Summer Of Love (ljn)

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!

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

---

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

---

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,” 

---

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.

Keep reading

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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

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