of the kitchen.

Jaemin appeared either physically ill, or an outrageous alternative for surprise when you made your way towards him. You didn’t know. Pretty as he was, he made the strangest faces sometimes that you sort of pitied the human bound to him.

“What?”

“What the fuck was that?”

“What was what?”

“That—“ Jaemin then did this poor impression of you: an exaggerated demure curl of his lips, his stupidly long eyelashes fluttering so fast you would think he was having a seizure and the most offending of all, a high-pitched, ear-grating giggle that didn’t sound remotely close to yours. You didn’t even giggle! Not even once! “Dick so good you got domesticated.”

You closed your eyes. “Please never say those words ever again.” Or I’ll kill you myself, you wanted to say. Though, he’d probably end up killing you before you could even attempt dumping a bucket of holy water on him. “and I wouldn’t know. I’ve only had him in my mouth. We haven’t gone further than that.”

“… interesting.”

Your eyes snapped open. “You hesitated. What did you mean by that, you fucking cryptid?”

Jaemin only smiled. Knowingly. Menacingly. You hated him so much.

“So!” He clapped his hands together. “Trouble in paradise, Haechan’s human?”

“Oh don’t you even start.” you snapped, falling heavily beside him on the couch. “This is your intervention. Not mine.”

“We can both have our own interventions.” You didn’t really want to. You usually didn’t do the ‘emotions and feelings talk’ with someone who’d forced friendship upon you if you could help it, but beggars can’t be choosers and Jaemin was stubborn.

So, so stubborn. It’s like arguing with a wall, really.

“You’ve got a heart boner for our Haechanie.”

You gave him a long, tired look. “You are so weird.”

And, well, that’s one way to put it. Heart boner, you scoffed. He could have just said that you were, in essence, in the same boat as Jaemin longing for something sweet and long-lasting that wasn’t in the platonic sense. (And sex. Lots of sex).

You couldn’t pin-point the exact day where things had started falling into place. It was a gradual development, you thought. How Haechan’s habits became less annoying and more endearing as time went on. How you sought out his company more than you did your classmates turned friends. How you laughed at almost everything he said or did that you would have given a certain power couple a run for their money, and how you couldn’t even imagine a life without coming home to an incubus who was very insistent in keeping your health in check, even if it was more for his benefit than yours.

The final piece clicked into place when your body gave out, rendering you sick with the flu.

You weren’t exactly sure what you were looking at.

Maybe it was the medication Haechan immediately made you drink once it became glaringly obvious it wasn’t just a simple cold making you see things because there was no way a splitting image of yourself stood by your bed, wearing clothes that belonged to your incubus housemate.

“I’m dead,” you concluded. “I’m dead and my doppelganger is here to collect my soul.”

“No, it’s your super sexy housemate disguised as you.” The wide grin looked so out of place on your face. Almost uncanny valley. You’ve never used that much facial muscle before, and not to mention your voice. Is that what you sounded like to everybody? 

“That’s even worse.” you croaked after a disgusting coughing fit.

Haechan—with your face and body—huffed. “It’s either you miss class and fail that big test you’ve got coming up, or I show up to your classes in your place, take notes for you then teach you the material.”

The answer was quite obvious already. If Haechan hadn’t existed, you still would have shown up to class and your tutoring sessions and your part-time job, regardless of being sick. Which was exponentially worse, now that you thought about it. You relayed this to the demon wearing your face, and you have never wilted so quickly underneath his intense glare.

“There’s some congee on the stove for you,” Haechan said when you thought he was satisfied with giving you the most disappointed look known to man. “Make sure you drink your medicine after every six hours and drink more water. No wonder you get headaches so often.”

“You sure it’s not because of you?” You argued. Just because you were sick didn’t mean you lost the will to fight.

“I’m serious. Don’t fight me on it,” and gosh, it wasn’t often he addressed you by your name, preferring to use a small pool of pet names he had reserved just for you, but hearing him say your name and with a tone of finality made you feel things you shouldn’t when down with a flu. Even if it was in your voice… and with your face.

“Take it easy today,” Haechan stressed as he swung your backpack over his shoulder. “And call me if you need anything—anything, and I’ll come running back, or—well, poof back.”

The congee was delicious, probably the best you’ve had in your life and it did help alleviate the symptoms, the ginger soothing your scratchy throat, you felt less congested and not a grain was left in the pot. You spent the entire day lounging on top of the nest of blankets and pillows on the couch, the faint smell of Haechan’s citrusy sweet scent soothing as you drifted in-and-out of sleep, the TV humming lowly in the background.

Haechan came stumbling in the apartment, now looking like himself, devoid of the disguise that creeped you out more than it did impress you and with a hefty looking bag of take-away in hand. He looked a bit ruffled, certainly had a long day when you reminded him of your duties as a tutor, a club member of multiple clubs and as an underpaid employee.

(“Your Google calendar is packed,” Haechan exclaimed, staring down at his phone. “what do you mean you have upcoming networking events? You already have clubs committees. How do you keep up with all this shit and keep a 4.0?”

“And how exactly do you have access to that?”

“... I’m not answering that.”)

Nonetheless, a sweet smile kept its rightful place on his heart-shaped lips, his entire frame perking up when his eyes locked on you.

“So, something interesting happened today,” Haechan started.

In no time, the coffee table was filled with food, both of you sitting on opposite sides. A random series which you did not all care about rolled on quietly behind you as you loaded your bowl with tteokbokki and it was when you stuffed the very first, still hot rice-cake into your mouth did you realize he was talking to you.

“Sorry, wha’?” you said in the midst of chewing, delighted by the sweet and spicy sauce.

“Something interesting happened,” Haechan tried again, snorting softly and reaching forward to thumb at the corner of your lips, then sticking said thumb into his mouth. “You had some sauce.” He shrugged.

“Ah,” you rasped. “So what happened?”

He smiled. A private little thing reserved just for you, and maybe a touch sweeter that made your insides fold in on itself. “What’s with this YangYang guy and his hard-on for your lunches?”

“I see why you and Jaemin are friends,” you said, nose wrinkling at the odd phraseology. “and technically, you made those lunches, so…”

“Ew.” He stuck his tongue out in disgust. “Don’t be gross. As if I want to do anything with that—that imp!”

“Why’d you say it like it’s a slur?” The delivery made it sound like it was. Not to mention he did not, at all, sound very excited at the thought of YangYang possibly meaning something to you. Which was. Understandable. “Is it a slur?”

“No,” he sighed. “He’s an actual imp.”

“What?” Something told you’ve been saying that word way too much. “Huh?” That wasn’t any better.

“You couldn’t tell? The way he smiles is a dead giveaway. His teeth looked sharp. Very touchy with me—well, you, too. Imps are literal menaces to society and would latch onto anyone for friendship. Seriously, how did you survive all this time?”

“You keep forgetting I’m human, demon. I don’t know all this supernatural shit. And why are you so bothered? Jealous that you’re not the only man in my life aside from Jaemin?”

Haechan’s face drew into a careful blank. “Eat your food.”

Satisfied, you shoved two rice-cakes into your mouth.

“I quit your job, by the way.”

You stiffened from where you sat on the counter.

He what? “You what?” Did he forget that you were broke as fuck? “Haechan, I need to work! How the hell are we going to survive?” And by ‘we’ you meant ‘you’ because only one of you needed actual food to survive. The other lived on vibes and sex which, okay, would be ideal in this life.

“I’ll take care of it,” he said. As if it was that simple and he quickly stopped you from furthering the argument with a stern look. “I’m serious. I’ll take care of it. What I need you to do for me is start taking better of yourself. You’re already overworked from school. I’m surprised you still find time to tutor people.”

“Chenle pays very well, so…”

“Well, you can keep milking him of his money then,” from the looks of it, Haechan was fine with the Chinese transferee that followed Renjun (a friend made from YangYang’s insistence) around, and that was saying something since he did spend two hours tutoring the kid who was so loud you were surprised your hearing was miraculously left intact. “And still keep up with your clubs.”

Haechan flicked his hands above the sink right after closing the faucet, finally done with the last of the dishes, drying them with a tea towel before he stood in between your thighs.

“Should I know how you’re going to make this work now that I’m unemployed?” You joked and you knew very well that Haechan somehow paid his dues. You just never cared to ask how he was able to afford half of your combined expenses since you were more relieved by not getting any unwanted notices from Ms. Hong, or any of your service providers.

Haechan’s eyes glowed something along the lines of pensive and an unnamed emotion that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. All you knew was that you felt shy under his gentle scrutiny, his usual piercing gaze softer. That he was softer now that a wry curl of his lips accompanied the tenderness.

“What you should know is that you shouldn’t worry anymore,” he said, a warm hand cradling your jaw as the other rubbed the sun inked onto your wrist. “And that I’m here. I’ll take care of everything, and I’ll take care of you.”

Looking at Haechan right now, it’s like you were seeing him for the first time and suddenly, it all made sense. Maybe he was onto something, when he had said something so simple. That it was easy. Just like how easy all of this was with him. It was as easy as Haechan completing most of a puzzle and leaving you to attach the very last piece, painting a crystal clear picture of pointing out the obvious.

The sky was blue. The Earth rotated on its own axis, and you liked Haechan. Even with his oddities.

“Oh wow,” Jaemin said, pulling you out of your thoughts. “Your face already says enough.”

You scowled. “Says you.”

He shrugged, smiling softly to himself. “If it helps, I think I do know the reason why Haechan is holding himself back.”

“From what?” Was there a dumb rule in Hell’s rule book that Haechan, as a Hellian, wasn't allowed to copulate with a non-Hellian? Because you were halfway from the actual copulation phase of this arrangement and so far, nothing bad had happened. Yet.

“From you, sweetheart, and the last thing he’d want to do is accidentally hurt you.” Jaemin explained. “He marked you, remember?”

“Yes,” fingers absentmindedly ghosted over the sun on your skin. “I do remember.”

“Then that’s all you need to know.”

“Okay now that just sounds ominous,” and you were starting to get tired of the not very subtle implications of possibly getting injured during sex. "That did not help at all."

Jaemin just nodded, vaguely. Didn’t even try to elaborate on it. He’s so annoying.

The two of you lapsed into silence, looking at each other for a brief moment then averting each others’ gaze with a unionized sigh, one heavier than the other, as you contemplated the gravity of the situation.

“So… what do you think about a tooth necklace to go with the bracelet?”

“Why can’t you be normal?”

“What did you and Jaemin talk about?”

You could almost sob from being denied yet another orgasm. Apparently, Haechan wanted to find out if he could make you squirt, which then brought forth the idea of edging you so it could be a two-in-one experience or whatever the fuck. You only agreed because he did promise some fun after Jaemin left and you were obviously going to expect him to deliver.

What you didn’t expect was for him to bring up the so-called ‘girl talk’ (as Jaemin had affectionately put it) after what felt like hours of being brought to the brink of an orgasm and denied over and over again.

“Seriously?” You groaned, lifting your head up so you could glare at the demon peeking innocently between your thighs. Though, nothing was innocent with the way the lower half of his face was drenched in a dubious mix of his spit and your juices.

“You wanna do this right now?” Right when you were so close to leaking all over his fingers? “Just make me cum like you were made for, demon.” you grunted, emphasizing it with your fingers tightening in his hair as you rolled your hips, clit bumping against the tip of his nose.

Naturally, when Haechan was presented with a challenge, he’d make sure he’d win.

“Love it when you’re a little mean.”

The demon grinned something a little mean himself and it wasn’t long before you were crying out his name to the heavens. Some kind of bastardized prayer forced out by three of his deft fingers taking on a rough pace. Fucking into your sopping wet cunt and a mouth made of pure sin alternating between licking and sucking at your clit, all the while shaking his head to go in deeper, to have more of you until something builds.

Familiar heat simmered under your skin, body confused whether you wanted to wrench the demon’s insistent tongue away or keep him pressed against your wet heat to the point of exhausting him and yourself. Haechan made the decision for you though because somehow, it was like you were being held down, the same feeling of invisible velvet ropes coiling snugly around your waist, legs and all the way down to your ankles.

The lower half of your body was under his control, and all you could do was take, take and take until you were seeing white. Eyes rolling to the back of your head as a shaky, high-pitched moan falls from your slackened jaw. Your body went impossibly taught, thighs shaking as something more intense than your previous orgasms crashed onto you like a heavy wave, getting swept along the currents until you were certain you blacked out.

Perhaps just a few seconds of you floating about in limbo, then regaining lucidity at the sensation of Haechan petting your pussy, deeply immersed with his own fingers playing with the irregular spurts of liquid coming out of you. It was gross. It was sloppy. It was the hottest thing you’ve ever seen.

“That’s one.” Haechan laughed, breathless and smug and the wicked glint in his gaze was enough to tell you he wasn’t done with you just yet.

“Care to give me more? I’m really hungry.”

This was going to be a long night.

V.

Realistically speaking, this was no one else’s fault but your own.

“I’m gonna be late.”

So fucking late that you could give less fucks of how you looked less put together than you normally were with skipping makeup altogether and putting on clothes that you thought was presentable, yet comfortable enough to get you through the day. Haechan wasn’t even able to get a word in with you rushing around.

Really, it was your fault. You could acknowledge that, yet there were times where you thought blaming your misfortunes on others was the way to go to feel better about yourself. Jaemin in particular, because of course he had to say something (read: make you realize a few things) to inflict a milder version of brain damage. And there was also Haechan, a glorified, overzealous leech who drained a smidge too much of your life force last night.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“Oh, right.”

And maybe you were really out of it, mind not being all too present, nor did you really care to ask what it was exactly you forgot because you decided that the expectancy on the demon’s face and his permanent pouted lips were context clues hinting to something. Sleep-addled brain put two and two together, then your body decided to move first, crossing the short distance between you and the demon and pulling him down by the nape to slot your lips in between his. It was a firm press. Brief, yet sweet and smiling against his mouth was as easy as breathing when Haechan returned the warmth in earnest.

Then, it was like your brain decided to do a factory reset. A quick zap to the frontal lobe where you became more alert than necessary, peering up at Haechan with wide, shaking eyes when you roughly pulled away as if the kiss burnt.

“I was talking about your lunch,” he said after a beat, lifting the Kuromi lunch-bag with a coy smile, like he was biting back the urge to laugh. “but that works too.” He’s teasing you, appearing boyish with an arched eyebrow and you prayed for the floor to open up and swallow you whole.

Oh my fucking God.

“Right! Um—” you cut yourself short with a nervous laugh and numbly reached for it, totally ignoring how his eyes—right now, a close color to the embers from a campfire—were boring holes into you. “Lighter. This feels lighter and—smaller?”

“You catch on quick,” Haechan snorted. “Tell YangYang we’re going through a recession. He can’t share with you anymore if he knows what’s good for him.” Then, his eyes narrowed, still a touch teasing. “Should I be worried that you’re kissing him too?”

Your face was burning at this point.

“I’m leaving.”

You had never run away from a situation so quickly.

Breathing heavily, you slumped against a pillar in the small reception area of the apartment complex, heart racing at an unimaginable speed with the last thing you saw before you ran out of the apartment replaying over and over again: Haechan grinning to himself with his fingertips brushing against his lower lip.

He’s so… He. Is. So. You couldn’t even articulate the mess of emotions currently making your chest feel so tight. So tightly wound up like a watermelon with an obscene amount of rubber bands wrapped around it that if you had stayed longer, chances are you would have exploded into a mess of your feelings, splattered right at Haechan’s feet.

He just had to reciprocate the kiss, as if it was a natural response between people who had no exact label to what this was between them; and you fear that there was no way you’d be able to come back from that. Thinking about coming back home was already giving you cold feet.

Just as you were about to leave the building, your phone vibrated.

haechan 👹: babe? haechan 👹: you forgot your socks and shoes lol

Cold. Your feet were actually cold and looking down, your bare feet greeted you. The lack of two crucial items didn’t even register in your head from being so flustered.

you: . you: omw back haechan 👹: ok ! haechan 👹: do i get another kiss 👉🏼👈🏼 you: haechan. haechan 👹: sorry 🫡

There’s a shit-eating grin on the demon’s face.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”

You slammed the door close behind you, feet now protected with the socks and shoes and your heart even less so.

“Um,” Yunjin started the moment she walked into a very peculiar setting of YangYang hovering unsure and awkwardly behind your slumped figure trying to permanently fuse into the table with Renjun seemingly unbothered by all of this, scribbling on his iPad. “What’s up with her?”

YangYang’s eyebrows pinched even further. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out.” He decided that a gentle approach wasn’t gonna cut it when you were about to keel over before any of them could figure out just why you were craving for the sweet release of death. Which, yeah, he could totally understand, but YangYang was nosy as all Hell before anything else and something like death could wait.

“She’s been like that for the past 10 minutes,” Renjun helpfully supplied before the other only guy in the room could wage psychological warfare. “Whining something about embarrassment, some hot guy in her apartment, feeling inadequate due to the pressure women face in society—“

“Hold on, what?”

“Feeling inadequate due to the—“

“No, dipshit, the one before that.”

“Some hot guy in her—” Renjun cut himself short and turned his head at breakneck speed to gape at you. “Since when were you seeing a guy?”

Yunjin’s face twisted, “you’re into guys?”

“A hot guy,” YangYang emphasized. “How big is his dick?”

“YangYang!” Yunjin hissed, bright orange hair whipping around wildly as she smacked him upside the head right when you answered with a resigned, “felt like I couldn’t breathe once.”

Yunjin looked like she had seen death altogether. “I already hate this conversation.”

Despite herself, Yunjin was all ears as you spilled the whole ‘hot guy’ situation; the dire details of Haechan and him being a century-something-old incubus being covered up by a multitude of lies. The most damning of them all being Haechan was an estranged friend you had recently reconnected with which landed you in the position of housing him for an indefinite amount of time.

And let’s not forget the recent development of you harboring real and scary feelings for a guy that had semi-permanently warmed your bed. In more ways than one.

This was sick and twisted. Haechan was supposed to be just some demon you’d occasionally sexualize, and now it felt wrong to do even that. You wanted to hold his hand. You wanted to wake up to his face everyday, marveling at the constellation of moles that stretched from neck to face forming Ursa Minor. You wanted to kiss him. His lips. His cute button nose. His cheeks—everywhere on his face until it was Haechan whining for you to stop.

(He’d probably let you continue anyway. You whined at the thought).

“Okay, but I don’t see how it’s a problem when you’ve done worse than kissing.”

“I kissed him before I left,” you whispered. “we aren’t even dating.”

“My condolences,” Yunjin said, gently patting your back.

You moaned, burying your face into your arms. “I wished we were dating.” Or whatever the Hellian equivalent was.

“... my condolences.” Yunjin said again, quieter, as Renjun let out the ugliest snort you didn’t think he was capable of producing. You always viewed him as someone with no flaws whatsoever. At least you now knew that he wasn’t that unreachable.

YangYang was a little more dramatic with his reaction, his eyes almost bugging out of their sockets and looking as if you had killed his first born. “It’s like I don’t even know you anymore! I didn’t even know you were seeing someone! What else have you been up to?”

“Well,” you shifted so that it was your cheek resting on your arms to properly talk to the three faces of varying curiosity (read: nosiness). “I’m unemployed now.”

“You quit your job?” YangYang’s eyebrows disappeared underneath his pink fringe. “Why? Aren’t you, like, poor? How’s that gonna work?”

Damn. He wasn’t wrong, but he didn’t need to put it like that.

“I hate being your friend,” Renjun said, on the verge of strangling the guy. “are you socially inept?”

“I mean, I was home schooled until 11th grade, so…”

“Anyways!” you decided to cut in, now sitting up properly to prevent a possible crime scene from happening when you caught Renjun’s eye twitch. “Yes, I quit my job. But I’ll be fine. I—” you also could not say that your expenses were being handled by a demon. “—gained financial support. No, I will not elaborate.”

“Is that the clinical way of saying you got a sugar daddy?”

Technically, yeah. “Please be quiet.”

“No, actually.” YangYang huffed and you tried to make him explode with your mind. “And since you’re, like, jobless now, this means you can party!”

“You barely had any time for us ‘cause of your insane schedule,” Yunjin interjected from the sidelines. “and since once is coming up, it’d be nice to experience our own overachiever throwing back shots.”

You wrinkled your nose. Not that it was a no-no, but when was the last time you went out drinking and/or partying with friends anyway? Drinking became an on-and-off thing with Haechan (Jaemin and his human sometimes joining in) and was the closest thing to a fun night, so you at least kept your tolerance in check. Experiencing Seoul’s nightlife though, you couldn’t say there were plenty of memories, or any that stood out to you.

“Plus, it’s a Halloween costume party!” said YangYang as he sat down beside you. Renjun and Yunjin doing the same across you. “And I know you wouldn’t pass up the opportunity of judging shitty costumes.”

“Not shitty ones. The ones barely putting any effort into making it look like a costume, however...”

“Same difference,” YangYang waved you off. “Drinks are on me if you come. Your boy-toy can tag along if he wants. Maybe seeing you slutting it up in a nurse costume would change his mind and actually put a label on you two.”

Okay, one, you were pretty sure that ‘slutty nurse’ was so last season and has been since the late 2010s, and two—

“Absolutely not.”

YangYang’s extended invitation was straight-up refused, and thus the recurring irony of temptation personified resisting temptation, a.k.a, free drinks.

(Putting a label on it was obviously out of the question).

“And I can pay for our drinks just fine.” Haechan scoffed, pupils flashing a momentary carmine in irritation. If YangYang were here, the ‘sugar daddy’ debacle would no less be the topic of discussion and something that would probably get the demon to soften up. “YangYang can shove his money up his ass.”

Never mind. You can already imagine an incubus and an imp duking it out in a dark alley somewhere. You’ve always wondered who’d win in a fight.

“So you’ll come?”

“No.”

“You’re so boring.”

And he was very adamant with his decision of not tagging along. In the days that led up to the party, Haechan’s answers had been firm variations of ‘no’s’. If you didn’t know any better, you would think the incubus was still jealous of the idea that YangYang, an imp, was friends with you (“he’s attached himself to you,” Haechan grumbled to himself. “I’m dragging him back to Hell myself.” You were way too baffled to even say anything) which then festered into immediate dislike.

“Oh, he’s totally jealous.” said Jaemin. Why you called Jaemin to complain about Haechan was honestly a new low for you, but he’s the one who knew the incubus on a deeper scale besides you, so. You made way more terrible decisions than this. “and petty too, I guess.”  

“He literally has no reason to be when I—” you gestured vaguely into the air, “you know…”

“Want him up your guts physically and emotionally?” Jaemin snorted. “yeah I got that.”

“Why do you talk like that—you know what, never mind. Point is, he’s being so unreasonable, and less fuckable the longer this goes on.”

“And you complain about the way I talk,” the demon laughed,  “Listen, Haechanie’s—he’s weird about feelings sometimes, I promise. It’s just… the mark. It says everything.”

“What the fuck does that even mean?”

“Ignorance is bliss,” Jaemin said, vaguely, with a charming smile that would usually distract anyone who only knew him on a surface level. You briefly fantasized reaching for him through the phone and strangling him to death. Knowing Jaemin though, he’d probably like it, the freak.

“What—asshole.” Jaemin hung up, FaceTime feed faded with his ridiculous contact image displayed, leaving you to ruminate your whirlwind of thoughts as you fell back onto the sheets.

The sun was almost always spoken with reverence. How its light breathed life into anything it touched. How its warmth was like a kiss from a lover—that sort of thing. Everyday, you wake up to the sun, one less warm than the other and as you lifted up your wrist to scrutinize Haechan’s sigil, its opaqueness against your skin was like facing an insult.

The technicalities of it all were almost headache inducing from how wishy-washy both demons were with it. All you knew was that the sun meant that you were Haechan’s. That was true in every way you could think of, but was he yours in return? You didn’t think he was. Maybe when you were tangled up in the sheets with him, but not when you were your own person anywhere else in apartment 66.

Haechan never did anything beyond imprinting his sigil onto your skin. Sex was just sex. It never went beyond a deeper, emotional scale and you would be lying if you said you were completely content with not having him wholly.

The first thing Haechan did as he burst into your bedroom was to laugh.

“You’re going in that?” he said through his giggles and doing a horrendous job at keeping them back even with a hand over his mouth. “nothing white, silky or lacy will cover the fact that you’ve let a demon corrupt you.”

“Fuck off.” You shot him an irritated look through the full-length mirror. “As if anyone knows I’ve been fucking a demon. An annoying one at that.”

“Ah-ah, angels aren’t supposed to cuss!”

“Get fucked,” you said, bored, and too focused on getting your make up right to pay attention to Haechan essentially eye-fucking you from the doorway. “It’s either this, or I go as a succubus. Turns out, I don’t want to be the very thing I hate.”

Which was, by the way, a total bold-faced lie where you could just tell Haechan wasn’t exactly buying it from the delighted smile he threw your way. Other than that, you looked cuter than if you had somehow settled with a cheap nurse gown. White, silky and lacy. Synonymous to anything inherently ‘angelic’ and something he would have fun in ruining to go with the whole concept of corrupting ‘the pure’.

“We would have matched, then.”

“We would,” you echoed. “But you aren’t even going.”

“I’m not,” he nodded and crossed the room to reach you. “At least I know you’re still coming home to me.”

It’s a mere fact, yet you’d like to think there was something more for you to pick apart. Warm hands perched on your hips and the way he seemed to take your reflection carefully, as if he was committing this dolled-up version of yours to memory with his gaze backlit by a strange amalgamation of emotions that were foreign to you. It wasn’t anything too alarming. If anything, all it did was make your heart skip a beat. A sweet face with eyes so intense you might as well drown in them. How could it not?

“You do live here.” Tilting your head, you gauged your own costume with your mouth drawn into a thin line, steeling yourself before you faced him and took on a coy approach. “Are you sure this is not convincing you enough?”

Haechan hummed.

Well…

If it were up to him, you wouldn’t even make it out of the bedroom, but he did commend your method of persuading him to come. A low chuckle rumbled from within the incubus as he was pushed onto the bed with you climbing on his lap and your lips locked with his. It was more tongue than anything else as Haechan took the reins. Slick, slow, but with purpose like he was speaking through each wet slide of his tongue.

You gently pushed him by the chest, separating with a loud smack and a deep exhale from you, “who’s convincing who again?”

“Me,” Haechan said with no preamble, dragging his lips down from your cheek to your throat. “This is me convincing you—crazy sex with me,” it’s ridiculous to think his proposition was sort of working. A very tempting offer right when his sharp canines teasingly poked at the juncture of your neck and shoulder, making you shudder. It’s what you were asking for, wasn’t it? Now he’s offering it on a silver platter with no hesitation. “or your dumb Halloween party? Take your pick.”

Decision making was the very last thing your mind could do at the moment when Haechan was hell-bent on keeping you where you were, and you weren’t really resisting him because if anything, you were making it a whole lot easier. Fingers tangled in the hair curling at his nape, a leg hooked over his hip, it won’t be long until you give in and spend the long Halloween night with him. 

Then the doorbell rang.

“That’s Yunjin,” you mumbled against his lips. “I really gotta go—are you hard from just kissing? Even that’s a new low for you.”

There’s a flush high on Haechan’s cheeks when he reluctantly pulled away with a pinched expression, his mouth smudged with your lipstick and for a moment, the choice of staying weighed heavy with the benefit of painting cherry red marks on his beautiful skin.

“Can you blame me?” Heachan chewed on his lip before he huffed when the doorbell rang again, a petulant pout sitting on his lips. “The silk looks so easy to rip off and it’s an actual crime that you’re leaving me.”

“You are such a dude,” you laughed, a little winded as you pushed him off and rushed towards the mirror to assess the damage. “Ugh, you smudged my lipstick and like, a bit of my face makeup,” you groaned which was immediately replied with a click of a tongue.

“You’re the one who pushed me on the bed, so… hardly my fault.”

Heat crept up your neck, “semantics.”

“It’s really not that hard to admit that you want me. Your actions say enough.” 

“Maybe it’s just your mag—”

“It’s not my magic, and it’s not my sigil doing it either.”

Well, that excuse was good while it lasted. You couldn’t think of anything else to say and so you settled with rolling your eyes as your version of raising your white flag as you made work with fixing up yourself, ignoring Haechan’s leering.

“You are actually so bad at being honest,” he complained as he got up and trudged towards you. “You’re lucky you’re pretty.”

You arched an eyebrow, but let him wrap his arms around your waist. “Are you saying I’m just a pretty face?”

“Darling, that’s an entirely different sentence.” He sighed, hooking his chin onto your shoulder as he squeezed. “I didn’t say that. I’m just saying that you can always tell me anything and I mean anything.”

“Anything?” You repeated and he nodded, earnest. “Okay, would you mind distracting Yunjin for a bit? She gets impatient.”

You yelped when Haechan nipped your ear out of nowhere. “Not what I meant,” he grumbled, but did as he was told anyways.

“Hey,” Haechan caught your wrist before you were out of the door, Yunjin waiting outside. “Stay safe, alright?”

“You wouldn’t be saying that if you’d just come, y’know.”

The incubus pulled you back with a snort, “you’re never letting me live that down, huh?”

“Never.” He rolled his eyes, leaning down to give you a quick kiss. “I’ll see you later.”

“Girl, you are beyond saving,” Yunjin giggled as she looped her arm through yours right after you pulled the door close. “C’mon, before you start clawing through your own door.”

Haechan was definitely onto something when he said he was a homebody above anything else.

That’s one of the few things you had in common with the incubus in spite of your busy schedule built around your academics, clubs, committees and your tutoring sessions and coming home to a place that radiated warmth was a great compromise from having, more or less, busy days. Perhaps it was the reason why you felt so attached to apartment 66.

And the one time you had willingly traded comfort for a fun night out was where you found yourself in deep shit.

To be fair, the night started off great. This wasn’t your usual scene as you much preferred something a little more intimate rather than being suffocated by wriggling bodies, but the place was nice; one of the more upscale clubs and you supposed you were getting your time’s worth from YangYang making good on his promise. Free shit was the best shit and in no time, every single one of you drank like everything was water. Even the dubious mix of shots you’d normally avoid were thrown back with little resistance.

At some point in the night, right after you had your fill of dancing with your friends, all of you went your separate ways which you had no idea how that even happened when you had practically stuck yourself to Yunjin.

Now, you were completely alone and maybe you were drunker than you had expected to be, because somehow, the people wearing costumes of the creepy crawly creatures from all sorts of tales and legends looked a little too real for comfort. It’s either these were insanely talented art students dabbling in prosthetics for fun, or the guy that just walked by was actually a troll, since, of course supernaturals wouldn’t shy away from a party that sort of celebrated them and the dead. 

(Also, you didn’t think anyone would willingly consider ‘troll’ as a costume choice, but to each their own).

You were buzzing from head to toe, eyelids becoming heavier by the second as your vision started to blur around the edges, the drowsiness slowly creeping in. You’ve always been a sleepy drunk, chatty at times too, but there wasn’t anyone in close proximity that was deserving of your rambling. None of your friends were in sight and the eerie feeling of being watched caused goosebumps to raise on your skin.

And this wasn’t remotely close to what you’ve experienced back home before you were made aware of Haechan. While the incubus you were essentially playing an R-rated version of house with meant no harm, this—whatever this was—felt sinister.

Everywhere you went, the lingering feeling of eyes stayed on your person. A prey being sized up by an apex predator hidden in plain sight and it was so apparent that some sobriety decided to grace you, pushing you to try and call your friends. Try being the keyword here because of-fucking-course none of them had sober enough braincells to pick up a damn phone call. So you did the next best thing: leave.

Everything in you was screaming for you to leave. Do not, under any other circumstances, look back even if this one guy who you bumped into was dressed as some socially acceptable furry. The dog ears were too real to be a headband, not to mention the wagging tail.

Which brings you back in the present: you being in deep shit.

In your defense, you did run out of there like you’ve never had run before. But obviously, you weren’t as fast as you needed to be. A careless miscalculation and now you were trapped—by the very thing you were warned about.

The brick walls dug into the back of your head and your shoulder blades as you let out a hiss, teeth gritting as this monster wrapped its claws around your throat and pushed you further into the jagged wall.

“It’s like you humans have a death wish.” 

You were barely a step past the nearest alley from the club when you were roughly dragged into the dank space, mind all over the place with an escape plan barely formed. Actually, you don’t think you can come up with one right now. Or ever.

“I’m a little hungry anyways.”

Okay so maybe you took back the whole ‘not being scared of most things normal people were scared of’ thing because you were, in fact, scared of dying. In an alley of all places. Terror. Sheer, unadulterated terror washed over you like a bucket of ice-cold water. Frozen, unable to do anything but let the claws leave scratches on your skin that you might as well be staring Death right in the face.

Death was a burly man—a head taller than you at most. Death was nothing, yet everything where it was kind of hard to discern just what he was. The alley was dark, but he was darker from the shadows acting like second skin as its inky haze rose and fell, tendrils made of smoke reaching for nothing in particular. The very same thing it would do when Haechan took on this exact form. Then it all clicked.

Death to you was a demon.

The kind you were not at all familiar with. The kind you knew had eyes that glowed with warmth, this one burned with the intent to hurt. Maim. Kill. The one you come home to every day greeted you with a smile just as warm as the sunset that peaked through the curtains he bought, this one grinned like the monsters parents would tell naughty children about, teeth razor sharp that were enough to tell you that he’s meant to use them to rip you apart.

The one you would willingly break yourself apart for breathed life into you. This one was about to take yours and then break you apart by his own hands—by his own claws. 

Haechan would never, this monster would and just like Death, it didn't wait for anything and its claws sunk into your side, ripping out a pained scream from your lungs as you struggled fighting back against. The monster only laughed and laughed, and laughed until hot tears streamed down your cheeks from the searing pain.

“That’s right, human,” he cackled. “Scream.”

God, did it hurt. The pain was unimaginable that you couldn’t even think of anything to compare it to and—Oh God. Haechan. How the Hell were you going to explain all this when you’re dead? Knowing him, it’s more than likely he’d avenge you, but how will he when he doesn't even know who had done this to you? It’s not like he could ask Satan for a list of all demons who were out on Halloween night, preying on innocent humans.

You would have laughed right at this moment honestly. Funny that even death could not stop you from thinking of the demon waiting for you at home. Maybe you should have just stayed in with him to save him all the trouble. Maybe this would have been the night where you told him he wasn’t just the incubus you’d call for when you had the extra energy to burn in bed. Maybe this would have been the night where you would confess that you’ve grown to care for him more than you should have.

Your mind called for Haechan. Your heart called for Haechan. Everything in you called for Haechan that you didn’t even realize you were actually calling out for him, much to the monster’s confusion as he stared at the glowing spot on your wrist.

With each second passing, you grew weaker and weaker, yet you still had a stubborn grip on consciousness because 1.) the claws stuck into your side hurt like a fucking bitch that you simply refused to pass out and 2.) If you were going to die, you at least hoped that the universe listened to you one last time and granted you a few extra minutes with Haechan to say your goodbyes.

Then the strangest thing happened.

Call it divine intervention, if you will, because one second, the demon was right in front of you. Tall and menacing and was so close to going in for the jugular where his breath ghosted against your décolleté, then he was toppled over by a blurry mass of smoke the next, like the monster’s burly build was nothing. The biggest ones fall the hardest after all.

It hurt less now. Barely bearable on the pain scale as you sagged against the brick wall, sliding all the way down until you were sitting with a hand pressing tightly against the bleeding wound once you remembered a post online that it would help to buy some time until you were brought to the hospital or something.

The scuffling then caught your attention, followed by curses and shouting in a language you didn’t understand. Though you knew enough to tell that both were angry, Haechan being the angriest you have ever heard him.

“Haechan,” you gasped, taking in the sight with widened eyes of the incubus lowered to a crouch and having the monster in a chokehold.

Both their backs were turned to you and only Haechan had the capacity to peer over his shoulder and there you saw it: pure rage contorting his face with his mouth drawing into an ugly sneer at the state of you. White slowly being stained by the redness of blood just as the shadows rapidly enveloped Haechan’s figure with your attacker struggling to break free from his hold.

“Close your eyes.”

It was demanded by a voice that was not his own, but a myriad of voices of all ranges entangled that left no room for any argument and so you did as he asked. Nothing came after that. A few seconds delay at most before the scuffling against the ground resumed, the same enraged snapping from your attacker as Haechan hissed and fought back with some choice words and expletives you haven't heard of ever.

Haechan spoke again, rage still present in the same unknown language with a level of finality. Almost like a threat and promise molded into one until the monster’s incessant squabbling was put to a stop after a sickening snap, loud even with the Halloween party goers littering the streets at this time of night that it made you flinch, your eyes still remaining closed. You just knew you wouldn’t want to see whatever Haechan did to the thing.

A wet and heavy thump. Followed by an exasperated sound that was somewhat of a mix between a huff and sigh. At the sound of his shoes dragging against the cement, still you kept your eyes shut and it wasn’t until warm hands cradled your damp cheeks did you finally open them.

Even in the dimness of the alley, Haechan still retained that unnatural glow to him. Beautiful, hauntingly so that the splatters of blood across his face did nothing but elevate it all. His eyebrows pinched together in concern as he took your hand that was pressed against the spot where you bled and cursed softly at the gnarly sight.

“Next time, I’m coming with you.” You could hear his voice tremble, but you didn’t comment on it and instead let him gather you up in his arms, minding your side as he pressed his forehead against yours. “Hell, you scared me. I was with Jaemin and out of nowhere, I started feeling anxious. I couldn’t breathe and—and I felt like I was stabbed.”

Your own eyebrows pinched at the information too. Those were everything you felt during that unwanted encounter with that demon that you sure hoped was gone. “How’d you even find me?” You didn’t think he would find you in some gross alley in Gangnam by pure intuition alone.

“This,” Haechan said as the blunt edge of his nail traced the inked sun on your wrist. “My sigil isn’t just for show, y’know. It’s like a warp point. I even heard you calling out to me. You sounded like you were in trouble.” 

Well, yes. That was obvious. “I’m just glad I didn’t become, like, a midnight snack. Thanks to the sun acting as an AirTag, basically.” You chuckled, leaning your head against the brick wall. “With extra features.”

Haechan laughed, softly, and leaned in to press his lips to your cheek. “Yeah, basically.”

That at least improved his mood. You weren’t entirely used to the very rare instances where Haechan had to be serious. It was strange to see him like that when you would always leave it up to him, lifting up the mood whenever you thought was necessary. Perhaps you and your near death experience was too much even for him. That maybe he did care for you just as much as you did him and making him laugh was the least you could do. 

“Grandma was right.” you joked, cracking a smile just as he assessed the damage. “The city isn’t too safe.” 

“It really isn’t, but you have me. You’ll always have me.” and he spoke with so much promise, gaining some distance just enough for him to stare into your eyes, amber trading in for a deep carmine. And it was only right to believe him. “Whenever and wherever, I will be there when you need me.”

“You’re sweet,” you smiled, then winced when reality came crashing with the stinging pain in your side. “but can we get out of here? Do I need to go to the hospital, or can you somehow heal me with your freaky demon magic?”

Haechan then gets this constipated sort of look. “I can’t exactly heal humans. I can only slow down the residual magic that fucker left from spreading and—um…”

“And? Why are you hesitating.” The incubus pursed his lips, eyes straying to the side. “That’s not good. That’s never good. You never hesitate when you talk to me.”

He chewed on his lower lip before answering and you did not like the look on his face. “From a scale of 1-10, how pissed will you be if I tell you that you could die if we don’t get that out of you?”

“A solid 9.5,” you said almost immediately. “Get this shit out of me right now.”

“Right,” the pain dwindled down to something less painful, but still rather uncomfortable as Haechan’s glowing hand pressed against the wound. “Can you try calling Renjun?”

“I tried earlier. Not sure if he’ll pick up now.”

“Damn. How about Chenle?”

“I’m… not actually sure, but I’ll try.” You paused, suspicious. “Why though?”

“You’re not gonna believe this.”

“I can’t fucking believe this,” you moaned in slight discomfort as Haechan set you on the bed. “You’re telling me these two are witches? How do you even know Renjun?”

“I’ve known him since I moved here for college. He supplies me with the weirder shit I need for my potions,” Renjun appeared like he either swallowed something sour, or he actually felt guilty hiding this from you and leaving you all alone. A stark juxtaposition from Chenle, visibly buzzing with excitement. “You didn’t tell me you were sleeping with an incubus.”

“Aw babe,” said incubus cooed. “you talk to your friends about us?”

You grunted, lifting up your top to reveal the still bloody wound. “Now is really not the time."

“It’s a good thing you called right away, or else you’d be fucked to Hell and back,” Chenle chirped and he looked between you and Haechan knowingly in a way that warmed up your cheeks. “Then again, guess you already have been.” He grinned, almost cat-like.

You stared at the ceiling. It’s like everyone around you had no concept of what a verbal filter was. “Are you gonna heal me or not?”

Chenle got a smack on the head for that, whining softly as Renjun retracted his hand. “Sorry about him. He’s my apprentice.” The older witch said, almost resigned and folded both of his sleeves up. “Explains the whole transferee thing. He couldn’t bother to wait—may I?” Renjun gestured to your wound just as he jerked his head for Chenle to do the same.

“Go crazy. I think it’s catching up to me.”

You were starting to slur your words. Not to mention how weak you were starting to feel that you couldn’t even wiggle your limbs. You were burning up and with the panic on Haechan’s face no less, Renjun and Chenle got to work. Both of their hands glowing a bright green with Renjun pressing his fingertips along the tender skin.

“That is not very pleasant,” you said, grimacing at the sensation of tiny needles poking and prodding along your side. “Yeah, no. I think I’m gonna pass out.”

“Sleep,” Haechan stressed, a hand stroking your calf. “You’ll feel less like shit in the morning.”

“Fine. Don’t go anywhere or I’ll kill you.” You mumbled, fading as the magic continued to cleanse you of whatever vile magic that was. Maybe that’s why it kind of hurts. Renjun and Chenle’s combined magic were technically cleaning it out.

Haechan laughed, smiling sweetly. “Wouldn’t dream of being anywhere else.”

Renjun gagged. “Disgusting.”

That was all you needed to hear, and so you slept.

Contrary to popular belief, you were never a morning person. Otherwise, you would have done something about it if you weren’t so fixed with the overloaded schedule you had been following since the start of your college career.

This morning wasn’t safe from your contempt either as last night’s happenings came flooding back into your head. The chase, the attack and somehow getting saved in the nick of time. The panic from narrowly avoiding death from weird demon magic then Renjun and Chenle coming in clutch with sucking that shit out with their own purified magic and healing the stab wounds.

All in all, wild night. Never doing that again unless Haechan tagged along to protect you from the elements (see: hungry-for-humans supernaturals).

Though you supposed the mentioned incubus made this morning a little worth waking up. Your body was almost out of commission from how it aches, but your eyes worked perfectly fine. Maybe a little crusty, but even the eye crust couldn’t block how gorgeous Haechan could be underneath the warm glow of the late morning sun. It was almost unreal, like a dream come to life.

Heachan’s bare back was to you, sun-drenched and moles generously kissing his broad shoulders and down the length of his smooth back as if a past lover had done everything in their power to mark the love they had for him in small and permanent little dots. Though your admiration had to cut itself short when you had caught sight of something that you hadn’t noticed before right as the covers shifted downwards to show more of him.

Just at the top of his boxer briefs sat two dark lines that were at least half a centimeter wide and a couple of inches long—the length of your palm perhaps, sitting on the opposite sides of his spine where you’d think the dimples of his back would have been.

Curious, you reached out, only to be stopped by Haechan catching your wrist.

“Getting handsy with me already?” Haechan inhaled a slow breath before yawning as he stretched and shifted to lie on his back, your wrist still in his hand now resting on the bare skin of his stomach. Smooth and warm with sleep that you unconsciously moved closer, his other hand tracing your spine. “Good morning to you too.” He said with a sleepy smile, eyes curved like crescent moons as he gazed down at you simply watching him—adoring him in his sleepy state.

Words simply could not find their way to you at the moment, so you only managed a hum, rubbing your nose against his skin.

He sighed at the feeling, “what were you doing?”

“Just looking. You have lots of moles. Kinda like constellations,” you mused, which pulled out an amused huff from Haechan, letting go of your wrist for you to wrap an arm around his waist. “There are also these… lines above your ass? Cuts? Scars? What’s that about?”

“This is the least sexiest conversation we’ve had so far.”

“Stop deflecting,” you said, placing a hand on his chest for your chin to rest on, scrutinizing the creeping hesitance on his person. “and tell me what they are.”

It went quiet. Silence filling in the spaces seemed to be a frequent thing now as you watched Haechan process everything that had transpired within the last five minutes with his face. Thoughts easily floating up to the surface by each pinch of his eyebrows, or twitch of his lips and then settling with a conceding sigh, peering down at you with little hesitance that soon crumbled into nothing when he was met by your own resilience. 

“Up for a little bit of show and tell?”

That was going to be a bit one-sided. You had nothing to show. Nothing unique in that regard, that is, as you were, in every sense of the word, human. Painfully human. Comparing yourself with the likes of Haechan who had been part of countless tales told throughout centuries was like pitting a diamond (Haechan) against a sheet of metal (you). Like, yeah, both had their own uses, but diamonds were on a higher, more exclusive pedestal and out of reach. 

And Haechan was just that to you. Out of reach, and yet somehow, he had no qualms on closing the distance himself. As if it was natural for him to be this close to the point of considering the idea that you are simply the extensions of each other.

At the very least, you were right in assuming ‘show and tell in the bedroom’ was a one-sided thing. You were also right that Haechan would take this whole thing in stride; being the sole presenter for this morning’s shenanigans involving the very reason why he wouldn’t fuck you until you were a moaning, whimpering and crying mess. A miracle, really, that you’ve managed to survive the unwanted ‘Only Oral October’ challenge the incubus had going on.

Golden skin stretched miles over Haechan’s lithe and slim figure. Moles and freckles carelessly, yet artfully speckled along the expanse of sunshine while you laid on your back—manhandled to do so—simply admiring the incubus sitting on his haunches between the spread of your thighs without the faintest clue of what there was to show. You were already aware of the horns sprouting from his head and the arrowhead tail languidly swishing behind him. What else was there?

“What are you showing me exactly?”

“Just… wait.” his lips pressed together into a thin line. “I’m mentally preparing myself for this one.”

Okay, that was very ominous, much like how Jaemin tip-toed around the conversation pertaining to Haechan’s prior incapability of sticking his dick into your hole and you were kind of getting antsy with the way he was dragging this out, gatekeeping his everything from you.

You ended up pouting and Haechan, who usually would fold at the sight of it, only narrowed his eyes. “Isn’t that supposed to be me? You look like you’re trying to take a shit.”

Haechan sputtered, “am not! You’re so annoying.”

“What can I say? To be fucked, is to be changed.”

“I don’t think that’s how the saying goes,” he shook his head, face settling into absolute seriousness. “You sure about this?”

A click of your tongue. “Don’t make me beg.”

There’s an odd shine to his eyes, but it was gone the moment Haechan straightened his back as he stayed quiet. It was faint, but the hissing sound gradually grew louder just as a cloud of smoke materialized somewhere behind him. The smoke grew considerably darker and darker until it was the same inky black you’ve grown accustomed to whenever Haechan donned it as second skin, gradually becoming corporeal as it took on the shape—multiple shapes of something long, dark as the night sky with a sheen to them as they elongated above Haechan’s head. Writhing and curling in different lengths and girths merely floating about, as if they were waiting for the incubus’ instructions.

Though one of them seemed to have a mind of its own, Haechan appeared to be aware of it, the very picture of exasperation as it wriggled closer to you.

“Oh that feels weird,” you mumbled in wonder, watching a tendril, as thick as two of your fingers combined, wound around your wrist, palm and a finger. The feel of it was strange. Warm, velvety smooth and it was slicked with a viscosity foreign to you, but it made the glide easier against your skin all the same. “What are you exactly?”

Haechan easily chuckled at the question. Probably a frequent subject among his previous conquests. “A nightmare come to life? I don’t think you’ll like me as much for what I truly am under all of this. While this human form gets the much needed attention, it’s also a good distraction from all this too,” he said, gesturing to the rest of the ghostly limbs inching toward you.

You hummed, agreeing with the attention part, and particularly feeling a little honest, “you're a beautiful nightmare, I can give you that,” and you can’t help but laugh at his preening. He knew he was gorgeous in every sense of it, but this was Haechan and you know of him to be a bit of a whore for attention. “As a distraction? I don’t think your face can distract me from these,” and it was then did the tendrils of smoke found purchase around your limbs. 

“It’s just like being surrounded by more of you and—oh.” You stuttered to a stop when another particularly handsy tentacle slithered under your shirt, winding around the fullness of your right breast and pulling a sharp gasp when the slick tip rubbed and flicked at the hardened bud. “Fuck. That’s still so fucking weird. You aren’t even doing anything but—” the thought was cut off by a whine of your own and another one joined the fray, giving your other tit the same treatment just as Haechan bunched up your shirt to reveal the smooth skin being tainted by darkness underneath. “Do they—do they have a mind of their own?”

It took Haechan a beat too long to answer, visibly taken by his extra limbs exploring your bare torso. “Sometimes. But I’m in full control now.”

Right on cue, the tendrils creeped up your thighs like climbing plants with the goal to cover everything in sight, only these acted more as sentient ropes that spread your legs wider to accommodate the incubus. This was a position you were accustomed to as Haechan did try to have you as frequent as you’d let him, yet you couldn’t help but feel shy. Embarrassed at the fact that there wasn't much for you to do in lessening the exposure with the tentacles keeping your legs in place, and you weren’t even stripped down to your barest.

With the way Haechan’s heated gaze raked the length of your body spread across the sheets, you could just tell his own imagination ran the wildest it could be, what with his eyes essentially devouring you. Haechan then leaned forward, close enough that you could feel his breath hot on your lips, as the rest of the smoky tendrils followed and attached themselves to your arms resting on either side of your head.

With how they wound tighter around your forearms, you had a faint idea on what was to come. And it wasn’t like you were against relinquishing all control for Haechan to take over, to do what he pleased. Nonetheless, the thought still had your heart rate picking up. This was new and you were starting to think that maybe you bit off more than you could chew with the subtle insistence of wanting Haechan to fuck you hard enough that you’d cry.

You just didn’t think tentacles would be involved. An unlikely variable you never would have guessed to be the center of the demon’s reluctance. No wonder he was wishy-washy with his reasons, they looked like something out of an all-consuming nightmare that most people would have been put off by. A beautiful one if it included their host.

As if sensing your troubles—his sigil’s doing, definitely—a warm palm cradled your jaw as Haechan dipped down for a sweet kiss to soothe you.

“I won’t do anything you aren’t comfortable with,” he reassured, pulling back. “just think of them as extra pairs of arms holding you down.”

“Well, more of you to get used to, then,” you said with a wry smile and finding a little bit of comfort when he puts more of his weight onto you for another kiss, mumbling, “I can take it.”

And so you did.

One, that is. Baby steps, as Haechan put it as one fucked in and out of your cunt in place of his fingers. The feeling was an odd mix of familiar and strange. Familiar as it did the job of pistoning in and out of you like those machines in porn (not that you had any experience besides the demon’s long and knobby fingers doing basically the exact same thing). Strange because it wasn’t what a dildo nor an actual cock would feel like, but fuck if it didn’t feel good. Mind-blowingly so. The considerable length reached places you nor Haechan’s fingers couldn’t within their limits, proved by the guttural groan punched out of you when the tip had accidentally bumped against your cervix.

But even you could run out of patience. This was literally just an elevated version of what you and Haechan had been doing. Time and time again, it was all basically foreplay and you’ve had enough.

This time, you wanted the real thing.

You wanted to be split on Haechan’s cock that hung heavily in between the mouthwatering honey thighs if it’s the last thing you’ll ever have.

“Want you,” you managed to get out between the stray moans and whimpers that fell from your parted lips.

“Hm?” If you were any less than horny, the wicked grin he had would have been smacked off. “But you do have me, see?” He cooed, thumb stopping from rubbing circles on your clit for his fingers wriggling in to join alongside the thin tentacle making work of your pussy. “Are you saying this isn’t enough?”

You shook your head, almost frantic as one of your arms struggled to break free from the tendrils. “Want this,” you stressed, reaching for his dick. The head was almost a deep angry purple from how hard he was and it was beyond you how his self-control lasted this long. Did he even feel pleasure when the extra limb was doing all the work? “Want you.”

“Say that again?” He egged on further, like it wasn’t obvious that he was just as desperate. You knew him enough to see right through the facade he puts up. “You want what, sweet girl?”

“Want you. Want you to fuck your cock in me. Please.”

“You say the sweetest things, human. It’s adorable,” He cooed. “and it’s just right that I give you everything you ask,” and Haechan sealed his promise with a filthy kiss. Harsh and wet that you were certain a mix of your spit drooled down your chin, only for him to lap it up with his tongue and make a mess of your mouth again.

“No more foreplay,” you said as you somehow managed to keep him from sticking his tongue down your throat again. “Seriously, that’s all we’ve been doing before. I can take it.”

And just like the very night things had escalated in the sexual sense, Haechan inclined his head and smiled.

“That night, I said that I wanted you to ride me.”

The nights of all nights. How could you forget? It had imprinted a very clear image into the seams of your brain that you’d occasionally daydream about the various possible outcomes if you hadn’t been rudely interrupted.

“Think you can do that for me now?”

Everything went by so fast that you weren’t given the chance to take a breath. In a blink of an eye, Haechan had both of your clothes removed and traded places with you by the guidance of the pitch black tendrils and the ones winding up the length of your arms loosened to let you bend forward and capture his lips just because. It always felt nice to kiss him, and you wouldn’t shy away from cashing one in at a crucial time to give yourself a little more time to brace yourself.

It took the both of you to get to the real thing. A team effort with you reaching in between your legs to align his cock to your center while Haechan and co. kept you steady with his hands clutching at your waist so tight that you were sure was going to leave finger-shaped bruises to fade over time. Quickly, if and if the demon kept his hands from wandering to the tender spots, but you could worry about that next time when there are more pressing matters at hand.

The sound Haechan made was almost inhuman just as a gasp flew past your mouth the second the glossy thick head of his cock breached your pussy. Inch by inch, you took him in as carefully as you could as it was an uncomfortable stretch for sure, given the experience you had gagging on it one too many times. Most of them being on pure impatience on your part and you weren’t going to risk a possible injury tonight. But just as the many times before, pleasure gradually overtook the discomfort.

“Oh my God,” you moaned, a high sound as you threw your head back. Nails digging into the meat of Haechan’s pecs as you rocked yourself to suck him in impossibly deeper, almost to the point of carving his shape into you and ruining yourself for any other man.

(You already did anyway. Developing real scary feelings for a literal Hell spawn).

“Oh, you’re into that?” Haechan quipped, hissing when you squeezed around him for his cheek. “I can be for you. How many times have you gotten on your knees for me again?”

Did he really have to antagonize you when you were milking him for what he’s worth? “Clearly not enough if you’re still talking.”

Haechan soon lost all sense of eloquence that should have been fit for a century-something-old demon once settling on a pace where the most you would get from was an incoherent sentence or two that you were sure were meant to be praises. Though you figured the pretty picture Haechan painted himself with the pleasure filled contort of his face was enough to say that you were doing something right. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be right behind him feeling blissed out yourself.

It was everything you could ask for really. The delicious girth of his cock stretching your cunt, rubbing against the sweet spots of your gummy walls had you sobbing his name when he would meet your movements in the middle. Skin slapping against skin leaving a mild tingling sensation from each bounce.

The heady pleasure only increased from there as the same pair of tendrils that toyed with your breasts resumed with their earlier ministrations of squeezing their fullness and flicking your nipples. A sneaky one, thinnest of them all had joined in on the fun too. Wrapping around Haechan’s dick like a coil and it wasn’t until you felt the ridges from your descent on his length did you even realize what had happened. Either way, it still felt good and soon enough, something warm simmered beneath your navel.

“Ah—Haechan,” you gasped, your movements becoming more frantic each time the combination of him and the tendril rubbed against your sweet spot. “I think… close,” you slurred, losing all strength as you fell forward, almost breaking your nose on his collarbone if it weren't for the tendrils keeping their steady hold around you. “Can’t,” it came out as a whine breathed against Haechan’s burning skin. “Please.”

That might have just triggered something in him, a visceral reaction of the demon growling—a sound that definitely wasn’t possible for a human to make—as his presence became so imposing, smothering you to the point that all of your senses were filled to the brim by everything Haechan. He wrestled you onto your back as if you were nothing more than a ragdoll with the back of your knees hooked onto his sturdy shoulders and in no time, you were effectively brought to tears by the brutal pistoning of his hips.

You were steadily growing overwhelmed by the onslaught of sensations that ignited a simmering fire that spread underneath your skin. Mouth curling around each syllable of the demon’s name as you wailed with your back bowing against the bed when Haechan angled his hips, punching out a loud cry, bordering on a scream.

“Shh,” Haechan cooed as his thumb pressed onto your lower teeth to pry your mouth open, eyes wild and a wicked grin plastered on his face at the incoherent state that you were in. “You’re so loud. Our walls aren’t exactly soundproof, baby. I think I’m gonna have to shut you up if you can’t do it yourself.”

How? Was what you were going to ask if his thumb wasn’t pressing down onto your tongue, drool pooling in your mouth in almost an instant. Something else prodded against your lower lip and as you looked down the same two-fingered thick tendril slid into your mouth to replace his thumb, Haechan delighted as you moaned around the slick appendage shallowly thrusting in and out past your swollen lips.

You felt so full. Both your mouth and your cunt stuffed full that you thought it was a little fucked that you were enjoying the one rubbing against the flat of your tongue. The mysterious slick that coated it was surprisingly sweet, alomst candy-like and matching the citrusy sweet scent lingering around you 24/7.

You’ve never felt so fucked out ever in your life. This couldn’t even be compared to the past rounds of sex you’ve had with humans. This was an entirely different league on it’s own and fucking Hell, you were officially ruined. You just knew you wouldn’t be able to feel the same level of satisfaction from a human anymore, not when Haechan was capable of stimulating you in multiple ways by his own volition. For a brief moment, you couldn’t help but feel a little envious of the people who had had him like this.

It was all so good. Too good, yet so overwhelming in every way and it wasn’t long before you wailed to completion, body seizing up as your vision whitened and leaving Haechan to chase his own release.

“You weren’t lying when you said you could take it,” Haechan chuckled, sounding breathless as his hand pressed down onto your navel to punch out a groan from you. “I’m so sorry for taking so long.” He soothed just as your mouth was freed so he could kiss you in apology.

He stayed that way. Close, ever so close that you were essentially breathing into each other’s mouths as Haechan’s thrusts grew frantic, almost animalistic until he pressed so tightly against your skin to spill thick ribbons of his cum into you, filling you up the brim that it leaked out even through the tight fit of his cock, wincing at the mess your sheets would soon be subjected to.

For a while, the only sounds that filled the bedroom were you both catching your breaths in sync, yours more labored while Haechan was more controlled.

“How are you feeling?” He asked quietly moments later when he thought you had come down from the floaty headspace you were in. “Wasn’t too much?”

“Perfect,” you sighed, tucking yourself closer into him. “Just perfect.”

“Donghyuck.”

“Hm?”

Haechan’s magic had once again proved to be a useful asset in this home. It didn’t take that much time for both of you to recuperate from being fucked within an inch of your life, though he stuck to more traditional methods when it came to taking care of you. The sheets were decidedly changed with his magic, while he took it upon himself to clean both of you up with a hot shower where you might have fallen asleep once or twice on your feet.

It was a few minutes after noon. Lunch was had and you were sprawled across the couch where you had been made into a human cushion by Haechan, laying on top of him and simply basking in the stillness of the apartment until he spoke.

“Donghyuck was my name as a human.” He said, tilting his head with a smile void of anything that made him devious in nature. Something warm and sweet and reserved just for you. “Before becoming this. There’s this saying that knowing a demon’s name gives you power over it and I—I marked you. Made you mine without asking first and I think it’s fair that I give you my name. Give you me in return.”

That gave you a start, stiffening as you stared at him with owlish eyes and not quite believing the possible implications.

“Does that mean—”

“I am yours, as much as you are mine,” he said, warm palms holding your cheeks as he sat up to meet you in the middle. “As long as you want me to be.”

There was much more left to be said, certainly, but the way Haechan—Donghyuck kissed you so deeply as if you were his only life-line, pouring every thought and possible feelings that paralleled yours into each swipe of his tongue was enough. You had all the time in the world with him, an actual talk could wait.

For now, as you let yourself be wrapped into his embrace, this was enough.

Special thanks to Aria, Moon and Aeriel for putting up with my ramblings about this fic and sharing their ideas! You have no idea how much of help u have been and I’m very thankful for you guys letting me talk my shit 🫶🏼💖 and thank you for reaching the end of this fic! Especially to the ones who asked to be on the taglist! I know it was a longer wait than expected so I really do hope it was worth it 💖

TAGLIST: @jaylaxies @hoondrop @ajayke-reads @justalildumpling @dammit-jjk @maiisweet @jenodreamer @hancafe @gyulfriend @pleasetellmenow @cutiepeas @jaehyunpeachyy @alethea-moon @ohmyhuenings @sexygrass @favjake @02mrk @seulkikiii @notevenheretbh1 @rum-gone-why @minkyuncutie @crzns @saythenameseventeen178 @nae-vm @90s-belladonna @hismine @learnthisfeeling @taerifin @viciousdarlings @strawbabyz @novawon @surrealxox @xenkimmie @lanadreamie

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Heart = Kiss

Pairing: Eddie Munson (Stranger Things) x Female Reader/You

Rating: Fluff, SFW

Warnings: Language, bullying, mentions of blood sacrifice, unrequited feelings, mutual pining, soft brown eyes (just an all around good time)

Word Count: 2718

Summary: As a member of Hellfire, you know Eddie. He isn’t really a risk taker. But he’s about to change all that. 

A/N: Eddie my beloved has taken over my life. And I have no ragerts. Hope you guys are down to clown because I have a series in the works. I seriously cannot be managed. Anyway, I love Eddie as a soft boy. I love him as a nervous, fidgety, snarky cinnamon roll so that’s what I’ve made him. So, enjoy and share with your friends! Feedback is that good shit.💗

Disclaimer: As always, reader inserts are true reader inserts. If you find any specifics in regards to reader’s appearance, kindly let me know and I will fix that.

**Check out my other Eddie fic here

*Masterlist in bio.

***********************

“It’s just a delay. Not a cancellation,” Dustin explained, desperately seeking back up on the matter.

The group, including Wheeler, looked on helplessly, knowing the odds of Eddie pushing his campaign back were slim to none.

“You know Eddie’s never gonna go for it,” you said with a shake of your head.

Keep reading

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now i want yoongi to wear my scrunchie 🥺

heart in your hands – myg

· Min Yoongi x reader, fluff, college! au (not very prominent though), slice of life! au (i think this counts as one ?)

· Word count: 1,209

· Date posted: 22 July 2019

· a/n: yes i am referring to Peter Kavinsky and Lara Jean in the movie w the scrunchie

“Baby?” A soft voice floats into your ears, pulling you out of your dream-like state. You slowly sit up in bed, blinking slowly at your boyfriend, whose smiling at your drowsy expression and sleep swollen face.

“Mmh.” You grumble, sleep clinging to the rasp of your words. “What are you doing?” His fingers pass through your hair, lightly untangling the messy locks. His eyes are seemingly swimming with tiny hearts as he watches you attempt to wake yourself up a little more, your eyelashes fluttering slowly.

“I have class in twenty minutes.” He murmurs, the hand in your hair stilling, reaching his other one to rest on your waist. Your lower lip slides out at that, fingers curling around the hem of Yoongi’s shirt, tugging him even closer to your body.

“It’s so early though.” You whine into his collarbone, mouthing at the soft skin. A chuckle floats from his pretty lips, his chest rumbling lightly with his amusement.

Keep reading

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I'm here to spread positivity on Tumblr. Please accept my hearts and flowers.

OMG THIS IS SO CUTE AND IT MADE MY DAY 😭😭😭😭😭😭

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PLZZ I needed this right now I'm in class STRUGGLING rn

🍥 i'll be here. cjh

# synopsis: cuddles with your personal teddy bear. # genre: fluff # pairings: jongho x gn!reader, friends with platonic benefits # wc: 269 (my brain is fried give me a break) # warnings: ooc jongho (skinship </3), let me know if i need to add anything !! # other: for @hohohugs <3

regular masterlist | main menu

🍥

"do you wanna adjust?" jongho asks, his voice soft as it sounds through the atmosphere, feeling his chest vibrate against your back.

you shake your head negatively, smiling to yourself as you feel his arms wrap around your neck from behind, the edges of the blanket balled in his fists as it captures you both in it's contagious warmth.

"what movie do you want?" you ask, voice hushed as his face rests on his arm next to your own.

"i'm okay with anything," he says, feeling his cheek press against your temple as his gaze is fixed forward. you were very aware of how close he was; the feeling of his chest against your back, arms against your shoulders or the way his legs were wrapped around your sides.

there was a sense of comfort that came with being wrapped up with him, the cold air that seemed to infiltrate your living space became bearable when you were surrounded by jongho's natural warmth.

you clicked on a random film, leaning forward to set the remote down on the table in front of you, jongho groaning lightly from losing the comfortable position.

leaning back once again, you feel as his hair brushes against your cheek, his head nuzzling into the junction of your shoulder and neck. he pulled you back, feeling his soft exhales against your skin as the sound of the television fills the room.

"if you get tired, don't be afraid to rest," jongho whispers, his voice low as to not disrupt your immersion from the movie too much. "i'll be right here when you wake up."

© yunhoflrtz 2022. do not copy, plagiarize, modify, or translate my works here or on any other platform.

taglist: @hohohugs @lex-thesimpzzz @wtf-junnie @pirateprincessblog @justatiredhuman @yali0325 @woahhwa @wooyoungsbae @lex-thesimpzzz @vampireyeosang @rdiamond2727 @pinkchampagne2 @atz-diary @studiesofkit @serialee @yunhosprettyhand @pieyoon @jess-1404

couldn't tag: @rspbrrycorri @kurrokinne

to be added to taglist, fill out this form.

---

— i have you.

word count: 4.1k

pairing: choi san x gender neutral reader ; mentions of other ateez members

warnings: explicit language, mentions of the pandemic, mentions of food, very slight mention of ghosts and possession (?)

genre: fluff, non-idol au, university au, roommates au, friends-to-lovers au

notes: i was thinking of which idol to write for this, and then pink san happened and i just had to :’))) his pink hair is a d o r a b l e

summary: to put it simply, 2020 sucked. but perhaps 2021 will be kinder, especially with the company of one choi san.

a/n: happy new year everyone!! honestly it feels like a lot has happened in 2020, yet at the same time i feel like i haven’t done anything at all. 2020 was really hard for a lot of us, and i just want to say that i’m really proud of you for getting through another year!! remember it’s okay even if all you did was survive a day, it’s still progress, you tried your best, and that’s all that matters. i love you and i’m here for you, and i hope that 2021 will be a better year for all of us. wishing you all nothing but the best!! 💕

— 23:28

“No, no, no! Grab the onion! GRAB THE ONION! I NEED IT NOW!”

“I KNOW, I’M COMING! STOP SCREAMING!”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP! MY SOUP IS GOING TO BURN! SAN! SAN! SAN!”

“I SAID I’M COMING!”

“FUCK! IT’S BURNING! GET THE FIRE EXTINGUISHER! GET THE FIRE EXTINGUISHER!”

“WELL, WHAT AM I GOING TO DO WITH MY FUCKING ONION?”

“PUT IT DOWN!”

“YOU JUST SAID—”

You screech incoherently as the timer counts down to the last few seconds. The scoreboard pops up and your expression sours when you see the less-than-satisfactory score you and San get.

Grabbing the nearest throw pillow, you whack your roommate and friend repeatedly with all your might, ignoring his yelps and pleads for you to stop. “This. Is. All. Your. Fault!” you seethe, landing the final blows before deciding to have mercy on San.

“My fault?” he echoes indignantly. “You told me to get the onion and I did!”

“Well, we didn’t need it anymore because the soup was going to burn down the whole kitchen!” You huff heavily, sinking into the sofa. “I am never playing Overcooked with you again. Mr and Mrs Kim are going to hate us even more now, by the way.”

You wince at the (very likely) chance of your neighbours giving you an earful tomorrow morning from all the ruckus you and San are making. To be fair, the two of you are highly competitive when it comes to Mario Kart and Overcooked, so you probably definitely deserve that impending talking-to.

In your defence, though, Mr and Mrs Kim complain about every little noise that emits from your apartment. One time, you sneezed (perhaps a little too loudly, but it was purely accidental!) at 2am while cramming for an exam, and as you were leaving for school the next morning, Mrs Kim stuck her little head out from their apartment next door and yelled at you for five minutes in the hallway, even as you apologised and tried to explain that you were going to be late for your exam.

Fuck university and the education system, but tuition is expensive, and your mom was going to have your head if she found out you missed an important exam because of a goddamn sneeze.

Your neighbours are also the reason for why it’s impossible to have company over, and why parties are to be held at Wooyoung and Yeosang’s place and their place only. If the former ever step foot into your apartment, Mr and Mrs Kim might genuinely commit a triple homicide. Wooyoung is loud.

Sometimes, you have half a mind to snap back at your grouchy neighbours and give them a piece of your mind, but your friend Seonghwa, who is also the person who introduced you to San in the first place, persuaded you not to many times, saying that it was better for everyone if you maintained a (somewhat) civil relationship with your neighbours.

Seonghwa has always been a much kinder person than you.

“We’ll just...not leave the apartment tomorrow,” your pink-haired roommate says half-jokingly, but you know you’re both considering the idea. Starting the new year with San holding you back from fighting your neighbours isn’t exactly a good idea.

— 23:32

“What do we do now?” You rest your head against the back of the sofa. It sucks that you were both stuck indoors for New Year’s Eve this year, but you know it’s the right thing to do. All day, you’ve had to put up with Wooyoung’s lamenting about how he now has to think of something for next year’s New Year’s Eve party that will make up the inactivity that has plagued 2020.

You don’t even know what to have for breakfast tomorrow morning, and that’s assuming you’ll get up before noon, which never happens unless absolutely necessary. New Year’s resolution: drink more water and fix your sleeping schedule? Will you stick to it? Ha, no. But it sure feels nice to be a part of something.

“I don’t know,” San replies, sounding defeated. “Any ideas?” Your night so far has consisted of ordering an obscene amount of takeout and pigging out on pizza, fried chicken and Chinese food. Hey, it’s the holidays and you survived another semester of (very draining) online classes. You deserve it.

Then, San suggested a round of Mario Kart to pass time until the fireworks show came on TV. One round turned to two, then three, and ended in a screaming match that definitely earned you both a lengthy complaint. After which you made the horrible mistake of switching to Overcooked, because people truly weren’t exaggerating when they said that the game ruins friendships. You might as well move out after that disaster of a match. How did the two university students manage to fuck up virtual soup that badly?

“Nope,” you reply, popping the ‘p’, “I think I’m just going to go on YouTube or something? Unless you’re up for another round.”

“Ugh, no way.” He sticks his tongue out at you as he tucks a throw pillow under his head. How mature of him. You also don’t know why he picked that cushion—it’s so scratchy and uncomfortable because of all the sequins on it, but it was a gift from Seonghwa and you think it looks pretty on the sofa. “You’re like, the worst Overcooked teammate ever.”

You scoff. “That’s rich coming from the person who couldn’t hand me a damn onion.”

San opens his mouth to retort, but his phone rings—the caller ID says that it’s Wooyoung, you should’ve known, they’re practically two peas in a pod—and he shoots you an apologetic yet pointed smile, as if to say “this conversation isn’t over yet” before stepping into the kitchen to take the call.

— 23:37

With nothing to do, you put on your AirPods (you really don’t use them enough for how much you paid for them) and click on a YouTube video about bullet journaling. It would’ve been interesting if you were more artsy, but even your stick figures look extra sad, so you start zoning out. Even with your headphones on, you can hear San’s voice from the kitchen as he cheerfully chats with Wooyoung about God-knows-what. You hope it’s about how much he sucks at Overcooked. Yes, you’re still somewhat bitter about it.

Just the sound of his voice makes you smile with contentment. It’s so warm, and happy, and—holy fuck, you’re so whipped.

You never really believed in fate, but you’re happy that it brought Choi San into your life, because now you can’t imagine it without him.

You remember being stressed as fuck almost a year ago. Your old roommate moved out because she decided to study abroad and you were in desperate need of a new one. Your job at the coffee shop on campus definitely isn’t the worst thing on Earth, but no way in hell can it pay for a two-bedroom apartment without an additional tenant.

Thankfully, your very kind friend Park Seonghwa told you that his friend was looking for a new place and that you should contact him. The very next day, you met Choi San at Star1117 Coffee right after your shift to discuss the details, and he seemed more than happy with the somewhat reasonable rent and location of your apartment, which was just a few bus stops away from the university. He was incredibly sweet and kind despite his sharp features which intimidated you at first glance, and you had a good feeling with him as a roommate.

That is, until you fucked up royally.

Just two weeks after San moved in, quarantine happened and your university reverted to online teaching. It wasn’t all too bad at first because you and San got along well even though you were still slightly awkward around each other, which was to be expected with new roommates.

Leave it to you to screw things up.

You returned from the supermarket one day with groceries, and once discarding your mask and washing your hands you decided to take a hot shower. Without giving it a second thought (or knocking), you swung the bathroom door open rather violently, only for your eyes to meet the widened ones of one Choi San who evidently just got out of said shower.

Oh, and he was half naked.

The two of you stared at each other with your mouths agape until you finally came to your senses. Screaming apologies at your poor roommate, you dashed back into your room and face-planted onto your bed, completely mortified and also feeling very sorry for San. He moved in weeks ago and he’s probably already contemplating on moving out after what just happened.

“You did what?”

“Joong,” you groan before covering your face with a pillow and letting out a muffled scream. “It’s not funny.”

Your best friend cackles at the other end of the phone. “Not to you,” he sneers, and you can picture his devilish smirk in your head. “How did you manage to make a fool of yourself already? Didn’t he just move in?”

“Fuck you, Kim Hongjoong. I might just replace you with Seonghwa as my best friend.”

“Oh no, I’m terrified,” comes the flat reply, and you just know Hongjoong is haughtily examining his nails like one of those snobby heiresses in movies. You decide to make a Google Form application and send it to Seonghwa first thing after the call. The title can be “New Best Friend Wanted”. Not the most creative, but you’re no Kim Hongjoong, so this is as good as it’s going to get.

“By the way, I’m thinking of dyeing my hair blue. Like, brighter-than-my-future kind of blue. Nice, right?”

“Are you seriously talking about your hair right now?” you ask incredulously. “In case you forgot, I walked in on my half-naked roommate and I don’t know what to fucking do!”

Your friend sighs deeply like he’s tired of your shit (which you have no doubt he is). “What else can you do? Just apologise again and act normal. I’m sure he knows it was an accident.”

“You don’t understand!” you wail. “The problem is that I have to face him every second of my life because we’re stuck in a tiny apartment together in quarantine!”

“I don’t know what you want me to say. Accidents happen, might as well take this as an opportunity to bond with your roommate, then maybe it won’t be so awkward anymore.”

What a supportive friend. Maybe you should send an application to Jongho too for good measure.

Deep down, you know Hongjoong is right, not that you’d ever admit it to his face. The logical thing to do would be to put this incident behind you and act like nothing had happened, and perhaps months later it’ll just be a fun little inside joke between you and San. That is, if he doesn’t hate your guts. You wouldn’t blame him if he does.

“So...the blue hair?”

“Good-fucking-bye, Hongjoong.”

Much to your best friend’s exasperation, you in fact did not act “normal” because you have the social skills of a slug. The atmosphere in the apartment was so awkward that each day made a part of you shrivel up on the inside. It didn’t help that you had nowhere to go unless absolutely necessary, as you had previously mentioned to Hongjoong.

You and San had your online classes in the comfort of your bedrooms, which was incredibly distracting when it wasn’t mandatory to turn on your camera and microphone. One too many times, you found yourself falling asleep halfway through a lecture, waking up to a “The host has ended the meeting” notification on your laptop. Big yikes.

You only saw your roommate around mealtimes, where the two of you would exchange simple dialogue along the lines of “I’m ordering food, you want anything?”; or “I made some food, you want some?”; or “I’m going grocery shopping tomorrow, anything specific you want me to get?”

The two of you were polite and friendly, but in a distant manner. It made you few as though the progress towards a friendship you had been making prior to the embarrassing bathroom incident had gone to waste. When you couldn’t sleep (or when you were procrastinating), you often wondered if you would ever gather the courage to break the ice (again).

Quarantine was getting terribly boring. Not being to see your classmates, professors (however shitty they may be), friends and family in person was starting to eat away at you. And while some of the customers at Star1117 Coffee were complete assholes, you missed being surrounded by the smell of coffee and fresh pastries.

Of course, you were extremely fortunate on a lot of levels, so it definitely felt wrong to complain. But you also couldn’t deny the isolation you felt from the lack of human interaction and being indoors every day aside from the occasional grocery run.

And you had a roommate who you spoke barely ten sentences to every time you had a conversation.

Hongjoong rolls his eyes at you, and you want to reach through the screen and smack him across the head. Speaking of your friend’s head, he stayed true to his word and dyed his hair bright blue, which reminds you of the time when his hair was fire truck red last year. Once a strawberry, now a blueberry.

He looks good. When does he not? Kim Hongjoong pulls everything off. It’s both admirable and annoying.

“Are you seriously telling me that you still haven’t made up with your roommate?” he asks with wide eyes. “Y/N, how are you surviving quarantine when you don’t even talk to the person you live with? You do realise he’s the most actual human interaction you’re getting besides the supermarket cashiers.”

“Easy, I don’t survive,” you answer glumly. You don’t have the heart to tell Hongjoong that you mostly use the self-checkout lane, so you don’t talk to any of the workers at the store. Cashiers are going to be jobless because of you.

Your blue-haired friend frowns. “Come on, you can’t avoid San forever. Please, get off your ass, knock on his bedroom door and ask him to hang out. Watch a movie together, or something.” He pretends to ignore the way you wince. “If he’s an ass about everything, then you can go back to your room and drown your sorrows in cheap wine and instant ramen. Deal?”

A garbled groan escapes you. “Who are you, my mom?”

“I might as well be considering how you’d be even more of a walking crisis without me.”

You hate that he’s right. Hongjoong has helped you through more messes than you can count.

“Fine, deal. I’ll ask San to watch The Devil Wears Prada with me. I hope he has taste.”

Hongjoong makes a face. “Who hasn’t seen The Devil Wears Prada? That should be a crime at this point. It’s 2020.”

“Well, I’ve never seen Home Alone, so...”

“You’ve never—wait, what?”

You laugh nervously. “Oh, look at the time, gotta go hang out with my roomie! Bye, Joong! Wish me luck!”

“Y/N—”

You quickly hang up before tossing your phone to the side, and attempt to give yourself a pep talk so you can work up the courage you need. You’re mentally repeating the same monologue for what feels like the fifth time when you hear a soft knock on your bedroom door.

You stretch out your limbs while rolling off the bed and pad over to the door. Choi San’s sheepish smile greets you once you open it, his hands fiddling with a box.

“Can you help me dye my hair?”

“Any reason for dyeing your hair?” you ask in a pathetic attempt to break through the uncomfortable silence that settles between you and San. He’s sitting in front of the mirror in your small bathroom with you standing behind him, doing your best to coat every strand of hair with hair bleach. You feel like one of those awkward hairdressers who aren’t very good at making small talk with their clients. Oh, the pain.

San hums absentmindedly. “I’m going through a mid-life crisis.”

You snort. “Aren’t you twenty-one? Isn’t that a little too early to be having a mid-life crisis?”

“I’m here for a good time, not a long time.”

His deadpan delivery makes you guffaw. “Okay, big mood,” you say, grinning, and he returns your smile with his dimpled one through his reflection in the mirror.

The awkward silence that existed previously appeared to vanish as the two of you caught up with each other for what seemed like the first time in weeks, which was ironic considering, again, you fucking lived together. You shared funny stories from your online classes, like when someone from your Linguistics course randomly started singing without realising their microphone wasn’t turned off.

Dyeing San’s hair blonde took hours, but you thought all that time, as well as the horrible smell of the bleach and dye that probably killed more of your brain cells, were worth it because those few hours were more than enough for you to get to know your roommate. Choi San was sweet, funny, kind and very, very cute.

“What do you think?” he asks nervously as he ruffles his newly-dyed hair. You think it needs some styling, but that could wait for tomorrow because it was already 2am.

As if on cue, you yawn. “I think it suits you,” you say tiredly, but truthfully nonetheless.

Your now blonde roommate glances at the clock in the living room before turning back to you guiltily. “I’m sorry, I guess I lost track of time and didn’t realise how late it had gotten, or I wouldn’t have made you stay up with me just to dye my hair.”

“It’s okay,” you smile softly to reassure him, “it was fun talking to you. Um, sorry about...you know, the bathroom thing.”

San laughs loudly, but quickly covers his mouth with his hand to stifle the sound. “Is that why you’ve been avoiding me?”

Your cheeks feel hot from his teasing tone. “Yeah,” you admit, “I kinda felt bad that that happened to you when you just moved in, so...yeah.”

“Oh, thank God that was it,” San grins. “I thought it was because I did something wrong, but good to know that I didn’t so we can put this behind us. Do you have class tomorrow?”

“Only until eleven.”

The adorable dimpled smile makes a reappearance. “Great! We can make brunch together after class, sound good?”

You grin back. “Definitely. You’re cooking, though.”

“Fine, only because you helped me with my hair. But you’re not allowed to complain if I give you food poisoning.”

You haven’t known San for long at all, but you think you’d gladly suffer through the worst case of food poisoning if it meant seeing him smile.

(San tells you the next day that he has, in fact, never seen The Devil Wears Prada. The two of you remedy that over brunch.)

“Y/N. Y/N!”

Your head snaps up and your gaze meets San’s concerned one. “Oh, sorry, spaced out a bit. What’s up?”

His expression relaxes. “You scared me! I just got off the phone with Wooyoung and you were just staring blankly at yours. I thought you got possessed or something.”

He’s right, your phone screen had already gone blank from disuse ever since the YouTube video you were watching ended. Tapping on it, a few notifications pop up, mainly text messages from Hongjoong telling you that the fireworks show broadcast is starting soon.

“What would you do if I was possessed?”

San looks at you as though you asked him the stupidest question to ever exist. “Uh, pack up my shit and move in with Wooyoung. Duh.”

“At least call an exorcist first before leaving! Some friend you are,” you grumble.

Your roommate giggles as he joins you on the sofa once again. “Sorry, but you know I don’t fuck with ghosts and shit. I don’t know how you manage to watch Buzzfeed Unsolved alone in your room. In the dark, you heathen.”

You shake head in amusement and turn to the TV.

— 23:55

“Five minutes,” you breathe. The screen shows the city’s skyline as the announcer reports on the lack of crowds in the city centre due to the pandemic, and that the fireworks show will begin soon.

“Oh, shit! Hold on!” Before you can respond, San scrambles off the sofa and disappears into the kitchen. He reappears seconds later, holding two steaming mugs and carefully makes his way back to you.

You peer into the mugs when he sets them down on the coffee table. Hot chocolate with a shit ton of whipped cream on top.

“Almost forgot that I made these when I was in the kitchen talking to Woo earlier,” he says with a big smile, plopping down next to you, your crossed legs barely touching. “Start off 2021 with something sweet, you know?”

You gingerly pick up one of them and take a small sip. The rich, chocolatey beverage warms your entire being and makes you sigh contentedly. “Choi San, you are an angel.”

“I know. You’re so lucky to have me as a roommate.”

A playful scoff leaves your lips as you take another sip, but you are well aware that you indeed are very, very lucky.

“2020 really sucked, huh?” you ask, voice coming out much more vulnerable-sounding than you intended.

A few beats of silence passes before San responds. “Yeah, it did. Not that 2021 will automatically solve everything, but it will better, I think.”

His usually wide smile is now much gentler and you can only faintly see his dimples, but much like the hot chocolate he made, it brings you warmth and a feeling of hope. That maybe, just maybe, the new year will be better, or that you’ll at least be more adept at overcoming challenges. You have 2020 to thank for that.

— 23:58

Your pink-haired friend nudges you with his elbow. “Plus, I met you in 2020, so some good came out of it! I know I tease you a lot and we have the occasional roommate squabble, but you really are an amazing friend and roommate.”

You grin. “Are you going soft on me?”

San’s eyes narrow at you as he shifts to the far end of the sofa. “Way to ruin the moment,” he pouts. “Keep this up and I’m moving out next year. Good luck finding a roommate as incredible as I am.”

You snort at his theatrics. “I’m just kidding, you drama queen. You’re really great too, I hope you know that,” you say the last part genuinely, hoping he understands just how much you appreciate having him in your life.

He returns to his previous spot beside you. “That’s good, because I really like you, and I can’t think of anyone better to start the new year with.”

The sincerity in his tone stirs up something within you, and all the fondness you have for Choi San bubbles to the surface.

— 23:59

Was he always this close?

“I really like you,” San repeats, his voice now a whisper, breath lightly fanning your face.

“Ten! Nine! Eight—”

“I really like you too, San.”

That’s all it takes for his eyes to form adorable crescents and for him to gently press his lips to yours.

— 00:00

You two part just as the TV announcer yells out a jovial “Happy New Year”, and you watch in fascination as the city centre lights up with fireworks.

San’s arm wraps around your shoulders as his head moves to lean against yours. “Happy New Year,” he mumbles, fluffy pink hair tickling the side of your forehead.

Your cheeks hurt from smiling so widely while you wrap your arms around his torso, settling comfortably to his side.

“Happy New Year, San.”

You truly hope that 2021 will be the year that brings health, happiness and healing. Even if not, you feel invincible and ready to take down everything as long as San is by your side. And you know that no matter how shitty 2021 may be, he has you by his side to support him through all of it.

Just as how you have him.

(The next afternoon, as the two of you leave your apartment to check the mail and take out the trash, Mr and Mrs Kim, as you had predicted they would, come out of theirs to give you a good scolding for all the noise you made last night while playing video games. You can’t see San’s face behind his mask, but you can tell from the glint in his eyes that he is thoroughly amused. His hand slips into yours to pull you away, shouting “Happy New Year!” over his shoulders before your grouchy neighbours can stop you.”

a/n: if you like my work and you’re comfortable with doing so, it would be great if you could reblog it and/or give me some comments/feedback!! (i don’t bite agjsha!!) any kind is highly appreciated and i’m honestly so grateful that some of you like my work!! thank you so much for your support and i hope to do even better in the new year 💕 stay safe and take care!!

---

Nocturne

<Min Yoongi x Female Reader>

It was supposed to be easy: confess your love for Park Jimin and spend the final moments of the year locked in his arms. Only one problem – he has a new girlfriend and now you need to save face. Good thing Yoongi is willing to play pretend. But how long until you catch feelings for the quiet music man?

Warning: Swearing, mentions of sex, alcohol.

About ♥ Master list ♥ F.A.Q ♥

Teaser

Part 1 - Introduction

Part 2 - I’m telling mum!!

Part 3 - Never on you

Part 4 - Liquid Courage

Part 5 - What’s the damage?

Part 6 - Baked Goods

Part 7 - Bad Idea

Part 8 - Huh

Part 9 - Whoops

Part 10 - Are you okay?

Part 11 - What’s a fake boyfriend for?

Part 12 -  Succubus Seokjin

Part 13 - Housemate rules

Part 14 - I think not

Part 15 - Au contraire

Part 16 - Duke it out 

Part 17 - You

Part 18 - Strung out noona

Part 19 - Me + you

Part 20 - That’s what she said

Part 21 - No Comment

Part 22 - The 14th?

Part 23 - You’re lucky you’re cute

Part 24 - Such little faith

Part 25 - Miss me already?

Part 26 - USELESS

Part 27 - I got some

Part 28 - Are you sure about that?

Part 29 - Yoongi?

Part 30 - All I see is Jimin

Part 31 - 2 DAYS

Part 32 -  GET OFF MY SISTER

Part 33 - In 5

Part 34 - Are you okay?

Part 35 - It’s complicated

Part 36 - Hello boyfriend

Part 37 - Not what we planned

Part 38 - Yoongi’s here

Part 39 - I’m fine

Part 40 - Can we talk?

Part 41 - Thank me later

Part 42 - Sorry

Part 43 - I got in

Part 44 - Baking tips

Part 45 - You do that

Part 46 - The whole world melted

Part 47 - Time to move on

Part 48 - What do I do now?

Part 49 - Not hobert

Part 50 - I have a plan

Part 51 -  Here goes nothing

Part 52 - Love makes you cheesy

---

pretty hallucinations (jjk)

summary: Drunk words are sober thoughts, and now Jungkook knows all of yours — even the ones about him. And you know what they say, once a secret’s out, it’s hard to take it back.

word count- 3.9k 

pairing- best friend!Jungkook x Reader

rating- PG 15

genre- f2l, idiots in love, fluff, slight angst, slight crack

warnings- reader is wasted, jungkook is a softie, SO MUCH PINING, mention of bondage and spreader bars lmfao

a.n- a birthday fic to celebrate my favourite bunny! happy birthday jk! this fic came to me after I read a scene in ten trends to seduce your best friend that had me cackling. read that book if you enjoyed this, that ones a real f2l slow burn hehe

special s/o to @daechwitatamic for beta reading, helping with the summary, and leaving the most hilarious comments on my doc haha I will cherish them forever💕

As always feedback appreciated, a reblog and a like goes a far way. Send me an ask! 💌

-

The room was spinning. A kaleidoscope of colours twirling in the air and you couldn’t help the bitterness rising through you. This used to be your favourite place, a library you had created after years of collecting your favourite words. Systematically organized, it seemed now that a hurricane had passed through.

Well, after ten drinks, you were nothing less than a hurricane. Books with their once perfect spines laid dog-eared and haphazard. You couldn’t find it. Couldn’t find the perfect words for the moment. There was always supposed to be something for every emotion in your collection.

Some may think losing yourself in fictional words was cowardice, but to you it was a reprieve. Reality was boring. In the real world you were just a nerdy overgrown virgin who would never confess your feelings to a man — to the man. In reality, you would always be the girl who talked big about sex and hid behind bravado instead of ever opening yourself up to the vulnerability that came with it. The real you was a phony.

Weiterlesen

---

Helping Hands || Min Yoongi

Pairing: Caretaker! Yoongi x Kindergarten teacher! Reader

Genre: Fluff || Smut || Strangers to lovers || Non-idol AU

Summary: Yoongi always had a knack for fixing things, and with producing getting him nowhere, he ends up working for the school his long-time friend Seokjin, teaches at. With his new job, he meets you, and although your first encounter hadn’t been the best; at least not in Yoongi’s eyes, he could have never guessed how your relationship would bloom. And Yoongi gets to show you his hands can do more than fix your faulty heating.

Word Count: 13.3k

Tags/ Warnings: fluffy, smut in the forms of: oral (f. receiving), fingering, penetrative sex, protected sex (because that’s cool), they hold hands while they fuck, boobie play, squirting, boyfriends taekook, namjoon is a bit of an ick.

Notes: this idea was derived from a tiktok, but the original creator has deleted the video :’( but the idea of someone having a crush on you and helping fix up your classroom was too endearing to pass! when i thought about writing this i didn’t think it would be very long, and i thought how on earth am i meant to write a decent story from this vague-ish concept but here we are 13k words of two people falling in love. considering i’ve never had a s/o i don’t think i did too bad… but maybe this is just what i want from someone i like even if the idea of becoming a teacher makes me want to hurl. if there's mistakes, no there isn't.

edit: the tiktok that inspired this fic! thank you @devilonmyshouder for finding it! my savior 🥲

<3 <3 <3

“Have you asked for her number yet?”

“What?” Yoongi releases a long sigh, head turning so his eyes can meet Seokjin’s, who had a sly smile pasted on his annoyingly handsome face. And it’s at times like these where Yoongi wonders why he still puts up with Jin’s bullshit.

“The kindergarten teacher you’ve been staring at since we sat down” Jin points out, watching you as you laugh with a few of your co-workers on the other side of the cafeteria; in perfect eyeshot from where Yoongi sits.

“No? Why would I do that?” said man asks, stabbing a piece of meat with more force than it deserved. Yoongi has to will himself to not let his eyes wander back in your direction; like hell would he give Seokjin what he wanted. Yoongi doubted he had enough patience stored up to deal with the impending teasing that his long-time friend would surely thrust upon him if he were to prove his point correct. Plus, he was nothing more than being a little intrigued by you.

“Because you clearly like her” Jin tuts.

“Do not”

“Do too. You can’t deny your little crush. I’ve seen the way you look at her” Jin exasperates, flinging his arms above his head dramatically, catching the attention of a few other teaching staff scattered across the growingly scarce cafeteria.

Yoongi cringes, eyes squinting in distaste at his friend’s flamboyant antics that seemed to always garner the eyes of everyone around him. But Yoongi supposes with Jin’s face, it shouldn’t come as a surprise the attention always seemed to be on him, even if he was acting somewhat civilised. Yoongi had never thought of Jin as more than a friend, even if he did swing both ways; but, he could see why Jin’s face had such an appeal, even Aphrodite would have a run for her money if Jin were to rock up in those times, stealing the attention all for himself with his aggravatingly perfect face.

“It’s not a crush. This isn’t high school Hyung” Yoongi grunts, shoving his lunchbox back into his bag. Uncaring as he squashes a banana, already a little too overripe for his liking anyways.

You’d have to pay him millions before he dared touch the cafeteria food, in no way, shape or form would he risk growing a third arm from the slop they served. It’s offensive they had the gall to call it food, let alone serve it to the poor children. And he swears he saw one of the chefs spit in the pasta once, he doesn’t care if it adds flavour.

Now, Yoongi didn’t like children. Not in the slightest.

Thought they were disgusting, foul little creatures that had no sense of personal hygiene or self-awareness. With their sticky hands and voices that carried across miles, everything about children made Yoongi recoil.

And that may leave you wondering why on earth is Yoongi working in a school?

Money. That’s the simple answer.

Yoongi had a knack for fixing things, he’s good with his hands (interpret that how you will). And he really needed the money. His little ‘side hustle’ of producing only made him so much money, and as inflation increased, so did Yoongi’s bills, and slowly he had started finding it a little harder to pay bills and food for not only him but Holly; his cute little dog that he refused to believe wasn’t a puppy any longer. Jin had argued that Yoongi spoiled his dog, buying premium food and overpriced treats, but Holly only deserved the best.

Therefore, the job had to change and not his dog’s nutrition.

So, when the same Seokjin who complained about his pampered pup, had told him about the open position in the school he worked at, Yoongi was sceptical to say the least. He’d dropped out of college after a semester, taking on shoddy part-time jobs to pay for his producing equipment and clearly that had only brought him so far. So he couldn’t see any good reason to waltz back into a school.

Not only that, the thought of having to share space with tiny terrors for hours a day, 5 out of 7 days a week, the offer didn’t seem all that worth it. Until he saw the salary.

Not only was he now making 10 times more than he had been, basically teachers wages (still not enough but better than nothing), he got his own little office in the far end of campus, so he wouldn’t have to interact with any sticky babies and loud-mouthed teens unless absolutely necessary.

With his shiny new office, secluded from the crowd of teachers that gathered at lunch, Yoongi had zero intentions of sitting in the crusty cafeteria; even if his Jin Hyung had begged him for the first two weeks of his new job, to come and sit with him and his other teacher friends. He’d never enjoyed everyone gathering in one place to eat, crowds of people sounding more like squawking birds than hushed chatter that always ended up in arguments.

That was until Yoongi had met you. And suddenly the cafeteria seemed like the only place he wanted to be.

Pretty you who looked like a goddess among humans. Even with the splodges of paint staining your dress, and snotty babies clinging to you like nothing Yoongi had ever seen.

Yoongi had only been working at the school for a month, the start of the school year rolling by quicker than he had initially anticipated. And before he knew it, two weeks had passed by; and that second week on the jobs was when he had first ‘met’ you.

‘Met’ was generous. It was more a brief encounter where Yoongi couldn’t get the words off his tongue quick enough and had been left dumbstruck. Worried he had scared you off with how rude he must have been. You’d strutted out of your classroom, a model among the little children waddling behind you like little ducklings would their mother, hot on your tail as you led them to the bathrooms.

Yoongi had been fixing one of the fan units in the hallway, and you’d politely smiled up at him, making sure none of the children would knock the ladder Yoongi had been stood on, worried their little bodies would bulldoze into the wonky frame and Yoongi would be sent flying. And although that would make a memorable first impression, Yoongi didn’t want to be rushed to hospital with a concussion and his pride bruised.

‘Good morning’

Two simple words and Yoongi felt as if his heart would implode; he felt silly, coughing, and then only managing a curt nod as a reply, words sticky on his tongue like taffy. Clogging his throat as he holds his breath momentarily.

You see, Yoongi was prone to worrying, anxiety always laying under his skin like an itch that he could never get rid of, irritating but part of his life whether he liked it or not. And that night he’d laid awake, worried he hadn’t made a good first impression, scaring you away when he hadn’t even gotten the chance to learn your name.

And sure, he could have asked Jin, but that man had enough blackmail material already; he didn’t need to know about Yoongi’s budding interest in the pretty kindergarten teacher. If he hadn’t embarrassed himself enough then Seokjin surely would.

To Yoongi’s surprise you hadn’t seemed too offended by his reply, or lack thereof, as a week later you’d greeted him during lunch; even going as far to hold the door open for him as he languidly wandered into the cafeteria, in search of Seokjin.

This time Yoongi felt a little more prepared, muttering a short ‘thanks’, small smile stretching onto his lips as he points it in your direction. He doesn’t wait for your reply, legs already pulling him out of what could be another embarrassing encounter, a little disheartened that the day he finally decided to eat with the rest of the staff (secretly hoping to see you), your encounter had been so brief.

Yoongi’s easy smile however, remained throughout the course of lunch, heart fluttering like little butterfly wings locked in the cage of his chest; and if Seokjin noticed his friend’s flushed cheeks he chose not to say anything.

The caretaker thought he was sly with his little crush, never mentioning you to Jin, only stealing short glimpses of you from across the cafeteria, that short half an hour a day enough to recharge his motivation to continue this job. And he has the gall to be surprised when Seokjin finally decides to bring it up.

“Might want to hurry up, Jungkookie might beat you to it” Jin calls out, and if Yoongi hadn’t seen a few kids running around the area, he would have flipped off the elder. But Yoongi does nothing more than wave him off, and he may have been worried if he didn’t know Jungkook was already seeing someone.

That someone being Kim Taehyung, the high school art teacher, who occasionally sat at their table at lunch. Most of his time hauled up in the art rooms where students were welcome to work during the lunch hour.

Yoongi wasn’t one to stereotype but Kim Taehyung was the very definition of eccentric art teacher. Style a little unusual, paintings so abstract Yoongi felt like he was on acid while trying to decipher the meaning.

He had seen how Jungkook looked at Taehyung, the little galaxies that shone in his eyes when he looked at his love, where each star represented one thing that Jungkook adored about his boyfriend, his gentle gaze enough to show the absolute adoration they held for one another.

Yoongi had complained, telling them to get a room on more than one occasion when they’d decided to lick into each other’s mouths during afterschool dinners. But truly he was happy they had something so precious, a love like a warm hug, infinite trust between the two of them; something that Yoongi secretly yearned for.

More often than not Yoongi felt a little misunderstood. He never meant to come off as cold or disinterested, he liked the silent company of a person as much as he enjoyed his time alone, you didn’t have to always be talking; silent comfort of another person enough for him.

Yoongi didn’t want to come off as rude, he just didn’t know what to say sometimes, happier to prove his love with acts of service than empty words that even he doesn’t know the meaning of. He doesn’t want to come off as unapproachable, but when you’re tired from work and lacking the energy to act like a ray of sunshine, much like the physical education teacher, Hoseok, Yoongi could only wallow in his own self-pity some nights. Wondering why only a select few seemed to enjoy his company, or why so many romantic relationships have been washed down the drain.

As the first semester of school progressed, the weather had started to get colder, autumn slinking by before anyone could comprehend the unusually warm summer.

Kids starting to layer uniform, and teachers turning to the heaters to defrost their fingers as they arrive early, grass still dewy with air that nips at your skin like little needles.

Yoongi jolts up from his seat at the gentle knock of his office door, his feet flying off the desk from where he’d been resting them; worried that it was his boss coming for his usual weekly check-up.

However, Yoongi was pleasantly surprised to find you stood in his doorway; soft-looking sweater cocooning you in its warmth, nose tinted red from the frosty morning air, tips of your fingers barely peeking out from where you try to warm them up from the confines of your sleeves. And it takes all Yoongi’s will, not to tell you he had more ways than one he would love to heat you up (though he supposes he should take you out on a date before that).

Yoongi thinks you must have been sent from the sky, pretty, even in the dim morning sunlight, kissing your skin like Yoongi would if you would let him.

“Good morning” you smile, nose twitching at the strong scent of coffee that permeates the air of Yoongi’s office.

“Morning. Can I help you?” Yoongi asks, leg bouncing up and down anxiously. He has no time to curse himself for how blunt he must have come off, tone anything but inviting, before you’re opening your mouth to answer him.

“Yes actually. The heater in my classroom isn’t working”

Yoongi nods, pushing himself from his seat, ignoring the piping hot coffee he was moments away from drinking as he picks up his little toolbox that sat beside his desk.

“Lead the way” he motions out of the room, not daring to make eye-contact with you; worried he were to drown in the depths of your eyes, calling him in like a siren would with song.

He watches your back as you walk him to your classroom, fingers itching to hold your hands, help you warm them up as the stupid heater in your classroom couldn’t do its job properly.

Yoongi didn’t exactly know what he expected your classroom to look like, never working up the courage to peek inside and take a look into such a large part of your life.

The flurry of colours was expected, paintings from what he assumes to be your classes over the years hung on the wall, with paints and pens stacked on short shelving by each wall of the room.

Your desk sits at the front of the room, little trinkets lining the edges, papers covering the surface like a blanket. And Yoongi has to stop the smile from pulling at his face from how disordered you are; just like him. And he can somewhat appreciate the beauty in the mess of your classroom, it showed it was loved, enjoyed by more than just the small group of children that spent nearly every hour in here every day, loved by you who clearly spent time lining the walls with letters and drawings all addressed to you, carefully printed and cut letters of the alphabet climbing the walls like vines and fairy lights hung like tree snakes lounging on a branch.

“This one over here” you point to the heaters under the window, and Yoongi cringes at the cool air that caresses his cheeks as he stalks the length of your classroom. Nipping his cheeks like little jaws trying to pull apart his skin.

As he kneels down, pulling his glasses from the front pocket of his hoodie, he takes a closer look at the pipes connected to the main framing of the heater. Yoongi tries not to pay attention to you as you shuffle through the mountain of papers on your desk, he tries not to focus on the way you bite your lip; the little devil that rest on his shoulder whispering for him to just kiss you.

Yoongi distracts himself with your heater, fingers a little shakier than usual as you wander around the room, picking up pots of paints off the shelves, brushes stored in separate drawers and laying them all on the little tables, perfect for the little toddlers you taught. Chairs so small they must have been the first bear’s that goldilocks had thought were too uncomfortable to sit on, they sure looked it; no amount of colour enough to mask the hard plastic they were made of.

Yoongi frowns when he finds the problem with your heater, somehow a bolt had gotten loose; he can only assume one of the children had fiddled with it. Little fingers always having to play with something, another thing he hated about kids. If it’s not meant to be touched, then don’t touch it.

He pulls a spanner out of his toolbox, fingers skimming over a screwdriver. He looks over at shelving unit by the heater, screws glimmering in the slowly growing sunlight that climbs its way over the top of the neighbouring school building.

And that same little devil on his shoulder whispers something a little naughty, something Yoongi knows he shouldn’t do. And maybe Yoongi was a little bit of a hypocrite, after just saying kids shouldn’t touch everything, but the screws looked so shiny, so inviting, a little accident that means he may get an extra half hour with you.

He peers over at you, sat at your desk, typing something on your laptop. And decides that what’s the worst that could happen? He quickly tightens the loose bolt to your faulty heater, turning the knob on the side just in case before he scoots his way over to the shelf that had been holding the paints you now had on the table.

He licks his lips, sucking in a sharp breath before he unscrews a few nails. Silently praying the shelf can hold up until he leaves the room.

You stay none the wiser, typing away on some blank document from what Yoongi can make out. He tucks his glasses back into the front pocket of his hoodie, dusting off the imaginary dust that clung to the knees of his jeans before he’s clearing his throat to catch your attention. You startle, eyes wide when they meet Yoongi’s, who thinks you look a little like a puppy caught doing something they were told not to.

He stifles his laugh, coving it with a cough, “Your heater should be working, I turned it up a little so the room should heat up quicker” he explains, motioning towards the offending object. Your shelves staring at him, and Yoongi worries you can see the guilt swimming in his eyes.

You nod, pushing yourself from your seat, you bow a little in thanks, “You’re the best” you grin, and Yoongi can feel his heartrate pick up; cheeks dusted in rosy red.

You were so pretty.

+ + +

Yoongi waits all day, ears perking up when footsteps echo down his end of the hall throughout the rest of work. Begrudgingly helping a few other teachers that seemed to have had heating problems in their classrooms too; a common theme it seems.

Or, the occasional pitter patter of kids running down the hallway like a heard of wild animals during breaktimes, or teens sneaking off to the bathrooms where they liked to make out, or a few other things if their dishevelled uniform meant anything as Yoongi wandered around for his afternoon walk.

He tries to spot you at lunch, his mood only souring when you never walk into the cafeteria, your melodic laughter not gracing the usual grating sound of stressed teaching staff, that all seemed to have a passion for complaining about their jobs.

Jin had tried to cheer him up, offering to share his homemade lunch just to get even a hint of a smile out of Yoongi, and usually the caretaker would love to bless his tastebuds with actual decent food; but it seemed nothing, but your pretty smile would suffice to sate his grumpy mood.

The minutes before the home-time bell slowly creep up on Yoongi, and on most days he would be ecstatic that he could finally escape this hellhole. He never understood why teachers would willingly return to the place that is designed to fuck over students; especially when the pay isn’t all that great. And most of them seemed to despise their jobs anyways.

Even after the bell rings, startling Yoongi from his own little reverie, he remains sat at his desk; a little quiver of hope still left inside of him that you would be stood in the doorway of his office once more.

He thinks it must be a daydream when you show up, unable to properly comprehend that you were once again stood before him. That would be the second time in one day.

He isn’t at all surprised when you give him a sheepish smile, “Do you have any spare screws? It seems my shelving has broken”

And a small flame of guilt licks at Yoongi’s heart and mind, but the pretty smile that stretches onto your lips when Yoongi only lets out a little laugh, picking up his little toolbox, is enough to expel any of his worries.

He once again gets to stare at your back as you walk back towards your classroom, pretty sweater still veiling your body; and Yoongi licks his lips at what you could be hiding underneath the layers you wear.

A blink of an image flashing behind his eyes of you sprawled across the sheets of his bed, his head tucked in-between your thighs. He knew he’d get addicted to your taste, surely with such a sweet voice, all of you must be just the same. Your arousal thick like nectar on his tongue as he pushes you over the edge to your own pleasure.

“Mr. Min?” you wave a hand in-front of his face.

Yoongi blinks, “Sorry?” he coughs, heat creeping up his neck, pinching the tips of his ears.

You point towards the mess of your bookshelf, paint pots and art supplies scattered across the floor from where the shelf had caved in on itself. A mound of mess that you would now have to tackle once Yoongi acts as your saviour; a dark knight that had secretly put you in this messy situation.

“I was putting the paint pots away when it sorta of just… collapsed”

Yoongi lets out a grunt of understanding, that same guilt from earlier tickling up his spine as he looks over the huge mess you’ll have to clear up once he fixes your shelving. He shouldn’t have taken those few screws that morning and should have just worked up the courage to ask you out instead of making your day harder. But he supposes what is done is done and now he must fix his selfish doings.

You remain sat at your desk, finger scrolling through your phone as Yoongi rummages through his little box of screws.

His fingers dip into the pocket of his jeans, shiny steel nails pricking the tips of his fingers.

“Do you need any help?” You startle the caretaker, worried smile on your face as Yoongi picks up a few of the fallen shelves.

“No, it’s alright” he waves you off.

“Would you like something to drink then?” you ask.

“Black coffee is fine, thanks” he shoots you a quick smile, gums on show.

Yoongi doesn’t notice the bristly heat that burns the soft skin of your cheeks as you wander towards a cabinet in the back of your classroom. Rummaging for the granulated coffee that a few of your co-workers stored by your kettle. Not your first beverage of choice but a few of your friends took advantage of your little drink station.

As the kettle boils your water, Yoongi can see you intently watching him from the corner of his eye; and he feels his palms get clammy from your attention set so closely on him. He would have compared your eyes to those of a hawk if you hadn’t been so utterly soft; tempting Yoongi to wrap you up in his pocket and dote on you.

“How did you get so good at this?” you wonder aloud, awe evident on your face as Yoongi easily slides a shelf back into place.

Yoongi pauses, “Honestly I’m not sure. Guess I’m just good with my hands”

Your tongue peeks out to wet your lips at that; body jumping when the little click of the kettle finishing boiling. You whip back around to finish Yoongi’s drink, said man finding it hard to stop a little smirk from tugging at his lips at your flushed cheeks, pretty even painted in red.  

You place a rounded pink mug on the windowsill by where Yoongi is working, and he mutters a quick thanks before he’s focusing back on holding the panel of wood back into the right place, silver nail balanced between his lips.

“I never got your name” Yoongi says when you take a seat at one of the student’s tables, warm mug of hot chocolate heating your cold hands up.

“Y/n” you tell him, “And you are?” you ask, only knowing of him by his surname.

“Yoongi” he tells you, pushing himself up with the help of your now sturdy shelf.

You push yourself up from the desk, placing your cup of drink down before you start picking up the scattered art supplies. Yoongi follows, tucking his screwdriver into the back pocket of his jeans as he picks up the paint pots that brought him back into your room. The vibrant colours glaring at him; a reminder of his sins.

“You don’t have to, Yoongi” you tell him, but said handyman ignores you; brain replaying how nice his name sounded when it came from your lips, dipped in sweet honey, addictive in the way that makes Yoongi want to beg you to say it one more time. Something about your voice enchanting, pulling him closer like a snake charmer does a snake with its pipe.

Instead, he brushes you off, “I’ve stayed this late, what more is a few minutes?”

Your nose scrunches at that, “Sorry about that”

+ + +

“Have you asked for her number yet?” Seokjin asks.

“What?” Yoongi feels a sense of déjà vu as he sits in the corner of the cafeteria, you sat at another table with a few other teachers. Though today you seem more focused on your lunch than any of the baseless chatter the others on your table seem to be immersed in.

“You stayed after school with her, had dinner together after that and you still haven’t asked for her number?” Jin gawks.

“No?”

“Min Yoongi” Jungkook shakes his head, “Ask the poor woman on a date or something”

“What if she was just being polite?” he asks the youngest, chewing at the skin of his bottom lip.

“She must be interested; she went out for dinner with you after you’d fucked up her shelves”

Yoongi’s head snaps in your direction, worried you'd somehow heard Jungkook, “She doesn’t know that, keep it down”

Jungkook snickers, “Seriously, ask her out. Otherwise, someone else might” he nods in the direction of your table, a stupidly handsome male laying his hands on your shoulders. Green jealousy bubbling inside of Yoongi as he just watches.

You turn to look up at him with a smile, grateful as he places a bag on the table in-front of you.

Yoongi narrows his eyes, “Who the fuck is he?” he tuts.

“Kim Namjoon, works in the high school”

“Cute dimples” Taehyung pulls out a spare chair beside Jungkook, leaning over to lay a wet kiss on his boyfriend’s cheek.

Yoongi grunts dramatically pushing himself from his seat. His hands slam onto the table, “You guys are going out tonight, right?” he turns towards Jin who only nods, confusion evident on his face.

Yoongi storms over towards the table you’re sat at, and as he draws closer, he can only wonder where this burst of confidence came from; ignition slowly burning to nothing but warm embers as he pushes one foot in-front of the other. But when he makes eye contact with slimy looking Namjoon, a cursed smile being shone his way Yoongi’s anxiety seems to be the least of his worries.

“Y/n” he calls you, endeared by your wide eyes that flit to meet his own, happiness enveloping your eyes as you look up at him.

“Yes?” you stand when Yoongi makes it to your side, still having to stare up at him from beneath the veil of your eyelashes, ones that Yoongi finds very pretty.

“We’re going out for dinner tonight” he throws a thumb over his shoulder towards his table of friends, Taehyung waves, boxy smile an attempt to placate your worries, “And I was wondering if you wanted to… wanted to come with us?”

Yoongi knows you must be able to see the unease that swims in his eyes, and he worries that maybe he looks a little desperate, stalking towards your table unannounced; but with your small group of co-workers all staring at him like he’d grown a second head, he’s seconds away from scuttling out the cafeteria.

“That would be lovely, Yoongi” you smile.

“I’ll meet you at the gate after school?” he asks, eyes brightening in hope. You nod and Yoongi has to bite his lip to stop the huge smile that threatens to pull at his cheeks.

+ + +

“I swear he isn’t always like this” Yoongi shakes his head, turning his attention to look at you.

“I think it’s amusing” you turn towards your new friend, wincing when Seokjin, who had previously been dancing on a chair, falls onto a table. Both your eyes snap towards the eldest of the group, trying to gauge if he was okay or needed immediate medical attention.

Yoongi supposes the alcohol coursing through Seokjin’s veins was enough to help him stagger to his feet like he hadn’t just body slammed into a table, and Jungkook has to wave off a worried bar tender who had already pulled his phone from his pocket, moments away from calling for an ambulance.

Taehyung scans Jin’s body, trying to figure out if he had a concussion or not. And Jungkook tries to ask his hyung if he remembers who he is.

“This isn’t what I imagined dinner to be” you turn back to Yoongi who elegantly brings his glass of whisky to his lips, somehow looking like royalty in such a grimy bar, tucked away in an alleyway.

He hums, letting his taste buds soak in the refined flavour of the liquor before he answers you, “Me neither. Usually, we go to that shitty Italian place down the street”

“I like it there!” you exasperate, “Their dessert is really good”

“I don’t like dessert”

“What?” you breathe, “You devil, how could you not like dessert?”

Yoongi snorts, a little unattractive on his part but he couldn’t help himself, “Why stuff yourself more when you’ve just had a meal?” (Maybe you liked to be stuffed, but you thought it was a bit too soon for that conversation)

“Because you always have a second stomach for dessert” you tell him instead, “Honestly I got that vibe from you”

“What vibe?”

“Dessert hating vibes, I knew the moment you told me you liked black coffee, with no milk, no sugar that you were a dessert hater” you explain, dramatic shake to your head.

“I’m not a dessert hater, doll. I just have priorities”

“Really bad ones. I refuse to accept any dessert slander”

Yoongi opens his mouth, eyes widening a little in shock when you place a finger over his lips, “Uh uh” you shake your head.

Yoongi laughs at that, tongue poking out from between his lips to lick your finger. You recoil, nose scrunching at Yoongi who only laughs. (He had always preferred his own fingers in other people’s mouths, never really enjoying them in his own).

“Okay, lovers, we’re going home” Jungkook pushes between yours and Yoongi’s seats, “Jin’s about to pass out and I’m moments away from leaving him on the streets”

Both you and Yoongi turn to look over at Taehyung who holds up a very wobbly Seokjin, and you nod in understanding. But Yoongi feels his heart sink at the thought of having to go home already, he had started to enjoy your company, slowly peeling back each layer of your very being.

“I’ll walk you home” Yoongi places a hand on your shoulder when the five of you make it out of the bar. You nod, giving Jungkook a quick hug before he helps Taehyung lug their friend home.

You and Yoongi walk in silence, nothing uncomfortable; just the two of you basking in the company of one another.

Yoongi startles a little when you take a sudden hold of his wrist, “Yoongi, let’s go there” you pull him towards the familiar, drab Italian restaurant that he’s spent way too many weekends drinking in.

The lights at the front blink, bare wires hanging on for dear life to keep the neon lights hung about the windows of the restaurant. The fluorescent light momentarily blind the both of you as you wander inside.

Yoongi makes no fuss as you pull him into a booth by the window, encouraging you even, by handing you a menu. You flip it open, “My treat” you say, ignoring Yoongi as he opens his mouth to argue.

“You can treat me, next time”

Next time.

You wanted to see Yoongi again. Maybe it was the alcohol coursing through him, making him that little more delusional that you could feel the same about him as he does you.

“Fine” he drawls, motioning for a waiter to come to the table when you drop the menu with a little smile.

<3

“Did you really have to order only dessert?”

“I got you black coffee as well” you argue, “if you don’t like them, then I’ll eat it”

Yoongi tuts, watching as the waiter brings over your tray of treats. More sugar than the mad hatter had at his tea party balanced on one rusting metal tray.

You wiggle happily in your seat, and Yoongi turns his head to look out the window, coving the blush that coats the skin of his cheeks in dusty red; and Yoongi wonders if this is what falling in love feels like, a new addiction worming its way into his heart. And Yoongi worries he won’t be able to stop himself, fingers itching to feel this again even if it’s only one more time.

“I got you tiramisu, because it tastes like coffee” you push the small plate towards him, eyes wide with wonder as Yoongi take a fork from one of the napkins, everything he does fascinating you as he holds himself with the grace and dignity a lot of people aspire for.

He awkwardly takes a forkful of cake, worried you were scrutinizing him for not eating this right. What if he hated it? And you got offended? What if you were turned off because he didn’t like the same foods as you? Is it a red flag to not like sweet things? God, Yoongi would shovel this cake into his mouth if it meant you’d give him a smile.  

Yoongi thinks you must be able to read his mind, “You don’t have to like it” you remind him, picking up your own fork as you pull a plate towards your body, excitement of a child in your eyes.  

+ + +

“What are you doing for Christmas?” you ask, turning towards Yoongi who dips his paintbrush into the can.

“Probably spend it with my dog” he shrugs, rubbing his gloved hands across his sweats, hoping to warm them up a little.

“You have a dog?” you gape, “Why didn’t you tell me?” you sulk.

Yoongi had told you he’d noticed the paint on your heaters chipping, a potential fire hazard (or so he claims), and that he would repaint them for you with heat safe paint. You’d nodded, offering to help him during the weekend, He’d shrugged, telling you it was your choice, that the room would be cold as you couldn’t paint on scorching hot metal, but you’d only giggled, telling him to pass his phone so you could add his number, and that you’d see him tomorrow. And Yoongi had felt dizzy when you’d brushed him off, determined to meet him that weekend and help.

Now he finds himself with you, both bundled up in coats, and woolly gloves to keep the both of you warm as you paint the morning away. The morning birds haven finished their songs for the day, probably ready to eat as lunch neared, afternoon sun squeezing minimal heat into the classroom through the windows.

“Do you have any plans?” he asks, foot tapping anxiously on the floor.

You shake your head, “I usually visit my parents, but they said they’re sick of white Christmases. So, my dad whisked them off to some tropical island until the end of February when it gets a little warmer”

“You didn’t want to go?”

“It’s not that, I just have a job, and I wouldn’t be able to stay all that long with work chasing me during the holidays”

Yoongi hums, “Want to spend it together?”

Your eyes widen, turning towards Yoongi who continues to paint, acting as if he hadn’t just offered to spend Christmas with you.

“Huh?” you breathe, “Are you sure? I don’t want to intrude”

“On what? Me and my dog? Jin Hyung usually stops by, but I think he secretly has a girlfriend because for the last two years he drops off some cookies and then rushes out the door, without his obligatory kisses”

“What about Jungkook and Taehyung?”

“They spend the holidays together, probably fucking. They can’t keep their hands to themselves” you giggle at that.

“They’re cute” you tell him, happy smile pulling onto your face as you recall the ‘dinner’ you’d had together a few weeks ago. And how much Jungkook and Taehyung seemed to be drawn to one another; you think they must the definition of love. Just pure, unadulterated love between the two of them. Two little lovebirds who are mates for the rest of their lives, always drawn to one another.

Jin had showed up to your classroom with a box of chocolates to apologize on the following Monday, babbling how unprofessional the whole encounter was. You’d waved him off, inviting him for coffee or tea during break times if he ever needed a breather from the swarm of students that always seem to gather outside his office door. All hoping to spend a little more time with the good-looking language teacher, innocent crushes pushing them to work hard in class.

He’d thanked you. Apologizing once more before he’d scuttled away with a sheepish smile plastered on his face. Late for a meeting he had with the head of department, and he had already missed the meeting the month prior.

“They’re cute when they’re not sucking each other’s tongues” Yoongi grunts, nudging the sleeve of your jacket so it wouldn’t fall into the pan of paint, worried it wouldn’t wash out from your sleeves.

“Let them be in love” you whine, wiggling a little in place, “Could you imagine loving someone like they do?”

Yoongi shakes his head, “Never been in love”

“Really?”

“I mean I dated in high school but nothing close to love” Yoongi turns towards you, “What about you?”

Your cheeks flush, “I’ve never uhh—I’ve never dated. Like at all”

Yoongi blinks, “Not even that smarmy dick?”

“Who?”

“Kim Namjoon or whatever his name is?”

Your tongue wets your lips, and then your eyes widen, “God no” you let out a long breath, “He asked me out last year and I said no. Why on earth would a high school literature teacher ask me out?”

“Because you’re pretty?” Yoongi replies, avoiding eye contact by mixing the paint a little.

“That’s shallow of him” you scoff, “He’s a narcissist anyways, I would never be as good looking as he believes himself to be” you tell Yoongi, and the caretaker wants to bash his head against the table behind him with how oblivious you are.

“That’s shitty” Yoongi agrees, though he feels his heart constrict. Didn’t you know how perfect you are?

“You know he told me I should have studied for a more sophisticated profession, and asked why I wanted to work with kids below the age of 15” you frown, “I thought that was a little mean, so I told him to go fuck himself”

Yoongi laughs at that, “I always see him near your table at lunch”

You hum, nodding—“He’s been trying to win me over with cakes and cookies, I only smile so I get free stuff out of him”

“So, you’re leading him on?”

You drop your brush into the paint pan, “Is that what I’m doing? That’s really shitty” you look at Yoongi with guilty eyes. 

“I guess if he’s a bad man then it’s a little more forgivable” he gently places his paintbrush beside your own, “But he doesn’t deserve you if he’s an asshole”

You nod at that, small smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

+ + +

“Please Yoongi” you tug on the sleeve of his jacket, trying to veer him towards the ice rink.

He only grunts, “I don’t skate”

“But it’s Christmas” your shoulders fall, and Yoongi feels as though he just kicked a puppy with your sad pout.

“Fine” he takes your hand, pulling you towards the old woman at the rental booth.

<3

Yoongi can’t help the laugh that bubbles up his throat, having just watched you fall onto your bottom only minutes after getting onto the rink.

“Hey!” you point an accusing finger at him, “It’s not funny”

“Just a little, darling” he tries hard to stifle his laugh, but fails miserably when you try to push yourself to stand; stood more like a new-born doe who hadn’t grasp the concept of walking yet.

Yoongi misses the devious smile on your face when he bends down to help you stand, your cheeks warming at the pretty smile the caretaker had, warm like a spring afternoon.

“When you offered for us to go skating, I thought you’d be good at it”

You cross your arms over your chest, instantly regretting the sudden action as you wobble. You let out something akin to a squeak when Yoongi takes a hold of your arms, helping stabilise you as your stomach tenses.

“My little deer” he laughs, hands skimming down the length of your arms to hold your hands.

You feel heat creep up your neck, burning the tips of your ears; feeling some relief knowing that your nose and ears were already red from the cold, so you only bite your lip, trying not to let your shuddering breath become known to Yoongi.

He, however, sees your eyes glaze over, something he hadn’t seen from you yet. And it only feeds into his little fantasy of you sprawled out across the sheets of his bed, his name clinging to your tongue, dripping like sweet honey as you beg for more. More of what? He has yet to decide. He’s imagined eating you out, sure that you’d recoil, shy, when he tries to go down on you. He wonders what you’d look like, bouncing prettily on his cock, begging for him to help you, legs shaking as he pounds into you, if your moans would be as soft as your voice, if you’d try to cover your mouth with your hands.

Yoongi coughs, bringing his attention back to you who wobbles, another attempt to skate towards him on your own. This time, Yoongi is ready when you stagger forwards, holding onto your waist as you tumble into his chest.

“Sorry” you whisper, “I don’t think I’m very good at this”

Yoongi laughs, “Nothing a little practice can’t fix”

+ + +

“Merry Christmas Yoongi” you beam, handing him the neatly wrapped gift, little cats printed on the paper.

“Merry Christmas” he takes you hand, pulling you into his warm apartment, heat enveloping you, cleansing you from the toe biting cold of the outside world.

You startle at the wet nose that prods your bare fingers, gaze flitting towards the floor where the fluffy little dog sniffs at your clothes, a cute puff of brown.

“That’s Holly” he tells you, placing your gift underneath the small tree into the corner of the living room beside the one he had bought you.

You crouch down, scratching Holly under the chin, giggling as the excited dog circles your legs.

You wander into the living room, not so subtly peeking at Yoongi’s home. You liked it; it was cosy, and ever so Yoongi. You take a seat on one of the couches, Yoongi following suit once he’d turned the tree lights on, green like vibrant dragonflies dancing from branch to branch.

“I hope you’re okay with takeaway, I looked up how to cook Christmas dinner online, and it’s a little too advanced for me”

You smile, “Don’t tell my mother, but I’ve never been a fan of Christmas dinner”

“Perfect”

<3

“You make music?” you gawk, “That’s so cool”

“It’s a nice side hobby I suppose” he shrugs, not delving into how deep his love for music really is; he knew that if he started, he wouldn’t know when to stop. A little too passionate about his producing than he would like to let on, the last thing he needed was for you to leave when he was enjoying your company.

“You’ll have to show me one day” you tell him, nudging his shoulder as you sit beside one another. Knees pressed snug, body heat warming one another up.

Yoongi picks up another slice of beef, placing it on your plate, “maybe” he shrugs.

“You’re very secretive” you point out.

“Private”

You hum at that, “That is a good trait. More for me to uncover”

“Yeah?” he asks, smile tugging at his lips, “What are you trying to uncover”

Yoongi doesn’t miss the as your eyes flit down his body, straying a little at the waist band of his sweats before travelling back to his lips.

“Everything” you tell him honestly, and he can see the naked emotions that swim behind your eyes; raw need.

“I suppose you should get started then” he whispers, eyes flicking between both of your own.

“Right now?”

Yoongi nods, turning his body to face you; his hand coming to cup your cheek. You close your eyes, low moan reverberating up your throat as Yoongi presses his lips gently against your own. And as cliché as it sounds, Yoongi thinks he hears fireworks somewhere in the distance, lips tingling with want as he feels the warmth of you pressed along the length of his body.

Yoongi drinks in every little sound you make, spurring him to deepen kiss, his tongue flicking to part your own. As you both pull away, Yoongi leans in for a quick peck to your lips before he falls back into his seat.

“I guess I also have a lot to uncover, huh?” he whispers, fingers tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “I really like you Y/n” he admits, hands clammy as he gauges your reaction.

“I really like you too” you tell him, and Yoongi smiles at the red hue that coats your cheeks; he can only imagine his match your own.

+ + +

“We should totally go on a double date” Taehyung grins, arm wrapped around Jungkook’s shoulder.

“We’re not dating though” Yoongi grunts, leaning back in his seat. His gaze flits over towards your table of co-workers, you more focused on something on your phone than what they were gossiping about.

“You went on a date, spent Christmas and New Year together, kissed, confessed and you’re not dating?” Jin gawks, astonished by what he was hearing.

Yoongi had asked after your little Christmas escapade, if you wanted to spend New Year together as well. He took you out for lunch, and then the two of you milled around a little market on the outskirts of the city. He’d met a few of your students, their happy smiles when they spotted you, warming Yoongi’s heart. And God forbid he didn’t hate children as much as he used to. (They could be cute sometimes, but only when it comes to you.) As well as conversing with a few parents, more than a few commenting on how cute you and Yoongi were together.

Nothing much more than kissing had happened, and you’d found the excuse for a few more kisses when you’d spotted little brushes of mistletoe hanging from the market huts, left over from the Christmas market that plagued the streets only weeks prior. And who was Yoongi to deny tradition?

The two of you had sat on a hill on New Year’s Day, Yoongi with his coffee, and you with piping hot, hot chocolate, both a little hung over from your little festivities the night prior (with a kiss when the clock hands struck midnight), and the both of you talked about the future. Your individual futures, and the future you want to have together.

You’d both agreed to take it slow, neither of you needed to rush into this relationship. You both knew you liked each other, that much had been established, and there was a mutual understanding that you had all the time in the world to learn more about each other before defining your relationship. You both understood what you had was exclusive, but neither of you felt labels were necessary. The unnecessary shadow that would loom over your shoulders, creeping up on you until your relationship evidently crumbles under the pressure of societal labels and standards of what a ‘good’ relationship is.

“So what?” Yoongi turns towards Jin, “We’re taking it slow”

“Slow my ass, you both act like you’ve been in a long-term relationship”

“Do not” Yoongi argues, feeling stupid that his reply had come off so juvenile.

“Yeah?” Seokjin challenges, and Yoongi knows he shouldn’t take the bait.

But he does, “Yeah”

“Whose lunchbox is that then?” he points at the prettily wrapped lunch that sat before you on the table. New shiny bento box that Yoongi had ordered online especially for you, with enough layers to make sure you would eat a nutritional lunch. With how many sweets you ate, Yoongi worried you spoiled yourself, so he took on the role of your chef; making sure you were eating healthier.

Yoongi coughs, “Mine. What are you gonna do about it?”

“Tease you” Jin laughs, pushing himself from his seat when Yoongi shoots him a hard glare. Waving at the small group before he makes his descent back to his classroom, a small group of students having filled in what was meant to be an easy lunch.  

“I think you’re doing great, Hyung” Jungkook soothes, smiling over at Taehyung who nudges his side.

“Kookie is right, you don’t have to rush into these things. As long as the two of you are happy, that’s all that counts” Taehyung nods.

“Plus, Jin Hyung is definitely projecting, he’s hiding someone. I just know it” Jungkook nods, head falling onto his boyfriend’s shoulder.

“Yoongi!” you call as you skip towards his lunch table, perking up at your voice.

“Yes?” he pulls out what was once Jin’s chair, pulling you to sit beside him.

“What do you think about these for Holly?” you shove your phone into his face, “I really like the blue one” you mutter.

“They’re lovely, doll” he smiles, taking your phone so the bright screen wasn’t blaring in his eyes, the images more of a blur of colours, messily mixed like paints on a pallet.

“Personally, my favourite is the purple one” you scroll down when Yoongi places the device on the table. He looks down at the little sweater you have on a website that specialises in dog clothes.

“It’s cute” Yoongi agrees.

“But Yoongs, Holly would look good in like red or something” you sigh dramatically, prominent frown pulled at your pretty lips, begging Yoongi to kiss it away.  

Yoongi scrolls up, eyeing the other dog clothes they had on the website, “Why not get both? One for you and one for Holly” he shrugs, “There’s still a few weeks left of winter”

You nod, small smile now tugging at your lips and Yoongi feels somewhat accomplished. He ignores the intruding stares of his two friends sat across the table, kicking Taehyung’s shin when he opens his mouth to surely make a comment on Yoongi’s somewhat soft behaviour. Emotions on display for everyone to see.

“Okay!” you push yourself to stand, “I’m going to find my credit card” you announce and Yoongi grunts at that.

“I’ll pay” he also stands, but you push him back into his seat, shaking your head.

“No, you won’t. It’s my gift”

“Doll” Yoongi stares up at you, and he thinks he sees a crack in your resolve. He smiles when you cover his eyes with your hand.

“Don’t look at me like that” you whine, skin prickling with goosebumps when Yoongi skims his fingers down your arm, blindly seeking out your touch.

“Like what?” he asks, teasing lilt to his tone.

“Like you can tell me what to do”

“Is that so?”

You pull your hands from his eyes, frowning down at the caretaker, “I’m leaving” you tell him.

“I’ll take you out for dinner then” Yoongi calls when you turn away from the table.

“Okay!” you call over your shoulder, “text me later” you wave at him.

Yoongi turns towards Jungkook and Taehyung who have two annoying smiles plastered on their faces.

“Neither of you say a word” he points between them, “Not one”

+ + +

“Y/n!”

You startle, Yoongi using his hand to cushion your elbow before you could whack it on the edge of the table.

Both you and Yoongi turn towards where the honeyed voice came from, and Yoongi let’s out a low grunt when Namjoon saunters towards the table you’re sat at.

Yoongi had asked you out on a little coffee date, nothing too fancy, something to help the two of you wind down from another hectic week of work.

Yoongi had bought you a cake, getting the one that had little cat ears cut from sugar paper, and got himself a black coffee. You got sweet tea, and then you told him everything you’d been up to, talking of parents that had given you gifts at the start of the semester, and that you’d have to give him one of the funnier mugs for his coffee in the morning.

Everything was serene, perfect even. And Yoongi couldn’t have asked for anything more. His favourite girl by his side, with a perfect cup of coffee. Until Kim Namjoon decided to ruin his good mood.

“Namjoon” you greet, empty smile being thrown at the high school teacher.

“Fancy seeing you here” he laughs, inviting himself to your table. Taking a seat opposite Yoongi. Said man places his hand on your thigh gently, silent reassurance that he is there for you just in case this unplanned meeting goes south. And as much as you wanted to tell him to go away, you knew you would see him around work and the last thing you needed was an awkward encounter in the halls, you could feel your skin crawl at the thought of it.

“Yes, funny coincidence” you squeeze out, turning to look at Yoongi who gives you a curt nod.

“And who’s this?” Namjoon motions towards Yoongi, acting as though he was the one who had just barged into his café date. Eyes narrowing in slight distaste.

“Her boyfriend” Yoongi tells him, smug smile unmissable when Namjoon’s smile drops.

He turns to look at you, as if asking for confirmation. You nod, only deepening Namjoon’s frown. Yoongi’s fingers tighten on your thigh, and you feel a dull throb between your legs when he does, squirming a little in place, and if Yoongi notices, he doesn’t make it apparent.

“I didn’t know you two were—” he wags a finger in your general direction, “a thing” he finishes, the words leaving a bad taste on his tongue.

“Not everyone drones on about their relationships, Namjoon” you point out, finding it hard to fight off the smug smile that threatened to show. You see, Namjoon had a track record of bragging about his escapades, either it be a quick fling with a woman who worshiped the ground he walked on (his words, not yours), or short-term relationships where he would boast about every detail of his sex life. Something you had no interest in.

“If you’ll excuse us, I was enjoying my date” you motion to Yoongi beside you, a bored expression taking over his features.

“You heard her” he adds, motioning for Namjoon to leave. Translation: Fuck off.

Yoongi thinks he sees the tips of Namjoon’s ears flush red, slithering its way down his cheeks and neck, and Yoongi feels his heart swell when you lean against his shoulder; Namjoon glaring at the two of you as he stands up.

“Boyfriend, huh?” you ask when Namjoon is out of your general vicinity.

Yoongi turns to look out the window, his silent wish of you not bringing that up clearly not being heard by some higher power.

“Only if that’s okay with you” he mutters.

“Is this you asking me out?” you laugh, head falling backwards, and Yoongi turns, wanting to catch your smile.

“Y/n?” he calls, hand coming to hold your cheek as you tilt your head back down to look at him.

You hum.

“Will you be my girlfriend?”

+ + +

“Okay!” Seokjin claps his hands, “News for this week. Yoongi first”

And all three pairs of eyes land on the caretaker. Now that the weather had started to warm up a little, the sun no longer shying away behind fluffy, cotton candy clouds, lunch times were spent behind the school. Away from students, and the beady eyes of other staff that had a habit of eavesdropping on everyone’s conversations. And then before you knew it, the whole faculty knew about your secrets.

Yoongi places a hand on his chin in thought, “I helped Y/n build a new desk for her classroom and put up some new blinds that she bought. Oh...” he drawls, “And she’s now my girlfriend”

Seokjin’s jaw drops, and Yoongi wants to make a snide comment, being cut out by a loud gasp from his hyung. Jungkook and Taehyung laugh from their spot opposite Yoongi, nodding their congratulations as Jin pinches the bridge of his nose.

“And you didn’t think to text me?” he mutters, mock offense lacing his tone.

“What about your partner Hyung?” Jungkook prods, not missing the wide eyes of the eldest.

“How did you know about that?” he whispers, leaning across the table.

“You were kind of obvious” Taehyung placates, wrapping his arm around his boyfriend’s shoulder.

“So? Who are they?” Yoongi prods, having waited years for his friend to finally spill the beans on this secret relationship he’d been trying to hide (and clearly failed).

“I met her in the town over, she already has a kid, but the father left. We’ve been taking it slow, but I really do like her” he admits, and Taehyung can’t help the mushy smile that takes over his features.

“On the topic of children…” Jungkook trails off, giving a look to his boyfriend, who only nods in encouragement. “We’re planning to adopt”

Yoongi’s eyes widen a little in surprise, it’s not as if the two hadn’t fiddled with the idea of adopting; he just never expected it to be so soon.

“Oh my god” Seokjin cried, “I’m going to be an uncle”

“That’s a really big decision” Yoongi nods, a small smile toying at the edge of his lips.

“It is” Taehyung agrees, “But we both have stable jobs, and a home. Neither of us plan to go anywhere anytime soon”

“What about the wedding?” Jin asks.

“A wedding can happen any time. We both know that we want to spend the rest of our lives together, so there’s no rush really” Jungkook shrugs.

“What about you Hyung? When are you getting married” Taehyung points his attention towards the caretaker.

“He only just asked me to be his girlfriend” your arms wrap around Yoongi’s neck, leaning down to press a featherlight kiss on his cheek.

Yoongi scoots over to make room for you on the bench.

“Not with your friends?” he asks, hand coming to rest on your thigh as you pull your own lunch (courtesy of Yoongi), placing it onto the table.

“Nope” you shake your head, handing him a neatly cut triangular sandwich, “Namjoon came over, so I lost my appetite” you tell him, and he hums in understanding. Muttering a short ‘bastard’ under his breath.

+ + +

Perfect didn’t seem like the right word to describe your relationship with Min Yoongi. It was beyond anything you could have ever asked for. Something that not many people had during their first relationships; trial and error finally pulling you down the path of your soulmate. However, you seemed to hit the jackpot, first try.

Before you knew it a year had flown by, memories floating by like the wind would, caressing your cheek in the morning on the way to school. Days merging into weeks and weeks into months. And even with a mush of weeks and days, Yoongi always made you feel the most special, like you were the only one he had eyes for.

Yoongi had never been the most vocal man, but you’d learnt that he loved you all as much. He would pack your lunches in cute little boxes, and on Friday’s he would slip a little note into your bag with plans for the weekend or a shopping list so you could both wander around the supermarket as soon as the home time bell rigs. He would come to your classroom after school with cold drinks in the summer and overly sweet hot chocolate in the winter.

Although he would never admit it, he really did like the tiramisu from that shitty Italian restaurant at the end of street, and he thought it was ridiculous how many dates the both of you had spent in there. He’d voiced out a concern one evening, you sprawled across his bed like a dream, with your favourite candle lit, and Holly filling the gap between your bodies; he worried he wasn’t doing enough. You had told him you really didn’t care, as long as you were together, even lounging in bed for the day made you happy. And as if to prove a point, you and Yoongi had spent the whole day in bed together, binging your favourite shows (amongst other things).

You walked around fair grounds together, shared secrets between kisses, and it was the small things that he would do for you, that reminded you that Min Yoongi really did love you. Like washing your face of an evening or picking up snacks from the convenience store because he knew you’d ran out.

You remember the evening he opened up about his music, not just a silly little hobby like he had initially told you. He told you about how cathartic it was for him to produce. He showed you notebook upon notebook of lyrics that he had written from his teens through to his adult years; a little window into the man you were dating.

You know he likes dogs more than cats; you know he adores Holly. You know he hates sweet coffee, the bitter taste on his tongue somewhat of a comfort for him. You know he liked to stay home rather than melt within a crowd of rowdy people. And if the two of you ever found yourself trapped with too many sounds and too many bodies, Yoongi would place his hand on the back of your neck, reassurance that he was still there, helping ground you from all the overflowing number of stimuli that were trying to scratch at your brain.

Min Yoongi liked to cook, liked to experiment in the kitchen and he loved it even more when he could cook for you. He liked watching your face light up when you liked something, he liked the way your nose would scrunch up in that cute way when a taste was unfamiliar or too bitter.

Yoongi liked the curtains in your apartment, thin in a way the sun would caress your skin as it woke before you. As he would lay there, fingers trailing over the naked skin of your back, loving the way you’d slowly start to become conscious of the world around you. And the smile that would stretch onto your face, unconditional love mingled with tired eyes as you woke up to the sight of sleep roughed Yoongi first thing in the morning.

Yoongi liked the winter more than he did the summer. Maybe it was because that is when he first worked up the courage to talk to you.

Yoongi liked wearing the colour black, something so simple but looked so good on him. He, however, adored when you’d wear colourful shirts, dresses that complimented the tone of your skin, and he thinks if he were to turn this into a metaphor, you were the one who finally brought colour into his monotone life. An endless cycle of loneliness that he hadn’t realised he was drowning in before he had met you.

Yoongi liked that when you had moved into his home, small parts of you leaked into his, your, living space. Canvases of unfinished paintings, and photos from your childhood. His closet was no longer half empty, overflowing with a concoction of both your clothes. Odd pieces of furniture that you hadn’t wanted to let go of now filling the gaps of his once arguably scarce apartment.

Min Yoongi loved you.

He loved everything about you.

He loved how kind you were, patient in a way that only a kindergarten teacher could be. He liked that with others you always seemed a little reserved, shy in your actions, but with him you had no qualms about what you said or how you acted. Min Yoongi loved you because you always thought of him as much as he thought of you. He would feel his heart flutter when you would leave coffee on the desk in his office or help him pick out what shirt to wear to work.

Min Yoongi loved that you were the last thing he would see before he went to sleep, with his arm slung around your waist, and he loved that from the minute he would wake up, there you were, right by his side.

Min Yoongi loved that you were the last missing puzzle piece of his life. Fitting ever so perfectly in the gap he never knew was missing.

+ + +

“Yoongi, hold on” you gasp, head falling back into the plethora of pillows he had thrown onto the bed.

‘So you’re comfy’ Yoongi had frowned. And if you could think a coherent thought maybe you would thank him. Your head rocking up into the pillow padded headboard; pleasure licking up your spine.

You feel Yoongi’s tongue flick at your clit, a mixture of his own spit and your arousal dripping down his chin like liquid honey. And Yoongi makes sure to try and save every delicious mouthful of your essence. Something so uniquely you, so sweet, something that only Yoongi gets the pleasure to taste; because he had no plans of letting you go anytime soon.

Your boyfriend prods his tongue at your entrance, your legs shaking as his thumb gently brushes over your overstimulated clit. You see, Yoongi had this game, he liked to see how long he could eat you out, and how many times he could make you cum before he fucked you senseless on his cock. Leaving your clit to throb in a mixture of want and denial, swollen from being toyed with.

“One more, baby” he takes a deep breath, wasting no time in diving his tongue into you, molten arousal coating his lips, and as much as Yoongi loved it when your thighs would clamp round his head, today he wanted you bare. Spread out prettily just for him to devour. So, he holds your thighs open, straining them as he tries to push his head as far between your thighs as physically possible, lips pulling into a grin when you thrust your hips to meet his tongue; chasing your own pleasure.

He feels your fingers thread with his hair when he pushes his tongue in a little deeper, thumb still strumming at your clit. And he wonders if he could make you cum from just playing with your clit alone. He’d made you cum just from toying with your nipples once, the picture of you, flushed face, a sheen of sweat coating both of your bodies as his teeth clamped down on your puffy nipples, red raw from his mouth, and he remembers the surprised moan you’d graced him with when you had come.  

“I can’t” you moan, mouth falling open.

Yoongi grunts, pulling his face away from your cunt, his index finger sinking into your entrance.

“Yes, you can” he tells you, fingers delving, eager to find that spot which will make you see stars, groaning at the sound you let out when he sinks a second finger into your greedy cunt.

He uses his other arm to hold down your waist as you try to eagerly buck into his fingers, little whimpers tumbling from your lips, and Yoongi thinks that was his favourite sound. He had asked once to add your moans to a song, your cheeks had flushed, laughing like Yoongi had been joking. And then your boyfriend had fucked you in his home office, with your hand clamped over your mouth, a little game to see how long you could stay silent.

He was surprised how long you’d been able to keep it up, and it had become his own personal goal to make sure you moaned his name every time he played with you.

“Please, please, please” you whine breathlessly.

“Please what, baby? I can’t help you of you don’t tell me what’s wrong” he frowns, tone mocking as he slows his fingers to a gentle thrust.

“No, no, Yoongi faster please” you cry, tilting your head to look at him, and Yoongi leans up to brush the stray tears from your cheeks, sadistic smile on his face.

“Yeah?” he asks, watching as you nod; pitiful as you rock your hips to try and push his fingers deeper inside of you.

Your boyfriend leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your pouty lips, your sad frown enough for him to finally give you what you want.

He trails his lips down your body, stopping to press a gentle kiss to your nipples, tongue flicking out to toy with them as you wiggle underneath him, shuddering breath reverberating around the otherwise silent room.

“Cum one more time and then I’ll fuck you” he mutters, “Okay, baby?”

You hum, and Yoongi pushes himself off your body.

“Words” he reminds you, and you have to wrack your brain.

“Yes”

“Good girl” he pushes his head back between his legs, something comforting about being here; like Yoongi belonged, sandwiched between your thighs.

Two of his fingers strum at your clit, a breathy chuckle fanning over your sensitive cunt when he laughs as you moan. His tongue lapping up the arousal that had started to dribble from your hole.

“You’re really wet, baby”

You hum, not quite sure you heard him or not. But Yoongi laps up another string of your essence, acting more like a starved puppy than a man, but he supposes he always was a little feral around you.

“Think you can squirt for me?” he grunts, exchanging his tongue for his fingers as the wet muscle in his mouth now plays with your clit.

He suctions the sensitive pearl, teeth grazing it as he sinks three fingers into your hole. You moan into a pillow, thighs once again shaking as Yoongi thrusts his fingers into you in quick succession. He can feel your walls clench around him sporadically, tips of his fingers nudging that spongy tissue as he curls them upwards.

“Cum, baby” he grunts, wrist straining as he tries to keep a steady pace.

He feels his fingers being pushed from your hole as you squirt, his shirt soaking through with your juices. Your thighs shakes as he pushes his fingers back into your cunt, thrusting them in a couple of times before more of your arousal leaks onto the bed sheets.

“How messy” he tuts, pulling his shirt from over his head.

“Your fault” you argue, chest rising and falling, uneasy as you catch your breath.

Yoongi pushes himself up your body, arms flexing as he leans down to press a kiss to your lips; a lot slower, more passionate than those from prior in the evening.

Yoongi brushes a wet piece of hair from your face, your forehead glazed with a thin layer of sweat.

“You did so well for me” he whispers, hands trailing down the sides of your body, an attempt to ground you a little. When he sees a little more clarity in your eyes, legs not still shaking where they rest against his thighs he presses a gentle kiss to your cheeks.

“Think you can take my cock?” he asks, “We don’t have to do anything else if you don’t want to” he reminds you.

You nod, “I’m okay, I don’t know if I can cum again though”

“Guess we’ll have to check” he pushes himself to sit on his knees.

Yoongi ignores you as you eye his sweats, hard shaft hardly veiled by the grey fabric. And you think you are moments away from jumping the man. With how perfect he looked in the orange glow of the lamplight, chin shining in your arousal. It was hard to stop your pussy from leaking, and it would have been a little embarrassing just how wet you were if you didn’t know Yoongi absolutely loved when you got like this for him.

You watch as he leans across the bed, lithe fingers tugging the drawer open. Your fingers toy with the waist band of his sweats, and Yoongi lets out a breathy chuckle when you tug on them.

Your boyfriend sits up, shiny foil packet held between two fingers, those same two fingers that had brought you to your high twice already tonight.

“Can I help?” you push yourself to sit up, biting your lip at the dull throbbing between your thighs.

Yoongi hands the condom to you, scooting himself off the bed to discard the rest of his clothes. You watch as he pulls off his sweats, having foregone any underwear that evening, and your eyes train on his cock.

You think that your boyfriend maybe had the prettiest cock, he took pride in grooming himself; always making sure to be clean. You can only wonder how long it must have been erected for, cockhead an angry red, shiny with Yoongi’s own arousal, little beads of pre-cum cascading down his length.

You lean forwards, taking the girthy cock into your hands, the familiar weight making you salivate a little. You run the tip over your lips, coating it in Yoongi’s pre-cum.

“No teasing, doll” he grunts, and you smile, pulling back.

You roll the latex over his shaft, leaving it to bob uselessly against the skin of his stomach as he climbs back onto the bed.

“You sure you’re, okay?” he checks, helping lay you down comfortably, lifting the lower half of your body by your ankles, his other hand grabbing a pillow to cushion your hips.

He drops your legs back onto the bed, watching as you smile up at him.

“Come here” you tell him, and Yoongi obliges, humming into the gentle kiss you place on his lips, your own cum still staining the taste of him.

He wraps your thighs around his waist, one arm holds him up as he lines himself with your entrance.

Your mouth falls open into a silent ‘o’ when he pushes the head in, and Yoongi always makes sure to watch your face when he finally fucks you; not only as reassurance that you like what’s happening but so he knows just the right spot to drill into you.

Yoongi holds your hips as you try to rock forwards, his own hips stuttering in anticipation; but he holds himself back, liking the intimacy of having you sprawled out beneath him, fully trusting that he’ll take care of you. There had always been something so fulfilling to Yoongi about these intimate moments with you, your bodies joining to become one, your body pliant to his every move.

His hands leave your hips, skimming up your body before lacing his finger between your own.

“You good?” he whispers, unsure if he could utter anything more with how warm and wet you were, cunt clenching rhythmically around his length.

“Yeah” you whisper back, fingers tightening around his own when he gently pulls out before thrusting back into you.

Something akin to a squeak, tumbles from your lips when Yoongi picks up his pace, hands never letting go of yours as his hips snap forwards, thighs slapping against thighs with nothing more than the music of your bodies filling the silence of your bedroom.

Yoongi can only describe the sounds coming from you as pornographic, his thrusts pushing you up a little on the bed, he feels your nails dig into the skin of his hands, his own grunts mirroring your own pleasure.

“So close, so close” he chants, using whatever strength he has left in his arms to lean down, greedily sucking your left nipple between his teeth, teasing nips sending jolts of pleasure down your body.

Your boyfriend can feel your legs shake as he sucks a love bite just above the sensitive skin of your nipple, your hips bucking to meet his own.

He lets go of one of your hands, “Play with yourself, pretty. Let’s cum together”

You nod, sweat trickling down your neck as you trail a hand down your body. Slicking up your fingers from where Yoongi thrusts into you, your fingers start to play with your clit, jolt of pleasure causing your cunt spasm around Yoongi’s cock.

“Gonna cum” you whine, Yoongi’s teeth clamping around your nipple enough to push you over the edge.

Your legs tighten around his waist, stopping Yoongi’s sloppy thrusts, as you push him as deep inside of you as humanly possible. Your mind a blank slate as it rewires, slowly trying to become conscious of your surroundings.

You feel his cock twitch, his own cum shooting him the condom.

Yoongi collapses on top of you, a rush of air squeezing from your lungs when he lands with a dull thump.

“Ouch” you giggle, not protesting when his arms snake around your waist, flipping the two of over so you lay gently on his chest. 

Yoongi’s fingers brush through your damp hair, “You did so well for me, pretty” he tells you, golden glow of the lamp illuminating him in that post-orgasmic bliss. If you though Yoongi looked good on a normal day, you had been utterly in awe when you’d seen him after he’d came.

“Thank you”

“For what?” he laughs, chest rumbling under your ear.

“Making me cum three times”

“Nothing I like more than my girl feeling good”

You hum at that, trying to push yourself up. Yoongi grunts, tugging you tighter against his chest.

“Yoongs I need to pee, and I feel all sticky” you complain, fingers toying with the divot of his collarbone.

“5 minutes”

“Min Yoongi” you laugh, pinching the skin of his neck.

“Fine but be quick” he loosens his arms. When you push yourself to sit, he pulls you back down.

“Hey!” you complain.

“Need a kiss first” he puckers up his lips, and you indulge him this one time, never in a hurry when it came to kissing your love.

And as you wash up in the bathroom, door slightly ajar where he can see you milling around, his fingers play with the little beaded bracelet you’d gifted him when you spent that first Christmas together.

Yoongi loved you a lot, more than he would ever be able to describe in words. He loved that he could give you a helping hand no matter the situation, and the shiny little ring, hidden away in his nightstand shrouded in a pretty, purple velvet box was his promise to you; that he would stay by your side for the rest of his life.  

---

Pick of the Patch | KTH 

banner by @persphonesorchid :]

Summary: You’re a struggling artist with a strong desire to escape so when your mother suddenly calls and asks you to return home to replace her in this years Harvest Festival dance, you never said yes faster. However, she informs you that you’ll be working with another dancer, Kim Taehyung and upon meeting, you decide you do not like him…but right when you think you could grow up and move past it, Taehyung makes it clear that he does not like you either

Pairing: Taehyung x female reader Genre: fluff, angst, smut, enemies to lovers Word Count: 20.9k  Warnings: swearing, some alcohol consumption, sad oc, feeling lost, feelings of regret, Taehyung is kinda an asshole (for reasons🥺), illness, character death, crying,  FLIRTING. smut warnings: so much flirting, little dirty talk, mentions of sex, sensual making out lol, oral (fem rec) vaginal fingering, protected sex, multiple orgasms, slight overstimulation, ass and breast groping, I think that is it.

A/N: sorry it is a day late, I had some personal stuff:] this is a part of the Autumn Leaves Collab! 

© taestefully-in-luv

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Every fallen leaf and any breeze that feels crisp enough to bite at your skin, sucks you into your favorite memories that almost feel forgotten. They’re not forgotten but with how hectic your life has been…well, yeah, almost. Summer has been replaced with the season that brings the most change and good god, you could use some change.

You left home years ago to pursue your dreams of becoming an artist—your mother urged you to follow that dream despite how little you visited home nowadays. Every phone call or text is just your mother continuously cheering you on and giving you the hope that you can be worry free. She’s good. She’s happy. And all she wants is for you to live your dream.

It’s too bad that the dream you wished for isn’t exactly all you imagined. Your art career was once thriving but lately…the last year or more…it’s come to a sudden halt. No inspiration, no motivation and when you do create something it lacks any depth—meaningless. 

You stand here, the sky painted in a light gray as orange leaves fly across creating an interesting mix of colors. Funny, mix of colors feels a lot like your mix of emotions. It’s been a while since you stood in front of your childhood home and it’s been a while since going to the Harvest Festival—you know, the entire reason your mom asked you to come back home for a bit. 

When you were a child the Harvest Festival was the most magical time of year. Who cared about something like Christmas when you had the season of change? Colors transformed, cool breezes ran through your body and soul and the most important thing of all? The Festival that brought this town together. Especially the Harvest Festival dance. 

You smile to yourself, eyes on the autumn decorations your mother put out in the yard. She leads the dance every single year. When you were a kid, you watched your mother dance beautifully to the sound of drums and wind instruments. You watched in awe, copying all of her moves and bragging to everyone that it was your mom. Your mom who made the feeling of change feel so welcoming.  

Your mom called you around a week ago. Asking about how your art was doing and you decided to be honest with her—it wasn’t going well. You almost wanted to cry into the phone but your mom only sighed out and a smile could be heard in her voice. “What perfect timing.” Is the first thing she said. And then she was asking you to come back home for a little while to replace her in this year’s Harvest Festival dance. She explained that she isn’t the same young and vibrant woman she once was…frankly, she’s tired. But what better than her daughter to take over this time around? 

You thought about it only momentarily. This was the perfect escape. So, here you are. Standing in front of your childhood home and trying your hardest to embrace something like a change. 

“Hello?” You call out, poking your head inside the house. It’s quiet but you’re immediately hit with the smell of cookies that you imagine are still in the oven or just came out. “Mom?” 

“y/n?” You hear the sweet voice of your mother before her body turns around the corner down the hall. She lights up. Smile so wide that you already feel like you never left home to begin with. “Hurry!” she waves you over, “You’re going to let all the heat out if you keep that door open.”

You glance behind you before trying to haul your luggage through the doorway, “Sorry, sorry.” 

“How was your trip?” She begins walking closer to you, “Long, huh?”

“It was fine.” You shrug, meeting her halfway to give her a hug. As she gets closer, it kind of hits you that you have been away too long. Your mother looks older than you remember, her skin duller and when she hugs you, it feels frail. But this doesn’t stop you from hugging her tight. You missed her.

“I lost track of time,” Your mom hugs you back just as tight. “So I still haven’t made up your bed yet. The sheets are hanging but I can—”

“No worries,” You pull away from her. “I can do it. Did you make cookies?” You begin strolling down the hall until you’re entering the kitchen and then you grin excitedly. “Oh! You did.”

“You haven’t been home in ages, of course I would make your favorite cookies to celebrate.” Your mom comes in behind you, “But you barely have time to eat any, you really should get going.”

“Huh?” You question her nonchalantly, your focus is on the tray of cookies that lay on the countertop. You start picking at a few but they’re still too warm. “What are you talking about? Go where?”

“The studio!” She swats your hand from the tray of cookies. “Leave them alone until they’re ready. You really never change.” She chuckles to herself. “Anyway, you were supposed to be there half an hour ago.”

You turn to face your mom, “What? I just got here.” You look disappointed. “I thought we could think of some dinner plans and maybe watch a mo—”

“—y/n,” She cuts you off with a soft smile, “The Festival is in three weeks and I doubt you remember any of the steps. Taehyung is already there, he’s been teaching classes for me lately. But he’s also in charge of the dance for the fest—”

“Who?”

“Taehyung. You don’t remember Taehyung, honey?” Your mom tilts her head, “Ah, well you barely came by the studio anymore by the time he was there…I guess that makes sense.” 

You blink at your mom for a few seconds before trying to gather your thoughts, “I’m confused.” You say slowly, “Why is Taehyung…” You trail off, kind of hoping your mom gets where you’re going.

“Oh. You two are both the leads for the dance.” She says like it’s no big deal, her busy hands already at the sink to wash a few dishes. “You’ll be working together.” 

“You never said I would be working with someone?” You come next to her, leaning against the counter. “You never danced with anyone?”

“Things have changed.” She smiles down at the dishes, bowl in hand as she scrubs. “We started incorporating group dances as well as solo ones. But this year, you and Taehyung will dance together. For the finale.”

“For the…wait, I have to dance with some person I don’t know?”

“It really isn’t a big deal, not sure why you’re dragging this on. Plus!” She takes a towel and starts drying the bowl, “You and Taehyung are going to really hit it off, trust me.”

“Hit it…mom. Are you trying to set me up?”

Her head whips in your direction, an exaggerated expression on her face. “I would do no such thing!” 

“Right.” You narrow your eyes at her. “So this Taehyung…”

“Oh he is just…a very, very good boy. He’s mature, talented and so incredible. Basically the son I never had!” She sings out cutely, “You’ll get along. I wouldn’t have asked you to do this if I thought you two wouldn’t at least get along, come on, y/n.” 

Well, that feels fair, you think. “Okay…so I’m supposed to be there? Now?”

“Well, 30 minutes ago.” She reminds you, “But knowing you, you were probably walking around the neighborhood, taking your sweet time.”

Your cheeks get warm because she’s right. “Not really…” You murmur but you crack a smile when you hear your mom laughing.

“Take my car. You remember where the studio is, right?”

“Yes, mom.” You deadpan. “I wouldn’t forget where that’s at when you’ve owned that place since before I was born.”

“It’s just been a while.” She still smiles at you but you feel a slight pang of guilt. It has been a while. Probably way too long. You wonder how much you’ve missed out on. 

“Okay, I guess I’ll be back later then?”

“Yeah! Taehyung will be there, you won’t miss him! Tall, handsome, has the sweetest smile.” 

“Uh huh.” You wave her off before slipping into the hall and finding the bathroom to quickly check your appearance before heading out. 

~

The dance studio your mom owns where she teaches dance classes is very nearby. Not even a 10 minute drive. The town has changed though, construction, new parks and cafés you don’t ever remember seeing…so you don’t actually make it within 10 minutes…considering you had to take a detour thanks to construction and you got lost. 

But finally, after 20 minutes, you make it to the studio. You notice the building has a had a paint job and there’s even a bench with a few potted plants outside the entrance. Cute, you think. You open the door and a soft ding goes off but it’s drowned out by the music coming from the back where the practice rooms are. You glance around, few decorations and framed photos of past students hang on the walls. A particular portrait catches your eye though. A huge landscape painting on the wall where the front desk is and you can’t help the heat in your cheeks as you gaze at it. You painted this back when you were in middle school…you can’t believe your mom still has never taken it down.

You walk slowly, legs taking you to the back to the main practice room where you know the music is coming from plus the voices of people. There’s maybe around 12 people back here, eyes going to you only temporarily before they’re going back to what they are doing. You glance around, feeling a little out of place, eyes going everywhere but in front of you.

“Yeah, ow.” A deep voice suddenly speaks up. Your head snaps up to see you might have stepped on some guys foot as you were walking. “Might help if you actually looked where you were going.”

“Oh shit” You blurt before looking around again but then your eyes go back to the man who stands before you. “Sorry, sorry.” You apologize immediately. “I—“

“Please show it to me again!” A girl wraps her fingers around this guy’s arm. “You know I am terrible at instructions.” She giggles and you look between them. This girl looks a little ridiculous as she fawns over this guy. He is attractive but damn. You find his eyes and his are already on you. He’s not necessarily glaring but you didn’t realize accidentally stepping on someone’s foot was this offensive. 

His eyes narrow at you before releasing a long breath, “Instead of being sorry you should use your eyes.” He’s cold with a harden expression on his face. Lips turned down. 

“It was literally an accident.” You say, trying to understand this guys problem. “So what? I’m not supposed to apologize?”

“You can do what you want.” He dismisses you, turning his body towards the girl before smiling at her. Yeah, smiling. Something you weren’t sure he was capable of. “Then why are you taking dance lessons?” He teases her. “It’s just to spend time with me, isn’t it?” 

“You caught me.” The girl laughs into her hand. Then her eyes go to you, “Uh,” She glances around awkwardly, “Are you taking lessons too or?”

“Oh. This is actually my mom’s studio.” You inform her calmly, trying to ignore the way the guy literally rolls his eyes at that. “I’m looking…for…” You look around the room when you spot a guy at the corner. He’s talking to two other people. Tall, handsome and has a sweet smile. “Never mind,” You suddenly smile while sighing. “Found him.” 

You walk across the room to introduce yourself to who you are sure is Taehyung…but your mom could have mentioned how broad his shoulders are! You get closer and his eyes find you and he smiles immediately. Yup, it’s him.

“y/n?” He asks. Well, at least he knows about you. “Your mom said you’d be coming in today! Said I had to have all kinds of good food for you guys. And told me not to show up if I didn’t have your favorite. Choco pies, right?”

“Oh.” You blink at him, surprised. “I do like them, yeah.” 

“Awesome. You guys have a lot of work to do.” Then he leans in to whisper, “No offense, without your mom…it’s a bit of a mess.” 

“Well, I guess we have to do a good job, right?” You smile for him. “When did you start teaching classes here? I didn’t realize my mom hired anyone else.”

He looks taken aback for a second, “What?” 

“Dance—“

“Dance?” He snorts. “Only craft I’m into is food.”

Now it’s your turn to look taken aback, “But she said…wait…who are you?”

“Right.” He snorts again. “Always forgetting people need an introduction. I’m Jin! I met your mom years ago when I started working as a vendor for the festival. I have my own café though. But your mom has me catering sometimes before the festival to give the dancers some good food to regain some energy.” 

“Food…Jin?” You pull your brows together, clearly you were wrong. You quickly glance around the room again before eyes go back to Jin. “You’re…you’re not Taehyung?” 

“Taehyung?” Jin laughs loudly, “Of course not! Is that who you were looking for?”

“Well, yeah.” You nod awkwardly. “I thought you were him, sorry.” You offer a sheepish smile but Jin just waves you off.

“It’s okay. Your mom brags about you all the time so I know what you look like because she’s shown photos. But no, I’m not Taehyung. Didn’t you already meet him?” Jin looks behind you before raising his hand and pointing behind you. “Over there?”

You’re quick to turn around, eyes roaming around the room but you don’t see anyone that could possibly be Taehyung. “No?”

“Taehyung isn’t hard to miss, y/n.” Jin chuckles and he points again. You follow his fingers and it points to—no. 

“That’s….” You turn back to face Jin. Cheeks hot. “That’s Taehyung?”

“The one and only. You guys are working together, right?” 

“Uh…” You shake your head, still confused, “You’re saying that guy? Over there? Is Taehyung? The super mature, handsome dude? That’s supposed to be him?”

“I guess he is handsome.” Jin rolls his eyes. “Anyway, do you want me to introduce you guys? Properly?”

You’re rushing to shake your head, rejecting the offer. “No, no.” You wave your hands around, “That’s okay. I think I can manage.” 

“Alright, well, I’m going to start bringing some things over. Good luck on today’s practice.” 

“Thanks.” You murmur before spinning in your spot and eyeing the man you met earlier. So that’s Taehyung…not what you were expecting. But it’s okay. First impressions don’t have to mean everything. You’ll just properly introduce yourself and things should be fine. Does it sting that apparently you accidentally stepping on his foot means he’s cold with you right before talking to some girl and flirting with her? Maybe. Because it was an accident.

But it’s okay. You move your feet and head back over to where Taehyung stands, hands on that girl’s hips as she tries out some moves. She sucks. You aren’t sure if she genuinely sucks or she just wants Taehyung’s hands on her. Doesn’t look like he’s complaining though.

“Hi.” You stop in front of them and the feeling of being irked only intensifies. Taehyung stops what he’s doing to close his eyes and take a deep breath but then he opens his eyes again and continues what he was doing. He completely ignored you.

“Hi…” You try again. But nothing. You motion your hand in front of his face, “I said hi.”

“Yeah, I have ears and I use them.” He finally mutters before glancing at you. “Unlike you and your eyes.” 

“I said it was an accident.” You try to speak calmly. “Anyway—”

“—And then you’ll want to put your left leg…no your other left leg,” He chuckles, the girl giggling along as he ignores you again to continue his lesson. 

“Wow.” You murmur to yourself. Nodding your head as you try to not to scoff. This guy is going to really start pissing you off. “So anyway, I just came to introduce myself since we will be—”

“—You know, I don’t think I have ever met someone this dense.” Taehyung’s hands leave the girls hips, his voice directed towards her but you know he’s talking about you. “Can you believe it?”

The girl laughs awkwardly, her eyes going to you before she whispers, “Are…are you talking about…”

Finally Taehyung turns to face you fully, his expression looks bored as he eyes you over. “y/n. Yeah, hi. No need for introductions. I know exactly who you are.”

You look at him in disbelief. “You do?” You ask slowly. “Okay.”

Taehyung raises his wrist and looks at his watch, “Wow, an entire hour late. You’re really the pick of the patch, huh?” 

“I just flew in today.” You defend, voice still calm. “My mom didn’t tell me I was supposed to be here until—”

“We have three weeks to make this the best festival dance anyone’s ever seen. But you can’t even show up on time.” Taehyung scoffs, “At least tell me you remember basic steps?”

“Like the ones my mom did in the past?”

“Yup.”

“Um, I think so. It’s been a while so—”

“Sure has, hasn’t it? When was the last time you came home?” He asks, an arrogant atmosphere clouding the area. “Or do you even know?”

“I’m sorry,” You try not to laugh, “Can’t help but sense some tension here.” 

“Oh, the spidey senses work unlike her eyes.” Taehyung tells the girl.

“I’m sorry, do you not like me for some reason?” You finally ask him right out. 

“Yeah, for some reason.” Taehyung dismisses you again, “Anyway, sorry Ida. I got to establish a routine with this one over here,” He motions towards you, “Work with Jimin when he gets here. He can help you.” 

“Oh, Jimin’s coming?” The girl—Ida—brightens before she’s walking to the other side of the room to join a few others. 

“Okay,” He takes another deep breath before facing you. “Show me what you remember.” 

“What?” You take a step back, feeling put on the spot. “I don’t know what I remember! Plus, isn’t it going to be different since we’re doing something…” you gesture between your bodies, “You know, together.”

“You should still know the basics, y/n.” Taehyung rubs his temples, “Don’t tell me you don’t even know that much? I can’t believe you’re Auntie’s daughter.” He looks genuinely disappointed. 

“Just…” Your cheeks feel warm, you try to remain calm but you’re feeling embarrassed. “Just show me, I’m sure I’ll get familiar pretty quickly.” 

Taehyung stares at you, his eyes boring into yours and you don’t let yourself feel intimidated. “Fine.” He finally says, “But if you don’t pick it up quickly, I’m just going to have Ida replace you.”

You scoff at this, “That girl didn’t even know which leg was her left leg.”

“And you don’t know how to use your eyes.” The corner of his lip lifts, “So are you really one to talk?” 

“Just teach me so we can get this over with.”

“Wow, look at you, saying things that I don’t disagree with.” Taehyung deadpans, “You have no idea how much I would also love to get this over with.” 

~

“How is it that you got the basic steps but you don’t know how to work with a freaking partner?” Taehyung groans while rubbing the top of his foot. “How many times are you going to step on me, y/n?”

“It isn’t my fault!” You whine, “We just aren’t in sync.”

“Because you don’t know how to follow my lead.”

“Maybe you aren’t a good leader.”

“Or maybe you don’t know how to listen.”

“You know what,” You plop your bottom on the ground, legs crossing in front of you. “Maybe we just need to take a break.” 

“A break?” Taehyung looks at you incredulously. “We have three-“

“—Yes, three weeks to perfect this dance between us. Yeah, you’ve told me like seven times now.”

“Do I need to say it an eighth for you to get it?” He sits next to you before he’s leaning back, spreading his legs and looking up at the ceiling. “This is a really important year, you know?”

“Because it’s your debut?” You joke. “Now that my mom isn’t the main one?”

“Your mom…” Taehyung sighs out, “Has made the festival special for years…people are going to really feel her absence this year and we have to be good enough as the replacements.” 

Well, someone’s a perfectionist, you think.

“And,” He continues, “She’s going to be a part of that crowd that watches and don’t you want to make her happy? Proud?”

You look down at Taehyung, he’s lying on the dance floor, arms resting behind his head. “Of course I want my mom to feel happy.”

“Then let’s do a good job.” He says. His eyes still on the ceiling and he speaks much more softly. “We can do that much for her.” 

“Okay…” you mumble. “But I think we’ve been at this forever. A break really could be a good thing.” 

Taehyung sits up, his head nodding. “Okay. Let’s head to the botanical garden, where the festival is taking place. Some of the other dancers are there, the group dancers are already practicing on that stage.” 

“Oh. It’s been a while.” You say, beginning to stand when you hear Taehyung chuckle humorlessly.

“Yeah, it has.” 

You glance at him but ignore his snide comment. “Anyway, there’s already festivities at the gardens, right? Like the hay ride and corn maze and whatever.”

Taehyung stands now too, “Don’t forget the most popular thing there.” He laughs a little, “The pumpkin patch. I was thinking of buying a couple to carve.”

“Not a fan.” You say nonchalantly, walking towards the mirrored wall where your bag is lying on the floor.

“Of what?”

“The pumpkin patch.” You shrug. “Pumpkins gross me out.”

“What?” Taehyung narrows his eyes at you, “You can’t be serious. It’s…pumpkins. It’s literally the thing everyone loves most? You can carve them? Paint them? Aren’t you an artist??” 

“Give me a blank canvas, please. Not a gross little pumpkin.”

“Are you really Auntie’s daughter?” Taehyung asks with big eyes, “Your mom loves the pumpkins! I swear she has like 10 outside her house right now.” 

“…How close are you with my mom anyway?” You ask him but he just blinks at you for a few moments before his gaze hardens again and he scoffs.

“A lot closer than you.” He turns to start leaving, “Let’s go.”

~~~

It’s around 8pm when you finally make it back to your house. You’re parked in the driveway, looking around to see a lot of different cars parked around. You don’t remember this street being that busy. You brush it off and open the trunk to pull a few bags of groceries. 

Hands full, because you’ll be damned if you made two trips and struggling to get the front door open. Finally, after a what felt like an eternity of struggling, you manage to get through the door. You announce your arrival in a sing song voice but you stop in your tracks when you see your mom and four other ladies plus one man seated in the living area to the left. “Oh.” You blurt before one of the bags falls to the ground.

“y/n!” Your mom stands with a huge smile, “You’re home already? We just got some coffee started…” She looks around, “My book club.” She finally explains. “We meet pretty often…I hope you don’t mind.”

“We get a little rowdy.” A woman with short silver hair raises a fist up, “We can’t help it.”

“Not rowdy, Soonja. Passionate.” Another lady speaks up. “You’ll scare away a potential new member when you use words like that.”

“So you want me to lie, Eunja?” The first woman, Soonja, asks with a smirk on her lips. “You told me to stop doing that!” 

“I meant when it came to if you actually read the chapter in the book!” Eunja exclaims, “And of course when someone asks how old you are.”

“I’m a woman. I’m supposed to lie about my age once my hair turns gray.” She waves her off, “Plus you’re the real liar. You dye your hair black.”

“I do not!” Eunja looks offended, “It’s natural.”

“Psh,”

“You’re y/n?” Another lady with long hair stands from one of the sofas, “Ignore them.” She smiles. “They only know how entertain us. I’m Jiwon.” 

“Oh.” You quickly give her a nod and smile. “Sorry I didn’t mean to interrupt.” 

“You didn’t interrupt.” The man says, “The book was getting boring anyway.”

“I beg to differ!” Another woman speaks up. “You just don’t have the emotional intelligence to understand the depth of this particular chapter.”

“And you do?” He raises a brow at her.

“I can’t believe they’re married.” Soonja scoffs. “Anyway, y/n. Your mom says you’re in town for a little while?”

“Uh, yeah.” Your arms hurt from the groceries you’re carrying. “Probably longer than my mom knows about.” You laugh and you catch your mom’s gaze when she looks confused before she’s smiling gently towards you. 

“You want to stay longer?” she asks.

“We can talk about it later.” You shake your head, still smiling. “Anyway, I should put these away! I’ll leave you all to it.”

“Sounds good!” Your mom calls out as you start making your way to the kitchen. 

It’s after 9pm now. You’re sitting at the humble breakfast table in the kitchen, fingers busy on your laptop as you search up some things. It’s hard to concentrate with the constant banter and laughter happening on the other side of the house. Soonja wasn’t kidding, they are rowdy. You’re starting to wonder if the coffee they’re drinking is spiked. But it sounds like they’re all having fun, including your mom. You’re glad she hasn’t been lonely.

That was the main thing holding you back from moving far away to pursue your art career. You didn’t want to leave your mom but your mom is the one who urged you to leave. She cheered you on and supported you in ways you’re always going to be grateful for. But seeing how busy she is, gives you comfort that she’s been okay all this time. 

“Wow,” Your mom walks into the kitchen after finally seeing her last guest out. “You know our book club is supposed to end at 8:30?! But I swear everyone loses their ability to read time once we’re together.” She laughs as she takes a seat next to you at the table.

You look at her with soft eyes, “I think I heard you guys talk about the book maybe twice.”

“Hey,” Your mom shushes you, “Don’t you know the book is only half the fun?”

“Half? That’s a little generous, don’t you think?” You tease your mom and she just laughs it off.

“They’re a fun group, huh?”

“Seems like it.” You agree with her, “When did this start?”

“Hmm maybe what? Four years ago?” She wonders and you feel your guilt deepen. Damn, how long has it been since you’ve returned here? You didn’t even know about this book club.

“Oh. Nice.” You murmur. “Oh yeah. I kind of, uh…well, I was thinking of staying for a while.”

Your moms face brightens, “How long is a while?”

“Maybe just 6 months or so. I think some time home could be good.” You admit to her and she softens.

“Of course. Whatever is going to make you happy, y/n. I know the house is a little cramped but we can make it work!”

“Actually, about that.” You eye her carefully. “I was thinking of getting my own place? Nearby, of course. But—”

“Of course!” Your mom cuts in, excited. “Your own space and privacy is very important. I know a few places around that offer short leases. I know you said money was tight so I will help in all the ways.” She grins at you. “In fact, I know a perfect place!”

“You do?” You widen your eyes, “For real?”

“Yes!” She reaches across the table for a sticky note and a pen and starts scribbling. “I know the landlord here so maybe he can offer something more affordable. And we can get some help to move your bedroom furniture and I have other furniture in storage from years ago!” She looks up at you, “You’ll have your own place in no time.”

“Oh, okay.” You blink at her, “This was easier than I thought.”

“Nothing should be hard, my love.” Your mom grabs your hand, “Mom will always help.” 

You pout at her for a second, lips jutted out cutely and she just squeezes your hand. “Mom.” You playfully whine, “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, y/n. But knowing you’ve been living for you…nothing makes me happier.” 

“I don’t know how true that is.” You laugh a little, “It’s not exactly going great.”

“What’s the problem?”

“Nothing I make is…good.”

“I’m sure that’s not true…”

“It is.” You chuckle, “I make something I think might be good but in the end I’m told that it’s not. At least I’m still selling some stuff. Someone out there must have bad taste.” You shake your head, still laughing. 

“I beg to differ. Your art is gorgeous.”

“You’re my mom.” You deadpan, then you sigh out heavily. “I just don’t think I’m in the mindset…a break is probably good, right?”

“Yeah.” She squeezes your hand again, “A change in scenery too. Maybe you’ll get inspired again. Sometimes you need changes to keep you going and to keep things evolving. When you stay in the same place for so long it can get stagnant, huh?”

“Yeah, maybe that’s it.” You shrug. “Anyway, I’ll go check out this complex tomorrow after rehearsal.” You take the sticky note.

Your mom’s eyes expand before she’s pinching your arm, “Speaking of! How did it go? You met with Taehyung, right? Such a good guy, isn’t he?”

“Uh.” You glance around, lip stuck between your teeth as you try to answer this without crushing your mother’s dreams. “He’s…something.”

“He really is something isn’t he?” She pats your shoulder now, “Be good to him, okay?”

~~~

Ha, bright and early…okay, 11am…but its two hours before the rehearsal meeting time and you cannot wait to see Taehyung walk in and see the inevitable look of shock on his face when he sees you. You’ve decided to come early so you can practice alone, you know, get a head start and also show how serious you are about this festival dance. He isn’t the only one who wants to make your mom smile because you guys are doing her role justice. 

You’ve already stretched and done a few warm up dances and it feels good, honestly. Empty practice room and a set goal in mind. Prove to Taehyung you’re not some lazy, incompetent daughter who doesn’t deserve to fill this role for your mom. Believe it or not, you actually used to be pretty skilled with dancing. Makes sense, you were a part of your mothers dance classes since you could walk. But sometime in middle school you stopped attending because your mom enrolled you in your true passion—art classes. 

It's almost 12 when you hear the footsteps of someone coming through. You turn your head to the side while doing some forward folding exercises when you see Taehyung making his way into the room. You sit up straight, a smirk so close to forming, waiting for him to express his genuine shock that you’re here and all the praises that come with it. But he only pauses for a moment, empty eyes on you before looking away and walking towards the mirrored wall to set his bag down. 

Nothing. No reaction. No readable expression. Literally nothing. You’re trying not to slump your shoulders but it’s hard not to hide your disappointment and you’re starting to wonder if you’ve always been a people pleaser. “Hey.” You mutter quietly, body folding forward again as you cup your toes in your hands. “You’re here early.”

“I like to come before everyone else to be alone.” He tells you while pulling a bottle of water from his bag. “But I guess that’s not happening.” 

You decide to stand and walk towards him, hands on your hip as you sigh out in defeat, “Look,” You try to look at his eyes but he will barely look at you. “My mom thinks we’re naturally going to, and I quote, ‘hit it off’ and we clearly aren’t. But for her sake I am trying to get along with you despite the fact you’re being,” You gesture towards him knowingly. “And she’s coming to the studio today to check things out so it would be great if you could act like you don’t hate me while she’s here.”

Taehyung stares at himself in the mirror, his own look of defeat gracing his features before he releases a long breath and turning to face you. “I don’t think I hate you.” He tells you quietly, a small shrug before he continues. “At least you’re here so it’s something. But getting along is an entirely different thing. But yeah, for your mom, I’ll be not so…” He gestures towards himself the same way you did to him just a second ago. “Cool?” He gives you a slightly annoyed look before brushing past you. “Let’s start practicing our dance. And if you step on my toes—”

“—I won’t! Seriously. But at least learn to treat what we’re doing as teamwork.”

“Teamwork?” He whips his head in your direction with a raised brow. “I lead. You follow.”

“That’s still teamwork, dumbass.” 

“Oh? Are we name calling now?” He asks you, his expression is still hardened and barely readable but the sound of his voice almost sounds amused. “What should I call you then? Something you’d really hate, right?”

“Say anything disrespectful like bitch and I’ll kick you—”

“Pumpkin.” He says the word slowly. “It works doesn’t it?”

“That’s…” Your expression tells all. A serious look of disturbance. “That’s somehow actually worse.”

“Perfect.” He grins at you. Yes, his lips have managed to lift up in your presence. But it’s menacing. “Then let’s start practicing now. Pumpkin.” 

You shudder at the hideous name, “You’re just not a good person, are you?”

“Do I need to be?” He asks before he’s stretching. “Also,” he lifts his head to gaze at you with curious eyes. “What did your mom mean by ‘hit it off’?” 

You feel heat creep up your body. Embarrassment. “Uh, like get along, I guess.” 

“Interesting.” He murmurs. “Different from what she usually says.”

“And what does she usually say?”

“That we should—”

“—Guess who comes bearing gifts!” Jin suddenly walks through with a few brown paper bags. “I made an assortment of fruit tarts for you guys today. Dropping them off a little early since it’s Saturday and the café gets busy. Going to put them in the fridge in the back!” He sings out, walking past you two. 

“I didn’t even hear him come in?” You wonder out loud.

“He’s sneaky like that.” Taehyung chuckles, “Anyway, you all warmed up? Ready to start?”

~

“Fine,” Taehyung sits down out of breath, “I’ll admit it, okay? Is that what you want?”

You stand in front of him, smirk on your lips with a look of pride. “Yes.”

“Fine. You improved. You’re a fast learner. You’re the best, jeez, what else do you want from me? Didn’t I say I lead and you follow?” He wipes some sweat from his hairline. “I felt like your little mistress, helpless in your arms while you spun me around.”

“That’s,” You start laughing, “That’s oddly specific.”

“Because it was a specific feeling. And god, it was odd.” He pretends to get the chills. “Anyway, your mom is going to be pleased with this progress. When did she say she was going to swing by?”

“I think around 4?” You glance around the busy room of others trying to rehearse their parts as well. “Not sure the time though.”

Taehyung looks at his watch, “It’s almost 4.” He lets you know, “We can take a break for a minute. Jin’s fruit tarts?” He nods towards the back. “They’re delicious.”

“Oh,” You’re surprised. Like he wants to eat them together? “Sure.” 

You both head towards a back room that has a few tables and the fridge. Taehyung pulls out two of the fruit tarts and hands you one. “The cream he uses is just…” He rolls his eyes in satisfaction. “Try it.”

You take a bite of it and moan into the treat. 

Taehyung’s eyebrows rise towards his hairline, trying his best not to laugh. “I mean, I knew they were good. But damn, that good?”

“Hi!” You hear the voice of your mom suddenly, you spin in your spot to see her coming inside the room. “I was told you two were back here! Enjoying a snack?”

“Auntie!” Taehyung lights up like he’s 8 years old and it’s time to open presents at his super hero themed birthday party. He goes up to your mom and hugs her, rocking her around while she pats his back.

“Hi Taehyung.” She steps back from him, “Are you eating well?”

“Yeah, I still have some side dishes you made stored away in my fridge.”

“Oh good!” She clasps her hands together. “Anyway,” She glances at the both of you, “It feels great to see you both in the same room!” 

“Mom…” You look at her unenthused.

“What?” She blinks at you innocently. “I know Taehyung agrees.” She winks at him but he starts to look how you’re feeling.

“Auntie…” Now he’s quietly groaning in his spot, also silently scolding her. “Have you been resting well?”

“Oh, you worry too much.” She’s shaking her head and waving him off. “But listen, I was thinking…”

“Thinking about what?” You take another bite of the fruit tart.

“If you wanted to make some money since you’re going to find a place…” She taps her chin thoughtfully. “Why don’t you teach some classes here? You and Taehyung can split the days and lessons. He’s swamped since I’m not as involved.”

“Auntie, it’s okay.” He tells her quickly. “I’m handling it.”

“I know you are.” She assures him with a smile. “But you’re over worked. And y/n knows enough to teach some lower level classes while you handle the more challenging ones?” 

“Well…” He bites his lips, recalling how good you were just 10 minutes ago. “Yeah, she probably could…I mean, if she wanted.”

“You’re not involved anymore?” You lower the fruit tart from your mouth. “Like at all?”

“No, I am. But I’m just so tired these days.” She continues to smile, “It’s hard to keep up with lessons when kids are running around me and I got to chase after them.” She laughs now. “But Taehyung is just great with them.”

Taehyung shrugs at this while giving your mom a sheepish smile. “It’s nothing really.”

“Oh.” Your eyebrows slightly furrow. “Sorry you aren’t as involved mom…I know this place is everything to you.”

Your mom softens at your words before she steps closer and cups your cheek, “No, not everything.” 

“Well,” You glance between her and Taehyung before nodding. “I can help out, sure, that’s a good idea. You won’t mind…right, Taehyung?”

“I thought my name was dumbass?” He tries to keep a straight face when you widen your eyes at him. “But sure. It sounds great. Pumpkin.”

~~~

It’s a small apartment complex. But Mr. Jung has shown you one of his available units and it’s exactly what you’re needing. Something simple and cozy. You look down at your list of requirements and see that you’ve checked off every single thing on the list.

“I like it.” You tell Mr. Jung. “When is the soonest I could move in…?”

“Well,” He closes the apartment door behind him as you two stand outside. “It might take a few days for everything to be approved but perhaps Thursday or Friday.”

“Oh!” You feel excitement rush through you. “That’s so soon.” 

“You are applying for a 6 month lease, correct?”

“Yes. I’m only in town temporarily.”

“That’s great. I’ve been looking for someone to fill this unit. Last tenant moved out almost 4 months ago!”

“I guess it was just meant to be then.” You smile. “Thanks for making time to show me around today.”

“Of course.” He smiles back at you. “When your mom called, I just couldn’t say no to an old friend.” 

And that’s how you got your temporary cozy apartment. Mr. Jung called you on Tuesday letting you know you’ve been approved and could move in on Thursday. And Thursday came fast. Jin and two of his friends helped you move furniture and helped you get settled into your new place. Taehyung couldn’t help since he was giving lessons at the studio all day. Not that he was wanting to help you. But you can tell he would give your mom a hand whenever she would ask.

Every time you think Taehyung could be warming up to you, you are just proven how wrong that assumption is. He’s given you nothing. Just talks about your dance routine, fake kindness when your mom is around and the annoying use of the word pumpkin. Other than that he ignores you.

It’s now Wednesday and approximately a week and a half until the festival. Exactly ten days and you’re wondering if you and Taehyung are ever going to master being in sync. You’re both decently skilled—him more than you—but you can’t seem to dance together. It’s probably the lack of proper communication…it’s mostly just annoyed looks and snarky comments. Or straight up complaining. 

You’ve taught a few classes today and your mom was right…chasing after a bunch of 6 year old’s is exhausting. But Taehyung asked if you guys could have a late rehearsal since he’s also teaching classes today. Neither of you had a chance to rehearse yesterday and you cannot fall behind. 

It’s almost 9 at night when Taehyung drags his feet into the empty practice room. He looks tired and you get it. You’re also tired. “Do you think we could get through the routine a few times without fucking up?” He chuckles quietly to himself. “Because I highly doubt it.”

“Well, if you’d actually listen to me and get in sync with me then maybe we could.” You retort quickly, not loving his attitude already.

“So it’s my fault I can’t get along with you?” He exhales tiredly, “Think you managed that on your own.”

You can’t help the scoff that leaves you, “Wow, Taehyung. Thought we were talking about dancing.”

“Whatever.”

“I’m tired of this.” You shake your head, words leaving you quietly in a mumble. “Why are you in such a bad mood?”

“I’ve had a long day.” He tells you. “Classes, errands, making sure things at the gardens is being properly set up—I’m everywhere all at once. Between the studio, the pharmacy—I just need to relax but instead I’m here with you and in a cycle of sucking at this routine. Because you can’t let me fucking lead. It’s not that hard. The entire beginning of our dance we’re not even touching, just have to be synchronized.” 

“And when we do have to touch you don’t even commit.” You say with a straight face. “I don’t know what I’ve done—”

“—You’ve done nothing.” He narrows his eyes at you. “And don’t you think that’s the issue?”

“What?” You look at him incredulously. “I seriously don’t fucking understand you. But look, we both want to do a good job, right?”

“Obviously.” He grunts, annoyed that this conversation is still going.

“Then get over your stupid disdain for me and dance with me.” 

Taehyung is quiet. He’s got a frown pulling down his lips, lips that won’t part to speak. His jaw clenches before he nods at you. Silent dancing, it is.

~

It’s the next day and you’re feeling happy that your last class ended at 3pm today. You know Taehyung has his last one until 4 so you’re sure he’s relieved about that as well. This dance has the both of you stressed out. After running a few errands around town, you finally make it back home to your apartment complex. 

You curse to yourself though…your frustration building as you stand outside your front door. The key code isn’t working again. You keep entering the code but nope, nothing. 

“You have to press the check mark.” A voice suddenly has you jumping in your spot. You’re quick to turn around, eyes going wide as Taehyung looks down at the number pad. “You didn’t press it. Are you seriously only remembering sometimes?”

“You freaking scared me!” You whisper shout at him. “What—what are you doing here?”

He glances around before answering you, “Uh, helping you?”

“No,” You shake your head, “I mean…like, what are you doing here? At my apartment?”

“You think you’re the only one who lives here?” 

“Huh?”

He looks the left and then points, “My apartment is like 3 doors down.” He tells you all nonchalant. 

“Your what…” Then realization hits you. “Mom.”

“I saw you struggling for like a solid 5 minutes.” His lips start to lift into a sly smile. “I was wondering how long you’d keep going but it was a bit sad.”

“You watched me struggle for 5 minutes and didn’t come help me?”

“Well, I’m here now.” He shrugs.

“After 5 minutes?”

“Should I have waited until after 10?”

“You. Are. The. Worst.” 

“It’s fine if it’s you who thinks that.” He shrugs again, “Anyway, the check mark. Not that hard Einstein.”

“Not that hard Einstein.” You mock him. 

Taehyung rolls his eyes and gives you a tiny salute before he is about to turn away from you to head to his apartment but stops. He looks down at his front pocket, patting his jeans until he is pulling his phone out and you watch as his expression grows serious.

“Hello?” He answers the phone quickly. “Yes this is he.” And then his face starts paling and he finds your eyes. “Got it. I’ll be there as soon as possible.” You stare at him in confusion when he grabs your wrist and starts pulling you. “We have to go.” 

You want to pull back from him and simply ask what’s going on but the look of sheer panic on his face is enough to make you lose words. He tightens his grip around your wrist and walks quickly and you’re struggling to keep up with him. “Slow down.” You whine a bit, “Where are we going?”

“That was the hospital.” He says in a rush. “Put your seatbelt on.” He says the moment you two make it to his car. 

“The hospital?” You ask cluelessly as you open the passenger car door and slip inside. “Why? Is everything okay?”

Taehyung plops down into the driver’s seat and starts the engine. “It was the hospital. What do you think?” He asks you curtly, “Seatbelt. Now.” He looks at you before he’s reversing from his parking spot.

“I’m confused. Is everything okay? Why did the hospital call you?”

Taehyung is breathing more heavily now, the situation stressing him out but he still finds the time to snap his head in your direction and look at you with disbelief. “Your mom.” He clarifies, hoping that is enough for you to understand.

“My…my mom?” Now you feel some of his panic start to seep into your own body. “Is she okay? Did something happen?”

“She collapsed.” He tells you, eyes on the road. 

“Collapsed? Why would she collapse? Did she trip on something?” You start feeling anxious, “Was she in some kind of accident?”

Taehyung’s brows pinch together, his own confusion growing as he sees how you’re panicking, you keep voicing your thoughts out loud as you wonder why.

“Wait,” You shake your head, pausing all the possibilities of what could have happened. “Why did they call you?”

“I’m her contact.” He tries to remain calm, “They always call me.”

“…Always?” 

Taehyung’s expression grows more confused until he isn’t confused anymore. He thinks he finally gets it. He thinks he’s finally understanding. He’s quiet.

“Always?” You repeat. “What does that mean?”

He keeps driving. Eyes on the road but suddenly he’s experiencing his heart sinking for what feels like the millionth time in his life. He pulls into the hospital and parks his car. He unbuckles the seatbelt and slowly turns in your direction. You look lost. And he thinks it’s because you are.

“y/n…” He says your name carefully. “Fuck…” He sighs out, “Do you not…”

“What?” You’re losing patience as you’re thinking of all the worst possibilities. “What’s happening? Is my mom okay? Did they say she was okay? Was it an accident?”

Taehyung gazes at you, eyes beginning to fill with pity. And then he’s dragging a hand down his face before he tries to speak again. “y/n…your mom…shit, okay. Listen, it’s…”

“Can you actually talk?” You snap at him. “You aren’t saying anything.”

“Your mom is sick.” He blurts it out quickly. And when you stare at him with a blank expression he softens in his spot. “…didn’t you know?”

“Know what?” You murmur.

“She’s…your mom is really sick. She has been for…since before I graduated, I think? She didn’t tell me until a couple years after.” He admits to you. “But…did you not know?”

“I…” You keep staring at him, not entirely sure you understand. “I don’t really know what you’re saying.” 

“Shit,” He closes his eyes, “Shit. Shit. I’m so sorry…” He lifts his hands to his face and rubs it over and over. “Fuck, I really didn’t know you didn’t…”

“Taehyung.” You say his name but your voice cracks. “I don’t really…” You’re in shock. You aren’t sure you’re processing what he’s saying. “What does sick mean…?”

“She…she has ALS.” He says softly, “They aren’t expec—”

“—What is that?” You continue to panic, “I don’t know what that is.” 

Taehyung feels his eyes sting, his heart breaking more. You really didn’t know. He tries to swallow before he answers, “It’s uh, It’s called Lou Gehrig’s Disease…it’s rare. Um, it’s like a nervous system disease and,” He pauses, trying to collect himself. “Fuck it’s uh, it like weakens the muscles so it’—it can be tough for her.”

“…Okay? So what does she need? Physical therapy?” You ask him, your eyes searching his and he wants to tell you that yes, she just needs physical therapy. But that’s not how this works.

“It’s…it’s not that simple…it can’t be cured.” He tells you regretfully, “I know since you’ve been here she’s been seeming okay. But it typically isn’t like this. There’s more bad days than good.”

“What?” You blink your eyes repeatedly, layer of tears forming.

“Sometimes she can’t even eat properly…it’s…it’s gotten worse this year. The doctors don’t think she will…”

“Will what?” You ask, your defenses rising.

“She doesn’t have a lot of time, y/n.” He tells you quietly, softly, regret in his voice and you don’t think you heard him properly. But you did. And that’s why you’re finally letting tears begin to drip from your eyes. “Hey,” He hesitates but his fingers brush against your cheek, “I know this isn’t easy. But your mom has been so strong and she’s just tired now, y/n…they didn’t even think she was going to live past 5 years—“

“—Stop” You cut him off, tears still spilling from your eyes but you can’t even blink now. “Just stop…she’s sick? She didn’t tell me?” You look into his eyes and he can see your anger. “She told you but not me?”

“I know,” He doesn’t move his fingers from your face. “I know. But…she probably just didn’t want to worry you or something, I don’t know. But she has her reasons, don’t you think? You are your mom’s world.” He whispers. “And right now she just needs you next to her.”

You finally slam your eyes shut, more tears streaming but you try to hold it together. “She’s here?” You choke out. “Can we see her?”

“Yeah.” Taehyung finally lets his hand drop. “Come on.” 

~

You want to be angry because you are angry…technically. But more than anything you’re shocked and just completely sad. Taehyung walks close to you, his arm brushing against yours and he keeps glancing at your every 5 seconds. He’s worried and you almost want to laugh because you never thought that there would be a day that he would be worried about you.

He stops suddenly, his hand reaching for your wrist to stop you from walking as well. “This room.” He tells you softly, “It’s here.”

“Oh.” You look at the closed door.

“You want to go in alone?”

“No.” You shake your head slowly, “Be with me.”

“Okay.” He nods, his fingers still wrapped around your wrist when he guides you more towards the door. He uses his other hand to knock at the door before cracking it open. After a moment he opens it all the way. His eyes grow tender when he spots your mom. “Hi Auntie.” 

You just watch him. He looks experienced. Like looking at your mom who lays in a hospital bed isn’t something new and the thought makes you feel crushed. You finally gather your own courage and step through the room and look at her for yourself. 

Your mom is sat up in bed and you want to sob. Because she looks the same. A gentle smile on her face and eyes that shine with so much love. “Hi, my love.” She calls out for you. “Come here.”

Taehyung lets go of your wrist and your feet stumble forward. You don’t think you see even an ounce of regret on her features. She just looks genuinely happy to see you and you can’t tell how you feel about it.

“You okay?” She asks you, her head titled up. “I know this might be a little surprising.”

You actually scoff. “A little?” You repeat her choice of words before scrunching your brows together and you know she can see the look of betrayal on your face.

“It’s okay if you’re mad.” She tells you, tone nice and soothing. “I’m fine with the decisions I’ve made.”

“How…” You pause to take a deep breath. “How could you say that?”

“I want you to live your life, y/n.” She tells you like it’s simple. “I wanted you to live your dream but if you knew…” She closes her eyes for a moment, her own emotions visiting. “I didn’t want to be a reason for you to hold yourself back.” She tells you. 

Taehyung watches as you stare down at your mom and he’s understanding so much now. He feels guilty. Beyond guilty. He’s treated you like such an asshole. But he thought you knew about your mom’s condition and still chose to be so far away. He had no idea you were clueless. It hurts to watch your mom having to had suffer for so long already but now he sees how you’re suffering too. 

“So we are going to keep her a few days.” The doctor neither you nor Taehyung noticed speaks up. “You know the drill already Mr. Kim…we need to monitor just for a bit.”

Taehyung glances at the doctor before nodding. “Okay. I can go grab a bag for her.” He says, “I shouldn’t be gone too long.”

“No,” You turn to look at Taehyung, your eyes shining at him with unfallen tears. “I’ll go. I just need to make a bag for her, right? Some of her things?”

“Oh.” Taehyung’s eyes go to your mom and she just nods. “Okay…are you sure? I can go, y/n.”

“I want to go…I need to just…process.” You admit to him as you walk closer to him, “Alone.”

~

You’re standing in front of your childhood home again but the mix of emotions you’re feeling are nothing like the ones from the other week. You almost don’t even want to walk in but well, you have to.

As soon as you step into the house, instead of the scent of cookies, you get hit hard with the scent of your mother. You walk further into the home and it’s like she is everywhere. You’re suddenly hyperaware of how this house is not just a house but your mom’s home. 

You walk down the hall and stop outside your mom’s bedroom door. You don’t think you’ve been in here for years but you’re sure you’ll manage finding her belongings. You creak the door open and your eyes go wide when you enter the room. You look around, from her comforter to her nightstand to the art on her walls. And your face twists into one of devastation. Mouth hanging open as the tears truly break. Your art. Your paintings. They hang on her walls.

And this is the reality. Paintings that you knew weren’t good enough. But bought by an anonymous buyer…here they are, proudly decorating her room. And this reality crashes into you. Feeling every ounce of every moment you have spent away from her. From your home.

You stumble towards her bed, body falling to the mattress and you bury your face into the blanket. Tears soaking the material as you sob. You cry until you can’t cry anymore.

~~~

The house feels lonely since your mom is still at the hospital. It’s Saturday now and you know you have to get up from this bed and drag your sad ass to the studio to rehearse with Taehyung. But getting up sounds like a lot of work. You wish you could quit the entire festival but you realize now why Taehyung has made such a big deal out of it. He isn’t being a perfectionist because it’s his debut. He just wants to give your mom the best festival because it will probably be her last.

That last thought makes you heart sink but this is the reality and you aren’t sure you want to spend your time sulking and wasting precious time on things you cannot control. Instead, you finally throw the blanket off you and get ready. Because your mom deserves the best festival of her life. 

You’re sure the studio is busy as usual, you’re a bit late but Taehyung didn’t try to reach out to you so maybe he’s distracted enough with a pretty girl who doesn’t know left from right. But you’re wrong. As soon as you walk into the building, you see Taehyung sitting at the front desk before he lifts his head and wide eyes land on you.

“You came?” The two words tumble out quickly. He stands from the chair and walks around the desk to get closer to you. “I…” His eyes slide to the side, “I wasn’t sure you were going to be up to rehearsing today.”

“You’d chew me out if I didn’t show up.” You shrug at him, eyes still swollen. “Don’t need to add to the list of things you don’t approve of me.”

Taehyung sucks his bottom lip between his teeth as an inevitable look of guilt falls over his face. “I don’t…” He pauses, eyes studying you and he realizes he’s probably lost any chance of redeeming himself. You don’t like him and it serves him right. 

“We can take it easy today if you—”

“—that’s the last thing I want.” You show him a joyless smile. “I’d rather work extra hard. I don’t know,” you give a huge, exaggerated shrug. “Maybe work so hard I pass out and actually get a little sleep.” 

“No passing out.” Taehyung lifts his lips a little, “But you know, if you’re having trouble sleeping maybe I could he—”

He stops when he sees how you raise a defensive brow, “How could you possibly help? Look, no need to suddenly be nice to me because my mom’s dying.”

“y/n… I wasn’t—”

“—Actually, you knew about that already so why are you suddenly being nice to me?” You narrow your eyes for a moment but he’s lost for words, not entirely sure what to say and then you connect the dots. “Right.” You click your tongue. “You thought I knew about her being sick, right? You thought I was just some selfish daughter who didn’t care about my mom’s health and left her to live my life!” 

“y/n—”

“—Like, wow. You didn’t even give me a chance. You just automatically assumed I was some selfish, heartless person. You wanted me to be like that in your eyes?” You continue to glare at him but he immediately parts his lips in panic.

“No! Trust me, no.” He shakes his head as he gazes at you. “Trust me, the last thing I wanted was to think that way of you.” Then he lightly scoffs to himself, “I didn’t want to disappointment my 12 year old self like that.” 

You pull your brows together, “You didn’t want to…what?” and then you shake your head, feeling tired all over again. “Anyway, let’s just practice. I also…” You finally find his eyes again before expressing your mental defeat. “I also want to do well.”

~

Monday and you’re panicking because the day of the festival dance is only 5 days away. You don’t think you and Taehyung have improved your synchronization. When you guys do moves that require him to have his hands on you, he’s always hesitant and it looks painfully awkward.

“Have you never touched a girl before?” You finally huff out, getting frustrated over another failed attempt at the routine. “This isn’t middle school.”

“I just…” He groans, feeling just as frustrated as you. “It’s kind of hard.”

“Yeah, a woman’s waist is really the most difficult thing.” You roll your eyes before jogging towards the mirror to grab your bottle of water. 

“We haven’t as much as high fived before, y/n.” Taehyung deadpans. “How am I supposed to feel comfortable touching your body? When I don’t know what’s comfortable for you either?”

“Are you really overthinking this much?” You look at him incredulously before bringing the bottle to your lips and chugging the water back and then you pause and pull the bottle away from your mouth. “You had zero issue grabbing onto Ida’s hips when you helped her.”

“Ida is into me. She wants me to touch her like that.” He shrugs, “You on the other hand, I’m afraid I’ll…” Taehyung’s eyes go all around the practice room, cheeks heating up. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” 

“You’re that worried about it?” You set the bottle down. “Fine. Okay.” You nod, look of determination on your face. “Let’s fix that then. If we don’t this is going to look awkward as hell.”

“Fix it how?” Taehyung looks at you, confused.

“Let’s get comfortable with one another. We could do some exercises to help.” 

He raises his brows, mouth opening to speak but he closes it again.

“What?” You walk back to the middle of the practice room, standing in front of him, “Don’t tell me you can’t even do that?”

“I don’t even know what that is? Like, what do you mean?” He finally asks.

“Oh.” You realize you don’t necessarily know either, you were just going to wing it. You glance around the room until your eyes land on your hand. You lift it to your face and inspect it before you nod. “This.” You say before showing him your palm, urging him to hit it with his own. “You said we hadn’t as much as high-fived before.” You finally smile. “We could start there.”

He stares at you before he’s snorting. “Seriously?”

“What?” You smirk at him, “Should I have asked you to just hold on to my waist until it finally feels comfortable for us?”

And for the first time ever you think you see Taehyung blush. “You’re something…” He looks off to the side, “But honestly,” His eyes go back to you. “I think we could start with talking.”

“Talking?” You lower your hand. “About?”

“I want to apologize.” He tells you sincerely. “I know even if I try to explain my thought process it doesn’t excuse how cold I was with you.”

“Not really.” You whisper. “I guess I just don’t like how you assumed I was so heart—“

“—I didn’t want to think that, I promise. But after a while, I kept battling my thoughts. How could you not have known? That’s what I kept asking myself. Why would Auntie just not tell you? That didn’t ever cross my mind so eventually I thought…yeah, obviously y/n knows but she doesn’t care. I wasn’t just dismissing you. I was mad at you.” He takes a breath, “Because I didn’t want my opinion of you to be true.” 

Taehyung takes a step closer to you before adding, “But I was shocked you showed up for the festival this year. Your mom told me she asked you to come and I didn’t think you would…but you did. And I wanted to just be angry but I hated it that you actually showed up because I was like, maybe I was wrong and she does care…that sounds stupid, I know you care but I just thought you…I don’t know.” His voice gets quieter. “I was wrong. But I don’t know if I’m happy that I was wrong. Because it means that you didn’t know about your mom’s health and that also feels fucking sucky. I’m sorry you didn’t know, y/n.” 

For the first time you see the Taehyung your mom has been raving about. The guy that is just so good. You think you can believe it. You think this might the real him and you want to understand his perspective. To be fair, if you thought that of someone you would probably be a dick to them too. 

He studies your reaction and when he sees even a hint of understanding in your eyes, he sighs in relief. “Anyway,” He reaches for your hand and high fives himself with it. “What’s after a high five?”

~

Thursday. Two days until the festival dance. Today’s rehearsal went better. Might have been your best one yet…you and Taehyung are communicating better and although he’s still a little stiff with touching you at least he’s actually touching you. Before he would barely put any pressure and it sometimes felt like his hands were just hovering. It still isn’t perfect yet though.

“Hi.” Your mom comes into the kitchen, her eyes soften when she sees how you lift your head from your laptop with a tired expression. She came home from the hospital yesterday and it’s hard to stay mad at her when she looks at you with so much love.

“Hi.” You respond, it came out quiet but she heard you and smiles.

“How’s rehearsals going?” She takes a seat, hand going to yours and you see how her fingers slightly shake as she squeezes your hand. How did you not notice?

“Better.” You look away from your hands, “Taehyung and I are trying our best but we could do better.”

“Better?” Your mom tilts her head, “You don’t feel good enough?”

“Not really.” You smile. “We want it to be perfect. We have to do your role justice.”

Your mom’s eyes widen before she’s chuckling, “People are going to love it!”

“We want you to love it.” You admit softly. “I think that’s what matt—”

“—Me?” Your mom points to herself. “You two could get on that stage and just stand there and I think I would fall in love at the sight.” She tells you, “What I want to come out of this isn’t for you two to perfect a dance routine. I just wanted you guys to get along.” 

You snort, “Get along?”

Your mom gazes at you, her eyes boring into yours and you think you see a swirl of emotions inside of them. “Yeah.” She gulps, her same eyes stinging with tears but she’s quick to blink them away and laugh. “Get along.” She says, “And take care of each other.”

“You make it sound like you aren’t the one who takes care of me,” You try to laugh but your throat burns a little. “I have you to do that, you know?” 

“Mom will always help, my love.” She smiles, gentle and delicate. “But—”

“—Okay,” You cut her off, trying to laugh still but your throat feels like it’s closing in. “That doesn’t have to change.”

“And why not?” She continues to smile. “Changes are good. Don’t you think? Just like the season we’re in…we love it. Do we want it to be summer forever?”

“No.” You swallow hard.

“Change gives us the opportunity to transform and evolve. Nothing scary about it.” Your mom’s fingers lift to your face and she brushes her thumb over your browbone. “I’ve always taught you to embrace it. Welcome it. In autumn, leaves change colors and they die. But soon, flowers will bloom again.” 

You’re tempted to let your head fall to this table and cry but the look on your moms face is bright and hopeful. She’s cheering you on as always. So instead you nod at her words and give her a heartfelt smile. “I think you just gave me an idea for a painting.” You tell her. 

“Then paint.” She smiles wider, teeth shown and all. “Paint.”

~

One day until the festival dance! Friday and you cannot believe you and Taehyung are still struggling with being completely comfortable and trusting during the routine. The natural flow is lacking. Perhaps it’s the chemistry. Yes it has gotten better but you didn’t think it would still look awkward in places. It’s already almost 9pm and you both have been at it for majority of the day. 

“I don’t know how else we could improve, Taehyung.” You breathe out, hands reaching for your bottle of water. “Just get comfortable!”

“I’m trying!” Taehyung groans, his fingers push back his dark hair. His hair is usually split in the middle or the side, framing his face nicely but forehead out gives him an entirely different aura.

“What’s making you so, I don’t know…” You motion your hands around, unsure of what words to describe his behavior.

“Nervous?” He helps you call himself out. “I don’t know, you’re just this person to me…who…I don’t know! It’s not like I don’t want to touch you.”

You quirk a brow and he immediately slams his eyes shut before growing embarrassed.

“I didn’t mean that in a…” He opens his eyes again and they meet yours. “You’re just…”

“It’s my fault?” You laugh. “Do I have to break all barriers with you so you can be more comfortable?” You start joking. “Keep your hands on me? Should we hug for 5 minutes straight? God, what will it take?” You snort now, “Don’t tell me we have to have sex so you can touch me properly during a dance.” 

Taehyung’s entire body flushes at your words, his eyes wide as he blinks at you in shock. “I know you’re joking,” He mutters, “But at what cost?” He tears his eyes off of you before concealing a smile when he wants to laugh.

“I was exaggerating obviously.” You shake your head,  not feeling embarrassed even though maybe it was a weird thing to say.

“But…” Taehyung glances around the practice room, “I think the point is to bond so our chemistry on stage doesn’t suck.”

“Are you saying you do want to have sex? As a way to bond?” You ask him with a dramatic shocked expression and he starts going red as he groans at your words.

“You want to kill me, y/n?” He starts chuckling, “Jeez. I was thinking though…we aren’t getting anywhere with practicing. Why don’t we go out tonight?”

“Huh?”

“Bar? For drinks? Loosen up? Actually enjoy an evening out? Ever heard of it?” He teases you, “I doubt you’ve done anything besides be at this studio and visit your mom’s house. And I am kind of your neighbor and I see your light on all the time late at night so I know you aren’t out.”

“What if I leave a light on, on purpose so a potential burglar thinks someone is home? You know, while I go out and party until the sun rises?"

“You party until sunrise without me?” Taehyung gasps, “That’s rude.”

“What?” You bite your lip, trying not to smile at him. “Am I supposed to invite you for something like that?”

“No offense, but who else would you invite? Ida?” He matches your expression.

“I could ask Jin.” You shrug, “He’s cool.”

“Only thing Jin does at sunrise is check on some ridiculous baked goods that he probably started prepping at 4am.” 

“My mom has a pretty wild book club, maybe they want to party with me.” You shrug again and Taehyung laughs at this. Really laughs. 

“Ms. Soonja would outdrink us all and still somehow be up at 8am ready for breakfast.”

“That sounds believable.” You giggle at that. “Fine, I guess if I had to party then maybe I would invite you.”

“You’re too late.” Taehyung grins at you, “Because I’m beating you to it…I’m the one inviting you but I can’t promise it will be until sunrise.”

“Well, I’d hope not. We have a big day tomorrow.” 

“Then we should get started now.” Taehyung nods towards the direction of the entrance, “Since I still feel like an asshole…I’ll buy you your first drink.”

You feel heat crawl up your neck as you notice an almost playful glint in his eyes, “Only one?” You tease him, “For all that I suffered with you and you only want to buy me one?”

“Oh?” He keeps grinning, “You suffered that much? Fine, how about you tell me when it’s finally enough, hm?”

“I can hold my liquor, Taehyung. I might drain your bank account.”

“Damn,” He throws a hand to his heart. “I was that bad?”

“I’m still deciding if you aren’t still that bad.” You say slowly but your voice is laced in a smoothness even you don’t recognize. “But I hear you’re good.” You keep the words slow as they leave your mouth, “I wonder just how good you are.”

~

“You know,” You play with the straw that rests in your glass. “When I was in high school, I wanted to come to this bar so badly. ‘one day I’ll be old enough!’ I would always say that,” You start giggling. “But I left only a few months after graduation so I never came. Can’t believe I’m actually here now. Teenage me would be so proud.”

“Why this one specifically?” Taehyung looks around, not noticing anything too special. “I just come here because it’s close to the apartment.”

“You’ll make fun of me.” You wrap your fingers around the glass and bring it closer to your lips when you sip from the straw. “It’s cheesy.”

“Oh, I have to hear about it then.” Taehyung sips his own drink as well. “The cheesier the better.”

“Well, a long time ago…” You start, memories flooding your mind and you want to laugh at teenage you. “There was this guy.”

“A guy?”

“Yeah.” You nod. “He worked here as a bar tender, he was older than me. I think when I was like 16 he was already like 30.” You sip more of the drink. “He also worked at the convenience store near my house. I would go in just to buy a snack so I could see him!” You turn your head towards Taehyung, stifling your laughter but he’s got his eyes on you and he’s smiling. “But he told me he also worked here, at this bar and that one day when I’m an adult I’ll get to go and see him there too.”

Taehyung ducks his head around, eyes trailing the place. “Is he here?”

You snort “No.” You set your drink down, only ice cubes occupying the glass now. “I thought that when I turned into an adult I’d come and he would fall in love with me.” You gesture towards yourself with a goofy, tipsy grin. “Obviously, right?”

Taehyung eyes you over, same grin on his own face. “Obviously.”

“Kids are silly.” You finally end the story, “The things we do, huh? Or you know, want to do.”

Taehyung sucks up the rest of his drink and nods his head, “Yeah, I would know.” He chuckles before turning his whole body in the barstool to face you. “My 12 year old self would know, anyway.”

“How so?”

“You don’t know how I met your mom, do you?” He asks you, blush on his cheeks. 

“Oh,” You blink at him. “I…I don’t.”

“I thought so.” He nods, head bowed down as he smiles at nothing. “It’s because of the Harvest Festival.”

“Oh, I guess that makes sense!”

“I went every year when I was a kid. I think I started going when I was like 9? I watched the dance and I was…awestruck, perhaps?” He sounds shier than you thought he could be capable of. It’s cute, you’d admit. It’s funny that a guy who made it clear he doesn’t like you is now telling you a story that is making him blush.

“Hm.” You hum at him, giving him your full attention. He lifts his eyes to yours and bites his lip.

“Yeah, awestruck is a good word.” He tells you. “I kept going back every year because I had to see the dance. I would watch and think, ‘wow, pretty.’ And yeah.” He chuckles.

“Her dancing is beautiful.” You giggle. “Kind of sounds like you had a crush on my mom.” You teasingly point a finger at him but he just joins you in your laughter before relaxing and giving you a sweet smile. 

“I did have a crush.” He admits. “ But it wasn’t on your mom.”

You smile drops only a little, “Then…?” “Every year at the front row of the crowd was a girl who looked around my age.” He tries not to laugh when you pinch your brows together. “You.” He does laugh now. “You danced to her routine, step by step. You looked so happy and so proud and I swear my 9 year old self was not understanding what I was feeling.”

“Wait, what?” Your mouth falls open and you cannot hide your amusement. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” He tries to playfully brush it off. “And then when I was 12…I decided I had the hugest crush on you and you were going to be my first girlfriend.” 

Your eyes expand comically as you try not to lose it, “Excuse me?”

“I know.” He chuckles, “But I didn’t know how to approach you!” 

“You didn’t—”

“—I had heard you took dance classes at your mom’s studio.” He starts to explain, “So I thought my little 12 year brain was genius when I begged my grandma to let me start taking lessons too. I thought that’s how I could get close to you!” He shuts his eyes in innocent embarrassment. “She paid for three full classes to see if I would like it. I remember getting there, god I was so nervous, I really thought I was going to properly meet you and we were going to fall in love and get married.” Then he winks, gesturing towards himself like you did earlier. “Obviously, right?”

You start cracking up, “Yes, obviously.” 

“But you weren’t there. I was so disappointed. I was like well, I’m going to quit this whole dancing thing. I asked your mom and she said you weren’t taking the classes anymore. Imagine how stupid I felt!” He laughs, “But I still had two more classes. I went and by the third class I realized how much I kind of liked dancing. Your mom urged me to continue and so I did.” He shrugs, “Turns out I wasn’t bad.”

“Does that mean you’re good?” You raise a brow.

“Aren’t you the one trying to figure out how good I am?” He asks you slowly, voice lower than before.

“Touché.” You say just as low. 

“I kept dancing all throughout middle school and high school. I was fairly cool with your mom but things really changed…” Taehyung looks at you, solemn expression on his face. “A few months after high school, my grandmother passed away. And I know that’s technically an adult now, but I still felt like a child.”

“Sorry, Taehyung.” You surprise yourself when you reach for his hand, “That must have been hard.” 

“It was.” He admits with a smile. “Your mom was the one who kind of took me in. She was like a guardian but not legally.” He laughs. “She was like a second mom.” 

“She’s pretty good at being a mom.” You return his smile. “I’m glad you had her…and I’m glad she’s had you all this time too.”

“That’s what family does.” He says it so simply. “I’m sorry again…about…”

“I understand, Taehyung.” You glance down at your hand that rests on his before quickly pulling it back. Cheeks warming up. “By the way, I’m allowed to make fun of you, right? 12 year old you?”

“I would expect you to. I also want to make fun of 12 year old me. But hey, poor guy was just really determined to get you to fall in love with me. We can’t blame 12 year old me for being so romantic, right?”

“Are you still that romantic?” You ask him, eyes on his and he stares at you for a few moments. “I didn’t realize you were this forward.” He decides to tease you instead of answer.

“You never gave me a chance to be.” You crack a smile, “To be fair, a little alcohol running through my veins might make me say weird things.” 

“Good to know.” He chuckles. “What other weird things are you thinking that you might say?”

“You’re curious about what’s on my mind?” 

“I might just be curious in general.” He responds before lifting a hand to get the bar tenders attention, signaling you guys want another round. “About you.”

You gaze at his side profile and feel your stomach twist in a way that feels exciting. “Am I also allowed to make fun of you for hating me and now suddenly you’re curious about me?”

Taehyung lowers his hand and slowly turns his head in your direction with a winsome smile growing on his face, “God, I didn’t know how much you like to teased someone.” 

“What?” You point at yourself innocently. “You’re surprised at what kinds of words leave my mouth?”

“Well—”

“—You’d probably would have known if you would have paid more attention to it.” You point at your lips now. “But you were too concerned about my eyes and how I didn’t know how to use them.”

Taehyung stares at you before sighing out, clearly amused. “I wish I could go back in time and treat you diff—”

“—I don’t.” You grin at him. “Or else I wouldn’t have all this material to make fun of you.” 

The bartender brings the two drinks, the glasses sliding in front of you and Taehyung. He picks his up and you do the same, both of you bringing the glasses together in a little cheers. “This is fun.” You tell him softly.

“Is it?”

“Yeah. I think you were right about letting loose.” You chuckle, “Before coming back home, I was living so stressed. Can’t really remember the last time I winded down.”

“Honestly, me either.” Taehyung sips his drink, eyes on the ice cubes. “But I didn’t think I’d be doing it with my first crush. 12 year old me was so sure we were going to fall in love.” He lifts his eyes to you, same playful glint from earlier. 

“You were so sure yet as an adult you don’t even know to touch me while we dance. 12 year old you might be disappointed.”

Taehyung keeps the glass to his lips and his eyes on you. They darken just the slightest and you notice immediately. 

“You know,” Taehyung finally lowers the glass and licks his lips, “It really almost sounds like you’re flirting with me.”

You crack a smile, fingers wrapping around the glass and you sip on your drink. 

“You’re not going to confirm nor deny?” He asks you, same amusement lingering.

“Maybe I’m just humoring your past self.” You finally say, glass back down to the bar top. “I think it’s only fair that it’s me who is a little mean to you now.”

Taehyung can’t help but laugh at this, his smile turning into something wide and boxy. “Feel free to humor me then.”

~

It’s way past closing time. You and Taehyung are leaving the bar, laughter on your lips, walking out into the parking lot when he suddenly halts his steps. You notice, confused expression when he smirks at you.

“Should we practice our routine one last time today before tomorrow?” He asks you.

“Here?” You glance around. “In the parking lot?”

“Is a parking lot not a good enough stage for you?” He teases and you roll your eyes. “I think we kind of bonded tonight so maybe…”

“Oh, you want to test it.” You feel a warmth trailing across your skin. “Let’s dance then. The second half.”

Taehyung looks excited, his lips spread into a smile but he’s trying to hide it but it’s not use. He’s enjoying himself. And he thinks you are too.

“Okay, ready?” He glances at you when you’re both in starting position. 

“Ready.” 

You both start the first few steps, your breaths are even and your footwork is smooth. You glance at Taehyung and it actually looks like you two are in sync. Well, you imagine so since that part has improved a lot. You’re both counting in your heads, knowing exactly when to transition from one move to another. 

You know what’s coming up but you’re just going to go with the flow, body spinning into a still Taehyung, twirling closer to him and right on cue, his hand lands perfectly on your lower back. It was smooth and you’re already feeling the slight shock and excitement but you stay calm knowing that was just one move.

A beat passes and you both continue the dance, feet moving in sync while your bodies flow together before you’re turning again and both of his hands are on your waist. Both knees slightly bend, faces tucked into your chests as you continue counting in your heads. The silent music continues and so do your movements. 

His fingers don’t dig into your skin, no, they’re just light enough that you can imagine the delicacy that is shown through your movements. You spin out, his arm extending until you’re far from one another, only thing connecting you is your fingertips lightly grasping his. And then he’s pulling you in, your chest coming closer to his. His left hand goes to the back of your neck and his fingers slide down, carefully trailing over the material of your shirt. Like he is painting an outline of your spine. And a sudden thought occurs to you. How would his fingers feel if it was against your bare skin? Then finally, he’s resting his hand on your lower back.

You can still hear the music in your head, the counts still going off and right on beat you tilt your chin towards his face as he lowers his eyes to you and his right hand comes to your jaw. Fingers brushing against it, soft and slow. And then you can hear how the song ends. No more counting. Just your eyes on each other and a feeling swirling so messily in your lower stomach. He is looking as mesmerized as you feel.

“I guess we did bond.” You finally whisper. “Who would have thought?”

~

It’s the day of the festival. The day is finally here and you’re a little nervous but mostly just excited. You and Taehyung decided to ride to the gardens together (perk of being neighbors) and you’ve made your way to where the dances will be occurring later this evening. Everyone’s busy with making sure the stage set up is perfect but mostly, everyone is in good spirits as they hang around.

“Mom!” You light up when you see your mother strolling through the gardens, making her way towards the stage. She’s with Soonja and Eunja, the three of them with their arms linked and stars in their eyes as they look around. 

Your mom sees you, smile bright when her and her friends come closer towards you and Taehyung. “Hi, you two.” She tries not to squeal when she sees the stage and knows that the two of you will be on it later tonight. “How are you both feeling?” She looks between you both, “Confident?”

“A little nervous.” You hide your face in your hands but you smile. “Only a little.”

“I think we finally nailed the routine though.” Taehyung tells your mom, his eyes sliding to yours and you can see a knowing smirk.

“I knew you would!” Your mom cheers excitedly.

“Going to see two good looking people dancing on stage, it might make my heart swoon.” Soonja winks at you.

“Your heart swoons when you see find a coupon.” Eunja rolls her eyes, “Say something more meaningful!”

“Hey!” Soonja’s brows pull together in disapproval. “You think coupons don’t deserve it too?”

“Ignore them.” Your mom chuckles, “You guys have a little while until the dances begin, right? Why are you just standing here?”

You blink at your mom with wide eyes, “What do you mean? What if someone needs help with the stage or—”

“—Oh, please. Go enjoy the rest of the festival.” She pushes you towards Taehyung. “You too, Taehyung. Show my daughter around, it’s been a while.”

“Oh.” Taehyung blushes, “I could do that.”

“Mom.” You groan but she’s insistent.

“Go, go, go. Enjoy.”

“Each other.” Soonja whispers in Eunja’s ear but the other lady swats her arm.

“Have fun!” Your mom waves you off but you haven’t even left yet. Just you and Taehyung staring at these ladies in disbelief. Well, Taehyung is just trying not to laugh.

“Okay, Auntie.” Taehyung finally says, cracking a small smile. “Let’s go, y/n.”

“Fine.” You huff out but you can’t help but smile too. You both wave goodbye to the women before exploring the rest of the festival.

“You’re such a meddler.” Eunja tells your mom.

“Of course I am.” She shrugs, “Who else is going to do it?”

~

You’ve walked around for a while, exploring different vendors and trying delicious foods. Jin’s got a food truck and he is probably the most popular one—you’re realizing that most of his customers are there for him rather than the food. Handsome men have it so easy, you think to yourself.

“So, I know what you’re going to say but…” Taehyung grabs your wrist and starts leading you in another direction, “We can’t have fun at this festival without visiting the main attraction.”

“Oh god.” You know where this is going, “Don’t make me.” You’re pouting now but Taehyung just chuckles and he continues to drag you around.

“How could we not visit the pumpkin patch?” He finally says with a grin.

“Easy.” You shrug and he playfully scoffs at you. “Do we really have to?”

“Yes,” He’s determined. “I know you’re grossed out by them, so no carving. But something that could interest you more?”

And that innocent little suggestion is how you and Taehyung ended up sitting at a table with like 3 others (they’re children.) with tiny little pumpkins rolling around and a whole bunch of different paint. 

“You chose a good one.” You whine when you eye Taehyung’s pumpkin. It isn’t too lumpy so he’s having an easier time painting it. You on the other hand…

“Holy shit.” Taehyung stares down at the pumpkin you’ve been painting. Eyes wide as he tilts his head. “What the hell is…” His words get quieter as he speaks. Slight disturbed expression before he finally looks at you. “I thought you were an artist.” He says with a straight face.

“Art is subjective.” You say with an equally straight face.

He nods, eyes going back down to the monstrosity. “It sure is.” 

“You make me do this…” You narrow your eyes at him, “And then make fun of me?”

“I’m not making fun of you!” Taehyung grins. “It is simply a genuine reaction.”

“I am an excellent painter!”

“Are you?” He teases you, “I don’t—Hey!” He stares at you with big eyes as his fingers go to touch his cheek. “Did you just get paint on me?” He asks.

You smile at him as innocently as possible despite the fact you’re holding the paint brush with a glob of purple paint on the bristles. “No.”

Taehyung’s trying to keep a serious expression on his face even though he wants to laugh. “You really are the pick of the patch, huh?” He shakes his head, fingers wiping at his cheek and he glances down at the paint on his fingers.

 “I don’t know,” You shrug, chuckling before your eyes go back to your own pumpkin. “Are you picking me?” 

“Only if you let me call you pumpkin.”

“Never.”

Taehyung bumps his shoulder into yours, “We should probably head back. The dances will start soon and we have to get ready.”

“Can’t believe the day is finally here.” You sigh out before turning your face towards him. “You think we will do a good job?”

“I think we will make your mom proud.”

~

And you do. Everyone danced so beautifully but there was an audible gasp among the audience when you and Taehyung began your dance. It felt just like the night before in the parking lot of the bar. You two were in perfect sync and his fingers rested and guided your body with grace, delicacy and precision. The last moments you two are on stage, he has his fingers at your jaw and when the lights dim, he slowly brushes them down the expanse of your neck.

“You were really good.” He tells you quietly, eyes still on yours despite the sudden darkness as the audience claps and cheers. “And beautiful.” 

You take a few breaths before your eyes travel across his face, “It kind of feels like you’re the one flirting with me now.”

“And if I am?” His fingers continue to slide down, brushing against your arm until his fingertips touch your own.

“Well,” You laugh a little, finally stepping away from him and facing the audience. “I’d say I like it a lot more than you being rude to me.”

Taehyung faces the audience as well before you both bow, “Then I guess I should keep doing it.”

You and Taehyung make your way off the stage and your first priority is finding your mom and it isn’t hard…she’s front and center with big, teary eyes. She is quick to wrap her frail arms around you, the hug is weak but you feel all the power and love behind it.

“You two were incredible!” She pulls away and then hugs Taehyung as well.

“We tried.” You chuckle, “So I am guessing you liked it?”

“Liked it?! I loved it. It will stay fresh in my memories for the rest of time.” Your mom wipes at her eyes, “You both looked so…”

“Hot.” Soonja says with a smile. “That was one hell of a dance.”

“Soonja!” Eunja scolds her, “She’s vulgar,” She looks at you and Taehyung now. “She means to say—”

“—You’re right.” Soonja nods. “Hot wasn’t the right word. Sexy.”

“I give up on you.”

“About time.”

“Thanks, thank you.” You look between the ladies, cheeks warm. “I mean, I think.”

“I’d say it was a compliment.” Taehyung bumps into your side. “It’s gotten late, huh?”

“Yes.” Your mom agrees, “We are about to head home now…but wow, what a successful year, wasn’t it?” She smiles at you both. “In all my years of experiencing this festival…this one had a different kind of magic, didn’t it?”

“It was nice.” You look at your mom with soft eyes, “I’m happy you enjoyed it, mom.” 

“Best festival this place has seen so far.” She tells you honestly. “So? Are you two going to keep walking around or head home as well?”

“Whatever y/n wants.” Taehyung says, “We drove together so…”

“Honestly, I’m pretty tired.” You look at Taehyung with sorry eyes, “But we can stay longer if you want?

“No, I’m pretty ready to head home as well.” He pulls his phone from his pocket, “It is after 9 already and we’ve had a long day.”

“Okay, let’s go then. Mom, breakfast tomorrow?” You ask before hugging her again.

“Yeah! Taehyung you come too!”

“Oh, sure.”

“Now get going, you guys deserve some rest!”

“Let’s see if they’re getting any ‘rest’ after they danced like tha—ow.” Soonja rubs her arm where Eunja pinched her.

“Anyway,” You clear your throat, “I guess we will leave then. See you tomorrow, mom.”

“Bye, my love!” She sings out cutely as she watches you and Taehyung walk away and then she glances at her two friends. “Good dance, huh?”

“Yeah, it made me miss my libido.”

“Well, who do you think choreographed it?” She smirks at her friends and they start laughing and Soonja just links her arm with your moms again.

“Ohhh~” She whistles. “Bad girl!” and the three start giggling before leaving as well.

~

The drive back to the apartment complex is filled with a comfortable silence. Taehyung has the windows rolled down, the chilly breeze feels so refreshing against your skin. You’re both content with how the dance turned out…your mother’s happy face is what makes both of you so satisfied. 

When Taehyung parks the comfortable silence turns into a silence with expectations. You aren’t sure what to say? Thanks for the ride? Or maybe…want to come inside for a drink or? You aren’t sure what’s going on in his head either…you just see how he glances at you with his lip stuck between his teeth. 

You both get out of his car and start walking towards the building. “I’ll walk you to your door.” Taehyung suddenly mumbles, “You know, just in case you get kidnapped despite me being three doors down.”

“It could happen.” You look at him, “Never know. Better be safe.”

“Exactly.” Taehyung smiles, “Your mom would kill me if something happened to you with me being that close.”

“Well, good thing you’re that close.”

“Good thing.” He nods.

You are both walking slowly through the parking lot and it’s not like you can’t see your apartments right up ahead…it’s not a big complex. But you can feel how your body yearns for more time…you’re surprised but lately, time with Taehyung has been really nice and you’re at that point where you want it to keep going.

“You think you’ll actually get some sleep tonight?” Taehyung asks you, “I know you said you’ve been having trouble since…everything.”

“I don’t know.” You sigh, “I’m trying to stay positive so my mom sees me happy. I don’t want her to see me all sad, you know, knowing…but yeah, at night. Alone. I don’t stay as positive.” You laugh a little, not much humor in the sound. 

“I get it.” Taehyung says softly, “But…I’m glad you’re able to smile for your mom. I know it means everything to her.”

“I know.” You agree solemnly. 

“Let’s just enjoy our days.” 

“I have this place for 6 months but I kind of wish I would have just stayed at my mom’s house.” You begin to sulk, “I didn’t know.” 

“Exactly, you didn’t know.” Taehyung bumps into your side as a way to comfort you. “But you know, your mom probably likes her privacy as much as anyone else.” 

“I guess so.”

“And—oh, wow.” You and Taehyung come to a stop. “That was a short walk.”

You chuckle, nodding your head before glancing at your front door. “Well, uh, good job today.”

Taehyung sways on his feet, his eyes going around before landing on you again. “Yeah, you too.”

“So—

“I was—”

You both try to speak at the same time. And Taehyung is quick to gesture towards you, “You go!”

“No, no!” You shake your head, “You go first.”

“Okay.” Taehyung steps a little closer to you, “I was thinking maybe we didn’t have to end the night yet?”

Thank god. You try to keep a calm expression but you feel giddy inside. “Oh?”

“Like, we just pulled off something we worked really hard for.” He starts explaining, “Maybe we could celebrate?”

“Celebrate?”

“I have some wine in my apartment…if you—if you want to come over and have some with me.” He gazes into your eyes and you see them soaking in something you don’t fully recognize. This is new territory. “If you want.” He finishes softly.

“Hmm,” You look off to the side innocently, clearly teasing him and he’s trying not to smirk when you question cutely, “I wonder if that’s what I want?”

“Maybe you want something else?” You’re surprised by the drop in his voice. “A different drink, I mean.”

You turn your head to face him quickly, your cheeks feeling like they’re on fire as you stare into his eyes. He’s the one teasing you now. “I guess I could explore my options.” Is what you say and he nods towards the direction of his apartment.

“Perfect. See what the options are and tell me what it is you want…” He pauses, eyes looking darker before he smirks. “And I’ll give it to you.”

You cannot hide your amusement, eyes on him when you begin following him to his place, three doors to the left. When he stops in front of his door, he puts the code and lets the both of you inside.

“Welcome to my—wait, wait.” He suddenly stops, spinning in his spot when he remembers…

“Is…” Your eyes go to the wall to the right when you spot something familiar. “Is that mine?” You ask him, finger pointed at a small portrait that is hung up.

“Um,” He looks around awkwardly, “Yeah, I guess.”

“You guess?” You quirk a brow, lips spreading into a grin. “You bought my art? When?”

Taehyung shakes his head with a smile, trying to rid himself of the slight embarrassment. “Uh, like a year ago?”

You walk closer to it and inspect it when your mouth falls open and you face him again. “I remember this one.” You tell him quietly. “I was struggling to create anything. So finally I made this and I was told how not good it was…” You chuckle, cheeks heating up all over again. “I was shocked when it got sold.”

Taehyung blinks at you, surprised. “Not good?” He walks closer to you, his eyes going to the small portrait. “It was my favorite one.” 

“Why?” you ask but he’s quiet, eyes still on your art.

“I felt like I understood it.” He finally tells you. 

“Understood it?”

“Lost.” Is all he says. 

And although in the last couple of days Taehyung has made your body react in different ways like excitement swirling in your lower belly. But today, right now, you think this is the first time your heart is the one reacting. You feel it bang against your chest roughly. It wants to jump out. 

“I think I do want wine.” You tell him quietly, your voice barely audible. 

He faces you and extends his arm out, “Whatever you want from me you can have.” He says it with such subtlety. 

You take a seat on his sofa as he fetches you both a glass of red wine. You look around his place…small and cozy like yours but his furniture looks a lot more modern. Well, that makes sense, you think. Your furniture is your mom’s from a storage unit, who knows how old it all is. 

“Here.” He hands you a glass, “Taste it and tell me what you think.”

You look him over as he takes a seat right next to you and raise a brow. “You want me to tell you if it’s good, huh?” And then you bring the glass to your lips and take a sip, “It’s good.”

“I like to know these things.” He shrugs while he sips his own drink. “So,” He brings the glass to his lap. “Did you have a boyfriend or you know, someone uh, special like that…” He clears his throat, “Before coming back home?”

“You want to know my relationship status?” You try not to sound too teasing but he sees right through you.

“I told you I was curious about you.”

“Well, I’d hope I’m incredibly single since I’ve been pretty forward with you recently.” You say as nonchalant as possible making Taehyung chuckle.

“Maybe you’ve said a thing or two that made me sure. But I thought I should still ask.”

“Are you? You know, incredibly single?”

“Incredibly.”

“Oh?” You laugh before taking another sip. “So Ida isn’t in the picture then?” You eye him with your lips still on the glass and he shakes his head frantically.

“No. no.” He waves a finger at you, “Have I innocently flirted? Maybe.”

“So is that what you’re doing with me?” You bring the glass down now, playful glint in your eyes. “Innocently flirting with me?”

“No,” He smiles, blush on his cheeks and a fiery warmth crawling up his neck. “It’s not so innocent, I don’t think.”

“Well, thank god.” You tease him and he’s loving this side of you, you can tell. He’s looking at you with such mirth. “Can we share something then?”

Taehyung eyes you curiously, “Like what?”

“Even when we weren’t on good terms…ever had not innocent thoughts?” You bring the glass to your mouth again, taking a few sips while you watch his mouth fall open in surprise. “I can give an example, if that helps.”

Taehyung watches you as you conceal your smirk and he’s feeling his body tingle. “It helps.” He says slowly.

“I thought about your hands every time we were practicing. They’re really nice. I could give that as a regular compliment but since this is ‘not innocent’ I’m sure you can assume what my thoughts about them were like.” You tilt your head innocently, “But don’t worry, those thoughts were short lived since your rudeness killed it.” Now you laugh.

Taehyung is looking flustered but he’s managing to keep his expression calm even though he’s trying so hard not to imagine what your thoughts were like. “Fine.” He tells you with a confidence, “Since you want it, I can give you my own example.”

“Perfect.”

“You’d show up wearing those legging things and I struggled not to look at your ass in them.” He speaks calmly. Slowly. “But I did. And I am sure you can assume what kinds of thoughts I was having as well.” 

You’re trying not to snort and ruin the mood that’s currently going so you settle for a long sigh, “Yeah, I think I can imagine what you were thinking.”

Taehyung gazes at you, lips parted and eyes growing darker. It’s quiet between the both of you and he decides to kick it up a notch. He’s feeling confident that it’s what you want. “Then tell me what it is you think I was thinking.” He requests this to you, voice slow and deep.

“You want me to tell you what you were thinking?”

“Yeah.” He nods, setting his wine glass down onto the table in front of the couch.

Your eyes follow the glass and you decide to do the same thing, glass set next to his. “Okay.” You breathe out softly, leaning back into the sofa, getting more comfortable as you both turn your bodies to face one another.

“And—”

“—Mm, mm.” You shake your head, “You told me to tell you so let me speak first.”

He slightly lifts his brows before gesturing a hand to you, urging you to continue.

“I think…” You bite your lip in contemplation, “You’ve definitely thought about fucking me at least once in these last few weeks.”

He’s a little surprised by your vulgarity but it only makes him feel more drawn to you in this moment, “At least once.” He confirms with a sly smile.

“I thought you didn’t like me though?” You tease him, “Kind of contradictory.”

“I told you I didn’t hate you, y/n. I was mad. Different.” He shrugs, “But I’m still a man. With eyes.”

“Oh? That’s right and you know how to use your eyes, huh?” You keep teasing, “That’s why they were always on my ass?”

“Always?” He challenges you. 

“You probably thought about dropping your hand lower, you know, every time we danced.” You keep going, “Did you want to cup me in your hands?”

“You would have liked that, right?” He keeps challenging. “Since you’re a fan of my hands.”

“And what exactly do you think I was thinking?” You turn it around now, “Huh?”

“Depends.” He leans a little closer to you, “How explicit am I allowed to be?”

“Rated R. We’re adults.” You smile cheekily.

“Okay…” He thinks for a moment, his eyes never leaving yours. “I am willing to bet you thought about my fingers when you touched yourself. Maybe you wish they were mine?”

“Oh, that’s a bold assumption.” You crack a devious smile. “Hmm.”

“Are you doing that thing again where you aren’t willing to confirm nor deny?” His drapes his right arm over the sofa and his fingers find your shoulder. “That’s a little mean.”

“Didn’t I say it was my turn to be mean?” You take a breath before continuing. “The wine has been good, by the way. You kept true to your word, you gave me what I want.”

“Is there anything else you want?” He strokes your skin and goosebumps begin to rise and he’s concealing the smile that wants to spread. You react to his words and he’s enjoying it.

“What else are you offering?” You whisper the question, eyes going all across his face, lips included and he decides you’ve flirted enough.

“Me?” He asks innocently, despite the fact he’s looking at you with such a wanton expression. “I would probably kiss you if that’s what you wanted.”

“Hmm,” You lick your lips, your own eyes clouding over, a lewdness corrupting you from the inside out. “Is that what I want?”

“Tell me.”

“Fine,” You lean forward a little, your body wanting to move on its own and his does the same. “I do.” You whisper again, eyes on his lips but his hand goes to your cheek now.

“Before I kiss you,” He strains in his spot, wanting nothing more than to do that. “I feel the need to tell you I might have developed an actual crush on you and I hope this isn’t a one-time thing.”

You stare at him, only feeling yourself grow hotter from his words. “Good.” You lean forward more, eyes beginning to close when his face inches closer to yours, his warm breaths hitting your lips. “I’m hoping for the same.”

Taehyung feels a satisfied, roll of electricity sweep over his skin and his hands go to your hips as he pulls you closer to him. You feel hot under his touch. Taehyung leans in more, his lips slowly finding yours, he’s careful and smooth but the sensual movement of his lips moving over yours has you surprised. 

Your hands go to the back of his neck, urging him to deepen the kiss. He falls forward more, your bodies closing in on one another as he kisses you deeper. He’s guiding your body to lay back, his hands now roaming your back. Lips still exploring your lips and your stomach starts flip flopping the moment he lightly sucks onto your bottom lip, little moan escaping you and his tongue sweeps through. He rolls it over your tongue, moving so slow and expertly. 

Taehyung moves to slot himself between your legs, his kisses grow more frantic and you’re matching his passion with your own. He’s groaning into your mouth the moment he rolls his hips into you, your legs instantly wrapping around his waist, heels of your feet pushing him closer to you. 

He bucks his hips into your center harder and you can feel an obvious erection grinding against your clothed core. It starts driving you wild. You move your face to the side, needing a moment to breathe and Taehyung takes this opportunity to plant wet kisses all across your jawline. His teeth nip at your throat and his tongue slides against your skin, making you breathe heavier and heavier. 

“How far do you want to go tonight?” He whispers roughly, lips at your ear.

“Far.” You say quickly, your hands in his hair as you try to push his head down more. He gets the hint in an instant. He kisses down your neck, to your collarbones and he’s quick to slide his hands up your shirt, and under your bra, his long fingers groping your breasts. “Here?” You ask breathlessly. He looks up at you, confused. “You want to do this here? On your couch?”

He smirks before sitting up straight, his hands going to yours as he guides you to sit up as well. “Would you rather be in my bed, y/n?” He asks, head nodding in the direction of his room.

“Yeah.” You admit, “I would also rather if you lost some clothes.”

“Me?” He grins at you. “Let’s go.” Taehyung stands from the sofa, his hand taking yours and he guides you to his bedroom, and once inside he slips his shirt off. “How’s this for a start?”

“It’s a start.” You chuckle, sitting on his bed. “How does it end?”

“Me inside you hopefully.” He cracks a smile, “If that’s what you meant by far.” 

“Come here.” You sigh, your own shirt coming off, along with your bra. Taehyung pauses, his eyes raking over your bare torso and he sees how you start pulling your pants lower.

“Wait.” He comes to you quickly, hands looking greedy as his fingers go to the waistband and he’s assisting you. “These too.” He whispers, your panties being dragged down as well. “Fuck, you’re pretty.” He tells you when you lean back on his bed, completely naked.

He crawls over your body and his lips are everywhere. Your breasts, your stomach, your hips and you’re struggling to keep it quiet when his mouth and hands feel so good roaming your body like this. He lowers himself, face between your thighs, eyes on your fucked out face when his fingers go to your heat. He spreads your folds and his fingers are quick to get sticky from how wet you’ve become.

You’re watching him and then an idea comes to you, you smirk and use his words from earlier, “Taste it and tell me what you think.”

Taehyung can’t help the lazy smile on his lips, his own expression probably looks as fucked out as yours. He leans forward with his eyes still on yours when he licks up your cunt. He keeps his tongue playing with you, swirling around before pulling back a little. “It’s good.” He teases.

You laugh a little, head falling to the mattress when his tongue digs in again, licking your clit with the right amount of pressure and you start to lose it. He’s quietly groaning into your pussy, your mind hazy at the sound. And finally, his fingers start joining the fun. He has one at your entrance, slowly pushing it in and you gasp at the sudden intrusion but he doesn’t let you think about his one finger too much because now he’s pushing in another.

“That’s…” You moan, “That’s good.” 

He curls those two fingers before moving them, fucking your hole with technique like he has long mastered this skill. You’re squirming on the bed, body tensing as he builds up your pleasure. He can feel your walls shuddering against his fingers and he figures you’re close but maybe he could have assumed it based on how vocal you’re getting.

Your hands go to his hair, pushing his face further into you and he moves his tongue faster and you’re left with heavy breaths leaving your parted lips. You come. You finish all over his face. Out of breath, you continue to squirm when he keeps eating you out, the pleasure going into overdrive. You slam your eyes shut, trying to handle it but you can’t. Not tonight, anyway.

He understands, pulling his face back and his fingers leaving your hole. He stares down at you, eyes filled with lust and need. He stands, undoes his pants and pulls them down his legs along with his underwear. You try to keep your eyes on him, his length exposed to you and you mumble to yourself, “Holy shit.” You say between erratic breaths. You were not expecting him to be this big. 

“How do you want this to go?” He asks you, his own chest heaving. So ready to fuck you, he’s painfully hard at this point. “What position will help you come?”

He’s thoughtful, you give him that. You smile, still breathless while you answer. “Probably on top.”

“Fuck…okay, yeah. I’m going to fucking love that.” He says before making his way to one side of the bed.

“But I really want you to have a view of my ass so.” You smirk at him, lifting your body from the mattress.  “Lay back. Maybe stack some pillows, I have a feeling you’d like to watch intently, hm? Have a good view.”

Taehyung sucks in a sharp breath, his hands going to his cock, fingers lightly stroking it. “Okay.” He says, hand leaving his aching member and then he’s piling a few pillows before he lays down and leans against them. “Condom.” He point towards his night stand.

You glance at the nightstand, reaching over to open the drawer and grab one before handing it to him. “Put it on.”

His fingers move fast, ripping the package and sliding the condom onto his hard standing dick. “I’m ready for you.” Is all he says, breaths so erratic it makes you feel so turned on again, like you were never touched in the first place. 

You crawl over his legs, eyes staying focused on his eyes. You make it to his lap before turning in your spot, your back facing him and he loses his mind. Eyes on your back before they fall down to your ass. You take a moment, looking down to his how hard he is. You reach for his length and hear him let out a long sigh, fingers wrapping around him. 

After a moment, you lift up and bring his cock to your hole, letting it brush against you, spreading your wetness. His hands go to your hips, fingers digging into your skin and you moan out when you push the head of his cock inside you. Taehyung’s body shudders the moment he starts entering you.

You slowly slide down, pausing every few seconds as you adjust. Thighs already shaking as you take him, his impressive size stretching you open. And finally, you both moan in unison once you’re completed seated. You exhale deeply, trying to fully adjust to him. He watches your back, letting you take your time. Suddenly, you feel the warmth of his soft fingertips at the nape of your neck and then he is slowly sliding his fingers down, tracing your spine with the most delicate touch. Your hips move forward at this sensation. 

And then he’s taking both of his hands, grabbing onto your hips before he cups your ass, squeezing the flesh and you smirk. You turn your head to see him but his eyes are focused on your body, not your face. He looks like he’s going to melt at the sight. You feel ready, motivated even as you start moving your hips…you grind into him a few times, his grip getting stronger on you. You finally rise from his pelvis and sink down again. Over and over. Riding him with a consistent rhythm. God, it feels so good. His cock is nestled so deep inside you and every time it brushes against your walls you have to remind yourself to keep another orgasm at bay. 

Taehyung is loving the view. He’s trying to keep still but every now and then he thrusts upward and you swear you try not to crumble at the feeling. He’s hitting your spot so accurately that you’re whining and whimpering on top of him…he knows exactly what he’s doing to you. You ride him harder and faster, your stamina surprising you but you are chasing this orgasm now.

“Fuck, if you keep…” Taehyung mumbles, his moans are deep and grumbly. “I’m going to come…” He warns you, voice shaky 

“Good.” You cry out as you slam down harder, your walls squeezing him tightly. Your fingers find your clit and you start rubbing yourself, getting you closer so you can come at the same time as him. “Fuck,” You moan. “I’m going to come too. Come now, fuck, come now.” 

Taehyung grips your hips again, his head rolling back into the pillows as he bucks his hips up and comes into the condom. 

He goes weak, eyes rolling around, trying to remain sane as you keep fucking yourself onto him before you finally come undone. You roll your hips, grinding as you ride out your high. You are fucking exhausted. 

“Holy shit…” He starts sitting up, lips going to your shoulder. “I’m serious, this is not a one-time thing.” 

You laugh, your body is hot and tingly. “Definitely not.” 

“I should take you on a date then, right?” Another kiss.

“I think so.”

~~~

6 months later

Taehyung has an arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to his body. When you’re all snuggled up to him he places a kiss to your temple. “She would love it.” He tells you softly. His eyes on the painting you finally finished, it’s 12x 12 and you momentarily sit it down on top of your mother’s grave. 

“Yeah, she gave me the idea for this before the festival.” You smile, “I can’t believe it’s already been 2 months since she’s passed.”

“Yeah, me either.” He admits, “I miss her.”

“Me too.”

“You know,” He looks at you, eyes on yours when you look back at him too. “I was thinking, since your art inspo is back and all…”

“Hmm?”

“What if…we turn the dance studio into an art studio as well? There’s plenty of practice rooms we could turn into art rooms? I’ll handle the dance lessons. You can teach like painting classes or something?” He eyes you carefully, wondering what you’ll think.

“Oh.” You raise your brows a little, “That’s kind of a good idea.” 

“Isn’t it?” He asks more excited. “What do you think? Should we do it?” 

“We could try.” You say the words slowly, tempted to bury your face in his chest because he looks so cute like this. All excited and warm and handsome and damn, you’re in love. “We would have to make some changes at the studio for sure.”

“Yeah,” Taehyung grins, eyes lit up with something so tender. “But changes are good, right?”

You gaze at him for a moment before your eyes go around the cemetery, trees are tall with green leaves and you notice all the beautiful flowers that have recently bloomed. “Yeah.” You nod, heart beginning to glow before you look back at Taehyung. “They are.” 

---

fever (min yoongi)

“Eyes like ice, glaring red, breaking me in two, shaking me. Standing in front of your throne, a fire burns inside me. What I gotta do, my burning hands, reach out to you but I cannot have it, I cannot touch you, never, but I’m drawn to you. The more I hurt the more I want you.” - fever, enhyphen

genre/ratings: mature; university au; one shot, basketball player!yoongi; ex!hobi, fwb!hobi, the oc can also be read as a self insert, enemies to ?, slight slow burn, fluff, angst, slice of life, casual relationship, situationship 

warnings/words: sarcasm, cursing, extreme truth or dare, casual relationships, hedonism, drinking, mentions of mental illness, mentions of explicit sexual material, mentions of food,hospitals// over 9k 

a/n: hello, this might be the last fic of 2022. this was very, very fun to write. i love writing the enemies to allies to whatever trope. there’s just so much interesting stuff there. like hey, here’s all the stuff i hate about you but well, now, now that i know you it’s all the stuff i love about you because it makes you ‘you’ so…i hope you like it. might do a second part? but lemme know!!!!

playlist: fever by enhyphen/bad together by dua lipa/how long by tove lo/wrong love by alex aris/midnight by anthony russo/hustler by josef salvat/lips on you by maroon 5/best lover by bibi/attention whore by tove lo/unforgettable by french montana/seesaw by suga of bts/lavender haze by taylor swift

masterlist//love signs drabble series masterlist//one shot masterlist

_-_

“You’re so full of shit.”

This is the first thing you ever say to Min Yoongi.

“Excuse me?”

That’s the first thing he ever says to you. 

“You heard me,” you doubled down.

None of this, of course, seems strange to you. People like him - attractive frat boys who get white girl wasted on Saturdays trying to relive their high school days - are a dime a dozen. And most of them, you despise. Loathe. Absolutely detest. Min Yoongi was the worst of all.

“What’s your problem, man?” He asks. You put your hands on your hips, shift you weight to your other leg as his gaze follows the movement. Typical. “You know she’s gonna do it,” you reply. “She’s gonna do whatever you say cause she wants to ride your dick.”

The girl in question looks embarrassed. You’d be embarrassed too if some tattooed, foul-mouthed bitch in all black suddenly appeared and cock blocked you. Well, at least you did it before she went through with it. Dare or no dare, licking a party floor just cause he says so seems……insane and really, really unhygienic. It’ll probably lead to hand mouth and foot disease or some shit.

Min Yoongi chuckles, like he can’t believe you had the gall to stand up to him. Then with a smirk, he saunters over. You give him your best Kubrick stare, your resting bitch face on full display.

“Yeah? You have experience with that?” He asks and you scoff.

“I don’t even know who you are." 

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Dating advice | Part Seventeen

Summary: It’s been months – ok, it’s been years – since you last went on a date. And you’re sick of it. Sick of seeing couples kissing and holding hands in the street. Sick of your friends settling down. Sick of everyone buying houses and having families. You’re going to do something about it. You’re going to snap up a man, you’re going to tie someone down, you’re going to finally commit, you’re going to – you’re going to need a bit of advice.

Pairing: Yoongi x reader

Genre: fluff; angst; smut

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings: Low self-esteem, angst, awkwardness, overthinking; FLUFF!

Authors Note: We’re getting so close to the end now!! 

Previous | Next | Series masterlist

It’s warm for late autumn. Still, a chill runs through you. It’s not meant to be a message, purely a natural bodily function but it doesn’t stop Yoongi from peeling his large jacket off. Before he even has it off, before he makes clear his intention, you’re ready to deny him.

“I don’t need –”

“I told you to bring a jacket,” he cuts you off, words light as he fully removes the item.

“That’s what the cardigans for,” you defend.

“This skimpy thing?” He said the same thing when you draped it over your shoulders before heading out tonight. This time he says it a little lighter, you can hear the smile on his face even though you can’t see it as he puts his own jacket around you.

“You really don’t need to,” you finish the sentence he previously cut off. “Now you’ll get cold.”

“I’ll be fine.”

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violet | jjk sm au | series masterlist

synopsis: finding out your roommate (who jungkook definitely doesn’t want to fuck) is a cam girl doesn’t exactly affect him… but what happens when he’s asked to help her with a video?

type: social media au

pairing: jungkook x fem. reader

other ships: seokjin x OC (not reader), yoongi x hoseok, namjoon x jimin, taehyung is a fuccboi™

genre: smut, angst, crack, humour?

warnings: (listed per each chapter, but general ones are) sex work (cam girl), cursing, there is some light alcohol consumption, roommates to lovers

updates: every day at 6pm SAST (12pm EST or 4pm UTC)

started: 14.01.2022

ended: 03.02.2022

*chapters which are in bold contain smut

Weiterlesen

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;first and last and always (m)

You and Yoongi broke up two months ago. It was mutual, you’re positive, but there’s one teeny tiny issue… You never told your parents, and now they’ve invited you back home for Christmas. Both of you. You can’t say no, but you also can’t bear to go alone, so you do the only thing you can think of, plead with Yoongi to come with you and pretend like everything’s okay…

pairing; min yoongi x reader genre/warnings; holiday/christmas au, exes au, tame(?) angst with a fluffy ending, mentions of masturbation words; 15,405

⇶ read the accompanying drabble

⤑ Part of the ‘A Very, Merry Fic-mas!’ collab with @lamourche, @kpopfanfictrash, @kittae, @underthejoon, @hobidreams and @winetae 🎄   

Weiterlesen

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SWEET BABY ANGEL GREG I LOVE HIM

he would 100% fight anyone who made you feel uncomfortable. always keeping you safe and making you feel loved😭♥️

Can I get sweet baby Greg having to scare off some creep at a bar as best he can (he’s about as scary as the bear on the honey jars) and reader being really proud of him because he’s usually too quiet and nice to set boundaries but he did it for reader

Safe

Warnings: Creepy encounter, unwanted touches (hand/arm around waist and back), mentions of bars and alcohol, angst, fluff, baby angel Greg threatening a fight, nothing else I can think of but let me know if I missed any.b

Word count: 1k

Pairing: Greg Montgomery x gn!reader

A/n: Yes yes Greg would definitely do that for you!! NOT PROOFREAD ONCE AGAIN :)

Forever tags: @greg-montgomery @boredelle @hotchsdoormat @ssahotchnerr @criminalskies @beardedhotchh @hotchnerbau @ssamorganhotchner @mrs-ssa-hotch

Hotch: @14buddy22 @pastanoodles11

Let me know if you want to be added to Hotch, Greg, or Forever tags (both Aaron and Greg)

Having a night out at a bar with some friends and your boyfriend was something that started off fun but quickly took a turn when you noticed the same guy staring at you constantly. The creep wasn't admiring your looks, he was looking at you like you were an object. Like he was imagining incredibly inappropriate things. The man's gaze locked on you since you walked into the bar and it was making you increasingly uncomfortable.

You tried your best to stay away from him but when he came up to you at the bar as you ordered another round, he thought it was appropriate to put a hand on your back. You lower back. Far too low. You immediately stiffen at the unwanted contact and try to step away. He just wraps his arm around your waist though.

"Hey, where do you think you're going? I've seen you looking at me all night. What's your name?" He gives you what you think is the creepiest smile you've ever seen and you try stepping out of his hold again but it only tightens.

"Let go of me." Your voice comes out smaller than you'd meant for it to. You wanted it to sound strong and confident but instead it sounded scared, because that's what you are. You're scared.

"Oh, come on. I'm just trying to have some fun is all. Come on sweet thing. What's your name?"

"Excuse me, is there a problem here?" You hear Greg's voice and though you're relieved, you are still frightened by the other man holding onto you.

"There's no problem at all. Just getting to know this Sweetheart." He flashes an ugly grin at you and runs his hand up and down your side.

"Really? Because I thought they said they want you to let go of them." Greg's voice is stern. You almost never hear him like this.

"And who are you? This isn't any of your business." He sort of glares at Greg now, who tries to do the same back. Greg crosses his arms trying to intimidate the other man. "I'm their boyfriend and I'd like you to take your hands off of them please." He's a sweetheart. He's never like this towards anyone so when he is he really tries. He can be intimidating if he really wants to be but it's not natural for him.

The man looks at you and then back at Greg. "Or are we going to have to step outside?" Greg raises his eyebrow as he asks the man. The creep looks at you once again, letting his eyes trail down your body before going back up to your face. He steps away with his arms raised slightly in surrender before walking away. He actually ends up leaving the bar entirely and that's when Greg turns to you. His face is immediately filled with concern as he puts his hand on your back lovingly trying to make you feel more comfortable. His touch always calms you and he knows that.

"Are you okay?"

You nod at his words and smile.

"I'm okay. Thank you, Greg. Were you really going to fight that guy?" Greg is not much of a physical fighter. He's better with words given that he's a lawyer.

"I didn't want to but I would have if he didn't stop. I would do anything for you. You know that, y/n." He pulls you into the softest and most gentle hug you've ever been given which you gratefully return. How did he go from this to intimidating and back to this so quickly? He's hardly ever intimidating to anyone.

"Thank you, baby. I'm really proud of you." You give his cheek a little kiss. "Proud of me? For what?" He pulls back just enough to make eye contact with you. His brows are furrowed and there's a small confused frown on his face.

"For many things. But right now I'm talking about you standing up for me and protecting me. You're normally more like....like a little puppy that loves everyone. And I don't mean that as a bad thing at all. You're not scary, not to me anyway. So seeing you break that and scare that creep away was just something big to me. I know you don't like doing things like that unless you have to." You cup his cheek and he starts to blush and look down at the floor as you speak. The point you just made being proven right now. He's just a big sweetheart and most would agree.

"Well...thank you. I just want you to feel safe. And I want to be able to provide that feeling for you." He seems so shy now. Staring at his shoes with his bright cheeks and shy smile. A complete contrast to just a couple of minutes ago.

"I always feel safe with you, Greg. I love you." You speak so softly to him and pull him back into that gentle hug. He buries his face in your neck as you do and whispers how he loves you too.

"Do you want to go home?" His words come out muffled against your neck and you smile more.

"What about our friends? I know we came separately but should we leave? We haven't been here too long." One of your hands immediately finds its way to his hair.

Greg pulls back to look at you with a loving warm look on his face "I'm sure they'll all be fine on their own tonight. I'm just worried about you. I want to do whatever you want, sweetheart. We can tell them before we would leave, of course. So, here or home?"

"Home." It seems most relaxing after a night like this. Being home with your boyfriend snuggled up. It's all you want right now.

You love how he is such a sweetie by nature and that he has only ever broken that nature to protect you, and whenever he's arguing a case. It just shows how he really cares and loves you. That he would do anything for you, even fight a guy that probably would have won the fight and then you'd have to be the one taking care of Greg. Which you would gladly do. You love each other and always look out for one another. You know he'll always be there to keep you safe.

He smiles brighter at your words.

"Then home it is."

---

Rebeca Andrade, Simone Biles, and Jordan Chiles on the podium for the Olympics floor final - 08.05.24

---

“You have to dance with who you love,” Christopher said simply. “Like Bobby and Athena and Chimney and Maddie and Hen and Karen. You love Buck so you have to dance with Buck.”

Summary: Eddie doesn’t really like parties, but he’s glad he went to this one. 

Written for Flufftober Prompt #1, ‘Dancing’. Doesn’t really fit canon, but would probably be set in an alternate season 3 where Buck heals up without any issues and gets straight back to work.

Tags: @evansdiaz; @lrose21; @sofuckingchuffed; @foreveermee; @movie-addict24; @lovelydreamsandcolors; @silkevanloon; @escritos-na-alma

-

Eddie wasn’t really a fan of parties. They were loud and busy and full of couples, and since he and Shannon had split every party had inevitably ended with him stood alone in a corner or sat alone at a table, watching a roomful of people laugh and dance and enjoy themselves in a way he hadn’t since who knew when. 

So no, Eddie didn’t like parties at all, but when Bobby and Athena had decided to throw a belated wedding reception, he couldn’t exactly not show up. Besides, he wanted to show up, to be there for them even if he’d end up awkward and alone by the end of the evening. So he dug out his suit,  searched Christopher’s wardrobe for the smartest clothes he owned, bought what he thought passed as a decent bottle of wine to gift a newly-married couple, and hoped for the best. 

The venue wasn’t dissimilar to the place where he and Shannon had had their own reception years ago: a decent-sized hall with wooden flooring so shiny it reflected the spotlights over the makeshift dance floor, paper decorations thrown over beams and wrapped around pillars. The hall was already over halfway-full with family members and coworkers and friends of friends Eddie couldn’t place, all so absorbed in their own conversations they barely noticed as he and Christopher walked in. Eddie swallowed, straightened his tie, and rested a hand on Christopher’s back. 

“Is Buck here?” Christopher craned his neck hopefully, trying to peer through the groups of strangers. 

Eddie mustered a smile. “I’m not sure, buddy. I’m sure he will be, though, eventually.” But Christopher’s eyes had already lit up, a beam stretching from ear to ear.

“Buck!” 

Keep reading

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NEVER GOT YOUR NAME

✧ pairing: satoru gojo x f!reader ✧ summary: based of this drabble — you're ex is borderline harassing you. he just will not leave you alone, and in a desperate attempt to get him off your back, you tell a little white lie. in panic, you grab the first stranger to walk by and introduce him as your date ✧ cw: fluff, light profanity, one little comment about previous sexual relationship, arguing, word vomit ngl (i'm describing too much sorry) pining, reader is smaller than satoru, mild use of petnames, no use of y/n ✧ word count: 3.5k

He was a menace. A true and genuine menace, who seemed to have some sort of natural ability in finding you, no matter where you were.

Maybe getting a restraining order was the next step — there was no way he managed to just randomly run into at the rate that he was, whether that was in the grocery store, the gas station or just on the street. No, he had to be stalking you, right? The universe wouldn’t be so cruel to give this guy, your god awful ex, the privilege of fulfilling his desires of bumping into you.

Yet, here you stood in front of him again.

His eyebrows pinched together, an innocent little smirk tilting his mouth crooked, feeding you the same lines he always did.

“Great seeing you again,” like you hadn’t ran into him not even three days ago. “You look fantastic, as always. How’ve you been, sweets?” Urgh, one of the many nicknames he had named you — your stomach turning at the sound of it. You were scared you might actually hurl.

“Stop calling me that,” you demanded, keeping your voice low. He always managed to bring your anger right to the surface, to which you had to use all your energy not to blow up in his face. It had already happened once, about two months after you broke up with him. You had raised your voice at him and lashed out, causing some random bystander to interfere — who had then proceed to take his side. Unbelievable, as if he wasn’t the one who had taken you for granted for the entirety of your relationship.

“Sorry, old habits die hard, you know.” So full of shit. You’d been broken up for months, there shouldn’t have been any problem dropping the pet names. He only did it as a tactic to try and manipulate you into his arms again. And to think you willingly used to sleep with this guy. “Since we’re both here, why don’t we grab lunch together?”

“Oh, please,” you breathed, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“It’ll be good for us, sweets-“ don’t punch him, don’t punch him, don’t punch him. “Maybe we can talk some things-“

“I’m actually here on a date!”

Finally he shut up, only for his face to twist into an expression of pure disgust. It was clear the idea had never even crossed his mind — and you would have been able to enjoy his agony had it not been for the fact that it was a complete and utter lie, thrown out in a moment of desperation.

What were you to do when your ex decided to wait around for your date to arrive, and he never showed? You could already picture his face — the patronising pity he would pay you, while you’d be able to read his satisfaction behind his eyes, as he would use it against you for months to come.

You had only bought yourself some time and you needed to think fast.

“Who? I mean, do I know them? Have you met them before?” He stuttered out questions of bewilderment as your limbs were growing ever more frantic at your side.

And then the bell above the entrance of the cafe chimed a sweet tune, eyes snapping towards the sound. “Ah, there he is!” Your arms acted on their own accord, hands grabbing onto the bicep of the person who had been so unfortunate to walk in right as you were spiralling.

Swallowing the worst of your anxiety, you dared turn your head towards the random person, hoping to god he wasn’t ugly (because that would just be yet another thing your ex would badger you about).

Due to his height, you had to angle your head more than expected to meet his piercing eyes that were ogling you with complete confusion — but you only had time to take in his appearance for a slit second before you shot him a pleading look, betting everything on the off chance that he would be able to read the situation — but also finding it in himself to play along to your little performance.

Your fingers squeezed lightly at his arm, bringing him back to reality. Then it only took him a second to make up his mind, the white haired stranger wiping off his confusion and confidently throwing his muscular arm across your shoulders. Once he turned to face your ex, he had painted his features with the smuggest grin one could imagine, revealing a charming dimple.

He tilted forward slightly, which only brought more attention to how much taller he was than your ex, and shot his hand out between them. “Satoru, pleasure to meet you.” His tone matched his expression, not a single speckle of insecurity to pick up on anywhere. Your ex stared at his hand with disdain before begrudgingly accepting the gesture and introducing himself in return. “Hm, don’t think she’s mentioned you.”

Your lips parted in surprise, not expecting this Satoru to take his role so seriously — and then put on an award winning show right off the bat, nonetheless. Was it finally your turn to be blessed by the universe with some good karma in the shape of the most perfect stranger to deal with the situation?

Turning to take a quick glance at your ex, you had to press your lips together to choke back the cackle that threatened to escape. His expression was priceless, Satoru’s innocent little comment rolling of his tongue so effortlessly, causing a slight twitch in your ex’s eye.

“Well, I’m her-“ then he cleared his throat, struggling to finish his sentence. You weren’t surprised his title died in his throat, having never really accepted the fact that the relationship with over.

“He’s my ex,” you said, finding some courage to casually place your hand on Satoru’s chest, hoping and begging you weren’t making him uncomfortable by crossing a line.

“Aaah, your ex,” this Satoru trialed off with an awkward raise of the eyebrows before he turned to look at you again. That’s when you finally got to take a proper look at his breathtaking eyes, the whole ocean trapped in his irises. But you couldn’t let yourself fall completely mesmerised — you shook off the affect his piercing eyes seemed to have. “Sorry I’m running a little late. I stopped by the bookstore down the street to see if they had that book you recommended on our first date.” Then he served you what seemed like a genuine smile.

Stop, not the time to admire the handsome stranger!

You bashfully tilted your head forward while the sweetest chuckle traveled past your lips, also having to sell the performance. “How sweet of you to remember.”

“Of course!” He smoothly removed his arm from your shoulder to slide it along your back, moving it in comforting circles — but he never let it travel too far.

Your ex had his glare glued to Satoru’s gesture, unable to look away no matter how badly he wanted to.

“Never got around to that one,” your ex said with an awkward, forced laugh in an attempt to shift the attention back to him. He probably thought he was being charming (he always thought he was), but his little comment only gave you another reminder to why you had broken up with him — he never cared about your interests, as he couldn’t be bothered to pick up your favourite book, no matter how many times you had asked him if he could at least give it a try.

“Huh, how unfortunate.” Again, your ex couldn’t conceal the little reaction Satoru caused in his face by his incredibly taunting tone.

He cleared his throat again, and you could see how he was grasping at straws trying to redeem himself. “So, what do you have planned?” It wasn’t too obvious, but you could tell — you could tell he asked as a challenge, certain your “date” wouldn’t be able to suffice an answer that would leave him satisfied.

You opened your mouth to answer, but only managed to take a breath before Satoru had already started his lengthy explanation. “Well, first I’m taking her out for lunch, obviously,” he mused, taking a quick glance around your surroundings. “And I didn’t want to ruin the surprise, but I got us entrance tickets for the botanical garden uptown. She told me she’s been wanting to go for months.” Then he turned to look at you.

He said it with such a genuine smile painting the corner of his lips, both of you letting the eye contact linger for a second. For once you were thankful for your ex, because if it wasn’t for him drawing Satoru’s alluring eyes away, you were scared you might just have found yourself swooning a little.

“Oh, yeah, of course,” your ex chuckled in response with a nonchalant eye roll, “she might have mentioned it once or twice.”

“Hm,” Satoru huffed, sucking in his cheeks and eyeing him up and down

Pathetic was really the only word that Satoru would use to best describe the individual in front of him. He just seemed so puny, reeking of insecurity, only amplified by how he had so easily went along with the lie of a botanical garden — something Satoru had just pulled from the top of his head.

A huge, nervous lump traveled down his throat as Satoru held his gaze hostage, his dominant behaviour easily smothering any sprinkle of confidence your ex might have possessed at one point — all by just being there. And it was just so satisfying that it was finally your turn to watch your no-good ex being the one who was tormented for once.

“Well-“ his voice cracked the slightest, Satoru pursing his lips in amusement at the little slip, “I have to get going now. I’ll see you around,” stumbling over his words as his face shyly grew redder. Then he just turned on his heel and left, leaving no time for you to even say goodbye.

Satoru instantly felt your body relax at his side with a deep exhale, the hand that had shyly rested on his chest with modesty falling the second the door was shut — and once you took a step in front of him, he became hyper aware of how close to him you had been the entire time. With the sudden absence of your body next to his, he realised how perfectly you had just seemed to fit next to him. Nearly as if you had been made simply to be by his side.

And stood in front of him, he finally got the chance to take a look at you. A proper look at you, and damn, you were beautiful. Your eyes were kind, which amazed him considering the unpleasant encounter that had just taken place.

The chuckle you’d faked along with his act was still resting on your lips, but now it definitely seemed more real — warm.

“Thank you so much!” You gushed, “I am so sorry I just dragged you into that! I was panicking.”

Satoru watched intently as you spoke, unable to peer his eyes off you. His attention held on to every syllable, entirely captivated by your person, eyes roaming your face to take in every little detail there was to observe.

“Shit,” you suddenly interrupted yourself, taking a glance at your watch.

“I never caught-“

“I really wish I could stay and treat you for lunch, as thanks,” you cut him off, seemingly not even acknowledging how he had tried to speak, rummaging through your bag frantically before pulling out your wallet, “but because of him I’m running late. So, here, take this,” you chuckled lightly while stuffing his hands full of cash. “I really appreciate what you did!” Satoru was barely able to decode what you were saying as it all came tumbling out in one breath.

Continuing to spew a string of thank you’s, you quickly backed out of the cafe, his eyes following you as you jogged lightly down the street and out of sight.

Satoru was left utterly baffled, simply ogling the vacated spot you had occupied seconds ago.

Of all the times Satoru would end up tongue tied, this was the worst possible moment — he was cursing himself relentlessly for not being quick enough to demand a name, and now you were just gone, some random person he’d been lucky enough to cross paths with for a moment.

He knew he should just get on with his day — use the money you had gifted him and buy himself that sweet treat he wanted and forget about you. But he couldn’t — he wouldn't.

Had you just decided to walk into a random cafe you had just so happened to walk past that particular day?

Satoru certainly thought so. Because when he couldn’t rid you from his mind, he had gone back to that very same cafe, childlike optimism filling his body while he lingered the area, waiting for your figure to show.

It never did.

His patience quickly ran out, growing more restless every day that passed where he didn’t see you stroll down the street to return to the cafe to grab the lunch you never got to have.

He couldn’t let it rest in the hands of the universe any longer. After days of casually stalking the area, he decided to strut through the entrance of the building to simply ask.

“And how can I help you today, sir?” The sweet girl behind the counter mused, the perfect customer service smile greeting him as he leaned his entire weight in the edge of the counter.

“Hi there, remember me?”

He saw her shoulders rise slightly as she took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, I don’t,” yet another polite smile.

“I was in here about three weeks ago. Was with this really pretty girl-“

“Sir,” she gently interrupted him, still the same smile on her face, “we see hundred of faces every day. We have no way of remembering them all.”

His head fell back dramatically, huffing in disappointment as his fingers flexed against the marble top. “Thanks, anyway,” he mumbled quietly, shuffling over to a secluded table in the corner, sulking in his lonesome while his eyes were locked on the door, still filled with a light glimmer of hope that you would show.

It became routine — sitting in the same corner in the back, ordering the same thing while he waited for three hours everyday before he eventually had to leave, with a heavy heart, to attend to his duties.

And if the nice barista didn’t recognise him before, she definitely did now, walking over to his table and serving him his plate with a sympathetic smile. “No show today either?” The most theatrical sigh would leave his lips every time she asked the question, sad puppy dog eyes on display as he shook his head. “Sorry, buddy.”

“It’s getting a little sad, don’t you think?” Her coworker would comment once she rejoined her behind the counter, both of them keeping an eye on him with pinched eyebrows.

“I don’t know,” she breathed, crossing her arms over her chest. “It’s a little romantic.”

Then they would share a look, some judgement passing between their eyes before they burst into innocent laughter, wondering how long they would get to witness his yearning before he eventually gave up his dreams of finding you again.

For days, Satoru’s head would snap towards the door every time the tiny bell rang, witnessing all sorts of people come to enjoy a little treat but not a single one of them fit your description.

Maybe this was just too hopeless? Tokyo was the most populated city in the world — bumping into the same person twice was like finding a needle in a high stack. Scratch that, it was like finding a rice grain in the great Sahara desert. But he kept praying, hoping the universe would bless him with his desire.

It was a perfectly okay day.

The temperature was nice — higher than expected for a mid-fall day — but the weather wasn’t much to brag about. For the past week it had been raining. Not pouring, but a light, constant drizzle that tapped quietly against the cafe window as Satoru stared mindlessly out at the scenery of concrete buildings and trees changing colour.

There was only a single string of hope that kept him sitting in that chair day after day, but it was destined to break soon. His head didn’t even turn towards the door anymore when that little bell rang with the familiar chime. He simply rested his chin in the palm of his hand, giving all the responsibility back to the universe.

The familiar barista came to his table, picking up the plate littered with only crumps and not one, but two, empty coffee mugs (that had been more sugar than coffee).

“Same time tomorrow?” She asked sweetly, wiping the table clean while balancing the dishes in her other hand.

He instantly wiped away his disappointment, plastering on the most convincing smile he could muster as he turned to face her. “I don’t think so.” She stared wide eyed at him, mouth parted into a shy ‘o’, a little disappointed to see him finally give up, having started to root for him a long time ago. “You’ve had exceptional service,” he beamed from ear to ear as he got up from his chair, her eyes never leaving him as he stood to tower over her.

He gave her one last tight lipped smile as he passed her. “Goodbye,” she stuttered quietly, keeping her pitying gaze on him as he headed for the exit.

The bell rang one last time, and Satoru was a little relieved he wouldn’t have to hear the obnoxiously high-pitching ding again — his relief short lasted as he crashed into a figure smaller than himself the second he was about to exit.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t watching- well, if it isn’t my knight in shining armour!”

What were the chances?

After all those days — waiting, staring, stuffing his face with sweets — and to think he was just about to give up. Maybe the universe had finally decided to take pity on him, wanting to reward his patience.

You looked as breathtaking as the day you had desperately latched onto his arm — maybe even better. You seemed lighter almost, as if someone had lifted off pounds from your shoulders. Same kind eyes, but a sense of peace glossing over them instead of frustration.

“It’s you,” it fell from his lips involuntary.

“In the flesh,” you chuckled. The sweet, vibrating sound faded into a clear of the throat when Satoru only continued to ogle you without a word. “Oh, sorry, you were leaving-“ you stuttered, stepping aside to let him pass. You were left confused when he didn’t walk past you, but rather kept his glare on you.

“I never got your name.”

“Sorry?” You asked, his voice too quiet to pick up on.

The same smug grin you’d seen on his face so many weeks ago greeted you, swallowing the nervous lump in your throat. “I never got your name,” more assertive now that he had increased his volume.

“Oh,” you said shyly, your fingers tightening around the strap of your bag. Eyeing his attractive smile, you let your name roll off your tongue before mirroring his expression of happiness.

If it was even possible, his smile stretched even further across his face, the dimples you’d noticed last time appearing on each side of his face. “Nice to finally meet you. Properly this time.”

His natural charm just steamed off him in abundance, something you had only appreciated in glimpses in your stressed haze. “You too,” you smiled.

“I haven’t seen you here since that day.”

“Well, that’s because I haven’t been here since then,” you chucked nervously, glancing towards the register when you felt some interrogating eyes on you — both of the girls behind the counter wringing their heads away from you and Satoru. “My ex has had a tendency to linger in areas we ‘bump’ into each other,” you raise your fingers to gesture the quotation marks, “but I actually think meeting you might have scared him off for good. Haven’t seen him since, so thank you again.”

“Truly my pleasure,” he straightened his posture, his height growing even more impressive. He spoke your name, and despite not really knowing you, he said it with a tenderness your ex always lacked. “I was wondering,” he took a step closer, his eyes flittering between yours, “I owe you a trip to a botanical garden, don’t you think?”

Your breath instantly hitched in your throat, heat spreading modestly across your face.

Of course the handsome stranger who had come to your rescue in a moment of genuine despair had crossed your mind from time to time since then — you had just come to terms with the fact you would never be as lucky to cross paths with the polite stranger again. And the part of you that had been plagued with embarrassment was okay with that.

But the excitement in his eyes as he waited for you to answer slowly erased the uncomfortable feeling.

“Sure, I’d like that.”

tags (taglist form) @sad-darksoul ﾉ @05-simply-06-simping ﾉ @geniejunn ﾉ @alixris ﾉ @shadava

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@elenor222 ﾉ @mima0127 ﾉ @lem-hhn ﾉ @mechanicalmari

a/n it's finally here and i think i'm happy with it... not entirely sure. think i've seen myself blind on this fic. however, thank you so much for the reception on the little drabble that took me literally ten minutes to write, hope this lives up to your expectations <3 likes, comments and reblogs is much appreciated

©hiraethwrote 2024 . all rights reserved. reposting, translating and otherwise plagarisim is prohibited

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wrong place, wrong time.

PAIRING... heeseung x doctor!reader | GENRE... fluff, romance, humor, mentions of hospitals, flirty heeseung | WC... 1kish

“oh my god. he has to be a model. there’s no way-“

“maybe he’s famous…”

“should we ask him for a picture?”

you roll your eyes at the excited chatter coming from the nurses down the hall. who knew what they were gossiping about this time? shoving your hands in your coat pockets, you’re quite literally stopped by the sight of everyone crowded by the front desk.

you frown, taking in their lovestruck expressions. “what’s going on?”

one of the nurses, giselle, quickly squeals and runs over to whisper in your ear. 

“you won’t believe it, doc. the finest man just walked in. his condition seems alright so we’re all trying to figure out what he came in for.”

of course. you let out an exasperated sigh, watching in amusement as everyone fights to be the one to escort him to a room. 

out of pure curiosity, you decide to take a quick glimpse. exactly how handsome could this guy really be?

apparently, very. much. so. 

lee heeseung. early twenties. looks like a member of a famous boy band. has got everyone in close proximity wrapped around his finger.

also, a huge flirt (obviously.) 

the nurses love him, getting any and every chance to bat their eyelashes and flirt back. 

you, on the other hand? 

you’re sure you’ve become a pro at rejecting his advances. 

the first time he came in was for bloodwork. the second time, x-rays. the third time he was “feeling under the weather.” 

honestly, you’re wondering why he visited so often. if anything, most people avoided hospitals.

“hi, dr. y/l/n.”

your lips press together in a thin line. your eyes remain focused on the clipboard in front of you. you weren’t counting but this was, what? 

his fourth time checking in? 

“heeseung. you’re back…again. may i ask why you seem to love the hospital?”

he smirks teasingly, “or maybe why the hospital seems to love me?”

you can’t help but roll your eyes indiscreetly. 

he did it every time. of course, he was friendly with everyone. but heeseung just seemed to go the extra mile around you. 

“i think i ate something bad.”

you quirk an eyebrow, “oh really?”

“i don’t know, maybe it was something the chef cooked?” he responds cheekily. 

you let out a huff of air, one long enough that blows the baby hairs out of your face. “…what did you eat last night?”

“oh, it was delicious,” his eyes bore into you as he continues to ramble on.

“any pain, discomfort, bowel movements?” you interrupt, clicking your pen incessantly. 

“no, just the ache in my heart when you ignore me,” he clutches his chest playfully.

you look up at him with pursed lips. 

“you know what? i think you’re fine and it’s time for you to go.”

you guide heeseung to the front desk to drop him off, about to leave him in the hands of the receptionist. as you’re about to leave, you feel a hand wrap around your wrist. it’s subtle—under the table so no one else can see. 

your body stiffens for a moment, examining his face that holds an unreadable expression. when neither of you utter a single word, you gently pull your arm from his grip when someone calls for you. 

winter’s mouth drops open. “you’re telling me he came back a fourth time? this must be a record.”

ningning nods excitedly, “i mean, there has to be a reason. who do you think he keeps coming back for?”

you almost choke on your water. “you’re saying-?”

she turns to you, eyebrows raised insistently. “there must be a certain someone that catches his eye here.”

“i wish it were me,” giselle sulks as her fork stabs into her food pathetically. 

winter frowns, “you know, he has been really clingy to you, doc.”

you swallow harshly. “huh?”

everyone begins to chime in accordance. 

“yeah, he always asks about you and what you’re doing.”

“he only gets check ups from you, too.”

you scoff, shaking your head slightly. “don’t remind me.”

the three of them pause for a short moment, before their expressions change. you feel fear and apprehension course through your veins. 

“do you not like him? is it because you think he’s so cute?”

“are you interested in him?” their wide eyes and questioning voices makes your mouth dry.

“now that i think about it… y/n’s the only one who doesn’t seem down bad for heeseung.”

you stammer, unable to form a response until your pager goes off. 

“ha-oh. well, that’s my cue!” 

you quickly make your escape in order to hide your flustered expression. 

after you finished your rounds later, you slump into your chair in the cafeteria. the sounds of the conversation from the table next to you drifts over to your ears. 

“do you think it’s because of me? i mean, he always greets me good morning with those dreamy eyes of his.”

your eye twitches. 

“don’t think you’re so special. heeseung waves goodbye to me every time.”

alright, enough of this. you stand up, chair clattering backwards quite loudly, and walk off. you’ve just made it to your office, opening the door, when you freeze.

“heeseung? what are you doing here?”

he immediately smiles from—your eyes narrow—your rolling chair. he rolls closer, a bit too close.

“why do you keep asking when you know the  answer already?”

for a moment, you keep your eyes locked. then you let your professional mode switch off. 

“you really need to stop coming, hee. people are getting ideas,” you chide gently with a ruffle of his hair.

he leans into your touch with a hum, “about you and me?”

you push his head away with a snort, “no. about you and them.” 

with a chuckle, he wraps his arms around your waist. “i’m sorry. i can’t help but miss my baby when you’re practically working all day.”

you soften, “i know. i’m sorry. but this is getting a little out of hand.”

suddenly heeseung gets up, moving closer towards you. “will a kiss make up for it?”

you pretend to think, tapping your foot thoughtfully, “maybe… depends on how good of a kiss.“

he quickly leans in, one arm snaking around your waist while the other cups your cheek. your eyes begin to close. as soon as you feel the ghost of his lips touch yours, the door slides open. 

“doc-“

you immediately push heeseung off of you, startled. and then proceed to shut the door in giselle’s face, quite literally. with panicked whispers, you manage to shove your boyfriend under the desk with a final shh!

about 0.3 seconds later, you slide the door open again. 

giselle stands there, gaping. 

“what was that?!”

“what was what?” you clear your throat nonchalantly, taking a look at your patient’s files. 

“you-he-“ she splutters, “heeseung!” 

“what are you talking about?”

“you’re the one heeseung keeps coming for?”

“doctor y/l/n?!”

you both freeze. the rest of the nurses look from you to giselle and back with shell shocked faces. 

you want to curl up into a ball. this is not how you wanted everyone to find out. given, you didn’t expect your loving boyfriend to visit out of the blue without any context. 

you smile sheepishly. “surprise?”

before you know it, a hand finds its way onto your shoulder. you almost jump before relaxing at the touch. 

“we-we thought- heeseung-“

you bite your lip, as heeseung chuckles. you wanted to keep your personal life and work life separate, but with your job getting so hectic the past couple weeks, you realized you had spent way more time at the hospital than at home. 

immediately, guilt runs through your body. heeseung had always been so sweet and understanding, and seeing him come visit your work really put things in perspective. 

how bad must’ve it been for him to have to go out of his way just to see you? while you kept brushing him off? 

you wrap an arm around his waist, hugging him closer. “guys, this is my boyfriend, heeseung—as most of you already know.”

he looks at you with surprise evident in his eyes. obviously, you weren’t the most open person. 

as everyone watches you two with jaws dropped, you squeeze his hand in hopes he understands. you’re lucky to have heeseung—the most empathetic person you know, because he presses a kiss to your temple. 

“i’m sorry,” you murmur, “no more running away and prioritizing work.”

everyone else in the room fades away as he truly looks you in the eye. 

“i know, baby. i know.”

as you both beam at each other, you’re assured in the love you feel together once more. 

a/n ▸ jae posting two days in a row? that’s crazy

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---

NSFW. L x F!reader. Vaginal sex, cunnilingus. L realizing he has feelings for you. Approx 2.6k words.

Stress impaired neural circuitry and was detrimental to cognitive function, and L couldn’t afford to lose brain power.

His most recent case required it all. The longer the case went on the more his brain seemed to fog, and the more it fogged, the longer it would take to catch the murderer. There was only one thing for it: you.

He needed you, craved you, couldn’t get you out of his mind. No matter how hard he tried to focus, the image of you appeared; a temptation he couldn’t get past. 

Put simply, he was horny. 

He dreamed of you in the few hours of sleep he stashed away from the relentless pursuit of victory. Vivid dreams of your scent, your touch, the sound of his name on your lips. He awakened from those dreams flustered and panting, his spend soaking through his jeans. But no matter how graphic and convincing those dreams were, it couldn’t compare to the real thing. To You.

With you it was never just sex. L was very fond of you, comfortable with you, his heart was made lighter by your company. You'd been friends for a while, then good friends, and then close friends who indulged in sex together. And lately your relationship was evolving into something else. Something neither of you had stuck a firm label to. Not yet.

He had Watari call you and patch you through to his line.

“L? Is everything okay?”

The moment he heard your voice, he felt the fog clear just a little. Enough to know this was exactly the right thing to do. “Yes of course. But I need to see you. How soon can you fly out to me?”

“Uh…”

“I would like to have sex with you.”

“... I’m on my way.”

Two days later you knocked on the door to his hotel room thousands of miles from home. You'd dropped everything to be there, and the gravity of that was not lost on him. 

The moment you stepped through the door he wrapped his arms around you, holding you to him in a desperate and much-needed embrace. 

“I appreciate you coming,” he said, relief immediately flooding through him, as if your arrival was the antidote to a toxin which had been slowly seeping into his system in your absence. “I need to switch off my brain… for a short while at least. And you’ve always been rather adept at making me feel at least a little mindless.”

The sound of your gentle, never unkind, laughter made him smile. As did the way your arms tightened around his rounded shoulders. “I missed you too, L.”

“Ah, well, yes, of course I missed you. Having you here while I’m working on a case is too much of a distraction. Yet being apart for too long also obstructs my focus.”

“We need to find a balance, don’t we?”

“Yes.” he hooked his index finger over his bottom lip and glanced at the ceiling. “Perhaps a schedule. Though as you know, I do tend to sleep quite heavily after sex, and that will need to be factored in when calculating the amount of time I can spend working.”

You smiled at him, and he realized just how much he’d missed the sight of it. “Do you have time set aside now?”

“Of course. I have the next eighteen hours blocked off.”

“Eighteen hours?”

“Yes… as persistent as my urges are, I have no intention of rush– mmh—”

Your lips on his silenced him, physically and– at least momentarily– mentally. Your kisses never failed to raise his heart rate and his temperature. They were devastating. Wonderful. Addictive. He was hardly aware of the little muffled moans escaping him as you backed him toward the couch and had him sit. 

“Is Watari here?” you asked, straddling his lap and running your fingers through his wild raven hair. 

A subtle smile curved L’s lips as he gazed up at you, dark eyes drinking in the familiar yet exciting sight of you. Only a matter of minutes together and already he felt the weight on his shoulders lifting. “No, Watari has his own room. We're alone.”

“Good.”

God, the heat in your kisses then, the hunger which tightened a coil deep beneath his navel. The sensation of you sucking on his lower lip made him shiver, the gentle touch of your fingertips on his neck gave him goosebumps. It was wonderful. Every touch, every second, every kiss. He clung to you tightly, his bare toes curled against the carpet, breaths labored, pupils so dilated they nearly drowned out the gray of his irises. 

A moan of protest escaped him when you pulled back, leaving his lips feeling swollen and tingly.

“You’re very cute, L.”

“I’m cute? Hm… Interesting word choice.”

“It’s true. You’re so very cute, and so very, very sexy.”

“Sexy…” he repeated back as you trailed kisses down his neck. “I’ll admit, I’m inclined to believe you. You’re making me feel many things right now and sexy is certainly among them.”

You grinned against his collarbone. “What else?”

Goodness, your kisses made it hard to breathe. But when you were around oxygen seemed superfluous. He needed your lips more than he needed to fill his lungs.

He tried to put into words the way you made him feel; hot, breathless, complete, present, safe, happy, loved. But the only sound he managed to choke out as your hands slid beneath the hem of his shirt to caress his stomach was a strained, fractured moan.

You chuckled quietly. “Good, that's what I was hoping.”

Eloquence out the window, he let his hands and his lips speak for him, fingertips gliding up your back, pushing up your shirt, making you shiver. The sensation of your skin beneath his palms was so lovely he never wanted to feel anything else. 

Early on in your relationship he’d mastered the art of smoothly unhooking your bra, and he did so now, stroking his fingers along your upper back, feeling your shoulder blades flex beneath his hands as he lifted your shirt up and over your head. He set your garments aside so carefully it made you smile. Well, it wouldn’t be polite to simply toss them.

And you pulled his shirt off too, setting it on top of yours before your hands slid over his chest and abdomen. You were so greedy for him; gentle and adoring, but unmistakably hungry. Squeezing, stroking, holding, making up for the weeks you’d been apart. Every touch left a desire for more in its wake. And the intimacy of your bare skin on his, the way your hardened nipples prodded and brushed against him every time you leaned in to deepen your kisses… heaven. Perfection.

You made him feel incredible. So good he couldn’t help but squirm beneath you, his cock aching and so desperate for your touch he couldn’t bear it. And you knew him well enough to see it in his eyes; the almost pained expression pinching his brow, the way his mouth turned down as he succumbed to the sensation of your lips on his throat, your tongue warm and soft, slippery against his clavicle. 

L wasn't quite sure when he had come to realize the wonderful truth; that you needed him as he needed you. It wasn't a sudden dawning, more an intrinsic fact which became second nature to him. Being with him, kissing him, grinding yourself against his lap was simultaneously as indulgent and as necessary for you as it was for him. You were working out your own stress, clinging to him as he was to you. Adoring him as he adored you.

You'd missed him; you’d said as much but he could feel it. It was apparent by the way your kisses lingered, the desperation of your touches, the ragged quality of each overwhelmed breath. And that feeling, of being needed, wanted, craved, was almost enough to make him lightheaded.

“Beautiful…” the word tiptoed from his tongue and into the heated air between you. It was all so beautiful; you, the sensations, him, that moment, all of it. 

He’d spent the majority of his life contemplating the very worst facets of human behavior; analytical detachment as much a necessity as an inevitability when the world around him was saturated by cruelty, violence, and death. But you… no he could never detach from you. He was wholly and willingly consumed by your loveliness, your beauty, your imperfections. All of you. 

He heard himself groan in protest as you clambered off him, but he needn’t have worried. You simply finished undressing before unbuttoning his jeans, tugging them down his slender thighs as he arched his back and lifted his hips off the couch to ease your endeavor. His erection tented his boxers, aching and twitching at the sight of you stripping off your underwear, and the arousal glistening at the apex of your inner thighs. 

“So wet,” he said, tapping his lower lip with his thumbnail, his dark eyes hungrily drinking in the sight of you. “You're excited.”

“Of course. You turn me on, L.”

“Clearly. I enjoy it immensely.” He glanced down at his erection, and the little wet patch soaking through the fabric of his boxers. “And… oh, hey… likewise.”

Goodness, he enjoyed the way you smiled. Even at a time like this when he was in real danger of ruining the mood. You didn’t roll your eyes or barely tolerate him, and you didn’t simply appreciate him for his intelligence, his money, or even his looks which you had very quickly seemed to have acquired the taste for. It was all of him for you too. 

Love, he was quickly learning, was all about those little moments. The awkwardness, the fumbling, accepting someone as the flawed and wonderful person they were. Every little thing he adored about you was reflected back in your eyes: personality, humor, mannerisms. He adored you down to your very core and there was no doubt in his mind that you felt the same way about him.

He stood from the couch, stepping out of his boxers– hopping on the spot to keep his balance as he unhooked them from his ankle– and stood before you completely naked. 

“As much as I would enjoy sex right now, I’d also very much like to taste you.” He scratched his belly as he headed toward the bedroom door. “And I feel we’d benefit from moving to the bedroom. There’s room there to maneuver. The bed is comfortable and… If I'm honest, I’d enjoy lying with you. Particularly being held by you. You’ve given me quite the fondness for cuddling you know.” 

Of course convincing you was unnecessary. He’d only ever have to ask to move to the bedroom and you would've headed straight there. But he liked the way the color rose in your cheeks when he mentioned his desires, and the way your smile took on new meaning. The little flirtatious glance you gave him as you slipped by him in the doorway made his heart pitter patter. The way you sat on the bed, parting your thighs and inviting him to indulge in you made his cock ache.

All his life he’d been treated as something other– he'd felt it too– but with you, crouching between your feet, breathing in the heady scent of your arousal as your breath hitched in anticipation, he felt like any other lovesick fool. And for that he was endlessly grateful; a gratitude he expressed by leaning in and kissing your clitoris. He knew how you liked it. Hot, open-mouthed kisses, heavy on the tongue, making out with your sex as you moaned and sunk your fingers into his hair and writhed beneath his lips. 

Dear God, the taste of you. If only cunnilingus provided adequate sustenance, he’d never touch anything else again. He’d live between your thighs, lapping at your core, devouring you, parting your folds to drive his tongue into your entrance, enjoying the way you bucked your hips toward him, always seeking more. 

Ordinarily he’d take his time, savor the slow-build toward your climax, but he was starved, desperate to sink into your heat and be enveloped by your presence which he’d denied himself for far too long. He dragged his tongue along your slit, circling your clitoris before surrounding it with his lips and sucking upon it.

“Oh fuck,” you gasped, heels pressing against his backside, thighs trembling. 

Your reactions only ever served to bolster his confidence. Your pleasure was as much a boost to his ego as any successfully closed case. And he was just as relentless in its pursuit, demanding, licking, sucking, groaning against your pussy, his dick throbbing almost painfully, dripping precum onto his thighs. 

And then you came, and it was a miracle he didn’t follow suit. 

Your gasps, your moans, the way you tensed and shuddered and cried his name. The sudden flood of heat emanating from your core, the throbbing spasms, all of it. Wonderful. Perfect. Utterly utterly maddening. He simply had to be inside you. 

Your throes had barely subsided when he crawled onto you, his mouth still dedicated to worshiping your form, following a path from your pelvis, over your stomach, your chest, your throat, and finally your lips, where you groaned at the taste of yourself on his tongue. And all else was meaningless. The case, the stress, whatever came tomorrow. None of it mattered. Because you were there. Because the sensation of you, of sliding into you, the way your body adjusted to accommodate him, the way your brow pinched then smoothed, and the sound of his name on your lips pared him down so completely to the true form of himself, to someone he hardly recognized. 

Only when he was with you like this was he allowed to be just a man. Not a detective. Not an unsettling, infallible genius or a freak or a creep or a weirdo or whatever labels were thrust upon him. Just a man whose lungs emptied when he sheathed himself inside you. Just a man whose thrusts were uncoordinated and sloppy because it all felt so overwhelmingly good. Just a man with butterflies in his belly when you held his face between your hands and finally, finally uttered the words you’d both been dancing around since God knows when. 

“I love you.”

Such a lovely sound. The gravity of it folded him. He collapsed into you, trembling, rolling his hips against you in the quest for release, his breath blowing hot and hard against your throat as he responded in kind. “I do too. I love you. Isn’t it… Isn’t it incredible?”

Perhaps he wasn’t making any sense. But he meant all of it, the simple words and their world-changing intricacies. In every imaginable way. He loved you. 

Overwhelmed with the need to be closer, deeper, he pushed up your thighs, spreading them, pressing his pelvis tight against yours until his cock was completely buried inside you and neither of you could draw full breaths. Deep, unbridled, fractured groans tumbled from his lips, his forehead resting on your chest as he arched into his thrusts, watching his cock slide into you with fascination and awe. He loved every aspect of it. The scent of your body, the off-kilter rhythm of his thrusts, that he could hear your wetness even above his own moans and yours. So good. Messy and undignified, uncoordinated and beautifully, perfectly human. Mountains of sugar couldn’t hold a candle to the indulgence he found in you. 

His pleasure grew, billowing behind his navel, a flurry of clenching muscles and firing nerves. And he simply had to have something in his mouth, his lips latching onto your nipple, tonguing it frantically as you cried out in bliss beneath him. And then he was filling you, his cock throbbing and leaking and stuttering inside you. Incapable of analysis or even thought beyond simply you.

It was you. Only you. Always you.

Afterwards you held him so adoringly, stroking your fingers through his hair, telling him how good he felt and how much you loved him. And what a wonderful feeling it was to be so utterly adored. Such tranquility in allowing himself to be just a man.

“Thank you for coming,” he said, curled in your arms a little while later, once his trembling subsided and left a pleasant humming tingle in its wake. Safe and relaxed and at peace. “Pun unintended.”

“Awful,” you teased him, as lovers are wont to do. “I’m taking the next plane home.”

“Ah, well, that’s a pity. We still have seventeen hours before I need to get back to work. And, it seems, today at least, little to no refractory period.”

“Is that so?”

“It is so. So I'd appreciate it if you indulged my awful humor a little while longer. Might I suggest keeping my mouth otherwise occupied?”

Your smile, your gentle, never unkind laughter, the way you flirted with him… just you. Goodness, seventeen hours would never be enough. 

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