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hier--soir · 8 months

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a lover's pinch | three

joel miller x f!reader

pairing: professor!joel miller x f!reader rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni summary: joel gets a little birthday surprise, and you get a little too drunk. warnings/tags: au, university professor joel, age gap [20 something years diff], ethically dubious relationship due to inherent power imbalance, pining, f!masturbation [barely], sending nudes, joel finally locks his office door, dirty talk, the slightest slip of possessive language, uh.. ahem.. biting, protected piv birthday sex, a messy dinner party, excessive alcohol consumption [i'm talking embarassing], irritating men, soft!joel. word count: 10.3k series masterlist | main masterlist a lover's pinch playlist a/n: let the pining commence folks. hey siri, play brown eyed girl by van morrison. special thanks to @bageldaddy for the emotional support as i endured the labour that was the final hour of editing this. hope you guys enjoy! this is part three of ALP. you can read the previous parts here: one, two.

Thursday.

A fortnight passes in the slow blink of a bleary eye.

Fall nudges Summer out the door, solidifying its presence in Maine with flaxen leaves and rolling grey clouds.

The rain comes at night. Rivulets of moisture that leak onto the windowsill, seep into the cracked wood there and fill your room with the sweet smell of petrichor. It clears before the sun rises most days, but you unpack of a box of sweaters and hang them in your closet, nonetheless. You enjoy communal coffees in the kitchen and try not to frown when the morning light doesn’t warm your legs the way it used to. Force yourself not to feel mournful when you get home one afternoon and find Pete on the sofa with a blanket over him.

And perhaps that’s why when you wake on Thursday to sunshine—to warm bed sheets, to blue sky, to bright whites and yellows coming through the window—you feel lighter. Start the day with a calm countenance that has you blinking sleep from your eyes and smiling drowsily as your fingers trail the windowsill and come off dry. You share a pot of coffee with Pete; let him explain soil vapour extraction to you for the fifth time. Listen, smile, nod, and don’t roll your eyes when he asks do you get it now? And when the time comes to get ready for the drive to campus, you are smiling. Shoulders loose, eyes bright.

It had been a tiresome couple of weeks.

As the middle of the semester drew closer, you’d spent days on end poring over a laptop with tired eyes and cramping fingers. Writing and editing—and then rewriting and re-editing—your first round of essays and analyses. Balmy afternoons spent nursing glasses of cheap wine with your roommates evolved to late night coffees alone in your room, eyelids drooping as you fawned over every word, every quote, every fucking comma – all of it for him.

Him who you hadn’t been alone with in almost fifteen days.

Him whose texts were seared into your memory, left unanswered on your phone.

Him who you could hardly look at during lectures, for fear of losing your train of thought.

Him who you were hellbent on impressing.

Joel, Joel, Joel.

And as busy as you’d been, it hadn’t stopped the stares. Brief, intimate glances from down the hall in the history commons. The flash of a knowing smile as you shuffle toward the exit after a lecture. The graze of fingertips against your elbow, muddling your mind as you rush to meet a text translation study group.

Watching, waiting, wanting – a near insufferable task since that afternoon in his office.

Late into the first week you’d discovered that, upon focusing hard enough, you could still feel the ache in your knees; the rug burns his carpet had left on your skin. And then you shoved the memory of it down; compressed it somewhere deep inside, hidden away until you had the chance to open it back up again, and take your time with him like you truly wanted to.

And it seems today was that day.

You stare out the window for a moment. Sip your coffee and rake in the greenness of the grass, the cloudless sky, the ray of sun shining across your bedroom floor – and decide you’ll wear a skirt to Joel’s seminar.

The pin on his shirt is blue.

Not cerulean, or baby, or steel.

Not like how the sky was blue as you drove to campus with your windows down. Not like clear turquoise waters on a white sand beach in Greece, or like a robin’s egg swathed in leaves and sticks. But a deep, rich colour. Royal blue. A folded circular pin, with two tassels coming out the bottom of it.

It’s the first thing you notice when you walk into the lecture hall – the thing your eyes snag on repeatedly as you wander towards the third row and tuck yourself into a seat. That vivid splash of blue against a plain white t-shirt. No buttons today; formal wear forgone in place of a simple tee that hugs the vast planes of his chest, snug against the thick span of his biceps. His arms are almost enough to distract you from the gaudy brooch.

Joel won’t stop moving at the foot of the room, pacing the same length of floor over and over again, waiting for the crowd to settle. Hands busy themselves at his waist, wiping a small square of cloth against the lenses of his glasses. A muscle in his forearm twitches with every swipe of fingers against glass, and the sight has a hazy flush rising in your neck. Despite yourself, you try in earnest to catch a glimpse of what the pin says. Bare thighs tensed in your seat as you tilt your torso forward, eyes squinting.

The last students wander in, and he’s shifting, sliding those glasses onto the bridge of his nose, and snatching the slide clicker from the desk. He offers a polite greeting to the room.

It doesn’t take long for someone to speak up. “Special occasion?”

Joel’s hands still, chin tilting down as he glances at royal blue and then back out at the group, a wry smile breaking across his face.

“Just a thing the faculty does here,” he clears his throat awkwardly, laughs a little. It’s a soft sound, his laugh. Tickles your ears and makes you want to smile in return. “Some of the others started it a few years back… they make everyone wear one on their birthday.”

A chorus of surprised well-wishes chime from around the room, and Joel waves them away with a broad palm, shaking his head.

Even from three rows back you can see the pink in his cheeks; the resistance in his eyes as he intercepts the kind words soaring in his direction. You recognise a shyness there, an unwillingness to be the centre of attention, and it surprises you. Joel always seems so confident, standing week after week in front of 30 odd people and talking for hours. But you suppose then he can hide behind his words; behind years of knowledge and study and practice. When it’s about him? He falters. Tries to hide. You almost want to curse at him for being so endearing. And maybe you would – if it wasn’t his birthday.

“Nah, none of that,” Joel tuts, shaking his head. “Let’s get started, alright?”

He claps his hands once, and the sound reverberates through the quietening room. The fabric of his pants clings to the meat of his thighs, tightening around muscle as he rests against the edge of the desk. You fight to keep your gaze on his face.

“Today we’re gonna start with talkin’ about the instigators in our parallel texts.”

And you try to listen, you really do.

Try to focus on his words as he talks, spouting thoughts about antagonists of war, about Helen and Menelaus, about Paris of Troy, but you can’t get past the spread of his thighs against the desk. The way his body moves when he finally rises, wandering to-and-fro across the space. How his thick thumb presses against the clicker in his hand, slides shifting on the wall behind him. There’s a dull ringing in your ears, the rough spell of his drawl vibrating inside your mind, spinning it’s yarn, and tangling itself in the space where rational thought normally resides. Birthday. It’s Joel’s birthday. Your hands clasp in front of your face, knuckle snagged between teeth, biting down, clinging to some far reach of clarity; something to bring you back to the ground and halt the dallied trance you seem to come under whenever he’s nearby.

Birthday, birthday, birthday.

As he discusses the Judgement of Paris, your mind wanders to a teacher you had as a child. A stern woman in her sixties who was fearsome among the gang of six-year old’s you roamed in. One year it had rained on your birthday, a spitting storm of hail and thunder. And when you cried, she told you that it only rains on your birthday when you’ve been a bad little girl.

It was sunny the next year, but she wasn’t your teacher anymore, and there was no one around to praise you for how good you must’ve been that year. For how hard you must’ve strived to achieve such wonderful sunshine on your special day.

A wry smile splits your face, tucked into the back of your hand, for you know better than anyone else just how bad Joel has been. And yet today, for his birthday, the sun shines.

He steps closer to the front row of seats, and your eyes glean across the lettering on his pin; the words Birthday Boy laid out in gold. A huff of laughter escapes you, and then your eyes are drifting up, past tan skin and scruffy facial hair, to find Joel staring straight at you. Dark, intrigued eyes. Assessing you, undressing you. Frowning.

“Somethin’ to add?” he clips.

The smile slides off your face. “Sorry?”

“Do you have somethin’ to add?” he drawls, unimpressed. The words slow and paced out as if he were speaking to a fool. “You seemed amused.”

“Oh,” you blink.

You shift awkwardly in your seat, straighten up, aware of every set of eyes in the room on the two of you. Joel’s face is stony, unimpressed. It’s the first time he’s made direct eye contact with you since you stepped into the room, and he is… on edge, clearly.

“No,” you decide on the safe answer, tone firm. “Nothing to add.”

He stares for a moment and then nods. Mutters a stern Pay attention underneath his breath before returning his gaze to the rest of the room. You scoff quietly, and swallow down the stab of embarrassment his words bring. The feeling is sour in your mouth, like the seed of a lemon is stuck behind your teeth.

Two seats to your left you hear a poorly concealed titter. Turn your head to spot a woman, maybe a year or two younger than yourself, giving you a pitiful smirk. You arch an eyebrow. Mouth what?

She simply shakes her head at you and turns to look at Joel, all glossy lips and doting gaze as she listens to his continued ponderings about Menelaus' role in the Trojan War.

You watch her for a moment. Note the way she laughs at his jokes, smiles as he goes off on a mindless tangent about something you aren’t paying attention to; hanging onto his every word. And you wonder if this is how you look to other people when you watch him. Another stark-raving Maenad, thirsting and possessed by the spirit of this Bacchant of a man. The Roaring One. The one with bedroom eyes and cheeks like wine. Joel Miller; fraught, brooding, and willing to embarrass you in front of a room of your peers to feel an inch of the self-control you've so easily ridden him of. A Dionysian fit to oppose the doomed Bacchant inside of you, whose mouth foams and eyes roll in ecstasy at the mere presence of him.

He crosses the front of the room, back and forth, and you imagine him as a bull of a man. Golden locks and thorned head, thyrsus in hand as he commands the attention of an enthralled audience. Corrals them to follow him, to adore him. And yet the image you create is distorted at best, a watered-down version of the truth, for what spites you the most is that he simply… doesn’t have to try. There are no attempts to convince; no persuasion in his voice, no dishonesty necessary as the room swoons for him. As you yourself yearn for him. Covet his touch, his body, akin to that of a God’s.

And perhaps there is some immorality there, some gross misalignment of hubris, that yearns to reset the scale. To remind this man that indeed you have knelt before him, but he knelt for you first.

The thought has your thighs pressing together.

“Well, Juno hates Aeneas because she hates Trojans. And for that we have Paris to blame,” he answers someone’s question with a chuckle. Gains a few scattered laughs in response. “Because we all know how Juno feels about Paris.”

You rise from your chair, legs shifting before your brain can catch up. Take careful, tip-toed steps towards the exit. Joel’s eyes drift in your direction, curious gaze draping over the bare skin of your legs as he talks. Just for a second though, a split second, before he’s looking determinedly back to the room, and you’re disappearing from his line of sight.

“And so, she thwarts the Trojans every chance she gets,” his voice grows softer as you stray farther from the door, until it’s nothing more than a vague purr down the hall. You wander into the women’s bathroom and slip inside an empty cubicle.

Birthday, birthday, pay attention, birthday, they make everyone wear one on their birthday, pay attention.

Your brain is abuzz, nerves alight as you place your phone carefully atop the toilet paper dispenser. Trembling fingers graze the hem of your skirt, the warm skin of your thighs, and yes you’ve been wet since you saw him. Turned on from just the sight of him, the sound of his mellow voice, the idea that maybe, just maybe, today you will get to touch him again. You can feel how it clings to your panties, sweet soft warmth pooling out of you, a dizzying wetness that longs for Joel to come and find you. To take you in his hands, tilt you down to his parted lips, and drink it from the source.

Your fingers are cold against your skin. A delighted shiver swims down your spine as you graze them along the front of your underwear. Barely touching, hardly any pressure, simply grazing over the spot where your clit has begun to pulse. A little firmer now, you press against the thin material of your underwear, let it slip between your soaked folds. You bite your lip to contain a soft sigh, and smile as you feel how wet the material is getting. Once you’re satisfied you pull your hand away, leave a shimmering streak against your leg where you wipe your fingers, and reach for your phone.

Position one foot on the closed seat and rest your back against the cubicle wall, angling the phone between your spread thighs. Tilting your phone this way and that until the camera catches you in the perfect light; the flared material of your skirt bunched around your hips, the shiny smear across your inner thigh, the damp stain of slick against the front of your light blue panties. You take a few pictures. Trail your hand down your stomach and let it appear in some of them as well; fingers poised over the band of your underwear, just a tease. Finally content, you tuck your phone away, splash some cold water on your neck, and wander back into the lecture theatre.

Joel looks up when you walk inside. He’s seated behind his desk now, the room quiet as people jot down notes, eyes flitting between their laptops and the presentation displayed across the wall. Furrowed eyebrows and brown eyes shining with that barely-contained interest they always seem to hold when he looks at you these days. You offer him a nonchalant smile before turning your back to him. Sway your hips with exaggerated emphasis as you waltz up the stairs, slide back into your seat, and take your phone back out.

No one’s watching you now. Not your fellow Maenad, with her sharp judgemental eyes. Not even Joel. Your fingers dance their way into your text thread with him, and you select your favourite from the pictures.

You glance at the two lone messages in the thread, gaze lingering on the second message.

That can’t happen again.

Hesitation grips you, fingers hovering over the screen as you contemplate the seriousness behind the words. And then you hear him answer someone’s question, and the rough drone of his voice has you pressing send anyway.

Happy Birthday Professor x

You imagine you can feel the vibration of his phone. Feel it groan and shift in the pocket of his pants, screen lighting up. You wonder if he’s saved your name in his phone, or if a picture of underneath your skirt just popped up from an unsaved number. You try to focus on the article laid out in front of you. Stare at the messy under linings, at the notes on the margins made in your chicken-scratch handwriting, and wait.

It doesn’t take long to feel the heat of his gaze, almost paranormal in its effect. You can feel it’s weight – how it glides across your skin, sticky, viscous, and impossible to ignore.

When you glance up, you have to resist the urge to shrink into your seat. Joel’s face is a mess of emotions. Square jaw clenched tight; lips sealed. Stormy eyes that dart furiously between you and his lap, where you imagine his phone rests. Previously neat curls are now tousled and stressed over. You watch he glares downward, and drags tight fingers through the locks again. He doesn’t look up for a long time after that. Shoulders hunched forward, chin to his chest as he stares down.

Joel doesn’t stand up for the last 90-minutes of the seminar. Doesn’t smile, doesn’t joke. And he certainly does not look in your direction again. Not until the little hand on the clock strikes 11 o’clock, marking the end of his seminar, does he even entertain your side of the room. And not until the last student files out the door do you rise and meet him by the desk, a knowing look in both of your eyes.

You walk ahead of him the entire way to his office. Joel keeps an all-too casual distance from you, but you can hear the weight of his steps against the hardwood floors. Can feel his looming presence over your shoulder – sense his bursting need to get you alone. You only fall into step beside him when the office door comes into view, and then he’s herding you towards it, palm pressing flat against the small of your back in trivial, insistent shoves.

With a final glance over his shoulder, Joel nudges you inside his office.

There’s music playing inside. Soft waves of sound undulating toward you from the record player, and yet when he drags the door shut behind him you still hear the undeniable click of his key turning the lock. The window is closed, curtains half-drawn, and the air in his space is warm; almost stuffy from lying dormant and empty for hours.

Silently, Joel makes his way across the room to where his record player sits. Your eyes trail him faithfully, trained on how his shoulder blades shift like tectonic plates beneath the thinning fabric of his shirt. The urge to wander forward and pull it off him is intense. To run your nails down his skin and leave marks on his body the way he’s done to you.

“You think you’re funny?” his voice comes, a low murmur that you almost miss through the music. He lifts a hand and pulls the glasses off his nose. Tucks them carefully onto the table.

“Funny?” you reply, mouth suddenly dry.

Joel shifts the needle, restarting the record. Momentary silence swells into a bright intro, and he’s turning to look at you, thick arms folding across his chest. Your heart is a galloping staccato behind your sternum. A bead of sweat glides from the hollow of your throat down your chest, dampening the fabric of your shirt.

“Sendin’ me that picture of your pussy all wet for me,” he tuts softly. “Knowin’ damn well, I couldn’t do anythin’ about it.”

You swallow as he takes a step towards you. His hands drift to the front of his body, and you watch with bated breath as long fingers begin working at the silver buckle on his belt.

“Y’gimme nothin’ for weeks, don’t even pay attention during my fuckin’ classes, and then…” he pauses, almost glaring at you. But it’s not contempt in his eyes. No, it’s something else, something deeper—black brown peppered with frustration and lust and… There’s a lump in your throat. Something heavy that presses against your windpipe and makes it hard to swallow.

“You get off on this, hmm?” he asks, voice gravelly. “Torturin’ me? Makin’ me wait?”

“I’ve been busy,” you murmur, eyes fixed on where he drags leather through the beltloops of his pants. He discards it on the ground between you – an offering, an invitation.

“Busy girl,” he murmurs dryly. “And what about now? Now that I’ve got you here all alone… you gonna make me beg for it?”

Your pussy clenches at the thought of him on his knees, palms clasped in his lap, and it has that slick heat pooling between your legs. You want to denigrate him the way you feel he has done to you. Order him to kneel, to apologise, to fucking beseech you. But Joel’s eyes are dark, face drawn as he watches you. And you know that you’ve already gotten even.

Royal blue swims in your vision and you give him your best smile. Shake your head and say, “Not today, birthday boy.”

Something glints in his eyes, hands twitching by his sides. You mirror him, finally inching forward a step across the carpet. His belt is solid beneath your shoes.

He’s shifting in an instant, swallowing the final stretch of distance between you until his chest knocks into yours. The breath rushes from your lungs at the contact, and his hands are clasping your face, mouth slipping against yours in a brutal collision.

It’s rough, messy, teeth knocking and chapped lips. It’s the first time you’ve kissed since that night at the bar, and it consumes the both of you.

Joel’s body seizes yours, wraps around you and holds you to him, gripping the skin of your arms, your neck, your face, anywhere he can reach. Saliva pools in your mouth and wells into his, low sounds of desire being swapped back and forth between dripping tongues. There’s something desperate about it – how his lips bruise against yours. Something earnest and needy and urgent in the way his thumbs dig into your jaw, fingers tangling in the hair around your ears.

You’re gasping into his mouth, hands dropping to undo his zipper in a frenzied hurry. You can feel him behind the material, a firm bulge that becomes more and more evident as you work to get him undressed. His hands drop to your waist, your ass, and he’s pressing up, up, up the hem of your skirt, nails digging into skin as he squeezes and pulls you flush against him. Broad palms splayed across searing flesh, the tips of his fingers dragging dangerously close to where you’re aching for him. Your fingers shift from his pants to your own shirt, gripping the hem to tear it over your head—but Joel stops you. Bats your hands away and hoists you off the ground instead.

“Shit,” you huff in surprise, holding his shoulders for support as his arms tighten like a vice beneath your thighs and around your waist. He cuts you off with another sweltering kiss, and he’s moving. Stumbling blindly backward, a blurred mess of two people, all harsh exhales and clashing teeth, tilting back, back, back until his calves hit the armchair and he’s dissolving into it, dragging you down with him. Your knees sink into the plush fabric on either side of his waist, and his hands are on you, bunching your skirt up around your hips until your underwear is visible. He breaks the kiss and looks down quickly, lip curling upward as he takes in the sight of your barely covered cunt hovering over his lap.

“Fuck me,” Joel breaths. He cants his hips upward, clothed cock grinding against you. The pressure on your clit is exquisite. It has your nose scrunching up as your shallow breaths flutter the curls across his forehead. “Dress like this for all your classes?” he asks, fingers snapping at the band of your panties before his hand drops to cup your entire sex. “Fuckin’ filthy girl.”

“No,” you gasp as his palm settles over you. “Only—oh fuck, no, no, only yours.”

A rough sound escapes him, and he’s pushing the material of your underwear to the side. Thick fingers glide over the coarse hair on your mound, dipping in between your folds, right to the beating centre of you. You stare at his face while he stares at the swollen mess between your thighs.

“S’damn right,” he grunts. His eyes are ablaze. “Just for me.”

Your eyelids flutter closed, face warming at the words, and you’re whimpering as he rubs firm circles over your clit. Joel’s tongue presses against yours, coaxes your jaw open until it aches.

“So fuckin’ wet,” he marvels into your mouth. “Always so fuckin’ wet.”

A finger drops to your slick hole, slips slowly slowly slowly inside until the tip of it is curling against the soft spot inside you that he reaches so fucking easily. The air in the room is thin, his breaths a hot wash against your face, and a languid moan snakes its way out of your throat.

“Quiet.” Joel adds a second finger. It’s everything and nothing at the same time. Fingers so long, so thick – fingers that pale in comparison to his cock.

“I want you,” you gasp.

“Hmm?” he hums dangerously.

“Please,” your head tilts back, mouth ajar and thighs trembling as he works you open on his fingers. Joel lets out an impatient sound, and then his fingers drop from your swollen core, and he’s holding a condom. He must’ve pulled it from his back pocket, or between the cushions of the chair, but you don’t dwell on it. Don’t care where or how or why, too restless to be filled to ask; just give a pleased nod and lean back so he has enough room to free his cock from his pants.

The thick weight of it rests in his palm. He’s swollen and thick, the tip a deep rosy colour that reminds you of his flushed cheeks, his puffy lips, and has your mouth watering. And it’s wet with slick strands of precome that drip down his length to meet the movement of his fist.

“S’this what you were thinkin’ about?” Joel breathes shakily. “Got your cute little panties all soaked thinkin’ ‘bout my cock?”

“Yes,” you bite your lip. Watch him tear open the foil packet and roll latex down his length. You ignore the familiar urge to say forget it just take me I’m here and I’m yours just fuck me. “Please.”

“Fuck,” he hisses. Drags his cock against the dripping seam of your cunt. “Say that again.”

“Please,” you repeat, fingers twisting in the front of his shirt. “God, Joel, please.”

A sharp wet smack and a trembling gasp fill the air as he taps the tip against your clit, and then rests himself at the notch of your entrance.

“Show me how bad you want it,” he orders huskily, hands drifting to rest on the arms of his chair. “Go on, fuckin’—ride it.”

Breathing heavily, you reach down to grip him. holding his length still as you lower yourself over his lap.

There’s a stinging resistance there – your body pushing back against the size of him, against the angle.

Joel’s fingers drape against your clit and he rubs soft circles above the spot where you’re connected. You grip the back of the chair, face twisted in muted concentration.

“C’mon,” he breaths, jaw set with clear intention. “Fuckin’ drippin’ for me, y’can take it, I know you can. Yeah—yeah, that’s it.”

You sigh, body relaxing, and you’re pressing down, through. Sink down on him another inch, and then another, until he’s bottoming out inside of you and the skin of your thighs is flush with his pants and he’s making this rough, low sound from deep in his chest. Your mind goes blank for a moment, vision whiting out and lungs squeezing as you hold your breath and adjust to the sheer size of him, to the delicious burn between your thighs where he’s stretching you. And everything is soft and hazy around your mind, but you can see Joel’s eyes on you. The glassy, blissed out expression on his face as you clench around him. His hands drift to your waist, fingers groping bare skin underneath where he holds your skirt up.

“Fuck,” Joel pants. “So god damn tight.”

A pathetic whimper catches in your throat as you grind down, clit rubbing against the coarse hairs at his base. You’re so full, every sense heightened by the feeling of Joel, pressing you apart and making a home for himself inside of you.

Slowly—tentatively—you rock your hips forward, rutting against him in short, shallow movements. His hands encourage your body, guiding you along his cock as you gain confidence.

Soon enough your hips are lifting and dropping back onto him, over and over, tilting against him, doing whatever it takes to drag more hopeless sounds from his mouth. The music from his record player is a low, thrumming bassline in the back of your mind, every bright refrain of guitar punctuated by sharp gasps and elongated sighs.

Joel’s eyes shift from the space between your bodies to your face. Pupils blown, sweat beading along his forehead. Watching you, he seems to fall backward, into himself perhaps. His body goes slack against the armchair, head lolling back as he stares.

“Jesus,” he mutters lowly. “Missed this perfect little pussy.”

There it is again. Perfect, perfect, perfect. You clench around him at the word, rut your hips in a particularly rough movement that has Joel’s eyes rolling back and a guttural moan falling from his lips. His chest is heaving with ragged breaths, the tendons and veins in his neck on display as his chin tilts upward. A bright red flush has raised across the exposed skin of his collarbones, his neck. You lean in and lick the skin there, skirt your teeth across his pulsing jugular. Joel’s palm clasps the back of your neck, holding you against him. You can feel his thighs tensing below you, and then his hips begin to snap upward, meeting you thrust for thrust. The angle is harsh, and he's filling you to the brim, the tip of his cock bruising against the deepest part of you. You cry out against his skin, and the hoarse sound only spurs him on.

His wide palm shifts to hover at the base of your neck, slips beneath the collar of your shirt. Splays over your collarbone, dull fingernails grating against the skin above your breast, by your armpit. You lean back to let him see you, and his eyes drop to watch the way your hips roll over his lap. His finger snags on the strap of your bra and it snaps against your skin.

“Take it off,” you mutter urgently. Need to feel his skin against yours. Chest to chest. Heart to hea—

“No.” His hips snap up into yours faster, knocking the breath from your lungs. One hand grips the armchair, one his shoulder, trying to find some kind of leverage as he pistons into you from below. That fucking Birthday Boy pin is still stuck to his shirt, and blue flashes in the periphery of your vision. A particularly rough thrust has a loud moan parting your lips, but as soon as it begins Joel’s hand is crashing over your mouth, fingers gripping your face to silence the sound. Your eyebrows raise, silently questioning overtop his hand.

“Need to shut up,” he grits out. “Gonna—ohhh—gonna get us caught.”

You glide your tongue against his palm, taste the salt on his skin. Feel his fingers squeeze your jaw harder in response. And then your own hand is moving from his shoulder, fingers gliding across the sweaty skin of his neck, to slot over his mouth. You stare at one another, wild eyes locked, palms sealed over slick lips, and something fiery pulls taught between you. Liquid heat spreads through your muscles, tightening and loosening with every movement of his body against yours. You can feel the coil at the base of your stomach tightening. Your pussy throbs in a rhythm sympatico to that of your heartbeat, and your fingers squeeze around his face.

You can feel the vibration of Joel’s moans against your hand, and then his teeth are sinking into the soft flesh of your palm. For a moment you wonder if he’ll pierce the skin. Let your blood seep from the wound and spill across his tongue; a sacrificial offering. Drink you down, devour you as he lies within your body. You bite down on his palm in return, holding his gaze as your bodies grind and rut against each other.

Your back arches suddenly, and your forehead knocks against his as your orgasm steadily approaches. Joel’s eyes stay locked on yours. Your shoulders begin to lock up, thighs burning, but he doesn’t let up. His hips collide with yours at a devastating pace, and his free hand drops between your thighs. The pad of his middle finger circles your swollen clit, and you jerk against him, every nerve inside your body fraying and sparking.

Joel slurs a curse against your hand and then you’re coming with a haggard whine into his hand, walls constricting around him in a vice grip. You close your eyes only to discover that royal blue is stained on the inside of your eyelids, unavoidable. He is unavoidable. Even in the darkness of your own mind, he lurks. The smell of him in your nostrils, the taste of his spit in your mouth. You think you hear a garbled version of your name spoken into your palm, and then a stinging sensation rips across your ass as Joel starts to come, fingernails dragging across skin, as he grinds his cock desperately into your pulsing heat. Your eyes flutter open, body shivering with the aftershocks of your high, and you watch him. Admire the way his jaw softens beneath your grip, teeth retracting and leaving dull indents on your skin in their wake.

There’s a low pinch between your thighs. It rings out minutes later, a sullen ache, as you lift your hips and let him slip from your wet clutch. His hands fall from your body, and you suck in stale air, taking a clumsy step off his lap to stand shaking on the ground before him. There are circular white marks on his cheeks, lingering reminders of how you held him, smothering his wanton groans of pleasure. You watch them slowly fade to pink, and try to settle the unsteady breaths that wrack your frame.

Your fingers drop lazily to adjust your underwear, but then those hands are tilting your hips, encouraging you to turn until your back is to him. They slip beneath your skirt, find purchase on the band of your panties, and slide the drenched material down your legs. You step out of them, and gasp in surprise when he flicks your skirt up again. A shiver travels down your spine as he glides a finger through your swollen cunt.

“Joel,” you whimper, lips poised to say that it’s too much, too soon, that you need a second to breathe.

But Joel exhales a quiet groan, and something sharp nips the sensitive skin of your ass. Peaking over your shoulder, you find Joel’s mouth there, wet tongue soothing over the mark his teeth made on your flesh. There’s a slip of blue clenched in his fist, held protectively in his lap beside his softening cock.

You feel the vibration of something against your skin, a murmur of words that you can’t quite make out, before he pulls back. Retracts all points of contact, carefully removes the condom, clears his throat softly as he tucks himself back into his pants. The tell-tale sound of the moment drawing to a close. You swallow down that familiar tang disappointment and hold out a hand for your underwear.

And then Joel surprises you.

This soft, teasing smirk lights up his face, and Joel knocks your hand away. A huff of surprised laughter escapes you as he rises and wanders toward the desk. You watch, stunned into silence, as he drags open a drawer on his desk and tucks that blue slip of fabric inside. It slides closed with a definitive thud, and Joel falls down into his desk chair. His eyelids must be heavy, because they droop closed while you watch.

There’s a damp patch at the bottom of his t-shirt that has your face in flames, but he doesn’t seem to care, chest rising and falling with deep breaths as his body relaxes into leather. Your legs tremble as you grip the strap of your bag, taking that as your cue to quietly head for the door.

“Liked your essay.”

You pause with your fingers on the door handle. Turn to find that his eyes are still shut.

“You’re only saying that becau—”

“No,” Joel interrupts, the firm tone a sharp contrast to his lax frame. Eyes open now. “It was good.”

You hum quietly and rock back onto your heels. Unsure of what to say, you settle on offering him a small smile. He nods in return. The silence drifts back in, and you find yourself unable to speak until his eyes close once more.

“Happy birthday, Joel.”

So softly, so as to not disturb. And you aren’t sure whether he heard you or he’s already fallen asleep, but you do notice the corners of his mouth tilt upward ever-so-slightly.

Friday.

A crimson tablecloth covers the expanse of the table. Deep dark red, almost brown, reminiscent of old blood.

Plates smeared with remnants of a dinner long-past litter the surface, dirtied knives and forks stacked precariously atop them. Sauces have hardened to thickened globs on the China, sticky and stale and calling out to be cleaned. But the end of the evening is nary in sight, as Ian, your gracious host, deposits another bottle of wine onto the table.

“It’s a Cabernet Franc,” he slumps back into his seat at the head of the table, directly opposite you. “My parents brought it back from their trip to Bordeaux this past Summer. A gift.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes for the thousandth time in three hours. Pour yourself a generous glass and taste it. Say, “I’m more of a Merlot fan,” despite being drunk as all hell and having zero knowledge to help discern between different wine grapes.

Pete offers a supportive smile, and you watch as his friends light fresh cigarettes that send plumes of smoke to the already stained roof of Ian’s apartment.

Ian’s girlfriend Claire, a wildlife and conservation biology undergrad, is draped across the chair to your left. Eyelids half closed; her slim fingers grip a half-smoked joint for dear life, hand hovering dazed in mid-air between her thigh and her face. You think back on the words Pete spoke to you this morning in the kitchen – there’ll be another woman there, don’t worry. And Claire’s great, I swear. You try to reconcile his words with the girl beside you, and the dank smell of burnt weed drifting toward you through the air. She’d been high when she arrived, and after speaking a measly three words of greeting in your direction, had sequestered herself to a chair and smoked through the entire dinner. When none of the others batted an eye, you held your tongue. And their nonchalance became clear when, upon completion of the meal—overcooked chicken, sticky carrots, and undercooked parsnips—Ian and Henry lit up cigarettes at the table too.

You weren’t sure why you agreed to attend the dinner party.

They’re really cool, Pete had blabbered into his mug that morning. We do it every Friday. It’ll be nice to have you meet some of my friends.

Oh, Pete. Cool, they are not.

Henry and Ian, friends from one of Pete’s environmental engineering units, are filthy rich. The kind that you can smell from a mile away. The kind that radiates from their expensive clothes, their manufactured pearly teeth, their god-awful haircuts. The kind of rich boys that have their own apartments in Portland, paid for by a Mummy and Daddy who holiday in Europe every summer—a trip that Ian has managed to bring up at least once an hour since the moment you met him.

The one beautiful, stunning, gorgeous saving grace is that there is alcohol – enough to ply yourself with in order to deal with Ian, who asked what your postgrad was in and replied slyly, “Oh, a fun one.” Ian, who, upon learning about your translation internship in Greece, said, “Sounds like you had a marvellous vacation.”

In return, you sat like a good little house guest—ornament—and listened to the three of them talk ad nauseam about engineering. Consume glass after glass of wine, decline cigarette after cigarette; you get profusely intoxicated as they debate—interrupt each other—the validity of different pollution control policies.

It’s not until early in the fifth hour of the dinner that Ian raises the topic of philosophy.

“It’s curious, that’s all,” he says, cigarette hanging limply between wine-soaked lips. “That these old guys would just hang out all day and… what, talk? Never understood why people rave about Socrates and Aristotle all the time. Just a bunch of sad sacks that liked the sound of their own voices a little too much, if you ask me.”

You hum against the rim of your glass, decidedly unbothered. Nothing you haven’t heard a hundred times, in a hundred different ways. His dining chairs are stiff, and your ass is aching against the heavy mahogany. Pete shifts awkwardly to your right. You can feel him looking at you, trying to gauge your impending reaction, and your face remains placid, numb from all the wine rushing through your veins.

“Is that what your degree is like?” Ian asks. “A bunch of old guys who love to listen to themselves talk?”

And that almost makes you crack a smile. You respond with a lacklustre shrug that neither confirms nor denies his suspicions, and definitely don’t think about—

“I don’t know,” Henry slurs, shooting a pointed glance in your direction. “I used to date this girl—”

“You fucked her once,” Ian interrupts.

“—Rita—"

“Rose.”

“—and she studied all that shit. Used to tell me about that guy who, he, uhm,” Henry pauses. Belches loudly. “He said something about God committing suicide and like, we’re his body or—wait what is it?”

“Mainländer,” you nod, mildly surprised. “Yeah, it’s a creation theory of sorts – God commits suicide to create the universe, and we’re all living on his decaying corpse.”

“What do you think of that?”

“Of a potential God’s potential suicide?”

“Yeah,” Henry grins dopily.

You sigh. “Would’ve been cooler if he left a note, I suppose.”

Henry guffaws loudly, leans back until his chair is balanced precariously on two legs. The cigarette falls from his fingers to his lap, glowing orange cherry leaving charred ashy marks on his jeans. If you were more sober you might’ve said something. But as if were, you just laugh and drain the final dregs of wine from your glass.

“So, your degree involves stuff like that?” Ian asks then.

“Sometimes,” you hum, already bored with the hint of mockery you sense in his tone. “We study the societies as a whole, so yeah, there’s talk about philosophy on occasion.”

“And mythology,” he wiggles his eyebrows from across the table, fluttering his fingers in the air. “Must be fun to talk about made up ideas all day.”

Henry clears his throat roughly and plucks the cigarette out of his lap, all remaining hints of laughter filtering into silence.

You stare. Feel your hackles rise. Sharper this time, as a more acute sense of irritation floods your system. “You do know that Greece and Italy are real countries with real histories, right?”

Claire moves for the first time in fifteen minutes, takes a long drag from her joint. Exhales in your direction.

“Sure,” Ian shrugs. “But you have to admit, all the stuff about the Greek Gods is a little silly.”

You spare a quick glance in Pete’s direction and find him wearing a tight, awkward smile, looking at you with something apologetic in his eyes.

“Silly,” you repeat the word slowly. It as though your brain is working at a thousand miles a minute, desperate to catch up with the conversation. Constantly two steps behind wherever Ian is dragging you. And he’s giving you this smarmy, sympathetic smile that screams oh your poor thing, you have no idea how poor your future job prospects are, and you’ve seen that smile a hundred times, had this conversation a thousand more, and you can suddenly envision yourself reaching across the table and pouring your glass of wine into his lap.

“And what about the rest?” you ask tersely. The collar of your shirt scratches against your neck, and his cigarette is spilling ash onto the fucking table, and he’s an asshole, and you want to throttle him for getting off on belittling you.

“The rest?”

“The rest,” you nod. “I suppose I can admit that those gods are silly, so long as we’re also admitting how fucking laughable biblical Gods ar—"

Pete says your name sharply. You pause, seal your lips shut. He shakes his head almost imperceptibly, the wary glint in his eyes a reminder that you’re a guest in Ian’s apartment. Ian’s apartment that was paid for by Mummy and Daddy; Ian’s apartment that has a crucifix above the kitchen entryway.

“More wine?” Pete asks smoothly. He’s rising from the table before you can respond, lifting the bottle and pouring a swell of red into your glass. Ian’s grin broadens, and a fresh round of irritation flares across the back of your alcohol sodden brain.

“Gimme a second,” you mutter, pushing your chair out. Your body sways as you stand, blood rushing to your head. Blinking the dizzy spell away, you grip Pete’s shoulder for leverage and make your way past him, shuffle down the hall and into a swanky bathroom. Your feet are heavy, mind a blur, as you collapse onto the toilet seat and rest your face against the cool tiled wall.

“Silly,” you grumble under your breath. “You’re fucking silly… asshole.”

Digging your phone from your pocket, you squint against its harsh light. Fingers fumble across the screen to your messages app. Tap Nora’s name, and hold your finger against the voice memo button.

“Nora,” you mumble, nose squished against tile. “It’s awful, you... I need you to save me.”

There’s a roar of laughter from the dining room.

“Why do men always have to be the smartest person in the room?” you continue as the sound dies down. The tile is cool against your skin, a welcome reprieve from the boozy flush that’s taken over your body.

“Pete is such an—” hiccup “—asshole for inviting me to this, I swear—”

Your phone hits the ground with a sharp clatter, and you curse, torso tilting forward as you reach clumsily for it. When you tilt the screen back to your face, a jolt rushes through you. You stare for a moment, dumbfounded, at the picture. There’s the soft sound of rushing water in your ears – your pulse, you realise.

“No,” you mutter, senses sharpening the longer you stare at the picture; your soaked blue panties. At the voice memo underneath said picture, that had certainly not gone to Nora. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, no.”

A moment of painful clarity comes when you make out the delivered sign below the voice message. Blurry eyes dance across the screen, vaguely deciphering the capitalised word MILLER. Panic swirls in your stomach, a churning writhing thing that feels a lot like nausea.

And then a text appears.

Are you drunk?

Your thighs are still numb from sitting for so long, so you slink dejectedly onto the floor and type out a response.

yes

that wasn’t for you

Ten minutes pass. You stare at the bright screen until worn-out tears prick in your eyes.

Doing okay?

tired

ate bad food, drank alotta wine

Probably time to go home.

cant drive

thought you hada phd? telling me to drunk driev

bad profeseor

Five minutes. Pete knocks on the door to ask if you’re okay and you assure him that you’re fine.

Where are you?

You type out the address carefully. Wash your hands in the sink and combs wet fingers through your hair to tame your appearance before skulking back into the dining room, where the vulture awaits you.

“I’m going,” you announce blandly. Claire is asleep, you think. Ian and Henry are playing an aggressive game of cards. Only Pete looks up.

“How are you getting home?” he frowns.

“Got a ride,” you mutter. Collect your things and give his shoulder a brief squeeze before slipping out the front door.

The air is cool outside the apartment building. A sharp breeze whistles through the parking lot, snakes it’s way beneath your clothes to curl against your skin. You welcome the chill. Rub lazily at the goosebumps on your arms as you glance at the last text from Joel.

Be there in 20.

You’re perched on the stoop when headlights finally appear. You curse, eyes smarting as you duck to avoid the harsh fluorescents, and then a black truck is idling a few metres away, engine purring. The passenger door kicks open and you squint, trying—and failing—to see inside through the darkness. Until—

“Get in.”

You’re barely in the car before Joel is pressing a bottle of water into your hand. The plastic is sweating, damp with condensation, and you sigh in relief. Press it against your neck, your face.

“Drink it,” he says sternly. You crack an eye open and look at him. He’s so close. Just a hairsbreadth from you, in a soft t-shirt and jeans. Glasses on the end of his nose. Fluffy hair—bed hair. There’s a soft frown on his face that dips and rolls in your vision. A downward tilt to his mouth as he puts the car in drive and tears away from Mummy and Daddy’s apartment.

“Hey,” you give him a lop-sided smile.

“Hey."

“Were you in bed?”

“You stink,” Joel ignores your question. “You chain-smokin’ in there? Christ.”

“Not me,” you huff in frustration. Take a small sip of water, careful not to spill on the seat. “They were smoking at the table. While we were eating.”

“Who was?”

“Pete’s friends.”

“Who’s Pete?” Joel grunts. He’s got a white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel, and his eyes are set on the road. Only when you don’t respond does he look back at you.

“Who’s Pete?” he repeats. Something stony in his voice. You smile.

“One of my roommates,” you offer. “Why? You jealous?”

“Quit it,” he bites out. “You gonna tell me where you live or am I s'posed to guess?”

Your smile spreads into a full-blown grin as you type your address into his phone. He snatches it from your hand and tells you to drink it all. You sit in silence for a while after that. Roll down the window and let your hand rest outside the car, fingers fluttering as the wind whips past them. He’s driving fast, green traffic lights blurring in your vision, and you feel your head spin faster, harder. Mumble under your breath.

“What?” he asks, voice too loud.

“Slow down,” you repeat, inhaling a deep breath. You feel him ease his foot of the gas instantly, a hand coming to hover over your knee.

“You feelin’ okay?” he murmurs.

“Mm.”

You let your eyes slip shut. Just for a second. A minute. And then—

“Hey.” A firm hand is on your shoulder. Thumb pressing into the skin beneath your collarbone. “Wake up.”

You jolt upright in the seat. Rub a palm roughly against your eye. Forget that you’re wearing makeup until you see black smeared across your hand.

Joel is saying something as you climb out of his truck, but you don’t hear it. Too busy pressing the door shut behind you and stumbling up the paved path to your house. Cool metal slides in your palm, numb fingers grappling for purchase. You scratch the key against the door’s aperture once, twice, and then feel it slip from your hand. A wave of dizziness hits as you watch it clatter against the ground.

“Shit,” you grumble. Bend down to pick it up. Rise and try a third time as silver swims in your vision. You hear a car door slam, the sound of heavy footsteps approaching, and slur another impatient curse under your breath.

“Let me help,” he says from behind you.

“It’s fine,” you protest, skin searing with embarrassment.

“C’mon.” Joel’s warm hand covers yours. Pries the key from your palm and unlocks your front door in a one easy movement. “Let’s get you inside.”

“I can do it.”

“Just let me help you.”

You practically float down the hall, buoyed by the thick arm around your waist, towing you along. In your room, Joel clicks on the lamp in the corner. Dim orange light envelops the space as you fall back onto your bed with a huff, shirt riding up to expose a sliver of your stomach.

“You need more water before you sleep” he says. “And a fuckin' shower.”

“Mmm,” you agree, eyelids fluttering. “I'm… just gonna lie here for a second.”

The responding sound is that of heavy footsteps disappearing down the hall. A fleeting rush of liquid somewhere in the distance. Your eyes close for a minute, maybe two, and reopen to find Joel’s broad frame hovering in the doorway, holding a glass of water and gripping the doorknob as he assesses your most private space. Your eyes are hardly open, but you can see him in the dim light. Glancing into the darkness of the hall and then back to you, slumped messily against the pillows. After a thick moment of silence, he steps decidedly across the threshold, and closes your bedroom door behind him.

As you watch him, you begin to feel a sense of startling clarity.

Joel Miller, in your house. Joel Miller, in your bedroom. Joel Miller… seeing you make a complete fool out of yourself.

“Oh fuck,” you blurt out.

“What?” Joel asks sharply. He rounds the bed in two quick strides, and then he’s pressing a glass of water on your side table and sitting beside you. His weight on the side of the bed has the mattress dipping, your body tilting onto your side to face his back. A wave of nausea strikes suddenly, and you suck your lips into your mouth. No.

“Y'oughta warn me if you’re gonna be sick,” he warns.

“M’not.”

“You better not.”

“I won’t.”

“Think you’ll need about ten of those,” you hear him say. “But one glass is a good start.”

But there’s already an ocean inside you. Rocky, white-wash waves that lap at the walls of your stomach, press against your lungs, and have your mind swaying even as your body lies still. Fingers, moving faster than your brain, seek purchase. Crawling across the sheets to snag your index through a belt loop on the back of his jeans. Chilled skin against worn denim, an anchor. Something sturdy to calm the eddying current inside you.

“What’re you—”

“Did you have a good day yesterday?” you interrupt, eager to distract yourself.

Joel is silent for a while. Keeps looking down at you until he finally says, “Yeah,” so quiet that your ears strain to hear it.

There’s a hint of something there that you can’t quite read. An emotion that he holds clasped in tight hands, just beyond your reach. You let it be, mind distracted by the soft orange light emanating from the lamp. When you close your eyes it glows against the back of your eyelids, vibrant swaths of sunset and marigold that make it hard to fall asleep just yet.

“Seventy, right?” you tease.

An indignant scoff rings out, and you squeak as a set of rough fingers pinch at the skin of your exposed stomach. The quickest touch, just a graze of flesh, before he’s pulling back. You laugh easily, open your eyes to look at him again.

“Careful now,” he warns. But you can see humour in the lines by his eyes, the quirk of his lip.

Your finger wiggles against his belt loop, tugging on the material there once. A tired patience in your eyes as you wait.

“Fifty,” he finally concedes, smile wavering as his gaze darts to the sheets.

“Mhm,” you murmur. Lips part as you let loose a low, impressed whistle. It comes out as more of a lacklustre exhalation of air. Joel’s shoulders are shaking with silent laughter when he meets your eyes again, a little more relaxed. “The big five-oh, huh?”

“The big five-oh,” he repeats simply. Tired as you are, you can see the question in his eyes. This searching, curious thing that rakes across your features, waiting to note any hint that you might be perturbed by the fact.

“S’nice,” you offer quietly instead. “Get any good gifts?”

The muscles in his neck strain, shirt tightening around his shoulders as he turns to look at you head on. Soft eyes gleam with something darker, teasing, as his lips pull into a lazy smirk.

“Sure,” he agrees, voice low, suggestive. “Good’s one word for it.”

Warmth floods your stomach and your toes curl. But you falter under the intensity of his gaze, a weary heat rising in your cheeks as your gaze lowers to his collarbone.

“Hey," you say quietly. “Look, I appreciate you helping me out tonight, I just…”

Joel’s eyebrows pinch the middle of his forehead, relaxation dissipating as he stares.

“Sorry,” you grimace, skin on fire. All of a sudden, your finger feels swollen in his belt loop, a promise that you can’t keep, the fabric branding hot against your skin as the words tumble out of you. “I’m just, I’m pretty wasted, and I’m grateful, you know, but I don’t think I can—we probably can’t fuck tonight—"

Joel says your name quickly. His hand is gripping your bedsheets, sun-kissed skin against pale yellow. “We’re not fucking.”

Unwitting relief courses through you, and you nod slowly. “Yeah, okay, I just wasn’t sure if you thought maybe… I don’t know—"

“Thought that if I gave you a ride home you owed me a fuck?” he asks plainly, expression tight. A dark, frustrated laughs spills from his lips and his shoulders are tightening, muscles shifting beneath his t-shirt. “That’s not how this goes, darlin’. So don’t go thinkin’ that way, ever, y’hear me?”

You blink, eyes wide. Suddenly alert. Feel the warmth in your stomach spread to your chest, your thighs. Darlin’.

“Okay,” you murmur. “Yeah, that’s—how does this work then?”

The indent between his brows only deepens as he gazes down at you.

“You call the shots,” Joel says. “I thought that was well established by now.”

His brown eyes look so soft in the dim lighting of your bedroom. Honeyed and golden in the warm orange haze. You stare at them for so long that you lose track of whether or not he’s answered your question. Forget everything that isn’t the lines beside his eyes, the dark speck of his pupils, the wild hairs of his eyebrows. You feel yourself drift closer to sleep again.

“Pretty,” someone says faintly. You. “You’ve got brown eyes.”

“Jesus.” He’s still frowning.

“Brown-eyed girl,” you sing—slur.

“Alright, Van Morrison,” Joel grumbles, the lines in his face softening. “Drink up.”

You do as he asks, gulping down half the water while he watches. His fingers rest cautiously at the base of the glass in case you drop it. And when you’re finished, he takes it from your hands, stands. Another wave crashes inside you when the mattress shifts in the absence of his weight, and you drift, unmoored, onto your back again.

Joel is staring at you. Towering over the bed, hands jammed awkwardly against his hips. His presence so large, so looming. He crowds your small space, his size ensuring that there is no room for another; only you and him, you and him, you and him, and you call the shots. You squeeze your eyes shut, determined to block that thought out.

“I think I’ll go to sleep now,” you mutter. “If that’s alright with you, teach.”

Joel says something, but it’s a far away sound. You tuck your face further into your pillow.

You think you hear him say good night, or some version thereof, but you don’t hear him leave. Don’t hear his boots on the hardwood, or the creak of your bedroom door. Don’t hear his truck start up outside.

And when you wake, alone, you find that droplets of rain have settled on your windowsill, marking another wet September morning. But you don’t frown as you drag a sweater from your closet, nor as you draw the curtains and clamber back into bed. Don’t yearn for the warmth of Summer as the dull ache of a hangover ricochets inside your skull. For you can smell Joel on your sheets; can still feel his presence lingering in the corners of your room.

And that’s warm enough for you.

tags: @lovely-ateez @nana90azevedo @stevie75 @evyiione @dameron-grant-spector @brittmb115 @ashhlsstuff @casa-boiardi @sinfulrock @bbyanarchist @murc0cks4eva @hopplessilse @joeldjarin @anoverwhelmingdin @bluevxnus @kelp-dreaming @prettyinpunk85 @spacelatinos4life @iluvurfather @daisies-yellow @mrsquill @sarap-77 @sunnywithachanceofjavi @alleyy-katt @zeida @mendessi @love-the-abyss @myrealmofchaos @a-roving-woman @punkshort @gracie7209 @whichwitchwanda @fellinfromthetop @bitchwitch1981 @suzmagine @lmariephoto37 @harriedandharassed @cumberpegg @tonysttank @ourautumn86 @my-tearsricochet @shotgun-shelby @5oh5

thank you for reading! x [and idgaf okay i was gonna put that birthday boy pin on him no matter what shitty excuse i had to come up with]

#my writing #fic: a lover's pinch #professor!joel #ALP #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller smut

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onlyseokmins · 8 months

Text

babymaker • c.s.c

Pairing: choi seungcheol x afab!reader Genres: smut (minors dni!), roommates!au, fwb!au, lil angst if you squint plus gross fluff Warnings: swearing, mentions of past rough/marathon sex, edging, overstimulation, fingering, mentions of oral sex (fem. receiving, male teasing), biting (bc i wrote this), scratching, marking, mentions of car/exhibitionism sex, objectification, degradation, slight choking, tiny obsession w/ cheol's ass + tatts, making out and tons of kithing uwu, reader's a brat and economic major, cheol's a wealthy arrogant bbygorl, creampies <3, breeding kink, light mentions of babytrapping (look at the title lmfao), lots of touching and groping and teasing, sappy stuff ew, messy sex, kinda bulge kink haha, paragraph/word heavy, throwing in some silliness as usual, & lmk if i missed smth WC: 7.9k A/N: i know it's like a month late but this was suppposed to be for cheol's birthday lmfao but it's also meant to be a sequel to Lusty Gallant although it can be read on it's own ig esp since the characters seem ooc </3 also thanks to @hwanghyunjinenthusiast for giving me details on what cheol kithes taste like mwah

Seungcheol and you still live together. And yes, that means you're still committed to fucking on every surface possible in the very nice apartment space comfortable for two.

Roommates with benefits works out well for the both of you — seeming to lean mostly in your favor.

University is a hop and a skip away, close enough for Seungcheol to swing by on his way home from the office with a minor detour. The attractive man's appearance always causes several students to squeal and twirl their hair when he parks next to the sidewalk in a sleek, expensive black and red car. Silver rings that probably cost as much as your tuition adorn long fingers as they tap, tap, tap against the leather steering wheel while he waits.

Seungcheol looks for you over the rim of fake sunglasses perched on the tip of his nose and tongue poking between brilliant white teeth revealed by a smug smirk. Your friends are not subtle — a few in-the-know of what kind of arrangement you have with him and the majority of others not — when they dig an elbow into your ribs or smack your arm in excitement.

You loathe the gawking stares with the same amount of intensity as the tiny sparkle of delight that allows yourself to bask in Seungcheol's showy display of attention that's only partially for you. Aware of what he really loves is soaking up everyone focused on him, brushing back bangs with a pleased grin after checking himself out for the hundredth time in the rearview mirror.

Still, the man is as punctual as clockwork despite a hectic schedule. Deluding yourself is fun whenever he rolls down the window and asks just loud enough for onlookers to hear and swoon over, "How was night class, sweet stuff? Did my luckiest charm learn anything new to advise me on the market's trends?" and receiving an eye roll in return.

"I keep saying you don't have to do this," you remind him every. single. time. because you're sincerely fine walking back the same route you take in the morning.

"Nonsense, it'd be a sin to let a pretty little thing like you walk the city streets in the dark all alone. 'sides it's on my way."

"Of course, as long as it's convenient."

"Convenient?" he repeats with a cocked eyebrow and watches as you slide into the ridiculous car with a cute but sulky pout. An indication that something has ruffled your feathers, if even just a little.

You know not to slam the door too hard when closing it because the one time you did just to be a brat, your battered pussy paid the price. It was very sore for a good couple of days after being repeatedly edged for hours as punishment. First by his fingers during the drive home, next with his mouth on the hood of said car after he'd pulled into the garage, and then teasing touches along the several little pit stops on the way to the bedroom.

All until you were pressed face-down into silky sheets, finally allowed to let go for the first time of the night with his thick girth easing its way inside of your aching cunt to the hushed words of, "Have to touch my baby gently, treat 'em with lotsa care. Always gotta play nice with the things I like, 'kay?"

Safe to say, you learned your lesson. Who wouldn't after being nearly bedridden and limping around for almost two days?

Seungcheol lets out the same kind of disappointed huff when you apologized to him for having to take care of you after that particularly harsh sex marathon — or any time, for that matter. "I've never thought of it as an inconvenience."

"You're a busy man."

"Not so busy that I can't pick you up, 'specially given that we live together."

"Under various terms and conditions. One of them being that I put up with all your inconveniences, not vice versa."

"Then simply think of it as an additional nuisance of mine you have to deal with. You know I won't do anything you don't want, but at least let me have this so I know you're safe." Another harsh sigh leaves his mouth as he adds, "Even if the university was on the other side of town, I'd be there."

"Yeah, okay."

While there's a general love-hate relationship with your sassy behavior, it's in times like these where he extremely dislikes it since the timing is rather improper to fuck it out of you. Alas, he's left to fumble for an alternative that presents him as a man who possesses some semblance of decorum.

"Can drive something else, find a car that doesn't draw so much attention."

"It's not the car," you snap back without thinking. Lips pressing together in a thin line when Seungcheol's fingers that wish they were on your thigh drum menacingly on the console as a substitute, rings flashing under the glow of the passing streetlights.

"Then what is it?" Your name falls from his lips in a soft, commanding kind of plea.

Lucky for you, the short drive is almost over and you can avoid answering for the last couple of minutes. Pretending to mull it over as you focus on steadying the pounding thump of your heart and the erratic breath caught in your lungs.

"It's nothing," you lie fairly easily, already slinking out of the car the minute he brakes in the garage and ignoring the dark brown eyes trained on you because they will make you hesitate. You have to stay firm or end up caught in his trap. "Just tired, 's all. I'm gonna head to bed early, see you in the morning?"

And you don't wait for a response. Gently closing the car door and then sprinting as unsuspiciously as possible into your designated bedroom. Seungcheol won't follow or pry for now. He's always made a point to respect any boundaries you set and the promise to see him when you wake up will keep the man at bay for now. And you sure as hell were going to use all of that to your advantage, curling up under a blanket and trying to figure out what the fuck is going on.

This "roommates with a multitude of benefits" arrangement worked. Chugging along like a well-oiled mechanism. So why were you contemplating the risk of messing it up and throwing the machine off its steady track? For something so fleeting? So emotional? The one thing that always fucks up these kinds of relationships?

Sure, you were in love with the way Seungcheol carried himself. His swagger. His money. Confidence, charisma, oh… and his cock, too. Who wouldn't be? But now, oh no, now you were also in love with the man himself — stupid Choi Seungcheol!

It was a gradual build. Always there in the background. All it took was for you to acknowledge its existence. Perhaps it was meant to play out this way. But you were still going to hold him responsible as an equal in contributing to this mess just as much as you were for falling. Your fingers clutch at the blanket, the poor fleece serving as an unfortunate outlet for your frustration.

When did the crazy marathons dwindle out? By no means had the two of you stopped fucking — absolutely not. It just meant that, well, rather than Seungcheol just fucking you, he more or less made love to you.

You feel a shiver down your spine and scream into a pillow at the worms writhing in your brain.

The sex was still terrific. You habitually muffle your sounds as it is — not ones of pure frustration like tonight — but out of extreme pleasure. The filthy debauchery hadn't changed either. The two of you deeply reveled in your depraved dynamics and more insane acts, maybe even getting dirtier once this subtle shift happened.

Safety. Security. Seungcheol.

Words you would've never thought to use in relation to him.

And then there was the aftercare. A strange new intimacy. He cuddled in bed after taking the effort to clean each other up for a good night's rest. Remaining there fast asleep and quietly snoring long after you untangle yourself from the comforting warmth of his arms to start the day. Mornings were no longer cold because he chose to stay.

Weekends were becoming your favorite too. When he waddles around shirtless, barely awake upon discovering you gone from his embrace. A back-hug immediately when finding you again. Soft gropes at your curves and low groans of contentment while pressing his nose into the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent mixed with his while you prep breakfast. Turning you around for kisses and pursuing long, slow makeout sessions that were quickly becoming the norm. Only for you to accidentally bite down a little too hard on his bottom lip when you realize the toast is burning.

You miss the way his eyes shine with affection as they follow you panicking around the kitchen. When did this big apartment of his begin to feel so alive? Even previous roommates and their loud yammering hardly made him feel at home. Tonguing at the indentation marks of your teeth molded into his lip and the sting that keeps him rooted in the present moment, the man meets your flustered expression with a grand, playful smile.

Ah, he thinks fondly, obviously.

Afternoons no longer consist of being stowed away in respective bedrooms or different rooms. Seungcheol sits at the kitchen table, furrowed eyebrows as he chips away at the excel sheet reflected in the glasses perched on his nose. You sit across from him, dutifully typing up assignments for Sunday night submittal.

He'll ask occasional questions just to learn more about you, your classes, and your dreams. Or if you simply need any help. Meanwhile, you make sure you're both staying hydrated and taking necessary breaks to rest your eyes from the screens. Sometimes you'll even get to assist him by analyzing a report. The real-world example aids as a unique use case scenario to better understand the concepts outlined in your textbooks.

You really were Seungcheol's lucky charm. He often wonders if you'd like to apply to work at the company he's in. But he'd hate to pressure or patronize you. So ultimately all he can do is stare in awe and provide steady encouragement as you formulate calculations, clean up the data, and transform it all into a presentable display of information.

It's usually his turn to cook in the evenings. Constantly getting distracted by your presence that he insists needs to be around to taste-test the vegetables that keep overcooking when he gets too caught up in tasting you. Innocent smooches here and there amid shy giggling that seems far too intimate than if he lapped at something else like in the past when he eagerly devoured your cunt right there on the countertop.

When dinner is served, you honestly never know or care how tasty it is or isn't because Seungcheol himself is the spice in your life. Your plain world now explodes in a bountiful amount of flavor thanks to him. Later, you tidy up the kitchen together — similar to how you move in tandem to freshen up in the bathroom after sex and much like a married couple would act.

And that's why your damn roommate leaves you wanting more.

These nights he kisses you bathed in the moonlight, working up a blistering heat that doesn't just simmer in your lower abdomen but follows the journey of his dedicated mouth. Upwards the wildfire burns, swooping into your chest and underneath the skin of your cheeks until it tangles with the expert tongue poking in between your lips. Seungcheol charts familiar territory with dancing fingertips across your skin, re-committing it to memory while yours sear into his, scratching at the wide expanse of his back and burying themselves in the curls of his unruly hair.

He takes you to bed — not always in a sexual manner — and it really doesn't even matter how you end up there because that is where you'll find yourself anyway. Falling asleep in his arms and waking up to repeat this strange and newly established cycle.

So the fact that you are sleeping alone speaks volumes. What is said, you're unsure but little do you know that Seungcheol continues to fear you might slip out of his hands. The attached-detached battle strategy always lurks around the corner and somehow, it's almost better when he treats you like some sort of fucktoy only.

The gentle sparkle in his eye was shielded by the switch to a mean glint, eyeing you up like you're nothing better than a piece of meat. No longer acting as the sweet yet cocky, handsome roommate you've gotten to know and grown feelings for. But reminiscent of the aloof and arrogant — still deviously attractive — man who propositioned this whole situation a little over a year ago.

Like now, as you kneel on all fours naked. Save for the humble pair of underwear whose innocence has long been destroyed due to the stains of your arousal mixed with Seungcheol's cum. Ruining the fabric that nestles between your legs for the sake of modesty you've thrown away hours — no, months — ago.

The very man sits before you on the poor couch that's seen its fair share of sinful acts. He's reclining comfortably, black t-shirt stretching out across a firm chest and broad shoulders while infamous gray sweatpants strain against thick thigh muscles as he manspreads so casually with a large hand laid over his crotch. Teasingly hiding the thing you so desire and are begging for.

But he wants you to work for it. Harder. A lot more than you already have. Put on a proper show of how much you deserve to have him. And want him.

"Come," he commands and pats his thigh like he's talking to some stray dog. When you go to sit back on your knees to stand, his eyes narrow as they darken. "Crawl."

What you don't know is Seungcheol would easily yield to and for you if you'd just let him. Be honest with him. Tell him your feelings. Unfortunately, it's in both of your natures to be hella stubborn. Too prideful to admit defeat and be completely vulnerable. You've come to an impasse.

But crawl to him physically you do, shamelessness long gone. Because what could be more shameful than how willing you are to be used by him and how wonderful it feels to be degraded?

Obviously admitting how much you like the damn man.

Goosebumps thrillingly cover your skin at how the gaze trained on you never loses its intensity with you coming closer, following all the way until your head is between his spread legs. Because he knows at least this is the most definitive way he can hold onto you for now.

"Kiss me."

And you obey, puckering your lips and tenderly placing them against the growing bulge beneath the gray fleece. Looking up with lidded eyes, blinking slowly as you let out audible smooch noises along the hard length before mouthing at where the tip lies. Leaving an even damper spot than the salty excess seeping through the fabric, suckling around the area to replace it with the hot saliva dribbling from your tongue that laps enthusiastically at the taste.

"C'mon pet," Seungcheol's tone is mocking in its chastisement, but the rough pad of his thumb rubbing your warm cheek is gentle. "Gimme a real one."

"Yes sir," falls breathlessly out of your mouth at the assumed permission, hands quickly reaching for the waistband of his sweats only to retract just as fast upon the disapproving click of his tongue.

"Not like that, up."

Uncertain, you brace yourself with the support of his quads so you're kneeling. Leaning in and tentatively pressing a kiss to the spot where you know at least one vein starts from the bottom of his pelvis and leads up to his abdomen. Tongue poking out in an attempt to feel and trace it, also effectively wetting his shirt just for good measure.

This time, a wistful sigh escapes between the man's pouty lips despite the furrowing of eyebrows because you're still not quite getting the message. The hand on your cheek slides down to your neck, briefly running his thumb tantalizingly across the side of your throat, landing on your shoulder, and grasping at your arm. Tugging up until you follow along with the motion and a bit of a surprised squeak, ultimately landing right where he wants you — straddling his lap.

"Oh," you mutter in surprise, abruptly snapped out of the lust haze that had been clouding your mind.

Center of gravity thrown off balance until your knees finally ground themselves on either side of his spread legs. Your hands hover awkwardly in the air, struggling to find something to hold onto before resolutely settling on the back of the couch. But not before Seungcheol's sturdy hands steady your hips, sporty reflexes acting faster than you can complete any of these actions.

"Oh, indeed. Already too fucked out to think?"

"No… s-sorry."

"You can make it up to me," he teases and you wait for the punchline, "with a proper kiss." It's both amazing and brow-raising when the Choi Seungcheol lets out the lowest of whines at the smallest sign of hesitation. "Don'tcha think it's the least I deserve today?"

Spoiled is what he is — but it is his birthday after all — so, of course, you're more than willing to indulge. Although the trepidation is real, manifesting in the tense stiffening of your body and the acceleration of your heart rate.

"Relax," he says gleefully — a little too gleeful. "I don't bite."

"Most times, not."

"If anyone's the biter between us, it's you so…"

The taunting murmur of, "Go ahead and bite baby," turns into a satisfied groan when you press your lips against his. Contrary to the jest and much to his delight, you're gentle. It's so adorable that he finds himself melting below you into a puddle of goo. Becoming absolute putty, lips readily parting so you can lick into his mouth.

He tastes like cherry chapstick and coffee, flavors so Choi Seungcheol that it hurts with how much they alone can possibly overwhelm you. Your nose scrunches, eyebrows following suit. Unaware of how he observes close-up through heavily lidded eyes because he wants more and more of what he can't get enough of. Afraid you might disappear. Even though you're right here — on his lap, kissing him sweetly. Yet you're still not all there.

So, he works on anchoring you to him — somehow, some way. One hand urges you to release your support on the couch, bringing your arm down to sneakily thread his fingers between yours. Naturally, the opposite one falls to eliminate the odd angle and rests on his shoulder. Seungcheol's other palm shifts to splay across your bare back and push you further into his chest, your sensitive nipples brushing against the cotton material of his shirt.

When that burning hand also encourages your ass to sit on his thighs to nearly smother him into the couch cushion and your damp core effectively presses onto the heated length stirring inside his sweats — he finally gets what he's been waiting for. The wanton moan that bubbles out of your throat is quickly swallowed up by the man himself, who ceases the passive role in the makeout session and kisses you back with a fervor that quite literally steals your breath.

He waits for you to surrender.

Not to be confused with submission. Seungcheol no longer cares about any fucked-up or sexual kind of power play nor does he want to win. He doesn't even want you to yield to or for him. Oh, he wishes you would of your own free will — but if you at least give in to the moment, to the feelings of now, and the warmth shared between you two — that's the most he can ask for and what he's grateful to accept for the time being.

Your fingers slip beneath the neckline of his shirt, inadvertently starting to trace along the same pattern as the ink that decorates his skin. The menace of a man smirks, pausing his assault on your lips to croon knowingly, "Wanna move this to your room?"

It's annoying how Seungcheol can read you even before your mind can think. And it's even more irritating at how your body reacts, thighs betraying you. Viscerally squeezing around his figure today, much like the memory of them wrapped above his waist the other day. Legs spread by him in between them as you clung to his body that had been railing into you like there's no tomorrow. Your gaze locked over his shoulder at the man's pride and joy — his nice ass — reflected in the mirror deliberately across from your bed along with the inked designs of things he held dearly marked across his back. Including the healing scratches from your nails.

"No," you grit out and break the kiss to shoot him a pointed glare, "just take off your stupid shirt."

"Thought you'd never ask."

No one should ever look that sexy taking off clothes, but of course, Seungcheol does. Any snark left in you immediately fizzles out at the teasing reveal and intentionally flexed expanse of his stomach as well as his bare chest. And yet something shifts in the air after he throws the shirt off to the side, covering his torso with his arms and giggling.

"Stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like you're gonna devour me whole, it's making me shy!"

It's not like you can stop yourself. Goddamnit, even that weird farmer's tan is drool-inducing. And the boyish smile he dons isn't helping either. You scoff to salvage a fraction of sanity, hands back on his bare shoulders and leaning in close enough for your noses to almost touch.

"Bullshit."

"Bet."

"You love it when people stare at you."

There's a beat of silence. "But you look at me… differently."

"Hey — don't get weird on me, Seungcheol, or your dick's gonna deflate."

Normally he'd bite back at you. Stuff like: "My dick's just fine," or "Baby, it's so easy to get hard around you," and "You'd appreciate if my dick got smaller 'cause it wouldn't make you whine so much," but this time, he doesn't. He just stares at you. Thinking. Long enough for you to start getting antsy, unable to hold eye contact for any longer than two minutes, especially with him so close.

"What?"

"You like me, don't you?"

It's the damn question he throws around all the time and your eyes roll up out of habit. "Yeah, I like you better without a deflated — "

"Forget about my cock for a bit."

"Kind of hard to do," you fire back and try to grind down on the very inflated length twitching needily for the snug cunt it senses between the layers of clothes cruelly separating it from its warm home.

Of course, Seungcheol is a little too familiar with your ploys and swats at your behind before squeezing your hips. "I know it is for a cock-hungry slut like you," he growls out in frustration before reverting back to his original soft tone, "but just humor me for a second."

"… Alright."

"You like me," he states and then repeats it in earnest when you sigh again, "you really like me. I would even be so confident enough to think you're… you're in love — "

"Well quit thinking," you interrupt with a snap, "I know your high and mighty arrogance causes you to believe everyone worships the ground you walk on but that doesn't mean a damn thing!"

Seungcheol's caramel eyes flash — with irritation or hurt, you can't quite place the swirl of emotions. "So that's all it is, huh? Just a figment of my imagination. A totally unfair projection of my thoughts and feelings onto you."

"If you wanted a session so badly on your birthday, then you should've scheduled with your therapist. And if you didn't want to continue fucking, then we could've stopped after the first round 'cause I was fine but you wanted more."

"You and I both know we're not just 'fucking'," he snarls, "and yeah, I do want more and that's why I need to know — with or without the sex, forgetting about the looks I know aren't just lust-filled because I see the ones you think I don't, I need to hear it out loud — do you like me?"

The plea of your name is the doomed cherry on top, heart thudding to the floor. It feels like the breath has been punched out of you. Though his skin is fiery warm beneath your palms it's not enough to thaw the way you've completely frozen over.

"Fine," you eventually wheeze out and Seungcheol relaxes — relieved — despite the crack in your voice, only to tense at your next words. "I'll move out tomorrow. Might take me a few days to get all my stuff gathered though."

"Wait… wait, wait… '' And this is the moment when the two of you find out that the black jujitsu belt he'd earned wasn't all for naught, effectively using a well-maneuvered technique that takes you off his lap and onto your back before you can escape from him again. "Please."

He begs, desperation evident in the way he clings to you and flops his forehead defeatedly onto your shoulder. As if he isn't the one who has you pinned to the couch cushions. He's never tried to hinder you before but honestly, he thinks he's hit the breaking point.

Don't you dare fucking leave me, is what is thought — but what comes out is a broken, "Why?"

"Because… because I… I breached the c-contract and made you uncomf — "

Seungcheol's head flies back up. "Then it should be me who moves out 'cause I'm pretty sure I violated the contract first."

"Wh-what?"

"Look at me," he commands and grips your chin so you can't turn away, "look at me, baby." And when your eyes squint open to stare into his, he fixes you with the most sincere expression you've ever seen. "I'm in love with you."

Tears spring to your eyes at the wild admission. Neither of you are sure if your hearts are mending or splitting to fuse and complete the other's. What you do know is that Seungcheol melts into you with a kiss of elation and celebration, the big man further turning into an even bigger pile of mush when your hands cup both of his cheeks during it and a thumb rubs soothingly at his jaw. He smiles against your lips when you whisper back, "I love you too."

"Took you long enough." Your flustered protests are cut short when he sits up to lean against the opposite armrest, pulling you on top of him like your original positions. "Have a present for you."

"But you're the one who should be receiving gifts."

He shrugs. "I already have the prettiest one right here in my arms… even if I was almost left alone on my birthday."

"Sorry," you stroke his pouty lips, "to be fair, I was going to wait until tomorrow."

"While holed up all by yourself in your room in the meantime. Little shit, you know I wouldn't have let you go, right?"

"Yeah… because you love me!"

There's an extra giddiness to your exclamation that's contagious enough to crack Seungcheol's chagrined expression with another grin.

"And you were gonna leave 'cause you loved me…" He lets out a huff. "Whatever, water under the bridge. Anyways, the gift. It's underneath the couch."

Curious, you lay flat and brush your hand beneath the furniture. Waving it around back and forth in the blind search, subsequently shifting all over Seungcheol's chest — bare skin gliding across bare skin.

You snicker, feeling his cock stiffening once more with your movements. "Calm down, horndog."

"It's not my fault you're rubbing your very sexy body all over me!"

"… Why'd you even decide to put it here?"

"'Cause you never clean."

"Hey! Don't make me bite your dick off." It twitches beneath you. "Freak."

"We'll see who the real freak is when I go ahead and get it pierced with a barbell you'll like."

"Oh, fuck off!" comes your retort and he grumbles at the lighthearted jab while your hand finally bumps against a hard box that you grasp onto tightly. Pulling it out and frowning at the suspicious amount of dust covering it. "Gee, how long was this down here?"

"… Six months."

Your eyes bug out. "Six months?!"

"Told ya you didn't clean under there!"

"Oh yes, because that's the point here."

"It kind of is," Seungcheol teases despite the slightly wistful look in his eyes. "Knew you wouldn't find it there."

All you can do is shake your head, gingerly opening what you assume to be a jewelry box only to abruptly shut it out of pure shock. "What the fuck did I just see?!"

"Do… do you not like it?"

"That's so not the question that needs to be asked right now."

"It kind of does 'cause if you don't want it, I'll buy something else. "

"You've gotta be shittin' me." You fix him with a hard glare though he barely reacts to it. "How much of your bank account did you deplete for that?"

A satisfied, cocky smirk is all you get in return. "'Tis but a bucket of water taken out of the ocean, sweetheart. Trivial."

"Choi Seungcheol."

"C'mon," he takes the box from you with one large hand and pops it back open. You can actually feel the ache in your eyes set in at the sight of the dazzling jewels once again. "Thought it'd look gorgeous on you."

It's easy to visibly melt at his words because he's such a smooth talker along with the knowledge that he's kept this hidden for approximately half of a year. But that still doesn't distract you from the insane amount of delicate crystals forming a beautiful open heart shape linked to two short double-strands of diamond studs on either side that join together with a silver clasp.

"It looks expensive," you correct, "how much was it?"

"Hmm, well it's seventeen carats so… a couple thousand, maybe?"

Your jaw drops, eyes widening as one of Seungcheol's beefy fingers carelessly thumbs at the choker like the piece of jewelry couldn't pay off more than half of your student debt. You likely also get some type of look on your face because he clicks his tongue.

"Now, don't you worry your pretty little head about it. I would happily spend ten times as much to get something that expresses just a fraction of what your worth is — in the world and… to me."

"You're so sappy, what the heck."

"Better not start something you can't handle, love." Seungcheol kindly warns, a little affronted when his puppy dog eyes and babygirl pout aren't as effective at distracting you as he'd like. Well, there are other ways. "You can't return it without testing it first."

"Testing?"

"Mhm, but why don't you give your sugar daddy a kiss of gratitude first?"

You scoff. "The only thing you share in common with a glucose guardian is being filthy rich."

"Not because I'm sweet like sugar?"

"Maybe just a little," you admit and lean in to give him an even sweeter kiss, much like earlier. And like before, the man turns into a puddle of syrupy goo at the featherlight touches of your lips on his.

But it's different at the same time. Kissing your roommate has always been with a bit of restraint. That all fades away as you melt into him — safety, security, Seungcheol, surrender — the both of you addicted to and lost in one another's taste while everything else falls away.

Until the little shit that he is distracts you enough for him to deftly extract the choker from its box and fasten it around your neck. You hiss at the shock of cold metal and gemstones as well as the physical and economically ethical weight around your neck, breaking the makeout session.

"See? Gorgeous, just like I thought. Not that you can look at it right now… maybe next time, we'll test it, heh, in your room."

"So that's what you meant by test…"

The lightbulb finally goes off in your head but all you receive in response is a smug look. Unaware that the grand menace is pondering what position he'd like best to see the choker for the first time in action. Something inside him clicks after absentmindedly slipping a finger underneath one of the diamond chains and watching you attempt to swallow at the increase in pressure constricting your airflow.

It's all bright white teeth when he smiles and whispers, "On your back, baby."

And you shuffle backwards obediently, letting gravity take your body down in almost a mini trust fall, knowing there will be a soft landing and that Seungcheol would never let you fall — unless it's for him.

Indeed, he does fall with you. Bodies pressed close together before he starts a burning trail of kisses starting below where the jeweled collar lays sparkling prettily against your throat. Down between your breasts he goes, an appreciative squeeze to both with warm hands that follow along with his movement.

Little nibbles to your skin and brushes to your sides that first have you squealing at the sharp nips and ticklish sensations. They're accompanied by the upward curl of his lips that only spreads wider when those airy giggles of yours transition to light moans the closer he stakes his claim to the more intimate parts of your body.

He lovingly suckles the skin of your tummy, leaving stinging signs of affection littered around your belly button and right above the band of your panties. There, Seungcheol pauses and lifts his head to look directly at you, not even trying to hide the fiery swirl of lust and adoration in his eyes and it makes you wonder how you've ever missed it before.

But that's neither here nor there, every nerve in your system is lit up in a wave of heat that has your hips instinctively rising as if pleading with him. Enough that his brown irises can't help but flit down to observe with raised eyebrows only to meet your flustered expression again with a totally-full-of-himself stare.

"So sweet and needy," Seungcheol murmurs appreciatively and hooks both thumbs underneath the side wings of your underwear to tug them off. "So fuckin' messy too," he adds in a condescending tone as if someone between your legs isn't licking his lips like a man lost in the desert for days stumbling upon a hidden oasis.

The bold eye contact he gets a kick out of maintaining is broken just to watch how the fabric adheres to your center thanks to the mix of his cum from much earlier and the constant leak of arousal pooling from your heated core. He's slow in the process of removing the saturated clothing. Giddy anticipation building until it finally peels away with a suggestive squelch to reveal your creampied cunt.

A choked groan rumbles in his chest. You're caught in the struggle between snapping your legs together out of shyness or letting them fall open just as he likes, the fear of soiling the couch again no longer even a thought. But still in no rush, Seungcheol slips your panties down one leg and while they hang off the other, supports your heel in his palm to place butterfly kisses along your ankle.

You peek at him in between the fingers covering your eyes and heated cheeks. "What are you doing?"

"Admiring you." Smooch. "Adoring you." Peck. "Marveling at how beautifully wet you get… this all for me, love?"

"Yeah, so… so you should take re-responsibility."

"Oh? And how so? What for?"

"Mmph!" You jolt at how fast he moves to fling your underwear over his shoulder and hover over top of you, whispering naughty words into your ear while roughened finger pads brush against slick folds.

"For knockin' you up? Not my fault this hungry pussy is never satisfied no matter how many times I stuff it. Greedy lil' thing."

"'m s-sorry… I — oh! Ohh…"

"You don't sound sorry."

Seungcheol mocks the shuddering moan that spills past your lips like he hadn't just shoved two chunky digits past those slippery folds and into the suffocating warmth beyond. His pointer finger bears its usual silver ring, the cold metal there and around your neck causing you to break out in a sweat at the chill engulfing your whole body. All from the heat swirling from the neck down, the torturous buildup between your legs, and meeting in a firestorm that explodes in your gut and makes your cunt tighten around his moving digits.

Your right arm snakes behind his nape and clings around it for dear life, nearly slamming the man's face into your tits — not that he's complaining — while the other sneaks between your bodies. Trailing down to where Seungcheol's fingers plunge inside of you, running yours across his exposed knuckles to dampen them with the filthy mix of arousal and cumstains he's playing in before tugging and teasing at your clit right above his vigorous actions.

He clicks his tongue. "Now, what did I say about touching things that belong to me?"

"Don't touch without permission." A warning look that lacks any ferocity is shot your way but the corner of your lips quirks up, eyelashes fluttering, because he's really just full of shit. "And to handle… handle them with care, which 's all I'm doin'."

"Brat."

"You love me."

"Damn right, I do. But if you're gonna use that against me like this maybe I have no choice but to discipline you."

You whimper when he withdraws his fingers, the loss and emptiness a punishment itself. "D-don't be mean."

"I'm never mean to you."

"You're not." You acquiesce with a cute little sniffle, interlocking your hands behind his neck to bring him down nose to nose. "'cept when I want your dick but s'kay, love you anyways."

"Using the L-word on me now, huh? Speaking of which, I never got you back for the little stunt you tried to pull earlier."

"Wha — ?"

The new position you had pulled him into grants Seungcheol the full teasing power he was honored to be blessed with. A dripping cock leaks precum between your bodies and smears your belly with the hot excess. Supported by a forearm beside your head, he languidly strokes his hard length and snickers. Barely wedging the mushroomed tip into your moist outer folds with a noisy squish and emitting a strangled groan from the back of the man's throat. Just enough so you can feel the faint tantalizing burn his girth promises in its efforts to stretch out your cunt, a buzz to the underside of your deliciously sore and engorged clit upon contact.

He's all toothy when you moan in response. Wiggling his hips lets him dip in a little further for the sole purpose of watching your eyes glaze over and threaten to roll to the back of your head. Lips parting wider in an adorable 'o' shape.

"Thought you could just leave like it's nothing. As if I don't fuck you full of enough cum to babytrap you here with me… Oh? You'd like that wouldn't you, pussy tryna gobble me up like the slutty whore that you are."

"Mmph, ah… only yours!"

No one has to be your special someone to read your body so easily but it's the fact that he is the one who's able to make your cunt react and squeeze around him just like so that fuels his ego. A mean sneer chisels his softer face features — less of a reaction towards you and more of him struggling not to plunge his pelvis forward and rearrange your guts. Or even worse (better), to bust a nut inside, painting your velvet walls with a creamy white.

It would be so easy to slide in a little further… you're begging him with slurred words and a steady pulsating grip around his dick — just daring him to ease the rest of it inside.

But then you would never learn your lesson. And if there's one thing Seungcheol loves more than being wrapped up in the tight clench of your cunt, it's making you work for it. Show off how desperate and cock-drunk you are.

"Y'know, all you had to do was tell me. Would've fucked you on every surface of this house, make sure there wasn't a moment that passed where you didn't have my cum dripping down your legs." He relents with the most meager of thrusts forward, widening the spread of your pretty folds suckling around him. "Anything to keep my darling 'lil babymaker satisfied, pump you full every minute of the day and make sure it takes."

"Ch-Cheol… please! Wan' you so bad."

"You'd like that, right? Givin' you a baby so you stay here forever. We'll make as many as you want, I'll even take time off to help." The sudden rush of paternal instincts makes the man pause, chuckling and muttering more to himself, if anything, "maybe you've been tryna babytrap me all along."

"Jus' want, just want your dick."

"I know, baby."

Seungcheol simpers at your pitiful plea but the menace in him victoriously pulls out and away, the departing wet 'pop' as loud as the slight fracture in his heart at doing so.

"No!"

In visible grief, your seizing legs clamp at his side with your heels digging into the dip right before the curve of his ass, clawing at his shoulder blades like a cat. That does nothing though except squish his length against your needy cunt, gliding pathetically against it but not once inside.

He smirks and whispers hoarsely, "If you want it so bad, put it in yourself."

A shaky hand reaches down to grasp and stroke at his dick, inadvertently brushing against your swollen clit that has your hips jumping. You bite down on your lower lip in an attempt to concentrate, blindly guiding his slippery cockhead to where it rightfully belongs. All while Seungcheol watches with amusement and a pained expression of how heavenly your hand feels on him — and even more when you succeed and bully him inch by inch inside of your gummy walls that suction and ripple greedily.

"There we go, yeah fuck… just like that."

Further and further, squelch by squelch until your pussy stretches to swallow and take him all. Only a finger's width between your pelvises kissing one another, knuckles snug against his heavy scrotum. You release him with triumph, clinging again to his neck. Seungcheol takes the final push and you let out simultaneous moans when his balls settle warmly against your ass and the neatly trimmed hairs at the base of his shaft are flush with your pubic bone. The tiny rough strands becoming even more soft and soaked by all of the arousal leaking out of your hole and his slit.

"Mine," he affirms and sticks his pinky through the open diamond heart pendant, nail lightly scratching the front of your throat.

"Yours." You hold onto his wrist, finally feeling so deliriously full and giggling a bit because you're somewhat light-headed. "You're mine too."

"Yeah, all yours, baby."

Seungcheol's beginning thrusts are slow, deep, and concentrated. He barely leaves your warmth, only sliding a little bit back before a harsh thrust forward to nudge his tip against the rougher spot that has some drool dribbling at the corner of your mouth out of sheer pleasure.

That doesn't last long though, the both of you are extremely worked up and super sensitive. It only takes a few minutes before he's setting an erratic pace. Strong forearms cage your head to protect it and keep you somewhat stationary while giving him enough strength to absolutely plow into you without forgiveness.

The couple thousand dollar choker starts to shift against your skin, bouncing ever so slightly in time with each repetition of relentless slams into your pussy. Such a sight delights Seungcheol so much, eyes focused on the glittery accessory and listening for its rhythmic jingle — bruising your tender flesh in ways that his lips don't — that ends up drowned out by the continual slap of the hard fucking he delivers.

"Gonna cum for me, sweetheart? Let me fill ya up?"

"S-soon! 'm gonna cum… so soon!"

"I… know. Oh fuck, I know baby. Let go for me, please. Surrender… ngh 'n give it all to me."

A powerful climax washes over you like a surprise, the setoff finalized by the large hand placed on your tummy. Applying just enough pressure to feel every vein and ridge of the cock against your inner walls while on the outside, Seungcheol lets out a guttural and feral groan at the upward bulge beneath his fingertips.

You let go with a wail that's swallowed by his lips capturing yours. Your nails dig into whatever you're grasping onto, teeth unconsciously biting down on his tongue you meant to simply caress with your own.

He lets out a strangled "oomph!" but the pain is easily sedated by the seductive way you contract and massage his dick in your unraveling — and then unprompted, he's spilling over the edge too. Coating your walls in thick ropes of white that sear your insides, gobbling up the release with repeated clenches as you both pant and wait for the orgasmic bliss to fade out.

"I think you're so sexy." Seungcheol mumbles the words tiredly into your shoulder and the laugh you let out sounds more like a winded wheeze.

"How lucky I am that you think that, has the post-nut clarity hit yet or… ?"

"I'm serious. I love you."

"I love you too. Happy birthday to my perfect sugar boyfriend or whatever."

He snorts, lifting his head to send you a lazy grin. "Yeah, happy birthday to me — the luckiest bitch on the planet to be loved by you."

"Spoiled is more like it but yeah. I'd say I'm pretty lucky too."

Adoration shines in both of your weary eyes, though Seungcheol has the audacity to lick his now very dry and cracked lips. "Say, was I right in picking out your gift or do you need more test runs?"

"What I need is a hot bath — no funky business — and at least twenty-four hours of sleep."

"That sounds good too. Y'know… if we sleep for a whole other day and confirm our relationship then, we can fuck for two days straight every year as an anniversary celebration!" His voice lowers, already acting naughty and unintentionally work himself up. "And then I'm positive you'll be bred properly."

You slap his shoulder. Hard. "Choi Seungcheol!"

"'m just kiddin'," he blatantly lies and gently pulls out of your sloppy pussy. Grunting at the goop and messy wetness that got everywhere. "Think we'll need to get a new couch."

"Great idea! Now, you can spend your money on something practical."

"Love you too."

"God, what did I get myself into." When you roll your eyes, a toothy grin is what you receive in return.

"I dunno, love, but I think this roommates to fuck buddies to lovers arrangement will work out beautifully, don't you?"

You give him another kiss just to shut him up. If you ever admit he's right, well, that would be with a mouthful of cock and a story saved for another time.

onlyseokmins: September 2023 ©

#ez.creates #svthub #svt.smut #seungcheol smut #choi seungcheol smut #smut #svt smut #seventeen smut #kpop smut #scoups smut #I secretly loathe this fic 😭#1k 🌟

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supernovafics · 7 months

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•*⁀➷ ❝ 𝐈’𝐋𝐋 𝐁𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔. ❞✧∘ ✭・.✫・゜·。.

supernovafics!

✭•*⁀➷ a bestfriend!steve harrington roommate au slightly inspired by the tv show “friends” ·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

a year in the lives of you and your best friend steve harrington. you never thought that you would be living with this guy you’ve known since you were ten— although it was a hypothetical topic that was discussed at length during the many sleepovers you had over the years. but somehow on a hectic day in august, the stars managed to align, and the next thing you know a lease is being signed and the two of you are moving into a two-bedroom apartment. so far it’s been two months of countless late nights and too many really early mornings where you’re running late to class or steve’s rushing to get to his shift at family video. for the most part, though, it’s a perfect situation. until the lines that felt as if they were clearly drawn in the sand— and had been there from perhaps the moment you and him met— start getting blurrier and blurrier

warnings: bestfriend!steve, roommate!steve, childhood best friends to (eventual) lovers, two idiots in love (but neither wanna admit it), Big Big slow burn, besties being besties, minimal angst, mainly just a lot of fun vibes, eventual smut (minors dni!), many familiar faces (robin, eddie, sometimes the kids), no use of y/n, specific warnings will be tagged per chapter

important note! this will be a very “low stakes” series (there’s not really a super specific storyline happening in this), and i’m really just gonna post for it whenever i’m in the mood/feel inspired for it. i already have a bunch of random ideas for this universe that i wanna eventually do, but requests are open for anything you wanna see with these roommates/besties<333 (also oneshots/blurbs will be posted non-chronologically but will be listed chronologically, so you can pretty much read in any order you want to!)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

fall 1985

love is a game (the one where you and steve have a “housewarming party”)

let’s forget it (the one where steve sees you naked)

third street (the one at the diner in the middle of the night)

silly promises (the one at dairy queen)

take a picture (the one with batman & robin)

from the dining table (the one with the early thanksgiving dinner)

never talk about it (the one where you see steve naked)

just a feeling (the one with steve’s date)

winter 1985/1986

the first fall of snow (the one where the kids spend the night)

care for you (the one where you’re both sick)

maybe this year (the one with the bet)

closing time (the one at family video)

while you were sleeping (the one with steve’s epiphany)

only for you (the one where you and steve play basketball)

in the middle of the night (the one with the ski trip)

worth waiting for (the one after the ski trip) (18+)

spring 1986

between you and me (the one where you and steve are secretly dating)

tell me a secret (the one where everyone finds out)

take my hand (the one where you and steve are chaperones at a school dance)

stay with me (the one where you come home drunk and steve takes care of you)

much better (the one with the "celebratory dinner")

summer 1986

#steve harrington series #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x fem!reader #stranger things fluff #steve harrington #stranger things imagine #stranger things series #stranger things smut

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en-archive · 3 months

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Hey can you write a smut about heeseung that he is a innocent nerd but secretly knows everything and is a total opposite in bed like he looks very cute and innocent and submissive but in bed he is a mean daddy dom

This is pure filth, I don’t see him being much of a daddy dom, but he most definitely is a dom so you’re not going away anywhere anon 🐇🎀

Nerd!Heeseung is a very innocent, funny, but nice dude sitting in your engineering class. He is not your typical nerd, he keeps a cool atmosphere, despite everyone assuming he is an innocent virgin, you didn't think so. He comes in the classroom with a cold demeanor, before smiling at anyone who greets him. He is helpful yet he keeps to himself and doesn't get close to anyone. He is the typical student that puts a little too long in studying, yet what people don't know is the actual time he puts on ruining you in the sheets the evening after your lectures.

He seems like your typical lanky boy, wearing loose fitted shirts and baggy jeans, with a thin rimmed glasses. but people don't know the several positions he bends you over in the bed . It started off innocently, one evening you found yourself stuck on a math question, and so happened to see him online in the course chat. You asked him to help you out, but instead he offered to help you personally in his dorm. "My roommate is not here, so we can work on it in peace." read the text. That time you did not think much of it, what would he even do? All he ever cared for was his grades and participation in the group. The meetings were usual, he was alone, waiting for you in his gray sweatpants and another loose gray shit that exposed his collar bones.

You wouldn't dress up any special for him, but when the lessons became a little too hot, you noticed it wasn't because of the rising temperatures with the arrival of summer. It was still winter for God's sake. At some point, the tension became irresistible, you knew he had ulterior motives when he started asking you if you still needed help with the homework, and you insisted you did. You never looked at him in that light, yet when he took off his glasses one of those nights and you both had already concluded the lesson good 20 minutes ago, when he offered you guys watch a movie. You agreed, despite piles of assignments waiting for you, but this chance was only once in a lifetime, and knew if you said no, you would never get to do it.

The movie was ignored five minutes in, his hand had already found itself on your thigh, your lips searching for his. The thin shirt he had on was ripped off of him, your fingers finding the skin on his shoulders, gripping when his own started gripping your ass.

"So much for a teacher's pet." You moaned when his fingers started to yank the hem of your shirt, dragging the fabric off of you, letting his lips latch onto the soft skin of your neck, biting and licking the sweet spot behind your ear.

"I could be your pet. " He chuckled lowly, confessing later on how much he had been looking at you the whole time during class, and how he did not let up the chance to get you alone when you asked him for help. He craved you so bad some days, the way your ass was so well sculpted out in your jeans, and the way you smiled, or scrunched your face when you couldn't understand a subject. he wanted to bite off that smile from your lips, get drunk on you. His hands finally found your naked waist, snaking up wards just to unclasp the bra and free your chest, just to immediately latch on. University, and work took up most of your time, when was the last time you got properly laid? You didn't remember, but you knew this was going to deliver you from the constant ache that bothered you these days.

The way his lips would nibble on the sensitive buds, and how his fingers would grasp the other, kneading, and caressing it. His tongue flicked the bud several times, only to trail up sloppy and wet kisses to your collar bone, leaving small butterflies around the décolletage. Covering them up would be a bitch, but that was a problem for the you tomorrow. His hands worked on the skin on your back, slowly, feather like, lingering his fingers over the goosebumps that had formed from the slight cool air in the living room. You gasped when his fingers found solace in gripping your bare ass in your clothes. You let out a shaky moan when his hands started pushing the fabric off of you, helping you rid yourself off your sweatpants and panties.

His eyes never left observing you, never leaving your face like a researcher looking at his new discovery, smiling in awe as one of his digits tested your squelching hole. Collecting the juices, you whined and smacked him in the chest when he licked the glossiness off of his fingers.

"I have been craving to taste you for so long. You make me so crazy with that cute ass of yours in class" He finally wriggled beneath you, dragging out his hard on from his sweatpants, the abused red tip already leaking precum.

"You should have said something then Hee, fuck!" You breathed out a sigh of relief when two of his digits started scissoring you, preparing for the abuse your pussy was about to experience from his tip.

"I tried, you are just so unapproachable sometimes!" He chuckled before he dragged his dick over your wet slit, collecting your juices on him before pushing in the fat tip, stretching you out just right.

You whined, arching your back from the stretch, but to him it sounded like the sweetest melody; seeing you on him, whimper and have a hard time taking his dick in, begging for him to slow down before he bottomed out and touched you balls deep. Before you could say anything to him, he took the mental que from you, seeing as you relaxed in his touch and sighed from relief and pleasure, finally getting to experience something hitting your cervix since a long time.

His hands positioned themselves on your ass again, smacking it once, just to test the waters, liking the response he got from you, hearing you and seeing you bite your lip, letting out a soft moan followed by his name.

His hips started their abuse on you slow at first, trying to grasp what you liked. He was such a good student, yet no ne would ever imagine him lean his forehead on you as he smiled at your misery to handle him. The way he teased you with his slow thrusts, not even letting you bounce on him, holding you still before he heard you start begging, which made him smile devilishly.

"Hm, what was that?" He halted himself inside you, leaving you shaking in his lap as you tried moving your hips in circular motions, trying to get him to hit you in that delicious spot, to finally see stars.

"Don't be such a fucking tease!" you whined, digging your nails in his hands, leaving crescent moons in their trail. You hated the smug look on his face, the way eh enjoyed you begging. At some point he had enough of your suffering, and started moving his hips, letting you match him in movement. The cries and whines leaving your agape mouth could have been heard from the outside of the dorm, the freshman girl passing by the door hurrying up her steps as her cheeks flushed crimson red.

"I will teach you proper language next time you come over along with math, hm, what do you say sweetheart?" You whined, the familiar knot finally tying itself inside your stomach, and you screamed when the tip of his dick started hitting your g-spot at an abnormal pace. You knew he was close.

“ Hee. I-I’m close!” You blurted out before he gave you an affirmative kiss, his tongue immediately finding yours. Drop dripped down your chin as you moaned in his mouth, letting the knot release, finally orgasming after his load shoot right inside you. His hand came to give you little soft pats on your back and ass, soothing you from the high. When his lips finally left yours, you smiled at his flushed face and your fucked up state.

“Seems you’ll have to tutor me from now on! “

#enhypen #enhypen heeseung #enhypen heeseung smut #enhypen drabbles #enhypen hard hours #enhypen heeseung hard hours #enhypen smut #enhypen head cannons #enhypen requests #enhypen asks #enhypen x Reader #keeper writes #keepers anons

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fumekara · 1 month

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ALL THE THINGS I HAVE DONE (Final part)

SatoSugu x Gn reader

Plot: Your relationship with the strongest sorcerers in Japan was falling apart after they yelled at you and broke your heart.

n/a: English is not my first language, there will be a final part of this writing experiment, I am not very satisfied with how it came out. I know this is probably not the ending you were expecting.

Tw: A lot of angst, fluff, comfort, mention of sex, polyamorous relationship, mention of the death of one's pet, the reader has a cat, in this version Geto is a sorcerer.

If you are sensitive to mourning for your pets, do not interact with this fic.

WC: 2K

Click here for part 1 part2

You woke up blinded by the sunlight filtering through your bedroom window. Your eyes were swollen and sore from crying the night before. You felt a lack at the side of your bed and realized that Satoru and Suguru were not with you. Still groggy from waking up, you sat up and turned your attention to the bedside table to your left to check what time it was. You noticed, however, a glass of water, a muffin and a note with a message written on it that you were sure were not there the night before. You take the note in your hand and immediately recognise Suguru's handwriting.

We went out on an errand, we'll be back soon'.

Sighing, you brought the note to your face, as if trying to get something from it, like the warmth of the people who had cradled you and held you in their arms yesterday.

You didn't know where they might have gone, but you wanted to be with them, wanting to understand at all costs what would become of you from now on.

You had met the boys through Shoko, who was a close friend of yours in university days and had introduced you to her friends when you had all gone out together to celebrate your graduation. Although you were a bit shy at first and talked only to Shoko when you were sitting at a karaoke table, you managed to have a rather pleasant conversation with the two boys.

As time went by, you became more and more friendly with each other and went out more and more often with Gojo and Geto, even when Shoko wasn't with you, you enjoyed their company, you liked the fact that Gojo and Geto were so different, but still managed to find their stability in being together. They soon grew fond of you and began to be more open with you, their trust in you had strengthened and they showed genuine happiness in being with you. As a result, you could not help but have feelings for them, which gradually grew as your friendship continued.

You had become friends and remained friends even when Gojo and Geto got together. You knew it would happen sooner or later from the way they treated each other, plus you knew their history, since they had confided in you, during one of the evenings spent together watching movies, that they had been through a lot of bad times together. You were happy for them, really, but a part of you was unhappy that you could not be part of that unbreakable bond.

At the time you were living together, after graduation you had decided to look for a flat in Tokyo to start your career, and since they had a spare room at home, they offered to put you up.

You were sure you would only inconvenience the couple and didn't know what your life would be like knowing you were living under the same roof as them. You hadn't told anyone about your feelings for them, not even Shoko. They assured you that they would be happier to have you as a roommate and that you could never be a nuisance, since you were a close friend of theirs, and that they would never allow you to live in a dingy cheap flat until you finally settled down with your job.

And so you did, you went to live with them and were relieved that they both agreed to let you take Nuko with you. Moreover, living with them was great from day one. When you got up in the morning, you would find Suguru in the kitchen preparing breakfast and greeting you with a 'Good morning love', showing you his beautiful smile as always. Gojo, who to tease you would put some items on the shelves and top shelves and then laugh when you got nervous with him because you couldn't reach them, and every time he would muss your hair with his hand when he returned it to you doing his usual cheeky grin. Sometimes you would fall asleep on the sofa with your legs tangled during movie nights, sometimes both of you and sometimes you would spend evenings sitting on the sofa late into the night talking about silly things, deep thoughts about the most existential questions or the doubts and fears that tormented you.

Even when you managed to settle down in Tokyo and in your job you stayed living with them and they were fine with that.

Everything changed the day they asked you to become part of their relationship. They had both grown fond of you and, although at first you thought they had asked you in order to offer you a friendship with benefits, you realized that the more time passed, the more your triangular relationship turned into something absolutely wonderful. The months spent with them made you feel happy and fulfilled and you felt complete.

But now what was left, what would become of you from now on?.

________

At noon it began to rain and meanwhile you were preparing lunch while waiting for Satoru and Suguru to return. As you boiled the rice, you turned your head towards the bowl still full from the day before yesterday that lay in the corner of the kitchen floor and once belonged to Nuko. You sighed sadly and went back to work, deciding to chop some vegetables.

Suddenly you heard the sound of keys turning the lock of the front door: they were back.

"Hey, Y/N, where are you?" you heard Satoru call out to you. "I'm in the kitchen," you replied, continuing to cut.

Hearing their footsteps heading towards the kitchen, you decided to turn around and not look back. "I'm making saffron rice for lunch," you said not knowing what to do in that situation.

You turned your head slightly for a moment and then returned to what you were doing. You saw them on the threshold of the kitchen door, both slightly wet and Satoru was holding something in his hand, although you saw it in passing without realizing what it was.

You could feel their gazes on you and you were sure they wanted to talk about what had happened in the last two days and that perhaps it would lead to you breaking up.

"Y/N can you come here for a moment?" asked Satoru in an extremely quiet and gentle way. "I'm cutting Toru here," you replied, hoping that would be enough to avoid talking to them until you heard them approaching further. "Y/N, please look," Suguru added in the same tone.

You heaved a sigh surrendering to what now seemed inevitable and turned toward them.

What you saw left you speechless.

Satoru was holding what appeared to be a kitten only a few months old lying in the sorcerer's arms. Both men looked at you with an expression of regret.

You stood for a moment confused by the scene before you. You tried with all your might to say something, but nothing sensible came out of your mouth except a series of quivering babble. "Come here," Suguru told you softly, extending his hand for you to come closer.

You slowly approached them to get a better look, and Satoru gave you the kitten so you could hold it. You heard him meowing and that seemed to awaken you from your trance-like state, and staring at him better you saw that he had Nuko's gray fur. You were so astonished that you did not notice that both men's eyes had glazed over with tears at your reaction to their gift.

"I don't understand...," you said in a trembling voice, "why you...I...I don't...." Unable to finish the sentence, you looked up at them feeling the tears flow down your cheeks.

At this point they hugged you and exactly like you let the tears flow.

"Y/N we are so sorry, for everything, I mean it, forgive us," Gojo said rubbing his forehead with yours as he sobbed undaunted like you had never seen from him. "We didn't mean to say those things to you, you didn't deserve it and we were so stupid to let us talk to you like that, sorry, please forgive us, sorry." You looked into his eyes before he planted a series of kisses on your face wet with your tears.

Suguru took your face in his large hands so that you could see him face to face, and you saw him completely destroyed by the situation you had put yourselves in. "We love you Y/N," he said, "We really love you and we are sorry to have made you feel so long." . Before you could say anything, he softly kissed your lips, letting you both drift away from the intensity of the emotions you were feeling at that moment. He pulled away from you as if to get some air, before returning to kiss your face as Satoru had done.

"We don't want to lose you Y/N, you are the most precious thing we have."

Satoru turned your head and kissed you at the corners of your lips as he wiped away your tears in an attempt to comfort you and then went back to talking. "I know this won't be enough to make us forgive each other, but know that we have talked about it and we both agree that we are both in love with you and don't want to lose you and that we will do everything to get your forgiveness and make you feel loved as you deserve. Even if it takes a lifetime, we will make sure that neither of us will come back to make you feel as bad as we do these days. We want to love you as we love you right now."

"Don't feel obligated after this Y/N, but..." both of them left you some space "please forgive us for everything. Give us a chance to let you know how sorry we are."

You continued to cry as Suguru rubbed a hand on your back to make you calm down and Satoru took the kitten from your hands and then placed it on the ground so as not to overwhelm you.

"You... that's why you went out this morning," you sniffed, "but how?" and leaned down to pet the kitten who purred at your attention.

"Mrs. Momaru had mentioned to us some time ago that her cat had had kittens, and we went to her to ask if there were any left," Satoru told you as they both snuggled with you. You knew Mrs. Momaru; she was your neighbor, an elderly lady with a heart of gold.

"We're sorry about what happened to Nuko, we were hoping she could lift your spirits," Suguru told you uncertainly, "I know she won't be able to replace him, but...."

"I love her," you interrupted him and turned toward them. Now that you had calmed down, you were ready to say how you felt, "I love you guys and I want to be with you, but it will take time before I can forgive you completely," you said and they took your hands gently.

"We understand Y/N," Suguru whispered, kissing your hand.

"We will make sure you never feel this way again, we promise," Satoru said, as they wrapped you again in a loving, desperate embrace and for the first time in a long time you felt at peace.

It might have taken time to forgive them, but there was still hope between you.

Taglist: @qualitygiantshoepsychic @dark1paradise @mel1mak @tatahungry @aish777

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moonlinos · 3 months

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Invisible string (pt. I)

♡ Pairing: Lee Minho × fem!reader / Hwang Hyunjin × fem!reader

♡ Synopsis: With your terrible history of boyfriends during high school, you swore off love and vowed to get through university without a relationship. Things are great: you’re in your junior year, in an uncomplicated arrangement with a friend with benefits, and living in a nice sharehouse with two amazing roommates. But things begin to change once you meet Lee Minho, a student in your new class who vows to change your perspective on love.

♡ Genre: A ‘lite version’ of a soulmate AU, fluff, eventual smut, light angst, pining, jealousy, strangers to friends to lovers, friends with benefits

♡ CW: Swearing, sexual themes and discussions, mentions of anxiety/panic attacks, alcohol consumption, mentions of smoking

♡ Word count: 16.4k

♡ A/N: This is a three-part story because I can’t shut up. The second part will be posted sometime next week, and I’ll link it here. I’ve been writing all my life and have written for maaaany fandoms, but being on Tumblr as an active reader of SKZ fics made me want to write for them. So, yeah, guess this is what I’m doing now.

part II →

You are woken up by Hyunjin shifting beside you on the bed. He groans, arm reaching to mess with your already closed curtains. You chuckle.

“You know, the curtains won’t close any more than that.”

“I keep telling you your bed is in a terrible position,” He grumbles as you turn to face him with a smile. “Who thought placing a bed right under a window would be a good idea? Mornings are fucking hell here.”

You shrug. “Well, it’s not my house so I didn’t exactly have a say in that matter.”

“I told you a million times I could help you move it.”

“And I told you a million times Mrs. Choi doesn’t like for us to mess with her furniture,” You explain, turning under the sheets so you could face him before bringing your fingers up to pinch his cheek. Hyunjin scrunches his nose. “Speaking of which, you need to leave. You know her rule: no—”

“No boyfriends spending more than two days at the house,” He interrupted you with an eye roll. “I’m not your boyfriend, though, so that rule shouldn’t apply.” He shrugs.

Hyunjin has been one of your best friends since you first met over two years ago. It was Hyunjin’s first college party and one of the many times your housemates had dragged you along on a night out. His friends had dared him to try and chat you up, arguing it would be hilarious to see him get turned down by an older girl. What they hadn’t expected, however, was for Hyunjin’s clumsy attempt at flirting to be so endearing to you; his pink cheeks and bowl-cut hair made him look like a helpless kid despite his height towering over you. Before you knew it, you had spent the entirety of the party talking to him about everything and anything, only stopping once your housemate Eunha emerged from inside the house to drag you home with her as she desperately tried to dodge a rather insistent guy’s advances. After that day, you and Hyunjin became almost inseparable.

You can’t quite pinpoint when you began hooking up. It was meaningless in the best sense of the word. It was simply something that had happened. All you can remember is that Jisung had recently bleached Hyunjin’s hair after yet another dare from his friend. It had started with cuddles, which turned to kisses, which turned to touches, until you eventually slept together for the first time sometime last year after an excruciatingly stressful exam period. It had never once gotten weird between the two of you; the line was always clear: you were just friends who hooked up due to convenience. Everybody had needs and stress and shit complicating their lives, and fucking your best friend was far more practical and safe than going out to look for a random hook-up whenever you needed it.

You find yourself smiling at Hyunjin once again. His now long black hair fell in his eyes as he stretched his arms over his head.

“Yes, you’re not my boyfriend, but how am I supposed to explain what we are to a little old lady?”

“Doesn’t she always say she’s super modern?” Hyunjin raises his eyebrows at you with a chuckle. “Maybe she’d like a situationship of her own and you’re depriving her of that by keeping this knowledge to yourself.”

You roll your eyes at his words, attempting to push him off your bed. “Why did you sleep here, anyway?”

Hyunjin sits up on the bed, a pout on his full lips. “I had a shitty date. I was sad and lonely. Glad to know you were paying attention to my story.”

“Hyune,” You sigh, ‘When you tell me said story while fucking me, can I really be blamed for not remembering anything?”

Hyunjin flicks your forehead lightly. “Yes, you can. At this point, it’s like our thing to vent about bad dates during sex,” He argues before getting up from your bed, finding his shirt, which had somehow been thrown over your study desk.

“You mean it’s your thing,” Correcting him, you get up as well, turning to fix up your sheets. “I don’t even go on dates and you know that. The only thing I vent to you about is how awful academic life is.”

Once you turned to face him again, Hyunjin was busy messily tying his hair. His brows promptly furrowed as he took in your words. “Remind me why you literally never leave the house again?”

“Just don’t want to get distracted. Getting my degree is more important than getting a boyfriend.” You lie with a shrug.

Your history with relationships was something you kept secret from everyone you met after high school. You feel embarrassed, as if it was all somehow your fault. After five failed relationships where you had been the one to be broken up with or cheated on, you began to accept that maybe the problem really was you. Maybe something about you makes men want to yell at and cheat on you. Perhaps you are just bound to be a distraction until they find someone better.

Which is why you don’t date.

Would anyone go through the hassle of reading a long, tedious book if they already knew about the bad ending?

Hyunjin rolls his eyes at your answer, crossing his arms over his chest. “Your degree isn’t going to keep you company when you’re eighty and alone.”

“Well, my degree isn’t going to wake up one day and suddenly decide to leave me either,” you refute, earning an annoyed groan from your friend as you walk past him to leave your room.

“You literally never have fun, though. All you do is go to class, work, and study. You should at least pick up a new hobby,” Hyunjin insists as he follows you, walking into the kitchen-living room area. “Go out more, stop avoiding college parties like the plague before it’s too late to experience the joys of watching your friend throw up on some random person’s couch.”

You make a face at the offers, grabbing your mug from the cupboard. “Why would I want to see that? Besides, I have hobbies.”

“I meant a social hobby. Sitting in your room watching fucking iceberg videos isn’t sociable,” He explains, and you let out an aggrieved gasp. Your iceberg videos were educational and entertaining, thank you very much. Behind you, your housemate’s bedroom door opens, and you turn to watch as she stumbles out of her room, looking half-awake. “Soojung, don’t you think she should get a new hobby?” Hyunjin addresses the blonde girl, who stares daggers at him.

“If I say yes, will you two stop speaking so loud?”

Hyunjin slams one hand on the kitchen counter, his other pointing a finger at you. “See, she said yes. You’re outnumbered, now you have to stop spending all your free time holed up inside your room.”

Soojung groans, stepping into the kitchen and shoving Hyunjin to the side. “He’s annoying, but he is kind of right,” she mumbles.

Truthfully, you did feel bad about having essentially wasted three years at university by actively avoiding parties and invitations any chance you got. The only parties you did attend, however, only served as an irritating reminder as to why you shouldn’t put yourself in those situations. Parties and bars only meant desperate college boys. Desperate for sex, for attention, for a potential relationship. For someone’s heart to break. You had met Hyunjin at a party, for fuck’s sake. Who knows just how south things between you two could’ve gone if he had become interested in you romantically?

But, as much as you hate to admit it, Hyunjin is right. Your life is essentially an endless loop of studying and working. You only socialize when your roommates are home, when your few friends come over, and when you and Hyunjin hook up. But you aren’t ready to step out of your comfortable bubble of avoidance, so you settle for the best thing you can think of.

As Hyunjin rummages through your fridge like he lived there and Soojung stirs her coffee blankly, you loudly set your mug down on the counter. “An elective course,” you announce.

The both of them turn to face you with the same puzzled expression.

“The fuck?” Hyunjin questions, and you roll your eyes.

“I’ll take an elective,” you explain matter-of-factly, “The university offers a lot of great courses in things I’m actually interested in. It’ll be a way for me to get out of the house without having to watch a friend of mine puke on a couch or whatever atrocity it is that you said.”

Hyunjin slams the fridge door closed, earning a scolding scream from Soojung, and walks over to where you’re standing. He pulls you into a tight embrace, and you can hear the smile in his voice as he says, “You’re such a fucking nerd, what the fuck, but I’m so glad your hermit life is coming to an end.”

The elective course you choose is Japanese. It’s a language you’ve always been interested in learning, and while you know the class is merely introductory, you figure it will be fun to learn some phrases and expressions. You might even find yourself wanting to learn more in the future, and you’ll undoubtedly be glad you took this class during university.

Even if that means having to endure Hyunjin calling you a weeb.

You are able to begin attending classes a week after signing up; the lessons lining up with your work schedule to a T. The professor explained that, since you had joined the course late, you would likely need some guidance with phrases and words the class had already been taught. You didn’t mind, actually feeling excited in the morning despite your boring routine classes since you knew you would be doing something new you enjoyed in the afternoon instead of simply killing time around your house until it was time for you to work.

You walk into your first class ten minutes late, mentally cursing Eunha for being so good at telling stories about her weirdly entertaining life that it made it physically difficult for you to drag yourself away from her. You mouth a brief apology to your professor before scanning the room and scurrying over to the only available seat.

You sit down in haste so as to not disrupt the class any further, swinging your bag over your chair and accidentally knocking over your seatmate’s water bottle all over his side of the desk. Luckily, the bottle lands on the soft surface of his notebook, barely making any noise. Unluckily, said bottle had been filled with coffee, staining his notes a faded brown color. You silently gasp, instinctively reaching out your hands to fruitlessly try and dry the pages that are now sticking to each other.

“I am so sorry, what the fuck,” you mutter under your breath as you continue to inspect his notebook frantically. “I’ll buy you a new notebook and another cup of coffee as soon as class ends, I promise,” You whisper to him, your eyes boring holes into the stained pages as you watch the bitter liquid slowly dissolve some of the black ink. At this point, you’re rambling out of nervousness, but you can’t seem to stop, adding, “Hell, I’m so angry at myself for what I did I’d bind you a new notebook and brew you some fresh coffee myself.”

You mentally berate yourself for your word vomit. It was just your luck that you would make someone hate your guts on the first day you attended a class.

After what feels like minutes of silence from him, you are prepared for the imminent burst of rage bound to come your way, the guy’s wrath more than likely stirring inside him as he sits beside you and watches as you foolishly shake the piece of paper, hoping it will miraculously return to its untainted state.

However, what you aren’t prepared for is the small burst of laughter that leaves your seatmate’s lips; it’s quiet, but you’re close enough to him to be able to hear it.

You furrow your brows, finally mustering the courage to look up at him for the first time.

“Did you…” You trail off. You feel a strange sensation inside your chest as your eyes meet his. It was something you had never felt before, a small burst of a fluttering that briskly washed over you before disappearing just as quickly. Like a pinwheel was placed inside of you and a strong wind had suddenly started blowing. You shake your head, returning to the matter at hand. You are probably just experiencing some anxiety due to what has happened, you argue mentally. “Did you just laugh at me?”

As you finally take him in properly, the guy before you looks as dazed as you felt just now, courtesy of your minor panic attack; his lips agape and his round eyes blinking while his dark pupils are fixed on you. You two remain that way for a few seconds in an impromptu staring contest that causes the peculiar feeling to bloom inside your chest once again.

When he finally speaks, his voice is soft. “You… offered to bind a notebook for a stranger,” His lips twitch into a grin. “It was a little funny.”

You open your mouth but promptly close it, unable to come up with an answer that wouldn’t make you appear like more of an idiot than you already do. You sigh. “Sorry,” you mumble, your voice low as well. “I say stupid shit when I’m nervous.”

He waves his hand dismissively. “It’s okay. I’m—”

“You two, on the back,” your professor calls out in a louder voice, however still keeping her calm demeanor. You and your seatmate turn to look at her. “I’m going to teach a few new phrases useful for traveling now. How about you two talk after class? This is actually quite perfect. Minho is one of my best students, so he could help you catch up to where we are.” She offers the two of you a small smile, and you feel your cheeks burn.

This class wasn’t mandatory, and you didn’t need it to get your degree. It is still a class, nonetheless. Ever since high school, you’ve always hated people who disrespect their professors by brazenly talking or sleeping during class.

“I’m sorry, professor,” You muttered. Beside you, your seatmate — Minho, as he was just called — scoots closer to you and whispers something you don’t understand under his breath. You look at him, confused. He chuckles, and you feel his breath on your cheek. It makes the odd fluttering return.

“Gomenasai,” He repeats more clearly, his voice louder, “It’s ‘I’m sorry’ in Japanese.” He offers you a smile, and you soak in just how good-looking he is. Ever since you first raised your head to look at him — when the pinwheel inside your chest rapidly spun and unexplainedly made you feel nervous — you knew he was a handsome guy, but his soft smile and calm eyes made him look even more annoyingly pretty.

Before you’re able to do it yourself, your professor speaks again and pulls you out of your trance.

“In this case, Sumimasen would be a bit more appropriate,” she corrects Minho, who clicks his tongue and mutters something under his breath. The woman chuckles at his reaction. “It’s okay. This is also something you can explain to Y/N after class.”

As the class went on, you couldn’t help but notice how Minho didn’t take any notes. Your mind latched onto how you ruined his notebook and how it was your fault that he couldn’t properly study during today’s class, so you couldn’t find the courage to offer him some paper so he could take notes.

After almost an hour of unrelenting guilt swallowing you up slowly, you place your hand on Minho’s shoulder as soon as the professor announces class is over after assigning the students a small written assignment.

“We could talk outside? If you want,” you offer him, feeling the now-familiar nervousness come back, making your mouth speak faster than your brain can even think to rationalize, “There’s a bench I really like outside this building. It’s a good spot. There’s a nice shade, and it’s secluded enough that people don’t bother me when I’m studying. Or googling how to bind a notebook.”

Minho lets out a brief chuckle. “Okay. I would love to talk on your favorite bench.”

You blink at him. “I don’t have a favorite bench.”

“Hm, it sure sounded like it. You listed some good attributes of that bench,” He argues, a grin etched onto his lips.

“I told you I say stupid shit when I’m nervous.”

He raises an eyebrow at your words. “You’re nervous?”

“Of course I am. I never bound a notebook before.”

Minho lets out a hearty laugh this time, his head thrown back and his eyes turning into crescent moons before he shakes his head. He picks his notebook off the table, showing you the crinkly light brown-tinted pages. “It’s dry now. I actually kind of like it, gave the pages a sort of vintage vibe. You don’t have to bind me a new notebook,” He reassures you, placing the small book into his bag. “As much as I would love to see how that would turn out.”

And just like that, your nervousness fades away. You smile at Minho, asking that he follow you over to your favorite bench.

The two of you talked for almost two hours. During that time, Minho helped you catch up with the vocabulary and phrases you had missed in class. When you asked him how he was able to know so much off the top of his head, his lips curled into a crooked grin as he sheepishly told you that he had been taking Japanese lessons since he was in high school. He explained that because he procrastinated signing up for an elective course, the advanced class was full by the time he got to it, so he decided to go for the introductory one instead. You chuckled and questioned why he would choose to spend his time on a course when he already knew everything being taught. He shrugged and explained that it was nice to have at least one class in which he didn’t have to try and that the fact that it made him feel smart also helped.

Not even your shift at work was able to make your conversation stop flowing, as Minho offered to walk with you to the coffee shop upon realizing it was near his apartment.

That was one of the many coincidences and things in common you found to have with each other that day.

It started with ordinary things like the fact that Minho had three cats back home just like you and how he had been collecting plushies since he was a child, while you had started your own collection as soon as you had access to money of your own. Or how your favorite authors were Jane Austen and Charlotte Brontë — Minho swore you would die if you saw the special edition books he had back at home.

Then, it became a bit more amusing as you found out that Minho had worked at a convenience store chain when he first finished high school, and it was the same one you worked at for your first job after starting university. And you both had worked there for exactly a year and two months before quitting. You then told him about how you ended up attending this university after your top three choices turned you down, and his choices were the same as yours. And just like you, he also got rejected by his top three options, which led him to attend the same university as you.

You two couldn’t hide your bewilderment, eyes widening and lips bursting into laughter as these linked facts kept spilling out during your conversation. It was strange, you thought, but in a comforting way. It was almost as if you two had been living weirdly similar lives, all while having no clue about the other’s existence.

The two of you approach the small coffee shop while talking about your degrees. You try your best not to bore Minho with your ‘existential crisis-inducing psychology talks,’ as Hyunjin always put it, and you mostly listen to him as he talks about programming. He tells you that his dream is to develop cozy games that people can jump into without much thought, simply to relax. He says he knows how stressful life is and that people sometimes need something they can mindlessly do to get their minds off of shit. You resonate with it more than you care to admit, as cozy idle games are one of your favorite things to do while locked inside your room.

“So I do these freelancing gigs to make money but I’m actually set to start my first quote-unquote real job in two weeks,” he beams as you two stop in front of the coffee shop. Minho’s eyes lit up the moment he started speaking about his degree, and although you didn’t understand most of the terms he used, it is always endearing to watch someone talk about something they’re so passionate about. “There’s this guy who’s graduating soon who recruited me and a friend for a project he’s working on, so it’s not technically a job and we’ll work in his living room. I’ll still get some money and the chance to actually develop something, though, so it’s better than nothing.”

You smile at him. “If you like programming as much as your words led me to believe, I’m sure it won’t even feel like a job.”

Minho’s ears turned a faint shade of pink, and he scratched his head. “Sorry, I talked your ear off about shit you don’t even understand.”

“I think everybody likes to hear people talk about things they like,” you assure him, “It was a good talk. I still can’t believe we have so many things in common. It was kind of funny how they kept coming up.”

Minho chuckles, bouncing on the heels of his feet. “Guess the universe is giving us signs that we should be friends.”

“It seems like it.”

That day, you work with a persistent smile engraved on your lips. You can’t remember the last time you felt so good about meeting someone new. Despite your awkward first encounter, you found that talking to Minho was as easy as talking to an old childhood friend. It felt refreshing. The last friend you made was Hyunjin — whom you were so grateful to now for pushing you out of your comfort zone — and after that, you had unknowingly closed yourself off.

Minho had managed to open up your mind to the idea of letting someone in almost comically fast. And you loved that.

It’s been a month since you’ve been attending Japanese classes, and your studying sessions with Minho — which always turned into long conversations on what now had really become your favorite bench — were a weekly appointment, much like having him walk with you to work twice a week.

Today, however, Minho stopped you with a hand on your shoulder as you made your way toward your usual spot. When he asked you if you would like to study at his favorite bakery today instead, his eyes rapidly blinking as he looked at you through his bangs which had grown to slightly cover his eyes since you met him, you just couldn’t say no. He stammered as he promised that the place was even closer than the one where you worked, so you wouldn’t be late for your shift.

You smiled at his apparent nervousness, finding it endearing. You knew all too well how stressed you felt when offering something new or initiating plans with a new friend, and Minho seemed to be the same.

“Good thing you made this offer today, on my day off,” you bumped shoulders with him. “It’s almost like you knew.”

You begin walking, and Minho gently pushes you to the side so that he’s the one walking on the edge of the side of the sidewalk. You shoot him a questioning look, and he blinks at you again.

“Sorry, force of habit,” he chuckles, “My mom taught me a guy shouldn’t let a girl walk on the street side. I know it’s old-fashioned and probably made me seem like an ancient guy who wouldn’t let his wife work or something. Sorry.”

You shake your head. “No, it’s kind of sweet. I never had anyone do that with me.”

You feel the pinwheel twirl inside your chest again.

The two of you approach a familiar building together. You furrow your eyebrows as you take in the floral curtains on the windows and the pretty font adorning the store sign of your favorite bakery. You think about how it would be nice if you two came here on another day. Maybe you could use that opportunity to finally introduce Minho to your other friends.

You only realize Minho has stopped walking when he calls out your name. When you turn around, he’s standing in front of the bakery with a smile.

“This is the place.” He points toward the white door with a nod as you return to where he’s standing.

No fucking way.

“This is your favorite bakery?” You ask, although it is a stupid question. Minho nods. You play with the strap of your bag. “Okay, this is starting to sound ridiculous, but I swear I’m not lying. This is my favorite bakery, too.”

Minho’s eyes widen at your words, and his lips curl into a smile again. “Shut the fuck up.”

“I will not,” You chuckle.

Minho opens the door and the two of you walk inside, the familiar smell of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods bringing back great memories you made in this place. You often come here with your two roommates; it’s close enough to both your house and university that you can skip out on taking the bus, the atmosphere is always relaxing and comforting, not to mention the delicious cakes they sell. You smile to yourself as you remember Eunha scuffing down far too many slices of their chocolate cake after a nasty breakup a couple of months ago, tears streaming down her face so violently that the poor little old man who owns the shop appeared to check up on her.

“Their lemon cake is my favorite.”

“The lemon cake is what made me—”

You and Minho speak concurrently, with you unable to even finish your sentence before you both freeze for a couple of seconds in front of the only small table available at the crowded shop.

He’s the first one to move, pulling out his chair a bit awkwardly. “We should…” He trails off before clearing his throat as you sit down before him. “Should really make a written list of things we weirdly have in common.”

“At this point, I think it’d be easier if we made one of what we don’t have in common.”

You two settle for the obvious choice of two pieces of lemon cake with a cup of coffee for him and a glass of cola for you. Minho almost looked offended when you informed him that you hate coffee, wondering out loud why you even worked at a coffee shop before ensuring he could change your mind with just the five amazing facts about coffee he thought about off the top of his head. You shrugged him off with a grin. You couldn’t deny the irony of being a barista and having to make endless cups of a drink you despised daily, but you were sure Minho could never change your mind about coffee.

You two talked about your improvement in Japanese in the last month until the waiter returned with your order. Minho insists you’re a natural and could be on his level in a couple of years if you tried, but you roll your eyes at his compliments. You’ve never been naturally good at anything. That wasn’t about to change now.

“You know,” Minho begins once the waiter steps away from your table, looking around the coffee shop. People slowly started to leave as it got later in the day; the place was now much quieter, and the atmosphere even more cozy. “I used to think I would meet somebody in a place like this.”

“Like, in a romantic sense?”

Minho hums, still looking out to his side. You notice his side profile is really pretty, and you have to hide your smile by sipping your drink.

When he returns his gaze to you, he’s the one smiling. “Yes, in a romantic sense. Like being destined to meet someone.”

“Look at you, a hopeless romantic,” You roll your eyes with a chuckle. You never thought of Minho as someone like that. He seemed rather methodical, always following a routine and too engrossed in his codes to be preoccupied with something like love.

Minho furrowed his brows. “Why the eye roll?”

“I just don’t believe in that stuff,” you shrug with a small smile, “Stuff like destiny, soulmates, love…” You trail off, taking your spoon and poking the slice of cake in front of you. “Love has the awful tendency of being bad.”

Of course, you once believed all those things. Doesn’t everybody? But love has shown you time and time again that those are things reserved only for some people. And, clearly, you are not one of them. So why believe in it?

“It’s the most amazing thing in life,” Minho’s voice almost startled you as you were so deeply entranced in your thoughts.

You don’t lift your head to answer him, instead drawing mindless shapes on the icing on top of your cake.

“What is?”

“Love,” He replies in a soft voice. When you finally look at him, you’re surprised to find Minho’s deep eyes already looking at you, a small smile adorning his lips. “Love is the most amazing thing in life.”

You freeze.

You tear your eyes away from him, gaze focusing on the plate in front of you again.

You were careful with your rules. No parties, no bars, no talking to your male co-workers unless absolutely necessary, and no male friends unless they were in a relationship or proved beyond a reasonable doubt to only be interested in you platonically — which was what Minho was. So, why did him bringing up love make you feel so nervous?

Under the table, you unwittingly bounce your leg. This was stupid. Minho has been your friend for a month now; you see each other twice a week, and you talk for hours, always so comfortable around each other in a way that is still so new to you. He has never flirted with you or treated you in any way that led you to believe that he wanted anything more than to be your friend. You will not let your foolish trauma ruin what was proving to be an amazing friendship. He was simply sharing his thoughts on a topic. That’s all love was: a conversation topic.

You force out a chuckle as you snap yourself out of your senseless panic and look up at Minho once more. “We can just agree to disagree?”

He’s quiet for a few seconds, something you can’t quite pinpoint swimming in his deep eyes as he looks at you. Instead of breaking the silence, he scoops up a piece of cake with his spoon and raises it like a glass. You shake your head with a giggle as you realize what he’s doing, toasting your spoons together at the center of the table before you both eat your spoonfuls of cake.

“You know,” He speaks as soon as he’s done eating, his eyes having never left yours. “Love can never be bad. I don’t think so, at least. It never makes anything worse. It can only ever make things better.”

You hum and shift in your seat, lowering your gaze toward the table. The truth is, you hate talking about love. That — coupled with your shame regarding your past relationships — is the reason why you never indulge in this type of conversation, even with your own mother. But years of swallowing down your thoughts and opinions whenever the subject was brought up only caused a buildup of emotions in your throat. So much so that you only realized you were talking once you were midway through a sentence.

“Love can make so many things worse,” you affirmed, your eyes following the polka-dot pattern on the tablecloth, “Losing someone is bad enough, but put love into that equation, and it just worsens tenfold.”

Minho nods. “By that logic, you can say that having someone by your side is always good, but if it’s someone you love, it makes it better tenfold, right?”

You let out a chuckle as you realize you two could go back and forth about that subject for ages.

But it felt good to finally speak out your feelings on the matter, so you continue, “Love can’t be that great if people can so easily fall out of it and for so many different but equally stupid reasons. You’re suddenly not attractive to them anymore, or you have different opinions, or they love picking fights but hate it when it’s the other way around…” You trail off, swallowing down a lump in your throat as you speak out of experience. But Minho didn’t need to know that. You lift your eyes. “Not to mention falling in love with a new person all while supposedly already being in love with someone.”

“That’s not genuine love,” Minho shakes his head with furrowed eyebrows, as if it was his first time hearing of such things happening. “Real love is unconditional and understanding. Real love makes the person you love beautiful simply because they’re them. Real love doesn’t allow you to hurt the person you love because it feels like you’re hurting yourself as well.” His expression softens, and his eyes lock onto yours. “And real love makes it so that you can only see the one you love. You can’t possibly fall in love with someone else if you’re truly already in love.”

You gnaw on your bottom lip, nodding slowly. You hate the fact that part of you is desperate to believe that what Minho said was true. And you hate it even more that an even bigger part has already dismissed every single word that left his lips.

Desperate to shift the subject from Reasons Why My Exes Left Me — which only leaves you feeling sad and pathetic — back to Love Is Amazing, you decide to try and lighten the mood.

“Okay, but then explain to me how love is so great when you can just have sex with anyone, and it feels the same either way?” You question him with a teasing grin on your face. Minho shakes his head with a smile and eats another bite of his cake. You continue, “Be it a stranger at a party you met ten minutes ago or the love of your life, sex will always be sex. Therefore, you’re wrong, mister Love-Makes-Everything-Better.”

Minho chuckles around his mug, eyes closing as he almost spits out his coffee. His eyes are like crescent moons when he looks at you again, clearly amused by your words. “Well, yeah, of course, sex will always feel good no matter who you’re doing it with. It’s sex, and sex feels good,” He shrugs dismissively. “But sex with love is different. You aren’t just fucking, just fulfilling your own desires selfishly. Love makes sex better because you feel good simply by making the person who’s so important to you feel good. It makes you want to melt into the other person and become one with them because close isn’t close enough when you’re in love.

“Touching them feels like a gift, like heaven. Tasting them feels like heaven. Hearing their voice in their most blissful state feels like heaven. The trust and connection you feel in that moment is heaven, and that’s only possible through love. You can have sex with anyone, but you can only make love to someone you love, and those are two different things. That’s how love makes sex better. Therefore, I’m not wrong.”

As you take in Minho’s words, spoken so casually, like it was common knowledge, they leave you speechless. You watch him as he smiles triumphantly when he realizes you aren’t going to refute him — because you can’t refute him.

You berate yourself mentally as you notice the familiar feeling of arousal wash over you as you repeat his words inside your head. Not because it was Minho who said those things, but simply because that kind of sex sounded so good. Good in a way you had never once experienced before. Like heaven, as he had put it.

Your experience with sex has always been simply about fulfilling desires. You thought that was all there was to it.

Until now.

And even so, with your ex-boyfriends, it was always unbalanced. Ninety percent about their pleasure and only ten percent about yours. The first time you had a guy go down on you was the first time you had sex with Hyunjin, and by that point, you had already had five boyfriends. It felt weird when it happened, and you remember Hyunjin whining about how you didn’t have to ask him every five minutes if he was really okay with doing that. It had always been different with him, the good kind of different. He had never been selfish during sex; if anything, Hyunjin was too much of a giver, sometimes forgetting about his own pleasure in order to focus on yours. You thought that was the best sex you could ever have.

Until now.

Because, even with Hyunjin, there was never a genuine connection. It never felt like a gift to touch him and have him touch you. It was never anything more than sex, more than something you both did because it felt good and it was easy. He slept in your bed, and he cuddled you until morning came, but it had never once felt anything close to what Minho described.

You can’t help but wonder if Minho has ever experienced that. You desperately want to ask him, but you two aren’t close enough for that yet.

You also can’t help but wonder why you spend the rest of the evening raging a war against yourself as your mind is consumed with thoughts of what it would be like to experience that kind of sex with him.

It’s late in the night on the following Saturday, and your phone incessantly vibrating under your pillow rudely demands your attention just as you’re about to fall asleep. You squint your eyes as you type in your password. You sigh as you see Hyunjin’s name on your screen because of course it’s him.

Hyune: I’m outside open the door Hyune: please open the door? quick? Hyune: mrs. choi is gonna kill me if I use the intercom pls I don’t wanna die Hyune: I’m in my pajamas do you know how humiliating this is

Hyune: and I’m highkey pissed off Hyune: I WILL sleep on the bench outside your house if you don’t let me in and then I’ll die and who’s gonna live with the guilt? Hyune: you Hyune: OPENM TEH DOOR

You roll your eyes at his dramatic texts, stepping out of the comfort of your bed and padding across the floor as quietly as possible so as not to wake up your roommates. You open your front door and speed past the hallway and Mrs. Choi’s home, reaching the outside door in record time. It’s something you’ve done more times than you care to admit in order to let Hyunjin into your house. Your tenant was a sweet woman, insistent that she was modern and understanding of ‘young people’, but she despised people coming into your home any later than midnight.

You step outside, finding Hyunjin pacing back and forth like a creep in front of your house. True to his words, he stood in his checkered pajama pants and a black t-shirt. His hair was in a ponytail, the strands messily sticking out everywhere like he had tossed and turned in bed before coming here.

“You look like shit,” you speak up, causing him to jump and let out a gasp. You chuckle as he scowls at you, climbing the few steps to reach the door.

“I had a fight with Mingyu,” he grumbles as you two walk toward your front door. “He told me I spilled paint on his favorite shirt, which is fucking impossible since I don’t even paint anywhere near his shit.”

“I mean, you are a messy painter.”

Hyunjin shoots you a look as you close your front door behind you. You take off your shoes and walk toward your bedroom in silence. This was routine. Hyunjin knew the rules: no knocking on the outside door, no buzzing the intercom, no shouting from outside, keep your voice down in the hallway, no talking until you reach your bedroom. It was all automatic at this point.

His voice is louder when he speaks again inside your locked bedroom. “First of all, I am not a messy painter. The paint is messy, not me. Second of all, if Mingyu wasn’t a fucking idiot, maybe he wouldn’t leave his favorite shirt on the floor of the living room right by my art corner,” Hyunjin huffs and crosses his arms over his chest, “If that’s how he treats his favorite shirt, I feel bad for his girlfriend.”

You let out a chuckle, which is cut short by him pulling you into his arms. “Hyunjin, that analogy makes no sense.”

“Yes, it does. You treat your favorite shirt like shit, you treat your girlfriend like shit,” he states matter-of-factly before pulling you into a kiss.

This was routine. It was all automatic at this point.

Hyunjin kisses you like he’s angry. Because he is, and that’s one of the reasons why you two do this. You let out your frustrations during sex. You complain, and you let off steam until you both feel okay again. It’s been this way for a year and some months now, and you never once thought anything of it. It was beneficial for you both, so why change or question it?

But that was before your talk with Minho. Before you were awoken to the truth that you’d been having meaningless sex your whole life.

When you’re pulled away from your thoughts, you’re already laid in your bed with Hyunjin hovering over you. His lips and hands wander through your body as he mumbles things you can’t quite understand; you can only make out your name and Mingyu’s mixed with curses. You try to bring yourself back to the moment, bringing your legs to wrap around Hyunjin’s waist and bring him closer to you.

He stops kissing your neck and yanks his shirt over his head, his hair untying in the process and falling on his face like a curtain. You giggle and try to fix it with your fingers. Hyunjin pouts.

“Don’t you think I’m right?”

You frown and hope he can’t see your confused expression in the dim lighting. You truly weren’t paying any attention to what he had been saying, too engrossed in your thoughts and too busy feeling sorry for yourself. Hyunjin’s tendency to tell you about his frustrations during sex always left you a bit puzzled, but it was also oddly sweet. It was like he trusted you so deeply as a friend that he believed he could share anything with you, no matter the time.

So you nod, lightly pulling at his hair. “Of course you’re right.”

He hums and buries his head on your chest, grinding his hips into your clothed core. “Of course I’m right,” he mumbles under his breath.

Everything is a blur after that, your mind insistent on repeating Minho’s words like an annoying echo. When Hyunjin’s tongue fucked you hastily, and he murmured something about you tasting so good, all you could hear was Minho’s voice telling you how tasting the person you love feels like heaven. When Hyunjin pushed his cock into you, his hands gripping your thighs and head buried in your neck, all you could think about was how this sex paled in comparison to what you could’ve been having — what you could have already had — if only you weren’t so damn unlovable.

You knew that Minho didn’t intend to make you feel bad with his words. They weren’t targeted at you. But that didn’t stop your mind from sabotaging and putting yourself down. It was one of your biggest talents, after all.

Your body was present and responsive the entire time; you moaned because it felt good, and you kissed Hyunjin because you wanted to. But you were mentally somewhere else.

And the worst thing is, you’re a hundred percent sure Hyunjin doesn’t even notice it.

Because this wasn’t love. This was only sex.

And this was all you had ever known.

Time flies by faster than your brain can comprehend; before you know it, another month goes by. You only managed to go to your favorite bakery with Minho one more time before your work hours were changed, your shift now starting a mere thirty minutes after your Japanese class ends. He still walked you to work twice a week, but you would be lying if you said it didn’t upset you to have to let go of your weekly talks.

Minho also became busier due to his own job. With so little time to see each other face to face outside of class, most of your talks took place over text. He talked about his job with so much adoration it made you a little jealous; his partners were now simply friends he worked with, and his joy over finally being able to create a cozy game made it so that he pushed himself over his limit, often sleeping on his friend’s couch after working until four a.m. and getting through the next day on excessive amounts of coffee.

That was how you two came up with the idea of Minho dropping by the café where you work to pick up coffee for him and his friends. He would drop by at least twice every day, his friend’s house — which also served as their office — only one bus stop away.

The first time Minho came by, he had his wallet and phone in one hand, a sharpie and a block of sticky notes in the other. You eyed him curiously as he scribbled on the piece of paper while your co-worker prepared his coffee. When he was done, he stuck the note to the monitor in front of you on the counter. You furrowed your brows as your eyes shifted from the Japanese words on the bright yellow note back to Minho’s smug face. You were certainly grateful he at least had the courtesy of including the romanization of whatever he had written down. Not that it helped you in any way.

“Since our studying sessions after class were rudely taken from us, this is your extra homework. It’s all words we already learned. You just gotta think a little bit, and you’ll figure it out. You’re smart, I know you can do it,” He assured you.

Expect you weren’t that smart and ended up giving up by the time you got home that night. The piece of paper was no longer sticky on the border due to you carrying it around all day, boring holes into it as if that would magically give you the answer. You snapped a picture of it as you got ready for bed and sent it to Minho, begging him to put you out of your misery and simply give you the answer. ‘I want to drink coffee,’ he replied. You slapped your hand over your forehead with so much force you were sure the entire house had heard you. He was right; you did learn that in class. Curse the Japanese language for being so difficult.

After that, it became a routine. You waited expectantly for Minho’s visits daily, but you are extra excited today. It’s a Friday, and your birthday is tomorrow. After much pestering from Eunha, you agreed to have a small gathering at your house. It only made sense to invite Minho; he’s become one of your closest friends in the two months you’ve known him, after all.

As he walks into the coffee shop, sticky notes and sharpie in hand, you chuckle to yourself. You two chat about the development of his game, with Minho kindly using layman’s terms when explaining it to you. He also tells you about how one of his friends got so frustrated with a code that he threw his phone at a wall before immediately regretting it and crying on the floor next to Minho’s desk. Before you can get worried, he assures you that it’s just an ordinary day at the office, and the three of them end up laughing everything off at the end of the day.

After taking his order, you watch as he begins writing down your homework for the day on the small piece of paper in his hand. As you look around the coffee shop, most tables are empty, and the sun is starting to set outside the glass doors.

“You wanna come over this Saturday?” You ask Minho, who looks up at you before adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose. That was one thing you learned about Minho since he began coming over: he wears glasses. Not every day, but enough times for you to notice how good he looks with them. But friends find each other attractive all the time, you justify it. “You never came over to my house, and my roommates really want to meet you. Plus, it’s my birthday tomorrow.”

Minho’s eyes widen. “Your birthday? And you save that information to the end?”

“It’s not a big deal. I usually never even celebrate.” You shrug lightly. You’ve never been big on birthdays, as you just don’t see the reason why it’s supposed to feel different from any other day of the year. “But my roommate pestered me to do something this year, so I agreed to have a party.”

Minho shifts on his feet. “I… really hate parties…” He trails off.

“It’s not a party party. I promise!” You hold up your pinky finger. “It’s more of a get-together, just my roommates and my only two other friends. And, you…” You trail off, “If you come.”

Minho blinks his eyes a couple of times before tearing the piece of paper he was writing on from the pad and crumpling it in his hand. He quickly jots down something new and sticks it to your forehead.

“Minho!” You scold him, to which he laughs, his nose scrunching and eyes crinkling. You advert your gaze from him as your persistent thoughts regarding how unfairly pretty Minho is begin to flood your brain once again. You take the note and analyze it:

はい (Hai)

You smile as you understand the word, looking up at him.

“I’d love to come to your birthday party,” He beams. “Thank you for inviting me.”

To say Minho is nervous would be an understatement.

He gets out of his car twice, ready to march back inside his friend’s apartment like a coward and pretend that nothing happened both times. Only when he thinks back to how you smiled at him when he agreed to your invitation does he find the courage to start the car and drive to your house. He’d noticed for a while now how much he likes you. But it was when he agreed with the idea of going to the café you worked at to pick up coffee that it truly dawned on him that he really liked you. Minho hated taking the bus, he hated doing anything other than zoning out on the couch during his breaks, he hated bustling shops, and he hated how his co-workers both managed to have such intricate coffee orders.

Yet he agreed to that idea, even suggesting he drop by two times a day.

He noticed he’d felt a familiar small whirlpool inside his chest whenever he was with you, when he heard you talk about something you liked or saw you smile. He’s also noticed that this tiny whirlpool has been growing bigger and bigger the more he’s been around you.

But that doesn’t scare him. Minho loves love. He loves to be in love, to love someone, and to make that person feel loved. It’s his favorite thing about life. If he was honest, he missed it so much he didn’t know how he was able to live without it.

Just down the block from your house, he parks his car and gathers his phone and his present for you — clearly clumsily wrapped, even with his co-workers’ help. He feels another wave of nervousness wash over him as he approaches the house; he’s an hour late and needs to mentally prepare to socialize with people he’s never met before. Minho chuckles as he realizes a silly party makes him more nervous than the prospect of possibly falling in love.

You open the door almost as soon as he rings the intercom, and he walks down the hallway into your house door; the crooked box he’s been holding makes his hands sweat. The first thing he notices as you open the door is your styled hair with a big white bow on the back, looking much prettier than the ugly bow he and his friends managed to stick on top of his present. He smiles at the sight and scratches his ear in a futile attempt to stop them from turning red.

God, he really liked you, didn’t he?

“Thank you for coming,” you tell him with a smile. Minho notices the quiet music playing inside the house, the simple decorations, and the cake on top of the kitchen counter. He mentally sighs in relief. This truly wasn’t anything like a big party. “You’re wearing your glasses again,” you point out as Minho walks inside and removes his shoes. He subconsciously reaches his left hand to touch his wire-rimmed glasses that sit on his nose bridge. He grimaces and curses at his friend for making him stay later than he was supposed to today.

“I had no time to go home and change,” He apologizes, fingers now toying with the stupid bow on top of the box. “I usually wear contacts, but they make my eyes dry if I stare at the computer for too long, so I just… wear my glasses at work…” Minho trails off, suddenly feeling stupid, his eyes looking anywhere but toward you.

You chuckle, lightly touching his glasses for a second before moving away again. “You always come to the coffee shop wearing them, and I think you look really good,” you assured him. His eyes quickly met yours, only for you to advert your gaze this time. “You should wear them more often.”

Minho only hums, lightly nodding his head. He feels stupid all over again as the image of himself throwing his contact lenses down the drain crosses his mind.

Clearing his throat, he finally hands you your gift. You giggle at the mismatched wrapping paper and poor excuse of a bow, which makes Minho let out a chuckle and murmur an apology. You open the box, and your eyes light up when you spot the stuffed bunny you have been raving about since you two met. It was the only animal missing from your collection, but you couldn’t find the right time to save up money to buy it. Minho didn’t need to ask if you liked it as he watched your smile grow bigger as you looked at the brown bunny.

“Come, I gotta put him in my bed now,” you beamed and took Minho’s hand in yours, leading him to the living room. There, five people sat on the couch and on the floor. Minho furrows his brows as he takes in a head of light brown hair covered by a familiar beanie. “These are my friends. Eunha’s the girl with short hair on the floor, and Soojung’s the one with blonde hair next to her. They’re also my roommates,” You point at them as you speak. “That’s Jisung sitting next to Soojung; he’s also her boyfriend. And then Hyunjin, with the long hair, sitting next to Chan on the couch. Everyone, this is Minho from my Japanese class.”

With that, you pad off to your room with your bunny in tow. As Chan finally turns to look at Minho, his shocked expression mirrors his. They stare at each other for a while before Chan finally breaks the silence.

“What the fuck, that’s my co-worker.”

Minho narrows his eyes. “So this is why you had to leave an hour earlier today?”

As you come out of your room, you chuckle. “Chan is your co-worker?” You ask Minho, “I can’t believe this. He’s been our friend for longer than I’ve known you. He came like a package deal when Jisung began dating Soojung.”

“Damn, dude, you hate me so much you never talked about me to your friend?” Chan gasped, a hand over his heart. “I’m hurt.”

Minho rolls his eyes but is unable to stop a small grin from forming on his lips as the entire living room erupts in laughter. “Of course I talked about you. I talked about you and Seungmin all the time. It’s just I…” Minho shifts on his feet, shrugging. “I never said your names.”

More laughter seeps out of the group of people, including Chan, and Minho finds himself laughing along this time, shaking his head at his own stupidity.

He sits beside Chan on the couch while Hyunjin heads to the kitchen with you. He quickly asks him how he came to be friends with you in the first place. Chan explains that he’s been in a class with Jisung for almost two years, and the boy had always pestered him about ‘old people’ needing to hang out with people their age. That’s how he ended up meeting Soojung as soon as she became Jisung’s girlfriend. You and Eunha were an inevitable addition, seeing as you were not only roommates but also great friends.

You offer Minho a beer, which he declines. As much as he wanted to, no beer was worth having to take the bus back home. He silently sips his cola as he watches your group of friends chat. You end up sitting beside him on the couch, your friend Hyunjin to your right.

Minho finds that he missed getting together with people like this and didn’t even realize it. His only friends were left behind back at home, and although they were less than an hour away by bus, their busy lives prevented them from meeting in person. Minho’s favorite memories from his teenage years were having his friends over and just doing nothing for hours, talking about stupid shit until their stomachs hurt from laughing. Eating takeout on the couch with Chan and Seungmin after work came close, but they were always too tired and too stressed to entertain the idea of making jokes. Those were times when Minho realized he had really become an adult.

Jisung’s loud voice suddenly booms through the living room and startles an already drunk-looking Eunha, who murmurs something about the younger boy giving her a heart attack one day.

“I’m bored,” he grumbles, draping his body over Soojung. “Let’s play spin the bottle.”

Soojung rolls her eyes at him, flicking his forehead. “Are you a teenager?”

Jisung pouts, sitting up straight once more. “We’re in university. University students play this fucking game all the time,” he states matter-of-factly. “Don’t make me regret falling for an older woman.”

“Jisung, I’m only three years older than you, I’m not—”

“Don’t make me call you noona.”

Soojung inhales deeply before turning to face the people sitting on the couch, placing one of the empty beer bottles scattered around her feet on top of the coffee table. “Let’s play spin the bottle. But let’s do dares instead of kissing, that’s too boring.”

Jisung beams, cuddling close to her like a needy child. Minho chuckles at the sight.

Eunha scoots closer to the couple so the group is seated in a circle around the coffee table, half of them on the couch and half on the floor. Minho never had the chance to play spin the bottle, which seemed to be such a staple game of one’s teenage years. By the time his friends were off sneaking into clubs and drinking behind their parents’ backs, he was already in a committed relationship and well aware of the fact that he didn’t enjoy parties.

It seems silly, but he’s glad he won’t live past his youth without experiencing such a trivial thing.

Soojung spins the bottle, and the neck stops facing Chan while the bottom faces Jisung.

“Take your shirt off,” Jisung waves a finger at Chan, who looks somewhat disoriented. Minho chuckles under his breath just as you do the same. You two face each other and let out a hearty laugh, your arm coming to rest on his bicep before retrieving back to your lap faster than Minho hoped it would.

Soojung squishes Jisung’s cheeks and places a small kiss on his lips. “You’re such a fucking chaotic bisexual,” she giggles, “Y’know, Chan, Jisung has had the biggest crush on you since you two first met.”

Chan shakes his head with a stifled laugh and proceeds to remove his shirt, neatly placing it on his lap.

Jisung is next to spin the bottle, this time landing on Soojung, who you dare to show her most embarrassing text. After showing the group a string of texts showing raunchy screenshots of a manhwa she’d been reading at that time, all sent to one of her class group chats which included some professors, she lets out a heavy sigh and orders Eunha to spin the bottle before any questions can be asked.

This time, the neck faces you while the bottom faces Eunha herself. With a smile, the short-haired girl dares you to kiss Minho.

He feels his smile drop at the very second the words leave her lips. This was not what he had in mind for tonight.

“What?” You sputter, “Why?”

Eunha shrugs, adjusting herself so she’s seated upright and staring right at you. “Well, he’s the only one here who would be actually fun to see you kiss. Jisung and Soojung are okay with each other hooking up with other people, so that’s no fun,” she explains, using her fingers to list her reasons, “I’m not into girls, so that’s no fun for me. Hyunjin is too obvious. We all already know Chan, so it would also be boring. Minho is like fresh meat. That is fun.”

Minho’s brain begins finding a suitable excuse for why you two can’t kiss, because he’s certain you have no interest in doing it. Not only are you friends, but your reaction didn’t exactly exude excitement at the prospect of kissing him. Just as he’s ready to lie through his teeth, you turn to him and place your hand on his shoulder, a touch so soft he’s barely able to feel it through the fabric of his shirt.

“Is this okay with you?” You ask him, the tone of your voice so sweet Minho feels like it melts his every thought until his brain is nothing but a sugary pool filled with only you. So he nods because god, yes, this is okay with him.

You gingerly place your right hand on his cheek, bringing your faces closer until your lips press together. The whirlpool inside his chest spins fast, like a vortex dragging every sense of his body toward you and only you.

You remain still for a few seconds, Minho’s eyes opening slightly to search for any sign of regret on your face. Before he can even properly look at you, your lips begin to move against his — gently and carefully, like you’re not sure if this is what he wants. Minho deepens the kiss and hesitates three times before committing to placing his left hand on your waist. The giggles around the two of you nothing but a muffled murmur to him. He presses another kiss to your lips, his body shifting until he is all but caging you against the back of the couch. But just as he swipes his tongue across your bottom lip, you push him back with a smile, Minho chasing after your lips.

He blinks a couple of times, eyes zoning into your smudged red lipstick. He subconsciously bites his own bottom lip, wondering if any of the color transferred to him. The surrounding murmurs bring Minho back to the moment this time, awkwardly clearing his throat before lifting himself off of you and sitting upright on the couch. He tunes out every comment regarding the kiss to the best of his abilities, focusing his energy on slowing down his heart rate. When he catches you giggling while looking at him, your arm touching his bicep yet again, he nods, grabbing his cola bottle from the floor and taking a sip.

Minho can’t remember the last time kissing someone got him so worked up. He entered a long-term relationship at such a young age that he’s only now realizing how unaccustomed he is to kissing someone new, to the rush that comes with having your lips pressing against the ones of someone you like. It was exhilarating and a bit terrifying all at the same time. He was awkward, unsure where to put his hands, uncertain if you were enjoying yourself. He was also greedy, wanting the moment to last for much longer than it had.

This had cemented the fact that he does, in fact, really like you.

After kissing you, the whirlpool living in his heart had now fully transformed into a tiny hurricane — with great chances of growing even bigger.

Minho only notices the game has continued upon hearing your voice complaining beside him. He watches as Soojung shrugs.

“It’s the only thing I could think of, sorry.”

“But why?” Hyunjin asks, placing his cup on the coffee table. “It’s a stupid dare.”

The blonde girl scoffs. “No, it’s not. I’ve had to basically live with you two for the past year, and it’s common knowledge how easily you get a boner for her.”

“Not true,” Hyunjin retorts, although it sounds more like a question than an affirmation.

Eunha blurts out, “You once got a boner watching her stir a cake mix.”

Hyunjin opens and closes his mouth before groaning, pulling you into his lap by the waist. You apologize to him quietly, to which Hyunjin shakes his head with a small smile.

Minho feels as if he’s intruding on something private.

You sit on Hyunjin’s knees, almost falling off his lap as you clearly try to keep some distance between the two of you. Hyunjin clicks his tongue and pulls you closer to him until your back is pressed up against his chest. He whispers something in your ear, to which you lightly slap his arm as his lips upturn into a grin.

Minho is definitely intruding on something private.

At some point, you turn so you’re sitting across Hyunjin’s lap, your body now facing Minho. He can’t help but watch with dark eyes as the younger boy’s hands wander through your body; playing with the buttons on your blouse, squeezing your thighs, and caressing your skin a little too close to the hem of your skirt. He furrows his brows as he tries to understand your relationship with Hyunjin, seeing as you’re obviously not put off by his hands on your body.

Minho is so transfixed by the sight and his racing thoughts that he only realizes the game has ended when someone taps his shoulder from behind the couch. When he looks back, Chan is holding a cigarette and motioning towards the stairs that lead to the house’s terrace.

In the chilly open space above the house, they sit on a bench behind a tall vertical planter. Minho wonders who tends to the garden as he observes the various flowers, as well as some vegetables and herbs scattered around him. The terrace is small; the garden taking up all the space, an old wooden railing that overlooks the quiet street the only other thing in his sight.

He and Chan chat about school and work, as they often do nowadays. After Chan recently broke up with his girlfriend, Minho found that his friend had become much more closed off, so the list of subjects they would talk about became minimal. Chan bites his thumb before taking a long drag of his cigarette. He chuckles when he mentions being scared of graduating next year. Minho bumps his shoulder with him, arguing that being in his situation is worse. He admits that he regrets starting university late and that being in his first year when he should already be in his third is discouraging. Chan dismisses his worries, reminding him of how Minho is often the one to fix broken codes and come up with ideas for their game whenever Seungmin gets stuck.

“A degree is just a piece of paper,” Chan says, throwing his cigarette butt at a nearby trashcan. “You’re already a fantastic programmer, Minho.”

“You’re just saying that because I saved your ass today.”

Chan shrugs. “You’ve saved my ass basically every day since we started working together.” After a beat of silence, he asks, “Why did you start uni so late, anyway? You never told me.”

Minho hums, digging his brain for a way to sum up the entire story. “It’s complicated—”

He’s interrupted by footsteps on the stairs leading to the terrace. A loud giggle echoes through the open space before you and Hyunjin step into their field of vision. The long-haired boy holds you from behind, and you two stagger toward the railing.

“Wish everyone would go home already so I could just fuck you,” Hyunjin whines as he turns your body around so you’re facing him. Minho almost chokes on nothing at those words, and Chan stifles a laugh with his hand. He curses the small space as they’re able to so clearly hear everything you’re saying.

You playfully kick Hyunjin’s shin. “Don’t say it like that, Hyune, what the fuck.”

“It’s true, though,” Hyunjin continues, pressing you against the railing. He towers over you, so the only thing Minho can see from where he’s seated is your white skirt floating in the wind behind the tall boy. “I had a stressful, terrible, awful, dreadful week. All I kept thinking about was coming over and relaxing with you.”

“See, when you put it like that, it doesn’t sound so awful.”

Hyunjin clicks his tongue. “There’s nothing awful about fucking. I know how much you like it, don’t act so coy.”

Minho watches as your hands clench around Hyunjin’s gray shirt, pulling him closer and kissing him softly, much like you had done to him a few moments before.

Minho presses his lips into a thin line. He connects every dot available to him inside his head and suddenly feels pathetic.

Hyunjin being too obvious of a choice for you to kiss, his hands all over your body, his words about fucking you, the way you kissed him like it was a habit.

If you had a boyfriend, why did you agree to kiss him?

The words swarm Minho’s brain. He vaguely recalls you and Hyunjin eventually walking out of the terrace. Chan starts a one-sided conversation about one of his classes, with Minho humming after every couple of sentences to appear like he’d been listening when his head is too busy wondering how to feel about everything.

Minho recalls Eunha walking up the stairs and shouting for the two of them to come downstairs to sing you happy birthday. He recalls Hyunjin’s hands wandering through your body throughout the song, his lips pressing small kisses on your face and lips as you smiled. He recalls feeling confused, stressed, jealous, and pathetic.

Minho is only truly back to the present moment once Chan’s voice bids him a loud goodbye, and the door slamming behind him makes his senses finally return to him. As he looks around, he notices that the only people left in the living room are Jisung, Hyunjin, and you. Beside him on the couch, Hyunjin stretches with a loud groan.

“I’m gonna take a shower. D’you have any of my clothes in your room?”

You sigh from where you’re sitting on the floor, resting against the television stand. “Of course, I do. You’re always living shit behind, you’re like our third roommate at this point.”

Hyunjin chuckles, walking over to give you a small peck on the lips before disappearing into your room. Minho gnaws on his bottom lip with a bitter smile as he realizes Hyunjin will sleep over at your house. The ugly feelings return as he remembers his thoughts about you these past few weeks when he unknowingly cultivated too big of a crush on you. Even on his way here tonight, when he had chuckled to himself at his lack of nervousness in the face of potential love.

Love.

Minho can’t help but wonder why your view of love is so negative when you’re in a relationship. And, at the same time, he doesn’t dare to think about it for too long, fully aware that his foolish affection-filled brain will come up with a myriad of reasons — all where your boyfriend is the sole culprit for your distaste — and Minho knows better than to let those thoughts linger for too long inside his mind. He knows himself all too well, knows only awful shit would come out of assuming things about your relationship; the urge to beat Hyunjin senseless for being a shitty boyfriend and making you think that way about love being the worst of them.

“I’m too drunk to go back to my dorm,” Jisung suddenly speaks, his eyes glazed over as he stares ahead. “Gonna crash here tonight, too.”

Minho takes that as his cue to leave.

You walk him outside, a small smile on your face the entire time. He feels guilty not being able to reciprocate the gesture. As you tell him goodbye, thanking him for coming, you pull him into a hug. You hadn’t hugged much since you met, and Minho foolishly wants to draw you closer to him, to feel your body pressed against his just as it was pressed against Hyunjin most of the night. But he can’t do that.

“Are you okay to walk back by yourself?” You ask him as you pull away.

Minho nods, forcing out a small smile. “My car is parked just down the block.”

“That’s why you didn’t drink!” You exclaim with a giggle, “I forget that most people our age already drive. My anxiety didn’t allow me the chance to even try and get a license, so I just accepted my fate of taking the bus.”

“I could drive you…” Minho trails off. There he goes again, being pathetic. “If I have the time… You can give me a call and I’d be happy to drive you anywhere.”

You smile at him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into another embrace. Minho smiles genuinely as he buries his head in your hair.

The drive back home has Minho feeling stupid all over again as he thinks about how you’re probably in bed with Hyunjin by now. The whirlpool is back inside his chest, but it isn’t good or welcome this time. It’s agonizing and painful.

Love had never been painful. Love had never been bad.

But he had never experienced love toward someone who already loved somebody else. Although you brazenly state that you don’t believe in it, you must feel some type of love toward Hyunjin if you’re willing to be his girlfriend.

As he silently drives home, Minho finds himself agreeing with you.

Maybe love can be bad, after all.

Minho feels stupid.

This has become a constant in his life.

He had always thought of himself as a logical person. Programming had taught him that everything is predictable and fixable if you work on it hard enough. A broken code? It may take him six hours of staring at the computer to figure out it was nothing but a missing semicolon, but he will get there in the end. It was annoying and frustrating, but it was always something easily fixed.

He thought love was like that. It had always been like that with him.

Until he fell for you.

Minho was coming to terms with the fact that maybe love and programming were nothing alike. Love isn’t predictable. Loving someone who is already in love with someone else isn’t easily fixed. He can’t backspace and delete your boyfriend from the equation.

It’s been a little over six months since you two first met. Minho has consistently gone to the café you work at every day, and you two still had endless talks over text messages. You talk about everything and anything, from silly things like sharing pictures of both your growing plushie collections or your love of that particular coffee shop’s lemon cake to more serious topics like how Minho learned how to cook when he was twelve so his mom wouldn’t have to do it by herself, and now his roommates take advantage of that, or how sad you are that next year you will have to leave the house you’ve grown to love so much.

But, whether it is in person or through text, you still avoid the topic of love. You don’t ever bring up Hyunjin unless he’s part of a story you were already telling, and Minho feels his heart heavy as he slowly allows himself to imagine what it could be that led you to hate love so much.

He desperately wants to ask you, know your reasons, and make sure you’re happy with your boyfriend. But he doesn’t want to overstep any boundaries and doesn’t know how to go about it without scaring you. So he never does anything, like a coward.

Minho finds himself coming over to your sharehouse on most weekends since summer break ended. Your countless get-togethers at that house have become a hard-to-break habit. Hyunjin, Jisung, and your roommates are always assured to be there, with Chan joining whenever he isn’t overwhelmed with work or school, which was rare.

Minho had always been a hopeless romantic, always doing things for love that people repeatedly warned would result in regret. This time, it was forgoing visiting his parents and friends back home just to spend most of his summer with you. Despite not being able to pursue you in the way he truly wanted to, Minho still wanted to be your friend. You were still a fantastic person he loved to have around; that didn’t change simply because you had a boyfriend. Although he could feel a bit of his heart cracking every time he had to see you, all while knowing he couldn’t do anything about his feelings for you.

He couldn’t change your perspective of love if he weren’t allowed to love you.

In all the time he spent at your house during summer break, he ended up becoming good friends with Jisung, as you tended to stick next to Hyunjin most of the time. Minho didn’t mind it; he is your boyfriend, after all. At least, that’s what he repeats to himself every night he comes over like a mantra as he almost masochistically forces himself to watch how Hyunjin kisses your lips and caresses your skin or how you play with his hair and snuggle with him on the couch. He also endures the countless nights he’s left your house knowing all too well that Hyunjin would be spending the night with you in a way that Minho can only ever dream about.

Tonight, in particular, Hyunjin seemed to be all over you like bees on honey, buzzing around you everywhere you went, his hands never leaving your body as he pulled you closer to him every time you even slightly pulled away. Because god forbid your bodies not be touching in some way for even a split second. Before he knows it, Minho is downing his third bottle of beer of the night.

From where he’s sitting on the couch, Minho rolls his eyes as discreetly as he can while he watches Hyunjin pull you to sit on his lap on the floor as you all get ready to play a game of cards. He gnaws on his lower lip because he knows he’s being petty and borderline childish. You’re Hyunjin’s girlfriend. Of course he’s all over you, of course he wants to be close to you, of course he wants you on his lap. Minho concludes with a bitter chuckle that he is, indeed, pathetic when it comes to you.

He gulps down more of the awful-tasting cheap beer.

The night comes to a close after far too many rounds of Cards Against Humanity, with Jisung winning more than half of them. His ethics and morals fly out the window the moment the cards are handed to him, as he manages to create the most absurdly offensive phrases known to men every single time. Minho found himself groaning and yelling at the younger boy as the alcohol took over his system. He doesn’t know how much of it was simply his annoyance at Hyunjin clinging to you like a koala throughout the entire game disguised as competitiveness.

He doesn’t think he’d like to know either.

Like every night he comes over, Minho is the last person to go home. He has to call an Uber, far too buzzed to want to sit at a bus stop all alone at this time of night. He hadn’t even noticed how he kept downing his drinks until he felt the familiar buzz of inebriation wash over his body a while before the game ended. Although slamming his fist into the coffee table with a whine about how he had only been given lame cards should’ve been a sign.

As he waits outside your house by the fence, he suddenly hears the door shut behind him and your voice calling out to him. He smiles at the faint slur of your speech and the way you drag out the last syllable of his name like you always did when you were a bit drunk.

“I told you to wait for me!” You reprimand, opening the gate to stand next to him. “Look how lonely you look here all by yourself.”

Minho just shrugs with a smile, shaking his head. He did wait. He waited almost half an hour after announcing he should leave as you disappeared into your room with Hyunjin. He was still waiting, in fact, only mindlessly scrolling on his phone for the past ten minutes instead of finding a ride as he hoped you would come outside when you saw he wasn’t in the living room anymore.

You poke his shoulder, bringing his attention away from his phone to your smiling face.

“Tonight was fun, wasn’t it? Especially that last round when Hyunjin won after being tied with Jisung for the whole game,” you grinned, “Seeing Jisung make a whole damn case about how much better his card was really made my night. Think that’s the first time I’ve seen him act like a law student since I met him.”

Minho chuckles, bringing his attention back to his phone. Seeing your smile and how your eyes light up while you talk about something you like brought back the whirlpool inside his chest, which wasn’t a pleasant feeling any longer. It made him glum to think how a once beautiful feeling had turned into nothing but discomfort simply because he was lovelorn.

He hums. “You must be proud to have your boyfriend put an end to Jisung’s annoying winning streak.”

“What do you mean?”

Minho looks up from his phone, eyes wandering through your puzzled face. He furrows his brows for a second. Maybe you’re both drunker than he’d thought.

“I mean, it must’ve been nice to see Hyunjin win after Jisung basically made us all want to quit the game,” he explains, watching as your expression turns from confusion into shock before you let out a loud laugh.

Minho’s eyes widen, worried your laughter might wake up your neighbors. He gently shushes you, his arm grabbing your shoulder, but your smiling face only makes his lips stretch out into a grin. He suppresses a giggle as you catch your breath, shaking your head.

Minho smiles at you so fondly he’s certain he looks like an idiot. “What’s so funny?”

“Hyunjin isn’t my boyfriend,” you explain like it’s obvious. “We’re just friends. I thought you knew that.”

Minho only then realizes he had never once heard you refer to Hyunjin as a boyfriend, nor had any of the people around you. But his assumptions weren’t so ill-judged, either. You two acted like a couple. It wasn’t so absurd to assume that you were one.

He finds himself staring at your amused face for a few seconds before forcing himself to turn his attention back to his phone.

You acted like a couple, but you were just friends. Minho groaned mentally.

“So, you’re like friends with benefits?”

“Yeah… I don’t particularly believe in love anymore, Minho. I thought you knew that from our talk a while ago,” You chuckle, shifting on your feet. “Hyunjin is one of my best friends. We just hook up ‘cause it’s convenient.”

Minho hums, his fingers ghosting over his phone screen. “Sounds like you’re running away from love.”

He blinks a couple of times as he takes in his own words. He would have never said such a thing if it hadn’t been for the liquid courage flowing through his veins.

You shrug, moving to sit on the white bench just outside the house. “Well, yeah, that is what I’m doing. Love hasn’t been kind to me at all. I have no interest in going after it, only to be hurt again. It’s a movie I’ve watched before and I hated the ending every time.”

Minho bites the inside of his cheek, finally clicking the button to find a ride, his thumb pressing on his phone screen more forcefully than he intended. He felt angry. You didn’t deserve to settle for a friend with benefits due to convenience. Had you wanted to be in that situation, it was your every right to do so, but you were in it out of fear of being hurt.

He felt sad. He wished you didn’t equate your past experiences with love to everything it could be. Bad experiences in love were possible for everyone — even for him, who used to believe unwaveringly that love could never be hurtful — but that didn’t mean it was all there was to it. Minho desperately wanted to show you that. The good side of love, the side that made him put it above everything else in his life on so many occasions, the side that made him crave it even now when it hurt more than it felt good.

And, strangely, Minho felt relieved. It was a small percentage of the chart of current emotions he was experiencing, but prevalent nonetheless. He would be lying to himself if he didn’t admit that he felt happy Hyunjin wasn’t your boyfriend and, most importantly, that you weren’t stuck in an unhappy or toxic relationship, as he had so often feared.

His ride arrives, and he’s overcome with a wave of courage. Minho would much rather live with regret than with a constant ‘what if’.

Shoving his phone inside his pocket, he offers his hand to you, who looks up at him curiously from where you’re sitting on the bench before taking his hand. Minho pulls you to your feet and hugs you. With his hand on your waist, he pulls your body closer to him, finally holding you tightly the way he’s always wanted to do. He presses a kiss to your head, bringing his lips to your ear and whispering, “I’m gonna change your mind.”

He feels your body shake with a chuckle, but he only tightens his hold on you.

“What?”

“About love, I’m gonna change your mind,” He answers matter-of-factly, “You deserve to feel love without being afraid.”

Minho pulls back from the embrace just enough to see your face, and he’s surprised to find you smiling up at him. He smiles back.

“I will change your mind.”

Minho had just dropped you off at your house, ready to drive around aimlessly until he absolutely had to go back to his dorm, when Seungmin texted him.

Kim Seungmin: hey my sister’s engagement dinner is tonight Kim Seungmin: and i might have fucked up something in the code i was working on so now there’s a chance that you fish 100 rare fish at once 🤪 Kim Seungmin: pls pls do me a solid and fix it before chan sees it and kills me? Kim Seungmin: love you hyung 💚

Minho initially groaned at the messages, thinking of the many ways in which he could murder Seungmin and get away with it. But, ultimately, he didn’t want to go back to his dorm anyway, so he gladly turned his car around. If he was lucky, this would take hours and he would have a valid excuse to crash in Chan’s cramped living room.

He punches the code to the front door and his friend greets him with a puzzled expression.

“I forgot to do the, uh, troubleshooting for this week,” Minho blurts out. It’s the first lie he can come up with, and he hopes it’s convincing enough. Chan nods slowly. Seungmin might have saved him from having to endure his roommates on a Saturday night, but he still owes him.

“It’s all good,” Chan says with a sigh, “I’m most likely gonna pull an all-nighter designing these new characters. Anyway, how did you waste your time today?”

Minho has been taking you on what he likes to call Subtle Dates for a month now.

Chan affectionately calls them Waste of Time Dates.

Minho rolls his eyes, sitting down on his own desk. “We went to Han River and walked around till sundown, then watched the Banpo Bridge water show.”

Days like today were rare, so Minho was happy. Most weekends, it seemed as if the whole world was conspiring against anything he planned with you.

“Oh, how romantic of you,” Chan gasps, feigning amazement. “Did you at least kiss her this time?”

“You know I can’t just kiss her like that. I know she’d freak out if I tried to do anything romantic with her,” Minho taps his fingers on his desk, knowing he sounds ridiculous. But he has a plan. He just hopes this plan actually works out soon. “I don’t mind being patient.”

He hears Chan scoff. “So, you took her on another one-sided date and then drove her home so Hyunjin can fuck her?”

Minho’s fingers stop tapping on his desk, his hand coming down to slam on it before he can stop himself. He lets out a heavy sigh, and Chan mumbles an apology. But, the truth is, he knows his friend is right. Just last weekend, Minho dropped you off straight into Hyunjin’s arms, the younger boy waiting for you to come back in front of your house.

And Hyunjin wasn’t the only inconvenience that rendered it almost impossible for the two of you to spend time together. Minho had to cut most of your dates short due to Chan calling him about something urgent that only he could fix at work, or you canceled altogether because your roommate was upset and you didn’t have the heart to leave her alone like that. There were also times when Minho was too tired to even go out at all, like on the day of his birthday, which resulted in you coming over to Chan’s apartment and eating cheap takeout food with him and his two friends.

Minho found himself dealing with countless bumps in the road when it came to finding a way into your heart.

“I didn’t mean to say it like that,” Chan says hesitantly, “You clearly like her a lot.”

Minho repeatedly opens and closes the code he’s supposed to fix. He sighs. “I like her more than a lot, and I don’t even know when that happened.”

“I don’t want to see you get hurt,” His friend explains, his face disappearing behind his own computer screen. “I just can’t see what will change if you go on dates with her when she doesn’t even know they’re dates and if she’s just gonna go home and have sex with someone else. I don’t get it. What difference does it make?”

He can hear Chan scoffing, although he tries to disguise it by clearing his throat. Minho shakes his head.

“It makes all the difference because that’s not love. I wanna show her what love is, and that it isn’t always bad. I promised her that I would.”

Chan sighs, sliding his chair toward the mini-fridge by the couch. “Agree to disagree?” He asks, grabbing a bottle of water and tossing it in Minho’s direction. He grabs it mid-air, just before it hits him in the face, and clicks his tongue.

“Agree to disagree.”

Minho plugs his headphones into the computer, drowning out the noise of Chan’s pen sliding across his iPad with his brown noise playlist. But he can’t drown out the obstinate thought ringing inside his head, screaming at him that Chan is right.

Taking you out on dates — which you don’t even know are dates — doesn’t really make a difference if you’re just going to go back to your convenience with Hyunjin at the end of the day. If you think you’re just friends going out together, and you go back home at night to the comfort of sex without the love you’ve been running away from for so long, what Minho is doing truly is useless.

It’s just like when he argues with Seungmin through their codes, screaming at the younger boy in all caps about something that’s broken, even though he knows he’s going to be the one who will end up having to fix it.

Minho’s fingers come to a halt on the keyboard.

Closing his work, he opens up Google and finds the first flight he can to Japan. Almost as if he’s on autopilot, and his brain is completely shut off. He books the flight and the cheapest hotel he can find, using almost all the money he’s saved up to move out of his hell of a dorm. It might be the most idiotic thing he has ever done in his life, but he’s so in love it hurts him. And he loves love, and love with you — the thought of that alone has his heart beating at his throat. He doesn’t want to keep on with these futile attempts at trying to make you see that love is good and that, maybe, love can be good with him.

The truth is, he feels scared. Maybe even more scared than you do. He is terrified of knowing the answer, of finding out that maybe he could change your mind about love but that it would simply lead you to someone else’s arms and he would have to endure the pain of unrequited love until it inevitably faded away with time.

Minho would gladly live with that pain if it meant you were happy.

But he needed to know.

He adjusted his glasses — a childhood nervous habit that returned after he started wearing them more often since you complimented him months ago — and retrieved his phone from his backpack.

He typed and deleted more times than he’d like to admit.

Me: Hey, it’s late sorry Me: Just wanted to know if you’d be up for a trip to Japan? Me: In two weeks Me: For study purposes Me: We’d finally have the chance to use what we learned in class lol Me: Chan was supposed to go with me but he has a family thing so he can’t anymore Me: Everything’s already paid for and he said he doesn’t mind if you go in his place Me: Lmk what you think

Minho’s fingers typed as his brain came up with excuses and lies, sending more messages than he needed to. He couldn’t tell you he booked a whole damn trip with you just to see if maybe, possibly, you have feelings for him too.

He all but throws his phone across his table after turning on Do Not Disturb. He’ll need to muster up the courage before reading your answer, and having his phone buzz for anything that wasn’t your reply would just be torturous. He felt stupid, would feel even more so if you turned down his invitation. He almost doesn’t want you to answer, wants to pretend he never even sent anything.

Because it was stupid.

But love is stupid, and he is in love.

Worst-case scenario, he’s stuck with Chan in Japan for a weekend while he laughs at him.

Best-case scenario, he spends a weekend with you in Japan. No letting you go back to another man at the end of the day, no more hiding that he is taking you out on dates, no more distractions, no more inconveniences of your daily lives.

Minho opens the code he was working on again, quickly typing out:

// NOTE: Minho will fix this.

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fullfriendnerdclutch · 1 month

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Richard actually preferred to spent his Spring Break lounging around his quaint and peaceful university town. But, since his Uncle drove all the way down to pick him up unannounced, simply because Richard is in the same state now, not like he could just shush that man away so he lazily packed his bag and hit the road with the 43 years old hulk of a DILF

They didn't talk much throughout the long trip into the farmland as Richard pretended to fall asleep before eventually really falling asleep on the way there. But he's dead wrong to assume that his Uncle is unaware of his avoidance. In fact, that very attitude is the sole reason why his Uncle came all the way down to pick him up. It's time to mold Richard into the perfect Dawson boys, and Spring Break provides the best timeline in order for Richard to hit his final alteration right during summer

When the pair arrived at the sprawling farm, Richard realized how stinking rich his family must be with all these acres of land under their possession. It's been more than a decade since he last visited the family farm, but clearly this visit will leave him with the memory about the family farm much more clearly. His uncle let him rest for the remainder of the day, he even fell asleep right after his quick dinner and cleaning himself. But Richard didn't expect that he needs to do some hard labour the following morning!

"Your cousin Adam is spending some time with his sickly wife while Steve took off for the entirety of this Spring Break to spend time with his kids. So I need your help, boy,"

"Wait, Adam is married?"

"Yes, a year ago, don't you remem--- oh yeah, you were on your gap year trip,"

The tone his uncle used irked Richard a bit, gap year trip, but he let it go. His mind is focused on the fact that Adam is the same age as him, and he's married? At 20? 19 if he considered the fact it happened a year ago.....what a totally different life the two of them have. His uncle snapped Richard's out of his mind as he told the pale, gangly-looking Richard to put on the boots before helping him around the farm and the ranch. Richard at first doubted that he could fit into the boots, but somehow it fits him just right. So, off he goes with his uncle

Day after day, the routine remained the same. He will wake up at around 5 or 6 AM, have his loaded breakfast and head out with his uncle. He surprisingly found himself enjoying the routine, he even started to address his Uncle with "Sir" and cooked the breakfast for the two. He simply didn't notice the change in his reflection on how his skin tanned on its own, how his form straightened rather than hunched per usual, how all his clothings somehow altered to solely consist of black t-shirt, jeans and some plaid shirt and he just didn't bother to ask his uncle for the whereabouts of his other clothing. He also failed to notice how his uncle has been subliminally planting in his subconsciousness that he enjoyed working in the farm, that he preferred to be called Dick since Richard sounded too posh for him, that Dick has always been interested with farming and the idea to continue the family's business, that Dick wanted to recruit some good trusted friends of his to join the family's business and how he needs to pivot to study about agriculture or farming in uni.....well, scratch that, he will probably drop out later in the summer and learn better about farming or agriculture by working with his Uncle.

Imagine the surprise his roommates got when Richard went back from his Spring Break 30 lbs heavier and looking like a Southern farm stud with his outfit and the way he got this drawl out of nowhere. And he apparently have a souvenir too for them

"Got these from my Uncle, now, try to put these babies on and tell me how it feels,"

---

Fast forward to summer, not only Dick really followed through with his drop out plan, he brings along his now much-more fitting roommate to join him in the farm

Hey there, a bit rushed with this execution but hope it's still an enjoyable read

#personality change #male muscle growth #male transformation

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ghostofhyuck · 2 months

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NCT Dream as your college boyfriend!

AN: Another self-indulgent from your local uni girlie.

Mark Lee ; waits for your practice to be finished.

He'll be your number one hypeman! He will wait for you until you're finished with your practice for a theatre play. It usually ends around nine in the evening, but Mark will be waiting around the campus, perhaps in a gazebo, studying while waiting for you. And when you're finished, you'll go to him and will be pulled to a big hug. "Let's go get some dinner?"

Huang Renjun ; food as love language.

Renjun is such a foodie, that's why food is his love language. He'll cook you lunch or dinner in his dorm kitchen, and he will never let you go starving. Renjun will be that type of boyfriend who will indulge in your stress-eating and midnight cravings. "You deserve it," he will say to you whenever you're hesitant to give into your cravings.

Lee Jeno ; your almost live-in partner.

You just don't like living in your dorm because you don't get along with your roommates, that's why you spent your time in your boyfriend's place. Jeno lives alone, that's why it's easier for you to move around his place. It felt domestic and a place that you go home after a dreaded school day. You two are like live-in partners at some point even though you two are still in the university. Sometimes he would even pick you up so you two can go home together.

Lee Donghyuck ; coffee shop studies!

You two find it easier to study at coffee shops. The bustling noise of coffee shops serves as a background noise for the two of you. Plus, you two can enjoy each other's presence and at the same time be productive! You two sometimes go home around three am but there's nothing more peaceful than walking around the empty streets while holding hands with your boyfriend.

Na Jaemin ; writes your name on the dedication page of his thesis paper.

If Jaemin wants to shout your name to the whole world, he would. That's why he wrote a short paragraph about you in his dedication page of his thesis paper. He couldn't resist it! You were his emotional support through the ups and downs, that's why he wrote your name on the page. Oh he was smiling proudly when his panelists pointed out your name during his defense.

Zhong Chenle ; the athlete bf and courtside gf.

You two are probably that popular student-athlete couple. Chenle's part of the varsity team, that's why sports seasons are very important for him. You're a very supportive girlfriend who's always there during his games, cheering and screaming his name. Students know you and they would gushed at how sweet and supportive you are. Whenever Chenle's team wins, you would let the spotlight be on him, knowing that after the game, the two of you will have a date.

Park Jisung ; that subtle classmates turned couple.

Your classmates will ask you two nonstop if you two are together and as much as you want to deny it, it's VERY obvious that you two are together. It's not hard to connect two dots because whenever you're with Jisung, you two have your own world and though there's not much PDA going around, it's very cute from an outsider's perspective. You two are always seated together, and would go to class together. Your classmates would be jealous of your relationship but they wish you two to be together forever.

#nct dream #nct fic #nct imagines #nct #nct dream fic #nct fluff #nct x reader #nct dream imagine #nct scenarios #nct dream fluff #nct dream imagines #nct dream reactions #nct mark #nct renjun #nct jeno #nct haechan #nct jaemin #nct chenle #nct jisung

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jinnirev · 8 months

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9th member reader would be a fan favourite, getting shipped with every member, and people writing crazy ship fanfiction and art

☆ pairing: ot8 x f!reader

☆ T/W: reader is sexualised a lot, implied non-con somnophilia, Prof x student trope, exhibitionism, sex on livestream, degradation, implied gangbang, spanking

☆notes: dark content ahead, please read trigger warnings before proceeding!

🔞 nsfw under the cut!

you were the one member who every single member got along with, ever since debut. you've never fought with any single one of the members.

which is what caused you to be a fan favourite when it comes to shipping. there would be thousands of fanfiction written about you paired with every single one of the members.

you were scrolling on your twitter timeline, until you stopped when you saw an explicit video with a caption saying: "y/n btm leeknow top, this is a visual representation of what happens whenever y/n fucks up during dance practice." you pressed into the video, a full HD video of a girl getting her pussy pounded, laying on the wooden floor, obviously reminding you of the training room. you hate the admit it, but this did infact happen before, and not just once but several times..

this led to you falling down the rabbit hole of reading and watching sexual fan made content. there were accounts dedicated to describing how good your pussy would be. (you were flattered)

your personal favourites would be those crazy alternate universes where fans would depict the most graphic and vile things.

"y/n would be such a brat during her lecture, not paying attention at all to what mr hwang was saying. showing up to class in an unbelievably short skirt with the tightest tank top, y/n was basically slutting out her body. mr hwang refused to let this slide, asking her to stay behind after class: *insert a video of a girl in a skirt getting railed on a table, getting her ass spanked, leaving angry red hand marks on the soft flesh of her skin.*"

"y/n made seungmin mad while doing a live so he fucked her live infront of over a million people: *insert a video of a girl bouncing up and down a cock, a pair of hands guiding her hips, slamming her down on his cock*"

"thinking abt how creamy and wet y/n's pussy would get during a fan meet when she couldn't get her slutty pussy filled by the rest of the members. so she had to whore her pussy out to the members on stage, they fucked her right there, infront of all the fans."

"y/n would be such a pretty sleeper that roommate!han can never resist touching her when he sees her passed out on the couch. jisung couldn't help but pull down her tiny short, revealing her wet little cunt, all creamy and ready for him to fuck. she let out a whimper of his name in her sleep and jisung gets impossibly harder. he couldn't resist it anymore, pulling out his fat cock and slamming it into sleeping y/n's creamy cunt. her eyes would slowly flutter open, waking up to her pussy getting filled with jisung's cum, clit getting rubbed and pinched by her roommate: *insert a video of a girl laying on her back, getting fucked stupid by a fat cock*"

needless to say, most of them were vile, but made your poor little pussy so wet, you had to start rubbing your clit while scrolling. but you were to used to the members making you cum all the time, you couldn't even take care of yourself :(

you walked into the living room, where the members were all sitting and watching their weekly movie night. "can't cum," you mumble, somehow they all heard you.

all it took were those two words for all of them to turn of the TV and spring into action. not before arguing with each other about who should get to make you cum.

#skz hard hours #skz smut #bangchan smut #chan smut #lee know smut #minho smut #hyunjin smut #jisung smut #han smut #felix smut #seungmin smut #jeongin smut

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jazzyoranges · 4 months

Note

hey. i really like the fic about shapeshitfing!reader x wednesday. i was wondering if u could do thing and reader being absolute besties and playful with each other which makes wednesday annoyed and sorta jealous.

Best friends

Wednesday Addams x fem!shapeshifter!reader

Words: 1.4k

A/n: lowk shapeshifter!r is so fun to write, thanks for all the requests about her :) hopefully you like reading about her a lot because honestly i’m a little obsessed with this universe

Warnings(?): wednesday being wednesday, ooc wednesday, mentions of knives and blood

“Why are you adamant on annoying me.” Wednesday opens her door to you, whose rapidly knocking stops when the look on Wednesday’s face doesn’t give much room for explanation. But you love being defiant so you don’t really care

“Thing and I planned to go on a date today!”

The Addams looks behind her to see the appendage with the tiniest little crocheted messenger bag that was worn on his wrist like a bracelet. You can see Wednesday’s forehead wrinkle when Thing saunters over to your feet for you to put him on your shoulder, just as you’ve seen Wednesday do countless times before

“I asked Thing if he had any rings to wear and he said no, so naturally I’m going to treat him on a day out” The appendage taps excitedly on your shoulder, poking at your face to signal he wants to go

“And when did you plan this?”

“After we played tag, you wanna come with us?” You ask with a turn of your head

“Shopping isn’t my strongest suit. I’d only slow you two down.”

“We’ll be off doing hot girl things. I promise I’ll have him home before curfew, Miss Addams” You treat Wednesday like she’s a disapproving mother, when in reality she looks unfazed and honestly a little annoyed. You and Thing wave goodbye, leaving Wednesday with her own thoughts as her roommate is doing god knows what with her friends

Time alone could be good for Wednesday. She’s been around people far more than she preferred. With maybe an hour on her hands before someone interrupts her, Wednesday sits at her desk to write

Her fingers drum against her desk, a habit she picked up from Thing. The appendage you were taking out on a date. For gods sake, he was a hand! You asked a singular appendage out on a date. Not even a full human. A fucking hand. A hand that didn’t have a voice, yet you were still infatuated with him nonetheless

And maybe Wednesday is smart enough to recognize she’s feeling a little peeved over a hand. Maybe Wednesday is smart enough to know Thing does have a voice; a sassy one at that. Maybe Wednesday is coping with the fact you wanted to take Thing out more than someone you actively sought out and saw every day

And maybe you’re the reason why Wednesday had to buy a slightly bigger trash can for the more recent mistakes she’s been making during her writing time

You were a disease. You forced your way into everyone’s life, but somehow you always came out with more friends and acquaintances than you started with. It was annoying how unforgivably social you were.

Your dumb smile with your pearly white teeth. Wednesday’s tapping on her desk got a little faster

Your need to include everyone whether you knew them or not. It was why you were on a date with Thing in the first place

Your everlasting hunger to be around someone. Wednesday knew you didn’t like to be alone

Your voice that Wednesday knew so well.

…

Fuck.

“Hey, Wens!” Enid makes her presence known with a sing-song tone while placing her jacket on the coat hanger near the door

“Where’s Thing? It’s quiet in here” The blonde immediately notices

“He’s on a date,” There’s a small pause after Wednesday talks “with (Y/n).”

“(Y/n) took Thing on a date?”

“Correct.”

“How’s your writing going?” Enid peers over Wednesday’s shoulder to look at her once again, full trash can. Enid notices that happens a lot when you’re on Wednesday’s mind for some reason. The Addams glares at Enid when she makes another mistake, crumbling up the piece of paper while maintaining eye contact with her roommate

“Great.”

A beat of silence.

“…did you seriously get cucked by a hand?”

“Repeat such degenerate nonsense and I’ll be forced to make sure you never will.”

“I dunno, you’re looking a little jealous over there” Wednesday doesn’t have to turn around to hear the wolfish grin in Enid’s voice

“The urge to push a knife through your skull is an insatiable hunger that cannot be fed by anything that isn’t your blood.”

//-//

“Do you like this one? See look, the dragon is the ring!” You place the ring on Thing’s middle finger. The appendage shows his approval with another few taps

“Yes, it makes you look tough. You want another one?” He nods. Well, at least makes it look like he’s nodding. You grab a silver ring from the display, putting it on his thumb

“Will Enid like the rings?” Thing signs

“Everyone will love them, especially Enid. You running out on lotion?”

“Nope! How can I repay you?”

You pretend to think for a second

“If you delete Enid’s blackmail on me off of all her devices I’ll take you out again, free of charge” The employee at the front is probably wondering why your back is turned to her while you’re whispering into your hands

Thing holds a thumbs-up and you take the two rings off his fingers and put them on the check out counter along with a few other little trinkets you liked and stuff for your friends

A pink and white bracelet with charms you knew Enid would find cute, scale earrings that twinkled in the sun that Bianca would look stunning in, a bee pin that was too perfect for Eugene, and a black snake that curled into itself as ring for Wednesday

You only assumed Thing gave you a blank stare when the cashier said your price was a bit more than a hundred fifty dollars. Your mom would definitely chastise you for your spending issues, but that was a problem for another day. Your current problem was that you had to get Thing home by curfew like you promised

//-//

Thing might not want to take up your invitation on another date anytime soon.

Currently you’re turned into a bird with the appendage hanging on for dear life on your back as you carry the bag of items you bought in your beak. Thing pleaded you just run on the ground like any normal animal, but you promised you’d get him home by curfew. Running would’ve taken too long and your ass would get tired

So instead, you went for the skies without Thing’s approval

He might hate you now, honestly. In your defense, it was too late when he told you he had a fear of falling when you were above tree height

You asked if he wanted to sit in the bill of a pelican instead and you felt him pluck one of your feathers. Lucky for you both, Wednesday and Enid’s room wasn’t too far away

When you land on the balcony of their dorm, Thing hops off your back and apologizes for your now lost feather. You also apologize for not planning correctly and having him on your back with little to no safety

Enid looks a little confused when Thing starts to hug the bird that landed on her balcony, but she eventually figures out it’s you. The blonde looks away for a second and you’re already a cat desperately knocking against their circle window to be let in

You walk in like you own the place, and Wednesday checks the clock if you actually got Thing home by curfew

“With minutes left to spare, too.” Wednesday says. You smile proudly

You jump up onto Enid’s bed, bag still in mouth. You push it over so it’s parallel to the bed, digging your head in until you find what you need. The pink and white bracelet with charms you got from Jericho. Enid makes sure to ruffle your fur so much it starts to stick out until she pats it down. Thing makes sure to tell Enid all about his day

Grabbing your bag, you make your way towards Wednesday, who’s reading a book with a dark cover on her bed

You look through the bag again, but this time with the aforementioned snake ring in your mouth. You keep your tongue away from the ring as much as possible to stop you from getting your saliva on it

Of course you thought about your friends while on a date.

Wednesday reaches out her hand, taking the ring from your mouth. She places it on her left ring finger and it seems to be a snug fit. There’s a wordless thank you in Wednesday’s eyes when she uses the same hand to scratch under your chin, making you purr

The happy expression on your face and the way you lean into her touch makes Wednesday’s heart melt the tiniest bit.

You crawl into Wednesday’s lap as she reads her book. Every now and again you can feel the now cold ring against your skin, sending shivers down your spine

You end up spending the night with Wednesday’s lips against the back of your ear and her hand on your stomach. It wasn’t your fault you were a cuddly cat.

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday x y/n #wednesday (2022)#wednesday x you #wednesday addams #enid sinclair #thing addams

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yuta-nation · 5 months

Text

Light Shower (Yuta Okkotsu)

summary: your big brother butts into your sex life, and you both get more than you bargained for.

content: dead dove (do not eat), incest/stepcest (left unclear), big bro!yuta, afab fem!reader (no pronouns but referred to as girl, sister, ect.), inexperienced!reader, oral (m -> f), protected p -> v, squirting, fingering, possessive!yuta, pillow princess!reader, mentions of alcohol but reader is not drunk.

wc: 3.8k

a/n: HEED THE CONTENT WARNINGS !! I HAVE MADE SHIT SO FUCKING CLEAR !!! anyways, i've been working on this fic for months, and i'm so happy it's finally done ! this whole thing is dedicated to @princess-okkotsu for being nasty with me and lovely to me.

You had many reasons for moving in with your older brother for your last year of undergrad. You and Yuta hadn’t lived together since he was 16 and you were 13, separated for reasons you still didn’t understand. The only time he’d visited you and your parents after he moved out had been for your high school graduation. You’d missed him a lot, but you kept in close contact online and over the phone, texting constantly and calling a few times a week with video calls sprinkled in. Despite the physical distance, your brother had become your best friend. When you told him you were planning to attend university in Tokyo, he was elated, talking about how he couldn’t wait to show you around and how excited he was to see you more often. He had kept his word, taking you all around the city during your first few weeks in Tokyo, handing you a key to his apartment, and telling you you were welcome over any time, even if he wasn’t home. He took you out to breakfast every Sunday morning and invited you over to watch movies every Wednesday evening. Your relationship thrived with the new proximity.

Moving in with your brother would allow you to connect as siblings in a way you missed out on growing up. Yuta also lived closer to campus than you did, meaning you wouldn’t have to take the train. You liked your current roommates well enough, but they always had people over when you were studying and rarely cleaned their messes in the kitchen. Yuta was tidy and quiet. And finally, you were broke. Undergrad was expensive, the city was expensive, and grad school wouldn’t be cheap either. Yuta was willing to let you move in rent-free, declining your offer to at least pay utilities.

“I don’t need my baby sister’s money,” he’d said with a smile and finality that shut down any argument you tried to conjure.

You’d accepted the offer and moved in about a month ago. Living with Yuta was as easy as breathing. He was a courteous and generous roommate. He did his share of the chores and often offered to help you with your own. He brought you coffee and snacks while you studied. He carried the bags when the two of you went grocery shopping.

And he was fun. Almost every moment the two of you spent together was full of laughter. You and Yuta cooked dinner together every night you were both home, talking and joking about your days. You weren’t sure what Yuta did for work; he’d always been vague, but you figured it had something to do with the government. But you enjoyed his stories about his coworkers and their antics. And Yuta seemed just as invested in your stories about your friends and daily life. He asked questions and remembered names and offered advice.

The only thing you didn’t feel comfortable talking with your big brother about was your love life. Talking to Yuta about guys just felt like crossing an unspoken line. It’s not like much was going on in that aspect of your life anyway; you were too busy with school to seek out new people. Once in a while, one of your friends would set you up on a date with someone. You didn’t mind their meddling; you knew it came from a good place, and they were good judges of character. However, you had yet to hit it off with any of these match-ups. There just wasn’t that spark. So when your friend told you she’d met someone in her Econ class that would be perfect for you, you were a mix of skeptical and excited. After some persuading, you agreed to go out with Mr. Econ.

Now you stood in the entryway, checking yourself in the mirror a final time and looking through your purse to check that you had everything.

“Oh, are you going somewhere? I thought we were watching a movie tonight?” You turned to see your brother putting dishes in the sink.

“Oh, Yu, I’m so sorry. I totally forgot. I have a date tonight, so–”

“A date?” Yuta turned to face you with a raised brow, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

“Yeah, my friend set me up with a guy from her class. We’re going for drinks.”

“You’re meeting a man you’ve never met for drinks? And you didn’t think to tell me?”

“Yuta, please don’t pull the big brother act. I’m an ad–”

“It’s no act. I am your brother. It’s my job to look out for you.”

“My location is on. I’ll text you when I get there and am on my way home. Deal?”

“No.”

“What do you mean no? Yuta, you can’t ju–”

“I require a hug before I let you leave,” he said simply as a boyish grin spread over his lips. You fought your own smile as you walked into his open arms. You sighed as you felt his strong arms squeeze you tight.

“Be safe. Call me if you need me to come get you, yeah?” Yuta whispered in your ear, swaying you a bit as he spoke.

“I will, I promise,” you said as you detangled yourself from his arms. You returned your focus to the mirror, straightening your top before grabbing your keys.

“Wait. Do you need a condom?”

“W-what?”

“A condom. Let me go grab you one–”

“No!”

“What do you mean no? You can’t–”

“No–I mean, I already have some. Yuta, never say that word again,” you said as fire burned in your cheeks and ears.

“Condom.”

“I’m leaving.”

“I love you,” he called when you opened the door.

“Love you too.”

You were back home in a little over an hour. You couldn’t hold back your sigh as you reentered the apartment and removed your shoes. You didn’t hear the TV in the living room; Yuta must’ve forgone watching the movie by himself and went to his room. You felt a pang of guilt at that. You should’ve stayed home and watched a movie with your big brother instead of going out with an idiot business major who just wanted to fuck. You walked over to Yuta’s bedroom door and knocked.

“Yu, just letting you know I’m home,” you called out. You heard shuffling on the other side of the door, opening a few seconds later to reveal your shirtless brother. His brow was furrowed in concern as he looked down at you.

“You said you’d text when you were on your way back. It’s still early. Did something happen?”

“No, he was just an ass. I’m going to go take my make-up off. We can still watch that movie if you want.”

“What’d he do?” Yuta asked with a hardness in his voice that you’d never heard before. You turned to face him and were met with dark blue eyes boiling with fury. You were grateful to know that his rage wasn’t directed at you; the look on his face was bone-chilling.

“Nothing, we just had different definitions of the term ‘date.’”

“What does that mean?”

“He just wanted to fuck. I didn’t, so I left.”

“Oh, thank God. I don’t like the idea of you having sex,” he said with a relieved sigh.

“I’m a fucking adult, Yuta. I can have sex if I want to. Though lucky for you, sex sucks,” you said hotly, turning on your heel to leave. You loved him, but Yuta had a way of getting under your skin. Your retreat was halted by his hand grabbing yours. You turned to face him; a look of confusion splayed across his features again.

“Now, what do you mean by that?”

“Yu, I really don’t want to discuss my sex life with you. I’d actually rather die.”

“Hey, you can’t just drop that tidbit and not elaborate,” he said, maintaining his firm grip on your hand.

“Yuta…”

“I’m not going to judge you. You can tell me about anything, you know that,” Yuta said with soft eyes. He tugged lightly on your hand, guiding you into his room. He gestured for you to sit on the bed while he sat in his desk chair. You sat down, suddenly finding Yuta’s spotless bedroom floor captivating.

“What’s so bad about sex?” he asked gently. You knew that if you looked at him, he’d be making those puppy dog eyes that always had you spilling your guts to him.

“Me. I’m not good at it, so I don’t like it.”

“Not good?”

“I’ve never…y’know.”

“Never what?”

“I’ve never finished, okay?”

“You’ve never cum before?”

“I do when I’m by myself. I just can’t with other people for some reason. I’m fucking broken. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna go die in a hole.”

“Do not be embarrassed,” Yuta said firmly as he stood and crossed the room to kneel before you. He took your chin in his hand and guided you to look him in the eye.

“You are not broken. There’s nothing wrong with you. It’s not your fault if you’ve only been with partners who don’t know how to satisfy you.”

Something in Yuta’s reassuring tone forced the damn to break. Tears spilled from your eyes as you fought back the lump in your throat. A sob racked your body as Yuta joined you on the bed and wrapped you in his arms before he lifted you into his lap. He rubbed slow circles on your back as you cried and placed a kiss on your hair.

After a few minutes, your tears subsided enough for you to speak.

“I’m sorry, Yuta, this isn’t your problem,”

“Don’t be sorry, sweetie. You’re hurting, and that is my problem.”

“There’s nothing you can do about it, though.”

“Who said that?”

“What?” you asked, raising your head to look at your brother.

“I can help you.”

“How?”

“I can make you cum.” Yuta said with the same smile and finality he had when he convinced you to move in with him.

“No, you can’t. You’re my brother, Yuta.”

“And it’s my job as your brother to take care of you. Let me help you. Let me show you how sex is supposed to be.”

“It’s not right, Yu. We can’t.”

“Just once. No one will know. I want you to know what it’s like to feel good. You deserve to feel good.”

“...Just once?”

“Yeah, only tonight.”

“I trust you, Yuta,” you said, meeting his eyes of your own accord.

Yuta’s kiss was so gentle it almost brought tears back to your eyes. His lips slotted against yours with hesitance, like he expected that at any moment, you would bolt from his lap, out the door, and out of his life forever. But you knew you wouldn’t. You couldn’t deny how handsome your big brother was, how you adored his deep blue eyes and full lips, how enamored you were with his size, his large hands and broad shoulders. You couldn’t deny how much you wanted him right now. You deepened the kiss, grazing your tongue over his lips, coaxing him to let you in. He opened up to you, allowing you to explore his mouth.

Yuta shifted you in his lap so that you were straddling him, large hands gripping your waist. You grinded down on him as you laced your fingers through his dark hair. You pulled gently, eliciting a soft moan from the man below you.

“Fuck, I could kiss you all night, baby. You taste so good. But I gotta make you cum. Wanna taste you somewhere else,” Yuta whispered against your lips. You felt your core pulse at his words.

“Take this pretty dress off for me and lay down,” he ordered after giving your lips a final peck. You did as you were told, slowly unzipping your dress and letting it pool at your feet. You stepped out of the fabric and climbed back onto the bed, resting your head on the pillows.

Yuta joined you on the bed, settling at your feet. He took hold of both of your ankles and gently pulled them apart, spreading your legs. You could see the desire burning in his eyes as they made contact with the crotch of your panties. Your face heated as you imagined the growing wet spot forming there. Before you could close your legs out of embarrassment, Yuta moved forward to brush his fingers over your clothed cunt.

“You’ve been torturing me, baby, parading around in these cute little panties. Been haunting my dreams with them. Gonna let me take ‘em off, let me see your pretty pussy?” He asked, almost begging. You nodded your consent, and Yuta placed a kiss on your covered clit before pulling your damp panties off. He stifled a moan at the sight of strings of slick clinging to the fabric as he delicately removed the garment.

“Beautiful,” he whispered, breath fanning over your now-bared pussy. You watched as he tucked your panties in his pocket, and you felt your face warm even more at his actions. You gasped as you felt Yuta’s warm mouth wrap around your clit. He sucked gently before circling it with his tongue.

“Yuuuutaaaa,” you moaned at the unfamiliar yet extremely pleasant sensation.

“Has anyone ever done this for you before baby?” he asked, voice thick with lust.

“N-no, no one,” you admitted, eager to feel his lips on you again.

“Good. Such a good girl, saving the first taste of this pussy for your big brother. So fucking sweet, baby,” he praised before diving back into your cunt. He lapped at your slit, collecting your slick on his tongue. You whined at the feeling and the lewd sounds his mouth on your pussy produced. His tongue moved back to your clit, swirling around it before latching his lips around it. His fingers found their way to your slit, sliding one inside as he continued to suck your clit. He moaned at the tightness of your heat around his finger. It was hard for him to believe that anyone or anything had breached your walls before this moment based on the vice grip they had around him.

He worked his finger in and out of your heat steadily as he continued to suck and lick at your clit, relishing in the sounds of your moans and whines. After a minute or so, Yuta slipped another finger inside you, smiling against your clit at the mewl you let out at the addition.

“Shh, it’s okay, baby. I’ve gotta prep you for me, okay? Gotta get you ready so you feel good, alright?” He cooed from between your legs. You nodded in understanding, desire pooling at your core. You heard Yuta tsk from his position below you.

“Need you to use your words, pretty girl. You gotta use your voice for me.”

“O-okay. Wanna feel good, please, don’t stop!”

“That’s my girl. I’m gonna give you another finger, m’kay? You’re doing so well, pretty,” Yuta encouraged as he added a third finger, mouth returning to your clit with vigor. He was now determined for you to cum, to show you everything that you’d been missing. Everything he could give you. He fucked his fingers into you at a steady but deliberate pace. His mouth latched onto your clit, suckling firmly, using your moans and whines as a guide to how to pleasure you, how to pull more sounds from you, how to fill your brain with thoughts of him, him, and nothing else.

“Yuta, Yuta! Cumming!” you squealed out, toes curling and back arching off the bed at the sensation of your orgasm beginning to roll over you. Yuta doubled his efforts, rolling his tongue over your clit as his fingers picked up the pace. One deep thrust of his fingers led to you practically screaming as you squirted all over your big brother’s face. Yuta couldn’t help his beaming smile as he removed himself from between your thighs as you finally settled from your high.

“I am so sorry! I-I’ve never done that before. Please don’t be mad!” You begged as you took in his damp lips and chin.

“Mad? Baby, why would I be mad? That was so fucking hot. Wanna make you do it again. Come here, give me a kiss. Want you to taste yourself, yeah?” You obliged, rising from the bed to meet your brother halfway. Your lips slotted against his and you marveled at the taste of yourself. You opened up your mouth for Yuta’s tongue to explore, more of your flavor exploding on your tongue at the intrusion. After a moment of sloppy making out, he finally pulled back to smile at you.

“See how good you taste? Such a perfect girl.”

“Did I do good, Yuu?” you ask almost innocently, and Yuta wonders if you planned this, planned to seduce him tonight, planned you make his darkest, filthiest dreams come true. There was no way you were this perfect, this pure and trusting all for him. But looking in your eyes he could see the sincerity, the self-doubt, the need for approval. It made his already hard cock throb with need.

You let out a yelp as Yuta practically tackled you to the bed, pinning you down with his legs on either side of yours and his arms forming a cage around your head. His face hovered over yours, an indiscernible look of intensity in his eyes.

“You did perfect, sweetheart. Fuck, feel that baby? That’s what you do to me,” he said as his hips bucked against yours, grinding his bulge against your soaked core. You moaned as he continued to hump against you like a teenager, bringing your legs to wrap around his hips in an attempt to bring him closer. After several moments, he pulled away, untangling your legs from around his waist.

“Think you’re ready, sweetheart? Wanna give you my cock, want you to cum on it. Think you can?”

“Wanna try, Yuu, need your cock so bad,” you confessed, longing for the feeling and heat of him against you again. You heard him swear as he reached for the waistband of his sweats, yanking them down with his boxers. He quickly pulled them off, abandoning them on the floor with your dress. You let out a gasp when you finally saw his bare cock. It was the biggest you had ever seen in person, and it was so pretty it made your mouth water.

“A-are you sure it’s gonna fit?” you asked hesitantly.

“We’ll make it, yeah? You’re a big girl, you can take it,” he said reassuringly as he took his cock into his hand, stroking it slowly. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the motion, drool pooling in your mouth at the sight. Yuta approached you again, framing your body with his own.

“Where’s that condom you were talking about?”

“Purse.”

“That’s too far,” he said resolutely, reaching over to his nightstand and opening the drawer. He pulled out a square of gold foil and brought it to his mouth before slamming the drawer closed. You watched as he ripped the packet open with his teeth, catching the rubber in his open palm. He spit the wrapper out, and you watched as it fluttered towards the floor. Yuta rocked back onto his heels, sheathing his cock in the condom before returning to cage your body with his.

“I’m gonna put it in now, okay?” he asked as he lined himself up with your slit.

“Yeah, ‘m ready,” you said, feeling the head of his cock press against your opening.

Slowly, Yuta sank into your heat, moaning at the tightness that enveloped him. You whined along with him, the stretch of him burning beautifully as he filled you. You’d never felt so full, so complete. After what felt like ages, he finally bottomed out inside you.

He remained still, giving you time to adjust to the fullness, but you soon grew impatient, rocking your hips down.

“You can move Yuu, want you to.”

That was all the encouragement he needed to begin thrusting into you. Shallow at first, before pulling further out only to fuck into you even deeper. Yuta was perfect, fucking you deep and steady, using his free hand to toy with the nipple that wasn’t in his mouth. You were quickly overstimulated by the feeling of his mouth, cock, and fingers. All you could do was whine combinations of your brother’s name and curses as he fucked you into the mattress.

“You take my cock so fucking well, baby. I was born for you, this dick was made just for you,” he growled against your chest, punctuating his point with a especially deep thrust.

“Love your cock, Yuta! Feels so good!”

“Fuck yeah baby, ready to cum f’me?”

“Yes, yes, wanna cum!” you proclaimed as you felt his hand move from your nipple to your clit. He began rubbing tight circles around the bud as his hips moved relentlessly against yours. He pulled his lips off your nipple with a pop, moving up to kiss your hungry lips.

“Such a good girl for me, such a perfect little sister, letting your big brother fuck your tight little pussy. Gonna let me do it again yeah? Not gonna be satisfied after one time, are you?” He whispered against your lips.

“No, want this all the time, feels so good Yuta! Never stop, ‘m so close, so close!”

“Come on, you can do it. Squirt all over your big brother’s cock baby! Make a mess, make a fucking mess all over me!” he urged, rubbing your clit faster as his thrusts gained speed. His dirty mouth sent you over the edge, the tight band of pleasure in the pit of your tummy snapping. You gushed on Yuta’s cock with a shriek, eyes seeing white as you came. You could barely hear his chants of “Good girl!” as he chased his own high. His hips stuttered and jerked as you milked him, finally stilling as he released his load into the piece of latex that separated you two.

He lowered his damp forehead to rest against yours and the two of you caught your breath. After a few minutes, he pulled out and rolled from on top of you to lay beside you, wrapping you in his strong arms. You cuddled into them without a second thought, relishing in his warmth and protection. You both remained silent the whole time until you felt him take a deep breath.

“Do you…do you regret what we just did?” Yuta asked in a small voice.

“...No. Not even a little bit.”

“Thank god. We don’t have to do it again, I just wanted to make sure th–”

“What if I want to?”

“Huh?”

“What if I want to do it again?” you asked, adjusting so that you could look into his eyes.

“Then you’re gonna have to stop going on dates with shitty men.”

“Done. You’re the only man I need.”

#🩵: writing #jjk x reader #jjk smut #yuta okkotsu x reader #okkotsu yuta x reader #angelshubnetwork #ghostqueues #yuuta okkotsu x reader #okkotsu yuuta x reader #okkotsu yuta #yuta okkotsu #yuuta okkotsu #okkotsu yuuta #🩵: yuta

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lustspren · 11 months

Text

Queen of Hearts ft Jihyo, Dahyun

length: 13k words✦

Jihyo, Dahyun & Male Reader.

genres: dom! Jihyo, sub! Dahyun, threesome, blowjob, lesbian, oral sex, dirty talk, titjob, voyeur, creampie, slight fluff, slight squirt, ✧

✦✧✦✧✦✧

For a reserved and shy person, college, as well as high school, could be either a normal experience, or hell on earth itself. Fortunately for you, the second case never came to pass. Not because of you, nor because of how the society on campus behaved towards you, but because of a person who was with you from the first moment you met her, and who had never let you down even until now, when you were already in the room. semester of your degree.

Kim Dahyun was sitting next to you at the desk, her hair in a messy bun and her glasses on as she wrote notes in her notebook. You had an important exam in two weeks, and you were doing your best to find the best methods, and find the best possible way to retain as much information as possible. You had an open book of Theoretical History of Urbanism, and you were helping her to highlight the most important points.

You had installed a fully adjustable and customizable LED lighting system in the bedroom, it was at a dim level, fulfilling the perfect level of relaxation and concentration that you needed. The light that you lacked to read was complemented by a table lamp with a flexible arm, which pointed directly towards your hands.

The conversation was not something recurring during your study sessions, only for specific things, but you really valued that a lot. You weren't exactly good at socializing, you lacked charisma, eloquence, and conversational skills, but with Dahyun that was never a problem. She would always get you out of trouble when you tried to talk, she would bring up topics for you to talk about, she would make you feel comfortable, and most importantly, she would never pressure you to behave in a way that you weren't. She appreciated you and cared for you, just the way you were.

You rarely questioned yourself, but with her you could never understand if what you felt was pure and simple brotherly love, or if it was something more. A lot of times she was a little of one thing, and a lot of times a little of the other, but they both had one thing in common: she was by far your favorite person. You couldn't feel safe with anyone but her, and when you didn't have her close to you, you didn't feel complete.

"I think we can stop for now..." Dahyun said quietly, not breaking the calm atmosphere you were in, "Do you want me to prepare something to eat?" She put the pencil to the side of the notebook and looked at you.

"I don't know, are you hungry?" you asked, your eyes still on the book as you looked at the illustrations.

"Pretty much, yes," she sighed, "I'll make ramyeon."

"Uh... do you need help?" You looked up to meet her eyes for a second, but instantly lowered them to look elsewhere. Eye contact made you extremely nervous, making it impossible for you to look someone in the eye for more than 5 seconds.

"No, silly," she smiled, ruffling your hair, "just come with me, I don't want to be alone in the kitchen," you just nodded.

You and Dahyun were roommates from a few months after you met in college. It was a nice, cozy, medium-sized apartment that was about 10 minutes by bus from the university. It belonged to Dahyun's aunt, but she had let her use it since she was moving to China for work. At the time you were looking for a small apartment to rent, but Dahyun was a bit pushy with you, and you really weren't too sure even when you accepted the proposal, but to this day you had absolutely no regrets.

Coexistence was perfect in all aspects, she respected your personal spaces and you respected hers, and despite the fact that you shared a bedroom, there was never a single argument or awkward moment between the two of you.

You went out and into the kitchen, and Dahyun turned on the light while you sat on a stool with your phone in hand. She opened one of the cupboards next to the oven and took out two bowls of instant ramyeon to set on the worktop. She then took out a small pot, filled it with water and put it on one of the burners to wait for it to boil.

"Are you... nervous about the exam?" she asked, leaning back against the worktop.

"A little..." you replied, scrolling down to twitter on your phone.

"Why? You haven't failed at anything so far, you're an excellent student!"

"I've passed everything with the bare minimum," you sighed.

"But you've been passing, haven't you?" she giggled nervously, "it's the important thing."

"I know... but I'm always afraid of failing, I don't like it," she took a few steps forward and gently pinched your cheek.

"Hey, everything's going to be alright, okay?" She said in a low, reassuring voice, "You know I've got your back, besides, we're in this together, literally."

You looked up to see her for a moment, and not knowing what to say, you just gave her a small smile when you returned your eyes to the screen of your phone. She stood there for a few more seconds, you noticed that she wanted to say something, but she finally turned around and went back to look at the pot.

It took about two minutes for the water to boil. Dahyun turned off the heat, then opened the two bowls of ramyeon, took out the seasoning packets, and poured the water into both. She then opened the envelopes one by one, and poured the contents onto the ramyeon. She opened a drawer to her left, took out two stainless steel chopsticks and set them to the side of the bowls, then covered them. It took an additional five minutes or so for the ramyeon to be done.

"There you go..." Dahyun said, setting down your bowl of ramyeon on the counter in front of you, with the two chopsticks inside, "bon appetit!"

"Thank you," you nodded, placing the phone on your lap and reaching for the chopsticks to stir the noodles.

The next few minutes were as silent as ever as you ate any meal at any time. Dahyun knew that you didn't like to talk while eating, and she was completely silent at all times. This would have continued to be the case, had it not been for an unexpected notification from her that arrived on her phone. You weren't going to pay attention at first since what she did with her phone was none of your business, but seeing her read the text she just received so attentively and seriously piqued your curiosity. You looked sideways as she wrote, and then saw her face for a second as you lifted some noodles to your mouth.

"Something happens?" you asked while chewing, but covering your mouth with the back of your hand.

"Wait..." she mumbled, still typing for a few more seconds, "Okay," she put the phone down and turned to face you, "Do you want to go to a party?"

"What? No, you know I don't," you answered convincingly, before going back to eat some of your noodles.

"It's just, ugh," she settled into the chair and moved her closer to you, "It's not a party, it's more of a…" she thought for a moment, "a private meeting."

"Whatever it is, I don't want to go," you said again, completely sure and firm in your position.

"It's a good friend of mine's birthday," Dahyun said in a low, listless voice, as if she was resigned that you weren't going to give in no matter how hard she tried, "I've known her since we were kids!

"Then why don't you go by yourself?" you asked, eyes on the noodles. You wanted water, they were a bit spicy.

"You're my… best friend," Dahyun said that with some difficulty on each syllable, "I really want you to meet her, and well, I'd be so excited if you went with me."

"Dahyun…" you dropped the chopsticks, and clasped your hands in your lap to give her your attention, "I… it's not my vibe, really," you shook your head, "I don't feel comfortable around people who I don't know."

"I wouldn't part with you at any time, you know that right?" She placed her hand on your wrist, and you watched her press her fingers lightly around it, "Besides, I wouldn't make you go somewhere I know you'd hate."

"You don't even know how everything will be."

"I know Jihyo, the craziest thing I've ever seen her do is drink straight from a vodka bottle."

"Does that seem little to you?"

"Compared to what other girls her age do, yes," she shrugged.

"I… I don't know, Dahyun," you started breathing slightly faster, you were getting anxious.

"Hey, hey," she cupped your face with both hands and made you look straight into her eyes, longer than you were used to, "Do you trust me?"

"I-I..." you tried to take your gaze away from her, but she kept fixing your eyes on hers.

"Just answer me, please..." the soft touch of her hands and her sweet voice made you gradually relax, to the point where your breathing returned to normal.

"Yes… I do, more than anyone," you replied, now taking a deep breath as you concentrated on holding her gaze.

"Then you know I'll do everything I can to make you feel good," she stroked her thumbs over your cheeks, "and we can leave whenever you want if that's not the case."

"Whenever I want?"

"Yes, I promise," she nodded, and then you noticed that she stared at your lips for a few seconds before returning her gaze to your eyes.

"I…" you sighed, thinking hard about your answer, "alright, I'll go," you nodded.

"Really?!" she squealed excitedly with a beaming smile on her face, letting go of your face to jerk to her feet, "Ahhhh! Thank you thank you thank you!" She lunged at you and nearly knocked you off your stool, wrapped her arms around your neck, and pulled you into a tight hug. You froze completely for a moment, and seconds later you wrapped your arms around her torso to return the hug.

"Yeah, yeah… it's okay," you said quietly, cheek resting against her chest, "And when is it?"

"In an hour."

"What?!" you never raised your voice, but there were small exceptions. Dahyun broke away from you, and sat back down in her chair.

"Yeah, sorry," she laughed a bit nervously, "she told me at the last minute."

"God, Kim Dahyun..." you put two fingers to your septum, closed your eyes, and sighed.

"It's okay if we're a little late, don't stress," she reached her hand up to your forehead and poked you with her middle finger, "come on, finish your meal."

You wanted to say something else, but you decided to shut up and save energy for the tremendously long night that was ahead of you. You and her finished your ramyeon bowls in no time, and as soon as you did, you left the chopsticks in the dishwasher and discarded the bowls.

"Are you going to shower first or...?" Dahyun asked.

"No, you go first, don't worry," you nodded toward the hallway.

"Very good, but go planning what you are going to wear, okay?"

"I'll try," you sighed.

—----------------------------------

What the hell were you going to wear? The reality was that you never frequented places or meetings of this type, so the simple fact of dressing for the occasion was already complicated enough for you. You stayed sitting on the edge of your bed, analyzing the best options. You lost track of time, so it was a good few minutes before Dahyun walked into the bedroom with a towel wrapped around her milky body.

"Uhm, what are you supposed to be doing?" she asked, standing next to you and looking where you were looking.

"I don’t know what to wear."

"Oh come on," she crouched down carefully, placing a hand on her chest to keep the towel from falling off, "just put those shoes on, with those pants, and that cute sweater you always wear."

"The blue one?"

"The blue one," she nodded.

"Okay, I'm sorry," you sighed, "It's just… you know."

"Yeah, I know, you don't have to apologize silly," she stood up again and squeezed your cheek with two fingers, "Now cover your eyes, please."

You fell back on the bed, grabbed a nearby T-shirt and pulled it over your face to completely block your vision. You waited patiently for a few minutes, fiddling with your hands as you once again seriously reconsidered whether to go or not.

"Can I see now?" you asked.

"Give me a second," you heard a click, then a small silence, and then another click, "done."

You took the shirt off your face and stood up again, the first thing that caught your attention was the color contrast between the walls of your bedroom with Dahyun's outfit, all shades of yellow. A dark striped champagne skirt a little above her knees, a lemon yellow sleeveless top with small white squares, and a headband of the same color on her head.

"Wow, you look so pretty…" you said, looking her up and down, from her wide hips to her pretty bare shoulders. It was the first time you said something like that to her, so her first reaction was to remain silent, her hands clasped on her belly while she nervously moved her feet.

"Do you really think so?" she asked, playing with her fingers.

"I mean, yeah," you nodded, looking into her eyes and then away, "that color looks really nice on you."

"I… thank you," a small smirk spread across her face, and then she looked down at herself.

"It's nothing," you smiled back, and then stood up, "turn around, please."

"Oh no, I'll go out to put on my makeup and finish getting ready, don't worry," for some reason, Dahyun's smirk or twinkle in her eyes didn't disappear, and it stayed that way until you saw her walk out the door. You were stunned for a minute, staring at nothing. You felt something tickle in your stomach, and a slight warmth on your cheeks. You completely ignored how you felt so as not to overthink it, and you began to undress, bathe, and then change your clothes.

When you went back to the living room you were already dressed as Dahyun had told you, and to be honest you felt quite comfortable that way. She was sitting on the couch, looking at herself in a hand mirror as she rubbed a blush on her cheeks. Her shoulders were now covered by an open sweater of a much lighter yellow. As soon as she saw you walk out of the hallway, she looked you up and down and smiled at you again.

"Do I look ridiculous?" you asked naively, sticking your fingers into the pockets of your pants.

"Oh come on, don't be silly, you look great! I told you the blue sweater was a good choice," with that said, she went back to what she was doing.

"If you say so..." you went to sit next to her, leaning your back against the sofa as you stared at your phone.

About ten minutes passed between Dahyun finishing her makeup and retouching her outfit. She stood up, and went to look for her handbag on your coat rack in the entrance.

"Can you call the taxi? I need to go to the bathroom before we go," she said walking into the hallway.

"Oh sure."

And that you did. You called the taxi to your location, and when you were both ready, you went down from your apartment to wait for the car on the sidewalk in front of the building. It arrived after a few minutes, Dahyun indicated the direction to the driver, and you set off.

You spent the whole way moving your leg as if it were a nervous tic and looking out the window while nibbling your fingernails. You had rarely felt this nervous in your life, in fact, you could count those occasions on the fingers of one hand. The most recent being when you went to the My Chemical Romance concert in Japan, but not even seeing your favorite band in person for the first time had you as scared as going to a simple birthday party.

"Hey, calm down," Dahyun put a hand on your knee, and you stopped moving your leg, but you didn't stop biting your nails or looking out the window.

"I can't believe I'm going to a party," you muttered, staring off into the streets.

"You know that not all parties are the same, right?" Dahyun was cross-legged, her phone in hand and an open chat you didn't have to read to know it was Jihyo's, "It might be something fun for you."

"I highly doubt it, I don't even like people."

"If you can tolerate my existence, you can also tolerate the existence of a few other people."

"As long as they're not loud and insufferable, yes, perfectly."

"I can promise you they won't be insufferable, but I'm not so sure about the other."

"Great."

It was quite a short trip, Jihyo's residential building was not as far as you thought, in fact, you could have walked there and arrived in less than ten minutes, but it was already quite dark, so you never even considered it as an option. The driver parked in front of the building, Dahyun paid him, and you got out of the car to start walking through the small square around the residential complex. Dahyun took her phone out of her clutch bag and made a call.

"Unnie! I'm here. Come down to open the door for us," there was a silence while Jihyo answered her on the other end of the line, you couldn't understand what she was saying, but you did realize one thing: she was a very, noisy person, "Alright, I'll see you in a bit."

"My God, I could hear her from here," you said, looking at a bush on the other side of a small metal fence.

"I told you I couldn't promise you they wouldn't be loud," she sighed, then linked her arm with yours.

You entered the building within a few seconds. Dahyun took the phone from the entrance gate, and dialed the number of what you assumed was Jihyo's apartment phone, seconds later, you heard a beep coming from the gate. Dahyun pushed it, and it opened inward.

You took the elevator to the seventh floor, got out, and walked along a wide corridor that led you to the door of the apartment. From outside you could already feel the rumble of the bass of a stereo playing music, it wasn't really that loud, but it was loud enough to ruin the sleep of a person who simply wanted to take a nap. Dahyun rang the bell on the side of the door once. There was no answer, so she rang a second time. Within seconds, the door was opened by a short woman, roughly the same size as Dahyun. She had fairly short hair, with a small part of it tied up at the back of her head. She was wearing a woven cotton shirt, with buttons that she only had fastened in the area of her big chest and a thin necklace of white nuggets, jeans, and black vans shoes.

"Dubu! Ahhh!" she screeched, lunging at Dahyun to hug her tight.

"Hey, you're going to take my breath away," your best friend joked, her arms still attached to her body as Jihyo clung to her like a koala to her branch.

"Right, sorry," Jihyo laughed, then released her and took her hands with a big smile on her face.

"I know I told you early, but happy birthday," Dahyun smiled back, squeezing the girl's hands.

"Thank you, sweetie," she blew Dahyun a little air kiss, and then looked at you, "oh, you didn't come alone."

"Oh right, unnie, he's my best friend, you can call him Balto," Dahyun said, stepping aside to draw attention to you, "Balto, this is Jihyo."

"I-It's a p-pleasure, Jihyo," you stuttered at first like an idiot, "happy birthday," Jihyo stared at you for a few seconds before answering, apparently something about you had caught her attention, but you couldn't figure out what.

"The pleasure is mine, thank you very much," she smiled at you, "Why Balto?"

"It's because of the wolf from an animated movie that I really like," Dahyun answered for you, since she gave you that nickname.

"Oh, that's so cute," Jihyo said, "just like him," you didn't know what to say, and neither did Dahyun, but you did try to say something to no avail, only a slight lisp came out of your mouth, "come on, let's go inside," she invited with a giggle.

The three of you entered the apartment, first passing through a narrow corridor that led directly to the living room. It wasn't a much bigger apartment than yours, in fact, they could perfectly be the same size, with the difference that Jihyo had the furniture arranged in a somewhat more messy way, which led to the feeling that it was less spacious.

There were few people in the room, you could count them perfectly with your eyes, 6 people, 3 girls and 3 boys. Three of them were settled on the sofa, with cans of beer in hand and a glass bowl of chips on the small glass table in front of them, while the other three were scattered around the kitchen. You were relieved, as you thought the environment would be something completely different, but still, your first instinct was to get behind Dahyun and avoid looking at anyone.

"Hey, look on the bright side, I don't know anyone either, just that guy over there," Dahyun nodded at a short, muscular guy, who was doing something in the kitchen you couldn't see.

"That doesn't put me at ease, Kim Dahyun," you said behind her, taking a few more steps until Jihyo stopped a few feet from the sofa.

"Guys, I wanted to introduce you to two friends, they're from architecture," Jihyo stepped aside, and the three people, who were two girls and one boy, looked at the two of you, "Nayeon, Jeongyeon, Han, they're Dahyun and Balto."

You didn't see any of the three of them directly in the eyes, and you didn't say anything either, you just smiled somewhat awkwardly and imitated Dahyun with a small bow. The three of them imitated your gesture respectfully, with friendly expressions on their faces.

"My pleasure," Dahyun smiled.

"What a great outfit! You look so pretty," Nayeon said, leaning forward and resting her elbows on her legs.

“Yeah, and your hair is beautiful,” said Jeongyeon, the girl next to her, who, oddly enough, had short hair.

"Ah otoke..." Dahyun gave an embarrassed giggle, brushing her hair behind her ears.

"Hey dude, you look great too," the boy said.

Did he just talk to you? It took you a moment to sink in, you didn't even react at first until Dahyun nudged you.

"Me? Uh... thanks," you looked at him for a second, flashing a small smirk.

"You're welcome, that sweater is really cool," he smirked back at you, and then picked up the bowl of chips to hold with one arm and eat from it.

"I told you," Dahyun said, turning her head to look at you.

"Yeah, I know you told me."

"Come this way, the Three Stooges are missing," Jihyo said, and you walked behind her towards the kitchen. A girl was sitting on a counter next to the blender, a guy next to her, and the other was chopping potatoes on a counter away from the two of them.

"Jihyo-ya!" said the boy who was cooking as soon as he saw her out of the corner of his eye, "do you have olive oil?"

"Ah yeah, over there," Jihyo pointed to one of the cabinets, "guys, this is Dahyun and Balto," she said looking at you, "And this is Chaeyoung, Seungmin, and the crazy guy cooking is Changbin."

Once again you repeated the same trivial process as always, wave here and wave there, nothing important, and this time none of the three said anything to either of you. Chaeyoung was focused on her conversation with Seungmin, and Changbin on don't cut his fingers.

"Are you making French fries?" Dahyun asked Changbin, and he didn't even bother to look at her.

"Yup!" he said, pouring the olive oil into a skillet.

"Anyway, come this way guys," Jihyo nodded the other way, and you all went back into the living room, "Have a seat. Want something?"

"I want a beer," Dahyun turned to look at you, "And you?"

"I don't like alcohol, just water, thanks," you said.

"I have berry juice, will it work for you?" Jihyo asked, taking slow steps into the kitchen.

"It's perfect, yes," you nodded, then Jihyo went to the kitchen, returning with the can of beer and a carton of blackberry juice to deliver both.

You and Dahyun sat next to each other, with the dining room table very close to you. In the center was a two-tiered red velvet cake, piled high with chocolate-dipped strawberries, disposable plates, and disposable spoons. Jihyo dragged a chair from the other end and positioned her to sit next to you, much closer than you'd expect. You immediately felt nervous.

"And tell me, cuties, you live together, don't you?" Jihyo asked, crossing her legs facing you.

"How do you know?" Dahyun smiled, opening the beer bottle.

"I don't think he left the house of his own accord," Jihyo said, looking at Dahyun, "And he seems like the type to leave you on watch and go to sleep.”

"And you're right, that's exactly what he does," Dahyun sipped her beer, while you opened your juice.

"I only did that once, and it was because you were asking me to go jogging with you in the park," you sipped your juice through a straw, discreetly looking around.

"Really? What time?" Jihyo asked, resting her elbow on the table to look at you.

"8 in the morning, it was Sunday," you said, as Jihyo stared at you so intently that you thought he was analyzing every fragment of your soul.

"Ahhh, Kim Dahyun! How did you expect him to go with you!" She laughed, "I think that was even nice enough, I would have told you to go to hell."

"It was one of my many attempts to get him out of the apartment," Dahyun sighed, also cross-legged in a much more elegant and delicate posture than Jihyo's, "most of the time he's studying, or playing, or reading."

"Oh really? So it's truly a miracle you're here today," Jihyo raised an eyebrow.

"Something like that," you replied, daring to look into her eyes for just under 2 seconds, "I was very tempted to lock myself in the bathroom so Dahyun couldn't make me."

"You need social contact, dumbass," Dahyun gave you a little kick on the ankle with her foot, "you'll be an architect."

"Hey, it's not my fault I'm like this," you took another sip of your juice, inadvertently it was already half full, "I wish I wasn't, believe me."

"Hey! Don't say that!" Jihyo complained, her brow furrowed now, "there's nothing wrong with you being like that, you seem like a friendly and calm boy, besides, you're very cute. You just have to work on it, taking small steps each time."

"Exactly, I never said it was a bad thing, silly," Dahyun said, placing her hand on your shoulder and giving it a little squeeze.

It was the second time in a few minutes that Jihyo had told you that you were cute. You were tremendously slow and stupid for those kinds of compliments or situations, and at that moment you couldn't tell if it was just simple kindness or if it was something more. Your gaze met Jihyo's in a short moment of silence, and for some reason, the place your eyes landed on when you broke eye contact went straight to her pair of round, tight big breasts. She wasn't dumb, she saw right away where your gaze was, and in response she undid just one button on her shirt, enough so that you could see a few inches of her cleavage.

"I-I know... I know, I'm sorry," you took a deep breath, and set the carton of juice on the edge of the table to sink a little into the seat and force yourself not to show your nervousness.

"Hey, cheer up a bit, I promise to make it worth your while," Jihyo placed a hand on your knee and patted it. You stared at her hand, and from there your gaze went up her body, her cleavage, and once again, into her eyes, "Dubu, do you know what music he likes?" she shifted her gaze to your best friend.

"It's disturbing how varied his playlist is," Dahyun was already downing her first can of beer, judging by the lightness with which he picked it up, "the other day he went from listening to Kanye West to Bonnie Tyler."

"Total Eclipse of the Heart?" Jihyo asked.

"Aha," you nodded, more embarrassed than anything else.

"We'll do karaoke, I can sing that one for you if you want."

"Can you sing that song?" you asked incredulously.

"Oh yeah, she's a very good singer, don't underestimate her," Dahyun said.

"I'd like to see that," you admitted, cracking a small smile.

"Then let's get to it," Jihyo nodded toward the couch in front of the TV, where Nayeon, Jeongyeon, and Han were still drinking and eating. You three stood up, Jihyo in front of you two. She stood between the TV and the sofa, placing both hands on her waist, "Hey, shut up everyone!" she called the attention of everyone in the apartment, "it's time for karaoke."

"Just in time!" Changbin said, coming back from the kitchen with a large plate full of perfectly browned fries, "don't be fucking cute and eat them all so fast!" he walked past you and set the plate down on the coffee table next to the already empty bowl of fries.

“I don't promise anything at all,” Chaeyoung said, also walking past Seungmin to sit on one of the individual sofas.

"Sit down guys, I'll be over there," Jihyo said to you, pointing to the large sofa and then to the chairs near Chaeyoung and Seungmin.

Hearing this, Nayeon and Jeongyeon made enough space for you on the couch so that you could all fit a bit tightly together. Dahyun was about to sit on the end of the sofa, but you grabbed her forearm before she did, giving her a look that made it clear that you didn't want to sit so close to Nayeon, so she sat down next to her, and you sat on the end of the sofa right next to the armband.

Jihyo turned on the TV and went to YouTube, and then took a wireless microphone out of one of the drawers under the TV and connected it to the sound system.

"Alright, who wants to sing first?" there was a long silence in the living room, until the person you least expected got up from the sofa.

"Well, if no one else wants to start, I will," Han said, rolling up the sleeves of the sweater he was wearing.

"I must admit I'm surprised," Jihyo laughed, "What do you want to sing?" Han thought about it for a moment, narrowing his eyes as he watched the TV.

"Maniac, the one by Michael Sembello."

"Sure? I could play you the Conan Gray one and that's it," she raised both eyebrows, then met Han's poker face, "very good very good."

Jihyo searched for the song on youtube, and when she hit play she held out the microphone for Han to pick up. To your pleasant surprise, Han was a better singer than he appeared, he wasn't singing the song in exact Michael Sembello key, but his voice color was quite distinctive and cool. While he sang, Changbin went back to the kitchen, only to return with multiple beer cans in his hands and held against his body. He handed it out to everyone in the room, and when he was going to give yours to you, you were forced to shake your head.

"I don't drink, thanks," you brushed him off as nicely as possible.

"Oh no problem then, I'll get you a Pepsi mate."

"But-" before you could protest he was past you and into the kitchen again, taking with him the can of beer that was meant for you.

"Do you still think that the whole society sucks?" Dahyun asked from the side of you, nudging you slightly as she opened her can of beer. There was already enough space on the sofa, but even so she was still very close to you.

"Well, I have to admit that these people are… nice," you said, looking at the TV screen and following the lyrics of the song in your mind.

"I told you," she placed a hand on your thigh and shook it a little, "you're going to have fun, silly," Dahyun grabbed your face with her free hand and pulled you close for a peck on the cheek, "Thank you for coming with me."

You didn't know what to answer at first, you kept a lost look when you felt Dubu's delicate lips on your cheek. It wasn't the first time she'd done something like that, but in every situation you were just as stunned as the previous one.

"Uh… thanks to you," you replied, and it wasn't until seconds later that you realized what a fucking stupid thing you said. Dahyun could only burst out laughing.

Changbin came back with you, a can of Pepsi in hand.

"Sorry bro, I couldn't find it among so many beers," he said, handing you the can.

"No problem, thanks," you smirked and picked up the can, then Changbin went to sit next to Jihyo, who was talking and laughing with Chaeyoung and Seungmin.

The song was over for Han, and all of you in the room gave him a collective applause more than deserved since he had killed the song completely.

"Okay, who's next? That guy just set the bar high," there was another long silence, as everyone stared at her. Jihyo sighed, "Okay, I'll sing," apparently it was a moment they'd all been waiting for, as they erupted in cheers and applause.

Jihyo stood up, took the microphone from Han and took a few slow steps towards the center, as she did so she stared at you and raised an eyebrow, wanting to make sure your eyes were on her at all times. As usual, you almost peed your pants at how intimidating and hot she looked and how clumsy you were in those situations.

She searched for the song that you had asked for a few minutes ago in the search bar, and when she played it you couldn't believe that she was really fulfilling your desire to hear her sing one of your favorite songs of hers. It only took a few seconds for Jihyo to completely captivate you.

You didn't need to be an expert in singing to realize that Jihyo knew what she was doing, her voice was strong and clear, with a powerful volume that you were sure didn't even need a microphone to resonate throughout the apartment without any problem. Her voice wasn't as raspy as Bonnie Tyler's, that was completely impossible to imitate, but she perfectly offset each of the song's high notes without any effort. She was putting her soul and her sweat into killing that song, and you couldn't help but stare at her, totally stunned and impressed.

About a minute and a half into the song had passed when Jihyo did a dramatic turn, and when her head turned, she caught your eyes on her, realizing, she gave you a beautiful smile that felt like an arrow straight to your heart. She turned around again to look at the television, and you were left with a hot sensation on your cheeks, you had blushed.

That had left you partially isolated from your surroundings, you were no longer looking at Jihyo, your gaze was now lost in absolute nothingness while your heart began to beat slightly harder. Everything around you began to be heard as if you were a few meters underwater, the screams, the applause, the cheers, the laughter, it became in the background while you completely disconnected and began to stir nervously. That could only mean one thing, your social battery was running low and you were having an anxiety attack.

"Hey, Balto..." you heard once, like distant waves, "Balto!" you heard a second time, this time clearer and louder, with a little shake in your arm that brought you back to reality, "Hey, something wrong?"

You looked around, quickly remembering where you were. You looked at Jihyo, who was still singing, and then you looked at everyone else, drinking and having fun. Finally you looked at Dubu, who was looking at you with a worried expression on her face.

"Ah… yeah, I'm fine, I just need to wash my face, I'm a little sleepy," you jerked your thumb back, pointing to the kitchen.

"Are you sure? We can leave in a bit if you want..."

"No, no," you said quickly, "don't worry, I just need to walk a bit to wake up," you took a drink of your Pepsi, then set it down on the small table in front of you to stand up and walk to the kitchen. Jihyo noticed that you were gone, she had seen you out of the corner of her eye, but she kept singing anyway.

You reached the kitchen with your breath still somewhat agitated. You walked over to the sink, turned on the tap, and cupped your two hands to start pouring water on your face. After a few seconds you turned off the tap, and grabbed some kitchen towel to dry your face while you looked around. You hadn't noticed it when you arrived because of the curtains, but on the left side of the kitchen was a door that led to a small balcony outside. You walked over there, slid the glass door to the left and went outside.

The fresh air and the gentle breeze made you take a long breath that helped you begin to relax your body. The views from up there were beautiful, allowing you to see a good part of the city of Seoul and the hills that bordered the city in every corner. You walked over to the railing, which was about the height of your stomach, and leaned idly on it to look up at the beautiful, clear sky.

Nothing was going through your mind at that moment, you were just enjoying your solitude and the absolute peace of the moment, without people shouting and without so much fuss around you. You were really feeling comfortable a few minutes ago, but your brain was not used to it, you assumed that it would take time for that to happen, in the meantime, you had to settle for panic attacks that took absolute control over your body and made you just run away.

It didn't take more than five minutes when you heard the door open a few meters behind you. You thought it was Dahyun, and that's why you didn't bother to turn around, but the surprise almost made you fall over the edge.

"I did it so badly that you had to go outside to not listen to me?" Jihyo said from behind you.

"Fuck!" You gave a little jump, and you put your hand on your heart to let out a sigh and turn to look at her, "You didn't do it wrong, in fact quite the opposite, you're incredible."

"Oh yeah? Then why did you run away like that?" She said, raising an eyebrow, she took a few steps forward and took one of the chairs that were on the balcony to sit cross-legged on it.

"It's just… my social battery is dying, it's already dead, actually," you sighed, going to sit in the other chair next to her, "I'm just used to being around Dahyun all the time."

"I see..." Jihyo nodded slowly, looking up at the sky with you, "Hey, how did you two meet? You seem to be very close."

"It's not really a special story," you began, "we met on our first day, it was the first math module, if I remember correctly. And well, as you saw, I have terrible social anxiety that comes from when I was a kid, and just having to ask a basic question to the teacher terrified me. Dahyun helped me that day, and if it wasn't for her, I would have failed every single test. From then on she always showed interest in me, and never left me alone for a day."

"Aw, that's so cute!" Jihyo said, pulling the chair a little closer towards yours as she looked at you.

You and Jihyo from that moment started a conversation that flowed better than you could ever expect. She was a girl with whom talking was quite easy, she was attentive and very kind, she didn't overwhelm you too much with a lot of words, and she understood perfectly that what you liked the most were those kinds of conversations in which the wind could be heard perfectly above your voices. Normally you wouldn't be talking for so long with a person almost unknown to you, but for some reason you felt comfortable with her, it was something about her aura, her smell, or something as simple as how pretty she was.

About 10 minutes passed, in which you only told stories about each other while looking at the sky and the city, she laughed at your silly awkward jokes, and you at the grace with which she told her stories, but you noticed something quickly, and it was that with each passing moment, Jihyo discreetly moved her chair closer to yours, to the point where they were pressed against each other. You didn't really care at first, but when the conversation fell silent, she leaned her head on your shoulder, and that completely changed the landscape for you.

Your first natural impulse was to try to pull away, since that was what you had been doing your whole life, but she completely ignored your attempt to pull away and left her head there. You had no choice but to take a deep breath, close your eyes and get used to the sensation, which stopped feeling like a nuisance and felt more like a relief, something you felt you just had to enjoy and that's it.

"You know something Balto… it's hard to find people like you," Jihyo said quietly, as you both watched the dim moon behind the clouds.

"What are you talking about?" you asked.

"You are a genuine person... nowadays everyone is hypocritical and fake with everyone, but you are special."

"How are you so sure of that?"

"I just am. Besides, Dubu would never have liked a bad boy, she's too pure and lovely for that."

"Wait," you frowned in confusion, "liked?"

"Oh come on, haven't you really noticed?" Jihyo chuckled.

"What thing?"

"Dahyunie is crazy about you, Balto, I can see it in her eyes," your gaze was lost for a moment while your brain processed the information.

"Nonsense... she's just being nice, she loves me like her best friend," what Jihyo said made all the sense in the world, in fact, more than once you had suspected it, but for some reason you didn't leave the stage of denial for never having noticed it.

"Honey, we women aren't that 'nice'," she made the quotation marks on her fingers, "to our best friends."

"But… why has she never told me?" you asked, still incredulous.

"For the same reason that you haven't told her. You're afraid it will make things different."

"Uh? W-What are you talking about?" all the nerves that you hadn't been feeling a few minutes ago came back to you at that moment.

"Oh sweet boy, you're hopeless," Jihyo sighed, lifting her head from your shoulder to turn to you and bring her mouth to your ear, "I'm going to ask you just once, and I want you to be completely honest with me, if you're not, I'll know," she whispered, her lips brushing against your ear.

"..."

"You like Dahyun, don't you?" she asked. You remained silent and you began to think about it, in all the times in which you had suppressed your feelings and you had left it as something insignificant, but the reality was that there was no person in the world that made you feel so bad. loved as she did. You remembered her radiant smile, the one that would brighten the darkest of your days, and quickly your heart gave an answer.

"I…" you started, but as soon as you were about to reply, Jihyo placed her index finger on your lips to silence you. Then, she got up from her chair and with a quick movement completely unexpected for you, she climbed onto you and sat on your lap, leaving the full weight of her ass against your crotch. You gasped in surprise, your body completely paralyzed as you felt totally controlled by her. She leaned forward, pressing her big tits against your chest and leaning in close to your ear once more.

"I know you like it, you don't have to answer," she whispered with a slight giggle, "I won't tell anyone, don't worry, but if you want I can help you get together."

"Y-you… can you do that?" you asked, still unaware of Jihyo's real intentions.

"Of course, darling," she straightened up and looked into your eyes, "but you'll have to trust me."

"O-okay..." you nodded, again unable to meet her gaze for even more than two seconds.

"Now then, I have another question for you," she leaned forward once more, but this time with her face only inches from yours, her lips almost brushing against yours, "do you think I'm hot?"

That question surprised you even more than the first, but for this one you did have a more than clear answer. You had been seeing her since you arrived at her apartment, and her body was perfect in absolutely every way, big tits, wide hips, nice abdomen, and a tight round ass.

"Yes… you are," you murmured, looking away to avoid her eye, only to notice a smile on her face.

"Put your hands on my waist," she commanded.

"Uh? A-are you sure?" You raised both hands, but left them floating on either side of Jihyo's body.

"Yes, honey, go ahead," she nodded calmly, and you did, holding the woman's fleshy waist in your hands. She placed her hands on your shoulders, and began to rock her hips slowly back and forth, pressing against the growing bulge in your pants with each brush.

You put pressure on her waist with your fingers, gasping at Jihyo's sensual movements. She began to give you small kisses all over her face, from your chin to your forehead, ending with a delicate kiss on your lips.

"You must be very romantic with Dubu, you know?" she whispered against your lips as her ass rubbed against your erection, "she really loves that," Saying that, she returned to your lips to plunge you into a slow, deep kiss, you let her have absolute control over you, even letting her tongue enter your mouth whenever she wanted. She began to move her hips harder when she noticed that your cock was hard under her, "you can touch me as much as you want honey, don't be afraid," she said in the middle of the kiss, before continuing to attack your mouth with her tongue.

Now with a little more confidence, you took your hands from her waist directly towards her ass, giving her buttocks a slight squeeze and then going up her lower back and ending up with your hands on her tits, which almost didn't even fit in them.

"I noticed how you saw them earlier," Jihyo teased with a giggle, "but don't worry, you can touch them as much as you want...even do other things with them later," she kissed you again, and you left yourself for her while your hands massaged and squeezed her soft tits.

While you were still in that intense and sensual making out session, Dahyun was in the living room still sitting where she had been before you left. The people were already drunk, but they were still singing and joking as happily as ever. She had stopped drinking when neither you nor Jihyo showed up anymore, so she was the only completely sane and sober one in that room. At first she thought it was good for you to socialize and experience other people's social contact than hers, but it had been so long that she couldn't help but suspect something was up.

She had to come up with an excuse just like you did to get out of there and go to the kitchen. She didn't see you there, but what she did see was the balcony door open between the curtains that billowed from the wind outside. Dubu walked slowly towards the door, and parted the curtains to find something a few meters away that she never thought she would see in her life.

Dahyun stood in the doorway, her hands on either side of her body as her mouth dropped slightly open in astonishment. She wrinkled her skirt between her fingers, watching you kiss in such a hot way without being able to believe that you were the same guy who a few minutes ago couldn't even look Jihyo in the eye without first shitting his pants. Her body started to feel a little hot, and her cheeks flushed red, seeing Jihyo had unbuttoned her shirt so you could grab her tits over her top, but she still felt that she shouldn't be there and that it was wrong to spy on you, for so she just turned around and went back to the living room to look at her phone and try to erase what she had just seen from her mind.

"Hey, let's go to my room, okay?" she murmured breaking into the kiss, and you put on a somewhat fearful expression, "it's all part of the plan, just let yourself go," she winked at you, and then she gave you a small kiss on the lips before standing up, you followed her

The corridor leading to Jihyo's bedroom could only be seen from a certain angle in the living room. Jihyo led the way, hoping Dahyun was sitting right at that end of the room. Her hopes were fulfilled, but Dubu was focused on her phone, so he had to intentionally slam the wall so she could look up, Jihyo played dumb, and then took your hand to go straight to the bedroom.

As soon as you entered the room Jihyo pinned you against the wall, grabbed your face and kissed you again, but this time in a more intense and fiery way. Her hand went straight to the hard bulge of your pants, and she gently squeezed your cock through the fabric as she kissed you.

"I haven't been able to take my eyes off you since you got here..." Jihyo murmured, pulling away from your lips and burying her face into your neck to begin dishing out wet kisses on it, "you're so, so fucking cute," she unbuttoned your jeans, unzipped them and reached into your boxer to grip your cock between her fingers, "and from what I feel, you have a big juicy cock," she broke away from you and took a step back, "sit there honey," she nodded at the bed, and you complied.

You went to sit on the edge of Jihyo's bed, and she walked over to stand right between your legs. You fixed your gaze on her, and she began to remove her clothes slowly. She first took off her shirt, and then she took off her top, letting you see the white bra that contained her juicy pair of milkers. This was followed by her pants, which she unbuttoned and pulled down very slowly, revealing her meaty tummy, a pair of gorgeous legs, and most of all, the thin lace panty that did little to hide her plump pussy. You gaped, almost drooling at such a fucking incredible body, but as if that wasn't enough, she reached behind her back and undid her bra, it fell off her shoulders, and now her pair of big, round, perfect tits were released right in front of your face.

"J-Jihyo..." you stammered, completely stunned by the pair of melons mere inches from your face.

"Shhh..." she put a finger to your lips, "the best is yet to come," Jihyo took a step back, turned around, and grabbed her own buttocks just to tease you, then grabbed the curb of her panties, lean forward, and begin to slide them down, showing you her plump juicy pussy. She was now completely naked in front of you, and your cock did nothing but throb, screaming to be released. Jihyo was going to turn back to you, but she suddenly looked at the door, noticing something you didn't, she quickly walked over to it, flung it open, grabbed Kim Dahyun's wrist and pulled her inside, closing the door behind her.

"Oh shit!" Dahyun exclaimed, immediately covering her eyes. You widened your eyes in shock, was she really spying on you? Was this part of Jihyo's plan?

"It seems we had company all this time," Jihyo said with a giggle, "It's okay sweetheart, you can watch," she walked over to Dubu, grabbed her wrists, and gently pushed her hands away from her face so she could look at her body.

"I-I, uh… fuck, I can explain," Dubu's face turned red as a tomato, which was easy enough due to her pale skin tone. She didn't know where to look, at one point she looked at you and the marked bulge under your boxers, but then she always ended up looking at Jihyo's tits or pussy.

"You don't have to explain anything, I know you were spying on us, even on the balcony," Jihyo reached out and caressed one of Dubu's cheeks with the back of her hand, "I was hoping you would come here, and you made it easy for me."

"I-I'll go, no problem, I'll just pretend I didn't see anything," she looked away, tilted her head towards Jihyo and tried to turn and leave, but Jihyo grabbed her wrist.

"Uh uh," she shook her head, "we've been waiting for you honey, you can't just leave like that."

"For me?" Dubu asked, her face still red, her breathing ragged from arousement.

"You're the lynchpin of all this, darling, of course," Jihyo closed the distance to inches, grabbed her face and gave Dubu a little kiss on the lips, who was so turned on and surprised that she didn't even flinched, "or don't you want to give Balto a more… special kind of treatment?" She and Jihyo looked at you, but then they locked eyes.

"Of course I do," Dubu agreed slowly, biting her lower lip and finally succumbing to her carnal urges. She took off her jacket, revealing her pretty shoulders and closing the distance between her and Jihyo. They merged in a very hot kiss, Jihyo had wrapped her arms around Dubu's waist, and Dubu had taken her by the neck while she moaned against her lips.

Jihyo wasted no time in getting down to business, first focusing on removing her top and then her skirt, Dubu helped her by taking off her shoes, and now she was just in pink panties and a white bra. They continued kissing for a few seconds, until Dubu herself took off her bra. You were still completely stunned by the incredibly hot scene that was happening in front of you, but also because it was the first time you saw Dubu's naked body in its full splendor, you knew that she had a very pretty figure, but seeing her like this way It made you realize that your best friend had an enviable body, curvy, pale, and toned. Dubu took her hands to Jihyo's tits to squeeze them firmly, while Jihyo massaged her wide and round ass.

"Stop cutie, I think our sweet boy wants some attention too," Jihyo said as she parted from your best friend's lips, and then turned to look at you, "why don't you go join him? I want to play with that cock for a bit."

"Of course," Dubu gasped, also turning to look at you, she walked slowly towards you, climbed on the bed, and disappeared from your sight to kneel behind you. Meanwhile, Jihyo knelt between your legs and grabbed your pants and boxers and lowered them to your ankles and then took them off.

"Fuck... look what we have here," Jihyo gazed at your cock like a shining treasure between her eyes, took it in one hand and shook it gently, "who knew our shy boy was hiding such a beautiful cock."

Dubu said nothing behind you, you tried to turn your head over your shoulder to see her, but what was happening in front of you also demanded your attention. Dahyun helped you remove your sweater, and then ran her hands around your torso to caress your abdomen and chest with her soft, delicate hands.

"Oh Balto… I've been missing that cock all this time," Dubu whispered in your ear, and you shuddered slightly.

"Dahyun… I..." Before you could say anything, Jihyo's pretty lips latched onto the tip of your cock without full warning to make you gasp. She slowly sucked on the tip of it, and then released it to give the base of your shaft a long, sensual lick before pushing you back inside her, this time her lips lowered further, until most of your cock was gone inside her warm mouth.

"Don't say anything, just enjoy, silly..." Dubu whispered, starting to kiss your neck, your shoulders and also your back.

Jihyo placed both hands on your thighs, and began to slowly pump her head up and down. You put your hands on the mattress, and wrinkled the sheets thanks to the sensual pumping of Jihyo's head on your cock. She made sure to make it nice and slow for you, knowing that you wouldn't like something quick and messy right away. You were grateful that she made that decision, because you felt like you were in heaven as her lips went up and down, leaving a slippery and shiny trail.

You leaned back, turned your head to the left and finally found yourself facing Dubu, she looked you in the eye, with flushed cheeks and parted lips, she wanted to say something just like you, but in the end your first impulse was the same, to unite in a kiss that you had been anticipating for months. It may not have been in the right or more romantic circumstances, but you did feel butterflies in your stomach while your lips danced and collided with each other.

"Mission accomplished," Jihyo said, pulling you out of her mouth, you completely ignored her, and she just went back to her business. She sucked on your cock for a few more seconds until she pulled you out of her mouth again, you felt her hands remove from your thighs, and the next thing you felt was your cock being surrounded by soft flesh. You pulled away from the kiss just to see what it was about, only to find Jihyo's pair of big tits sandwiching your cock right in the middle.

"Oh fuck..." you gasped, watching as Jihyo grabbed her tits to press them around your shaft.

"Dubu, would you help me?" Jihyo asked looking at her, "I think it's still a little dry," Dahyun didn't hesitate for a second before kneeling next to you on the mattress, leaning forward being careful not to fall, and spitting out all the accumulated saliva of your kiss between your cock and Jihyo's tits.

Jihyo made sure that her tits were well lubricated as well, using her own saliva apart from Dubu's to make it more slippery. Having made sure that both your cock and her tits were salivated enough, she pressed them firmly and began to move her chest up and down slowly. You moaned out loud, feeling the soft slide of your cock between her incredibly soft tits.

"Balto... touch me please," Dahyun moaned from next to you, you turned to face her, and once again you kissed, but this time your hands went to her pair of modest mounds, slowly massaging them before taking your hands all over her statuesque body, your fingers traversing every possible curve, and finally ending up on the hem of her panties, which you pulled forward a little just to reveal more of her milky buttocks.

Jihyo had started to move her chest faster, letting you use her tits as a personal cocksleeve. She made sure that all of your cock went in and out, so that when she hit your pelvis with her tits, the tip of your shaft would brush against her tongue. It was the first time you received a titjob, and definitely between that, and Dubu's soft skin under your fingers while you kissed, you weren't going to last long.

The constant, quick pumping of Jihyo's tits around your cock didn't stop until at least a minute later, when without full warning, you moaned against Dubu's lips and suddenly exploded.

"Oh!" Jihyo exclaimed, moving her chest slower than her as you unloaded thick strips of cum against her tongue and between her tits. You parted from Dahyun's lips, and you both watched as Jihyo's chin and tits were painted with your thick liquid, "Fuck honey... do you like my tits that much?" Jihyo asked with a mischievous tone, wiping her chin with two of her fingers to put them in her mouth.

"Y-yes… I love them," you gasped, your cock still throbbing and leaking precum as she unwrapped her tits from around it.

"I noticed," she blew you a kiss, "Dubu, do you want to clean me up?" Jihyo raised an eyebrow.

"I…" Dahyun licked her lips, she looked at you, and then at Jihyo's tits, "yeah, I'd love to."

Dubu got off the bed and knelt down next to Jihyo, who turned to Dubu, and she leaned forward to hold her breasts in the outline of her hands, bring her lips closer, and stick out her tongue to start collecting all the cum from Jihyo's tits. You stared at the scene, Dubu licking your cum, and at the same time eating Jihyo's tits, who let out little moans every time your best friend's tongue touched one of her nipples.

Once Jihyo's tits were clean, Dahyun looked at you and settled down facing you to grab your cock with one hand, look into your eyes for a few long seconds, and finally begin to clean it with her tongue as well, adding little kisses all over it. your shaft.

"You love your best friend's cock, don't you dear?" Jihyo asked, running through Dahyun's hair between her fingers, "I bet you've thought about fucking him more than once..."

"He's so nice and attentive to me, he's the cutest guy ever," Dubu murmured, placing one last kiss on the tip of your cock, "I've been wanting to suck his dick for months now."

"Dubu..." you gasped, somewhat surprised at her small confession, and feeling fucking stupid for never expressing your feelings to her.

"You can do it later, as many times as you want, but right now I want to jump on that cock," Jihyo said, standing up.

"But..." Dubu said.

"You'll have your turn later darling, consider it the small price for getting you together."

"Dahyunie, sit on my face," you said, and she and Jihyo both turned to look at you in surprise.

"Oh... is that really what you want?" Dahyun asked with her cheeks turning red again.

"Don't ask, just come and do it," you gasped, and then Dubu stood up to climb back on the bed.

Jihyo turned around and bent her knees, her ass now hovering just inches above your cock. She spat into her hand, slipping it between her thighs to cup your cock with one hand and rubbing the tip against her wet slit a few times before lining it up, holding it still and slowly lowering her hips as your shaft worked its way inches further between her fleshy, silky folds.

"Shit baby, that fucking cock is stretching me so fucking good!" Jihyo moaned, looking over her shoulder at you as your dick was engulfed in her pussy, and a few seconds later, she rested her ass against your pelvis. You moaned together, feeling absolutely every inch of your shaft inside her wet cunt, the only things visible were Jihyo's round buttocks and her folds wrapped around your base.

"I'm sorry you won't get to see that ass bouncing, darling, but you just made me a promise," Dubu said behind you, grabbing your shoulders and gently pulling you back until you were lying on your back on the mattress, while Jihyo began to move her ass very slowly up and down, your cock sliding smoothly in and out.

Dahyun stood next to you and quickly pulled her panties down, giving you a bottom view of her pretty pink pussy. She got on top of you, her feet on either side of your arms then kneeling down and pressing her big tight ass against your chest. She leaned back, until her thighs were on either side of your head, and she arched forward to gently lower her hips so that her pussy brushed against your lips.

You took your first lick of her slit, a slow one at first, and then you began to move your tongue slowly along her cunt. You raised her hands to grab her waist and make her lower her hips completely, so that she suffocated you with her pussy, that made your whole mouth now involved. You weren't exactly an expert at what you were doing, but you learned pretty quickly thanks to the sounds Dahyun made to tell you that you were hitting the right spot.

Meanwhile, Jihyo had grabbed onto your knees and started to slam her ass harder and harder against your pelvis. Her moans were considerably louder than Dahyun's, you weren't surprised, after all those lungs must be able to hold a lot of air.

"That's it honey, eat that little pussy while I jump on this big juicy cock," Jihyo moaned, moving her ass in such a way that with each jump only the tip of your cock was inside her, "Fuck fuck fuck!"

Jihyo had already gotten to the point where the pounding of her ass against your pelvis was pretty loud, but feeling like she was on the verge of tearing you in half with each crash had you moaning against Dahyun's pussy, who was now moaning almost as loud as Jihyo, while you eat her out with all the dedication and effort you could. Your hands went from being on her wide hips to being directly on her buttocks, squeezing and spreading them to make your work easier, and Dubu responded to the attacks of your tongue on her pussy with hip movements that caused her slit to rub even with your nose.

"Fuck Balto... you do it so... oh fuck!" Dubu moaned, straightening her back to put even more weight on your head, which meant less oxygen to breathe, "so fucking good!" she continued to grind her hips, but this time leaned back slightly so she could hold onto your hair tightly as she did so.

You didn't know exactly what you were supposed to be doing, but it's not like you could focus much on doing anything else either. Jihyo was completely destroying you, she was jumping on your cock like her life depended on it, and you were thankful that you weren't close to cum yet, otherwise you would have been forced to focus on only one thing at a time.

Fortunately for you, Dubu's climax was not long in coming. She pressed her thighs tightly around your head, that was the first sign, and then stopped moving and moaning, as you hit a single spot on her pussy with your tongue that you knew was driving her crazy. Seconds later, Dahyun finally released her orgasm with a loud moan straight to the ceiling, and resumed grinding her pussy against your mouth as her spasms made her body shake every second. As her orgasm ceased she fell forward, pressing her tits against your abdomen with a first person view of Jihyo impaling herself completely on your cock over and over again.

"I'm going to cum, fuck!" Jihyo screeched, almost digging her nails into your thighs as her ass wildly bounced on you, "I'm going to cum all over your big cock honey!" you just closed your eyes, counting sheep in your mind so you don't cum with her.

It only took a few more slams of her ass against your pelvis for Jihyo to land one last downward thrust and her entire body began to shake from her intense orgasm. Good thing they were drunk and singing outside, otherwise, everyone would have found out what was going on in there thanks to Jihyo's moans (more like screams). She didn't seem to care that her body was in the grip of the strong spasms that shook her, and she kept moving her ass up and down not as fast, but just as hard. Her pussy was constantly clenching around your cock, and it really took a lot of concentration not to succumb to the incredible sensation and cum.

"I want... I want his cock inside me, please, I beg," Dubu implored Jihyo as Jihyo continued to move slowly on your cock. Jihyo turned to see her, finding her just centimeters from her ass, and she smiled mischievously.

"I know, sweetheart, the price is already paid," Jihyo pulled you out of her and stood up to climb on the bed and fall face down on one of her pillows. Dubu, also a bit weak from her recent orgasm, got off of you and knelt to the side to look at you.

"Go lie down on the pillow, I'm going to ride you, honey," Dubu told you, and then leaned over to give you a little kiss on the forehead.

You propped yourself up on your elbows and climbed all the way up on the bed, crawling back until you lay on the pillow next to Jihyo's head, who looked at you and winked before raising her head, waiting to see what you were about to do.

Dubu joined you, climbing on your lap and sitting against the back of your cock, causing it to rub against her wet slit. She took the yellow headband that was still on her head and threw it to the ground, letting loose her silky and shiny black hair, you looked into her eyes, and blushed at how incredibly beautiful she looked on your lap.

"Dahyunie... I like you, a lot," you blurted out almost automatically, without thinking about it and without holding back. Dubu blushed too, but she couldn't help but smile.

"I like you too, silly," she replied, brushing your cheek with her thumb, "but I hate you for waiting until now to tell me."

"S-sorry..." you made a sad face, looking up at the ceiling.

"You're welcome," Jihyo said from beside you.

"Shut up, unnie," Dubu said, then flopped forward and cupped your face with both hands, "And you have nothing to apologize for, you'll repay me by making me cum soooo hard," Dahyun raised both eyebrows mischievously to stand upright again.

Dahyun had to put one foot against the mattress to get a grip on your cock, rubbing it up and down a couple of times, aligning it with her pussy before putting her knee back on the mattress and starting to lower her hips slowly. She closed her eyes, and bit her lip as she took a deep breath. Her pussy was considerably tighter than Jihyo's, and your cock couldn't get much past the tip.

"Wait, let me help," Dubu lifted her hips, and Jihyo spat on her hand to grab your cock, stroke on it very well, and leave it well lubed up for Dahyun's pussy.

Your "best friend" pressed down again, and this time your cock slid slowly and smoothly deep into Dahyun's tight pussy. She rested both hands on your chest, opening her eyes and looking down to see you with her mouth parted between rapid gasps.

"It's so fucking big, what the fuck," she moaned, leaning forward slightly to begin to slowly move her hips up and down, not enough to bring you pleasure, but enough to make you enjoy all the sensations.

"Yes it is, honey… but you can take it all," Jihyo said quietly, lying on her side to lift one leg up and begin rubbing her pussy with two of her salivated fingers.

Dahyun clung to your shoulders tightly, and when she felt that her pussy no longer presented any resistance to your cock, she began to move her hips in a constant and sensual rhythm. You moaned in unison, placing your hands on her waist as she made long, deep movements with her ass, and she showed no intention of moving much faster than that. She didn't just want to fuck you to get her own orgasm, but so that you both could enjoy your first time to the fullest.

Jihyo also began to moan quietly next to you, the woman kept rubbing her pussy slowly, following your rhythm at all times. She didn't say anything else, she had understood that this moment was only yours, and that it would be quite anticlimactic for you if she was talking dirty to you.

Your hands ran all over Dahyun's body, starting with her thighs, then her hips, and then her incredibly sexy back to caress it with your hands. Her skin was soft and pale like cotton, and you knew that after that night you would become completely addicted to just feeling it against your fingers. Your hands went from her back to her ass in one swift movement, squeezing and massaging her round buttocks as she moved her hips at a slightly faster pace, but retaining the sensuality and delicacy.

Dahyun groaned out loud, and flopped forward with her hands on your neck. Her face, flushed and distorted by her pleasure, was only inches from yours, and you, following the natural impulse of your body, wrapped your arms around her body and snuggled her against you to kiss her. She moaned against your lips and you against theirs, but even so your kiss was loaded with feelings that you had been repressing for a long time, love, gratitude, desire and affection, all of that was combined in a beautiful dance between your lips.

"I love you, darling…" she gasped against your lips, "just the way you are, and I don't want you to ever change that," her words preceded another moan against your lips. You were speechless, but you were staring into her eyes as she moved her hips up and down in the perfect rhythm to start slowly bringing you to your climax.

"I... love you too, Dubu," you managed to say, affectionately rubbing her back, "I would never stop being the boy you're in love with."

"God..." Dahyun whimpered, kissing you again as she grabbed your face and moved her hips a little faster, slightly letting go of her delicacy.

In the midst of that whirlwind of love and passion, the only audible moans were those of Jihyo next to you while she quickly rubbed her pussy, since yours were all silenced by your own lips. All of Dahyun's hair was down in your face, but it was the last thing you cared about right now.

"I'm going to cum Dubu..." you gasped in the middle of the kiss, "where..."

"Inside, darling, cum inside… cum with me," she moaned, grabbing her thighs on either side of your torso as she cast aside all traces of sensuality and finesse and began bouncing quickly on your cock.

"Are you sure?" you made sure, clearly wanting to.

"Just do it, I want to feel it, fuck!" She clung to your shoulders again, this time slightly digging her nails into them as she concentrated on moving her hips.

You let yourself be carried away for the moment, and you just closed your eyes as you held on to her with your arms, the scent of her hair, her moans, her pretty face of pleasure, her incredibly tight pussy, everything made the perfect combination to take you to your second orgasm of the night, both yours and hers. You exploded inside her with a loud moan, which seconds later was imitated by Dahyun but at least two decibels above. She returned to the sensual movements as her body succumbed to the intense spasms. Meanwhile, your cock was shooting thick strips of cum into her pretty pink pussy, which was being completely filled by every second you spent inside her. Dubu dropped her head next to yours in the middle of whimpers, while she cupped the side of your face with one of her hands and with the other crumpled the pillowcase.

Jihyo had kept rubbing her pussy all this time, and it wasn't until your orgasm passed that hers took center stage. Her body shook uncontrollably all over the side of her mattress amid screams of pleasure, a small squirt came out of her pussy, which stained her own thigh and part of the sheet under her. She continued rubbing and rubbing, until the liquid that was now coming out in little streams stopped coming out.

Knowing what had just happened between the two of you, Jihyo didn't bother to regain her energy before getting behind Dahyun's ass and making you pull your cock out of her, letting your cum run free out of her pussy and straight down in your shaft again. She grabbed your dick at the base and began to clean your cum with her tongue until it was clean again, then she concentrated on Dubu, firmly grabbing her ass and immersing her mouth in her pussy, eating and cleaning any trace of your cum in between her sensitive folds.

After leaving you clean, Jihyo lay down next to you again, while you still kept your eyes closed and your arms clinging to your... girlfriend? There was no sound in the bedroom, just gasping from the three of you.

"Well… rest up, there's still a cake to cut out there," Jihyo said, with a small giggle.

You and Dubu ignored her, and just fell asleep.

———————————————————————

Spren Notes:

Well, this story is definitely a bit different than what I usually do with OCs, but I hope you like it! By the way, I broke records for words written in a single day with this. 6k in a single day, lmao.

If you, dear reader, are interested in buying me a commission, do not hesitate to go through my inbox, I’ll be delighted!

#smut #kpop smut #smut fanfic #twice smut #jihyo smut #dahyun smut #smut one shot #male reader smut #male reader insert #x male smut

1K notes · View notes

supernovafics · 2 months

Text

𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇�� 𝐌𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐋𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓

"i'll be there for you" universe masterlist

pairing: bestfriend!roommate!steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 5.7k words

warnings: explicit language, so so much angst (but with a happy ending), some fluff at the end, just a whole lot of emotions in this one!

summary: in which during steve’s birthday ski trip to colorado everything he’s been keeping from you finally comes out

author's note: i had the idea for this specific one probably since the beginning of this series and now here we finally are many many months later<333 also this one is very much that one episode of friends coded where they were supposed to go skiing but never did. not once do i actually write them skiing in this but i promise the thought was there lol

general note: everything in this universe/series can be read as standalone oneshots but to understand the full “lore” it would prob be best to read the other stuff too<333

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Winter 1986

When you first suggested the idea a month before Steve’s birthday, Robin and Eddie thought that a seventeen hour car ride to Denver sounded like hell. But, it luckily didn’t take a lot to convince them to agree and come along for the weekend trip. Because aside from gas and food, it was essentially a free trip to Colorado.

You’d all be staying at the cabin that your parents and Steve’s went to during Thanksgiving; which, after enduring an hour-long phone call with your mom when they came back from the trip because she wanted to tell you all about it, you learned that the place was really nice and they all were happy about buying it as a timeshare before even seeing it in person. She also told you that if you and Steve and some friends ever wanted to use it, you could, and you only responded with a half-hearted, “Sure, that would be nice,” because you just wanted to get off the phone, but months later you thought it could be a cool thing to do for Steve’s birthday.

You mentioned it to him first and he liked it, saying that it sounded fun and it would be hilarious to see you finally attempt skiing. You only rolled your eyes and playfully hit his arm in response, and then you mentioned the trip idea that night to Robin and Eddie when you all were on your way to the movies. And once they agreed, the plan became set.

It was barely four in the morning on Friday, the day before Steve’s birthday, when you all bunched into your car instead of Eddie’s van because he didn’t think it would be able to sustain that long of a road trip. Which, after spending many, many times in the old van, you completely agreed with him.

The drive surprisingly wasn’t that unbearable— Steve drove a lot of the time because he didn’t really mind it, you forced everyone to play dumb car ride games to help pass the time, Eddie controlled the music for most of the drive, and Robin had to go to the bathroom every hour until she fell asleep for most of the afternoon and evening. When the four of you made it to Denver around ten, you simply picked your rooms and then went to bed because of how tired you all were.

You woke up at some random time in the middle of the night to use the bathroom, and the loud creakiness of the wooden floors annoyed you and washed away most of your tiredness. When you noticed that it was a little after twelve, you went to Steve’s room, which was right across from yours. You gave his door a quick knock before walking in, the bright moonlight shining through the open curtain of one of the windows did enough to let you see him in bed. He was fast asleep, buried beneath the covers and softly snoring.

You lightly tapped his back to stir him awake and pulled the blanket off of his head a bit, which revealed his messy bedhead that you forced yourself not to laugh at.

Steve turned his head and looked up at you for a brief moment before letting out a soft, “Hey.”

You smiled at him. “Happy birthday, Stevie.”

You could tell that he was too tired to playfully roll his eyes at the nickname you had for him that usually only came out during moments like these or whenever you were drunk.

“Thanks,” He said instead, smiling back at you and letting out a small yawn.

You walked around to the other side of the bed and got in, pulling the blanket over your legs. “Also, I’m sorry, but I’m an idiot and forgot to pack your present, so you’ll get it when we get back home Monday night.”

He turned on his side to face you and rubbed his eyes. “Can I know what it is?”

You nodded. “It’s that denim jacket that you saw a few weeks ago at our usual thrift store. I convinced you not to buy it because I wanted to get it for you. I went back and bought it the next day, and I also put some pins on it that I thought you’d like.”

Steve gave you a small tired smile. “Nice, I knew that you actually liked the jacket.”

You laughed a bit. “I was honestly surprised that you didn’t immediately see through my lie.”

Steve didn’t say anything in response to that, and instead, you noticed his eyes slipping shut for a brief moment before he was looking at you in the darkness again. You smiled as you pulled the blanket off of you and got out of the bed.

“Okay, I’m gonna go. I’ll see you in the morning when we all go out for breakfast,” You told him, referring to the diner about ten minutes away that you had passed when you all were driving to the cabin and it looked fairly nice.

“You can stay if you want,” Steve said as he turned and watched you head toward the door, and you shook your head at his words.

“I know it’s only been a couple of hours, but I really like my bed,” You told him. It actually surprised you how easily you had found comfort in the full-sized bed. “So, goodnight and happy birthday again, Steven.”

You noticed his amused smile as he spoke. “No ‘Stevie’ this time around?”

“I wanted to spare you for a second.”

“That’s very considerate of you.”

“You’re welcome, Stevie,” You said with a nod and playful smile before you opened the door.

You closed it behind you and then headed across the hall to the room that was designated as yours for the weekend.

“Wait,” Hearing Steve’s voice at that moment surprised you; you hadn’t heard his door open again or the annoying creak of the floor.

You turned to look at him, dropping your hand from your doorknob, and even in the darkness of the hallway you could tell that he looked much more awake than when you had left him just moments ago.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What’s wrong?”

“I need to tell you something,” He said softly, and those words immediately made your mind travel back to that conversation you two had after playing basketball in the park.

“Is it what you’ve been holding out on talking to me about for the past few weeks?”

He gave you a small nod. “Yeah…”

During that conversation in his car all those weeks ago, he had said that what was going on with him was too hard to explain right then and you decided not to push him further on it because you knew that he’d tell you eventually.

You weren’t entirely sure why you suddenly felt worried about it all and what he was going to say to you in this moment; maybe it was because of the look on his face that was a solid mix between serious and nervous. “Okay. What is it?”

“I love you.”

The breath you let out was a mix between a laugh and sigh of relief because you were completely unfazed by his words. “Jesus, don’t scare me like that again. I love you too, Stevie.”

Was that all he had to tell you? That didn’t entirely make sense to you because it wasn’t like you two hadn’t said those words to each other a million times before. You expected him to laugh and smile along with you, but he only shook his head at first, which made you confused all over again.

“No,” He said, pushing a nervous hand through his messy hair. “I don’t mean it like how we’ve always meant it anymore. I’m… I’m in love with you.”

There were only a handful of times that you could say that your best friend had ever rendered you speechless; it was hard to completely stun you into silence when it came to him. Not much that Steve did could ever truly surprise you or throw you for a complete loop because you felt like you knew him well enough that most of his actions just made sense. The last time it happened was when he suggested that you two get Harold, he had never been a huge pet person so it genuinely surprised you when he was the one to come up with the idea.

And now you had another moment to add to the list; a moment that entirely topped all of the others.

“Oh.” It was the only word that came to your mind at that moment, and it was barely even a word, it was more so a sound. But, it was the only thing you could say. You didn’t understand how it was possible for your mind to be simultaneously empty and running a thousand miles a minute. “Oh.”

You could feel Steve’s eyes on you, but yours were fixed on the ground; your sock-covered feet and the dark wooden floors.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything,” He said, breaking the prevailing silence. And when you still couldn’t find any words to say in response to fill the quiet again, he started rambling. “This entire time, these past few weeks, I’ve been waiting for some sort of “perfect” moment to tell you, but nothing ever felt completely right. And then as you were leaving my room just now I realized that I don’t think that I was actually waiting for it to feel right to tell you— because, honestly, there were a bunch of moments where it did feel “right” enough. I was really just holding back because I was worried about what your reaction would be. And I don’t think there’d ever be a moment where I wasn’t at least a little scared or nervous to say it, so I finally decided to just do it now and tell you. But now, fuck, maybe I shouldn’t have said it.”

“No,” You told him, suddenly somehow finding your voice and finally allowing yourself to meet his eyes. “No, um, honesty is good. You should be, uh— You should be honest about everything. We’re always honest about everything, y’know? It’s good that you said it, I think? Right?”

You were certain that what you were saying didn’t make any sense; your mouth was moving much faster than your brain.

A confused look crossed his face. “Okay? Yeah?”

You dropped your gaze from his and turned around. “I’ll, uh, be right back. I just… I think I just need a second. I don’t know.”

You opened the door to your room and then stepped in, softly closing it behind you and leaving Steve on the other side. You let out a quick breath and leaned back against the door, shutting your eyes in the process, before sliding down it and sitting on the floor. It was cold and you could feel the goosebumps starting to rise on your legs that were only barely covered by your thin pajama shorts. But, the cold was surprisingly soothing, and focusing on that feeling helped clear your mind a bit. Slowly, your thoughts finally started making sense and your brain began moving somewhat normally again.

The sound of the floor creaking on the other side of the door let you know that Steve was sitting down and leaning back against it too. You wanted to say something to him, but it still felt impossible to find any words right then.

“I’m sorry,” You could hear his slightly muffled voice through the door. “I really didn’t want this to fuck things up between us, and now it has. And I’m sorry.”

“Things aren’t fucked up,” was what you immediately thought to say— it was actually the first coherent thought that came to your mind in the past few minutes— but, for some reason, it wouldn’t form on your lips.

Steve’s past words started playing on what seemed like a constant loop in your head.

I’m in love with you. I’m in love with you.

The only way you could view this situation, the only way you would allow yourself to view it, was logically. You weren’t considering your own feelings in this moment— whatever they were; you weren’t sure how you were feeling, and you actually refused to think about it right then.

“It’s not true, though,” You told him, making your voice loud enough so that he could hear you, even though it was hard to speak above a whisper.

“What?”

“It’s not true,” You said again and then let out a small sigh as you leaned your head back against the door. “You’re not in love with me.” The words felt so weird falling from your lips, so foreign. “You can’t be. Whatever you think you’re feeling now, it’ll blow over in a couple days or whatever.”

It was a thousand times easier having this conversation without having to look at him right then. You waited for him to agree with you, to maybe even let out a breath of a laugh as he said that you were right. Everything that happened in the past five minutes could become a moment that you two laughed at in a couple of weeks if he simply took it all back.

Remember when you told me that you were in love with me on your birthday? Yeah, that was kinda insane, right?

You actually couldn’t imagine playfully joking about this anytime soon. It would probably be the one thing between you two that would feel weird and awkward for a while— even more awkward than the moment when he accidentally walked in on you naked, and you accidentally did the same thing to him a few months later. But, just like those now unspoken of moments, this would blow over eventually too.

“No, it is true,” Steve said instead and the absolute certainty in his tone surprised you a bit. “That morning after you picked me up from the bar, it just hit me like a ton of bricks, and it hasn’t changed since. That day at the park when we played basketball, I was jealous that you liked that guy and wanted to get his number, and that’s why I was being kind of an asshole.” He let out a small sigh. “And I did think that maybe all of this would go away and ‘blow over’ too, but it hasn’t. Honestly, it’s only felt more real.”

You were quiet for a second, not knowing exactly how to respond to that at first. He was being a thousand percent honest— at this point, you knew that— but it was still just so hard to accept it all, to fully let yourself believe it. The thought of him wanting something more changed everything that you had been so sure of for the past almost ten years of friendship.

“Okay, very dumb question incoming, but you remember us meeting, right?”

“Yeah, of course,” Steve’s answer was immediate. “That cruise when we were ten. Our parents bumping into each other and meeting and then kind of forcing us to be friends, but we were both glad to hang out with each other instead of them, anyway.”

You nodded at his words even though he couldn’t see you, and felt yourself smiling as you started talking.

“That trip was our first memory together, and it’s definitely still one of my favorites. We went to the arcade onboard like every day— I beat you a bunch of times at air hockey, but you were way too good at pretty much everything else. And we snuck into that stupid “club” meant for teens almost every night and never got caught, but we were still nervous about getting caught the entire time we were there. From the beginning, it was so clear what we were to each other, y’know? I think by the end of that trip I knew that you were my best friend. I knew that I wanted you in my life forever,” You said, slightly rambling and mindlessly starting to play with the hem of the t-shirt you were wearing, picking at one of the loose strings. “Basically, I guess what I’m trying to say is, the lines were clearly drawn pretty much the first day we met, and they’re not supposed to change.”

Steve didn’t say anything, and it was then that you wished that you two were standing, or sitting, right in front of each other because you wanted to see his face and attempt to gauge whatever was going on in his mind right then.

“But, it did change,” Was his response after what felt like an hour’s worth of silence, and somehow it was hearing him say those four simple words that made you finally accept everything he had said in the past ten minutes. You finally found yourself believing him entirely.

“At least, for me, it has,” He added, and there was something about the softness of the statement that managed to break you. A wave of tears hit you so abruptly that you didn’t even get a chance to process why it was happening before your vision became blurry.

You sniffled and then sighed, haphazardly pushing away some of the stray tears that managed to slip out and attempting to swallow the apple-sized lump that now sat heavy in your throat. “Shit. I’m sorry. I don’t even know why I’m crying right now.”

“Can I come in?”

Instead of verbally answering Steve’s question, you stood up and opened the door and he didn’t waste a second to pull you into his arms; he had seen you cry enough times to know exactly what to do at this moment. You wrapped your arms around him and buried your face in his chest, letting your tears soak his dark gray t-shirt, unable to hold them back anymore.

“It’s okay. I promise it’s okay,” He said softly as one of his hands lightly stroked your back. “Let’s just forget this ever happened; forget I said anything. I’ll get over all of it. We can just add this to the list of things to take to the grave, okay?”

He took your crying as a rejection, your way of saying that you didn’t feel the same way without actually saying it to him.

You didn’t see it that way, though. You honestly didn’t know how you felt— during this entire conversation, you hadn’t considered yourself. It just felt like second nature to immediately try and protect what you two had and not let it change in the slightest.

When you pulled back and looked up at him, you didn’t really know what you were expecting to see, but he didn’t look sad or upset, he just looked concerned about you.

You weren’t even entirely sure why you were crying at that moment. Everything that had happened in the past barely ten minutes just felt so overwhelming and confusing.

You sniffled again and then found yourself nodding at Steve’s previous words. “Okay.”

“Okay,” He gave you a small nod back.

You glanced down at his t-shirt, quickly taking notice of the wet spot on it even in the near complete darkness you two were in. “Sorry about your shirt.”

He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter.”

You hugged him again, pushing up on your toes and letting your arms circle around his neck. He didn’t hesitate to hug you back and that only made you hold him tighter.

“Can you stay in here, please?” You asked, voice quiet but Steve still heard you.

You felt his nod in response and then moments later you and him were in your bed, not even bothering to get under the covers, and instead simply settling in a position that was completely familiar; your back against his chest, one of his arms wrapped around you and keeping you close, and heads against the pillow. You took hold of his hand and gave it a light squeeze, not completely knowing what you meant with the gesture.

Neither of you said anything. Not for one minute, and then not for five according to the clock you took notice of on the nightstand.

There was a lot more that you knew the two of you needed to talk about. What just happened couldn’t be something that was forgotten and simply “taken to the grave.” It didn’t feel right to do that.

However, you were falling asleep with your hand still intertwined with Steve’s before you could even try and think of something to say to him.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

When your eyes opened again, the first thing that you noticed was that it was still dark outside. You glanced at the nightstand, taking a look at the clock, and it surprised you to see that only two hours had passed; it felt like so much longer.

You could feel Steve’s steady breathing behind you and that let you know that he was still sleeping. You shifted around to face him, surprisingly not waking him in the process. Your eyes were adjusted to the darkness that surrounded you both so you could see him pretty clearly; eyes shut and lips slightly parted and hair still a messy pile of bedhead.

For the first time probably ever you became so acutely aware of the close proximity between you two. You were only a few breaths away from each other, his arm was still around your waist, and your legs became a tangle of limbs. None of this had ever fazed you before, but it felt a little different now.

But, it did change.

It actually physically hurt realizing how right Steve was, and you had to close your eyes as you let the words swallow you whole for a second.

There was still a part of you that wanted to not think about everything Steve had said— the I love you that meant so much more now— but it felt impossible to do that. It completely took over your thoughts; consumed them, really.

You thought about how it was damn near effortless to picture something more with him; a something more that now felt so obvious, and in a way, so inevitable. You could see it all so easily.

You thought about past moments that had been shoved away for the sake of protecting your friendship. Late night drunk and high conversations shared between you and Steve that were always supposed to be long forgotten. Moments where the line between friendship and something more was playfully toed but never fully crossed, moments where you two would almost talk about actually crossing that line, moments where the smallest part of you would think about it.

Those moments, and the feelings that came along with them, were never supposed to be remembered when morning rolled around, but you always remembered them. And instead of doing anything about it or entertaining those thoughts in the slightest, you simply buried it all down and pushed it away. You placed all of those feelings in a box deep down inside of you that was never supposed to be opened.

However, now with Steve’s burst of honesty, it was opened; and you honestly didn’t feel the urge to bury it and push it back down anymore. Instead, you let the feelings that would lead to completely uncharted territories between you and him wrap around you like a warm blanket and find a home in your heart.

You opened your eyes again and let your gaze fall on Steve. You slowly pushed one of your hands through his hair, knowing that that would gradually stir him awake.

His eyes opened and he only blinked at you for a second before mumbling out a quiet, “Hi.”

“Hi,” You said, matching his soft tone.

He gave you a curious look, and you knew that he was probably wondering why you woke him up. You simply stayed quiet for a moment, pulling your hand out of his hair and letting it find his cheek instead.

“I love you too,” You whispered, not breaking his gaze. “I’m in love with you too.”

Just for a second, there was a part of him that looked surprised hearing your words, but then he was smiling at you, the softest and sweetest smile that actually made your heart ache.

Before he could say anything, you kept going. “And I’m sorry. I wish this could’ve been my reaction from the moment you said it first. I wish it would’ve hit me the second you said it. Books and movies make this thing look so much easier, but it’s actually really fucking hard.”

“I know. That’s why it took me almost a month to tell you.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t see it.”

“I’ve become a really good actor. Might make it my career now,” Steve joked and you laughed at that.

He kept smiling at you and you smiled back. A comfortable silence took over as the two of you simply looked at each other, admiring one another in the darkness that you’d still be surrounded by for the next few hours. Your eyes flickered down to his lips for a brief moment and then met his gaze again. Out of all of the things that could’ve been said or done right then, it only felt right to close that last breath of distance between you two and finally do one of the few things that you had never done with one another.

You let your nose brush against his for a brief second before you tilted your head upward a little and let your lips meet his.

The kiss was chaste at first, Kindergarten-sweet, not much more than just a simple peck. But then Steve was quickly kissing you back, his hand squeezing your waist and pulling you impossibly closer to him, and your hand went from cupping his cheek to tangling within the hair at the nape of his neck. He deepened the kiss with a graze of his tongue against your bottom lip, which elicited the softest sound from you, and you were hit with the sudden thought that you never wanted this moment to end. You wanted to savor this first kiss, revel in it, pretend as if nothing else existed except for you and Steve and this moment that you wished you could drag out for minutes, hours, years.

In a way, it was a little confusing how even though this was completely new, it didn’t at all feel like it. Maybe there should’ve been at least a tiny bit of awkwardness laced within this moment, but the soft feel of Steve’s lips against yours felt familiar, like home, like it was something that should’ve happened a thousand years ago. It was so fucking right.

You slowly pulled away when you needed to catch your breath and softly dropped your forehead against his, eyes still shut. “Shit. Fuck.”

Steve let out a breath of a laugh that fanned right against your cheek. “I agree.”

You lifted your head and pressed a quick kiss against his nose before pulling back a bit, meeting his eyes, and giving him a small smile. “Hi.”

“Hi,” He said, smiling back and giving your waist a light squeeze. The warmth radiating from his touch made you wish that his hand was slipping past the hem of your t-shirt and actually touching your skin instead.

A part of you wanted to let out a small happy laugh at how things had so easily shifted. You were finally kissing the guy that you’d known since you were ten and since an irreplaceable friendship was forged on that weeklong cruise trip. Steve was still your best friend, that didn’t feel like it had changed at all, but that didn’t mean that things weren’t different now; better, in so many unexpected ways.

However, it also abruptly became a little scary— the thought of potentially losing everything you had with him if things ended badly.

That thought was why you had pushed all of your feelings away and never acknowledged them in the first place. There would always be that part of you that wanted to protect the friendship you two had.

“Promise,” You held out your pinky for him to take. “Promise that whatever happens, if this doesn’t work out somehow, we will not make it weird or grow distant or leave each other. I can’t lose you in my life. I need you, no matter what.”

He didn’t hesitate to link his pinky with yours as he nodded. “Promise.”

“And we should just keep all of this between us for now, maybe,” You said, the idea coming to you randomly but it made sense in your head; it felt like the logical thing to do. “Just in case.”

“Just in case?”

“Just in case we end up imploding immediately or something, I don’t know.”

You could tell that Steve couldn’t really see that happening— and in a way, neither could you— but at that moment he let himself agree with you, anyway. “Okay.”

Your lips found his again for a second before you shifted around and settled back in the position you two had fallen asleep in. Steve pulled you back against him, arm circling your waist, and you let out a sigh in contentment as he pressed the softest kiss against your neck.

A comforting silence began to linger and you broke it after a few minutes, hoping that Steve hadn't fallen asleep just yet.

“I’m really glad this is happening right now. Like, really, really glad. I love everything about this moment. And I love you. Like, a lot. And, yes, I know exactly how cheesy I sound right now."

His mouth brushed right against your ear and you could practically hear the smile in his voice as he spoke. “Yes, that was very cheesy. I loved it. And I love you too.”

You only grabbed his hand and pressed a soft kiss against it in response.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Okay, dingus, I know that you’re probably gonna hate me for saying this,” Robin started as she set her mug back on the table of the booth the four of you had been sitting in for the past twenty minutes. The cup looked way too close to the edge of the table, so you reached out and moved it over a bit. “But, I really need you to get a picture of you and your smiley face pancake.”

Eddie immediately laughed and nodded. “That’s a great idea.”

You turned and looked at Steve, smiling at him. “Please do it. It would be such a missed opportunity if that didn’t happen right now.”

He only rolled his eyes. “I hate all of you for telling the waitress that it’s my birthday.”

The moment you mentioned it to Carol after she asked the reason why you all were in Denver for the weekend, she smiled and said a “Happy Birthday” to Steve before taking your orders. And then when everything came out, she also handed him a pancake that had a whipped cream smiley face, two cherries for the eyes, and a candle in the middle as the nose.

Robin pulled the Polaroid camera out of her bag and pointed it at Steve. “Okay, hold up the plate and smile, birthday boy. God, I wish we had party hats right now.”

“I’m glad we don’t,” He said with another eye roll but still proceeded to hold up the plate and give her a quick annoyed smile.

When he put the plate back down, you stole one of the cherry eyes and then started on your waffle. The conversation shifted away from Steve and his adorable birthday pancake and went to talking about hitting the slopes in the afternoon. You had been in the middle of mentioning that the drive would only take about thirty minutes when you felt Steve’s hand find yours underneath the table and link it with his. The booth was small and you were already sitting shoulder to shoulder, so the action went completely unnoticed by your friends sitting across from you.

You and Steve had held hands countless times before, but it felt so much more significant in this moment because now the meaning behind it was so different— this was no longer just a friendly handhold. It was hard to fight how much you wanted to immediately smile at the subtle action, but you kept your face straight and managed to finish out your thought.

You fought the sudden urge you had to lean your head against his shoulder or kiss his cheek, and instead grabbed your mug with your free hand and took a sip of your coffee. You tried your hardest to pay attention to the conversation taking place at the table— Robin talking about how she was nervous about skiing for the first time, and Eddie saying that yes she probably would be bad at it. However, all you could really focus on was Steve; his hand intertwined with yours and the warmth radiating from the subtle touch.

You felt equivalent to a lovesick teenager with a crush that actually wasn’t a crush at all because that word wasn’t enough to fully describe how you felt about him. It would be hard keeping this a secret for the time being, and the smallest part of you questioned why you even proposed that idea. But, for the most part, you still agreed with your “just in case” reasoning. If exploring this uncharted territory with Steve somehow ended up becoming the worst idea ever, it would be good that you didn’t tell anyone about it because you two could go back to being just friends without anyone else in the group knowing what happened.

You hated thinking like that— that it all would or could end, that one or both of you would come to realize that this actually wasn’t a good idea. But, it felt too hard not to think about it for at least a split second.

Steve gave your hand a light squeeze, it felt both comforting and questioning; maybe he could tell you were getting so deep into your head about something.

“Feel free to steal the other cherry,” He told you. Your eyes met his and he gave you a look that said everything he really wanted to tell you at that moment but couldn’t, and you let your nonsensical worries wash away for the time being with that reassuring look.

You placed your coffee mug down and then grabbed the second cherry from his plate, smiling at him as you did so. “Thanks.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

let me know ur thoughts<333

(requests are open for stuff you wanna see in the universe/series!🫶🏾)

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