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lessons in intimacy (k.ys)

summary: you didn't mean to actually meet the man who's audio porn was single handedly getting you off every night, but you do.

note: this has been a looooong time coming and is dedicated to one of my best friends, grace. 💗 i hope everyone enjoys this chaotic smut fest.... also i've recently discovered that porn is actually illegal to produce or consume in korea? so suspend your disbelief for this fic lol

warnings: camboy!yeosang/barista!yeosang x fem!reader, it's a smut-a-thon barely a plot in sight featuring - nsfw/audio porn, guided masturbation, female masturbation, male masturbation, lots and lots of orgasms, use of dildo, nipple play, one night stand dynamics except they kind of fall for each other, big and i mean big dick yeosang, oral sex (f receiving), gratuitous squirting, fingering, thigh riding/grinding, protected and unprotected sex (do not do this they're being hella dumb), rough sex, maaaaaajor praise play he says good girl more times than i can count, so much use of 'baby', plus pretty girl/babygirl, absolute pleasure soft dom yeosang of our dreams, reader literally passes out from coming you're welcome

pairings: yeosang x reader

genre: smut and more smut, where's the plot???

word count: 14.5K

additional note: yeosang owns a cafe in this fic called ongozisin, it's a real cafe in seoul and you can check out their ig here! the vibes are truly so yeosang i can't even articulate it, so i just wanted to share this for the extra visual!

Paid porn for women has tiers. You stumble headfirst into this realization with your fingers stuffed inside yourself and your body slick with sweat, and there’s nothing that takes you right out of your frantic self care session than a request for your credit card number and a terms of service page. 

Your chest is heaving, legs shaking, and you feel your orgasm slip right through your fingers as you skim over his Fansly page. You should have just skipped to another one of his free audios on Pornhub like you always do, but this week was long and stressful and slightly emotionally fraught, and there’s only so many times you can ignore his husky little ad at the end of the audio file inviting you to check out the full, uncut content. 

“Jesus,” You breathe, pushing yourself up in the bed and letting your phone drop to the side as you recover your breath. 

Are you really going to do this? Are you really going to pay for porn? The internet is full of it, spilling over from every angle with any little thing you can imagine. There’s a reason Rule 34 exists, people are horny and people love attention, so if you can fathom it there’s free porn of it. 

And yet, nothing ever, ever gets you there like he does, and you’ve never even seen his face. 

You glance down at your phone again and you see his familiar header image, a deeply contrasted black and white header of tangled white sheets, and his username striking across the corner in neon green. fromryu. This is what drew you in initially, the simplicity of it all. You were sick of skimming through all of the men making porn for women with names like ‘TheMasterDominant’, ‘Your_Daddy’, or ‘forherpleasureee’ and then just listening to them groan in your ear and call you a slut for fifteen minutes. That might work for some, but it definitely doesn’t work for you. 

Ryu was different, is different. His audios are a mix of scenario based role-plays and straight forward guided masturbation for women, and you’re pretty sure he comes right along with you when you listen, but it’s just not the same.

You’ve fucked yourself to every single one of his free audios. Some of them more than once, some of them several times, if you’re being honest. You’ve always ignored his ads, because he gives so much content away for free you can’t imagine what would be behind a paywall that would get you off harder, until today. 

Your brain just couldn’t get there. You’ve heard him chuckle that chuckle before, say that line before, coax you into orgasm with those exact words before, and you need more. 

Your credit card is firmly in your hand before you can give it another thought, and with a fluttering stomach you tuck yourself into a robe and back into bed to pick a tier. With a long sip of a fresh glass of wine you lean back in your pillows and read through his welcome page. 

His tiers make you smirk, he’s funny.

Third base, full uncut audios and one special audio per month just for subscribers – $4.99/month

Just the tip, uncut audios, one special audio per month, and access to a private discord server where subscribers can make audio request submissions – $9.99/month

Every inch (and more), uncut audios, exclusive audios, access to discord, exclusive video content, and access to a private Snapchat - $24.99/month

In for a penny, in for a pound, you guess. 

You click on ‘Every inch (and more)’ and plug in your card numbers before you have a second to rethink your decision. You really hope you don’t get hit with a fraud alert that you have to explain to some poor customer service representative. 

The wheel spins, the charge goes through, and suddenly you’re in. Your mouth has never been so dry. 

There’s dozens of videos, dozens. For every audio you’ve listened to on Pornhub, there’s a video that goes with it, and for every free piece of content there’s two times as much paid video content. $24.99 was nothing compared to how many hours of content you’re suddenly sifting through. 

There’s a common thread across every video though, you can already tell from the thumbnails, Ryu still never shows his face. Almost every thumbnail is the same, a white wall and a charcoal gray couch, and a man wearing oversized black sweatpants and a tight black athletic shirt. 

His knees are parted, legs spread open and casual, and his hands rest clasped between them. You swallow thickly at the sight of his arms. He’s built. His hands are so good looking you think idly that he should just be modeling watches or something, it’s ridiculous how nice they are. His skin is tanned, veins snaking up his forearms, and silver rings across several of his long, thick fingers. Can the sight of a man’s hands make you come? Your aching clit throbs. 

You skim through the video titles and tags to try and select one and your stomach twists. His videos are even more varied than the free content he posts and organized so well you think you might be in love with him already. 

There’s a folder for role play videos, and you skim through that quickly just to see. Neighbor overhears you moaning and comes to check on you, best friend takes your virginity, boss and secretary working late, brother’s best friend slips into your room at a sleepover, step-daddy teaches his babygirl a lesson. 

Your cheeks flush hot pink and you settle further into your sheets, backing out of this folder and navigating to your tried and true favorite.

Guided masturbation and encouragement. 

There are even more videos in this folder and you skim through any of those ones that say ‘exclusive’ in the title to avoid ones you’ve already heard parts of. The hashtags alone leave you breathless and you have no idea what to choose, every video cleanly tagged with what you’ll need to be able to keep up with his instructions. Hands only, rabbit vibe, hitachi wand, bullet vibe, dildo, butt plug, nipple clamps, lubricant, massage oil, blindfold, wrist restraints, ankle restraints, the list goes on and on.

You select one at almost random with the tags ‘hands and fingers’, ‘dildo’, and ‘optional squirting’. 

The screen starts black, and for a second you’re pretty sure something’s wrong, but then you hear him. 

“Hi everyone,” Your muscles melt, and you push your noise canceling earbuds deeper into your ears, “I have something a little special today,” 

You’ve never heard him talk so casually, almost like a vlogger or something. His voice hasn’t yet shifted into that deep teasing tone that kicks off every free video, and you’re already sold on every dollar you’ve spent when he starts to just chat. 

“I got a request from a special subscriber in my discord,” He says, “someone who’s become a friend and who confided in me that she’s never been able to make herself squirt,” 

Your breath comes a little more quickly. 

“It’s not easy to do, I know,” He says, tenderly, the screen still black, “and I want you all to know that if you’re still struggling after this audio, that’s okay. It takes time, and your body is not a sex toy. There’s not a perfect combination that works for every person with a vagina,” 

Your brow quirks at the inclusivity of his language choice and you smile a little, easing yourself down in the bed to keep listening to him. 

“But I’m going to do my best to help you,” He continues, “so while I get set up over here, I need you to get your own space ready. Get up out of bed or off the couch, but keep me with you, okay, baby?” 

You’re shaking and he hasn’t even said anything sexy yet. You don’t always listen perfectly to instructions, sometimes you skip ahead a bit and get to the good stuff just to get yourself off, but this time it’s different. You tuck your phone in your robe pocket and stand. 

“For this session,” You can almost see the smile in his voice and you try to imagine him, “you’ll need a couple of good towels laid out across your space. You’ll need to drink a big glass of water before we get started, and then I want you to find your best dildo, the one that really makes you come hard. The one that fills you up just right, that hits that tender little place you wish I was touching with my fingers,” 

He’s going to make you come so hard you see Jesus, you can tell already. 

“We need everything to be perfect,” He says, “and for you to be comfortable. Tonight is not the night to test out that new toy, okay? Tonight is for you and me, so go and get your supplies, and I’ll tell you all about my day. I’ll be your favorite little sexy podcast.”

As he starts warmly talking to his audience about his long lazy morning off work, you nearly crumble. You’re really not supposed to be getting a crush on this guy, but here you fucking are. He’s sweet, casual and laughs a little while he talks, and while you gather up the towels and the water and the frankly oversized dildo, you’re smiling. 

You hear him sit down and sigh and then his voice shifts, just a little, “Alright, baby, are you ready?” 

You sink back back down to sit on your own bed and you wait. 

“Just a reminder,” He says, “I will be using female descriptors throughout this video. If you’re uncomfortable with me calling you ‘girl’, like babygirl or good girl, or referring to you as a woman in any way, I am posting the similar content with male descriptors. If you’d prefer to hear baby boy or good boy, check the links below this video, okay?” 

You smile again. 

“Alright,” He hums, “now, where were we?” 

The camera clicks on and you feel the little gasp leave you. You almost forgot. 

He leans back on the couch and keeps talking, “That’s right, the lesson. Get settled over the towels, and if you’re wearing anything, it’s time to take it off for me.” 

You lay back over the towels and let your robe part open. 

“That’s so good,” He croons softly, “god, you’re so pretty, baby,” 

Your chest thumps hard. 

“Let’s start slow, okay?” His hands smooth over his thighs, “the key here is teasing, and I know how much you like it when I tease you.” 

Your hand rests on your own thigh, your other propping up the phone as you watch with rapt attention. 

“Touch your pretty thighs for me,” His voice is rich and thick in your ears, “that’s a good girl, there we go, nice and soft. Is your pussy wet? Did I do that to you again, pretty girl?” 

You’re barely breathing, eyes fixated on the screen as he strokes his own thigh through his sweatpants, slow and steady. 

“Are you aching?” He asks and you can’t help but nod, feeling like suddenly he can see you through the screen. 

“Touch just a little,” He murmurs, “but don’t jump ahead. Keep your fingers off your clit, we’re not there yet, sweetheart.” 

A little tight sound slips out of you as you follow his instructions. 

“Is your sweet slit wet?” He hums, and his hand slides up his thigh and rests over his stomach, “Are you throbbing?” 

Fuck. 

“Someday, baby,” He sighs and you watch him shift on the couch cushions, “I’ll taste you,” 

“Fuck,” You whisper. 

“But for now,” He’s smiling, you know it, “you just need to listen to me and do everything I tell you,” 

You’re nodding again. 

“I promise,” He says, “I’ll take such good care of you baby, if you listen, I promise to make you come.” 

Your stomach clenches, core fluttering, and you drift your fingertips up and down your slit, following the way his middle finger is slowly sliding back and forth on his abs. 

“Are you listening?” His voice goes husky and your head drops back into the pillows. Next time you’ll need a better way to watch him and listen and touch yourself, but you’re so incredibly desperate at this moment that it really doesn’t matter, you’ll make due. 

“You are, aren’t you?” He murmurs, “Good girl,” 

Your legs spread a little wider. 

He leans forward, you hear the rustling of the fabric and you snap your eyes back to the video to see him leaning forward, hands clasped together loosely, and you’re pretty sure you can see the outline of a bulge in his sweatpants. 

“Does it hurt?” He croons, teasing. 

You love him like this. 

“Take your hand away from your pussy,” He says, just a little more commanding, “right now, baby,” 

You pull it back reluctantly. 

“Close your eyes for a minute,” He murmurs, “spread your legs for me,” 

You comply immediately. 

“Tease your nipples,” He sounds a little breathier now and you fight the urge to watch the video, “do whatever feels good, touch your tits exactly the way you like it,” 

You roll your nipples, tugging them softly and kneading your breasts with both hands now that you’re not propping up the phone. 

“Imagine me with you,” He says, “feel my fingers sliding up your calves, my lips on your inner thigh, you can feel my breath against your sweet cunt, I know you can,” 

You’re about to come untouched, that’s the thought that rocks through your mind when your hips jerk on their own, his deep voice nestled right in your ear. 

“Look at you,” He muses, “squirming around, so fucking desperate for something inside you,” 

Your breath catches. 

“You’re so needy,” He continues, “are you making noise for me? Little pants, little moans? Are you trying to be quiet?” He clicks his tongue against his teeth, a soft scold, “Not with me, baby,” 

A moan bubbles up out of you. 

“Hands off.” 

Your eyes open immediately, and you don’t pull your hands away just yet, but you’re frozen still. You’re breathing hard, blush climbing up your chest, and your hips jerk slightly. If he doesn’t let you touch yourself soon, you’re going to lose your mind. 

“Good girl,” He says after a moment, “very good,” 

You drop your hands, scrambling for the phone so you can see what he’s going to do next. 

“Now watch me,” He instructs, holding his palm up to the camera, “take two fingers,” he separates his fingers, keeping his middle and index fingers tucked together, “and when they’re inside curl them just like this.” He crooks his fingers in a come-hither motion, “Just like this,” 

You slide your hand down your front, slipping your fingers through your soaked folds, but his voice makes you pause. 

“Go slow,” He instructs, “push them in nice and slow for me,” 

You follow his instructions. 

“There you go,” He sighs softly, “now curl your fingers,” 

You watch as he does it in the video and you follow instructions dutifully, your fingers brushing over your spongy g-spot. 

“Feel that?” He leans back, and the tent in his sweatpants makes you pant, “That perfect little spot that makes you whine so good for me?” 

You nod again, biting down on your lip, desperate to move but waiting. 

“When I say,” He slips his fingertips into his sweatpants, teasing you, “fuck your perfect pussy with those fingers,”

Sweat drips down your chest. 

His hand disappears into his sweats and he groans, “Now,” 

You don’t have to be told twice. 

“Harder,” He says, throaty and low, “I know you can,” 

A tight sound slips out of you as you work yourself, but you nearly fall apart when you watch him push down the top of his sweats. His cock is huge, there’s no other way to say it. Thick and perfect, aching pink at the head and when he wraps his hand around himself you feel the tense knot of your orgasm rushing back. 

“Oh, f-fuck,” You scramble in the sheets, pulsing your fingers in and out just like he told you to. 

“Look at you,” He says again, “fucking yourself for me. I bet you’re imagining my fingers, aren’t you? Just like I’m imagining your dripping pussy,” 

Pleasure rocks in your gut. 

“Use your other hand,” He instructs, “rub that clit for me,” 

You drop the phone like it’s hot, and you have to crane your neck to see the video, but it doesn’t matter. He’s given you the perfect permission to do exactly what you need and you have to take it. 

“Does that feel good, baby? Yeah? Do you feel like you need to come for me?” His voice gets closer to the microphone and you’re rapidly approaching the edge, “You’re so close, fuck, listen to you,” 

“God, oh god,” Your legs are trembling. 

“Do you see how hard you make me?” His fist jerks over his cock faster and your mind is unraveling, none of his other audios feel like this, “Do you know how much I want to see you come?” 

Pressure drops in your belly. 

“Fuck,” He pants, “you’re almost there, I know you want to come for me, but not until I say,” 

It’s happening whether he wants it to or not, whether you want it or not, and your fingers bear down harder on your clit, your eyes locking closed, head falling back. 

“Hands off,” He’s not teasing anymore, he’s telling, “right now, babygirl, hands off.” 

You pull your hands away and it’s possible that nothing has ever felt as bad as this one stolen orgasm. Your hands are shaking, body flushed and slick with sweat, and if any of your neighbors are up they are probably getting an earful. 

You lock eyes with the video again and his hands rest on his knees, cock standing tall and at attention, edging with you. 

“Get that dildo nice and wet,” He says, and you search your sheets for the silicone cock, “in your mouth pretty girl, imagine that’s my cock between your lips,” 

He strokes his hand slowly down his length, smearing a bead of precum down to the base of his shaft as you dip the cock between your lips and take it as far in your mouth as you can. 

“It’s time to come,” He soothes, like he knows you’re a whining, quivering mess, “I know you need it,” 

The dildo pops free from your mouth and you watch as he lifts the hem of his shirt to expose the smooth plane of his abs, “Fuck yourself with me, sweetheart,” 

Pleasure pops through you as you press the toy to your hot channel. 

“Nice and fast,” He pleads, thrusting into his fist, “don’t stop this time, not until you come,” 

The bubble inside you expands again, pressure everywhere. 

“Just trust me,” He whispers in your ear, “don’t stop. I’ve got you, I’m right here, you let go baby. Don’t fight it,” 

Your back arches up off the bedding, the muscles in your arm aching as you thrust the toy in and out of yourself, pressing it up again and again into your g-spot. 

“Come, baby,” He sounds like he’s begging, and your free hand flies down to grip the sheets, “let go, you come, that’s it, there you go,” 

You turn your head, catching sight of him again and the way he works himself over. 

“There we go,” He groans sharply, his own release spurting up ropes of cum onto his exposed chest, “can you feel me inside you? Come with me, that’s a good girl, good fucking girl,” 

He sounds dizzy, panting himself, you’ve never heard him quite like this and one final thrust sends you spilling over the edge. Your vision whites, body locking up in ecstatic pleasure, and you clap a hand over your lips to stifle the moan that rips out of you. 

It takes a minute to come back from that. Your ears ringing, and the dildo slips out of you with a final pulse from your shattering orgasm. He’s talking, you register it, but his voice sounds far away and you realize that you’ve lost your earbuds. You scramble to get them back in, pulling the video up to your eyes. 

“-And that’s okay,” He’s saying, his cock tucked away and his shirt back down, “you can try again another time if you didn’t quite get there,” 

For a second you’re confused, it was the hardest orgasm of your life, but then you remember this was intended to be a guided masturbation to squirt and you blush, alone in your apartment, at the fact that you didn’t quite get there and he’s talking to you. 

“It’s all about the build up,” He explains, “but I’m sure with a little practice we can get you there.” 

You’ve never really cared about squirting until now, but he makes it sound like a perfect date and something tells you that you’ll be back here again night after night if he’ll have you. 

“Anyway,” He sighs and you hope he’s smiling above the camera, “thank you for spending a little bit of your day with me, I hope I made you feel as good as you made me feel,” 

You blush again. 

“I’ll see you soon,” He assures, gentle like a lover would, “sleep well, jagiya,” 

The video cuts and you blink hard, you’re still smiling. 

You are so, so fucked. 

After that, Ryu becomes a problem. You wish it was just the videos and the dirty talk and the good orgasms, but it’s more than that. You just like to hear him talk now, the little bits at the beginning about his day are starting to get into your head. And then there’s the Snapchat. 

You kind of expected the private Snap to be sexy photos and videos of him in the almost pitch dark huskily saying good morning, but it isn’t. You still have never seen his face, but his videos are casual, friendly, too real for a man you spend every night fantasizing about. He chats about things he’s doing or books he’s reading while he’s cooking, filming just shoulders down so you can watch the muscles in his arms while he chops vegetables. You fall in love with the sound of his voice when he’s just talking, his stretched out s-sounds that only really peek through outside of his constructed scenes. You find yourself missing him a little on days he doesn’t post. 

You’ve gotten used to waking up with him, falling asleep with him, checking in on him during the day. His message announcements in Snapchat don’t feel like they’re for everyone, they feel like they’re for you. You know that’s not true of course, you know you’re paying a hefty monthly bill just to feel like this, but you don’t care. It’s been a while, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t just need some company. 

It’s a Thursday when everything goes to shit. 

You wake up far too late, forgetting to set the alarm on your phone after falling asleep directly after yet another Ryu narrated orgasm, and everything has been off kilter since. You’re scrambling to get to work on time and every little thing is going wrong. Your coffee machine isn’t turning on, the sweater you want to wear is still in the wash, and your umbrella will not open despite the rain that’s ruining what would have been a good hair day. 

When you decide to stop into the coffee shop across from your office it’s not even a want, it's a need. You’re already thirty minutes late, why not make it forty-five? 

You’ve never come here, not once. You’re used to going to the shop around the block from your apartment, and this place is new. Ongozisin is the kind of place you’d normally take your time in. The space is clearly industrial, concrete walls and flooring made to look unfinished. The aesthetic is still warm though, with natural dark wood furniture and bamboo accents, Joseon era paintings and a juniper bonsai along the back wall. 

To the left side of the cafe stands a bay of tall windows and the very modern, very clean point of sale. The line isn’t too long, but you can see that the pace of this place is slower by design, so maybe you’ll just round up and call it an hour late. A door opens to your left and you watch as one of the baristas steps out from a kitchen holding two black plates of colorful, carefully constructed pastries. 

The line moves ahead of you, and the person behind you softly clears their throat to jog your attention. 

You step closer, only one person ahead of you now. 

When you hear his voice you nearly reach for your phone. 

“That’s perfect,” It’s Ryu, clear as day. His voice is distinct and deep and here. 

Your eyes snap up to the barista behind the counter, your body frozen stock still as you take him in, mind spinning. 

“Do you want any cream?” He says to the woman ordering. 

Blush lights up your cheeks and all you can think about is the video you watched the night before and his voice in your ear - Do you want my cum inside you, pretty baby? 

You should leave. There’s a reason this man is anonymous on the internet, never showing an inch of his face, and Ryu isn’t even his name, it's just what you call him. He never calls himself anything in the videos, never reveals what part of Korea he lives in, never talks about his job. He doesn’t want to be found. 

You’re about to turn, run, scramble away, but his voice comes again and this time you realize he’s talking to you. The man, Ryu, smiles, “Good morning, can I get you something?” 

You’re frozen. 

“Miss?” A little crease between his brows. 

“Sorry,” You jump forwards, ignoring the annoyed huff behind you and shaking off as much of this panic as you can, “I don’t know where my head is this morning,” 

“That’s alright,” He says warmly, “that’s what I’m here for,” 

You can’t say anything, your mind blanks. 

His eyes flick over you and then he nods, “You know, coffee? To wake you up?” 

“Right!” You nod, “Sorry, yes, an americano please,” 

“Iced or hot?” He asks. 

Are you feeling hot, babygirl? Do you need to take something off for me? 

“Hot,” You say it on a reflex but then you remember yourself, “no sorry, iced, iced please,” 

“Okay, sure,” He smiles, “iced,” 

You make it through payment without too much more embarrassment, apologizing again, and then you step to the side. Another barista appears, slotting into Ryu’s place so he can turn his attention to the drinks he needs to make and you take the moment to get composed. 

He’s handsome, that’s a given. You expected that, but still he looks even better than your imagination conjured up, more real. He looks exactly right for this cafe too, his black hair long enough to brush the base of his neck with half gathered into a ponytail, pieces loose to frame his angular face. He’s dressed smartly too, black oversized trousers and a fitted black t-shirt, slim black boots, and an open jacket in a dramatic modern-hanbok style. You realize you’re staring the minute his eyes hold on yours and they crinkle up as he smiles. He has a birthmark, a smooth light pink flush across his eye and your heart thumps in your chest. 

“Long night?” He asks you, passing off a coffee in a mug to the woman who had been ahead of you in line. 

He just puts you at ease and you nod, “Something like that,” 

“Ah,” He knocks out the round cake of used espresso from the portafilter as he talks, “and you look like you got caught in the rain, don’t you have an umbrella?” 

“Broken,” You grimace, “it’s been one of those mornings,” 

“Mm,” He nods, focusing on queueing up espresso for your americano, but while the shots pull he turns back to you, “I don’t think I’ve seen you here before?” 

You shake your head, “No, first time,” 

“Do you like it?” He gestures around with a nod of his head. 

“Very much,” You smile, “it’s a great space,” 

He smiles again, looking proud, “I’m glad you like it,” he says, “we haven’t been open very long, but so far people have seemed to enjoy it,” 

“Oh,” You watch him pour your espresso over ice, “is the cafe yours?” 

He nods, “Mine and my friend’s,” 

You wish you weren’t late, you wish you were able to stay just a little longer. 

“Well,” You tell him honestly, “it’s beautiful here, I’ll have to come in more often, I only work across the street.”

“Ah,” He nods, “I thought you looked familiar,” 

Blush creeps up your neck. 

“Did you need cream?” He asks and you hope he doesn’t notice the way your pulse quickens at his words, but he nods towards your coffee and you shake your head. 

“Thank you,” You take the cup off the bar and step back, “I appreciate it.” 

“I hope that helps,” He says, and then he glances behind you at the large round window, “actually, I’m sorry, can you wait one moment?” 

“Sure,” You watch him duck out from behind the bar, making a quick beeline for the swinging door that leads back into the kitchen. You have no idea what he could want, there’s no way you’d be recognized by him except as a stranger on the street, and your stomach knots up. 

It takes him a moment, but he darts back out, a long black umbrella in his hand, “Take this,” 

“I can’t do that,” You wave a hand, “I’m only across the street, but that’s really kind of you,” 

“If you’re only across the street then I know where to go to get it back,” He shakes his head, “just take it, it’s raining like crazy out there,” 

He presses the handle of the umbrella into your free hand, and your breath catches in your throat, his skin brushing against yours. Your eyes flick over his rings, just the same as always. A signet with a deep black stone, a hammered silver band, a clearly vintage one on his index finger that looks like an old Catholic saint token, the finer details rubbed away with age. 

“What time do you close?” You ask, accepting the umbrella. 

“Seven,” 

“I’ll bring it back after work then,” You tell him, “is that alright?”

He nods, “But if it’s still raining, just keep it. Bring it by tomorrow,” 

“Tomorrow,” You nod. 

“Mhm,” He nods, something warm in his expression, “this will have to be your new usual spot,” 

Is he flirting? You’re wholly and entirely unprepared to deal with that considering the way you moaned his name last night. Something clicks in your brain at that thought though and you nod, “Maybe it will. I’m y/n, by the way,” 

“Yeosang,” He smiles, “it’s very nice to meet you.” 

Yeosang.

“You too,” You dip your head, “and thank you again for this,” 

“Of course,” He says, “I hope this turns your morning around a little,” 

You open your mouth to say something, but there’s a voice from the cafe bar that slices cleanly between your conversation, “Yeosang-ah!” 

Yeosang glances back and then he sighs, just a little, “I have to go,” he tells you, “but I’ll see you again,” 

“See you again,” 

He’s back behind the bar before you can blink, focusing on each customer’s order. The man who called his name is grinning, and you wonder idly if he’s the friend who owns the cafe with Yeosang or just a part-timer. 

With your stomach fluttering, you push out into the rain to get to work, Yeosang’s name on a loop in your brain for the rest of the day. When you get home, his umbrella resting by the door, you delete his Snapchat from your contacts and unsubscribe from his Fansly account. 

Ongozisin becomes a daily ritual. 

The money you used to spend on his Fansly now goes straight into the cafe, first thing in the morning before work and a last lingering stop in the evening before you go home. 

On busy days you barely get to see him and sometimes you’re left just chatting with Wooyoung, his best friend and business partner. You like him too, you like the atmosphere and their kind warmth, but if you’re being honest you find yourself living for slow days. The days where you’ve timed it just right to have a little talk before the rush of the day or the closing tasks of the evening. 

Little by little, Ryu fades from your mind, and the man in front of you is just Yeosang. The guy who runs your favorite coffee shop, the guy who dresses almost otherworldly, who smiles wide but only when you say something truly funny, who sometimes gets lost in his own head while he’s making cappuccinos. 

He’s lovely. 

Sometimes you think he might be flirting, a little more suavely and charismatic than his business partner who asked if you had a crush on him since you were coming into the cafe so much. Sometimes Yeosang adds a little extra treat to your plate of food or he adds pretty latte art to your cup if you’re staying in the cafe. That might be nothing, but it certainly might be something. 

It isn’t until another day of rain, harsh pelting rain, that Yeosang appears at your table. 

“We close soon,” He says, and when he sees the brief flash of concern that you’ve overstayed your welcome on your face he shakes his head, “sorry, I meant to ask, how are you getting home tonight?” 

“The train,” You glance outside. 

His nose crinkles, “You don’t have an umbrella today either,”

“True,” You look down at your belongings, “I didn’t check the weather,” 

“If you wait a bit for us to lock up,” He says, “I’d be happy to walk you to the station,” 

“Oh,” 

“Or if you’re not busy,” He clears his throat softly, “I could walk you to this little restaurant around the corner?” 

Flirting, then. 

You smile and nod, trying to keep your eagerness tamped down to a normal amount, “Are you asking me out, Yeosang?” 

He grins, “I’ve been trying to,” 

Your stomach flips pleasantly, “I’ll wait, dinner sounds nice,” 

His shoulders sag, a little relief in his expression and he clears away your empty cup as he says, “I’ll be quick,”

You catch Wooyoung slapping his friend's shoulder as he disappears into the back room, and before you know it you’re blushing and sitting across from this man at the restaurant down the block. 

Dinner is so smooth it feels surreal. It turns out you both like the same music, and several books too, and you’ve never been on a date with a man who asked you so many questions about yourself and didn’t just talk your ear off. Dinner stretches long too, and you’re strangely grateful it’s a Friday when you finally do check the time. He has to work on Saturday at the cafe, but not until a little later in the morning, and so neither one of you really wants to call it quits. 

The after dinner walk turns meandering, and then his hand is brushing against yours, knuckles to knuckles. 

You don’t think of him as Ryu until his fingers brush down your back, lips close to your ear when he finally asks you. The way he does makes your body melt - I hope I’m not ruining things by asking, but would you like to come home with me tonight?

You agree before your mind catches up to itself, but every step of the walk to his apartment has your heart picking up speed. You had forgotten on the date how you met him, really met him, and your gut churns. 

Do you tell him? Do you lie? 

Everytime he grins at you, touches you, tucks his long hair behind his ear and nods, you can’t imagine a one night stand. You could maybe swallow the truth if that’s all this was to you, but it’s not, and so you can’t. 

On his block you feel the internal countdown ticking. 

“You can change your mind, you know,” He offers, noticing how you’ve gone quiet, and it pulls you straight out of your thoughts. 

“Oh,” Your head snaps up, “I’m sorry, I don’t want to change my mind at all, I just got a little lost in thought.” 

He nods, this time finding your hand and giving you a squeeze, his steps slowing as you approach his building, “Can I ask what about?” 

You nod, returning the soft pulse of his hand in yours before separating your skin from his. His eyes flick down to your hands, and then back up to your eyes. 

“I have a bit of a confession,” You swallow hard, “something I think I should tell you before we go upstairs,” 

“Okay,” He leans against the stone wall behind him, “is everything alright?” 

“I hope so,” You nod, “I just feel like there’s something I should say now, and if it makes you uncomfortable at all, just be honest. I’ll go home, no hard feelings,” 

“y/n,” His brows draw together in confusion, “what’s going on?” 

You take a deep breath, taking a step back to get a little breathing room, “I recognized you when I came into the cafe that first day,” 

“Recognized me?” 

“Yeah,” You clear your throat, your chest feeling tight, “for the past few months I’ve been… a subscriber,”

“A subscriber,” He repeats, and for a brief flickering second you wonder to yourself if this man just looks and sounds and feels exactly like Ryu but isn’t, but then his face blanches, “oh,” 

“I’m not anymore,” You shake your head, “and clearly you like your privacy, so I didn’t know how to just come out and say it, but if you’re actually interested in me and not just being flirty at the cafe then I just can’t lie to you… I don’t want to start something with a lie,” 

He’s quiet, and then his eyes flick down. 

It was so, so nice while it lasted. 

“I should have told you sooner,” Your stomach flips and you take another step back, “and I completely understand that you’re upset, I’ll just, I won’t say anything to anyone and it was lovely getting to know you, and I’m sorry, I’ll go,” 

His head snaps up, “Go? y/n, stop, slow down,” 

His hands smooth down your forearms as he jumps forwards, pulling you gently back towards him. Your heart is beating so loud you can practically hear it, “I’m sorry,” 

“I’m not upset,” He assures, “can we go inside to talk? I don’t want to do this in the street,” 

You nod, letting him lead you through the garden gate and up towards the house, but his words pulse on a loop in your mind. You hope he’s good at letting you down easy because this hurts. You should have known it that first day at the cafe, you should have stayed away and not played with fire. 

His house is small, but very nice and despite being sparsely decorated, you like it. You feel trapped in the entryway so unsure of what to do in this space, especially when you recognize the corner of his gray couch. 

“Can I get you a drink or something?” He interrupts your thoughts, “I have wine, probably some soju, and a bottle of truly undrinkable Japanese whisky,” 

“Undrinkable?” You blink. 

“I think it’s supposed to be very good if you like whisky,” He explains, “it was a gift,” 

“Ah,” You couldn’t feel more awkward if you tried, “wine, I guess?” 

“Okay,” He smiles, a close lipped polite smile that doesn’t quite touch his eyes, “well, make yourself comfortable, I’ll get us a drink and then we can talk,” 

“Sure,” You’re still frozen as he walks away down the hall to what you presume is the kitchen. It takes a minute to unstick yourself, but you make your way to the couch and wait. 

He returns with two glasses of red wine and then he sits in the chair opposite you, not on the stretch of couch next to you. 

“Sorry,” You take the wine, stomach flip flopping, “I know this isn’t how you thought the night would go,” 

“Mm,” He nods, taking a sip of his drink.

“I don’t know what to say,” You tell him honestly. 

He nods, looking anywhere but at you until he finally meets your eyes again, “You’re not a subscriber anymore?” 

“No,” You tell him firmly. 

“Why?” He asks, and the question hangs between you. 

“When I recognized you at the cafe and you were being so nice to me,” You explain, “it occurred to me that something might happen between us, as friends or otherwise, and it just felt wrong to know you as Yeosang and then… engage with your content that is clearly anonymous and meant to be private. I didn’t want to do that without you knowing,” 

He nods, setting his glass on the nearby coffee table, “I see,” 

“You are keeping it private, right? I feel like you’re careful to not overshare,” 

“Yes,” He nods, “no one knows.” 

“Then I really am sorry,” You set your own glass aside and lean forwards, “I’m sure you didn’t want to bring your real life as Yeosang and your online life as Ryu together, I just recognized your voice immediately that day in the cafe,”

“As Ryu?” He glances back up at you. 

“That’s what I…” You try to parse through it so it doesn’t sound like a parasocial affair, “fromryu, you know? That’s just what I filled in for your name, I guess,” 

“Ryusang,” He nods, “it’s the Hanja spelling of Yeosang,” 

“Oh,” You soften. 

“Why didn’t you mention you knew me before?” He asks, but despite his words nothing in his demeanor is upset, just curious. 

You take another large, steadying gulp of wine and nod, “I didn’t really think the cafe was an appropriate place to tell you that I’ve gotten off to your voice before,” 

He laughs sharply and looks down, “Okay, that’s fair,” 

“Right,” You murmur. 

“y/n,” He sounds hesitant and you look back up to him, “can I ask you something?” 

“Anything,” 

“Did you come out with me tonight because you wanted to go out on a date with the guy from the cafe, or because you wanted to have sex with Ryu?” The question is direct and cutting. 

“With you,” You answer quickly, and now you know exactly why he’s putting this distance between you, “you, Yeosang.” 

He’s quiet, turning your words over, you can practically see him thinking. 

“Yeo,” You murmur, fighting the urge to reach out to him, “if all I wanted was that, I wouldn’t have told you. But I really like you, Yeosang, and I’d like to see more of you and see where this could go, but I completely understand if me knowing this part of you is too much. If you don’t want to go any further with me romantically or as a friend, this can just be a nice date we both had,” 

He nods and then says, “I have one more question,” 

You wait, your stomach in knots. 

“Do you have a problem with what I do?” He asks. 

“I mean,” You shake your head, “I was a subscriber, so no,” 

“I don’t mean like that,” He clarifies his words, “I mean in terms of a romantic relationship. I like my work, both the cafe and the content, and if we start seeing each other I’m not going to suddenly stop making porn just like I wouldn’t close the cafe.” 

“I’m not asking you to,” You shift over on the couch and reach towards him, resting a hand on his forearm. 

“I’ve dated a few women,” He explains, slipping his hand into yours and twining your fingers together, “this was not something any of them were comfortable with,” 

“Oh,” You nod, but he continues. 

“A couple of them thought it might be fun,” He adds, “but when things got more serious they expected me to stop for them,” 

“I’m sorry,” You tell him quietly, “I don’t expect anything like that,” 

“You don’t now,” He points out, “and neither did they in the beginning.” 

You can see the way this has fucked with his head a little, the way he keeps his shoulders stiff and turned away from you as he explains, and you suppose you might react the same way if you were in his shoes. 

You chew the inside of your lip as you think about how best to say this to him, but finally you manage it, “Yeosang,” you get his attention, “what you do for work doesn’t change what we do on a date or in bed,” 

He turns his head a little, the only indication you have that he’s really listening. 

“I have no expectation that you’re some… sex god,” You smile a little, “though my guess is that you’re pretty good at dirty talk,” 

A small smile appears on his lips. 

“If I didn’t like what you do for work I’d go find another guy,” You continue, “and I’m sorry if the other women you dated weren’t comfortable with it, but I’m not so shy about it. I like what you do, and you’ve helped me plenty, and there’s nothing more flattering than knowing you liked me enough to even bring me upstairs,” 

“Don’t sell yourself short there,” He looks up, shaking his head, “when you said yes to dinner I thought I’d be lucky if I got to so much as touch you,” 

Your heart quickens in your chest, “You, what?” 

He turns his body towards you properly now, “y/n,” he says, “I like you, I’ve liked you since you walked into the cafe soaking wet and exhausted, I’ve been trying to figure out how to ask you out for weeks.”

“I think I’m dreaming,” You breathe, and he grins at your words. You clap a hand over your lips and groan, “Sorry, I didn't mean to say that outloud,” 

“It’s honest,” He says, “I like that about you,”

“Well,” Your hands naturally separate as you lean back onto the couch, “then believe me when I tell you that I am fine with your work. All aspects of your work,” 

His eyes flick over you, gauging how honest you’re being now, “All aspects?” 

You nod again. 

“y/n,” His voice softens, “what tier subscriber were you?” 

It clicks in your brain that you haven’t really told him everything, all the things you know about him and his work. Little audio videos here and there might be forgivable to some women, but more might be too much. 

“The highest,” You tell him, “when I say everything I mean it, the videos, the Snapchat, all of it.” 

He seems to relax at that, “And if this does go somewhere,” he gestures between you both, “if we keep seeing each other. If it becomes more than a few dates,” 

You nod. 

“You’re alright knowing that even if we were dating and going to bed together every night, I spend my free time making people come on the internet for money,” He says it so plainly that you have to blink at him. 

You turn his words over and then sigh, “There’s one thing,” 

He leans back in his chair, putting a little more distance between you both, obviously braced for your words. 

“I just have a question,” You ease him, “just something I should know, I think.” 

He nods once, his shoulders tense again. 

“Do you ever talk one on one with people?” You feel your cheeks heat, “I know you do, you have the discord, but I mean do you ever do what you do alone with someone?”

He softens, “No, no I don’t,” 

“Okay,” You nod, the tense knot in your stomach relaxing, “okay, then,”

“Would that be a boundary for you?” He asks. 

“I think so,” You tell him, “it’s different when you’re making a video to upload for anyone and talking to someone, at least to me,” 

He nods, and then he moves, shifting from his position on the chair to your side on the couch. The nerves that were knotted deeply inside you start to unfurl, his proximity feeling like a peace offering, like an acceptance of your words.

“Subscribers aren’t lovers,” He says finally, “and some people blur that line with their content, but I don’t.” 

“Then, Yeosang,” You take the opportunity to slide yourself sideways a little closer to him, “I am fine with all aspects of your work, more than fine.” 

“Will you tell me if that ever changes?” He asks. 

“Yes,” You make him this promise, “I like you too, all I want is to be honest with you,” 

He nods, his fingers flexing on his thigh as he thinks. Finally, he swallows tightly, his skin flushing a little now that you’re almost pressed together on the couch, and he asks what he’s wanted to ask all night, “y/n,” he turns towards you, “can I kiss you?” 

He’s stunning this close, enough to render you speechless, breathless. You manage a single word, “Please,” 

He’s on you in a flash, and Yeosang’s lips are warm, soft and plush and as he presses into you and winds his arms around you. Your body relaxes into his instantly, the feeling of his warmth, the scent of him, rich coffee grounds and sugar infused into his skin from his work at the cafe. 

His tongue probes your mouth, his breath hot as he sighs. Your body feels alight, hot and feverish and desperate from just a single kiss. You need him inside you yesterday. 

When he breaks the kiss, you realize you’re half straddling him. Somewhere in the heat of the moment and the muddled fog you hitched a leg over his and his hands dragged you up against him so you’re chest to chest. When your mouths break apart, you’re still merely inches from each other and panting the same little breath of air. 

“y/n,” His hands explore you slowly, moving over your skin like he’s trying to learn you, “normally I would try to keep the kink to a future date, but since you already know all of my deepest, darkest fantasies, maybe we can skip ahead?” 

“Yes,” You laugh softly, “definitely,” 

“But I am realizing something,” His hands find the curve of your ass, “I’m at a disadvantage here, you’ve seen my videos, but I don’t know anything about what you like.” 

“You,” The word bubbles up and you flush red again. 

“My voice, I’m sure you like that,” He drops it a little to emphasize the husky bedroom quality of it with a teasing smile on his face, “but what videos do you like? What were your favorites?” 

He’s about to ruin you, there’s absolutely no question. Even if he was all talk you’re sure to be coming just from his words alone, but his hands, the way he touches you, there’s no doubt he has the skills to back up everything he’s ever said in the videos too. 

“Now I’m a little embarrassed,” You admit, “an hour ago we were on a first date,” 

“An hour ago I didn’t know the woman across the table had fucked herself to the thought of me,” He counters softly, “and we can slow down if you want but judging from the wet patch on my thigh I think you want to keep going,” 

You jerk your hips immediately, angling to pull them away so you can stop embarrassing yourself all over this man after a single kiss, but his hands lock down hard over your ass and he holds your body firmly against him. 

“No, no,” He adjusts his leg so that his thigh is pressed even more firmly against your cunt, “don’t be embarrassed with me,” 

“Right,” You blush darker. 

“I’ll tell you what I want,” He offers, “would that help?” 

You nod quickly. 

One of his hands shifts to lovingly stroke up and down your back as he speaks, “I want you to enjoy this more than anything. There is nothing that gets me off harder than making a partner absolutely fall apart for me, and knowing I did that for them, and I think you already know that from my content. That’s real, that’s me.” 

You shiver a little and he leans up to kiss you, softer this time. 

“I’d like this to be good for you,” He continues, “and honestly I already want to see you again, but in case it’s only one night for you I think we should make it count.” 

The night went from nothing to everything so fast your head is spinning but you nod, surging up to kiss him with your hands pressed against his chest for balance. Your core drags along his hard thigh with your momentum forwards and you gasp a little into the kiss, your hips bucking softly on their own at the sudden pleasurable sensation. You feel something stiff and warm pressing into your belly and you feel a rush of sensation between your thighs. 

“So,” He kisses you again, leaning away so he can talk to you, “tell me what videos you liked,” 

“The um,” You clear your throat softly, “the guided ones,” 

He smiles, “Those are your favorites?” 

You nod. 

“And the roleplay?” He asks. 

“Good,” You nod, “everything you do is really good,” 

“But the guided ones get you off, hmm?” He squeezes your hips. 

You nod again, “You’re very good at what you do,” 

“Guided,” He says, almost to himself, before he drags your hips up and back along his thigh, “so you like when I talk you through it?” 

You rock your hips on your own this time, picking up on his cues that he wants you to grind on him, “Mm-hmm,” 

“Tell me more about what you like,” He keeps one hand planted firmly on your backside, but the other starts to wonder, fingers teasing the skin of your collarbones before he cups your breast through your sweater. 

  “Y-you’re so comforting,” You manage as you slowly rut your body against his, “even when you’re edging me and telling me what to do, you’re just, I don’t know,” 

“Is that right?” He teases softly, his fingers toying with the top button of your closed cardigan. 

“Mm,” You sigh, pleasure truly starting to build inside you as you rock your clit lazily against him, “and you understand it takes time for women,” 

The button opens. 

“You take your time with the build up,” You sigh, finding a better position for your hands against his firm chest while you continue to rock, “and when you talk about what you wish you could do to me if you were there,” 

Two more buttons part open and he hums softly, appreciatively, “You like knowing what I want?” 

You nod, watching as he makes short work of your other buttons. 

“Maybe I should just show you,” He slides the cardigan off your shoulders until it pools around your waist, caught on your elbows, “wouldn’t that be better than just listening?”

“Y-yes,” You sigh, your hips slowing so you can let him take the lead. 

He shakes his head, pressing his hand against your ass again to keep you moving, “That’s it,” 

You moan softly, fingers gripping his shirt, “Yeosang,” 

He chuckles at your needy whine and brushes his fingers between your breasts, stroking up your chest, down and over the wire of your bra, and lower still over the soft flesh of your belly. 

“There you go,” He smiles, “I know that feels good,” 

You nod, “So good,” 

“Jagiya,” His hands slide your bra straps down, letting the soft material of the mesh cups fall and reveal your breasts to his hungry eyes, “look how pretty you are for me,” 

You’re close. 

“Don’t stop,” He murmurs, shifting under you so that he can sit up further and press his lips to your chest, “I need you to come,” 

“Yeo,” You whine, your hips sinking into a quick rolling rhythm that feels so right. 

“I need to take my time with you,” He confesses, lips traveling from the center of your chest across the swell of your breasts, “but I don’t think I can,” 

“I-I don’t want you to,” You moan, wrapping an arm around his shoulders to stay steady, “please,” 

“I want to,” He groans, “but, fuck, y/n,” 

“Yeo,” You shudder, pleasure snapping up and down your spine, “it’s not one night, it could have never been one night for me,” 

He exhales a heavy breath against your skin, hands tightening pleasantly on your rutting hips. 

You’re startlingly close to tipping over the edge, the bubble growing closer and closer to bursting, and you squeeze your eyes shut tightly to focus on the sensation of him, “I-I need,” 

He grips you harder, “Tell me, baby,” 

“I, I,” You stammer, body stumbling towards coming. 

“Come on,” He says lowly, “tell me what you need, baby, I’m right here,” 

A tight sound bubbles out of your mouth and you figure it out in a second, your hand winding into the back of his hair to direct his head, pushing his mouth until you feel his lips ghost over your pebbled nipple. 

“Oh,” He groans, his tongue catching your nipple firmly and sending a shock down your back, “there we go, I’ve got you,” 

His tongue flicks over your nipple again, closing his lips over the hardened bud to suck sharply in exactly the way you need to take you right over the edge. 

“I’m,” You grip him harder, losing yourself entirely now as you grind against him for your release, “I’m so close,” 

“Come,” He pants, latching back onto your breast to keep lavishing the same attention, his arms banding tightly around you to hold your shuddering body close.  

Your finger tightens in his hair, he begs you once more to come, and your orgasm knocks into you sideways. You moan sharply, jerking against him as you fall apart, and you feel him start to move. 

He presses fast kisses across your chest, his voice soothing, “Oh, there we go,” he sighs as he feels you trembling, “fuck, what a good girl showing me exactly what she needs,” 

His words draw a groan from your lips, your head buzzing at his praise. 

“Perfect,” He sighs against your chest, “you have the prettiest tits I’ve ever seen,” 

You shiver, “Yeah?” 

“Mhm,” His fingers trace a circle around your nipple, and something in the way he’s touching you and the sound of his voice tells you everything. He’s about to tease you, edge you, make you come, and god willing he was about to fuck you. Yeosang flicks his thumb over your nipple and smiles, “Baby, I’m going to turn you over, if you want to slow down or stop at anytime you just tell me,” 

“I think I’ll be,” You start to say, and then he maneuvers you quickly in his strong arms, gathering you close so he can turn you over on the couch, leaving you lying flat on your back against the cushions. You squeak and the way he pushes your legs together, quickly undoing the buttons on your trousers and pulling down the zip, and he glances up at the sound to check your eyes but finds nothing but your lazy post-orgasm smile. 

As he kneels and strips your trousers off he groans, “God,” 

“W-what’s wrong?” You blink, finding his eyes. 

“Absolutely nothing,” He smooths his hands up and down your bare legs, “except I’m finding it very difficult not being inside you yet,” 

“So come inside me,” You smile. 

The corner of his mouth turns up at your words, “Already, baby? It’s only the first date,” 

You process your words and roll your eyes, “You know what I meant,” 

“I do,” He smiles wider now, “but you need to come again before I fuck you,” 

“Not that I’m complaining about you touching me,” You gasp sharply as he hooks his thumbs under the sides of your thong and yanks it away, “but I’ve been daydreaming about your cock for months, so,” 

He laughs sharply, tugging his own shirt up and off over his head as he does, “I’m flattered,” 

“Shut up,” You press your thighs together and let your head flop back onto the cushions. 

“Darling,” Yeosang says, kissing each of your thighs before he starts to slowly open your legs again, “how long has it been since you’ve been with someone?” 

“Honestly?” You grimace, “A while,” 

“And how long since you’ve had anything bigger than your fingers inside you?” He asks it so plainly, so calmly, while he widens your legs and starts to tip you open, another kiss to your inner thigh. 

You shiver in his hands, “N-not that long,” 

“Hmm,” He sounds pleased at that, “do you like using toys when you fuck yourself to my voice?” 

“Fuck,” You gasp as his finger traces the softest line up and down your slit. 

“Is that a yes?” He blows a cool stream of air across your throbbing clit and you jerk in his hands. 

“Yes,” You answer quickly. 

“What I wouldn’t give to watch that,” He says, kissing your inner thigh again before he continues, “but still, I’m probably bigger than your dildo, be patient with me,” 

“Oh, fuck,” You melt as he presses one finger inside your slick channel.

“Relax,” He soothes you, “just let go for me,” 

You don’t know how your life is this strange, how you went from listening to this man through your headphones while you touched yourself under the covers alone at home to his fingers sinking inside you. You’ll probably wake up from this dream with sticky thighs. There’s no way this is real. 

Those are the thoughts that dizzy you until he pushes two fingers flush into your heat and you moan sharply, your hand gripping down on one of the couch throw pillows. He feels pretty real. 

He groans, gently pumping his middle and ring finger just to get you used to the sensation, “Feel good?” 

“So good,” You sigh.

“How badly do you need to come, darling?” He asks, continuing the slow and steady thrust of his fingers. 

“So badly,” Your voice is whiny, needy, entirely informed by the feverish heat spreading through you. 

“Pretty girl,” He hums, “with an even prettier pussy,” 

“Oh, god,” You grip the pillows harder, and he’s barely doing anything to you but your legs are already starting to tremble. 

“Mmm,” His fingers begin to pulse more firmly and you feel his fingers curl, finding the spongy crook of your g-spot with practiced ease, “and you need my cock inside, don’t you?” 

“Ah, yes! Yes,” Pleasure blooms through your body. 

“Soon,” He promises. 

You moan again as he repositions, continuing the steady drumbeat of his fingers inside you as he reaches around with his opposite hand to separate your lower lips, the pad of his middle finger now alternating between maddening flicks and taps to your clit. 

“Ah! Yeo,” Your hips rock, “just like that,” 

“Good girl,” He murmurs, “telling me what you like,” 

A tight sensation fills your lower belly, a blossoming heat that spreads from your core up through your body in warm waves, “F-faster,” 

“Mm,” His thrusting picks up speed instantly, the angle slightly adjusting as he does, “that’s it,” 

The angle chance has his curled fingers pumping against your g-spot hard and suddenly the sensation drops low, almost painfully tight and sharp like you’re on the precipice of something. 

It occurs to you all at once what he’s trying to do, the way he’s trying to make your body sing, and despite the rolling waves of pleasure and how close you are to your second release, you don’t necessarily want the first time you squirt to be on Yeosang’s floor. 

“B-baby,” You whine, the pet name slipping off your tongue, “I’m gonna, I think, oh fuck,” 

“Fuck yes,” His fingers flatten down over your clit and he rubs fast, slickly rolling over your firm bud, “let go,” 

“I can’t,” You shake your head, sweat breaking out across your brow, “I’ve n-never, oh, fuck, Yeosang!”

“Come,” He commands softly, “that’s it, you come, right here, baby,” 

He’s not stopping, and with the way he’s working you there’s no way you could even if you tried. In a snap your body releases hard, a sensation like nothing you’ve ever felt pulsing through your slick cunt and your legs jerk, hips snapping up as clear fluid pulses out of you. The sound that leaves your lips is wanton, broken and needy, and your ears are very clearly ringing. 

“Oh, fuck,” Yeosang hums, almost to himself, rubbing fast across your soaked slit to help coax every bit of slick from your center, “oh, baby, look at you,” 

Your legs try to snap shut at the suddenly sharp overstimulation, but all he does is take that as his cue to stop directly stimulating you and instead drop the warm flat of his tongue over every inch of your glistening pussy. You gasp sharply at the feeling, rolling your head forwards so that you can look down between your legs, and you moan softly at the sight. 

He’s buried between your thighs, lazily licking stripes up your inner thighs and over your cunt, but slowly enough that his aim isn’t to draw you into another orgasm, he just wants to taste you. To feel you on his tongue and ease you through your little aftershocks. 

“God,” You breathe after a moment, “oh, my god,” 

He chuckles, kissing the top of your mound, “Was that your first time?” 

You nod, still trying to catch your breath. 

He groans a little, palming his hard cock through his trousers to readjust, “That’s an ego boost, I’m not going to lie,” 

You manage a laugh despite your dizzy, orgasm fogged brain, “Yeah?” 

“Mhm,” He strokes your thigh, “if you’re not careful I might get addicted to the way you taste when you come,” 

A shudder runs through you, “You can’t just say things like that,” 

  “It’s not a lie,” He says, “I’d spend a whole night between these thighs if you’ll let me,” 

“Mm,” You sigh, reaching down for him and brushing your fingers through his long, dark hair. 

“Now?” He cocks his head slightly to the side, “If you want my mouth, you just have to ask,” 

You shake your head, slowly starting to push yourself into a sitting position and slide your hips away from him, “Not tonight,” 

“What more can I give you tonight?” He murmurs, running his hands up and down your bare thighs, “Anything you want,” 

You cup his face, drawing him close to lock your lips on his, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and nuzzling into his nose, “Take me to bed, please, Yeosang,” 

“Let’s go,” He agrees, extricating himself from your arms so he can stand and offer you a hand up. 

You take it, but as you do you realize the wet puddle on the floor in front of the couch and you blush dark red, covering your mouth with your hand, “I’m so sorry,” 

“For what?” He blinks at you, and then follows your nervous eyes. 

“I didn’t realize,” You start to say but he interrupts you with a hard kiss. 

“Relax,” He says, “if we’re lucky you’ll make a mess of my room too,”

“I don’t know how I did it,” 

He laughs again, “I do,” he smiles, “now come on, I need to see you in my bed before I combust,” 

He tugs your hand, leading you down the hall until you’re in a large master bedroom. Your eyes flick over the details - industrial, warm wood, dark green sheets, soft ambient lighting. You’re about to comment on it, but he flips you back around to face him and captures your mouth in another hungry kiss. 

“God,” He backs you up to the edge of the bed, dropping you down and falling over you, “tell me I can have you,” 

“You have me,” You pant against his mouth, all thoughts of his lovely interior decor gone in an instant when you feel the hard shaft of his cock nestled between your thighs. 

“I swear next time we’ll go slow,” He grinds his hips down, rolling his length up and down your slit, only the thin fabric of his trousers separating you. 

“Please,” You buck against him, “I need you right now,” 

“Fuck,” His hands are hot, searching, “is that right, darling?” 

“Inside me,” Your hands scramble to find his waistband, “please,” 

He nods, lips still pressed against yours, and then he leans back just enough to undo his trousers and start to push down his pants and boxer briefs. 

Your mouth runs dry immediately. He wasn’t wrong about his size. You have fairly large dildos at home, thick and long and perfect for reaching all the spots you need it to, but Yeosang was bigger, thicker and longer than anything you’ve ever had inside you. 

“Condom?” He manages as he shucks off his pants. 

You blink, tearing your eyes away from his perfect, aching cock and nod, “We probably should?” 

“Right,” He doesn’t push you to make a different choice, he simply searches his nightstand for a moment and produces a foil packet. 

He strokes his cock twice while he tears the packet open with his teeth, before watching you beneath him as he rolls the condom smoothly down his length, adjusting it so that it fits perfectly. 

You’re trembling with anticipation, you can feel it and so can he. 

“y/n,” He murmurs, leaning over you and pressing a hand beneath your back to finally unclip your bra, “I want you to do something for me,” 

You nod, sliding the cardigan and bra off your body and pushing them over the edge of the bed. 

He grabs a firm looking pillow and folds it in half, “Lift your hips for me,” 

You lift up and he slides the pillow right under your backside to leave you propped up and open for him. 

“If it doesn’t feel good,” He murmurs as he maneuvers you into the position he wants, “or if I’m hurting you at all, just tell me,” 

You nod. 

“And I want you to tell me when you’re about to come,” He instructs, “I need to know,” 

You nod again, your stomach flipping with desire. 

He licks his lips, folding your legs open a little wider and slotting himself over you. He settles with one hand on your raised hip, the other braced on the bed by your head, his knees on the edge of the mattress between your splayed thighs. 

His cock finally, finally, nudges at your entrance and you grip down on the sheets below you. 

“Mm,” He groans, sinking just an inch or two into your tight heat, “you’re even tighter than I thought,” 

He pushes in a little more and you moan at the stretch, “Oh, god,” 

“Do I feel that good, babygirl?” He teases, pushing in a little more.

“So good,” You lift your head to watch the way his thick length splits you open. 

“I am bigger than your toys, aren’t I?” He rolls his hips this time, rocking himself deeper with every little thrust. 

“Y-yes,” You nod, your head dropping back to the mattress. 

“Can you take me, baby?” He murmurs low. 

“Fuck yes,” Your hips buck up again on their own as he opens you up, nearly fully sheathed inside you. 

“Just a little more,” He says, his hand tightening on your hip, “there we go, fuck, that’s it, you’re taking me so beautifully, baby,” 

Tears rush to your eyes, not from any kind of discomfort, but just from the overwhelming sensation of him. You’ve never been so full, never been so deliciously stretched and had these parts of you touched, and it rushes a blush to your chest and emotion through your veins. 

His fingers brush along your jaw, bringing your eyes to his, “Good tears, or should we stop?” 

“If you stop I’ll actually cry,” You laugh, blinking away the hazy sheen in your eyes, “you feel so fucking good,” 

“Oh,” He sighs, thrusting gently in and out of you, “what a good, good girl, you are,” 

“Jesus,” You shiver beneath him. 

“Yeah?” He starts to move now, just a bit more, rocking his cock at a steady pace in and out of your wet core, “You like when I tell you how good you are for me?” 

“Yes,” You moan, a shock of hot pleasure spiking up from your core, “please,” 

“Such a good girl letting me fuck her perfect pussy on the first date,” His voice has dropped low again, husky and direct, and you babble out a sound of pleasure as he talks, “so warm and wet,” 

“Fuck, fuck,” Your eyes roll. 

He collapses over you a little more, his desperate lips searching for yours and the angle deepens, pushing his cock deeper and deeper inside you with every downward thrust of his hips. 

You grip his shoulders, nails digging into his warm skin, “Baby,” you pant, “your cock, oh god,” 

He hums against your cheek, head falling slack as his lips find your throat, sucking your pulse points and no doubt searing his mark into your tender skin. He pumps his hips harder and you moan under him, cursing again and scrambling to hold him closer. 

“Such a dirty mouth,” He nips at your neck, “are you always like this, or is my cock that special?” 

All you can manage is a taught moan in response, his cockhead now continuously connecting with your sweet spot over and over and rendering you unable to string a coherent thought together. 

He groans at the way your cunt flutters and spasms and he kisses you hard, fingers tangling in your hair, “One of these days I’ll feel you for real,” he pants, “nothing between my cock and your sweet cunt,” 

Your back arches, your mind spinning at the thought, “Yeo,” you moan. 

“Fuck,” He chokes, “the way you’re squeezing me,” 

You make a tight sound, something between a pleasured whine and a sob, and his hips stutter and stop, pressing his cock in as deep as possible as he grips down on whatever parts of you he can, breathing hot and heavy against your skin. 

You can’t really move well in this position, but your hips rock in tiny back and forth motions to try and keep the sensation rolling through you. He’s panting into your shoulder, clearly trying to keep himself from coming too soon, and your mind commits to an idea before you have a second to double check yourself. 

“Yeo,” You tap his arm, “baby I need to move,” 

He pushes off you, his cock sliding out of your soaked core and you leg your legs straighten out, “What’s wrong,” 

The words are barely off his tongue before you’re sitting up, grabbing his hand and drawing him back to the bed, pushing him onto his back with a guiding hand to his shoulder. He lets you lead, watching you as you put him where you want him this time, and he smiles, eyes flicking over you appreciatively. 

“I need you,” Is all the explanation you can give, and maybe with a stranger this is foolish, borderline stupid, but you know him. He’s not a stranger really, not to you. 

With a feverish pulse of need inside you, you shift to straddle his hips, and with quick, sure hands you roll the condom up from the base of his cock and toss it to the side. 

“y/n,” He manages, but you’re lifting yourself over him now and his hands fly up to brace your waist, “are you sure?” 

“So sure,” You connect his cockhead with your slick hole and drop your hips down fast, taking the whole hard length of him inside you in one smooth motion. 

It’s his turn to moan, his head dropping back at the sensation of your wet walls and he grips at you, his hips stuttering beneath you. 

“God,” He bucks up into you, “you’re perfect,” 

“So are you,” You rock against him, finding the perfect place for your hands on his chest, “you’re so deep,” 

He moans again, and when you start to bounce up and down he curses tightly. 

“J-just don’t come inside me,” You keep bouncing, a steady fluid motion in your hips that you can tell is driving him crazy, but you have to keep your head at least a little. 

“F-fuck,” He groans, his jaw tightening as his eyes flick down to the place your bodies are joined together, “you’re making that kind of difficult,”

“I just wanted to feel you,” Your shaking arms buckle a little and you find yourself flush against his chest while you work his cock. 

“Me too,” His hands find your ass again and he starts to direct the pace, “God, I could fuck you forever,” 

A moan drops from your mouth, your hands tightening on his chest. 

“Don’t stop,” He urges you, and you realize your hips slowed at his words, “you feel so good riding me like that,” 

Your thighs are burning already, but you hardly care, every fast shift up and down leaves you closer and closer, “Love you cock,” 

“Mm, yeah? Say that again,” 

“I,” You curse as a spike of pleasure rolls through you, “fuck, I love your cock,” 

“Good girl,” He grips you tight, his hips jutting up to meet you now. 

Your pace falters slightly, “Please, please,” 

“I’ve got you,” He adjusts just enough to hold you steady as he fucks up into your tight heat, “I’ve got you,” 

You moan, dropping your head into his chest and shuddering against him, “Baby, oh fuck,” 

“A-are you close, jagi?” He pants, fingers digging into your hips so hard you know you’ll have bruises. 

“Don’t stop,” You beg, “please, god, don’t stop,” 

He groans, keeping the pace of his thrusts and using his hands on your ass to maneuver you to meet his hips. 

“Shit,” You shudder in his arms, your orgasm fast approaching, “I’m coming,” 

“Come here,” He shifts you fast, rolling you up and off him and manhandling you up to your feet. 

You make a surprised noise at the lack of him inside you when you were getting so close, but you don’t have to worry for very long. Before you can open your mouth he has you standing, facing away from him, and bent over ninety degrees to brace your hands on the bed. 

He thrusts back inside you sharply, slamming his hips into yours and leaving you moaning and curling in on yourself, your legs starting to tremble. 

“Come on my cock, pretty girl,” He palms your ass before planting his hands on your hips and using the leverage to pull you back into each of his thrusts, “you’re so close,” 

Your eyes slam shut, fisting the sheets as you hang on, every sharp push of his cock driving deeper and deeper. You’re going to have bruises, you’re going to be sore, but none of it matters when he’s making you feel this good. 

You sob out a moan, collapsing forward into the bedding but he holds you up, “I can’t,” 

“Yes, you can,” He pants, his sweat slick skin connecting again and again with yours. 

“Fuck,” You groan, “I’m almost, I’m so,” 

“Touch your yourself,” He directs, interrupting your pleasured ramblings, “rub your clit for me, baby,” 

You slide a hand between your legs, locating your slick bud with ease and rolling your fingers over it quickly. 

“Fuck, there you are,” He groans, “that’s right, baby, come on my cock,” 

The same new sensation drops in your gut, your legs start to shake and you’re fairly sure that without his sure hands you’d be crumbling. 

“That’s it,” He coaxes you up, never once slowing the sharp snaps of his hips, “there you go, that’s my good girl,” 

Something unravels in your gut and you come with a shout, folding in on yourself as your legs quake and your mind whites out. Yeosang wraps his arms around you, curling over your back to keep you steady, and his cock slips free so he can stimulate you through your orgasm with his fingers, more liquid pulsing out of you as he fucks you over the edge. 

You’re a quivering mess, and he lets you drop into the sheets, pushing you onto your back so he can stand over you, one hand fisting his slick cock. 

“I’m coming,” He groans, “w-where?” 

Your hands cup your breasts automatically, and you arch up to offer yourself to him, “On me, baby, come all over me,” 

Yeosang groans sharply, his hips thrusting into his tight grip as ropes of silvery white cum paint your skin, covering your belly and breasts and dripping down your chest. He’s panting, his skin flushed pink and sweat covering every inch of his toned chest. 

It takes you both a moment to recover, both trembling in the same position as you try to regain your breath, but after a few moments he smiles a hazy, satisfied smile and finds your eyes, “You’re so beautiful,” 

Suddenly you feel a bit shy, even despite everything you’ve just done together. 

“So beautiful,” He sighs again, pushing his hair back out of his face, and then he drops to his knees. 

He hushes your soft protests and this time he tastes you slowly, but with intention. After such rough, intense sex, he follows it with the softest, slowest orgasm you’ve ever had. With slow sucks and gentle licks he brings you through a languid rolling wave that softens your limbs and leaves you sleepy and pliant in the sheets.  

You drift, falling into sleep too easily for a first date in a sort of stranger’s apartment. 

You wake a little later to a warm sensation on your skin, and you blink your eyes open to see Yeosang sitting next you, freshly showered and wearing black sweatpants and a familiar blank tank top. He draws the wet washcloth over your skin and then stops and smiles when he sees your eyes open. 

“Hey,” He murmurs. 

“Hi,” You reply softly, “I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” 

He shakes his head, “Don’t be sorry,” 

“I think you scrambled my brain a little,” You laugh, covering your face with your hands. 

“Hopefully in a good way,” He nudges you. 

“Beyond good,” You look up at him, “are you kidding?” 

He smiles a little wider, “Good,” he says, “I drew you a bath,” 

“Oh,” Your eyebrows raise. 

“I thought you might be sore,” He explains, “I know I was a little rough, I hope you’re not feeling it too much,” 

You shake your head, “Just a little, but in a good way,” 

He nods, “Does the bath sound nice, or would you prefer a shower?” 

“Bath is perfect,” You can see that he’s suddenly a little nervous, back to the same man from your date, no trace of Ryu’s husky tones. 

“Here,” He offers you his hands to help you up, and guides you towards the connected bathroom suite. It’s large, crisp and clean, and in the corner stands a large spa-like tub filled high with warm water. 

“Thank you,” You murmur as he helps you slip into the cocoon of water, the subtle scent of lavender wafting up from the steam. 

“Mhm,” He nods, pulling a bamboo stool from the side of the sink and setting it down so he can sit at the edge of the tub and be at eye level with you. 

“This is nice,” You murmur, still finding yourself a little shy in the post-orgasm clarity of it all. 

He’s quiet for a moment, his fingertips dragging over the surface of the water and then he bites his lip. 

Your stomach sinks for a moment, nerves coming back tenfold at the idea that maybe he’d prefer you to go after this, maybe this is all you’d ever have. Maybe he reconsidered what you know about his online persona and maybe he wasn’t willing to take the leap. 

“y/n,” He sighs, “this might be forward,” 

You look up from the rippling water. 

“But what do you think about staying the night? We could order some dessert, maybe keep getting to know each other a little?” He asks. 

You can’t fight the smile that blooms over your face, “I thought you might have changed your mind,” 

“No,” He reaches into the water to find your hand, twining your fingers together, “not at all.” 

“Yeah?” You squeeze his hand. 

“I’d be crazy to let this be a one-time thing,” He lifts your hand from the bath and presses a kiss to the back, “I hope you feel the same.” 

“I really do,” You twist to the side, leaning over to find his mouth and lock your lips together. 

Yeosang cups your cheek, deepening the kiss tenderly, his tongue sweeping against yours, “What are you doing tomorrow night, then?” 

“Tomorrow?” You lean back a little. 

“Let me take you out again,” He kisses you again, softly this time, “I’m probably supposed to wait a few days, Wooyoung would tell me I seem too eager, but,” 

“Who cares about that?” You grin, leaning out of the bath far enough to wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him, “It’s a date,” 

“And Sunday?” His hands slide down your back. 

You nuzzle his nose with yours, “I have a date,” 

“Oh,” He says, deflating instantly. 

“You might know him,” You tease, “he owns this lovely little cafe,” 

He laughs, his forehead leaning on yours, “You’re mean,” 

“You like me,” You peck his lips. 

“I do,” He nods, “I really, really do,” 

Well Shit

2chopsticks2eyes - Masterlist

Pairing: Lee Minho/Lee Know x Fem Reader

Themes: Smut, Angst, Fluff

Word Count: ~30k | AO3

Warnings: Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, Alcohol, Cussing, Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Alternate Universe, Vaginal Sex, Protected Sex, Unprotected Sex, Friends With Benefits

Summary: Your ex is a cheating bastard who had been your only experience with sex (which he was absolute shit at). Getting back into the dating game was not what you expected, so your older brother's annoying best friend, Minho, decided to offer to show you the ropes on what it's like to have actual good sex.

Author's Note: This work was inspired by a request from @kyungpenguin33. This took longer than I expected because life hit me like a truck for a while. But hopefully, nothing slows me down for the next fic I have in store!

__________________________________________

“He didn’t even fucking deserve you anyway! You’re too good for a guy that constantly smells like pickles and dick cheese.” Your best friend Tiffany blatantly carped as she sprawled out on your bed while mindlessly scrolling away on her phone.

You had just recently broken up with your boyfriend of three years and for some goddamned reason, Tiffany had to bring up the topic constantly. Apparently, once you get to college, boys decide they want the next, new thing. You just wished he would have ended things with you before he started fucking half of the ‘sorostitutes’ that were willing to open their legs for him.

You felt like a jug of milk. What was once a refreshing, healthy relationship, started to slowly become sour and curdled. You thought you two were in love, hence the long-lasting relationship, but you guess he saw the expiration date before you did.

It had been about a month since you ended things with him, yet here Tiffany was, rambling on and on about how she always knew your relationship ‘was doomed to fail’ and ‘emotionally toxic’. You couldn’t help but wonder, if she ‘always’ knew that, why did she never say anything to you about it? Why did she constantly fawn over him? Why did she feel the need to whine about how she was ‘so jealous of you for snatching him’?

Now, you loved Tiffany, you did. She was always there for you when no one else was. Even if she mostly acted as if you were a child and considered herself your influencer. You learned to look over it because, whatever she did, she did it out of love, right?

That’s what led you to invite her over to your house, well, more like your family’s house because who the fuck can afford to live alone on campus as a broke college student these days? 

Anyway, you were currently laying down on your stomach on the plush carpet of your floor with oodles of papers and textbooks spread around you while Tiffany, still on your bed, continued to berate you with nonsensical chatter.

“I knew he was a bad apple from the start, but I didn’t say anything because I wanted to be a good friend and be supportive of you. And now what? This is where it got you.” 

You rolled your eyes and slumped your head down into your hands. “I get it, Tiff. I should have seen this coming. But I’ve moved on now…” You were… partially telling the truth. “...and so should you. I’m glad you care about me, but I don’t even want to think about that douchebag ever again.”

She lowered her phone and raised an eyebrow at you that silently screamed ‘uh-huh suuuure’, then she sighed deeply and returned to her mindless scrolling with a ‘higher-than-thou’ look on her face.

“Tiff, didn’t you come here to study with me? We have finals in two weeks and a paper due in economics tomorrow.” You said while assessing her lax composure. 

“Oh, I’ve already gotten that taken care of. You really need to stay on top of that kind of stuff, ya know? Or else the next three years of your undergrad is going to be a disasteeeer~! Not to mention veterinary school after that!” 

You scoffed and returned your attention to the mounds of work around you. Here we go again with the whole ‘I’m more mature than you’ act. It’s true that you really needed to pick up the slack, but you also knew that Tiffany was only at a marginally passing grade. She always half-assed her work.

The sound of a phone buzzing pulled your attention and you looked up to see Tiffany putting her phone up to her ear. “Heeey baby! What’s up?” You internally cringed from her zero to sixty babygirl voice. “Right now? Yeah! Totally free!..... Uh-huh….. Of cooourse….. Kay kay! Be there in a jiff! Love ya babe! B-byyyeeee.” You wanted to gag but quickly composed yourself when she returned her focus to you, sitting up from the bed as she spoke. “Jay’s wanting to go out tonight so I’mma bouce!”

You wanted to say ‘why did you tell him you were free if you were obviously here for me?’ But you decided to just let it go. You weakly nodded your head. “Kay, have fun.” 

“Oh you know I will.” She said in a suggestive tone. She basically skipped away but stopped with her hand on your bedroom door handle. She turned back to you with a brazen smile. “Like, I know we’ve only been dating for, like, a week, but my god that man is way better in bed than my last boyfriend was.” She spoke quietly as if someone would hear her gossiping in this completely empty house.

“Who, David?” You engaged ruefully, not quite sure which poor soul you friend was preying on this time.

“No, silly! It’s Mark! David was the one I dated before Chad and Chad was the one before Mark.” She giggled bubbly.

You chuckled. “Man, you really know how to pick ‘em, huh?”

She rolled her eyes and looked at you pitifully. “I can’t help it that I have standards that these guys can’t live up to!” She released the doorknob momentarily and began to look quizzical. “Now that I think about it, maybe I could hook you up with Jackson! He was one of the better ones!” She declared jovially while pulling out her phone again. “Plus, someone needs to show you what a good fuck is like now that your previous old scrotum has moved on…” She rambled as she searched through her phone.

You sprung up from the floor like lightning and rushed over to her. “Nononono, Tiff. No matchmaking, please. Especially not with your sloppy seconds!” You pleaded while holding her arm pathetically.

“Too late, love! Already sent your number to him! You’ll thank me later, trust me.” She winked at you and gave you a peck on the cheek. “Love ya lots! Lemme know what he says!” When she turned to the door and opened it, both of you were startled out of your skin to see a man with sandy blonde hair holding his hand up as if he was about to knock on the aforementioned bedroom door that was now wide open.

Lee Minho.

Why this motherfucking bane of your existence was here, knocking on your door, you didn’t know. But your focus was shifted by the bubbly giggle of your best friend. “Oh my god, Minho! I didn’t know you were here! Why didn’t you come and say hi to me??” Her exuberant voice rang loudly.

Your best friend was a serial flirt and everyone knew this, but it still pained you to watch it unfold firsthand anyway. Especially to the man she knew to be a close family friend.

“Uhhh, actually I came here to see your friend.” He awkwardly stated before he turned to you with a big, annoyingly cocky smirk. “Hey there, kitten.”

You just grumbled and pushed past him and grabbed Tiffany’s arm to see her out. 

As you two retreated, Tiffany hollered over her shoulder to him. “I hope we’ll cross paths on campus later! Bye, Minho!” You heard Minho reply with a faint ‘bye’ as you ushered her out with a quick hug goodbye.

Now, here's the thing you need to know about Minho, you don’t hate the guy, you just find his existence to be extremely annoying.

Lee Minho was your two-year-older brother’s best friend since you were in middle school. For as long as you could remember, Minho was a constant visitor at your house. He was always treated like family by your parents and that had never changed over the years. However, when your brother decided to study abroad and Minho wanted to stay at home and go to the nearby community college, you figured he would slowly drift away.

Nope. Why would you think such a thing? You already knew it was his life goal to be a pain in the ass.

That motherfucker would come to your place weekly, almost even several times a week, just to hang out with your family. For some reason, you were the only one who found it weird because your parent’s welcomed him with open arms like he was a part of the family. Even going as far as giving him the key code to the house! It wasn’t like he had a bad relationship with his parents or anything, he had a wonderful family! Which just made it more annoying when he would come around.

You couldn’t really figure out just why he got under your skin so much, he just did.

Which is why, when you shut the front door behind you and turned back inside to see a smug grin stretched across his unreasonably handsome face, you felt the urge to just go ahead and punch the pretty off of it. “Mom and Dad are out of town right now. You’ll have to come back next week to annoy me.” You said scathingly as you marched back to your room.

You could already feel yourself tense up when he turned to follow you. “Well, what’s the fun in that if I can just annoy you now? Just ‘cause your big bro’s gone doesn’t mean you can get rid of me that easy.” You dropped back down to the floor where your circle of stress resided and he plopped down onto your bed, immediately making himself comfortable on it as if it were his own damned cotton duvet he was sprawled across.

You snapped your head at him. “Do you have any particular reason to be here other than to drive me up the fucking wall with your shit?” You gave your deadliest glare, but that just seemed to amuse him further.

“No, that’s about it. Gotta keep you on your toes, ya know? Plus I would never be opposed to… what was it you said? ‘Driving you up the wall’? Sounds like a really fun challenge to me.” His smile was evil and you hated that it made him look even more attractive.

You scoffed in disbelief and returned to your notes. “Great. I feel honored to have warranted your undivided attention.” Your voice was dripping with sarcasm. “Well, if you have nothing better to do, at least keep it zipped up while I study for my finals.” 

“Oh? You sure you don’t want me to zip it down instead? You might find something even harder than those finals there, kitten.” You shot daggers at him with your eyes but his suggestive smile remained all the same. This motherfucker… did he really just say that?

This was a norm between the two of you. He would teasingly make lewd or flirtatious comments to you and you would always tell him to kindly fuck off. You never truly had any malice to your words and he knew this. So, the playful banter continued.

“OR I might find myself with an outrageous hospital bill after I shove your testicles so far up into your ass that you choke on them.” Your voice was saccharine sweet as you openly threatened him. It was as if you were a well-behaved waitress that would spit in his pudding spitefully.

He didn’t miss a beat. “Sorry, babe. I’m not into the whole cock and ball torture kink. Maybe we can explore what you like instead?”

You hoped he didn’t notice the red tint to your ears as you muttered expletives under your breath. “What I’d like is for you to shut the hell up and let me STUDY.” You obviously sounded absolutely done with his playful banter and he finally relented.

He raised his hands in mock surrender. “Fine. Fine. I’ll leave you be this time, kitten.” He stood up from the bed and crouched down in front of you, flicking the edge of the textbook you were scanning over. “But if you ever need help with any of this, let me know.”

You just hummed your response, opening your laptop in front of you and refusing to make eye contact as he reluctantly slunk away from you and out of your house.

When you heard the front door shut, your head dropped from your shoulders to hang in front of you as you groaned. Why, just why, did you both end up wanting to be veterinarians? He constantly made fun of you, saying, “oh, it’s so cute how you want to follow in my footsteps!” or “you chose this major to be closer to ME, didn’t you?” 

UGH.

And that stupid smug face of his he made when you had finally declared your major was on a constant loop in your brain. He only called you that stupid nickname because you had rescued a cold and starving kitten on the side of the road when you were in high school and he named you that because that’s what made you find your dream of becoming a vet.

You were IN LOVE with your little Boots. Not to be mistaken for footwear, you named your kitten Boots because she was entirely black except for her four white paws. She was your number one emotional support after your breakup and you had no clue what you would do without her.

As if on cue, Boots casually walked into your room, licking her chops (most likely just finishing demolishing her food bowl like the little piggy she was), and nonchalantly plopped down right on the entirety of your keyboard as if it was her own personal heating pad.

“Boo-baby! I’m working!” You made no move to do anything about it because when cats demand your attention, it’s a crime not to comply. She just stared back at you with an adorable slow blink and your hand moved on its own to start petting her.

Her purring instantly started easing your mind and a fond smile bloomed on your face involuntarily. Slowly, her soft fur and soothing sounds washed away your worries. You felt the stress of school turn into confidence that you knew what you were doing and a reminder that your grades have been awesome. You felt that the annoyance of the people in your life, your ex, Tiffany, Minho, well… they didn’t really matter in terms of you living your own life.

This is your emotional support. Your precious Boots.

Without any words spoken or her even knowing what was going on, she knew when you were suffering. And she always made it her job to help you. That’s why it hurt your soul to meet people who say they hate cats because they are ‘evil’ or ‘assholes’.

Okay, yeah, they definitely can be assholes, but they aren’t inherently evil! They just have unique… personalities. It takes time and love to earn their trust, but when you do, the bond is like a special gift that is only reserved for you.

It was at that moment when you were lost in your thoughts that your phone buzzed. When you unlocked your phone, you saw a text from a random number.

Unknown Number:

Hey, is this Tiffany’s friend?

You:

Yeah, who’s asking?

Unknown Number:

Hey, this is Jackson

We met a couple of times a while back

Tiffany’s ex, remember?

You:

Yeah I remember

Look, I’m sorry if Tiffany told u something weird

I know she had good intentions but…

Please just ignore her lol

Sorry if she made u feel uncomfortable 😅

Jackson:

Nah, I’m not uncomfortable at all 🙂

Actually, I was kind of looking forward to talking to u

You:

Really?

Why tho?

Jackson:

I dunno 😅

I know we only met a couple of times

But I remember u were pretty cool

Really cute too 😉

You blushed a bit and found yourself kind of nervous. It felt like it had been ages since you were single and you just kind of forgot how to interact with guys that were interested in you… but you were kind of excited that someone was into you. Even if you felt like an utter twat trying to think of a response.

You:

Really?

Ur not so bad urself 😅

Jackson:

Oh yeah?

I know me and Tiff used to date and all but…

I was kinda excited to hear that u were available

You didn’t know if you wanted to thank Tiffany or strangle her.

Jackson:

I was wondering…

U have any plans for tomorrow night?

Okay. Keep it cool. Don’t be weird.

You:

I have class until 6

But after that I’m free

Jackson:

Nice, u wanna go to Sideways with me?

I hear they’re giving people one free shot tomorrow

You weren’t a huge fan of the local bar, too many college students and not enough dancing, you were more into the nightclubs where you could just dance to your heart’s content while blending into the crowd. Plus, who takes a girl to a bar for a first date? But you weren’t about to tell him that, so you figured one night wouldn’t hurt.

You:

That sounds like fun

Count me in

Jackson:

Awesome! It’s a date, then! 😉

I’ll pick u up at 8?

You:

Sounds good!

See u tomorrow! 😊

Jackson:

Bet, see u then

You screamed internally and looked at Boots. “Holy shit, Boo-Boo… What the fuck am I doing?” She just stared at you blankly, deciding she was bored with you now as she stood to stretch dramatically before she hopped up on your bed to make herself comfortable there instead.

You tried not to spiral into anxiety but this would be the first date you had been on after your breakup. You had no clue how to act or dress or not seem like a meager airhead that spends her Saturdays watching anime and cuddling her cat in bed wearing nothing but her panties and an oversized graphic t-shirt.

…Yeah you desperately needed assistance. You just prayed that Tiffany would be available to help.

________________________________________

“Not this… ew, no… oh GOD definitely not!” You just sat at your small vanity while Tiffany was raking through your closet to find you something to wear.

Classes were a lot less stressful that day than you had imagined and Tiffany was more than eager to help you get ready that night. You were thankful that you had a good amount of time to get ready because Tiffany was being super picky. Like, she looked like a fucking hound dog sniffing out anything that seemed even remotely designer.

“Do you have ANYTHING sexy in here?! I feel like I’m browsing through the clearance section at GAP!”

“Hey!” You knew she was kind of right, but she didn’t need to point it out so blatantly!

“What? It’s true!”

You huffed. Your ex never really took you out on fancy dates so you never really had the need for anything other than everyday clothes.

“Well excuse me for not dressing like fucking Kim Kardashian at the Met Gala!” She just crossed her arms and raised a brow in a ‘come at me, bitch’ kind of way. You sighed in defeat. “If I have anything remotely suitable, it’s probably buried in the back…”

You turned around to your mirror to continue with your hair and makeup, which was a whole other challenge in itself. You were already basically finished but you decided to be meticulous because, why not? Your new first date since high school should take at least a little effort, right?

“Well it’s not anything near perfect, but this will have to do.” You turned back to your friend laying out one of your black, tighter-fit dresses. “Where are your heels?”

You stood up and walked over to assess the dress. You hoped you could still fit in it, it had been forever since you wore it. “I can’t wear heels, remember? I would legitimately break an ankle if I stepped on anything that wasn’t even a tiny bit of flat ground. And even that is not guaranteed to keep me upright. Heels on me are just a hospital bill waiting to happen.”

She looked crestfallen. “Oh right, I forgot you’re clumsy as fuck. Those weak ankles will be the death of you, I swear” You giggled, knowing she was completely accurate in that statement. She hummed as she assessed your limited amount of shoes. “I suppose these strappy Mary Janes would look cute. Not necessarily the sexiest, but they will suffice.”

You had already stripped and were about to put the dress on when she stopped you. 

“You’re not going to wear that underwear, are you?” You looked down at your plain, black cotton bra and panties and shrugged. 

“Yeah, why not? Black works pretty well, no?”

She rolled her eyes. “You don’t have anything sexier?”

“Why? It’s not like I’m guaranteed to fuck him on the first date.” You stated as you grabbed the dress.

She grabbed it back from you with an incredulous face. “Are you serious?” She put the dress back down on the bed and grabbed you by the shoulders, donning her typical expression of looking down at you as if you were a child. “Honey. Now I know you haven’t dated in a while, but when a man takes you for a night out at a bar, he’s wanting to do the nasty, bump uglies, go home for ramen, Netflix and chill, beat that puss–”

“Alright! I get it! I get it!” You interrupted before she could plant any more images in your head. And really? For a first date? At this point, you really did feel out of the loop. You had only had sex with one guy, were you ready to go that far with a guy you barely knew?

“Well… I’m just gonna play it by ear… if he doesn’t like my underwear, he can go milk his monster by himself.” 

She sighed and stepped back, rubbing her temples. “Fine, but if that happens, don’t come whining to me and asking for more hookups.”

You didn’t even want this hookup in the first place! You had to internally hold yourself back from throwing a bitch fit and just forced yourself to calmly reply with– “Okay, Tiff. I won’t.”

She looked smug for some reason and you slid your way into the tight dress. “Ew! How is there already so much cat hair on it?!” She whined, trying to pat the hair off your ass.

“I have a cat, Tiff. Cats shed. You know this.” She looked annoyed and retrieved the lint roller from your nightstand.

When she finished rolling all the hair off you and you put on your shoes, she had you spin to assess you. She sighed. “Well, you’re no Audrey Hepburn, but at least you’re giving the right vibes.”

It was at that moment you both heard the front door open. Your parents were still on their anniversary trip so there was only one person it could be…

“Minho! We’re in here!” You quickly shushed your best friend, but the damage was already done. The door to your bedroom opened and Tiffany immediately walked over to grab him by the arm. “Ohmygod, perfect timing!” She was wrapped around his arm like a monkey and he looked slightly awkward until he looked at you. “Look at my masterpiece! I mean, probably not a masterpiece, per se. Especially with the limited resources I had to work with, but isn’t she great?!”

He was frozen next to her as he looked at you. “Y-yeah…” He seemed to snap out of it and he returned with his usual cockbox smirk. “What’s got you all dolled up, gorgeous?”

“None of your goddamned busine–”

“She’s got a hot date tonight! Like super hot.” Tiffany cut your scathing remark off.

Minho’s smile slightly faded and you rolled your eyes. “Okay, let’s not get carried away, Tiff. He’s a good-looking guy you decided to force upon me, that’s all.”

“Oh don’t give me that, bitch. I know you’ve already thought about fucking him ten ways to Sunday and back!” I mean with all the talk of fucking the man, how could you not imagine it?

You figured spit boxing was no use and, as if fate was on your side, Jackson texted you to tell you he was here. You huffed at the pair and grabbed your clutch purse. “Whatever, I have to leave anyway. Just lock up when you decide to leave…” You marched past the two and straight for the door before you felt a hand grab your wrist.

“Hey…” You raised a brow at Minho who had broken free from Tiffany’s iron grasp. “Be careful, okay? You have my number so call me if you need anything, yeah?”

You felt goosebumps and brushed off his hand. Was this Lee Minho being serious for once? What was the world coming to? “Yeah. Okay, whatever.”

And with that, you walked out the door, leaving Tiffany in your house alone with Minho. For some reason that just didn’t sit right with you. Why though?

________________________________________

The date was going… not as well as you expected…

The car ride was nice, he made pleasant conversation and he was super flirty. But when you guys got to the bar, Jackson ran into some of his guy friends and ended up getting absolutely wasted. However, he did keep you close to his side the whole time. Maybe a bit… too close? 

He had his hand around your waist the entire time, keeping you pulled close to him, and he paraded you to his friends like you were a fucking strumpet and they quickly seemed to take a liking to you as well. He had then decided to take you out back because he and his friends wanted to smoke.

“You want one, gorgeous?” Jackson offered you a cigarette and you declined.

“No thanks, I don’t smoke.” You decided not to mention that you thought smoking was absolutely repulsive and gave you the urge to blow chunks. However, you remained vigilant in your composure.

“Oh c’mon, you don’t wanna try?” His buddy said across from you, absolutely sloshed.

“I’m good, thanks.” You couldn’t hide the disgust in your voice and there was a lull in their conversation.

One of the taller, beefier friends of Jackson spoke up. “That’s a real pretty girl you got there, Jax.” He tilted his head to address you. “You got any friends, darlin’?” 

Before you could answer, most likely to tell him to kindly fuck off, another man spoke up. “Or maybe Jackson wouldn’t mind sharing.” You immediately felt chills wrack your body. You didn’t know these men… you didn’t know what they were capable of…

They all laughed and you looked at them with disgust. You turned to Jackson and spoke quietly in his ear. “Can we talk?”

He looked at you with a lopsided grin and pulled you back inside, winking to his friends as he closed the door behind him. He led you to a quiet hallway next to what looked like the bar’s stockroom. You felt his hands move to your hips as he pressed you up against the wall. His hands roamed up and down your sides, making your skin crawl, as he looked down at you with hunger. “Kay, baby. Let’s talk.” 

Without any further indication, he started hungrily kissing you. You didn’t want to not reciprocate, but the man was all tongue and it kind of made you sick to your stomach, especially with the taste of cheap beer and smoke lacing his spit. You gently pushed his chest, but he refused to back away. You moved your head to the side to escape his mouth, but he just continued to kiss down your neck.

“Jackson! I really just wanted to talk!” You tried to reason while he continued.

“We are talking, baby…” He growled against your skin.

You had lost your patience when he started groping your ass. At this point, you found yourself pushing him, hard. “Get the fuck off me, Jackson! I want to go home!”

He froze in place, and when he stood back up straight to look down at you, he looked pissed. “What the fuck, bitch? You come out drinking with me, cling to me all night with this sexy little black dress, and then get pissed from a little kissing?!” He looked really pissed off and you wondered why in the world would your best friend hook you up with this guy. “You’re just a fucking cunt tease. Find your own ride home.” 

And with that, he stormed back into the throes of the bar. You were speechless.

‘Find your own ride’?! It was already past midnight! Public transit had already finished their routes for the night, your parents were out of town, and you couldn’t afford an Uber! There was only one other option and you really really didn’t want to have to resort to it.

You angrily stormed out of the bar and pulled out your cell phone. Here goes nothing…

The dial tone only rang once before you heard the receiver. “Hello?”

You took a deep breath to calm yourself before you responded. “It literally pains me to say it, but I need your help…”

________________________________________

You stepped into the sleek, white KIA sedan and buckled up, refusing to look at the driver. You could feel his stare on you, but you really didn’t want to have to explain this whole embarrassing experience to him.

“I don’t even get a hello? So cold.” The teasing lilt in his voice made your blood boil, but he was doing you a favor, so you felt the need to indulge him.

You turned your head and donned a sickly sweet smile. “Hello, Minho.” Your smile instantly dropped when you looked straight forward again, waiting for him to get the fuck on with it.

“Oh, what lovely company you are! You should call me more often to come pick you up at 1 o’clock in the morning!” He said as he began to drive away from the front of the bar.

He had a point. This was actually a really big favor he was doing for you and you were being a raging bitch about it. You grumbled in frustration that you were forced to be grateful to this man. It was silent for a moment before you forced yourself to say something. “I’m sorry, Minho…”

You watched as he side-eyed you. “For?” He seemed to be genuinely at a loss for what you were talking about.

You felt the stress from the situation cause your inhibitions to falter. “I’m sorry for being an ass to you instead of thanking you for your help. I’m sorry that I was naive and thought that I would be able to go on dates like a normal person so soon after ending my three-year relationship. And I’m sorry to myself for being an idiot and letting that douchebag and his friends treat me like a whore and then let him kiss and touch me even though I didn’t want it!” Your voice became more and more upset the more you rambled on.

Minho full-on looked at you now. “He touched you?! Without your consent?!” He was visibly pissed and you couldn’t fathom why. “Who the fuck is this guy? Tell me his name. Does he go to our college? I swear, I’ll go full Bruce Lee on his ass.”

“Calm down, Nancy Drew. It’s over and done with. I’m never going to see that twat-waffle ever again…” His death grip on the steering wheel slowly relaxed, as well as the tension that was rising in the air.

It was silent for a moment and then you suddenly heard chuckling coming from the man beside you. “What?” You were about positive you were about to get miffed at him again.

“Did you really just say ‘twat-waffle’?” He asked while laughing.

You wanted to respond with something more defensive, but you couldn’t help but find his amusement contagious. “What? That’s what he is!” You involuntarily giggled through your words. “Seriously though, if that’s what guys are like nowadays, I might as well say goodbye to my sex life because there’s no way I’m dating that kind of trash! Not to mention that most men are incapable of making a girl climax anyway so that makes it even harder to find someone to date!” Shit… maybe you had one drink too many…

“Hey! Not all guys are like that!” He looked at you in mock offense. “In my book, if a guy can’t get a girl to cum, he doesn’t deserve to either.”

Your giggles turned into full-bellied laughter. “I can’t believe I’m having this conversation with my brother’s best friend! Don’t tell me you’re going to join Tiffany in gossiping about my ex too!”

His smile vanished. “Why? That asshole doesn’t deserve a single breath of air let alone a whole conversation about him. He deserves to be left forgotten and the world will be better off because of it.” Minho had lost all humor at the mention of him and he spoke to you dead-serious. “You deserve to be with guys better than him. Better sex than him too from what it sounds like.”

You scoffed. “Yeah well, unfortunately, he has the only dick I’ve ever known. I don’t even have anything to compare him to, the bastard.”

He finally pulled up in front of your house and cut the engine. “You could compare him to me. Someone who actually knows what he’s doing.”

You started cracking up, but your laughter slowly faded when you realized he wasn’t laughing along with you. Wait, was he serious? Surely not… Your face morphed into one of perplexity. “You’re joking, right?”

“Do I look like I’m laughing?” He raised an eyebrow and looked as if he was challenging you. “Personally, I think you need to explore your likes and dislikes with someone who’s willing to be your guinea pig. We already know each other well, meaning I like to believe you trust me more than a random hookup. So, the way I see it, it makes sense that I would be better fit to show you what it’s supposed to be like before you go chasing guys that would probably end up like that, quote-unquote, ‘twat-waffle’.” 

He said while using his hands to motion his quotations, immediately opening the driver-side door and stepping out of the car before you even had time to process his words.

You had short-circuted and you were frozen in your seat as if you were glued to it. Hundreds of images, ones that you never thought in a thousand years would have crossed your mind, began flitting through your brain. You quickly came to your senses and ran after him as he began unlocking the door to your house.

“If this is just one of your stupid tricks, it’s not a very funny one, Minho. It’s actually really fucking shitty to joke about.” You declared, furious and defensive as the two of you stepped inside. 

He huffed and turned around to face you in the entryway. He looked slightly annoyed. “Like I said, not a joke. If you don’t want to and you think I’m crazy for even offering, then you can go back to dating douchebags who fuck like jack-rabbits just to leave you unsatisfied and I can go back to enjoying the fun task of annoying the hell out of you. No harm done.” He smirked as he walked off with a shrug to head toward the kitchen.

What the actual fuck was he thinking? How did he even come to this conclusion? No, why did he even want to fuck you in the first place? “You’re right, I do think your crazy–” He turned back to you, now holding a fresh glass of water, with a complacent expression plastered on his face. “...but…” You took a second to look at him. Really look at him. 

It had always pissed you off that he looked like a fucking Greek god with absolutely zero effort. He was cocky and proud and knew just what to say to get what he wanted. He was one of those people that, when you complimented him, would just agree with you and praise himself. He might have been the least humble person you had ever known.

Still… He wasn’t precisely rude about it, he just had an insane level of self-confidence. You supposed he deserved to be proud. His face was naturally beautiful, but you knew he at least put in some effort. Before your brother left, he and Minho would hit the gym constantly. And, by looking at the chiseled-looking man in front of you, he never stopped. From his teen years to manhood, age definitely treated him nicely.

Okay, if you were being honest with yourself, you may or may not have pictured what might be under all that linen. He is a gorgeous man, after all. And as you stood there staring each other down, your eyes drifted to his lips. It had been so long since you had been touched…

You found yourself licking your lips and he reciprocated the action. 

Minho suddenly walked up to you until he was inches from your face, looking down at you with an intense expression. The tension in the air was so thick you could cut it with a knife. You bit your lip as you searched his eyes, looking for any sign of this being a sick prank. There was none.

“But?” He questioned with a smirk and a raised brow, imploring you to continue your statement.

What is he doing to me? I must be going crazy… Shit shit shit…

“...but…” You sighed, dejected. “You have to promise not to tell anyone…” You couldn’t look him in the eyes as you said the words that seemed to escape on their own. You were even shocked with yourself for even entertaining the idea.

His face morphed into several different expressions simultaneously. Shock, hunger, eagerness, and anticipation colored his eyes, but he donned a collected appearance. “You’re not drunk, are you?” He asked tentatively.

You looked at him in the eyes again with a scowl. You might have a bit of a loosened tongue, but you knew for a fact that you were nowhere near drunk. “If I were drunk, I would have vomited on you for even asking.”

With your scathing remark, he returned to his normal irksome demeanor. He smirked and bent his knees a bit to be at eye level with you. “Is that so? Then maybe I should just go home? Since it is sooo beneath you to see what I can do… how good I can make you feel…” He whispered so close to your face that you could feel his breath against your lips.

He brushed past you and headed toward the front door. You cursed yourself for what you were about to do, but the discussion was already leaving you needy as hell. “Wait.” You said with irritation coloring your voice, refusing to turn around to face him. You heard his footsteps halt and you closed your eyes with a short, exasperated sigh. Still unable to face him, your voice was firm. “Prove to me what you can do and I might be willing to use you…”

You didn’t have to look at him to know he was wearing an infuriating, triumphant smile.

He said no words, but you heard quiet footsteps grow near. As you waited in anticipation, you felt a shiver run down your spine when he gently swept your hair back off the side of your neck. You felt his breath against your ear before you heard his words. “My pleasure, kitten…”

First, you felt a single chaste and moist kiss be placed at the base of your jaw and you let out a shaky breath that you hadn’t realized you had been holding. Your fists were clenched so hard you could feel your nails digging into your skin.

Next, you felt the feather-light touch of his hands start to creep from your sides, down to grasp your hips. His now firm grasp pulled your ass back to be flush against him and he continued his slow torture of gliding his moist lips up and down your neck, your hairs standing on end with the ghosting breath against your heated skin. 

“Tell me if you want me to stop.” You hadn’t realized that your breathing had become heavier, but you heard his whispered words against your neck loud and clear. You didn’t trust your voice, so you just responded with an aggressive nod.

You felt his teeth as he smiled against you and his thumbs started rubbing circles into your hipbones. You were feeling the dizzying effects of his touch and smell and your mind was racing with thoughts of what he was planning on doing to you. As he started kissing your neck with a bit more purpose, a sudden thought popped into your head. “N-no marks…”

He hummed against your skin and you felt his tongue dip into your clavicle. “Of course…” His mouth started kissing, licking, sucking, and nipping just fervently enough not to leave marks and your breathing picked up as his hands started to wander. When he was sure that you weren’t going anywhere, his hands started gliding up your stomach to just below your breasts.

He teased you, acting as if he were about to make a move to cup them, but his hands started gliding back down. You found yourself desperately wanting him to touch you as his hands smoothed down the fronts of your thighs until his fingertips reached the skin at the hem of your dress. Your heart was thumping when he groped your thighs and his thumbs circled around just the inside of your thighs over your dress.

His ministrations were painfully slow, from his continuous devouring of your neck to the teasing of his hands. He denied you further touch again as he moved his hands, still playing at the edge of your dress, around to lightly grope your ass.

You were about to snap and you couldn’t take the teasing anymore. You spun around in his arms, obviously taking him off guard, and you didn’t allow yourself to think as you wrapped your arms around his neck and stole his lips with your own. Holy shit… you were kissing Minho…

At first, he seemed to be shocked by your boldness, but soon he began to kiss you back with equal amounts of fervor. His lips were soft and plump and his tongue danced along with yours as if it were the most natural thing in the world. You arched your body into him and he wrapped his arms around you, hands still tracing patterns down your lower back.

When he pulled you closer to him by your ass, you moaned into his mouth. You knew your panties were drenched and you were almost embarrassed at how quickly he managed to get you basically dripping for him. How could such a pestilent man affect you so intensely?

However, when he pushed you up against the wall and pressed himself against you, you could feel he was equally as affected. You hadn’t realized you were shaking in his hold until you moved your trembling hands up to tangle in his blonde locks. “Shit, Minho…”

You whimpered into his mouth and he shushed you. “Shhh, let me take care of you, kitten.” He sealed his lips to yours again and you felt his hands grope your ass once more before gliding one of them down to the hem of your dress again. Only this time, when he moved to the inside of your thigh, he dipped his hand underneath your dress to tease the edge of your panties.

“Oh fuck…” He chuckled at your falsetto, whispered words and he returned to attacking your neck as his fingers moved over to rub circles over your thin underwear.

Your head was thrown back in ecstasy as he pleasured you in slow motion. You had no clue why being this frustrated from his teasing would turn you on so much. You tried to grind down on his hand, but he still only lightly pleasured you.

“M-Min… please. Oh god!” He pinched your clit over the material and chuckled when you jumped.

“Tsk tsk tsk, so impatient.” He sighed against your neck before standing straight and looking down at you. “You can’t rush perfection, kitten. I’m going to take my time ruining you…” He pressed his lips against yours and you pulled him back by his hair.

“Well then take your time in my bedroom and not out here in the fucking hallway. I don’t want Boots watching.”

The smile that grew on his face as he laughed at your statement made your head feel fuzzy. Then, before you knew it, you were in the air, quickly wrapping your arms and legs around the man as he carried you to the bedroom, your dress hitching up to your hips at the action. He shut the door behind him with his foot and he gingerly sat down on the bed with you still stradding him. “Do you want me to strip or do you want to do it for me?” He raised a brow (those damned sexy eyebrows) in question and licked his lips with a lopsided grin as he pulled you as close as humanly possible.

Gosh, this man was infuriatingly sexy. “Aren’t you supposed to show me what I want, mister expert?” You quipped as you rested your arms on his shoulders.

He flashed his teeth and leaned back slightly, stripping only his t-shirt off before returning his hands to rub up and down your bare thighs. Your ogling eyes were beyond obvious and he gently grabbed one of your hands. He moved your hand to glide from his bulging pecs down to his chiseled abs.

He released you and allowed you to keep mapping his skin out with your hands. You wanted to lick him all over and trace every vein and crevice on his body. You found the courage to latch your own lips to his neck now and he hummed contentedly. You found yourself involuntarily grinding against the bulge in his sweatpants and he groaned.

His hands that had returned to your ass moved up to the back of your neck and one of them found the zipper on the back of your dress. You were shivering with excitement as you felt your back being exposed slowly to the chilled air and his hands felt like they were on fire as they caressed your bare skin.

However, instead of stripping you completely, his hands moved back to your thighs to creep up under your dress again, halting your movements. Your anticipation had stopped your mouth against him and you began panting into the crook of his neck. 

When he reached your panty line, his fingers deftly dipped underneath your underwear this time and you moaned into his skin when his fingers dragged through your folds. “So wet already…” He whispered in your ear before grazing his teeth over the shell of it. He quickly flicked the pad of his thumb over your clit and you hugged him close with a gasp. “Can I taste you, sweet thing?”

You could almost cum from those words alone. Your ex refused to eat you out because he thought the idea of it was disgusting. This made you extremely self-conscious of having him, or anyone else for that matter, see you naked for too long. However, Minho had you wound up so tight that the coil in your stomach was bound to snap at any moment and you really wanted to take him up on his offer.

You pulled back and looked back into his eyes which were black with desire. “Y-you… you want to do that?” The disbelief in your voice was apparent and you moaned when he shallowly dipped his finger inside you.

“Fuck, more than anything…” He bit his lip and you held onto his shoulders as he pumped his finger in and out of you.

Sooner than you would have liked, he pulled his finger out and your breath shook when you saw him lick his finger clean.

“Shit…” He said with eyes closed in bliss. When he opened them again, they were filled with pure, carnal desire. In the blink of an eye, he had you on your back with your dress shucked off and thrown into the dark abyss that was your room.

It was dark, only the moon shining through your window illuminating the god-like man above you, so you weren’t too terribly self-conscious. But with the way Minho sat there on his knees between your legs, staring down at you, it had you squirming a bit. Shit, maybe I SHOULD have worn sexier lingerie.

“God, you’re so fucking gorgeous…” His hands roamed over your thighs and drifted around to undo the latch of your bra. It quickly joined your dress and you cried out when his mouth was like a magnet to your nipples. I guess he doesn’t care about the underwear…

You couldn’t control your hips as you rutted up into him, desperate for stimulation as your nipples were being abused. You had to admit, the man did wonders with his mouth, and the thought of that tongue between your legs had you whimpering.

Without removing his mouth from your nipples, you felt his fingers loop under your underwear. He finally relented his attack to free you of your underwear and your whole body went stiff as he lowered his face between your legs.

He must have noticed because he immediately halted and looked up at you. “Is this okay? Do you want me to stop?” You were pleasantly surprised that he was so concerned about your comfort.

“No no, it’s okay! It’s just… he never… I’ve never had anyone…” You were too embarrassed to say it out loud, but he seemed to understand.

“Man, he’s more of a piece of shit than I thought…” You gasped when he kissed your inner thigh. “Just lay back and enjoy kitten. I’ll show you how it’s done.” And without further ado, he moved to hover over your entrance.

You shivered and your eyes closed in anticipation when you felt him blow his hot breath over your sensitive folds. And when you finally felt him… OH… MY… GOD…

You were incredibly grateful your parents weren’t currently home because the moan you belted out was absolutely filthy. Your hands instantly flew to his hair and he had to hold on to your legs to keep you from crushing him between your thighs.

It was everything you wanted and more and you were feeling delirious from it. He had started by sliding his tongue through your folds from base to your clit and then he closed his puckered lips around the sensitive bead and sucked while circling his tongue around it. You were almost sobbing it felt so good. When you felt him insert a finger and find your G-spot, you went insane.

“HOLYFUCKINGSHITRIGHTTHERERIGHTTHEREOHMYGODYES… Please don’t stop! Fuck please… Fuckyesyesyes! Don’t stop! Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplea– AHH!” You unexpectedly came with furious power and you could feel yourself soaking his face violently.

In the moment, you felt like you were in heaven, but when he popped up from in between your legs with his stupid ass smirk and your release dripping from his chin, you were mortified. 

“Oh my god, Minho, shit I’m so sorry! Shit. Fuck! …That’s so fucking embarrassing…” You buried your face in your hands, so mortified you wanted to cry, and he immediately grabbed your wrists, pulling them away to show his befuddled expression.

“Embarrassing? I thought that was the fucking sexiest thing I’ve ever seen anyone do!” He looked at you like you were crazy, but your face was still bright red. Apparently, he could even notice that in the moonlight because he then guided one of your hands to the crotch of his sweatpants to feel his erection. You gasped at the heat you could feel all the way through the thick material. He leaned down and growled in your ear. “Does this feel like I thought it was embarrassing?”

You pressed your palm against him and he groaned in your ear. You were desperate to feel him inside you and you were suddenly bold enough to slowly dip your hand into his pants to palm him over his boxers.

“Fuck… do you have condoms.” He said as his head dropped to your shoulder.

“Y-yeah… top drawer.” You said motioning to your nightstand. 

He hopped up and made quick work of removing his sweatpants and boxers. Holy shit. Either your exes dick was super small or Minho’s dick was super big because the difference was catastrophic. When he knelt between your legs again, condom in hand, he must have gauged your expression. “Everything okay?” You could hear the humor leaking through his restrained voice.

Your blood was indubitably boiling. It’s just not fucking fair to be so fucking perfect. Just more grounds for him to be cocky as hell. You cleared your throat and looked to the side. You had to say something because, honestly, you were genuinely uneasy about it. “It’s just…” You side-eyed his beautiful dick again. “...I haven’t… I don’t…” You sighed in frustration, not knowing how to say it.

He began patiently stroking it. “The suspense is killing me, kitten.” He smiled sarcastically and you stared daggers up at him.

You huffed and looked away again, eyes involuntarily snapping to his dick again for a half second. “Like… how do you know it will fit? I mean your’s is like way…” You peered up at his face which was trying desperately to not erupt in laughter. You sat up and shoved him. “I’m serious, asshole! That thing is terrifying!”

He had exploded and your push caused him to collapse on the bed in hysterics. He was holding his stomach in pain from how much he was laughing and you glared at him.

“Fine! If it’s such a joke to you, then whatever! Now, if you’ll excuse me–” You attempted to get off the bed, but in the blink of an eye, you were on your back again.

“Now now, let’s not throw a temper tantrum, little thing.” You shivered as he licked up the column of your neck. “Not only can I make it fit, I’ll make you beg for it.” He kissed your cheek before grinning down at you mischievously.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Prove it.” This one challenging statement had him instantly devouring your mouth as his hands eagerly roamed your body. You tasted a hint of yourself on his lips and you couldn’t explain why that turned you on so much. He had you heated up again in no time, and when you felt two of his fingers slowly enter you, you moaned with his lower lip between your teeth.

He started pumping his digits in and out of you with blinding speed and it was almost too much for you. Involuntary ‘ah, ah, ah’s fell out of your mouth when he moved his mouth to your nipples and your eyes clenched shut when you felt a third finger join the others. He slowed his pace so he wouldn’t hurt you, but when you felt him insert a fourth finger, he knew exactly what to do to distract you from any discomfort.

He dug up into your g-spot again while his thumb circled your clit and you were shouting out expletives again. You were whining and thrashing and he sat back on his knees just to watch you fall apart. You felt another orgasm wrack your entire being, but your body screamed more, more, more. “Minho, fuck! Minho! Minho!”

“What is it, kitten? What do you want?” He gave you an evil sneer as he moved in inches from your face. You glared at him before you basically punched him with your lips.

“Fuck me right this instant, goddamnit!” You shouted with your head thrown back when you released him, gasping for air.

He pulled back again and laughed. “As you wish, your highness…” Your whole body slumped into the bed when he removed his fingers and you were panting from the intensity of the situation.

“Wait–” You snatched the condom from him, leaving him with a dumbfounded expression. “I wanna do it…” You ripped open the package and threw the wrapper into the void, tentatively taking his unbelievable cock in your hand and looking up at his expression as you slowly stroked him.

He looked like he could cum any second from finally having some stimulation after holding back for so long. Before you knew it, you gave him a little kitten lick on the tip, collecting a load of precum, and watched as he visibly shivered. “Fuck, kitten…” He sounded almost like he was in pain. Watching his throat bob as he dry-swallowed gave you a longing you couldn’t explain.

You decided enough was enough and you rolled the condom down his length before laying back and spreading your legs.

He bit his lip and his black eyes were devouring you, but he stopped himself as he hovered above you. “Jokes aside, tell me if I’m hurting you at all, okay?”

You felt your heart thump violently and you sensed an uncomfortable swirling in your stomach. Why was he being so nice to you? You swallowed the lump in your throat. “Okay…” He smiled sweetly for once. “Now, for fuck’s sake, can you please just fuck me?” 

He cackled at your impatient remark and you gasped when you felt the heat of his tip poke at your entrance and he dragged it up and down your folds. You dug your fingers into his shoulders as he hovered over you, watching you to assess your expressions, and he slowly sank into you. You furrowed your eyebrows in slight discomfort, but the delicious feeling of his hot tumescence dragging against your walls had you seeing stars.

You whimpered as he slowly entered and you were glad to see that he wasn’t completely unaffected. His brows were furrowed as well and when he went as far as your pussy would allow, he dropped his forehead to your shoulder, keeping himself still as he breathed heavily. “Shit…” He mumbled.

“Yeah… shit…” You agreed as your fingers tangled themselves in his sandy hair. How did you get in such a situation to have Lee Minho buried deep into your sopping cunt? You both lay there trying to control your breathing while he remained motionless inside you. After the discomfort lessened and your desire grew, you started to squirm. “Minho… move…”

He began slowly grinding into you for what seemed like ages. And when you desperately rutted up into him, he wasted no time in receiving the hidden message. Immediately, he slowly pulled back and you felt him start to languidly place wet kisses across your collarbone. You cried out in ecstasy when you felt him expertly rock back into you.

His pace slowly started to increase and his kisses became more hungry as time passed. You pulled him up by his hair and made him lock lips with you, hoping that would stifle your moans.

It didn’t.

You were whimpering into the kiss and his hips moved in a way that hit all the right places. He released your lips so he could grab one of your legs and hold it in the crook of his elbow. He then proceeded to snap his hips into you as if his life depended on it.

“FUCK! Fuckfuckfuckfuck!” You cried out.

“Tell me how good it feels, kitten.” He said between breaths, eyes searching your own.

“Shit sofuckinggood– ah! Fuck! So good Minho!” You were just about sobbing now and you couldn’t find it in yourself to give two fucks about the undoubtedly cocksure smile that painted his face.

“Damn kitten, you’re so fucking tight. That asshole has no fucking clue what he lost. Fuck!” He sped up his thrusts and you were clawing at his chest, unable to handle the raw pleasure he was bringing you.

This was the most incredible feeling you had ever had and your reactions were like you weren’t even yourself anymore. One particular thrust had you screaming. “MINHOFUCKSHIT! DontstoppleaseMinhodontstop!!!”

“Fuck, I would never…” He huffed and he seemed close as well with the way his rhythm stuttered and his thrusts became more powerful.

You came while screaming his name and he came while burying his face in the crook of your neck with an animalistic growl. He rode both of you through your orgasms and then gingerly pulled out so he wouldn’t hurt you.

“Wait here.” Was all he said before he stood, tied the condom, and walked across the hall to the bathroom. You couldn’t move even if you wanted to. He returned with a washcloth and began cleaning you. Okay, he has definitely proved himself.

When he finished, he collapsed next to you on the bed with heavy lids, turning his head to look at you. You returned his gaze and sighed. “I guess I have a new guinea pig…”

________________________________________

Your economics class had just ended and you and Tiffany decided to grab some coffee and hang out in the campus courtyard before she went to her next course. Thankfully, you were free for the rest of the afternoon and you were desperate to get home and take a hot bath, maybe watch some porn, and take a well-deserved nap. “Honestly, I’m pretty sure something was really wrong with him. Like, he could not hold a conversation for shit.”

You laughed at your friend’s ramblings about her latest breakup. “Wait, so this one was Jay, right? The one you went out with after my place last week?” 

“Yyyep, that’s the one. Like I said before, the sex was amazing, but I need to date someone with an actual functioning brain.” She huffed and slurped down some of her drink that looked like a cupcake version of a coffee. “Like, how hard is it to find someone who’s able to fuck me like a whore but talk to me like an adult?! Those men are, like, nowhere to be found!” An image of Minho slamming his cock into you flitted through your mind, but you quickly snapped out of it.

You just continued to laugh because you knew Tiffany dropped guys left and right all the time for the smallest things. “There’s no such thing as a perfect man, Tiff. Might as well accept the truth.”

She grumbled and began to tie her hair up. You took a sip of your iced americano and arched your brow when your friend’s eyes lit up and she instantly took her hair back down and combed her fingers through it. She waved her hand in the air to someone behind you. “Minho! Over here!”

Oh no…

You whipped your head around and, sure enough, the man was walking toward you two with that same annoying-ass grin. After that night almost a week ago, you sent Minho home with an awkward (and slightly sexually charged) goodbye when you decided to take a shower. Since then, the only communication you had with him was a simple exchange of texts the following day:

Minho😈:

How r u feeling today?

Sore? 😏

Kitten😼:

Why? 

R u wanting me to leave u a Yelp review?

*Lee Minho: too cocky for his own good*

Minho😈:

Oh? So that WASN’T the best sex of ur life?

Could have fooled me 

I counted and… 🤔

Do u want to know how many times u screamed my name?

Kitten😼:

Ur fucking crazy

I have to go get ready

Later, psychopath 🖕

Minho😈:

Can’t wait 😉

…That had been the last form of communication you had had with the man and you definitely felt like you needed to have a serious conversation with him. But you were NOT prepared to see him NOW!

You quickly spun back around and scrambled to pick up your phone to make it seem like you were doing something else other than having an internal panic attack. “It’s about time I caught you on campus! I was starting to think you were avoiding me!” You couldn’t help but glance at your friend when she flirtatiously held his forearm when he reached the concrete ledge of the garden the two of you were sitting on in the courtyard.

“No, not at all. I’m actually glad I ran into you guys.” You refused to look up at him although you could feel his eyes burning holes into you.

“Oh is that so? Well then join us!” She tugged on his arms and you closed your eyes, praying that he wouldn’t accept.

“Sure, I’ve got some time.” Your eyes immediately snapped open and you watched as Tiffany pulled him down to sit on the other side of her. You scowled up at him when he leaned forward so he could talk to you around her. “Hey there, kitten. You seemed to be super interested in your home screen there.”

Tiffany giggled and you looked down to see that you hadn’t even unlocked your phone in your attempt to look busy. You could feel the blood rush to your ears but you just shoved your phone in your bag and fixed your vision on the bustling students roaming the courtyard. “So what if I am?” You tried to deflect the conversation. “Why are you here anyway? Where is your normal posse of goons? The ones I actually like?” And by goons, you mean the infamous Chris, Changbin, Hyunjin, Jisung, and Felix. There were Seungmin and Jeongin as well, but they decided to pursue the same path as your brother, but you still missed them…

“Oh, they’re nearby. I told them to meet me out here when they were finished getting their coffee.” Of course they would happen to be here at the exact same time as you. 

“Then why aren’t you with them? Did you get lost?” You said as you finally turned to look at him with a sarcastic leer.

Fuck him for looking so incredibly gorgeous for no goddamned reason.

“Nah. I saw you guys out here and I thought it would be fun to come annoy you.” He winked and your face twisted into a disbelieving scoff.

“Okaaaay, I think I’m going to head to class early, babe. I see you two bicker too much anyway.” Tiffany stood up and said to you with a giggle, clearly trying to escape the awkward tension. “Oh! And Minho…” She opened her backpack and ripped a scrap of paper off of her notebook, scribbling something on it and handing it to him. “We never really exchanged numbers even after knowing each other for so long! So I thought I’d finally give you mine.” She bit her glossed lips with a flirtatious smile that annoyed you for some unknown reason. “Call me any time.”

And with that, she strutted off to class. The man looked surprised but slipped the paper into his jeans pocket nonetheless. He smirked at you and you realized you had a disgusted look on your face. “Are you seriously wanting to bag my best friend now? You’re disgusting.” 

Your gut churned as you looked away and you froze when you heard him scoot closer to you. “Why? You jealous, kitten?” You could hear the smile in his voice and you scoffed, head turning in the opposite direction from him before turning back.

When you looked at him, he was a lot closer than expected and your breath hitched for a moment before you regained your composure. “And what, exactly, would I have to be jealous of?” You tried to sound firm, but you could feel a hitch in your breath in between words.

You could have imagined it, but you watched as his smile faltered just slightly before returning to its teasing appearance. “I dunno, you tell me. Afraid of someone playing with your pet?”

You had to turn away because looking at him was just too intense. You scowled at the concrete, an uncomfortable retching feeling building in your stomach from the topic. “You can fuck whoever you want, Minho. It’s not like I actually own you…” You puffed out a half chuckle at the idea. You looked at him again and his smile, although still stretched across his face, was lacking in vibrance and color. “I’m just your friend’s naive little sibling that happens to have a pussy. You said it yourself, you offered yourself up to just be a guinea pig because I’m inexperienced. Nothing more.”

Why did it make you slightly queasy to say that? It was the truth.

Now his smile had vanished entirely. “Hey now, that’s not true and you kno–”

“Baby girl!!!” Minho was interrupted by a man running at you full sprint behind Minho and a smile automatically stretched across your face. You immediately stood up and opened your arms as he crashed into you with a crushing hug, picking you up and spinning you around with glee as the two of you giggled.

“Oh my god, Jisungie! It’s been so fucking long since I’ve seen you!” You giggled in his arms. “I know my brother isn’t home these days, but, sheesh man, you know you can still call or text, right?”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry, girly.” He made a pouty face as he set you back on your feet and held you by your shoulders. “But I figured Min had been keeping you up to date.” He stated as said man stood up next to you with a grumble.

Jisung was a part of your brother’s group of friends even though he was your own age. However, Minho and Jisung hit it off the most and they undoubtedly had the closest bond within the friend group. This being said, the two ended up being roommates once Jisung graduated high school, and, unless Minho was loitering at your house, the two were attached at the hip.

Unlike Minho, you and Jisung always got along swimmingly. Actually, you loved everyone in your brother’s group except for Minho, which is why it was kind of a comical irony that you and Minho had ended up in your current situation. They all also knew your particular distaste for Minho…

As if reading your mind, the rest of the group soon followed Jisung as you could see them walking towards the three of you. Felix’s arrival was much like Jisung’s as he wrapped you in a huge hug and kissed you on the cheek.

“Where the hell have you been, princess??” Changbin said as he came and ruffled your hair with the annoying title most of them had taken to calling you.

“Buried in my studies, that’s where. As soon as I started here, I instantly regretted cramming most of my credits into freshman year.” You chuckled.

All three of the boys that were also in their freshman year, Jisung, Felix, and Hyunjin, groaned in agreement. “Tell me about it! I even signed up for the bare minimum and I feel like my life is crumbling. I don’t know how you do it!” Hyunjin whined.

“But it’ll be worth it. I did the same in my freshman year and, now that I’m in my senior year, I don’t feel like I’m killing myself just to graduate with my bachelor's.” Chris said from where he had his arm flung over Minho’s shoulder as the younger man wore an artificial disgusted guise from the action.

“You really do need to take it easy sometimes though, love. You’ll burn yourself out.” Felix said with a concerned smile as he played with your hair. Jisung had wrapped his arms around your waist from the other side of you and rested his head on your shoulder and you giggled at the two boys’ affection.

“I know, I know. I just want to make sure I can make it into Veterinary school after graduation.”

“Which reminds me. WE were having a discussion so will you guys–” 

“You two?! Talking?! Without tearing each other apart?!” Hyunjin dramatically interrupted Minho as the group looked back and forth between you and him with befuddlement in their eyes.

“Yes.” Minho said through clenched teeth with a scowl at the man who instantly recoiled. The feisty older blonde quickly pried Jisung off of you and eyed the younger’s amused expression. “Now kindly fuck off, all of you vultures.” Minho continued as he grabbed your backpack from the ledge and wrapped his warm fingers around your wrist and briskly dragged you away.

“Bye, princess! I’ll text you and we can all meet up sometime!” Chris bellowed at your retreating form.

“Sounds good!” You waved at the five smiling men with your free hand and they all waved back.

Minho led you out of the courtyard and through a couple of buildings, finally leading you to a semi-demolished parking garage that was notorious for being unoccupied. When the two of you walked in, you saw his car parked in probably the only spot that wasn’t in ruins.

“Have you gone completely brain-dead? Why are you parked in this dilapidated lot? You know they have much closer parking with way less risk of being squashed by rubble?”

He just shrugged as he opened the passenger door for you to get in and simply replied. “Free parking. And I don’t mind walking.”

When he finally hopped in the driver’s seat and started driving you eyed him. “Where the fuck do you think you’re taking me?”

“You don’t have class, right? I thought I’d take you to mine. Make you some dinner as thanks.”

To his? As in his apartment?! “Thanks for what? For letting you fuck me? I’m pretty sure there was a mutual benefit there, Min.”

He puffed out a half-chuckle. “No, you pervert. It’s a thanks for trusting and listening to me the other night by giving me a call to pick you up when you needed me.”

For some reason, you felt your cheeks heat up and you scoffed. “Trust might be an overstatement, but that was just because I didn’t have any other choice.” He shot you a crooked grin at your snide comment.

“Well then, I suppose this is me thanking you for using me for yet another reason.” He winked at you and you turned your head to look out your window with a scowl and crossed arms when you felt your face turn bright red.

When you entered his apartment, it wasn’t quite what you imagined. For some reason, you expected to see posters of half-naked women on the walls and trash everywhere. But, as far as you could see, the place was actually clean and decorated very nicely with spotless surfaces and the only thing that you could see that you had expected were the various game consoles by the TV. The typical fuckboy energy was noticeably absent. 

There were two separate rooms on the left side of the large living room and a sizable bathroom close to the entryway. The kitchen was on the far wall with some pretty flowing curtains hanging from the windows surrounding it. The living area was directly left of the entryway in front of the kitchen with a large sectional couch and a cozy armchair.

His place was… really nice.

As he shut the door behind him and took off his shoes next to your own, he assessed your face as you looked around. “What do you think?” He almost sounded… hopeful?

You contemplated your response. “It’s… a lot more mature than I had expected…” You couldn’t look at his face as you verbalized the semi-compliment, instead running your fingers over the soft leather of the couch and taking in the concentrated scent of pure Minho.

Why was that so appealing to you?

He chuckled behind you and you whipped around when you heard he was much closer than you had anticipated. “Well… thanks? I guess?” You cursed yourself when your eyes flitted down to his plump lips. And, judging by the shit-eating smile on his face, he knew.

However, instead of acting on it, he just walked around you into his open-floor-planned kitchen. “What do you want to eat, kitten? Canned tuna? Maybe with some warm milk?” He teased.

“Har, har. You’re a comedic genius, asshole.” He just cackled at his own lame excuse for a joke. “I dunno, what do you have?”

He pressed his palms on the countertop of the island and leaned forward, your eyes lingering a bit too long on the prominent veins of his forearms. “I was thinking kimchi fried rice, does that sound good?”

You basically moaned. “Oh god, my favorite.”

He flashed you a crooked smile. “I know.” And with that he simply turned around and got to work, leaving you caught off guard and a tiny bit flustered.

________________________________________

“That was probably the best kimchi fried rice I’ve had in my entire life.” You groaned from where you sat at the island counter, holding your stomach from how much you ate. “I feel like I’m about to explode, though.”

He briefly lifted a brow at you over his shoulder from the kitchen sink where he quickly washed the dishes. “Was that a compliment I just heard?”

You flipped him off and he guffawed. “Don’t flatter yourself, it was merely an observation.”

He wiped his hands off and moved to stand on the other side of the island from you. “Do you want some wine?”

You glanced at your phone for the time and saw it was already almost six. You thought for a moment and assessed the cute, pleading pout he donned. You rolled your eyes. “Fine, it’d better not be shitty box wine though.” You eyed him speculatively.

He looked disgusted. “Gross. I’m not a Neanderthal, kitten.” He pulled out two wine glasses and sat them on the counter. “Red or white?”

You just stood and walked over to the living room to judge the comfort of his couch. “Don’t care, surprise me.”

As you plopped down, you could instantly feel yourself being absorbed by the plush cushions and you groaned. You closed your eyes for one moment and listened to the pouring of the wine and the clinking of the glasses before he stood in front of you, setting the bottle on the coffee table and handing you a rich red wine. You claimed the glass, swirled it a bit, and sniffed before taking a sip.

The bitterness was perfectly complemented by the sweet and fruity undertone, an obvious decadent fermentation. This surely had to be an expensive red. “Holy shit, Min. What is this, Merlot? Pinot Noir?” You tried to look at the bottle from where the couch was swallowing you, but the label was facing away from you.

“Cabernet actually. You like it?” He inquired as he sipped his own serving.

“It’s probably the best red I’ve ever had.” You savored another large swig.

He narrowed his eyes with a mischievous smile. “The best food and the best booze? I’d say I’m a pretty good host.”

There he goes with the self-appreciation again. You rolled your eyes and continued to drink enthusiastically. “I would hardly consider this booze, Meanhoe. But don’t worry, you still have time to screw it up somehow.” A sudden thought crossed your mind. “By the way, where’s Ji? He should’ve been here by now.”

He just chuckled and refilled your empty glass, which you accepted eagerly. “I told him to stay at Chan and Changbin’s place tonight.”

You arched a brow at him. “You told him to? And why is that?” You were inexplicably anxious as you guzzled your drink a bit. Shit, you were going to develop an alcohol dependency from being around this man.

A grin slowly grew on his face once he took a sip and sat his glass down. “I told him that I was having a pretty girl over tonight.” He was slightly leaning toward you, now biting his lip to tame his smile.

You were drinking more out of bashfulness now. You knew your face was flushed, but you tried to maintain your composure all the same. “How presumptuous of you. Is that the only reason you invited me over? Am I just here so you can bag me and send me on my way?” Your stomach churned painfully at the thought. It’s your fault anyway by agreeing to this mess.

His face fell and his eyes widened in panic. “What? N-no, I–”

“Because if that’s the case, I think I should just leave now.” You chugged the rest of your glass and set it down on the coffee table. 

He gently kept you seated by placing a hand on your bicep. You could feel his heat searing through your shirt. “Kitten, no! Listen! I’m sorry I said that. I really just wanted to make you dinner.” You eyed him hesitantly. “We haven’t talked much since that night and I mostly just wanted to get the chance to talk to you alone…”

In your rush to get up, you hadn’t realized how close the two of your bodies had become. You were lost in his pleading eyes as you mumbled. “Then talk…” You tried to sound begrudged, but your voice came off more wistful than you had intended.

His thumb stroked your bicep from where he continued to hold onto it and he sighed. “I know that the other night just kind of happened out of nowhere.” You bit your lip and blushed, memories of the night flooding your vision and making his grip on you seem more intense than it actually was. He sighed and released your arm, allowing your vision to clear a bit. “I wanted to apologize for what happened… I know you’ve always hated me and I didn’t mean to take advanta–”

“What? I don’t hate you.” You blinked at him, bewildered. Yeah, you were always annoyed by him and were irritated by his constant overwhelming presence and teasing. But you wouldn’t say you hated the man.

He looked at you perplexed. “But I thought–”

You cut him off again by placing a delicate hand on his thigh and raising a brow. “Minho, just because I have a general distaste for your antics doesn’t mean I hate you.” He gazed into your weary eyes for a moment and then looked down at where your hand was resting on his bare thigh where his shorts had risen from sitting down.

You were suddenly all too aware of how you had involuntarily leaned toward him, and you pulled your hand back as if you had just placed it on hot coals. You cleared your throat and sat straight again. “So… you don’t hate me?” His wry grin made your blood boil. Damn girl! When did you become so thirsty?

You scoffed and tried desperately to look anywhere but at him. “Don’t get a big head Minho, you still are the most infuriating person I have ever met.” You pushed his shoulder and he cackled. Your lame attempt to hold back a smile was futile as you leaned back and let the couch envelop you once more. You lifted your chin to indicate the wine bottle on the table. “Do you have any more?”

________________________________________

You had tears in your eyes as you cackled hysterically when Minho was telling you of the time he and Jisung had been forced to make out at one of their parties during a truth or dare game. He explained that the rest of the group was even more bashful than they were when it was all said and done.

“When we dared your brother and Felix to do the same, even though Felix didn’t mind, your brother had to drink the nastiest assortment of cocktails just to get out of doing it. We teased him for months and Felix, to this day, threatens him with smooches.”

You had fallen over on his shoulder and clutched your stomach as it ached from the laughter. He couldn’t control his own chuckle as he sat down his half-empty wine glass next to yours and the two bone-dry wine bottles on the table. Needless to say, you were pretty tipsy.

“What do you mean by make out though? Are we talking just swapping a bit of spit? Or were you full-on licking each other’s tonsils?” You felt a lightbulb blink on in your head and you shot to sit up. “Ooh ooh! Show me how you kissed him!” You puckered your lips and leaned toward him, still unable to contain your giggles. He looked startled momentarily and he leaned back to look between your eyes and awaiting lips before you saw the makings of a smile grow on him.

“Oh, it would be my pleasure, kitten.” You watched the signature evil smirk on his lips and your breath hitched when his palm cupped your rosy cheek. Like a tiger, he pounced on you, making you lightheaded as he immediately intruded your mouth with his tongue.

He was relentless and you were struggling to keep up with his expert tongue as it roamed your mouth and he bit at your lips. His free hand wrapped itself around your waist and held you close as his lips pressed against you aggressively.

When he finally pulled back his hands and released your lips, you found yourself subconsciously reaching for him again. He looked almost as caught off guard with the kiss as you were. Your eyes were glazed over in a wild drunkenness on Minho that affected you way more than the wine had. His face abruptly turned serious when your hands wrapped around his shoulders and tangled in his hair to prevent him from retreating.

He searched your eyes and you found yourself feeling hot all over when he wiped away a stray tear that had escaped from your laughter just moments before the tension rose in the air. Before you knew it, you were surging forward and capturing his lips with yours once again.

He hummed in a surprised tone and returned his hands to your waist as you devoured him. Before long, you swung a leg over to straddle him and pulled yourself flush to him when the ache between your thighs became too strong.

He smiled against your lips but pushed you back by your shoulders. You glowered at him with a huff as he chuckled at your cute pout. “Kitten, I told you this isn’t why I brought you here. Not to mention the fact that we’ve been drinking.”

Your arms that were still wrapped around him still tried to pull him infinitesimally closer and you basically growled like a cock-hungry animal in heat when he resisted. “I get that you’re trying to be polite, Minho, but I legitimately want the opposite of that right now.” His push wavered and you got close enough to whisper against his lips. “I want you to be disrespectful, Minho. I want you to be absolutely filthy.”

You briefly passed your tongue over his pouty upper lip and you could tell that his resolve was close to ruin. His closed eyes and the low rumble in his throat proved as much.

When he still refused to falter, you glared at him with a fire that could burn through his soul. Time to bring down the hammer. “Please, Minho. You aren’t likely to have me so shamelessly groveling for dick again.” You challenged and his eyes opened with a new darkness to them.

You slightly heard him curse under his breath and you were abruptly flipped over onto your back with the man between your legs, your hair splayed out against the velvety soft leather of the couch. “You’re going to wish you hadn’t requested me to be so rude to you, kitten.” He growled as he lewdly surveyed your body with his hands.

“Try me.” You dared him once again, already breathless.

He licked his lips and bit at his lower one as his eyes skimmed the bare skin from your ankles to your shorts. His hands roved over your legs slowly and the ache became even more prominent. You huffed in frustration.

“Minho! Get on with it!”

He looked down at you with an expression you had never seen before and you shivered when he grabbed your arms with blinding force and pinned them above your head. He whispered against your lips with malice. “You want me to be disrespectful?” You pondered, but could only dumbly nod your head as a certain vibration racked your body, the sensation making you an airhead fuckdummy. “Then shut the fuck up, kitten. Or you won’t get anything tonight.”

You were speechless. You had no clue how frightening Minho was when he wanted to be and you knew that you had probably drenched your panties all the way to your shorts with how aroused you were getting. His grip on your wrists had you arching up into him and his bulge against your crotch had you panting.

He sneered and abruptly smoothed his tongue up the column of your neck all the way until he sucked your ear lobe into his mouth and nibbled on it. You whimpered and spread your legs further to urge him to press closer.

To your dismay, he pulled his pelvis away from yours as if he knew exactly how much it would drive you mad. You groaned in frustration and glared up at the man smirking triumphantly above you when he wouldn’t release his grip on your wrists. “Fucking Lee Minho! You’d better do something soon or I’m just going to go home and take care of it myself!”

He moved a hand but refused to release yours as he held both of your wrists with the strength of the one that continued to pin your arms. “Is that so?” With his freed hand, he slowly traveled the back of his index finger in a feather-light touch down the center of your forehead. “Because I don’t think…” His finger slowly cascaded down the arch of your nose and over the crest of your lips to continue its way down your neck, cleavage, and abdomen. “...that you can touch yourself the way I can…” Well, shit.

His eyes that had been following the trajectory of his finger suddenly snapped back up to your face as he traveled his way down to the crotch of your shorts, sneaking up inside them from the leg hole and breaching your panties to just barely graze your throbbing entrance. Your brows furrowed and your voicebox had a mind of its own when it ripped out a desperate whine and a small “please”.

His eyes were dripping with lust and you watched as his tongue swiped over his delicious plump lips. “Fuck, that word sounds so pretty coming from your mouth… Say it again for me, beautiful?”

The fog of red mist that blurred your vision and rationality slightly died down enough for you to remember to act annoyed with him. You just glared up at his dark irises in defiance.

He smiled wickedly, knowing precisely what you were playing at. “Wanting to be a brat, are we?” His fingers, which were still playing with the edge of the crotch of your panties, retreated from your shorts entirely and you could have sworn you felt a frustrated scream rise in your throat.

“Wait!” You whined and his hand paused on your inner thigh. You closed your eyes and resigned yourself to becoming a vulnerable bitch-baby tonight, too heated for any alternative. When you opened your eyes, you made sure they looked like hot embers that would burn through his self-restraint and, if the defenseless expression on his face had anything to say about it, you had succeeded. And to hopefully drive your efforts home, you sensually whispered. “Minho… Please.”

The last word came out in a broken whine and you inwardly congratulated yourself when you heard his breath hitch just the tiniest bit.

You weren’t quite sure of the chain of events, but in the blink of an eye, you were thrown over his shoulder and carded away to somewhere else in the apartment. He moved so fast that before you could say anything, you were being thrown down onto a plush mattress and had hands fumbling with the button of your shorts.

When you lifted your hips so he could yank off all obstacles between him and your bare body, you sat up to quickly undo his own jeans. It felt like you couldn’t get them off fast enough, hands shaking with anticipation. When both of you were finally stripped bare, he had you pinned down again with one of his hands and his other hand was already exploring your wet folds.

“Fuck, you’re soaked.” He groaned against your lips and you could only whimper in response as he slid two fingers inside you and immediately curled them to find your sweet spot again. “You want me to be disrespectful?” He questioned with a smile that pressed up against your panting mouth. When you nodded, he released your hands and crawled in between your legs. “Then I’m not stopping until you beg for my cock.”

The fingers inside you immediately got to work and he sucked on your clit with a force that blinded you. “HOLY FFF–” You couldn’t even finish the word as it got stuck in your throat from the overwhelming velocity he was working with to bring you to your first orgasm. Your hand involuntarily slapping and gripping the sheets with force.

Your jaw was slack and your whole body tense with all of the sensations you felt all at once. Your fingers slowly tangled in his soft blonde hair and you couldn’t even breathe when you reached your starry peak. When your orgasm settled and you finally exhaled with a loud, drawn-out grunt, you realized he wasn’t stopping nor slowing down. If anything, he seemed to be working even harder, flicking your pearl with his tongue even firmer, and thrusting his fingers even faster.

Now, instead of being unable to breathe, you were almost hyperventilating with the oversensitivity of it all. You could definitely finish your words now as you clutched the sheets with white knuckles. “Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck Minho! Minho! OhgodMinho!” His name was a mantra on your tongue and you could almost see the smirk in his dark eyes as he looked up at you.

You were in too much bliss to care at the moment and after your next orgasm crashed over you, you came down from it with a sob. When he still refused to relent, you were in a purgatory of whether it felt like the greatest pleasure you had ever felt or the most painful oversensitivity you could think of.

However, after those first and second orgasms, the next ones seemed to have a snowball effect. The next one happened even sooner after the other and the next one was even faster than the last. This continued until your whole body was in a constant state of tremors. You could barely even recognize your own voice through your sobs as you begged. “P-p-please M-Min–” You exclaimed before a gasp of much-needed air. “Please! I-I need y-you!!”

He smiled up at you and relented, crawling back up to hover over you as he pressed the fingers that were covered in your juices to your awaiting lips. You sucked them in immediately, eyes hooded as you watched his lustful gaze. You suddenly felt him pulling your jaw down with those fingers to open your mouth for him and, once you had opened all the way with his fingers on your tongue, He stuck his own tongue as far into your mouth as he could possibly reach and he licked up the roof of your mouth.

The feeling of the wet muscle against your gums made you want to plead for him to do more god-awful things to you.

You whimpered as your free hand floated between the two of you to grasp his leaking cock. His mouth froze on yours and you felt the vibrations from his moan reviberate into your own mouth. As he released your jaw and moved away from your mouth, you began giving him lazy pumps to coax him to do more. “I need you, Minho. Please…” He froze in place, as if trying to regain his composure, but he failed miserably.

He seemed to be just as desperate as you because he was off you and pulling out a condom from his bedside drawer in a flash of dewy beauty. Your eyes hazily roved over his body as he tore open the condom. You couldn’t deny it, he was most undoubtedly the most beautiful creature you had ever laid eyes on and it pissed you off to admit it.

When he had finally rolled the rubber over his length, you were startled when he roughly flipped you over on your stomach and lifted your hips in the air, slowly sinking into you as the stretch caused both of you to moan in tandem. He had one of his hands digging his fingers into your waist and the other tangling into the hair at your nape, both of them using you as leverage to begin forcefully thrusting inside you with a vengeance.

Your face, which was firmly pressed into the silky smooth sheets, was scrunched up in pleasure and oversensitivity that was arguably even more delectable than before. You had no clue why it felt so good to be manhandled, but you soon realized that this was yet another one of the unknown pleasures that Minho had introduced you to. You were bound and determined to discover even more with him.

You felt like you were melting into the earth as he pounded into you and you felt yet another overpowering pressure threaten to explode in your core. Every thrust pushed out a tiny yelp from your lips and you felt Minho move both of his hands to your breasts and bend down next to your ear. “You have one more for me, kitten. I know you do.” With that, he tweaked your nipples and you cried out loud enough you were sure you shook the foundations of the building. “That’s it, good girl. Cum for me.”

You were shaking profusely through your orgasm and he pumped into you with blinding force until he, too, came unraveled from the pleasure he found in you.

The air was mingled with your combined panting and the steam rising from yours and his skin. When you felt him pull out of you, it was all you could do to not pass out then and there. Your head was in a haze and you just laid there, limbs limp, for an unspecified amount of time. You could vaguely hear some shuffling from somewhere inside his apartment. Some running water, a door opening, and closing, then your field of vision was obstructed by the man standing in front of you in just a pair of boxer shorts.

Holy shit, he’s so goddamned gorgeous.

He set down a glass of water on the nightstand and started wiping your spunk and sweat off of you with a damp cloth. “M-Min, I can–”

“Shhh.” He quieted you, but you were adamant. He had made it painfully clear that none of this was serious, so there was no point in staying longer.

You reluctantly lifted yourself off of the bed and slunk away from his unidentifiable expression as he stood watching you, towel in hand. “I’m going to have to leave anyway so I’ll just save you the trouble. I’ll shower at home.” You really didn’t want to have to make the trip back to your place, but when you looked at the time, it was already almost time for the last nearby transit to stop for the night. “Oh shit, I have to go, I’ll miss the bus!” 

You rushed to collect your clothes scattered about the room and you watched out of the corner of your eye as the man aggressively threw the towel in his laundry bin. “If you are gonna leave, at least let me take you home.”

You grimaced at the sharpness of his voice. “What’s the big deal?” To the naked eye, he seemed blasé, but you could tell he was secretly aggravated by the way he pursed his lips and crossed his arms.

He swiftly ran his hand through his hair, still mussed from your eager fingers earlier. It seemed as if he was deep in thought, looking at nothing off to the side until he neutralized his face, looking back at you. “Nothing at all.” He shrugged, feigning indifference. “I would just rather you not head back home so late by yourself.”

You sighed in defeat, the stress of the day beginning to weigh on you. “Fine.” You grumbled and turned to head towards the front door. “Let’s go.”

“Right now?” He asked as he hobbled after you while trying to put on his pants at the same time.

“Yes, Minho. Right now. I’ve sobered up and it’s making me super tired and I have class early in the morning.” Again, he was silent as he threw on the rest of his clothes and led you out of his apartment.

The car was eerily silent the entire way back to your house and when you got out of the car, his only farewell was a solemn “G’night.” Before slowly driving away.

Much to your dismay, the whole encounter made the night a sleepless one and you knew the next day would be a complete nightmare.

________________________________________

Your head drooped as you struggled to keep your eyes open in the back of class. Several times throughout the day, you had found yourself nodding off in every single one of your lectures. Not to mention the weather was absolutely horrid with the muggy April rain and thunder that threatened to lull you to sleep every other minute. By the end of your last class, you were finally confronted about it.

When you had eventually fallen completely asleep on your desk, you had awoken to a loud thud of a foot hitting the leg of your desk. Your head whipped up at the speed of light and saw your professor standing over you with an arched brow and a disapproving frown. “Really? Now? I would have expected this of some of the other students, but you?”

She shook her head and pinched the bridge of her nose with her thumb and index finger. You quickly stood up and collected your things. “Oh my god, professor I’m SO sorry! I had a hard time sleeping last night and–”

“I don’t care about the reason, just don’t let it happen again.” And with that, she left you without another word, bulldozing over the words that were lingering on your lips. 

You marched out of the classroom, unbelievably irritable and aggravated. It’s not your fault you were up all night! Your mind refused to let you sleep! If anyone is to blame, it’s Lee fucking Minho. Why did he have to act like such a pouty prick last night? Just because you saved him the effort of cleaning you even though you were going to immediately shower when you arrived back home?!

You were silently fuming as you made your way through the building and, on your way to the exit, the man of the goddamned hour showed up. Speak of the fucking devil! He was next to an open classroom door that students were filing out of while he leaned up against the wall talking to a classmate.

She was a small, cute, petite blonde and you don’t know why, but just the sight of the duo disgusted you. She giggled and placed a delicate hand on his bicep and you wanted to barf. You knew he was free to see and talk to whoever, but how was it fair that he was wide awake and acting as if he didn’t just get laid the night before while you were utterly miserable?

You had to walk right by him to get out of the building and you were feeling pretty petty anyway, so you used the students passing nearby to your advantage as you fell into step with them. When you neared the couple, his back was to you and you ‘accidentally’, and rather aggressively, shouldered past him and continued on your merry fucking way.

You hadn’t even made it more than a few meters before you heard your name being called and the pattering of fast-paced footsteps nearing you. You decided to just continue walking as if you didn’t hear him and you finally felt the man grab your arm and swing you around to face him. A scowl was already reared and ready to go on your face when he turned you around and it just deepened when you saw his stupid beautiful face with his stupid cocked eyebrow.

“To what do I owe this delightful company you bring on such a gloomy day?” What a complete shift from his icy attitude last night… You couldn’t disguise the absolute disgust that lingered on your face as the petite blonde who Minho had been talking to just moments before decided to slide her slim fingers down Minho’s strong forearm as she passed.

“See you tomorrow night, Minho.” She purred in a sultry tone and a lustful gaze as she walked away backward for a few steps before finally turning and strutting down the hall.

You turned back to Minho with the nastiest grimace you could muster and he looked at you even more smug than before. “Better watch out, kitten. Your jealousy is showing.” He chuckled as he whispered the words close in your ear. The entirety of your hair follicles stood on end and you willed away your goosebumps as you stepped away from him.

“Stop spewing your shit. What do you want with me, Min?” Your question was clipped and you didn’t wait for a response before you started walking towards the exit once again.

He quickly caught up to you and walked in front of you backward, facing you as if it were the easiest thing in the world to match your pace despite the direction he walked. His grin was still dopey and stupidly attractive. “Someone’s got her panties in a twist! Didn’t like my friend back there?” You could see the taunting in his eyes and you just wanted to wipe that stupid smirk from his face.

“I couldn’t care less about your friend.” You failed to hold back the venom from your voice as you spoke and his smile grew. You huffed. “Unlike you, I don’t spend all my free time fucking my friends.” Again, the words were dripping with malice.

His smile faltered. “And who ever said I was fucking around?” His voice had become slightly agitated and you tried to appear unfazed by it.

You shrugged and looked straightforward, just to realize the two of you had come to a complete stop in the abandoned hallway. “You seem to take that sort of stuff pretty lightly, considering all things, and it doesn’t take a genius to see the effect you have on people.” You didn’t even have the chance to gauge his reaction before you were pulled to the side by your forearm.

The next thing you knew, You were being pushed against the door of a small, dark room off to the side. Is this a fucking janitorial closet?

“For your information–” You couldn’t see his face too clearly, but his voice almost sounded like a snarl. Threatening even. “I don’t take that shit lightly. I barely even know that girl outside my classroom.”

“But she said–”

“For christ’s sake, there’s a party tomorrow night! It’s Chris’ last one before he graduates and he wanted me to be there.”

You blanched. “Oh…” You kind of felt hurt that you didn’t know about it, but these were technicallty your brother’s friends. They had no obligation to babysit his little sister while he was away.

You were ever grateful to the pitch darkness of the room so Minho wouldn’t see the sheer disappointment on your face, but his eyes must have adjusted to the light because you suddenly felt the feathering of his fingertips over your cheek. “I’m sorry for the misunderstanding, kitten.”

You willed back the angry tears and slapped his hand away. “There’s no misunderstanding, Min. We’re fuck buddies. It’s none of my business what you do and don’t do with other people.” It was silent for a beat before you continued. “And I don’t need to know what our–” You huffed and pursed your lips, whipping your head to the side so you didn’t have to face him. “...what your friends are up to.”

He was quick to place his hands on your arms and step closer. “Kitten! They’re your friends too–!”

You wanted to punch something and you cut him off with a raised voice. “And speaking of late night shenanigans–!” You pressed your finger to his chest. “You.” Your eyes had finally adjusted to the darkness and you watched as he backed up with wide, befuddled eyes from your aggressive shift in demeanor. “I was up all fucking night because you decided to keep me all wound up from everything that happened last night!”

You could faintly see him trying to hold back an amused smile and stifle a laugh. You almost growled at him as you grabbed his retreating form by the shoulders and turned him around so you were the one pressing him against the door now. “It’s not fucking funny! I got chewed out by my professor because I fell asleep in class!”

He made no attempt to hide his amused smirk and he laughed at your pissed scowl. He leaned down to face level with you and narrowed his smug eyes. “Oh? Did I leave you wanting more?” You scoffed in disbelief at his audacity. “Because I would have happily taken care of it for you if you had stayed with me.”

You were burning from the inside out and you couldn’t tell if it was from the rage or the tension that permeated the small room.

He straightened back up and sighed. “You only have yourself to blame, kitten.” He tried to free himself from your grasp, but you refused to release him. Instead, your body moved on its own as you crashed your lips to his.

You could feel the bewildered tension in his body only for a millisecond before he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you against him, his tongue eagerly falling in sync with your own. You pulled back only slightly to hiss against his lips. “Fuck that. This is your fault and you’re going to fix it.” 

With that, you began quickly unclasping his belt and popping the button open on his jeans. “Woah! Kitten, we’re at school!” Although his words said otherwise, his actions made no move to stop you.

“Exactly. And you’re the one who felt the need to hide us away in this godforsaken closet, so we’re going to make good use of it.” You refused to look him in the eye as you sank down to your knees and mouthed at his slowly hardening dick over his boxer briefs.

The shudder of his breath was music to your ears and you hummed against him when he smoothed his hands over the top of your head. “Fuck, kitten…” He groaned. “I thought I was supposed to take care of you.” You felt the soft thud of his head leaning back against the door.

You pulled your mouth away so you could free his erection from its breaches. “Yeah, and I would rather be ‘taken care of’ with a hard dick rather than one so flaccid you’d think you just walked in on your naked grandma.” You eagerly sucked down his length and the weight of his cock on your tongue made you press your thighs together.

His voice was strained as he grunted his approval. “Trust me, kitten. You’re able to make me hard as a rock in no time at all, even without needing to do all this.” With that, he grabbed your hair and pulled your mouth off him. He bent down and angled your head up to look straight at him. “Now get up off that disgusting floor and I’ll make you cum so hard that you’ll feel it through next week.” The huskiness of his voice had you swimming in your panties and, after he tucked himself back in his pants, you quickly obliged as you let him drag you outside and to his car.

________________________________________

“Shitfuckshit more, Minho!” You were almost sobbing from the damned tease and the firm patterns he was applying to your clit in the car as he rushed back to his apartment. You were basically dry-humping his hand as he continued to torment you over the thin fabric of your leggings and you could almost cry in relief when he finally parked in the lot of his building.

You couldn’t get inside the door quick enough before you were on him like a pack of wolves, devouring every inch you could get your claws on. He was quick to respond as he returned your ravenous kiss and stuck his hand under the waistband of your leggings and underwear. His finger ran along your folds and you gasped at the delectable touch. “Shit… you’re so fucking wet…” He groaned against your mouth and you felt yourself being led backward so he could press you up against the wall.

He pulled away from your mouth to look at you as he slid two fingers into you and pressed his palm firmly against your clit. You threw your head back against the wall, jaw slack, as you held his strong forearm in a vice grip and ground down on his hand. All the while feeling the muscles move under the skin of his arm. He obviously enjoyed your reaction as he bit his lip to hold back a cheeky grin. You tried to restrain your noises, but a choked sob breached your lips when he latched his lips onto your neck.

His fingers were slowly thrusting in and out of you and it was heaven but hell at the same time. You couldn’t control the buckling of your knees and felt his other hand tighten around your waist.

When he was sure you wouldn’t fall, he retreated his hand from inside you and he laughed at your affronted face, completely offended that he would rob you of such pleasure. However, this was quickly rectified once he sunk down to his knees and stripped off your undergarments. You were breathing heavily as he looked up at you with blackened eyes that bore into your soul.

Wordlessly, he took one of your bare legs and draped it over his shoulder, pressing his moist lips to your inner thigh soon after. Your breath shuddered when his other hand ran its fingers through your inner labia once again and your gasp was evident when he gently kissed your clit. Still staring into your hooded eyes, he slowly inserted three fingers and you mewled at the stretch.

When his lips and tongue clasped around your clit, you were done for. Instead of thrusting his fingers, he was now digging and pressing rapidly against your g-spot as your orgasm washed over you. You whined and mewled as he led you through your high and you had absolutely drenched his face and your legs.

You grabbed at his shirt to pull him up and he chuckled as you pulled him by the collar to his bedroom.

You found yourself aggressively pushing him down on the bed and fumbling at his belt and jeans to rid him of them. When you finally shed both of y’all’s clothing completely, leaving no separation between your bodies, you instantly climbed up him to straddle him.

He quickly grabbed your hips as you lifted your hips to position him at your core. “Woah, wait! L-let me get a condom!” He shuffled to remove you from his lap, but you refused to move. Instead, you dropped yourself to place your sopping pussy up against the length of his flattened dick, not penetrating, just teasing as you slid your heat up and down him.

It looked as if the action knocked all of the breath out of him and the grip he had on your flexing thighs was enough to make you shudder from the delicious pain. He had his head thrown back against the plush bedding and had his eyes scrunched up as if he was using every ounce of his willpower to not just fuck you raw. But that was what you needed from him.

Still grinding on his twitching cock, you leaned forward to run your tongue along his collarbone. “Have you ever fucked anyone raw, Min?” You giggled as his head shot up and his eyes bulged out of his head.

“W-what?! No!” You bit your lip and closed your eyes momentarily, appreciating the drag of his tip against your throbbing clit.

When you opened your eyes again, he looked almost like he was in pain. “Well… I assume you’re clean… and I know I’m clean… and on birth control… and I’m used to not needing…” You looked away blushing and his dick twitched beneath you.

“Holy mother of god…” He slightly sat up and grabbed your face to smash your lips together, using his tongue to explore the entirety of your mouth before pulling back to search your eyes. “Are you absolutely sure, kitten?” He sounded distraught and your vision was hazed over with lust as you continued to grind on him.

“Of course, you might be a piece of shit, but I trust you…” You briefly moved your smirking mouth to nibble at his ear and whispered sensually into it. “I like the feeling of being filled up. The feeling of cum hitting my walls and spilling out slowly is my number one weakness.” He whispered dozens of expletives in response and squeezed you infinitesimally closer by your ass.

“Just a fair warning…” He growled against your neck as he lifted your hips. “I’m not sure how long I’ll last if I go in raw…” You giggled and reached in between your flush chests to grab his painfully hard erection to position him at your entrance and his breath shuddered as he rested his head against your shoulder.

Both of you emitted loud, pornographic moans as you sank down on him and you relished in the thought of your ass being bruised in the shape of his fingerprints. You had to wait and adjust to his size once more and you didn’t think you would ever be able to get over how amazing he felt. You were trembling, he was sweating, and both of you had moved to lazily entangle tongues.

When you made a move to start grinding, he gripped your hips again. “J-just a little bit longer… you have no idea how amazing you feel.” You don’t know why, but you felt a fluttering in your stomach and, in fear of what it might mean, you willed it away. Instead, you replaced it with mischievousness. 

You began a slow journey with your tongue dragging down his jaw, neck, and clavicle just to find your destination on his strong pec. You lazily kissed and sucked all around it and when you closed your mouth around his nipple, you squeezed your pussy tight around him just before you felt a jolt beneath you.

“Fuck!” He grunted and his fingers dug into your hips further, producing a pain that you would have never realized would be a turn-on. You could feel his glare burn into you where you were latched onto his pec and you hummed against him, repeating the action as you flicked your tongue. “Motherfu–”

He cut off his swear short when you felt yourself being lifted off of him and thrown onto your back in the soft bedding. You gasped and he growled as he sunk back inside you, this time not relenting as he crushed your cervix.

“You’re a fucking brat.” He snarled against where his mouth was devouring your neck. “You asked for this, kitten…” He left the skin of your neck chilled with his saliva as he pulled back and poised himself up on his knees. You were thrumming with need as you watched him grab your ankles and throw your legs over his shoulders, hefting your hips up with his strong arms and nailing you directly in your sweet spot.

The breath was knocked clear out of you.

Your eyebrows scrunched, your jaw slackened, and your whole body went taut with the overwhelming feeling of just him. He was all you could feel, see, smell, taste, and hear as he continued to relentlessly pound into you. Minho. Minho. Minho!

He folded you in half when he kneeled down to lick your lips open and you let him in willingly. It wasn’t long before your lips forgot to move against his as you released small “ah– ah– ah” ‘s with every thrust, all the while he was lapping up the saliva that pooled at the edges of your mouth. He barely had to even graze his thumb over your clit before you came with a cry of his name on your lips.

You were still riding your high when you ran a hand through his sweaty hair. You could see the restraint in his features. “Cum in me Minho, please.” His head dropped down to your breast with a moan and a few breathless expletives before you felt him empty himself inside you, a feral grunt seeping out of his clenched teeth that had bitten down on the swell of your breast.

You gasped at the delicious feeling and threw your head back, baring your neck to him and prompting him to glide his tongue up the length of it.

Once he pumped out every last drop and his tongue had finished properly tasting the entirety of your neck, he flopped over on his side next to you. The air almost seemed to be laden with steam and arousal and all of your exhaustion from the night before, that day, and the mind blowing sex came crashing down on you like a tsunami.

The last dregs of your consciousness were consumed with Minho cleaning you, changing you, and hydrating you before you passed out beneath the sheets that smelt like the concentrated scent of just Minho…

________________________________________

Hannie🐹:

Hey beautiful

Princess👑:

Well hello Jisungie

To what do I owe this rare attempt of social interaction?

Hannie🐹:

Oh shush, u haven’t tried to reach out either!

Princess👑:

True, but the question still stands

Hannie🐹:

Ur coming to Chan’s party tonight right?

You tried to bury the sting that the question presented, but it still hit a sore spot to know that even that one random chick Minho was talking to knew before you did. You gulped back the lump in your throat.

Princess👑:

I didn’t think I was invited

Hannie🐹:

What? Why wouldn’t u be?

Princess👑:

Well the fact that I had to hear about it from someone else was a big indicator

You cringed after you sent the message, realizing the salt that was poured all over that sentence.

Hannie🐹:

What?!?!

Princess👑:

It really is fine Hannie

No one expects you guys to include me just because I’m ur friend’s little sister

When he didn’t respond, you assumed he had just dropped the issue, deciding that you weren’t worth the trouble. However, as you were walking out of your last class of the day, your phone lit up in your hand with the caller ID indicating that your conversation was far from over.

“Hannie?” You raised the phone to your ear as you walked down the campus sidewalk.

“Pardon my manners, princess, but you’re a goddamned idiot if you think you’re only ‘his little sister’ to us.” You balked at his words. “For starters, you are our friend just as much as he is.” You felt your steps slow with each word from his mouth. “Secondly, the only reason you didn’t hear about it sooner is because Hwang Hyunjin is a complete pabo. He was in charge of telling you, like, a century ago and apparently he forgot to tell not only you, but a whole bunch of other people.”

Was that really true? Or was he just trying to make excuses?

“Either way, Chan definitely wants you there and I know for a fact that I want you there.”

“Ji, really, it’s fi–”

“Please?” You could practically already see the cute pout on his face and you habitually smiled.

After a long sigh and some deliberation, you caved. “Okay, fine. Send me the time and address.”

The next what felt like a whole thirty seconds was filled with the adorable sound of Jisung’s triumphant self-appreciation as he sent you the information. You couldn’t hold back the giggles of endearment for the man and the call ended with a smile on your face.

“Ooooh, who was that? If the smile on your face is anything to go by, its a boooy~” You heard your best friend’s chipper voice ring from where she sauntered up beside you, scaring you half to death.

You jumped and held your hand to your heart as she giggled at you. “My god, Tiff! Don’t sneak up on me like that!” She grabbed your hand that was pressed to your chest and swung your intertwined hands as she walked with you to the bus stop.

“Sooo, who was it?”

“Just Jisung.” You shrugged as the two of you sat on the bench to wait.

“Oh my gosh!” Tiffany gasped and clutched your arm, earning a raised brow from you. “Did he tell you about Chan’s party?! Are you going?!”

OF FUCKING COURSE she knew before you. You had to take a deep breath to maintain your composure and not blow the fuck up. “Yeah, are you?”

“Um, of course?!” She said as if you were crazy to even ask. “Do you think Minho will be there?”

Her question threw you for a loop and your mind was immediately brought back to earlier that morning when you snuck out of his apartment before he woke up. You definitely didn’t want to deal with the awkwardness of being kicked out so you went ahead and took it upon yourself to initiate the task.

You sucked your teeth in and stood up, watching as the bus slowly approached. “Yeah, I think so. Why?”

She flashed you a mischievous grin and swiftly turned to take a seat in the back. When you joined her, she swiveled in her seat to face you. “I want you to help me hook up with him.”

You felt like you had just been punched in the gut. “WHAT?!” You startled at your own raised voice and shyly bowed your head in apology to the few surrounding onlookers. You looked back to your friend and you really hoped your face didn’t betray your panic.

Why, of all people, did she want to start pursuing your Minho? No. No, he’s not yours. He’s just a friend. Was he even considered a friend? Shit, the lines were blurring.

“What? I totally know he’s into me and I might have a better shot tonight if you talk me up.” Thankfully, she didn’t seem to notice your inner turmoil.

Wait.

What did she say?

“How do you know he’s into you?”

She rolled her eyes with a cheeky smile. “He saved my number, love. He texted me today and asked if we were going to the party. A guy doesn’t save a girl’s number unless he’s for sure into them. Especially if the girl has been very obviously flirting with them and is not just a buddy-buddy relationship.”

You felt like you had just been bitch slapped and you sensed an indescribable feeling rise in your throat, prompting you to force yourself to swallow it back. Why was he texting your best friend? “H-how do you know he’s not already taken?” You knew he wasn’t, but you couldn’t stomach the thought of him being with your best friend.

“Again, he saved my number.” She actually seemed somewhat annoyed now. “What’s the big deal? Are you going to help me or not?”

Your throat was completely dry and you felt the heat pumping through your veins. “You can have so many guys, Tiff. Why Minho, exactly?” You grimaced as she crossed her arms and glared at you.

“Oh my fucking god. What is your DEAL? Is it just because you hate the man?! Get over yourself, sweetheart. He’s a grown man and I’m a grown woman and there is clearly a mutual attraction so I’m not going to let your pettiness get in the way of my fun. If it really bothers you, then forget I asked. I can win him over by myself anyway.” She sneered as she turned her attention to the window and thus ended the conversation.

You felt tears prick at your eyes and you didn’t quite know where you were, but you pressed the button to be let out of the bus anyway. Why? Just why did it have to be her to steal him? No, not steal… He’s not yours…

He’s NOT yours…

When you stepped out, you took a large gulp of fresh air and willed the tears away. You refused to let her demean you. You refused to let her ruin your fun tonight. You refused to let her win. The fucking bitch needs to be knocked down a few notches and learn that she can’t just earn everything by spreading her legs. Well, that is if Minho didn’t take her bait…

________________________________________

Tiff💞:

Hey babe

Can we just forget about earlier?

I’ll see you tonight kay?

😘

Not even an apology or anything. What a bitch. You probably looked like you had murder on your mind as you looked down at your phone and back up at Chan’s frat house. You took a deep breath to will the fury from your soul and smoothed your hands over your clothes, only slightly self-conscious of the dainty material you had recently purchased. 

For no particular reason whatsoever, you had recently decided to go shopping for a few outfits of the, um… more mature variety. Not to impress anyone in particular… Definitely not to gain the attention of a certain someone… You just wanted to broaden your wardrobe. That’s it. No other reason…

You still wore your regular combat boots because there was no overcoming your ability to break your ankles in heels, but the rest of the outfit was definitely new to you. (Plus, the black boots kind of looked cute with the rest of the outfit.)

Your sheer black tights were silky smooth up your legs to be met with a short (almost too short) high-waisted solid black mini skirt. The real kicker was your top. It was a jet-black eyelash-lace corset/cami top that rose well above your navel and you were almost too chicken to wear it due to it looking practically like lingerie. But the issues with Tiffany and Minho made you uncharacteristically bold that night. You decided to wear a form-fitting leather jacket (also black of course), but it still left most of your top visible.

You, once again, willed your breathing to steady as you walked up the steps and opened the front door.

The party was in full swing as you warily made your way through the party goers. It was almost impossible to focus due to the crowd, the noise, the heavy air, and the dim lighting (minus the flashing and colored lights that lit up most of the open area of dancers).

Is this the norm for college parties?

You didn’t even know where you were going, you just knew there was one person you were subconsciously searching fo–

…Minho…

You halted in your tracks and you watched in horror as you saw that your best friend had found the man first.

Bile rose in your throat as you watched Minho hand her a drink with a smile and she clung onto his arm like a fucking leach. Hyunjin and Changbin were with them, but Tiffany only seemed interested in running her hands over Minho’s muscular arm and talking in his ear, entirely too close to him with her filthy lips.

You were sure you were gonna be sick.

You saw Minho’s eye wander about the room as Tiffany took a breath long enough to take a drink, and you panicked when his gaze snapped to yours. Before you could even acknowledge either of your’s reactions, you beelined it to the kitchen with all the alcohol that you had passed earlier and shoved your way through the crowd to hastily find the room and make your drink. A strong drink.

You had just finished stirring it when you felt a gentle hand on your elbow. You whipped your head around to be faced with the bane of your existence. He was so damned beautiful you wanted to just punch him square in the face. The top half of the buttons on his black button-up were undone to show off the low neckline of his white undershirt, causing your eyes to want to wander down to his perfectly defined chest that was adorned with a single silver pendulum necklace and a beaded choker that would look feminine on anyone but him. His blonde hair was styled back out of his face and it accentuated his beautiful, dark round eyes.

“Hey! I’ve been looking for you–” Before he could finish his sentence, he must have noticed your ensemble due to the fact that his eyes were bugged out and were blatantly gazing down at your clothes. “Oh fuck…” He whispered so low you almost didn’t catch it. When he cleared his throat and came back to the land of the living, his cheeks were pink when he said, “You look so fucking gorgeous…” Your exhale was shaky and you could almost get drunk off of his handsome grin alone. You hated it.

It took you a moment to rip your eyes from him, but when you did, you decided it was necessary for you to chug your drink for dear life.

“Woah, woah! The night’s only started!” When he made a move to still your cup, you pulled it away from him with a glower.

“For me maybe, but who knows how long you and ‘little miss man eater’ over there have been exchanging verbal foreplay.” Minho’s eyes widened comically and turned back to look at Tiffany who was glaring daggers at you both.

“I’m sorry, verbal what???” He asked incredulously as he turned back to you. You heard me dickwad. However, instead of voicing your thoughts, you just huffed out a disbelieving half-chuckle and turned back to refill your drink.

This definitely needs to be twice as strong.

“Oh my god, don’t tell me…” You rolled your eyes, already knowing where this was headed. “Kitten, are you jealous?” You turned back around to be met with a shit-eating grin and you were about two seconds away from kicking him where the sun doesn’t shine until you suddenly found the other five men you were here for huddled by a wall talking amongst themselves away from your so-called bestie.

You just clicked your tongue and rolled your eyes, walking away without a word and marching over to the group.

Jisung saw you first, a huge smile lighting up the entire room until it was instantly erased with an expression that looked like he suddenly shat out a brick. At first, you were concerned, that was until the other four followed his gaze and had the same series of reactions. It was only when you got closer that you saw all of them ogling your outfit and you found yourself wanting to shrink into yourself at the attention.

“H-Hey guys!” You said with a wary smile as you stopped in front of the semi-circle they made at your arrival. It was only from your words that their trances were broken and they all looked back up to your face with blushing faces before not-so-subtly avoiding your eyes. You felt embarrassment wash over you like a bucket of ice and you wrapped your arms around yourself as you averted your eyes down to make yourself look small. “I… I’m sorry… did I overdo the outfit? I haven’t really ever been to one of these parties. Heh…”

You nervously chuckled and rubbed the cold sweat off the back of your neck with one hand while the other was still firmly wrapped around your torso. “No!” You heard multiple panicked voices say in tandem before the sound of clearing throats.

Felix, the angel, smiled sweetly at you and stepped forward to wrap you in a hug. “Of course not, sweetie. You look beautiful.” He stepped back as the rest agreed and Jisung stole the next hug.

“More like a fucking goddess!” You felt your feet lift off the ground as he squeezed your waist and your cheeks flooded with heat when he pressed his soft lips to your cheek before retreating.

After the rest greeted you similarly, Chris stepped to the side to reveal a tray of shots on the small table behind him. “Now that the whole group is finally here, we can finally start the real fun!” You’re part of their group? Everyone grabbed one of the seven shot glasses before Chris handed yours directly to you with a whisper in your ear. “Don’t take anything from anyone unless they’re one of the six of us, yeah?” The hot breath you felt against you made you shiver, but you nodded regardless.

“Yah! Get out of her ear, perv!” Minho shouted from behind him as he held his own shot. Chris stepped back to look at him with raised brows, but you intervened first.

“Oh calm down, Minho. We’re all adults here.” Changing your threatening tone to a lighter one, you raised your glass. “To Chris’ last year! We’ll miss you Channie!” And you, in the slightly petty and tipsy mood, planted a kiss right on Chris’ cheek, startling the blushing man in the process. Tension set aside, everyone raised their glasses to dink ‘em and sink ‘em. Minho only downing his after he was finished glowering at your smug face.

You caught up with them for a little bit, but with every passing minute, you felt the drinks start to hit you. And, as per usual, when you drank, you got very… touchy-feely. Your first victim was Felix, but that was because the man was always ready for cuddles. After that, you had stolen Jisung from Minho, who was possessed with about the same amount of drunken clinginess, the latter having Jisung previously wrapped around him as the elder had his own arm thrown over his shoulder. However, Jisung was happy to switch to wrapping his arms around your semi-bare waist instead when you beckoned him.

It was just as Changbin was giving a very detailed speech to Hyunjin about the importance of cardio when you glanced over at Minho. Your eyes widened when you took in the absolutely livid expression he had directed at Jisung and Felix before a wry smile grew on your lips.

A plan formed in your head. A wicked, evil little plan to give Minho a taste of his own medicine. However, before you could execute it, the she-devil showed up and found purchase around Minho’s arm again.

“There you are! I thought you said you’d be right back!” She said with what was supposed to be a cute pout, but all you saw was the manipulative sneer hidden in her eyes as she glanced at you. Minho looked at her with wide eyes and then back at you with what looked like anxiety.

“Wha– I– Um…” As he was babbling in his loss for words, you pulled away from the boys surrounding you and turned around to face them with a dubious grin that didn’t reach your eyes.

With your back facing Minho, you downed your drink and rid yourself of your jacket, letting the refreshing air conditioning soothe your previously confined arms. When you placed your empty cup and jacket on the small table behind them, you extended your hands out to the men. “C’mon, who’s going to show a girl a good time tonight and dance with me?”

You eyed Chris who was already gulping down his own drink, the man staring at all the bare skin you had on display all the while, and setting his empty cup next to your own. You smiled up at him as he took one of your hands and you watched Jisung’s eyes flick over to Minho before grabbing your other one. Your smile brightened further and you hugged them both by the neck giddily before dragging them over to the makeshift dancefloor.

You could feel several pairs of eyes watch as the three of you retreated and you couldn’t help but feel somewhat smug with the thought of Minho and Tiffany being a couple of them.

You felt the alcohol wash away your anger and jealousy and let the upbeat music pump through your veins as you danced between the two men. At first, it was very PG, but the density of the crowd thickened and soon enough Chris was up against your backside while Jisung was against the front. The more hyped you got from the heavy air, loud beats, and strong drinks, the more bold your dancing became.

You had one arm thrown around Jisung’s neck and the other thrown around the back of Chris’ head from behind as you began grinding against the pair. They must have been equally as plastered because their roaming hands were definitely encouraging you. Jisung’s hands roved over your waist and abdomen as Chris’ paved their way up and down your hips and thighs.

All of you were sticky with sweat and the feeling of Chris’ breath on your neck and Jisung’s lustful eyes watching your body move was making you even hotter. Even though you were super insecure at the beginning of the night, you now felt bold and sexy and wanted. You felt a sliver of pride that you were still able to make men covet you even if… others didn’t.

After a while, you felt that same hot breath from behind you talk into your ear again. “I’m gonna tap out for a bit gorgeous.” Chris said before he kissed your cheek and weaved his way through grinding bodies to head back over to the group.

You returned your eyes to your remaining dance partner who met your gaze with hooded lids. You allowed yourself to be pulled flush against him, but you turned so your back was up against him now as you grinded and rolled against his firm body. Your whole mind was clouded and all you knew was how good the body against you felt.

With the man out of your line of vision, you closed your eyes and let yourself be consumed in the moment. Your hands reached back and threaded through his silky hair and you felt the fingers that trailed down your hips tickle the spot where your outer thighs met your skirt.

You gasped when you felt his hard cock push into your lower back and he squeezed you tighter when you rolled back into it. Gosh, Minho, you feel so good.

But why did Minho’s fingers feel longer when you went to grab them?

Your internal question was already forgotten when you felt his warm lips touch down on the soft curve of your neck and the next thing you knew, you were dragging him to the nearest secluded area to taste those lips that you always seemed to crave now. The lips that made you cum a hundred different ways by now.

Turns out the nearest secluded spot was a door that led out to a small side patio that was somehow completely deserted. Without much thought, you whipped back around with blurry vision as you pressed your lips to his. Well… tried to at least. It took a couple tries to hit your target, but when they did, you groaned and instantly tangled tongues with him. But…

Why does this seem so foreign? Does it just feel different because you were drunk? And had Minho been wearing a t-shirt this whole time?

When you allowed your hands to roam up under his shirt, the lustful groan the man emitted had your eyes flying open. That is definitely NOT Minho’s voice.

“Ji-Jisung?” He fluttered his eyes open when you sprang off of him, stumbling back like a fucking hooch monkey, and he gave you a confused blink.

“Wha– Huh? What’s wrong, princess?” He stumbled a bit as he picked himself off the wall you had pressed him against and you covered your mouth in mortification. You could only widen your watery eyes and shake your head in disbelief as you watched him look more and more concerned. It wasn’t until he grabbed your face to wipe your tears that you realized you started crying. “Oh my god, are you okay? Did I hurt you?!”

He sat you down on a patio chair to squat in front of you and rubbed soothing circles on your knee as you buried your face in your hands. “Nononononono!” Your turmoil was muffled behind your hands and you started sobbing as you looked back up at Jisung. “I-I’m s-so sorry J-Ji–” 

He was frantically searching your eyes and he ran his palms up and down your arms. “What in the world for?” Confusion was tattooed across his face and you felt even more ashamed that you would have to explain.

“I…” You tried to gulp down breaths to explain between sobs and slurred speech. “I d-din’know it was you who…” Another round of tears cascaded as you saw a distraught realization wash over him. You felt awful for using your friend so horrendously. You couldn’t believe how selfish you were just because you didn’t want to share…

Minho…

Minho must have gone home with Tiffany. Why wouldn’t he, right? She was beautiful and sexy and you were a completely sloshed jackass. He probably never wanted to see you ever again after one night with that dick-whipped cunt of a woman.

You felt your whole body start shaking as another round of sobs wracked your body and Jisung quickly wrapped you in his arms. “Shh shh, it’s okay. You haven’t done anything wrong, sweetie. It’ll be okay…” His calm and reassuring voice made you squeeze onto your friend for dear life.

“I-I’m s-so s–” He just continued his gentle hushing to get you to calm down and he helped you focus on your breathing. Tears still flowing down your face but sobs having died down, you sat back to look at him. “Ji…”

“Shhh, it’s okay. We’re both drunk, it happens.” He tried to give you a reassuring smile, but it didn’t do anything to make you feel like you weren’t an absolute piece of shit.

“Ji, I…” Your words had zero filter as they supplied a watery– “I-I think ’m in love w'Minho.”

His eyes widened. You expected him to freak out. To call you a whore or spit on you. What you didn’t see coming was the slow smile that crept across his cute cheeks. “Minho-hyung?” You nodded with a sniff and he instantly wrapped you in a hug again. His voice was muffled against your hair a bit, but he replied tenderly. “I can think of no person more deserving of your love than him.”

What on god’s green earth did he mean by that?

He sighed and pulled back again, wiping away more tears. “Have you thought about telling him that?” The question had your mind reeling and you felt sick of just the thought of it.

Wait. Maybe it’s not the idea that made you sick. Maybe it was…

In the blink of an eye, you threw yourself off the chair and leaned over the railing, immediately hurling your guts all over the manicured lawn below. As the snot, tears, and vomit evacuated your body, you felt Jisung’s cool hands pull your hair out of the way and rub soothing circles on your back. This man is just too good for this world…

You felt like you spent years over that railing, somehow more still coming out, until you heard the door to the house open and close. “What happened?” Was that Minho’s voice? Why is he still here?

You lifted your head to look back at him, not even considering the fact that you probably (most definitely) looked like a trainwreck on steroids. “W-why’re you he–” You couldn’t even finish the sentence before you were ralphing again.

“Evidently, she’d mistaken me for you, do you have that water I asked for?”

“Yeah.” When did he even ask Minho to come out here?

“Here, kitten. Drink this.” He held up a bottle of water next to you and you eagerly grabbed it. “Don’t chug.” He said holding it out of reach before he gave it to you. “You’ll make yourself even more sick.” You sat down again and slowly nursed on the water as your eyes stayed glued to the piece of artwork that was Lee Minho.

You watched his beautiful lips move as he faced Jisung, but you didn’t hear any of the words that were exchanged. All you could hear was the thrumming of blood through your veins in your ears and the bass of the music from inside. Also when you heard the beautiful melody of Minho’s laugh… MY. GOD. The man was just too perfect…

Your vision slowly faded as you stared at his pretty eyes and you just wished you could dive into the two black pools of his irises. The darkness that was slowly encompassing your vision was thwarted when you felt yourself being buckled into the back of an Uber by Minho as he slid in next to you and gave the driver his address.

Before you could think about what you were about to say, you chuckled. “Y’mean Tiff in’t ‘lready spread-eagle on yer bed?”

You expected him to get annoyed, but he just side-eyed you with an amused smirk. “You’ve got it pretty bad, huh?”

“Well excuse me for having experience with a man who couldn’t keep his dick in his pants for other college girls.” Well, that was surprisingly well-enunciated… However, before you could pat yourself on the back for that small victory, you were having a hard time keeping your eyes open and you raised your hand to take a drink, only to find your hand bottleless. Who the fuck drank all my water?

The look he gave you was melancholy and he gently pat your knee before responding. “Don’t worry, kitten. Tiffany isn’t at my place. And I doubt your parents would be thrilled to be woken up so late by hearing you stumble in the house at two in the morning. Hence my reasoning for us staying at my place. Is that alright?”

You didn’t even register your dumb nod as you zoned out on his beautiful face. His features were so breathtaking that your hand moved unbidden and you found yourself tracing the sharp contours with your shaky fingers. He didn’t move a muscle as your fingers ghosted over his nose, eyelids, jaw, and then finally the plump outline of his lips.

“Y-yer so b’tiful Min…” His eyes burned with a familiar fire and he gently lowered your hand when the car pulled up to his place.

________________________________________

Minho😈:

Where did u go?

Kitten?

R u at least safe?

Please talk to me

I called ur parents and they said ur alright

I’m sorry if I hurt u in any way

I would never intentionally do anything to harm u

U mean so much to me…

Just… let me know when ur ready to talk…

You scanned the texts that had been flooding in all day after you snuck out of his place without a word at the crack of dawn. Made easier due to the fact that he was courteous enough to sleep on the couch due to your inebriated state. You remembered everything. Everything. Including your agonizing realization of your feelings for the man. 

Your phone clattered to the ground when you chucked it and turned over in your bed to bury your face in your pillow. Luckily, you didn’t ever really get hangovers, but that didn’t mean you weren’t entitled to a day to wallow in self-pity. So this is where you’ve been all day, the night quickly approaching as you squeezed your pillow tighter.

You weren’t worthy of his attention. You were just a convenient pussy. Tiffany is way more experienced and probably showed him some of that expertise last night. If your last boyfriend couldn’t even be satisfied with you, who else would? You were a shit friend who used Jisung, one of your best friends, as a tool. You were worse than nothing. You were a disease.

You felt yourself drowning in a sinkhole of your thoughts before a knock at your bedroom door pulled you out of it. You kept your face buried as the door opened and heard your mom’s sweet voice. “Honey?”

You just responded with a non-commital grunt.

“Minho called again…” Silence. “Honey, I know you two were never on the best of terms, but he’s trying so so hard to mend that since your brother left. I don’t know what happened between you two, but I just know he sounded genuinely upset.” You felt the tears well up in your eyes and kept your head firmly planted in ur pillow, slowly suffocating yourself.

You felt a dip next to you in the bed and the gentle hand of your mother rubbing your back. 

She was silent for a moment before she sighed. “I never told you this, just because he asked me not to, but I think it might be necessary now…” That caught your attention just enough to twist your head to look at her loving smile. “When you and your boyfriend broke up, Minho called me every single day for a week to check and see if you were alright. He was the one who bought your favorite snacks every day, not your dad.”

You furrowed your brows and sat up next to her. “W-why didn’t he want you to tell me?”

She gave you a soft smile and patted your knee before she stood up. “That’s something you’re going to have to ask him yourself.” She turned back to you when she reached the door. “Your father and I are going to an office party tonight and won’t be back until late. Really late.” She raised her brow, hinting at a suggestion. “Call us if you need anything. I love you, sweetie.”

“Love you too, Mom…” You mumbled as she left the room.

When the door shut behind her, you pulled your knees to your chest and buried your face in your hands. How could this happen? You’ve disliked this man ever since high school, it just doesn’t make any sense to start falling in love now. I mean, his dick is magic, sure. But you’ve been craving to just see him any time of day just to simply be around him! He’s probably sick of your mixed signals and mood swings.

It had taken you by surprise when you woke up an hour later to the sound of the doorbell, not even realizing you had fallen asleep in the first place. Your parents had probably already left when you were sleeping, so you scrambled up out of your bed and went to answer the door.

When you opened the door, your heart stopped. No other man on the planet could sport a bare face, discheveled hair, and sweatpants and still look like a fucking god like Minho did. You had only started to realize just how gorgeous he was when he hit his senior year of high school. It had pissed you off at the time, but now… well, actually no, it still pissed you off. It just wasn’t fair to have such power over you with that piercing gaze and ability to make hearts stop at the sight of him.

“Minho…” You whispered as your eyes widened. He stood in the doorway and scratched the back of his head.

“Sorry, I… I didn’t want to let myself in because… because I didn’t know if you wanted to see me or not…” I always want to see you. You cursed your own thoughts for being so weak for the man. Without a word, you stepped to the side to let him in. “I’m sorry for showing up unannounced, kitten. But I just had to make sure you were alright.” He mumbled as he looked down to step out of his shoes. “Or upset with me…”

Boots unexpectedly ran up to Minho with a cute little meow as she rubbed her face and beautiful black fur against his legs with quiet purring. You both smiled down at the adorable feline and Minho bent down to scoop her up in his arms, knowing how much she loved to be held (unlike other cats) by people she trusted. You felt a fluttering in your chest just watching him hold her. Knowing that, just like your precious boots, you had also come to care for the man. 

You raised your hand to pet Boots, but your eyes were fixed on Minho’s. “I’m not upset with you Minho… If you want someone else, it’s not my place to get in between that.” You turned to head back to your room, but as you approached your bedroom door, a gentle hand loosely wrapped itself around your wrist and stopped you in your tracks.

You warily turned around and Minho’s expression was a mixture of anger and hurt. “If you think, even for a second, that I prefer her over you, you’re more stupid than I thought.” He said the words with a lethal calm that made shivers run down your spine. Your face was incredulous, but he ignored it. “The idea that I would prefer anyone over you is almost an insult.” You allowed him to pull your body closer to his as he now had his hands wrapped around your waist. “I think of you every morning when I wake up and every night when I go to sleep. I’ve been hating myself ever since we started this whole arrangement because I feel like I’m just taking advantage of you, which was not my intent at all. But I didn’t want to stop it either because I don’t want to… I don’t want to lose what we have… I don’t want to lose you…”

You closed your eyes from the burning you felt pricking at your tear ducts and involuntarily leaned into his touch when the backs of his fingers gently brushed over the flushed skin of your cheek.

“You’re so, so beautiful, kitten. Inside and out.” It was unlike Minho to get so sentimental, but he seemed to feel the need to speak his piece. Even if it caused a dusting of pink blooming on his ears and cheeks. However, your blush felt like it rivaled his as it radiated all throughout your body.

Your hands, which had been curled up against his chest, started fidgeting as you looked down at them. You didn’t know if you should ask him or not, but you decided you needed to know. “Minho… why… why did you call my mom to check up on me after my breakup?”

He stiffened momentarily, but quickly recovered. You looked back up at his face and it was turned to the side, completely crimson. “I…” His lips formed a tight line and then relaxed as he turned back to look at you. “I couldn’t stand the thought of what that prick did to you. I wanted to go beat the living shit out of him, crush his nuts, curb stomp him, anything, but I realized that you would most likely prefer comfort over violence. But I knew that one of the last people you would want to see would be me, so I tried to help from the sidelines.”

Your lip wobbled slightly and you pressed yourself a bit closer to him. You were mad that you couldn’t even disagree with him because, at that point in time, you would’ve dreaded the idea of this man, usually void of sentimentality, coming to attempt to comfort you.

The only real comfort you had was Tiffany and, looking back on it, she was pretty shit at it. Now that you’ve realized what a bitch she was, you could recount several occasions where she was just a toxic friend. And you were blind to the situation in favor of seeing the truth.

“So…” You were almost too afraid to ask the question you didn’t know you wanted an answer to or not. His hand that had been stroking your cheek moved to lift your chin up to look at him. His eyes portrayed patience and attentiveness to your words. “Did… did anything happen between you and Tiff?”

The corners of his lips turned down as he furrowed his brow, but it soon morphed into an expression that screamed ‘really?’. He sighed. “Like I said, I only prefer you. I have not and will not ever see her or want her that way.” His eyes flickered from your eyes to the floor in anxiousness and added with an adorably shy mumble. “I don’t want anyone but you.”

Relief washed over you like a tidal wave and your body moved on its own when you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and ran your fingers through his sandy hair, pressing your lips to his with a tenderness that you had not shared with him before now. You could feel relief flooding him as well as he relaxed under your touch, as if kissing you released all tension in his body.

This kiss wasn’t like the hungry and ravenous ones you two had always shared. This one felt as if you could melt into each other and become one. It was slow, sensual, and filled with all the love you could possibly portray. As you paused the kiss and pressed foreheads together, you closed your eyes as if to pretend you weren’t about to say the words just begging to leap off your tongue.

“Minho… you still annoy the shit out of me, but…” He offered a wry smile against your lips and you opened your eyes and disconnected foreheads to watch him raise his brow with a smirk. You bit back your smile and hid your face in his neck. “...I think I might be in love with you?” You said it like it was a question, almost too quiet to hear, as if you weren’t quite sure if you should’ve said it.

He was silent and you were apprehensive to raise your head. But, when you finally looked at him, you proceeded to witness the most beautiful smile you had ever seen appear on his face. You tried to suppress your suddenly bashful smile, but he only squeezed you tighter. He bit his lip to do the same with his own grin, but he morphed his look to something more mischievous. “Are you sure you don’t just like me for my incredible skills in providing mind blowing orgasms?”

You rolled your eyes and gave him a light smack on his pec. “Ah yes, you’re right! How have I been so blind? I’m only in love with your dick.” He just chuckled at your words dripping with sarcasm and stole a kiss, slow and controlled before he murmured against your lips.

“I love you too, kitten. I have for quite a while now.” Your eyes widened and you could have sworn you saw a bit of fear in his eyes before he was biting his lip again, a smile hidden just beneath the surface.

“W-wha–? How long?!” You pulled back slightly to see his full face and he giggled bashfully. Lee Minho being bashful? He was always so confident and controlled that you almost wanted to capture this moment on camera.

“Well… honestly, it’s been ever since you started dating that douchebag. I didn’t really know why I started to be such an obnoxious dick to you, but I later realized it was just because I was jealous.” He pulled you close once again and tentatively kissed your jaw.

Your heart was racing at the thought of him being in love with you even if you were with another man, yet not interfering directly. But now you finally had him, and you were determined to keep it that way. You squeezed yourself infinitesimally closer to him and kissed his lips slowly before saying, “Well, now I’m yours.” Your lips drifted to whisper in his ear. “Let’s make up for lost time.”

You made your point very clear when you grazed your lips and teeth down the side of his neck while pushing your pelvis into his. “Fuck…” He let out a low groan and slid his hands down to the lower cleft of your ass and gave your cheeks a light squeeze. He captured your lips with a sudden ferocity that made you tremble. Once he led you backwards into your room and pressed your body against the door as he closed it, your passion increased tenfold.

He ground his thigh against the apex of your glistening cunt, your panties dragging along your clit, and the pressure had you gasping against his tongue. Your hips couldn’t help but to roll against him and you could feel the effect of your efforts when he pressed his groin into your hip. You whined in pleasure when he lifted one of your legs and wrapped it around his hip, pushing even closer to you and making it easier to drag the length of your sopping crotch down him.

His other hand, which had still been kneading your ass, moved around to slip up under your shirt to feel the skin of your waist and lower back. You emitted a gasp and then a moan when you felt his warm fingers crawl up under your bra and fondle your erect nipple. You bit your lip to hold back an embarrassing noise you felt crawling to the surface when his lips latched onto your collarbone and started leaving sweet kisses up the length of your neck.

Your fingertips ran up under his shirt to caress his abs and pecs and he took it upon himself to take his shirt off, quickly ridding you of yours shortly after, lips barely leaving each other as you stripped each other completely bare and you pushed him down on the bed to straddle him.

“Shit kitten… you’re unreal…” He stared up at you as if you had hung the moon and he rubbed his hands up and down your thighs gently, as if you were a fragile porcelain doll. You leaned down and began marking up his beautiful chest, but he cupped your cheeks and brought your lips up to his own, placing his hands on your thighs once more. “Can I taste you baby? Make you feel good?” With each word, his hands drifted up to your dripping pussy until his fingers were teasing your entrance.

When he finally plunged a single digit in up to the first knuckle, you found yourself choking on a gasp and nodding frantically. He moved with a speed that made you dizzy when he flipped you onto your back and knelt between your legs.

He stared at your cunt with a hunger that made you shy, but you held back the urge to close your legs in self consciousness. When he looked back up at you and hovered his mouth over where you were aching for him most, he made eye contact as he licked a fat strip up the entirety of your crotch, making sure not to neglect your clit as he sucked it into his mouth and swirled his tongue around the swollen bud.

You threw your head back and moaned like a brainless whore as your hands gravitated to his beautiful blonde mane. However, your head wasn’t down long as you were determined to watch this adonis of a man feast on you. And when he inserted a finger inside you, you were done for. He held your hips down with bruising strength as you writhed beneath him and added a second finger.

You were reduced to a whimpering mess as the man fucked you with his fingers slowly, wanting to gradually build your pleasure. “Minho!” You whined in both gratitude and frustration. He smiled as he briefly pulled his mouth away.

“You gonna melt on my mouth, kitten?” You were beyond words and could only nod your head to communicate. “Say it again…” He breathed against you, making you tingle from the hot air coming from between his lips.

You immediately knew what he meant and your heart swelled. “I love you, Minho.” You gasped and rolled your eyes back as he instantly crooked his finger up into your g-spot and returned his mouth to you. Only this time, his tongue joined as he quickly thrusted his fingers in you with precision. “Fuck I love you so much! Shit!” You screamed his name as you did, indeed, melt on his mouth.

He lapped up your orgasm as if he was famished for you and his mouth slowly sucked and nipped its way up your body to latch onto your neglected nipples. You whined, just wanting him to be inside you already as you wrapped your legs around him and hung on him like a koala, pressing your body to his as you suspended yourself in the air under his crouched position.

He chuckled and pressed you into the mattress again, his warm chest and pelvis pressing against you. You rutted into him until you couldn’t take it anymore and pushed him over until his back was pressed up against the headboard and straddled him once more. “Please fuck me, Minho. I need you to fill me up…” You whispered against his lips as one of your hands tangled in his hair and the other was frantically stroking his dick. To make your point, You knelt down to hover over his cock and let a string of saliva drip from your mouth down onto his throbbing head right before taking him in your mouth.

His thighs tensed under your palms and you closed your eyes in bliss as you listened to the beautiful sounds he was making because of your efforts. You swallowed down more of him and you felt a shaky hand push you back by your shoulder. “Shit, you’re too good at that…” He heaved and roughly grabbed your hips to bring you flush to him, slightly lifting you so he could impale you on his cock.

You clung onto him as you sunk down and squinted your watery eyes to get used to that familiar, delicious stretch. The breath was stolen from you and you felt like you could cum without even moving, your emotional mindset making it all the more intense.

It wasn’t long before you needed more and you gradually started bouncing on him, burying your face in his neck and latching onto his neck with your mouth to muffle your cries of pleasure. He guided your hips with his strong hands and you could tell he was holding himself back from just bending you over and annihilating your pussy into the mattress, but all you felt were his sweet kisses across your neck and shoulder and whispered words of how much he loves you and how beautiful you were.

You weren’t sure how long you two were going at it, lost in the sensation that was just purely Lee Minho, until you ground into him harder and cupped his cheeks with your hands. You tried portraying every ounce of your love for him with that one kiss and slowly picked up your hips, only to drop down on his cock with dizzying speed and force. His mouth went slack against yours and you watched as his eyebrows turned inwards in bliss.

You continued the action a few more times, fusing your body to his, until he took matters into his own hands. Before you knew it, you were on your back with the man thrusting into you with a force that made you scream out his name. 

His mouth, hands, and tongue were all over you and your nails dug into his back with the ever-increasing intensity of his thrusts. “M-Minho! ‘M’so close…” You whimpered and he growled into your shoulder.

“Cum on me, kitten. Soak me.”

A few more thrusts and you were done for. You cried out your ecstasy and he followed soon after, riding you through your orgasms.

He was still sheathed inside you when he plopped down on your body to catch his breath. You carded your fingers through his sweat-damp hair from where his face was pressed against your chest and you watched as his breaths gradually slowed.

When he was properly relaxed again, his cock soft inside you, he brought his face up to yours to litter kisses all over your skin, pulling a giggle from you. His smile was blinding when he pulled back to look down at you and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“So, does this mean I can properly call you my girlfriend now? Or do you fall in love with all of your FWBs?” You smacked his arm and he giggled as he laced his fingers in yours with the hand you had just used to abuse him.

You rolled your eyes at him. “Ah, yes. You mean all of the many friends I fuck?” He smirked in response and you just sighed and relaxed into his touch. “No, there’s only room for one annoying asshole in my heart. So I suppose I can accept your proposition…” His smile was both equally parts amused and bashful as he squeezed his arms around you and buried his face in your neck to take in a deep breath of your scent.

“It’s about goddamn time…” He said after another long squeeze and you couldn’t control your sudden urge to smack his cute ass. You squealed out a giggle when he startled and quickly pinned your hands above your head. His eyes were mischievous right before he bent down to bite you on your shoulder, causing you to moan and his cock to jump inside you. His mouth drifted up your neck until he was whispering in your ear. “I hope that was worth it, because now you’re never getting out of this bed tonight.”

And he wasn’t bluffing if the awkward (but not unwelcome) limp in your step the next day had anything to say about it.

________________________________________

“You’re shitting us. You two?” Hyunjin looked positively floored the next day you and Minho had the group all together and told them the two of you were dating.

“How the fuck did this happen? I thought you hated Minho!” Changbin, equal disbelief in his tone. Minho scowled at him and Changbin held up his hands in a hasty defense.

You had vehemently apologized to Jisung the next time you saw him and told him you’d never forgive yourself for what happened. He just laughed it off and said he was happy for you, but you couldn’t help but notice a touch of sadness in his smile while the rest of the group freaked out. However, Chris seemed a bit sheepish himself as well.

You tried to focus on the smiling face of Felix instead. “Don’t get me wrong, he still properly annoys the everliving fuck out of me, but I guess he passes for a tolerable enough boyfriend.” You smiled teasingly at him and he scoffed at you with a suppressed smile.

“So what does the big bro think about this?”

You smiled wide and confident at Chris’ inquiry and casually answered. “We’re avoiding telling him like the plague.” 

Minho spoke up at this. “So I swear, if any of you motherfuckers breathe a word before we say so, you will end up having a very short lifespan.” The group chuckled nervously and you whacked his shoulder while he had the audacity to act all innocent like he hadn’t said anything wrong.

“Why do you gotta be such a pain in the ass, Min?” You casually repremanded him with little to no bite behind the question, instead chuckling at him.

“Well I guess their dynamic hasn’t changed at least.” Hyunjin scoffed.

Suddenly, the group’s attention drifted to something behind where you and Minho were standing and you turned around to see Tiffany strutting straight up to Minho, acting as if you, or any of the rest of the guys for that matter, didn’t exist. “Hey, Minho! I was wondering if you want to grab lunch with me? I have a coupon for that sandwich place down the road and I thought I could use the company.” She ran her hand down his arm and circled his fingers around his wrist.

What a brazen bitch.

He pulled his hand from her grasp and immediately wrapped his arm around your waist with an annoyed expression directed at her. “Uh, no thanks. I was gonna go get lunch with the guys and my new girlfriend, so I think I’ll pass.” You heard Changbin and Hyunjin snickering behind you and you couldn’t contain your smug smile as you watched the rage morph on her face when she eyed where you and Minho connected.

She scoffed and looked at you like you were a pathetic worm, making you slightly curl in on yourself. The way she could make people feel like trash was one of her best capabilities. “Are you kidding me?! You were really so fucking hungry for dick that you felt the need to prove something to me by taking him? That’s just sad, sweetheart.”

Minho took a step toward her, not actually planning on doing anything violent, only to intimidate her just enough to have the enirety of campus feel the need to give him a wide berth. You held him back anyway and she just scoffed at him.

She slightly leaned around to look at you past his towering form and sneered at you. “Fine, have it your way. I already got to fuck your last boy toy anyway, I don’t need this one too.” Your heart dropped and she gave a wicked smile before turning and, right as she started leaving, you heard a voice speak up from the group of boys behind you.

“Oh just go choke on another cock why don’t you, deep-dished bitch.” She whipped her head around with fury in her eyes before hastily stomping away. You and Minho looked back incredulously at Jisung and he just shrugged. You don’t think you had ever heard anything so malicious from his mouth and a wide smile broke out on your face before hugging him. He gave you a warm hug back and smoothed his hand up and down your spine. “No one talks to my soulmate’s girl that way.”

You smiled up at him and squeezed him once more before returning to Minho, wrapping yourself around him and trying to ignore the fact that your best friend had fucked your ex without you knowing. However, knowing how much the men around you cared about you, you couldn’t bring yourself to give a flying fuck.

Minho leaned over to quickly press a kiss to your head and squeeze you. “Do you…” You vehemently cut him off with a kiss pressed to his lips as you shook your head. He smiled down at you and then began guiding you. “C’mon, Changbin’s gonna pass out if we don’t feed him soon.”

“Yah!” Changbin yelled and Minho cackled right before his phone went off in his pocket.

To both of your surprises, it was your older brother and as soon as Minho answered, you were sure the whole campus could hear the screaming from his end of the receiver. “WHAT THE FUCK MINHO?! MY SISTER?! YOU’RE FUCKING MY BABY SISTER?! YOU’RE FUCKING DEAD, DUDE!”

The two of you looked at each other in terror and you looked over to see Tiffany with her phone out and an evil grin on her face moments before strutting away. That bitch used my brother against me?!?! You turned back to the rest of the guys that had their eyes fixed on the two of you and their horrified looks confirmed your suspicions that they had, in fact, heard your brother’s bellowing.

Well shit.

________________________________________

If you've made it this far, thank you so much for reading! Please like, follow, and share! Thanks baby stays! 😘

2chopsticks2eyes - Masterlist

ALSO: For those who I think would appreciate this: @lyramundana @felixs-voice-makes-me-wanna  @channieandhisgoonsquad @guiltycoco-recs @cb97percent @charmercharm3r @sweetracha 

Just Friends... unless...?  | Masterlist

pairing: Hyunjin x Reader / a sprinkle of Seonghwa x Reader

rating: 18+

word count: 32k

genre: smut / friends to lovers / angst / university au

warnings: drinking, curse words, Hyunjin (obv but like… there should be a warning at all times), heavy make-out, fingering, light nipple play, dirty-talk, pet names, horny university boys, weed, they’re all bad at feelings, and they’re all really dumb, except chan who is very smart, hyunjin not getting his shit together, fingering in public, unprotected sex (pls keep this in fiction only i am begging you), oral (f. receiving), its a bit messy as usual

summary: You weren’t crushing on Hyunjin. You couldn’t be crushing on Hyunjin because you were just friends, and there was no way he would ever feel the same way about you. Right? Unless…?

part 1

part 2

part 3

get f*cked  — lee hyunjae

member: hyunjae — tbz

tags: enemies to lovers <3, no actual smut (idk is a makeout scene smut?) but Very Suggestive™, various references to sex and Certain Kinks LMAOO bye

word count: 9.2k

a/n: i’ve been reading a lot of erotic novels lately LOL and well. i got inspired so <3 !! also a VERY special thanks to @cloudykyu​ who helped so so so much <3333 as well as @yeoldotcom​ @brururun​ @seoulbinz​ for encouraging me throughout <333 love u mamas <3

taglist: @stopitvpls​ @hyuckslytherin​ @vitaminhyunjin @kitymetal @notbeforelong @mavericsohn

playlist: kiss with a fist florence + the machine • choke i dont know how but they found me • boys like you tanerélle • two more minutes jaymes young • hurts like hell sølv • give up at 2 sofi de la torre • need you like that ezi • tempt my trouble bishop briggs • crave tove lo • loveyou dxvn. • bedroom eyes sølv • afraid of the dark ezi (full playlist here)

rage. there it was again. it always seemed to make an appearance when lee hyunjae was around.

your fists are balled up so tight that the skin stretched across your knuckles begins to turn white.

if looks could kill, hyunjae would’ve been dead a long time ago.

and there was his stupid fucking grin again. always playing on his lips, like he was having the time of his life pushing your buttons.

Keep reading

The Boyz Recs

A- Angst, S-Smut F-Fluff

Sangyeon

Jacob

Younghoon

Hyunjae

Get F*cked by Kyufiber A

Juyeon

Kevin

New

Q

Juhaknyeon

Sunwoo

Blurred Lines by Biaswreckingfics AS

Eric

Blurred Lines Masterlist

Having one of your universities fuckboys become your roommate is the last thing you expect ...that is until you realize you're falling for him.

Now, you have to navigate the rude snob trying to be his girlfriend, an ex that isn't thrilled about you moving on, and feelings for a man that you're unsure can even reciprocate them.

*COMPLETED*

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 8 (Sunwoo's POV)

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

Part 13

Part 14 (M)

Final

Short side stories:

Hiding in the Woods

The Campfire Scene

Bluff and Nonsense - she/her ver.

genres: romance, angst, some fluff, university au, not a fake dating au pairing: female reader x hoshi words: 17.0k (01:08) warnings: cursing, alcohol notes (orig, 2020): "so the title is fluffy and this was a title fic, but then it ran away on me. I really like this one so... yeah. Enjoy!” update, 2023: this is the she/her version of Bluff and Nonsense. other than the pronouns, nothing else has been changed. you can find the original they/them version here, and the he/him version here

“Soonyoung? Yeah I know him, you should too. He’s on the uni’s dance crew, and ever since he joined them, their popularity’s skyrocketed. I’ve met him a few times, great guy — got a tendency to run his mouth but hey, no one’s perfect. He’s smart anyways, probably knows how to deal with the consequences, right?”

or

Soonyoung never thought one bluff could lead to so much nonsense.

Kwon Soonyoung is a man of many talents. He’s the guy who could fit a whole orange in his mouth in fourth grade, the guy who always knew how to make the social studies teacher talk about his divorce instead of the world wars, and the guy who brought a live pigeon to school with no one questioning him whatsoever. He’s also the head choreographer of the university’s dance crew — you barely knew there was a dance crew until he showed up with his hand-drawn posters — as well as a totally well-rounded fine arts major. C’mon, who takes a chemistry course in the fine arts? Kwon Soonyoung, apparently.

Of his many talents though, lying is not one of them.

Which is why, when asked if he likes anyone, Soonyoung says your name instead of simply saying “no” (a much better option in hindsight). He actually likes a girl on his dance crew. Cute, funny, has those eyes you can just get lost in — lord knows Soonyoung has. But, at this relatively quiet party, with half the guests crowded on Seungcheol’s couch and the other half on the disgusting carpeted floor of his apartment, Soonyoung can’t admit his real crush because she’s sitting just a few feet away.

It wouldn’t be such a bad lie if you weren’t also sitting a few feet away.

You’re on your phone when he says your name in his heartbeat-induced panic, but you look up at the sound of it, as does Seungkwan, who was reading something on your phone from the beanbag chair you’re both sitting in.

A chorus of low, teasing ‘ooh’s rises throughout the room, almost like it’s eighth grade again and Soonyoung just got called down to the office. Except now, he might actually be in trouble. He gets a few claps on the back from his friends close enough to reach, commending him on his bravado even though he doesn’t deserve it. Really, the whole situation only dawns on Soonyoung after 6.8 seconds, which is a bit too long considering he made the situation in the first place. Blood rushes to his cheeks, not because of the alcohol in his red cup he’s yet to drink, but because you’re looking right at him, and he has no idea what to do.

Soonyoung doesn’t know you very well. In fact, he’d almost say he doesn’t know you at all.

You’re Seungkwan’s friend from one of his classes — computing science, if Soonyoung remembers correctly, but he’s not totally confident. The only reason you came tonight is because of Seungkwan. You don’t know anyone else.

With a tilt of your head, your face scrunches with question, and you look to Seungkwan for help. You know Soonyoung said your name, but you missed hearing the context. It looks like Seungkwan missed it too, seeing as the conversation you two have only makes your brow furrow more as the room chatter picks back up. Everyone else is already over Soonyoung’s sudden confession when Jeonghan starts talking about something else.

Except Soonyoung’s friends, of course. That would be too easy.

Mingyu turns to him with a stupid smile, his cheeks red from both the free opportunity to tease his upperclassman and the light beer he’s been sipping and pretending to get buzzed on all night. He nudges Soonyoung with his shoulder where they sit on the floor, leaning in to speak under the conversations surrounding them. “You didn’t tell me you like her,” he says, the jesting tone in his voice clearer than water.

“Yeah...” Soonyoung doesn’t know why he doesn’t just retract his confession, it’s not like Mingyu is close to you or anything, he’d understand. But then again, he’s bad at lying, and the girl he likes is still sitting on the couch. He scratches the back of his neck. “It’s sort of a recent thing.”

Mingyu’s smile only widens at Soonyoung’s response, his eyes turning to slits with the rise of his cheeks. “Soonie’s in looove~!”

And Soonyoung doesn’t know what to say. Nothing like this has ever happened to him before, not exactly like this, anyways. So he just looks down, scratches the back of his neck again, looks at one of his dance crew friends when she calls his name.

He doesn’t dare glance your way for the rest of the night.

Turns out you do know someone else other than Seungkwan, because once most of the guests have cleared out, leaving only half the boys to clean up, Seokmin approaches Soonyoung as he scrubs the sink of whatever that weird green stuff is.

He asks how Soonyoung knows you and says off-handedly that he’s never even seen the two of you talk. (Which is right.) He says these things shouldn’t be joked about, that you’re a person with feelings, and Soonyoung should leave you alone if he’s just doing this for comedy’s sake.

Soonyoung thinks he’s never seen Seokmin so serious.

It’s probably fine. You haven’t said anything good or bad, and other than the occasional tease from his friends, no one has taken anything too far. Maybe you’ll forget about it tomorrow. Maybe he’ll forget about it tomorrow, and it will all be okay.

Besides, it’s not like he actually likes you. And his real secret is still safe and sound.

•

Of Soonyoung’s many talents, making people sad is also not one of them.

It’s not that he actively tries to cause misery only to fail, it’s that he can’t stand upsetting anyone. He’s a people-pleaser by nature, that’s just how it is.

So he doesn’t say no when you ask him out for coffee.

And he smiles at you when you try to make conversation, even though it’s awkward and hesitant despite having a mutual friend like Seungkwan. It’s not so bad, he thinks. You’re trying, at least, and when you ask him about his interests, you actually listen, which isn’t common when he tends to over-explain his love for dance and performance. He has a coffee in his hand too, so that’s a plus.

You ask him if what he said at the party was true, and something in your eyes makes him say yes.

•

There are a few more coffee dates after that. It’s nothing official, and Soonyoung is hesitant to call the meetups “dates” because he’s not interested in dating you. But it’s a little late for that.

You seem brighter, though, every time he sees you again; he can’t bring himself to take that away, to cut the cord, to clean this mess he made.

Something about the way you two talk is nice, at least. Soonyoung can’t quite put his finger on it, and he tells himself that’s what’s drawing him back every time, not the guilt he feels sunken in his ribcage whenever you smile his way. It’s not that deep, he repeats to himself whenever you wave to him on campus, making him feel obligated to walk you to class. It’s not that deep.

He’s in the library one day when he spots you at one of the tables, books open and spread out as you scribble down notes, a pair of earbuds dangling from your ears. You haven’t seen him, so he doesn’t try to approach, just ducks back behind the bookshelf he’s been exploring. His hand is on a book he might like when a voice stops him.

“You know you’re an idiot, right?”

Minghao leans against the opposite bookshelf, his arms crossed, locked and loaded for judgement. Soonyoung looks around, but of course he’s talking to him. They’re the only ones in the row.

“Um, how do you want me to answer that?” he asks, unsure of exactly what Minghao’s talking about. Yeah, he knows he’s a bit dense sometimes, but not all the time.

Minghao rolls his eyes. “I know you like Sehee. You haven't stopped laughing like an idiot at her bad jokes." He nods his chin outwards, gesturing over Soonyoung's shoulder and through the bookshelves towards where you're sitting. "What are you doing messing with Seungkwan's friend?"

It’s not too surprising that Minghao knows — he’s an intuitive guy, but Soonyoung is still caught off guard. He asks first, under his breath, “Does anyone else know?”

“If you mean dumb and dumber, then no.” Minghao jerks his head to swing his dark bangs out of his eyes. Everyone keeps telling him to just cut his hair shorter, but he refuses for the aesthetic, or something. “Chan is way too focused on dancing to notice your dumbassery, and Jun is about as observant as a fishcake when it comes to feelings.”

Soonyoung’s shoulders fall in relief, though he didn’t even realize they’d tensed up. 

“But that’s not the problem here. Why are you playing around with her if you’re into Sehee?”

“I’m not—” Soonyoung pauses, thoughts deliberate, “—I’m not playing around, okay? I just... I don’t know. You were all looking at me, and I couldn’t just say Sehee's name, she was right there!”

Minghao cocks an eyebrow at that. “But you could say hers?”

“It was a moment of weakness.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“I’m aware.”

Soonyoung groans quietly — he’s still in a library after all. He covers his face with both hands, not wanting to look at Minghao nor have Minghao look at him. For a second, it’s blissful, awkward silence, which Soonyoung would take over Minghao’s scolding any day. But of course, no haven lasts forever.

“You’re gonna have to tell her,” Minghao says, and he’s probably right. No, he is right, Soonyoung just doesn’t want him to be.

“I can’t do that! I said I like her— twice!”

“Twice?”

“Twice!”

Minghao only drops his head for a second, scoffing at the whole situation. Soonyoung wishes he could do that too, just laugh it off because it’s someone else’s problem.

“Well, you’re going to have to say something sooner or later.” Meeting his eyes, Soonyoung realizes Minghao might actually be worried. About you, or him, or something else, he’s not sure, but the subtle fold of Minghao’s eyelids tells Soonyoung this is about more than just calling out idiocy. “And I think sooner will hurt less.”

Soonyoung knows he’s right. But he doesn’t like it.

Before he can come up with a rebuttal, though, Minghao’s hands are on Soonyoung’s shoulders, and he’s pushing him out of the row of bookshelves and straight towards your table.

“You can do it, Soonyoung, just rip the band-aid while you still can,” he whispers in Soonyoung’s ear right before one last push at his back.

Soonyoung stumbles a bit, but once he regains his footing, Minghao’s already gone and you’ve already noticed the ruckus. You pull one earbud out with a bright smile. It’s so jovial that Soonyoung almost forgets why he’s here.

“Hi Soonyoung, I didn’t see you come in,” you say, and there’s no way you’re this energized just from studying in a library.

“Uh... hi.”

“You’ve actually got the perfect timing.” Waving to him, you gesture for him to sit next to you, and he does. You pull out some sort of planner, opening it to a few months from now. “I wanted to ask when exactly your showcase is? Seungkwan’s no help at all because he only cares about his concerts and stuff. Honestly, there aren’t that many...”

You’re going to have to say something sooner or later.

Soonyoung picks later.

•

“So when are you gonna ask her out?”

Jihoon stands in front of the stove, watching his hot water simmer, a bag of dry ramen in one hand and long cooking chopsticks in the other. It’s Soonyoung’s turn to make dinner tonight, but since he says he isn’t hungry, Jihoon’s scrounging it out himself.

Soonyoung, on the other hand, sits at their tiny dinner table, his forehead pressed to the cool surface, arms hanging limp at his sides. He mumbles something of a response, but it’s nothing more than a questioning grunt, if anything.

“Oh, you know.” Even when Jihoon says your name, Soonyoung stays still. “Only the girl you’ve been on several “dates” with ever since you confessed to her at Seungcheol’s party. When are you gonna ask her on a real date?”

Tired, Soonyoung groans. “When the time is right, I guess.”

•

You work on campus. It’s some part-time job you don’t care about enough to even complain over, despite the fact that you have to deal with annoying university kids every day. Soonyoung finds this out when he has coffee with Minghao in one of the buildings he doesn’t normally frequent, and only goes to today since Minghao has a class nearby in the next hour.

The coffee isn’t great, and it’s too expensive, but Soonyoung drinks it anyways. He much prefers the coffee from the cafe he goes to with you. Because the coffee is better. Obviously.

He hears your voice first, words indiscernible with distance and overshadowed by a much louder, angrier one, but still. Minghao sees you first, though, and he points past Soonyoung to the student printing center, where you’re standing behind the counter and arguing with some guy. You don’t seem too riled, but Soonyoung can tell you want to be anywhere but there, especially when the angry guy’s voice keeps getting louder and louder.

Soonyoung’s feet bring him over before his brain can register what to do. You haven’t seen him yet, he could just walk away, but he doesn’t. Your voice becomes clearer as he approaches.

“Listen, the printing center is for education, art, or business. I can’t print this for you.”

The guy goes off about personal freedoms or whatever, Soonyoung isn’t really listening.

“No, I get that this is a student printing center, but I really don’t think your big tiddie anime gf poster has anything to do with education, art, or business.”

And that’s when the guy grabs your arm. Which results in Soonyoung grabbing his arm. Which results in the accusatory question, “What are you, her boyfriend or something?”

Now, in a perfect story, this would be the first time Soonyoung meets you. Or maybe you’ve been close friends for a while. And this would be when Soonyoung says that, yes, he is your boyfriend, and he would save the day. Except you’d be all “why would you do that?” which would result in you both having to fake date to keep that guy off your back. In this perfect story, there would be no Sehee to like and no Minghao to judge, just you and Soonyoung fake dating. Eventually, you’d both catch real feelings instead of fake ones, and then boom, happily ever after.

But this isn’t a perfect story.

Soonyoung still says yes, and the guy still backs off. In reality though, because Soonyoung never thinks before he lies, you momentarily duck behind the counter and bring a hand up to your face to cover your ever-brightening smile. In reality, Sehee still exists at the forefront of his mind every dance practice, even though you’re the one he just promptly claimed to be the boyfriend of. In reality, Minghao watches from a little ways away, sipping his coffee and shaking his head in what can only be called disappointment.

Soonyoung’s never been good at lying. One would think he’d stop by now.

•

So, it’s official.

You’ve put a heart next to his contact name. He’s put one next to yours — red, because he doesn’t know your favourite colour. Seungkwan’s done the whole if you break my friend’s heart I break you spiel and Soonyoung finally realizes he’s in too deep.

It's almost too natural, how easily you bring him into your life and how easily he finds himself fitting. It's all so wrong.

Soonyoung feels like an imposter, like there's someone meant to be by your side, but it's not him.

You pluck up the courage one day to hold his hand, and he can't pull away because the lies tying him to you are too strong. The small bluffs he's spun have weaved themselves into a net he's tangled himself in.

His dance crew congratulates him when Jun spills the news. It's all mundane, really — dating in university isn't all that uncommon. Mostly, Soonyoung gets casual "you go, dude" comments or the like, but then Sehee says nothing. She smiles, and it has to be one of the most tragically beautiful things Soonyoung's ever seen. His heart fractures, just a little, and he doesn't know if he'll ever be able to fix it.

He smiles it off. Tries to, anyways.

Chan complains that Soonyoung's too harsh that day.

•

Jihoon likes you.

Not in a "Mister Steal Yo' Girl" way, but he laughed at one of your jokes the first time you came over to Soonyoung's apartment, and ever since then, he's been convinced.

"You must feel like the luckiest guy on earth with her around," Jihoon says once you leave for the night.

Soonyoung has no idea how to tell him he's felt nothing but unlucky these past few weeks, so he doesn't.

•

He polishes up on his acting. As awful as it is to think, Soonyoung has gotten really, really good.

His smile looks genuine. It has to — he shows it to Minghao, who says it's "adequate," which basically means perfect to the lowly humans beneath him.

He's gotten good at responding to you too, copying how the male leads do it in dramas and movies. It's sort of easy.

He hates how easy it is.

Soon enough, you try befriending the whole group. Being Seungkwan's friend, you've always wanted to, but apparently this is the push you needed. The boys are quick to warm up to you because, as Soonyoung's new girlfriend, you're now a new teasing target besides Chan. The youngest was always the brunt until you came along.

You say you don't mind — that his friends are amazing despite all the jokes and chaos. He believes you.

Minghao keeps his distance, saying he doesn't want to get himself involved. He's still the only one to know the truth, and his judging stare only grows worse as the days pass. Soonyoung wants so badly to make it go away, but he knows the only way to do that would be to tell you the truth, and he's just not ready.

Soonyoung's never broken a heart before. He's never planned on it.

Sometimes life makes its own plans.

"My shift got moved to tomorrow," you tell him when he picks you up from class, one hand in his and the other in your pocket. He knows it means something, but he doesn't know what. Your lips purse into a line as you stare at your shoes. “I was thinking... could I come watch your dance practice? If that’s okay?”

Now, Soonyoung loves dancing. He loves dance. He loves to dance. Performing sends an unparalleled thrill rushing through his veins like the solar system hurtling through the universe, and it’s something he’s never felt doing anything else. Dancing with others is a beautiful connection, an emission of silent truths communicated through the body. Practice, however, is the dirty version of dance. It has to be built up first — polished. Which is why Soonyoung says what he says. He doesn’t even think it over.

“No.”

It’s what he says every time someone asks. He doesn’t invite people to practices — never has. Even after his prompt refusal, he doesn’t register his mistake until the light in your eyes wavers. It doesn't disappear — just ripples. Comes back weaker than before.

"Oh," you say. The word should sound dejected but it doesn't. There's a smile at your lips, and Soonyoung can't help but think it looks kind of like his. "That's— that's okay! I was just — I don't know, I guess I just thought... I wanted to..."

Meeting his gaze, you look at him with shaking eyes, almost as if it takes great strength to keep them on his. He tries to backpedal, but you continue.

"I'll be going home then. I've got an assignment due soon anyways, so..." You pull your hand from his grip and, from where you two were walking toward the fine arts building, turn the opposite way. Your dorm is on the other side of campus. "See you tomorrow, Soonyoung. Have fun at practice."

Something about your smile haunts him.

It's hollow; feels empty when you flash it at him before going. He thinks fake smiles all look like that — insincere. His smiles at you must be the same way.

For an awful moment, he's hopeful. Maybe this will be the trigger. Maybe you'll end this tonight — whatever "this" is that Soonyoung has with you. Maybe he won't have to tell any harsh truths at all.

He turns and walks to practice.

The routine feels lighter tonight, though Soonyoung can’t pinpoint why. His body almost floats, and while that sounds good, it’s not. The rhythm is off. He’s not landing when he should be.

His crew notices, especially Chan, who complains that Soonyoung’s too much of a cocksure choreographer to be making repeated mistakes like this. They tell him maybe everyone should take a break. He agrees, but only because he’s frustrated — and he shouldn’t channel his anger into dance. Not this one, at least. 

Everyone spreads throughout the studios to the edges, where they lean their body weight on the walls and slide down, water bottles in hand. The room reeks of sweat and feet, but Soonyoung’s used to it by now. He guzzles down half of his water in one go and pulls out his phone.

[❤] Sorry about earlier, I didn’t mean to react all... cold? Seungkwan told me you never invite anyone to practice, so it makes total sense why you said no

[❤] If I’m ever crossing any boundaries, let me know, okay?

Of course you’d be understanding. Soonyoung wouldn’t be that lucky.

He tosses his phone haphazardly in his bag, groaning and throwing his head back so it hits the wall with a dampened thud. The pain is dull compared to the thoughts top-spinning in his mind.

Across the studio, Minghao clears his throat, raising an eyebrow at Soonyoung when he opens his eyes to look at him. It only takes two reluctant nods for Minghao to understand the source of Soonyoung’s groans, and he does nothing to react but look away. Soonyoung thinks that’s almost worse than the judging eyes. At least at that point Minghao thought he was something other than a lost cause.

He doesn’t text you back. By the time he thinks of something a boyfriend would say, the time to say it has passed.

•

How much longer is he going to let this go on?

Soonyoung wonders that to himself as he sits, returned to Seungcheol's apartment for another one of his "getties" as people are so apt to call them. He's never understood the difference between a getty and a party, and he's always been too stubborn to ask, knowing he'd be mercilessly made fun of for not knowing something apparently all university students knew.

This one isn't so different from the last. More or less the same crowd, the same atmosphere as the night goes on. Only this time, when everyone's settled down in what can hardly be called a circle, Soonyoung's on the couch, sunken into the too-old cushions with an arm wrapped around your shoulders. You're far from your last claimed spot with Seungkwan on that ratty old beanbag chair, sitting comfortably under Soonyoung's arm with a plastic cup of whatever Jeonghan concocted for you — which you've yet to drink much of.

Sehee sits across from you both while she laughs at something Wonwoo says. You laugh too, but Soonyoung barely notices, eyes glued to the girl they've been stuck on since she joined his dance crew over a year ago. He wants to tell her how beautiful she is when she smiles, even under the light of Seungcheol's dingy apartment, but he can't. He wants to tell her how he's felt for months, but you're next to him. He wants to have a fucking drink but all he has in his cup is fucking iced green tea because he knows if he drinks he'll fuck up again.

Just like last time.

"You okay?" you whisper in his ear at one point.

He turns to see your concerned expression, and it only makes Soonyoung hate this even more. He doesn't deserve your concern.

"I'm fine."

But he's not fine.

He doesn't participate in much conversation — only speaks when spoken to, and even then with few words. You seem to become tense next to him, but he does nothing to try and fix it. Just tonight, he's going to let himself be tired.

Three times, you offer to leave, and all three he refuses. You give up eventually, though he can tell you know something's off. God, if he were drunk, he wouldn't even have to think about you for a whole night.

Somehow the topic of discussion turns to couples, and suddenly, an entire room of eyes is on you and Soonyoung. He barely catches the question before you're already pondering your answer.

What do the two lovebirds love most about each other?

You look at him. At him, at him. He feels your stare in the dip of his throat because he can't seem to swallow anymore. It's like his soul is being scanned for viruses.

"Hmm..." You let your chin fall into your palm with a smile. It's real. Too real. "I like his resolve," you finally say. "If he wants to do something, he does it." With a loud exhale through your nose, you tilt your head, still meeting his eyes with your own. Soonyoung's mouth slightly parts, slack with something he can't name. "I could learn a thing or two from him."

The room bristles with your answer, various response piping up around. Soonyoung sort of registers Chan saying, "That's cute. I wanna vomit," but he's too busy thinking about you, about how you've come to like something about him as deep as that when all he's done is pretend to even like you at all.

And even when his mind swims with that, Sehee asks again.

"Then Soonyoung, what do you like about her?"

It sort of hurts. Soonyoung's not afraid to admit to himself that hearing Sehee ask what he likes about you sends pain straight through his ears to his heart. There's an awkward pause and everyone's looking at him expectantly and, god, he wishes he stole your drink when he had the chance.

"I..." His throat goes dry. His lips part, but there aren't any words to slip past them. "I, um..." He looks to you, and your eyes speak volumes. Everyone else in this room has a sort of... hungry look. They want to know Soonyoung's answer for one reason or another, maybe to tease with or to ridicule or even wish for themselves. But you, your eyes meet his and he knows you're not expecting anything. That hurts too. He doesn't know why. But even then, he can't think of the words. Any words. He steals a glance at Sehee, whose expression is curious, doe eyes slightly giddy from alcohol. She's pretty.

"I like her laugh," he says. It's not about you. "Whenever she laughs, I think to myself, 'What I wouldn't give to see her laugh again'."

Your eyes move to the plastic cup you've got gripped between two hands in your lap, and Seungkwan points out your flustered state to the entire room despite the fact everyone can see it as long as they've got working eyes. You purse your lips together to contain a smile, but it doesn't work. Even Soonyoung can see that.

He needs a drink. 

Having to go to the bathroom is a lousy excuse, and Soonyoung knows it, but he whispers that in your ear anyways and retracts his arm from your shoulder before escaping. He does go to the bathroom, a small thing with a shower and no bath, but all he does in there is stare at himself in the mirror. And when that becomes too much, his feet.

Someone else eventually has to use the bathroom for its actual purpose, so he opens it to the banging fist outside and slides past the person back into the hallway. He pauses before walking all the way back. You're caught up in some other conversation now, laughing and dramatically waving your hands as you deny some crazy embarrassing story Seungkwan's trying to spill about you. Seems you've already integrated yourself with his friends more than he thought.

Since your attention is occupied, Soonyoung instead ducks into the half-kitchen — not necessarily out of sight, but no one's really paying attention anyways. He knows he shouldn't take any chances, but he really, really wants to let go. He's been wearing a facade ever since he said your name that night.

"I wouldn't, if I were you."

Minghao's voice has Soonyoung jerking up and banging his head on the door of the open fridge he was rummaging through. He winces in pain, kneading his fingers into his scalp as if that will do anything.

"Wouldn't what?" he snaps.

"I dunno." Minghao shrugs, and it's almost infuriating how nonchalant he is. "Do something you might regret, I guess."

He takes the yet unopened bottle from Soonyoung's hands, reaching beyond him to put it back in place. There's no point in fighting against him since he's undeniably right, but Soonyoung grumbles anyways. His eyes glance every few seconds to you on the couch. If you happen to hear anything...

Well, he doesn't know exactly. But he doesn't want to find out.

"You have to end it."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"I just—" Soonyoung takes in a breath, too loud for his liking. He lowers his voice. "I can't, okay? I don't want to hurt her."

"So you're just going to date her based on false pretenses because you're too much of a coward to admit your mistakes?" Voice laced with sharpness, Minghao places his palms flat on the counter.

Soonyoung takes a deep breath through his nose, lips twisting in frustration. "Yeah, okay? Yeah," he whispers. "That's exactly what I'm gonna do."

A second passes. Minghao's brow furrows.

"And quite frankly," Soonyoung continues, "I'd rather you keep your nosy ass out of my business from now on."

He nearly storms off right then with the last word, but Minghao's fingers around his elbow stop him.

"You're going to get yourself hurt," Minghao warns through his teeth. He nods towards you. "And her in the process."

"We'll see about that."

Soonyoung has acted on impulse before. It happened with the pigeon, it happened with your name, and it's happening right now. Nothing is compelling him other than the absolute need to prove Minghao wrong, and even then, he doesn't know why.

He sits back down next to you, his spot saved by some miracle considering the surrounding company. The look on your face is happy, jovial. You must be having a right old time. His nerves strike with a feeling he's never quite experienced before.

When you study his face, no doubt not nearly as cheerful as yours, the expression you held falters to worry.

"You okay?" is once again the question on your lips, quiet, meant for his ears only.

Impulse is a scary thing. Soonyoung hates it almost as much as lying.

He leans in, crashing his lips on yours with his eyes half closed. His lips move and yours don't. Soonyoung can't even be sure you've closed your eyes, but at this very moment, he doesn't care. All he knows is he's angry and Minghao is watching.

This isn’t your first kiss — he knows because you’ve talked to him about this very topic. This is, however, to your understanding, the first “real” relationship you’ve ever been in. You told him yourself that you don’t really count that past kiss as your first, that you felt a bit... violated when it happened.

Soonyoung thinks this isn’t all too different.

He steals your second first kiss, and later, staring at the water-stained stucco ceiling of his bedroom, he kicks himself so hard it hurts.

•

You show up to movie night. Apparently Jihoon invited you — explained it like this:

“You won’t have to be so clingy with me if she’s here.”

At first, Soonyoung thinks Jihoon just wants to drop their roommate movie nights because he’s always complained about them, but Jihoon sticks around during Anastasia; sings along with you during Once Upon a December despite the fact that neither of you really know the words. He sits right in front of you two on the couch, cross-legged on the floor with a bowl of popcorn in his lap, that of which he only offers to you twice and Soonyoung once.

Whatever. You’re a better cuddler than Jihoon anyway.

Somehow it doesn’t feel forced when you lean your head on Soonyoung’s shoulder, or when he wraps his arm around your waist to get comfortable. He blames it on how tired he is, how he always gets on movie night after a week of classes and practices and too much work for one person to handle. Jihoon complains all the time that he’s too touchy when tired.

You absentmindedly play with his fingers for most of the movie. He doesn’t mind.

It’s been about a month now.

Soonyoung doesn’t kiss you again after the first time. Doesn’t stop you, either, but you’re more of an on-the-cheek kind of person. He thinks you think he wants to take this slow, even though he initiated the first big step (as convoluted as it was). He lets you think what you want.

Nasty business, it is.

Cleaning a bowl that once held popcorn. All the grease that sticks to the side because Jihoon likes to use too much butter. All the grains of salt that get underneath Soonyoung’s fingernails. He’s washing, Jihoon’s drying. It’s an arrangement of sorts.

You’ve already left for the night, gone back to your dorm since it’s only a five minute walk or so through campus. Jihoon insisted on Soonyoung escorting you, but you only smiled sweetly and refused. Maybe Soonyoung should’ve argued harder against you. He didn’t though. That’s why he’s scrubbing a bit too harshly now — he doesn’t like messing up.

Seems that’s all he’s good for lately.

“You’re unhappy.”

Soonyoung stops scrubbing. The only noise in the whole apartment is the slow gurgle of the sink because even with a plug, such an old thing just lets the hot water seep away as the seconds go by. Jihoon’s gaze is on the pan he’s drying, but Soonyoung knows his heart is in the question. It always is.

“I’m not,” he tries to deny, but it’s difficult to fool a person like Jihoon. (Especially since Soonyoung can’t even convince himself.)

The non-stick pan from yesterday’s dinner clangs against an older one when Jihoon puts it away. He looks at Soonyoung, but by then he’s turned back to washing the popcorn bowl, so their eyes don’t end up meeting.

“I’ve known you since tenth grade. You think I can’t tell when you’re upset?”

Soonyoung finds it hard to read Jihoon’s feelings most of the time. He didn’t realize he was such an open book the other way around.

Sighing, he continues to scrub the bowl, which has probably been clean for a minute already. “I’m just... stressed.”

“About?”

Minghao already knows; already thinks lowly of Soonyoung for it. If Jihoon knew... Soonyoung doesn’t know if he can take that.

So he lies. Again.

“Just the dance showcase.”

It isn’t a whole lie, not really, but he can’t call it the truth either.

Jihoon takes the bowl from Soonyoung’s grasp and rinses it under the tap. Since that’s the last dish, Soonyoung is stuck with nothing for his hands to do. They rest on the edge of the sink, but his fingers ache for a task.

Jihoon, the friend that he is, says, “That’s not for three months, though. I’m sure you’ll be perfect by then.”

“I don’t know...”

“Well I do.” Eyes meet eyes, a pair determined, a pair apprehensive. “Everything will work out.”

“...Okay.”

•

Soonyoung measures time in terms of you now.

When he last texted you. When he last saw you. When he last spoke to you.

It’s all a very elaborate calculation — how much time he’s spent on you versus how much time he should spend on you. No relationship is quite like this one, he thinks, and it’s quite the romantic notion out of context. The fact remains, every interaction he has with you only pulls him further and deeper into his lie.

Soonyoung’s time moves a bit slower now.

Faster, sometimes, but only when he doesn’t want it to.

•

You tell him you might be in love with him.

He says he might be in love with you.

He’s never hated lying more.

•

Jihoon is cleaning out the fridge when the buzzer goes off, so since he’s close by, he picks up the old corded phone attached to the wall. From his spot on the couch, Soonyoung looks up from his phone to see Jihoon cover the receiver and mouth your name. Jihoon makes some sort of gesture with his hands, and somehow Soonyoung understands that as, were you expecting her?

His eyes widen as it settles in that no, he’s not expecting you. The apartment is a mess.

Jihoon buzzes you in, hangs up, and immediately moves from the fridge to the coffee table, throwing the laundry he was planning on folding back in the plastic hamper and shoving the pile in Soonyoung’s lap.

“Take care of this,” he says. “I’ll clear up the kitchen.”

Right. Can’t have you thinking your boyfriend and his roommate are slobs.

Soonyoung reacts quickly, standing from his spot on the couch with the laundry basket in hand. He dashes to his room, where he plans to stuff the laundry in his closet and save that problem for later, but once he gets there, he realizes his room is even worse. There are dirty clothes dispersed all over his bed and old coffee cups littering his desk. Scrambling to shove the new laundry in his closet, the dirty clothes in the now empty hamper, and gather all the paper cups in his arms, Soonyoung’s breath starts to catch.

When he emerges from his room with two armfuls of garbage, he finds you at the door with Jihoon, your face hidden in his shoulder and your arms wrapped tight around his waist. Jihoon’s arms are up, almost like he’s being held at gunpoint, and his eyes widen even further when he catches sight of Soonyoung.

“Uhh... it’s for you.”

Soonyoung can hear your quiet hiccups even though they’re muffled in Jihoon’s shirt. He can’t bear it when people cry.

Yeah, maybe he’s been pretending to like you for a long time now, but he’s not a monster.

Right?

He likes you as a person. As a friend. And there’s no way he’s letting his friend go through pain like this.

Soonyoung swiftly discards his trash into the garbage bin and approaches you and Jihoon. At the commotion, you lift your head from Jihoon’s shoulder, eyes all red and puffy. Your lips press together, emotions nearly bursting at the seams, but they finally break out when Soonyoung opens his arms wide.

“C’mere.”

You practically flail into his embrace, arms wrapping around his torso in a vice grip as you hide your face again. He doesn’t ask if you’re okay — he knows you’re not.

Jihoon stands in the doorway for a few seconds, just looking at you and Soonyoung clutching at each other in the middle of the apartment before he shuts the front door and clears his throat.

“I’ll just, uh, I’ll be — um. Mhm. Yup.”

He escapes to his room.

Soonyoung squishes his cheek to your temple as you both stay there. You’re shaking, and his arms squeeze tighter. If only he could make it stop. He doesn’t know what to say or do to make you feel better.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks, though quiet and hesitant.

You shake your head, mumbling something he can’t quite make out. He pulls back a bit, just enough to see your face and gently cup your cheeks in his palms. His thumbs rub at your cheeks, smoothing any stray tears across your skin.

“What’s that?”

“Just...” Your eyes glisten. His heart beats. “Could you please just hold me?”

And he does.

Decidedly, his bed is much more comfortable than standing in the living room, so he sways, rocking side to side with small steps that force you to walk backwards. His smile, though, is reassuring, and you follow his guidance without much complaint. He sits you down on his bed, thankful that he cleaned up beforehand, and slowly leans you down so you’re both on your sides, facing each other. Pulling you closer, he lets you rest your head on his chest. Your hand lies flat on top of him, but eventually your fingers curl, clutching a bit of Soonyoung’s shirt between them. Silent tears fall from your eyes to his chest, but he doesn’t care.

His arm underneath you wraps around, hand landing on your back so his thumb can rub soothing circles.

It’s quiet.

Funny. Soonyoung used to dislike silence with you — always felt the need to fill it with conversation or jokes or laughter. He wonders when it was last since he felt that way.

Soonyoung doesn’t know how much time passes. His eyes stick to his bedroom ceiling as he holds you close, thoughts on everything and nothing all at once. Are you asleep? Your tears stopped some time ago.

His question is answered when your voice, small and unsure, breaks the long-standing silence.

“Soonyoung?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I tell you about it?”

He cranes his neck to look at you, but it doesn’t really work. “Of course,” he says. “Why wouldn’t you be able to?”

You sigh. “I don’t know. I just... I don’t want to be a burden.”

“You’re not.”

“I know, but—”

“You’re not.”

You look up at him finally, and seeing your smile sends warmth through his blood. Your face is still looks wrecked from tears gone by, but your smile pushes all that out of the way.

“Thank you,” comes past your lips in a whisper. Then, after a moment of waiting, you say, “It’s just that... I... this — ugh.” You hide your face in his shirt again. “This is so embarrassing. I don’t even know why I got so worked up.”

Soonyoung doesn’t respond to that, just pats your back a few times and encourages you to keep going. You toy with the fabric of his shirt.

“This guy I used to know — I thought I’d never see him again, but he showed up today. Ran into him when I was walking back from the convenience store.” You bite the inside of your lip. “I haven’t thought about him in a long time, but, I don’t know, I guess seeing him just brought all these memories back all at once.”

“Bad ones?”

A breathy laugh escapes you. “Sure, you could say that.”

The silence comes back, and your brows furrow, almost like you’re trying to solve the problem all on your own. But you don’t have to. Soonyoung is here.

“Do you remember when I told you about my first kiss? Like, my real first kiss?”

Soonyoung hums. Of course he remembers.

“Back in high school, I used to have this friend. Sammy. She was — god, she was beautiful. And kind, and smart, and just... amazing. I miss her a lot. She’s abroad now, travelling the world with her sister. I think she’s in Peru now.” You chuckle at the mention of your old friend, but soon your smile twists into a frown. “This guy... I don’t like saying his name, but he liked Sammy. Everyone did, I don’t blame him for that, honestly. He was pretty popular back then — one of those sports boys, you know? Thinking about it now, he could’ve easily gotten with Sammy if he hadn’t been so conniving.”

“Conniving?”

“Yeah, he was... I don’t know how he got the idea in his head, but he came to me first. He kept hanging out with me, taking me on these... dates? But they weren’t really dates, all we did was talk about Sammy — what she liked, what she didn’t like. I knew he was using me, but I just... let him, I guess. Maybe back then I was just so caught up in being needed that I didn’t really mind being used.”

Soonyoung hugs you tighter.

“I guess he felt sorry, maybe? Right before he went to go ask Sammy out, he just... laid one on me. It was stupid. Like a pity kiss for my service or whatever. I wasn’t in love with the guy or anything, but it felt so... degrading. Like all I deserved was some action from a conventionally good-looking guy."

Your tears come back, brimming at the edge of your eyelids.

“I don’t know, it just — it just made me feel so...”

You take a breath. Exhale.

“...worthless.”

Soonyoung doesn’t fail to see the irony here, at least, but he feels slightly lifted. Whoever this guy is, Soonyoung’s a million times better.

“You’re not worthless,” he says — because he knows it’s true.

“I know.” You readjust yourself curled around him, wiping away the tears which haven’t fallen. “I mean, I know now.” Sighing, you wrap your arm around his waist, somehow pulling him closer than he already was. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For being here. For being you. For letting me be me.”

“It is my absolute pleasure to serve you, your majesty.”

You wack him with the sleeve of your sweater. “You’re such a dork!”

Your laugh is nice. Soonyoung hopes to hear it again soon.

“You know,” you say, eyes closed as you lie there with him on his bed. “Normally I would’ve gone to Seungkwan with my problems, but tonight...”

“Tonight?”

“You make me feel safe, Soonyoung. Thank you.”

His eyes close. “Really?”

“Yeah,” you breathe out. “That, and if I told Seungkwan, he would’ve found the guy and beat him to a pulp.”

“Why can I see that?”

“Because it’s true.”

You stay the night.

•

With a group of friends as big as Soonyoung’s, it’s about once every blue moon that the boys find a time that works for everyone, especially coming up on finals season. They all have their own worries around this time: the dance showcase, the big play, last-minute assessments, and — of course — finals.

So when they’re all free for barbecue one night, everyone’s ecstatic. Reservations are made, gratuities are calculated, and the group chat blows up every few hours with various changes to plans. (Mostly from Mingyu, who’s eager to show off his grilling skills.)

But of course, university is university, and it’s inevitable that someone has to bail out. That someone being Soonyoung.

The dance showcase creeps up a bit faster than anyone likes, and now Soonyoung’s professor is forcing him to choreograph an entire song for some freshmen only a month before the whole thing goes onstage.

First of all, who signs up for a showcase only four weeks before the performance? Who lets them sign up?

And second of all, doesn’t his professor realize Soonyoung has a life? He’s got other dances to work on, other classes to study for, friends to have barbecue with. How is he supposed to cram an entire choreography — not the mention the time it’ll take to teach the freshmen — into his already hectic lifestyle?

But Soonyoung is a people-pleaser. He doesn’t say no.

Instead, he regretfully messages the group chat, saying he can’t hang out tonight in favour of attempting to choreograph at least a quarter of the song in one sitting. He gets the usual whining, but they all know they can’t change his mind, so it fades out fast.

What he doesn’t expect is for them to invite you instead.

“It’s a thirteen person reservation,” Seungcheol reasons. “Besides, she’s basically one of us by now.”

Soonyoung can’t exactly argue with that.

So, you go to the restaurant with them while Soonyoung heads to the studio. Minghao picks you up along with Vernon and Chan, which sends an anxious bit of worry down Soonyoung’s spine, but he does nothing about it. If Minghao wanted to tell you, he would’ve by now.

You send him a good luck text.

[🍥] Don’t let those kids work you into the ground!

He stares at your words for a bit, distracted from finding the song he’s supposed to use. Your contact name is different now — one of those naruto fishcakes because of that time you took him out for ramen. That night had been full of laughter and loud, borderline obnoxious slurping, ending with the beautiful finale of Soonyoung throwing a fishcake straight into your open mouth.

You were the one that sweet-talked you both out of getting banned.

Soonyoung finally opens his music app and finds the song the freshmen requested (a rather boring one, if you ask him) which he sets to max volume. He doesn’t bother plugging his phone into the speaker system, not when he’s the only one in the studio.

Maybe he can do this.

•

“The trick is to add eggs and use less water,” you say as you scoop more batter onto the waffle iron.

Jihoon snorts from where he sits at the table, still shoveling more whipped cream and strawberry-smothered waffle in his mouth. “Are you sure the trick isn’t to just not be Soonyoung?”

“Hey!” Soonyoung pauses his own eating just to pout. “My waffles are good!”

“Sure, you keep telling yourself that.”

Both you and Jihoon laugh at Soonyoung’s expense, only further accentuating the pout on his face. You and Jihoon are too alike in that aspect. Well, actually, Soonyoung knows you’d never laugh at him, but he still can’t be sure about Jihoon. One time, back in high school, Soonyoung tripped over (what he thought was) a dead bird, and Jihoon laughed for hours — though Soonyoung always exaggerates the story into him laughing for days.

You sit down next to him with your own plate of waffles. There’s flour dusted on your arms, but you don’t seem to mind.

“You’ve got a little...” You point a finger at the corner of your mouth.

He knows. Soonyoung can feel the cool whipped cream right where you say it is.

He smiles wide. “I’m saving it for later.”

“Hmm...”

You say nothing, just smile as you lean in, kissing the corner of his lips. It’s quick, chaste, and barely a real kiss, but Soonyoung’s heart bounces in his chest. He’s never been kissed like that before.

He wonders if this is what it’s like to be loved.

That thought, though, he pushes back for another time.

“Gross. You guys made me lose my appetite,” Jihoon says. He keeps eating.

•

With eyes drooping shut every few seconds, Soonyoung decides it’s time to call it quits on the chemistry homework. It’s nearly one in the morning, anyways. He flips his textbooks shut and gathers up all his notes, putting them all in a haphazard pile that he’ll worry about in the morning. Swivelling in his chair, his eyes land on you.

Oh. He forgot you’re here.

You’re snuggled up on top of his covers, one arm wrapped around the pillow your head should be on, eyes closed as even, slow breaths come past your slightly parted lips. One of his hoodies is draped over your legs like a blanket. He wonders why you didn’t just get under the covers.

Well, he has been walking you home ever since he hadn’t some time ago. Maybe you were waiting.

He feels a bit guilty as he brushes his teeth and washes his face, but not too bad since you only have afternoon classes tomorrow. Maybe he can treat you to something in the morning to make up for it.

After he tucks you under a fluffy throw blanket, he crawls into bed and lies on his side, facing you.

Your other hand is lax, palm up and fingers curled, almost like you’re holding something invisible.

His hand would fit perfectly.

The tips of his fingers graze over the lines on your palm. Slow. Trepidatious.

You shift, fingers unconsciously curling around Soonyoung’s hand.

He closes his eyes.

•

The moves aren’t working.

The moves aren’t working and the music isn’t working and the dance isn’t working and nothing is working.

Soonyoung groans in frustration, almost screaming with his fingers threaded through his damp hair as he messes up yet another landing. He’s drenched in sweat, and it’s only been so many hours since the rest of the crew left for the night, not that he’s kept track.

It’s less than a week until the showcase. Six days, as Chan is apt to remind everyone with his stupid holiday countdown app.

That freshmen choreography is already over and done with — Soonyoung’s made it, he’s taught it to those over-eager nuisances, and if they need anything more, that’s on them. They’re no longer his responsibility.

That’s not what has him in such a state right now.

His solo — the one he’s been planning for the entire semester — it just doesn’t... feel right. He’s been slaving over it for days now, reworking the steps, figuring out what to take out and what to replace. But the more he fixes it, the more it feels wrong.

He can’t get the steps right. He can’t get anything right.

What is wrong with him?

He starts the music again at exactly one minute, thirty-eight seconds. The moves are clear in his mind. One step. Two steps. Sweep. Spin. Jump—

He falls.

The music goes on.

Soonyoung slams his fist onto the softwood floor, cursing at his ineptitude. He stays like that for a moment, eyes screwed shut and fists clenched so tight his nails dig into his palms. The song ends, only to restart again, but Soonyoung barely notices.

Screw the music. He stands; positions himself; tries again.

Again.

Again.

Again.

He falls.

He yells out at the floor, at his feet, at whatever is holding him back.

His reflection in the mirror stares back at him.

Mind blank, he sits there, legs stretched out in front of him as he hunches over, eyes closed to the world around. His breaths come out shaky and uneven, but even though every moment sitting still feels like eternity, his lungs fail to calm.

Someone knocks on the door, and for a second, Soonyoung thinks it’s Jun coming to tell him to go home for the night. He doesn’t want to, so he doesn’t look up.

The door opens, he can hear the quiet shuffling of hesitant feet that have removed their shoes just because the sign on the door told them to.

“Soonyoung?”

Your voice is clear — like a single drop of water coalescing into a whole — and it cuts through the sound of blood rushing past Soonyoung’s ears.

He looks up to see you standing a good length away, almost like you’re scared to approach. You’re wearing pyjamas, a thick sweater pulled over your shoulders and fuzzy socks donning your feet. Something bulges from the pocket of your sweater.

“What are you...”

“Minghao called me.”

In the back of his mind, a small part of Soonyoung wonders exactly when you and Minghao have gotten close enough to call each other, but the thought doesn’t stay for long. It can’t, really, not when you’re in front of him.

When Soonyoung says nothing more, you take another step forward. “What’s wrong?”

To anyone else, he might say nothing. Absolutely nothing is wrong.

His voice breaks when he tries to laugh.

“Everything.”

Your eyes soften, a small smile tugging at your lips. It’s not one of those pitiful smiles, he can tell, but it’s not fake, either. You bring your hands together in front of you, fiddling with the tips of your fingers as your eyes move from them to his gaze again. “I’m coming over. Is that okay?”

He nods.

First, you find his phone and turn down the music until it’s gone. You sit right behind him, legs spread on either side of his body, and you wrap your arms around his waist, pressing flush to his back and resting your cheek between his shoulder blades. He squirms a bit.

“I’m all sweaty,” he tries to argue, but you only squeeze him tighter.

“Yeah, you are.”

He stops resisting. It’s much too hot, what with his hours of constant exercise and your thick layers, but he can’t complain.

“Do you want to talk about it?” This time it’s your turn to ask.

“...Just hold me?”

And you do.

You press a kiss to the back of his neck. Slow, soft, and when your lips leave his searing skin, your forehead replaces them.

That’s when the dam breaks.

Hot, fat tears roll from Soonyoung’s eyes down his cheeks as sobs rack through his chest. The vibrations shake him and you all at once, but your hold never falters. He can’t see anything, only a blur of what should be his legs and your arms wrapped around his stomach. His hands go to clutch at your arms, desperate to hold onto something; to not let him sink.

It’s ugly, the way he cries, but you let it happen. You hold him.

This is what it’s like.

Eventually, his desperate hands find yours, his arms crossed so his right is over your right, his left over your left. His fingers roam over the smooth backs of your hands until they reach your fingers and interlock. The palms of your hands are warm compared to his fingertips.

You’ve locked onto his body language by now — you’re fluent, so you know to continue pressing reassuring, slow kisses into his skin. You know to whisper little words that should mean nothing, but coming from your lips, mean everything.

He’s going to be okay.

For some reason, coming from you, he believes it.

You hold him until the hiccuping stops, until the tears are just dry streaks on his face, until his breath comes out in long streams instead of bursts.

His eyes stay shut as he feels you shift. One of your hands slips out of his grasp, your arm reaching back, and Soonyoung almost whines until he feels its return.

“Look,” you whisper.

It itches to open his eyes, but when he does, he sees what’s in your hand, right in front of him. A small stuffed tiger sits in your palm, positioned anatomically incorrect like a teddy bear, a velvet heart between its paws. Stitched white letters read:

Go get ‘em, tiger!

You chuckle lightly, repositioning yourself so your chin hooks over his shoulder. “Cheesy, I know. I was going to give this to you the day of the showcase, but I think you could use it right about now.”

Gingerly, Soonyoung lifts his hands together, and you place the plush in his awaiting palms.

His voice is slow to restart, but he manages to say, “Thank you.”

Hands now free, you wrap yourself around his waist again. “Anything for you.”

Such a simple sentence, that, and yet the confession sends blood to Soonyoung’s ears in the form of an awfully embarrassing blush. He runs his thumbs over the fuzzy fabric of the tiger plush.

“Soonyoung?”

“Hm?”

You press your lips to the crook of his shoulder, voice muffled in the fabric of his shirt. “I won’t force you to stop practicing. I know this is important to you.” Soonyoung feels your breath fan over his skin. “But I also want you to rest — you shouldn’t overwork yourself.”

One of your hands rises to his chin, guiding it up so he looks forward at the studio mirror and meets your gaze in the reflection.

“Whaddya say we do, hm?” You tilt your head, and Soonyoung thinks his pupils may be heart-shaped. “Do you want to practice more? Or can I take you home?”

“Just...” He swallows what’s left in his dry mouth. “Just once more.”

You smile. “Okay.”

As you get up, you run your hands up to Soonyoung’s shoulder and down to his hand, where you playfully pretend to pull him up with you. He laughs, hiding his face behind the tiger plush for a second before he stands, tugging your hands as he does so you fall into him when he rights himself. Both your hands are squeezed between him and you, while his unoccupied arm finds its way to your side.

Another smile tugs at your lips at the proximity. You shift your hands up so they wrap over his shoulders, linking behind his head. Leaning closer, your eyes gleam under the fluorescent lights. To the sound of silence, you sway together, waltzing in the dead of night.

“I’ll be outside, okay?”

Soonyoung’s expression tightens, eyebrows shifting in confusion. “Why?”

“Well,” you say. “I know how you feel about audiences during practice.”

Something about your smile right now makes Soonyoung feel so undeniably safe. You understand him. Never once have you questioned him over why he doesn’t invite you to practices, never once did you pressure him to change that.

“Do you know how I feel about you?”

“Hmm, do I?”

Do you?

“Stay.”

And you do.

•

Here’s the thing about dance showcases:

They’re big, they’re flashy, they take the entire year to plan, and they’re over in one night.

Soonyoung stands in the wings, breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth, hopefully not loud enough for anyone to hear. He watches as the group performing before his solo finishes up their dance, though he knows there is at least a minute before he’ll have to go on.

A tap on his shoulder makes him turn his head, and he sees Sehee’s smiling face.

“Nervous?” she asks, her voice hidden beneath the music.

She’s all dolled up, dressed in her costume with a sleek leather jacket to bring everything together. Her eyes glimmer just as much as her eyelids.

“You have no idea,” Soonyoung jokes, but his heart isn’t really in it.

Sehee tilts her head; blinks a few times. “You’ll do amazing. You always do.”

For what it’s worth, Soonyoung hasn’t forgotten his attraction. Sehee’s words soothe him to some extent, pump him up, even. It’s slightly terrifying — how much she still affects him even now.

You’re in the audience tonight, third row from the front, somewhere in the middle. Your seat is between Seungkwan’s and Jihoon’s, whereas all the other boys came (almost) too late and had to find seats elsewhere.

The music ends, applause erupts, and Soonyoung knows it’s his turn. He waits for the group to exit on the opposite side, and when the resounding claps quiet down, he takes the first step onstage.

Something Soonyoung has almost always known: stage lights are blinding. If they’re set up right, anyone onstage will have a damn hard time seeing anyone in the audience. He can’t see you — couldn’t during his previous performance with the crew, either. The only reason he knows you’re there is the million assuring texts you sent him before you had to turn off your phone for the show.

But he knows you’re there. He knows you’re watching.

Soonyoung stands with his left foot on the spike mark, right where he’s practiced time and time again ever since they transitioned into the space. Music floods his veins, and the world is gone.

He wouldn’t call it an escape. Soonyoung doesn’t use dance to get away, it’s not like that. This world he creates with dance — this other space where nothing exists except him and the music and the floor and the feeling — he chooses to go there. Euphoria, he thinks it might be called. Euphoric.

The space takes him. He lets it.

And then it’s over.

Soonyoung’s breath leaves him in bursts, his shoulders heaving despite how hard he fights to keep them still in his final pose. His back faces the audience, his right arm stretched out and up, fingers curling around nothing. Stars dance before his eyes — which he fails to catch with his outstretched hand.

He thinks he can faintly hear applause, but it’s nothing compared to the heart beating in his chest. Your voice plays in his ears, yet he knows it’s simply his imagination — his recollection.

I like your dance, you’d said that night. I’m no expert, no judge, but I like it. I love it, honestly. Your dancing... I don’t know. I wish I had the words. It’s like... a little box.

A little box?

You’ve got a little box in your hand. Brown, maybe the size of your palm. You open it and there’s no bottom, no sides, no shape, just an expanse of universe in blues and pinks and purples and whatever colours we don’t know exist. You look inside and reach your hand in, somehow fitting in the tiny yet infinite space. Your fingers brush through starlight like strands of silk, like the rays are minnows you’ve met during a summer dip. Like that. A little box.

I thought you said you didn’t have the words?

I don’t. Not enough.

Soonyoung vaguely registers the lights going black, the way his feet drift him offstage, the music of the seniors’ finale.

At some point, the lights are back on. Not the stage lights, but the harsh fluorescents once the audience has fully filtered out into the lobby. Most of them will leave, but the family and friends of performers are sure to stay, waiting there to congratulate and fawn over the dancers as soon as they’re let go for the night. Somewhere in his mind, Soonyoung knows his friends are outside waiting for him — him, Jun, Minghao, and Chan.

Roses are passed around. He’s never seen a blue rose before, but some dancers walk around with them as they change out of costume and gather their things. He points out a yellow rose from the bunch presented to him, but it turns out to be a bouquet for him specifically, and he takes the whole thing with his jaw slightly hanging. Everything’s a bit... slow. Soonyoung feels like he’s wading through water.

He hasn’t changed yet, simply standing in his costume as he watches people go back and forth. Other performers move from dressing room to dressing room, cleaning up what they have to while simultaneously patting each other’s backs. Techs go around making sure everything’s in order, nothing lost or forgotten. They put away the MC’s microphones and bother the dancers for not taking proper care of props even though it’s only been one night.

Another tap on his shoulder; it’s Sehee again.

“Can I talk to you?” she asks.

He follows her to a corner of the stage, where the curtains hang and hide the two — for the most part.

She turns almost too abruptly, causing Soonyoung to stumble over his own two feet to avoid bumping into her.

“This is really hard for me to say,” she starts. “But I have to get it out.”

Soonyoung nods, maybe saying something close to a confirmation, but he can’t really tell. He’s a little lightheaded. Sehee has changed out of her leather, instead now in a pair of grey sweatpants and a simple t-shirt. That’s the thing about Sehee, though, she has that unnamed sort of... effortless beauty. Even with her stage makeup wiped off, she glows.

“This might be one of the last times I ever work with you, you know? Next year, my parents are making me quit dancing so I can focus on my major. It sucks, yeah, but they’re right. I need to focus if I want to succeed. You know that too, don’t you? The need to succeed?” She takes a breath; laughs bitterly. “Sorry, I’m getting off track... I just — I wanted to tell you this because if I don’t tonight, I might never get the chance again.”

Maybe Soonyoung has dreamed of this moment. He can’t be sure, not yet, so he lets her continue.

“I like you, Soonyoung. I have for a while. But things happened, and you got together with...” her voice trails off. “And you seemed happy, after a while. I thought maybe I could just keep it hidden but, I don’t know, I think I need to tell you, to get closure because I'm not sure if I can go on without at least—”

Choices. Soonyoung — and everyone else in the world — has only made it through life with decisions. He’s made good ones. Bad ones. He’s had regrets and he’s had none. This, though, this choice is intensely apparent.

Apparent in the way he knows it will affect much more than he wishes.

He kisses her.

God, this is what he wanted, right? What he’s wanted for so long. He used to toss and turn at night over the thought of Sehee’s eyes; her smile; her lips.

And on his, they were heaven. Plump and soft just like the romance novels say, moving at the exact pace of his heartbeat.

The hand holding his bouquet drops to his side as the other goes to cup Sehee’s cheek. Faintly, the sound of paper fluttering to the ground reaches his ears, but nothing can distract him from this moment.

Until, of course, it ends.

Sehee pulls away. “We can’t— I don’t—”

Someone clears their throat.

Soonyoung turns, finding Minghao standing just off from the curtains, arms crossed and face contorted in thinly-veiled anger.

And you.

You’re standing next to Minghao, obviously shocked — over being seen or what you’ve seen, Soonyoung doesn’t know. Hands fisted and held close to your chest, your eyes widen as they meet Soonyoung’s.

It’s not so dramatic as the movies.

Soonyoung stares at you, tongue unmoving with nothing to say. You stare back, almost frozen, until Minghao gently takes you by your shoulders, forcing you to turn and leave the way you must’ve come. Nothing happens in the time it takes. Soonyoung simply watches.

He’s never been good at reading lips, but he thinks he knows exactly what Minghao whispers in your ear.

There’s something you should know.

Sehee mutters, “Sorry,” and leaves. She looks guilt-ridden as she does, but even in his half-frozen state, Soonyoung knows all of this is on him.

He stands alone in that corner of the stage, the only noise being the hum of fluorescent lights and the distant sound of the last stragglers in the dressing rooms. His hands clench, and the brown paper of the bouquet crumples. He looks at it then, at the yellow roses and baby’s breath, at the beige note that’s fallen to the floor.

Slowly, he crouches, picking up the note with his thumb and forefinger.

Congratulations Soonyoung!! I know how hard you’ve worked for this night, which is why I ordered these to be delivered. Joshua told me yellow roses represent happiness, or something. Pretty, right? You deserve every happiness, so I decided to start with flowers. Tonight may be over, but who knows, maybe we’ll find happiness in tomorrow, too.

It’s stupid. It’s not a love letter. It’s laced with love, though, and he hates that he recognizes your handwriting.

Time moves heavily as Soonyoung turns to the backstage door. He’s the only one left now, his station in the second boy’s dressing room is messy, unlike everyone else’s. His reflection stares back at him while he sits in front of the mirror, motions halved in speed as he wipes off his eye makeup.

It’s over.

When was the last time he thought about how it would end?

He changes out of costume, arms growing stiff, and stuffs everything in his bag without much care for how. His regular clothes itch; he longs to scratch at his skin, but he doesn’t.

He leaves your bouquet on the counter.

His friends stand in a circle in the lobby, brows furrowed and voices hushed as they discuss... something. Soonyoung has a bad feeling he knows exactly the topic. Minghao isn’t there. Nor are you.

Jihoon isn’t around, either, but Soonyoung remembers he had to leave immediately after the performance. Something about an essay. It doesn’t really matter now, not compared to this.

When he approaches his friends, they quiet down further. Half of them look his way with a frown, while the other half choose to avert their eyes. What do they know?

Seungkwan stands out the most. His arms are crossed, his lips are pressed together in a thin line, and anger radiates from his very being. Of course he’s mad. You’re his friend.

The silence consumes Soonyoung as he nearly shrivels under his friends’ gazes. He must have taken his time, the lobby is empty except for them.

“Where’s Minghao?” he asks.

Seungkwan lurches forward, but both Seungcheol and Wonwoo bring up their arms to hold him back. 

“Where’s Minghao? Where’s Minghao?” he seethes. He jabs an accusatory finger in Soonyoung’s face. “You just kissed some girl and broke my best friend’s heart and you’re asking about Minghao?!”

So they don’t know. Not really.

Soonyoung endures the scolding. The looks. The questions. The noise.

No answers are really given.

The great thing about having best friends is that they know not to pamper you when you’ve done wrong. That’s also the worst thing about having best friends.

Seungkwan would go on and on, surely, but soon enough the boys notice how little Soonyoung is reacting — how his face and expression is slack and dull.

Joshua holds up a finger to quiet down the ones still complaining, then gestures towards the front entrance.

“Minghao left with her a while ago.” The look on his face is one of pity. Soonyoung hates it.

He nods; stuffs his hands in his pockets as he turns to the door.

“Wait! I’m not done—!” Seungkwan struggles against Wonwoo and Seungcheol, but he’s no match.

Soonyoung doesn’t stick around long enough to hear what happens next.

He has no sense of what to do when he walks out that door. Go home, maybe.

The night breeze hits him with more force than it should, making his eyes go dry and his lips tremble. Outside, everything is almost too loud. There’s traffic on all sides, surrounding the lot of the theatre; the sound of humming engines and honking horns assaults his senses.

He walks — though it feels like wandering — to the parking lot, where he plans to look around for a bus stop.

You’re there.

A mirage, he thinks at first, but you’re really there, sitting on one of those concrete barriers, legs outstretched and ankles crossed. You have your head lowered as you sit, hands braced on the cold concrete.

His held breath escapes him, and you look up.

“You’re here,” you say. The smile on your lips, ever so slight and ever so bitter, causes a ringing in his ears. “I almost thought you forgot about me.”

“I...”

“It’s a lie, right?” Your eyes glisten, but no tears fall. “You wouldn’t— I’m not— I’m not that naive, am I?”

Soonyoung’s lips part, but nothing moves past them. His hands itch to leave his pockets, but with nothing to reach for, they stay still.

“...I see.”

You drop your head again, bringing your hands together to fiddle with your fingernails. He hears your breath, shaky as it is, and his lungs constrict.

“God, it felt so real. I thought— I guess I don’t know what I thought, huh?” A shiver runs through you. “Was any of it real?” you ask the ground.

Soonyoung longs to answer. That’s the thing, though.

He doesn’t know.

Can any of it be real?

You laugh. Before, your laugh was spring strawberries; summer warblers; winter snowdrops. Now, your dry laughter echoes in Soonyoung’s mind like a pebble in a failed attempt of skipping stones.

“Guess not.”

You hop off the concrete barrier, wiping off your pants of dust and dirt. Still, you don’t meet his eyes.

Soonyoung’s heart beats in a way he knows isn’t natural. Guilt seeps through every orifice. “You’re not... you’re not yelling at me. You’re not crying — you’re not angry,” he stumbles through. “Why?”

It’s then that when you meet his eyes, he notices the dried tracks lining your cheeks. You have been crying, just in the time it took for him to come across you.

“I’m just disappointed in myself, Soonyoung,” you say. “I’m the one who fell for it so easily. I’m the one that was tricked. I’m the one who—” a breath “—who loved someone that didn’t love me back.” You step closer, arms limp at your side. “Once I get home, sure, I’ll cry my eyes out. Is that what you want to hear? I’ll curse myself for being so... so stupid.”

“It’s not your fault—”

“No, it’s not. This is not my fault. All I did was believe the words you said to me. All I did was hand myself to you on a silver platter.” Unshed tears brim at your eyelids, but it seems you refuse to let them fall. “But you know the worst part, Soonyoung?”

Everything?

“The worst part is I can’t yell at you. I’m not angry because I fell in love with someone who doesn’t love me back and it hurts and I can’t bring myself to hate you despite being told you’ve never thought about me the way I think about you.”

A breathy gasp escapes you, and you turn on a dime, the sight of your back an icy reminder to Soonyoung of what he’s yet to learn. You take a deep breath to gather yourself, shoulders rising and falling.

“I’ll be going now. I’ve got a lot to think about.”

Soonyoung doesn’t move from his spot when you walk away, or when you get into Minghao’s car, which pulls away after a moment of sitting there in its parking spot. His feet are stuck in stiff mud, unable to shift, even.

Perhaps he stands there for too long. It’s not until he’s staring down the front of his apartment that he realizes one of his friends must have dropped him off.

•

He hasn’t heard from you in a few days. He hasn’t heard from anyone in just as long.

Jihoon already knew (not everything, but enough) by the time Soonyoung rolled out of bed the day after. He hasn’t said anything about it, but Soonyoung can tell this silence isn’t the same as usual. They rarely eat meals together anymore. Last movie night, Jihoon didn’t even pretend to be busy, instead saying he simply wasn’t in the mood.

Seungkwan hasn’t left your side ever since... that happened. If Soonyoung happens to see you on campus, which is almost never, he backs out of approaching you because of the sheer force that is Seungkwan’s glare. Besides, he wouldn’t know what to say even if he did find the courage to face you.

Classes go by in blurs. Not quickly, like scenery past a car window, but so slow that once Soonyoung leaves, he remembers nothing but hours upon hours of staring at his empty notebook, even if the lecture was only fifty minutes long. Days are kind of like that too.

•

Sehee apologizes. She shouldn’t, but she does.

Soonyoung didn’t really hate what he did at first. He liked her, after all.

But when Sehee chokes on her own words, pleading to whoever will listen that she’s not that kind of girl, Soonyoung regrets kissing her more than he ever wanted to kiss her in the first place.

•

please let me explain

I’m sorry

it’s been a while, but still

I’m sorry

[🍥] Explain what?

[🍥] ...

[🍥] Soonyoung?

sorry I just

I wasn’t expecting you to answer

[🍥] Maybe I shouldn’t have

no

wait

I’m sorry

[🍥] So I’ve heard

I just want you to know why what happened, happened

[🍥] But I already know why

it’s not that simple

[🍥] You lied because you suck at lying. Because you knew Sehee was there that night and panicked. I was just collateral damage

[🍥] ...

[🍥] No answer, huh?

[🍥] So it really is that simple

please wait

I’m just trying to figure myself out

[🍥] Let me help you

[🍥] You want my forgiveness because you feel guilty. Maybe you don’t know it yet, but you want me to say I forgive you just so you won’t have to carry this around for the rest of your life

[🍥] I know this isn’t some romcom. I know you’re not here to get me back

[🍥] So just let it go

[🍥] Let’s just forget about this. About what happened

what if I can’t

[🍥] I don’t know

[🍥] Figure it out, I guess

[🍥] But do it on your own

•

Soonyoung doesn’t measure his time anymore.

He wakes up. He eats. He goes to class. He skips lunch. He goes home. He eats. He falls asleep.

When was the last time he went out with someone? When was the last time he had a real conversation?

He doesn’t know.

•

[Minghao] You should tell everyone else

why

[Minghao] Would you rather they think you’re a cheater or just an idiot?

I don’t know

[Minghao] I think they deserve an explanation

[Minghao] Want me to do it for you?

does it even matter anymore

[Minghao] It’s your choice

[Minghao] You just have to make it

then tell them

I don’t care

[Minghao] Are you sure?

tell them

•

These days, Soonyoung stays late at the studio. No one really practices there anymore, not since the showcase finished and finals have rolled around. Actually, Soonyoung should be studying too, but he can’t find the motivation. He thinks it might be the guilt.

You were right. He doesn’t want to carry this around.

The thing is, despite spending entire evenings in the studio, he can’t remember anything as he walks home. It must be hours spent in there, and yet, when he walks out, he can’t recall a thing. Like he was never there at all.

Where does the time go?

With his luck, the elevator is broken when he returns to the apartment building, so he has to take the stairs. Normally that wouldn’t be a big deal, but after hours of mindless, sloppy dancing, he’s much too tired. He fumbles with his keys when he tries to open the door, and he rests his forehead on the cool wood for a moment, sighing before he tries again.

The door creaks open. Though it’s late, the lights are still on, which Soonyoung frowns at when he realizes. Lately, Jihoon is never up when Soonyoung comes home. But there he is, sitting at the table right next to the kitchen with his eyes on his hands and his feet tucked under the chair.

Soonyoung freezes after shutting the door behind him, not wholly sure what to make of the scene before him.

After a moment of silence, Jihoon looks up from his fingers and meets Soonyoung’s gaze.

“Minghao called me today,” he says.

Soonyoung gulps, but doesn’t respond — doesn’t know how to.

“I didn’t want to believe it at first, you know.” His voice is slow, croaky; tired. “But it sort of makes sense, doesn’t it. I don’t know how I didn’t see it from the start.”

Slowly, Soonyoung slips off his shoes and steps further into the apartment. “So now you know. I’m really not in the mood for a lecture right now.”

“I just have a question.”

Soonyoung pauses, halfway through the apartment and only a few meters from his bedroom door. He turns to face Jihoon, sighing through his nose and digging his palm into his eye sockets. “Fine,” he concedes. “What?”

“If you never loved — never liked her, why are you acting like this now?”

“Acting like what?”

“Like a dead man walking.”

Soonyoung scoffs, a dry, empty sound as he looks away for a moment before meeting Jihoon’s gaze again. “You’re kidding, right?” he asks. “I lied to someone for months. I pretended to love someone I didn’t. I used her because of my own stupidity and pride, and then I used Sehee, too—” Pausing, he closes his eyes; takes a breath. “Isn’t it obvious? It’s guilt. I feel guilty for... for everything.”

“That’s the only reason?”

“Excuse me?”

Jihoon rhythmically taps the pads of his fingers on the table. It’s not loud enough to be heard, but Soonyoung’s eyes train to the sight. “It’s only the guilt?”

“What else would it be?”

This time, it’s Jihoon who sighs. He looks at his hands again for a second. “Do me a favour,” he says without looking up.

“Look, I already—”

“Just do what I say.”

Soonyoung groans, but he knows he can’t argue with Jihoon and win — not now at least. He rubs his eyes, shoulders rising and falling as he takes in a deep breath. Mumbling under his breath, he says, “Fine.”

Jihoon stands from his chair, and in such stagnant silence, the sound of the legs squeaking on the floor is profound. He points to the middle of the apartment, the large bit of floor-space that’s too big to be considered part of the kitchen but too small to house any furniture.

“Stand right there.”

“...What?”

Without answering, Jihoon simply points at the floor again, and Soonyoung can only groan in defiance as he moves to stand in that spot. Grabbing a throw pillow from the couch, Jihoon steps a few feet away, facing Soonyoung with the pillow held in one hand at his side. He seems to consider something for a moment.

Soonyoung has never been unable to read Jihoon this much, so he asks, “What is this all about—”

Jihoon screams. Not a high-pitched screech, but a guttural battle cry, and Soonyoung’s eyes widen. Faster than he can comprehend, Jihoon runs towards him and tackles him to the ground. Soonyoung’s legs crumble as he falls, and he feels the throw pillow pressing onto his face.

This is it, he thinks. This is how he dies.

“Jihoon!” he cries, but his protest is muffled by the pillow. “What the fuck are you—!”

“You fucking idiot! You don’t know shit!”

“I know that!” Soonyoung thrashes to get the pillow off, but Jihoon is way stronger than he looks.

“You miss her you fucking buffoon! You’re all in your doom and gloom because you had a good thing going and had to go fuck it up!”

“I don’t!”

“Don’t try to argue with me, fucker, I know you better than anyone. Now scream!”

The pillows squishes further down, and while Soonyoung can still breathe, it’s far from comfortable. He continues to struggle even though he knows it’s useless.

“What?!”

“Scream into the pillow! You’re mad at yourself and you should be! Let it all out!”

“I—”

“Scream!”

And he does. He lets out a loud bellow that’s nothing but sound roaring from his lungs. He does it mostly to appease Jihoon — so that maybe he’ll finally get off.

But it feels good.

No, not good, really. It feels awful. Everything feels awful. Yet, something about screaming makes him want to do it again. He yells once more into the pillow, the sound muffled in the fabric and yet intensely remarkable. He screams and he screams and he screams until he can’t scream anymore and his voice is raw and there’s no more sound aside from the fractured gasps of his sobs. Tears soak into rough fabric, and he doesn’t even notice that Jihoon isn’t holding the pillow anymore — he’s pressing it to his face himself. His body shakes under Jihoon. Soonyoung feels pathetic, but he can’t stop.

He tries again to scream into the pillow, but his voice cracks and all he knows is to cry.

This is what it’s like.

Quietly, Jihoon maneuvers himself so he sits by Soonyoung’s head. He slowly lifts a corner of the pillow and peeks at Soonyoung’s red face. “So,” he whispers, voice soft and full of care. “What are you going to do now?”

Soonyoung wraps his arms around the pillow, hiding his face again.

“I don’t know,” he says. He’s never felt less sure of anything. “I don’t know.”

•

That night, Soonyoung cleans his room. He doesn’t reorganize or anything, just picks discarded clothes up off the ground and throws them in a hamper, spreads his blankets so his bed actually looks bed-like, and takes his overflowing garbage bin out to the door, where he’ll take it out tomorrow morning. As he stretches his arm between his bed and the wall, his fingers close around the sweater he’s trying to reach and... something else. When he brings his hand back up, a small tiger plush stares back at him.

Go get ‘em, tiger!

He stares at the words for a moment, sitting up on his bed and leaning his back against the wall. The plush feels frail in his hands, almost like the velvet heart held in the tiger’s paws could crumble at any moment. Maybe it will.

Soonyoung settles down above the covers that night, and the tiger sits on his other pillow.

The one that still smells like you.

•

He cries. (For the second time since you left.)

•

After everything that’s happened, one would think it would take a miracle to fix what’s been broken. Soonyoung thinks it will take more than that, but still; he’s no miracle worker. He thinks it will take magic to just see you again.

Turns out, it takes a coffee.

Jihoon forces Soonyoung to join him in visiting one of the campus cafes. He doesn’t think about it too much, just believes Jihoon’s trying to keep him alive with a little kick of caffeine. That thought is pushed away when Jihoon blocks him from sitting at the little table, pointing instead across the space to the student printing center.

You’re talking to a customer at the front counter, forearms rested on the white faux marble. A smile is on your lips as you say whatever it is you’re saying to the girl, and Soonyoung finds it almost impossible to tear his eyes away. But he does. He scans the rest of the building for a second. Seungkwan is nowhere to be seen, and neither is Minghao.

He turns to Jihoon, a question on the tip of his tongue.

“She told the bodyguards to back off,” Jihoon explains without needing to be asked. “It’s been a few days.” He nods his chin towards you. “Go on. Talk to her.”

Soonyoung shakes his head, gulping down the words he can’t yet think of. “I don’t... I’m not... ready.”

“If you back out now, you’re going to keep backing out until it’s too late.”

Jihoon’s eyes blaze with an unfitting determination for such a setting. He looks stupid, like some self-made, all-knowing relationship guru who likes the coke he’s gripping too much. Still, he’s right.

Soonyoung licks his dry lips and looks at you again. You’ve sat down, relaxed after having helped that customer and now conversing with one of the other students working there. He misses the way you looked when you were happy — when you were happy with him.

What will it take to see that again?

What will it take to hold you again?

His feet move before his doubts can stop him, and the scene feels awfully familiar. This time though, Soonyoung can’t help but feel like the bad guy.

You don’t notice him until he’s right in front of you, and he doesn’t know what hurts more: the immediate frown, or the fake smile you use to cover it up.

“Hi, what can I do for you today?”

If Soonyoung had to define heartache, he might use this moment. Feigning to forget rather than acknowledging the past... it’s effective, but it hurts.

“Can...” He hesitates and curses himself for it. “Can we talk?”

“About printing, yes. About anything else? I really would rather we didn’t,” you say under your breath. It’s hushed, and you don’t shy away when Soonyoung leans closer to hear. That has to mean something, doesn’t it?

“But there’s something I need to say.”

“I don’t think I want to hear anymore apologies, Soonyoung.”

“It’s not that,” he argues.

Your eyebrows scrunch together. “It’s not an apology?”

“No— I mean, well, yes I want to apologize. I don’t think I’ll ever stop apologizing, but— but that’s not what I—”

“Soonyoung.”

He stops at your word, knowing that speaking will only get him further into trouble. Around you, his words keep failing. Instead, he meets your eyes, which under more inspection, seem hardened.

Have eyes ever looked so hardened when brimmed with tears?

“I don’t know if you know this, but seeing you makes me hate myself.” By now, your coworker has walked to the back, probably to respect your privacy. Your voice almost cracks. “I’ve felt worthless before, but Soonyoung, do you even realize what that — what you did to me?”

He barely breathes before saying, “What if I... what if I said I fell in love with you? Somewhere along the way?” A pause. Your eyes waver, but steady themselves. “What if I said I love you?”

“Soonyoung,” you say after a second.

“Yes?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time.”

•

[🍥] Give me a reason to give you a chance

this is real right?

[🍥] It’s not a dream if that’s what you’re asking

all of a sudden??

[🍥] Minghao and Jihoon said I should

[🍥] And I think I should too

[🍥] But it’s hard

[🍥] What you said yesterday... I don’t know if I can believe it just yet

will you meet me?

I want to see you

[🍥] Can you give me some time?

yes

all the time you need

but will you?

will you meet me?

[🍥] I don’t want to

[🍥] But then again, I do

[🍥] Just give me some time

•

A strange thing, time. It passes by much too quickly when you want it to last, and it drags on when all you want is to be there. There; right then; right now.

Soonyoung stays up late turning on and off his phone, waiting and waiting and waiting and waiting.

It’s only been two days.

Jihoon thinks he’s crazy, though he hasn’t said it out loud — Soonyoung can tell.

He also thinks he might be a little crazy, but that’s okay. If it means he’ll get the chance to make it up to you... maybe he’s fine with being crazy.

At some point, Jihoon barges into his room and takes away Soonyoung’s phone, snatching it straight out of his hands like the little thief he is. He keeps it out of reach despite being shorter, preaching bullshit like, “You need to calm down and act like a normal person!”

Fine, whatever.

Soonyoung goes out for some air. And instant ramen.

There’s a twenty-four hour convenience store right on the edge of campus, manned by a single tired university student that everyone is aware of, yet no one really seems to know his name. It’s one of those spots where time doesn’t exist; maybe names don’t, either.

Compared to the blackness of night, the blanch white convenience store sticks out like a sore thumb, especially with all the bright posters and fluorescent tube-lights. Soonyoung feels just as out of place with no people around just outside the store, but really, it’s to be expected at a time like two in the morning.

He’s right at the door when it chimes and slides open. And so are you.

Both of you freeze where you are, you in the doorway and he just in front. His jaw slacks slightly as he takes you in.

You’re in casual clothes again, a thick sweater and presumably pyjama pants. This version of you comes with good memories — for some reason he likes it more than he cares to admit. Maybe he liked that you could share a more vulnerable side to him, and he to you in return. Although, you’ve shown this side to even the unnamed convenience store guy.

It’s your voice that breaks him from his reverie.

“Soonyoung,” you say, and it’s softer than before. Maybe your voice is lighter from the fact that it’s two in the morning, maybe just because you’re tired, but a small part of Soonyoung wishes that it’s something else — that you sound softer because you’ve missed him too.

He hopes it isn’t just hope.

He says your name, the sound beautiful and battered on his tongue. A small smile passes your lips, so fast that he almost misses it, but he doesn’t. That’s one thing he knows about you: how much you care. Even if someone hurts you, you always take the time to hear them out. You give them chances. Soonyoung should thank his lucky stars that you’ve done the same for him.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

You smile again, and it reaches your eyes, however sad.

“Is it time?” he asks.

“It can be.” The plastic bag in your hand crinkles as you sway it back and forth. “Do you want it to be?”

“Yeah.” His voice comes out like a breath. “Please.”

“Then that’s what we’ll make it.”

You gesture to the ground, where the curb meets the asphalt, but Soonyoung is still a little shocked that he’s even met you here in the first place, so he watches, dazed, as you sit down on the curb before joining in. He stays silent as you pull out an ice cream cup and hand it to him. He stays silent as you procure a second one and peel open the plastic lid, digging into it with the wooden stick spoon-wannabe that comes with the package. He stays silent as you look at him, the wooden stick hanging from your mouth.

“So,” you say, scraping the side of the paper cup. Meeting his eyes, you sport a sly smile. “I hear you’re in love with me.”

The ice cream stays unopened in his hands. He finds it so easy to smile back.

“Yeah. I think I am.”

“You think you are?”

“I’ve never loved someone like this before,” he tries to explain, though the words are slow to his tongue. “I can only think.”

“I guess so.”

“But—” he looks at his fingers, fiddling with the plastic lid of the cup, and a small laugh escapes “—I’m thinking really, really hard.”

You laugh too; his heart blooms.

“Is that so?” you tease, smiling around the wooden spoon. “It’s gonna take more than that.”

“I think I can do it.”

“You think?”

“I think really hard.”

Soonyoung might be in love with every part of you, even if he never realized. Your laugh, your smile, your tells, your habits. He wishes he knew sooner, that this laugh could’ve been his forever long before now.

You scrape the last drops of ice cream out of the paper cup and leave the stick in your mouth, a bit chewed up. Your shoes tap against the asphalt, the rhythm something that draws both his and your eyes.

“You know...” you say, turning your head to meet his gaze once more. “You know you hurt me, right? You know this won’t be easy?”

“None of what we had was easy.”

A scoff runs past your lips. You bump your shoulder against his. “Speak for yourself. I fell hard and fast for you, asshole.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. I know.” You take the still unopened ice cream from his hands and stuff it right back in the bag it came from. “Say it again, though.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Hmmm... maybe it’ll take a few more times.”

“I’m—”

“But not tonight,” you say. “Tonight...”

Your hand beside him closes the distance, grazing over his and pulling it over to your lap.

“...just hold me?”

And he does.

Bonus (gn) epilogue: Fluff and Context Bonus (gn) blurbs: [a fate of my choosing][pick a struggle]

summer of love (ljn)

original gif

↳ pairing: lee jeno x reader

↳ word count: 15.2k

↳ genre: ‘90’s!au, brother’s best friend!au, summer!au, neighbor!au, slice of life(ish)!au, fluff, slowburn

↳ summary: The summer of 1997 was a weird time. As a person living in the modern era, you’d completely forgotten what it was like to live in the ‘90’s. In May 1997, you listened to the Backstreet Boys, flipped through TV Guide, and had an answering machine which seems so archaic now. But that isn’t the only reason why the summer of 1997 was weird. That summer was the time you fell for your brother’s best friend.

↳ warnings: minor cursing, making out

SUMMER 1997

Your second year of college is over. You’ve taken your last exam, and it’s finally time to ditch your dorm and lousy roommate to go back to your childhood home for the summer. It’s a three-hour drive with no rest stops from college to your home, but it took longer due to the gas station stops to get junky, sugary snacks and coffee. But eventually, you made it back home in one piece. 

Your childhood home looks almost exactly the same as you left it: The old, green, flowery wallpaper that your parents keep forgetting the change still hangs in the kitchen, the brown carpet in the entry hallway with the weird stain is still there, and the pantry still has an endless supply of potato chips. The only thing missing are your parents. 

“Y/N!” Renjun exclaims, coming to hug you. As your older brother's arms lock around you, you notice how different he feels despite last seeing him only two months ago; prickly stubble pokes at your skin, and he definitely has been working out.

He parts from you, moving to the answering machine sitting on the kitchen counter. “Where are mom and dad?” You ask. 

“Out,” he says abruptly, playing the messages in the machine before clearing them out. “They’re shopping to make dinner. They thought you would come back later. And by the way,” he continues, “Jeno’s coming over.” 

“Okay,” you respond back simply. At this point, you’re used to Lee Jeno; he’s practically your family, in that the Lees live only a few houses from yours. It is honestly a wonder how Renjun and Jeno have remained friends since they were five-year-olds running around the neighborhood grafitti-ing the sidewalks with colorful chalk designs without growing apart or finding people more apt to suit their developing selves as time passes. It seems that instead of growing apart because of the new scenes and sounds in their adult lives, they were growing together like two parallel vines despite the distance they had to combat in college. When you hear the doorbell a few moments later, you know it’s Lee Jeno. 

He certainly looks different than what you remember with dark hair this time and a slight tan. You haven’t seen Lee Jeno since winter break when he was staying with his parents across the street. Just like you and Renjun, he’s back home from college after the school year, and you’ve seen him around a couple of times a year with all the school breaks. 

“Y/N!” Jeno smiles in that very Jeno way that makes everyone’s heart melt. He leans down a bit to meet your eyes, taking his thumb and forefinger of his hand and squishing your cheek. You playfully bat his hand away. 

“Quit doing that!” You giggle with a pout on your face. “I’m not a baby anymore! I go to college!” You say incredulously, a little bit of a whine in your tone. 

“You’re always a baby to me,” he teases. You roll your eyes at this, moving over to let him in. 

“Jeno!” Renjun yells, ditching the answering machine. He rushes over to hug the other boy. “It’s good to see you.” 

“You too Jun,” Jeno replies. You smile at the sight.

“Let’s play pool,” Renjun says. Jeno agrees, nodding. Both boys go to the basement where your family’s famous pool table resides (your father having gotten it for free from some bar closing in the ‘70’s), and Jeno shuts the door loudly on his way out. You’re about to rain on Renjun’s parade and tell him to come back and clear the answering machine he left behind, but you think against it. You didn’t feel like interrupting a friendship that is so beautiful. So you sit on the chair that Renjun recently left, pressing the ‘listen’ button on the answering machine.

As you listen to the promotional spam calls from companies trying to sell you things that you didn’t need or couldn’t afford, you purse your lips. Seeing Renjun and Jeno together almost made you jealous; none of your high school friends were back from college, and through the few calls you all would have during the school year, they’re off doing bigger and better things than this sleepy town that you call home. 

That night you were going to sleep in your bedroom filled with cassette tapes, posters and pink and yellow wallpaper that you picked out when you were seven. After satisfactorily wrapping yourself in your comfortable blankets that smelled of lavender detergent (your favorite scent), you stare at the ceiling. You couldn’t imagine not visiting this place. 

-

So you have a secret. No, not of the deep dark kind, but something that would definitely earn you a lot of teasing if your friends and family found out about it. One of your biggest guilty pleasures is the movie series The Zygon Kingdom, a science fiction franchise about alien invasions. Stereotypically, people think this series is for losers, gamers, and nerds who live in their mom’s basement. When you’re in public, you try your best to refrain from comment or make fun of the series alongside others, but in private, you secretly anticipate the new movies, going to see it immediately when it comes to theaters.

And that’s what you’re planning on doing today. Today is the release of the fifth movie of the franchise, The Zygon Kingdom: A New World. Finally, you actually had plans; you were starting to look pathetic with how much TV you were watching; your parents were even joking that the most recent book that you’ve read is the TV Guide that was mailed a few days ago. On top of not having friends to hang out with this summer, Renjun, a fresh graduate from a pre-law program, has been running around town trying to find positions to start paying off his degree debts and to gain experience while also trying to study for the LEET exam to qualify for law school. All your friends and family being busy would be depressing to you on any normal day, this comes to your advantage today, for you don’t want to be seen. 

“I’m going to see a friend. Love you.” You say quickly to your parents. With how immersed they are in Full House, their marked TV Guide beside them, you could have said that you wanted to get a tattoo, and your parents would probably not bat an eye.  

“Okay, be safe honey,” your mother says dismissively.

Leaving through the basement, you go to your car outside, unlocking the door. Obviously, you’re carrying your big tote bag so you could sneak in snacks; you even went shopping at the convenience store to prepare. Once you’re finished with the ten minute drive from your home to the movie theater, you look in both directions before entering the line in the lobby of the theater to get a ticket. You’re going to pay in cash, not credit to make sure that this can’t be traced back to you, and you pull out a large flopping hat that you have saved in your car, placing it on your head the second you step out of the car. Yes, you were being completely paranoid, but the last thing you want is someone recognizing you as you go into the movie theater or your parents looking at your credit card statement to see that you went to the movie theaters to view The Zygon Kingdom. 

The time you spent waiting in line is filled with you looking around in all directions, making sure to avoid gazes of anyone that went to high school with or parents whose kids you babysat. Gossip travels fast, and you didn’t feel like finding out how fast. This is a whole covert operation – you get in and you get out, hopefully with your reputation still intact. 

“One ticket to the new Zygon movie,” you say quietly. The woman sitting at the counter almost doesn’t hear you because of how quiet you are or how loud the chatters are of high schoolers and adults coming to the movie theaters after a long week, but either way, she gives you your ticket. 

“It’s in room B,” You’ve gone to this movie theater enough to know where everything is without needing a map or extra time to find your way around. Since you took into account Friday night traffic and the length of the line, you have about five minutes before the movie starts. 

“Thank you,” you say, smiling quickly. Keeping your head low, you move your neck around as if your head is a moving surveillance camera, still trying to make sure that no one you know is seeing you walk into room B, which has a huge blue and yellow poster of The Zygon Kingdom: A New World right next to the door. Once the coast is clear, you head into the dark movie room, finding row sixteen, in the middle.

“Excuse me, excuse me,” you whisper to people who you had to cross to get to your seat. The room is at half capacity; a few advertisements are playing on the screen, for now you have three minutes before the movie starts (but it will probably be longer since ads play for at least ten minutes after the movie is supposed to start to give people extra time). You find a spot in the middle row, which is where the majority of those few people are because you can get a good view of the screen and the audio would be loud but not too loud. 

Pushing down the foldable seat, you sit down. Bringing your purse to your lap, you pull out a bag of chips from your bag, opening it before the movie so that no one gets annoyed at you for opening it so loud. You adjust your sitting position, letting your left leg cross over your right one, and in the dark room, you accidentally kick the seat in front of you. It’s a loud sound, and you slightly grimace at the pain in your foot now. The person in front of you turns around, and you feel like you lost the air in your lungs. 

“Jeno?” 

“Y/N?” 

-

After the movie incident, you and Jeno realize that you actually have more in common than you thought. Apparently, Jeno is in the same position as you when it comes to high school or local friends. Just graduated from college, his friends have found well-paying starting positions and internships, and except for a few people, he’s also been bored at home. Instead of finding a job immediately or stretching himself thin like Renjun, Jeno decided that it was best for him to take a break mentally after college, and then he would be on the job hunt. So now you two have been much more inclined to meet up. 

This would have never happened a year ago. Sure, you would hang out with Jeno when Renjun invited you to hang out with them, and you would even have a good time, but by yourselves, you were a bit more than strangers. Now that doesn’t seem so. 

“I still can’t believe that you like the Zygon Kingdom. Liking the Zygon Kingdom is so not you.” You say, grinning at Jeno. “I would never have pegged you as a fan,” You and Jeno are at an ice cream parlor, enjoying the shelter of this building better than the merciless afternoon sun outside. Lee Jeno, a college soccer star who gets all the girls liking a cheesy science fiction movie? That’s not something you learn every day. Picking at his chocolate ice cream, Jeno smiles at you too. 

“I could say the same for you.” Taking a bite of your ice cream, you cross your legs under the table, a slightly pensive look on your face. Leaning forward, you put your elbows on the white table. “So what else do I not know about you?” You ask. 

“Well,” Jeno tilts his head. “I like to dip my pizza in honey.” 

“I know that,” you say. “Back when you and Renjun used to order pizza at the house, you would always ask me where the honey is.” 

“You remember that?” Jeno asks, surprised. You shake your head, a disapproving frown on your face. “I only remember because you’re the only person in the history of humankind to dip your pizza in honey. Honestly, how do you even stomach that?” 

“The same way you can eat that mint chocolate chip ice cream you have here,” he says, pointing to your cup. You gasp in mock offense, and he only continues. “That stuff tastes like toothpaste.” 

“To make up for what you just said, you have to tell me something that I actually don’t know about you.” Jeno grunts and this, and you wait, tapping your foot against the tiles annoyingly. 

“When I was a sophomore in high school, I went to one of Ten’s house parties,” he stops for a few seconds, and you look at him, your gaze willing for him to continue. “He brought in eight kegs of beer from God knows where, and I had a few drinks.” 

“Shut up!” You say, pushing Jeno’s shoulder from across the table. You’re absolutely astonished. “You, Lee Jeno, student council representative for your entire high school career, got drunk while going to Ten’s parties?” You only know Ten through his reputation, specifically his outrageous house parties that he throws whenever his parents are out of town that almost always end with the cops coming to shut it down. They’re always the highlight of your high school class’s weekend in your sleepy little town, where the mall or the park are the most interesting places to go. You’ve never been to one of Ten’s parties yourself since in high school, you were never much of a partier (and you didn’t have the ‘contacts’ to get invited anyway), but you’ve heard that he’s the definition of a privileged rich kid with money to burn. 

“Yes, that was me.” he laughs. “And, it gets better.” You lean farther forward, your cheek propped up by your fist. “I was so drunk that I couldn’t drive home, so I called Renjun at like midnight to pick me up. When I came into his car, it smelled like perfume, and he had lipstick all over his face. Yeri Kim was in the back of his car.” 

Your eyes widened. “No way! Renjun told me he was studying for a history test!” You remember this day in-depth because it was the night of the freshman dance that you went to with your friends. 

Jeno smiles at your astonished look before clearing his throat. “I told you something you didn’t know about me and something you didn’t know about Renjun, so you better tell me something good that I didn’t know about you.” 

You sigh, tilting your head upwards. Pushing your tongue against your cheek, you’re deep in thought before you spring up in your chair again.

“Remember when you, me, and Mark would all volunteer at Taeyong’s animal shelter?” You ask. During your high school years, you were in desperate need of Honors Society hours to make you look better on your college applications, so you ended up signing up to take care of unadopted pets, either rescue or lost. Jeno, Renjun, and a few of his other friends had the same idea since it would be easy to carpool. 

“Yeah?” Jeno responds. Bringing your palm against your mouth, you shelter some giggles before Jeno has a curious look on his face. 

“Y/N? What is it?” You lick your lips before inhaling sharply.

“While getting in the parking lot with Renjun to get something from your car, do you remember getting hit by a bunch of water balloons?” Jeno squints for a few seconds as if trying to connect some invisible dots, and after a few moments, his eyes widen, his mouth in an “o” shape. 

“That was you?” He says, astonished. “I blamed Chenle for that for an entire year!” 

“Yup, it was me,” you say, giggling in between words.

“Why did you do it?” He asks. 

“It was supposed to be for Renjun, but then you got in the way, and by that time, I already dropped the water balloons.” Jeno purses his lips, as if trying to picture you in the situation you described. This only leads you into another laughing fit. 

“You should have seen your face, I will never forget how hilarious you looked and how you were like ‘Chenle if you’re working the dog walking on the ceiling, then I’m gonna kill you!’” You snicker, imitating Jeno’s voice by making it abnormally deep. 

“I do not sound like that.” 

“I do not sound like that,” you imitate again. Jeno crosses his arms, a brow quirked. 

“Okay, I’ll actually stop this time,” you say, giggling. 

After a few moments, Jeno laughs with you. The prospect of no friends in town seemed unfounded today, for there is a friend for you that has been sitting under your nose this whole time. 

-

You’re sitting cross-legged on your bedroom floor as you organize your colorful array of CDs, different albums you’ve collected through various birthday monies and Christmas gifts. Not only are there CDs, but your shelf is loaded with cassettes. By this point, no one used cassettes anymore, but it was the easiest way to record songs from the tape radio and have to listen. You would simply put the cassette in your tape radio and press the ‘record’ button when radio stations would have their two hours ad free music. A mini cassette of free music was perfect to put in Renjun’s old walkman as you took a jog around the neighborhood. You learned this method two years ago from your father, who used this way to get free music in the ‘80’s, but now, you have a huge collection of songs that have become a pain to oragnize. You’re not exactly good at putting things back in their place, tending to grab your CDs and cassettes, use them, and then discard them on top of the little shelf you have. 

Point is, this is an arduous task. This is why when you hear the phone ring in the living room, you run out to get it. Plus, if you didn’t answer it now, it would be your task to clear out the answering machine at the end of the day. So, now you had one less message to listen and clear out.

When you hold the house phone to your ear, you only hear a monotonous dial tone, signalling that the person hung up. You feel a little suspicious, but think nothing of it; sometimes, neighborhood kids find it funny to dial random numbers and not answering when the person picks up – like virtual ding-dong-ditching. 

But your suspicion proves right when you feel wetness on your head. On the floor of your living room is a deflated balloon, and in your hair, you’re pretty sure it’s water. There’s only one person you think could be behind this, and he slowly comes out from the space he’s hiding in your kitchen. He smirks as he shows you a small corded phone connected to the wall, shaped like a lip (probably Jeno’s sister’s that he stole from her room). Before you can grab him in your kitchen, Jeno is running out onto the street.

“Lee Jeno what the hell?” You screech to the boy running down the street. You don’t bother to take your shoes, only closing the front door to prevent any animals coming into your house to take shelter from this hot weather. The heated pavement sings the soles of your feet as you run, but the feeling doesn’t bother you: you’re on a hot (literally hot) pursuit of Lee Jeno, and in the distance, you can see him. 

“Damn these short legs,” you mutter. You run and you run through the neighborhood. Lee Jeno has you taking sudden turns, trying to get you to break your tail on him, but it’s unsuccessful. Finally when you’re close enough, you spring forward onto Jeno’s back. He sways at the sudden weight, falling to the ground. Thankfully, you’re on grass, which is cooler to the pads of your feet and breaks Jeno’s fall. 

“What was the meaning of this?” You ask, pointing to your dripping head.

“It’s a little something called payback.” He smirks. 

“Hey, there’s a difference,” you start off, “Mine was on accident. It was supposed to hit Renjun. Your’s was on purpose.” You cross your arms, pouting. 

“Well, then this was supposed to teach you not to be mean to your brother.” 

“Siblings in the same age group act like this all the time,” you say. You then put your index to your chin. “At least if you’re like me and Renjun.” If Jeno pulled something like this on his older sister Jihyeon, who is six years older than him, he wouldn’t survive to tell the tale. 

The boy in front of you sucks in a big breath. “Let’s settle this once and for all then,” Jeno says. He comes closer, his body only a few inches from yours. “A game.” He smiles. “I have some water balloons at home. If you win–” 

“You have to give me 20,000 won.” You finish. Jeno raises his eyebrow. “There’s a new Backstreet Boys album I want,” you say. 

“Alright, fine,” Jeno says. “But if you lose,” Jeno stops midway, trying to bite his lower lip in a way to shelter the huge smirk on his face. “You have to clean my car.” 

“Too easy, all I’ll need is a hose,” you wave your hand. 

“Not the outside.” Your eyes widen at this new development. 

“You mean…” 

“Yup. The inside.” You’ve never been in Jeno’s car yourself since mostly when you would hang out with Jeno, it would be with Renjun, which means that you’re using Renjun’s car. But Renjun has told you, pretty infamously, that his car is messy and smells like a giant foot.

“That’s cruel and unusual punishment!” You say. Let’s just say if Renjun thinks it’s smelly, it’s probably smelly. Renjun has been a teenage boy before, and many teenage boys are a species that usually cannot detect the lack of hygiene.  

“Those are the parameters of the game,” Jeno says. “If you resign now, that’s considered a loss, which means you have to clean my car anyway.” 

You flatten your lips. Damn, you’re in a deadlock now. 

“Fine. Game on.” 

-

Lee Jeno destroyed you. But honestly, what else did you expect? Lee Jeno, who has played soccer his whole life and has had plenty of experience with strategy and planning, completely and utterly destroyed you. It wasn’t the smartest idea to go guns-blazing with water balloons at Jeno, but you didn’t have many other choices. Your long-distance aim and contact skills weren’t that good, for you never played “sports,” sports as in competitive sports since you only danced for a couple of years. You did use your surroundings well, hiding behind trees and bushes so you can stalk your way to Jeno, but that only did so much.

So now you are wearing an old T-Shirt and some jeans shorts, opening the front door and performing the ‘walk of shame’ as you walk to Jeno’s house, where boxes of unopened trash bags, air freshener, sponges, and soapy water sit. 

Jeno is only a few feet away from the cleaning materials he left out, sitting on a beach chair.

“Y/N,” Jeno says, waving to you in a friendly way. “Thank God you’re here. I was worried you might happen to forget about the deal. I really need you right now,” Jeno chuckles, “because my mom wanted me to clean my car last week. She said that if I don’t clean my car by tonight, then she’s really gonna give it to me.” 

“Good,” you say, laughing a bit to yourself. “Somebody’s gotta tell you. Back in high school, I was afraid to get in this car, or else I would never be the same again.” 

Scrunching your nose, you peek your head inside Jeno’s car. It’s an old 1984 Nissan 300zx, most likely used because if his parents are anything like your parents (which not so surprisingly, growing up around each other, they are), they would never give their teenage sons brand new cars. The people in your neighborhood certainly aren’t tearing at the seams with money. 

Gulping harshly, you decide to throw whatever junk you find in the car away. You pulled out wrappers, chip bags, old water bottles, and random coins that you pocketed (Jeno let you since even he knows how bad cleaning his car is – which is why he held off on it for so long). Jeno kept you good company, and you found yourself chitchatting with him as you organized every piece of junk in his car in a trash bag.

“Are you liking college so far?” Jeno asks broadly when chatter between you both slowly dies. No response.

“What’s wrong?” Jeno asks. He knows he’s right to think that when it takes you a few minutes to respond, a few moments for your gaze to focus on him.

“College hasn’t been that fun,” you confess to Jeno, the words falling out of your mouth faster than it should. “I haven’t made a lot of friends despite finishing my sophomore year, and my roommate is a pain. Her entire side of the room is so messy and acts like I’m unreasonable. It’s a small space anyway, she should keep it clean!” You huff, scrubbing the cloth seats in Jeno’s car harder. It felt as though a huge weight has been lifted off of your shoulders.

You were surprised that you confessed this to Jeno of all people. When you told Renjun this freshman year, he advised that it would get better after the first semester, and your parents said the same thing, but nothing really changed. You’re going to university on a significant scholarship, and you didn’t want to give that up if you decided to transfer somewhere closer to home, closer to your support network of familiar places and people. Ever since then, you didn’t tell anyone how miserable you were in college.

“Can I make a confession?” Jeno asks suddenly. You were worried that you were being way too personal after Jeno didn’t say anything for a while; after all, Jeno is your brother’s friend and not yours.  

“Shoot,” you say. 

“I didn’t have many friends in college either. Why do you think I always hang out with Renjun every summer?” You’re piling all the trashbags together near the edge of the Lee property for the trash truck to come later today, but hearing this is enough for you to turn around and look at the raven-haired boy quizically. 

“I don’t believe that,” you scoff. “You have teammates and a hundred girls who would tattoo your name on their chests immediately.” 

“They’re just teammates and girls. I got along with my teammates, but I don’t talk to them on a regular basis after graduating college.” Jeno sighs. “And the girls who liked me in college liked me because I was ripped. None of them really wanted to know me personally.”

The silence between you both is deafening. You purse your lips, sympathy in your voice. “I had no idea.”

“Most people don’t,” Jeno says. “I try not to tell everyone this,” he says, a slight humorous lilt in his voice. 

“Those girls missed out,” you say, a soft smile on your face. “You’re hilarious and great to be around.” 

“It seems like I have that effect on the members of the Huang family,” Jeno smiles, any sign of melancholy gone from his face. 

“Say,” you start off, bending down to reach the mat on the car floor. “if I find something I think is of value in this car, then can I keep it?” 

Jeno nods. “Sure, I guess. I can’t imagine what could be of value.” 

“Now I’m 20,000 won richer,” 

Jeno’s back instantly becomes more rigid as he sees you wave a few crumpled bills in the air, almost unrecognizable due to the amount of dust and grime accumulated on it. A couple of coins here and there were tolerable for him to let you keep, but 20,000 won is a lot for loose change in the car. “I tend to find 20,000 won very valuable,” you smile. 

Jeno curses under his breath.  “Touche.” 

“I guess we both won.” You shrug your shoulders, “You’re gonna have a clean car for your mom, and I have enough money to buy that Backstreet Boys album.” 

-

Just the other day, you ran into Taeyong, the owner of the pet shelter you used to volunteer at. You were at the supermarket, picking up some groceries for your parents when you saw the man carefully weighing a bag of Roma tomatoes. Although he is almost five years older than you, it certainly doesn’t seem that way with how youthful his face looked, and when he noticed you putting bananas in your shopping cart, he was glad to see you. You both engaged in pleasant conversation about your lives since you volunteered at his pet shelter, and he mentioned to you that he was short of hands. Recently, a full-time employee quit, and he needed people more than ever. He offered you a job on the spot, and you gladly took it – you needed something to do this summer anyway, and your parents were starting to get a little restless with how much you were at home, revolving your life around TV Guide. 

You had been working for a few days at the store and got to know the two other employees, one of which is Doyoung, who you already knew from your time volunteering at this shelter, and Sungchan, a boy around Jeno’s age who had been working for a year. Compared to the last time you saw this shelter as a senior in high school, not much has changed. The only thing that was different was that the walls were recently wallpapered. 

Taeyong greeted you when you walked in, and you already started following a routine you set up for yourself; the good thing about hiring you was that he didn’t have to teach you much since as a volunteer, you would feed and wash animals a couple of hours a week, which as an employee, that was the same thing on a fuller time basis. In the mornings, you liked to start off walking dogs in the dog walking area on the roof before the sun would shine mercilessly in the afternoon. Carrying a light brown golden retriever puppy named Dasom, you head down the roof stairs back to the lobby, where Jeno is sitting on a hard, metal chair. 

“Jeno?” You ask. “What are you doing here?” You don’t ever remember telling him that you would be here. 

Jeno smiles at you. “Your mom told me I could find you here. And some other guy said you were walking a dog, so he told me to wait here.”

You nod. He must not have meant Doyoung since he would already know him from his time at the pet shelter in high school. “So you must have met Sungchan.”

Jeno shrugs his shoulders. “Yeah, I guess. He said he was going to wash some of the new arrivals.” While speaking, Jeno’s lips curled into a small smile. “Remember when we used to do that?”

“God,” you say, shaking your head. “That was one of the worst jobs.” You said. If there was anything that dogs and cats hated was being in water. New arrivals, especially strays, haven’t been introduced to clean water in a long time and can get especially rowdy since they are also untrained. 

“There was one dog that me, Renjun, and Chenle had to wash, and let’s just say that it looked like we took a bath too!” At this, you both laugh.

You lick your lips, looking at Jeno, good humor in your eyes. “I almost feel bad leaving Sungchan all by himself.” Crossing your arms and leaning your back against the wall, you look at Jeno, your head cocked.

“So what are you really doing here?” 

Jeno looks fondly in the distance. “I think Bongshik needs a new playmate,” you smile at Jeno. For as long as you can remember, Jeno has always been a cat person, and after much convincing, his parents agreed to get him a cat seven years ago. They initially were only getting Jeno the cat to help teach him responsibility, because as a teenage boy, he had none, but slowly, Bongshik grew on them too. Ever since, the Lee family’s soft spot has been Bongshik.

“Do your parents know?” You ask. 

Jeno smiles. “They were the ones who suggested the idea.” As Bongshik grew older, his energy hasn’t quelled, and for the lack of neighborhood cats, he follows the Lee family around everywhere in the house. 

“What breed?” you ask. 

“Maybe a Bengal. I’ve heard that they are energetic.” 

“I think there are some Bengals. Let’s check the back.” You both go into the room adjoining the lobby, where the rescue and stray animals were stored. After a long night with Doyoung yesterday, the cages were cleaned, and all the animals looked happy that it was clean. You both are greeted with excited barks from the dog section of the room, and finally, you approach the cats in another room. Cats of various breeds occupied the segregated space, from Shorthairs to Bobtailed cats. Black, white, gray, and tabbies are all present, and they look at you and Jeno quizically. 

Jeno also observes the felines intently. “Actually, Bongshik is full of energy, so maybe a bit of a quieter playmate to contrast,” Jeno taps his chin, thinking to himself. Some cats wave their tails at Jeno as if wanting his attention while some other cat mothers wrap their tails around their young, protecting them. There are two cats that seem to take his attention, two cats that are sitting together. They don’t appear to have any sort of genetic or familial relationship, for one cat is white with a few specks of black around the ears while the other is a gray tabby with a white chest; they both appear to be Shorthair crossbreeds, though. 

“Can I hold that one?” Jeno says, pointing to the white one with the few black specks. You open the cage with the master key that you have in your pocket, and carefully, you take the cat out of the cage. Jeno has his arms open, so when you place the cat in his arms, he cradles the animal, the most adoring look on his face. The other cat seems to be annoyed and meows a lot, its gaze on the white cat, and the white cat starts meowing back. 

You and Jeno both melt on sight. 

“So cute,” Jeno murmurs, putting the tip of his nose on the crown of the white cat’s head. This cat does not seem to be bothered that it’s being held by Jeno (when most cats take some time getting used to a new human). It is as if they were both destined to meet. This cat does turn to face his companion still in the cage once in a while, still meowing.

“I think this one’s more concerned that its friend is not being held,” you jest. You stand on your tiptoes to grab the other, carefully cradling the tabby in your arms. It starts meowing for its companion, and you face Jeno. 

“This one’s also so cute,” Jeno says longingly. He comes closer to you, bending a little, his face close to the tabby that you’re holding. His smile is wide, his eyes shaped like crescents. Carefully, he holds the white cat with one cradled arm, and with the other, he uses his index and middle finger to pet the other cat. The tabby meows happily. 

As Jeno tries to stand upright again, his head almost bumps your face, but he stops before that, carefully meeting your gaze. For what feels like an eternity, you both stare. Jeno’s eyes are like brown pools, and you notice every detail on his face; how dark and pronounced his eyebrows are compared to his suntanned skin, how pretty his nose looks against his face, the fringe on his forehead that is so close to giving a lovetap to his eyes, how shapely his chin is, a small, stray mustache hair kissing his upper lip… 

His lips. Pursed slightly as he drinks in the sight of the little details of your face as well. They look a little chapped – 

“There you are Y/N! Is that you Jeno?” A familiar voice rings across the large room, and you notice it to be Doyoung. His gaze is focused on you both. You and Jeno immediately stop gazing at each other, as if Doyoung flipped a switch, and you both focus your attention on the raven-haired employee, his hair wet from a fresh shower. He usually comes to work at eleven or noon since he is not a morning person. 

“Yeah, it’s me,” Jeno says, waving before repositioning his other hand to hold the white cat in his arms.

“Long time no see,” Doyoung remarks. “How’s college?” He asks. 

“Graduated in the spring,” Jeno says. “I’m back with my parents now.” He says.

“Oh,” Doyoung says, nodding awkwardly. “Well, if you want a job, the door is always open here. Trust me, we need the help,” Doyoung says. 

“Thanks,” Jeno says, smiling courteously at Doyoung. “I’m actually here to look for another cat. Maybe two,” Jeno looks at you, an eyebrow raised in anticipation. Suddenly, he sneezes. 

“Jeno,” you chastise. “What about your cat allergy?” You suddenly remember. Jeno learned affirmatively after adopting Bongshik that he had a cat allergy, and his sister and parents tried to convince him to give Bongshik back to the shelter, but Jeno vehemently refused. After almost a month of bonding with the feline, he didn’t have the heart to give Bongshik back. Instead, he went to the drug store and got some anti-histamines to suppress his allergies and eventually got more personalized medicine from his doctor. At first, his doctor said the best (and cheapest) course of action would be to return Bongshik, but Jeno just took the prescription and has since then been refilling his prescription on a regular basis. 

“What cat allergy?” Jeno asks, but he sneezes a few times. Cocking your head at the raven-haired boy, you snort.

“That cat allergy?” You say, leaning all your weight on one leg.

“It’s nothing,” Jeno says dismissively. “I’ll ask my doctor. I’ll probably just have to up my dose.”

It was Doyoung’s turn to snort. “Can you really be around three cats every day?” He asks. “The only reason your allergy didn’t get out of control while you were volunteering here was because I kept you with the reptiles.” You nod in agreement. The reptiles were kept in another room on the far side of this shelter, far away from all the cat hair floating around in this room. Jeno, though, still used to sneak a few minutes with the cats. 

“I can be around three cats!” Jeno says defensively. By this time, the white cat is rubbing itself against Jeno’s T-shirt. 

Feeling this, Jeno’s gaze softens, and he smiles at the kitten, whose brown eyes Jeno looks in to. “I am going to name you Seoli,” Jeno says in a soft tone and gazes at the cat in your arms. “And I’m going to name you Nali.”  

“Did your parents agree to two new cats?”

“Well,” Jeno trails off, shrugging his shoulders.

“Lee Jeno!” You say. 

“My parents grew to like Bongshik. They’ll grow to like Seoli and Nali.” Jeno reasons. 

You roll your eyes. Lee Jeno is the only person in the whole world you know who has a cat allergy and still wants three cats. “Lee Jeno, you’re crazy, you know that?” 

-

Seoli and Nali instantly got along with Bongshik. The three of them would sleep together, eat together, and roam the house together, only being apart momentarily. Like Jeno predicted, his parents grew to like the addition of Seoli and Nali to the family. 

Hearing about the new cats from you, Renjun would visit Jeno, and you would come along with them and play with all three cats. Renjun started joking that you two started being best friends without him and that you were leaving him in the dust. 

Renjun started a new job as a paralegal and became busier than ever; he was working to save enough money to live in an apartment closer to the law firm he worked at, which is forty-five minutes away from your house. The commute itself was tiring and he was working extra hard to get along with his coworkers, going to events, and establishing contacts.

Like many weekends, this weekend Renjun was hanging out with a few coworkers at a party at one of their houses, and normally, you didn’t mind this, only joking to him that he only came home to eat and sleep. 

In mid-July, without fail, you and Renjun would always go to the beach, ever since he was old enough to drive; it was valuable “sibling time” that your parents supported and even suggested; as teenagers, you didn’t always get along, and your parents wanted you both to establish a close relationship because sibling relationships were the only life-long relationships.

This weekend, Renjun was busy, and for the next few weekends, he would be catching up with old friends and would even go on a few dates, for his dating life was pretty sparse with how busy college was. You were hoping that Renjun could blow someone off and come with you and not break the tradition, but your hopes did nothing to change reality after Renjun told you about his plans and apologized that he wouldn’t be able to come to the beach with you.

So you decided, if you can’t bring your brother to the beach, bring your brother’s best friend. 

At 7 AM on a Saturday, you knock on Jeno’s door, a few doors from your house, dressed in a casual T-Shirt and jeans shorts. You’re ready to go, without a doubt in your mind that Jeno won’t come. 

Jeno answers the door, rubbing his eyes. From the looks of the dark house, Jeno’s parents aren’t awake. As a means to hold himself up, Jeno leans against the door. He’s dressed in long pajama bottoms and a black T-shirt (that is littered with Seoli’s white cat hair). The white, spotted cat follows Jeno to the door, sitting a few feet away from the living room couch. 

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” He asks, his voice heavy with drowsiness. 

“We’re going to the beach, obviously,” you say matter-of-fact, in a voice that Jeno didn’t look like he wanted to argue with. He knew that you were hurting because Renjun couldn’t come with you to the beach any time soon, so he was ready to be called to go to the beach. 

“Right now?” 

“Yes right now. Don’t you remember that Renjun and I would leave early in the morning to get a head start to the beach?” The closest beach to your house is two hours away, and being landlocked during the college semester makes you restless for the yearly summer beach trip as well. 

“Yeah I know but–” 

“No ‘buts,’” you interrupt. “If we leave now, then we get the whole day at the beach. Be ready in thirty minutes.” 

Jeno acknowledges with a sleepy grunt before closing the door, and you head back to your house to eat breakfast. If you left hungry, then you would be tempted to stop along the way for snacks, making the drive longer. So you ate a hearty bowl of oatmeal, a banana, and drank a glass of water before seeing Jeno standing at your door twenty-five minutes later with one of his sister’s peach-colored tote bags hanging on his shoulder, in casual shorts and a T-shirt, and a navy colored cap covering his black hair. You already had your things ready in a bag next to the dining room table, and you carry your bag and exit out the front door, saying a quick goodbye to your parents. 

Out on the porch, you jog across the driveway to Jeno, and your parents wave to him. “Have fun guys,” they chorus, smiling. You roll your eyes. 

“It’s like they’re leaving us on a playdate,” you say, and Jeno smiles, the tiredness in his eyes long gone. 

“Want to ride in my car? After all, it’s clean now,” Jeno says. You sigh, but it’s not exasperated or tired. 

“I should know,” you say. 

Jeno’s Nissan sits in its usual place on the driveway, and Jeno takes his keys from his pocket, unlocking the car. As you both load your bags onto the back seat, you breathe in the air. “Minty fresh,” you smile, looking at the tree-shaped car freshener hanging on the rearview mirror. “You better keep this car clean because I am not cleaning it again,” you threaten, pointing your finger accusingly. 

“I pinky promise,” Jeno says, he extends his hand, his pinky out, and you grasp it with your pinky, pinkies locking as well as your gazes.  

Jeno’s hands are way softer than you expected.

The pinky promise lasts way longer than you expected, with you quickly pulling away and getting into the front passenger seat of the car. Jeno hops in the driver’s seat, and the car starts. 

Jeno’s driving is smooth, and through the window, you admire the scenery. You pull out of your neighborhood, driving on local roads for a good few minutes, and you admire the beautiful scenery of houses, shrubs, and picket fences before getting on the highway. Now, cars are zooming past you both, of all sorts of shapes and colors, minivans to sport cars, black, white, gray, and silver. 

“Turn on some music,” Jeno prompts. It’s easy to get distracted on the road, not by external forces such as a random bird flying by, but from the lull of the car when driving on the highway – when driving on the highway, the roads look the same, a cause for boredom and tiredness. The steady humming of Jeno’s car is particularly relaxing on this early morning. 

“I thought you would never ask,” you say, in a voice that sounds mischievous. You twist your body to reach the back of the car, and you reach into your bag, fishing for something. When you pull it out, Jeno rolls his eyes. 

“Seriously?” Jeno groans. 

“What? You said you wanted music,” you say defensively. 

“I didn’t mean the Backstreet Boys.”

You don’t listen to him and instead press the ‘CD media’ button on the front dashboard and insert your CD. The music is catchy, and you hum along to the songs that you’ve loved, namely ‘I’ll never break your heart’ and ‘Everybody.’

“I’ll never understand girls. I mean, what’s the appeal of boybands anyway?” Jeno says after some time. 

“It’s the group dynamic, the interactions, the teamwork, and the songs are catchy as –” you stop yourself, cocking your head at Jeno. “Are you nodding along?” 

“N-No,” Jeno stutters, purposely keeping his gaze fixed on the road so he doesn’t have to face you. 

“Admit it,” you say, a smug look on your face. “You like it.” 

“No, I don’t” Jeno argues. 

“Yes, you do,” you argue back. 

“No I don’t,” Jeno repeats. 

You snort at this. “Look at us, we sound like two five-year-olds.” 

“I think,” Jeno says with a joking lilt, “that we sound like an old married couple.” 

“That too.” You look at the boy, an eyebrow arched.

After a few moments of silence, Jeno changes the topic. “I’m hungry,” he says. “Let’s get some instant ramen.” 

“Where’s the microwave, genius?”

Jeno pouts. “Fast food?” 

“We’re gonna be there in like fifteen minutes. I have some snacks in my bag.” Once again, you reach for the back of the car, fishing inside the tote bag for a bag of Cheetos.

“Here,” you say, holding the bag towards him.

“I’m driving, genius,” he says, emphasizing the last part in a mocking tone. You roll your eyes. 

“I guess you’re gonna have to feed me,” Jeno says.

“Seriously?” You groan. 

“Yes. If I could open the bag with my eyes and feed the Cheetos with some mad telekinesis, then I would.” 

“Well, you would have to keep your eyes on the road, so you still couldn’t do that either.” Jeno grunts at your response, and you silently feel a small victory winning this conversation.

You open the bag and take a Cheeto in your left hand. Jeno opens his mouth, and you place the piece in his mouth. He crunches on it, and when you see his Adam’s apple move as he swallows the snack, you reach in and grab another piece. On and on this pattern goes until there are no Cheetos left in the bag, and at the final time you drop a piece of the snack in his mouth, he playfully clamps down on your fingers. 

“Jeno!” You exclaim. 

Jeno has a youthful, playful look on his face. “That’s what you get for forcing me to listen to this crap.” 

“You like it too!” 

Jeno rolls his eyes. “Here we go again.” 

-

The rest of the car ride is filled with laughs, as though you were supposed to bring Jeno along to the beach this year instead of Renjun. The beach is filled with people wanting to soak up some sun, children playing games, and surfers swimming in the water. Luckily, there’s enough beach for everyone; the sands on this beach are well-maintained, and they go on for miles.

Suddenly, you grab the boy’s wrist, and Jeno looks surprised, a cute doe-like expression on his face (Jeno has the most beautiful, expressive eyes). 

“Come on,” you say, a wide smile on your face. “I’ll show you a nice spot.” 

Together, the two of you are lugging your tote bags across the beach, careful not to step on anyone being buried in sand or children playing games or other people sunbathing. It’s like the sand wants to absorb your feet, which is why your steps are labored, along with the load you are carrying.

The spot you take Jeno is more secluded, with sparse surfers coming about here and there. It’s next to a jagged, gray peak, perfect for divers. The small pieces of eroding rocks falling to the water make it less kid-friendly, but it’s still a good spot if you want to relax and get away from the noise. Right here is where you decide to set up, a few yards from the shore where the cold seawater can’t touch you. 

Carefully, you unpack your tote bag, set up your beach towel, and place a book on the sand. The beach was always a way for you and Renjun to relax together, talk about updates in your lives, and strengthen your relationship. But sometimes you both liked to sit in silence, enjoying each other’s company while enjoying the words of an author, the introverts you both are.

Before sitting down, you also take off your T-shirt and shorts, revealing a navy, strappy bikini underneath. Picking up your book, you open it to the first page and sit down. Next to you, Jeno takes off his shirt, revealing toned abs. (What did you expect? He plays soccer). You don’t want to admit that your attention on your book is long gone. 

When Jeno catches you staring, an immediate flare of heat hits your face, and you quickly try to bring your attention back to your book, starting at the first sentence. You’re unable to keep focus anymore, just re-reading the same sentence at least five times because your brain is too distracted to understand the sentence. 

“You don’t have to look away,” Jeno teases. “Every girl wants a look at Jenabs.” 

“That’s what you’re calling it? Jenabs?” 

“Yes. Is there a problem?” Jeno asks. 

“Obviously. It sounds so self-centered,” you huff. 

“You’re just lashing out because I caught you red-handed.” 

“Maybe you’ll get a red hand to your pretty face,” you challenge, a humorous look in your eyes. 

“Ah,” Jeno says thoughtfully. “You think I’m pretty?” 

Another hot flare hits your cheeks, with the heat of a thousand suns. “No,” you say. 

“Yes,” Jeno counters. 

“No,” you repeat, this time more confident. By this time, you both are gazing at each other intently in silence, until suddenly, you start laughing. Jeno does too. It was one of those times when the moment seemed so serious, but the argument was just so silly.

“Just admit that you think I’m attractive,” Jeno says simply. 

“Every girl with a pulse thinks you’re hotter than a sidewalk in August.” You deadpan. 

“I don’t care what they think,” Jeno says suddenly. You quirk an eyebrow at this statement. Quickly, Jeno recovers himself. “I care about what you think.” He smiles. “You’re the only person I’ve known that hasn’t ever brought up my looks.” 

“Why should I?” You shrug your shoulders. “You know you’re hot.” At this you and Jeno laugh again together, but after a few moments, Jeno stops laughing. 

“So you admit it?” Jeno asks curiously. 

“Yes, I do.” You say sighing, hating that you’re giving him this victory. “Lee Jeno, you’re one of the most attractive men I’ve seen in my whole life,” you vow. “Now, can I get back to my book?” You ask. 

“Fine.” Jeno obliges. He sits down on his towel laid out beside yours, lying down on his back as you read your book. His gaze changes from the ocean’s waves licking the sandy shores to the side of your face. You’re maybe a chapter in when Jeno interrupts your train of thought. 

“Are you really gonna be reading the whole time?” Jeno whines. “I didn’t bring anything to do because I thought we were gonna go in the water.” 

“Th-The water?” You ask. You look at Jeno as if he grew a second head. 

“Yes, water. We’re at the beach per your request. Remember?” Jeno says slowly. 

“Yeah, but I didn’t think–” 

“You didn’t think about swimming at the beach?” Jeno asks incredulously. 

“No,” you respond, your voice small. 

“You’re literally wearing a swimsuit,” Jeno points out. 

“Yeah, but that’s just to get a good tan,” you say. Now that you say it out loud, it does sound kind of ridiculous that you didn’t even make plans about getting in the water today. “And plus,” you say a bit awkwardly. “I don’t really know how to swim.” 

It seems as though Jeno’s eyes are about to bulge out of his face. “You’ve been coming to this beach for years, and you don’t know how to swim?”

“I never really learned how. I mean, I did, but I wasn’t very good, and I’m super out of practice. I usually just come here to read or admire the scenery – Jeno!” You exclaim. Jeno snatches the book out of your hand and places it on the towel. He’s strong enough to hoist you up, and you’re left with no choice but to jog along with him to the edge of the shore, kicking up mounds of sand; you have a stinking suspicion about what he’s going to do. 

“Today’s the day I’m gonna teach you how to swim.” He says.

“B-But,” you stutter, struggling for words. Jeno doesn’t look like he’ll take no for an answer. 

“I promise I won’t let go of you, and we won’t go far from the shore.” He says, his gaze sincere. “Let’s start off with floating. Spread your arms out and kick your feet up. Act as though you want to lie down on the water like it’s sand. Like this.” Jeno demonstrates, going slightly away from the shore and deeper in the water, leaving you knee-deep, standing on the wet sand underfoot. Once Jeno has floated for a few seconds, he positions himself upright, everything except his neck and face submerged in water as he swims towards you, walking the last few steps to you. 

“Now you try.” You look a little nervous but follow what Jeno says. You kick your feet up and try to treat the water like it’s the sand you rest your towel against; Jeno’s hand is on the small of your back as he holds you up. You’re not used to the feeling of water in your ears, and you’re struggling to stay afloat as you accidentally breathe in water. Hearing you cough, Jeno sets you upright, and you cough up the salty water. 

“I don’t like,” you say between coughs. “The water in my ears. It keeps going in.”

“Trust me when I say that when you don’t want water to go in your ears and nose, it doesn’t. When you are thinking about water going into your ears and nose, it does. Now, let’s try again.” 

“No,” you whine. “I don’t like swimming.” 

“Please?” Jeno asks. “For me? After all, you did drag me out here so early.”

“Fine.” You relent. 

“Like I said,” Jeno chides, “Kick up your feet and lie on the water like it’s sand. Don’t struggle too much right now. Unless you don’t think about the water around your ears and nose, it won’t go in.”

You repeat what you did earlier, kicking up your feet and lying on the water like it’s sand. This time you don’t move a muscle. You let the gentle low-tide waves of the water kiss your skin and wash over you again before it’s exposed to the refreshingly cool ocean breeze again. Jeno’s hand is against the small of your back as he leads you to deeper waters. 

“What are you doing?” You ask. 

“Floating is all the same. If you can float in knee-deep water, you can float in deeper water.” Jeno looks into your eyes. “Don’t worry, I still won’t let go.” 

You don’t struggle against the water, and when you’re in the deeper water, Jeno helps bring you upright on the water. This time, your feet are unable to touch the ocean floor, and before the panic can settle in your eyes, Jeno is holding your waist. 

“Upright floating works the same way. Don’t struggle. Hold your head up high.” You follow as Jeno says and observes how he does it. Jeno slowly takes his hands away from your waist and holds your arm instead. Slowly, he lets go, and here you are in front of him, swimming; you’re pretty amazed too. 

“Oh my God, I’m doing it!” You say excitedly. Jeno shares your excitement. 

“I know. To think you wanted to give up,” Jeno shakes his head. 

Your bodies are close, so close that you can feel Jeno’s breath on your nose. Jeno looks almost angelic with the way the salty water glistens against his face as if his skin is made of diamonds. His jet-black hair is stuck to his forehead, and your hair is in thick, salty strands, but the moment still feels perfect; the shouting of children in the distance doesn’t bother either of you.

You almost want to ki– 

Suddenly, you’re taken out of your thoughts when a splash of cold water hits your face. Jeno has already swum a few feet away, the culprit of the cold splash on your face. 

“Tag! You’re it!” He says in between giggles.

“Jeno!” You exclaim, trying your best to swim and splash him. 

He’s the most handsome, adorable dork you’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing. 

-

Every summer, city council organized a summer concert series held at the local park. They mostly featured student bands, cover bands, and lots of vendors. But most importantly: they were free. 

The one happening tonight was the last one of this year’s series, and there would be fireworks. You hadn’t been able to attend the last few summer concerts because of your growing responsibilities at the pet shelter; you were becoming pet manager, a position where you would inventory what animals were available to adopt, and the numbers were changing every day. Also, Doyoung had gone on vacation along with many of the volunteers, so you, Taeyong, and Sungchan were left to cover for them. 

Tonight though, you were given the day off, so you decided to see if Jeno was free to go to the concert with you.

You tell your mother your intentions, and when you’re done talking, she gives you a sly look. 

“You’ve been hanging out with Jeno a lot recently. Is there something I should know about?” She asked. She doesn’t ask this in a condescending, strict-parent tone, but of one as a friend. For the most part, your mother was always the woman you came clean to and got advice from; there were truely only minal secrets you kept from her. 

“Yeah Y/N, is there something we should know about?” Renjun asks. 

Renjun. For a while, you had completely forgotten about him. He had started getting suspicious recently that you were harboring feelings for his long-time best friend. After the beach trip, he started getting suspicious, but he had been too busy to do anything about it, only sulking in the corner thinking about it.

You had to admit that you had a little crush on Jeno, in that every time you thought about him, your heart started racing in an exhilarating way. Maybe when Renjun was around, you weren’t as slick as you thought you were. “No,” you say, a little quieter than you meant for it to be. You clear your throat, making your voice louder. “Nothing’s going on. Jeno’s always available to hang out, which is why I’m hanging out with him.” 

Your mother doesn’t say anything, knowing Renjun is in the room. Most likely, Renjun was worried that if you and Jeno got into a relationship, it would mess up the long-time friendship they had, and if you broke up, it would be even worse. You understood his sentiment, but it’s not like Jeno likes you back… 

Right?

The way he looked at you, the way that when you talked, he was fully attentive, his soft, expressive eyes reacting, listening to every word you say.

That’s just because you guys have become good friends, right? 

(A part of you wishes that it isn’t). 

You’re wearing your standard summer uniform of daisy dukes and a T-shirt when you walk up to Jeno’s house and the door opens before you knock. Jeno is standing at the entrance of his house, already dressed in shorts and a sleeveless shirt, showing off his strong arms. 

“Jeno,” you say. “Do you want to go to the summer concert together?” You ask. 

“Actually,” Jeno says shyly. “I was gonna ask you the same thing.” 

“Great.” Jeno invites you in and asks if you want anything. You said you would just have some water. He pours you a glass before heading to his room to grab a towel and some bug spray. Stepping outside, you both spray yourselves, and when he goes back inside to put the bug spray away, he tells his parents that he’s going to be out and will be back before ten. 

The park is a short drive from your neighborhood, and it is just as scenic as you remembered it to be. It’s about sixty-something acres filled with walking trails that loop around your city, which city council has tried hard to have more “green” city planning, rather than letting this place become a concrete jungle. 

In this park, there is lots of green space for people to lay their towels across the grass and enjoy the music. Most of the people here are young parents with budding families, in which a family-friendly free concert with a packed picnic and fireworks is the perfect summer activity. There are also older people like you and Jeno, showing up to the concert today because they were bored. The beginning of August signaled to high schoolers the start of school, and to college people that they would be moving back to their dorms soon. Either way, the park is packed. Tonight isn’t as hot and stuffy as most nights, which also accounts for why there are so many people here tonight. 

“What’s the theme for this concert?” You ask Jeno when you hop out of his car. 

“‘70’s American rock,” he says.

“Fun,” you say. You weren’t an avid rocker, but you turn on the oldies radio station, you didn’t mind listening to a few rock songs. “It’s better than working at the pet shelter every single night.” Jeno laughs. You loved your job more than anything, but you wanted a semblance of work-life balance. 

“Now I’m glad I didn’t take up Doyoung’s offer immediately,” Jeno says. 

“It isn’t usually this bad,” you say. “It’s just that Taeyong and many volunteers are on vacation, and I’m being given more responsibilities.” 

“Maybe I could come in and volunteer just to help you out,” Jeno says wistfully. “I’ll have to find time in my schedule,” he jokes. 

You raise a brow at the boy. “In your schedule of doing nothing?” You snort. 

“It’s not nothing,” Jeno counters. “I’m just relaxing before finding a job. Jobs are going to be there after I take a little break from college,” he says. Renjun wouldn’t ever be caught saying something like this. For him, it’s always one thing onto the next. Renjun is a restless man, and taking a break without a job would drive him crazy. 

While Renjun is ridiculously Type A, Jeno is the opposite. He’s used to opportunities coming to him, believing that everything has a way of working out in the end. It’s crazy how the two have managed to be friends with such vastly different outlooks on life. 

You drop the topic, opting to lay out the towel that Jeno brought. There’s enough space for both of you to fit… but tightly. Even though you’re wearing bug spray, the sharp, freshly cut grass makes your skin feel itchy. 

“I guess we’re gonna have to sit like this,” you say a little awkwardly. Jeno turns to face you, his face only inches from yours; your arms brush Jeno’s biceps, and you feel your throat become dry. 

“Yeah,” he says softly. No witty reply. 

The silence between you is broken by the cheers of the audience. The performers are here. 

“What’s up Neo City?” The head performer asks the audience. He’s a man in his mid to late twenties, wearing a white T-shirt and jeans. Cheers are the response, filling the air. 

“We’re Neo Culture Tech, and today we’re going to be performing some covers to end Neo City’s 1997 Summer Concert Series! We hope you enjoy the performance!” The man stops talking, and the park erupts with cheers.

The first note is played on the piano, followed by the addition of drums and electric guitar. The songs go on one by one, and Neo Culture Tech plays popular songs by the Eagles, ACDC, Fleetwood Mac, and Def Leopard. Parents are dancing with smaller children, singing along to the songs they listened to in grade school, while younger people sit on their towel and jam out to the songs less physically. 

You and Jeno are bobbing your heads together to the music, stealing glances at one another. Jeno was able to sing along a little to ‘Shoot to Thrill’ and ‘Gold Dust Woman,’ while you were able to sing along to ‘Witchy Woman’ and ‘Hotel California’ after memorizing the lyrics so long ago. As the guy who was playing the guitar played the guitar solos for ‘Hotel California,’ people cheered. 

“Before we start the fireworks show, I’d like to end off with a banger. Everyone stand up and find a partner to dance with!” the lead singer said. With that, the band started the chords for ‘Pour Some Sugar On Me’ by Def Leopard.

Jeno looks at you, a wry smile on his face. “Would you care to dance with me, partner?” He asks, holding out his elbow. You loop your arm in his. 

“Of course.” 

By this time, more of the younger people were standing up, dancing with their friends, boyfriends, girlfriends, husbands, or wives. You and Jeno were dancing, not caring how you looked, your hands clasping and unclasping as Jeno twirled you around to the rock song. You both sing along to the song, knowing the famous song. 

When the song ends, you’re out of breath, your chest against Jeno’s, but Jeno doesn’t look very tired; there’s only a small drop of sweat pooling at his forehead, and he’s able to control his breathing. While the crowd screams, cheering for the band that just performed, you and Jeno are in your own world. 

You feel like you know what Jeno’s thinking. 

Slowly, you start leaning in, and Jeno follows your example. Before long, your lips land on his. You only want it to be a peck, but your body refuses to listen to your brain, so here you were, for what feels like centuries kissing Jeno. You weren’t going to struggle against your feelings anymore, you were going to float like you were at the beach.

Kissing your brother’s best friend. 

Kissing the guy that all the girls in high school drooled over, the guy that got so many sports scholarship offers, the guy that many thought was infallible. 

But he’s just Jeno, the adorable dork who’s stuck with your brother for almost their whole lives through thick and thin. 

The adorable dork that you’ve helplessly fallen in love with.

Reluctantly, you both pull away, your breaths hitting each others’ noses. You’re almost to scared to look Jeno in the eye.

You just changed everything. 

While you’re too busy not looking at Jeno, he takes your chin with his thumb and forefinger and tilts your gaze upward, to look at him. 

When you look into his beautiful brown eyes, you realize that you didn’t change everything with one kiss. The feelings were always there. While you were slowly falling for Jeno, Jeno started slowly falling for you.

“I-I think I’m in love with you,” Jeno says, his voice unsure, lacking that cocky athlete tone that’s synonymous with Lee Jeno. While one hand remained holding your chin up to face him, the other hand was on your waist.

You didn’t think you ever wanted him to stop touching you. 

“No,” he corrects himself, clearing his thoat. Seconds felt like hours, and your heart is racing like crazy.

“I know I’m in love with you.” 

You think the loud beating sound is just your heart, but when you look up, the black sky is filled with color, expressive fireworks shining before dissipating. Red, orange, blue, and purple fill the sky before gray smoke settles and floats away. The park is oddly quiet while at least two hundred people enjoy the fireworks and are held by their boyfriends or girlfriends. You look up with Jeno in the same position you were, his arm still on your faces close. Your jaw is close to touching his collar bone, your nose almost touching his neck. 

“I love you too.” 

-

It’s probably one in the morning right now. 

Ever since you and Jeno confessed your feelings, all you were doing was hiding your feelings around your family. You didn’t want Renjun finding out about your relationship just yet, and Jeno had the same idea. You and Jeno wouldn’t advertise to your families that you were hanging out, and most of the time, you met up at the pet shelter, where Doyoung was the only one who knew about the true nature of your relationship (after the unfortunate man walked in on you two making out in the janitor’s closet). You and Jeno forced him to promise that he wouldn’t tell anyone or even give any hints if he ran into your families; in small towns like yours, word travels fast.

Other than seeing Jeno at the animal shelter, you would sneak Jeno into your bedroom at night. A little part of you thrived from the danger you felt, doing something secret and slightly forebidden (nothing this exhilarating ever happened to you in high school or in college). You live in a one-story bungalow (like all the houses in your neighborhood), and your parents’ room is on the other side of your room, with the kitchen separating your rooms. 

However, only a wall was separating you from Renjun’s room. You think you’re safe right now since through the paper-thin walls, you can hear Renjun soundly snoring to himself. The iceing on the cake was that Renjun is a light sleeper. 

You hear a knock on your window, and you look to see that it’s Jeno. You’re in your pajamas, just a shirt with some pajama shorts, and you get off your bed, systematically opening the latch to your window. Pushing the window, it opens now, and Jeno opens it a little wider, enough for you to let him in. 

He’s dressed in a T-shirt, sweatpants, and red, drugstore flipflops. He rubs his arm a little bit, a small scowl on his face. 

“You should really trim that rose bush,” Jeno says softly, his gaze following to the rosebush that is near your window. Outside your window, you had a good view of the garden, and your mother took great pain to maintain that garden; your father often joked that it was her third child. For Jeno to get access to your window, he would have to wade through all the plants and flowers, careful not to step on anything because your mom would notice the next day. “I think it roughed me up pretty good.” 

“Let me see,” you whisper, pulling his arm. In the minimal light that came from the almost full moon outside, you’re able to see clearly. It’s just a little scratch, that was slowly turning into a red line. No blood. 

“You’ll live,” you say rolling you eyes. Sometimes Lee Jeno was the most dramatic guy that you’ve ever met.

Jeno pouts. “I think I would feel better if you kissed it,” he suggests.

You heave a sigh. “I swear to God,” you mutter. You lean foreward, pressing your lips against his arm. “That better?” You ask, crossing your arms and leaning your weight to one leg. 

“How about one here?” He asks, pointing to his lips. 

You laugh a little to yourself. “Greedy little–” 

Jeno interrupts you. “Don’t act like you don’t want to.” 

Standing on your toes, you lean in, your nose touching Jeno’s for a brief moment before your lips collide. Jeno’s hands gravitate towards your waist as he tries to push you against the nearest wall. He pushes you to the wall with the window he climbed into your room with. There’s only a narrow gap of space between the edge of the window and the bookshelf that houses all of your albums. He pushes you there, his knee finding its place between you legs. He grunts a little as his lips trail from your mouth to your chin to your neck. He slides you against the wall, your elbow hitting the edge of your bookshelf, and something goes flying off of the top of your bookshelf.

Immediately, you and Jeno jump apart at the noise when the object hits the floor. You’re thankful that the carpet muffles the sound, but it’s still audible since it hit the edge of the wooden door. You bend down to examine the fallen object, realizing that it’s just a snowglobe. You pick it up, putting it on your desk instead. No one stirs. Renjun is still in his room snoring. 

“We’re supposed to be quiet!” You whisper loudly, putting your index finger to your lips. 

“I’m sorry!” Jeno apologises. 

“God, you lumber around my room like you haven’t been here before,” you joke. “How about let’s go into the bed where there’s less chance of making a noise.”

Jeno quickly agrees, and you both go into your bed, under the covers. Jeno’s arms find their place around you once more, and you put your head on Jeno’s chest, feeling his heartbeat. Jeno kisses the top of your head. After a few moments of lying like this in silence, your lips find Jeno’s again. You’re on top of him, him straddling your hips, but quickly, it turns into him on top of you. You both kiss each other with a new kind of fervor, but Jeno pulls away. “How long are we going to be doing this?” He asks. “I don’t know about you, but this whole sneaking around thing is getting kind of old. I just want to call you my girlfriend in front of people.”

You kiss him. “Just until I get the chance to tell Renjun.” You say. “I have a speech prepared.” You clear you throat, shifting your position in bed so you can face your boyfriend. In the dim light in which you can barely see Jeno, you can imagine his beautiful features, barely believing that you are his girlfriend. “I love Jeno, Jeno loves me, we want to be together, and you can’t do anything about it.” Jeno waits for more. 

“That’s it?” He asks.  

You shrug your shoulders. “What else am I supposed to say?” 

Jeno smiles. He finds directness to be one of your most endearing qualities. You aren’t scared to say what’s on your mind, even if it’s controversial. He puts a hand on your cheek and brings you closer to him, kissing you again. His lips smack against your’s and you’re pretty sure you can hear audible popping sounds every time you both mutually pull away for air, only meaning to come back. 

When he pulls away, Jeno says. “Y/N, you should at least be a bit more considerate to his feelings. This is going to be a big change for him.” Jeno reasons. 

You seemed to like the exact opposite of what Jeno sees in you. You liked the way he considered everyone, and although it sometimes makes it seems like he is a people-pleaser, people who are the most considerate to others’ feelings when it doesn’t align with their own are the people who are the peacemakers, the role models, the people who rule the world. 

While you were the fire, Jeno was the water, who made you see reason. And your directness teaches Jeno to stand up for himself. 

“I know, but if Renjun can’t accept it, then he needs to grow up.” 

“I don’t think Renjun wants to grow up.” 

After you hear the new voice, the lights turn on, and you and Jeno immediately jump apart to opposite sides of your twin bed (but it’s not possible without your bodies still touching). This only gives the onlooker a better view of the two parties involved. When you and Jeno finally decide to face the onlooker, you realize that it’s Renjun in his pajamas. He wasn’t wearing his contacts, but he doesn’t need them to recognize the two most important people in his life. His arms are crossed as he examines both you and Jeno, and together, you both struggle for an explanation.

“Surprise?” You and Jeno chorus together. 

-

PRESENT DAY

Eventually, Renjun got over it. Or else, he wouldn’t have been able to give such a wonderful best man speech. 

That’s right. After years of dating which helped you realize that no one was more perfect for you than Jeno, you and Jeno decided to get married in 2003 after you both were settled in your careers. Jeno, after a few months of relaxation, got a job at a marketing firm, and he worked his way up to become a lead account manager. You, after earning your degree in accounting, worked at a firm for a few years before quitting and becoming the book keeper at Taeyong’s pet shelter, which now you owned. Taeyong moved to his mother’s paid-off house in Seoul to take care of his aging mother, so he stepped down and gave you ownership of his beloved pet shelter. He now worked at his mother’s supermarket and visited you often.

Sometimes, it amazed you how far society has gone since your childhood. You would never have dreamed of touch-screen cell phones with the power of a full-sized computer or your fridge making grocery lists for you. It was convenient and fascinating, but at other times, this new world scared you; only recently has it been confirmed that your phone is listening to you and people are selling your online data.

“Kids, dinner!” You shouted up the stairs. Just after you were married, you became pregnant with your daughter, and five years later, your son came along. 

“Coming,” your daughter Yoona said. 

“Yeah!” Your son Hyuckjae yelled from his room. That wasn’t really an answer, leaving you signing by the kitchen. 

Jeno is already sitting at the table, eating the meal that you prepared. It wasn’t that complicated, just some fried rice with some vegetables and meat, as well as potato soup since you were tired after your long day at work. You sat at the table next to your husband, and you know you don’t have to call for your children again when you hear thundering down the stairs. Yoona’s phone is glued to her hands, while Hyunjae finds his position next to Jeno. The food is on the table, but only three of you are eating; Yoona’s food remains untouched as she sits down and keeps her attention only on her phone, not acknowledging the presence of her family.

“Yoona!” You say, snapping in front of her face. Only when you put your hand between her phone did she actually look at you. 

“What do you want mom?” She says, exasperated. 

“Aren’t you going to eat your food?” 

“Yeah,” she replies, “In a little bit,” Almost immediately, she only looks back at your phone. 

“Yoona, put the phone away.” 

“That’s right honey,” a new voice interjects, and it’s Jeno. “Put your phone away. We want to have a conversation.” Jeno adds. 

“About what?” Yoona asks. She finally puts her phone down and looks at you both. “Are you guys having a midlife crisis?”

“Midlife –” Jeno stops. 

“We’re not even that old yet!” You exclaim.

“Yeah Yoona,” Hyuckjae adds. 

“Shut up Hyuckjae,” Yoona says, her voice snarky. “Buttering up to Mom and Dad isn’t going to get you a phone.” 

“Says who?” Hyuckjae argues back. “Mom and Dad didn’t say anything.” 

“Hyuckjae, you’re not getting a phone,” you say stubbornly. 

“Oh come on, Mom!” Hyunjae whines. “I’m the only eighth grader without a phone!” Hyuckjae counters. 

“Me and your father didn’t have a phone at your age. You’ll live.” 

“That’s because you guys lived in the stone ages.” 

Jeno scoffs. “The ‘90’s weren’t even that long ago.” 

Yoona cocks her head. “The ‘90’s are in history books now.” 

You and Jeno both look at each other, but Yoona continues. “The ‘90’s were like thirty years ago.” 

You knew that time had passed, but it never really occurred to you the quantifiable number of years; someone born in 1990 is in their thirties now. You vividly remember 1990, being a thirteen year old. Jeno was fifteen. You wonder how he’s feeling. 

“That doesn’t change why you should have a phone, Hyuckjae,” you say. 

“What about schoolwork? I’ll be in high school in the fall.” 

“You can use the family computer.” Hyuckjae groans; the desktop in the computer room right off the entrance of your’s and Jeno’s suburban home (originally the formal dining room) is a Windows 8.1, and somewhat slow. 

“Hyuckjae, we’ll get you a phone your first month of freshman year, just like your mom and I agreed on.” Jeno says cooly. “That’s when Yoona got her first phone.” 

Hyunjae grunts. “But that’s so long from now.” 

Noticing how the conversation mainly was between you, Jeno, and Hyunjae, Yoona gestures to pick up her phone when you point at her. 

“Don’t even think about picking up that phone right now, young lady,” you say pointedly, and Yoona’s hands immediately back away. 

“Right that conversation we’re going to have,” Jeno says, redirecting the topic. “How was everyone’s day?” 

“That’s the conversation you want to have?” Yoona says. 

“Yeah, what’s wrong with it?” You ask, defending Jeno. 

“Nothing…” Yoona trails away. 

“I’ll start,” you say. “I had an overall good day. Taeyong gave me an extra 15% off groceries instead of 10%.” It was incredibly convenient that Taeyong’s mother’s supermarket was only eight miles from the pet shelter. 

“Nice,” Jeno says, smiling in that same boyish eyesmile that you fell in love with all those years ago. “I had an average day. It would have been good, but the coffee machine in the cafeteria broke,” Jeno sighs.

You and Jeno both turn to look at Yoona. “I had a good day, I guess. I got a 100 on my calculus test.” 

“Great job!” Jeno says. You reach over to rub Yoona’s shoulders. 

“You see? I told you it would benefit to go to calculus tutoring,” you say. 

“Hyuckjae? How was your day?” Jeno asks. 

“Not good. You guys aren’t getting me a phone.” 

“We just said we would!” You exclaim. “When you’re a freshman.” 

Hyuckjae grunts at this and stands up, heading towards the sink to clear the remnants on his plate. You didn’t realize that Yoona and Hyukcjae had been eating particularly fast tonight, evident by their nearly empty dishes.

“I’m going to the computer room,” he says, not waiting for a response when he leaves. Shortly after, Yoona is done with her food. After rinsing her plate, she leaves it in the sink and snatches her phone off of the dining room table (as if you were going to take it and look at the texts on the notification bar). 

“I’m going to my room,” she says. She waits for you to say a resigned ‘okay,’ and she heads up the stairs, sparing no time to look at her phone.

“What could be so important that she can barely stay a free moment without her phone?” You voice to your husband. You and Jeno are taking your time eating your meal at the table, now by yourselves. 

“What isn’t so important at that age?” Jeno says before slurping the soup collected in his spoon. “When you’re a teenager, you see things with a different perspective than you would see if you were a mom, for example.” 

You sigh at these words, the fresh perspective that your husband is giving you that you failed to see initially. Jeno is good at seeing all sides of the situation; that’s why Renjun always goes to him for advice.

“I guess,” you say, crossing your arms. “I can’t imagine being a kid right now.”

“I bet Yoona and Hyuckjae can’t imagine being a kid in the ‘90’s.” 

You sigh. “Things really have changed, haven’t they?” When you and Jeno were younger, you weren’t trying to get the best gadgets to impress your friends, you didn’t have advanced TV’s and vacuum cleaners that were listening to you, you weren’t always on Instagram and Twitter, and the concept of a ‘social media influencer’ didn’t exist at all.

When you and Jeno were younger, you thought the future would resemble Back to the Future. Although there weren’t any hoverboards that actually hovered the ground in 2016, the actual future paralleled the movie in surprising ways with the fact that people were always so distracted with the screens in their hands. 

“Don’t you ever just feel…” you start off. Jeno’s attention is on you while he eats. 

“Don’t you ever feel that people are always in their own worlds?” You ask. “Always on their phones looking at the latest posts, listening to music, downloading photos? No one ever runs around the neighborhood and draws chalk or play with the neighborhood kids,” you sigh. It was like people preferred to type than to talk. 

“Yeah. It wasn’t like that when we were kids,” Jeno says. You eat a couple of spoons of friend rice, the silence between you both evident. 

“In a way,” Jeno says, “Things are still the same.” 

“How?” You ask.

“Well, people still have the need to be social, whether it’s on social media or in person. And we are still trying to keep up with our friends,” he says. Without words, you know he’s talking about your son and how obsessed he was about getting a phone since his friends started to flash their iPhones and Samsungs. 

“I still think life was simpler back in the ‘90’s,” you say stubbornly. “Even though we had to use TV Guide to find out what was on TV, it was still easier. I’m always looking over my shoulder these days,” you confess. “Every single second, so much data is being collected and sold, it makes me worried. On top of all that, social media isn’t good for young kids,” you say, redirecting the conversation back to Hyuckjae. You feel a little guilty seeing Hyuckjae so upset that he doesn’t have a phone, but it was the principle that mattered. You didn’t think phones were good for young kids, to be hooked up to the internet 24/7. Being fifteen and having a phone isn’t much better than being fourteen and having a phone, but you drew the line at high school. You couldn’t protect your son forever, no matter how much you desperately wanted to. 

“There’s still something that remains simple, though,” Jeno says. When he gently squeezes your thigh, you think you have an idea. 

“This,” he says. He leans over and kisses your lips, cupping your cheek. His lips are soft as they rub rhythmically against your lips. He pulls away, his voice soft. “I love you. We can be in 2092, teleporting to see our great-grandchildren, and I’ll be in love with you,” Jeno says. 

You giggle. Nineteen years of marriage, and he still makes you feel like a young bride. 

“We can be in 3092 with our brains connected to robots, and I’ll still be in love with you,” you counter, turning this into a competition.

“How about let’s think about right now,” Jeno says. He cups your cheeks in his hands and admires your eyes before he kisses you deeply, as if he isn’t going to kiss you ever again. 

The world can change as much as it wants, as long as you have Lee Jeno by your side. 

a/n: if you've made it this far, thank you so much for reading :) since this is my first slowburn, let me know what you thought in the comments or by sending me an ask! thanks again!

Dive

PAIRING: doyoung x afab reader (ft djj)

WORD COUNT: 8.9k (got a bit carried away)

SUMMARY: your best friend drags you out to a club to be her wingwoman as she meets back up with a stunning stranger and you cross paths with the hottest man you've ever seen in an expensive suit and a cross around his neck

THANK YOU: @strwbrysunday you know how important you've been in getting this across the finish line and you're a literal angel. thank you so much <3 thank you to all my friends who watched me brainrot over this over the past week and inspiring me to keep working on it with your positive words.

WARNINGS: explicit smut, smoking, drinking, drug reference, profanity, heavy religious imagery in a sexual setting (and I mean HEAVY - so if this is going to bother you, this isn't the fic for you)

PLAYLIST: Dive by DoJaeJung, Angel by NCT 127

This was clearly inspired by the Doyoung D&G promo images with the rosary and the rest was history...

I can dive, I'm diving into you

Ouch. You pinch your eyelash with the curler as you lean in closer to the glassy mirror in your best friend’s bathroom. You knew you should be wearing your contacts but had forgotten them at home and you weren’t going to hear the end of it from her if that was the excuse you had for ditching her for the night.

It had been an exhausting week at work but somehow your adorable firecracker of a platonic soulmate since childhood had dragged you to her apartment as soon as the clock hit 5:00PM in the co-working space your small start-up you both worked for shared with some other local environmental companies.

She had shed off her casual work clothes hours before, now wearing a glittery black dress, hugging her hips tightly, strings ruched up the side revealing plenty of thigh, covered with nude fishnets. You envied her long and bouncy locks that flowed down her back, reaching up to touch your straight hair that never cooperated with the curling iron.

“What is it?” she asked from behind you, catching you staring. 

“Is there something on my dress?” she spun around, craning her head to look at her own ass in the mirror.

You started to speak before you realized she was showing off, dropping to the floor quickly before slowly standing again, shimmying her rear as she started to sway to the faint music coming from her living room.

You rolled your eyes with a huff, curling your other eye’s lashes and applying a few coats of mascara.

“Loosen up, angel,” she called back as she moved into her walk-in closet to select her shoes and handbag, using her pet name she had been calling you for years.

You finished up the rest of your makeup, cleaning up the little pile of products and packing them back neatly in their small pouch before examining yourself in the mirror. Your dark hair fell almost to your shoulders, eyes accentuated with smudged dark liner and cheekbones dusted with a bright coral blush that complimented the glossy color across your lips. You had let your best friend convince you to dress up more than you usually did, since she said the club you were going to tended to cater to a more affluent clientele. 

A skin tight white leather crop top pushed your breasts up nicely and you had even let your friend dust some shimmering glitter across them with a large puff earlier. You smoothed the matching devastatingly short skirt and adjusted the lace up black boots that travelled up your long legs and over your knee. You felt confident in the outfit and only slightly uneasy about the night ahead. Your friend had a tendency to scan for her prey of the night the minute you entered a venue and often spent the night locking lips with half the dance floor or as she did the weekend before, dancing on stage with the burlesque dancers at the late night speakeasy.

Standing next to her as you both did final checks in the mirror, you looked like the moonlight and sunlight, night and day, devil and angel. A dangerous pair for any person to come across in a crowded club with these outfits, to say the least. You giggled as your friend planted a glossy kiss to your ear before pushing your hair back into place, following her out of the spacious apartment.

“WOO!” shrieked your friend, waving long fingernails at a tall, slender man leaning against a private booth tucked near the DJ. A warm grin spread across his plush lips and you couldn’t help it when your heart jumped a little in your chest. How your friend always found the most attractive people to surround herself always surprised you (not like you were complaining).

She had met Jungwoo the weekend before at a rave and had gabbed your ear off about the attractive and rich heir to a fortune who lived downtown in the middle of all the weekend excitement and had fed her drinks all night long while clutching onto her hips as they danced. She hadn’t gone home with him but instead had gotten his number and promised to meet him out the next weekend. The next weekend was now and out the two of you were.

Jungwoo was absolutely stunning, bright white hair damp, long, and hanging around his cheeks and across his forehead. He wore a sheer blouse unbuttoned halfway, exposing much of his toned chest and loose grey slacks that didn’t leave much to the imagination when he moved.

Taking careful steps through the crowd, you followed your friend who now had her hand held close to the lips of another man, this one dressed in the remains of an expensive suit, tie loose and sloppy around his neck with several buttons of a crisp pale blue shirt undone. He had dark hair slicked back to reveal his stunning face and his eyes glittered when he pulled them to yours to greet you.

“This is Jaehyun, Jungwoo’s roommate!” she giggled, a glass of champagne somehow already in her hand as she grinned at Jaehyun’s tender kiss to the back of her hand.

“Lovely to meet you, girls,” Jaehyun spoke deep and smoothly, his voice like velvet.

You cleared your throat with a small smile and shifted your weight in the uncomfortable shoes, eyes darting past the two men in front of you to a third seated in the booth.

Goosebumps instantly dotted your bare arms as you raked your eyes over one of the most attractive men you had ever seen. Even seated, you could tell he was tall with a broad frame. His hand was stretched out across his knee, high end designer fabric covering every inch of his body.

As if in slow motion, he lifted his head from his phone, placing it next to him to take a long sip from the short glass of dark liquid on the table in front of him. He brought his dark eyes up to meet yours and as soon as you made contact you watched his adam’s apple move in his throat, gulping as he peeled his eyes down your body.

You moved a hand to grip your other forearm, suddenly self conscious but equally intrigued, cocking your head slightly to the side. Your vision blurred briefly and you cursed yourself for not remembering your contacts as your loss of focus refused to let you make out the expression on the mystery man’s face.

“Doie - don’t be rude, say hi!” Jungwoo slurred out, taking a strong hand to the small of your back to guide you into the booth and directly next to Doyoung.

“Hi,” he spoke, quiet and soft, pulling his hand off his knee to extend a handshake to you.

You chuckled lightly and let him shake your hand, taking a moment to inspect him further now that you could see him better.

The white collared shirt under his suit jacket was tight (almost too tight) with the top buttons straining against the fabric enclosure. He had a soft jaw and plump lips, dark hair styled in a way that was kept but still messy in a sexy way. When he smiled his eyes crinkled in the corners and his neutral facial expression was hard to read when he wasn’t speaking.

You let your eyes wander down to his tight pants before shaking your head, begging your dirty mind to control itself. It hadn’t been that long since you had hooked up with a stranger at a bar but long enough to let your mind wander within minutes of meeting this man.

Doyoung reached across the table to pour you a glass of champagne from the bottle in the ice bucket and as he did, you noticed a glimmering chain around his neck. As he leaned further, you saw the small black beads on the chain catching the light and much to your surprise, a cross slipped into view briefly.

You sucked in a deep inhale at the sight - this man was wearing a fucking rosary around his neck.

Flashes of hours kneeling for Easter vigil mass, heavy clouds of incense in your face as you held the thurible in a floor length white robe, dark smudges on your forehead, and getting tipsy off communion wine in the church basement with your cousins flew across your mind as you watched him laugh at something Jaehyun said.

Jungwoo swore loudly as he dripped tequila across the table, attempting to pour five shots evenly. You can’t pull your eyes away from Doyoung, watching as he bows his head lightly, wincing ever so slightly at the curse words.

Who the fuck is this guy?

Taking a long drink from your champagne glass and tossing back the shot that is handed to you, you reach into your bag and dig out a carton of cigarettes, pulling the ashtray at the center of the table closer to you.

Pulling a loose stick with your lips, you instinctively gesture towards Doyoung who moves a hand quickly to decline. You shrug and move a bit closer to Jungwoo who is taking a long drag from a neon green vape. He chuckles and tosses his hair from his eyes as he watches the interaction.

“You’re better off making moves on Jae,” he says to you on his exhale. He tosses an arm around your shoulder, nudging your bare shoulder lightly with his thumb, cocking his chin up to draw your attention to a smiley Jaehyun swaying to the music, slightly off beat, as your friend tries to get him to salsa dance with her.

“Doyoung is a little more on the conservative side. Doesn’t smoke, doesn’t like getting high, barely gets drunk, takes his grandma to church on Sundays, all that,” Jungwoo adds, giving you a softer smile as he pulls your eyes into contact with his.

You narrow your own eyes slightly, not sure if this is some twisted attempt at reverse psychology to push you even more into the arms of his friend. While he was wearing the rosary, that didn’t necessarily scream “priest”. He was in a high end club’s most desirable VIP booth, surrounded by drinks and other substances, with two party boys that looked like models.

“Well he’s taken every shot that’s been poured for him, so I don’t know about that ‘not getting drunk’ part,” you quip back, taking a long drag from your cigarette and blowing it behind you through tightly pursed lips, intentionally avoiding Doyoung’s direction.

“Yeah he and Jaehyun lost some big account today, I think he’s just blowing off some steam. Plus he owes me,” Jungwoo winks as punctuation, making it apparent that he wasn’t going to elaborate on the end of that statement.

Throughout the night you learn that Doyoung and Jaehyun work at a big investment bank, Jaehyun sharing a small apartment with Jungwoo in the middle of all the city nightlife, the three of them having known each other since they were kids. Doyoung seemed to have never moved on from their strong faith-based formative years, holding onto these ideals even years later and still an active member of his family’s church community. When he checks the time on his phone you see the smiling face of an older woman pushed up against his, assuming this to be the grandmother Jungwoo mentioned before.

He’s quiet as you chat with him, having to do most of the talking, but is kind and puts some of your nerves at ease even when your friend is off in the middle of the dance floor doing god knows what with god knows who.

Despite his reserved nature, you feel his eyes trained on your every move, following your lips and hands as you smoke another cigarette, the way you cross and uncross your legs with ease, despite the short skirt that has a tendency to ride up when you wiggle in your seat.

You watch him in the same way he watches you, the way his hair falls into his eyes every once and a while and instead of pushing it away with his hand, he shakes his head lightly, flicking his eyes up as if to chastise the loose strands. When he leans forward to take a sip of his drink or gesture to the waitress, his toned chest is exposed by the undone buttons on his shirt.

As much as you hate to admit it, his very presence is intoxicating and it’s affecting you more than you would like. Goosebumps crop up on your arms and you suddenly feel chilled in the warm room, sending a shiver down your spine.

A loud laugh draws your attention across the booth and you are met with the sight of your friend feverishly making out with Jaehyun, sandwiched between him and Jungwoo who has his hand up the hem of her dress, laughing into her neck.

You whip your head back towards Doyoung, giving an awkward smile to him before the chill sets over you again. You train your gaze downwards, examining the patterned carpet on the floor and the laces on your thigh high boots, picking at the edge of the string. You startle at the feeling of fabric being draped over your shoulders, looking up to see that Doyoung has placed his suit jacket around your shoulders.

He keeps his arm wrapped around your shoulder after placing the jacket and you suddenly feel an additional set of eyes on you as you lift up to meet Jaehyun’s gaze. He’s staring at your slightly spread legs, running a wicked tongue across his bottom lip as it quirks up into a wry smile.

You feel Doyoung’s grip around your shoulder tighten and turn to see his face close to yours, your heart jumping in your chest when you feel his breath across your cheek. You can’t bear to break eye contact with him, despite the fact that you desperately wish you could see Jaehyun’s reaction.

“You seemed cold,” he murmurs to you, lips almost brushing across your skin as he speaks close to your ear. He smells delicious, like soft musk but still clean and warm. You mentally take note to slyly ask Jungwoo what cologne his friend wears.

“Thank you,” is all you can muster and you resist the urge to drop your head to his shoulder, suddenly feeling lightheaded in the haze of alcohol, nicotine, and the blaring music of the club.

Doyoung reaches to the table for his glass, arm never leaving your shoulder, rolled shirt sleeve revealing a large and intricate cross tattoo on his forearm. At the sight of the ink you are jolted back to the reality that this man is not who you want him to be. You would normally have a hand palming his groin in the dim lights of the club, moaning into his mouth as he gripped the exposed skin on your back and whispered filthy strings of words into your ear.

But no, you had to bag the “Holier than Thou, Man of God.” Of course you did. This was not going to be good for your libido.

Your friend is suddenly dragging you by the hand to the bathroom, moving surprisingly fast in her towering heels.

“Sooooooooo, angel,” she whines from the single use stall she pulled you into after locking the door.

“What are you about to ask me to do?” you sigh, fixing your hair in the mirror as your friend hikes up her dress to pee.

“I’m going to take those two home with me,” she bluntly tells you, as you predicted.

“Yeah I think anyone in this club could have told me that,” you reply, rolling your eyes for dramatic effect. You didn’t really care what she did, only frustrated now that you had to make the hike home in an expensive taxi or wait for the unreliable train service.

“It’s fine, babe, I’ll get home okay,” you add, mustering the sweetest tone you can for your oldest friend. She deserved to blow off steam as much as next person, but you loved staying over at her luxury apartment on the weekends and the lazy mornings you spent sipping homemade cappuccinos and doing face masks.

“You’re the BESTTTT!” she nearly shouts, throwing her arms around you, damp hands fresh from washing them in the sink getting your skin wet. You laugh at her, congratulating her on getting her dick wet and ushering her out of the small room with a smack to her ass.

Back at the booth she wastes no time murmuring in the ears of the two eager men before they share a steamy three way kiss that results in Jungwoo tugging Jaehyun’s bottom lip with his teeth, looping an arm around his slim waist.

You are flicking through the various ride share apps on your phone to find the cheapest option, boots feeling uncomfortably tight on your feet after a long night. Last thing you want to do in this outfit is sit on an empty train and make the long walk uphill to your apartment complex once you arrive at your stop.

“What are you doing?” Doyoung asks, face suddenly close to yours again. There’s a level of concern in his eyes that you cannot read when he speaks to you.

“Calling for a car home, I don’t have the luxury of living right here downtown and had plans to crash at hers. I’m assuming my job doesn’t pay as well as yours and Jae’s,” you reply, only lifting your eyes up to meet his after you’ve spoken.

God his eyes are so pretty.

“Why don’t you stay at mine, I can sleep on the couch and my driver can take you home in the morning,” he offers, picking your phone out of your hand and locking the screen.

You open your mouth in protest before thinking more on the offer. His driver?! You would be crazy to turn him down and your friend is already halfway out the door headed towards what will undoubtedly be a night to remember.

You nod and quickly stand, holding a hand out for his, guiding him out the back door of the club. He’s making a call on his phone in a hushed tone while you slide your long coat over his blazer, still wrapped around your shoulders, Jungwoo giving you a  small smile and wiggle of his fingers as he slides into the back of a cab.

“I love you angellllll,” your friend slurs out dramatically, knowing she is far less drunk than she appears, playing up the antics for the men around her. Jaehyun has an arm tucked loosely around her waist, grinning ear to ear as the evening wind ruffles his dark hair.

You pull your friend in for a hug before she ducks into the car, latching her lips immediately onto Jungwoo’s exposed neck, drawing a chuckle from you on the street.

Jaehyun pauses before getting in the car, dipping down to whisper right along the shell of your ear.

“Angel is it? I don’t know about that,” he practically moans out, voice breathy and deep.

“Seemed like a devil in disguise in that tight little skirt, slutty legs spread in the club for our sweet and innocent Doie,” he laughs out, laying the degrading tone on thick. His finger is under your chin, tipping it up to force you to look at him. Your heart is pounding and flying around your chest and you can feel your cheeks burn.

Suddenly there’s a hand on your back and you don’t have to look to know that Doyoung has stepped up behind you.

Jaehyun gives you a wink, pushing past you to plant a lingering kiss on Doyoung’s cheek, before turning and disappearing into the car.

Before you can say anything to Doyoung, a black town car replaces the cab in its spot on the busy street, Doyoung moving quickly to open the door for you, helping you in with a strong hand. He closes the door softly before moving around to the street side to slide in next to you, greeting the driver in the front pleasantly.

Your head is spinning and you desperately hope there is time to have a cigarette before going upstairs to Doyoung’s apartment, feeling anxiety creeping up in your chest.

Despite the spacious backseat, Doyoung can’t help but be pressed up against you, twisting to look at you as you make small talk. You watch him when he answers questions you ask and listen to a small story about a frustrating email exchange at work, as if the two of you had known each other forever.

Distracted by the beaded chain around his neck again, you reach over, taking the cross gingerly in between your pointer and middle finger, inspecting it. The metal is cold in your hand and nostalgia rushes over you as you hold it in your hand.

“I dip it in holy water every morning to help keep me grounded and ask that God bless my daily travels,” he offers, smiling lightly at you as he explains in earnest. You know by now that he isn’t lying, that there would be no reason for him to.

“I kiss it as well, asking him to bless my words and calm my mind in a world filled with temptation,” he continues, unwilling to break the heavy eye contact.

He reaches out and draws your fingers to his lips, still holding the cross, and kisses the small metal piece, catching the tips of your fingers with soft lips. They are warm and plush, sending jolts of electricity through your hand and to your chest. You have to shift in your seat to calm the throbbing in your core. This gesture shouldn’t be turning you on this much and you know now that if there is a hell, you surely are destined to take residence there.

The tension in the car is thick as you shiver, hand moving before you have a chance to think, bringing his hand and yours to your own lips, copying his kiss. You watch him gulp and pull his bottom lip in between his teeth as his eyes darken at the sight of the cross pressed to your lips.

Oh you are so royally fucked.

You watch him as he absently brushes the back of his hand against your own in the elevator ride to the top floor of the sleek and modern building. He lets his fingers tangle with yours briefly before holding his hand out when the door starts to open, bringing the foyer of his apartment into view.

You let a gasp fall from your lips, taking in the beautiful space around you. Lights flick on as you reach down to release the knot holding the laces of your boots in place, stepping out of them carefully by steadying yourself on a small table adorned with realistic looking fake flowers. 

You try to keep your boots tidy under the coat rack, slipping off your coat and hanging it up and checking yourself in the small mirror above hooks of dangling keys. You notice one key with a Kuromi cover, smiling lightly and wondering if he had picked that out for himself. He will tell you one day that it is the key to his mailbox and one of the kids from his Sunday school class brought it in for him after they said Kuromi reminded them of Doyoung.

You follow him to the open living area which melts into the compact kitchen adorned with granite countertops and stainless steel appliances. He’s opening the door to the fridge, pulling out a pitcher of water and pouring two glasses.

The apartment is warm but minimalistic in style, adorned with shades of cream, black and gray. You half expect to see a statue of Mary where the tv sits but there’s barely any religious imagery present. Maybe you had misjudged him after all.

As you close the space between you, you let his blazer slip from your shoulders, catching it and folding it gently in your hands, looking up towards him through your long lashes as you lean your hip against the cold edge of the counter, offering the blazer to him. Instead of taking the jacket from your hands, he leans forward, brushing a thumb across the high point of your cheek, examining your face.

“Let me know if there is anything I can get you to feel more at home, I want you to feel comfortable,” he murmurs, eyes flicking down briefly to your lips before meeting your gaze again.

You feel butterflies in your chest and despite how tired you know you should be, your heart is pounding and core tightening at how close he stands to you in his beautiful apartment, finally able to hear his voice clearly without the sounds of the club or busy streets of the city. It’s velvety smooth and even and his lips tip up at the edges when he finishes his kind statement. You want desperately to push up and capture them in yours but instead nod slowly, taking one of the glasses of water into your hand gulping down some of the cool liquid to try to quell the arousal building within you.

He brushes your skin with his thumb once more before taking the jacket from you, moving to his bedroom and returning moments later with a couple pillows and a large blanket, which he leaves on the plush couch.

“I don’t mind just sleeping out here,” you offer, scanning the comfortable looking room, knowing if you slept in the living room you might be able to more easily slip out unnoticed in the morning. You’ve never been one for tender mornings in bed with a one night stand and this situation shouldn’t be treated any different. You don’t believe he will actually make any move beyond what he has, despite the brief intimate moments you’ve shared since stepping out of the club.

“No no, I insist, take my bed. The bedding was just changed this morning,” he makes sure to note and you realize how rich this man truly must be if he avoided mentioning who exactly changed the sheets. Surely not Doyoung, with his thousands of dollars of clothing and jewelry on his body and on-call car service and penthouse suite.

He moves to open the door to the balcony, cool but comfortable night air flooding the living room as he hands you a vintage glass ashtray from the media cabinet.

“In case you need one before you go to sleep or in the night,” he offers, smiling lightly at the shocked look on your face.

“Jungwoo is always hanging around here when I’m working late and I’ve learned there is no way to stop people from doing something they want to do. I can’t change my friends and I wouldn’t want to. I have things in my life and things I have removed from my life but that is my own decision and shouldn’t affect my relationships with those I love,” he adds, fingers brushing over yours as they make contact to pass the item to you.

“If you don’t mind, I’ll take a shower quickly and then let you have the bedroom and bathroom. If you need it, there’s a toilet near the elevator and some fresh fruit in the fridge,” he continues, resisting the urge to brush his lips over your bare shoulder.

You thank him and take your purse out to the balcony, closing the door lightly behind you but making sure it latches fully. Stepping forward towards the edge of the balcony, you quickly light a cigarette and feel calm wash over you as you watch the flickering lights of the city skyline. The cool air feels good against your cheeks and exposed abdomen, needing desperately to cool down. You try (and fail) to not let your mind wander to thoughts of Doyoung in a steamy rainfall shower, steam gathering on glossy mirrors and hot water racing down toned biceps and thighs.

You burn through it eagerly, extinguishing the cigarette in the ashtray and disposing of it in a small bin attached to the balcony’s railing before heading back inside. Doyoung is emerging from his bedroom in a tight white tank top and loose grey sweatpants, bare feet padding across the plush throw rug.

“I left you some clothes and towels on the bed but help yourself to my closet if you need something warmer,” he mutters awkwardly, the power balance shifting slightly as he stands in front of you in casual clothes, black rosary still visible proudly on his chest.

“I’ll wash up, if that’s okay? If you’re tired and want to sleep, don’t worry about waiting for me to finish. I usually stay up pretty late and I’m sure you have early mornings,” you ramble, scratching at the back of your neck, suddenly feeling nervous.

“Take your time, I usually read for a while before bed,” he gestures to a small leather bound bible on the coffee table. Of course he does.

In the shower, you let the water rush over your body, using some of the small skincare bottles to wash your face and step out, massaging shower oil into your damp skin. You sigh into the warm white towel fresh off the warming rack and feel like you’re living in a dream. 

Can’t I just stay here forever?

You know your modest apartment waits for you a few miles away, with your own much smaller and dingier balcony where you like to sketch in your journal as you watch birds settle on the hanging flower baskets. You could never see yourself living full time in the cold of the city, barely any green space and garbage littering the streets.

Checking outside the bathroom door before emerging, the coast is clear as you step back into his spacious bedroom, lightly touching the clothing he had laid out for you. A large and faded t-shirt that appears to be from a church camp is folded neatly, logo barely still visible. 

A package of unopened cotton boxer briefs is next to the shirt, knowing he must have been panicking thinking of how he could offer you something to wear without it seeming creepy. But he seems to at least have experience taking care of stranded tipsy guests (even if they usually were just Jungwoo and someone he brought home from the bar). You pull the shirt over your head and it falls easily to your mid-thigh, skimming over your hardened nipples, painful as they make contact with the cool air from the vent.

Sliding on the boxers, you pull them up to your waist and the shirt covers them fully. You decide against the sweatpants next to the shirt, knowing they will be far too long for you and opt to instead roll on the pair of long socks before placing the pants back on the dresser. You listen at the door for any noise from the living room, hearing a light hum of music you can’t decipher. Pressing your ear closer you recognize Debussy floating through the air and let out a small smile.

You’re about to tuck yourself into the king sized bed before you realize you didn’t bring the water glass in with you. Scanning the room you don’t see one and silently curse yourself.

Sliding the door open quietly, you stick your head out tentatively, his head lifting to look at you. He looks absolutely adorable, bundled up in a fluffy blanket with his small bible in his lap and two scented candles lit on the table. The music did turn out to be Debussy, playing softly on a record player in the corner.

“Is the music too loud?” he asks, moving as if he is going to turn it off.

“No no, it’s beautiful,” you breathe out in reply, sliding out from the door and covering your chest with your arms, self conscious. This causes the hem of the shirt to hike up, exposing a sliver of the white briefs covering your lower half.

Doyoung’s eyes trail down your body, as if wanting to mentally capture this image of you dressed in his clothes, standing sheepishly in front of him. He pushes away thoughts of you on your knees in front of him, mouthing along his length through his sweatpants while he tugs on your silky and damp hair.

“I, um, just came out for some water,” you add, crossing to the counter to grab the glass before returning to stand awkwardly next to the couch.

“Why does she call you angel?” he asks suddenly, pulling an arm up on the back of the couch, unintentionally opening up a perfect sized space for you to sit next to him.

You smile lightly and cross to sit next to him, perching on the edge of the cushion so as to not crowd him.

“My middle name is Angelica,” you replied softly. “She just took a liking to the pet name many years ago.”

He smiles softly at this explanation, suddenly aware that his other hand has strayed to the hem of his shirt hanging loose on your torso.

“Angel…” he tries, feeling the way it sounds in his voice, feeling the way the words taste as they roll off his tongue. He smirks, pinching the fabric at the edge of the shirt in between his fingers and releasing it.

“Can I call you that?” he breathes out, suddenly closer to your face than you had realized.

“Only if you’re a good boy,” you manage to say in an even tone, hand finally reaching out to touch his chest, flattening against his toned pecs, metal beads digging into your palm.

His eyes flutter, brain clearly short circuiting at the mention of praise, fingers stilling but breathing becoming more labored.

“Can I please kiss you?” you ask, eyes and voice hopeful. You palm the cross on the rosary, holding it tightly in your hand as you pull gently, bringing yourself closer to Doyoung as your eyes slip shut, not waiting for a response.

His lips are on yours suddenly, pressing firmly as his hand flies to your lower back, pressing you flush against his chest, capturing your hand in between your bodies. You refuse to let go of the rosary, pulling tighter so he’s forced to deepen the kiss.

You feel his hand push up the back of the shirt and up your back, as if reaching for a bra to unhook and you can’t help but smile against his mouth, knowing he is far less innocent than he seems.

You rise up on your knees, moving your legs to straddle him on the couch, suddenly feeling something firm against your bare thigh. Your grin grows, nuzzling against his nose teasingly.

“Well, well, look who isn’t such a good boy after all,” you growl out, unable to control how horny you are for this man under you.

He pulls back, breaking the kiss, brows furrowed in confusion at your comment. Reaching between your bodies, he pulls out the leather bible and you flush deeply, unable to process that you thought it was his erection.

You avert your eyes from his and reach an arm up to touch the back of your neck nervously but his hand quickly grabs your wrist as he moves your hand to his lap, eyes darkening. When he pushes you down against his sweatpants you feel him harder than you thought he would be, not to mention way bigger than you thought he would be.

“Who said I was a good boy, angel?” he asked quietly, almost sounding annoyed with you. He grips your wrist tighter, pulling you closer to him before capturing your lips in his again.

It takes you a moment to respond, brain foggy at the name and sequence of events that had just unfolded. It doesn’t take you long to recover before slipping your tongue into his mouth hungrily, fingers lacing his hair to pull him desperately close.

You can’t help but move quickly with him, spreading your thighs to grind slow circles into his clothed crotch, biting back moans that bubble in your throat.

Hands are suddenly tugging at the hem of the shirt and you quickly oblige, peeling off the thin cotton and discarding it on the floor. Your chest is heaving as you sit on his lap in just the white boxer briefs, nipples erect and back arched to push your full chest towards him.

Doyoung hungrily licks his lips, eyes darting over your body as if there’s a time limit to the amount of time he has to look. You know you look good and he knew from the minute he saw you walk in the club that you would be on his lap, tits bouncing as he pressed up towards you with an experimental thrust. A small groan slides from his spit slicked lips as he slides one hand to your lower back and the other to cup your breast.

“Good God,” he lets out before lowering his mouth to your nipple, flicking eyes up to watch as you tumble contrasting curses from your plump lips.

He moves his mouth expertly, tongue laving over the sensitive skin, teeth dragging against your tight nipple. His hand on your lower back feels huge, fingers spread wide and gripping at your flesh as if you will disappear if he loosens his grip.

“Fuck me right here,” you can’t help but mutter into his open mouth after a particularly loud gasp flies from your mouth when you feel the tip of his dick collide with your clothed clit.

He pulls back, face seemingly questioning himself, eyes flicking over to the coffee table with the bible before turning upwards and fluttering shut.

You’re amazed at how this man can have his tit in your mouth one minute and then the next…

“Wait, are you praying?!” you ask in shock, stifling the laughter that builds in your throat.

He peeks at you with one eye open, smiling lightly before closing his eyes again and humming out an incoherent reply.

“Amen,” he says softly after a few more moments have passed.

You don’t have time to question him further when he quickly pulls his shirt over his head, revealing tight and toned abs and letting his broad chest crowd you in what could only be described as a bear hug. He pulls you close to his chest and you can feel his heartbeat reverberating through your own skin.

“The angel wants to get fucked, does she?” he growls as he digs his nails into your back.

“Let’s see what we can do about that,” he adds before flipping you over suddenly, standing above you as he slides the boxers down to your ankles, leaving your socks on.

He then moves his hands to his own waistband, removing the sweatpants and revealing his hard cock, already flushed and angry with arousal. As he bends down, the rosary dangles from his neck and you can’t help but stare.

You’re laid out, exposed in front of him as he drops to his knees, nudging your knees to widen in front of him. Your eyes are wide as you watch him, controlling and calculated. You have to ask yourself the same question you asked in the club, who the fuck was this guy?

“You asked if I was praying earlier,” he speaks quietly, long fingers dragging along your sensitive inner thigh, avoiding where you want him the most.

“I just like to thank God before I eat,” he adds, eyes glimmering with mischief as he pushes forward, tongue licking a long stripe along your dripping core, sending shockwaves throughout your body.

Your brain is swimming with pleasure at the filthy words he spoke and the way his mouth is warm against your burning core, tugging on his hair and slipping your hand down to his neck to stroke the shorter strands there to encourage him.

His muffled moans send vibrations along your folds and shivers up your spine as he laps at you like it’s the fucking last supper. You feel your release close, thighs pulling in to tighten around his face. He shoves them back open every time they threaten to suffocate him, giving him access to every inch of you. 

Your orgasm creeps up on you and you are suddenly screaming his name, head thrown back on the back of the couch, vision blinding white. Your eyes are clenched shut as you make every attempt to slow your heavy breathing.

You feel warm hands under your thighs and realize he's lifting you from the couch. You let your arms fall lazily around his shoulders and your head loll over as he carries you to the bedroom. Laying you gently on your back, he’s suddenly leaning over you, lips brushing against your jaw, peppering kisses up to your ear and leaving more along your hairline.

“That was heavenly,” you sigh out, feeling dizzy from the soft gestures.

He smiles and pushes your hair from your face, leaning down to kiss you. You can’t get enough of his lips, every time they press over yours you’re drawn in closer, wanting more and more.

“I know you said you wanted me to fuck you on the couch and as much as I would love to bend you over and slam into you, I want to see your face when I make you cream on my dick,” he says as if it’s the simplest and most normal sentence on the planet. He sits up, reaching a veiny hand over to the bedside table and into the shallow drawer there.

Your mouth hangs open for a moment until you feel his fingers on you again, rubbing slow circles on you, gathering your post orgasm arousal as he tears open a condom that is carefully dangling between his lips. He slicks up his rock hard erection with your wetness before sliding it on and running a hand through his now messy hair.

You adjust yourself on the bed, propping your knees up so he can crawl between them. He brings his face close to yours and drags his tongue lazily against your lower lip before pushing into you. 

Your eyes widen, feeling the stretch of his massive cock and the look on his face when he finally feels himself inside you. You swear he’s seen the second coming of Christ and you wish you could take a picture of the pure bliss.

It doesn’t take long for him to pick up a consistent pace of pumping in and out of you, grunts and moans falling from his lips and sounding almost like he’s singing. You almost come at the sight of the rosary dangling above you and moving with each thrust, knowing how fucking filthy this is but how it’s the most turned on you’ve been in ages.

He’s close and you don’t know how much longer you can last after him so you hook your legs around his back and push on him, silently begging to flip over. He obliges and lets you return to a similar position from the couch, him seated against the pillows and you rising up and down on his cock. This drives you insane, watching his face contort in pleasure as you ride him, letting his name fall over and over from your lips like your own prayer.

“Angel, I’m so close,” he moans, pulling you so tight against his chest that you feel yourself becoming one with him. You move together, moan together, and release in strangled cries together. 

You pull back, out of breath and struggling to compose yourself, glancing down at your chest to see an imprint of the cross in between swollen breasts. He has a hazy, happy grin across his face and you know you have to look the same in this moment.

He reaches out, brushing pads of his fingers across the imprint on your chest before dipping down to kiss at the cross mark.

You think your heart might explode in that very moment, suddenly visualizing the two of you holding hands in a church pew or leaning over candles, lighting them and bowing your heads in silence.

What the fuck has gotten into you?

–

Once he finishes tucking the plush duvet around your naked body, he lays flat on his back, exhaling in relaxation for what sounded like the first time that night, and humming out an almost angelic note.

“And on the seventh day, God looked at all he had made and rested from the work he had done,” Doyoung paraphrased, grinning at his joke, turning slightly to nuzzle his face into your bare shoulder.

Your cheeks warmed and eyes welled as you watched your dark haired lover drift off into sleep, arms laying beside him, not clinging to you as they had been all night, as if fully relaxed at how you seemingly fit so easily into his bed, into his life.

Checking the time, you unlock your phone, lower the brightness, and fire off a couple check-in texts to your friend and one to your mother asking if you completed your sacraments as a child and if she knows where your old prayer book is. You can’t believe this man is reigniting this in you and while you know no amount of good sex is going to fully pull you back into a toxic institution, you see the good in him and wonder if there is a world where the two of you can balance his faith and your more progressive views.

The next morning comes quicker than you had anticipated and light is streaming through the sheers covering the floor to ceiling windows. You glance over to see a still sleeping Doyoung, surprised once you check the time, knowing he probably starts his day at the office before you. You check your phone, frustrated at how quickly it will soon be the time when your boss is checking in to see if you are working from home or coming into the office. You send off a quick message to let them know you will have a late start to the day, working from your apartment.

They reply with a teasing tone, noting that you and your friend must have gotten into some fun the night prior since she had called off entirely. Oh boy, couldn’t wait to hear about that.

You roll over, seeing Doyoung’s eyes open in narrow slits, running a wet tongue over his dry lips.

“Morning star,” he smiles at you, placing that same strong hand on your lower back, pulling you gently closer to him.

“Hi,” you squeak out, giggling as his fingers brush lightly over your spine, tickling you.

“Can I make you coffee?” he asks, pressing lips softly to your temple, holding there and breathing in the scent of your hair, still faintly holding the floral notes from his shampoo.

“You don’t have morning prayers to get to?” you tease, pushing your lips towards his, silently asking for a kiss.

He pulls back, knitting his brows together and almost rolling his eyes.

“You really have me all wrong you know,” he starts, pushing strands of hair from your face before cupping your cheek gently, just as he had in the kitchen last night when you first got back.

“Yes, I have my beliefs and values that ground me. But that doesn’t mean I abstain from every activity marked as a sin in the bible,” he continued, his voice even and strong but not mean.

“I would have thought that would have been obvious by everything we did last night,” he added, pressing a little more firmly on your lower back, gliding his palm down to the slope of your ass to grasp at the skin there.

You gulp audibly, startled by his candid admission. Maybe you did have him all wrong. Maybe you judged this book by the cover too quickly, your opinion shadowed by everything you knew from the devout adults you had grown up around. You had always assumed it was black and white, no gray space between for any compromise.

All you could do in that moment, overcome with emotions you weren’t quite ready to acknowledge, was pull him close to you and connect your hips with his to slowly create friction between the two of you. You hungrily captured his lips in yours, sighing into him as his fingers gently tugged your hair and brought you to another two unholy orgasms.

–

You don’t bother showering again, opting to take Doyoung up on that ride home from his driver who arrives in less than fifteen minutes, despite the morning rush hour traffic. You’re soon stepping out onto the busy streets, feet back in those painful boots and coat wrapped tightly around you to cover your revealing outfit you still can’t believe you wore out all night (but probably have to thank for this entire encounter).

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t a lost little angel!” comes a familiar voice, catching you as you are approaching the black car, the driver standing with a neutral expression waiting to open the door for you.

“Jungwoo, hey,” you start, stepping towards the man who is placing his motorcycle helmet on the seat, arms crossed as he leans gently against the expensive bike. 

He’s wearing low rise leather pants with a matching belt adorned with a large silver buckle. His jacket is open and you can see a tight and cropped red shirt underneath, exposing much of his toned abs and navel. Nude color blocking rose up the sides of the shirt, covered in black crescent moons and he is wearing a stack of gold chains tight around his neck. A large green stone is dangling from his ear, moving as he speaks.

His hair is fluffy from the helmet, eyes smudged lightly with dark liner, most likely still from the night before. He looks absolutely unreal and your mind drifts to images of your friend pressed between him and the equally sexy Jaehyun in the crowded bar, stirring tension deep in your core.

“How was your night?” you add, stepping closer to him, curious about what your friend had gotten into.

“I’m sure just as sinful as yours by the look of this walk of shame,” he almost sneers back, tone unmatched to the large grin covering his face from his lips to his eyes. He grabs your phone from you and punches his number in, punctuating with a sultry wink. His eyes are flicking up and down your body dramatically, making overly exaggerated facial expressions at you.

You roll your eyes at him, turning to head to the car, wagging your fingers at him seductively and putting extra emphasis in your steps as you know he has his eyes glued to your ass as you slide into the car.

When Doyoung emerges from the shower with a towel tied low around his waist he finds Jungwoo lounging in his favorite chair in the living room, flipping through a magazine he had left here the week before. He looks up to make eye contact with Doyoung, smiling and letting a low whistle slide out his lips.

“Don’t start, Woo,” Doyoung warns curtly, pouring two cups of coffee and preparing them the way they both like.

“Look look, I have Father Lee on speed dial, he’s ready to do an emergency confession for you in the lobby of your office if you need it this morning,” he laughs back, closing the magazine and accepting the mug.

Doyoung rolled his eyes, resisting the urge to reach over and slap the back of Jungwoo’s head. He knows his friend is exaggerating but he had consequently already sent Mark a text that he would stop by the church later that day for a chat. Having one of your oldest friends be a priest that was known for being more on the liberal side had its perks.

“Just because I don’t flaunt my escapades all over town or upload racy videos into the shared DJJ iCloud album, doesn’t mean I’m not getting my dick wet,” he replies after a long sip of much needed coffee.

Jungwoo almost spits out his coffee at the vulgar comment, lips twisting up into a wicked smile as he watches his friend, relaxed and shirtless mid-morning on a work day.

“Something’s different about you, Kim Doyoung,” Jungwoo chuckles, tapping back into his conversation with Jaehyun from earlier, who had frantically texted him from the office that Doyoung hadn’t shown up for their morning meeting and wasn’t replying to any of his texts.

“I guess you could say I was touched by an angel,” Doyoung replies wickedly, winking at Jungwoo before standing and letting his towel fall from his hips, whipping it at leather clad knees before walking slowly back into the bedroom.

Jungwoo’s eyes widen and a smile spreads across his face, watching his friend’s toned ass move away from him and examining the red marks dotting his broad back.

“Oh Jaeeeeee, I have an idea for something that could be fun and oh so messy,” Jungwoo whispers into the phone as he steps out onto the balcony, lighting a blunt in the cool morning air, surrounded by the sounds of the bustling city below.

Hungry for You

summary: doyoung is your best friend’s older brother, and you hate each other until one evening you’re alone together and the tension finally breaks

length: 4,936 words

tags: enemies to lovers?, 69ing, riding, hate sex, facefucking, light dom/sub, doyoung likes calling reader a brat, she likes calling him oppa

When you first met your best friend’s older brother Doyoung, you thought he had a crush on you, but you quickly realized that it was just your foolishly optimistic (and desperately single) brain playing some cruel trick on you. He hated you. Your best friend assured you that he didn’t hate you, he just thought you were annoying.

“Thanks for the clarification, that makes me feel so much better,” you groan, throwing yourself on her bed.

“I just mean, he thinks me and all of my friends are annoying. Don’t take it personally,” she tells you.

But it’s hard to not take it personally because every time you see Doyoung, the two of you bicker and argue. The fighting never gets physical, but it just goes on and on until you decide that maybe you find him very annoying too.

Keep reading

Chance Encounter Mini Masterlist

Cover: @hyeinfection

Rated: Smut, Office au, CEO au

Pairing: JohnnyxReader

Summary: Yuta invited you for a Friday night out and the only real reason you accepted was because you didn't want to eat at home. His overzealous insistence should have been the first evidence but it was hardly everyday that he drags you to an adult club where seemingly anything goes. Still, you were nothing if not adventurous at heart and that alone made you strive through. Till that is, you met the most unlikely person behind those debaucherous doors.

Read on AO3

Chapters (Complete)

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Miscellaneous

Before: Doyoung (M) [Suggestive] (Doyoung×Reader)

"I just want to see Rockstar Doyoung have some justice."

Shy Ones (M) [Suggestive]

"I'm actually so curious about that whole interaction in the first chance encounter story with johnny and the girl in the green dress"

Jealousy (M) [Angst]

"would u consider doing a drabble where y/n and johnny go to another party and johnny gets jealous of her interacting with doyoung."

Menage a Trois (M) [Smut] (Doyoung×Reader×Johnny)

The one with a threesome.

Road to Love (M) [Suggestive]

"dying to know how each of them realised they were in love (chance encounter). like there would be sooo much denial haha."

You've Been Ignoring Me (M) [Smut]

"Heloo. So I was thinking for a thigh riding with johnny. And yeah..with some squirting things, oral (f receiving) and fingering...yes."

Being Ignored [Angst]

"would you consider writing Johnny’s pov of this [You've Been Ignoring Me] week that she technically ignored him? From his text on Saturday to the moment he saw her at the break room? I love when you have things from his point of view."

Blind Date [Smut]

"I wanna see y/n dominate johnny again"

You Go To My Head [Fluff]

"could you do a scenario in chance encounter where johnny is feeling vulnerable/in a vulnerable situation and how would y/n react to it?"

We Belong to Eachother (M) [Angst, Smut]

"Can you write about the fight that johnny mentioned in the last drabble? [ER]"

ER [Fluff]

"now i wanna know what went down the day y/n broke her leg and how he was there for her thru all that"

Home [Fluff]

"I love ER!! could you write a part 2 to that? would like to see how johnny cares for her and them making up."

Promotion [Angst]

"now i wanna know more about the promotion and sweater fight that was mentioned on the last drabble of chance encounter 😭 why did johnny and y/n cry?"

Sour Candy [Angst]

"i wonder what was on johnny's mind at the end of the last drabble [Studio] u wrote"

Studio (M) [Smut]

"drabble where johnny and y/n hook up in the recording studio?"

Enough [Fluff]

"i'd love a drabble where we get to see how johnny and y/n try to cheer each other up on bad days"

Commitment [Fluff]

"would u be open to writing about johnny and y/n eventually being in a committed rs?"

Told You So [Fluff]

"Can you write about them being publicly dating around their friends and family, or when they're hitting the 'club' as a couple?"

"Would love to see Yuta, Ten and Mark teasing y/n and Johnny after they got together and just being like "HA TOLD U SO."

Meet the Parents (M) [Fluff, Smut]

"Can we get a glimpse or idea on what has changed in y/n and johnny’s relationship in chance encounter after they become fully committed to each other?"

Accident [Angst, Fluff]

"how would johnny and y/n react to her being pregnant/having a pregnancy scare (if it’s too early)?"

Holiday Party [Fluff]

"the coworkers reactions to seeing her again at the next year’s holiday party, unashamedly at his side, but Johnny’s so stupid happy that he gets to show her off as his partner now."

F.U.C.K

pairing: enemies to lovers! doyoung x fem! reader

genre: smut, angst, fluff

word count: 9.7k

warnings: alcohol consumption, oral (female receiving), public sex, sex under the influence, praise kink, breathplay, groping, dirty talk, doyoung lifts the reader at some point

summary: “If there was one person you’d imagine taking as a plus one to your cousin’s wedding, it definitely wouldn’t be Doyoung - your definition of a sour know-it-all in flesh and bones. Blame it on your friends that are never there when you need them, or your annoying curiosity for his cold demeanor, but there he is, downing expensive champagne with you.

One glass and you can still stand him.

Two glasses and he’s not so bad after all.

Three glasses and he’s in your bed.

Does the boy drive you mad or are you mad about the boy?”

“This is the longest conversation we’ve ever had in the one year we’ve worked together. I don’t think you're smooth enough to convince me to sleep with you. Besides, didn’t you say you’d never sleep with me like, ten minutes ago?”

“That was different. Now I have something to prove.”

“Which is?”

“That you still find me attractive enough to sleep with me.”

“Please”, you scoff, “don’t flatter yourself. In fact, I bet you can’t turn me on even if you tried.”

“Oh really?”

“Yup. You can try. Right now.”

Doyoung goes silent in thought for a couple of seconds, looking more determined than ever when he speaks again.

“Can I touch you?”

“Yes”, you answer immediately, gulping dryly at the thought of your coworker’s hands on you.

“Okay.”

a/n: This is my extremely late submission to @slightlymore 's Doyoung collab "mad about the boy" <33

general taglist: @naomis-sins , @jjaeyoonoh, @infnteen , @babyksworld, @kaja2016

“What do you mean you only have a room with a double bed?”

Your fingers threaten to rip your hair out with how tight your grip is on your locks, trying your hardest to explain to the young receptionist that you’ve explicitly requested a double room with separate beds. You must look so miserable, huffing and puffing in the lobby of this beautiful summer resort that your cousin booked for her wedding. Stoic and bored, your plus one waits for you to get your room card already, toying with a plastic spider plant next to your luggage in the meantime. As if the whole thing doesn’t bother him in the slightest. As if he doesn’t hate you just as much as you do.

You met Doyoung at the high school you work at. He’s a Physics professor while you teach Math, and for the rest of the teaching faculty this was enough of a reason to convince you to go on a date with each other. “It’s meant to be!”, they’d tell you during break time, urging you to go up to him and ask for his number. Your mouth would gape in shock as they’d recount stories of how fun he was at their birthday party, or how helpful he was in their time of need. A new student would come up to you every week, handing you a hand-written love letter with trembling hands, and ask you to pass it on to their favorite Physics teacher.

What was so great about the guy anyway?

He’s handsome, sure, long limbs and royal stature making him stand out in the crowd. His rich academic career and leading abilities demanded respect from his colleagues, while his youthful face made him approachable to the students. If you wanted something to be done and executed well, you’d leave it up to Mr. Kim. But why should all of this matter to you when the guy hates your guts from the moment he stepped foot in this goddamned school?

You can only conclude he does, with the way he avoids you like the plague. Parent-teacher meetings, field trips, school dance chaperone duties - he’d change and bend the schedule so that he ensures he’s in the same room as you for the least amount of time possible. Your wounded pride combined with his cold demeanor was enough for your silent hatred towards Doyoung to slowly boil in your heart.

Your third cousin’s wedding invitation got shipped to your house on a cold winter night. The ceremony would take place on an island three months from now, while the accommodation and plane tickets would be covered by the couple. She actually used to teach at the same school as you, something that brought the two of you closer, and while you love her to bits you also want to block her on Facebook so, so badly. You can only handle so many posts of her perfect dog and her perfect house and her rich husband that flies her out to Bali every summer before you lose your mind.

When you opened up the envelope, a black tear full of your mascara soiled the pretty handwriting. You were finishing up a bottle of wine, mourning the end of your latest relationship - a personal trainer who convinced you to sign up to his stupid gym and couldn’t make you orgasm even if he had a gun pointed to the back of his head. “Fuck you!”, you screamed at the lifeless piece of cardboard as you drunkenly circle that you will bring a plus one, and he will be much more fun and interesting and hot than the all-purpose flour of a man your cousin’s getting married to.

You only got reminded of your drunken mistake a week before the wedding, when your cousin called you to confirm you’d still make it to the venue with your company. Stressed and confused you said yes, as you’d rather die than admit that it was all due to an unwanted gym membership and a head full of alcohol. Plus, you really wanted to be there on her special day. It wasn’t like you couldn’t find one person to bring along, right?

Wrong. You were stuck on your phone for an entire day, your ear burning from the overuse and the heat of the consecutive rejections from your friends and family. A birthday party, a football game, a baby shower - they were all seemingly more important than a week’s notice destination wedding, each apology pushing you deeper and deeper in your quicksand of desperation.

You moaned about it to one of your teacher friends and fellow wedding invitee that Monday at the break room. You’d all met when your cousin still used to work at the school.

“I’m really sorry y/n. I’d come with you but I’m bringing my husband along”, she cooed apologetically, rubbing your loneliness even harder all over your face. “Why don’t you ask someone from here?”

“No one’s available this weekend”, you sighed out, pointing at the people in the room one by one. “She has a kid, he has vacation leave, her dog is sick, his wife would say no and -“

“I’m free.”

Your finger wavered awkwardly, pointing at the person whose name didn’t even have the chance to leave your lips. Doyoung didn’t move his head in your direction, even though he was addressing you, his hand still robotically grading a student’s test with a red ballpoint pen.

A sharp pain numbed your side as your friend nudged you excitedly, her face stretching out in a suggestive smile.

“See? Mr. Kim will take you! It’s about time you two get to know each other better”

“Oh no you don’t have to!”, you reassured him with a voice two octaves higher in pitch, “I’m sure I’ll find someone -“

“It’s fine”, he interrupted, removing his glasses and finally looking at you. This was one of the very few times his eyes fell on you, and you know this because the same chills run through your spine every time they do, “Think of it as returning the favor for that one week you substituted me when I was sick.”

Now that sounds more like him, calling it even. Not wanting to be indebted to someone he dislikes made sense to you, but spending an entire weekend with them to do so is still a bit much. You opened your mouth to argue back some more, when your friend managed to speak up before you did.

“Great, it’s decided then! As always, Mr. Kim is the man to step up when someone is in need”, she sang and Doyoung flashed his gummy smile at her, the sight so foreign to you that you had to blink twice to make sure you weren’t hallucinating from a caffeine overdose.

The bell rang and with it he got up on his feet, collecting the rest of the papers to be graded and making his way over to your desk. He looked like an Italian supermodel with his expensive slacks and poise in his walk, and when he gave you a small piece of paper with his number written in bright red ink on it, your friend almost passed out in sheer thrill.

“Text me the details, I’ll come to pick you up after work on Friday”

And that he did, carrying your overfilled suitcase with impressive ease all the way to the airport. The ride there was just as awkward as you imagined it to be, with the two of you switching the other’s desired radio station back and forth. It was insufferable just how stubborn he could be, and with every minute of silence you got from him the more it became clear to you that bringing him along was a terrible idea. The plane ride was just as boring. Even his socks annoyed you, grey and lifeless and something your grandpa would wear. Come to think of it, your grandpa would have made a more entertaining plus one than Mr. Downyoung.

Defeatedly, you take the room key from the receptionist and call for Doyoung to follow you to the fourth floor. He refuses to let you carry your luggage to the elevator, making the rest of the hotel staff coo at what they probably thought was a couple starting their summer vacation.

As soon as the mechanical door slides closed you sigh in frustration, rubbing your temples to alleviate some of the tension in your body. You wish you could just travel through time, fast forward the whole three painful days to come until you’re lying comfortably on your bed again.

“It’s impressive, really”, Doyoung deadpans just as you thought you might’ve actually forgotten what his voice sounds like, “You’re a math teacher and you can’t do the simple task of booking the right room.”

“I told you”, you groan, exasperated, “I asked them for twin beds.”

“Well did you call to check again yesterday?”

“No? Why would I bother the couple for something so trivial?”

“Trivial”, he repeats lowly as he stares at the floor buttons glow one by one, the elevator music taunting him. “I’ll sleep on the couch”, he states after a second of silence and follows you down the hallway.

The room was really nice, you admit, decorated modernly and with a beautiful sea view from the big balcony. But there was no couch. Only a luggage rack and an armchair, both too small and uncomfortable for either of you to sleep on. The bed on the other hand was long, perfect for Doyoung’s height but not particularly wide, forcing the accommodated couples to get closer for a couple of nights. You groan at the uncomfortable realization, and slowly start to unpack.

“The wedding rehearsal starts in half an hour”, you remind him as you unzip your suitcase, flipping it open, “we should start getting ready”. He lets out a hum of acknowledgment, and hangs a nicely tailored cobalt blue suit in the available closet space before he grabs another outfit and locks himself in the bathroom. You take this as a chance to quickly change in the bedroom, opting for a light dress that fits the hot climate of the island. You were freshening up your makeup when you hear the lock click open, and then your jaw drops.

You’ve never seen Doyoung look like this in your one year working with him. He’s wearing a patterned shirt, the coral reds of the flowers on it bringing out his porcelain skin beautifully. It is slightly unbuttoned at the top, letting sharp collarbones and a couple of stray hairs peek out, and your imagination takes liberty in heading even more south. You just can’t believe Mr. Kim hid such thighs in those grandpa slacks, a comfortable pair of shorts melting over them now instead.

“What is it?”

His voice jolts you out of your dream zone and your face burns from getting caught. His calculating eyes stare back at you, and your mini dress suddenly makes you feel naked.

“Nothing, you just look- different.”

“Bad different?”

“No no!”, you exclaim, pulling up some more fabric over your decolletage. “I’m just so used to seeing you in those boring black and grey sweaters”

“Ouch. You’re not runway ready either”

“Ugh- You look good!”, you blurt out frustratingly and then yelp, cringing at your slip up. “I just wanted to give you a compliment, damn. Can we go to the main hall now?”

Doyoung thanks you under his breath, muttering something about the color of your dress and reminding you to take the room card with you before you head out.

The wedding hall was absolutely beautiful. Tulle decorations welcomed the guests right off the gate, evening light shone beautifully through the windows. People were bundled together in small social circles, and the foreign faces made you stick even closer to Doyoung’s side. You notice that he’s wearing one of those sweet-smelling body sprays, and the scent is so surprising for him that it excites you.

A female shriek makes you fall with your ass back to reality, and you’re suddenly engulfed in a tight embrace. When you realize it’s your cousin, in a white simple dress that resembles a wedding gown, you relax into her arms, glad to have actually made it.

“Oh my God, I’m so happy you’re here!”, she exclaims in genuine joy, and before you manage to take a breath she already moves onto her next victim.

Doyoung freezes in the hug, not used to your cousin’s affectionate nature and trying his hardest to at least pat her back in the confinement.

“And you brought your boyfriend with you! Oh, he’s so handsome! Are you guys thinking about taking the big step? Y/n, you better squeeze your way forward during the bouquet toss-“

“He’s my friend!”, you interrupt her, your heart pounding from the series of inappropriate questions. Doyoung snickers at the word ‘friend’ but you ignore him, focusing solely on your cousin once again. “He’s my coworker, actually. Doyoung’s a Physics teacher.”

“Ohh, I see. You say physics but I see a lot of chemistry between you two~”, she lilts suggestively, wiggling her eyebrows in the process. “Wait- is that Mr. Kim? The new, hot, young teacher that you told me all about?”

Fuck, you forgot about that. A couple of months after your cousin moved schools she’d suggested you go out for a drink or two to catch up. Things were still new with Doyoung and your first impressions were quite good, especially considering his looks. You may have gotten a little drunk that night and spilled way more than you should’ve.

“W-what are you talking about?”

“The Physics teacher, yes! My replacement! You said how he’s all serious and proper and probably nasty in be-“

“Y/n! Mr. Kim!”

The sound of your coworker’s voice sounds like honey to your ears as it interrupts the embarrassing conversation, and you use up the extra time it takes for her and her husband to greet the bride to cool yourself down. You still haven’t checked up on Doyoung, you don’t dare to look at him, and you can only hope he somehow didn’t finish the rest of that sentence in his head.

“I was just chatting up with my cousin’s plus one over here, so tell me- is it true that they came as friends? I don’t buy it.”

“If anything there’s always a lovers’ quarrel between the two.”

“I work better in more organized environments”, Doyoung butts in. You can’t keep yourself from rolling your eyes.

“And I work better with people who actually take the time to talk to me. You know, the bare minimum.”

“Oh come on y/n”, your coworker nags as she stands between the two of you, looping each hand through one of your elbows, “didn’t you say the other day that he was frustratingly fuckable?”

“You must’ve misheard me”, you murmur from her left side, “I probably said he is irresistibly punchable.”

“And you, Mr. Kim. Don’t pretend like you didn’t ask me if y/n was single on your first week at the school.”

Your head snaps at the speed of light, eyes studying the man who hardly wobbles on his two feet under the weight of the accusation. Why on earth would he ask if you were single? Why would someone who barely handles being in the same room as you even care about that? The signals were mixed, swirling with each other inside your head and you have to order your heart to stop beating so loudly before someone hears.

“Leave the kids alone”, the husband sighs, just a little more exhausted from the conversation than you, “don’t mingle in their personal business”

“We’re just happy they’re spending some quality time together”, your cousin says, and you wonder which part of the silent airplane trip or elevator argument would even qualify as that, “How about you all take your designated seats now?”

You shuffle with Doyoung through the row of wooden chairs, searching for your names in the printed papers that lay over each of them. You don’t comment on the previous conversation, at least not until you’re seated, not sure which one of you will be more flustered at the mention of what was said.

“So we’re friends, huh?”

“You’re the one who offered to come with me to this damn wedding. Don’t act as if I dragged you here.”

“I just saw someone needing my help and I-“

“I’m not your damsel in distress.”

Your icy tone makes him flinch and he loosens one more button of his shirt, in need of more air. The exposure of his skin makes the atmosphere feel stuffy, and it’s easier to blame it on the humid climate of the island than the indisputable sexual attraction you have towards him. Why did his thighs have to look so damn good in the middle of an argument?

He’s about to say something back when the bride-to-be slowly starts walking down the aisle. Everyone is in their casual clothing, someone’s unruly child cries in the background. The wedding planners are running around in pure anxiety to get everything right, yet the sight is still undeniably beautiful. You notice your aunt tearing up in the background, and you cannot blame her. Your cousin is absolutely glowing even in her simple slip dress, smile beaming as she locks eyes with her fiancé. There’s a clear moment of realization in their eyes, like the fact that they’re about to start a new chapter in their life finally kicked in.

You steal a quick glance at Doyoung, curious of his reaction. He’s probably thinking of how little they’ll last. How marriage is a stupid little social construct. How no woman could ever be a match for a great brain like-

“Doyoung, are you crying?”

Your date jumps at the sudden interrogating question, quickly rubbing the wet corners of his eyes with the thin fabric covering his shoulders.

“It’s a beautiful moment”, he sniffles, and clears his throat after his voice cracks a little. You still stare at him incredulously. “What? Are you that shocked that I have a heart?”

“Kinda.”

The morning light kisses your eyelashes through the window, forcing them to part. The first sound that your ears pick up is that of running water, nicely mixed with the birds’ song coming through the window. Checking your phone, you realize you overslept, with the wedding being only a couple of hours away. You’re lying right in the middle of the double bed, your roommate already awake and taking a morning shower, apparently.

Last night’s events flash before your eyes like a film strip. Remnants of embarrassment from having to ask for three extra pillows from the reception desk warm up your cheeks. Then the both of you, two fully grown adults, went up to your room to line them up in one straight pillowy border that separated the double bed evenly. Your blood boils at the memory of Doyoung telling you, a math teacher, that you weren’t dividing the mattress into two even halves. “I wish I could split you into two even halves”, was the last thing you remember murmuring before falling asleep. Curious, you look around for the missing pillows, noticing they’re scattered on the floor, and that is when the bathroom doorknob turns.

The first thing you notice is Doyoung’s naked torso, toned abs and tiny waist triggering your eyes to close. You feel him move towards the center of the room, and when he turns around to look for something in the closet you squint your right eye open to steal a peek. His hair is damp, waterdrops falling from the edge of his locks and dancing over his shoulder blades. You follow one as it travels down from his broad shoulders to the deep line of his spine, landing on the towel that hangs lowly from his hipbones. He bends over then, showing off a nice outline of his ass, and you are so invested in the view that you barely manage to go back to feigning to being asleep when he walks towards you.

You feel the bed dip next to you, and a little droplet of water falls on your cheek. His chuckle almost startles you as you fake deep, steady breaths.

“You know, I never pictured you to be a cuddler.”

Pretending not to hear him, you keep your eyes shut tight, yet you can’t stop the blood from accumulating on your face.

“As soon as you fell asleep you threw all the pillows to the floor and grabbed on my waist like a koala. It was cute.”

Cute.

The urge to scream and hide and ask about the details of your embarrassing actions was overwhelming. You can feel his hot breath as he examines your face closer, begging your racing heart to calm down when he chuckles again. A small yelp leaves your lips when you feel a towel thrown at your body, convinced that it is the same one you wished would magically slip off of Doyoung’s hips a minute ago. Opening your eyes, you see his lower body covered still, and yours veiled with a clean hotel robe.

“Stop playing dead, you’re a terrible actress. You should go get a shower now if you don’t want us to miss the wedding.”

You swirl the champagne around in your glass, staring at the bubbles that float to the top until they burst one by one.

The ceremony went as smoothly as the rehearsal, with the sky staying bright and the bride looking brighter. Nighttime came already, and everyone had now settled down for the reception, gathering around their designated tables. Your eyes wander away from your drink for a while, focusing on Doyoung’s lithe fingers instead. They toy with a small baby’s breath from the bundle of flowers you caught earlier during the bouquet toss: your cousin couldn’t have aimed at the top of your head better even if she was a javelin throw champion.

The mere sound of his breathing next to you annoys you at this point. By the end of the night, there wasn’t a single guest at this damn wedding that didn’t gush over your date. Why the hell did he act so completely different when he was around you? What kind of sick satisfaction did he get for being an ass?

“Are you ready to address your little problem?”

You feel the little hairs on the nape of your neck rise up as his low voice grazes your ears.

“What problem?”

“Your little staring problem. Staring at me to be exact.”

Instantaneously, you rip your gaze away from his hands, glaring at the glass in front of you instead as if it was the most interesting thing you’ve ever laid your eyes on.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t act like you didn’t try to catch me naked this morning.”

“Excuse me?”, you shriek before lowering your voice after collecting a few worried stares from the people at your table, “I didn’t ‘try to catch’ you. You got out of that bathroom barely naked on your own!”

“Oh?”, he feigns surprise, his lips forming into a smirk that you weren’t sure whether you wanted to kiss or punch off his face, “I thought you were asleep?”

“I was trying to save us both from the embarrassment”, you mutter under your breath, placing the back of your palms on your cheeks to force your face to cool down.

“In my defense, I didn’t know you’d wake up anytime soon. You were snoring really loudly.”

“So while I was sleeping I snored, threw the pillows off the bed, and cuddled you”, you groan, exasperated. A numb headache was moving slowly but steadily from the inside of your brain outwards, and you try to shut it out by pouring yourself another glass of champagne. “Great. Anything else?”

“Stop drinking so much”, Doyoung scolds you, grabbing the bottle out of your grasp just as you manage to fill your glass to the rim.

“Doyoung. I had at least ten people today ask me when I’m getting married when I don’t even have a boyfriend, and now I’m stuck in this lame wedding reception with a person who hates my guts. I am going to drink. Now if you pulled that stick out of your ass and had a glass yourself maybe we’d even manage to have some fun instead of subjecting me to that nonstop nagging of yours.”

“You tried to kiss me.”

“What?”

“Last night, in your sleep. You tried to kiss me.”

Frustrated with the situation you found yourself in and completely embarrassed, you have no other choice but to take a brave sip of the champagne you just served, emptying half a glass.

“Guess I’m doing charity while sleeping. If you’d experienced the loving touch of a woman maybe you wouldn’t be such a dick.”

“When your friend said that you were wild in bed I didn’t think that practically attacking me in my sleep was what she meant.”, he fired back, ignoring your insult.

“Did she tell you that before or after you asked her if I was single?”

“Like I would ever sleep with you. You’re insufferable.”

“Please. You’d probably cry after I was done.”

Doyoung scoffs and grabs the champagne bottle again, this time filling a glass for himself. He downs the drink in one go, and the burning in his throat fires a new passion inside him.

“Fine. You want us to have fun? Let’s play a game then.”

“A game?”

“Yes”, he replies, determined, and fills both of your glasses again. “We’ll ask each other questions. It can be anything, but we’ll answer genuinely. If you don’t want to answer, you drink. Got it?”

“Fine, but I’ll go first.”

“Shoot.”

“Why did you offer to come with me to this wedding? And I want a real answer.”

“Do you really think I hate you so much?”

“You can’t answer my question with a question!”

“Technically, it’s a clarification. Doesn’t count.”

“Oh my god, you’re so annoying”, you groan, wondering if it’d be against the rules to drink even if you don’t lose a round, “You barely talk to me at the school, you avoid me and argue with me on practically anything. So I’d say yes: I do think you really hate me that much.”

He sighs and withers in his seat a little, looking regretful.

“I don’t hate you. I think you’re a good friend. And a brilliant teacher. And you can be fun when you want to be. That’s why I came with you to the wedding.”

“You still haven’t stopped arguing with me since we came here though.”

Doyoung shrugs.

“It’s hot when you talk back.”

He doesn’t look at you, his hands and eyes occupied on the baby’s breath from earlier to ease his nerves. Just as you open your mouth to say something, he asks you a question.

“Why didn’t you say anything after I came out of the bathroom this morning? You know, to let me know you were awake? I truly thought you’d be sleeping. I mean, you yell at me for way less.”

For a passing moment, you consider drinking and opting out from giving an answer. Your hand twitches and almost reaches out to the champagne in front of you, yet eventually, you decide against it. The questions will probably get gradually harder anyways.

“At first I saw all the pillows on the floor. I was sprawled out in the middle of the bed, the door opened and I panicked. And then…”

You hesitate to continue further.

“We said truthfully, remember?”

You exhale a deep breath out.

“Then I saw how you looked fresh out of the shower.”

“And?”

“And I wanted to look at you a little more.”

Doyoung hums, the corner of his lips tugging up subtly.

“If you don’t actually hate me, why do you avoid me at work? And don’t you dare deny it.”

The man next to you laughs, dropping his head back and letting his black locks hang freely. You’re not sure if it’s the alcohol that’s heightened your senses, but you submerge yourself in the silvery sound of his laughter. You stare at the pretty blue veins on the side of his neck, watching his adam’s apple bob up and down. When he smiles like that he looks nice, you think. Mellow.

“I take my work very seriously. I want to do things well. And when you’re around, I can’t do that. You distract me, I guess.”

“I distract you? How?”

Doyoung’s eyes rake at your body twice, suddenly making you overconscious of every inch of skin that the mini dress you chose to wear tonight manages to cover up. Or rather, the parts of your body that it doesn’t.

He doesn’t answer further, drinking instead. You can see his eyes getting glossy from the alcohol, his pupils dilated. You’re certain you look like that as well.

“My turn. At the rehearsal, you were shocked that I teared up. Do you not believe in marriage?”

“I don’t know about marriage”, you admit after pondering for a bit, “But I do believe in lifelong partners. Do you?”

“I want one”, he confesses, “But I don’t know if I’m meant to have one.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know”, he sighs almost defeatedly, a bitter smile on his face, “I’m scared of that level of happiness, I think. I tend to avoid love.”

You both take a drink out of your glasses, feeling like it’s needed after a conversation like this. As you wait for Doyoung to come up with another question, you gaze at your cousin and her husband slow dancing in the distance. The sight triggers a stinging feeling of longing inside you, pulling on your heartstrings.

“Did you really say I was ‘irresistibly fuckable’?”

You blink three times at the unexpected question, cursing your friend under your breath and her big mouth. The kick that the champagne gave you allows you to answer way more bravely than you normally would.

“I think we’ve made it clear by now that we both found the other attractive when we first met.”

“When we first met? Not anymore?”

“This is the longest conversation we’ve ever had in the one year we’ve worked together. I don’t think you're smooth enough to convince me to sleep with you. Besides, didn’t you say you’d never sleep with me like, ten minutes ago?”

“That was different. Now I have something to prove.”

“Which is?”

“That you still find me attractive enough to sleep with me.”

“Please”, you scoff, “don’t flatter yourself. In fact, I bet you can’t turn me on even if you tried.”

“Oh really?”

“Yup. You can try. Right now.”

Doyoung goes silent in thought for a couple of seconds, looking more determined than ever when he speaks again.

“Can I touch you?”

“Yes”, you answer immediately, gulping dryly at the thought of your coworker’s hands on you.

“Okay.”

The first thing he does is grab the apron of your chair, dragging you closer to him. Worried, you look around you for the reaction of the people also sitting at your table. No one seems to really pay attention to you; some of them had already withdrawn back to their rooms, the rest focusing on the people grooving on the dancefloor. The cool night breeze grazes your bare arms, making you shiver.

“Relax”, Doyoung tells you softly while taking off his jacket. You watch entranced at his shirt hugging his chest, the white fabric stretching over his biceps. His fingertips pet your nape then, sweeping your hair to the side before throwing his jacket over your shoulders. The heat emitted from his body warms up your side, making you melt in your seat.

And then he places his left hand on your knee under the table. Closing the small distance between you, he lets his lips touch lightly the shell of your ear.

“Tell me when to stop.”

He starts off relatively gently, drawing circles on your bare skin with his thumb. You look at how short the skirt of your dress is, regretting your decision to leave your thighs exposed like that. You’re making his job so much easier.

“You like that?”, he asks you then, the rasp of his voice sending another shiver down your spine.

“It’s indifferent to me”, you lie, making him laugh.

“God, why are you so tense? To quote you, if you pulled that stick out of your ass maybe we’d even manage to have some fun.”

“Maybe I don’t want to.”

“You’re into anal baby?”

“I-”

Doyoung laughs again, his gummy smile contagious. His naughty kind of humor surprises you, and the nickname sends a wave of warmth to your face. A small moan leaves your lips as he drags his nails lightly against your skin.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No.”

“I want to make you feel good.”

His fingers move up higher, to the fleshier part of your thighs. He keeps drawing the same design over your sensitive skin, and you soon realize that it’s actually his name.

“You know, I’ve been thinking about you all day.”

“W-What?”

“I didn’t think anything could top that summer dress you put on yesterday. But then you wore this-”

He points vaguely at your black strapless dress, eyes dark as they take you in.

“You like it?”, you ask boldly, not easily intimidated.

“I’d rip it off of you in a heartbeat if you let me.”

You squirm in your seat at his words, feeling wetness pool between your thighs. Desperate, you cross your legs to discreetly rub your thighs together, hiding your arousal from the sharp observer next to you. Doyoung doesn’t let you off the hook, kissing his teeth disapprovingly at your movement.

“Did I give you permission to do that?”

“You’re not the boss of me, Kim Doyoung.”

You’re almost panting under the pressure of his stare, feline eyes commanding you to do as he says. His hands squeeze the meat of your thighs in a warning, making the rings he wears dig deeper into your skin.

“I won’t ask again. Spread those little thighs for me.”

Feeling small, you uncross your legs back to their previous position, parting them slightly.

“Good girl.”

All your thoughts evaporate in an instant when you hear him praise you. As his fingers move to the highest part of your inner thighs, just a few inches away from the place that aches to have him most, you can only hope he mercies you. You barely make the conscious effort of biting your tongue to not make a sound and attract unwanted attention. The tablecloth can only hide so much.

“So, are you ready to address your little problem?”

“My staring problem?”

“I was talking about the one between your legs this time. You’re soaking.”

A needy sound from the back of your throat reaches Doyoung’s ears, breathy and desperate - exactly like he wanted to have you.

“You sure moan a lot at my ‘indifferent’ touches.”

His fingers still pet your inner thighs, reaching the crease of your hips now. You can feel his digits spreading your wetness around, fully dipped under your dress.

“All this mess for me? How cute.”

You’re on the verge of losing your mind, right in front of all these people, especially when his index hovers right over your-

“Enough!”, you squeal before he gets the chance to gain full control of you, admitting defeat. Doyoung retracts his hand slowly, almost disappointedly, with a shit-eating grin plastered on his face.

When you see him lift his fingers to his mouth to lick them clean, you can only finish your glass of champagne to cope.

You were two of the last people to leave that ceremony, your little game keeping you occupied. The small path to your hotel room was void of any people, with only the sound of your heels interrupting the lulling sounds of the night. You almost trip in your step and you blame it on the wet poolside tiles, yet you know that that’s not the reason. Doyoung’s suit jacket is still hanging comfortably from your shoulders, his scent coiling around your body and making your head buzz even harder.

In a moment of forgetfulness, you get an intrusive thought asking you where you’d kept your room key. Halting abruptly, you start looking through the contents of the tiny bag you dragged along in panic, Doyoung staring at you questioningly.

“I can’t find the room key.”

“You asked me to hold it, remember?”, he reminds you calmly, fishing the keycard from his slacks before putting it back in his pocket.

You sigh, exhausted. “You’re right, sorry”

“You seem distracted”, Doyoung observes, “Is it because you lost the bet?”

The clacking of your heels stops again.

“What? I didn’t lose!”

“You let me touch you, I did. You liked it and asked me to stop because you couldn’t handle it. I think this qualifies as a win.”

“I couldn’t handle what?”

“It felt too good'', he shrugs.

“Right”, you spit sarcastically, knowing damn well he’s right but still arguing with him like it’s a reflex. “I was worried I was gonna cum from you rubbing my knee so hard. Oh Doyoung, don’t tell me that’s where you think the clit is.”

The man addressed kisses his teeth, trying to ignore how good you look in his jacket and how the ripples of the pool water illuminate your face. You’re overwhelmed by the animalistic instinct to keep the argument going, wishing it turns into something else. The champagne made you both a little too bold.

“Like you could do any better.”

“I absolutely could.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. I’d have you begging for it.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

Before any logic manages to make its way to the decision-making part of your brain, you shove Doyoung to the nearest wall, pushing your body against his. He smells even nicer in this proximity, the scent of his aftershave added to the things that mess up your thinking, yet you don’t let that distract you from your goal. Taking his larger hands in yours, you guide them across your waist to your lower back, right over your ass.

“You talk a big talk for someone who admitted to wanting to rip my dress off of me tonight.”

The man swallows dryly, eyes staring down at your exposed chest. You see his eyes open wide for a second before diverting his attention to the pool in the back, anything to take his focus off of you. The hardness that is poking your thigh is telling enough. You grab his chin, making him look at you again.

“You’re making this very hard for yourself by pretending like you don’t want me, Kim.” Determined, you start a line of kisses across his jawline, sucking lightly on the skin below his earlobe. The moan he lets out makes your knees shake a little. “Say you want me, and I’m yours.”

Unable to contain himself, Doyoung lowers his hands enough to grab your ass. You mewl in his ear at his roughness, just to taunt him.

“Shit, y/n.”

“I’m not wearing any underwear, thought you’d like to know.”

You can’t look at his pretty face, yours still buried in his neck, but you can clearly sense the torment he feels.

Finally, he gives up.

“Fuck this”, he mutters, pulling you into a kiss.

Doyoung moves his lips against yours deeply, with need, like he knows he’s never gonna get enough. You kiss him back just as eagerly, letting your tongue slide against his. The kiss feels perfect, as if his lips were only meant to be pressed against yours. Your whole body buzzes in the desire to make up for lost time.

“I want to taste you again”, he whispers into the kiss. “We can go back to hating each other in the morning.”

Doyoung slips from your hold then, falling down onto his knees. His hands move upwards from your calves towards your thighs, pushing up the fabric of your mini dress until you’re exposed enough for him. He leaves a bite on the soft skin of your inner thighs, on the place that he pet so diligently under the table earlier tonight.

“You look good like this.”

Confused, he pinches the collar of his dress shirt, tugging it a little.

“In this shirt?”

“On your knees.”

He chuckles, putting his mouth on your pussy finally. His lips are plush and soft, his small exhales make you shiver. You look around for any unwanted viewers yet your mind goes blank once Doyoung starts to move his tongue. Every lick feels like heaven, circling around your opening and entering you with his tongue. Biting your lip to stay as quiet as you can, you lift your right knee and rest it on his shoulder, grinding against his face.

“That’s it, use me.”, he sighs against your sensitive skin, making you want to scream at the sensation. His hands find their way over your ass again, grabbing you gluttonously. The mess of slick and spit helps your movement, his nose bumping against your clit with every circle of your hips. You’re already on edge from his teasing earlier, and when he starts to suck at the sensitive nub, you just can’t take it anymore.

You come embarrassingly fast, whole body tingling as he continues to flick his tongue against your clit during your high.

“I…”, is all you manage to whimper, but Doyoung doesn’t need anything else from you. The sight of you falling apart against his face is more than enough, patiently waiting for your legs to stop shaking and cleaning up the mess between your thighs in the meantime.

With a satisfied grin and a half-soaked up face, he gets on his feet again, holding you by the waist so that you don’t collapse. You’re still drunk by the orgasm and a bit disoriented, yet you still manage to slip your hands between your bodies, finding the outline of his cock. You start to massage his member over his clothes and Doyoung hisses, buckling his hips against your palm. The fabric under your fingertips starts to get wetter by the minute.

“I want you in my mouth”, you confess, dragging the zipper of his pants down and freeing his dick. He feels hot and hard and so fucking big in your palm that your mouth waters, precum already dribbling from his tip.

He stops your lazy strokes with a hand on your wrist before he kisses you again, and you can clearly taste yourself on his swollen lips. Not one to easily give up, you guide the tip of his cock between your wet folds, languidly dragging it back and forth until he groans in your mouth.

“Not here. Let’s go to our room.”

You nod, almost too desperately, letting him lead you forwards as you separate your back with the wall. It could be the champagne’s fault for your disorientation but it feels like you’re moving the wrong way, yet you don’t want to part your lips from his so you trust him blindly. The last thing you remember was floating on air.

Before you feel your body submerging in the pool water, that is.

You spend a few moments in panic before you realize you’re underwater, Doyoung quickly pulling you to the surface. You’re both panting when you finally manage to breathe again, and you curse at him when he flicks his wet hair out of his forehead, the droplets blinding you.

Your small designer bag floats just a couple of meters away from you, everything inside it ruined but you’re too tipsy to care about it now. All it takes is a glance at Doyoung’s flushed face for a nervous laugh to bubble up from your stomach, contagious as it makes him laugh as well. This is the lightest you’ve felt in a long time.

He swims closer to you, and you instinctively wrap your hands around him, locking your legs around his waist. He looks so handsome in the fluorescent lighting of the pool, his wet skin reminding you how good he looked this morning when he came out of the shower. You appreciate the little droplets decorating his eyelashes, fluttering as he blinks, staring at you. He looks at you so deeply that you’re scared he’s gonna see right through you, past the layers of skin and bones, and discover something that you’re not ready to admit just yet.

“What is it?”

“Even now, you look beautiful.”

You’re taken aback by his compliment, your face getting hot. In the ambiance of the night, you fail to remember what it was about Doyoung that you disliked so much. He lifts his thumbs to your undereyes, gently rubbing the running mascara off your face. You lean closer, giving him a peck at first, your hands smoothing down on his chest before kissing him again. And again. And again.

Soon, your back hits the wall of the pool, your body trapped between the hard surface and Doyoungs warm body. He sweeps his tongue across your lower lips, asking to enter your mouth again and you gladly let him. You’re shamelessly making out again, in the water now, and you feel his right hand slide from your face to your neck, grabbing at your throat.

He breaks the kiss, taking the time to admire how good you look deprived of oxygen. Your eyes are unfocused, mouth gaping open and lipstick smudged, tongue hanging out slightly. You look fucked out and it turns him on, cock painfully hard under your bare pussy.

“But you look more beautiful with my hands around your throat.

A thumb rubs your cheek before moving down to press onto your lips, and you lick his finger tentatively before sucking it inside your mouth. Your wet tongue moves around the digit slowly, making sure you show him just how talented you are before you let him go with a loud ‘pop’. God, he regrets not taking up your offer earlier.

“I need you”, you mewl with the little air still in your lungs, and Doyoung lets you go to hear your voice more clearly. “I need you now.”

“Fuck, I can’t wait either”, he agrees, looking around to make sure no one’s around. He turns you around then, the front of his body pressing against your back, and you rest your elbows on the pool tiles in front of you. Doyoung hikes your dress even higher, over your hips, kissing the top of your shoulder sensually. “You’re gonna have to be quiet. Okay, doll?”

You blindly agree with his words, already grinding your ass against him. He growls at your impatience, stilling your hips, and blindly looks for your entrance. You both gasp when he bottoms out inside you.

“Fuck”, you mutter at the feeling of him filling you to your gut, the stretch starting a fire in your stomach. He reaches for your chest, letting your boobs spill out from the hem of your dress to play with. The sensation makes you shiver, whimpering when he starts to tug at your nipples. Doyoung’s fingers that you love so much intertwine with yours as he starts to push his hips forward faster.

The pace is barely manageable, and when you push against him he finds that spot that has you seeing stars. If you were bad at being quiet before you were terrible now, long moans covering the sound of the small ripples you’re both creating.

His palm startles you when it covers your mouth suddenly, your sounds successfully muffled by his chlorine-flavored fingers.

“What’s wrong, does it feel too good?”, he asks smugly, snapping his hips even faster.

Your pride crumbles as you nod, biting on his fingers as his own snake their way over your already sensitive clit. The circles he draws around it have your eyes roll to the back of your head, your body putty in his hold.

“You said you could take it, but here you are, moaning like you don’t care who finds you getting all fucked out in public.” You whimper in his hand, gasping for air when he lets you breathe again. “The only thing you’re allowed to say from now on is my name when you come. Got it?”

“Doyoung!”, you moan out when your second orgasm washes over you, hitting you so hard that you think you might pass out right then and there. Your walls clench around his length, triggering his own orgasm, and he quickly pulls out of you before cumming in the water. His arm is still protectively wrapped around you as he thrusts his cock over your ass, riding it out.

You swim in complete silence for a while, catching your breaths. Doyoung helps you pull down your dress, picking up the floating bag for you as well. His jacket had survived the fall, dropping from your shoulders right before you took your involuntary dive, and he gets out of the pool to retrieve it as well.

“Are you okay?”, he asks you softly, helping you get out as well.

“I’m fine, thanks.”

It only took a couple of steps for you to realize that soaked heels on a wet tile floor are probably a bad idea. You stepped carefully, trying your hardest to keep your balance but still looking like a deer learning how to walk for the first time.

You stare in confusion when Doyoung crouches in front of you with his back facing you.

“Hop on. It’s too dangerous for you to walk like this.”

“But I-”

“The reception is not that far. Come on.”

Reluctantly, you wrap your arms around his shoulders, jumping a little for him to hold the back of your knees. The alcohol moves in your belly, making you dizzy, and you rest your forehead against the top of his head to ground yourself. You can smell the hotel’s shampoo he used this morning, and if you weren’t as embarrassed to have him carrying you you’re certain the scent alone could relax you enough to be put to sleep. You’re only hoping that he can’t feel your beating heart thumping against his back.

Doyoung doesn’t put you down even when you reach the elevator, the receptionists gossiping about you yet he doesn’t seem to care. You tap on his shoulder shyly, wanting to tell him you can handle it from here. Before you can even open your mouth, he repositions you higher on his back, his body language shushing you.

You wish you hadn’t caught your reflection on the elevator mirror. You’re both soaked to the bone, Doyoung’s clothes stuck on his body and his dying erection semi-visible on his thigh. His eyes are red from the alcohol and his lips pink from your lipgloss, but it’s not like you look any better. Your wet hair is messy, your makeup gone. You can’t wipe that stupid smile off your face.

He still carries you to the room, even opens the door for you.

“Here princess”, he mocks you, letting your feet touch the floor finally. You thank him quietly and move over to your suitcase, looking for your pijamas and some fresh underwear to put on. You’re not sure how to address the situation, it’s ridiculous how you can barely look at the man that just made you cum twice in the eyes. Not in a bad way, of course: he just didn’t feel like the same Doyoung that got in that flight with you yesterday, and you couldn’t stop the feeling of hope from growing enthusiastically in your stomach.

You grip the bathroom door nervously until your knuckles turn white, mustering the courage to spill out at least half of what you’re feeling. The sound of his name grabs his attention.

“What we did tonight-”

“...was a mistake.”

“Huh?”

You blink back at him twice, cursing at the tears that burn your eyes.

“It was a one time thing, right? Like I said, we’ll go back to hating each other in the morning.”

The room is dark, and you hope the dim lighting hides the obvious hurt that manifests itself on your face. You hate how a part of yourself still wants to grab him by the collar and take him in the shower with you. Beg him to love you again before that ‘morning’ comes. Kiss you so hard that he forgets whatever it is about you he despises so much that he can’t let it go. You can barely keep your voice from breaking.

“Right. I’ll take a shower and then I’ll pass out. Goodnight.”

“Good-”

You don’t let him finish, closing the door between you. He shouldn’t see you cry.

In the midst of all the laughter on such a beautiful morning like today, pressing on the power button of your phone while hoping it still works out of a miracle, you were the obvious stand out. You move your legs absentmindedly, only your feet dipped in the water, body slumped and looking miserable next to the children’s pool. You hoped that the sound of shrieking children might distract you from recalling the big rejection of last night, yet your growing headache makes you gradually regret yout decision more and more.

As you stare at a mother forcefully smear her child’s face with sunscreen, your phone still dead in your lap, your fingers toy with the buttons of your shirt. Doyoung’s shirt, actually. The same printed one he wore two days ago at the rehearsal. The need to have his smell on your body too intense for you to resist. God, you’re so pathetic.

“It looks better on you than me.”

His voice from behind you startles you, and before you can excuse yourself nicely he’s already taken a seat next to you. He looks rough, jaw stubbled from not shaving and with dark circles under his eyes. You wonder if he had a sleep as restless as yours.

“I know”, you reply and he chuckles. “I’m sorry for taking this without asking. I was planning on returning it before you woke up.”

“It’s okay”, he shrugs and you’re met with silence again, the atmosphere heavy with the memories of last night weighing you both down. You were ready to pretend taking a call from your useless phone when he speaks up again.

“Let’s play last night’s game again.”

“The question game?”

“Yeah.”

“Doyoung, I can’t handle any mimosas right now.”

“No alcohol, just questions. Just-”, he sighs, looking at you with pleading eyes. “Just talk to me.”

“Theres nothing to talk about. We did what we did, you regret it. It’s fine.”

“No it’s not fine-”

“It’s fine!”, you insist, lifting your shoulders and dropping them again disappointedly. “I can’t force you to like me back.” You can tell your words upset him, but he still decides to let you finish. “But I was kind of hoping you’d at least be my friend.”

You hear a muffled groan from your side, turning to see Doyoung rub his face with his hands.

“I’m such a fucking idiot.”

“Why?”

“Because I do like you back.”

“You- you do?”

“God, y/n, are you serious? I’ve liked you ever since I walked into the school and saw you on the teachers’ lounge for the first time. I like the stupid pins you wear in your hair. I like the little songs you make up on Monday mornings. I like your handwriting on the chalkboard. I like the way you say my name, I like how you feel around me. And now you’re sitting next to me looking all pretty in my shirt and all I can thing about is-”

You press his open mouth against your lips, muffling his words, kissing him fiercely. He’s surprised but only for a second before the heat of your body thaws his frozen state, digging his fingers in your hair as he kisses you back. His rough stubble scratches your chin but the dull pain only makes you kiss him harder, pulling your body against yours until your heart hammers loudly in your ears. Your lips part open and tongues meet, minty from the toothpaste you used that morning and you’re ready to fully succumb under his body weight, let him lay those broad shoulders on top of you fully.

“There’s children around!”, an angry father from afar yells so you push him away, embarrassed, rubbing your lips. The pure serotonin that you get when you see his gummy smile again is irreplaceable, and you both laugh in the ridiculousness of the situation. You wonder what your coworker would say if she saw the two of you like this, getting carried away by each other at such a place, and you giggle thinking of her reaction. Doyoung is the first to speak.

“In conclusion, yes, I will be your friend.”

“Is that what you do with your friends?”

“Sure”, he jokes, and you shove him a little with your elbow. “I’m always here for you if you need shoulders to cry on”

“Awww”

“...or to lay your legs on.”

“Doyoung!”, you squeal and kick some water his way, like a cat that needed to be reprimanded. He laughs heartily, lightly, patting his skin that got wet dry.

“All jokes aside”, he adds, intertwining your fingers and resting your connecting hands on his thigh, “when we get back, I want to take you out on a proper date.”

“Fine”, you agree, giving him another kiss and hoping it won’t get you kicked out, “As long as you promise that you won’t throw us fully clothed in a pool again.”

“Keep it up and I’ll throw you fully clothed in a pool right now.”

Say my name like it's a bad word (Wow)

Sehyoon/you, rated M, nsfw

Word count: 9k+

Show me what you got Let it roll right off your tongue Hit me with your best shot Tell me off, tell me off Hit me where it hurts Say my name like its a bad word

Kim Sehyoon makes your life impossible ever since he walked in. Because as soon as you say his name, he walks away. 

The sofa you were slouched on was clearly well sat on, the dark leather smooth and soft under your exposed legs. You sank into the couch a little more, slumping into the soft leather with your hand tightly wrapped around a half full glass. Tiny beads of water were dripping between your fingers. The ice cubes in the drink had molten a while ago, with how long ago you had grabbed it and the heat of the room full of people. You didn’t care. You weren’t planning on finishing the drink, unless your frustration would become too much to bear. It wasn’t entirely unlikely.

But there was no point in getting drunk when you’d gain nothing from it but would end up with a hangover the next day. It wasn’t that you hated parties, especially not home parties thrown by people in your year. They were mostly fun and alcohol was always a nice option after a horribly stressful week, so you had always welcomed them on the weekends. They had just become a drag ever since you had laid eyes on Kim Sehyoon.

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Exo Recs

A- Angst, S-Smut F-Fluff

Kim Junmyeon

Kim Minseok

Zhang Yixing

Byun Baekhyun

Finding Atlantis by Guardianofjunmyeon AS

Kim Jongdae

Park Chanyeol

Do Kyungsoo

Kim Jongin

Oh Sehun

The Cowboy - Part 15 (Final)

Summary: Leaving the city for a rural area called Blayne seemed simple enough. Your task was to convince the people to agree with selling their land for a resort redevelopment. But once there, you soon realise that your city ways are entirely different to theirs. Winning their trust was going to take some effort, and when you start to fall for a local cowboy, you wonder if you really needed Blayne more than the city life after all.

Pairing: Jung Jaehyun x female reader

Genre: cowboy au / drama / romance / if you squint there’s some enemies to lovers up in here.

Warnings: Jung Jaehyun is a cowboy, need I say more? (a bit of angst and drama, and it sometimes might feel like you’re reading a Nicolas Sparks book, so I’m told lol) 

Word count: 2160

Preview | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15

Life in Blayne was ever-changing, and yet there were some constants that remained. You still woke up to the owl in the middle of the night at least once a week, and whenever it rained, you seemed to find yourself under the sheets moaning out Jaehyun’s name.

May was always the first person you turned for any news about anything regarding the people in Blayne and equally the one person you avoided the longest when you wanted to keep something to yourself.

Because Jaehyun wasn’t back yet from his second rodeo circuit, and you didn’t want anyone to know the news you had to share before telling him in person.

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Finding Atlantis (part 18)

Genre: Action/Adventure, Enemies to Lovers, PirateAU

Description: 20 years ago the seas became angry. Unruly and unkind to any sailor, to any ship that dared venture too far out in her waters. Many a man has heard the tales of Atlantis, the lost city, the key the ocean. But fewer  men know the tale of it’s missing child. The key to the ocean, the key to Atlantis but a lost little one. The power one would hold should they find this child would be nearly that of Poseidon himself. Thus, the hunt began.

A/N: WE DID IT! I bet you all thought i wouldn't follow through on my promise hehe. Well guys...this is it. The final chapter. I have no idea what to say because this story has so much of me in it and i'm just...at a loss for words after all the ones ive put in it. I'm considering an epilogue with anything extra you all may want to see (unanswered questions, deleted scenes, life after the story, etc.) So let me stop talking and lets get into it! WARNING: depression mention alongside pretty severe symptoms

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18

Death is easy.

It’s dying that hurts.

Only those from Atlantis can survive under water. You know that. Baekhyun knows that. It’s an ability that, as regular humans, you will never have.

Death by drowning. Death by blood loss. Death by blade or gunshot. These are all things you’d long predicted would inevitably take your last breath from you. Old age, illness, or natural causes never seemed like probable deaths. A peaceful death isn’t one your lifestyle affords. You’d leave this world the way you’d entered it, no holds barred, all or nothing.

You’ve never feared death.

No.

You’ve only ever feared dying.

You’ve found fear in the pain, in the ugliness of it –never of actually being dead. You’ve only ever worried about the thoughts you would have as you came to the realization that you’d never live another day in this life. You imagined feeling scared, of gasping out agonized breaths.

You never imagined that dying could feel like melting in the embrace from someone close to your heart. Like a suffocating darkness that is eased away by warmth and light. A feeling that carries a gentleness that can only be given through a touch imbued with love.

You never imagined that dying at the bottom of the ocean would lead to you washing up on a regular old beach in the afterlife.

When you open your eyes, you see an early morning sky above you. You can hear the wind whistling through the trees and waves crashing against the land. You can feel the wet sand beneath your palms and the salty water droplets rolling off your face. The afterlife feels all too similar to home.

Sitting up, you can see that you’re still in the outfit you died in. You’re in the outfit you died in, the sun is rising on the horizon, and a copy of your ship is bobbing calmly on the water not far ahead.

All your limbs are intact. You muscles ache but that’s nothing new to you. Water droplets bead on your forearms as the morning sun begins to evaporate it. An anxiety settles in your stomach and you follow the urge to look around for any other signs of life.

Of souls?

Of the gate, or passage to wherever the hell you are supposed to go now that your own fleeting life has ended.

Throat tight, you look around the mostly empty beach.

And you find Baekhyun seemingly not breathing not far behind you.

You scramble on to your knees and lean down to see if you can feel his breath.

Not again…

Maybe this is secretly hell. A replica of one of your happier moments, but you’re forced to spend eternity waking up and finding Baekhyun dead or dying in a new way at your side.

When you lean down again to find he is still unmoving, you attempt to breathe life into his lungs. It feels ironic given your situation.

He finally livens up. Water and acid come out of his mouth as soon as he opens his eyes.

Relief overcomes you at the sight of him and as soon as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, you press your lips to his –desperate for touch to prove to you he’s there.

“You taste like vomit,” you sob happily.

He grimaces and leans up on his elbows. “You’re the one shoving your tongue down my throat after I threw up, you nutcase.” He groans and looks around. “Where the hell are we?”

“Didn’t we die? Aren’t we in some kind of limbo? Davy Jones’s locker.”

He laughs, wet with the water still in his lungs. “I don’t think this is quite what the afterlife looks like. Your ship is right there, there are still signs of life around us, and besides; we’d have ended up in different places. Different lockers, right?” he rationalizes.

It takes you a moment to consider his words –to really feel the sand on your palms, the heat on your skin, the beating of your heart in your chest. You’re still alive somehow, after all of that. You were so far below the surface, there’s no way the two of you should have survived that.

“But…how?” you whisper to your shaking hands.

“I think…” Baekhyun coughs, looks out at the water. “I think Junmyeon guided us to safety somehow.”

You think back on the feeling you felt just after the initial suffocation and you turn to face the water as well. You recall the warmth and safety that came with what you thought was death. “…I…Yeah. I guess he did…”

The water laps lazily against the sand. Calmly.

At peace.

You close your eyes and let the full weight of your reality set in. You’re alive. Junmyeon is gone. He saved you somehow.

Junmyeon is gone.

The tears spill before you can even try and verbalize the realization. You curl into yourself and let the hard sobs shake you to the very core. Baekhyun doesn't say a word.

What couldhe say? Nothing would change what’s been done.

Instead of speaking, he wraps his arms around you to let you weep until you no longer can.

~~~

When your crew realizes that it’s you and Baekhyun who have washed up on the island, they send out a dinghy immediately. By then, your tears have gone, but the lump in your throat won’t go away no matter how many times you swallow around it.

“I miss him,” you mutter as you watch the dinghy get closer to the beach.

“I know,” Baekhyun replies.

“But, he’s happy now.”

He hesitates as he looks out at the water. “…I know.”

Questions are thrown at you as soon as Yixing and Chanyeol make it on land. Baekhyun just shakes his head at your side and they quiet. You’re thankful for the silence.

Your body shakes violently, but your mind is numb.

The joy of your crew as you climb on deck is overwhelming. You look at all the faces emotionlessly. When people begin to sense that something is wrong you lower your gaze to the floor and walk towards your quarters. You can’t speak, not right now. Not when you aren’t even sure what they expect you to say. And you surely can’t plaster on a grin.

The door closes behind you, and the shaking only worsens in your solitude. You let the wet clothing, the only physical reminder of your time in Atlantis left, carelessly fall from your body. More out of habit than by conscious thought, you pull on something dry.

When you bury yourself under your covers, you can’t stop the tremors no matter how hard you try.

~~~

Hours pass. Or maybe it’s a few minutes. It could have been half a day, you can’t be sure. All you know, is that in the time between you closing yourself off in the room and the first person coming in to check on you, is that you haven’t been able to go to sleep.

Every time you close your eyes for more than a few seconds you’re haunted with the sight of Junmyeon’s smile as he thanked you. That and then his still form in the sphere of water. Every time you tried to sleep, you just ended up crying.

Yeri is the first person to knock. She peaks her head in and says words that hold no meaning to you. When you show no sign of responding, she retreats.

Yixing comes in next. He tries to make conversation. Checks you for any obvious injury or illness. Frowns despite seeing nothing physically wrong. You think he tells you that you need to eat.

Jongin and Kyungsoo come in together. Kyungsoo with a tray of food, and Jongin seemingly just there to see you with his own eyes.

When they give up trying to coax words out of you they leave the food too.

You push it to the floor just to hear it clatter. To hear something.

The door opens for a fourth time and you want to exhale in frustration. Why does no one understand that you want to be left alone?

A cup of tea is set on the table where the food once sat. You tiredly raise your eyes to the face of the newest intruder. Baekhyun looks down at the mess on the floor with pursed lips. You decide then to avoid his eyes.

He rounds the bed and sits on the other side. You can feel his weight against your back. A dry sob finds its way out of your mouth. You would feel embarrassed if you had the energy to.

A sigh is all you get from him. You can feel him shifting and the sound of his boots hitting the floor before the covers lift and he crawls under. He doesn’t say anything. You turn to face him. His eyes catch yours before you can even think to look away.

When he opens up his arms, your lip trembles and you hide yourself against his chest without second thought. He holds you tightly, as if his arms are the only thing keeping you from breaking apart.

You let your eyes fall closed. Thanks to the warmth of his body and the thumping of his heart, you’re finally, finally, able to fall into a dreamless sleep.

~~~

You wake up alone. The tea on your bedside table has long gone cold. You don’t need to touch it to know. The lethargy in your bones lets you know that you got at least a few hours rest –plenty of time for a hot cup of tea to go stale. You frown and fight the urge to throw the cold glass across the room.

Sitting up, you dig the palms of your hands into your eyes as hard as you can. Stars and non-shapes flash across your vision when you reopen them.

Frustrated, you notice that nothing has changed when you open your eyes. The room is the same. The tea is still cold.

And you’re still alone.

What now?

You never thought about what you would do after Junmyeon was gone. Hell, you hadn’t thought that Junmyeon would die.

Where do you go from here? Are you just supposed to get up and sail on? Find a new mission? Make someone else your new first mate?

The thought of that alone makes you feel sick. You aren’t ready to think about that.

What do you do now? You don’t want to think, you don’t want to feel, you just want to lie in bed and pretend this never happened. Maybe have a dream where thisis all just a dream.

Should you eat? Should you go talk to someone? Should you throw yourself over the side of the ship? If you’re lucky, maybe you’d hit a rock and die from head trauma. You’ve drowned enough in this lifetime, you think. You couldn’t handle drowning being the last thing you ever felt.

The compass catches your eye, flipped open and on its side on the bedside table. That probably happened when you flipped over the food.

Automatically you reach out for it and cradle it in both of your hands. There’s no way you can make a decision for yourself right now. Maybe the compass will help lead you to what you should focus on doing next.

A breath in. Closed eyes. Cleared mind. A heavy breath out.

You open your eyes and see the needle of the compass slowing moving from the left towards your door.

Baekhyun must be about to walk in, you think bitterly.

And he does.

There’s a fresh tray of food in his hands. He falters in the doorway when he sees you sitting up with the compass in your hands. He doesn’t say anything as he walks to the side of the bed –where he’d slept- and places the food there.

He reaches over and closes the compass in your hands. “Don’t look at that thing right now. You’re in the middle of mourning.”

Mourning. That sounds right. You couldn’t place the feeling until you heard it.

“You should eat something,” he says softly. He settles on the bed at your side. “I cleaned up the food on the floor earlier, and we all figured you would feel somewhat better with fresh food.”

You don’t reply.

“Eat something. You can’t starve yourself.”

You clench your fingers around the closed compass.

Baekhyun groans exasperatedly. “You haven’t eaten or had any water in nearly 48 hours. Do you not care? I don’t expect you to say anything, but the least you can do is not sit here on your ass trying to kill yourself by refusing to eat.”

There’s nothing for you to say to that. You hadn’t realized how long it had been, but even then you don’t want any food. The thought of eating makes you feel nauseous.

The compass is snatched from your hands. “Okay fine. You don’t want to eat? Then decide on the next plan of action. Where do you want to go huh? You want revenge? Wanna go kick Poseidon’s ass? Let’s do it. Just get up and do something, you can’t waste away like this. Not after everything you’ve been through.” He opens the compass up and immediately puts it back in your hands.

As always, it turns towards him.

He looks at it in confusion. You exhale and let it fall from your hands. Baekhyun looks from you to the compass with furrowed brows before he picks it up himself. After only a second he holds it in your line of vision.

The needle unwaveringly points towards you.

So, what?

You sluggishly drag your gaze back up. His jaw is set in determination.

“It points towards you too. It won’t stop pointing towards you. From the start of this, it’s only been you. I’m here…I’m trying to be here with you.” He sounds as exhausted as you feel.

You bite your lip to hold back a fresh set of tears.

He rakes a hand roughly through his hair.

“I-I love you.” He pauses and you see the shock in his eyes as he realizes what he’s said. You clench your fists at your side. “I…love you, and I’m sorry it took you losing Junmyeon, us nearly dying 10 times, and your confession for me to finally say it. I don’t think I could tell you when it started even if I wanted to, but that doesn’t matter.” His face burns red with embarrassment but he pushes on. “What matters right now, is that I’m here, you’re here, and you’re killingyourself. Do you hear me?

“Junmyeon wouldn’t want to see you like this. I don’t want to fucking see you like this.” He licks his lips and exhales shakily. “We still have so much to fight over. Don’t you still wanna kick my ass? You can stab me again if you want, I don’t care, just…please,” he begs. He lowers his head into your lap and his hands clench around the sheets. His face is hidden from view but you can see the shake in his shoulders as he tries not to cry.

Silently, you reach over the grab the cup of water in your trembling hands. You drink a few mouthfuls but it doesn’t feel as though it really helps. Baekhyun looks up with red rimmed eyesat your movement.

You grab a piece of soft bread and break off a piece and hand it to him. He opens his mouth to eat it. You break another piece off and feed it to yourself.

Until the food is gone, neither of you say a word to each other. It’s only when he sits up to clear away the tray that you find the energy to speak. “Stay with me, please.” Your fingers curl around his wrist to keep him from leaving. You silently notice that he’s paler than usual, and his wrist is thinner.

As if he’s been in a similar state of distress.

If he wanted to, you still think he could escape your hold without even trying –given the comparatively worse state you’re in. “You help keep the nightmares away. You…you being here helps me sleep.”

He blinks at your admission and then nods. “Of course. I’m here. You couldn’t make me leave even if you wanted to.”

You lower yourself back down to your side, nearly chin deep under the covers as he settles in next to you. This time when he opens his arms, he doesn’t wait for you to close the distance. He pulls you closer on his own.

After a few minutes of quiet, “I don’t know what to do now,” you admit softly. He hums in question. “I never thought this far ahead…I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

“Just take it day by day. You don’t have a plan in place now. It’s okay to take some time to just feel, to do nothing. That might be what’s best for you until you get back on your feet. It doesn’t matter what you do. Just take it day by day.”

~~~

The days get easier, or maybe you become more accustomed to feeling like shit.

Who knows?

It’s decided that everyone will head back to Arae and take a well deserved break. After all that has occurred, some time on land to recuperate is the least the crew could use.

It takes a week before you’re able to finally call a meeting with all the crew to discuss what happened while you, Junmyeon and Baekhyun were in Atlantis.

You give your retelling and Baekhyun chimes in to fill in blanks where needed. Once you describe the last moments with your former first mate, you actively see people’s eyes glassing over.

Even as you try to convince everyone that he is content with his decision, you hear the uncertainty in your own voice.

“So…that’s just it? Mission accomplished, I guess.” Yixing runs a hand through his hair. “This is a lot to hear.”

“I understand that there may still be confusion and that emotions are high after all of our recent events. I’m still trying to come to terms with it all myself. Let’s just get to port and then everyone can rest and take the time they need,” you say to the crowd. “We can figure everything else out later. Junmyeon was treasured, and was proud of each and every one of you. Never forget that…”

You end your address with a nod to your men. The weight of a hand on your shoulder gives you just enough strength to summon the authority of a captain in your voice. “Anchors aweigh! Man your stations! We’ll be heading northwest until we’ve set our course for Arae!”

Your words snap everyone to attention, and the deck bursts with movement.

“I want a record of how our food rations are looking! I need a headcount of our men! Sehun, you’re on the helm until I get back!”

For the first time in a while, you feel the rush of being in charge. Of being in control of the things occurring around you. You would puff up with pride if the thought hadn’t reminded you of all that you’ve recently had no control over. Of the things…the people…you’ve lost.

The hand on your shoulder squeezes. “You’re doing a great job. You don’t have to push yourself any further than you can handle.”

You turn to look at Baekhyun head on. “I’m fine. Let’s go chart our course to port before I get the urge to vomit in the middle of the deck.” You grimace.

His hand drifts to your nape. The smile on his face is affectionate, warm, loving. “C’mon then.”

~~~

You wake up in the middle of the night feeling like all of the air has been stolen from your lungs. Sitting up with a start, you clutch your throat to check if anything was physically choking you. The candle you’d put out before going to bed burns brightly on your bedside table, but your throat is no longer constricted.

Baekhyun, who has unofficially moved into your quarters (not completely unwanted), is dead asleep at your side. You look around the room slowly, hand itching to grab a weapon in case you’re being ambushed. Being woken with such abruptness has your guard raised.

A glint of gold catches your eye as the candle flickers in the darkness.

A golden seal. Wax with an unfamiliar emblem pressed into it holding closed a note by the flame.

Confusion causes your eyebrows to furrow, but curiosity has you reaching out to grab it. The paper feels strange in your hands. Smooth and glossy, but wet. The water droplets don’t soak into the note; you’re able to wipe them off easily without disturbing the integrity of the odd parchment.

As you open it, you recognize the handwriting immediately.

Dear Captain,

I’m writing this hurriedly in my bedroom, so I apologize if it doesn't read as easily as it should.

I decided that you deserve a proper explanation. After the experience with the guardians earlier, I knew that I needed to tell you what things will happen next. What my purpose of being here is for. I fear there’s not much more time before I will lose my chance to talk to you.

The guardians of the ocean were never meant to last for all of time. They lose power just as all things do, and certain events can trigger a power outage faster than others.

Events like my leaving home.

You might have been able to put together the pieces from what Jongdae was saying, but my reason for leaving was quite simple.

I knew that I would have to die to restore power to our guardians.

I knew that I would have to die, so I wanted to live before I had to give up my life for the kingdom. I didn’t think much of it when I left. I didn’t have any plans or any idea of where I would go. I just needed to leave. I needed time to enjoy my life while I could.

But every action has a consequence. By leaving, I unintentionally caused not one, not two, but three of our sacred guardians to lose power. If I don’t step in, then we may very well lose a fourth and I can’t let that happen. I refuse to let that happen.

All this is to say, that this note is my goodbye to you. It is my goodbye to the crew. If things go as I expect, then the fourth guardian will lose power soon and I’ll have to give up all that I am in order to restore at least the guardians that we lost in my absence.

This is a goodbye, and I know you must be thinking, ‘there must be another way’, but there isn’t. This is the only way, and I’ve long accepted that.

However, I’ve gotten to live a full life thanks to you taking me in that one rainy night. Thanks to the crew for being a family for me and dedicating so much time and spilling s much blood just to get me home. Being able to sail with you all, experiencing the good and the bad of being human, has steeled my resolve. I will do this to protect humanity. To protect the seas. To protect my family, both in Atlantis and aboard my real home on the Storm Chaser.

I never planned on leaving any trace of my existence on land. I thought I could exist and vanish without a trace, but in a way I’m grateful that I will be able to complete the prophecy with people who will remember me as me.

Not as a prince.

Not as a cursed child of Posiedon.

Not as Suho the Guardian of the Ocean.

But as a man. As Junmyeon. As first mate of the Storm Chaser.

Thank you for everything, Captain. Continue to sail the seas happily and healthily. I know that you’ll continue to be a protector and a home to many more lost souls like mine. Live a long life. For me.

Yours truly,

Kim Junmyeon

P.S. you should give Byun a chance to get his thoughts together. From what I’ve gathered, you stunned him and he is just as much in love with you as you are him. We’ve all be telling you this for so long

P.P.S please clean up your quarters. I won’t be around to help you keep things in order, so for me, clear away all those damn posters.

Your eyes flit over to the messy pile of wanted posters that have spilled onto the floor and you feel a smile stretching across your lips. You run your thumbs across the paper a few times to keep your mind distracted as you scan over the note again.

Having this final piece of him here in your hands fills your chest with emotion. An ache, a fullness, a kind of pain and a kind of happiness. It’s a lot to process so soon after waking.

“Euurggh,” you hear him rising before you feel him shifting beside you. “What are you doing awake so soon?”

“A letter.”

“I’ve got a letter for you, it’s ‘Z’ and it means lay back down and get some.”

You can’t help how your eyes roll. He’s as annoying as ever, but he’s right. You only get a few hours of rest before you have to take over from Yixing for the night. The letter, figuring out where it came from and what to do with it, can wait a few hours more.

You fold it back neatly and set it next to the candle before blowing out the flame. It’s presence in the room is heavy, but you are determined not to deal with it until you wake again.

Burying yourself under the blanket, Baekhyun attaches himself to you immediately to sap you of your body heat. “Baekhyun…”

“Mm.” You contemplate briefly bringing up the note, but think better of it. Instead you focus on the heat he radiates against you. You feel warm all over.

“You know…you’re the only one who’s said it so far.”

“Mm?”

You shuffle up and cup one of his cheeks in your hand. He opens his sleepy eyes to gaze at you in confusion. You take the moment to really accept this moment. You can’t lie to yourself and say that you’re happy, but you can see yourself being happy in the future. In this moment, it’s clearer now than before. You may no longer have Junmyeon at your side, but Baekhyun is here. He’s here, he genuinely seems to care about you, and he said he loves you.

You hadn’t even had the courage to say those words when you’d been sharing your own feelings in that hallway. The words felt too real. Too permanent. But now, in the darkness of your room, everything feels…right.

“I love you.” You press a poorly aimed kiss to the corner of his lips. “I love you…a lot.” A giddy feeling bubbles up in your stomach. “It kinda makes me disgusted.”

“You just had to ruin the moment at the end there didn't you?”

“I can’t have you thinking I no longer think that you’re a bastard.”

“But I’m your bastard.”

You snort. “Yeah, unfortunately.”

He presses a messy kiss to your mouth. You laugh at first, taken off guard by the suddenness of the action. He pulls you closer to his body, and the kiss develops into something more purposeful.

Your hands on each other hold so much more meaning now. There’s no hidden feelings here. No rush of any kind. No need to hide tenderness for fear of being to vulnerable. Just two lovers who want to cherish the person in their arms. You brush your lips against his temple. “Baekhyunie…I really do love you,” you whisper before placing a peck against his earlobe.

He groans deep in his throat, hides his face in your neck. “You’ve gotta stop using that nickname when we’re fucking. I’m never gonna be able to hear it again without my dick getting hard,” he breathes hotly against your skin. A laugh escapes you without warning.

He breathes out a laugh of his own before pulling away and kissing up your neck to your forehead. His lips linger there. “God, I love you.”

You hum happily. “I could get use to hearing that.”

“Oh, shut up.” He says softly. “Go back to sleep. I’m too tired to do anything else. We can continue after a few more hours of rest.” You wrap your arms around him and place your head on his chest. “We can deal with whatever is in that letter tomorrow too, get some rest for now,” he yawns out.

You’d almost forgotten about the letter, but you don’t feel any desperation to address it. You’ll sleep for now. Punctuated by a light kiss to his skin, you murmur quietly, sincerely, “I love you.”

His arms tighten around you in acknowledgement and you fall asleep at peace.

~~~*Three months later*~~~

“Are we ready to leave port?”

“Yes Captain. All members are present and accounted for.”

“Good. Our heading is southeast, let’s make haste. I want to get this bounty quickly. We’re rusty, we need to start with something easy.”

“Ay, Captain.”

Leaving port is always as gratifying as it is stress inducing. There’s nothing that can quite match the rush you feel when you see your fellow crewman rushing around your ship, bringing her to life again, after months at rest. Raising the sails and cleaning down her surfaces before taking her back out home on the open sea, that rush is what excites you most in this world. The entire vessel buzzes with energy as your men call out to each other across the ship ensuring that she’s prepped and safe to take out on the water.

“Uh…Captain? We’ve got an extra in our headcount.”

You whip around at Yixing’s voice.

“Long time no see,” the new face says, smile as bright as you remember.

“Jongdae?” you can’t believe your eyes. It’s been months since you saw the younger prince last. The last place you expected to see him again was on land, in Arae no less.

“I figured you might be needing an extra hand here and there. Although I don’t know much about working on a ship, I know plenty about how the currents and how the ocean works.”

Yixing looks from you to Jongdae in confusion. “So…you know this guy?”

“Yeah...yeah. He’s Junmyeon’s younger brother.” Your words stun your quartermaster so much so that his mouth drops open.

“Speaking of my brother, did you get the letter I delivered?”

Letter?

The note!

“You put that letter there? We couldn’t figure out how it could have possibly ended up there.” You’d all spent hours thinking of ways that the letter could have been snuck aboard, and even longer trying to make sense of the paper itself. After reading its contents, everyone aboard the ship felt as though they’d finally gotten the proper send off deserved of your first mate. Most questions had been answered, and everyone felt content in the way things had played out, even if it meant Junmyeon was no longer with you all.

“Well yeah. Junmyeon wanted it to go to you after he took over as guardian. I had to do my part to fulfill that wish. That, and getting you all the treasure you were promised.” Its then that you notice the enormous cases being loaded on the ship –cases you know the crew hadn’t packed themselves.

“Treasure?”

“Gold, jewels, shiny stuff you humans like.”

Yixing rushes over to a case to open it. “Are these all full of treasures?”

Jongdae nods easily, as if the fortune he’s brought has little meaning to him. “Of course.”

“This would set the entire crew for generations Captain…” Yixing says in awe.

You blink at Jongdae dumbly.

“There’s just one favor I have to ask in return for delivering all of this,” he starts. “I need you and your crew to help me with my destiny.”

“Of fucking course there’s a catch. What? We gotta help you on a suicide mission next?” Baekhyun’s voice shakes you out of your stupor. He tosses an arm over your shoulder. He’s gained more weight in the months at rest. The weight on your shoulders is welcomed.

“It’s nothing like that trust me,” Jongdae says with raised hands. He focuses his attention back to you. “Junmyeon trusts you all, so I do too. It’s nothing quite as final as Junmyeon’s, but it’s still quite a feat to complete on my own.”

“Did you run away too?” You ask in worry.

“No, no! I was given permission. This has to do with my destiny so it’s completely fine. Besides, Junmyeon’s able to help guide me home if I need to go back.”

“I’m sorry, what?” You ask incredulously.

He blinks innocently. “Junmyeon can help me find my way home when I’m ready. Whenever I talk to him he seems pretty sure that he can.”

“You still talk to him!?”

“Duh, he’s a part of the ocean now. He’s not gone. I’m sure even you guys could get some kind of response from him if you tried to talk to him. It might not be words, but he’s pretty good at communicating.” He waves away his words as if it was a passing thought. “He told me to come to you guys for help, and said I might be able to help in return. If you all help me destroy the monsters that inhabit the more dangerous parts of the ocean, then I can offer my knowledge in exchange.”

Baekhyun is able to jump back into the conversation first. You’re still stupefied at the idea that you could have talked to Junmyeon all this time. That he isn’t fucking dead, just…part of the ocean now?

Whatever the fuck that is supposed to mean.

“So…you want us to help you fight sea monsters? Like sirens and krakens and shit?”

Jongdae gives an eager nod.

Baekhyun looks at you and raises an eyebrow. Do you really want to take this on? You purse your lips and turn back to Jongdae. You’ve spent over 3 months not taking on any missions. Your crew is as rusty as they can get. Fresh out of mourning and getting back on their feet. You have enough gold and jewels to never have to work again.

Even if you declined, you doubt Jongdae would take the treasures back. This was your payment for Junmyeon’s return. Nothing more than that. If anything, this would be a favor to the other prince.

But, Junmyeon thinks you’d be of help to each other. Besides, you don’t know what you would do with your time if you stopped sailing as a pirate. You belong on the sea. You’ve know that for nearly all your life. You want to live adventurously. The Storm Chaser can’t be reduced to some shitty cargo ship. Your men came to you to escape their lives on land. They wouldn’t want to return even if they had the money to live happily. You can tell by how eager everyone is today just coming back aboard the ship.

You jut your hand out. Your decision is made; although, it might have been made up from the moment he even asked. “You’ve got a deal.” Jongdae beams and reaches out to grab your hand, but you suddenly pull back. “Ah…well as long as my first mate agrees?”

You catch Baekhyun’s eyes again and he smiles. “If you want to do this, I’m behind you 100% Captain.” The eye patch he was using to keep his bangs out of his face is slid back over his eye.

“Let’s go kill some fucking sea monsters.”

~~~

20 years ago the seas became angry. Unruly and unkind to any sailor, to any ship that dared venture too far out in her waters. Many a man has heard the tales of Atlantis, the lost city, the key the ocean.

The heart of the ocean.

These days, her heart is at ease. These days, the ocean is calm.

The tale of the lost child of Atlantis have become nothing but an old wives tale. A thrilling bedtime story told to children to amaze them with the wonders of the sea.

A story of family, of fear, and of loss.

A story about mermaids, and storms –of ships that nearly faced destruction in attempt to return that lost child.

To return that lost man. A prince.

A tale that dazzles with promises of riches, and happiness. Of adventure and hate. A tale of love.

There’s no way to determine the truth of the story, for no written record of Atlantis exists. Only the oral retellings by those who claim to have seen it.

Many secrets lie beneath the ocean’s surface –wonders and horrors alike. The tale of finding Atlantis will stay as secret as the ocean herself.

Thus, her story continues on.

Calm. At peace.

-Anonymous

atlas | kim dongyoung

pairing: doyoung x reader

words: 15.4k

summary: kim doyoung has a lot of titles. student body president, music club president, favourite student of every professor who’s blessed enough to have him. in other words, he’s not your type and never will be. at least he’s a good kisser.

or, you feel the weight of the world on your shoulders and you do not know how to hold things as delicate as glass.

genre: college au, fwb au, hurt/comfort, angst, some fluff 

warnings: very suggestive content, making out, language, smoking, alcohol, mentions of sex under influence, me being pretentious,,

prompt: anonymous said: slippery + doyoung + “you can rely on me, you know.” from the first dialogue link! LOVE YOU ❤️

song rec(s): playlist here !

a/n: yes it’s me experimenting out of my comfort zone again. yes you are required by law to listen to keshi while reading this hahahaha anyway writing this was painful. <3 (aka today i tried writing very complex human emotions and failed again. classic.)

In the beginning, there was no beginning. Ergo, this isn’t really a thing.

You shouldn’t be thinking of summer in Introduction to Latin. You are a good (perhaps great, if your ego allows) student after all. Here you are, though, listening to the ticking of the clock and wondering if you sigh loud enough, you won’t have to construct another sentence with the word for ‘death’. You pause to tell yourself that you shouldn’t be thinking of summer out of class either. Unremarkable; that’s what it was and you don’t like unremarkable things.

When two people end up alone together, there’s not much to make of. 

Keep reading

Why was this on my feed this morning? I miss this man so much.

I remember this era damn near killed me.

It was around the time my friends kept giving me crap for not admitting Jinyoung is my ult when I do things like spit sprite across the room when he gets out of an elevator in Hard Carry 2.5 or stop mid-sentence when he shows up on tv and proceed to pick up the conversation like nothing happened after. I once had to put a sticky note over his face on a youtube thumbnail at work so I could answer a call without freaking out.

JINYOUNG POISON

back to you masterlist

badboy!san

a part of you wishes that you listened to wooyoung more carefully when he first warned you about his roommate. 

that you really sat down and considered what your best friend of six years was telling you, so warningly and cautiously, almost with a preconceived look of fear and sympathy in his eyes. 

like he knew, in just a matter of months, you’d be completely ruined and destroyed by the first boy you’d ever been with. 

“whatever you do, y/n, please, just stay away from choi san, okay?” wooyoung begged quietly, his tone the most serious and soft spoken you’d heard in your life from him.

“you have to promise me.”

but you heard the words and pushed them off carelessly, promised him with a roll of your eyes and a scoff that followed that of course, if he really wants, you’d stay away from choi san.

❥ part 1

❥ part 2

❥ part 3

❥ part 4

❥ part 5

❥ part 6

❥ part 7

❥ part 8

❥ part 9

❥ part 10

❥ part 11

❥ part 12

status: complete

playlist (thank you ❤️‍🔥 anon): https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3gkBWfsydZc5v12OtdWXyE?si=VLCLqVWGTq-KpJErQcWi9A

tag list: @mochibabycakes​ @atinyarmyx1​ @baekhvuns​ @bunbaebae​ @markleeyeosang​ @nlost21​ @cherryeonii​ @hwaven​ @lost-midnight-flower​ @toothlessshiber​ @utopiakys​ @seonghwanotes​

couldn’t tag: @harry-the-pottypus @marksflvr @inkigayeo @hyunjeansuniverse 

small doses (M)

↣ PAIRING: Taeyong (NCT) + reader (female)

↣ GENRE: enemies to lovers; a pinch of angst; smut

↣ SUMMARY: Taeyong is nothing but a thorn in your side. He loves to push your buttons and lives to get a rise out of you, but when you’re paired together for a project, you soon realize the Taeyong you’ve come to hate is nothing more than a facade to protect his fragile heart.

↣ WARNINGS: some language; alcohol use; explicit sexual content

↣ NOTES: 18k words; listening to small doses by bebe rexha; this is a one-shot, there will be no sequels; check the masterlist in my description for other one-shots in this collection; happy reading!

Keep reading

call me by your name (M)

↣ PAIRING: Yuta (NCT) + reader (female)

↣ GENRE: tattoo artist; spicy and sweet and everything in between; smut

↣ SUMMARY: After getting out of a less than healthy relationship, you decide to finally get the tattoo you’ve always wanted. There’s an obvious attraction between you and Yuta, your tattoo artist, but the last thing you want is to date again and Yuta reluctantly agrees to keep things casual. At least until he can convince you he’s worth the risk of getting your heart broken again.

↣ WARNINGS: mild language; alcohol use; dialogue related to toxic relationships; descriptions of getting tattoos and piercings; explicit sexual content

↣ NOTES: 17k words; listening to call me by your name by lil nas x; this is a one-shot, there will be no sequels; check the masterlist in my description for other one-shots in this collection; happy reading!

Keep reading

I am a simp

here comes the prettyboymobile (230513)

that’s rich!

❝ word has it that yuta nakamoto is the new black. personally, i think whoever came up with that is deeply disturbed. ❞

PAIRING ▸ yuta nakamoto x fem!reader (ft. wong yukhei)

GENRES ▸ slow burn, smut, crack, fluff, angst, college au, enemies to lovers, summer romance au, mutual pining 

WARNINGS ▸ reader is super shallow at first but !! character development, mentions of family issues, sexual tension, love triangle, yuta and reader bickering all the time, teasing, sneaking around, corruption kink, yuta calls you princess and kitten, fingering, overstimulation, exhibitionism, oral (fem. receiving), i promise it’s fluffy after the angst

SUMMARY ▸ despite having everything in the palm of your hand, you soon realized that not everything could be won over by money and your jaw-dropping looks. unfortunately, you had to come to that conclusion when your birthday present was the bane of your existence, yuta nakamoto.

PLAYLIST ▸ here!

WORD COUNT ▸ 27739 words

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ i’m so sorry for the wait but it’s here !! thank you so much for your support on this series, it always makes my heart swell to see the love it gets! part of the dunk shot! series but it can be read separately ♡

DIAMONDS WERE A GIRL’S BEST FRIEND, BUT LEE TAEYONG WAS YOURS.

Sometimes, you wished your father sent you off to an elite private university, but you supposed a public university wasn’t too bad when you found the right crowd. The issue for you was that you simply couldn’t relate to the people around you. There was no right crowd when you were a pearl among stones. It wasn’t like you were classist or anything, but public school students just didn’t suit your taste.

Although, Taeyong was an exception to that. You weren’t just settling for him as your best friend because he was all you had, but maybe somewhere deep down in your tiny, diamond-encrusted heart was a space for Lee Taeyong. He had been your rock since high school, after all.

Keep reading

Wow