THE DESIRE OF A KING

wishful thinking. (masterpost)

summary: the instruction was plain and simple: no strings attached. but you should’ve known from the beginning that it could never apply to you and him.

pairing: minho x f!reader

rating: 18+ (minors dni)

genre: friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, friends with benefits au, college au; fluff, angst, smut; individual warnings for each part

current word count: 38.7k+

listen to 🎧: the playlist

updated: 08.01.2025

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation / main masterlist / taglist / ko-fi

chapter index:

one: flutter / intro (2.3k) ⤷ neither of you owes the other anything at all.

two: in plain sight (4.9k) ⤷ “if i didn’t know any better, i’d say you’re jealous of him.”

three: puzzle pieces (3.2k) ⤷ there’s something about today. some lines, blurred.

four: spring daffodils (3.5k) ⤷ your axis shifts. it’s overwhelming just how much you want to be good for him.

five: say what you mean (2.8k) ⤷ “did anything change for you?”

six: like lightning (4.9k) ⤷ it strikes you the same way lightning splits open the whole sky on a cloudless night, abrupt and unmistakeable.

seven: built to break (4.3k) ⤷ “time for yourself, or time away from me?”

seven.5: limbo (5.6k) ⤷ you were watching how it all reflected so beautifully in the rippling waters below. he was watching you.

eight: ships in the night (7.2k) ⤷ when you were young, it’s the moon that used to follow you everywhere. as you get older, it’s all of the things that keep you up at night.

...

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means.

strawberry cake.

kim seungmin × fem!reader — high school! au, childhood friends to potential lovers, fluff

summary — seungmin only needs one present on his birthday, and it isn't the sugary dessert you made for him.

word count — 1.1K

warnings — fluff, fluff, FLUFF!!

author's note — happy seungmin day 🩷 i actually managed to post a fic on a member's birthday, who am i. initially thought of my baseball ksm fic but i know i'm not gonna finish that lol and his instagram posts were very inspiring. i think i watched this happen in some movie or tv show i watched, i don't remember 😭 but i thought it was really cute, lmk what you guys think <3

please consider leaving feedback in the comments or reblogs as they really make my day 💕

Kim Seungmin didn't like celebrating his birthday that much. Sure, he liked receiving a few gifts from his friends and a happy birthday here and there, but he didn't like the blowout parties that you loved. On your birthday, you would plan this whole thing, inviting friends from school and neighbors to celebrate your birthday. You were a social butterfly, so he understood why you did that. You loved being surrounded by people you cherished. Your birthday was just an excuse to call everyone over and spend time with them.

Seungmin, however, liked keeping his celebrations more reserved. His mother greeted him in the morning, making his favorite breakfast to eat and favorite lunch to take to school. His dad handed him some cash to buy something to eat after school, which he usually didn't do and opted to save it for a better cause. His sister offered to take him out for lunch on the weekend. 

Of course, being the wonderful and amazing best friend that you were (your words), you always went out of your way to do something. Like this year, you presented him with a small cake slightly smushed in your lunch box with haphazardly thrown purple sprinkles.

“I made it from scratch,” you added with a big grin as you sat in front of his desk. His friends had left a few moments ago to play on the school grounds. He'd stayed back, finishing up the last of his lunch and letting it settle in his stomach before he ran around playing soccer. A small smile formed on his face; he could never dislike your enthusiasm for his birthday.

“It looks... artistic,” he said in an amused tone, looking up from the lunch box to your face, which was scrunched up in a frown.

“I didn't know the box would be small... And hey, I baked this for you; at least show some appreciation!”

Seungmin laughed. “Sorry, thank you for making this cake for me.” He meant that; he knew that you knew it too, because your shoulders relaxed, and you prompted him to take a bite and tell him how it tasted. There was a little too much sugar for his liking, but he didn't tell you that, instead nodding his head in approval and eating more of it. It was strawberry-flavored, his favorite. It warmed his heart that you always went out of your way to do things the way that he liked.

When he looked back at you, you were tucking a strand of hair back as you ate a spoonful. The longer he looked at you, the faster his heartbeat went, his body feeling hot right up to the tip of his ears. It was a weird feeling, but not foreign. Lately, it had been happening more often. He started seeing you in a different light, something other than a friend—not just any friend, but a childhood friend. He wasn't naive; he knew what crushes were, and he knew he had one on you.

It was a realization he had come across a few months ago when his family and yours went to the carnival over the summer and the two of you had gotten separated. He came home that day, heart tap dancing in his ribcage and a never-ending smile on his face from the way you jumped with excitement after you worked together to win the obviously rigged carnival games and winning a plushie.

Some part of him knew that. You liked him back as well; he hoped his brain wasn't playing tricks on him when he saw the way your eyes lit up after seeing him. The innocent friendship you two shared was morphing into something different—a good different. 

That evening, while the two of you were walking home after the extra classes you had, the crisp evening air sent a tingle down his spine as he walked along the pavement, listening to whatever you were talking about and adding his own insights whenever he felt like it.

“Oh, hey, look! Tteokbokki!” You said excitedly, pointing to the food cart run by a middle-aged woman serving the steaming hot spicy rice cakes to a few customers. With a tug of his arm, you dragged him over and ordered one spicy one for both of you to share. He didn't like eating spice as much as you did, but he didn't want to say no to you. After a short debate, he used his birthday money to pay for the food, and the two of you walked along the riverside slowly as you ate.

“Mm, these are good,” you let out a satisfied hum and continued eating.

“They are,” he agreed. The spice was present at the back of his throat, but it was weirdly good after the oversweet cake he had during lunch.

“It tastes good after eating that sugar monster I made, right?” Seungmin turned his head to look at you. “What? Don't give me that look, that cake was so sweet, how did you even finish the whole thing? It tasted like I dumped a whole box of sugar in the batter.”

“True… But you made it, so I wanted to eat it,” he admitted, feeling his face flush lightly. If you teased him about it, he was going to brush it off and blame it on the tteokbokki, but your own cheeks mimicked his, tinging red at his sudden admission. 

“Still,” you protested, “I'll have to make a better one that doesn't taste like cavities.”

“I like the oversweet one. Maybe I'm an extra sugar kinda person.”

"No, you're not.”

“It wasn't even that bad.”

“Now you're just lying.”

The two of you dissolved into laughter, finishing up the last of your food. The walk home continued in relative silence for a while, him mulling over his words and wondering if he made you uncomfortable because you were too quiet. Before he could make an apology, you spoke quietly.

“I'm glad you liked it, but I still wish I could've given you a better birthday present.”

He stared at the path in front of them, the streets lit up by lamps and porch lights. “You already gave me the perfect birthday present.”

You tilted your head to the side. “What?”

“You,” he blurted out, regretting his words the next second, but once he saw your flustered reaction, his nerves calmed a little. “Now let's go home and act surprised at whatever my parents planned.” You giggled in response and nodded, your footsteps falling in sync as you walked beside him.

“Happy birthday, Seungmin.”

“You said that like ten times today!”

 

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©hanjsquokka | copying, translating or republishing my work is strictly prohibited

﴾ let me blow your mind

pairing: badboy!han jisung x f!reader

genre: one-shot, high school au, smut

word count: 10,1K

warnings: a lot of marking! ⋆ groping! ⋆ biting!⋆ light!spanking ⋆ experienced!han and inexperienced!reader ⋆ dry humping ⋆ oral (f. and m. receiving) ⋆ dirty talking (han has a nasty mouth) ⋆ cunnilingus ⋆ squirting ⋆ face!cumshot

summary: you noticed him watching you from afar, though it never occurred to you why han jisung, the school’s bad boy, would be watching a shy, nerdy girl like you, but before you can even blink, you are thrown into a world of pleasure and right into his greedy hands

request by @khandzilla

──────────────────────

He thinks you are doing it on purpose. Your teeth nibbling, chewing at your pencil. Pink tinted lips, wrapping around it and staining it — and he just knows that the lip balm you always apply is strawberry flavored. You always sit at the front of the class, like the good student that you are and even from the back of the room, he can see the sweat glistening on your skin. In his opinion schools should not be open at such weather, but he isn’t that against it, because he could see more of your white thigh highs sliding down your yummy thighs. Such a good student — there has never been a day when he hasn’t seen you wearing the school uniform. You always made it look so good and especially when the weather was too much your luscious skin to handle. The sleeves of your white blouse are rolled up and to his delight few buttons undone at the top, but to his displeasure hair not put up to show off your neck. Everyday he tried to at least catch a glimpse of new skin.

But it wasn’t enough for him. He ignores his friends snickering, the loud noise disturbing his thoughts for a split second. His head falls into his hand, leaning to the side when of the students moves before him and into his view. He is only pulled away from his thoughts when you turn around to look at the teacher. He only at that realized that the teacher is walking around the class to hand out their graded tests. Han doesn’t even have to see it, he knows that he totally blew it. It didn’t matter, l the only good grade that matters is yours.

No, he doesn’t want to say that it’s a crush. To be honest it’s a borderline obsession. He wouldn’t go to school so often if you weren’t there, he doesn’t even care about keeping up his reputation anymore. He had basically memorized your whole schedule — you are always the first person in class, glasses almost falling off your nose as you are always buried in some textbook, you are always eating few pieces of fruit during the third break — strawberries, just like your lip balm, are your favorite, then your are eating lunch at the far corner of the cafeteria where you are looking out of the window and mostly, he memorized how you would always push your skirt down — how your tits would strain against your blouse and how you would apply your lip balm with that cute pout — there’s a individual obsession just with your lips and he wonders if they taste just as sweet as the look…and from what he has seen, you are also super sweet. He doesn’t talk to you, he wants to, but it’s way more fun making you flustered when you catch him staring. He wonders if you like him, because you are shy around literally everyone, however he wants to say that he is the one. He didn’t talk to you, just observed you, waiting for the golden opportunity to arrive and when the teacher goes to hand him his test he sees it.

Han notices the teacher’s frown before even seeing his score. “Do something about it, buddy…” Sighs out Mr. Lee, his tone almost sounding fatherly. Pity is the last thing Han wants, and he knows his friends won’t offer it anyway. They laugh at his score, loudly cheering when one of them matches it. Zero, in bold red and circled, just as he expected. He’s never been good at this sort of thing — put him in an English class and he will score the highest, when it comes to a physics test, only one person can do that.

Han looks up from the paper, eyes going back to the front and he has to hide a small smile appearing on his face, when he sees you already looking at him. Just from the corner of your eye, subtly, masking it as if you are looking at the teacher who happens to reach your desk at that moment. You tried to be sneaky, but when you met his eyes, you instantly look away, almost giving yourself a whiplash. “Good job, Y/N.” Says the teacher and you flash him a small smile of gratitude, putting your 100% marked test on your desk. And then Han sees it.

Maybe it’s easier than he thought.

────

You already sprayed the entire capsule of your portable perfume on yourself. You are sweating from head to toe and you for the first time wished that you were wearing anything other than your uniform right now. Even if your tie is loose, it feels like it’s choking you, scratching at your neck. You also hope no one, especially him, can smell your nerves. You feel like you died a little when you caught him staring again and you know, you can’t possibly face him anymore. You are already in rush you want to say, few hours of classes still ahead of you, so when you dash out the door that’s your excuse. Though can’t help, but wonder if he will ever talk to you and just as the thought crosses your mind, you hear someone call out to you.

“Y/N—“ The well known voice sings out your name. You feel your heart jumping, stopping in the packed hallway. You feel so many eyes on you right now, the cheerleaders few feet away from you, glaring daggers at you. You are already feeling hot, but now you are sweating just from the way he said your name. To be honest you thought he didn’t even know you which is kind of stupid — you always catch him looking at you, but you want to say that it is just a coincidence every single time. You slowly turn around and you breathe out shakily when he literally jumps right in front of you.

Han breathes heavily, chest rising up and down and you can’t look at him when his shirt is so open that you think he should be dress coded. Your eyes fall onto his tie instead, hanging low on his neck, but you still see the bright smile on his face. You don’t even want to think about how you two look next to each other. You — hugging your textbooks close to your chest as much as possible to calm your racing heart, hair sticking to your sweaty skin and him — shining brighter than a star, effortlessly gorgeous and confident in his stance.

He pushes his hair back, eyes wide to get a full look at you. You are slouching a little to appear smaller and he almost coos at how cute you look, however his eyes go a little lower and not in innocent manner. No one can judge him for looking down your blouse when your tits are perfectly smashed together and thinking about licking your salty sweat off them. His nose is hit with a big whiff of your perfume and it’s so intoxicating that he almost doubles over. When you push your glasses up on your nose, it pulls him out of the magic spell your perfume held him in. “Are you free after school?” He should’ve said it differently, but the look on your face was definitely worth it.

Your lips parted, finally glancing up at him. You can’t believe those words left his mouth. You feel your heart pounding, ears ringing. However when you give a small glance your eyes drift behind him instead. “Ehm…” Your eyes fall on his friends, leaning on the lockers and staring right at the two of you. They have their lips turned up into smiles and you hope it’s not what you think it is. This can’t be just some kind of joke, because when your eyes drift back to Han his eyes are shinning with hope. “Why?” You ask, quietly not being able to look at him fully from how intensely his stare is.

“Well—“ Han notices your attention drifting off, eyes going back and forth between him and something behind him. He frowns, turning around to look back and when he sees his friends he almost screams. They are visible making you uncomfortable and even if their smiles were nothing, but teasing, he doesn’t want you looking anywhere else than him. With the first word still on the tip of his mouth, he blocks your view with his body, resulting in him standing right in front of you. “You’re really good at Mr. Lee’s class.” Han could have gotten to the point a long time ago, but he purposely makes this small conversation last longer, just to shake you up a bit more.

You feel heat traveling to your face, eyes glaring at his tie, but now he is way closer. The fact he is not afraid to walk into your personal bubble should make you uncomfortable and it in some point does, but it also awakens butterflies in your stomach. You become giddy inside and you can’t hide the small smile tugging at the corners of your lips, but it quickly fell at his intense look. “Thank you.” You whisper in question, perfectly done eyebrows rising to your forehead at disbelief. Han bites his lips, just like you are doing right now, completely unknowingly and he swears he can taste the strawberries on your mouth from here.

“Will you tutor me?” He asks and you have to step back a little to glance at him better, because you can’t breathe from how close he keeps getting. You pause at the ‘will’, he already knows that you won’t say no. “I suck so bad at physics and if I don’t do good at the next exam, I’m done. Mr. Lee said you are the only one who can safe me.” He says, exaggerating with his big expressions. He huffs, frowns and mostly looks at you with big puppy eyes.

Han drowns in your bashful state when he says the last sentence, you trying not to melt at his feet from the tone of his voice. You are just so overly taken back by this interaction that it is kind of hard to fully take it all in. You are already shocked that he walked up to you, talked to you and now he wants — no, needs your help? You don’t know if you can take it. “I-I—“ Your mouth is open, words at the tip of your tongue. However your mind is empty as you are not even sure what to say to him. Your mind goes back to his smirking friends and then to those jealous cheerleaders whose glares you still feel on your back. So much attention at once and mostly from him. Han waits, hands in his pockets, but both of you already know what you are going to say next. “I-I guess, I can—“

Han claps, the sound startling you, but he doesn’t see it as he looks at ceiling in greatfulness, though you don’t know it is mostly because of something else. “Thank you, Y/N! You’re a savior!” You shrink back at his loud voice, few people passing by you whispering to themselves. You feel hot, ready to pass out. You didn’t say yes, but also not no, you are not really sure what you wanted more — to go home after school or tutor him, well, he seems to know the answer for you. “Meet me before the school after?” Han says, already jumping back to walk back to his friends.

Your shuttering is cute, glasses fogging up at the bottom from your heavy sigh. “Oh, yeah!” Your voice breaks at the end and you want the floor to swallow you whole, but he only flashes you one of his dazzling smiles at the sound.

You stand there frozen in your spot, looking at him with small disbelief. You are already full of anxiety from just imagining yourself talking to him, he on the other hand only feels delight. He beams brightly, ignoring the remarks from his friends to look back at you for the last time. His eyes fall to the back of your thighs, hand keeping up your right sock up and he just can’t wait to see your skin up close again.

────

You are for the rest of the day on high alert, but at the same time and for the first, you see yourself not paying too much attention to your classes. Your hands are shaking, lip quivering. You don’t see Han anymore till lunch, however your eyes are staring into your book, though not even reading. He watched you the whole time, like usually, but other than lunch he didn’t go near you. You noticed that, but maybe you are just delusional, maybe those other times he actually wasn’t really everywhere near you, just like now. Maybe you are actually reading too much into things.

Han on the other hand really tried hard not to go near you. A lot of people were whispering about how there’s something going on between him and the nerdy, shy girl — well, not yet, he wants to say. He stays away from you to make you even more nervous and after school when he finally will meet up with you, you will be all shaken up, shuttering cutely like you always do.

When you stepped out of the school, the sun was already setting. You felt exhausted, but at the same time not at all, because you know you will not be able to relax because of him. For whatever reason…You stood at the end of the stairs to the main entrance, watching people walk by you, chatting. You kept looking down at your phone, reading the time minute by minute. It was getting really late for you and your heart kept beating faster the longer you stood there.

Han thinks he literally breathes just because of you. He can’t help those feelings and the thoughts running through him when he watches you stand there under the stairs, waiting for him. Your hair is tucked behind your ears, glasses hanging low on your nose and he melts when you nervously shift your weight from foot to foot. The way his heart skips a beat when he sees you move to turn around and walk away, breaks him and yet again it pulls him out his thoughts. He can’t let you get away, not when you are already so close, so he runs to catch up with you.

You hear heavy footsteps behind you and you are again startled by a booming voice. “Y/N, wait!” Han yells at you and your ears ring from just how loud he always is. You turn subtly around and he shakes his head at your unusual posture. It looks like you are guarding yourself. “Where are you going?” He asks you, puffing out air.

Shrugging softly, your eyes fall on the lit lamps around you and then the Moon. “Well it’s kind of late…” You are surprised by your leveled voice, but when you turn to look at him your voice dies at the end. You hate when you do that, it’s so embarrassing and even more when infront of him. You are actually surprised he even showed up, because you were really starting to think, it really was a joke after all, but how could you think that? He is so sweet…however, when looking at you, he thinks the exact opposite of himself.

Han is starting to panic a little at your words, walking around you to get a better look at you. “Huh?” He exclaims, glancing at his reflection in your glasses. “You promised to tutor me.” He pouts then, furrowing his eyebrows. You don’t hear the little fake tone in his voice, but his hurt expression melts your guard a little.

You didn’t promise him anything or did you? You can’t even think right now. “The library is closed.” You state softly.

He fights the urge to smirk, smiling only a little. “Yeah, I know.” He definitely knows. “I was thinking about going over to my place…to study of course.” Han drinks up your flustered state, the moment the words left him, you turned away so he wouldn’t see your face of shock. He can taste your shyness on his lips already and he is slowly starting to shake in excitement when you turn back to him.

The thought of going back to his place…it never crossed your mind. You definitely can’t handle being in a basically locked room where there would be just the two of you. On the other hand, you can’t say that the thought isn’t making you curious. “I don’t know…” You mumble, glancing at him briefly.

“Come on—“ He pressed, taking a bold step closer to you. “I won’t keep you up late.” Now there’s that smirk and when you timidly nod, he wants to kneel before you right then and there. The excitement pumping in him almost makes his veins burst, cheeks flushing just by the thought of you sitting on his bed and talking with that cute voice of yours. “Come on then, I won’t bite. It will be just the two of us, don’t worry.” Of course, he didn’t pay his roommate to stay out of their shared flat tonight.

‘Yeah, that’s what worries me’, you think. He walks you two back to his place, you keeping a small distance from him and he definitely didn’t like that. He lets you though, he would let you do anything and everything. Walking with you, his steps are quick, just to have more time with you inside his room. He really wants to know what is going on in the little head of yours. He wants to get under your skin, know your biggest likes and dislikes, fears and desires — what makes you shake. Han is acting crazy around you and you don’t even see it. You are so smart, but also such a dummy...He needs to show you, make you feel what you deserve.

The walk is silent, but it doesn’t take long before you two are standing in the elevator, waiting for it to lift you up to the 10th floor. It’s unusually quiet, no parties, no one in your way and he sees it as a blessing. You are not looking at him, even when you finally get into his shared apartment, but he knows he has your attention. He licks his lips, dry and thirsty and his whole head is spinning when he enters his room with you right behind him.

Your eyes go around his room, genuinely surprised by how clean it is. The walls are full of movie posters, musicians — your eyes land on his desk which is messy on the other hand. When you see the known magazine peeking out of the scattered papers, you instantly feel heat rising to your cheeks. You realize that he has been watching you the whole time when you glance at him and you are weakened by his look. His fingers play with the blue tie around his neck, nibbling at the material, loosening it and you breathe out sharply at the sight.

He finally has you in his room, he couldn’t believe it. “Take a seat.” Han says, gesturing to his unmade bed. Your eyes widened a little and his on the other hand close a little when your fingers just barely graze over his duvet.

“Here?” You mumble, playing with the strap of your shoulderbag.

He laughs, he has to. “Don’t act like you have never been in a boy’s room before.” He snickers, pulling out his phone from his pocket, but he doesn’t hear anything from you. His heart beats faster and he can’t help, but look somehow excited by your silence. “Fuck…really?” He is in disbelief, looking at you, just as you take a seat on the edge of his bed.

He is smiling wide and you thankfully don’t see it, attention on your sock clad feet instead. You are embarrassed to admit it and also too shy to lie. You can’t never lie or say no, it angers you a little, but Han could do that for you if you let him. He could be your voice, yours everything if you let him. Seeing you sitting on his bed, arched back as you fumble inside your bag is not helping him keep his sanity. Your tucked blouse rides up, exposing the skin of your lower back and he has to distract him by going through his playlist.

When you take out your small notebook and your phone, you suddenly hear a soft hum of music from behind you. Turning around, you see Han putting down his speaker which is playing a way too inappropriate song to listen to while studying. The low bass makes you vibrate and the thoughts of doing something completely different fill your mind. Why does he have to keep doing that? He is getting under your skin with his smooth moves and what you want to say, flirting. You don’t even know what it stands for really, maybe playing music while walking to your bed to lay down you means nothing.

“Won’t that be distracting you?” You wonder out loud, eyes still on the speaker even if he goes to sit on the bed with you.

“Not really.” He says, while looking at you. “Just don’t want you to hear my thoughts.” He whispers and you shiver at the tone of his voice, however you masked it well by shuffling a little more up on the bed. His eyes immediately fall down your shirt, watching your tits jump from your moves and he swears he can see the lace of your bra — was it baby pink?

“So what do you need help with?” You cough in your hand not to shutter again and it worked out well for you. You push for glasses up your nose, fanning your skirt so it drapes over your thighs, but from his point of view, he still can thankfully see your skin.

“Everything, honestly.” He laughs shortly.

You nod. “Let’s start with the basics then—“

You swear, he does it on purpose. Pushing his hair back, leaning back on his hands, looking with you with that twinkle in his eyes again and again. You don’t know what it is, you are not sure if you want to know. Every time your mouth would open, his attention drifts away, yet he looks only at you. You can see it in his eyes that he is somewhere else and it definitely reflected in his answers. Every one was incorrect and you don’t want to say that you are starting to get frustrated, but you explained everything to him at least twice, you told him a couple of good ways how to solve the questions, but no.

Also, something else didn’t help you keep your cool either. His room was awfully hot, even worse than a school’s classroom. You want to say it’s the weather, not those fuckboy-like songs — his playlist is vile or the way his also sweaty chest glistened in the city’s lights. The soft night breeze couldn’t reach your skin nor the sounds of cars under his window, you were really starting to drown in yourself. Han kept getting closer and closer, subtly, but after half an hour, it became clear to you. He was sitting in the middle of the bed, like the textbooks, while half of your ass was basically hanging out of the bed. If he gets any closer you think you will start to hyperventilate.

Han of course noticed your behavior. It surely must be because of him, your voice kept going lower, quieter, the more he shuffled closer to you. Your skin was almost drenching with sweat and the way your perfume flooded his whole room, he thinks, he will never open his bedroom window ever again. He can’t say that he also isn’t sweating and you definitely noticed that, because your eyes kept drifting to his naked chest. Maybe he should’ve changed and maybe he should’ve let you borrow something, so he then could cuddle with it later, but it would only ruin his fantasy.

He smiles again at your cute frown of frustration, it’s nice seeing something different on your face. Your pretty voice starts to melt more into the song, the more he looks at you. Never had been in a boys room…huh, he wonders if you have ever been with anyone before. One side is telling him yes, because — fuck, look at you. The school’s uniform looks on you way more sinful that it should and also your plush body, pink lips and pretty eyes hidden behind your glasses. Also you are a sweet person! Why does he keep forgetting about that? You are way more than your looks, you have brains and also charm that you don’t even know about. He wants to do more with you than just this, way more, but his filthy thoughts win over. On the other hand, you are just so shy, has someone ever tasted you? Suck at your pretty neck and tits, grabbed a handful of your ass? Tongue fucked you? Pulled your hair? Choked you? Bit you, mark you up…

“Why are you so tense, Y/N?” He cuts you off, not even realizing it, till your lips press into thin line. “Loosen up a little.”

You sigh, putting down your notebook to pull at your tie. “It’s just so hot…” You feel sweat dripping down your back a little, inner thighs glued together, because you didn’t change your position once in fear you would flash him. ‘Pity’, he thinks, staring at you while pulling off your tie with your painted nails — baby pink, just like your lips.

You literally have him wrapped around your finger, how can you not see it? Maybe if you would for once look at him in the eyes for long enough than you would see it. His eyes like to always drift lower and he just can’t help it when you look like that. Why do you? And why do you not see it yourself? Fuck, he wants to show you how pretty you are…He can’t go any longer, his mind is already all over the place and when he sees a glimpse of your bra, he has to fist his pants. Baby pink, like he imagined — he wonders if it matches.

“Yeah, that blouse is…tight.” Han almost moans out loud, but he thankfully bites down his on lip just in time, silencing that sound. Your own eyes drift to your blouse and then back at him. “You can take it off—“ He voices out his thoughts.

You are bewildered, in disbelief from what he just said. He doesn’t even seemed a little bit moved by his own words, leaning back on his hands, eyes fully on you. Did he look into your textbook at least once? Why didn’t you realize that it was on the same page the whole time? Maybe you were too occupied with trying to sound cool and collected and his nonstop staring didn’t help at all. “I don’t think you are even paying attention.” You sigh, playing with the fabric of your skirt.

“How so?” He asks, eyes going over your body and trying to memorize how it looks in the softly lit room.

“Well, you didn’t answer any of my questions right…” Which doesn’t mean, he was not paying attention, but his eyes tell you that you are right. In your state of pushing up your glasses again, you jump slightly in your seat when he sifts his weight to lean closer to you. “Why are you so close?” You ask, lump forming at the back of your throat.

Han stops moving, sitting right infront of you and trying to have a better look at eyes, but there is only the reflection of your phone screen in your glasses, preventing him from doing so. “Ask me again and if I answer correctly, I’ll get a treat.”

You frown. “Why?” You ask him.

“Motivation.”

There is short silence, the only noise being the music coming from his speaker. You take a small look around his room, squirming in your seat. “What do you mean by a treat? I don’t have any sweets…” You say, confused.

He wonders if you are truly so innocent and oblivious or if you are just playing with him. The sincere tone of your voice though told him everything he needed to know. A treat…he bets your lips taste like one. Han moves even closer, moving away your textbooks and you watch him with careful eyes. “I meant you.” He says smoothly with a cheeky smile and you are smacked across the face with his words.

He surprises you way too much and each time it’s a bigger surprise. You almost choke on your own spit, looking at him with wide eyes. “Oh! Oh, I-I…” And you are shuttering again, like always, but he never seems to mind. You are definitely not capable of talking right now, no words running through your mind, only him. Your hand grasping your phone is shaking and he at that points down at it.

“Ask me.”

You take a deep breath, a couple actually, because it’s seems like you can’t find it. Han’s stare is hard, unmoving from your eyes and you have to look down at your phone. Your thumb hovers over the screen, asking yourself if you should keep going. You are already feeling goosebumps on your sweaty skin, just from the thought of him doing something to you, but…what if he doesn’t answer correctly? Han can’t be serious right now…With your heart hammering against your chest, you scroll down the list of questions, trying to find the hardest one, because you don’t know what you would do if he answers it correctly. You don’t know if you want him to, you don’t know what you want. What does he want? You can’t help, but be curious and scared at the same time.

Han can see your internal struggle, but nothing about your body language is telling him, you don’t actually want him. “When a police officer uses a radar gun to measure a vehicle’s speed, what type of speed is measured? “ You ask, blinking at him in the lightly lit room, voice small. You actually think that this question is not even that hard, but seeing him having trouble with the other ones, you are curious what his answer will be.

Han fights to not smirk, while staring at you and he likes how your breath hitches when he confidently pushes all the things on the bed to the floor. “Instantaneous Acceleration.” He leans closer to you and you are having hard time to back away, watching him with mouth open as he puts your phone away.

“That’s correct…” You whisper in small disbelief, because you are starting to think he’s been playing with all along. However you can’t think much about it when he goes to sit right infront you.

Han is shaking inside when he leans over you, you fanning your pretty eyelashes at him and he swears you have never looked prettier. His eyes as well as his hand fall to your exposed leg. He hears the short, sharp intake of air, feeling goosebumps appearing on your skin as he trails his hand up and down. You are silent, squirming a little from how cold his hand is, but he quickly warms it up on your own skin. You are looking at him with big eyes, lips parted as his other hand comes to caress your cheek. Your chest keeps rising rapidly and you know, he can feel your skin lighting on fire. You watch his eyes fall to your lips and yours to his by reflex. “Just a kiss, Y/N.” His voice is like honey, his breath hitting your lips.

The hand on your leg stops at the meat of your thigh and when you feel his thumb rubbing small circles on your cheekbone you are in a daze. “Just one…” You whisper back, mostly to yourself, playing with your fingers nervously.

Han was right — you do taste like strawberries. You are sweet in taste and also in your moves. With your hazy state, he sees the opportunity to let his hand travel to your waist, squeezing immediately. A small noise of surprise falls from lips, just as he leaned to kiss you softly. However the moment he tastes you, the moment he feels the subtle touch of his lips over yours, the moment you made that sound — he needed more. The hand on your waist pulls you closer and at the same time, he presses his lips harder against yours.

You are trying to catch your breath through your nose, but it’s only taken away from you when moves his head to the side to lick into your mouth. Your head is empty, hands gripping at the fabric of your skirt as you try to at least keep up with him. His lips mold into yours, spit gathering in his mouth from hunger. When you poke your tongue against his he looses it. You are overwhelmed and he is not getting enough. Han wants to slurp at your spit, drink you whole in. He wants you to take over his own body, but at the same time, he wants to have you under him. Writhing in pleasure, fidgeting nervously from every move he makes, just like now.

He sticks his tongue in your mouth, tangling it with yours and he groans lowly at that. Your lips meet in nasty sounds that are perfectly mixing with the music he put on — it was perfect. The hand on your waist travels to the front, squishing the soft rolls of your tummy forming by how you are sitting. Even now you are trying to make yourself smaller, but he definitely won’t let you get away. You were so occupied by kissing him back that you let out a loud gasp when he suddenly bites down at your lip.

You pull away from him a little, the best you could do anyway, because he has you in a very tight grip. “Han! What are you doing?” You gasp out, bottom lip tingling in small pain.

Han is out of breath, a little disappointed to be pulled away so soon from you, but when he looks down at swollen lip, it didn’t matter too much. “Kissing you?” He says, smiling breathlessly and looking over your body. He can feel the weight on his hands, but also you are slightly frozen over, looking down at your lap. “Do you want to stop?”

He hopes not, he can’t live on otherwise. The hand holding your delicate face drifts down to your neck, pushing away strands of your hair to lean closer to you. His nose is hit with your sweet perfume again, eyes almost rolling back into his head. Seeing that you are not pushing him away, he leans down to kiss your skin. It tickles you, startles you from how good it feels to have his lips on your neck. He keeps distracting you with his moves, his mouth and you have to squeeze his shoulders to win his attention back. “Han, I—“

“Sorry, just can’t help it.” He whines out and you have to bite at your abused lip to silence your own sounds. You are not even recognizing yourself, while glancing at your reflection in his mirror. His body hovers over yours, both of yours legs almost tangled and you watch him pull away from you just to look down your shirt. “Do they hurt?” You are taken back by his question, following his eyes, seeing him look down your blouse.

Han is way more bold than he himself expected to be, but he can’t do anything other than act on his desires. “No…” Your bottom lip is pouts out and he almost goes to kiss you again, but he decides do something else.

You are gasping, hot breath hitting his face when his hands grasp your underboob. You are chewing already on your lip, watching his hands wrap around your tits, blunt nails digging into your skin. He definitely can feel your nipples hardening when he squeezes both of your tits at the same time. A small whimper leaves your lips and you have to shut your eyes in embarrassment.

Fuck, he knows that he probably looks crazy right now, when he literally drools over the sight of his hands on your tits. The tips of his fingers nibble at your blouse, pushing it to the side to reveal your bra to him. He is in shock that you actually wear something like that to school when someone could just take a peak or spill something over you. The almost see through fabric wraps around you so nicely, cute little bow in the middle and his thumb flickers hungrily over the soft skin spilling over the top. “Hmm, your bra looks really tight…are you sure?” You choked out another sound when he gropes your tits. “You want a massage? You’re always so tense, Y/N—“

You whine, pressing your hand over your mouth when he latches his lips on your nipple, taking the material of your blouse and even your bra inside his mouth. He can taste your perfume, the softener you use, but mostly you. His eyes are still on your scrunched up face, even while drooling over you. “Fuuuuck, look at you—“ When he bites down at your nipple a soft, shy moan leaves you.

“Han…” You breathe heavily, hands in your lap shaking from his mouth on your breast. He switches to your right nipple while his fingers twist and pull at the other. You are trembling already, shivering when he suddenly blows cold air on you. You look drown at him with your eyes droopy, glasses fogged up at the bottom and he definitely doesn’t look any better.

His plump lips are red and swollen, spit all over his mouth and when he leans away from you, you finally see what he has done to you. Your white blouse is soaked through, pink bra showing under the now see through material and you still feel your nipples tingling when he pulls you closer to him. “Closer, come closer—“ His voice is whiny, stuck at the back of his throat. You watch him spread his legs out, caging your body and when he taps both of his thighs you are startled a little.

“On your lap?” You bite your lip, looking at him from beneath your glasses. Han is already nodding his head, pulling you closer to him, scrunching up the material of your shirt between his fingers. His cock is already straining against his pants, twitching at the sight of you. Your skirt rides up when you shuffle your way to him and his hands are already on your waist, eagerly pushing you down on him. And when you did — oh, he almost fucking cums right when your pretty, clothed pussy falls on his cock. “Yeah, that’s it —move a little–“

He is already putting pressure on your hips and you can’t even breathe at that moment. You can feel him under you and it sparks up something in you that you have never felt before. You are embarrassed that you can already feel your underwear sticking to your slick, hands shaking on his wide shoulders. From this angle you see him in new light and he is glowing. His eyes are comically wide, tongue poking out his mouth when he just barely grazes his crotch over yours. “Han, I’ve never..” You whimper at the end, too weak to stop him from moving against you.

His hands are gripping your hips rather painfully, he is aware, but when his cock grazes over your pussy, he blacks out. “It’s okay, let me show you, yeah? Want you to feel good, you want that right? You deserve it so much—“ His mouth is full of you, kissing down your neck. He licks a long stripe over your pulse, wrapping his lips around the pumping vein just to suck at it. Fuck, he is really getting under your skin…

Your hand falls to the back of his neck, crying at how hard he sucks your skin in his mouth, making you burry your nails into his skin and he literally growls. He doesn’t stop at that though, his lips move way lower, right to the skin peaking out of your bra. His saliva drips down your neck to that spot and he sure sees it as a sight to mark it up. You are already calling out his name and he is kind of disappointed in himself that he told his roommate to go, because you definitely deserved to be heard. Your moans, whimpers, choked sighs — no, those are his, his only. He is thriving with the fact that he is the one making you feel like this and he is hoping that he will be the only one.

He needs more of you, he thinks, while nibbling at the soft skin of your breasts. Han pulls away from the spot with a pop! and to his delight you are already looking at him with those glossy eyes of yours. “Someone will see that!” Your voice is still so soft, even if you at trying your hardest to sound angered.

Han glances back to the spot, where a purple hickey is forming and he has to go over it with his fingers. “I don’t care and you shouldn’t either.” Your lips fall into thin line, silent moan coming out of you when he squeezes your tits. Your body looks absolutely sinful in his hands — glasses on your nose almost falling off, neck covered with love bites, white blouse hanging off your shoulders, exposing your pretty tits covered in that pink bra and your legs? You keep squeezing them around him to relief yourself and that makes him grab a hand full of your ass to push your cunt against his cock. “Come on, Y/N, make yourself cum…” Han is literally in heaven when your hips jump forward and when your face shows a shock by the sudden pleasure you start doing it more. “Like that yeahhhh-“

Your breathing is heavy, hands grasping his shoulders, holding for dear life. He wonders if you ever humped your pillow, because you are moving like you did — he has to buy you a pillow with his face on it. He leans back on his hand to get a better look at you. You are pouting, huffing, trying so desperately not to let out any sounds but, he is not having it. His hand pushes your skirt up, just so his hand can meet your cheek with a nasty slap.

The sound echoes in the room and you finally let out a moan, the stinging pain quickly melting into pleasure. “Fuck, I can feel your pussy soaking my cock–“ Han grits through his teeth, his own hips jumping to bump into yours. “You are so pretty — so fucking pretty…you like when I call you that?” Humming, he watches your face become beet red even if your skin is dark in the soft light of his room. He can feel your legs shaking, his hands traveling to your ass to abuse it between his fingers. It almost looks like Han is only using you for his own pleasure and he kind of is.

He is huffing, groaning, spit gathering in his mouth from the sight of you bouncing on him. His hands on your ass jiggle the fat and you whimper in small embarrassment that is only being swallowed by his mouth. Your mouth is basically just hanging open, letting him tongue fuck you, because you can’t simply keep up with his moves. You are already out of breath, hips jumping wildly in pleasure and you know you are on the edge as well as him when he slap your ass again to gain your attention.

“Gonna cum, baby? Gonna cum on this cock — fuck, yeah. Make it messy, Y/N, because I want you to soak through my pants, so every time I wear them, I think of you humping your pussy on me—“ A sharp moan leaves you, feeling the rumbling in your lower tummy. You are having a hard time keeping up with your own pleasure, whining from the pain in your thighs, but he thankfully takes over. Han fucks into you rapidly, eyes drifting from your bouncing tits that are falling out of your bra back to your face of euphoria. “That’s it, such a good girl–“

With a loud moan you burry your face into his neck, cumming hard over him. Your legs are shaking from pain and pleasure, eyes blurry with tears. Han is smiling breathlessly like a crazy man, caressing your head, smoothing down your hair. He can feel your hot cunt leaking, cream from your orgasm staining the black material of his pants. His hold is soft, letting you ride out your high just because his minds keeps spinning in images and the image of him burring his face into your spend cunt is one of them.

You are thrown onto the bed and you can’t do much against it in your exhaustion. You sigh when he comes to hover over you, your eyes automatically going to his open shirt and you almost drool at the sight of his abs and tiny waist. “Fuck, baby you are amazing—“ You close your eyes, shying away from him a little and he laughs at that. “Always so shy…” You hum in agreement to his surprise and he at that goes back to suck more at your neck. His bites are mean and also his bold hands that grope everything in their way. His nose tickles your ear, his hot breath hitting your skin. Your hands finally rest upon him, just barely, but he can feel your fingers at the bottom of his shirt. When he looks down is eyes however don’t fall on your fingers, but at the spot right between your legs. Your thigh high socks are still by some miracle, digging into the skin of your inner thighs. Your skirt is flipped up, so he has a perfect view of your underwear and how he hoped, it fucking matched.

The lacy material is already ruined by your leaking pussy and when he if looks carefully enough he can see the outline of your folds. “Holy shit, look at that!” He leans back into his knees while you press your face into his pillow in embarrassment. How can you be so shy when you literally rode his cock just few minutes ago? He thinks, he’s in love…

The panties are deliciously digging into your hips, thighs just begging to be wrapped around his head and how could he resist that. Han shuffles down the bed rather quickly, mouthing at your thigh next and you are left trembling again. You are already exhausted, yet you think you want more — need more. You are curious about what else he can do to make you not feel like yourself anymore. The skin of your inner thighs is sensitive, you know that, because you sometimes like to pinch the skin between your fingers, just like he is doing it with his teeth. “Sensitive—“ You warn him, shuttering as he bites and licks at your thighs.

He looks up to you, not stopping however and then the tip of his tongue is hit with sweetness. His head is already so close to your pussy, but he has to lick up all of your juices from your skin firstly, just replacing it with his spit. “Let me eat your pussy, I need it…I swear, I will make you feel so good—“ You are already nodding your head, fisting the sheets, just as he hooks his finger in your underwear. “Let me blow your mind, baby.”

Han almost pulls out his phone to take a picture, because he has never seen a pussy so pretty. From your orgasm it’s a little swollen, red, clit just begging to be sucked into his mouth. He can smell your arousal from here, but he needs you closer — he needs to drown in you. His hands slide your body down and you yelp form how easily he did that, letting him push your legs up to your chest. You want to cry from his blown out pupils, tongue hanging from his mouth and then finally watching him press the slick muscle against you.

Your body jerks from the new feeling, a little puzzled by it, but you can’t really think straight, when he starts to fuck you with his mouth. Han’s eyes are rolled back into his head, while slurping you all up, sucking at your labia, your hole, just barely letting his tongue slide in and flicking your puffy clit. He can feel it pulsating in his mouth, smacking his lips at your taste — strawberries and cream. Han can’t get enough of how soft you feel, cock painfully pressing against his pants, however it only makes it feel better. The pain combined with the pleasure of eating your cunt is the most erotic thing he has ever felt.

“S-slow down!” A pathetic plea leaves you, but he doesn’t hear it. His nose is buried in you so deep that he has trouble breathing, face becoming red from the low intake of oxygen. He doesn’t need oxygen when he is breathing in something much more pleasurable. He can’t fight his hips from humping against his bed. The hands on the back of your thighs push them further to your chest, letting him press his mouth into your leaking hole. His tongue flattens, licking a long stripe from the rim of your ass to your clit. “Han!” So sweet and tight…

Your pussy sucks his tongue right in, even if you are shaking from overstimulation. He needs to feel you orgasm on his tongue, so he is on a mission to make you cum as fast as possible, just to taste more of you. “How do you taste so good? It’s the fucking strawberries, you always eat, I swear-“ You are literally crying, tears streaming down your face and his hips flew away from the bed, because he almost cums in his pants.

Your hand comes to push his head away simple because you can’t even think from hard he is pressing his tongue against you. Your pussy is on fire, liquid lava filling up your tummy and you literally scream when he starts to slurp meanly at you. The sound is so loud, hand shaking and just lying on his head. You can’t control your trembling body and when he starts to shake his head from side to side, you are crying out, pleading for him to just slow down a little, but he only starts to suck your whole pussy into his mouth. “Han! F-feels weird, ah!” You want to push his head away, but he is acting like possessed, nails digging into your skin and you know there are definitely going to be bruises.

Han can’t stop, not when he tastes the hot cream leaking from your hole, smearing all over his chin. He is shaking inside, because he knows, why you are warning him and that makes him go even harder. His tongue is numb, lips red, but when he goes to suck at your clit, he hears that moan again. Your eyes are wide open, back arching when he nibbles at your nub and this orgasm almost takes you out.

He sees your eyes rolling back into your head and then he feels you squirt all over him, coating his face and bed in your pleasure. His lips are parted, drinking you up and he wants to cry at your beautiful state. “So, good—“ Han is whining, hips jumping in the air, looking at your squirting pussy. Your holes spasm, your painfully swollen slit pulsating on his tongue and he is simply amazed by your body.

“Fuck…” You mumble, feeing your soaked thigh highs melting into you. Han is shocked by the word leaving for pretty lips, while he crawls his way up your exhausted body to kiss you sweetly. You taste yourself on his lips and you have to say you do taste rather sweet. Leaning back, you try to look at him, but your glasses are all the way down your neck, so he puts your glasses back on your nose for you and you immediately sigh in embarrassment at his wet face, shirt and even few strands of his hair. “I’m sorry—“

Han eyes widened at your sad eyes, shaking his head immediately. “No, baby.” He coos, caressing your cheek softly, like he just didn’t make you squirt just by his mouth. He is really a lot to take in. “You did so well for me—“ With each word he kisses a part of your face — your forehead, cheeks, nose, cupid’s bow, before his lips land again on your lips.

“I did?” You shiffle slightly and he feels filthy, because your face is making his cock swell painfully. He needs to cum or he will go mad. You can tell he that he is hurting in his pants, because you can feel his hard cock against your thigh and your eyes quickly fall down to catch a sight of it.

He breaths out in a small disbelief at your move, catching you in act. “Wanna make me feel good too?” Your big eyes gaze at him in wonder. “How about I teach you how to suck a cock?” You sharply gasp at the words coming from his plump lips and he knows that he won’t last long, just by your cuteness. You softly nod your head, just a small shy smile appearing on your face and Han then roughly pushes your cheeks together to maneuver you.

It hurts a little, but you let him guide you to the end of the bed, throwing one of his pillows down on the floor for you to kneel on. You are in a trance, while looking up at him, watching him move down the bed, so his crotch is right before your face. You are looking at his covered cock innocently, hands in your lap. You look heavenly in your post-orgasm state, kneeling before him like a slut…”Come on, baby — pull them down.” Han helps you guide your hands to his zipper, your fingers grazing over him in the process. The sound of the zipper is loud, it rings in your ears like your heartbeat as you watch him push down his pants with his boxers following right after.

Your gasp is delicious, mouth hanging open, eyes only on him. His cock is leaking, droplets of pearly cum coating his flushed, almost purple tip, his balls are swollen, ready to burst at any moment. Han is fully aware that this is your first time seeing someone like this and he really is enjoying himself, because of it. Your eyes keep going up and down, mesmerized by the length and thickness. You don’t know what is considered big, but you are sure Han never let anyone down with his pretty cock.

You watch him closely, when he wraps his hand around himself, squeezing at the base. Han is watching you too — how you bite your lip, how your glasses are slightly dirty from all the activities you two did and how you are keeping a good eye on how he jerks his cock off. “Gimme your hand—“ You are careful, slowly giving him hand. The moment your hand is replaced by his, you sigh in surprise and he groans in pleasure. “Move your hand up and down…yeah, just like that, you are doing so good for me—“ The feeling of him in your hand is weird, but not bad, he feels hard yet squishy and you have to squeeze him to see how it feels. “Fuck! Come closer.”

His hand becomes tangled in your hair and you hiss softly, when he pulls at it, pushing your head closer to him. “Should I lick it?” You asks, shyly, glancing up at him. “Just like you did to me?”

Han wonders where you have been his whole life for a second, before he quickly nods. “Yeah, lick it, baby — suck on the tip too.” Your hot tongue then meets his painful tip and he hears you hum at his taste. Kitten licking it, he pushes your hair away from your face to look at you better.

Your eyes are closed, frown that he knows is from concentration plastered on your face. Your hand is still around him, not moving, maybe because it was too much for your little head to handle, but he still wraps his own hand around yours to move it up his cock. Your eyes shoot open, hand moving now on your own and when you start to kiss at his cock head, he moans in delight. “Squeeze your hand a little…good girl, now suck on my cock—“

Your lips wrap around him, tongue poking at his hole perfectly. You can see why he enjoys giving so much and you definitely want to thank him for that. He’s been so nice to you, making you feel so good. You suck a little harder, mouth already halfway full of him and you for a split second think you may have done it a little too hard, but you are quickly proven wrong.

Han whimpers, the beautiful sound, making you press your legs together. When he pushes your head down further you let him, even if your scalp is on fire from his grip. “Put your hand on my balls and keep your mouth still for me, okay?” You only hum around him, making him whine more. Like he said, your hand unwraps from his cock to travel down his balls, keeping it there and waiting for the next instructions. “Play with them, do what you want with them, while I fuck your mouth.”

You moan around him again, spit pooling out of mouth and down the hand that squeezes his heavy balls. You almost pull away from him when he starts to snap his hips up. You immediately gag around him, breathing through your nose heavily. Han is leaking into your mouth, watching carefully how your throat contracts around him. From having you hump his cock to making you squirt on his tongue and now having your mouth on him, he can’t fight his quickly approaching orgasm.

When your nose and glasses hit the hair on his pubic bone, it makes you gargle a little and he finally knows where he wants his cum. Those fucking glasses — they complement you so well and you look like wet dream right now, his dirty fantasy come true, he wonders what would you do if anyone would catch you like this. The nerdy, shy girl taking a cock down her throat like total slut and being so obedient for the school’s notorious badboy. “Ha! Ahhh, fuck, I’m cumming—“ You suck in air, face red as he suddenly pushes you off him. You look at him, hand still playing with his balls that you feel twitching in your grasp. The cute, confused face makes him groan loudly, his own hand wrapping around his cock. The hand in your hair tightens, pushing your head down to make you kneel down at his feet again. Your eyes caught the sight of him jerking himself off quickly, cock right in your face and you gasp when he cums over you.

Thick ropes of white land on your glasses, making you close your eyes in reflex. Han is moaning loudly, pumping himself dry and he thinks he could cum again just by the sight of your pretty face covered in his cum. “Y/N…” It lands on your glasses, your eyebrow and lips and when you on instinct go lick it off, he knows that it is over for him.

Han Jisung is completely speechless. Your face is covered in him, lips red, body teared apart and covered in his marks. Purples, reds from his selfish lips and hungry hands. Mind empty, only pleasure lingering. He caresses your face softly in a absolute devotion, mirroring your smile of happiness, mixed with exhaustion. He looks down at you, like you are the thing he has been searching for and all that’s left to say is that...you are going to be forever his.

businessman minho! x former one night stand reader (and soon to be spouse)

lee minho never expected his past to catch up with him—especially not in the form of an arranged marriage.

but when he meets his fiancé for the first time, he realises with growing horror that you’re not a stranger at all. in fact, years ago, back when he was young, reckless, and making very questionable choices, he had already spent one unforgettable night with you.

lee minho was not in the mood for this.

he had closed a multi-million-pound deal just this morning, survived a two hour meeting with the most insufferable board members known to mankind, and now, instead of going home, cracking open a bottle of good fucking whiskey, and basking in his own genius and in the company of his three feline children, he was being forced to meet his future spouse.

his arranged future spouse, to be precise.

because apparently, despite being one of the most successful businessmen in the country, his parents still thought he was too much of a liability to choose his own spouse. which, fair enough, considering his past as a… let’s call it enthusiastic participant in London’s nightlife. but still. the audacity.

so here he was, in some ridiculously expensive, Michelin-starred restaurant, waiting for his fiancé to arrive. he was expecting a stranger. some posh, uptight socialite who spoke in investment portfolios and probably smelled like expensive linen. he could deal with that. he had before.

what he was not expecting was for you to walk in.

because you were not a stranger. you were someone from a very specific, very chaotic chapter of his past. you were a one night stand he had never really forgotten...the one who had absolutely rocked his world back when he was young, reckless, and thought monogamy was a government scam.

and judging by the way your eyes widened the moment you saw him, you remembered him too.

minho exhaled sharply, closed his eyes for a second, and then, very eloquently, whispered under his breath,

"oh, for fu-"

this fic shall have adult themes, so mdni.

...

this is going to be a chaotic ride of a fic or perhaps series and i am really really looking forward to it. if you're interested, comment below, or send an ask requesting to be in the taglist! hope you enjoy this one, sweethearts.

I’m so glad you’ve finished your school! I know school can be rough especially end of the year. Speaking of free time. 🥺👉👈 How about (surprise) angst/hurt with Han this time (at this point I’m trying to go through all the members at least once) Y/N is having just like, the worst day. They come home to Han for comfort but he is also having just like, the worst day. So they argue and Han walls out, but later there’s a fire at the apartment complex and when he comes back there’s like a whole scene and he freaks out. Y/N is already in the back of an ambulance and they’re fine but Han takes five ever to find them and is freaking out the entire time.

Calling you clingy

Han Jisung x Reader 한지성

a/n: Hi! I’m sorry if this took so long but I’m kinda struggling with my emotions lately and I don’t really like the way I write… hope you’ll like it tho

The day felt doomed from the moment you opened your eyes.

Your alarm hadn’t gone off, leaving you scrambling to get ready. You spilled coffee on your only clean shirt, missed your bus, and when you finally arrived at work, it was like the universe conspired against you. A project you’d poured your heart into was torn apart in a meeting, and the snide comments from a coworker still rang in your ears. By the time you walked through your apartment door that evening, you felt like a frayed wire—one spark away from snapping.

Han sat on the couch, earbuds in, a notebook balanced on his lap. His pen moved furiously across the page, his frustration evident in every stroke. Seeing him there, a small part of your tension eased. He’ll make this better, you thought. He always does…

“Hey,” you said softly, closing the door behind you.

He didn’t look up. “Hey.”

You hesitated, unsure if he’d even heard you. “Han… I’m sorry to bother you but I had the worst day. I don’t even know where to start. I just… I really need you right now. Please…”

You had always been nice to him, always making sure to give him his space. And he knew.

But this time, he sighed, setting his notebook aside but still not meeting your eyes. “Y/N, I can’t do this right now. I’m kind of drowning here myself.”

His words hit you like a cold wave. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he said, rubbing his temples, “I’ve been dealing with my own stuff all day. I’m exhausted too.”

You stared at him, your throat tightening. “I’m not asking you to solve anything, Han. I just wanted… I needed you to be here with me... I’m sorry-”

Finally, he looked at you, irritation flickering in his eyes. “Stop saying you’re sorry! It’s like… you can’t handle anything without me. You’re always leaning on me, and it’s—” He paused, running a hand through his hair. “It’s clingy, Y/N.”

The word sliced through you like a knife. “Clingy?” you echoed, your voice cracking.

Han stood, pacing in the small space. “Yes, clingy. Every time something goes wrong, I’m the first person you run to, and I can’t—”

“And what?” you interrupted, anger bubbling up. “You can’t handle that? I thought that’s what relationships were for—being there for each other!”

His voice rose to match yours. “It is! But I’m not your emotional punching bag! I have limits too!”

Your chest tightened, tears prickling at your eyes. “Fine. If I’m so clingy, maybe I should stop coming to you altogether.”

“Maybe you should.” His voice was cold.

He grabbed his keys from the counter and stormed out, slamming the door behind him. The silence that followed felt deafening. You stood frozen, tears spilling over as his words echoed in your head.

You’ve never seen him like this. It hurt so bad it felt like you were drowning in your own tears.

You decided to listen to some music to distract yourself, until..

*Sniff sniff*

The smell of smoke was faint at first, so faint you ignored it. You thought it was coming from outside—someone burning leaves or a neighbor cooking. But then the fire alarm shrieked through the building, and the panic set in.

When you opened the door, smoke poured in, thick and choking. Flames flickered at the end of the hallway. Grabbing your phone and bag, you stumbled into the chaos, your heart pounding as the smoke burned your lungs.

By the time you made it outside, the cool night air felt like relief, but your head swam, and you couldn’t stop coughing. Paramedics found you, guiding you to an ambulance. You barely registered their words as they placed an oxygen mask over your face, the world spinning around you.

While you were fighting for your own life, Han wandered the city, replaying your argument in his head. At first, he felt justified—you’d been overwhelming lately, hadn’t you? But as the minutes stretched into hours, guilt started creeping in. You weren’t clingy; you trusted him enough to lean on him when things got tough. And he’d thrown that trust back in your face.

He turned toward the apartment, ready to apologize, when he saw smoke curling into the sky. His heart stopped.

“No. No, no, no,” he whispered, breaking into a sprint.

The fire was massive, consuming the upper floors of the building—your floor. His lungs burned as he ran, panic rising with every step. By the time he reached the scene, fire trucks and ambulances surrounded the complex.

“Y/N!” he shouted, shoving through the crowd of evacuees. “Have you seen Y/N?”

No one answered. He called your name again, louder this time, his voice cracking. His legs felt like they might give out, his thoughts racing to every worst-case scenario.

Finally, he spotted you in the back of an ambulance. Relief hit him so hard that he nearly collapsed.

“Y/N!” he cried, rushing to your side.

You looked up, your face pale but alive, the oxygen mask resting on your lap. “You came back,” you said hoarsely.

Han dropped to his knees in front of you, his hands shaking as he reached for yours. “I—I thought—I thought I lost you,” he stammered, tears streaming down his face. “I’m so sorry. I never should have left. I was selfish, and I was wrong. I’m so, so sorry.”

You stared at him for a moment, your expression unreadable. Finally, you pulled the mask down, your voice trembling. “You called me clingy, Han. You left me when I needed you most. Do you know how much that hurt?”

His face crumpled. “I know. I was an idiot. I didn’t mean it—I was overwhelmed, and I took it out on you. But I’ll never do that again. I swear. You mean everything to me, Y/N. Everything.”

Your lip trembled, tears welling up in your eyes. “You made me feel like I didn’t matter to you. Like I was just… too much.”

Han cupped your face gently, his thumb brushing a tear from your cheek. “You’re not too much. You’ll never be too much. I’ll spend the rest of my life proving that to you if I have to. I’m so sorry.”

For a moment, you hesitated, the pain still fresh in your chest. But the sincerity in his eyes—the fear, the guilt, the love—broke down your walls. You nodded slowly, leaning into his touch.

“Okay,” you whispered. “But it’s going to take time.”

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, his hands steadying as he held you close. “Take all the time you need. I’ll be here.”

That night, you stayed together in your apartement, after making sure you were all right at the hospital, the weight of the day still heavy but no longer unbearable. Han didn’t let go of you for a second, whispering soft reassurances until your eyes closed.

You weren’t sure how long it would take to heal, but as you drifted off, you knew one thing: Han was willing to try.

@intartaruginha @hannamoon143 @omgsecretsecret @inlovewithstraykids @whoa-jo @madirye062 @vixensss @sseawavee @emilyywhyy @halfwinterhalfuniverse @velvetmoonlght @flourishmoon

After Hours | 1

-> You keep coincidentally running into your supervisor after work hours. It's getting harder and harder not to flirt with him...especially since he can't seem to stop flirting back.

supervisor!Jisung x office worker!fem!reader

office!au, low-key secret dating, low-key forbidden love, fluff, slight angst, suggestive (let's not kid ourselves)

2.7K

warnings: creepy behavior makes Jisung feel uncomfortable but reader is there to save the day, cursing, mild dirty thoughts (they get worse just wait), really bad flirting not sorry, kdrama cringe bc I'm the author and I can

After Hours navigation

Feedback is greatly appreciated bc honestly I'm still writing the storyline and I need a little inspiration <3

-------------------------------------------------------

Coffee is, perhaps, the most important sustenance in existence. From an early age, you remember being introduced to your first love. The smell, the bitterness, the warmth. It's one of the only things that can make you happy when you have to get out in such disgusting weather.

The sky has been crying for hours. Cars drive through puddles, splashing the sidewalk while street drains continue to sing off-key. You manage to escape into the coffee shop just in time to miss a roar of thunder.

It's unexpectedly crowded today. You lean to the side to get a better look at how long the line is. With a sigh, you settle in for an uncomfortably long wait. You're not the only one who loves coffee on rainy days apparently.

It is unfortunate that this rainy day happens to be the first day of your new job. And since you are particularly excited for this job, you really don't want to be late. A good first impression is everything after all.

The chimes on the door ring out again, signaling someone new has entered the shop, earning your attention for a brief glance over your shoulder.

In he trots, the clumsiest man you've ever seen in your entire life. He trips over the threshold trying to beat the rain and almost falls flat on his face. No umbrella, a mumbled curse under his breath, and the hood of his rain jacket dripping onto the floor. He shakes his shoes off, hissing a shiver.

Although you can't see his face from this angle, he begins carefully scanning the coffee shop. If he's trying to be inconspicuous, it's not working very well. His every movement is like a cartoon character.

Where did this clown come from? Is it his first day walking or--

"Oh, damn," you slap a hand over your mouth because that was not meant to be out loud.

But the 'oh damn' still stand because what the actual fuck? The moment he removes his hood, everything changes.

There's an instant attraction you simply can't deny, even if you tried. If someone took your type on paper and manifested it into a single guy, it would be him.

You quickly revert your attention, realizing immediately that the line has in fact moved up without you in the time you spent gawking at a stranger.

His skin reminds you of a sweet caramel macchiato, but his eyes make you crave black dark roast coffee. His lips glisten from the rain, as if nature herself was so enamoured she had to pause to kiss them. His hair is perfectly messy but also styled to compliment his duality that makes you think babygirl, but also you would like him to push you against the wall, please. His shoulders relax as he makes his way to the line.

He stands behind you now, hands in his pockets, jacket open, and a pleasant hum on his lips. You don't recognize the song, but it sparks a curiosity within you. Does he hum a lot? When he's waiting in line for places or cleaning his apartment? It's a cute quirk, one you wouldn't mind tolerating if you were to ever be around it for an extended period of time.

You're such a hopeless romantic. Grow up.

The gentleman in front of you must be getting impatient. He huffs at the wait, turns around, and trudges off, knocking into you on his way because basic manners don't apply to him clearly.

"Oof--!" You stumble backwards. And if it hadn't been for the water on the floor, you might have survived. But you end up tragically slipping and falling into the arms of the customer right behind you.

Looking up, you're face to face with him now. His arms cling around your shoulders while your back has crashed into his chest. He looks surprised but not upset.

He smiles down at you, charmed and amused. "Are you okay?"

Despite being stunned by both the suddenness of the moment and his beauty, you pull yourself together and stand up on your own.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm so sorry, that was an accident."

"Don't worry about it. That guy bumped into you pretty hard. I would have fallen too."

"Well, thank you for catching me," you reply sweetly, brushing yourself off.

"Anytime. Wouldn't want you falling into the wrong arms."

Hold up...did this dude just drop a line on you? Wait a second, look closer.

A half smirk, puffed chest, lifted chin, soft eyes, bitten lip. Based on your extensive experience reading romance novels...he's flirting with you!?

This is no time to get flustered so easily. Oh, but something else is lit under your skin at the notion of his confident body language and adorable dimples -- the growing desire to flirt back and make him stutter.

"Thank you for your generosity and willingness..."

"Jisung."

"Jisung..." his name sounds cute in your voice, "I can be pretty clumsy."

"Me too."

"Yeah, I know," you stiffle a laugh, "I saw you come in earlier."

"Oh," he facepalms into his hand, a regretful groan coming from his chest. "You saw that?"

"Mhm," you nod cutely.

"Well, I guess the jig is up. I can deny it no longer." He takes a bow. "I am a klutz."

Even if it's not that funny, whatever he says makes you laugh. The way his eyes communicate, causing a rush of endorphins and giggles to bubble up inside you. You're completely smitten after only a few minutes.

There's just something about him.

The line moves up periodically, so you scoot your way forward every few minutes. Jisung takes the opportunity to inch his way closer until he's practically standing next to you in line. You don't mind. He gives off a warmth and spiciness you'd like to explore more of.

"Well, Klutz, I should warn you," you say, and Jisung tilts his head at the nickname, "most people don't find it easy to keep up with me."

"Good thing I like a challenge. Who knows..."

"___."

He pauses for a moment, seemingly to process your name, eyes glazing over as if enchanted. Wouldn't it be nice if he was that starstruck by simply your name? Whatever is going through his head, there's a spark behind his eyes, and the mention of your name only made it brighter.

"___," he smiles and continues, "I might just surprise you."

"You really think you can?"

"I caught you once, didn't I?"

"Yes, but one could argue that was just a coincidence."

His voice lowers, playful and knowing, as if daring you to deny it, "A pretty damn good coincidence if you ask me."

There's not many moments his gaze is elsewhere. He keeps his attention locked on you, your attitude, your comebacks, your eyes. Goddamn, your eyes. They make him hesitate, but...he doesn't want to miss the immense possibility hidden behind them.

There's just something about you.

Then something else rudely catches his attention as you approach the front of the line.

“Oh, shit.”

“What?”

“Nothing." He plays off his sudden nervousness with a hand behind his head and a chuckle.

"You said oh shit for nothing?”

You two barely know each other, but somehow he knows you're not about to let this go. And it's easier to just fess up what's wrong instead of playing dumb.

“That barista," he gestures with a head nod. The one behind the register taking everyone's order. The one about to take your order.

“What about her?” You look back and forth, examining his drastic change in body language. “Does she make you uncomfortable?”

“She…wants me.”

“She wants you?”

"Hey, don't be jealous, ___," he chides with a sassy click of his tongue.

“I'm not jealous," you insist, rolling your eyes, "I'm just surprised.”

“You're surprised someone wants me?"

"I didn't mean--"

"Brutal."

“Come on, you know that's not what I meant!"

“I'm not making this easy on you, am I?”

“You're really not," you laugh as you give his shoulder a playful shove.

“Sorry," he apologizes while pretending your push did literally anything.

“Okay, but what's her deal?”

He shakes his head as if bamboozled by the whole thing, a disgusted taste in his mouth as his expression twists and frowns. “She just always flirts with me and it's weird. Last time she said something pretty inappropriate…”

“It must have really bothered you.”

The girl at the register lifts her hand. "I can take whoever's next, please."

“You know what, I don't really need to buy coffee," Jisung says quickly, holding a hand out to shake yours goodbye. "There's coffee at my office anyway. It was really nice to meet you, ___. I hope I catch you again sometime soon?"

“Hold on, you waited in line all this time, and now you're not going to get coffee because of her?”

He just shrugs.

“Uh, no," you say firmly, taking his hand and pulling him with you to the counter. "Come on, we're getting you a coffee.”

He has no choice but to give in, because you're rather cute dragging him along like this, like the two of you are familiar and close. But he's also undeniably nervous. Something feels very wrong about the way the barista eyes him up and down when she sees him.

But something feels very right when you hold his hand.

"Hi," you sing to the girl, "just one second please."

And then you turn to Jisung. Lifting his hand so the barista can clearly see, you interlock your fingers while scanning his features lovingly. "Don't forget, babe, you promised I could pay this time, so get whatever you like. I want to treat my prince right."

Oh, fuck fuck fuck.

You're pretending. This is not a drill. Jisung can't barely breathe when you look at him like that. Mischievous and domestically lighthearted with a hint of sexy expectation.

The most outrageous and yet charming thing you could have possibly done in this moment, and Jisung is struggling to move past the feeling of your nails nonchalantly scratching the back of his hand, like it's habit after holding his hand so many times before. Oh god, the goosebumps aren't going away.

You must be an actress. It's the only thing that makes any sense. Your beauty, grace, off the cuff banter, expressions, not to mention your ability to jump into the scene and play the perfect girlfriend in seconds. Jisung is convinced he's met the next nation's sweetheart, and all he can do is sweat bullets under his jacket and stare into your eyes as if he's stargazing.

He said he could keep up with you. Here's his chance to prove it.

He manages a small, breathless chuckle, "Okay okay. You know I can't refuse that face."

"I know," you proudly reply while hugging his arm, your chest pressed into his side and your lips spread into a wide, victorious smile. "Which is why I use it all the time. I like flustering you."

The whole coffee shop audibly heard the skip in his heartbeat just now.

In the corner of your eye, you can see the barista's smile slowly dying. She's watching you dote and hang all over Jisung with distain. But what bothers her the most is how absolutely spellbound he is by every movement you make, happily mesmerized by your very existence. The way he's looking at you...

"Jisung," she tries to get his attention, "you never mentioned a...who is she?"

"Huh?" He finally tears his eyes off of you for a mere moment, but then they're glued to you once again. "Oh, this is ___. My girlfriend." Saying that out loud felt way too right.

"Girlfriend?" You whine, pausing to shake your head. "I thought you said I'm your soulmate."

"Aw, baby, I'm sorry," he cups your cheek and matches your pout, "of course, you're my soulmate. It was a slip of the tongue. Forgive me?"

You nod happily and boop his nose. "Forgiven." The flush of pink that spreads to his ears definitely isn't pretend.

"Umm," the barista smacks her gum, "I thought you said you were single."

"I was," he sighs, doing his best to play along without getting too caught up in the role. "But then I met ___. And everything changed."

She eyes you up and down with a distasteful frown.

"You could do better."

There's a short silence while the two of you try to figure out where she found the audacity. The only sound is the barista's foot tapping on the floor, a most rhythmic and detestable thump.

While your heart dramatically sinks into your stomach.

"I'll take a caramel macchiato," you finally break the silence, "what do you want, babe?"

"You don't know his order?" The barista cuts in with a scoff. "How can you be his girlfriend and not know his coffee order? Looks like I know Jisung better than you do, huh?" She flips on the sweetie pie act again when she turns to him. "I'll make your usual--"

"I'll take a caramel macchiato as well. And an apology."

"Oh, umm sorry--"

"Not to me." His hand tightens around yours. "To ___."

"What?"

He doesn't repeat himself. The barista can't hardly believe he's serious. But he doesn't back down or make light of what he demanded. You look a little caught-in-headlights as well, unsure of what to do exactly. If anyone should be apologized to, it's Jisung. He's the one the barista has been borderline harassing every time he tries to get coffee here.

And yet Jisung is more concerned about the fact that she made one, minor comment about you not being good enough for him. And who knows, maybe you're not! You just met today and you're not even his real girlfriend!

She clenches her jaw, unwavering eye contact with Jisung as she grunts through her teeth, "Sorry."

Not exactly a satisfactory apology, but at least she won't be bothering Jisung anymore. And you're more than willing to stop by with him a few more times to make sure the story sells and this barista bitch stays in her lane.

You tap your card to pay, grab your coffees, and head for the door.

You gather your umbrella. Jisung pulls his hood over his head. Out the door you go. As soon as your out of ear shot, the two of you can't keep your laughs in any longer.

"Did you see her face when she apologized!? Oh my god, you never get caramel macchiatos, do you?"

"Absolutely never," he giggles behind his hand.

"Sorry if that was completely insane. But it's stupid you can't order coffee because some bitch barista can't keep her eyes up. I know you probably felt weird."

"No, it felt right." A pause of held breaths and fluttering eyelids, and then Jisung scrambles to add, "I mean, it worked, didn't it?"

"Like a charm," you respond, still flabbergasted at the moment.

"That soulmate shit was priceless by the way." Jisung narrows his eyes at you, a teasing suspicion on the tip of his tongue. "You're a real hopeless romantic, aren't you?"

"You're the one who cupped my face and called me baby. If anyone is the hopeless romantic, it's you."

He can't argue against that. Jisung is indeed a hopeless romantic at heart.

"Seriously, thank you so much for not letting me leave. I'll pay you back for this, promise. Anything you want."

"Anything?"

"Name it and it's yours."

"Your number?"

Where this confidence came from you're not entirely sure, but the way his smile lights up like fireworks at your request feels brand new. He quickly corrects his giddiness with a sip of coffee and a shrug.

"I guess that's a reasonable request."

With his number in your phone and the hour ticking by, you exchange glances through the rain. Shy eye contact and hesitating feet. Neither of you want to leave, although it's definitely time to get going, and it's painfully obvious.

"Which way are you headed?"

"Towards City Center."

"Oh, me too! We can walk together. If you'd like?"

"Yeah," you take his arm, coffee in one hand while he holds your umbrella in the other, "I'd like that. Klutz."

"Uh, is that nickname gonna be a thing?"

"I don't know yet. Why?"

"I liked babe better."

Yeah, well that makes two of you. But calling him babe feels a bit too natural for you to be so shamelessly and carelessly throwing it into the mix. But maybe you let it slip a few times while you're walking, you know, accidentally. And maybe you really enjoy seeing the corner of his lips turn up each time you do.

Banter and flirting fly free between the two of you, never once feeling awkward or scary. It's so rare something like this comes along in your life. An instant click like this needs to be protected, cherished. The more you listen to Jisung talk, the more you're convinced he's supposed to be someone special to you.

"This is me." He stops at the doors to a large glass building, the rain still coming down decently hard on your umbrella above your heads.

You look at the building with sad eyes, knowing that unless something crazy happens in the next ten seconds, this magical happenstance of meeting him will--

Hold on.

"Does that sign say Mindy&Mindy Consulting?"

Jisung slowly nods. "Yes. This is my work. Why?"

"I'm starting here today."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm the newest hire for the financial services department."

"Wait," Jisung blinks, "you're the new hire?"

"You know about me?"

"Of course, I do," he says. "I'm the department's Senior Consultant."

"You're the...so that means..."

Any and all confusion morphs as his eyebrows lift and his jaw drops in realization. It hits you both at the same time, a reality bomb just dropped on your little flirty fantasy.

"You're my boss."

::

AH taglist: @nightmarenyxx @cherriive @cepheus3 @strawberriesoup @kayleefriedchicken @hannamoon143 @0omillo0 @fly-you-dam-fools @urlocalmultigroupfan @inlovewithstraykids @felixleftchickennugget @notastraykid @just-a-blackthorn-cookie @lorialia @staybabblingbaby @comicalivy @www-hanverse @dearbisky @hannieslittlerockstar @feetoffthemalfoy @estella-novella @justastraymoa @hityoulikebahng

<3

how they fuck you against a mirror/window

changbin + hyunjin

changbin:

- a muscle momm-ahem i mean daddy!!

- normally prefers shower sex because he likes to pin you up against the shower door and watch your tits be squished on the door in the reflection of your bathroom mirror as he fucks you from behind

- is a giver so loooves to eat you out

- if you were down, he would eat you out in one of those bathtubs with massive windows next to it, and his cock would leak of pre-cum with how much trust you have in him to be exhibitionists together

- his knees would literally tremble when he glances to his right and sees your reflection in the fogged up mirror of the bathroom

- he would be holding you up with ease on the corner of the bathtub, your leg propped up next to you and the other leg over changbin’s shoulders, hands tangled in his slightly wet, dark coloured locks

- after eating you out to the point where your legs clamped shut and you were cross-eyed, he would plant soft kisses on your damp shoulder

- and then BAM! he’s got you flipped so your tits will be the only view of your next door neighbour, holding your arms back by your elbows, entering you slowly yet desperately

hyunjin:

- a romantic boy who would buy a full-length mirror and place it in your bedroom just for you

- every time you got changed, he would sneak a glance at the naked reflection of you, cock forming a tent in his sweat pants

- his dream came true though

- he had your legs wide open, pussy exposed to the mirror

- he would be kissing your nape, your neck, your shoulders…everywhere because he loves you so much and thinks you are a piece of art

- he would roam his hands all over your body, pinching your nipples hard, then caressing them softly with the tip of his fingers

- he loved the way he could see his fingers disappear in your heat, other hand rubbing gentle circles on your swollen clit

- would be SO hard and his cock would be digging into your back but we don’t talk about that

- dips his fingers into your pussy, then pulls it out to show you (and the mirror) the wet strings that formed between his fingers from your juices

- makes a show of sucking his fingers with a moan, making eye contact with you in the reflection

- would fuck you reverse cowgirl style, making sure you could see for yourself how your tits bounced with every thrust, the way your face crumpled up with pleasure

- also the way his glistening cock would slide in and out of you with ease

- would stop thrusting if you weren’t looking at your reflection

The prophecy- I.

ꕥ summary: when an angel becomes enthralled by the prospect of emotions, he falls into your world hoping you’d teach him how to be human. little does he know, there's no safety net awaiting him below.

ꕥ pairing: fallen angel!yongbok x fem human!reader.

ꕥ genre: slow burn. heavy themes relating to the complexity of emotions (insecurities, grief, nostalgia, love and sacrifice). angst. comfort. hope and healing. the members are included in the fic as well.

ꕥ warnings: plot installment. mention of alcohol and drinking, description of scars, self-loathing thoughts.

ꕥ word count: 17.8k.

Next. Series Masterlist.

authors note: this fic is my absolute baby. it is heavily inspired by Black Friday by Tom Odell, or rather my interpretation of its lyrics. angel felix is so so special to me, i got the opportunity to be very vulnerable while writing, so i hope you enjoy reading this first part as much as i enjoyed writing it. feedback is highly appreciated <3 this is for @forlix my angel who birthed this fic with me, and for @catboyanon for being my icon 💞 i love you guys 🫶🏻 thank you for reading!!!!!!

the series taglist is open! comment or send me an ask if you wish to be added— @linosssss @agi-ppangx @hwangism143 @httpdwaekki @booksndpoetry @courtnort455 @tonystenk @felixsbakingbud @oyinii @seungzsmin @kayleefriedchicken @freyjhasdesiredreality @babrieeee @nyasstars @lovefool-lix @velvetmoonlght @hash2013 @caticorn61 @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad @minhosbitterriver @dorisnumber1fan @goldenmellow @juskz @chanshyunjin @aslou @hhwangsmoon

Act 1. Everything comes with a price.

“So for once in my life, let me get what I want, Lord knows it would be the first time”- Please, please, please, let me get what I want, The Smiths.

Yongbok's existence has been a steady current of nothingness. 

He has known no low, yet simultaneously, no high. Has never stood at the edge of the world nor cradled it within his palm. He is a straight line, knowing no bumps on its road, crafted to stretch forward, and then some more, indefinitely. 

That is until you were assigned to him— his human to keep safe, to protect.

That is when Yongbok then realized that, all along, he had felt nothing— that there was a void overtaking his being, an absence of something, rather than what he had always known to be the norm. 

Yongbok knew the rules, he knew what his existence entailed— that it was one entwined with yours, that once you’d both turn eighteen he’d sense it when you were in danger, each time you were in physical pain. So, he’d protect you, hover above you like a halo, keep you out of harm's way.

He also knew that it would happen unexpectedly. His one friend Seungmin described it as a minor nuisance, a thorn that needs to be plucked out, a bad weed that has overgrown. “You'll help your human and it’ll be back to normal.” 

Yet, for Yongbok it wasn't merely a lone thorn, nor a solitary weed, but rather, a myriad of nuisances falling upon him at once— akin to a deluge of rain pouring as soon as the sky’s gates part. A throbbing so intense it made him falter in his strides, made his golden wings envelop him, as if to cage this unfamiliar feeling, to stop it from seeping from his body and soiling the azure skies. 

It was the first time you had called out to him, it was the first time he would see you in. He imagined you’d be in agonizing pain, skirting the edges of death on a final dance with the devils. But, you were on your bed, curled around yourself the way his wings enfolded his body. Sobs rippled from you, an undulating cascade of waves that almost drowned you in sorrow. 

You weren’t in danger. You weren’t in physical pain. So why was he here? 

Why had he felt it when you simply cried? 

Yongbok hovered near your door, unsure of what to do. This wasn’t in the rules he had learned— guardian angels do not deal with emotions, they do not feel the woes of the heart. “Humans are always hurt. Their heart bruises more than their body would ever endure. It is something we cannot control, nor can we help them with it”— those were the words of Christopher, the sovereign of all guardian angels, ones tattooed in the back of Yongbok’s mind.

“They do not affect us,” he had asserted, his voice maintaining its customary tranquility.

So why was Yongbok feeling the bruising of your heart?

He pondered for a fleeting moment before making a soft breeze ripple through your hair. You looked up from your bed, eyes cast outside the window, as a sunbeam delicately landed on your face. To his surprise, that seemed to halt your tears.  

In that instant, the weight on Yongbok’s heart suddenly dissipated, like a morning fog chased away by the sun. 

“So, this isn’t normal?” he asked Seungmin upon his return, who blinked at him once, then twice. 

“No. It must be part of your anomaly.” 

His anomaly, what explains Seungmin being his only friend. But his loneliness did not bother him, the perk of never feeling.

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Yongbok sighed, circling the rim of his glass with his pointer finger. “Should I tell… you know.”

“Keep it to yourself.” Seungmin’s voice was stern, biting, leaving no room for Yongbok to object. 

So he did not. 

He kept it to himself, for the past five years, a diligent secret he’s gotten better at hiding. You were surprisingly a good human to guard, you never burned yourself, crossed the road while looking at both sides, and did not frequent shady places at 4 a.m. 

But your heart weighed so much on your soul.

You cried an average of one hundred and sixty-five times per year, sixty of which being heart-wrenching sobs that almost paralyzed him, made the feathers of his wings wither down and scatter on the ground like sakura petals. 

“Is it normal for her to cry this much?” he had asked Seungmin who had simply shrugged. 

“I don’t know. I don’t befriend humans.” he sighed before adding. “Why does she cry?”

“Other people hurt her.” 

“Then she’s stupid for repeating the same process.”

“Isn’t it fascinating, though? She knows the outcome might be the same, and yet–”

“Do you wish to befriend her?” Seungmin had cut him off, eyes narrowing down slightly. There was a hint of warning in his tone, a danger ringing somewhere near. You know where this path will lead you. 

“No,” he replied quickly. He never brought you up again after that. 

But his fascination with you did not die. Though, it wasn’t you, per se, that intrigued him. More so what you were feeling, every emotion that ran freely through your being. It was as if he perched on the precipice of your soul, drinking the droplets of emotions that escaped your being. Feeling through you, an extension of your very existence.

It wasn’t only the throbbing when you hurt, it was also a satisfaction when he made you smile again. Through a sunbeam falling perfectly atop you, a rainbow appearing above your head, a star shining more brightly as your eyes found it. Each time your heart bled dry and you begged for a sign, he was there, conjuring up one of you, smiling as you smiled, inching closer to you as the months went by. 

What if the sign was him? What if he showed you he was there all along? 

Would you smile at him too? 

These were dangerous questions swirling in his head, translating into even more harmful actions. Like getting closer to trespassing the line between your world and his, drawn by that fascination, that thirst to know more, to feel more. 

To talk to you. 

But it was all but wishful thinking, it is all thoughts he buried within himself, his body becoming the graveyard of his life— through which he breathes and through which he dies. 

Until tonight.

Yongbok felt that same familiar throbbing overtaking his being, only this one was much more intense, so much so he couldn’t hide the discomfort on his face, twisted in agony at the pain overriding you. He expected to find the telltales of your sadness draped on your being— teary eyes and shaky hands, pouting lips and the scrunch of your eyebrows that he’s come to memorize. 

But to his surprise, he finds you perched upon an abandoned rooftop overlooking Han River, the moon casting its shimmering reflection above its surface. You weren’t frowning, nor blinking rapidly to dispel your tears. Instead, you sat there, gazing at the river below, legs dangling over the edge, your face as placid as the water before you. However, the burden on your heart was unmistakable, a weight he recognized because he, too, bore it. 

He stops for a second, making a gentle rain graze your skin, light enough to feel like an embrace rather than a nuisance. He knew you loved these light showers as you always chased them, tilting your head to the sky as if thanking it for allowing the rain to visit, even for a fleeting moment. 

But this time, you remain unmoving, eyes still fixated on the water, as if you wished it would rise from its place and carry you with it underneath.

You look like an angel, for you feel nothing, numbness seizing your being and trapping it into its hold, just as it does for him. 

“Sometimes the human’s enemy is itself. They inflict harm upon their souls the most, sometimes even death.” He remembers the somber sayings of Christopher and then the question Jeongin asked, echoing the concerns that gripped everyone’s thoughts.

“Can we still save them from themselves?” 

“Not always. We can be too late.” 

You inch closer to the edge of the building, and Yongbok wonders if you had felt too much there was no other emotion your heart could pump out for you anymore, no life for it to breathe in you. 

Can humanity disintegrate once it pains you too much? Can you turn it off in a desperate bid for survival? Would it still be a life if you do not feel in it? 

“I’m not going to jump if that’s what you’re worried about.” Your cold voice startles him, and he looks around quizzically, wondering who you are talking to. But it is only the both of you atop the roof, and his wings are gone, the golden light that usually contours his being subdued. 

The realization dawns upon him – you can see him, and you are speaking to him. Yongbok feels the stirrings of his heart, a singular beat that resounds in his chest for the very first time.

“I’m not worried,” he replies, after painstakingly long seconds. His voice sounds different, deeper as it floods his ears. I can’t worry, he decides against adding. “Besides,” he clears his throat, walking over to you, his hands resting on the railing. “You can’t die from here. You’ll just break your bones. Get paralyzed, at most.” 

“What are you? A death connoisseur?” you snort, a small life seeping through your voice again as you finally look at him. 

“Something of the sort.”

“This makes you sound like a serial killer,” you sigh, a heavy breath pulled from the depths of his heart. “But you don’t look like one.”

“I don’t?” he questions. 

“No. You look kind.” 

Kind. Yongbok has been draped in a myriad of adjectives since his creation, ones that hang above him like a somber cloud, imprinted on his skin with ink visible to everyone but himself. ‘Abomination’ was the one that came back the most. But you described him as kind. 

What do you see in me? He wants to ask. Tell me so I can look for it when I see myself.

He’s acutely aware that he’s breaking the rules, his wings itching to fledge out and carry him away. But he forcefully keeps them at bay. Not now. Just a little more.

“Are you looking for hope too?” you ask, your voice much quieter than when you last spoke. Yongbok now sees it— the numbness wearing off and leaving place to an agonizing sadness, its essence is poured in your eyes alone, dull under the marvelous city lights. 

“Hope?” he echoes, the word tasting foreign in his mouth. 

“Mm,” you hum, drawing one knee to your chest while letting the other dangle, straddling an invisible line between your two worlds. “I come here and imagine as if the moon shines only for me.”

“That's not true.”

“I know,” you giggle quietly, your laugh swiftly morphing into a pout. “Most of the time it feels as if it’s shining for everyone but me.”

“I don’t think the moon cares enough to single you out.”

“That's somewhat comforting to hear.”

Running a hand through your hair, you speak again. “I don’t usually talk to strangers,” you confess, lifting the nearly empty soju bottle in your left hand. “I’m just a bit drunk, and really sad,” you whisper, as if entrusting him with a secret, an admission that the universe can be cruel in the fates it deals out. He knows that more than most.

“I don't mind,” he inches closer to you, his curious eyes casting over your gloomy figure. “So, you come here looking for hope?”

“It's a bit silly, right?” you smile sheepishly, and he shakes his head. 

“Silly, no. It’s just unrealistic to look for something that is not tangible.”

“Everything that is good in life cannot be grasped with our hands.”

He knows nothing of all these good things you speak of, so he remains silent.

“You know what’s funny? Each time I ask for a sign I find it.”

Each time you call out for him he is there. 

“Is that so?” 

You take a big gulp from your drink, setting it down as your tone grows melancholic with each word. “Yeah. I think I've seen more butterflies in the past five years than the average person does in a lifetime.”

“And that’s a good thing, right?” he asks tentatively, a tinge of uncertainty in his voice. What if, all along, in his attempts to pull you up he has only been drowning you further? 

“It is. It makes me believe that things will turn out better, in the end,” you share, pausing briefly as if attempting to contain your words. It’s only a moment later that you continue, “I guess I'm just tired of believing things will get better instead of feeling better.”

He was a temporary patch-up, a band-aid made of silk threads destined to wear off with time. Guardian angels cannot help with the woes of the heart. For all their immortality, they fall short before the power of emotions, kneel in surrender at the altar of humanity. 

But on your darkest night— your black Friday where the sky resembles an abyss in which every star has fizzled out, he does not want to leave you without hope. 

“Maybe you just need better signs,” he whispers, as a hoard of butterflies swivels before your eyes, a kaleidoscope of colorful wings fluttering in the hopes of breathing life into you once again. 

“Butterflies don’t show up at night…” you marvel in hushed tones, your eyes darting everywhere to take in the magical scenery. 

“Did you do this?” you’re breathless as you turn to ask but no one’s near anymore. 

The heaviness in your heart has dissolved, not entirely, but enough for Yongbok to dismiss it as a fleeting nuisance, a stubborn weed, a lone thorn that he deftly plucked away.

…

Yongbok has not stopped thinking of your conversation, the steadiness in your voice as you spoke of hope, of good things that elude your gaze but infuse your existence with sweetness. He knew that he broke the rules by speaking to you, that there are but severe cases in which an angel is allowed to address their human. Sadness, no matter how profound, was not one of them. And yet, for all the years he spent abiding by the rules, he had not regretted talking to you, not once. 

He had memorized the cadence of your voice, the sheer glaze in your eyes as they held his, the way you drowned yourself in alcohol, nose scrunching at its bitter taste. Everything about you, he learned, committing it to his memory that was once a blank canvas, for he had never lived something worth remembering, for he had never strayed from the straight path, drawn out eons ago for him. 

Until you. 

It is the following Friday and Yongbok hovers near a bar, his eyes absorbing the sight of the drunk humans mingling in there. Some of them are laughing, clinking half-empty glasses as they cheer loudly, Others, too busy pressing their lips against one another to dare dream of forgetting this moment. And then some sitting alone, their gaze fixated on the liquid within their glass, as if it holds the key to all their unanswered prayers. Foolish behavior, but he is drawn to the mundanity of it, for some odd reason. 

He draws in a deep breath, before concealing his celestial wings and venturing into the dimly lit bar. He sits by a stool, curiously eyeing the array of alcohol on display. “What can I get you?” the bartender asks and he responds with a nonchalant shrug. “Strongest thing you have.” After all, inebriation is an experience beyond his grasp.

The abrupt sound of glass meeting the counter startles him, and he turns to his left. There, he discovers a young man, roughly his age, signaling the bartender for another pour. Ebony hair pulled into a small ponytail, a furrowed brow shaping his lips into a frown, the man’s gaze remains fixed on the scattered droplets of Whiskey across the counter. In the faint light, Yongbok spots a mole by his jaw, then another one underneath his eye. 

“Bad night?” Yongbok inquires, clearing his throat, a thrill coursing through him at the prospect of talking with another human.

“Kinda,” the stranger sighs, turning around to face him. “I’m Hyunjin,” he says, extending his hand with a lopsided smile.

He firmly shakes it, before introducing himself back, “Yongbok.” 

“Yongbok, mm… Feelbok,” Hyunjin slurs, “no, no, Hanbok,”— happiness— Hyunjin giggles at his own words punctuating them with a thumbs-up. “Nice name.”

“Thank you,” Yongbok mirrors his smile, although the gesture happens more naturally than he expected. “Are you okay?” he asks softly, as he watches Hyunjin down yet another glass.

“I should be,” he mumbles, before placing his chin atop his palm, gaze lost somewhere far in the depths of his mind.

Yongbok remains silent as Hyunjin blinks slowly, a sad smile imprinted into his mouth. “I opened my art gallery today. It was acclaimed by all the art critics who visited. They said it was moving, woven with emotions that are translated into every choice I made, from the colors to the blending to the lighting.”

Yongbok frowns, a sudden confusion settling over him as he detects the sorrow dripping from Hyunjin’s tone. He realizes that his expression mirrors the same loneliness he witnessed in you countless times before. Humans, it seems, resemble each other at their most vulnerable.

“But…” he continues, prompted by Yongbok’s silence or the strong alcohol, he doesn’t really know. “All these people came but not the one I painted for.”

Ah, Yongbok now understands what drives Hyunjin’s sadness— love. The irony of humans strikes him; for the one feeling they crave ends up hurting them the most.

“Every painting was about her and she wasn’t there to see it,” Hyunjin confesses as anguished tears suddenly well in his eyes. He cannot conjure hope for Hyunjin, for he is not his human to guard, so Yongbok mimics what he witnessed you do countless times to your friends. He places a comforting hand on his shoulder, squeezing it lightly.

“It will pass,” Yongbok reassures, not with a misplaced sense of optimism, but because it is an undeniable truth. Humans forget as much as they remember, grieve as much as they love, heal as much as they hurt. In their short life, everything they go through passes. It is how they survive the hurts of the heart.

“I don’t want it to. If the pain passes then I won’t have anything to remember her by,” Hyunjin smiles sadly, patting Yongbok’s hand above his own. 

“Don’t you regret loving her?” he asks, perplexed by the breathing contradiction before him. 

“I regret losing her, not loving her. Never loving her.” 

As he stood on the same rooftop you were on nights ago, Yongbok is left with Hyunjin’s sleek business card held between his fingers, and a dull longing in his heart, many, many hours later.

Can a straight line stray from its path? Can his void be replaced with love? 

At what cost can an angel taste humanity? 

“Our kind yongbok.” A calm voice speaks and the wings on Yongbok’s back twitch more intensely than they’ve ever done. The danger Seungmin spoke of was here.

At what cost could he not? 

“Christopher,” Yongbok bows in respect, eyes refusing to meet those of his senior. 

“You had no problem looking at all these humans, no?” Christopher muses and Yongbok takes one step back. Chris knows, he has always known and yet he allowed it. 

Why?

“Fascinating creatures, right? I still fail to understand them. But what I do know for certain is that they are weak,” he pauses, Yongbok’s breath hitches in his throat. “Just like you.” 

Yongbok’s nails dig forcefully into his palms, it does not soothe his nerves the way it does to you. 

“But see, the difference between you and them is that they were crafted to be weak. Then again… everything about you is abnormal, you agree?” Chris speaks assuredly, his tongue telling facts alone. Yongbok remains silent, anticipating his punishment for trespassing into the human realm, for breaking the sacred rule of interacting with them.

Tales of chained angels, of those stripped of their wings, their bloodied feathers plucked out one by one haunt his thoughts. This is the closest Yongbok has gotten to fear. 

In a blink, Chris materializes before him, his hand resting on Yongbok’s shoulder, reminiscent of the comforting gesture he extended to Hyunjin. However, this hold is not reassuring; it bears a weight that spells danger with every squeeze. 

“Do you want to feel what humans do? Go, Yongbok, I won’t punish you. Roam with them, talk to them, and feel.”

Yongbok’s wings scatter with the wind, feathers falling like a curtain of white upon their heads. He falls to his knees, hand brought up to his chest as he suddenly senses everything surrounding him— the bitter wind brushing against his skin and the rush of hot blood coursing within his veins, the loud ringing of cars that morph into hands choking him, and worse of all, the loss of his wings that his spine seems to be weeping for. 

“But remember, everything comes with a price,” Christopher’s polished shoes come into his view— Yongbok does not recognize the distorted reflection staring back. “Even weakness.” 

Act two. The heart weighs heavily on those who bear it.

“If brokenness is a form of art, I must be a poster child prodigy” - Neptune, Sleeping At Last.

Delicate snowflakes descend upon the earth, intricate crystals forming a pristine blanket that veils the ground, concealing its flaws to the naked eye. The snow doesn’t discriminate, it falls atop every building in Seoul, from towering skyscrapers adorned with luminous billboards to the humblest abodes, nestled in concealed alleys, all bathed in a bluish glow at the heights of the night. 

And in its fall, the snow does not leave Yongbok’s body behind, draping it in a cloak of icy tendrils, ones that seep through bones he did not know were capable of aching before. It mingles with his golden feathers, scattered all over the rooftop, tinged with his spilled blood. The crimson liquid oozes from his back to the ground, and in his first seconds as a human, Yongbok has already tainted the purity of the soil, he is already a nuisance, in this world too.

He is faintly aware of warm hands cradling his cheeks, attempting to infuse life into his pallid face. A kaleidoscope of blurry hues obscures his vision, and he is no longer sure how much time has passed since Christopher abandoned him on the unforgiven ground. It could have been mere minutes or lengthy hours— he is yet to be acquainted with how time passes on humans. 

He also cannot recall you coming into the rooftop, does not remember when you pulled his head onto your lap, nor began combing your fingers soothingly through his golden locks. You are worried, he can still feel the pulsing of your heartbeat ringing in his ears, or maybe it is his own, he still cannot distinguish what is yours and what is his. 

He’s in a haze, standing on the edge of a window, assaulted by biting winds that cut through him. He didn’t expect humanity to crash onto him this hard, for it to force oxygen onto his lungs only to set them ablaze. 

“You’re awake, you’re okay.” Your reassuring words break through the disorienting daze, your hand firmly clasping his, guiding him away from the window’s edge, ushering him back into safety. In the familiarity of your voice, the winds relent, morphing into gentle zephyrs that cool the burning storm within him. He can feel the softness of your hand, your thumb swirling around his palm as if drawing out a soothing spell with your touch. 

“H… hurts,” he stammers, the words escaping between breaths that struggle to find passage. He brings your palm atop his heart, where a myriad of stones seem to have found refuge, crushing his lungs and rendering them a cloud of useless dust, scattered away by the wind. 

“It’s okay. You’re having a panic attack. It’s okay,” your voice is calm, though it speaks of frightening things. Would what he felt pass now that you put a name to it? Was it supposed to reassure him to hear that panic, like an uninvited intruder, has seized his being and is attacking it relentlessly? A secret ambush, a Trojan horse infiltrating his body under the guise of humanity. 

“Help me,” his plea echoes weakly, an awkward sound that clashes with the very air particles, imprinting itself onto the oxygen you inhale. Is this what Christopher meant? Were his weaknesses only going to surge forth more now? 

Is the cost of humanity facing the ugliness within you? 

The questions swirl in his head like a relentless tornado, drowning out your voice until it becomes a distant murmur in the backburner of his mind. His body rebels against him, ears amplifying the cacophony of his breaths, shaky hands refusing to be still, lungs constricting to the point of near collapse. He’s back before the window, dangling over its edge with one silky thread, worn out from the countless humans who had clung to it in desperation before.

His hand slips. You seize it before he falls.

“Breathe with me, focus on my voice,” you come to him like a calming tide, pulling him into safe shores. You’re so close your nose almost brushes with his own, your hands enveloping his icy fingers to anchor him back to you. He tries to mimic your slow inhales, tuning out all his tumultuous thoughts to focus solely on you.

Under the starry sky and the unyielding snow, and through the panic that captures his being, his gaze seems to fixate on the most mundane of things— the soft moonlight filtering through the strands of your hair, casting a faint halo around your figure. As you draw in deep breaths, encouraging him to follow suit, the thought crosses his mind – perhaps, you are his guardian angel now.

Time passes in this shared rhythm until, finally, you release his face, falling beside him on the snow. His breaths find a more regular cadence, mirroring yours, yet an ache persists in his chest, as if unseen hands continue to press down on his heart, squeezing it dry of its blood.

You run a hand through your face tiredly, eyes looking up at the expanse before you. “Fuck, I thought you were dying.” 

An apology lingers at the tip of his tongue, vocal cords itching to free the three syllables into the chilly air. But Yongbok has never apologized before, he doesn’t know how the words might crystallize in the cold. He isn’t sure he could bear witnessing their form now. 

“What happened?” he ventures, his voice small and fragile, his face turning slightly toward you. You appear like a crescent moon, soft and gentle even with only half of your face visible to him. 

“I came to the rooftop and I found you on the ground, surrounded by bloodied feathers and shaking from the cold,” you begin to explain only to freeze as if a crucial detail has just resurfaced in your memory. He knows what you’ll ask about before you speak. 

“What are these feathers?” your inquiry hangs in the air, your gaze still directed ahead. He remains silent, unsure of how to explain the inexplicable.  

“Who are you?” you press, and his reply comes in a single word, uttered vulnerably, “Yongbok.”

Please leave it at that. 

Your voice is softer, more resigned when you speak again.  “What are you?” 

He does not need to voice the truth. He could chuckle and say that he’s human, what else do you expect him to be, and his voice might shake from the unrehearsed lie but you would believe him, and then he’ll make sure your paths would never cross again. 

But a small part of him feels as if he does owe the truth to you. Because you cared for his well-being when you did not need to, gave up some of your warmth to infuse his being with it, sacrificed minutes of your time to make sure he’ll have sand left in his hourglass. 

So, he sucks in a deep breath, gathering the courage to unravel the truth. 

“I’m an angel. Your guardian angel. Or maybe was. I still don’t really know, yet.”

An incredulous laugh escapes your lips, gusts of powdery air materializing before him. “An angel?”

“Yes.”

“This is insane,”  you shake your head, your face buried in the same palms that had cradled his cheeks tenderly moments ago— his sail amidst the winds. 

“Is that how you managed to make all those butterflies appear that night?” you question, and he nods, shutting his eyes and releasing a strained exhale.

“So you’ve been guarding me all this time?” 

“Since you turned eighteen.”

He freezes as he wonders what you’ll say next— maybe you’ll ask him to disappear from your life, not one to wish to mingle with angels and their kindred, maybe you’ll leave him be in the snow, lonely as he has always been.

What he doesn’t expect is for your eyes to find his, compassion swimming in your gleaming irises, your voice dripping with concern as you ask him. “What happened to you, Yongbok?” 

There was no way for you to feel what he did, and yet you spoke as if you could— as if you peered into his heart and discovered it butchered and bruised, found thorns entangled around his veins instead of vines. 

“I don’t know,” he chokes out a sob, as sudden tears stream down his cheeks, salty as they infiltrate his mouth, drowning him from within. The tears refuse to cease even after he wipes them, one after the other, a futile gesture akin to pouring water into sand, an attempt to nurture something not meant to grow.

“It’s okay,” you smile, your eyes shimmering like a million fireflies in the night. He shakes his head, as more tears escape him in the guise of words. In all of the times he has seen you cry, he never fathomed he would have sobs racking his body, too. That tears would cascade like an unyielding waterfall, an earthquake shaking the planes of his body, rattling his bones with an intensity beyond what he believed humans could endure.

“It’s okay,” you repeat, cradling his face against the warmth of your neck, his tears seeping through your clothing. He is weeping, though he does not know what for. For nothing yet everything. For the loss of his wings and the birth of his heart. For the harshness of the ground and the softness of your hold. For the Yongbok who perished and the one who came to life. 

…

A fallen angel comes in various forms, some are entirely disgraced while others retain fragments of their celestial countenance. Yongbok, though deprived of his wings, did not lose his powers. He realized this when he instinctively healed the wounds on his back, the torn skin scarring in fleeting seconds. A small mercy bestowed upon him by Christopher, or so it seemed.

He will understand the reasons behind this act much later.

But for now, in his first breaths of humanity, when the echoes of his sobs have at last withdrawn from his being, leaving behind a lingering weariness, he is dealing with less stellar facets of his existence— the more mundane technicalities of it. 

“So, not to rub salt on the wound but I assume you also don’t have a place to stay in,” you ponder, waiting until he regains enough composure to grasp your words, ensuring they wouldn't float beyond his reach.

“No, I didn’t exactly prepare for this,” he winces, his gaze briefly meeting the scattered feathers on the ground. But not for too long, looking at them invited a grand sense of loss into his being, a sentiment too weighty for his fragile state to harbor. 

“You can stay at mine, and tomorrow we can start looking for a house for you?” you suggest, stretching out your tired limbs.

“You don’t… You don’t need to help me.”

Yongbok does need your help, you are the only human he knows and he is unfamiliar with how your kind acquire housing. And yet he finds himself at the crossroads between what his heart wants and what his tongue speaks of— ready to vehemently refuse your proposal to not inconvenience you, as if he’s a towering mountain poised to shoulder burdens when in reality, his being has never been this frail.

“You guarded me for five years,” you smile softly, effortlessly dispelling away his concerns like meaningless specks of dust. “It’s the least I could do.”

Stepping into your home was as familiar as walking into his own. He, unwittingly, memorized each nook and cranny of your place, a consequence of all the times he had lingered near— hovering, more accurately, above. So much so that he instinctively slips off his shoes and places them in your rack, mirroring the countless times he observed you perform the same task.

“So you really are my guardian angel,” you shudder quietly and he hums in questioning, turning to look at you, “What was that?”

“Nothing,” you respond, perking up and adorning your lips with a swift smile. “Would you like something to eat?”

“I’m okay,” he whispers, attempting to shrink as much as possible in the confines of your place. He has never felt this much discomfort in his own body, as though the skin draped on his bones belonged to a stranger. 

“Well, I’m hungry so you’ll eat with me,” you say with a warm smile, putting your hair up in a quick bun before walking into the kitchen. You move seamlessly as if you are hosting a long-time friend rather than an angel you saved from possible hypothermia. 

“Buldak ramen?” you ask, hands resting on the counter.

“Sure,” he nods, settling atop the stool. 

He watches in silence as you bring the water to a boil, before pouring two servings of the instant noodles into it. You pause, thinking it over before adding two more. 

“How are you so nonchalant about this?” he blurts out, finally freeing the question that had been swirling and growing in his mind- an insatiable weed that needed to be plucked before it infested his brain completely.

“About having an angel in my house who was apparently cast away from the skies and has guarded me for the past five years without me knowing, and who somehow knows where my shoe closet is without me needing to share?” you ramble in one breath, the tightness in your chest palpable. “Yeah, I’m totally cool about that.”

“You’re totally not cool about that.”

“No, I’m not,” you admit sheepishly, settling on the stool before him. “I mean I am. A friend of mine met his guardian angel two years ago when he saved him from a horrible car accident. So, your existence does not freak me out, it’s common knowledge for us humans.” 

You bite your lip, averting your gaze from him to the painting adorning the wall above your couch—a bouquet of red roses where the petals seem dripping scarlet, resounding with passion and love, signed by H.

“It’s just… did you do something bad? For you to be left there alone?”

“Not bad,” he mumbles, clearing his throat awkwardly. It suddenly seemed silly to explain to a human that he envied their humanity, the one thing most of them seem to despise. “I broke the rules by talking to you that night, then to another human, and I was punished for it. I think,” he adds hesitantly.

“Oh,” you gasp softly, redirecting your attention to the pot to turn off the heat. It makes breathing easier for him. “You think?” you echo.

“It’s what I wanted,” he whispers, a bit breathless, now frightened by this newfound reality. He kept his powers and yet he lost his wings— he cannot fly back to his home and yet he can conjure anything his mind wishes for. He is with the one human that sparked his fascination and yet he cannot stop thinking of the price Christopher mentioned. Thinking too much about any of these things brings tears back to his throat— his body yearning to produce a liquid it has never known before.

“So, I assume you’ve never watched Howl’s Moving Castle up there,” you abruptly shift the subject, a radiant smile gracing your face as you pour the ramen into two bowls, generously topping them off with cheese.

“No?” His response carries a hint of uncertainty, and a sudden wave of frustration washes over him for feeling so displaced in his own existence. Yet, you appear oblivious to the awkwardness emanating from him as you gasp enthusiastically, seizing the two bowls and making your way to the couch. 

“Oh, I think you’ll like it,” you beam, patting the spot next to you before taking the remote and queuing up the movie.

The meal tastes better than anything Yongbok has ever eaten in his life, each bite igniting his taste buds in a symphony of flavors, akin to the spark of a popping candy in his mouth. He finds himself engrossed in the movie, in the stunning visuals, the gentle hues, and the paradoxical characters, uncovering reflections of his own existence within them.

He has never understood the need humans felt for art, dedicating hours upon hours to creating something not for their personal gain, but for others to watch, to reach, to touch. A craft not to appease one’s soul but to soothe the spirits of others. Yet, as the movie’s credits come to an end, a subtle shift occurs within him. Perhaps, he thinks with his widely beating heart, he now understands a little more.

“I feel terrible like there is a weight on my chest,” you repeat one of Howl’s concluding lines, stealing a glance at him, a tender smile gracing your face. The one dialogue that felt like a mirror was brought up to Yongbok's face.

“A heart’s a heavy burden,” he completes Sophie’s response to Howl. 

“That’s true. The heart weighs heavily on those who bear it,” you speak softly, as one would do to a child taking tentative steps into the world, learning that their first breath starts with grieving the only place you've known for nine months, followed by happiness, then sadness again, akin to the moon’s gradual phases. And maybe, in a way, he is a child lost in the overwhelming flood of these emotions, ones yet to be untangled in his mind but that already lay upon him like stones.

“Not everyone knows they have a heart, Yongbok. Some end up dying before ever feeling, without ever truly living.”  

“I just didn’t imagine it would be this… soul-crushing to bear it,” he admits softly, the words escaping him like a delicate secret. There's a hint of fear that accompanies his confession, an apprehension that Christopher might materialize before him, speaking in that calm, knowing tone—berating him with a simple “I told you so.”

“It’s a little organ facing a big life. It’s normal for it to be overwhelmed, don’t you think?” 

“Mm,” he hums in agreement, placing a trembling palm above his heart. Still as heavy. 

“You had a long night, get some rest, okay? We can start looking for a house tomorrow.”

“Okay,” he nods, as you rise from your place, only to reach for your wrist before fully thinking it through.  “Thank you,” he says sincerely. 

In the cracks of his heart, one seed of gratitude has been planted, a singular ray of light amid a stretch of darkness.

Finding a house turns out to be a strenuous task, and Yongbok feels remarkably disinterested in the discussions with every real estate agent you encounter. You play the role of his assistant, weaving a tale about an important businessman client who abruptly secured a job transfer to Seoul. However, he couldn't care less for the large windows ushering sunlight or the expansive patio offering picturesque views of Seoul. Instead, he focuses on your reactions to each room—the gasps of delight at spacious storage areas and the vacant rooms you dream of adorning in the future, once you're no longer a broke college student, as you explain.

You envision a room dedicated to your books, with a chair nestled in the middle for the long nights you spend reading, and another room designed as a painting studio. The expansive kitchens you visit are perfect for your baking endeavors, and Yongbok, perplexed by your fascination with fridges sporting two doors, finds amusement in your lively antics. Yet, a void persists within him, unfilled by the prospects of a shiny new home.

“Still not the one?” you ask on your third day of apartment hunting, and he shakes his head. 

“It’s okay, we’ll find the perfect one soon,” you reassure, and in that moment, he thinks back to your very first conversation on the rooftop, wonders how you can find hope for everyone surrounding you but yourself. 

“I still can’t believe I befriended a nepo angel,” you giggle, before inching closer to him on the couch, peering at him from beneath your eyelashes. “My air fryer is broken by the way, can you replace it?”

He contemplates for a minute before shaking his head, a subtle smirk playing on his lips. “No.”

“Aren’t you my guardian angel?”

“Right, a guardian angel. Not a bank.” 

“But if my air fryer isn’t replaced soon then I’ll keep using it even though all its electric wires are now exposed and a fire will break out and I’ll end up dying—”

“Fine,” he heaves a resigned sigh, “I’ll replace it.” 

“Can you also get me the Le Creuset kitchen set?” you grin, standing in your kitchen a few minutes later, cradling your brand-new air fryer between your arms.

“I'm not your sugar daddy.”

Your gasp is so comical that it coaxes a little giggle from his lips. “So you know about sugar daddies and not Studio Ghibli movies.”

“Gossip travels in our world too,” he shrugs, and you put the air fryer down, leaning closer to his face. From this proximity, he can discern the delicate curve of your eyelashes and the way they frame your glowing eyes—how can your eyes shine so brightly even under the shittiest kitchen lighting he’s ever seen?

"Hello? Did you hear me?" you wave a hand before his face, and he snaps back to reality, your voice flooding his senses again.

“Hm?”

“Never mind,” you shrug your hand dismissively in the air, “should we celebrate your third day of knowing me?”

“That's cause for celebration?” he frowns, and you playfully hit his arm. “I feed you, I clothe you, I put a roof above your head—” Your words are muffled as he clasps a hand over your mouth.

“Can you hear that?” he wonders.

You shake your head no.

“It's quiet, finally.”

His hand, a feeble barrier, does not manage to muffle your offended gasp, and in that moment, Yongbok laughs for the first time in his existence, a sound that ripples from the roots of his being, washing over his sadness and erasing it for a split second.

His eyes are closed as he tips his head back in laughter, and he misses the way your eyes soften, your retort withering at the tip of your tongue. 

He’s beautiful when he smiles, you think. You hope for all his powers he cannot hear your thoughts. 

…

Yongbok does not know what’s there to celebrate on his third day in this world, for all he had felt so far was excruciating sadness. But he complies with your wishes, rising at dawn to join you on the shore of the nearby ocean. Seated on the sand dampened by morning dewdrops, the remnants of melting snow resemble ink on a page not yet dry. 

He watches as the last threads of the night unfold before his eyes, leaving way to a mesmerizing palette of soft pinks and oranges, the sky blushing from a night spent with the moon.

You brought him to witness the sun rising above the ocean, said that it would help calm down the frenzy of his heart. You are quite right, since the rhythmic dance of the waves acts like a spell, unraveling the knot in his tongue and coaxing him to recount everything that has led him up to this moment, to you. You were the main reason for his journey, he did not see it fitting to conceal the truth from you. He did not know yet how to deceive or lie. 

“So you wanted to feel?” you conclude softly and Yongbok nods, eyes not peeling away from the sky before him. It looks grander from below, a vast ceiling you never fear might collapse on you.

“That’s why it overwhelmed you a lot, every emotion is heightened because it was the first time, I suppose” you muse. 

“Yeah, but does it ever lessen with time? Isn't that why you cry often?” he asks, now free of the bounds that once restricted his curiosity.

“Can you please not bring this up again?” you hide your face, and he tilts his head, a perplexed expression etched on his features.

“Why is that?”

“It's embarrassing that you saw me cry this much,” you mumble, your words nearly drowned out by the crashing waves.

“It's not embarrassing. It's... fascinating,” he asserts. You stare at him incredulously, prompting him to elaborate. “You go down the same path, fully aware of where it leads, and yet, you do it again on the off chance that you'll receive the same kindness you show.”

“I sound stupid,” you giggle, and he mirrors your smile, not to mimic you, but because the corners of his mouth yearn to curve upwards, refusing to leave you alone in your grin.

“No, you sound brave.”

Your eyes soften at his words, the light of the rising sun filtering easily through your irises, causing your pupils to widen with each passing second.

“Thank you.” 

A tranquil quiet settles between you, the soothing sound of the waves filling the silence. The sun hovers directly above the water now, perched on the horizon, the sky much bolder in the colors it showcases.

“I come here when my heart feels too heavy to bear. I suppose that looking at the sea calms me,” you murmur, your cheek pressed against your knee.

“Why is that?”

“For these waves to reach the shore, they go through a lot, you know? Storms and tumultuous roads, and rage fills them, anger, sadness too at being away from home for too long. But then, they always reach the shores at last. And they calm down, and they’re at peace.” 

You turn to look at him, the hues of the sunrise reflecting off your face, dancing with the shadows that mold your features.

You look beautiful, so much so that he almost misses what you say next.

“So it is comforting to know that no matter how grand my worries are, there will come a time when they too will grow tired and rest.”

“It will pass,” he whispers and you nod cheerfully. “See, you’re already getting the gist of it.” 

“No,” he contradicts, “everything I know about humanity is from you.”

The colors of the sky seem to seep through your face at his words, and an unfamiliar warmth spreads through his being at the thought of making you blush.

He licks his lips tentatively, bringing your hand to rest atop his heart, hoping that the pressure will help ease its tension.

It does, ever so slightly.

“It feels like my heart is squeezed between two narrow walls,” he explains and you nod in understanding.

“Like it’s been sucked through a straw that drains you out of life.”

“Yes,” He exhales with contentment at the thought of someone understanding what he means, of what he feels no longer being an anomaly, but the norm for most.

“Will you move in with me?” he suddenly asks, and you startle, your fingers growing limp in his hold. 

“What?” 

“Your apartment is shitty, you hate your landlord and I’m pretty sure there is mold growing on your walls.”

“Okay, no need to attack me,” you roll your eyes amusedly. 

“I’ll buy the apartment you wanted, it technically doesn’t cost me anything and it’s closer to your university too, you no longer have to commute. You can get the library you wanted and the painting space too.” 

“But—”

“I’m a fallen angel tasting humanity for the first time, I don’t know what I’m doing or what I’m supposed to do. I haven’t looked in a mirror yet because I don’t know who I’ll find there. And I’m so scared, Y/n, so scared,” he confesses, breathless, his hand still pressing your palm against his erratic heart. 

A few seconds of heavy silence pass, Yongbok senses a resolve in you unfold. 

“And in return?” you ask tentatively. 

“I want to be happy,“ he breathes out, eyes flickering over yours like a swaying candlelight, “Could you show me how it’s done?”

Act 3. What’s an angel to a human?

“I want a better body, I want better skin, I wanna be perfect like all your other friends"- Black Friday, Tom Odell.

“So, happiness.” You stand near a blank whiteboard in the middle of your cramped living room, the one you just asked Yongbok to conjure out of thin air. 

You’ve been slightly abusing his ability to make your every wish materialize in a fleeting second, but only for useless things, like a bar of soap that smells specifically of these notes combinations you always thought would pair heavenly together (they did not), or a tube of salted caramel ice cream at 2 a.m. because you were too lazy to walk to the fridge (it was mere two meters away). Or just like now, a huge whiteboard so you’d explain to him, visually, how to achieve happiness. 

You told him that you’d only allow him to buy you a new house if he truly felt happy, for the very first time in his life. When he asked you how he’d know, you said he’d simply do, when the time comes. You shook hands on that promise two days ago. 

“Was this really necessary?” he questions, cocking an eyebrow at you. In response, you place your palms against your hips, eyes squinting at his dubious figure. 

“Do you want to be happy?”

“Yes.”

“Then, shut up.”

“I don’t think violence is the way to go about joy,” he quips and you quickly shut him up with a glare. Yongbok came to find that annoying you brought him a strange sense of satisfaction— he enjoyed seeing you pivot away, trying your best to conceal your amused smirk at his teasing. You always fail, or perhaps his perception of your being is heightened by the bond you share.

“I was saying, happiness is a byproduct of biological reactions.” You draw in a smiley face with utter concentration, and he stifles a giggle at the simplistic representation of the feeling. “There are four main hormones that allow us to feel happiness.” You pause, pointing your pen at him. “Yongbok, do you know which these are?”

“If I did know, why would I be here?” 

“True,” you nod vigorously, looking back at the whiteboard before locking eyes with him once more. “Can you please play along? I’ve always wanted to be a teacher,” you smile excitedly, speaking in hushed tones as if it was meant to be a shared secret between you both, far from the reach of the angels and peers that must be looking down at you both right now— you in indifference, him in disdain.

He shudders at the thought. 

“Fine. No, I do not Miss,” his smile is small, it grows when your eyes soften at him playing along. “Care to explain?” 

“So, in theory, we have dopamine, serotonin, endorphins, and oxytocin.” You flip the board, revealing some intricate drawings of what looks like the human brain, different arrows going out of it, filled with many inscriptions that he assumes are definitions of the hormones you just revealed. 

“But all of this is…” you play the drums on the board, leaning forth in suspense. “Useless!” you shout, throwing your marker and eraser in the air. Yongbok claps diligently at your dramatics.

“You know for humans with limited amounts of time on this earth, you sure do love wasting your precious minutes,” he taunts and a fire seems to light in your eyes, flames surging higher each time you poke fun at one another.

“You know for an angel who desperately needs my help, you sure do talk a lot.” 

“Touché,” he sighs, rubbing his forehead. “Please grace me with your special knowledge.” 

“Fine.” You plop down next to him on the couch, your knee bumping against his. A pang of ache flares in his being before disappearing as quickly as it came. It leaves him no time to decipher its cause.

“Happiness is the hardest thing to get in this life. Sometimes you follow all the instructions on how to be happy and yet fail to achieve it.” You speak with a lingering bitterness in your tone as if you’ve spent the best part of your life following defective manuals. 

“Happiness won’t come to you, Yongbok. It doesn’t come knocking on our doors. You’ll have to search for it. Especially on days when everything seems grim and dark, you’ll have to squint your eyes and find it in the small things all around you. And when you do, hold on to them with all your might. Even if your hand bleeds, you hold on just as tightly.”

“What small things?” he asks, turning his entire body towards you. He is almost breathless, waiting for you to spell out the secret to tasting life’s sweetest fruit.

“Things that remain gentle no matter what time does to you. Like looking at flowers, sitting underneath the sun, watching the sea, being kind and helping people, enjoying your favorite hobby… “ you enumerate, your eyes never leaving his. “Do you have a hobby?”

“No?” he replies, though it comes off more as a question. You pick up on his uncertainty, waving a hand quickly through the air.

“It’s okay. I’ll help you find one. I promise.” 

His response comes as easily as an autumn breeze. 

“Okay. I believe you.”

You beam at him, sunlight seemingly pouring into your pores, brightening your face from within. He finds it strange that he suddenly sees the sun in you, a star he has never taken an interest in. But he quickly brushes the thought aside, mirroring your grin.

“I was also thinking,” you add, “you should work with me at my café.” 

“Me?” he points at himself and you giggle, nodding. “Yes, you! Do you want to just sit here all day waiting for me to come home from uni?” 

“What? Who said I don’t want to be your trophy wife?”

You snort, bewildered. “A what?”

“I did a deep dive into Urban Dictionary yesterday.”

You blink once. Then twice. “Crazy words to hear from an angel. And it’s a no, to being my trophy wife.”

“Please?” he pushes, tugging at the outskirts of your sleeve. 

“No,” you sing-song, standing up and heading to the kitchen. “We needed a new barista anyway. And I’ll teach you how to make coffee. Also, I think you’ll enjoy people-watching.”

“That sounds creepy!” he shouts from the couch.  

“Says the guy who told me I cry an average of 160 times per year!”

“It’s 165, actually,” he corrects. 

You peek your head out of the kitchen, pointing a threatening finger at him. “Die.” 

“What happened to live laugh love?” 

“Just how much did you stay on Urban Dictionary?”

“A lot,” he shudders, shaking his head. You burst into uncontainable giggles, and the same satisfaction floods Yongbok’s being. Although this time it is much stronger.

It is a weird thought that suddenly brushes his mind— he thinks that if the sun ever spoke it would be your laugh spilling out of its mouth. 

… 

“Welcome to my humble abode,” you grin, spreading your arms wide as you open the door to Haven Café. Yongbok follows closely behind, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his black jeans.

“It’s nice,” he says absentmindedly, his eyes sweeping across every surface of the interior.

“Nice? This is my baby. Please be more expressive,” you retort, pointing a finger at him threateningly. He shakes his head, amused.

“This is the most beautiful place my fallen angel eyes have ever seen,” he says with mock reverence.

He isn’t lying, though. Resplendent flower vases adorn every corner, and a warm, inviting atmosphere permeates the space, evident in the comfortable auburn chairs and the books scattered on the sage shelves.

“I was actually wondering… What makes something beautiful?” he suddenly asks. You pause in your tracks, then resume opening the blinds.

“How it makes you feel,” you say simply. “Help me?” you add. Yongbok nods, sidling up to your side to open the remaining windows.

“This place is beautiful to me because it makes me feel at ease. I know that whatever happens, I can always escape here. Between the flower vases, the aroma of coffee, and the large windows, I feel good. At home,” you explain.

“But isn’t home your house?” he asks earnestly, tilting his head to the side. Your smile, warm and comforting, brushes over him like a fleeting sunbeam.

“Home is where you feel most like yourself.”

He does when you’re nearby. 

Does that make you my home? He wants to ask, but something inside stops him. He thinks it is too big of a confession to be uttered at the rise of dawn. 

“When did you start working here?” he asks, watching you refill the ice.

“Seven years ago.”

“Oh,” he gasps softly, suddenly remembering that he hasn’t known you your entire life. He wasn’t there to guard you through your childhood, to watch you stumble off the steps, or swing high to the sky. He realizes how little he knows about you. He suddenly aches to learn more, to know everything.

“The owner was our old neighbor, so when I was sixteen, he got me my first job here. I’m very attached to this place and its memories so I still come here.” 

“Memories,” he repeats to himself slowly, as if tentatively tasting the way the word feels on his tongue.

“What was that?” you ask, as you sweep the counter with a purple rug.

“It’s nice to have memories,” he smiles and you scrunch your nose, shaking your head slightly.

“You think so?”

“Yeah, I have no memories. None worth getting attached to anyway because all my life was spent feeling the same way. So, in a way…” he pauses, licking his lips tentatively. “I have never lived anything that shaped me. Except for meeting you.” A few silent beats pass, and you feel as if he has more to say, so you remain quiet. 

Yongbok opens his mouth, only to close it again, deciding against speaking. Yet again, too early.

“It’s your first life, in a way,” you finally say, “there are all these unknown feelings that you are experiencing for the first time. It’s unfair to you if you expect yourself to figure it out from the get-go.” 

Your palm rests upon his back, swiping gently left and right before you move around the corner to filter the coffee. But Yongbok feels as if the clock orchestrating the universe has halted, the seconds freezing the moment your hand touched his back.

It is a heavy, gruesome knowledge that he bears— knowing that beneath your warm, comforting touch lies a map of butchered skin and scars running down his spine. His powers had fallen short of erasing the remnants of his lost wings, leaving behind clots of skin that starkly highlight all his imperfections in one place.

Yongbok had looked at his back only once, a fleeting glance before he vowed never to set eyes on his abomination again, this grotesque reminder clinging to him like skeletons overflowing from his closet.

He felt ugly, and worthless for carrying such a vivid reminder of who he once was. Who he failed to be. No one should ever see his back.

Especially not you.

“There are twenty minutes left until opening. Shall we discover what your favorite drink is?” you ask, snapping Yongbok out of his haze.

“Yeah,” he clears his throat with an inhuman effort. “That sounds nice.”

Yongbok doesn't like coffee—you could tell from the scrunch of his nose and the squint in his eye after one sip of his iced Americano. “Are you bad at making coffee, or does it always taste like this?” he asks, and you throw a dozen napkins at his head in response.

“People ask for me specifically to make their coffee. Know your place,” you squint threateningly. He raises his hands in surrender, biting his tongue cheekily. Your eyes linger a bit too long on his lips, shaped like a cupid’s bow, their arrow striking straight through your heart.

It sometimes astonishes you how pretty your guardian angel is, and how seemingly unaware he is of the beauty he carries within each one of his features, each worthy of paintings and sculptures to immortalize them for eternity to come.

“This is good,” he grins, sipping his caramel Frappuccino happily.

“Because it’s ninety percent sugar,” you smile just as brightly. He puts down the drink slowly, eyeing you curiously.

“Why do I feel as if this is a secret insult?”

“It’s not a secret insult. I’m doing it to your face,” you smile, and he rolls his eyes so much they almost reach the back of his head. You can’t help but giggle quietly as he grabs the vanilla matcha drink. “Wow I can’t believe the sassy men apocalypse affects angels as well,” you sigh.

“I literally have no idea what half of these words are.”

“What happened to Urban Dictionary?”

“Die.”

“Aww, look at you picking up my slang already,” you coo at him. 

It's his turn to fling balled-up napkins at your face. You dodge them perfectly as if in a dance you’ve rehearsed thousands of times before.

“Anyways,” you clap excitedly, “you have five minutes to make me a latte.”

“Me? But I don't know how to.”

You place a recipe book before him, tapping the counter diligently. “I expect the world’s tastiest latte.”

A small smirk draws upon his lips as he shakes his head slightly. The sight of him makes you flustered all of a sudden.

“Anything else, your majesty?”

“No,” you grin. “Have fun!”

You wander through the café, dusting the books on the shelves– your most prized possessions, ones that you bought and others that customers themselves have donated. You return to Yongbok’s side when his voice booms through the place, calling your name.

“Here,” he slings the drink toward you, and your face contorts in shock.

“What the fuck? Since when do you know how to do this?”

“Do what?”

“This intricate latte art?” you point to the foam forming a perfectly drawn white swan.

“Ah, this. One time you were in the kitchen, very frustrated because you couldn’t get this shape right. So, I did it for you.”

“Are all angels as sweet as you?” you grin, taking a sip of the drink and holding his gaze over the rim of the glass. His heart catches in his throat for two reasons—anticipation as he awaits your reaction, and hunger as he aches for you to describe him even more, to dress him in all the adjectives linked to his being so he wouldn’t feel like a stranger, a blank canvas in his own body.

“How is it?” he asks. You remain silent, taking another sip.

“Mm.”

“Mm?” he echoes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s opening time!” you sing-song, walking away, and he follows behind you. “Why won’t you tell me? Is it that bad?”

“I don’t want to!” you speed up walking, and so does he. You end up running, skirting around the chairs, your laughter coating the room like golden honey. “Leave me alone!” 

“You have to tell me!” he shouts, chasing after you in an impromptu game of catch. He suddenly manages to grab your arm, spinning you around until your back is against the table, his arms on either side of your body. His eyes are suddenly drawn to the languid rise and fall of your chest, and then to the way your tongue slowly swipes across your lips, wetting them. 

A sudden warmth pools in his lower stomach, and he lets out a shuddered breath, his heart caught in a web of unknown feelings.

“Am I interrupting?” an unknown voice breaks in, and Yongbok quickly takes three hurried steps away from you, his cheeks ablaze as if flames are latching onto them—he doesn’t know if it’s from his embarrassment or from the golden specks he could decipher in your eyes.

“Mr. Kang!” you shout excitedly, skipping over to stand by the man’s side. He’s shorter than you, his back slightly hunched from time’s morphing hands, and his smile is warm as it lands on you. He reaches out to ruffle your hair in greeting before his gaze lands on Yongbok.

“Is this your friend?” he asks, the same smile still etched into his lips. You nod, and Yongbok bows deeply before straightening up.

“Can he make nice coffee?” Mr. Kang asks, and Yongbok stares at you expectantly.

“The best,” you finally grin, and a worried breath dissipates from his chest.

“I think we’ll get more clients too. He’s very handsome!”

“I know, you should see his freckles,” you giggle, pointing to a lightbulb that needs fixing on the other side of the café. Yongbok stays rooted in place, trying his best to steady his breathing. He is sure his face has turned the shade of the sky after a crimson sunset.

…

“This is Chris,” you say, standing by Yongbok’s side two hours later as he diligently wipes the counter. Yongbok follows your gaze to a young man nodding his head to the rhythm of his headphones. He looks serious, eyebrows furrowed, and his lips pressed into a thin line. His hair is hidden beneath a black cap, but a few strands escape, swooping like a duck’s tail.

“We take a music theory class together. He’s the nicest guy you’ll ever meet, a true social butterfly. I think the term was coined for him,” you explain. As if summoned by your words, Chris looks up, his eyes finding the two of you. He tilts his head in greeting, clicks a few keys on his laptop, then rises to join you.

“Hey, gorgeous,” he grins, and you roll your eyes. “When are you going to drop the cheesy nicknames?”

“Never,” he smiles, dimples deepening. They remain as his gaze shifts to Yongbok.

Yongbok isn’t used to smiles that don’t falter when they land on him.

“Hey, mate,” Chris says, extending his hand. Yongbok nods, shaking it.

“I’m Chris.”

“Yongbok.”

“Are you new here?”

“No, we just found him outside and forced him to make coffee,” you tease. Chris bumps your shoulder playfully. “Shut up. Good luck having to stand her for so long.”

“As if you aren’t obsessed with me,” you scoff, turning to Yongbok. “He refuses to drink coffee anywhere else.”

“Because you give me free sweets.”

“In this economy?” Mr. Kang appears suddenly, and the two of you burst into laughter at his timing. “Did your daughter teach you that?” you giggle, and he nods, almost desolate as if forced to acquire this knowledge.

“Anyway, we should hang out at one of my parties, Yongbok. Let’s catch up,” Chris grins before winking at you— “My usual, please, baby.”

You send him a playful middle finger. He blows you a kiss as he returns to his seat.

“We’ve known each other for three years now. He’s very annoying,” you smile, shaking your head. “But he’s a good friend.”

Yongbok feels something chip away in his heart, as his eyes land on Chan’s figure yet again. A slow ache swirls in his stomach like thorny vines. Time seems different for humans. He has known his fellow angels for much longer yet he doesn't think anyone would ever speak of him with this fond of a tone. 

---

“You did well,” you smile, patting Yongbok’s shoulder at the end of the day, the café as empty as it was at 6 a.m.

“Thank you, it was nice,” he replies with a tired, yet genuine smile. You nod, a slight yawn taking over you.

“Will you help me get some flour from the back? Then we can go home.”

Home. A concept that seems less foreign when you are near.

“Sure.”

“It’s there,” you point to a high shelf in the storage room. “We usually use a staircase, but we broke ours last month. I almost fell on my head— “

“But ended up magically walking away unscathed?” he interrupts. “I know.”

You slam a hand over your mouth, staggering back. “How?”

“Y/n... please don’t be surprised when I tell you this,” Yongbok frowns, placing a hand on his heart.

“Tell me,” you whisper.

“When I told you I was your guardian angel, it meant that I actually guarded you from harm’s way.”

“No,” you shake your head.

“I know,” he nods solemnly. “I’ve saved you from many, many clumsy falls.”

“My savior,” you giggle. “Lift me?” you say, and he nods, squatting down until you climb atop his shoulders before rising again.

“Okay, get a bit closer,” you instruct as you grab a packet of flour. “Shit, okay, this is heavy,” you giggle nervously.

“Why are you shaking? I’m the one carrying you,” Yongbok chuckles.

“When have you ever seen me around the vicinity of a gym?”

“Just hang in there, I’ll squat slowly,” he reassures.

Your feet are almost on the ground when the bag slips from your hands, falling with a resounding bang. Clouds of white envelop you both, shrouding your clothes in powder. You freeze, only to erupt into laughter as Yongbok grabs your waist, pulling you down to him.

“My god,” you manage to utter between chuckles, staring at the flour scattered all over the ground. Your laughter intensifies as Yongbok stares at you blankly, his face completely covered in white.

“What should I do?” you giggle, clutching your stomach. Yongbok can’t hold in his laughter much longer at the sight of the tears rolling down your cheeks. His giggles stream through your veins like a cup of hot tea, making your entire being warm up from within.

“I’m sorry,” you laugh, your palms settling atop his cheeks, slightly wiping away the powder.

“It’s okay,” he chuckles still, swiping his knuckles across your cheek to remove the flour, as well. Your hands cease their movements as you take in the fully concentrated look on his face.

“Can I ask you something?” you inquire quietly, and he nods.

“You seemed quiet today,” you note. He stiffens slightly before turning your cheek to the left, wiping the other side of your face. “Or was I wrong?”

“I don’t really know how to talk to other people.”

“Why is that?”

“I’m scared they’ll be able to tell there is something abnormal about me.”

“Yongbok...” you speak his name softly as if it was molded after your voice alone. “That’s nonsense. There is nothing abnormal about you.”

He avoids your gaze, so you place your hand atop his, tilting your face to catch his eyes. “Hm?”

“Just because my wings aren’t here doesn’t mean my past is erased.”

“Who said it should be? No one’s asking you to be perfect. No human is, Yongbok.” He remains silent, so you sigh softly, inching closer to him.

“If a straight line goes on with its path...” your fingertip drags a straight line across his chest, the white shirt he’s wearing suddenly igniting from the warmth of your touch. “It will remain undisturbed for the rest of its life. But what good is that? If a line doesn’t go down,” you trace a curve down his shirt, then one up again, “how will it ever know how sweet a high is, right?” you smile, before bopping your fingertip across the tip of his nose.

“You have pretty freckles, by the way,” you smile, and he clears his throat, nodding furiously. “Thank you.”

“You know, the guy who ordered the matcha latte, he spent his entire time here observing you,” you grin knowingly, and he frowns. “Really? I didn’t notice.”

“Yes, and when you gave him the change, he did the... what was it called again?” you muse for a few seconds before clapping. “Ah, yes, the triangle method.”

“What’s that?”

“He looked into your left eye, then your right one,” you demonstrate with your gaze gliding across his like a skilled ice skater grazing the surface of ice. “Then... his gaze flickered to your lips,” your eyes follow your words, and his breath suddenly catches in his throat, an unknown feeling swelling in the pits of his stomach. Tender and aching all at once. 

“Did it work? Did I fluster you?” you giggle, leaning to place your ear atop his heart. Yongbok pushes your head away, grateful for the dim lighting that conceals his blushing face. He doesn’t know what emotion will burst into him if your head rests across his chest.

He doesn’t think his heart could handle it.

“No, you didn’t, um—” he’s flustered. He prays with all his might you can’t tell. “Let’s clean this up, I’m hungry.”

“What should we have for dinner?”

“Sushi?”

“No, let’s have kimbap.”

“Then why did you ask me?”

You shrug happily. “I’m giving you the illusion of choice.”

Your words send a chill running down his spine, his hands freezing in place. Is this what Chris has offered him? An illusion of choice. Of a different ending. Of a fate different from what he has always thought would be his.

No, Christopher can’t be that cruel, right? Yongbok shakes his head, cleaning the entire room with an absentminded swipe of his hand.

A fool made to believe he can change a prophecy.

But Yongbok can’t help the small voice growing in his head, feeding off his worries and anxiety, echoing mindlessly within his mind.

But he can.

He can.

He is.

…

Time passes differently on humans than on angels. It now marks Yongbok in different ways, too. 

The hours he spends feeling sad are excruciating, stretching long and long till he starts to question whether the sun does rise at the end of the night. Or if it is a cruel lie recounted by humans to make the sadness less harsh, easier to bear. 

But those same hours he spends happily pass within the blink of an eye, their fragments stitching into Yongbok’s memory, a tapestry woven with threads of your silky voice and glimmering eyes. It is those happy moments he lived for the past month that he wishes to remember. 

Only those. 

He's gotten better at latte art, taking pleasure in drawing different shapes, animals, and even faces into the drinks. It’s less the satisfaction of being good at a task, and more so the smile that blooms on the faces of whichever customer gets their drink. Delighted by something he did, for once.

He’s good at making brownies. And apparently, his brownies are the best you’ve ever had. He’s only ever discovered the joys of baking because you were craving some but were feeling too lazy to make them. It was arguably hard to bake in the dark, as if ashamed of what your reaction would be if you found him struggling with pots and browned butter. 

But all of his embarrassment dissipated when you tasted them first thing in the morning, your eyes lingering longer on his figure when you found the plate. 

Mr. Kang agrees, too, so much that he’s asked him to put up these brownies for sale. Yongbok spends a lot of time with the kitchen staff, where Mrs. Kang, the head chef, teaches him the intricacies of carrot cake and cinnamon rolls. She calls him “son”,  Yongbok doesn’t know why an urge to weep overtakes him each time he hears the nickname.

You took him on picnics across the Han River, bowls of steaming hot ramyeon in your hands as you watched the sunset, sometimes the sunrise too. He reads books lying on the grass field, your shoulder brushing against his own. He doesn’t know why he remembers the swipe of your skin against his, or the specific scent of your perfume as it intermingles with that of the salty river. 

Sometimes it is bike rides across the river. You chasing the sun and him chasing something else— was it your smile, your happiness, a glimpse of your face each time you turned back to look at him? He doesn’t know the exact answer, but he knows that when your gaze met his across your shoulder, the wind swaying your hair as if spelling out lullabies for his soul, something excruciatingly tender bloomed within his soul. 

Sometimes it is day trips to neighboring cities, where you can see the beach once again. Where he swims and floats atop the water. Where he closes his eyes and feels at peace, where the water chases off images of his pain and leaves only images of you. 

He also volunteered at your local food kitchen. The people who eat there have called him kind, too. He feels as if you sat the course of how he would be perceived when you described him as such, the very first night you spoke in. He likes being there. He likes talking to people, he’s gotten better at it, too. 

He met Chan, and his two friends, Han and Changbin. He doesn’t remember how he ended up singing ad-libs for their newest mixtape. But they complimented his voice, said it’s perfect for harmonizing. You had simply grinned as if you already knew that from the moment you had first heard him speak. You spent the rest of the night eating grilled meat and playing video games over at their dorm. Yongbok doesn't think he laughed as much as that day. 

And each time he thinks the heights of his happiness are attained, that this is as joyful as he can get. That sorrow will undoubtedly follow closely, as it lingers just around the corner, waiting for the cup of his happiness to be filled to the brim. You prove him wrong. You make him laugh harder. You broaden his heart for him to receive even more happiness. 

As you are doing now, missing every target to win this pink cat plushie in Lotte World. 

“This is embarrassing, how can you miss all of them?” he sighs amusedly and you turn around, pointing a finger at his face. 

“Because you are staring at me with your…” you stammer, waving your finger in front of his face, “eyes.”

“How am I supposed to look at you then?”

“Just don't. I don’t do well with scrutinizing.”

“Okay, I’m not looking.” he turns around, closing his eyes for a second, waving his hand discreetly through the air. He knows that your delighted scream will follow. 

“Did you get it?” he feigns being surprised as you shake his shoulder, turning him around. “I did!” 

Your smile is as wide as an ocean, as beautiful as the sunsets you take him to witness. He’s lost in thought as he takes in your grin. 

“You look so pretty, Yn,” he says honestly, earnestly, because it is the only way he has ever known to speak to you. “Pretty like the sun.” 

“Oh,” your excitement fizzles out, the plushie growing lump in your hold. “Doesn’t the sun burn the more you look at it?” you giggle nervously, tucking strands of your hair behind your ear. They are rebellious, refusing to stay still, so Yongbok steps forward, gently doing it for you.

“Because the sun shines a bit too brightly to make sure everything else in the universe does.” he pauses, running his tongue across the expanse of his lips. “Just like you, with me and everyone else in your life,” he says. My light is a reflection of yours, is what you hear. 

“You are very honest,” you smile softly, bringing a hand to your ablaze cheeks, hoping to cool them down. 

“Is it a bad thing?” he asks. Nervous. You quickly shake your head, despising the thought of a negative emotion trapping his heart.

“No, no. It’s a good one. Truly.” 

“Okay.” 

“Should we go to the ferry wheel?” you suddenly ask, hugging the plushie closely to your body. 

“Yeah, sure, let’s go,” he grins. 

Yongbok’s limbs are slightly achy from all the rides you went on today, but nothing seems to deter the smile on his face, even as the line stretches for meters ahead. Nothing, except for the discomfort slowly growing on your face, your thumb tearing at the skin near your nails. 

“What’s wrong?” he questions, trying his best to catch your fleeting gaze. 

“There are too— too many people around, I feel a bit suffocated.” 

Yongbok doesn’t think, he simply grabs your hand and you are suddenly on the top of the ferry wheel, humans morphing into tiny ants to you from high above.

“Better?” he asks worriedly, tucking a strand of your hair behind the cuff of your ear. 

You’re still slightly dazed, but the wind that slams into your body feels like a gulp of cold water. 

“Your hands are shaking,” he notices, entwining your fingers with his, naturally, as if it is second nature for you both. “And they are cold. Are you dying?” he asks and you finally burst into giggles, shaking your head.

“No, I… I sometimes get anxious around people; it usually turns into a panic attack but I think you stopped it.”

“I helped you?” he asks, eyes softening and you nod. “Why are you surprised? you always do.”

Yongbok doesn’t know how to face the gentleness of your tone. It is a much harder opponent than the harshness he was subjected to. 

“Do they happen often?”

“It depends. They come and go like the seasons. I actually… I learned how to help you from my mom. Do you remember? back on the rooftop?”

“Really?” he asks, bringing your interlocked hands to his mouth and blowing warm air onto them. His lips almost graze your knuckles in the process. 

“Yeah. She got them frequently and she taught me how to ground her. And then I used those techniques on myself. Then on you.” you sigh, closing your eyes and tipping your head back. 

“Hers happened because of a past accident. She once got stuck in a mob of people and ended up fainting. it was my dad who pulled her up from the ground, it’s how they met, actually,” you grin slightly, before breathing in slowly.

“You know, I read that you can inherit trauma from your parents, but also from generations past. That  it changes the genetic structure of your mind. I wonder if that’s what triggers me.” 

“That's fascinating to think about. How emotions and experiences can be inherited.” 

“I know,” you smile, “I think it passed.” you gesture to your interlocked hands and he lets go promptly, staring ahead at the twinkling city lights, light pink dusting his cheeks. He’s embarrassed because he enjoyed the feel of your palm against his so much, maybe too much, enough to wish for your line palms to meld into one another. Becoming two indiscernible scriptures to the naked eye. 

“Wait. Does this mean we didn't need to wait all day for the rides?” you suddenly ask and he nods. 

“Then why didn’t you?”

“I don't… I don't like using my powers a lot around you.”

“Why is that?” 

“I'm scared that the more I use them the more you'll realize that I'm a fallen angel and that you have no business talking to someone like me.”

“You are very silly, you know that right?” you sigh, placing your cheek atop his shoulder. Yongbok’s world stops spinning right there and then. “I don't feel as lonely anymore now that you’re here. Angel,, human, or something else entirely… None of that matters to me.

To me, you’re just Yongbok.”

the question trickles suddenly into his being, tiptoes inside him gently like a droplet finding its way back to a waterfall— what is the grandest thing the universe has to offer?

To him you’re it. 

“I think I'm happy right now.”

“You think?” 

“I don't know how to describe it… But it feels like I have a little sun in my chest. It glows and it’s warm.” 

You tilt your head back to look at him, a wide smile on your face. He finds his answer in the sunset that filtrates through the strands of your hair, the last sun rays of the day coating your face in a warm glow, as if it was made to make your features shine the most, to make the shadows in your face look like a sculpture. 

“Yeah,” he says after a few silent beats, “I really am happy.”

“Does this mean we are moving?” you giggle, spreading your arms wide as if taking in the entire universe into your chest.

“Yeah, wherever you want us to.” His words are soft, resolute, draped with a gentle discovery— he followed you down to earth, he’d follow you everywhere in it.

…

“I don't know how I'll explain to people how I suddenly afforded this apartment,” you smile, hands on your hips, as you take in your new surroundings. 

Yongbok moves to stand directly behind you, his chest almost brushing against yours. you feel your heart palpitate at his proximity— so close yet so out of reach, simultaneously.

“Just say you moved in with me”

“Mm, I’ll say we are childhood friends and you just moved to the city.”

“Friends? Is that what we are now?” he grins, the light from the tinted windows bathing his features in a kaleidoscope of colors. He’s so beautiful, You you suddenly wish for a change to what you are. you don’t know by what exactly. But something, anything that will allow you to appreciate, venerate his beauty fully.

“Well, we aren’t strangers anymore.”

“I think you are my first real friend,” he says, a bit shyly, pink filling up the spaces between his tan freckles. 

Yongbok always speaks what’s in his mind, with this air of innocence tainting his words as if he doesn’t know that thoughts can be kept to himself. 

You never mind it. Though it churns your insides, makes you experience this particular attachment to him. You want to orbit around him, hear what he thinks of everything, of the colors it seems he experiences for the first time, the food he tastes, and the humans he speaks to.

And most importantly, you. 

You yearn to know everything he thinks of you. You don’t allow yourself to decipher where this need is coming from. You don’t think you’d be able to handle its consequences. 

“You’re lucky I'm like… The best human to ever walk on this earth,” you grin, throwing your hair over your shoulder and onto his face. He squints his eye to chase away strands of your hair.

“The humblest too,” he says, his eyes drifting across the living room. You chose an apartment on the smaller side, as opposed to his unlimited budget. But he likes what you did to the place. He doesn’t quite understand the intricacies of home decor, but he likes the plants everywhere, the flickering candles, and the fragrant flowers bathed in dim lightning. 

And he loves your painting room the most, with a neat library on the side. It feels like taking a walk straight into your heart. 

“Who painted that, by the way?” he suddenly asks, pointing to the painting in the middle of the room, right above the beige couch. 

“Hwang Hyunjin. It took me four paychecks to be able to afford it, three years ago. His pieces are now much more expensive.”

“Hyunjin…” he repeats, tasting the name on his tongue, it is familiar, and the memory suddenly hits him once again. “Oh, I talked to him before.”

“Did you?!” you ask excitedly, grabbing his arm and shaking it slightly. “Where, when, how?”

“At a bar, before I became... half human?” he says, unsure a bit of what he is now. “He actually invited me to his upcoming exposition. When was it again?”

“Today!” you nearly yell and he flinches.

“Really?”

“Yeah, I've been following his news. He's really my favorite artist.”

“Should we go?” 

“Actually?”

“Yeah. you seem to really like him.”

“Oh my god, I’m meeting Hwang Hyunjin. oh my god, I need a dress,” you grab his hand, pulling him away. “We need a dress!”

“We?”

“Let’s go shopping, we need to buy…”

Your words fizzle out in his brain, his whole focus on your entwined fingers as you push him through the room. Your palm feels like a soft petal brushing against his bruised skin. 

If he freezes time, just for a bit more, to enjoy the feel of your hand in his, would anyone blame him? 

The earth would understand surely— the desperate need to appreciate softness when all he has known is thorns pricking his skin.

...

“Yongbok!” Hyunjin's boisterous voice echoes through the art gallery, drawing every eye to you and Yongbok as you stride inside. Yongbok barely has a moment to take in the lavish surroundings before Hyunjin walks toward you, his polished shoes clicking rhythmically against the white marble.

“I knew you’d come!” he grins, grabbing Yongbok’s hand between his two large palms, shaking it warmly. 

“I didn’t think you’d remember me.” 

“Of course I'd remember you,” Hyunjin says, his face darkening for a fleeting second, before his eyes rest on you. 

“Nice to meet you. I’m Hyunjin,” he smiles, grabbing your hand and shaking it a bit more softly. 

“Yn. I’m a big admirer of your work, truly.”

Yongbok’s eyes soften at your excitement— they don’t leave your figure when he tells Hyunjin that you have a piece of his hanging in the living room.

“Really?” Hyunjin’s face brightens up at the news, “which one?”

“The red roses in the vase. It’s one of my favorites.”

“That was in my beginnings,” Hyunjin muses, a hint of nostalgia tinting his words. “I put a lot of love in it.” 

“I can tell, the colors especially scream of passion.”

“Are you one for passionate love?”

“Is love truly love if it is devoid of passion?” you ask, tilting your head. Hyunjin’s eyes linger on Yongbok for a moment before turning back to you.

“Excellent! Please choose whichever artwork you prefer; it will be my gift.”

“Really?” you beam, brighter than Yongbok has ever seen you before. The sun suddenly perishes within him.

“Of course. The prettiest artwork for the prettiest girl,” Hyunjin winks smoothly, before patting Yongbok’s shoulder. “Shall I give you a tour?”

Yongbok’s voice is withered as it floods his ears— “Please.”

…

Yongbok’s eyes are fixated on the red liquid swirling around his glass. He fears that if his gaze deserts the wine he’s drinking then it would inevitably drift to you and Hyunjin, giggling together, like long-time friends. Or is it lovers? The lines blur so easily for humans.

He had feigned an ache in his legs, telling you that he’d sit down while you go on with the tour. You had placed a hand on his arm, a worried crease in your eyebrows. “Okay?” you asked. Comforting, warm. It is the adjectives that always come to his mind when he thinks of you with him. 

But you aren’t his to describe. His to be kind with. His. 

So, he hummed, a tight smile drawn on his face. 

It’s not that he despised Hyunjin’s artwork. On the contrary, Hyunjin is a skilled artist, he can see why he’s reaping the fruits he sowed years ago. And yet, what disturbs him is something silly, stupid, too feeble for an angel, a human even, to care for.

He doesn’t like how your laugh travels around the gallery, how you fell so easily into conversation with Hyunjin, talking about your shared interest in art. He won’t ever have a passion of years to talk to you about. How could he when his existence merely spans over three months?

Yongbok is shrinking more and more, till he becomes a single dot of paint on the painting in the very far end of the gallery. Forgotten, dim before all the others. How can he dream to compare if he doesn’t know who he is? If his memories of life don’t even contain the four seasons, pausing in winter, barely brushing against spring.

When his torn skin doesn’t bear blemishes from falls years ago, while riding the bicycle, while playing with other kids, proof of a childhood well spent. No, his scars are that of one stripped from his roots, cast into an unknown world, punished, ridiculed. 

He’s unworthy of being an angel, unworthy of being human, unworthy of being in your company. Why are you wasting time with someone like him, who’d only pull you down, someone who needs instructions to understand how to carry his heart? 

The thoughts play out in his head, again and again, on your ride back home. You are happy, radiating even at the thought of a painting delivered by Hyunjin himself, your favorite artist, sitting in your home. His skin ricochets off your happiness, morphs it into anger and bitterness, all directed at himself.

He hates Hyunjin. He doesn't. He hates Hyunjin with you. He wants you to be happy with him alone. Isn’t he horrible for wishing to strip you away from happiness? 

Horrible.

Horrible.

Abomination. 

“Can you help me take off my necklace?” you knock on his bedroom a few minutes after you arrive, walking in to find him sitting on his bed, deep in thought. 

He startles at your presence, backing away even more into the wall. You frown at the tumult you perceive in his eyes. 

“Get out.”

“What?”

“I said,” he speaks through gritted teeth. “Please, get out.” 

He can’t bear looking at you. He can’t bear you looking at him. What will you see? Someone poisoned by jealousy, whose insides are collapsing on themselves, whose body rejects his bruised soul, over and over again. 

Where else is he supposed to flee? If he sheds this skin, which one would finally accept him whole? 

“What’s wrong? you’ve been quiet all night, avoiding my gaze. Did something happen that upset you?”

He’s panicking, on the verge of combusting into tears. How would he explain this hatred coursing through his veins at the thought of being perceived? By your kind, beautiful beautiful eyes, nonetheless. 

“I really–“ a pause, “ I really don’t want to see you right now.”

You falter, your hand curling tighter against the doorknob.

“Because each time I do, I– I see you with Hyunjin, and I feel as if flames are burning inside my lungs, choking me.” 

“What?” 

“And I hate- hate how I… look how I exist right now. So please, leave, I don't want you to see me.” 

You hesitate for a few seconds, rooted in place. 

And then you close the door. 

You are inside. 

“Talk to me, what is it you’re feeling?” you speak softly, your voice cautious, none of the things he’s used to. It angers him all of the sudden. 

“This is exactly what I hate. You are wasting your time helping me decipher my feelings, you are pitying me. Can't you see how burdensome I am?”

You shake your head, taking a step forward. 

“I don’t, I like it, I… I love helping you, I love seeing the world through your eyes again. It feels like I'm learning new things every day thanks to you and I—“

“I’m an ABOMINATION,” he yells, the walls seem to shake from the voracity of his voice. “From the moment I was created, I have been nothing but anomalous, I… I don't belong anywhere, who was I kidding by coming here?” he tears at his hair slightly, now pacing back and forth in front of you. “Did I really think that feeling would suddenly fix the void within me? that talking to humans would make me normal–“ 

“Yongbok!” you cut him off, no longer capable of bearing the sound of his shaky voice. “Please you are not listening to me!”

“No, you are not listening to me! Look! Look at how ugly I am, look!” he turns around, taking off his white shirt, exposing his butchered back to you. “Look at everything that haunts me, please look at it, hate me and leave.” 

He pleads, naked and vulnerable before your eyes. He waits for you to deliver the killing blow, to cement the horrible thoughts he bears for his body. 

If it is your voice speaking of how worthless he is then he’d believe it more. 

A pin-drop silence coats the room. Yongbok believes you somewhat vanished from existence. 

And then. Your lips on his back, brushing across the plane of his shoulder in the softest, faintest manner. He almost thinks he’s imagining it, imagining you kissing his scarred skin as if it is a delicate petal, worthy of care. Worthy of admiration. Worthy of love. 

“Is this what you hate about yourself?” you whisper, your knuckles grazing his scars. “Why are you so mean to your body, Yongbok?” your voice shakes. Hot tears pool in his eyes at the sound of it. “ Didn’t it scab its best to keep you alive?”

“You are such an idiot,” you breathe out quietly, your warm palms settling atop his waist. “I won't hate you for this. How could I hate you for this?” 

Yongbok is dizzy, drunk off your voice and the way your touch makes goosebumps ripple across his skin. “How could I hate you when all I see is resilience?” Your lips brush against his back, the faintest kisses peppered down his spine. “When all I see is what kept you alive?” 

Yongbok’s blood has spilled into the first snow of Seoul, what feels like a lifetime ago. But somewhat, it is underneath the caress of your hands that he has felt most exposed.

“So, I am thankful for your scars,” another tender kiss, this time to the nape of his neck. “Otherwise, you would have bled on the snow and I wouldn't have known you. And it’s a horrible horrible thing for me to imagine.” 

Your chin nestles across the plane of his shoulder, your hands wrap delicately around his chest. Can you feel his heart beating wildly? Can you hear it spelling out your name? 

“Don’t be so harsh on yourself, Yongbok. Haven't you been through enough, already?”

It isn’t the thoughts in Yongbok’s head that finally make him breakdown. It is rather the feeling of your chest pressed to his back, your cheek resting across his shoulder, you hugging him for the very first time in existence, you enclosing him in a cocoon of safety the way his wings used to.  

“I’m here. you can cry all you want,” you reassure, soft and comforting. His grief for his wings suddenly seem too far out of reach, the safety of his feathers paling before the safety of you. 

Yongbok doesn’t think as he spins around, as he buries his head in the crook of your neck. You respond swiftly, bringing his body even closer to yours, running your hand comfortingly along his spine. 

He doesn’t mind your fingers grazing his scars, he doesn’t chase off your touch. On the contrary, he craves it, his cells calling out your name, thanking you for all the love you’re giving him. He wishes he could glue himself to you, crawl inside your veins, build himself a nest between the web of your nerves. He doesnt think he could ever survive mourning you. 

“Please— please don’t leave me,” he begs, lost in waves of uncertainty, he thinks that if he holds you tightly you won’t ever disappear from his hands, trickling between his fingers like grains of sand. 

“Don't be silly,” tears fall down your eyes too, landing on his back like dripping wax. You attempt to steady your voice but it still shakes like rattling branches. “Where would I go?”

“What if they take you away from me?”

A flash of white clouds Yongbok’s vision, the cold returns to his body tenfold. He blinks repeatedly, and then he finds himself atop an abandoned rooftop. The blood runs cold in his veins, his heart pausing in his chest as he hears heavy footsteps approaching. Did he place a curse atop himself? Did his worst fear come true as soon as he spoke of it? 

Are you gone?

Oh God, are you gone?

“Yongbok,” a familiar voice speaks, and life resumes its course inside his feeble body.

“Seungmin,” he speaks the name in relief, a breathtaking smile blooming on his face. He sees the scrunch in Seungmin’s eyebrows relax ever so slightly, before a placid look drapes across his face again.

“Why did you do it?” Seungmin asks and Yongbok’s grin falters. 

“Did they send you?” he asks, a hint of apprehension filling his words.

“No, I came to bring you back.”

“What?”

“I will fly you back and you will kneel before them and apologize. And you will vow to never speak to humans again, and it will be forgotten.”

“I don't want to.”

“Why are you— “Seungmin pinches the bridge of his nose in annoyance, “they are humans,” he says the words in disdain, as if looking down at them from atop an unreachable altar. 

“I know they are.” 

“They are weak. Driven by things they cannot touch or see.”

“And I love them for it.”

Seungmin frowns. “You’re defending them.” 

“Seungmin,” he sighs tiredly, “why are you doing this?”

“Because I'm trying to help you. This, emotions, feelings, love. It isn't worth the pain they will end up causing you.”

Yongbok scoffs loudly, angrily. “What do you know about love?”

“You think you are special? You think you’re the first angel to go through this? I loved someone too Yongbok!'' Seungmin yells, taking him completely by surprise. “And they had him get in a car accident to punish me for it. I still hear the screeching tires; I still see his skull fracturing against the ground. I had to beg— beg for them to rewind the seconds and bring him back to life. And all for what?” he scoffs, grabbing Yongbok’s shoulders and shaking them. “You are on cloud nine because this is something new for you, you think that those humans would ever accept you? But you are wrong! Tell me, what’s an angel to a human?”

The shout that leaves Yongbok’s throat is a foreign one to his being. “That doesn't matter to me!” he yells, pushing away his hands. “Look me in the eyes, ask me, what’s a human to an angel? I’ll tell you it’s everything. Everything if it’s her.” 

“This will ruin you. They will kill you, Yongbok. She will be your demise.”

“I’d rather die by her hands than live by yours.”

“What if she ends up dying by your hands?” Seungmin speaks calmly, coldly. Yongbok feels the ground give up beneath his feet. “What if in the process of hurting you they end up hurting her, what will you do then?”

“I… they won’t.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I don't love her.”

“Who said anything about love?” Seungmin sighs, shaking his head. He looks almost desolate, somewhat that terrifies Yongbok even more. “You have your answer, I fear they have theirs too.”

Seungmin walks away, pauses, before turning back once more. He hesitates to speak, and in the seconds of silence that ensue, Yongbok discovers how terribly heavy fear is to bear. 

“I’m sorry, Yongbok.”

His tongue is heavy as it moves to ask— “what for?” 

“For the things yet to come.” 

𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐝𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐧

★ lee minho

✦summary: You embark on an unusual night for you, as a companion to a wealthy stranger man with a cold countenance, a warm heart and a very hot form of affection.

✭ content - tags - warnings: smut / oral sex / spanking / hair pulling / chocking / ceo lee know x fem reader / non idol felix x fem reader / mention of sex workers, scort / sugar daddy

word count: 12.3k

Part 2 ᯓ★

(masterlist)

Money did buy happiness, you thought; if it did you would be in your mansion worth millions, you would use your money to buy contacts to get your dream job without having to sweat a drop and you wouldn't be standing there right now listening to the landlady, while she yells at you and reminds you how far behind you are in your payments.

It was humiliating and you had no other excuse to tell her, it was obvious she didn't give a shit how much you studied and worked at the same time and it still wasn't enough. She finally left, insulting you a couple of times and flattering herself for being a good person by letting you stay and giving you a space in a very rushed and busy city like this one, where millions of people are looking for a place to live every day.

You wanted to feel unashamed, carefree but you couldn't do it and everything was a thousand times more embarrassing when you were helping your best friend pack as she was moving to a new and better apartment. You knew Hari since you moved into the building three years ago, she was your neighbor and you were the same age so you two quickly liked each other... but the day had come, she was able to move on and was going to a nice place.

Hari watched the whole scene with a bit of sadness, knowing deep down what it felt like to go through exactly the same thing and hear the same old lady screaming. And, as she took one of her boxes to pass it to the mover she thought if after all this time it would be good to finally confess a secret to you… she was terrified of feeling judged but, she appreciated you too much that she really wanted to tell you.

You sighed without further ado, smiling and turning back to your friend.

“Hey, if you need…” Hari wanted to say but you interrupted her immediately.

“I'm fine, really.”

You stared at her and gave her a fake smile. It wasn't new that you hated asking for help and that people feel sorry for you, first it was your male best friend who stupidly is a millionaire and now your best friend who you were supposed to share economic pains. You felt that everyone was moving forward but you, but you didn't want to be seen as a poor girl in distress, it was what you hated the most even though you appreciate their gestures and words in your heart, despite that it's hard for you to take it, as well as thank them and…. express yourself.

“If you need anything you know you can count on m...?”

“On you and Felix, I know.”

You rolled your eyes trying to appear annoyed but you weren't, it was obvious, they always reminded you. And you were extremely grateful just at the thought that they cared about you. You were aware that one of the very good solutions was simply to start dating your rich best friend who you know likes you… but you weren't like that, unfortunately, you were too proud to accept easy money.

“You should give him a chance” Hari added.

“I think I'm fucked up enough to fall in love and add another worry.”

Felix was sweet, caring, attractive and incredibly wealthy, you met him in college as he was studying cinematography. And you were studying performing arts, actress, your biggest dream. Strangely enough, you and Felix connected instantly in a course where you coincided, and you got along very well forming a nice friendship; he had a big and pure heart and was not at all the typical brainless rich kid, however you were the opposite of him, reserved and a bit pessimistic about life and clearly… in some big and tight economic problems. You couldn't count the countless times Felix offered to help you financially, but you simply felt you were abusing the power of your cute and cuddly best friend.

He would offer you money, he would offer you one of his properties, all paid vacations, you knew it was every girl's dream and that if you told anyone other than Hari about all this, they would be sure to slap you and call you ‘stupid’ to your face. You recognized that he was all a dream come true and that was what you feared the most, that you might be a nightmare for him, your personalities were different and most of all, you felt so bad that you didn't have something to offer him; you felt it looked so wrong to be just him trying so hard even though you were trying twice as hard too and sometimes it seemed in vain.

Moreover, you were quite realistic and recognized well that guys like Felix, wealthy and from a long line of millionaire ancestors, a simple girl like you wasn't enough, and you could never end up with someone like him.

Hari laughed at your comment.

“Love isn't so bad... have you ever been in love?”

You looked at her perplexed, almost wanting to laugh in her face; Hari in love was a concept you didn't know.

“Have you?” you asked, emphasizing your shock.

Your friend just looked at you amused and continued her duty of clearing out her old home. She was nervous, she had a solution for you but wasn't sure if it was an option for you.

After a few hours of exhaustive work like moving your whole life to another place, both of you contemplated the completely empty apartment where you used to spend nights together having sleepovers. Hari sighed, ready to confess something no one else knew.

“Y/n” she spoke to you.

You made a sound indicating you were listening, but you weren't really, you couldn't stop looking at that wall, thinking about what you had to do as soon as possible to get extra money. Hari called your name again until this time she caught your attention, so you turned to look at her; she felt nervousness and wanted to swallow for a second, you furrowed your brow at her sudden strange reaction.

“If I tell you something, promise you won't judge.”

“Of course” you quickly answered without thinking, her behavior seemed odd, but suddenly you were so curious to know.

She looked at you with big eyes of ‘I'm serious’, while you returned the look more than obvious.

“What is it about?”

Hari took a breath, hesitant, and suddenly she had all your attention.

“Have you ever wondered how suddenly I get all this, finally moving, nicer clothes...?” she replied with another question.

You furrowed your brow and tilted your head a bit confused, not meaning to offend, but your friend's life wasn't something you were so concerned about since you saw her completely normal, it wasn't something to be alarmed about, every time you met she was still the same... you wondered if there was suddenly something you didn't notice and that you should feel like a bad friend about.

“Did you get a big promotion at your job...?” you speculated without an answer.

She smiled mockingly.

“There's someone” she finally spat out, unable to express it entirely.

You got excited, those words meant she was dating someone of whom you didn't know details and suddenly it excited you. You raised your eyebrows in surprise and turned your whole body towards her, looking at her straight ahead, enthusiastic.

“Oh my God, Hari, why didn't you...”

“Or something like that” she cut you off abruptly.

Again, you looked at her confused, this time waiting for her to start talking. Hari looked at the floor and finally said:

“I have someone who gives me money.”

Silence embraced you, you didn't know what to say so you just laughed incredulously letting out a little air, Hari quickly looked at you with her expressive eyes of ‘you promised not to judge’, so you hurried to say:

“A sugar daddy or something like that? Well… good for you, I guess.”

“I think you need one” she cut off your sarcastic comment so now you laughed out loud. “Being a companion.”

“No thanks, I have enough dealing with Felix and his specific complex” you scoffed.

“I think you're not getting it… I don't know how to explain it but, I can live my life for 5 years without working a single day.”

You were in denial and totally ready to continue to contradict and mock your friend until that comment caught you by surprise.

“Wow, well that's…” you closed your eyes deeply trying to process the kind of conversation you were having. “I think you're exaggerating a bit here…”

“No” she interrupted you again, “this is different, I think you reject Felix because you know him and… these are just unknown men willing to pay a lot of money.”

“Do you really think you can give that kind of power to a man, of just giving you money without him expecting anything in return?” you added without thinking.

Silence returned… and it was when everything made sense and you understood that Hari did give something in return. You didn't want to say it out loud, but suddenly your best friend was a prostitute; you were really surprised. You couldn't help but open your eyes in surprise. Hari felt the need to explain herself before feeling judged.

“They are really wealthy men, it's something really exclusive and selective, you can choose and…”

You dissociated and stopped listening for a second, did they have methods? What did she mean? Why would she believe in the first place that you would be part of something like that?

“And are you with someone or do you have multiple relationships…?” you interrupted her.

You had no idea why you cared about that, you weren't a saint to judge, but maybe it was just curiosity. Hari rolled her eyes annoyed.

“At first a few until I finally found someone, I’m telling you it's surprising what can happen; so far it's him, he gave me the apartment, he'll decorate it and-”

You closed your eyes again incredulously.

“He bought you the apartment? I thought you rented it.”

“I had to lie.”

“And what happens when your fantasy and money run out?” you said mercilessly.

Hari smiled, you were too honest and straightforward sometimes.

“Well, I don't think that will happen for a long time and… Chan and I reached an agreement that I could work in his company as much as I want, even if our relationship ends and he stops supporting me.”

“Oh, so he has a name and now you're dating.”

“It's complicated, I like him but it's obvious that guys like him don't end up with the poor girl like a a TV show.”

And with a hooker, you thought. At least you were grateful that after all the senseless chatter something with common reasoning came out of your friend's mouth. You really had nothing against what she was doing, it just took you by surprise.

Hari sighed.

“I know you don't believe me, but do you remember that time months ago when we went out to eat and jokingly I showed you the meager ₩50,000 in my bank account?”

You nodded, still perplexed and cautious about what she might show you now. Hari took her phone and in a few swift movements with her fingers, handed it to you, displaying on the screen an incredible amount that made you sigh just seeing it. You couldn't believe it. How was it possible for someone to have so much money? Why would they give it to Hari?

“I think it's dangerous, maybe it's just sex with strangers but in exchange for that ridiculous amount… I don't know, you shouldn't trust strangers like that.”

Hari opened her mouth, offended, as she took her phone back.

“It's not always sex, it's about companionship.”

You pursed your lips, unable to believe it; maybe for old men with erectile dysfunction, you thought, but somehow or another, they are men looking for something.

“I'm just giving you an option to give it a chance. It's a really exclusive app, you even send your data to be accepted; it also comes with details of the people offering money for you, how they are, how much, and you can reject them all, you're in control. Come on, y/n, desperate times call for desperate measures…”

“I wouldn't categorize it that way, no thanks, Hari, I'm not that desperate, and by the way, how did you find out?”

“I went to a party months ago and overheard a couple of unknown girls talking about it, it changed my life” she quickly checked her phone again. “I have to go, he came for me, but think about it, okay? Just out of curiosity, like I did until I saw a really impressive amount. Also, they specify if they want companionship or something more…”

You rolled your eyes annoyed, it was crazy, you thought that Hari could live anonymously but your dream was to be an actress, what were you supposed to do if they ever found out that you practically sold yourself. Both of you left the apartment and stood there in the hallway for a few seconds.

“Do you want to meet Chan?”

Your attention returned to your friend as soon as she said those words and confusedly you thought in your mind “who?” until you realized who she was talking about. You were curious, you expected an older man but you were surprised to see that shiny black luxury truck and inside of it, an attractive young adult driving, he looked no more than thirty, or maybe less than forty. You had descended all those floors to meet the person your friend was talking about with enthusiasm and you were too surprised.

Chan got out of the car as soon as he saw Hari and opened the passenger door for her.

“She's my friend, y/n” your friend introduced you.

“Pleasure to meet you” you shook hands.

You were in absolute surprise and denial, suddenly everything started to feel like just a fever dream. You felt the heavy gaze of your friend's ‘partner’ and for a second you wondered if he was really the guy who slept with girls for money or the chauffeur of the lucky handsome rich man.

You gave him a small smile and Chan quickly looked at Hari with complicit eyes, silently asking if you knew who he was in her life to which Hari almost reading his mind nodded softly.

“I'll see you another day, goodbye” your friend said goodbye with a strong hug which you were too astonished to reciprocate.

And they both left, leaving you standing on the cold pavement of the parking lot with your thoughts floating.

You returned to your apartment with a million questions, questioning almost your existence. Imagining the possibility of getting into that silly app, you thought for a second that Hari must have had the greatest luck in the world to get the only handsome man in the whole system, whom you wouldn't be disgusted to sleep with even for a second. You thought if you really should pay attention to Felix, fall in love with him, live with him… but you shook your head vigorously to dismiss that idea, it was almost impossible not to fall in love with him but you didn't feel bitchy and cynical enough to take advantage of his love and money at the same time. You knew it was cruel and that he should be looking for someone because you understood each of his signals, and it was obvious that he was crazy about you but among the boring and miserable life you led, his attention was the only thing that kept you motivated.

You couldn't sleep and little by little you convinced yourself more, sex with a stranger? It shouldn't be so bad, having the same amount of money as Hari? it was such a bright dream for you. You could pay off your debts, look for a better place, and free yourself from the visit of the little witch every week. Now you were curious… if it was really reliable and if all your information was highly confidential.

You didn't even check the time and sent Hari a message: «How high security are we talking about in that app?» She replied «I'll tell you everything tomorrow» you noticed your friend's excitement when you realized how quickly she responded.

Until the next day arrived and after work you visited her new and remodeled apartment. It was unreal, you were breathless, the beautiful view and large windows, the harmony of its decoration, it was so bright to be true that if you managed to have money in this situation that you were about to get into, you wanted to keep it realistic, you were afraid that from one day to the next, you would have nothing, so changing your life drastically without having a fixed support was not an option for you, it wouldn't be something long term, just something to get you out of your soon predicament.

They sat on the couch in her spacious living room which was almost the size of your entire apartment.

“Do you want me to manage your account just to verify the data and all that?”

You nodded, you weren't sure what you were about to do, but there you were.

“Okay, all your data is done, they'll send you an e-nail confirmation and let you know if you've been selected to enjoy the app's services. So…”

You swallowed, watching as they wrote all your data to a strange email, your name, date of birth, occupation, your measurements, your physical appearance, number of sexual partners, if you've had any STDs and attach evidence that you're 100% clean, history of alcoholism and smoking…

“I think it's illegal for them to ask for so much data.”

“Don't worry, it'll be worth it.”

“Are you sure I won't end up in… some dark business?” you whispered the last sentence, terrified and nervous.

“Noo, you'll get all the data from the men who want to hire you, even their address while yours is never exposed.”

“I don't know, Hari, men naturally lie.”

Hari chuckled softly, sensing your nervousness.

“I'll put up a picture of you and send it, and…”

“Wait, what?”

“I sent it” she looked at you proudly. “It can take 24 to 48 hours to respond.”

Hours passed, and you were heating up your dinner when a call from Hari interrupted your time.

“You got approved, it was really fast. I'll come to see you.”

She hung up, and you took your food out of the microwave totally bewildered. An hour later, amid the serene night with little rain, your friend appeared at your door with a big smile.

“Why are you so excited? I'm literally about to sell my vagina to wetpussy.com.”

Hari laughed.

“But that will make you a millionaire overnight.”

“Mm” you expressed in disgust and let her in.

“I can't believe it was so fast, they really want you. You have the option to put your real name or a fake one, your real name you can only give if you want.”

“Please, a fake one.”

You were really regretting it.

“What name should I put you?”

“I don't know, just not mine.”

“Cheryl, like darling in French” she wrote with a smile “…except I need pictures…”

“Come on, I sent you the best ones.”

“I know, and you look spectacular, but there's an option where the money goes directly to your bank account once they unlock the function to see your photos…”

You felt like she didn't finish the sentence and you were a little annoyed by the situation, it irritated you to know that you had to do this, well, you didn't have to, and no one was forcing you, but you decided to do it.

“And?”

“They're spicy photos.”

“Absolutely not, is it necessary to do that?”

“Your face can't be seen, and the money goes directly to you. Every time someone opens the option, you get paid ₩10 million, well, it depends on how much the app values you.”

You were in denial until you almost regurgitated your dinner.

“That's an absurd amount.”

“I told you I wasn't joking, I didn't know what they were based on but according to Chan, they're based on dollars or something like that, so for them, it's quite little.”

“Fuck, does Chan have more sugar babies? Because if he continues, he'll go bankrupt.”

“I told you they're not ordinary people and they have to specify what they want, if you ever feel like they disrespect you and don’t follow what was previously established, you have every right to fine them and report them.”

“And make it a public legal issue? No thanks.”

“Then…”

“Well, I guess I have nothing to lose by taking a few lingerie photos, without showing my face!”

[…]

There you were, in the mall at a lingerie store on your day off, trying to find the best pieces that scream “classy slut”, you were so terrified, it means they must be men with a lot of money and extreme loneliness and desperation, so the least you could do was pretend to feel sorry for them and look pretty in a nice set.

You were spending your money on something you hoped would soon multiply by millions, until the sound of your phone startled you because you were so focused that you felt like you were doing something illegal. It was Felix.

“Hey.”

“Hey, where are you? It's your day off, right?” he said.

“Yes… I'm at the mall.”

You couldn't lie to him, the music and sound of people were so audible.

“At the usual one? No way, I'm here too, I'm buying a birthday present for Olivia, I wanted to ask you to help me.”

“Well if you want to wait…”

“Where exactly are you? I'll come find you.”

You didn't want to see him, you felt so guilty accepting dirty money from strangers and not the one he always offered you in the purest way without asking for anything in return, you felt terrible.

“I'm at…” you looked around trying to find another store to run away when he's near, but you couldn't. “Buying lingerie on the second floor.”

You told him the truth, you didn't think he would come. And you've always been someone without filters, except when it comes to Felix, only with him do you have a soft spot. There was a little silence.

“Do you have a date?”

His voice suddenly became serious and his tone of enthusiasm vanished.

“Well, it's complicated” you grimaced but he couldn't see you.

“I'm coming over there.”

Felix hung up on you suddenly and you just let out a sigh; you couldn't guess where he was to calculate his time and leave the store and meet him outside, but you really needed that outfit, your last nudes were taken when you were in high school when you did your first sexting with a guy in your class, who was a nice guy, Kim Seungmin from your science class, you fucked him in the basketball gym closet and he never ever told anyone, nor showed your nudes; but the situation was already twisted enough without putting up your old photos from when you were a minor, plus the light and angles weren't fancy enough to be worth 10 million won.

You rushed to find something fast and before you knew it, Felix had already arrived.

“I like that one” he said in his deep voice close to your ear taking you by surprise.

You turned to see him, today he looked cuter than usual, he had his hands clasped behind his back and a small smile on his sweet face.

“Felix…” you whispered.

“So, what's the occasion? Who are you going to wear that for?” he mumbled.

He wanted to hide his irritation in a soft tone, but he couldn't, he was annoyed.

“Oh, it's nothing, I just have to update my closet.”

“Then buy whatever you want and I'll pay for it” you were about to speak and he gently raised his index finger in objection. “Is it bothering you that I'm here? I can leave you my credit card and wait for you outside.”

Felix looked around innocently, he was surrounded by women's underwear and women. You smiled warmly at him.

“No, actually you can help me.”

You liked to play with Felix a little, you adored watching the way his face would lift and light up all over, his ears would perk up a little and his round eyes would get bigger, as happy as a loyal puppy. Objectively yes he could help you, he was also an incredibly wealthy man, you thought maybe all millionaires shared the same neuron or tastes to get them turned on.

“I'm between this one and this one” you showed him the pairs you had selected.

“Take both of them. Or as many as you want.”

You wanted to get out of there as soon as possible, you were suffocating to the idea of what you were going to do; you loved shopping but today….

“Come on, take some more, your closet won't be filled with just two” Felix added.

You smiled at him and chose a few more so he would stop talking and you could leave at once. Felix paid without any problem while the cashier looked at you with contempt and envy when she saw the pretty boy who accompanied you, slim, elegant, blond with long hair and an innocent face bathed in freckles.

“Thank you, Lix” you gave him a quick kiss on his soft, rosy cheek.

If Felix had a dog's tail, you were sure he'd be wagging it vividly and endlessly with happiness.

“Have you eaten yet? Let's go get something to eat…” he mentioned excitedly, turning to look at you.

“Mm, later, now I'll help you choose the gift for your sister.”

“Oh, yes, sure, what do you think, Cartier or Tiffany? Although Van Cleef is very fashionable among young girls. And maybe a Dior bag, I think it's her favorite brand; my father will give her her first Birkin so my bag will be like a toy, I don't know what to give her.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, Felix was talking and you were listening.

[…]

“Do you wanna go to my place? There's a movie I want to see. Only you would listen to me while I pause the movie every 5 minutes to make a comment.”

Felix spoke while he was driving, he looked at you out of the corner of his eye and noticed you distracted; you couldn't help it, you thought to yourself that you have to take good pictures and that maybe soon your pussy will be tasting a stranger's cock, for money, which made your hair stand on end. You came out of your trance when you realized Felix spoke.

“Yes, it's okay.”

You needed a distraction. And you missed movie nights —and commentary— with Felix, your best filmmaker friend.

“What are you doing on Saturday? You should go to Olivia's party, she's having a themed party after dinner with us; I don't know what her theme is yet, but I'll let you know. Olivia remembers you and likes you very much.”

Felix suggested trying to get your attention. You didn't even have to think about it, Felix's younger sister was a sweetheart like him, it was his older sister who was a tough crowd, you knew she didn't like you and that she thought you only hung out with her brother for his money, she almost fainted when she found out you were on scholarship and lived in a middle class neighborhood. It was enough for you to know that Felix drove you everywhere, that was too much for you.

“I'll think about it… I have a deadline this Sunday for a report.”

He pressed his lips together, knowing you were lying, but he didn't blame you, he thought maybe it would be too much pressure to meet his family.

“So… Are you going to tell me who you're going to wear that lingerie for? Is it someone from the university that I know?” Felix tried to be subtle, but he was dying to know who was going to touch you other than him.

You and Felix had almost done it for multiple times but you always stopped yourself, you couldn't do it because you were afraid he would do it so well and so sweetly that you would end up falling in love with him. He loved the way you made him completely horny, almost cumming in his pants.

And then you had a great idea, if you were going to get into that business you had to be cool and think it would only be a simple fuck, you wouldn't concentrate on anything but feeling a hard cock in your pussy… so you had to fuck Felix right now, there was no other way to prove you were an insensitive bitch than to fuck the only man you have ever felt love and respect for.

You tried to get flirtatious and quickly changed your mood.

“Maybe you're right, he's someone you know very well.”

You spoke slowly and seductively, staring at him, you must have recognized that you really have a very attractive best friend, he quickly noticed your heavy look and the change of mood, so he swallowed nervously and looked at you surprised with opening his pretty eyes in pity and that didn't help you at all, he looked fucking cute when he was like that.

“Oh yeah?” he added playfully looking sideways and running his tongue along the inside of his cheeks.

You moved closer to him and brushed his cheek with the tip of your nose seductively, while your left hand traveled dangerously from his thigh to his crotch where you massaged his growing bulge.

“Let's go to your place and you tell me what you think of each of the sets you bought me, for him.”

You noticed the irregularity of Felix's breathing, you didn't want to act clumsy and end up fucking him in the car, even though it was incredibly spacious enough… but you knew that when Felix was aroused and totally yielding to your charms and touches, he wasn't thinking clearly.

“Let's listen to music while we wait” you added amused.

You moved away from him and played music through the screen of his modern car, almost letting out a giggle, you didn't know if Felix hated you for that or was just turned on and, for him it was the second option, all the way he was uncomfortable with his pants drowning his cock, but he didn't know how to ask you nicely that if possible you could give him a handjob right there, to which he concluded that there was no decent way to say it so he waited until finally arriving at his pent-house.

As you entered the elevator you both kissed desperately, you almost smiled between the kisses knowing how much fun it would be to finally taste your best friend. Felix was holding all the shopping bags tightly, or at least he was trying to, he wanted to keep his hands on your waist and glued you to him, so once you reached his apartment, he let go of the bags and kept kissing you mercilessly, it felt so good, his warm hands on your waist, his tongue exploring the inside of your mouth and your lips joined with a huge appetite. You realized he wanted to take control and if he did, you would end up making love slowly and not just fucking, so you gently pushed him away, he saw you confused with puffy lips and a look of lust.

“Let me show you how good it all looks on me.”

You gave him a quick kiss and took his hand, directing him to the couch where he sat.

He licked his lips as he bit them, stretched out his arms and settled back, trying to ignore his throbbing sex. He loved the way you played with it.

You took the first piece of black full body lace lingerie. You undressed in front of him and slowly and painfully slipped it on, Felix was struggling with his immense desire to make you his.

“Help me.”

You dropped onto his lap pretending to have trouble putting the garment on, you were so wet, you wanted to feel him like you had never wanted to feel him before. Felix put his hands on your body and quickly reached for your pussy, pulling the tight, thin fabric away from your center and began to play with your clit. You moaned, losing control of your initial plan as you were surrendered to his touch.

You unbuttoned his pants, removing them and his underwear in exasperation. And there was your friend's hard, firm cock lightly lubricated in semen, as nice and thin as he was, it looked exquisite, and you were going to ride it so well.

“Felix, the condom” you practically begged.

He gasped at the touch of your hand and firm grip, “over there,” he mumbled pointing to a cabinet with a drawer, you thought for a second if he fucks regularly or why he had condoms in accessible and strategic places. You walked by the condom, feeling your wetness with every step and positioned yourself in front of him, your knees on either side of his thighs.

“You should take pictures of me, with each of the lingerie, exclusively for you; I want you to know that I'm really grateful every time you do something nice for me” you stared at him as you opened the wrapper.

You put the condom on him, you could see how gorgeous, red and swollen his cock was ready for you, and slowly, carefully pulling the fabric apart, you sat on it, inserting it and feeling every inch as you went down.

“Shit, y/n, move for me” Felix gasped.

You moaned as you felt it buried in your pussy and began to enjoy yourself endlessly, jumping on his erection as each squat made you lose your breath. Felix held you tightly by the waist, accentuating each movement. You gave yourself thrusts leaning on his thighs and, when you felt his cock throbbing and his body getting weaker and weaker indicating his orgasm, you hugged him on his shoulders and kept moving your hips and ass with agility.

Felix completely agreed that you would take control and held your ass helping you a little until, between gasps and almost crying, Felix finally cummed. You were so possessed by adrenaline, you could feel your orgasm so close, that you accelerated your squats and held your breath for a second until you finally exploded in a sea of sighs and glistening fluid.

You dropped your tired body on Felix's shoulder, feeling his scent and immediately regretted it, it had been amazing, but you always thought the first time you would fuck Felix would be so sweet, on a warm day, maybe in spring, involving roses and a date… not in such a dirty way on a cold October night on his living room couch.

“You know I like you a lot, y/n. Let's stay that way.”

And you said something really stupid, something you had no intention of saying. You wondered what he meant, whether to continue to stay like this fucking, or cuddling?

“I like you too.”

You kept hiding in his neck, you were a coward who can't accept that you were capable of feeling something for someone.

And if that wasn't enough to make you feel bad, he gave you the sweetest cuddles once you came out of his cock, he tended you carefully and told you how pretty you looked.

After that he took your long awaited pictures and after taking your last one, he made sure to reward you so well that he ended up eating your pussy.

You ended the night by taking a shower together, and fucking you again in there; you watched the movie while he commented on each annotation he made, but Felix fell asleep halfway through, in your arms. You didn't know what to do, you didn't know if you were going to continue that way with him and you still weren't ready to take the big step of accepting his money just because suddenly you go out and he gives you everything, his sister already hated you… what would people think; you cared more about your situation with him than about what they would think if I slept with a stranger for money situation, although, nobody had to know it was for money, if somehow someone found out, you could say it was just a fuck, you thought.

So, resigned to the fact that you still had to pay your rent, you sent the pictures to Hari, to which she quickly replied with a «wow! I got em» Thirty minutes later, a screenshot of what your profile looked like, it was embarrassing for you. «I'll be sure to get you the best deals😉», she wrote back.

The next morning you woke up in Felix's bed, wearing his clothes; he must have moved you and you hadn't even noticed, you reached for your phone and couldn't believe your eyes, notifications from your bank account app, you had received ₩ 40 million.

You were ready to tell Hari that you had enough with what you were getting just for the pictures, you couldn't believe it.

[…]

And, on the other side of the city, in one of the best, luxurious and exclusive hotels in the place, the hotel owner himself, the young and wealthy Hwang Hyunjin and his friend who fit in the same category as him, Lee Minho, were having brunch.

“Ah, Lee Minho, he can finally have brunch with you in his busy schedule” Hyunjin told him.

Hyunjin had arrived and Minho was waiting for him, sitting in one of the hotel's restaurants next to the large window with a view of the city. Hyunjin was more into art, but being the only son of his powerful father who owned hotel chains, he gave him that one right on his 18th birthday, since then Hyunjin has taken more than good care of it, and decorates it in his favorite pieces of art, his favorite part.

Minho stood up to greet him, shaking hands and a quick hug.

“Busy me? If it's you who's going around the country with your galleries” Minho replied, sitting down.

“I know, I know, it's unbelievable. Have you ordered lunch yet?”

“Yes.”

“I'll order the same” Hyunjin shouted to his employee as he sat in his chair facing Minho.

“Big day tomorrow, huh?” added Minho.

“Of course, you have to be there, I even left the presidential suite just for you.”

Hyunjin leaned back in his chair clasping his hands together with a smile on his face. Minho laughed softly.

“I don't get ready in hotels anymore.”

“Well, do it for me this time, like old times. Besides… you have a plus one to my gallery event.”

Minho's soft, amused look tensed a little when he heard his friend.

“Oh yeah? Well, I think I'll go alone.”

“In fact it's mandatory that you go with someone, so I got you that someone.”

“No thanks, I'd rather not go.”

Hyunjin smiled sideways seeing how cute his friend was getting when he was getting into his temper.

“It's a girl, but if you want a boy you have to tell me before tonight” he joked.

“Why can't I be your date then?”

“I'm sorry, I'm already going with someone tomorrow. But I think it's time for you to start seeing more people.”

Minho gave him a dirty look, he didn't want to have that conversation at their meeting after weeks of not being aware of their lives.

“I'm fine, I'm busy.”

“When was the last time you fucked someone” Hyunjin blurted out in amusement trying to smooth the conversation.

“It's none of your business.”

“I'll take that as you haven't done it in a long time.”

“If you care so much why don't you fuck me in the suite.”

Hyunjin laughed, gently touching his nose, though deep down he believed this was no time for joking… or at least it was a little since he didn't know how to tell him what he had to say.

“I would but you'd have to pay back every penny I spent on the pretty girl.”

“You paid money to a girl to sleep with me against my will? Artists are weird, I thought we were in the 21st century.”

Hyunjin couldn't hold it in anymore so he licked his lips and finally confessed:

“Soyul will be there.”

Minho's smirk left his face little by little and his heart almost stopped when he heard after so long the name of his ex-girlfriend; and that was exactly what Hyunjin was referring to and of the expression on his friend's part that Hyunjin feared for. He couldn't lie to him, Soyul was one of his biggest investors, she had to be present and he couldn't fool his friend; he knew he still wasn't over her, not even after two long years since their breakup; in fact, the idea of getting him someone started a few weeks ago, at their meeting where a drunken Minho confessed to him in tears the deep pain and misery he felt after the one he considered the love of his life left him. That was for Hyunjin the straw that broke the camel's back, he was not going to see his friend depressed.

“So?” Minho tried to sound nonchalant.

“She's going with her boyfriend… and I think you're still not over her….”

“And you decided to hire a hooker? That's why you left me the suite, isn't it, motherfucker?”

“She's not a-, well, if you don't want to fuck her, don't, just let her keep you company at my event.”

“Weren't the regular girls available?”

“All the normal girls in our social circle know Soyul and let's face it, they are very gossipy, it will be embarrassing for you for them to know that you haven't moved on with….”

“I can go alone” he interrupted him, he couldn't bear to hear him say his ex-girlfriend's name one more time.

“Come on, Minho, give yourself a chance, she is really pretty, she is an actress and…”

“A porn actress?” he interrupted him, not taking it seriously.

Meanwhile, their waitress was delivering their food and drinks, trying to act normal after overhearing the conversation.

“She's a real actress. I'll text you all her information. She's a Scorpio like you if you care about zodiac signs.”

Minho didn't answer, he didn't feel like dealing with anything else.

“They're freaky” Hyunjin poke as he picked up his cutlery, Minho frowned. “Scorpios. They say they’re good in bed.”

[...]

“I got wonderful news”

Hari suddenly appeared with a huge smile at your work.

“Hello to you too?”

“Can you take a break?”

“I'll be back in 5” you shouted and took off your apron to go out with your friend.

“I'm about to close a deal, I think you should have the money by now. You have to quit your job now, you have a date on Saturday.”

You were perplexed.

“Hari, what did you do?” you felt your phone vibrate in the back pocket of your jeans.

And there it was, your bank account with an imaginable amount, you opened your mouth in surprise, this was starting to get serious with an amount like that.

“I told you.”

“But who is it? What does he look like?” you didn't know how to react.

“Don't worry, they are Chan's friends, they are 100% reliable.”

“Is it more than one?” you opened your eyes in surprise.

“It's not… it’s complicated, a friend of Chan's, Hyunjin hired you for his friend Minho, who said he agreed, he just didn't use the app. I wanted to negotiate for him to pay for both of them but I guess he was pretty generous. Anyway, he just wants you to accompany Minho to Hyunjin's exclusive exhibition and pretend to be in a relationship with him for at least two hours?”

It was a lot of information to process, you didn't know what to say.

“Hyunjin will explain you more in detail but seriously you have to go otherwise you will be fined that same amount paid and a little more. You can leave as soon as you feel uncomfortable since apparently Minho has a strong personality.”

“Believe me, I'll leave as soon as I walk through the door.”

[…]

There you were on your Saturday night, standing in front of the door of a luxurious hotel, you walked in and met the handsome young man who was in charge of filling your bank account. You walked shyly toward him and greeted him with embarrassment. His dress code was clear: a short black dress fitted to your silhouette, comfortable shoes and normal underwear. He was going to dress you.

You looked at him, there he was, the famous Hwang Hyunjin himself from the large dynasty of the Hwangs, very influential people; he was taller than you, he had sharp eyes and thick lips, he was more attractive in person and he had to tell you the same.

“You look spectacular, chérie” he mentioned flirtatiously. “Come here” he invited you to come closer and you did.

You weren't a big fan of this, but you had to admit that something inside you grew and made you feel incredibly horny, the atmosphere of the hotel, the tense silence and the incredibly handsome man in front of you, in addition to your submissive behavior… rarely turned you on a bit.

“Do you want me to call you a make up artist or your make up it’s fine?” he gently touched your hair.

You looked up to see him.

“I think, it’s okay like this.”

You were nervous and slightly horny.

You did your best job with your make up and hair already, the make up was natural and elegant but still visible, matte nude eyeshadow, sharp eyeliner, elongated lashes, soft blush and lipgloss. Your hair was styled with soft waves.

“Great, so we don’t waste more time. You look beautiful already, actually you look better than the photos” he put his hands in his pants pockets and looked at you up and down biting his lip. “The dress is ready in the room, but you know what actually, bring it right here. Dress in front of me.”

Hyunjin was already aroused and was fighting his instincts to seduce and touch you, yet you were his friend's tonight, but he thought it only fair to see first what he had paid for. He sat comfortably on the couch and waited for you to return. On the other hand you were more than nervous and strangely agitated with excitement, that dark-haired man dressed in a tight suit all white because that was the theme of the party and finally there it was, a dress whose style and logo you could recognize so well. A white Versace mini dress that you assumed would fit to your mid thighs, you thought you had only seen that style in black so it was strange to see it in the brand's signature pearl white; until you saw the name Hyunjin embroidered on the label, was it designed for you? A shiny black Jimmy Choo silhouette heels, and a white crossbody bag from the same designer of the dress, you were speechless, so amazed that you almost forgot Hyunjin's request, he wanted you to change in front of him, then you saw something that terrified you, a beautiful white lingerie that went perfect under the dress, he wanted to see you naked.

You wanted it to be quick, almost like pulling off a bandit, so you tried to take everything and brought it close to him where you found him sitting on the couch ready for his little private show. You undid your black dress at the bottom so as not to ruin your hair and unthinkingly removed your underwear. Hyunjin was engrossed, he wondered why he didn't choose you, but for him after seeing your naked body. He was struggling as hard as he could to keep an erection from appearing in his pants, but it was too late.

You took off your low sandals ready to put on your underwear but he interrupted you.

“Let me help you.”

He took the garment and squatted down while helping you slide your panties to your area. Hyunjin enjoyed every second of the soft touch of your legs and then stood up to help you fasten your strapless bra. You could feel the tension in the air so you just bit your lip, resisting his hot touches and his warm breath on the back of your neck.

Finally you put on your dress and heels and you looked completely different, you never thought you would get to wear something like that to a type of event you don't frequent. You awkwardly moved the things from your bag to the new one and tried to regain your sanity.

“Something's missing” he spoke and grabbed your left wrist.

Hyunjin put on you the characteristic white clover bracelet with gold from the refined Van Cleef jewelry.

“Well, you've seen Minho. This is the key and it's two floors up from here” he added, handing you the access card. “I want to see the two of you together in the gallery, he may even could offer you the double of money so you can leave, but please, you have to go with him.”

Hyunjin now spoke in a commanding tone giving you instructions, his hot moment had passed, he had to concentrate.

“And please… let me know if you and Minho fuck, if the idiot doesn't touch you we can maybe go to…. how about Santorini?”

It seemed that you had your feelings locked in a box and that you acted according to a fever dream. You thought you were an actress and could get out of it easily, you just had to act. Your role was now about a rich girl wannabe.

You entered the room unannounced as instructed by Hyunjin and took a few steps forward until Minho heard the door open, interrupting his grooming time so he came out of his room wrapped in a towel and still with slightly wet hair.

“I didn't order room serv…” he said.

Minho stopped dead in his tracks as he looked at you standing there. You didn't know what to do, you were frozen in place; you looked at him, he looked handsome and was half naked, except for the towel covering his private parts, you couldn't help seeing him, his worked body, muscular arms but not exaggerated, his abdomen marked with a small scar above his navel and…. you felt bad but you thought he was looking directly at you too, his marked penis above the white towel. Minho smiled sideways at your nerve to look at him and could tell your mild surprise as you looked at his package, a valid reaction he thought.

“You're in the wrong room or are you lost?”

Minho could predict why you were there, after all you could only get in with the key. He looked at you sternly waiting for an answer. You took a breath and spoke.

“I will be your companion today at the art exhibition.”

Minho laughed and let out a breath.

“I don't remember ordering a hooker either. That fucker Hyunjin sent you, didn’t he?”

The term took you by surprise and you were offended, you were about to defend yourself when he continued speaking.

“Seriously, you can go, I'll pay you more than whatever that bastard gave you, just go” he waved his hands in a gesture for you to leave.

“I won't.”

“Will you make me call security?”

“Do it” you challenged.

Minho exhaled in annoyance and touched his forehead in concern.

“I'm going to kill Hwang Hyunjin.”

Without another word he went back to his room and thirty minutes later he came out ready dressed in a white suit with his serious expression. He looked at you for a few seconds with contempt as he passed by you and headed towards his door ready to leave, you ran towards him, leaving at the same time.

“I don't know what Hyunjin is up to but when I see him I'll…”

He was expressing himself annoyed until more people entering the elevator interrupted him.

“I'll get my car keys” he said to you indifferently as he walked away towards the hotel counter.

You followed Minho, keeping a distance; you glanced around, being able to see from the huge waiting room to the large entrance to the restaurant where you could also see and your heart stopped for a moment when you spotted a long dyed blonde hair sitting at one of the tables. You turned quickly, hoping he couldn't see you, but as if fate would have it, you managed to see him leave his seat and approach the foyer. In panic you slipped into the waiting room where you sat with your back turned.

Felix went straight to Minho.

“Lee Minho” he blond greeted him enthusiastically.

“Hey, Yongbokkie, what brings you here.”

Minho turned to look at Felix and frowned when he saw that you were no longer behind his back, he looked at you for a few seconds until he deduced that you might have finally run away, which made him happy and disappointed at the same time.

“It's Olivia's birthday dinner”.

“Oh, congratulate her for me” the blond smiled at him.

“Are you about to leave?” Felix said.

“Yes, I'm going to Hyunjin's.”

“Sure, sure, maybe I'll stop by later.”

Minho just smiled at him and asked a few more trivial questions about his parents.

“Mr. Lee, your car is outside waiting for you” the employee interrupted them.

“I have to go Felix, I'll see you later.”

“Of course.”

You were hiding, praying that Felix wouldn't recognize your hair and suddenly you saw him chatting with your 'date' for tonight, apparently they were friends so you felt more terrified, what if by chance Minho decides to tell Felix? Oh you would be ruined. After the short talk you saw Minho leaving towards the exit so once again you slipped away almost running to catch up with Minho. He was surprised to see you back by his side. Minho said,

“Mm, the night was just starting to get nice when I thought you had left.”

You gave him a dirty look and followed him to his car where you sat in the passenger seat. When Minho put on his seat belt he noticed the shiny gold detail on the strap of your dress, it was the medusa logo characteristic of that high fashion Italian brand.

“The bastard dressed you in Versace, you already look more like his than mine.”

You stood still not knowing what to say, it was maybe the first nice thing he had said to you during all your short time together.

Minho inspected you quickly, he was so upset that his friend didn’t lie, and just like Hyunjin said, you were a really pretty girl.

“But he didn't put earrings on you, if you're going to come with me you have to look your best.”

Once again he spoke in a resigned tone and arrived at Tiffany's jewelry store. Minho was resigned to the fact that you would accompany him tonight so he thought if you were going to make Soyul jealous, you really had to do it. Besides he had already inspected you, at first glance you were too pretty and that dress fit you like a dream so that speeded things up.

Once again, you had to go behind him and you entered the luxurious establishment.

“Good evening, Mr. Lee, how can I help you? Would you like something to drink?” the worker hurried to say to you once you entered, with a smile, looking quickly towards you.

You noticed how she looked at you in surprise since Minho hadn't brought another girl since two years ago when he was still in a relationship.

“Nothing for me in particular, I'm looking for earrings for women.”

“Of course, I'll show you.”

Minho followed the young woman and you followed Minho, who led you deeper into one of the display counters; you had come a lot of times with Felix every time it was a special occasion for his family since he had been raised among only women, he always offered to buy you some jewelry but you flatly refused. And now there you were, about to accept them from a stranger.

“Choose” he ordered you. “Quickly, I don't like to be late” he looked at his watch.

Timidly you leaned down to look at each one of the fine jewelry until a pair of gold diamond earrings in the shape of a flower caught your attention.

“These” you murmured to Minho.

The clerk stood waiting for his confirmation.

“I'll take those.”

He quickly took care of paying for them without looking at the price and they were finally delivered in their characteristic turquoise box with a white bow. He got into the car first and left the box there, you snorted for a second annoyed at how ungentlemanly and attentive he was, one second you felt like a princess wearing Versace and taking you to Tiffany & Co. and the next you had to run to keep up with him.

As soon as you got in, he said curtly:

“Use them, we're about to get to Hyunjin's.”

You watched him take the steering wheel attractively and noticed two boxes in between of you. You didn't know why you took the other one and Minho, noticing it, quickly placed his hand on yours stopping you.

“It's the other box.”

You looked at him, he acted a little strange; you took the other box and put on those sparkling diamonds. You had taken the old engagement ring that Minho bought for Soyul before they broke up, he was ready to give it up as it was of no use to him, it was made to fit his ex-girlfriend's finger.

When you arrived you saw that it was not a simple exhibition, but a chateau style mansion with many cars parked at the grand entrance, you got nervous, just like Minho, normally he didn't get like this but it would be the first time he would see Soyul accompanied by the man why she left him and also he had his first kind of date after so long.

Minho let out a breath.

“Well, we have to do it right. You're an actress, right? Create a character right now so we can both be on the same page.”

You didn't know what to say.

“I can change my name and….”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Which one is right for you?”

“Anything…”

“Choi Eunjoo… photographer from…”

“A place far away, what about Jeju?” he mentioned intensely, he was nervous.

You nodded. You had chosen the name of an inactive random actress who studied at the same university as you, who was a friend of Felix's mother and whose cinematography he forced you to watch while your friend argued how good she looked at her age. If they try to look you up for your name, they would be surprised to see only her and her inactive projects in the early 2000s.

“Okay, let's go.”

You both walked down the dirt road, once you came out of the darkness and Minho noticed people watching, he grabbed you by the waist.

“And what is your real name, Eunjoo?” he whispered to you.

[…]

It was better than you expected, you didn't imagine that there would be a construction like this in the modern city, you drank Champagne while you didn't leave Minho's side even for a second; after a couple of drinks you both relaxed completely and walked around the house and admired Hyunjin's paintings. This was maybe a normal Saturday for Minho, but it was for you a dream, you felt like Cinderella, once the clock struck 12 and the charm would be completely gone.

At one point in a room you both finally met Hyunjin, Minho came over to greet him and you shyly watched them chat, Hyunjin gave you a complicit look and smile, he hadn't seen Minho relaxed in years, sadly it was short lived as Soyul entered the room.

You noticed Minho's jaw tighten and saw where his eyes were fixed, on a pretty slim woman with the face of a celebrity. You quickly understood and walked over to Minho, linking your arm around his.

“You're here” she said to him.

She quickly looked at you.

“I'm still Hyunjin's friend.”

“Jung Soyul, nice to meet you” she introduced herself.

You held hands and Minho saw something that broke his heart once again, an engagement ring on her finger, suddenly the alcohol left his body, he felt sick, the suit was suffocating him.

“Choi Eunjoo” you smiled at her.

“So are you dating?”

Hyunjin could notice the sour look she had on you and that caused him satisfaction.

“Yes” Minho went ahead to say.

“I haven’t see you before, Choi Eunjoo.”

She said hypocritically, blinking repeatedly.

“Oh, it's just that, I'm an indie photographer from Jeju and… I met Minho and the rest is history.”

“Oh, now that's romantic.”

“More romantic than getting to know each other when you're in another relationship” Hyunjin added amusedly, taking a sip of his drink.

Soyul gave him a dirty look. And Minho didn't find it funny, he wanted to get out of there. Soyul knew him so well and noticed his expression, meanwhile you were analyzing the look of pity she was giving your boss, so you turned to see him, he looked serious and pale. You quickly approached his ear, covering your lips and whispered to him:

“We can get out of here if you want, pretend I'm saying something nice to you and smile naturally. You're acting weird.”

And so he did, Minho smiled softly; he hadn't felt the touch of another woman in years, suddenly your warm breath and soft lips brushing minimally against his ear pleased him.

“We haven't seen the whole exhibition yet, excuse me” he added, taking your hand.

You moved far enough away and, in a crowded room, he let go of your hand and walked out the large doors to what you could see was a balcony. You didn't know whether to follow him, but you did anyway.

He had unbuttoned his suit and a few buttons on his shirt, he felt suffocated. You saw him leaning against the white stone railing.

“Should I ask what's got you like this?” you said softly.

“You don't have to follow me around all the time” he added defensively. “Soyul cheated on me and now she is going to marry that motherfucker, what a great night to find out.”

You didn't say anything, you didn't know how to comfort someone and in a way, Minho was grateful for your silence.

“Well, once I say it out loud it sounds pathetic” he added.

“Hyunjin told me it was complicated for you…” you approached him and hesitated to touch him, but slowly rubbed your hand on his back, “that he wants the best for you and you start to meet new people.”

Minho let out a chuckle and watched you carefully, he hadn't given himself the task of observing how pretty you looked in that dress, under the moonlight, the way your eyes sparkled and how your lips looked so appetizing, Minho found himself losing his temper a bit for you so he quickly rejected any feelings and immaturely, he became elated and said:

“I don't know why I'm saying this things to a hooker anyway.”

He brushed off your touch and walked away leaving you absolutely lost and somewhat hurt.

The rest of the night you didn't find Minho and you were starting to get scared, you felt out of place, lost in a huge house, full of rich people laughing in their own social circle, you were so sensitive you wanted to cry, you wondered if Minho had abandoned you there.

You checked the time, past midnight and 5 minutes, it was time to go. You tried to look for a way out until you made it, you felt so embarrassed that you would ask for a cab but the signal on your phone there was terrible.

Suddenly you felt a big hand grab your wrist, you turned around scared and found the man you almost cried for tonight.

“Let's get out of here.”

Confused, he led you to his car and you parted on the road in silence. Minho had pondered all night and wanted to take the next step, to finally be with a woman other than his ex-girlfriend, but he didn't know exactly how to ask you.

As you merged into the city you realized he was heading in an unknown direction until you reached the hills in one of the more upscale neighborhoods and finally saw that he had taken you to his house.

You thought he was a selfish piece of shit and there were two options, suddenly he wanted to fuck you or he went home exhausted and sad and would let you call a cab to take you home. But what you didn't know was that he was cynically leaning towards the first option.

You got out of the car and now he was the one running towards you.

“Why that face y/n?” he said, approaching you.

You looked at him indignantly, suddenly he was calling you by name and wanted to have you close, you thought he must be drunk.

“Let's go inside, you have to be a good girl and thank me for the earrings, I'll make sure to buy you more pairs.”

He grabbed you by the waist, you noticed how his voice became gravelly, but that wasn't how you fell and he knew he said a couple of hurtful things but he didn't know how to apologize. You questioned whether you should play along, fuck him and call it a day and go home, as sadly you had to play along, or so you thought.

You stared into his eyes, those big dark eyes in a cute cat shape, he was attractive and from what you saw earlier he had a good dick, so you decided that if you would cry at least make sure it was worth it.

“What do you have in mind?” you rounded his neck and moved your face closer.

He smiled mischievously and, the next thing you knew, you were both in his home entrance devouring each other's lips. Minho had a lot of dirty ideas while he was away from you during the party, the alcohol made him horny. He took off his coat and untucked his shirt and undid his belt. He slipped his hands under your dress lifting it and shamelessly squeezed and massaged your ass, drawing you to his body where you began to feel his erection rubbing against you; Minho loved the idea of touching your bare ass since you only had tiny panties on, you moaned as you felt his lips and tongue on your neck, for some reason his mouth was so soft and you were a complete sucker when you were treated to a lot of physical contact during sex.

You parted and an act of lust, he sought to undo your dress and bra, he stared at you, semi naked for him and began to move his kisses down your breasts without breaking eye contact, it looked fucking good to watch him as he moved down your body and feasted himself on your tits until he moved down to your underwear and wet pussy. By this point you were panting and in need of action. His sharp nose brushed against your mons pubis and he slowly slid your underwear down your legs until he stripped them from you. He parted your legs a little and you felt his hot breath on your area screaming for attention. Minho took your pussy with his big hands and parted your folds, sticking his tongue out shyly and giving your whole pussy a deep, dirty kiss. You gave a little cry of excitement and didn't think you were capable of standing in heels while he ate you out.

Minho felt so good, with his thumb he stimulated your clit as you gave little spasms into him from your excitement. He noticed that you were becoming increasingly impossible to hold so he stopped, carried you suddenly upstairs to his room. Minho laid you down on his bed while he stayed on the edge of it finishing undressing himself. You watched the spectacle with excitement, from his notorious veins to his hands undoing buttons that looked tiny and finally his pants releasing his big firm erect cock, your heart raced faster just watching it, it was delicious, he was incredibly endowed, it was big and thick with notorious veins, you bit your lip thinking how incredibly painful but pleasurable that would feel in your pussy.

Minho saw your reaction and quickly positioned himself over you, he took your wrists and held them with one hand above your head.

“Did you like what you see, little whore?”

You nodded, unable to speak properly, if you tried to say anything it would surely be in a needy tone. You could feel him slapping your belly every time he came closer to you.

“You want it in your mouth?”

You almost screamed please, but before you could speak, Minho lay back waiting to be satisfied. On your knees and arching your back purposely giving him a view of your dripping pussy, you took his big cock and inserted it into your mouth tasting every vein. Minho sat up and began to fuck you with two fingers inserting them into your vagina. You are a mess, completely wet, with cum and saliva sliding down the corner of your lips, you didn't think it could have been better until you feel his hands on your hips and he tries to position you on top of him. You helped him a little and for the first time you were experiencing the 69 position.

You were panting between his big dick, your nose was starting to get slippery and little tears were coming out of your eyes. On the other hand Minho had his tongue deep inside you, he was tasting your labia, and stimulating your clitoris and from time to time he passed your wetness stimulating your exposed ass.

You stopped sucking him off when you felt your climax near, you sat up while resting your hands on his marked abdomen, only your gasps and grotesque sound of Minho devouring your pussy could be heard in the room, occasionally he would let out tinies 'mmmh' enjoying every second of you. You clung more to his abdomen and lifted your ass gently so as not to rest all your weight on him; you threw your head back blinded with pleasure.

“I'm gonna cum” you announced in a desperate, choked cry.

And just when you didn't think it could have been any better, Minho accelerated his licking and sucked harder, bringing you to the edge until you collapsed in his mouth. Your orgasm had been so strong that it hurt your abdomen a little.

You pulled away from him, embarrassed and soaking wet but Minho was more than happy. He leaned back on his elbows and wiped his mouth with a smile, it had been a long time since he had the intimacy of good sex, let alone eating such an appetizing nice pussy like yours, he smiled as he was satisfied that he was still excellent in bed.

You looked at his naked body again, his hard cock was needy and sensitive and within seconds you were horny again. Minho grabbed you roughly by the face and kissed you heatedly. He pulled away from you and with his hand made a motion indicating you to turn around, confused you showed him your ass and put yourself in four.

Minho without thinking caressed your buttocks and then spanked you hard 5 times in a row, each stroke exalted you and made you moan pleasurably, your skin was burning with pain, you could predict that your ass was thus as red as your riotous cheeks.

Minho played with your pussy a little, reinserting his fingertips, you saw him take a condom and within seconds you felt the latex on the tip of his penis teasing your entrance. Until you felt him slowly insert half of his erection and then insert the rest all at once causing you to let out a soft cry. You arched your back again as you gently moved your ass, adjusting yourself to his massive cock, filling your insides.

“I'm going to fuck you hard, kitten.”

He murmured and without warning and without mercy he began to ram you bestially making the sound of his pelvis slapping your buttocks resonate along with the sounds of your wet and well lubricated cunt. You couldn't help but moan every time he was inside, you felt like you were going to swoon all over him, it felt so good for you as well as for him, finally, the adrenaline and desire to fuck someone who wasn't as vanilla as his ex-girlfriend, Minho always liked to fuck hard.

You were in paradise, you were wearing diamonds and he was abruptly pounding your insides. Minho was holding you by the hips but soon grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled it, riding you wonderfully; his view was beautiful, he pulled his grip tighter and pressed you to his body, your back rubbing against his bare chest, you could feel his cock protruding from your lower belly, thrusting you hard. In one swift movement, he held you with his strong right arm whose naughty fingers pinched and stimulated your clit and with his left hand he began to gently choke you. He gasped from time to time in your ear “fuck” over and over again. You both synchronized your climax and you felt the grip of his hand on your neck getting tighter and tighter until you couldn't breathe, you adored it, you loved how your body was fighting for oxygen but at the same time seeking the culmination of your pleasure, your heart beat faster and oxytocin shot out of your system and in desperation you placed your hands on his hand on your neck, you felt every vein exalted from his strong grip.

You thought you were going to pass out but it was only your shuddering second orgasm, Minho slowly released you and cum on the condom still inside you. You ended up exhausted, racing and with your limbs trembling.

You had never been fucked so well that you almost felt the need to tell him I love you so you could have him forever.

The next morning you woke up naked, still in his comfortable bed. When you opened your eyes you found Minho buttoning his shirt, he looked all tidy and was getting ready.

“Are you going somewhere on Sunday?”

You spoke, hoarse and still asleep.

Minho turned to see you and smiled, he thought you looked cute with your hair in disarray and your face a little puffy, but after a second he regretted it. He refused to feel anything for you other than just desire.

“You have to go. The driver is outside.”

He told you coldly and walked out of his room, leaving you slightly heartbroken.

He was unbelievable.

𝕄𝕦𝕗𝕗𝕝𝕖𝕕 𝕄𝕠𝕒𝕟𝕤

⋆˚✿˖° ˖°✿⋆˚

Fem!Reader x Kim Seungmin

Summary: You and Seungmin are roommates and he goes wandering in your room looking for something but ends up finding something else and getting aroused.

Warnings: accidental stimulation, masturbation, edging, hair grabbing, oral (Male receiving), sort of face fucking, you help him masturbate, he gets embarrassed, Seungmin whimpers, He doesn't know how to contain it, lmk if I missed anything else!

Word count: 1.1k

A/N: This one was recommended! I really hope y'all like this one as well. I'm gonna try to post as often as I can but I really don't have a great schedule😞. This one is also kinda short I apologize.I’ll have another one soon hopefully 🫶.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁

You and Seungmin have been roommates for almost a year, so you've learned each other's schedules. You work from 8-4, and Seungmin stays home to do his online courses.

Seungmin tends to look for things in your room because he is always home and gets bored, wanting a reason to wander around the apartment.

He doesn't do this often, but this time when he did, he found something that is not usually left out for anyone to see, considering how tidy you are.

Seungmin found himself in need of something to write on and he knew that you had a few sketchbooks that you wouldn't mind him using.

He found what he was looking for but he also found your panties on the floor of your room. It was on the side of your bed laid out for him to see, it's like you wanted him to see it.

It's not like he meant to see it or, better yet get a boner from it. He doesn't know why it's happening but he doesn't hate it. The image of you taking off your panties pops up in his head as he looks at your underwear.

He couldn't help himself from getting off on your panties. He pressed his hip against the side of your bed, his back following, sliding down until his knees reached his chest.

After getting on the ground he spread his legs out, enough for him to have space to comfortably touch himself. Then he pulls his shorts down enough for his cock to be out.

Seungmin reached his hands to the bottom of his stomach, tucking his fingers under his boxers and grabbing his hard cock, palming it gently while staring at where your pussy had been at one point.

He reaches down and grabs his shirt, bringing it to his mouth so it won't be in his way. Seungmin starts to slowly stroke himself as he reaches for your panties. He can't help himself, he doesn't know why he's doing this, his body is just moving on its own.

His strokes start to become harsher, seeing your panties just did something to him. Knowing that your pussy was once there he couldn't help but bring them up to his face, imagining him being in your pussy. Eating you out so good to the point you whimper out his name.

His dick twitches in his hand from the thought. He uses some of his pre-cum to help him pump his hard cock.

“Fuck Y/N”

He whispered for you, groaning out for you. He was close to cumming but didn't want to yet. He let go of himself, watching his dick twitch.

After a few seconds, he starts to stroke himself again, his whole body flinching as he gently touches himself. He brings your panties down to his dick, teasing himself with them.

Seungmin slowly puts your panties around his hard dick, his whole body reacting to every touch. He felt himself around you, stroking himself with you. He wanted you so bad.

All while he was doing this he didn't hear the front door open. He had been edging himself on for so long that he didn't even realize the time. You've been home for a while.

He lets out more whimpers not knowing you’re home. You could hear him calling out for you, you thought maybe something had happened so you slowly walked up to your door.

You opened the door just enough for you to see inside. Seungmin didn’t even look up at the door as you peeked through it. The image of him was so fucking hot.

He was sitting on the side of your bed, his shirt in his mouth, his shorts down to his knees, his cock in his hand.

Seeing your panties in his hand shocked you. It made you want to help him, he felt like this because of you right?

You open the door gently, watching seungmin glance up at you with begging eyes. He realized what he was doing for a second and got embarrassed, trying to cover himself.

“I uh.. Its not what it looks like y/n! I didn't mean to I…it just kinda happened..”

You don't say anything and start to walk up to him. You look into his lustful eyes, you could tell he wanted you to do anything to him.

Looking down at his cock you could see so much cum leaking from him. He was a mess for you, your panties now covered in his cum.

“Seungmin, let me help you okay?”

He nods his head in approval as you look down at his dick watching him twitch. You put your hand on his hips rubbing around his base before touching his cock.

His hips buck into your touch, whimpers slipping out from his mouth as you tease him. You didn't know that he had already been on the edge of cumming for a while.

You stroke him a few times before leaning forward to take him in your mouth. His hips bucking every time you move your head.

He grabs a fist full of your hair as you suck him off. His hips start to buck forward and fuck into your face, his grip tightening on your hair, whimpers flowing from his mouth.

You bring your head back up, gathering up spit in your mouth to help you stroke his dick again.

“Ngh y/n please”

His begging made you want more than just what you were giving him, but it was already late and the two of you had things to do tomorrow.

“Can you cum in my mouth seungmin? Please?”

He nods his head yes as you go down on him again, taking in his full length. His hand pushed your head down the closer he came to cumming down your throat.

With a few final thrusts into your face, he came down your throat, painting your mouth white. You moan into his thrust causing him to whimper from the vibrations.

You look up at him as you bring yourself up to his view, allowing him to watch you swallow his cum.

“Fuck y/n….your such a good girl for me…”

You smile at him as he strokes your face, both of you trying to catch your breath from what just happened.

“Maybe we could do this again seungmin, but maybe let me help you more..”

“Fuck yes y/n”

After a while of catching your breath, you get up to get a towel to help clean up yourself and him. He kept apologizing about what happened saying how he didn't know why it happened, but you didn't mind it at all. After all, you've been waiting for this moment.