⚠️⏰Warning ⚠️ ⏰

💔❤️‍🩹🇵🇸🇵🇸To Those with Compassionate Hearts and Conscience,🇵🇸🇵🇸💔❤️‍🩹

My name is Mohammed Nasr, from Gaza, where war and suffering prevail. In this land that has turned into hell, my family has lost everything. I lost my brother Mahmoud, my brother Ahmad suffered a leg amputation, and I have been injured in my legs and abdomen. My parents suffer from chronic illnesses, and my children, Nasr (7 years) and Alin (6 years), are suffering from malnutrition and skin diseases.

The war has destroyed our homes and businesses, leaving us without shelter or resources. Our displacement has caused my mother and siblings to live in different areas of Gaza, while I, my wife Yasmin, who is battling cancer, and my children are in the south.

We are living in a state of displacement, having fled more than ten times, and we are struggling with a lack of food and water. My wife now requires treatment abroad, which is extremely costly, and we cannot afford it.

Therefore, I appeal to you with open hearts to extend a helping hand, whether through financial assistance or psychological support. Even a small contribution could change our lives.

I thank you from the depths of my heart for your support and concern.

Sincerely,

Mohammed Nasr

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.” 

THE DESIRE OF A KING

summary: The loving king everybody knows is actually a psycho maniac in love with his maid besides being married to Queen Arielle.

pairings: yandereking!hyunjin x maid!y/n

genres/tropes: kinda cringey, angst, smut, mentions of cheating (warnings: rape; threatening to murder)

wordcount: 3129

author's note: I definitely just wrote this on the go and just didn't reread it and I'm sorry about that.. so this story might not make much sense.

The sound reached every corner of the room of the Queen's chamber as the maid on her knees cried after feeling the sting from the queen's slap burning her cheek as the palace guards had their swords pointed directly at her throat as if she were to make any wrong move they would kill her instantly.

"You little slut who dares you to sleep with my husband?!" Queen Arielle yells as she grabs the poor little maid by the neck. The maid sniffles in response and tries to stop her tears from pouring so she can answer her Queen properly.

"I- I'm sorry I didn't have a choice-" she says, which earns a scoff from Queen Arielle as let's go of the girl's neck, making her drop hard onto the wooden floor.

"You really think I would believe such nonsense as to hear from you, a poor lowly maid, that my husband the King would cheat on me purposely with something as pathetic as you?" Queen Arielle kneels down to where the maid is laying and lifts her chin to admire her face. She can admit the girl is beautiful and still has more youth than the Queen herself but far below the social status for even a low merchant to have her.

"My Queen, he forced me to sleep with him-" the maid said in fear as she began to cry again. The Queen looks at her in anger as she slaps her again and grabs her shoulders to yell at her again. "Did you not hear what I said before? my husband would never cheat on me with a poor maid like you!"

The maid looks at her with watery eyes begging her to let her go. "please Queen Arielle-"

The Queen slaps her again and looks at her with dangerous, threatening eyes to kill. "You really think I would believe that the King would cheat on the Queen with a maid and force her to bed with him? no no no you must have but a spell on him you wretched witch," the Queen grits her teeth shaking her head as she stares her down.

"but he did-" the maid says looking up at her but Queen Arielle just laughs at her like a maniac. "Why would my husband sleep with you?" she says as she gets something out of her strap on her leg which holds a gold dagger. The maid looks back at her in fear, shaking her head. "please no-"

"Tell me why? Why did he 'force' you to have sex with him?" Queen Arielle leans towards her pressing the dagger against her neck.

The maid looks at the dagger and starts to feel her body burn. "b-because he-"

"he what?" the Queen starts to lose her patience.

"He confessed to me-" The maid exhales as the Queen gets up in anger throwing the dagger on the floor getting up as she walks paces around the room.

The guards look at the Queen gulping in fear at her sudden action of throwing the dagger across the room and then looking down at the maid there holding on to the floor so she doesn't escape they look back at their Queen and ask, "do we kill her now-"

Queen Arielle turns around with a manic expression on her face as she grabs the dagger from the floor frantically as she makes her way to the maid and smiles and nods aggressively. "yes yes we must kill her," she says holding the dagger up with shaky hands as she puts the dagger against the girl's neck.

The Queen starts to whisper to the girl. "trust me this is for the best if you die,"

the maid closes her eyes, shaking. "please please don't do this," she begs for mercy.

"oh trust me everything will be alright maybe once you're dead the king my husband," she points at herself with a smile mentioning 'my husband'. "will finally love me,"

"please exile me, throw me out of the palace just please oh please don't kill me Queen Arielle,"

The Queen hisses under her breath. "stop being a bitch and just be dead already," she says then finally as she was about to kill the girl in front of her she is met by a hand on her shoulder making her silent.

"Who told you to touch her?"

The voice so calm and collected as if his wife he was arranged to marry ever since he was born wasn't going to kill the woman of his dreams in front of him.

The Queen turns around slowly and looks at him in fear as she still holds onto the dagger. With a smile on his face he looks at her with kind eyes but less kind words as he grips hard on her shoulder if he were to grip harder it would surely break.

"My King," The Queen finally speaks up as she looks at him astonished. He was supposed to be doing his regular routine and his duties- he was supposed to be distracted today. But he's here now and knows her plans.

"H-how did you k-know?" she says looking at him.

"How did I know? A little birdie told me while I was passing laws and documents in my office," he 'smiles'. "but what are you doing?" he asked in return.

She hides the dagger behind her back and hugs him, "I was just-" before she could finish her sentence she gets pushed to the ground and left behind as the King gently grabs the poor maid's hand and lifts her up.

The Queen looks at the two in shock as she sees his hands softly and smoothly grabs the maids chin and twirls her body to see if there are any scars and bruises and with a sigh he grabs her waist and hips and rubs them to reassure her that everything is going to be fine.

As the King adverts his attention from her he looks at his wife on the floor and the guards standing around her. The King looks at the guards and commands them to leave. Leaving only him and his wife in her chamber as the door finally closes he strides towards her on the floor and grabs her neck as she cries. "How dare you try to take the only one I ever loved?!" His voice booms as he starts to choke her.

"but- but I'm supposed to be the one you love?"

he scoffs. "Our marriage is a political one. There is no love there. We just use each other for the title and status and you should know that too. We've been promised each other since birth. You should really let go of this delusional thought of me 'loving' you because you might think I do but I don't love you... but her," he points out there. "I love her with every fiber of my being and if you took her away I would have simply killed you and if she were to die? I kill myself because I can't live without her near me," he says with no doubt in his eyes as his wife cries. "So what now are you going to kill me?"

he stands up dusting himself off as he fixes his sleeves then looks down at her still on the ground crying. "No I can't kill you neither can I divorce you because that would be a bad image for me, Arielle... even though I wish too," he says now not even looking at her as he fixes his sleeves then finally leaves.

He walks out of her chamber and into the hallway searching for his maid. He looks room to room throughout the palace to finally find her in the spare bedrooms resting after such a traumatic experience. He leans against the door watching her try to rest as he looks at her in concern then knocks on the wooden side of the door to get her attention. "May I come in?"

she looks up to the door and sighs. "Your Majesty I-" before she could even finish her sentence he walks towards her and touches her face to see if she's still alright. "Love, don't worry I'll take care of you," he says with caring eyes and a loving smile as he brushes her hair with his fingers. "You have nothing to worry about," as he goes to touch her again she stops him grabbing his hand as she puts it down gently to his lap and after a long pause of silence she speaks again. "Why are you doing this?"

"doing what?" he smiles.

"holding me against my will Hyunjin," she stares at him down with an unreasonable facial expression as if she's lifeless like a paper doll.

he laughs in response to her 'ridiculous' questions as he shakes his head. "I'm not holding you against your will-"

he goes and puts a hand on her thigh and smiles at her as she again pushes it away making him frown. "Hyunjin, you threatened me that if I didn't sleep with you you would have sent me to the dungeon," she says as she continues on. "You also said the time before that if I didn't kiss you on your birthday you would kill another maid or how about the time where I couldn't take it anymore that I almost left the palace? remember you held me by my neck in your bedroom telling me if I were to leave we'll both die-"

He then grabs her by the wrist as if to warn her if she were to go on she'll face max punishment by him and face humiliation from everyone in the palace who knows her from the king's lies. "everything I do is for reason,"

"and what reason could that be?" she says as she glares at him from the bed she lays as he gives her a blank stare and gives her answer that sounds so simple it's like it's supposed to be obvious. "because I love you,"

again she sighs again and rolls her eyes. This is the answer he always gives ever since this agreement happened. In the beginning before they agreed on this contract, Hyunjin would give subtle hints to him liking y/n. like stolen glances, little touches like putting his hands on her waist to 'move' her to the side or when he would 'accidentally' bump into her and hold her by her hips to hold her. But that all soon changed when he got more intimate, wanting more physical contact with her. He got so impatient with playing this game that he was only playing with himself since y/n was too naive to understand where he was hinting at. He soon gave up and started to be direct one day at night he confessed he was in love with her and when she didn't give a response a week later he would start begging. Sometimes he would cry on his knees to her bedroom telling her that he needs her, and loves her to death. And sometimes he would get so tired of having to beg her to just love him that he drugged her one night and forced her to bed with him in his chamber while Arielle was in the other room sleeping since Hyunjin can't stand seeing her without wanting to bulge his eyes out.

Being forced to be with him that night made y/n cry. She remembered how he would hold onto her body and kiss her neck the whole night thinking what he did was for the best to make her see they were meant to be. And even after that traumatic experience he would keep on doing it. Every night when she would be getting ready for bed or finishing her chores a maid or guard would come to her and tell her that the king needed her services and by services he would mean sex. The sweet and strong King the Kingdom knows as was different from the King she knows him as just as far as threatening to kill her family and friends if she said no to him.

She wishes she could say no to him. She really wishes she could but the risk of someone she loves being in danger from her actions will hurt her too much so it's better to just endure the pain for herself and that's why she is in this position right now.

"darling?" he snaps his fingers to get her attention back to him. "Are you okay, my love?" he smiles seeing her attention back on him.

"Yes I'm fine," she says, looking away from him. He looks at her again concerned with eyebrows furrowed as he holds up her chin to look at him. "No, tell me what's wrong, love?"

"Hyunjin just leave me be-" she says as he shakes his head. "no not until you tell me what's wrong-"

she starts to lose her patience forgetting about the risk she's been trying to avoid for so long. "you want to know what's wrong?!"

"really?!" she shouts, "Hyunjin, you threatened the safety of my family and friends just to have me and I almost got killed today by your wife-"

"I saved you before she could, doesn't that deserve a little thanks?" he argues.

she groans. "I just don't want to be with you-" she says, feeling the pressure of his hand behind her neck pushing her down so she can meet him at eye level as she sees his intimidating eyes. "You don't want to be with me, fine," he says, getting up from the bed. "be an ungrateful brat,"

"How am I not wanting to be yours? A sign of me being a brat-" she says glaring at him. "because I'm a fucking king!" he yells back. "What more could a woman want? baby I'm a fucking king I can give anything your heart desires within a matter of seconds,"

"but that's not what I want,"

he squeezes his fist in anger trying to control himself. "yeah yeah I know what you want you just want to leave me right?"

"because supposedly I'm a bad person to you,"

"yeah you are," she says in all honesty.

and with that Hyunjin leaves slamming the door behind him as he strides towards his office in anger. Trying to distract himself he signs off laws and documents. He can feel his anger boil thinking about what y/n said. She doesn't want to be with him even if he's the most powerful and richest man in the world. He tries to distract himself the whole day trying not to scream and yell or throw things across the room and also to not cry and let his emotions sadden him too much. Hyunjin actually manages to distract himself a bit but as he sees across his desk that there is no more paperwork for him to do for today he walks back out of the room. And is reminded by y/n and their argument they just had.

He walks to her door and leans his head on it as he closes his eyes feeling guilty then exhales and knocks on her door. When the door opens he sees her in a nightgown with her hair down with her pretty beautiful face which reminds him exactly why he fell for her the first time her beauty and kindness.

"y/n I came here to apologize for what happened this morning,"

she wraps her arms around herself uncomfortable seeing him here. He is seen having his hands behind his back already looking like he's sorry.

"Hyunjin I'm sorry but I really just don't want to see you right now-" she says about closing the door but is met with his hand blocking it.

"You know something, I'm getting tired of your constant rejection. I've tried to being loving and trying to take things slow but you're really pissing me off," he says as he grabs her wrist harshly.

"stop your hurting me,"

"Good, maybe that'll teach you how I felt with your constant rejection," he snarls as he pushes her to her bed going on top of her as he kisses her neck.

she starts to cry remembering the night of her loss of innocence that was caused by him and started this whole mess. "please stop Hyunjin,"

"Shut up and just take it," he growls as he goes to take off her nightgown then goes to take his clothes off as well.

"Hyunjin please," she begs for him to stop as she feels her naked body shiver from the cold as she meets with his warm body.

The room is filled with silence with just the sound of their body's slapping against each other for a while as he thrusts inside her as she cries. His face goes down to kiss her neck as he whispers against her hair. "I love you baby even though you may not love me yet I only ever desire you to be in my life," he says as he continues to whisper sweet things into her ear as she continues to cry.

As they continue his thrust becomes harder as she feels something build up in her stomach. "i- I'm gonna cum~" she says as he holds her body against him harder as speeds up. "Okay baby cum for me," he says as they cum together.

He collapses on top of her in her bed as he hugs her body. He continues to try and comfort her by saying how much he loves and adores her and when he sees she doesn't respond he simply pouts as he hugs her body as he sleeps in her bed.

She doesn't want to admit it but his body hugging hers as they sleep is comforting it makes her almost forget what all he's done to her almost…

.

.

.

The sun hits her eyes when she wakes up to see Hyunjin standing in front of her bed with an unreadable expression. "wh-what's happening-" she tries to sit up but feels the restraints on her wrist.

he chuckled darkly as he leaned over the bed traps between his arms. "since you been denying me for so long I thought of using a more direct approach then before,"

"You will not be able to leave this palace and you will be accompanying me wherever I go in the palace," he smiles. "I will not let you out of my sight for even a second." he says leaning down to kiss her on the lips.

author's note: I definitely just wrote this on the go and just didn't reread it and I'm sorry about that.. I don't know should I make a part two? probably not...

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.

Lowkey, I Need You (To Move Out), 18+

♡ Pairing: Changbin x Fem!Reader

♡ Genre: friends with benefits, friends to lovers, roommates to lovers, angst, fluff, smut with plot, mutual pining but especially lots of pining from binnie

♡ Word Count: 12k

♡ Summary: Changbin has a problem– he’s in love with his friend with benefits. And not only is he in love with her, but she’s also his roommate. Torn on what to do, the only thing he knows for certain is that something has to change soon– but is he even brave enough to spark that change, and risk their friendship?

♡ Warnings: miscommunication, but it's resolved quickly!, bin is lil insecure but we're here to make it better !!, gets a bit emotional because truly this is a love letter to changbin and how much i adore him

♡ Smut Warnings: multiple smut scenes, switch!bin with a heavy sub lean, as usual changbin is an extremely soft and perfect lover, pet names (baby, bun, bunny, honey, sweet + good boy), oral (m + f rec), fingering (f rec), nipple play, begging, a tiny bit of edging, spit as lube, cock warming, unprotected piv, creampie, praise kink, body worship, face sitting

♡ Notes: this was written in response to the topic of binnie being excluded, because as a bin biased girlie it's my job to show out for him when he needs the extra love! i've been wanting to write a fwb for SO long and in true changbunnies fashion this turned out longer than i intended it to be but i just had so much fun writing it and giving binnie the attention he deserves, so i hope you enjoy it too !!

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

What do you do when you realize you've fallen in love with your friend with benefits? And what do you do when said friend is also your roommate? The conclusion that Changbin has reached is simple: spiral.

Well, not that spiraling is an actual choice in this scenario– he can't stop it from happening despite how desperately he wants to. He knows you aren't looking for a relationship right now, that you like what you have together because it's casual and fun.

You swore off dating apps and relationships after having your heart broken one too many times, and the only reason you're friends with benefits with Changbin is because you trust him– a trust that he is loath to break by dropping the revelation that he's fallen in love with you.

You were away from your shared apartment for the past week and a half, on a trip back to your home town to visit family. It was exhausting, but fun enough when your parents weren't driving you up the wall by pestering you with questions about when you're going to start bringing a boyfriend back home with you, you told Changbin on the phone last night whilst packing to come back to the city.

He hated the way his heart sank to the pit of his stomach when he considered the fact that he'll never be the boyfriend going home with you to meet your family. And he wants to be, fucking hell, does he want to be yours.

He wants to tell you he loves you and have it mean something more than the platonic love between friends, to take you on dates and freely hold your hand when walking through the city streets together, to share a bed with you for more than just a fuck.

How many times has he wanted to pull you back to him when you start to get up from his bed? To reach out and beg you to stay when you start to get dressed? To knock on your door late at night and lay everything out on the line because the way it keeps him up at night is becoming unbearable?

Fuck, he can't keep dwelling on it– you've been on your way home since this morning, and you're due back any minute now. It'll be disastrous for Changbin if you walk through the door and realize something's off with him.

His heart twisted when he checked his phone and saw a new text, one excitedly telling him you're almost home and that you've missed him– but was it really him you missed, or just fucking him? He didn't know anymore, and he was afraid to find out.

Changbin jumps when he hears the lock to the front door click, taking a breath to calm his racing heart as he rises to his feet to help you with your luggage and welcome you back home. 

He’s spent enough time spiraling over what to do this past week, he can’t afford to anymore; not if he wants to keep his sanity intact, anyways. He can do this– once you get settled, he can have a heart to heart with you, and everything will be fine. Even if it’s too much to confess his feelings, surely there’s a way to go about things where you’re both still happy, right?

Changbin did a lot around the apartment to make it perfect for you upon your return– cleaned and dusted every common room until they were spotless, made sure not a single dirty dish was left in the sink, emptied every trash can.. He even unclogged the drains and scrubbed the tub! He just wanted to make sure you didn’t have a single thing to do, that you could just relax and unwind in clean comfort after your trip. 

But you don’t spare a single glance around the apartment once you enter– you look just at him, smiling as you kick the door closed behind you, and drop your luggage to the floor to squeeze him into a hug. 

He blinks a moment in surprise at how quick the action is– he didn’t even have the chance to get a word out before you were on him. Still, he quickly returns the hug while trying his best to prevent the happy, almost relieved sigh you let out as you bury your head into his chest from giving him false hope.

“You really missed me this much?” Changbin asks with a small giggle– why is he even asking? So much for not giving himself false hope. He just blurted it out without thinking, really; but he can’t pretend the way you affirm it doesn’t make his heart swell. 

It was the longest you’d ever been apart from Changbin since moving in together, and it put a lot of things into perspective. Like, you really did miss him, of course you did, he’s your friend! But there was something more– you don’t think you’d ever missed someone so fucking badly before. 

Like, staying up all night because you can’t stop thinking about him type of ‘I miss you.’ Wanting to text him or call him at all hours of the day just to check up on him and ask what he’s been up to even though you’re supposed to be focusing on your family and reuniting with childhood friends.

You missed everything about him– his smile and cute laugh, the way he smells, his big arms wrapped around you and squeezing you close. You wanted to hear his voice again, and not through the grainy speaker of your phone, wanted to see him without your parent’s shitty old wifi connection lagging your call, and making him pixelated and blurry.

Changbin is your home, you realized; wherever he is is where you want to be. As long as he’s there, you’d have everything you need to be happy. Is that too sentimental of a feeling for just friends?

Yes, you know it is– and every time you felt it for him before, you shoved it down as deep you could, not ready to get your heart broken again just yet. Better to hold onto him for as long as you can, before he cuts things off to start dating again.

But of course, you can’t deny you also missed him in other, less than innocent ways. The squeak he lets out when you surprise him with a kiss, the cute way he blushes and giggles when you compliment him or call him his favorite pet name, the way he’ll easily drop to his knees for you the moment you tell him you need him. 

He never cares what he’s in the middle of or what he needs to get done– if you tell him you want him, he’s ready for you, eager to please. Even if he loses sleep, if it makes him late for work, if it means the food on the stove is going to burn– none of it matters if you need his tongue on you. And you’ll reward him, you always do; with sweet words and touches that makes his heart feel like it’s going to beat out of his chest while his cock throbs.

“Missed you more than you know,” you say in a near whisper, pressing your lips to his like you’ve been eager to do since walking through the door. Changbin practically melts when you kiss him, as always; he just can’t help it– he’s forever going to be putty in your hands. 

Was he right in his fear that you only missed him for the sex? Maybe, but he can’t even dwell on the idea anymore– not when the urgency in which you start touching him underneath his shirt while sliding your tongue in his mouth makes him weak at the knees.

Fuck it, maybe that is all you want him for these days, but he’d never stop giving you what you want. Use him over and over, run his heart into the ground when it’s done, what does it matter? At least in this moment he’s yours, even if it’s only temporary. 

You grab Changbin by the waist and turn him around, pressing his back against the front door to the apartment. One of his feet very nearly gets caught up on your luggage on one of his steps back, but you kick it to the side, away from the two of you. His sound of surprise is muffled by your mouth on his, as is his gasp when your hands travel up to squeeze his pecs.

You can feel his body shudder when your thumbs brush over his nipples, letting out a whine when you pinch them between your fingers. He’s breathless by the time you pull away, watching you with that eager look in his eyes that makes you crazy for him. “B-Baby, what are you-” he tries to ask as you fall to your knees, though the last word dies in his throat when you look back up at him with a smile. 

He still remembers the first time he slipped up and called you “baby.” You were on top of him, riding him so good that all he could do was babble on and on about how good it felt while gripping the bed sheets beneath him. “S-So good, oh my god, baby, it’s– you’re so good, feels so good,” he whimpered, whining loudly when you stopped moving to just look at him.

Changbin was going to ask why you stopped, beg you to please, please keep going, but then it hit him all at once– he called you ‘baby’ when it was never something either of you had done before. And instantly, he looked up at you utterly mortified with himself, ready to apologize over and over again for crossing the line in your friends with benefits relationship.

While the arrangement didn’t come with strict rules, such as no kissing for example, he still was concerned that it was a touch too far in the ‘romantic relationship’ direction. But to his surprise, and relief, you smiled at him, calling him sweet names in return after picking your pace back up. You continued to try out names, gauging his reaction carefully until you found the one that seemed to make him react the most.

And now here you are, looking up at him with his cock pulled out of his sweatpants and throbbing in your hands, calling him the name that turns his brain and body to jelly. “Want to show you how badly I missed you, bunny,” you told him before pressing a lingering kiss to his already leaking tip, his pre-cum smearing over your lips.

Thank fucking God you pressed him against the door, because if he didn’t have the support he’s pretty sure his legs would’ve given out. It’s not often that you’re the one on your knees for him, and the sight is so erotic it makes his brain feel like it’s going to melt out of his ears– not to mention the way you’re talking to him on top of it.

“So hard and leaky already,” you comment gleefully, sticking out your tongue to lick over his tip, “you missed me too, didn’t you, bun?” 

“Y-Yeah, missed you, I missed you so much,” Changbin replies breathlessly, struggling to keep his hips still and not rut against your hands. He bites his lip, restraining the whimpers that threaten to endlessly spill when you open your mouth to take him in.

You don’t waste any time getting the corners of your mouth used to the stretch, or for Changbin to get used to the feeling after having gone without it for so long; you take him all at once, until his tip is touching the back of your throat and your nose is pressed against his pelvis. 

His head falls back against the door as he squeezes his eyes shut, slapping his hand over his mouth to muffle the obscenely loud moan you draw out of him. Normally he pays no mind to his volume because he knows you prefer him loud, but he’d be beyond embarrassed if any neighbors walking the hall heard him just on the other side of the door. 

You swallow around his length, and it takes effort to not gag given how thick and heavy he is, but you manage just fine. Breathing through your nose, you stroke his cock with your tongue whenever you need to give your throat a tiny break, sometimes pulling back to take a bigger breath and let more air into your lungs before sucking him into your mouth again. 

Changbin cards his fingers through your hair, but doesn’t pull– just holds your head in an effort to ground himself. His thighs are trembling, and he’s seemingly given up on trying to be quiet, or is simply too far gone to care anymore, the hand he was using to cover his mouth now clenched into a fist at his side.

“W-Wait, wait, baby, please wait, don’t wanna cum yet,” he pleads as his stomach clenches, the twitching and throbbing of his cock growing more in intensity. He’s lifted his head from the door, looking down at you now and meeting your gaze as you blatantly ignore his request and continue to swallow him down your throat.

“Please, please, your pussy– want your pussy, honey, please,” he tries again, chest heaving as he begs, the fingers threaded through your hair now clenching into a fist as well, but still, he doesn’t pull you off him. That’s one of the things you like most about Changbin– he’s so strong that it’d be easy for him to make you do whatever he wants, but he doesn’t. 

Even now, as desperate as he is to be inside your pussy, he’s obedient, first and foremost. How can you resist giving him what he wants when he’s so sweet, perfect and well behaved? You pull off him with a loud ‘pop,’ watching the way his cock throbs pathetically against his stomach as his impending orgasm begins to ebb away.

You expect him to take a longer moment to recover, but even with how breathless he is, he’s leaning down to pick you up from the floor. You can’t help but let out a squeal as you’re lifted from the ground– you know very well that Changbin is strong, but it always surprises you how effortlessly he can lift your weight. Excites you too, if you’re being completely honest. 

He has you in a full princess carry, one arm supporting your back while the other is under your knees. You know he won’t drop you, but you wrap your arms around his neck anyway for the extra security. He shows his appreciation for you with so many kisses over your face that you can’t help but giggle, and he holds you tighter when his kisses cause you to squirm in his grasp.

“Don’t tickle me with kisses when I can’t escape you,” you half-heartedly complain, and he giggles with you, pressing one more to your nose before he starts walking away from the front door. “We’re going to your room,” he informs you, figuring that’s where you’d prefer to me after having been away from home. 

Your luggage lies forgotten on the floor as he makes his way past the open kitchen and living room, and into the hallway leading to your rooms. Standing in front of your door, you lean in his grasp to twist the door knob, and he gently nudges the door open further with his foot. Your bedroom is just how you left it a week and a half ago, and Changbin sets you down on your bed carefully.

“Are you going to undress yourself for me?” you ask with an expectant tilt of your head, and he blushes ever so slightly as he shyly giggles and nods. It never fails to make him a little shy when you watch him undress like this, but he also takes pride in the way you look at him. Hungry, but somehow still tender and sweet. 

He starts with his sweatpants and underwear, considering his cock is still out from when you pulled them down just enough to get it out. Kicking his feet out once they’ve fallen to the floor, his shirt is next, and he very quickly pulls it up and over his head. “My baby,” you coo at him after beckoning him closer, and it makes his head spin. 

It’s the first time you’ve used a possessive term with him. Your baby.. Yes, whether you know it or not, he’s yours. Only yours. 

“You’re so handsome, you know that?” you continue, smiling when the pink on his flushed cheeks deepens, “And sexy, and adorable, and lovable.” You love complimenting him– even before you were friends with benefits, you’d tell him sweet things whenever you could. It took him a long time to grow into himself and get comfortable and confident in his own skin, and he deserves the pride and joy he feels now. 

Lovable is a new one, and he tries not to let it root itself inside his head– you certainly do love him, but just as a friend, he knows it. You’ve always been sweet to him, and he’s certain that your doting on him and sweet gestures increased only because of the slight change in your relationship, and no other reason. 

Regardless, does the reason matter? You’re complimenting him earnestly, and that’s enough. Even if it’s said without romantic intent, you do mean it– and that’s all he needs, really.

“Help me out with my own clothes now, won’t you, sweet boy?” you ask, and he gives you an excited nod that makes you giggle again. You lift your back off the bed so he can help you with your top and bra, then lift your legs so he can help you out of your pants and underwear when you let your back fall against the bed again. 

He kisses you the entire time he’s getting you out of your clothes, only breaking away when he has to. “Gonna get you ready for me,” he breathes out near the shell of your ear before planting a kiss there, and then trailing them down your neck. He slides his hand between your legs as he does, and you spread them apart for him to make his task easier for him. 

You both know you can handle the sting from his cock stretching you out, sometimes you even crave it– but you can never deny his desire to be sweet to you. If he wants to stretch you out on his fingers first, you’ll let him do it every time. 

“Oh, honey, you’re so wet,” he gasps as he runs his fingers between your folds. It shouldn’t be much of a surprise, really– you always get soaking wet when you and Changbin are being intimate. Still, it always surprises him as much as it did your first time together; he supposes there’s a part of him that still can’t believe you’re this physically attracted to him, even with how much you shower him with compliments. 

Of course, if you knew he had that thought, you’d shower him with even more of them, until there wasn’t a single doubt left in his mind. He’s perfect, truly; there’ll never be anyone who can compare to Changbin.

You don’t need him to start slow or careful, but he does regardless, starting by pressing just one of his fingers to your hole before sliding it inside. He knows you can take more at once, would even enjoy the sting that would follow, but he wants to be good to you! When you’re full of him, so thick that you’re full to the point it’s almost too much, he wants it to be pure bliss. 

Changbin pumps his finger in and out of you slowly, waiting until he’s certain you’re about to start whining for more before adding a second, and after just a little more he’s adding a third. He keeps his fingers still for just a moment, making sure you’re well adjusted before he starts to thrust them in and out in the way he knows you love.

And God, even though it’s you that’s getting fucked right now, he feels like he’s going a little crazy. He’s so addicted to the noises you make, the way your breathing starts to hitch and turn more shallow, how your eyes roll back when he hits that gummy spot inside you. You’re so fucking slick, and squeezing his fingers so tight that he can barely even think straight– not that he was entirely to begin with. 

Is it just because it’s been over a week since the last time you were together? He never thought himself so insatiable or easily worked up, but fuck, you just unlock something in him. He’s had sex plenty of times before you started sleeping together, had plenty of fun experiences with different partners, but only you make me feel so.. needy.

“Binnie, baby, want your cock now, give it to me, please,” you whine, voice impossibly pretty and breathless. “Ah but– are you sure, baby? Don’t want me to make you cum first?” he asks as he slows down the motion of his fingers. 

“We’ve both waited long enough, haven’t we?” you ask, rhetorical; it’s much more a statement than a question. You look at his cock, still leaking steadily and impossibly hard, and then look back to Changbin’s face. “Let’s cum together. That’s what I want,” you tell him, and you can’t help but notice the way his cock twitches from your words in your peripheral. 

Of course, he can’t resist doing whatever you want– especially not when there’s a promise to cum together at the end. So he slips his fingers out of you, and before he can even ask what you’d like him to do, you’re putting your hands on his shoulders and guiding him to his back. 

He falls to his back easily, swallowing as he watches you crawl on top of him. You’ve done it countless times at this point, but it never stops being sexy and exciting to watch. Your hands planted firmly on his chest, and your legs straddling his body, you move your hips back and forth, rubbing your pussy up and down his length to get it wet. 

His tip rubbing against your clit feels so fucking good too, but that’s not why you’re doing this; so you quickly move on before you get carried away and end up grinding on him until you cum. Reaching your hand between your bodies, you grab his cock at the base and angle it where you need it. 

Changbin watches with eager eyes and bated breath, his hands holding your hips for extra support. Even when you start to slowly sink down on him, and you’re both gasping and breathless from the pleasure, he’s careful to not squeeze you too hard. He’s always so tender and careful, even when doesn’t need to be, and you love him for it. 

And true to what he hoped, there’s no sting when you’re fully sat on him, the stretch nothing but pleasurable for you. Because of this, it also means you don’t have to start slow– and so within just a few short moments, you’re bouncing on him rapidly, leaning down to kiss him as you do. 

He has long since stopped being embarrassed about the noises you draw out of him, whimpering and moaning freely as the pleasure seeps into every pore of his body. Your tongue once again slips its way into his mouth, and he meets it eagerly with his own, happy to slide it around yours. 

Bouncing on his cock, and kissing him like this, he can’t help but be reminded of the very first time you slept together. You had just freshly agreed to the friends with benefits arrangement, both of you lonely and in need of some intimacy, but being done with relationships for the time for your own reasons. 

You took the lead, and it was the first time anyone ever had– he was so used to being the macho man in charge for his lovers, that he found it interesting and exciting that you wanted to be the one in control. You told him what to do, how to do it, praised him and guided him along, had him lay down while you crawled on top and did all the work for him after you were ready to take his cock.

And to his surprise, he instantly liked it– loved it, even. He never considered before then letting someone else have the leading role in bed, but after you started, it just felt natural. And when you leaned down and kissed him in that moment, when everything was so different for him and exciting, it felt like everything shifted, like the entire world titled on its axis. 

Maybe he’s been in love with you since then, but only fully realized what he felt recently. Maybe he’s been in love since even further before, but didn’t have the tools then to put that feeling together, because the line between friend and lover can sometimes be blurry. Maybe he’s been a fool this entire time, and continues to be one now– because he knows what he feels now for certain, but is still too scared to admit it to you. 

He’s thankful that your tongue in his mouth prevents him from speaking– because he’s certain if it wasn’t, he’d end up saying something he shouldn’t. It doesn’t stop him from having the thoughts internally, however.

“You’re so perfect, I love you, I love you so much, I need you, need you to need me, love you,” his brain is screaming as his orgasm approaches once more. The noises leaving him growing more in volume and desperation is enough of a warning for you on its own that he’s close, but you can feel him throbbing too, eager for release after how close he was to cumming earlier.

You reach your hand between your bodies once more, this time to rub your clit with your fingers. It makes your pace falter a bit, but Changbin is more than used to helping you in the last stretch like this. He helps you keep your pace with his hands, and thrusts up into you in time with the fall of your hips onto his.

“C-Cumming, oh, bunny, you’re making me cum,” you whimper, biting your lip and furrowing your brow as the circles you draw on your clit grow messy. You gasp when your orgasm hits you, your breath catching in your throat as your mouth hangs open in a silent cry. Changbin was already close, and the way you squeeze around him as you cum unravels him too. 

His cum shoots inside you, hot and sticky, his entire body trembling as he whimpers and whines beneath you. He’s not sure when he closed his eyes, but when he opens them he sees you looking down at him with such a beautiful smile that he truly feels like he died and went to heaven– because fuck, you’re an angel. 

Changbin reaches a hand up, tucks your messy, fallen strands of hair behind your ears, smiling when you coo and call him a “sweet boy,” again. You let your body fall against his chest, resting your head in the crook of his neck as you close your eyes and let out a content sigh. “Baby?” he questions, giggling a little when you mumble about being tired against his skin. 

“We have to get you cleaned up,” he reminds you, though the way he strokes your back surely doesn’t give you any motivation to get off him. “And you need to go to the bathroom before you fall asleep!” he adds, and you hum an acknowledgment, but still make no effort to crawl off him. Instead, your body relaxes even further, and soon enough you’re not even responding to him talking to you anymore.

You’ve fallen asleep much quicker than Changbin would’ve ever expected; he’s sure you’re tired from the days you spent away and the trip back home, and the fact that you fucked him immediately upon getting home likely didn’t do you any favors in keeping the fatigue at bay.

But he’s still here in your bed, beneath you, your body warm and soft and entirely limp as serene snores leave you. He’s not sure if he should try to wiggle his way out from under you, or just stay like this and sleep together. He knows what he wants to do, but.. he’s never spent an entire night in your room, nor have you done so in his.

And all he can think about while he looks up at your ceiling with you in his arms is how much he loves you but can’t tell you.

Fuck. What does he do now?

It’s been days since Changbin has had the chance to speak with you, but whether or not that’s entirely a good thing remains to be seen– because even with the distance to sort himself out, his mind remains addled and plagued by the desire to be with you as a lover. 

Thankfully, you haven’t noticed anything off with him– mostly because the distance since arriving back home was due to your own need to catch up on sleep, unpack your belongings, and get ready to go back to work and resume life as usual. Whenever you’re not sleeping, you’re busy, and that works for Changbin– or it was supposed to, anyways.

All he’s done the last few days is get back into his spiral. Confess his feelings or not, risk your friendship or keep everything to himself, move out before he loses his mind or stay until the day you decide you’re done.. He wishes there was a simple, easy answer. More than that, he wishes he could guarantee that you’d stay with him if he laid his feelings bare for you.

And he misses you. You’re only a room away across the hall, but he misses you. And he doesn’t fucking know what to do with himself anymore. He’s been trying to sleep for hours now, but all he can do is toss and turn and think about you, how bad he needs you– not just emotionally, but physically too. Because the moment he started thinking about you, it was only a matter of time before he began to reminisce about the sex you’ve had. 

Is his brain fucking against him, or what? As if it wasn’t bad enough he was in a spiral over the possibility of you rejecting his feelings, now he can’t stop thinking about how pretty you looked after your shower this morning. He only saw you in passing, as he had to head out for work and you had to get back to catching up on the work emails that piled up in your inbox while you were away, but God..

If it wasn’t for the fact that you really needed to get your work done before going back to the office when the weekend’s over, he would’ve dropped to his knees right there in the middle of the hallway and eaten you out until you were begging him to stop (or forcing him to by pulling his hair.) He wouldn’t even have cared about his own job– Chan would forgive him, he always did.

And truly, this is agony. Worse than agony, it’s torture. He needs to go take a cold shower and calm the fuck down so he can start thinking rationally again– as rationally as he can manage to in his lovesick state, anyways. With a heavy sigh, he throws his blankets off himself and reaches for his glasses on his nightstand. After putting them on, he rises from his bed, hoping the shower will be enough of a reset to let him get some sleep.

Opening his door, he’s surprised to see you’re awake. Well, he can’t see you just yet from the hallway, but he can see that the lamp in the living room is turned on, and can faintly hear the tv playing lofi focus music. And even though he probably shouldn’t, he can’t resist walking over to check in on you. 

He can hear you typing away on your laptop as he gets closer, and you look away from the screen and turn your head in his direction when you hear his footsteps over the softly playing music. “Oh, Binnie!” you smile at him, and it’s so genuine it makes his heart flutter. He’s so fucking screwed. “Couldn’t sleep?” you ask him, taking a small break from responding to emails to give him your attention.

“O-Oh, yeah, well I was trying to sleep, but..” he trails off when he sees you glancing down his body, to the painfully obvious erection straining against his shorts. “Had a problem?” you finish for him, and his face instantly flushes red. It’s not like it’s the first time you’ve caught him with an erection, but it always makes him feel so perverted when it happens this way. 

“I can help you,” you offer, shooting him that pretty smirk that always turns him into jello. Fuck, you’re a siren, and he’s helpless to resist you. But still, aren’t you busy? As much as he’s willing to fuck up his own work performance for you, he’d feel terrible if his neediness made your own work harder for you. 

“I-I was going to shower and take care of it myself, but I saw you were awake and I just wanted to see what you were doing and.. Anyways, you don’t have to! Seriously, I know you’re busy! It’s okay, I don’t-” he babbles, and you giggle at him. He’s just so cute, especially when he’s trying his best to be considerate to you. 

“C’mere. I can’t help you right this minute but good boys like you know how to be patient, right? You can sit pretty here until I’m done with my emails?” you ask, patting the spot next to you on the sofa. Shit, you always know just what to say to him. 

He listens to your siren song, coming to where you beckon him to sit like the obedient boy you know him to be. “Take your cock out for me, baby,” you instruct, and again he listens, not a single ounce of hesitance as he slides his shorts down enough for his erection to spring free. He watches as you set your laptop on the coffee table and stand up, curious as to what you’re doing.

Changbin gulps when you slide your own shorts down your legs, as well as your panties, and fuck, he’s excited, but more than that he’s confused. He thought you told him he’d have to wait until you were done with your emails.. So why are you undressing already..? 

Maybe this is to keep him hard and eager– make him sit there with a view of your bare pussy so that by the time you’re done, he’s desperate and begging for you. Maybe you want to test the limits of your “good boy,” see how riled up you can make him while you work until he snaps and bends you over the sofa, taking you as he pleases. 

You stand in front of him with your back facing him, and though it’s a bit awkward and challenging, you reach behind and take his cock into your hand. “Spit on it, get it wet for me,” you tell him, and though his mind is still reeling from the unexpected development, he does as you ask. 

You spread his saliva around his length as best you can with your fingers, and when you’re content, you carefully press his cock to your hole. It takes you a second to get the angle right thanks to the position, but once you’ve got it, you slowly start to sink down. Changbin gasps and whines, bewildered by what’s happening right now. “B-Baby, I- what- what are you doing? I thought- I don’t-” 

“You’re still going to wait,” you tell him after you’ve fully sat in his lap, doing your best to keep your voice steady and firm despite how deliciously his cock is stretching out. “Be good for me, and stay still ‘til I’m done, okay? And then I’ll take care of you,” you tell him, and again he whines as he watches you lift your laptop from the coffee table and set it back in your lap. 

It’s a little awkward to type like this, but you think the fun that’ll result from it is worth it. Changbin eagerly nods his head, but then he remembers that you can’t see him in this position, so he speaks the best he can. “Y-Yes, I’ll be good for you,” he says with a shaky breath, biting his lip when you squirm ever so slightly to get more comfortable.

You lean back into him, his chest pressing against your back, his face close enough to your neck and shoulder that you can feel his labored breaths tickling your skin. He hears a click on your touchpad, opening a new email he assumes, followed shortly by the sound of keys resuming as you respond to it. 

Why is this so fucking hot? His dick is fully pressed inside you, and you’re not even paying attention to him– just continuing to type away on your laptop as if he’s not even losing his mind beneath you. Or should he say behind you? Both? 

He bites his lip and closes his eyes, trying his best to keep staying still like you told him to, his hands clutching the sofa cushions to keep them from wandering without permission and distracting you from your work. 

And God, he’s trying so hard to be quiet too, but it feels so impossible. The more you type away and click open new emails, the more he throbs. And the more he throbs, the more your pussy reacts by squeezing around him. And then he can’t help but whimper, his eyes rolling back when you adjust in his lap and cause the tiniest bit of friction. 

Click, more typing. A few more clicks, more typing. Click, click, more typing. How long has it even been? Since the moment you sank down on him and started working, he feels like he’s lost all sense of time. All he knows is that your pussy has been squeezing him so good– and it’s so wet now too. Is it just as exciting for you as it is for him? Do you like it? Or is it how good he’s being for you that’s making you soak his cock? 

“B-Baby, are you almost done? Please tell me you’re almost done,” Changbin whines, the desperation in his voice palpable. You chuckle as you click send on another email, wishing you could see his face right now– you’re sure he’s absolutely debauched. “Not quite,” you answer, and you can practically hear the pout in his whine.

Changbin is many things, but impatient and disobedient is not among the list. And he’s trying so, so hard to keep staying still, but he doesn’t think he can take it much longer. Honestly, you’re not sure if you can either– you’re quickly losing focus on your emails, and you’re fairly certain at least a handful of them were written less than professionally. 

Still, you click open another one, trying not to react to the way he desperately whimpers. He can’t be bad, he can’t– so his only option is to keep sitting here, and take it. “You’re- you’re almost done now, right?” he asks after another few minutes of waiting– at least, it felt like that to him. For all he knew, in reality it could’ve been more like 30 seconds. 

“What’s wrong, baby? Can’t wait anymore?” It’s a bit of a mean question, you know– especially since you already know the answer. But still, it’s fun to ask, and you love how whiny and breathy his voice has gotten in the time you’ve been sitting on his cock. 

“I-I’m sorry, I’m really trying, I just- I-I’ve never wanted to fuck you so bad before, I’m going crazy,” he practically cries, and you’re sure that if you turned around, you’d see his plump lips formed into the cutest, most devastating pout. “But I’m- I’m good,” he continues after taking another shaky breath, “I won’t move, not unless you tell me to, I promise.”

Fuck it– you still have work, but who cares? Surely your boss will understand if you couldn’t get to every email right? You got through most of them, and that counts for something, doesn’t it? That’s the justification you give yourself anyways as you close your inbox. 

“You want to fuck me, Binnie?” you ask him, and he eagerly nods just as he did before, remembering again at the last moment that you can’t see him. “Yes, yes! I really, really want to,” he replies, letting out a salacious moan when you start to lift off him. You shut your laptop and place it back on the coffee table before you turn around to look at Changbin.

Just as you expected, he looks deliciously debauched. Lips swollen and bitten red, face flushed, eyes sparkling with hope and desire as he looks up at you. “You’re right baby, you’re good. Such a good boy,” you coo at him, leaning down to kiss him sweetly. “How do you want me?” you ask him when you pull back, and his brain has to work overtime to stop itself from short circuiting from the question.

If you’re letting him pick, there’s one clear answer that’ll make him the happiest. “Lay down- on your back, please. Want to look at you, want you to look at me,” he says, and you smile at him as you lay back against the sofa, spreading your legs so Changbin can crawl between them. He kisses you as he takes his cock in his hand, pressing it against your hole before pulling away to look at you for approval.

“Go ahead, fuck me, bunny,” you encourage him sweetly. A shiver runs down the length of his spine as he starts to push back inside you, another obscene whine from deep in his throat leaving him when he’s fully inside. He leans down to kiss you again when he starts to fuck you earnestly, because that’s all he can think to do with his overwhelming wave of emotions. 

He’s thrusting fast from the start, all the pent up desperation and need for you pouring out of him ceaselessly. Your eyes always stay on his, even when he hits your spot in the way that normally makes them close or roll back, and it makes him crazy how you’re catering to his desire to have you looking at him.  

Your eyes are so pretty, so warm in the way they look at him. Everything about you is warm– your hands when they hold him, your body when it envelops him, your voice when you speak to him. The way you smile at him when he enters the room, the way you laugh at his stupid jokes, it’s warm, all of you is so, so warm. You’re home, you’re comfort, you’re bliss.

He feels like he’s unraveling in his entirety as he looks down at you, his pace quickly growing sloppy as his cock throbs. He can’t handle the way you’re looking up at him, can feel the tears threatening to well up in the corners of his eyes. He’s so overwhelmed by it all– by the pleasure, by the way you look lying beneath him, by how much he loves you. 

“You’re so beautiful, oh my god,” he whines, every thought that’s been running through his mind falling from his lips as he squeezes you in his arms. He knows he should shut up, should bite his lip or slap his hand over his mouth before he says something he shouldn’t, but the words just keep pouring out of him. 

“You’re so pretty, so fucking pretty, I can’t take it sometimes,” he continues, whimpering when you bring your fingers to your clit and start to squeeze around him tighter. “You- you make me so crazy, you’re perfect, so perfect, and- God, ‘m so close, love you so much, I love you,” he stutters, his eyes rolling back as he feels you start to cum with him. He presses his cock fully into you one last time, his cum spurting out in thick ropes until you’re full.

He’s panting, glasses fallen down to the tip of his nose, body trembling as he slowly starts to come down from the high. “Binnie,” you call him softly, and it’s not until he opens his eyes and looks at you again that what he said hits him like a ton of bricks.

He told you he loves you. While he was fucking you. He told you he loves you.

There’s no way to turn it out around as platonic in this scenario– it’s so fucking obvious how he meant it. To say he’s mortified is an understatement; and when he tries to speak, all that comes out are pathetic stutters, every explanation he wants to offer dying in his throat. Your eyes are watery as you look at him, and suddenly his throat feels impossibly dry, his hands clammy as he pulls out of you. 

He fucked up so bad. He ruined everything, he knows he did– this isn’t how he wanted to tell you, he wasn’t even ready to tell you. And now you know, and you’re looking at him with so much concern he feels like he’s going to shatter. Not anger, not sadness, but care– a care entirely different from what he’s seen on you before.

It’s pity, isn’t it? You don’t share the sentiment and you pity him for blurting it out like that. “You love me?” you ask him, your voice soft but cautious, unsure. “I..” Changbin tries again, but honestly he just wants to cry. Every emotion, every word, lodged in his throat and stuck, but still he tries to explain himself. “I’m sorry, I- I didn’t mean-”

You’ve always loved Changbin. Since the early days of your friendship, you’ve loved him. How could you not? You’d never met someone as sincere as him, his every action so affectionate and caring. A gentleman through and through, always making sure the people he loves are taken care of, always the first to offer a helping hand when someone is in need. 

But you’d given up on the idea that you could have something more so long ago– and becoming friends with benefits with him told you that he didn’t love you romantically. He was the first to offer, and people don’t offer that arrangement if it risks their feelings getting exposed; so he didn’t love you that way, you were certain. 

You told yourself you were okay with that. You were done with relationships, so tired of having your heart broken after pouring all of your love and faith into someone. And sure, you’d be heartbroken again when Changbin inevitably decides to move on, but at least it was a heartbreak you accepted would come, you’d be ready for it– that’s what you always told yourself.

But he loves you? Like, is in love with you? And he’s mistaking your surprise, your teary eyes, your struggle to wrap your head around the fact that he loves you as much as you love him as rejection. You can see it in the panic in his eyes, the way he stumbles over his words, the tremble in his voice– he thinks you don’t love him. 

How could he ever think you don’t love him? 

“Changbin, I-” you try again, and somehow the fact that you’re using his full name hurts worse; it's like a confirmation that you’re done with him, with this. It’s irrational, but the part of his brain that’s trying to talk sense into him is drowned out by the panic and fear of rejection, as if he can protect himself from the pain by accepting the fact that you don’t love him now before you say it out loud. 

“I need- I need a minute, I’m so sorry,” he blurts out, because even though he knows it’s coming, he can’t bear to hear it yet. He scrambles up from the sofa, trying to hold back the tears that threaten to spill as he rushes back to his room. He falls to his bed, burying his face into his pillows and lets out a trembling breath. 

Tomorrow.. He can’t avoid this, knows he needs to accept it sooner rather than later, but for this tiny moment, at least until tomorrow, he’s still yours.

Changbin isn’t avoiding you. At least, not on purpose– he just hasn’t gathered the courage to leave his room yet. He feels a bit like a hypocrite; he prides himself on his communication skills, and yet in the face of an honest conversation and acceptance of rejection, he flounders. Is he pathetic? You’d have every right to think so. 

Are you going to move out now? Should he? No, he should stop beating around the bush and just talk to you. You’re not in love with him, but you do love him– and that’s supposed to be enough, he told himself so many times that it is. 

You can work past this, can’t you? It has to be possible. He just doesn’t want to lose you, even if it breaks his heart he can take not having you romantically, is totally fine without the sex– but losing you as a friend? He can’t bear that.

He sighs, covering his face with his hands as he lies in his bed. He slept like shit, and he’s sure you didn’t fare much better– a thought that adds to the guilt he feels. But fuck, he needs to face this. The only thing that would be worse than losing you as a friend because being friends with benefits blew up in his face would be losing you because he was a spineless coward. 

Changbin grabs his phone, checks the time– it’s still early in the morning, but you’re usually awake by now. With another sigh to steel himself for what’s to come, he gets up from his bed and faces his door. He takes a breath, another attempt to calm his nerves, and walks to his door, quickly twisting the knob and pulling it open. 

“Oh!” you squeak in surprise, jumping where you stand before him. Changbin jumps too, with his own little shout of surprise coming out. How long were you standing outside of his door? Were you trying to work up the nerve to talk to him too? You blink at one another for a moment, and to Changbin’s relief, you’re the first to crack, letting out a little giggle. 

He giggles too, and though it’s a bit awkward given what happened late last night, it’s a relief that you’re not mad at him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” Changbin explains through his giggles, and God, your smile is so cute. You cover your mouth as you try to stop giggling, eyes crinkling and sparkling as you look at him, “No, no! It’s my fault for standing outside your door like this.” 

It eases him, feels more like the normal he’s used to with you– the normal he hopes and prays you can still share after this. “Can I come in?” you ask him, and of course he lets you, stepping to the side so you can enter his room. Your body language is still relaxed, but when you look at him again, your expression is serious.

Part of him worries that the lighthearted moment you just shared was a lapse in judgment on your part, and that you’re about to chew him out for running away last night– not that he wouldn’t deserve it if you did. But what you actually end up saying is a much stronger shock to his system. “Why do you think I don’t love you?”

“Wh-What? I-I.. I don’t-” Changbin stutters, blinking at you in utter shock, not even entirely sure how to respond.

“Because I do. I love you so much, Seo Changbin. The idea that you think I don’t hurts me,” you tell him, entirely sincere. That’s the part of his impromptu confession that kept you up at night, the part that upset you? Not that he loves you when he shouldn’t, or that your friendship might be ruined?

“If you think you’re not enough for me, you are– if you think you aren’t deserving of love, you are. Tell me what it is, so I can make sure you never question how much I love you again. Okay? I need you to promise me that.”

Changbin blinks, frozen, a million thoughts and emotions running through him. If he’s being honest, he doesn’t know the answer. There was such a big chunk of his life where he wasn’t happy with himself– the way he looked, the soft parts of his personality, his desires that felt so grandiose and impossible.. 

He thought he had to live to what other people expected him to be, that it was the only way they would love him. It took him years of effort, of stumbling and falling and getting back up to get where he is now. More confident in his body, in the way he walks through the world, in the love he pours into his family and friends.

But there’s that part of his old self that still lingers– a part that calls to him late at night, that makes him question if he’s allowed to be this happy. That reminds him it’s still there when he’s weak and unsure, that crawls up his spine whenever you smile at him, that won’t let him believe that you could love him. 

Changbin isn’t the same lanky, insecure boy he was when he first met you, but maybe he is. He looks different than he did then, but maybe that part of him is still there, underneath the built up muscle and maturity. Maybe it always will be, maybe there’s no way to ever make it go away– but maybe he doesn’t need to.

He thinks of all the times you were there for him, from the very first day you met. How you always encouraged him to do what makes him happy, how you supported him through his every decision to better himself. 

“I think you’re perfect the way you are, but if going to the gym would make you feel better about yourself, you should do it!” you told him when he brought up the topic of trying to bulk up and fill out his body. “You’re so adorable Binnie, seriously, how can you be so cute?” you grinned, pinching his cheeks the first time aegyo slipped out in front of you. 

No matter which version of himself he showed you, you loved him. Each part, no matter how different and against expectations, you cared for. And even with all the work he put into himself, there was still the part of him that tried to change in his romantic and sexual relationships. Trying to live up to what he thought his partners wanted, trying to adapt himself to them. 

But so effortlessly, you dismantled the expectations he put upon himself. All the times you called him sexy and adorable in the same breath, made him believe that he could be both at the same time– that he could be manly and intimidating, sweet and loving, sexy and cute all at once, and it was all still genuinely him, all worthy of love.

Maybe it’s impossible to shove insecurity completely aside; it’s likely that it’ll always linger. Even when it’s small, and tucked away, and very nearly forgotten, it’ll be there, waiting. And maybe that’s okay, because when you have someone who loves you as you are, who reassures you and listens to you and comforts you, it’ll start to fade back out as naturally as it came in.

“I don’t know why,” he answers honestly, his bottom lip starting to quiver. His best guess is that his fear of losing someone he loves so much expounded upon his underlying insecurities, made them flare to the point that he felt like he could drown in them. 

“I just know that I love you. And I need you, and not like- not like that, I just- ..I never want to be without you,” he continues, refusing to get choked up by his emotions and let it stop him from saying what he needs to. “And I promise- I’ll tell you, anytime I’m unsure of myself, I’ll tell you.” 

You step closer to him, reach up and cup his face in your hands, rub the tears that threaten to fall from the corners of his eyes with your thumbs. His heart skips a beat when you smile sweetly at him, when you lean towards him to press a soft kiss to his lips, to tell him you love him. “You said I was perfect,” you say as you kiss him again, and then again, “but so are you. You’re the loveliest person I’ve ever known.”

You press more kisses over his face, complimenting each feature as you go. His deep, dark eyes that can be so piercing or so soft depending on the situation. His full cheeks, so cute and endearing when they’re pink from a blush, but so handsome and complimentary to his face. His downturned smirk when something amuses him that can easily turn into a fully bright upturned smile when he’s happy, and makes his nose scrunch adorably. 

“Honey,” he breathes in a soft whine, unsure of what to do with all the excess affection. You guide him back to his bed, crawling atop him when he falls back against it, continuing your trail of kisses down his neck. “You deserve this,” you tell him, smiling against his skin when you feel him squirm beneath you, “deserve it all, and more.”

Changbin brings one of his hands to the back of your neck when you pull back to look at him, bringing you back down to him so he can kiss you. He doesn’t want to hold back anymore, to try and hide how badly he needs you. He kisses you like a man starved, hungry and desperate. His desire is carnal, every inch of him aching for your attention. 

Your hands sweep over his torso, finding the hem of his shirt and tugging at it. He gets the hint, and separates from you so you can take it off him. He watches you remove yours too, heart thumping in his chest as you reach behind you to unhook your bra. He tries to lean up to kiss you again when you’re finished, but you push him back down.

He whines at first, but quickly swallows it down when you smile at him in that pretty way that makes his stomach flare with butterflies, his cock twitching as it hardens beneath you. Your hands travel his body, compliments about each and every inch of him freely falling from your lips. His arms, thick and warm and comforting. His chest, so strong and beautifully sculpted. His stomach, soft and cute, as perfect as the rest of him. 

You kiss him too– everywhere your fingers touch, your lips follow. Soft, tender, overwhelming– his heart is beating so fast and hard, all your words, touches, and kisses make his blood feel like molten lava, every inch of him unbearably hot. It chokes him up too, how sweet you’re being to him; you’ve doted on him plenty of times, but never like this.

You take one of his hands in yours next, bring it up to your lips to press achingly soft kisses to it. The palm first, and then his wrist, before you turn it over to kiss his knuckles. You kiss the tip of each of his fingers, and his breath hitches as he watches you, goosebumps erupting all over him when you gently put it down and pick up his other hand to repeat the actions. 

You treat him with so much reverence, shower him with more love than he knows what to do with. He’s trembling with emotion, aching with desire, overwhelmed by how much he loves you, how beautiful you look. He’s going to cry– seriously, he doesn’t know how much more he can take before tears start spilling out of him. 

“Honey, please-” Changbin whines, and to his relief, you pause to look at him. “Please, I- let me make you feel good, please? I want to, I- I want to show you how much I love you too,” he begs. You intended to take care of him, to shower him in affection until you inevitably made him cum, but you meant it when you said you can never deny him his desire to be sweet to you.

“Tell me what you want, baby,” you say, and you watch as he chews on his bottom lip, face heating up further as he considers what to say. He knows what he wants, he’s thought about it so many times– it’s just the admitting and asking for it part that makes him a little shy. Still, you treat him so well, and you always indulge him, so.. The only thing to do is just go for it. 

“I want.. Want you to sit on my face. Please? Please, please sit on my face,” he begs, and God, that has to be the sexiest thing he’s ever begged for. It makes your stomach flip, and if your legs weren’t straddling him, you definitely would’ve clenched them together. Lifting yourself off him, you make quick work of the remainder of your clothes. 

Changbin scoots down the bed, so your legs will have more room when you return to him, chucking his glasses away, not nearly enough care in him for where they land. He looks at you, with a devastatingly sweet and bashful smile, his arms reaching out to help you when you start to settle above him. Your knees on either side of his head, he wraps his arms around your thighs. 

The latter half of his face is obscured by your body hovering over him, but looking down, you can see his eyes, sparkling with eager excitement as he keeps your gaze. You lower yourself just a little, nervous to sit your entire weight on his face and suffocate him, but Changbin doesn’t want you to hover, he wants you to sit. 

So using the arms he has wrapped around you, he pulls you fully down to him. You gasp– partly because of the surprise, and partly from the feeling of his tongue meeting your pussy. He focuses on your hole first, lapping up all the slick that drips out of you before he drags his tongue up to your clit, licking in a long, fat stripe.

He wraps his lips around it, sucking and flicking it with his tongue until you're writhing above him before he alternates back to licking you up, bottom to top, drinking all you offer. You bury your fingers in his curly hair, and he moans when you tug on it. He squeezes your trembling thighs, letting out happy hums whenever you moan for him.

He sticks out his tongue and lays it flat for you when you start to roll your hips, letting you grind against his face and use him however you see fit to. You shiver when your clit bumps against his nose, your breaths becoming harsher as you drive yourself closer to release on his tongue.

“Oh bunny, you’re so good to me, so good, ‘m gonna cum for you,” you cry, voice whinier than you would’ve otherwise liked it to be, but the way Changbin whines eagerly in response tells you how much he loves it. A few more rolls of your hips, and you’re cumming, your thighs squeezing around his head as you keep a tight grip on his hair to keep yourself steady. 

Changbin enthusiastically laps up your release, continuing until you're squirming and whining from the sensitivity. He loosens his hold on your thighs when you do, letting you lift your leg over his head and fall to the side of the bed a little ways away from him. Both of you are breathless, but Changbin is the first to recover, and when he does he sits up and crawls over to where you landed.

He grabs your face, gently, of course, and pulls you into a kiss. His face is slick with your essence, and you can taste yourself all over his lips and tongue. “You looked so pretty,” he tells you softly between kisses, “You’re so gorgeous when you cum for me.” He carefully spreads your legs and slots himself between them, sliding his tongue around yours as he does. 

“Want to give you my cock now,” he breaths, pulling away just enough to look at you with those eager, pleading eyes that make you weak. “Want to keep making you feel good, want to- want to watch your eyes roll back when I make you cum again.” 

“Sweet boy,” you coo, spreading your legs wider for him, offering yourself to him, “do it, baby. Give it to me.”

He kicks off the remainder of his clothes in record time, taking his cock in his hand and spreading the dribbling pre-cum over his length until it’s completely wet. You’re more than ready for him, but he’s as careful with you as always, pushing each inch inside slowly. 

You reach out to him and pull him down to you, kissing him hard and sweet, drinking in the whimper he lets out when he’s fully inside you. His entire body is trembling, still worked up from all the attention you gave him and sensitive from fucking you just last night. There’s a part of him that still feels vulnerable too, but he’s safe with you, and he knows you always will be. 

He loves you well, but you love him better; and he’ll spend every moment he has showing how much he appreciates you. He doesn’t need to prove his worth, doesn’t need to do anything apart from be himself– the love you’ve given him has shown him that. You understand him, better than anyone ever has. 

You love him, you always have, long before who he is now, and will continue to long into the future. All he has to do to repay all you’ve given him is love you. Love you honestly, openly, freely– because he’s enough as he is.

When he starts to move his hips, you both moan, Changbin just the slightest bit louder than you. He tucks his arms under your shoulders and pulls you closer to him, chests touching as he steadily builds a faster pace. He’s squeezing you in his arms, whining in your ear about how good you feel around him.

He’s so high-strung and sensitive that he doesn’t think he’ll last long, but oh, is he going to try. But shit, he’s still so emotional too– he thought he would’ve recovered by now, but it keeps hitting him in waves. And when you kiss him, it makes him dizzy– not just with lust and desire, but with passion, adoration.

The way he looks down at you when he pulls away takes your breath away, so sentimental and loving. You take his face into one of your hands again, and it takes everything in him to not get choked up again. Your love is his greatest comfort, but it also makes him ache– because no one has ever loved him as sincerely as you do. 

“Do you need to stop?” you ask him tenderly, once again wiping the tears from his eyes. His heart feels like it’s going to burst from all the emotion, but he quickly shakes his head, offering you a sincere smile, “N-No, no, I’m fine! I just- I really love you,” he admits, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips to show you he means it.

“And besides, I might go actually insane if I don’t fuck you, cause seriously, how are you so fucking sexy?” he follows up. “Oh, shut up,” you giggle, playfully slapping his arm. “This is supposed to be about you, you know? My sweet bunny and how perfect he is- maybe I need to remind you?” 

Changbin curiously tilts his head at your words as you lock your legs around him and using what strength you have, and with the help of gravity and momentum, you force him to roll to his side, and then to his back. You smile down at him, your roles easily flipped, while he stares up at you, mystified and easily the most turned on he’s ever been. 

“Oh-” is all he manages to utter, his cock throbbing furiously inside you. He could’ve easily fought it– he’s physically much stronger than you, after all. But he just loves when you force him into the positions you want, loves to be malleable and pliant for you. 

You plant your hands firmly on his chest, bouncing on his cock fast, the sound of your thighs slapping together just barely louder than Changbin’s obscenely loud whimpers. “Oh God, ‘m gonna cum,” he whines desperately, too wound up and sensitive to resist it, his hands clutching at the bedsheets so hard his knuckles have turned white, “please, please, please, can I, please? Please, let me cum.” 

“I love you so much, Binnie, want you to cum for me,” you tell him, bringing one of your hands to your clit so you can cum with him, the way he always loves to. It causes you to squeeze tighter, and he gasps, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth as he trembles. “Give it to me, baby, be a good boy and cum for me.”

He does just as you ask, a messy string of “I love you”s falling from his lips until he’s too far gone to keep talking, tears streaming down the sides of his face as his eyes roll to the back of his head, and then close. His noises are high-pitched and pornographic, his entire body shaking with the intensity of his cum spilling inside you.

His vision is blurry when he starts to blink open his eyes, but soon enough you come back into focus above him, looking down at him affectionately. He smiles at you, a goofy, sweet one that makes you giggle. He wraps his arms around you and drags you down to him, pressing kisses to your lips over and over again. 

Changbin tells you everything he’s wanted to this entire time as he does; how beautiful you are, how much he loves you, how he can’t imagine his life without you in it. He blushes when you do the same, while once again making him promise he’ll tell you if doubt ever starts to creep up on him. 

The journey to loving yourself isn’t easy; it’s a long winding road, uneven and easy to stumble on. But when he falls, you’ll be there to catch him. You’ll remind him how loved he is, the value he has simply in being, how he brightens every day you share just by existing. 

You’ll always be here, growing older with him, supporting him as he continues to grow and change, each experience turning him into a newer version of himself. And in every change, in every season of his life, you’ll continue to love him. Always.

network tags: @ksmutsociety @skzstarnet

— masterlist.

altair here. this is the masterlist, where i link all my writings. i write for all the groups listed below. there is no posting schedule.

note: i rarely write smut. don’t be surprised if you don’t see much of it, i do prefer my content to be sfw, it just makes me feel better. no shade to anyone at all, smut writers are so freakin’ talented.

[ ✎ - in progress || ♡ - oneshot || ☆ - series || ○ - drabble ]

[✖︎ - smut || ♥︎ - fluff || ♨︎ - angst]

boy groups + soloists

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𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞 ; 𝐛𝐜

[fem!reader. virginity kink. innocence kink. (no age play) reader’s not a virgin, though. role play kinda? dirty talk. mention of female masturbation. clit play. spit. super brief handjob. pussy job. just the tip. unprotected sex (don’t). pulling out method (also don’t). they’re in love. even though i didn’t specify it they’re in an established relationship.]

wc: 1,5k

a/n: i don’t really like this one :/. not edited as per usual, yay.

18+ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭. 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭. 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐝𝐧𝐢.

🪷

There’s a game you and Chan like to play.

It starts when you look at him with those eyes you know drive him crazy, and chills run down his spine. The pink cotton pyjamas should’ve been a hint, but the look you give him is the confirmation he needed.

“Wait,” you wrap your fingers around his wrist, stopping him as he’s about to slip his hand inside your pyjamas. “I’ve never… I’ve never done this before.”

Chan’s breath gets caught in his throat, eyes fluttering shut as he swallows the lump in his throat.

When he looks at you, your lower lip is caught between your teeth, eyes wide open and innocent. He loves you so fucking much.

“Yeah?” He hums, looking at where his hand has stopped, where his fingers are brushing the soft cotton pyjama bottoms. “No one has touched you here before?”

You shake your head, cheeks red and puffy.

“Can I?”

You nod.

Chan’s hand slips inside your pyjamas, his fingers brushing delicately the front of your panties as he traces the outline of your pussy with delicacy and reverence, until his fingers bump on your sensitive clit, making you jump. He smiles sweetly at you.

“What was that, love?” He asks, feigning surprise. “Was that your little clit? Do you touch yourself here, sweetheart?”

You shake your head. “No…”

His eyebrows raise, but it’s all an act. An act that makes him throb inside his pants, a single drop of clear liquid emerging from his cockhead.

“You don’t touch yourself, love?”

“Not often,” you mumble.

“Ah, I see,” Chan nods. “And when you do… how do you touch yourself?”

You blush, hide your face behind your hands. He gently takes grabs your wrist and pulls your hands away, uncovering your face. Then, he leans in and kisses the tip of your nose.

“Don’t get shy on me, sweetheart. You can trust me, yeah?”

You nod.

“Now tell me how you touch yourself, sweet girl.”

“I have a pillow,” you mumble, feeling small, “sometimes I… put it between my legs and…” you trail off, suddenly shy.

“And you hump it until you cum, don’t you, sweet girl?”

“Mh-hm,” you nod, feigning embarrassment.

Chan bites down on his lip.

“You’re gonna let me touch your little clit, aren’t you? Let me make you feel good?”

He asks the question whilst rubbing said clit over the cotton of your panties, and you nearly melt under his touch, forgetting the point of it all.

“Yes.”

Chan groans, knobby fingers gently pulling your panties aside, finally able to directly touch your soft lips, then up, up right where there’s your clit. You squirm, instinctively trying to close your legs, but Chan’s stronger, and he stops you.

“Hey. You said you trust me, right?”

“I trust you.”

He pulls his hand out of your pyjama bottoms, hooks his fingers in the hem and drags them down your legs, exposing you completely to his devoted eyes.

“So pretty…” he whispers in adoration, eyes never leaving the centre of your thighs as he bites his lip. “So soft… I love that no one else has touched you here. Only me.”

“Only you,” you whisper back.

He nearly melts right then, right there. The fact that it’s the truth makes it even hotter.

Chan comes to kneel between your legs, the outline of his erection clearly visible even though he’s wearing his usual grey sweats. It looks big and thick and heavy and it is, you know it well.

You try your best to suppress a guttural moan when he spits onto your pussy, saliva landing mostly on your clit. He’s so sexy and attractive, and he’s cute and shy and a sweetheart out of the bedroom, too, always making sure you’re alright and comfortable.

“Does this feel good?” He asks, fingers drawing gentle and delicate shapes on your clit, smearing his spit all over.

It feels terribly good, but mostly because of how he’s acting— all dominant and stuff while you’re putty in his hands, ready and willing to do whatever it is he wants to do to you.

“Feels so good, Channie.”

Chan groans at the name, eyes fluttering shut as his cock throbs once more.

“The things you do to me, sweetheart…” he murmurs, looking at you through his eyelashes. “Wanna see how much I find you beautiful?”

You nod, intrigued, and with his free hand, Chan manages to pull his sweats and boxer down past the curve of his ass, cock slapping against his skin, hard and ready.

Your eyes widen in shock when you see it, your cheeks turning even redder.

“Channie…” you gasp. “It looks… big…”

Chan grins.

“Have you ever touched one before, sweetheart?” You shake your head, eyes meeting his. “Do you want to?”

He takes your hand in his, looks for any sign of discomfort in your eyes, but there’s none. Chan brings your hand closer to where his hard cock stands, throbbing and leaking precum already, patiently waiting for your touch. He wants you to make the first move.

You tentatively touch it, wrapping your fingers around the thick base.

“A bit tighter, love. Don’t be scared to hurt me,” he instructs, eyes never leaving yours.

“Like this?” You pout, Chan nearly comes.

“That’s perfect. You’re perfect. My sweetheart,” he sighs, content, when you squeeze him. “Can you move your hand, sweet girl? Up and down, slowly— squeeze the tip, baby.”

He touches you and you touch him. It’s slow, heartfelt, sensual. Looking into each other’s eyes — telling each other everything and nothing at the same time. But you know he loves you just as much as you love him.

“Do you want me to make you feel better, love?”

You pretend to not know what he’s talking about, looking at him with wide, curious eyes. “I do, but… how?”

Chan stops touching your clit, you immediately miss the feeling of his fingers on you. He motions for you to stop touching him, and you do.

“Like this,” he presses his body on yours, cock safely nested between your pussy lips, tip resting on your clit.

Then he starts to move, taking your breath away, his cock sliding perfectly up and down your pussy lips — filthy, wet sounds filling the room. You squirm underneath him, and Chan’s eyes widen.

“Careful, baby,” he bites his lip as he continues to move slowly, excruciatingly slow. “I might just slip inside you.”

You moan, fingers digging in Chan’s biceps as you feel yourself throbbing at the delicious feeling of him pressed on you and his filthy words combined.

“I might slip inside and fill you up, sweetheart, careful,” he groans, grinding against you.

“Channie— Channie. Feels so good.”

It’s not an act. It truly feels amazing.

“Can I put the tip inside, sweetheart? Just the tip,” he groans — the spit on your pussy mixing perfectly with your own arousal and Chan’s as well.

Oh God, you’re about to pass out.

You nod, quickly, furiously fast.

“Yes, Channie— please put it inside. I’ll be good to you, I promise.”

“Sweetheart, you… you’re driving me crazy,” he kisses your neck, gropes your tits, toying with your nipple. “Just the tip, yeah? Just the tip.”

He takes his sweet time aligning his tip to your entrance, and then you feel him applying the tiniest bit of pressure.

“I’m putting it in. Is that alright, sweetheart?”

You nod, dig your fingernails into his shoulder when he presses inside of just a couple of inches. Just the tip, like he said. Chan pulls out, then he pushes back in, then out again, fucking just the tip inside of you.

“Oh. Channie— it’s big. It feels so big inside of me, Channie.”

Chan feels a shiver run down his spine. He throbs inside of you, precum ending everywhere inside and outside of you — he’s so turned on it’s unreal.

“Does it hurt, sweetheart?” Chan asks.

“N-No. No, it doesn’t hurt, Channie. It feels so good. You feel so good inside of me,” you whine, let out a desperate cry when his fingers rub your clit quickly. “You’re the first who’s ever been inside of me, Channie.”

It means he’s close, that he wants you to cum as well because he’s about to.

“You’re so fucking perfect, sweetheart. So good for me, every fucking time,” curse words leaving his lips as he feels closer and closer, fucking the tip of his cock inside of you desperately. “You’re gonna cum for me, aren’t you, my perfect girl?”

“Yeah. ‘M gonna c-cum f’you, Channie. For you.”

You cum with a loud whine, muffled by Chan’s arm as you bite down on his bicep as you release around him. He groans as well, pulling out of you swiftly, jerking himself off as he kneels between your legs. Then, with a grunt, he releases on your tummy — hot, white fluid all over your sweaty skin.

Then, Chan’s body collapses next to yours, completely spent, and he takes you into his arms.

“I love you so fucking much,” he sighs, pressing a sweet kiss to your temple. “You know that, right?”

You look at him, a stupid smile on your face after he’s just finished fucking you silly. “I know. I love you, too.”

🪷

-> 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬. 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐚 𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐧!

TWIN FLAME.

PART I

Felix x reader. (s,f, a bit of angst)

Chapters: Part II / Part III / Eternal Flame.

Synopsis: Back home for a summer holiday, you meet the new next-door boy, Felix, who will turn your summer into a burning bright one. (14,1k words)

Content warning: Mentions of smoking and minor theft.

As you sat there on the couch detached from reality, you rethinking your choice to come back to this town.

What was the reason?

You lived a vigorous college life in the city for almost two years, and all of a sudden, you found yourself boarding a train back home for the summer.

You look at your surroundings, at the party at its full swing. Despite spending all of your high school years with them and knowing their names by heart, they didn't feel like your friends anymore.

Just like your body unconsciously seeking for an out, whether it's from your head or the house, you found yourself walked out of the house and leaning against a car with your chest heaving as if you just ran a mile, clutching your jacket together even though the weather was warm that night.

"Are you okay?" A man asked with a deep voice, you saw his figure backlit by the garden lamp looming over you. You were unable to speak, your brain was fuzzy with so many thoughts rushing to your mind, couldn’t even decide if it was one of those fight or flight moments.

He approached you as he lit up his cigarette with a lighter, the flame illuminated his face, revealing his elfin-like facial features.

He pointed to the car you leaned against, "You're on my car," he said.

And you jolted on your feet, standing up straight almost instantly.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to," you weakly said to him.

When you looked at his car, you believed you had seen this car before, since not many people drive a vintage car anymore these days, especially not in this town.

He let out a cloud of smoke and exhaled some more through his pursed lips,

"It's okay," he replied, he walked to his car to the driver's side and unlocked it.

You didn't know why you still standing there with your hands deep in your jacket pockets and watched him like a garden gnome.

He lingered by the car door before getting in, then tossed his cigarette butt onto the ground and stepped on it. Did time just fly by fast without you noticing? Or did he just finish a cigarette in under two minutes?

He got in the car then pushed open the car door of the passenger's side at you.

"Get in!" He said, "Let me take you for a drive!"

It wasn't like he was asking, moreover you needed an out at that time. You got in the car and slammed the door shut. You didn't know why it felt like you just stepped into something dangerous but felt so familiar at once.

He glanced at you and smiled, "I'm Felix, by the way," he introduced himself before turning the car on and the engine roared to life.

You held on to your seat belt as he drove at a high speed, the car glided through the night yet he looked so calm with one hand on the steering wheel and the other dangling out of his rolled-down window.

Your heart leaped when he spurred the engine, and the car picked up some more speed, you felt uneasy at the surge of adrenaline inside you. You were never like this before, letting yourself be reckless by going on a drive with a guy you barely know out of a whim, it was scary but surprisingly liberating.

He took you up on a hill where you could see the view of the city from the hilltop and saw the moon hanging so low above it. You sat on the hood of the car next to him and let out a long sigh, and it never felt this nice to do it.

"You want one?" He offered his pack of cigarettes to you.

You shook your head, "I don't smoke," you told him and gave him a sheepish smile.

He shrugged, "okay," then pulled out a cigarette and put it between his teeth before lit it up with a lighter.

You stole a few glances at him, at the worn-out leather jacket he was wearing to the bleached blonde hair peeking out his beanie.

You glanced at him and got the sense of peculiarly nostalgic, except that only makes sense if you have experienced this before and none of it ever happened to you.

Everything about him didn't fit this town, it was obvious he was from the city, or anywhere but here.

"You're new in town, are you?" You asked him out of pure curiosity.

He opened his mouth, and smoke billowed out of it, "I've been here for a while," he replied.

You've just realized that your question sounded rude, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be ru-"

He laughed, "it's okay," he quickly said, "it's a small town with a small population,"

You nodded and looked down at your feet, flustered.

"You grew up here?" He asked as he threw his cigarette butt on the ground and stepped on it.

Once again, you were amazed at how quickly he could finish one cigarette smoke.

"Yes," you answered, "I already moved out of town two years ago actually," you added and held your hair from flying out at the wild wind.

He hoisted himself up on the hood of the car, "then what are you doing here?" He asked.

"I'm here for the summer. I'll be back at the beginning of the term," you answered. You were surprised at how easily you share such information with a man you just met half an hour ago.

"If you grew up here, then you must know cool places around here," he said, spreading his legs out then playing with the lighter.

You stifled a laugh, "I rarely go out much when I lived here," you shyly admitted.

He turned his head at you, "why?"

"Because I'm a stay-at-home-and-read-a-book kind of person," you replied.

"A beautiful girl like you shouldn't have stayed at home," he said.

One compliment and your cheeks already heating up, you held the urge to touch them and shoved your hands deeper into your jacket pockets.

"But I get it, you have that mysterious vibe of a Sleeping Beauty," he commented.

And lonely too, you added in your head, but you just nodded along to what he said.

At the end of the night, he insisted on driving you home, and honestly, you felt uncomfortable sharing your address to a guy you just precisely met four hours ago.

When he pulled out right in front of your house without you telling him where to go, your mouth agape in wonder, and you felt a slight fear inside.

You looked at him with your hand ready to unbuckle the belt at any second.

"I thought you already know by now?" He said, sounding as confused as you are.

"How did you know?" You asked him because it started to baffle you.

He laughed, "I live next to your house," he answered and pointed to the house next to yours, and you remembered that your mother mentioned that a new family moved in a year ago.

You sighed and exclaimed, "Oh!" that explained why you felt like you had seen the car before.

You slowly unbuckled your safety belt and swung open the car door.

With your foot already stepped out of the car, you turned at him and said, "thank you for the, uhm..." you paused because you didn't know what he exactly did that make you feel grateful, "the ride," you finished.

He nodded, "No problem,"

You got out of the car and shut the door, before you walked away he called your name.

"I suggest you should close your curtains before changing your clothes from now on," he said, and you saw his lips curled into a smirk before driving away in the direction of his house.

Once you got into your bedroom and turned on the lights, you realized that his room was located right across from yours with his window facing you which means he could see whatever you were doing in your room and watch you change your clothes. You quickly went to the window and shut the curtains.

Nothing changed much after that day, you spent your days in your room and reading, only going out when your mom insisted you help her gardening or hosing the plants.

One day, you saw his car parked in his house but there was no sight of him, another day you caught him through the window changing his t-shirt, exposing his lean body for a few seconds before putting on a hoodie and waving at you when he noticed you were watching, most time you caught him left with his car.

And today, nothing.

There was no sight of him, his car isn't parked outside his house and the curtain of his room was completely shut. At times, you felt the assurance that he wasn't just fragments of your imagination and that he is real. You took one last look at his room before going to sleep, the lights were off, and it was quiet, with no sign of life. You went to your bed and fell asleep with an inexplicably restless mind.

For a second, you thought you dreamed the sound of the tapping against your window with your mind still hazy, you walked to the window and opened the curtains.

You squinted your eyes and looked down, saw Felix about to throw another pebble at your window. You quickly pulled open your window and stuck your head out.

He waved his hands at you.

"Come down!" He said, gestured to his car, "Let's go for a drive,"

"Now?" You asked.

He nodded, "I'll wait here," he mouthed.

You put on your jeans and a t-shirt, carried your jacket downstairs, and made sure you didn't make any sound that would wake your parents then went out through the back door.

You found him sitting on the hood of his car, playing with his lighter as he waited for you.

"Where are we going?" You asked him.

He shrugged, "anywhere we want!" He answered then unlocked the door.

Unlike that night, Felix drove slowly on the almost empty streets of the town with both windows rolled down. You held out your hand out the window to feel the air slipping through the spaces between your fingers with your eyes closed.

After making a ride around the town, Felix stopped by at a gas station, and he went inside to pay while you waited in the car.

Your eyes followed to where his figure walked around the store, looking so attractive under the fluorescent lights. As if he sensed your eyes on him, he looked in your direction and smiled. You were glad he wasn't in the car with you and heard you sigh in delight.

He held up a bag of snacks in his hand at you as he half-jogged towards the car with an effervescence smile that didn't wear off even for a second.

"I bought us some snacks," he said as soon as he got into the car.

You rummaged inside to see what he bought and spotted some cans of cherry coke that you like, "how do you know I like cherry coke?" You asked him.

He looked at you rather confused, "I like cherry coke too,"

"No way," you exclaimed, kept on rummaging through to find packs of gummy bears that you also like. You held it up at him, "not this too?" You asked him.

He laughed, "It's convenient that we like the same snacks," he said as he turned the key in the ignition.

"Where are we going now?" You asked him, unwrapped the gummy candies as you spoke.

He smacked his lips together, "I don't know about you, but today felt so exceptionally hot," he said, then pulled away from the parking lot.

His eyes glinted with excitement when you knew where he was taking you, you've been here a couple of times, and it reminded you of how you spent your summer in high school.

But instead of going to the part of the lake with the dock, he went to the other side, where big rocks stacked along the lakeside to prevent the lake water from rising and flooding the nearby residents when it rains.

You both got out of the car almost simultaneously and looked at each other.

"Let's go for a swim," he said, this time putting an unlit cigarette behind his ear.

Your eyebrows knitted in confusion, "Swimming? Right now?" You asked him.

He nodded and began taking off his leather jacket, "yes," he shortly replied.

He bent down to untie his shoelaces, then kicked his shoes off of his feet, and you stood there, awkwardly watching him taking off his clothes. He pulled his t-shirt by its back collar and did it seamlessly, then slid down his jeans and put all of his clothes inside the car.

You gestured to the cigarette he put behind his ear, and he put it away.

"Come on! The water is warm!" He persuaded you, holding out his hand and confidently stood in front of you only in his boxer.

You hesitated at first. The swimming is alright, but taking off your clothes with him watching you, made you anxious.

"You can go in first," you said to him, "I'll catch up," you assured him.

He shrugged, "okay," then walked to the lake.

After he got out of the sight and vice-versa, you began taking off your clothes and walked to the lake hugging yourself, aware that you were only in your undergarments.

Felix held out his hand at you to help you climb down the rocks, you took it, but he ended up lifting you down by putting his arm around your waist and into the lake.

You felt comfortable because he wasn't trying to get physical, he only held you by your hand to keep you from tripping due to the slippery floor of the lake and put a space between you.

He was right, the water was warm, and the moon shone so brightly that the shine reflected on his glistening wet body.

When you looked at him, he was raking his wet hair to the back with his fingers and beads of water dripping down his chin, despite his slender-looking figure, he has muscular arms and sculpted abs.

He looked so breathtaking, ethereal even.

After swimming a few rounds in the lake, you both got out of the lake, then sat on the hood to dry yourselves a little and drank the lukewarm soda in silence.

Felix lit a cigarette then lay himself down on the hood of the car, "I think I'm tired enough to sleep now," he said with his head staring at the night sky.

"You have trouble sleeping?" You asked him as he took another drag of his smoke.

He exhaled a string of long smoke before finally answering, "kind of,"

When you finished with your can of drink, and he finished with his cigarette smoke, you began putting on clothes when all of sudden Felix threw you his car keys,

"You drive this time," he said, then walked to the passenger's side.

"I haven't driven in a long time," you said to him, scratching your head in doubt if you are still able to drive a car.

Felix shrugged, "people always say they forget how to ride a bicycle, then get the hang of it once they ride it,"

"But I can't ride a bicycle," you admitted.

He glared at you.

And you blinked your eyes a few times innocently.

"You're being serious?" He asked in disbelief.

You nodded.

You have no idea why the car would not pick up the pace, you altered between your brake and gas a few times now, but nothing seemed to work.

"You need to change the clutch," he said to you as he popped one of those mint candies smokers used to take then helped you shift the stick.

You huff a breath, "that's the car's job, you know," you defended yourself.

Felix laughed and reclined on his seat, his body slightly facing you and watching you driving with your face contorted in full concentration.

It took you quite a moment to finally be comfortable driving his car, and it was because there were no other cars. The streets were empty and quiet, except for the sound of the roaring engine.

"Go ahead, step on the gas!" Felix encouraged you along with a devilish grin.

You hesitated for a while, but since there were no other cars in sight, you stepped on the gas pedal and pushed the speed of the car, sending it gliding on the asphalt. It felt so freeing, not thinking about anything but feeling the wind in your hair and having control of whether to go fast or slow.

The car was parked in front of your house and you had been sitting on the driver's seat for quite some time now, smiling like a fool, all the while Felix just sat there looking at you

When the excitement subsided, you unclasp your safety belt and turn your head at him, "I've never felt like that before," you said to him.

He didn't say anything but nodded along to your words.

Your hands reached up to your cheeks as it started to hurt from you smiling nonstop,

"I should go," you said to him, your arm stretched to the backseat to take your jacket. And when you retracted your arm back, Felix caught your face with his hand and without warning, crashed his lips on yours.

It took you a moment to realize that he was kissing you, your body went against your will and pushed him away.

Felix quickly took his hand away from your jaw, "I am so sorry. I lost it for a moment," he explained.

Before he got the wrong idea, you took a fistful of his jacket and brought his face close to yours. You kissed him right on the mouth, capturing his lips with yours and switching between sucking and nibbling.

He tasted of cherry coke, spearmint, and cigarette, of danger and haven, felt so right yet so wrong, and it blurred everything that you had believed in. You were standing on a thin line, and you were willing to take the risk of falling the moment your lips and his touched in a rapturous, fiery kiss.

Since then, you didn't go to sleep because you knew that sooner or later, he'd come tapping on your window. And you were right, you pulled open the curtains to find him waiting by his car out front.

He didn't have to say anything to make you come running downstairs and tried to do it silently in the process.

You dashed toward and jumped at him, and Felix lifted you off of your feet and gave you a spin.

That night, he took you to a drive-in cinema, but none of you watched the movie as your lips were busy latching onto each other with hands on each other’s bodies as you both sat in the backseat of the car.

"You tasted so much better when you didn't smoke," you said to him when you let go of the kiss to catch a breath, realizing that you haven't seen him smoke when you were with him.

He took a few gummy candies in his hand and ate it at once, "what did I taste like?"

You took one of the gummy candies in red color, "berry-flavored gummy candy," you answered, then shoved it into your mouth.

He rummaged inside a bag of snacks you two bought earlier and pulled out something, "what is this?" He said as he held a piece of paper.

You took it and showed him what is it,

"It's fake tattoos. Pick one for me," you told him, and leaned on his shoulder.

Felix observed the fake tattoo designs in much seriousness that there was a crease formed between his eyebrows.

"This," he showed you.

"A butterfly," you beamed, "why?"

"Because butterflies can't see how beautiful their wings are," he answered, "just like you," he finished, along with a soft caress on your cheek.

You couldn't help but smile at his indirect praise.

"Okay then," you said, "where do you think should I have it?" You asked with one of your eyebrows shot up at him.

He hummed for a while, "what about on your back shoulder?"

"Sounds great," you exclaimed.

You unbuttoned your shirt just enough to slide it down one arm, then sat with your back against him so he could put it on you.

He lifted all of your hair and put it aside, you almost gasped when his cold hands touched your skin. It only took a minute for him to put the fake tattoo on and Felix smiled with satisfaction.

You looked over your shoulder, "is it good?"

Instead of replying, he placed a kiss on your shoulder, "you have very beautiful wings," he replied.

You giggled, and he helped you put on your shirt back again and left the buttons open.

"Now is my turn to pick one for you," you said, then took the fake tattoos from him.

Felix was quick to snatch it away from you, "you know what better than fake tattoos on me?" He asked.

"What?"

"The hickeys that you make," he answered.

You bit your lower lip, "where?"

"On my neck," he replied with a smirk.

You leaned in to kiss him before lowering your mouth to his neck and doing what he told you to do: marking him as yours.

And Felix showed off his hickeys like they are badges of honor while you sheepishly smiled because you were the one who made those. He was wearing a black t-shirt that only accentuates his light skin color, and that made the purple marks on his neck more prominent, ultimately whenever he craned his neck looking at his bowling ball going into the gutter several times already that night.

"I'm so bad at it," he groaned when he walked back to you.

You pulled him into a hug, "It's okay. That means you're good at something else," you cheered him up.

"Yeah," he said as he wrapped his arms around you, ignoring that there were other people in the bowling alley that night.

"Like what?" He asked with a sly smile.

"Like kissing me," you cheekily answered.

"Babe, you can always ask me if you want it," he said to you before sinking his mouth on you.

After finishing bowling with you winning against him, and consoling him with more kisses, you both got out of the bowling alley holding hands to the parking lot.

"Ready to go home?" He asked you, the moment he sat on the driver's seat.

You sighed because you didn't want it to end, you wanted to spend as much time with him as possible.

"I don't want to go home," you honestly answered.

He looked at you and pressed his lips together, "do you have somewhere you wanted to go?" He asked, hand reaching to put a strand of hair behind your ear.

"Yes," you shortly answered.

You went back to the hill where you both first went out together and parked right on the very same spot.

"Anything you want to do?" He asked you.

"Let's watch the sun rises,"

"It's only 1 am, babe," he said to you with a chuckle.

"Well, we can do something while we wait for it," you said, shooting him a gleeful smile at him.

He raised his eyebrows in wonder, "I have a game on my phone that we can play together," he playfully said.

You frowned then got out of the car. His eyes followed you as you opened the backseat door and got in, "Get in here!" you ordered him.

"Yes, ma'am," he replied, half-laughing.

The moment he got into the backseat, you pulled him into a kiss, and things escalated real quickly from there. You took each other’s piece of clothing in a rather haste manner, hands impatiently touching the exposed skin as soon as the clothes were off.

Felix lifted you to sit you on his lap, his hands gripped your waist and ran them to the small of your back to bring you to close, then kiss you. You lowered your hands from his chest down to his stomach, to his chiseled abs where his muscles felt so firm under your palms.

He kissed down your neck, then dragged his hot mouth down your chest, hands hastily unclasp your bra, and brought his mouth on your breast as soon as he got rid of it.

He withdrew his mouth then reclined on the seat, putting his hands on your chest to admire the smoothness of your skin, glimmering under the dim light and so soft under his touch.

You shuddered at the way the tips of his fingers softly grazed your skin and the way his hooded eyes filled with so much awe and lust at the same time at the sight of you.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured with his hands resting on your ribcage.

"Mark it," you told him.

He looked up at you, and for a second. he thought he misheard you.

"I want you to mark it," you repeated and brought his hands to your breasts.

Felix licked his lips until they were glistening with his saliva before taking your breast in his mouth and began sucking, placing gentle kisses before finally making his marks on the flesh.

You pressed your mouth shut to muffle your yelps of pain until he was done marking your chest with his mouth.

"You are mine," he remarked as he looked at the blossoming marks on your skin.

"I am yours," you said back then put your hands around his neck to kiss him again, kisses where teeth and tongue clashed, kisses that were intoxicating and as addictive as the cigarettes that he smokes.

Kisses that made you lower all of your guards and gave your will to your body.

You unbuckled his belt and pulled it down just enough to get his erection sprung free, then impatiently ran your hands up and down his length.

"Wait," he whispered against your mouth.

Holding you from falling off, he put one hand around your waist as his other hand reached down for his wallet. He pulled out the familiar foil packet then ripped the wrapper open with his teeth.

"Let me do it," you offered.

He nodded.

You took the condom from him and slowly rolled the rubber down his length him holding your hair from draping around your face.

He pulled your head up once you had done putting the condom for him and kissed you so deeply, so dizzying like he was sucking the oxygen out of you.

You let go of his kiss with a gasp and smiled at him, "baby, I need to breathe," you muttered.

He chuckled, "that's why I'm giving you a mouth to mouth resuscitation,"

He tightened his hold around you and pulled you again for a kiss. One of his hands went down to your wet core and slipped inside your underwear, his thumb circling your bundle of nerves repeatedly that forced low moans to spill out of your mouth. His eyes enjoyed how your face contorted and slacked in pleasure from his gentle touches on your delicate flesh.

He put your underwear to the side and ran his fingers down your slit like you weren't dripping already.

"So wet for me," he said the kissed the inside of your arm.

One hand on your waist and another aligned his cock at your entrance, he signaled you to start easing down on him.

You both let out a moan at the same time as you kept lowering yourself on him and him from filling you.

"You take me so well, babe," he said to you when he was fully inside you.

He caressed your back and down to the curve of your ass all the while you were grinding on him, feeling his whole length inside you.

The car was rocking due to the intense activity inside the car, you fucking him as he held you close and endlessly whispering you with sweet nothings that did nothing but get you closer to your climax.

His mouth occasionally sucked on your nipples and pinched them, making you yelp in pain and aroused at once.

But he loves when he heard you moan like you were in pain and that it made you clench around him.

He did it a few more times, tugging your nipples between his teeth and gently pulling at it.

"Baby," you mewled but kept the motion of hips going and moaned again, the moan resounding in the small space of his car.

"I love when you moan like that," he said to you, then captured your lips for a slobbering kiss.

You both cum around each other not long after, holding each other so close as both of you relishing the immense pleasure, Felix rubbed your back with his hands and peppered your shoulder with small wet kisses.

"Come here, give me a kiss," he said as he turned his head so he could kiss you on the lips.

You gave him a long peck on the lips, and it reminded you of something, you looked over your shoulder and spotted the abandoned pack of cigarettes on the dashboard of the car.

"You said I tasted better when I don't smoke," he said, knowing that you were eyeing the cigarettes.

"Yes, you are," you said to him, then gave him another peck.

"I don't smoke so I can get a lot of kisses from you," he added.

Trying to stop an addiction is extremely hard but his willingness to at least, try not to do it whenever he was with you was also an effort that needed appreciation.

"Thank you for doing that for me," you muttered to him.

He sighed delightfully and smiled at you, "and you better kiss me a lot,"

He drove you home right after you both watched the sun rises and immediately ran back to your room before your parents found out you weren't in your room.

Once you were back inside your room, you opened your curtains. and he was there waiting for you by his window, you waved your hands at him before finally collapsing onto the bed to sleep.

Tonight, you felt a little empty that you couldn't spend the night with him since you had to wake up early to drive your father to the airport for he'll be talking at a seminar.

You tossed and turned on your bed, pulled up your duvet up to your chest then closed your eyes.

At first, you thought you imagined the tapping sounds on your window because of how much you wanted to be with him. The sound amplified, and you got off the bed to check it, opened the curtains, found him right outside your window.

You quickly pulled open the window and stuck your head out, "how did you-" then you saw that he climbed the tree that grew close next to your window, and he was sitting on one of its trunks.

"Stepped aside, I'm coming in," he said to you.

You did what he said and watched as he stepped inside your bedroom through the window then closed it. He sighed triumphantly for successfully entering your room safely,

"You're not going to kiss me?" He said as he looked at you standing in the corner of the room.

You walked up to him and melted into his hug, tilted your head upward to let him land a kiss on you.

"I can't sleep without seeing you first," he whispered, then lowered his mouth on you.

His hands that were on your waist moved down to your hips, and he halted his kisses when he realized you were wearing tiny teensy silk shorts that barely covered your ass.

"I'm glad you didn't get out much," he said to you, his eyes traveling down your body and up again, then saw your nipples poking through the thin camisole you were wearing.

"Your body is mine to explore," he stated as if you were his treasure that isn't to share with anyone.

You both got on your bed and lay so close to each other as if the bed wasn't big enough for two persons. He lay next to you with one arm around and under your head, the other slipping under your camisole to touch the skin on your stomach.

"Should I take a break from college and stay here with you?" You asked him.

He exhaled, "didn't you work hard to get into that university?"

"Yeah,"

"Well, I don't see why you should do that,"

"I want to be with you," you said again, "and also, the other students are way ahead of me. They're smarter and cleverer than me, I don't think I can catch up with them," you explained, you couldn’t believe how you blurted out the real reason why you reluctant from going back to college after the summer end.

"There'll always be someone smarter and cleverer than you," he said, "but what makes the difference is the hard work,"

You got quiet from listening to his words.

He removed the hair that curtained your face to the back, "I think you are better than giving up because they're smarter than you," he traced your jaw with his finger, "you are going to work so hard and prove yourself," then ran a thumb over your lips.

"Right?" He asked for a confirmation.

"Right," you replied.

"Good girl!" He praised then kissed your lips.

You sighed when he pried open your mouth with his tongue as his hand flew to the waistband of your shorts and didn't hesitate to slip his hand inside.

"I'll make you sleep so tight tonight," he said against your lips when his hand landed on your cunt and gently traced the folds.

"But we have to stay quiet," you reminded him.

Felix inserted one finger inside you without warning, and a loud moan escaped your mouth.

"No," he said, "you have to stay quiet," as he pulled out his finger to add another digit and pushed two fingers inside.

The whole drive to the airport was excruciating, not the drive but the quietness of it led your thoughts to an endless pit.

When your mother woke you up this morning, Felix was already left, you felt relieved of course, but the way he left without telling you made you think over what you said to him before you fell asleep.

You told him that he should start meeting your parents so he could take you out during the day and not only at night, you sensed something was amiss the moment you said and saw his jaws tense. Or maybe he left simply because he didn't want to wake you up, and you settled on the latter no matter how much your logic denied it.

"You're so quiet," your mom said without looking away from the road ahead.

You stifled a laugh, "I couldn't sleep last night," you lied.

"Really? I could barely wake you up this morning," she said.

You rubbed your neck out of groggy, if only she knew what you did in your room while she was sleeping.

"Am I seeing things? or someone is sitting on our porch holding flowers?" She exclaimed as she pulled up to the house and parked the car.

You grinned as you saw Felix sitting on the stairs, getting up as soon as he saw you arrived while holding flowers in his hands.

"Aren't you the son, wait, is it Felix?" Your mom asked him.

He cleared his throat and rubbed his palm on his jeans before speaking, "I'm sorry that I haven't properly introduced myself, I'm Felix," he held out his hand.

Your mom took his hand and shook it, "You're very good looking," she shamelessly said, making you almost wince at her words.

You saw Felix sheepishly smile at your mom, "and this is for you," he gave the flowers to her.

"Yellow tulips!" Your mom exclaimed with so much enthusiasm, she loves flowers and intended to grow them herself but didn't know how to.

Your mouth hung open and suddenly felt odd watching them talking in front of you, it felt like you were third wheeling them, not the opposite.

"I was thinking if I could take your daughter for lunch?" He asked, then shot you a wink since your mom was busy smelling the flowers.

"Lunch, dinner, you can take her wherever you want," she answered.

"Mom!" You nudged her elbow.

"Responsibly, of course," she added.

"I'll make sure to not bring her back home late," Felix said. Your mom laughed, "she's 21 years old, she doesn't have a curfew anymore," she said, then tapped his shoulder, "I'm just glad someone taking her out of the house!"

"Mom!" You groaned again.

Felix smiled politely, " if you excuse us?"

"Sure, sure, you two have fun!" Your mom said, then climbed the stairs to unlock the door.

You glared at him as soon as your mother got inside the house, "were you trying to seduce my mom?"

"If only I knew her sooner," he said with a sigh.

You groaned, "Ugh, I can't imagine,"

"Don't tell me you're jealous?" He asked with a sly grin painted on his face.

You rolled your eyes at him, "are we going to get lunch or not? Because I'm starving," you said to him as you walked toward his car.

"I'm right, you're jealous," he teased as he unlocked the door, "You should be because your mom is cool and hot too,"

You groaned out loud and plopped on the passenger seat.

"Isn’t it nice going out on the day?" You said to him and took another lick of your ice cream, "we can have lunch together and have ice cream after," you added.

Felix scooped a big chunk of ice cream from the bowl and shoved it into his mouth, "No, I don't like it," he said.

"Said the one who ate most of the ice cream," you sneered.

He looked different during the day, the most visible were the dark circles under his eyes then the faint freckles on his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. Other than that, he's still the same Felix with the same brooding eyes and the same smiles that radiate so much warmth.

"Want to have a dessert after?" You asked him.

"Aren't we having our desserts, right now?"

You shook your head, "not this dessert,"

Felix squinted his eyes at you, "in the middle of the day?" He asked you.

He must have a lewd thought, and you quickly shook your head again.

"What then?" He asked with an eyebrow raised.

"Pick the one you want!" You ordered.

You walked among the trees of an apple orchard that belongs to a family of one of your high school friends.

"Find the ripest and juicy one!" You added as you also looked up at the apples hanging from the trees.

Felix pointed to one that hung low enough, "that one!" He said, "that one looks like the forbidden apple!"

He then squatted down on the ground, and you came up to him, wrapping your legs around his neck before he slowly lifted you on his shoulders.

"A bit to the left," you instructed, and he complied, taking a step to the left.

You reached up and took the apple in your hand, gripped it tightly in your palm, twisted it to pick it up.

"I got it," you informed him.

He held his hand up at you and handed him his apple.

"Can you move, hmm..." you looked around, eyeing your apple, "three steps to the right," you ordered.

"Got you," he confirmed, then took careful steps to the right.

You did the same thing, the stem was easily removed from the branch. Thanks to your friend for teaching you how to properly pick an apple, and how to know it's ripe.

"I got mine," you told Felix.

He slowly lowered himself until it was safe for you to jump off his back. You sighed in relief when your feet were on the ground again while Felix panted.

"I'm sorry. I must be heavy," you muttered.

He was unable to speak but gave you a thumb up.

You heard someone coming in your way, you immediately took his hand and said, "we have to run, now!"

"But didn't you know the owner of the orchard?"

"Well, the whole town knows them," you told him.

You looked around and heard the voices of people closing in, "Run! Now!" You yelled, then dragged him behind you as you broke into a run.

You drove back to the hilltop and sat on the hood of the car, the sun was getting low, and the air temperature lowered, making it warm and pleasant in the afternoon.

Felix bit into his apple, the juice spilling from the corner of his mouth.

"How is it?" You asked him

He chewed on the fruit for a moment then swallowed it, "forbidden fruit is the sweetest," he remarked.

You gleefully smiled at him and bit into your apple.

Felix brought out a quilt then spread it on the hood of the car so both of you could lay down while watching the sunset.

You lay on your side facing him with his arm under you as a pillow, your hand flew to his cheeks to touch his freckles, "you should get out more and get some sun for your freckles," you said to him.

He stayed quiet then turned his a head at you. He stared into your eyes with unwavering eyes then grabbed your hand by your wrist and kissed the inside of your hand.

"If you can die from sadness, can you also die from happiness?" He asked you out of the blue.

You scrunched your nose in confusion, "why are you asking that?" You asked him.

He sighed, turned his head, and held your face, "because I'm so happy right now, I think I could die," he said, then gave you a tender kiss on the lips.

"You made me so happy," his voice broke at the end of the sentence.

You almost cried because you could feel how sincere and genuine his feelings for you made your love for him more intense, and it cannot be changed, reversed, or recovered.

And just like that, one summer day turned into an eternal one, one that you'll remember for the rest of your life, and like how the sun sets for the day, there was no way of getting back from that.

He drove you home afterward, but instead of parking right in front of your house, he parked his car by his house.

"There's no one in the house," he quickly said to you before you protested.

He opened your car door then led you into the house, and he was right that there was no sign of people inside.

"Where's everyone?" you asked.

"They went out to see a musical," he shortly replied.

"And you're not coming with them?" you asked because you always used to have your parent insist you come with them to such occasions.

"Because it's kind of my sister thing," he answered with a shrug, then pulled you by your hand to take you upstairs.

It wasn't hard to guess which one is Felix's bedroom because his located right across from yours.

The first thing that caught your interest was his records collections on the shelf and the vintage-looking record player next to it.

You walked up to see your bedroom through his window, and it felt weird as if you saw yourself through the other side of the mirror.

"This is how you watch me through the window," you said to him.

He raised an eyebrow at you, "I have the best view in town," he replied.

There was a study desk on one side of the room with a laptop that was still on, you nudged the mouse controller that made the screen lit up and showed a file that he probably was working on.

"Are you working on something?" you asked him.

He sat on the end of the bed and took off his boots, "That would be the college assignment," he replied.

Felix saw the surprised look on your face when he mentioned college,

"I took online classes," he elaborated, "why? You think I'm just doing nothing during the day and dating you by night?" He asked, reclining on the bed with hands propped behind him and spreading his legs.

"Of course not," you quickly denied, "you know I didn't mean that. It's just that you never told me anything about it," you defended yourself.

Felix chuckled at the slight horror on your face, "I know," he resolved, "I never told you because it was just a boring topic to talk about," he said.

You sauntered to his dresser and observed things that sprawled on top of it, from ID photos to ticket stubs.

You spotted a childhood photo of him on one of the framed photos, "Aww..." you cooed, "is this little Felix?" You asked him while showing him the picture.

He groaned, "babe, put it down and come here!" He ordered.

"Can I take this photo, please?" You begged.

He shook his head, "put it down!" He commanded.

You ignored him, opened the back of the frame to take the photo but Felix was quick to pull you by the belt loop, sending you tumbling onto his lap.

"Why don't you let me have it?" You complained then straddled him on the bed.

"You already have me," he casually answered.

You softly laughed at his answer.

"And also, that is not why I'm taking you here," he said to you, putting his hands around your waist then tugging the hem of your t-shirt.

You stopped him, "are you sure your parents won't come home soon?" You asked him, afraid that they might come home anytime.

"Yes, because after the musical, my sister would ask them to buy her ice cream before leaving," he assured you.

"How do you know?" You asked.

"Because I went with her several times already,"

You hesitated for a while but eventually caved in, slowly letting go of his hands to let him take it off of you.

He captured your lips in his, kissing you with such passion with both of his hands on your neck. He didn't waste time unclasping your bra next then kissing the skin between your breasts after.

He grabbed your breasts in his hands and put them into his mouth, sucking and licking the hardening buds in turns.

You tugged at his hair when he sucked on the flesh too hard, "Felix, please!" You whined.

He groaned against your skin and tightened his hold around you. He shifted on the bed to lay you down and rested your head on his pillow that smells just like him.

He took his top off then lowered himself on top of you with his head buried in your neck.

You were so lost in each other's touches with mouth continuously connected.

When you heard a car engine closing in the house, you both instantly sat up on the bed.

"I think my sister has her ice cream on the cone this time," he said to you, he quickly collected your t-shirt and bra from the floor and handed it to you.

Felix frantically put his t-shirt back again then helped you slip your arms into your t-shirt. He pulled you by the hand to go back downstairs before his family entered the house, ran to the kitchen, and got out through the back door.

You waited for his family to enter the house before running back to the front of the house, then walking to your house.

Felix pushed you to your side of the wall and laughed.

You laughed along with him, "that was close," you exclaimed.

"I know," he said, but he took it differently, he pinned you against the wall and kissed you.

The kiss lasted for a few moments, you let him have his way and tasted you as much as he wanted until eventually, he broke the kiss.

"How come I never get enough of kissing you?" He asked.

You gave him a peck on the lips, "well, you have exceeded your quota for today," you playfully stated, then gently pushed him away by his chest.

He leaned in quick, but you dodged away from him quicker, "No more kisses!" You sternly said.

He groaned with his mouth on your shoulder, "This is why I hate taking you out during the day. I hate to say goodnight to you," he said to you.

You held his face and placed kisses on his face except for his mouth, "Goodnight," you said back to him, then finished it with a kiss on his neck, a soft feather-like one that always worked wonder on him.

You walked away from him, but he was quick to pull you by the hand, he hugged you so tight and squeezed your ass so hard you gasped.

"You bad girl!" he beamed, then kissed you on your neck, sucked on the skin so hard to leave a mark right there.

"Good luck trying to keep it hidden from your parents!" he said as soon as he let go of his kiss.

He walked backward in the direction of his house with a smirk on his face.

You said a quick goodnight to your parents as soon as you arrived home from picking up your father from the airport. It was barely midnight but when you opened your curtains, you could see through the closed curtains that the lights in his room were off.

You spotted his car was parked right outside, and it was impossible that he was already asleep at this hour.

You decided to take a shower since you waited hours at the airport because your father's plane suddenly got delayed for two hours.

You were standing under the shower when you heard the shower curtains slide open and screamed out of panic.

His hand flew to cover your mouth, and it was when you realized it was Felix.

When you calmed down, he let go of his hand.

"How did you-"

"Through the window," he quickly responded before you could finish the question.

But you heard footsteps coming in, then Felix immediately jumped inside the tub, you shut the shower curtain.

The door opened not long after, and your mom poked her head in, "I heard the scream! Are you okay? What's wrong?" She asked you.

You clung to your shower curtain, "Nothing. I accidentally set the water too hot, that's all!"

Your mom sighed in relief, "okay then. Be careful, goodnight!"

"Goodnight, mom!" You replied before she finally closed the door.

You turned around to face him, "what are you doing?" You asked him again.

"Look at you lying for me," he cooed, then placed his hands around your face and kissed you so deeply.

The beads of water on your body seeped into his clothes.

Felix frantically took off his shoes and all of his clothes before joining you under the shower.

You saw the hickeys you made on his neck, and collarbone had turned blue on his skin. He held you close as soon as he got himself wet with the warm water. "I miss you so much," he said to your ear.

And you put your hands around his neck as you whispered back, "I miss you too," and it hurt because it was true.

He pushed your body to one side of the tiled wall and caged you with his arms, lowered his mouth on your chest, then made a trail of kisses down your body until he kneel in front of you.

He lifted one of your legs, kissing your inner thigh and licking drops of water with his hot mouth before finally, finally putting it on your throbbing core.

You looked down and saw him were looking up at you through his lashes, sticking out his tongue in kitten licks, and teasing your clit.

You grabbed a fistful of his hair as a support, and you could only hope that the sound of the water running would be enough to drown out your loud moans.

"Is your daughter home?" Felix asked the second your mom greeted him by the door.

"She's upstairs busy packing her things to get back to college," she answered, then letting him come into the house.

Your mom called your name out loud, and you came tumbling down the stairs in a hurry, knowing your mom won't stop calling you until you are right in front of her.

"Mom, I'm busy," you said to her.

"There's a Felix looking for you," she said as she pointed to the man sitting on the stool next to the kitchen island, "he's joining us for dinner,"

You got surprised because he didn't say anything about coming to your house and would be having dinner with your family.

When your father came and saw Felix, he asked, "Who is this?"

Felix got up from his seat and introduced himself, "I'm Felix from next door," and stuck his hand out.

"Hello, Felix from next door," your father said back then shook his hand.

Thankfully, the dinner went well. Your parents asked him a few questions, but none of them seemed to discomfort him, you saw his feet bounce under the table, and you placed your hand on your knee to calm him down, he abruptly stopped and flashed you a smile.

After getting permission from both of your parents for taking you out for the night, despite it would be the umpteenth time you both go out at night, Felix said goodnight to them then walked to the car.

"Have a second thought on flirting with my mom?" You teased as you got in the car.

"I don't think I can compete with your dad. He's cool," he replied, then started the car engine.

He took you to see a band playing in a pub tonight, the place was already crowded with a lot of people when you got in. Felix excused himself to get both of your drinks before the show started.

You felt a hand on your shoulder that made you instantly turn around.

"I didn't know you are in town!" The guy said.

You looked at him and recognized him as a friend from high school, but you couldn't remember his name.

"It's me, Lee!" He said to you.

"Oh!" You gasped.

He went on to hug you, and it was too late to avoid it since he went in right away.

"Are you here for the summer?" He asked again, taking a step closer to you since the pub got crowded with more people.

"Yes," you hastily answered.

"I don't think I have your number," he said, he held out his phone at you, "can you-"

You quickly took his phone and entered your number since people began brushing your shoulders as they walked past you.

"Let's hang out sometimes," he said as he slid his phone back into his jacket pocket.

"Uh... I'm not sure," you hummed, then forced a smile, "I'll be back to college soon," you said.

Felix came behind you, handed you your drink, then put his arm around you in a possessive way, "who's this?" He asked.

"My friend from high school," you replied.

Felix pulled out a cigarette and put it between his teeth, "I'm her boyfriend," he said to your friend, more like a statement than information.

"I'm Lee, I'm her friend," your friend kindly introduced himself and held out his hand at Felix.

Instead of shaking his hand, Felix pulled out a lighter to light his cigarette. You got upset because your friend was trying to be nice, but he ignored him like that.

Your friend slowly retracted his hand and shoved it into his jeans.

"You two have a great night," he said before turning around to leave.

Felix took a drag of his smoke, and a curl of smoke escaped his mouth.

"Hey," he called out to him, and your friend turned around, "don’t you dare call her, she's mine," he said, and he never sounded this bitter.

You shot your friend an apologetic look before leaving out of sight.

The band started playing in the background, and the loud music filled the room, and you pushed him just enough to send him staggering backward.

"What is wrong with you?" You asked him.

"He was trying to get in your pants," he replied.

You scoffed, "he was just trying to be nice. He's just a friend,"

He smirked, then took another drag of his smoke, "babe, we both know he wants to be more than a friend to you," he said.

"Especially if you give out your number easily like that to him," he added.

You pushed him harder this time that his back hit the person standing behind him then stomped outside.

You were so upset you didn't realize you were crying until the night air felt cold on your cheeks. You roughly wiped them with the back of your hands and walked across the parking lot.

"Where are you going?" He shouted as he ran towards you.

You ignored him and kept on walking, clutching your jacket together.

He grabbed your elbow and pulled you close.

"Get off of me," you said to him and yanked your hand away from him.

But he pulled you into a hug instead and wrapped his hands around you, not willing to let you go.

"Get off," you shouted again and tried to break yourself away from him.

That only made him tighten his hold around you, "I'm not going to let you go until you calm down," he sternly said to you.

You stopped resisting and cried into his chest.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry," he repeatedly said on top of your head and cradled your head close to his chest.

"I want to go home," you mumbled against his chest.

Felix sighed, "Okay, let me drive you home," he said.

The drive home was quiet; you stared out the window the whole time to avoid looking at him. He was being an asshole tonight, and you didn't want to let it slide easily, it was so unlike him, so sensitive and hot-headed.

And the way he spoke to you earlier, like you were just some easy girl he just met, not the one he had been with for the last three weeks and sleeping with almost every night.

Your heart burns as his words keep replaying in the back of your head like a broken record.

When he pulled up in front of your house, you took off your safety belt and got off of his car without saying anything.

"You come home early," your dad said when he saw you coming in from the front door.

You looked down so he couldn't see your puffy eyes, "the show is canceled," you shortly replied, "I'm going to my room, goodnight," you quickly muttered, then climbed the stairs to your room.

Without turning on the lamp, you lay facing down on your bed and cried until you fell asleep.

You woke up in the middle of the night as you felt someone was there beside you on the bed, he snaked his hand around you and placed a rose in front of you.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered to you.

You didn't reply but put a hand under your head as he held you close.

Felix pushed his nose close to the crook of your neck, "I hate to be reminded that you'll be gone in less than a week," he admitted, "that, and I hate that you smiled at the other guy as you did to me,"

You felt his body heat on your back as he shifted his body so close to yours on the bed, "I never love someone this much, it scares me," he said to you, then placed a tender kiss on the skin behind your ear.

You felt a twinge on your heart from the way he uttered his words as if it pained him just from saying it.

"The way you said those words to me, I hate it," you choked in your words as tears started welling up in your eyes, "so bitter, out of spite,"

Felix held you protectively, "I know, I hate myself for that," he said to you, "I get it if you don't forgive me, but please, don't ignore me like this," he pleaded.

"I feel like I'm losing my mind without you," he hopelessly said, "I need you," he said with his mouth on the nape of your neck.

And you needed him as much as he needed you, you turned on the bed to face him and saw his face, that shade of cool he usually has on his face replaced with a sad one.

"I hate you," you said to him.

"You can hate me as much as you want," he said back and took your hand in his to kiss it.

"I hate you so much," you said again.

"I deserve that," he replied.

Yet you melted almost immediately as he pulled you into his hug, rubbing your back with his hands and letting you drink in the scent of him: of sunshine, freshly cut grass, and a hint of smoke.

He lifted your head above him, brushing your hair from covering your face, and held it there, "I fucking love you so much," he said to you, with that deep voice of him that sent a shudder down your spine.

"I love you," your voice broke at the end of the sentence.

You quickly pressed a kiss on his mouth, which he eagerly returned with the same enthusiasm, holding the back of your head and angling his face to deepen the kiss.

He turned you over and had you pinned underneath him, you ran your hand on his neck only to slide his leather jacket down his arm.

He took it off for you, then his t-shirt next; his bare upper body looked smooth and marble-like under the pale moonlight that shone through your window.

He lowered himself and kissed you again, hands slowly taking off your clothes, and you did the same with his.

Your bedroom was littered with both of your clothes, and with the duvet, you accidentally kicked out of the bed as your naked bodies slithered around each other.

"I don't have any condoms," he said to you, sounding a little panicked.

"It's okay," you said, "I'm on the pill,"

"Is it alright with you?"

"Yes,"

Felix tried not to lose it as he entered you without any protection, feeling you completely would easily strip off all sense of control he has in him.

You spread your legs wider for him as he pushed in all of his remaining lengths into you, ever so gently not to hurt you.

He growled when he fully bottomed out, his fingers lifted your chin,

"Are you okay?"

You smiled at him, "yes,"

He gave you a peck on the lips, "you feel so good, babe," he praised you with a hand rubbing the side of your thigh.

He began moving against you, thrusting slowly and as shallow as possible with his hands as pillars on each side of your head and eyes that didn't break the contact even for a mere second.

You touched his chest and abdomen, endlessly roaming his body as you had never touched him before and admiring how beautiful he is.

Your moans became louder at the intensified pleasure, Felix helped you muffle it by pressing his mouth on you. Your hands clawed his biceps and probably made crescent marks on the skin.

"Felix, I'm so close," you told him.

"Let it go, babe," he encouraged you.

Felix watched you as you let out breathless cries of pleasure when you hit your high, calling out his name repeatedly like a vesper.

He cum inside you not long after letting out the deepest growl you ever heard from him so close to your ear.

You hummed in pleasure when he lowered himself on top of you to plant more kisses on you without pulling out of you.

He made new marks on your chest since the previous ones he made were already turned pale yellow.

You held in your painful gasps when he sucked the skin too hard and bit it, pulling on his hair to lessen the pain.

He licked the mark he just made, then kissed you on the lips,

"You're mine," he said, "only mine," he said again, then carefully put all of his weight on you.

You held him close and felt his heart beating so close to yours until your breathing became synced with each other.

You tightened your hands around him at the sudden realization that he could bring so much happiness and sadness as easily as turning his hand. That is how much power he holds over you.

"And you are mine," you muttered back.

Using the rose, Felix trailed your marked chest with it and whimpered when one of the petals fell off when it touched your nipple.

"You're so beautiful," he said, his eyes crinkled against the dark of your room.

You played with the hair on the nape of his neck, "when did you buy it though?" You asked out of curiosity.

"I didn't buy it," he said.

Your eyebrows shot up in a slight shock.

"I picked it from Mrs. Kim's garden across the street," he replied, now the rose traced your lips in a circular motion for his mouth to finally take over.

"Felix?" you softly called him

"Yeah?"

"Take me on a date," you ordered.

"You want me to take you on a date?" he repeated your request just in case he misheard you.

"Yes," you replied.

You heard him sighed on top of your head, "okay," he replied then held you close until you both fell asleep.

The next morning, he was gone.

You got anxious when you didn't see his car parked outside his house, you reminded yourself that maybe he got to do something himself because it wasn't always about you and him being together all the time.

He has a life outside of you.

You checked for his room through your window from time to time, and nothing.

You lay on your bed facing the window hoping he would come, and ended up falling asleep with a restless mind.

The next day, still nothing.

No car, no sight of him. It was like that time all over again, but this time, you felt like slowly losing the grasp of your sanity the longer you didn't see him.

You didn't bother to check for him the next morning.

You went back to reading your book to take your mind off of him, it was a fruitless effort because you kept losing focus and had to reread the page at least two more times before turning a new page.

When you were on the verge of your breaking point, that was when he came back.

You heard the tapping on your window, you badly wanted to give him the taste of his own medicine but the urge to see him was too irresistible.

You walked to the window and opened it, you stuck your head out, and there he was, by his window and waving at you.

He held out a carton with writings on it:

"I'm sorry. I had things to do. I should be talking to you right now, but..."

"My sister is sick and sleeping now."

He dropped the first carton and turned into a new one:

"Look, I know you're mad, but please, hear read me out,"

"I'm sorry it took a long time for me,"

He turned to another page:

"Do you want to go on a date with me?"

You pursed your lips while thinking of an answer even though it was obvious what it would be. You stalled on giving him the answer as a way to get back to him.

He turned another page:

"I was thinking movies then dinner then..."

"A lot of kisses?"

He drew the glassy eyes emoji at the end of the sentence.

You smiled at how adorable he was right now, that was just how much he could influence you.

He looked around your house before turning a new page that said:

"And we can do more than kisses after"

the hurriedly dropped the carton down on the floor before anyone else sees, he held out another:

"yes or YES?"

You giggled again.

He dropped the last carton and placed his hands together to beg you.

"Please?" He mouthed to you.

You stifled a nod, "yes," you mouthed.

He punched the air with his fist, then bit the fist to contain his excitement. He quickly wrote a new message on the carton then held it up at you.

"I'll pick you up at 8?"

You nodded again then closed the window since you have to pick an outfit for the date later.

Felix rang your doorbell just right on time and not long after that, your mom called you downstairs. You spritz some perfume on your neck, wrist, and inner arm, then take a last look at the mirror before heading downstairs.

Felix was talking with your mom at the threshold and it was like one of those moments in the movies, where the guy waits for the girl at the base of the stairs.

His face lit up when he saw you descending the stairs, wearing a red dress with your hair down, not that you weren't beautiful to him before, but this, you were stunningly beautiful he couldn't take his eyes off of you.

You giggled when you noticed he was wearing a formal white shirt with black pants and top it off with his signature leather jacket. He looked dashing, like out of a magazine pictorial.

His smile grew wider when you approached him.

"Ready to go?" He asked you.

"Yes," you answered.

Felix turned to face your mom, "I'll make sure to bring her back safe," he said to her, "have a great evening!" He greeted her before taking you out of the house.

He opened the car door for you, and you smiled at him before getting in.

He sighed when he sat down on his seat, "I never take a girl out for a date before," he admitted.

"Are you trying to brag that you have girls taken you on dates before?" You joked.

"Yeah, kind of," he joked back.

You playfully punched him on the shoulder but then leaned in for a kiss.

No matter how much he wanted to kiss you, he shook his head no,

"I'm saving all the kisses for later," he said to you as he caressed your cheek, his breath smells of spearmint, he must have taken one of those mint candies he used to eat.

You held his face with both of your hands, "Are you really Felix?" you teased,

"New and improved," he remarked.

You chose a romantic comedy, not for a cliche reason, but the options were this or a horror movie. And Felix, as cool as he sounded, was not a big fan of horror movies.

He put an arm around you, and you rested your head on his shoulder, feeding him popcorn once in a while.

"We should have chosen the other movie," he said to you.

"It's okay. I don't care about the movies as long as I'm with you," you said to him.

He squeezed your arm, "how do you always know what to say?"

You lowly laughed then looked up at him, "why? do you want to kiss me now?" You teased.

He looked at you, his eyes darted to your lips, then shook his head, "No, I still can handle it,"

"But I taste salty and buttery now," you said, then pursed your lips at him.

"Nice try!" He said, putting his hand on your chin to turn your head back to the screen.

Right after the movie, just like what he had planned, he took you for dinner. Instead of taking you to a fancy restaurant, he took you to a burger joint. You might have looked overdressed, but who cares?

You sat on one of the booths with Felix sitting across from you.

"We can go to another place if you want to," he told you.

You shook your head, "no, this is just exactly what I like," you assured him with a giddy smile.

When your order came, you dug in right away. You haven't eaten anything but popcorn since this afternoon, you were too busy preparing for the date.

"I used to wonder why people sit facing each other when they're on a date, but now I get it," he said.

"It's the eye contact, and I get to see your face the whole time and watch you eating so well," he added

You suppressed your laugh.

He looked at you with a hand propped under his chin, "you're so beautiful, babe,"

You quickly chewed on your food and swallowed, "You did not just say that while my mouth is full of food," you mumbled.

"And the ketchup on the corner of your mouth is kind of sexy," he added with a thumb between his teeth.

"Oh?" You quickly search for a napkin.

He reached for your face, and you leaned forward so he could wipe it for you, "there," he said as soon as he wiped it clean with his thumb.

"Thank you," you muttered and grinned at him.

He went to sit next to you when he was done with his food, putting an arm on the headrest of the seat.

"You changed your mind about the sitting position?" You asked him.

"When I think about it, I think people on a date should close next to each other," he said.

"Why?"

"Because they can see each other better and closer," he explained.

"And?"

"And they can hold hands," he said, taking your hand on the table and clasped it with his.

"And?" You asked.

"And they can kiss," he answered.

You softly chuckled, "are you going to kiss me now?"

He leaned in so close, "I don't think I can resist it anymore," he answered, then crashed his lips on yours so tenderly.

He was relieved he got to taste your lips again after a while, it was like having a glass of water after quenched his thirst for so long.

You stopped him before the kiss became too racy, aware that you were in a public space.

"I like this dress," he whispered.

He traced the neckline of your dress with his finger, then rubbed your side to tug the hem of your dress between his fingers.

He pushed his mouth close to your ear, "why don't we go somewhere where I can take this dress off of you?" He whispered to you.

His deep voice never fails to send a shudder down your spine, like he cast a spell on you that made you unable to say no to him.

He did what he badly wanted to do to you, taking off your dress by pulling the zipper down your back. The dress slid down your body almost instantly, sending it pooled around your ankle.

You took it and put it on the car seat, you helped him take his shirt off next, unbuttoning it one by one with his eyes looking at you.

When all the clothes were off of your bodies, Felix held his hand out at you, and you took it. You both walked into the lake, carefully going into the water with him steadily holding your hand, and you followed his lead.

It was like that night he took you swimming in the lake, but this time, you were skinny dipping with the full moon shining above you.

You squealed when he lifted you in the air before bringing you back into the water, then clinging to his shoulders.

He held you close, hoisted you higher against him, and he looked up at you as drops of water dripped down from the end of your hair.

As you looked down at him, looking into his eyes and the moonlight that reflected on them made you realize how beautiful he is.

You kissed him, and he returned the kiss with the same passion, in that moment, the world belonged to you and him.

With the summer was about the end, the night air started to feel cold, you got out of the lake shivering and hugging yourself.

Once you got inside the car, you sat on his lap as he wrapped a quilt around your bodies and huddled together in the backseat.

You sat with your feet up and curled into a ball on his lap, pressing your cheek on his chest to feel his body heat.

He rubbed your shoulder then kissed it, "is it warm enough for you?" He asked.

"Yes," you answered with your eyes closed, "how about you?" You asked back.

"I got a giant cat on my lap. I think I'm alright," he said.

You purred on his chest like a cat.

He chuckled and patted your head endearingly, then kissed the top of your head.

"Ready to go home, now?" he asked once you both got dressed and he put his leather jacket on you.

You groaned, "No, I still want to be with you, and it's only 11!"

He popped another mint candy into his mouth then smiled, "Well, as a gentleman, I have to send you home early,"

You pouted.

He turned the key on the ignition, "you're the one who asked for a proper date!" he reminded you.

"I know," you whined.

He patted your head, "Once I get you home, you can have your favorite Felix back!"

"All Felix is my favorite," you said.

"Yeah..." he began driving the car back to the main road, "but your favorite Felix is less of a gentleman than this,"

Your mother was filling her glass with water when you came back from your date.

You grinned at her when she saw you walking up the stairs.

"It's not even midnight, and you already back," she said to you.

"He insisted on being a gentleman today," you replied from the top of the stairs.

It was funny because your mom thought it was a joke when actually it was the truth.

"I'm going to sleep, goodnight!" you greeted, then hurriedly entered your bedroom.

When you turned around after closing the door, Felix was already sitting on your bed and grinning at you.

He wrapped his finger around your neck and his other hand circled your clit while his hips thrusting in and out of you from behind.

You took the hand that was on your neck and shoved his fingers into your mouth to muffle your moans. You sucked on his fingers instead.

"You keep clenching around me, babe!" he said into your ear.

He placed a wet kiss on your neck, "if you keep doing that I might cum too fast," he said again.

But you couldn't control it, the intensity of his thrust only pushed you closer to your climax, and every drag of his length around your walls was immensely pleasurable to you.

You pulled his fingers out of your mouth, and a string of saliva dribbled down your chin, you turned your head to meet his, "cum inside me, fill me," you said to him.

He growled against your neck, "fuck," he cursed.

His thrusts turned sloppy and out of rhythm, he bit your shoulder to muffle his grunts.

His hand went to grab your breast and roughly pulled on your nipple, making you yelp in pain.

You climaxed a moment later, pulling his head to pull him into a kiss and to contain your high-pitched moans.

Felix followed, cumming inside you while placing soothing rubs on your thighs as he released all of his seed inside you.

"Take all of me, baby," he said against your lips.

He dragged your body closer to him and was not willing to pull out of you yet.

He kissed you again and murmured sweet nothings to you for every kiss.

"You drive me crazy, babe,"

"I can't get enough of you,"

"You are phenomenal,"

"fuck, I'll get hard when I think of this,"

And you smiled against his lips.

"Thank you for today!" you said, nuzzling your head to the crook of his neck, "the best date I've ever had," you hummed while rubbing his forearms that rested on your wasit.

He placed a kiss on your shoulder, "are you that happy?" he asked.

You looked at him, "Yes, very, very happy!"

He smiled, "I have a favor to ask,"

"What's that?" you asked.

He held your hand, "can you hold on to this feeling whenever you think of me?"

His eyes were intensely looking at you, sparkled like two dark marbles. You didn't want to find out what drove him to ask such a favor.

You nodded and said, "Yes"

"I have another favor to ask you too," you said.

"Yeah?"

"Let's just spend as much time as we can before I leave," you said to him.

His eyes fluttered shut, and after a while, he nodded.

"Okay," he said, then held you close on the bed.

His answer didn't quite comfort you, it was like a point mark at the end of a sentence, like the pitch-black screen at the end of a movie, it sounded final, like a goodbye.

And you were right, that was the last time you saw him.

You understood that he was scared of letting you go and chose to run away from it because it was easier and less painful than living every minute of being reminded that you will be leaving.

What scares him the most was because his feelings for you were real.

On that very last night, you waited by your windowsill as a last resort to meet him.

You heard the roar of his car engine and immediately rushed downstairs, then got outside. He stopped his car as soon as he saw you come running to your front yard.

You got into his car without saying anything, it was reek with the cigarette smoke, and you saw an empty pack on the cupholder.

"You broke your promise," you said without looking at him.

"I don't think I promised you anything," he said with a loud sigh.

"Are you really that scared?" You asked him, turning your head at him this time to look into his eyes.

"Scared of what?" He asked.

You didn't answer but kept staring into his eyes.

"You are scared because it's real," you said.

"Should I remind why did you run away here? Isn't it because you're scared?" he snapped.

You scoffed but quickly calmed yourself down, "that makes the two of us then," you remarked.

Somehow you always knew that you two are mirror images of each other. You were drawn to each other because you were so much alike. You showed each other’s best and worst, you felt insecure around each other yet sought comfort in each other's presence.

You are a twin flame. You set each other ablaze the moment you met, and together your flames became brighter, better, and then out of control, an inferno.

You took the last look at him, feeling sad for both of you and that things ended like this. You burned each other out until there was nothing left but smoke and ash.

"Goodbye, Felix," you said to him, ignoring the fact that your heart burst into a million pieces that very moment.

The flames flickered off the moment you got out of the car.

And maybe it was true, that it was better to burn out than to fade away.

taglist: @ft3rachaa @skkzkyy @wooyoungs5lut @a-hyunjinshairband @cloudyybinin @bangcrispychannie @staysstrays @mainexiii @yubinism @minaamhh

!! DONT SKIP !! donations urgently needed They are only at €5,561 out of €50,000 goal

I was contacted by Nader to draw pictures for and help spread his brother Abdulsalam Al-Anqar’s fundraiser to save their family. Nader is a 17 year old boy who lives in Gaza with his family: parents Ahmed (54) and mother Iman (49), brothers Abdulsalam (26), Mohammed (14), and Omar (21) and Abdulsalam’s wife and their one year old daughter Iman. Imagine it was your sibling, your friend, your son, who should be in school or with his friends, who instead has to hide from bombs and ask for help online to save his family. His family have suffered through one year of genocide. All of you are their hope to get to safety.

This fundraiser is vetted by @gazavetters, number four on the spreadsheet here

Abdulsalams daughter Iman is only one year old and has lived most her life in a war zone. She is suffering from malnutrition. It’s every fathers worst nightmare to see their child starve and not be able to feed her. Please help him feed his daughter and get her to safety. No child should grow up hearing the sound of bombs. Every child has the right to food and safety. You can help give Iman the childhood she should have, where she can sleep in a safe bed at night with a full stomach.

Their father Ahmed has cancer and needs surgery and medication. It is not possible to get the treatment he needs in Gaza. every day his illness is left untreated, the cancer will continue to spread through his body, so he very urgently needs money for treatment and travel. If you help them get to their goal, you are saving their fathers life. Don’t let this family who have already lost so much lose their father, husband, and grandfather

Nader has showed me pictures of this explosion close to them, thankfully they were able to get away. Every day they stay in Gaza their lives are at risk from israeli bombs. Every day and hour counts. I know there are compassionate and kind people who are willing to help. every euro helps, YOUR donation will bring them one moment closer to safety. With love and hope I’m asking you to give what you can, I believe in the kind people of the world and I beg you to not let them die. If you can’t donate, please share so it may reach people who can.

Never forget that palestinians are not numbers on a list of deaths. Please think of each of them, think of their names and faces and know that you can help them. I think of them every day. I think of the hopes and dreams they should achieve, I think of their education, their future, and the love they show when they work hard every day to get help. You may feel powerless to stop this genocide, but you have the power to save Abdulsalam and his family. I dream that the day will come soon where they may use their days to rest and recover from what they’ve been through, where they can share a meal and laugh and the children will play, instead of having to use their time to beg the world to listen and help them. We can make this possible.

50 000 euros is a lot of money for one person to give, but for all of us together, it can be done. Please don’t look away.

(drawing above by @neechees)

Thank you for reading their story. Please don’t keep scrolling without sharing

here is the link again to their fundraiser

tagging for reach:

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