Taeyong sits behind you in class. He doesn’t have to - there’s no assigned seating. It’s just the chair he gravitates toward. It’s hard not to notice when he does it every single class.
He’s hard not to notice.
Especially when he asks you for a pen, or the time, or what assignment is due that day. He always finds an excuse to talk to you before class starts and yet somehow he has yet to ask you out.
So you’ve decided to ask him instead.
It’s the modern era and a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do. If you wait for him to ask you’ll be in a rocking chair in the retirement home.
No. You need to do this.
But how? What does one say?
‘Hey sexy, I wanna take you out for waffles!’ Or how about ’looking good, sweet cakes. Wanna make this official or not?’ Or perhaps ‘I like the way you handled our group project, maybe you could handle something else of mine tonight?’
But if they didn’t work on you would they really work on Taeyong? He is a guy so maybe? You could change ‘hey sexy’ to ‘hey big boy’ and, boom, you have a winner. He won’t be able to say no!
No… that won’t work on Taeyong. At least you hope it won’t.
No, no, no. He’s gentle. He’s sweet. He’s handing you a rose?
“Happy Valentine’s,” he whispers, a wide grin plastered across his face.
“It’s July?”
It’s a question because maybe this is the time where you were actually transported to a parallel dimension. One where you and Taeyong exchange gifts on Valentine's Day. One where you and Taeyong are already dating and you don’t have to actually ask him out.
Is it July?
“Yeah, I know.” His smile is still in place as you take the rose. “I couldn’t very well say happy birthday when it’s my birthday, not yours. That wouldn’t have worked.”
You can’t help but smile, a smile that quickly turns into a laugh. “Did happy Valentine’s work better?”
“Well, happy day I guess,” he says with a little pout and it takes all your willpower not to pinch his cheeks.
“Happy birthday. I’m meant to get you something for your birthday, not the other way around.”
He grins and leans over, making it so you don’t have to twist back to look at him, giving your neck and back a rest. “You being here is present enough.”
Cute!
Heat tinges your cheeks and your body moves on its own, looking away from his bright smile. ‘Thank you,’ is all you’re able to get out, your previous bravado condensed to a whisper as you slink into your chair, ready to spill into a puddle on the floor.
The moment is perfect. Why ruin it with the possibility of a rejection?
“Since it’s my birthday and all,” he says before pausing. You turn back to look at him. His eyes are on the ground, his face is flushed and he’s fiddling with the buttons on his shirt. “Maybe you want to… you know? With me? Eat with me. Food, I mean.”
Your body is on fire with happiness, your stomach is doing somersaults, your toes are curled up in anticipation. You want to squeal, you want to jump up and down, you want to run outside and tell the entire world that you’re going on a date with Taeyong! But your professor just walked through the door so instead you lean back and say, “Can’t wait, big boy.”
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Summary - You’re still in your robe when the photographer arrives. She wasn’t exactly what you were expecting, but it’s a pleasant surprise.
Genre - Fluff
Warnings - Suggestive content, makeout scene, mostly just cute.
Word Count - 1.7k
“Oh?” The word escapes your lips before you fully process the situation. This wasn’t what you were expecting.
The girl in front of you tilts her head. She glances at you for a moment before her eyes shift away. Girl. Girl being the pivotal word. It’s not exactly politically correct of you but you were expecting a man.
“Ah, right. Please, come in,” you say, stepping aside to let her in. She hesitates a moment before stepping over the threshold, the strap of the black duffel bag she’s carrying slung tight across her chest as she lugs the bulk of it behind her.
She has her camera up in front of her face before you’ve even closed the door behind her. It takes you a moment to compose yourself after the flash goes off but once a smile is back in place you lead her to the room you had set up last night.
“Your company set everything up for you.” You press the button on the side of the extension cord like they showed you and all the lights come to life. It’s overwhelming, like being in front of a thousand flashing cameras at once.
She looks at the room then her eyes flutter across your face and down your body. She sucks her teeth.
“What is it?” You touch your face. The makeup artist already left. To be honest you had been expecting a team to arrive this afternoon, not this tiny girl.
“It’s overkill,” she says, barely loud enough for you to hear as she walks up to one of the lights. “You don’t need all this.”
“Do you plan to fix everything post shoot?”
“Fix everything?”
“All the flaws,” you say, your fingers flicking back and forth in front of your face.
“What flaws?”
She clicks her camera right as your lips part. You take a step back, your eyes narrowing. “What did you say your name was?”
“I didn’t.” She takes another photo. “It’s Winter.”
“And what company are you with?”
There’s a moment of silence before she lets out a long exaggerated sigh. Putting her camera down for a moment she goes through her bag and pulls out her business card. She hands it over with both hands.
“Okay.” Everything looks right. She just doesn’t have that, how do you say, professional vibe the rest of the employees had. They said they were sending their best. “You’re just… you’re not exactly what I was expecting.”
“What were you expecting?” she asks as she digs in her bag once more. She pulls out a camera lens which she attaches after removing the one she was previously using. They all look the same to you, but you’re glad she’s finally taking this job seriously.
“Something else.”
Winter chuckles, the sound soft and airy, as she stands up. Her eyes flicker to the other side of the room, towards the small table you set out with your various outfits you wanted to try for the shoot. Before you have a moment to explain she is at the table. “Is this what you plan to wear?”
“Ah, yeah…” you offer pathetically. “Do you think they’ll work?”
She hums as she peruses, her fingers gliding across the different materials. “I guess so.”
“Do you think there’s something that would look better?” you ask, biting your lip as you paw at your hair. “I have more options. I just thought, ah, you know, that this would be the best.”
“They’re fine.” She turns from the table and her eyes widen for a moment before, in one fluid movement, she lifts her camera, aligns it and clicks. “But they aren’t needed. I think you look beautiful like this.”
“In my robe?”
“Yeah,” she says, taking another photo. “You have so much expression.”
Heat spreads out across your face and you turn away, but not before she gets off another click. You pull the thick robe tight around your chest, and snuggle into the plush material at your neck.
“Should we start or…” your voice fades and you nod a few times before twisting your lips.
“Sure,” Winter agrees. “Why don’t you stand over there?”
“Like this?”
“A little to the left. Not so stiff. Just relax.”
You take in a deep breath of the cool air and blow it all out, contorting your body as you do so. The top half of your body is slumped over the back of the chair beside you, the hard wood of it digging into your ribs. “Like this?”
She chuckles. You frown.
“Here,” she says walking up to you. Her hands are gentle on the back of yours as she guides you into a standing position. “Like this.”
“Better?” You already know the answer. Staring off to the left, your muscles are tight as you attempt to hold a smile and keep your head high.
“Just relax.”
“I am.”
“You feel relaxed right now?”
“Yep.”
“Liar.”
“Excuse me?” You turn to face her and she clicks that damn camera again. Taking a deep breath you compose yourself once more. “Okay. Fine. I don’t know how to relax.”
Winter lowers her camera. It’s subtle but you noticed it – she’s biting her lip as her eyes search your body. She nods absentmindedly as her eyes find yours. The moment is over fast, her eyes lowered to the floor before she covers her tiny doll face back up, pulling her camera into place.
The moment was quick but you couldn’t help but notice something. Winter is stunning. There are no words. How can one describe the soft curves of her supple skin, the dreamy look in her eyes, the perfect shape of her lips?
“You shouldn’t be hiding behind the camera.”
“I’m not hiding.”
“I mean,” you say, closing the distance between you. “You’re too pretty to be behind the camera.”
“I don’t know about that.” Her back stiffens as you lift your hand towards her camera. “What are you doing?”
“Can I?” You hold out your hand palm up.
“What?” She peeks over at you from the top of the camera and you can’t help but smile. Her eyes are sharp and hesitant – like a cat – under her black bob. You have an urge to see if her hair is as silky as it looks.
“I want to take a photo of you,” you answer, your hand still held out.
“I’m here to take photos of you.” She drops back behind the camera and you can’t help but feel a little sad.
“No fair,” you hum with a pout and the camera clicks. Turning away, you sigh dramatically as she whispers something so soft you almost don’t hear her.
“I like to take photos of pretty things.”
Your eyes snap back to her and a smile spreads across your face. “You think I’m pretty?”
“Have you ever looked in a mirror?” she asks and somehow even the camera seems to eyeroll. A giggle escapes your throat and you swipe at the air in front of you as if to catch it.
“Have you?” you ask.
“Have I what?”
“Looked in a mirror. I don’t know who lied to you but you seem to have no idea how gorgeous you are. It’s criminal.” This time when you move towards her she doesn’t move away. “I think I know why you hide behind your camera now.”
“And why is that?”
“You’re a distraction.” Leaning in a little further you lift the end of her hair with your fingertips and let the strands fall across your skin. Softer than silk. “No one can concentrate in front of someone so captivating.”
“You’re smooth,” she says with an awkward laugh. “It hasn’t been a problem before.”
“That’s only because no one else was really looking.” Placing a single finger on the camera you push down on it until she lets it fall to her side. Her cheeks are pink and her eyes are looking everywhere except at yours but at least she isn’t hiding anymore.
“It’s easier to take the photos.” Her grip is tight on the camera as she looks down at it, now wedged up against her thigh. She starts to lift her arm.
“Please don’t,” you whisper, stepping right in front of her. Her arm continues to lift. Your fingers graze her wrist, the movement so light you almost don’t feel it yourself.
“I feel naked without it,” she says, as the camera reaches back up to her chest.
“Then,” you say, untying the rope around your waist. You let the robe fall to the ground revealing a simple black dress underneath. “Let me feel it too.”
Winter’s eyes narrow as she watches you reach around for the zipper on your dress. As you start to unzip it her eyes widen, her free hand flinging out towards your shoulder. “What are you doing?”
“I’m making you more comfortable.” Grabbing her hand off your shoulder gingerly, you clasp it tightly within your own hands as you look into her eyes, eyes that are finally on you. “You feel naked without your camera. I can’t very well let you feel so exposed on your own.”
“You are making me feel even more exposed,” she says with a tiny laugh.
“That wasn’t my inten–”
Before you can finish your sentence her lips brush up against yours. She smells like candy and tastes like chocolate. It’s warm and inviting but over much too quickly.
Her smile is sunset and strawberry fields and you want to get lost in it forever.
She leans back toward you, and you don’t know how you missed: that cute dimple and those perfectly placed dots under her eyes. Her lips are right next to your ear as she unzips your dress the rest of the way. “We still need to figure out what you should wear for the shoot.”
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I currently have a few shorts for my #PictureThis collection for Han, Taehyung, Chaewon, Bang Chan, Sakura, Jeonghan, Lee Dong Wook, Gong Yoo, Wonwoo, Lee Know, Jungkook, Sukuna and Mingyu!!!
I have a a few longer fics for Kyungsoo, Mark Lee, Hyunjin, Taemin, and Jinsik. I’m really excited to share these!!!
Plus many more that haven’t moved from my notebooks yet since I’ve been finding it easier to write on paper … but not edit hahaha
I will be posting a few of these soon. I plan to post this week!
I have so many things I am working on and so many ideas - and more time now to write so I’ll be more active again for a little while before college starts back up in the fall 💕
hey bestie!!! ok so genuine question and i mean this with love but. WHEN. i have been sitting here for months (years??) refreshing your page like my life depends on it and i am not the only one i KNOW there are others. you clearly have talent so why are we all just left to suffer?? i am actually losing my marbles waiting for an update to your many MANY unfinished fics lol it's been months and i am starving here!!
not to be that girl but if you’re suffering from writer's block have you thought about just using ai to finish the drafts?? 😭 like just to get the words out? a bunch of my mutuals use it for plotting/filler scenes and it would save you so much time so we can finally get more content!! just a thought love you mean it xx
Ummm. Was, this, written, by, ai? lol sorry if it wasn’t, but what is this? Thank you for reading my content and enjoying my content but if you like what I write then you shouldn’t want me to use AI. I know I take forever to write (or actually to edit 😅) but I really don’t understand the point of using ai. It wouldn’t be my own work — please stop saying it is.
Thank you for your support but please continue to support me and not ai content. The funny thing is I have checked out many of these ai’s and I wasn’t able to find a way to use them. I don’t like the way they sound and I don’t think they’re as smart or useful as everyone seems to think they are. All they succeeded in doing was making me pull my hair out. I shouldn’t have to tell it every single tiny minuscule thing I need it to do for it to work. It takes less time to do it myself AND it hurts the earth less. Plus it just isn’t what you think it is. It’s unfulfilling.
Imagine if I went to get a tattoo with a list of everything I wanted in detail including a bunch of reference images and then when the artist I paid to make this piece of art was finished I went around telling everyone I was the one who completed the tattoo.
What if I gave the contractor all my ideas and every time they did something I wasn’t happy with I asked them to change it. Did I complete the house remodel? Or hey, I drove myself here, after all I gave the driver all the directions. I watched the keys move on the self playing piano after supplying the song I wanted to play. I’m the piano player. Hell, at this point I must be a piano teacher.
Paying for someone else to do the thing or asking a machine to do it is not doing the thing! People using calculators are practically math gods at this point. “Let’s clean the house,” you say putting down the Roomba.
And I’m so sick of using disabilities as an excuse for ai. As someone who struggles to write consistently due to several illnesses I take offense to this. Sorry babe but if you can’t even write a fanfic because of your disability then maybe you need to find a new hobby, because what you are doing is not creating, all you’re doing is delegating. Prompting is not creating. And can we all agree and notice that when they are called out they are somehow able to write a long winded response? But I thought you couldn’t do that by yourself because of your disabilities?
I know writing and making art is hard. That’s okay. It’s not for everyone. If you don’t love it enough to keep trying and chipping away at it you don’t have to keep going. No one is forcing you to keep going, no one is forcing you to finish within a certain timeframe and no one is forcing you to be here.
And anyone with any amount of experience with writing and/or ai can tell when it is ai generated. It’s pretty obvious and it’s annoying. I wonder if they get off on people not knowing. I don’t blame the readers. Every fic sounds the same. Also now the newer writers who actually do write their own content are seeing this ai slop and how many notes they can get and of course that is how they’ve all started to write. It’s an endless circle jerk cycle and I’m sick of it!
I have been working on a LDW fic actually! Well, I was before I started going back to school haha
It’s almost summer break though so I plan to edit and post a few things and to write some fics again! So hopefully there will be some updates here shortly!
“Shhh,” he whispers, pressing a finger to your lips. “I don’t want to know your name.”
Before you can respond he’s flipping you around, jamming you up against the wall, his chest hard against your back. His hands roam across your body and his lips caress your neck. Heat spreads across your skin focusing on your face, arms and between your legs.
How did you even get here?
Not that it really matters now though, not when his cock is sliding in and out of your wet pussy.
The tight space of this little stall, the unknown stranger thrusting inside you, the way he grinds his fingers hard against your clit, hard and dirty – it’s all too much. The feeling of it all has you riding your high faster than ever before.
But he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t slow down. As if you’re just a tool to him, he keeps up his pace to the point of overstimulation meets fear. Right when you’re sure you can’t take another moment of it he spills inside you, his body tight and tense as he fills you up.
He hums against your neck and pats your head before pulling out, zipping up and walking out without another word, leaving you to clean up the cum dripping down your thighs.
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Sitting at the kitchen table, coffee in hand, you look out the window with a frown. The birds are singing, the sun is shining, the kids are laughing. Everything is merry and bright yet you can’t stop yourself from feeling this sense of dread.
“You had the dream again last night, didn’t you?”
His voice startles you. Namjoon leans against the counter looking down at you as you sip the bitter mess of a coffee you made this morning. He’s just worried about you but a part of you resents him; for his ability to sleep, for his ability to think clearly, for his ability to look well rested. He looks great, clear skin and silky hair, nothing like the bug-eyed drowned rat of a person you’ve become.
“How’d you guess?” You try not to sound like an asshole but it’s hard to be kind on two hours of sleep.
“What do you think it means?” He doesn’t miss a step, continuing as if you hadn’t just barked out the question.
“I wish I knew.” You sigh, his stable patience breathing new life into you. “It’s not even a horrible dream – that’s the thing. Anyone else would be happy with it. I should be happy.”
“You shouldn’t be anything. You’re allowed to feel whatever’s going on inside,” he says, his eyes on yours. It’s too intense. You look away. He leans over and kisses your forehead before turning to pour himself a coffee. It’s a mistake; you can see it on his face as soon as he takes the first sip. It’s awful. You should know.
“Tell me about the dream again,” he says as he pours the sorry excuse of a coffee down the drain.
“It’s the same one.” You resist a sigh. He’s trying to be helpful, there’s nothing he can do so he’s trying to figure it out. “The pressed flowers in a pink envelope from a traveller who says it’s always been mine when I open it. The music box that only plays when it rains. A book with no words that when I touch the pages hums a hymn I’d forgotten long ago. It’s not horrifying, and that scares me the most. It feels like it should be something wonderful but somehow all it does is fill me with dread.”
He nods for a moment before holding up a finger. “Aha! I have a brilliant idea.”
“Oh course you do,” you say, shaking your head with a smile tugging at the edge of your lips. The man can do literally nothing and still make you smile.
“You’ve been thinking too hard about the problem. You need a day off.” You raise a brow and he continues, “Let's play hooky.”
“Hooky?” Who says ‘hooky’?
“That’s right. Let’s call out sick.” Before you can shut him down, he adds, “You’re overworked and stuck on this dream as if it’s a problem to be solved. Maybe it's a cry for help. Perhaps it is telling you to live a little. Let’s go for a bike ride and act like kids for the day, exploring and making even the small things fun.”
You laugh. “Who are you?”
He pulls you up into his arms, holding you close to his chest. “I’m just trying something. I don’t want to see you sad anymore.”
“Okay,” you whisper, your lips against his neck as you let your mind wander to the pond down in the grove not far from your house. There’s a giant koi fish inside that sparkles like gold when the sun hits it just right. “Let’s find that childish spark of wonder once more.”
Being called AI has to be a top fear right now. But then I remember that I don’t post anything because I don’t edit anything 😭😭😭😂 There is so much ai content out there right now too, it’s disheartening because it is doing so well.
But that’s okay! Things are coming! I have been writing a lot! I am trying to get into the habit of editing more now too so more content coming soon!
Which I have been saying for years but I really mean it this time! Believe me! Believe in me! I really mean it! I do! 😂
I have so much to post once I edit and I’ve started editing a few shorts a week so I’ll be posting some of them soon and I’m working my way up to editing the larger ones 🥺
He makes it look so easy. It is easy. It shouldn’t have been the ordeal you made it out to be and maybe it wasn’t. Some part of you, a not so far down part, knows that you could have done this yourself. After all, it’s not hard to change a lightbulb.
In your defense, it is encased in a shade with strange screws, in the hallway, above your staircase. Sure, you can’t reach it yourself, but a ladder would work just as easily. And yes, the step stool you tried did almost kill you but you could have found a way to steady it. This is all correct. You could have found a way to replace your own lightbulb.
But where’s the fun in that?
Watching Jeno reach up to change the bulb after lugging in more tools than necessary after you had talked up the job was worth it. You have nothing going on today, why not be entertained by your friendly neighbour? Especially in those tight jeans that hug him in all the right places and that tight tank he’s donning. Add in some bedhead and you can’t help but wonder if he rushed over here as soon as he woke up.
Some might say you’re gawking but you prefer the term admiring. Guys do it to you constantly so what’s the harm in doing it right back? When they’re as hot as Jeno is, anyway.
He hands you the glass shade and you wrinkle your nose. It's dusty, and a film of grime soon covers your fingers. You don’t want to miss anything but this thing must not have been cleaned since this apartment was erected! You rush into the kitchen and wash it quickly; rinsing, cleaning and drying with a speed you didn’t know you possessed before scurrying back to your personal handyman.
He’s waiting for the lid with a smile on his face. A smile that quickly fades as you say, “I thought you would be wearing less.” You hand him the glass shade and his mouth drops. You hold your hand under the shade to support it as his grip loosens for a moment.
“You what?”
“The utility belt is a nice touch.”
“I was under the impression this was a more difficult job,” he says, regaining his composure and his grip on the glass. He tuts at you before turning back to the task at hand, quickly securing the light shade in place. He grins and adds, “if I had known it would be this simple I would have brought out the short shorts.”
“Don’t tease.”
“I’m not.”
“Unless you’re wearing them, you’re teasing.”
“Maybe I have them on underneath these,” he says with a chuckle as he slides a hand down the side of his jeans.
“Liar.” You couldn’t fit anything under those pants. They are practically a second skin.
He leans in, his breath on your neck and whispers, “There’s only one way to find out.”
Thought I was doing amazing with my 840 words in one sitting until I looked over at my writing partner and she’s easily at 2k (no doubt closer to 3k) and I’m just 😩
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Summary - Your next door neighbour has some friends over and they are loud. You ask them to keep it down and one of them follows you back to your apartment.
Genre - Fluff
Warnings - Suggestive, misunderstandings, pet names, swearing, teasing,
Word Count - 2.5K
A/N - Yunho won the poll! I finally edited this one! Hope you all like it <3
Can you figure out which member is which?
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It’s late and your next door neighbour has all his loud friends over again.
It’s not the first time this week and neither is it the first time you’ve had to go over and ask him to keep it down. When he’s by himself the volume is fine–when he’s alone he’s great!–it’s only when they all get together it turns into complete utter chaos.
You don’t want to be the bad guy but you’re trying to get some work done before you head to bed and you don’t plan to stay up all night. Why can’t he keep this under control? Why do you always have to be the bad guy?
The door is practically jumping, the vibration from the noise and movement inside shaking it on its hinges as you walk up. Will they even hear you knocking at this point? Surely no one will hear you over the hysterical laughter coming from inside. You try it anyway, three firm knocks.
There’s no response so you try again, harder.
And again.
And again.
Tapping your foot with impatience you decide on a backup plan – a post it note. Luckily you had the sense of mind to bring some along with a pen. After all, this isn’t your first time at this rodeo. Also luckily for you, this apartment is cheap and the construction of said building questionable, the doors don’t quite touch the ground which leaves plenty of room to slide the note underneath.
You write out a nice message (nice considering the circumstance, nice considering the time of night and nice considering your current mood) and try to slide it under the door. The sticky note latches onto the bottom of the door. You hold in a groan by biting your lip as you bend down closer to the door, down on your hands and knees, and yank the note off. You try again and this time it gets stuck in the crease of the door jam. It has somehow sucked it up and under and crammed it into the small space.
“For fuck’s sake!” You curl your fingers under the door to free the note as the door flies open, leaving you to topple to the floor face first.
“What are you doing?” the man asks as you look him up at him, your face burning. It’s not your neighbour. It must be one of his friends.
“I was leaving a, uh, a note,” you stammer the words, snatching the post it note back from the jam. It tears in two, leaving most of it behind, now crumbled up inside the door frame. You lean close to the door, ignoring the sneer of the man above you, and peel the pieces back one by one as he watches. You hold out the pieces of the note as evidence.
“You’re writing a note for San?”
“San?”
“You don’t know San?” The man frowns down at you, one eye more narrowed than the other. “Who did you say you were?”
“I didn’t. Look, I’m just leaving a note to ask you guys to keep it down,” you say, standing up with a sigh. “I knocked several times.”
“Did you guys hear a knock?” he yells over his shoulder.
An echo of ‘no’s’ rings out before you hear a familiar voice ask, “Who is it?”
“Some girl,” he replies, giving you the old once over. “A cute girl.”
“Invite her in,” someone yells back and a chorus of laughter follows.
“Just keep it down in there,” you huff out, hands on your hips. “There are people with children, you know. And jobs to get to in the morning.”
“She’s a single mum,” he adds to his previous comments as some of his friends start to mosey over.
“A MILF,” one of them adds with a nod as his eyes flutter across your body, making you feel exposed.
“I’m not a MILF!”
“Don’t be shy, girl,” the new guy says, coming up to the door. “You’re hot.”
“I’m not, I mean, what I mean is–”
“She’s cute when he’s flustered,” another one says, leaning lazily against his friend at the door. “You wanna come in? We can send Wooyoung to look after the kid.”
“Hey!” The one who answered the door, Wooyoung, smacks the newcomer with his open palm. “Why don’t you take care of the kid and I’ll take care of the mother.” He grins at you, his brow quirking as he asks, “What do ya say?”
You roll your eyes. “There’s no kid.”
“Great, then you have no reason to say no,” the newcomer says, opening the door a little wider.
“Just keep it down,” you practically growl out the words before turning and stomping back to your own door. There’s another round of laughter before the door shuts, dampening the sound… but not killing it. They are obnoxiously loud.
The door opens again and you spin on your heels, keys in hand, and gasp.
He’s fucking gorgeous.
Tall and commanding, sultry and dangerous. You inhale deeply and as if compelled take a step back.
“Oh shit! Yunho’s going after the MILF!”
“She’s not a MILF, idiot!”
“I thought you said she was hot?”
He shuts the door and the chatter dims. He’s smiling.
“Sorry about them. They can be a bit… rowdy.”
“Aha,” you say, letting the syllables of the word draw out as you motion towards the door with a flick of your head. “And I’m sure you’re Mr. Responsible.”
“Well, maybe not entirely responsible,” he says with a grin. He’s dazzling, his smile sucking the air out of the room, a smile that screams ‘this has worked on all the girls before you’ and you’re sure it has. He takes a step towards your side of the hall. “I promise we’re not so bad.”
A silent battle rages within and the urge to return his smile overpowers you. “Not so bad? Just really loud.”
“I’ll tell them to keep it down.”
“You do that.” You turn back to the door and slide the key into the lock. “Good night.”
“You aren’t going to invite me in?”
Turning back to face him again you narrow your eyes. Ignoring his puppy eyes you ask, “And why would I do that? I don’t even know your name.”
“Yunho,” he says, a hand on his chest as he takes another step towards you. “And you are?”
“Tired.”
“Right, of course, how rude of me.” His lips pull back into a grimace as he makes a clicking noise with his tongue. “A single mother needs her rest.”
“A single– I am not–”
“Ahhh. Hmmm.” He nods, his eyes pensive, a determined thin line where his lips used to be.
“I’m not pregnant, I’m not married and I don’t have kids. I’m just someone who has to get some work done tonight before I go to sleep.” You open the door a crack before turning back to face him. “And I don’t want to be some conquest you run and tell your buddies about in the morning.”
“Mmm.” He nods, a whisper of a smile on his lips. His happy bubbly energy is infuriating.
“What?”
“Hmm?”
“You obviously have something to say. Go ahead and just say it.”
“No, no, no. You have work to do,” he says, laughter dancing in his eyes.
“Just spit it out already.”
“It just seems to me that you’re lonely.” He takes a final step, now right next to you and a part of you wants to pull back but this is your door.
“Excuse me?”
“You’ve been over here, working hard,” he says, leaning against your doorframe, blocking any exit plans you may have had, filling up your field of vision. Strength and comfort in a single stance. “And there’s a part of you that’s reaching out for some human contact.”
“Is that so?”
“Yep.” His smile is so bright you take a step back and as you do you have a chance to really take him in. Messy bedhead waves, kind eyes and lips that make you want to test if they’re as soft as they look. His shirt is styled larger than he needs and it hangs off one of his shoulders revealing a tank underneath. As you continue to stare his hands inch up to his neck to play with the hair there. His fingers are long and slender as they move across his collarbone, tempting you with what else is hiding beneath.
“Hmm.” He bites his lip as he straightens his shirt with a look of discomfort. When you raise a brow he grins, his previous expression gone. “I’m not a piece of meat, you know.”
Resisting an eye roll you motion for him to move. “It’s late.”
“It’s only 10PM. On a Saturday. What kind of nightmare boss do you work for?” He laughs but he moves away from the door.
“Some people like to get up early.”
“No one likes to get up early.”
“Well… some people have to.”
“Like MILFs?” He grins, his eyes almost closing as he bares his teeth in a Cheshire Cat grin. He leans against the wall right next to your door.
“Very funny. You’re a funny guy.” You let out a long sigh. “Maybe if you and your friends hadn’t been so obnoxious all evening I would…” You let the words fade away as you look up at him, that little niggling frown back. What? You would have what? This guy is a stranger and a friend of your neighbour at that. You know better than to get involved with someone so close to home.
“You would…?” He’s good looking and he knows it. He almost got you, he almost had you dancing to the drum of his seductive beat. Swooning. You refuse. Shaking your head you straighten up.
“I would have had a better night. That’s all.”
“Ahh…” His smile fades and you reach out your hand to soothe him on autopilot before catching yourself mid arm pat.
“Well, good night then.”
“Yeah, you already said that.”
“I know,” you say quickly as you try to ignore the fact that your body has inched closer to his, like a magnet, your chest now seeking his. You swallow and pull yourself together. “I know. I just wanted to make sure you heard me.”
“Awe, you want me to have a good night?” He grins again, his eyes practically sparkling with mischief. “What else do you want for me?”
“You’re a menace!” You nudge his shoulder and laugh. When he continues to look at you expectantly you hum in thought. What do you want for him? Maybe you want him to pick you up and throw you over his shoulder, take you inside and toss you down on the bed so he can defile you. All. Night. Long.
But you can’t very well say that. Not out loud. Not to his face. Well, at least you shouldn’t.
As if able to read your inner dialogue a sly smirk spreads across his perfect features. “All that, huh?”
“I want you to be quiet. You and your friends,” you mumble out the words with an angry pout, your hands on your hips. “How about that?”
“How about”–he slides closer, closing the already nonexistent gap between you to lean down close to your ear and whisper–“you tell the truth?”
Blood rushes across your skin, your heartbeat thumps to a song only you can hear making everything except the closeness of the man to you dull and blur. In this moment, nothing else feels important.
“Fine, the truth is–” You cut yourself off as your hands bury themselves in hair and fabric, one under his oversized shirt, one feeling just how soft those locks are. Your lips quickly find his, tasting him as you melt into his touch. He lifts you up and you take the opportunity to wrap your legs around his waist as his tongue dances along your lips until you open them to allow the kiss to deepen. It’s not enough.
You rock gently against his crotch, overwhelmed by the heat flooding your body. Would it be wrong to tear his clothes off right here? You want him inside you. Now.
You’re tempted to, and maybe you will, but you shouldn’t, not here.
Pulling back you pant softly as you catch your breath, you look down at him as your fingers caress the side of his face, his throat, his neck. He looks so beautiful with his lids half closed, your lip gloss smeared across his lips and down his throat, as he watches you waiting to see what your next move will be.
Leaning in close you retrace your steps, this time taking it slow, each kiss bringing about a murmur of excitement from Yunho until you are flipped around, a squeal escaping your lips as you cling to him. Back pressed up against the wall you moan as his lips find yours once more.
Spirals of pleasure circle up and down your body as he grinds against your aching cunt, your own small rhythmic rocks adding to the friction. Your fingernails dig into his back as you bite his lip, eliciting a groan from the back of his throat as Yunho squeezes your arse and pulls you even closer. You open your eyes as a clicking sound pings from down the hall but you close them again as Yunho’s lips move down your neck. Tilting your head you give him more access and instantly regret it as a moan exits your lips the moment his teeth graze the sensitive skin of your neck.
“Dammmnnn.”
The voice rings out, your body is humming with pleasure and your mind is still trying to catch up but once it does you realize the voice wasn’t the man with his tongue now down your throat.
“Yunho’s out here necking that MILF girl.”
“Who says necking?”
“What? Are they fucking?”
“He looks like a vampire in heat.”
Why are they so loud? There’s only one outside, the others are still inside. For now. Nevermind, two more just popped their heads out from the other side of the door. They are all grinning over at you, one of them is covering his mouth as if in shock.
“Ahh,” Yunho breathes out, the pressure of his hands tighten protectively as he continues to hold you up. You twist slightly and he lessens his hold, easing you down until your feet are back on the ground.
“Maybe we should,” you whisper, and motion towards the doorway right next to you. “You want to?”
“Your room?” He smirks, causal in his avoidance of your hand as you try to slap him. “How about we have a drink first and see where it goes?”
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