#gureishi writes requests

[space-kitten-606]

Oh oh oh I have a request! 🙋🏼‍♀️

This is oddly specific and I’m so sorry if you’ve done this one before and I missed it! I literally just thought this and then couldn’t stop thinking it.

Saeyoung...teaching you to drive??

Like say maybe MC lives in a city where lots of people never learn how to drive (I live in a place like this) and he finds out they don’t know how and is like ??? let me teach you~

Anyway I bow down to you and your writing and I’m excited to read any and all requests you do 😍

It's basically been a year, if not longer and I am SO sorry!! So much happened and I'm honestly just glad I am still here. I actually had this finished for quite a while, but lost my notes too so I could never actually post it....until today because I finally found them!!! Who would've thought that I was literally walking past them every single day ;-;

Anyway, here it is. I hope it is alright, especially since I can't drive myself so I have no clue how driving actually works. I am pretty sure I looked it up as I wrote it though, so I hope I didn't misunderstand uwu

Saeyoung teaching Mc how to drive

you never thought much about learning to drive

sure, most of your friends had cars already and plenty of jobs even required it, but it never seemed too necessary for you

all you ever needed to reach in your day to day life you could easily get to via public transport

and if you really ended up in a pickle, either Uber or friends and family had your back

now that you lived with a car enthusiast however, things changed a bit

while Saeyoung was more than happy to drive you wherever you wanted, he was shook to hear you had no license

how empty must your life be without the love of a sweet baby car?

without the experience of having it’s motor purr beneath you, and follow your every whim??

no matter how many times you told him that you were entirely fine with the love you received from your boyfriend - him, he was relentless

you discussed it back and forth with him, when saw his eyes shine at a thought flashing through his mind

“I could teach you!!”

you thought he was kidding at first

but the sparkle in his eyes and the twitching of his leg told you he was dead serious

“I…I don’t know about this Sae….”

“It’ll be great! I’m the best driver you’ll ever meet and I’ll get to take out one of my older babies I don’t use so much anymore!!”, he paused for a moment as you raised your brow. “Listen, sweetie. I love you more than my life, but if you can’t drive there are just some cars that are off limits for you.”

you couldn’t argue with that.

In fact, you felt a bit apprehensive about him allowing you to touch any of his cars.

or at least putting you behind their wheel

no matter how much you tried to talk him out of it though, he wouldn’t budge

Saeyoung was going to show you how to drive, and you had no chance to begin with to change his mind

thus, only a couple days later, you found yourself in the car with him, on a backroad he promised had hardly any drivers coming by

though he had given you a bunch of theoretical information since he was set on his idea, your heart was racing in your chest

what if you did something wrong and broke the cars? Or worse?

next to you, Saeyoung was completely relaxed. He was your polar opposite.

“Okay, what first?”, he asked

his voice was soft and calm, fitting his demeanor

you bit your lip. “Scream?”

Saeyoung chuckled at your suggestion

“If my memory serves me right, you already did that at home and on the way here, so I think you can go for the next step.”

“Scream some more?”

“You can do that later. For now, adjust the mirrors.”

Sighing, you nodded to yourself and did as you were told

“Can you see properly through each one?”

you checked carefully; then, when you were sure, nodded

“Next….,” he started, prompting you to continue

“Start the engine?”, you asked carefully

reluctantly, you turned the key, making the engine “purr” as your boyfriend always called it

except it didn’t purr at all and lunged forward instead

you let out a yelp as the car came to as sudden halt again and turned off, several lights glowing in a dreadful red before fading

eyes wide, you turned to Saeyoung, scared that he might scold you for treating his baby like that

you weren’t sure if you were relieved or annoyed when you saw him grinning from ear to ear instead

“Why didn’t you say anything?!”, you asked, visibly upset

He chuckled lightly at your outrage

“I’m sorry, I just really wanted to see how you’d react. And it was pretty great, not gonna lie.”

you huffed, removing your belt and reaching for the door to get out

Saeyoung lunged over to you, grabbing your wrist

“Wait!! I am sorry. Please try again, I won’t leave you on your own again, I promise!”

you frowned as he searched your eyes, his face making it clear his apology was genuine

lips pursed, you sat back properly again and reapplied your seatbelt.

“If you do this again, I am out.”

“...and walk home? That will be quite far.”

you squinted at his remark.

“I’ll take my chances.”

a sly grin rushed over his face, before he leant back out of your sight and instructed you on what to do - making sure that from now on, your experiences in driving were as positive as possible.

#mystic messenger #mystic messenger 707 #mystic messenger saeyoung choi #707xmc #707xreader #request #gureishi #my writing #if this reads a bit rusty #it's because I was when I wrote it #and I still am ngl

[casual-flower]

🌸 It's Ray!! 🌸

I wanted to dedicate this to @gureishi as thanks for writing such a wonderful request for me!

This was inspired by the ending of the piece, so if you haven't read it yet, I highly recommend you do! The writing really is amazing, go check it out :D

《 Read it here!! 》

(Version with no glitch effect under the cut)

#mystic messenger #mysme #my post #drawing #mysme fanart #my art #mysme art #saeran choi #ray choi #mm #mysme saeran #mysme saeran choi #mm saeran #mm saeran choi #mm ray #mystic messenger ray #mm ray choi #mystic messenger ray choi #fanart #glitch #glitch effect #THANK U AGAIN!! 🌸🌸

[darling-aries]

For requests, do you write ships? (Jaehee x zen)?

Heyo! So I actually don't write! I'm more the artsy type lol. But! I do know some amazing people who do write!

@mysmegrace

@marshmallowprotection

@gureishi

@juminsmysticmc

@anonymousbaev

@agent-bee

@mammonprotectionsquad

@amysteriousmessenger

@jennis-one-shot

[marycecilyy]

Me as a writer challenge!

I was tagged by @arlingtonssweetheart. Thank youuu

What fandom/character do you like to write for the most?

How do you cope with writing blocks?

How often your inbox is open?

What is the post you found the hardest to write?

What topics are the hardest for you?

Do you find it hard to say no to a request?

How many requests do you have in your inbox right now?

What topics do you don’t want to write about?

What Tumblr writers do you like the most?

How long the requests usually stay in your inbox?

Do you prefer to answer the requests or to write your own ideas?

What are your top 5 most popular posts?

Smut, humor, angst or fluff?

What are the works you liked writing the most?

Name some ideas your working on now.

Answers below the cut!!!

What fandom/character do you like to write for the most?

I was obsessed with MCL for a looooong time, but now I’m writing for Mystic Messenger and Sweet elite! My favorite characters are Jaehee/Zen for MM and Raquel and Neha from SE!

How do you cope with writing blocks?

I let them overcome me every single time. Next!

How often your inbox is open?

They’re open most of the time. Currently my MM askbox is closed, though.

What is the post you found the hardest to write?

All the AUs for my MCL masterlist were very hard to do!

What topics are the hardest for you?

I love AUs, but they’re very hard for me. Also, monologues and long stories

Do you find it hard to say no to a request?

I do, but I’m kinda used to this feeling by now

How many requests do you have in your inbox right now?

15 in my MysMe account and 1 in this one!

What topics do you don’t want to write about?

Apart from very triggering topics, like rape/non, etc... I think miscarriage. I wouldn’t know how to approach this subject well.

What Tumblr writers do you like the most?

There are so many, and I already listed them here

How long the requests usually stay in your inbox?

It depends on my motivation to write it. I’m slow, though.

Do you prefer to answer the requests or to write your own ideas?

Both. Both is good.

What are your top 5 most popular posts?

I don’t know, but I think these are very popular:

New Year, new experiences (nsfw)

Chistmas with Castiel

Sober

Eric smut (nsfw)

Smut, humor, angst or fluff?

Humor! I don’t get a lot of requests about it, but I love <3. In second place, Smut and fluff

What are the works you liked writing the most?

Sober

Your Song

EricXCandy 

Lapdance

Name some ideas your working on now.

A JaeheeXMC oneshot and some small requests ^^

I’ll tag @otomes-and-tears, @draconess-tania, @gureishi, @rfaromance, @quirky-and-kind! 

#writing #fanfiction #writeblr #tag game #tag #writer

[rfaromance]

Me as a Writer

Tagged by @marycecilyy! Thanks lovely ~

What fandom/character do you like to write for the most?

How do you cope with writing blocks?

How often your inbox is open?

What is the post you found the hardest to write?

What topics are the hardest for you?

Do you find it hard to say no to a request?

How many requests do you have in your inbox right now?

What topics do you don’t want to write about?

What Tumblr writers do you like the most?

How long the requests usually stay in your inbox?

Do you prefer to answer the requests or to write your own ideas?

What are your top 5 most popular posts?

Smut, humor, angst or fluff?

What are the works you liked writing the most?

Name some ideas your working on now.

Answers below the cut.

1. HMMM I WONDER??? Before MM, I was VERY into FE3H, and I still have a soft spot for Edeleth!

2. I listen to music, get a snack, or look for someone to bounce ideas with. >.<

3. Always??? But I’m slow. Gomen.

4. The foot fetish request was a tough one, tbh. XD

5. I can’t do ANYTHING related to suicide or eating disorders. I’m also very bad at smut.

6. I literally live to make others happy, so yeah.

7. Six, I think? Oops.

8. Suicide, eating disorders, and uhh anything SUPER kinky.

9. I’M GONNA TAG A FEW OF YOU DORKS I’M SORRY @marshmallowprotection @gureishi @truth-be-told-im-lying @amysteriousmessenger @toasty-coconut (lol I know you aren’t MM but I love you and your writing. Fight me.)

10. Depends on my schedule and my mental health. It may take an hour, it may take a week, it may take a month. ^^;;;

11. Requests! I like making people happy, and I also struggle with ideas sometimes.

12. I’m too lazy to dig them up. Sorry.

13. FLUFF FLUFF LFLFUFUFFUFDUJP

14. I’m really loving writing Lycoris, even if it’s causing me trouble. My Saeyoung hurt/comfort pieces are some of my faves, too.

15. ~Lycoris~ I’m also gonna write a multiple CMC story at some point! And eventually get back to Megabyte! I also would love a Saeyoung x Reader magical girl story O_O

Tagging everyone whose favorite character is V.

#mod mumbles #thanks for the tag

[gureishi]

I can’t write smut to save my life,, but I can’t stop thinking about showering with seven to get him to shower/take care of himself

A very very good idea. I meant to write a short little drabble but this was too much fun to write and now it’s 1,784 words lololol. 

Btw I wrote this with a female MC in mind because I needed to describe body parts, but if you’d like some shower sex with a different flavor of MC hmu because I can totally write that for you too. <3

breath

Saeyoung X Reader (NSFW)

Before he met you, he would work for days on end because he had to; now, he does it because he wants to.

You come home to find the house almost completely dark. There's a beam of light under Saeran's bedroom door and another under the door to Saeyoung's office. You sigh: knowing him, he hasn't moved since you left.

You don't bother to knock on his door these days. He doesn't need you to.

"Hi, baby," you say, pushing the door open. It is just as you expected: he is hunched over his desk, his hair messy and his hands busy.

"Hiiii," he trills, not turning around. He's got the security cameras up on one of his computer screens, so he knew you were coming. "One sec...I just...have to—"

You linger in the doorway, your arms crossed. He can "one sec" his way to a sleepless night—or two—or three—if you let him.

"What are you working on?" you ask, mostly to remind him that you're here. He mumbles something you don't understand, makes a sort of twisting motion with his hands, then spins around in his chair.

Oh: he looks tired. He's got those big sleepy eyes that you know so well—a little out of focus, like he's been staring at tiny wires for so long he can't see straight anymore. He runs a hand through his hair and beams at you, but you don't miss the way he wavers in his chair.

He was awake and working when you got up this morning, his spot in the bed already cold. You wonder if he even slept at all.

"Can't help staring at me, hmmm?" he purrs, waggling his eyebrows at you. You shake your head disapprovingly.

"Come with me," you say.

He bats his eyelashes.

"Come with you where, cutie?"

"Out of this room, for a start," you say. You hold out your hand and he hesitates; he's torn, you can tell, between the promise of being close to you and the temptation to keep working till he's satisfied.

"Lemme just..." he starts, already turning around. You shake your head.

"No."

You go to him and put both hands on his shoulders and he tilts his head back, gazing sleepily up into your eyes. You want to kiss him, but you don't. Not yet.

You survey his work space instead: there are chip bags and soda bottles strewn amidst bits of wire and scraps of metal. It's too easy for him to fall into this routine of working without rest: he never learned another way.

He's muttering something about valves; you take both of his hands and pull them from his desk before he starts fiddling again.

"You're gonna take a shower," you tell him. "Right now."

He looks at you. He looks back at his pile of wires.

"But..." he says.

He can't break out of a pattern once he's gotten himself into it. It's time, you decide, for more drastic measures.

"I didn't say you had to do it by yourself," you say. You run a hand up his arm and he freezes, his pretty eyes going big.

"Huh?"

Ah: you've startled him out of his daze. You shift closer and he automatically parts his legs for you; you slip in between them, looking down at him. His ears are pink.

"You don't have to," you murmur (knowing you've already got him). "But I'd be lonely without you."

He doesn’t breathe. A moment passes. Then a big, lopsided smile spreads across his face.

"I wouldn’t want you to be lonely, babe," he says. His hand falls to your waist and then he's standing and lifting you in one swift motion; you squeal as he sweeps you off your feet. He cradles you in his arms and crosses the room in a few swift strides.

"Saeyoung," you hiss, throwing your arms around his neck as he carries you—down the hall, into your shared bedroom, and finally into the connected master bathroom. "I can walk."

"Not for long," he purrs. Then he has set you on your feet and he is pulling you roughly against him—hands on your hips, breath in your ear.

His lips brush yours gently once—twice—then he kisses you harder, groaning as you shift your weight and grind into him. His hands scrabble desperately at your clothes and you lift your arms so he can tug your shirt over your head. You skim eager fingers up his sides and across his chest, and he pulls off his shirt and throws it aside. It is easy to get lost in touching him; already, you feel hot and shaky, like he has made the world spin faster.

His hands are on your chest, your waist, your thighs—then his nimble fingers (the ones that can give sight and voice and life to numbers and scraps of metal) are unbuttoning your jeans and pulling them forcefully down your hips. You step out of them and look into his wild eyes; ah, he has slipped from one sort of hyper-focus into another, you think. All he can see is you.

"Wait," you say, and he hesitates, his hands twitching at his sides. "The shower."

He giggles (giggles) and you leave his side to turn on the water. It's hot, making the mirror above the sink steam up instantly. You peek at him over your shoulder.

"Take off your pants," you tell him (and he makes a funny sound, as though the instruction alone has knocked him off-kilter). "I'm waiting for you."

You slip out of your underwear and step under the stream of warm water. You feel swollen and desperate; you touch yourself with a fingertip and can't suppress a low moan.

"Hey," he whines (and you hear the sound of him wriggling out of his jeans). "Did you start without me?"

You laugh, feeling lightheaded. "Hurry up or I'll finish without you too."

You reach up and grip the shower bar for purchase, fluttering your finger against yourself and shutting your eyes. You know he sees your hand curling over the top of the shower, because he hisses impatiently.

"These—stupid..." A swish of fabric as he throws the jeans to the ground. "Finally!"

He tears the shower curtain open with too much force and gazes at you, fiery-eyed.

"Oh my god," he says. His eyes rove your body; you nibble your lip, feeling flushed and seen.

"Let me..." he murmurs, his voice low and raspy. He steps into the shower and doesn't even blink when the water gets in his eyes; he comes close, one hand landing on your hip and the other slipping between your thighs. You let him take over, throwing your head back and breathing deeply as his calloused fingertip makes perfect circles against you.

The world feels blurry. You are teetering precariously at the very precipice of sensations when—

"Not yet, kitten," he whispers. He pulls away and you groan, frustrated and overstimulated. He dips his head to nibble your shoulder; your body trembles.

"Don't torment me," you hiss. You are directly underneath the faucet, and water splashes all around you. You wipe it out of your eyes and try to fix him with a steely glare.

"Don't...?" he asks, tilting his head, drifting nearer. You reach for him, running a hand down his length. His eyes darken.

"Fuck me," you tell him—and your voice wobbles because of the water and the steam and your unsteadiness, but it still gets the desired effect. He laughs darkly and kisses your throat.

"Spin," he says.

You obey, switching places with him so you're out of the water. It falls persistently on his back; rivulets run down his face.

You put your hands on his shoulders and he lifts you (easily, as if you weigh nothing at all). You wrap both legs around his waist and reach for the shower bar again with one hand; he groans, wiggling his hips, taking one hand from your waist to guide himself into you.

You whisper his name.

He thrusts into you slowly at first, and you squeeze his waist with your legs and hold on for dear life. He is focused, jaw tight, breath ragged.

"Don't fall," you hiss—and he moves faster now, rougher, his eyes shutting as he loses himself in you. But he is steady as ever as he walks you back against the back wall of the shower, laughing (low and slow).

"Don't underestimate me," he says.

Then he's moving harder, faster—and you forget to worry about the slippery floor or the water running down your cheeks because you are so full of feelings. It's blurry, hazy—and he shifts, making a sort of circular motion with his hips, and the world falls to pieces.

You're pretty sure you say something as the sensations explode like fireworks behind your eyelids, but you can't hear yourself. The water is hot on your skin and his breath is heavy in your ear; you pant, struggling to open your eyes.

Ah: he is, you think, right behind you.

You clench around him and lean in and press your lips to his jaw. He groans, moving faster, pressing your back into the slick wall behind you.

Yes, you think—or perhaps you say it out loud.

And he follows you over the cliff of feelings, his hips shaking uncontrollably, his fingers digging into your waist. You kiss his throat and hold on tight.

His ragged breathing slows, slows—and his grip on you loosens, and you let your legs fall so he can lower you gently to the shower floor.

For a moment, he says nothing (which is unlike him). His head falls to your shoulder and he breathes heavily; you comb a hand through his wet hair and smile.

“I’m not going back to work after this,” he pants, turning his head to kiss your shoulder. “My body is...”

You laugh.

“I know, baby.”

Saeyoung stands straight, staring at you suspiciously. You put a hand on his chest and back him up so he’s under the water.

“I’m a smart guy,” he says slowly. You roll your eyes.

“Yes.”

“But you tricked me into shower sex so I’d be too tired to keep building robots.”

You grin at him. “Yes, honey.”

He seems to consider this. He cocks his head to the side; water pours down his neck.

Then he smiles.

“You’re the one for me, huh,” he says.

You throw your arms around his neck and he pulls you close underneath the steaming stream of water.

“I am,” you say, kissing him. "Without a doubt.”

#mystic messenger #saeyoung choi #707 #saeyoung x reader #707 x reader #gureishi writes requests #anon #spicy spaceship

[gureishi]

sang along to the start of forever

I started this fic request event at the beginning of August—and since then, I’ve moved to a different city (sort of) and been through almost an entire semester of grad school. The prompts were designed to reflect on the passage of time—and in the end, it took me summer, fall, and winter to write them. I’m proud of these, because there’s a lot of feelings in them. I hope you like them too <3

the first time I saw you (Ray X Reader)

the first time you made me laugh (Jumin X Reader)

the first time we said goodbye (Jihyun X Reader)

the first time I kissed you (Saeyoung X Reader)

the first time you saw me cry (Ray X Reader)

the first time I knew I loved you (SE Saeran X Reader, NSFW)

the first time I woke up next to you (Saeyoung X Reader)

the first time I missed you (GE Saeran X Reader)

the first time I wanted to forget you (Vanderwood X Reader)

the first time we made a promise (Yoosung X Reader)

the first time I almost gave up on you (Zen X Reader)

the first time I came home to you (GE Saeran X Reader)

the first time you asked me to stay (Zen X Reader)

the first time I pictured forever with you (Jaehee X Reader)

Banner and dividers by my synchronous soulmate @luxielle​ 💕

#mystic messenger #masterlist #gureishi writes requests #start of forever

[gureishi]

Smutty Seven + 18 with a female reader?? Hehe

Hehe indeed. Thank you for the request, darling anon! There are a million fics about this sort of scenario, but I wanted to write one so bad, so now there are a million and one ;)

breathe, darling, breathe in deep

Saeyoung X Reader, E, Words: 2322

cw: outdoor sex, light gagging (hand over mouth)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

It is the way he rolls up his sleeves that does you in.

The room is lit by amber-colored lamps and hundreds of real, flickering candles—a touch of which you are particularly proud. From across the vast, glittering space, you watch him. He is laughing, and when he laughs, his face is lit by a sort of otherworldly glow that makes your breath hitch. He is talking to a small group of guests, commanding their attention with remarkable ease: when he wants to, he can shine so bright he’s almost blinding.

And, even as he talks energetically, he is rolling up the sleeves of his black button-down shirt (so casually, as if he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it). His fingers are nimble and clever and the candlelight strikes the muscles in his forearms. Your stomach does a flip.

“…a lovely idea, dear,” says a voice—closer and louder than the sound of his laughter—and you drag your mind (kicking and screaming) back to the older woman beside you.

“Oh,” you murmur, demurely as you can manage—not even sure which element of this particularly elaborate party you are being praised for. “Thank you.”

The woman beside you smiles kindly, gesturing at the broad wooden doors, cast open so as to extend the party from the banquet hall into the garden. Ah: and it is this that she is complimenting; these doors are normally closed, but you asked for them to be left open so the room would smell of fresh night air and gardenias.

It is subtle—but the scent of flowers on the air makes guests cheerful, and cheerful guests make larger donations. It took some trial and error, in the beginning—but nowadays, you can plan a successful charity party practically in your sleep.

She asks you about the flower varieties, and you do your best to explain (thanking your lucky stars that you’ve got a brother-in-law who knows a thing or two—or more—about flowers). As you speak, you look out at the garden—and can’t help sneaking another glance toward the opposite corner of the hall.

Saeyoung is running a hand through his hair—which is parted neatly tonight, the way he’ll only do it when you ask nicely. As if he feels your eyes on him, he tilts his head—the tiniest gesture. He sees you.

He winks.

A shiver runs up your spine. His arm muscles practically shimmer in the candlelight, and his clever fingers mess up his styled hair just enough that you’ll notice. He knows, you think, exactly what he is doing.

Your toes tingle.

Two can play at that game.

Knowing that he’s watching now (wondering how you’d doubted even for a second that his eyes—in spite of all pretense—were on you to begin with), you give the woman beside you a dazzling smile.

“Would you like to see the garden?” you ask her. She smiles right back, and you toss your hair triumphantly. She tells you that she would be delighted.

So you lead the way, straight through the middle of the ballroom. Your dress is silky smooth, and all it takes is a little wiggle for one sleeve to fall artfully over your shoulder. You don’t look his way as you pass—but you feel his eyes on you: thoughtful; curious; captivated.

You linger in the doorway, letting the moonlight do the work for you: highlighting your silhouette, casting your body in a sort of soft shimmer. Another guests joins you, and you dive into an account of the history of this piece of land—which has been related to you by the manager of the venue at least once a week for the past three months. The facts have become ingrained in your mind—so you talk lightly, only half-listening to yourself.

Meanwhile, you reach back to gather your hair up in your hands. The garden air isn’t hot, but it is warm enough that no one so much as looks twice as you lift your hair, exposing the back of your neck.

No one but Saeyoung, of course—whose gaze you can feel viscerally now, searing your skin. Ah, you think—now it is hot. You pull your hair forward, over your shoulder; one of the women is laughing at something the other has said and, not even having heard the joke, you join in—hoping your voice sounds natural even as your toes curl in your shoes.

You can’t help another peek. Oh: and he is transfixed.

A few others have joined the group of people in the far corner, but he isn’t speaking anymore. You have his full attention, and his eyes are fiery; you give him a tiny smile, as if to say I dare you.

“…would like to see that,” one of the women is saying. Your fingertips dance over the slit in your long dress. With a gesture that you hope is subtle, you flick your skirt aside—and the thin fabric flutters around you, exposing your thigh to the night air.

Your heart is racing.

You can never hear his footsteps, even after all this time. He walks like a cat, light and silent—but you sense that he is coming for you. You grin in spite of yourself; the women, oblivious, ask if you would like to explore the garden with them.

“Go ahead,” you murmur. “I’ll join you in a moment.”

With polite smiles, they are off. There is a gentle breeze: it dances in your hair and plays over the bare skin of your leg, your shoulder, your neck.

You count your heartbeats: one, two, three—

And then there is whisper, low and rough, in your ear.

“Are you trying to kill me?” he growls. His hand lands on your hip, and you can’t repress a little shiver. Your skin sizzles where he has touched it.

“You started it,” you whisper, still looking out at the garden. He shifts closer, and you can feel his warmth as his body presses up against yours. He is tense, you think—wound tight like a spring.

“I rolled up my sleeves,” he hisses. “You…you…”

“I what, sweetheart?” You turn, then, and the look on his face catches you off guard. His eyes are dark, his pupils huge—and he looks absolutely ravished, though you haven’t so much as touched him yet.

“Since when?” you ask, your face flushing. He shifts uncomfortably and it takes all the willpower you have to keep your eyes on his face rather than checking if he’s—if he’s already—

“That dress,” he mutters, his eyes boring into yours, the heat from his body making you squirm. “In the candlelight, and—”

You grin. You knew the candles were a good idea.

“Does this mean I win?” you purr, giving your hips the tiniest little shimmy. He shakes his head as if he can’t get his genius mind to think straight.

“You always win, babe,” he murmurs. His other hand drifts up to your waist—and you are conscious, all of a sudden, that you are standing in the doorway, in full view of both the candlelit banquet hall and the moonlit garden.

You cast a glance to the side, trying to discern just how much attention you are attracting. He seems like he’s lost his sense of place altogether.

“So do I get a prize?” you whisper.

“Oh god,” he groans, his voice shaking as he tries to keep it low. You bite your lip.

“Breathe, baby,” you say. You run a hand up his arm and he takes a quiet, shuddering breath, shifting his weight back and forth like it’s taking all his restraint just to stay still. “You’re in luck.”

“And why’s that?” His voice is so rough; electric heat pools in the pit of your stomach.

“Cause you married a party planner,” you tell him. “And the thing about party planners is we pay attention.” Before he can respond, you grab his hand, pulling him through the doorway into the fragrant garden air. He follows unsteadily; you lead him down the stone-lined path, carefully sidestepping the group of guests clustered around the rose bushes.

“Pay attention to what?” he asks weakly. Once you are past the little group on onlookers, you pick up the pace; he matches you easily.

“The history of the venue,” you say, laughing. “The ground plan. Nooks and crannies.”

You turn abruptly onto another, smaller path and he takes a shuddering breath.

“No way,” he says slowly. It is dark here, and there is not a soul in sight; you glance at him—there is a wicked grin spreading across his dizzy face.

“You trust me?” you ask. He holds your hand so tight.

“With your own life,” he murmurs, “which is infinitely more important than mine.”

You reach the end of the path and kick off your heels. He follows wordlessly as you dart through the grass, through a thicket of trees, and—at last—behind a small, rundown shed.

“Here?” he asks. But there is raw need in his voice, and his eyes shine like golden stars in the darkness.

“You want me?” you ask him. You flip your hair over your shoulder and cock your hip and he groans.

“Do I—?”

And then he is on you, his hands gripping your hips, his lips crashing feverishly into yours. He is walking you back, back—you feel the wooden shed against your bare shoulders and throw your arms around his neck. He lifts you, his hip rocking almost frantically, and you wrap your legs around his waist (infinitely grateful that you chose the dress with the slit in the skirt after all).

You slide a hand between your bodies and undo the top button of his pants. His erection strains, already, against the soft fabric and he hisses as you graze it with your fingertips.

And then his hand is on your thigh, creeping up your skirt—and your head falls back as his clever fingers find your underwear. You are so hot, already, so needy, so desperate for him—and when you feel his finger move against you, you moan into the night air.

“Quiet, princess,” he purrs, his fingertip fluttering. Your vision blurs.

“Make me,” you say.

He laughs darkly and presses you harder into the wall of the shed. With your arms and legs tight around him, he lets go of you entirely and—one hand still fluttering against your underwear—claps the other forcefully over your mouth.

“How’s that?” he whispers. His low voice swims with lust, and your thighs shake as you squeeze them tighter around his hips. You nod furiously.

Leaning back against the shed, you take one trembling hand from his waist and unzip his pants, tugging at his underwear. But you are pressed against him so tightly and the angle is wrong and you can’t quite—

“Let me help you with that,” he murmurs. He takes his hand from your mouth to pull his underwear down—and, with a sort of wild longing, you run your fingers along his length. He bites back a low moan, his eyes fluttering shut.

“Now,” you hiss. “Right now.”

You are so very close to the edge of freefall and the sight of his desperate face pushes you ever nearer. He adjusts, shifts in your arms—and his breath is ragged, and his face is full of wonder—

He thrusts into you, and you come apart entirely.

His hips rock into yours and your your body shakes around him. You float on the flower-scented air, your lungs full and your body weak and your muscles vibrating as you let yourself be carried away. He finds a rhythm and you melt into it with him, your eyes shut, your hips shivering.

He rocks you back into the shed—hard—and you bury your fingers in his hair and succumb to the sensations; he shudders, so you lean forward to graze his earlobe with your teeth.

“That’s—” he hisses, struggling to focus on you, “—not playing fair.”

You take his cartilage into your mouth and bite down and he loses his rhythm, his thrusts becoming erratic—his hands bruising your hips, his breath harsh and uneven.

“I want you to,” you whisper, and he lifts one hand to your jaw; you look into his burning eyes and he dissolves.

Your hands tug at his hair and you hold him tight; for a moment, he stops breathing entirely.

He shivers—gasps for air—falls still.

“You—” you pant. “We—”

He kisses your jaw and lowers you ever-so-gently to the ground; you wobble where you stand and he wraps an arm around your waist.

“The party,” you whisper.

For a moment, he is quiet.

Then he laughs—oh, and his laugh is beautiful, clear and bright as the stars, and you laugh with him: leaning into his shoulder, tears in your eyes.

“Do you think,” you gasp through your fit of giggles, “everyone knows?”

He grins lazily down at you.

“The guests? No,” he says, with confidence. “They wouldn’t notice if a rocket ship landed in their midst as long as the champagne is still being passed around. But our friends—”

“If they know us at all,” you say. “They shouldn’t be surprised.”

His eyes sparkle.

“Nothing wrong with an evening stroll in the garden with my beloved wife,” he says, throwing you a roguish wink. You lean into him.

“Never change,” you say. His expression softens and he presses his lips to your shoulder.

“I am who I am,” he tells you firmly. You tilt your face upward to catch his lips in a fleeting kiss that tastes like nighttime.

“And who’s that?” you ask.

Saeyoung smiles.

“Yours,” he whispers, “of course.”

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

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