This Was Written Like It Came Out Of My Brain - Tumblr Posts

First Things First | Part 1 of 2

Rating: M (18+) | WC: ~3.8k

Notes/Warnings: fem reader, college au, cute and clueless soccer star san, swearing, suggestiveness, alcohol, no sex in this part sry

Backstory I didn't feel like writing: everyone's on the soccer team (8 makes 1 team) and they all live in a scholarship house together plus 3 randos i guess bc there's 11 people on a soccer team apparently just fill it up w ur other favs

San’s crush on you was innocent enough, at first.

You were Wooyoung’s chem tutor last spring so you’d come around the house sometimes, always greeting him warmly with a grin and a short hug before asking how practice was going. San would battle a shiver at the way your body felt pressed against his then get halfway through a response before Woo got annoyed at sharing your attention and tugged you to the study room, leaving him behind with a defeated smile on his face and heat on the back of his neck.  

Then summer came and went, the weeks passing quickly with San’s classes and off-season training, and the fall semester started up before he even had time to catch his breath. He’d walked into his first class and there you were, front and center and scribbling in your planner. The seat next to you was empty and San didn’t know anyone else, so he didn’t see any harm in sitting with you. 

That doesn’t mean harm wasn’t caused, though.

Really, sitting next to you was the first in a series of mistakes that led him to where he is now: waiting to see if you’ll show up to this party and fighting to shove down the feelings bubbling up in his chest.

It used to be a lot easier but now, he’s spent too much time with you, enough to imagine how you’d feel in his arms and where you’d want to go on a date and what you’d look like in his bed, and it’s these images that flash through his mind whenever he tries to hold a conversation with you. 

That’s San’s other problem - for the life of him, he cannot talk to you like a normal person. He can talk to other girls just fine, even when they’re obviously flirting with him, but you’re different. He’s always either stuttering or mumbling, speaking way too fast or not speaking at all, his every interaction with you tinged by embarrassment and self-consciousness. You’re always patient with him, your hand squeezing his arm in encouragement and your sweet smile never faltering. It’s part of why he’s so into you, just knowing you’re along for the ride whether he can get the words out or not. 

San can feel his heart start to race, feel it thump in his chest like a jackrabbit when he spots you through the doorway.

Oh god, oh god, oh god. You're here. Fuck. 

He’s in charge of mixing drinks tonight but he wonders if he can get another job, not feeling very effective with the way his hands are suddenly shaking. The vodka spills over the shot cup, pooling on the counter and dripping off the edge before he can throw enough paper towels down. He can hear Seonghwa scolding him in the back of his mind, telling him to at least disinfect the floor now that there’s liquor all over it, so he mops a messy trail around the kitchen and prays no one comes looking for a drink before he finishes cleaning. 

He’s ducked behind the island, gathering up all of the used towels in his hands when he hears voices. Your voice, more specifically, plus another he doesn’t recognize.

Fuck, he probably reeks of vodka and now he’s got all these nasty towels in his hands and you’re here, in the kitchen, laughing at someone’s shitty joke. 

You should be laughing at his shitty jokes, San laments, debating whether it would be worth it to try to army crawl away or if he should just end his misery now and show himself. Your voice grows louder and San knows he has to make a decision, can practically feel the countdown blaring in his mind as the distance between you and his hiding spot shrinks. 

San pops up before it’s too late, a sheepish smile on his face and his alcohol soaked hands hidden behind his back. You’re standing by the counter with a guy he doesn’t know, tapping your fingers on the formica and looking around for the mixers. You’d jumped when he appeared, he notes with a grimace. He didn’t mean to startle you but it’s obvious he has by the wideness of your eyes and the hand over your heart. 

You break into a grin before he starts to feel too guilty, jumping toward him with a shout of his name and leaning in to wrap your arms around his neck. You smell like your perfume and a bit of the wine he’s noticed you like, and you’re so warm against him, so soft he could close his eyes and fall asleep right now. He presses his cheek to your head in lieu of hugging you back, but notices the joy in your eyes is weaker as you pull away, your gaze falling to the strain of his biceps as he holds the soggy paper towels behind his back. 

He’d rather embarrass himself than make you feel sad so he’s quick to reveal them, explaining with a crooked smile and bunched up shoulders that there had been a spill and he’s only just finished cleaning up. You giggle with fondness but the guy with you laughs at him the wrong way, prompting a glare from San and an elbow in the stomach from you. 

“This is my roommate’s little brother, I’ll be done with babysitting duty soon,” you promise apologetically. 

“I’m not a baby,” he sputters, rubbing his stomach and slinking to the other side of the kitchen. He opens coolers until he finds a White Claw, leaning against the counter and texting rapidly between sips, the dings and clicks pouring tension into San’s neck. 

“Yes, he is,” you whisper once your tag-along is far enough away, “He’s been driving me nuts.”

San pouts at you sympathetically as he tosses the towels in the trash and washes his hands, turning just enough to keep you in his line of sight and asking if you want a drink. You think about it for a second before declining with a small shake of your head, your nose scrunching in a way that makes San want to do something ridiculous like kiss it and then ask you to marry him. 

You chat with him while he fulfills his team-assigned duties, staring at his hands as he mixes drinks and checking your phone when someone wanders into the kitchen looking to fill their cup. He hopes you don’t feel like you have to stay with him, tries to figure out a way to let you know you can go without making you think that’s what he wants. 

San wants the opposite, wants you to stay and talk to him all night, pay attention to him and no one else, but he also doesn’t want you to feel trapped. He’s nowhere close to a plan when your roommate rounds the corner, followed closely by a whining Wooyoung and a silently suffering Yeosang. San can tell by the corners of Yeo’s mouth that Woo’s been badgering him for at least fifteen minutes already and bites his lips to stifle the chuckle, knowing from the many times he’s been in Yeosang’s shoes that the last thing he needs is someone laughing at him. 

Your roommate rolls her eyes and shoves a cup in Wooyoung’s gesticulating hands before telling him to shut the fuck up and take a drink, letting her focus shift to you and San once Wooyoung falls silent. He straightens up as best he can, feeling weirdly exposed as her gaze volleys between the two of you and hoping he passes whatever test she’s obviously putting him through. 

He must because she moves on to her brother after a short thirty seconds of agony, shouting a goodbye and dragging him from the room with his elbow held tightly in her grasp. Yeosang had escaped in the meantime and Wooyoung ran after him as soon as he noticed his absence, which left you and San alone in the kitchen again.

The thumping music dulls to a low hum as you catch his gaze and step over, your hand resting next to his on the counter. He’s not sure what exactly you’re doing but you’re close enough for him to feel your body heat, and it’s all San can do to stay still and let you get closer. He’s blinking too much, he knows, probably has the dumbest look on his face, but he doesn’t know what else to do. 

You’re only inches from him now and you smell so good and you’re so fucking pretty, and San knows he’d give anything just to feel you. The desperation is starting to claw its way up his throat as want settles deep in his stomach, his jeans tightening before he even has the chance to beg his body to stay calm. 

He doesn’t think you can tell but he’s scared nonetheless, terrified that you’ll notice and think he’s a perv and never want to speak to him or see him again and he’ll get super depressed and fall behind in his classes and get kicked off the soccer team and lose his scholarsh-

“Do you wanna go up to your room? It’s getting a bit crowded down here,” you propose, your eyebrows raised and a vulnerable look in your eyes. 

Up to his…? Oh, he must look sick or something. That’s much better than the alternative though, so he responds, “Yeah, um, I probably should go upstairs, I’m getting a bit tired.”

Your face falls and you step back, the vulnerability shuttering into a blankness he’s never seen before, and it occurs to San that that wasn’t what you meant at all. 

“OH! Oh. Uhm, you meant us… together? Like we both go to my room? Together?” San clarifies frantically, a hand falling to cover yours on the counter before it can slip off. 

“Yeah, San, I meant we should go up together,” you confirm with a small, breathy laugh. 

He can feel his dimples creasing his cheeks and wishes he could smile at you with anything but the most obvious crush of all time, but he knows it’s hopeless at this point. It’s been months now, months of seeing you in class and around campus, at parties and games, and feeling the you-shaped cavity in his chest grow and grow and grow. 

He’s pretty sure it’s starting to fill as you pull him up the stairs. He tries to ignore the catcalling of your shared friends, knowing you probably just want to talk or something, but his eyes catch on the movement of your hips as you climb and now all he can think about is what they’d feel like between his hands. That’s not exactly a new train of thought for San but he’s usually able to keep it under control when he’s with you, and he almost feels like he’s voluntarily walking into the lion’s den as you enter his room and he closes the door. 

It’s not too messy at least, just some folded laundry on the bed and his books spread out on his desk. He’d changed his sheets yesterday morning and there’s nothing embarrassing out as far as he can see, except for his printed Overwatch stats but he’s not sure you’d recognize them anyway, so it should be fine. 

Everything should be fine, so why is San’s heart trying to break out of his rib cage right now? 

It only gets worse when you plop down on his bed with a bounce, folding your hands in your lap and looking up at him expectantly. 

“Uh, do you want, like, a blanket or something?” San offers as he looks around the room in an effort to avoid your gaze. It doesn’t work very well - his room isn’t all that big and he can’t stop his eyes from snapping back to you every other second. You look on with a small smile, your face softening before you gently pat the spot next to you. 

He surreptitiously rubs his clammy palms on his jeans, tugging them down to allow himself a little more room (just in case) and sitting carefully on the comforter beside you. He’d left over a foot of space, but his mattress sinks in the middle and he finds himself much closer to you than he’d meant to be. You don’t look like you mind, the corners of your lips perking up and one leg lifting to fold on the bed as you turn to face him. 

San scrambles to figure out what to say, how to break the ice, though he has a sneaking suspicion he’s the only one who feels like there’s ice to break. 

“So, how’s your studying goi-” San starts, but you cut him off. 

“San, can I be honest with you? Like, really honest?” You ask, the only sign of your nervousness being the lip bitten between your teeth. 

He glances down at the hand you placed on his knee, his cheeks glowing with heat as he stutters, “Y-Yeah, of course you can.”

You take a deep breath and begin, “Well, we’ve been friends for a while, right?” 

He nods, opening his mouth to tell you how much your friendship means to him but closing it with a snap when you breathe out, “Hold on, please, I’ll never be able to tell you if I don’t say it all at once.”

San nods again, pointedly pursing his lips as he waits with bated breath. 

You break eye contact for a second and when your eyes return to his, they’re brimming with anxious energy. He wishes he could reassure you, but you’d asked him not to speak and he’s also probably more nervous than you right now. Honestly, he kind of wants to make up some excuse and flee the room, the house, the city, because he thinks he knows what you’re about to say. 

You’re about to tell him you know he’s in love with you, and that you’re sorry but you don’t feel the same way, and probably also that you have a crush on Seonghwa or Yunho. He wouldn’t blame you, they’re handsome and smooth and don’t get heart palpitations when you talk to them, and they’re not vir-

“San, are you okay? Did you hear anything I just said?” You question, pulling him out of his head and pulling his focus back to you. 

“I didn’t, I’m sorry,” he apologizes. “Please, tell me again?” 

Your face crumples before you cover it with both hands and whine, “God, I don’t know if I can do it again, once was hard enough.” 

“No, no, no, please don’t cry, please, do you want me to cry? I’ll cry too, if it helps,” San begs as he wraps his fingers around your wrists and pulls, uncovering your face only to have you stubbornly tuck your chin against your shoulder. 

“I’m not crying, San, I’m embarrassed.”

“Huh? Why?”

“Because I didn’t think it would be this hard to tell you I have feelings for you! I almost did it in the kitchen but you looked so nervous, and I assumed it was just the crowd so I thought, ‘Oh, maybe we should go upstairs, that should be easier’, and then it wasn’t easier! It was harder, and now I have to do it again!”

You groan in defeat and fall backwards on his bed, your eyes welling with frustrated tears and your arms crossing over your chest. San sits there, static ringing in his ears and your half-shouted confession running through his brain. It takes him longer than it should to process your words but as soon as he does, he flops down next to you like all of his strings have been cut. 

San feels drunk, or high, or something, as he stares over at you open-mouthed. 

“You have feelings for me? Like… romantic feelings? Are you sure?” 

Your head tilts to the side, your suspicious glare shifting into an expression of incredulity as you realize he’s serious. He flinches at the soft smack you land on his shoulder but grins when you start poking and pinching at the muscle with your fingers. 

“Yes, San, I’m sure I have romantic feelings for you,” you affirm with only a bit of impatience, avoiding his eyes and pressing your fingertips into his pecs. 

You seem kind of dejected and it occurs to him that he hasn’t reciprocated yet, that you don’t know he feels the same way, and he could kick himself for fucking this up so badly. He doesn’t know how to fix this, what to say to make you understand why he’s so nervous, why he struggles so much with you. 

Instead of something normal, San blurts out, “I’m fully in love with you.” 

Oh no. Oh fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.

He clenches his eyes shut and rolls away from you with a groan, curling up as small as he can as the shame roils in his belly. The party rages downstairs, sounds floating in under the door and growing louder in the silence of his bedroom. 

“We’re kind of a disaster, huh?” You giggle as you shuffle closer, one arm wrapping around his waist and your knees notching in behind his.

San tenses up before relaxing completely, turning under your arm and tugging you closer with a hand on your waist. 

“Yeah, honestly, I’ve never… done this before,” he admits, forcing himself to hold your gaze as his fingers anxiously drum your side. “Are you really okay with me being in love with you?”

Your radiant smile could blind him and he instinctively mirrors you, his shy grin growing and his other arm sliding beneath you to pull you into his chest as you sigh, “Sannie, I’m more than okay with you being in love with me. I love you too, I was just being coy because I didn’t want to scare you off.”

“Seriously?!” 

San barely catches your nod before he’s surging forward and pressing his lips to yours, still smiling too wide for it to be much of a kiss. 

“Sorry, I’m sorry, I should have asked you if I could do that. I’ve just wanted to kiss you for literally months,” he exhales against your mouth, already aching to do it again. 

“Don't apologize, San, you can kiss me. I want you to kiss me,” you whisper, breathing in shakily as he closes the distance. 

His lips meet yours and it’s like everything inside him settles and riots at the same time. Soft, sweet affection wars with heady desire and as you deepen the kiss, the need grows. San is doing his best to contain himself, swallow the mortifying moans and gasps and whimpers that fight to escape from his mouth to yours, but it’s so difficult when this is the farthest he’s ever gone and it’s happening with you, of all people. 

He breaks away with a gasp, trying to catch his breath and calm himself down before he does anything to further embarrass himself, like cumming in his pants just from a little kissing. 

“You know how I said that I’ve never done this before?” 

You nod with a hum, trailing kisses down his cheek and along his jawline before pressing your soft lips to his pulse and sucking gently. He hiccups in a breath, cringing slightly because he knows you can feel how fast his heart is beating, feel how nervous and exhilarated you make him. 

“I meant like… I’ve never done any of this. Ever. You were kind of… my first kiss,” San whispers, embarrassment stealing his voice as your mouth freezes on his neck. 

You draw back to stare at him, your eyes calculating and your brows furrowed.

“How is that even possible? You’re so sweet and smart and hot and your shoulders are so broad.”

San’s ears warm as he stumbles through his answer, “I just never had time. I had to work really hard in high school to get my scholarship and now I have to work to keep it. Plus, it didn’t seem all that important. I figured it would just happen when it happened.”

“That makes sense, you are busy most of the time,” you agree, cupping his face and tracing your thumb over his cheekbone. The contact sends tingles down his spine, his cheek instantly dropping into your palm before a question pops into his head. 

“Wait, what do my shoulders have to do with this?” 

“San, come on, your shoulder to waist ratio is insane, you’re like a sexy Dorito,” you respond as if it should be obvious. 

“And you’re into that?” He asks, his confusion evident. 

“Yes, have you ever seen yourself from the back? And when you have your jersey on and you’re all sweaty and out of breath…” 

Your eyes roll back as you moan dramatically, obviously more in jest than seriousness, but it makes San’s dick twitch in his suddenly tight jeans all the same. It was almost too much just hearing that you love him too, and he’s not sure how to function now that he knows you think about him like this. 

He realizes you’re pressed up against him more than he thought you were, the heat of your body radiating into his even through your clothes, which must mean you can feel the length pushing at his zipper. 

Judging by your smirk, you definitely can, but before he can even think to feel ashamed, you push your hips into his and sink your free hand into his hair. 

“We’ll take this at your pace. You just have to tell me how slow or fast you wanna go,” you assure him, your eyes honest, your tone serious. 

San doesn’t take long to think through his response, knowing he’s been ready for this since he met you. 

“Fuck slow, let’s go fast. I want as much of you as you’ll let me have,” he answers as he pushes you to lay flat on the bed with the hand on your waist. The other hand wraps around the back of your neck and pulls you up into a searing kiss, his tongue sweeping over your bottom lip with only a little insecurity. 

You gasp against his mouth, the sound and sensation dizzying yet intensely gratifying. He pulls away to send you a smirk of his own and continues, “You may have to help me, though, show me what to do, how to make you feel good. Is that okay?”

Beaming up at him with whole galaxies in your eyes, you tell him, “It’s more than okay. In fact, I think you’re about to become my favorite student.”

(You're already his favorite teacher)

AN: i wrote this to hurt my bestie's feelings, i hope it works @sluttywonwoo (even tho i know you'll wait to read until i post part two

hoping to put part two up tomorrow or friday!!

im working on part two i promise 😩

PART TWO

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