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andypantsx3 · 1 month

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𝑤𝘩𝑒𝑛 𝑖 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑒 : 𝑡𝑜𝑑𝑜𝑟𝑜𝑘𝑖 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑡𝑜 𝑥 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 : 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑖𝑣

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: In order to placate your anxious mother, you agree to return to your hometown to participate in a mating run—knowing full well that betas rarely get chased, never mind betas nearly old enough to age out of the practice. You’ve decided to treat it like a vacation, a chance to visit with your childhood friends, the mating run itself a nice relaxing hike.All in all it’s a solid plan—until alpha Todoroki Shouto, your best friend's little brother,steps in and blows it all to pieces. 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡: omegaverse, no quirks au, alpha!shouto, beta!reader, mating rituals, age gap, best friend’s little brother, older reader, afab reader, some class differences, aged up characters, semi-public sex, slight small town romance vibes, background implied dabihawks for some reason, smut, knotting, 18+; mdni! 𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑔𝑡ℎ: 7.6k | chapter 4 of 4

Then

“Shouto duty,” was the first thing Touya grumbled as he emerged from his house.

A little shadow with red and white hair peered out from behind him, big eyes staring up at you. Shouto was dressed in a periwinkle t-shirt and khaki shorts in the late spring heat, and he was nearly vibrating with excitement. You reached out reflexively to pat that fluff of hair, and Shouto seemed to lean into your touch like a cat, probably starved of affection from his fussy older brother.

“My lucky day,” you said, grinning at the way it made Touya roll his eyes.

Shouto nearly launched himself off the steps, looking quietly thrilled to be tagging along. He shoved himself in between you and Touya as you walked, as if unable to bear Touya’s proximity to you, making Touya bark out an annoyed, “Oi, watch it.”

Shouto ignored him, turning to you. “Y/N, I have something to tell you.”

You looked down at him curiously. “What?”

“I lost a tooth,” he said, staring up at you seriously. You laughed, knowing most kids would have smiled to show off their tooth gap, but Shouto had always been a little bit more withdrawn, though he was fairly open around you.

“When?” you asked, ignoring Touya’s scoff. “Did the tooth fairy come?”

Shouto nodded. “Last night. I am adding the money to my inheritance for you.”

That made you laugh again, and you bumped his shoulder. “You’re a good kid, Shouto. I think you should buy yourself something with it though. Especially in this weather—it’s good popsicle weather.”

Shouto looked like he was seriously considering this. “Do you like popsicles?”

You nodded. “Definitely.”

He seemed to pocket that information, and you hid a fond smile. That kid was too sweet for his own good, when it came to you. You wondered when his little case of older-brother’s-friend worship would end. You hoped not for another few years, at least.

“Fucking finally,” Touya said when he caught sight of Rumi and Keigo at the end of his neighborhood, his booted steps growing faster, as if eager to get away from the two of you.

You didn’t mind—Shouto was easy company.

“Oi!” Keigo called out to you, waving a skinny arm. You accompanied Shouto over, watching with a little bit of self-satisfaction when Shouto ducked a hair ruffle from Rumi, the look on his face almost reminiscent of Touya.

You were still his favorite, it seemed.

The usual round of arguments commenced about what to play now that all of you were united, Touya snottily vetoing everyone’s suggestions—except, notably, Keigo’s. Eventually you settled on hide and seek, something Shouto could participate in too, since it didn’t involve convoluted rules, and established a set distance you could go.

Finally Shouto was dubbed the first seeker, and the rest of you took off into the surrounding neighborhood.

You immediately beelined for the sprawling oak at the edge of the neighborhood, its thick, leafy branches the perfect place to conceal yourself. Touya, Keigo, and Rumi had long caught on to the fact that you were almost always to be found up a tree, but Shouto hadn’t played this game with you before.

Thirty seconds and one bark-scraped palm later had you settled in your hiding place, just as you caught Shouto’s shout from afar, “Ready or not, here I come!”

You quieted your breath, listening for the sound of his approach. This late in spring, the cicadas were already roaring. The leaves rustled around you in the breeze and you could hear some other band of kids shrieking and laughing, far in the distance.

It was nearing ten minutes on by the time you heard the thump of Shouto’s sneakers approaching, and you could just make out that distinct mop of bright hair through the branches. He poked around behind bushes, peering at eye level, but didn’t seem to think to look up for you. You watched him hunt through the surrounding area, then dash off when you heard a distinctly Keigo squawk not too far away.

You were nearly asleep on your tree branch when you heard his return, and you sat up quietly to watch him again. You were impressed that he seemed to know you were somewhere nearby.

As you watched him rifle around, you wondered if you should drop a hint, just because he’d been so sweet to you earlier. He’d been so adorable insisting he’d save you his tooth money.

You deliberately rustled a branch, leaning on it so it made a loud creak.

Immediately, Shouto’s head snapped up. Two mismatched eyes narrowed in on you, and his face seemed to brighten when he saw you. A small smile quirked the corner of his mouth.

“Caught you,” he called up to you.

You stuck a leg down tauntingly. “Not yet.”

Something passed over Shouto’s face, and his gaze seemed to sharpen. “I have, too.” You could almost hear a foot stamp in his voice.

You grinned. “Not until I get down.”

A determined look settled across Shouto’s features, and he prowled over to the tree. You watched him jump for a lower branch, catching it securely before hefting himself up. His arms were skinny, but his movements were sure, intent. In no time at all you were helping lever him onto your own branch, pulling him up alongside you.

“I caught you,” Shouto repeated, settling a proprietary hand on your arm. His hand was warm, and his fingers caught your wrist tightly.

You smiled. “I let you catch me by making all that noise, you mean.”

A tiny frown pulled at Shouto’s mouth. “I knew you were around here,” he said, something almost like a pout in his voice.

You laughed. “I did notice you came back. Those are some good tracking skills—although don’t forget to look up. I’m usually always up a tree, when it comes to hide and seek, and Touya and the others I think have caught on too. They’re probably up their own trees somewhere.”

“I do not care about finding them,” Shouto said. His straightforward tone startled a laugh out of you.

You settled back against the branch, Shouto still gripping your arm firmly. “Should we let them wait, then?” you asked, grinning. “I bet Rumi will come out on her own pretty soon, she’s so impatient.”

Shouto nodded. “I will stay here with you.”

The sincerity of the statement warmed you, the way Shouto’s serious little proclamations always did. He was too sweet for this earth. “Then shall we discuss which popsicle you’re going to get later? I have some recommendations.”

Shouto nodded seriously, and you launched into your nonsense, pleased. The leaves rustled around you, the breeze cool and pleasant against your skin. It felt like time stretched out around you, thick like taffy, slow and lazy and easy in the late spring breeze.

You thought absently that wished you could have a million more moments, Shouto the easiest company beside you, just like this.

Now

The morning of the run dawned warm and dry, sunny with a light breeze.

It was perfect hiking weather, and that was the only thing that kept you in good spirits. You tried not to think about Shouto—about how he was going after someone today, how you’d possibly seen him for the last time before he did. He’d said he’d find your tree, but there was really no guarantee his omega was going to run in the same direction as you.

You ate breakfast on the couch with your mother, listening to her excitedly chatter about your prospects today. You hammed it up a little bit, pretending you had any interest in being chased by an alpha, so that you could milk it later and avoid promises to commit to next year’s run. You hoped it would be enough of a deterrent for her—every year you grew older without a mate, she seemed more desperate to find you one.

You repacked your bags, readying yourself to board your train back to the city tomorrow, feeling mournful. Then you spent the rest of the morning finishing up the small things your mother had let go while you were gone, YouTubing your way through a door knob repair, and some weather stripping replacements. You lifted her air-conditioning into the window, swearing and sweating the whole time and wishing you had even a fraction of Shouto’s easy alpha strength.

After everything was finished, you packed up for the run, placing all your snacks and the sandwich Shouto had helped assemble into a small backpack, stuffing in a water and a book after. Then you scrounged around in your clean laundry for some hiking clothes, settling on leggings and a tee-shirt, no reason to try to impress anyone.

It was late morning by the time you ducked out of your house and started the trek to the preserve on the edge of town. Throngs of people were already gathered when you got there, alphas and omegas alike crowding the entrance. An overwhelming mixture of scents washed over you, the sweetness and florals of the omegas, the tang and spice of the alphas, even the small muted underwash of a few betas.

The overstimulation was nostalgic, and brought to mind your first few runs—the anticipatory hope you felt, the determination not to get caught for some one-time mating with an alpha who wouldn’t prove to be your life mate. It had been years, and you knew the outcome already this time, but some small thrill of anticipation thrummed in your veins regardless.

You kept to the edge of the crowd, sprawling out on the grass until the organizers called for the omegas and running betas to come forward to their starting mark. The alphas and remaining betas would be called to the mark a half hour later, to follow their intended targets into the preserve.

Then the whistle was being blown, and the crowd of omegas around you surged into the forest.

The first hundred meters of the preserve were a tangle of wild trees and overgrowth—omegas typically stayed on the trails until the forest opened up, several paths intersecting and leading away into hills and towards a pond, with the last one stretching towards the coast. This was your usual route and you followed it until the trees thinned out, then stepped off the path to tromp through the woods in the direction of the coastline.

You kept a brisk pace, wanting to get as far in as you could before the alphas were let in. Eventually the spruces and firs gave way to mostly coastal scrub pines amid tall grass, and you could smell the ocean through the trees, hear the crash of the waves against the rocky outcroppings.

You stepped out of the woods along a small coastal path that stretched for miles, and followed it a few minutes more until it flattened out. There was a small meadow laid into the coastline, spanning several square meters of pale seagrass and flowering bushes, shaded by an enormous willow tree—your target.

The meadow had a beautiful view of the shining blue waves through the barren scrub trees, but more importantly it was out of the way, little known to people who did not frequent the coastline trails. The willow was the perfect cover, its trailing fingers and dense greenery more than enough to hide one disinterested beta.

You ducked through the leaves, latching onto one of the lower branches and heaving yourself up. It had been years since you’d climbed anything—the city not exactly chalk-full of great climbing trees—but you were pleased to find it just as satisfying. You scrambled up into the canopy, testing your weight against your designated branch, finding it still held you easily.

Perfect.

You immediately rewarded yourself with a granola bar, settling onto your branch and chewing contentedly, pleased with the temperature. The sun was hot, but in the shade of the leaves and the salty breeze drifting in off the sea, it was perfectly comfortable.

You’d just gotten out your book to read, flipping to the spot you’d last left off at, when the chirp of nearby birds stopped. The meadow seemed to grow quiet around you.

You sat up, alert, at the soft tread of a bootfall close by. Your breath froze in your lungs. An omega, looking for a place to hide? Or some alpha?

Except then a long-fingered hand parted the hanging tendrils of the willow, and a familiar head of scarlet and white hair was ducking inside the canopy.

Embarrassingly, your heart swelled. Shouto had made time to stop in before finding his omega.

“Shouto!” you shouted down, pleased.

Shouto’s face tipped up to you, a tiny smile on his mouth. He looked especially good today, you thought, a navy tee shirt stretched across his broad shoulders, baring the flesh of his biceps, a flush on his cheeks from the warm spring sun. He looked a little taken apart, windswept like he’d run here, and you furiously stamped down on the flash of heat in your tummy.

Nope. No.

“Y/N,” Shouto intoned quietly, his eyes glittering up at you. “Caught you.”

You were momentarily taken aback by the sound of something unfamiliar in his tone, some strange intensity in his voice and expression. It sounded almost like it meant something to find you here, something more than a momentary pitstop on his way to his omega—but of course that was ridiculous.

You waved down at him, smiling and sticking a leg down tauntingly like when you were kids. “Not yet.”

Shouto’s eyes narrowed, a flash of something predatory tinging his handsome features.

In the blink of an eye, he crossed to the tree, dense muscle coiling and pulling beneath his tee shirt as he pulled himself up. This time he needed none of your help, moving with a panther-like grace. He pulled himself onto the branch immediately below yours, close enough that it put him at eye level with the bottom of your chin.

Then he reached out and snared your ankle in one large, warm hand, a smug sort of glint in his eye. The follow up caught you went unspoken.

Another laugh bubbled up out of you. “Alright alright, this time you got me,” you agreed, flexing your ankle in his hold.

Shouto’s mouth turned up, clearly pleased, but he did not let go. A thumb stroked softly along the hollow beneath your ankle bone. A surprised shiver caught you, sliding up your spine.

“You, um, got here so quick,” you said, trying to think past the sudden fuzz of static in your brain. You hoped your voice sounded impressed and not embarrassingly breathy. “Did you at least note which way your life mate went?”

Shouto’s head tilted, his bangs falling into his eyes as his thumb petted across your skin again. “I did.”

You nodded approvingly, tensing against another shudder. “Did they come out this way? You’re probably the first alpha to make it out here but you won’t want to waste too much time.”

Shouto’s mouth twitched, those heterochromatic eyes trailing down your face. “No time spent with you is a waste.”

That made your face warm. You tried to prod him with your foot, but Shouto’s grip was firm. “You’re going to want to save the charm for your life mate, mister.”

“I am,” he said simply, tone sincere.

You felt your brow furrow—now what was that supposed to mean?—when suddenly Shouto leaned forward, abandoning his grip on your ankle. His hands found the branch at either side of your hip, trapping you inside his reach. You stared down at him, stunned with his sudden proximity.

You felt suddenly a little caged in, your breath pulling up short. What was he—?

“Will you come down to me?” Shouto asked, eyes intent on yours.

The ask felt significant, though you had no idea how. And he was so close, so focused on you.

But you had no clue exactly what he would need you to come down for. Maybe he wanted to split lunch or something? You had your sandwich in your bag, and it would be easier on the ground, you supposed.

Although Shouto probably shouldn’t go running around on too full a stomach, especially if he—with his omega, after—if they…

You found you couldn’t think it, your mind shying away like you’d prodded a nerve.

Really, Shouto should be going soon, before any ranging alphas made it this far out and sniped his life mate before he got to them.

With that thought, however, some selfish thing recoiled inside of you. You desperately craved just a few more minutes with him—this achingly familiar boy, this mind-numbingly beautiful man—before he wasn’t really yours to think of anymore. These were the last few moments you’d get to spend with him before everything changed. It took less than a second to make up your mind.

“Yeah,” you said, smiling. “I’ll come down.”

You shifted, gathering your backpack and maneuvering off your branch carefully. Shouto gave you just enough space to get down, a hand finding your waist as you steadied yourself. He shadowed you down, close at your back to make sure you didn’t slip.

He was acting the consummate gentleman—but there was a strange tension about him, something about the way he moved and the intensity with which he was trailing you. There was something expectant about it, something almost impatient.

Maybe he needed you to hurry up so he could get going. That was probably it.

You turned to your backpack as soon as he guided you safely to the ground. You’d barely gotten it unzipped, however, when Shouto suddenly crowded into your space, startling you.

You stumbled a reflexive step back, breath whooshing out of you when your back connected with the trunk of the willow. Shouto followed, still watching you with that unnerving intensity.

His fingers dipped under your chin, softly turning your face up to his. His gaze was serious—more solemn than you had ever seen him. You went still in his grasp, heartbeat rabbiting in your chest.

What was with him today?

“Shouto,” you said slowly. “Are you… alright?”

Shouto leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours. His slow exhale ghosted over your mouth, thumb stroking across your jaw. It sent a swarm of shudders down your spine, and you suddenly weren’t breathing at all.

“I have dreamed of this moment a thousand times,” Shouto said, his tone reverent. It was almost a whisper.

His tone implied there was something incredibly significant about this moment, but you could not for the life of you think of what. Especially not with his face so close, clouding up your thoughts.

You felt your brow furrow against his, and you opened your mouth to ask him what on earth he could be talking about.

Except before you could, Shouto’s hands took either side of your face. And then he bent his head—and pressed his mouth to yours.

All higher thought immediately evacuated your brain, leaving only a sudden zing of panic and the horrible, wonderful excitement of Shouto’s mouth on yours, of Shouto’s strong body so close to yours. Rough bark scraped against your back as Shouto’s front slotted warm and firm against your chest, and the feeling of all that strength pressed so tightly to you made you dizzy.

“Sho–-? Whuh—?” you said, slightly muffled into his mouth.

But Shouto only took the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth, soft and wet and so unbelievably hot your brain short circuited. Every single nerve ending in your body lit up as you realized Todoroki Shouto had his tongue in your mouth, and that he was kissing you so thoroughly and meticulously it felt as though this was the last kiss he’d ever be allowed. You heard yourself let out a gasp that turned into an embarrassing moan as he pressed harder against you, pinning you between himself and the tree.

Your mind felt like it was melting, Shouto’s mouth doing terrible things to your thoughts’ coherence. Your hands went to his shoulders, and you found yourself opening up to him, every inch of your skin hot. Every flick of his tongue, every brush of his lips felt better than you could have ever imagined, and you were helpless to do anything but let him have you.

Your thoughts were a puddle when Shouto finally let your mouth free. All you could do was stare up at him, shocked.

“Y/N,” Shouto said, his eyes searching your face. “You came down for me.”

His handsome face wore an expression you hadn’t ever seen before as he regarded you, something almost—possessive? His hands had slid to your waist, his touch hot through the material of your shirt.

Your brain swam. Words, what were words? “I—? Uh, yes—?”

Shouto seemed to understand you weren’t getting his point. “‘If I’m not an alpha, and I have to hide somewhere, I’m going to find the best tree in the preserve and go up it and not come down until I find my life mate,’” he said.

It sounded like a quote, and it took you an embarrassingly long moment to realize it was something you had said, years and years and years ago, when you were both kids.

Was he saying—? But that was absurd. No, there was no way. You hadn’t—he wasn’t—

“But you’re Shouto,” you groped around your thoughts for logic and reasoning. “You’re Shouto.”

Shouto watched you patiently, a white eyebrow raising slightly.

“You can’t mean—?” you sputtered. “No. You’re Touya’s baby brother. I’m too old for you. The first time I held you, you were a baby.”

Shouto pressed impossibly closer to you, a long-fingered hand winding its way into yours. “I am not a child, Y/N. And you are not that much older than I.”

You struggled to think through the feeling of his body pressed to yours. You knew it. You knew he wasn’t a child. But all the same, you’d spent long enough telling yourself he’d been meant for someone else. Long enough convinced that you were too old for him.

Long enough that you were absolutely certain this had to be a mistake.

“You’re off limits,” you told him, trying to press him back. Shouto did not budge, however, as solid as stone under your hand.

“You are my life mate,” he said. He raised your joined hands to his mouth, kissing over your knuckles. An electric jolt went through you at the feeling of that mouth on you again, firm and warm. “I have known my whole life. I am off limits to all but you.”

A storm of emotion churned in your gut, everything from guilt to disbelief to pleasure to relief. To hear it said so plainly, after all this time—you are my life mate—by a man who was already so beloved to you. By a boy you’d loved as a friend, a man who you wanted to love as more.

But you couldn’t—he had to deserve better.

“I won’t take advantage of you,” you insisted.

A small smile pulled at Shouto’s mouth. “I am not a child. And I am an alpha besides. Your alpha.”

You fought down a furious flush.

“But Shouto there’s so many things–!” you insisted. Beyond being older than him, beyond being a staple in his life since he was young. You were quickly realizing so many of the promises he’d made when he was younger, he actually meant.

“Your inheritance—I never meant to accept that from you for real. And your family, they would not like that I—”

The rest of your words were muffled in Shouto’s mouth, as he bent his head and kissed you again. A flick of his tongue turned even that into a muffled squeak instead. Why was he so good at this?

“Much of my family understands what it means to pursue something singularly,” Shouto said against your lips. “What it means to give everything you have in service of pursuit.”

Your stomach flipped. The Todoroki single-mindedness that you had been convinced had skipped right over Shouto. Suddenly years of solemn watchfulness over you, years of following you like a shadow, years of sharing all his toys and his thoughts and promising to take care of you—it all made a terrible, perfect sort of sense.

Single-mindedness. But not as destruction, as Enji’s and Touya’s had been. As devotion—as thoughtfulness, something so uniquely Shouto you wanted to cry.

God how had you missed this?

You rallied yourself for one last defense.

“Shouto. At the very least you need to consider if you’re making a mistake. Alpha-beta couplings are nontraditional—maybe your senses are off here. Maybe because I’m a beta and I was around when your brain was still forming and you liked me then it feels like there’s something but—”

Shouto’s grip on you flexed, and suddenly his determined expression flickered, a crease forming between those perfect brows.

“Do you see me as a child still?” he asked.

You shook your head. Not since you’d seen him prowl across the Todoroki kitchen, miles of sleek muscle flexing, that perfect campfire scent fogging your brain, tall and gorgeous and unmistakably alpha. And especially not since you’d come to understand the expanse of his life—the home he’d made, the job he had, the goals he’d taken.

“Then do you… not want me?” he asked.

Your heart immediately sank, aching with the soft flicker of hurt that crept across his features.

Your hands had shot out to hold his face before you knew what you were doing.

“Shouto, of course I want you,” you found yourself saying. “Who wouldn’t want you? You are perfect. You are so kind and have always been so good. You are sweet and funny and so beautiful it hurts to look at. Of course I want you. But I don’t want to hurt you—”

“Then say yes,” Shouto insisted.

God you wanted to. You wanted to. You had been so jealous this whole week, you realized, of whoever his life mate was going to be.

The realization crashed into you like a wave, knocking you off balance. You wanted all of Shouto’s time, all of his attention, wanted to curl up in his apartment on that plush couch with him and all but bodily fuse to him, never to come apart again. You wanted to spend a million afternoons cooking in that kitchen, running lunches to him at the firehouse, kissing him, laughing with him, indulging in him—in how kind and sweet and good he’d always been.

Your face must have said it all, because Shouto was crowding back into you.

“I am going to be so good to you, Y/N,” he promised, his mouth drawing closer.

You shivered. Some part of you still felt like you needed to resist him, needed to make him see. But the other part of you, the largest part, wanted to melt in his embrace. Wanted to let him kiss you and kiss him back, wanted to thread your fingers in that fluff of hair and sink into the relief of his companionship.

Shouto hammered the final nail into your coffin with the unerring precision of a boy who’d known you for twenty years.

“Trust me to take good care of you,” he said, his voice dipping to a low whisper.

And that was it—the refrain from all those years ago, before you’d ever understood what he was promising you. Even if you were uncertain about everything else, you would always be certain about Shouto’s care. Shouto’s inherent goodness.

Surrendering, you let yourself fall.

“I do,” you told him. “I trust you. I—always will.”

Then you closed your eyes and let him kiss you.

You could feel Shouto’s soft smile against your mouth, feel a renewed intensity in the way he poured himself into you with his next kiss. You almost sagged against him in sheer relief—the relief of knowing, against all odds, that your life mate had found you even across the years that had threatened to separate you.

Shouto kissed you with a startling vigor, leaving you breathless against the willow when he moved down to your neck, pulling your tee shirt wide to suck several very insistent markings into the hollow of your throat.

You leaned into the rough bark as he mapped his way lower, and lower, only startling when he dropped to his knees before you, pressing his face into the crease of your hip.

Your heart shot into your mouth, a shock of heat licking up your spine. “Shouto!” you stammered.

Shouto only uttered your name into the fabric of your leggings, the material thin enough that you could feel the heat of his exhalation on your skin. One of his hands came up to take your calf, the other creeping up into the band of your leggings, carefully pulling it down.

You watched him as he did, stomach fluttering.

He gently helped you step out of your leggings and panties, leaving you bare and vulnerable to him. You would have been more embarrassed if it wasn’t for the way his eyelashes fluttered appreciatively, and the immediate way he ducked his head to press his mouth right to your core.

You muffled a moan into your palm, thunking your head against the tree trunk.

You could feel Shouto’s slow smile as he hefted your thigh over his shoulder, hands grasping your waist. “Mine,” you heard him utter, soft and low, before licking right over you, possessive and deliberate. It made every inch of your skin flush hot, every nerve ending come to life under his mouth.

You could still hardly believe what was happening, even as you muffled more sounds into your palm as Shouto worked you, with the attentive diligence he’d always done everything when it came to you. You could feel those mismatched eyes on you, cataloging your every reaction to what he did.

He learned all too quickly exactly what you liked, and you were a writhing mess within minutes. Shouto pinned you to the tree with an iron arm across your stomach as you arched and screamed, not letting up until you’d come against his mouth, chanting his name like an oath.

He looked very pleased with himself when you were done, his hair ruffled from your hand, face flushed.

He looked too good to be real.

“I want—Shouto, please—” you said, nearly incoherent but apparently utterly shameless now that he’d had you.

Shouto got to his feet to kiss you again and you flushed when you could taste yourself on his mouth. “Come home with me,” he murmured, tone low.

“You don’t want—?” you said.

Shouto shook his head. “Not here. I’ve imagined this a thousand times, how I wanted it to happen. I’ve thought about what you deserve. I’ve thought about how I will not want to separate, after, not even to take you back home. Come home with me first.”

Fire spread across your cheeks at the idea of Shouto imagining it with you, over and over again. The way he said home, like it was both of yours.

“Okay. Okay yes,” you said, breathless.

Shouto helped you back into your leggings and gathered up your abandoned pack, which you’d apparently dropped and forgotten entirely the moment he’d kissed you. He held your hand in his the whole way back through the woods, occasionally cocking his head or scenting the air, and then taking a long detour around some place, like he didn’t want to share your presence with whoever else was in the woods.

The walk was long, but so easy in Shouto’s company, even with this new dimension of your relationship settling itself between you two. It was frighteningly easy, in fact, after everything.

You talked about everything and nothing, reliving the entire week together, Shouto sharing that he’d hoped you’d see him as a man, had taken the time right up until the run to try to be sure. Ears flaming, you’d shared that you’d been gone for him the moment you’d seen him in the doorway of the kitchen. Shouto’s smug look immediately mopped up any of the reflexive embarrassment you felt sharing that.

By the time you made it to Shouto’s you’d also managed to shoot a text off to your mother, and an emergency extension of your time off to your workplace.

Shouto was on you as soon as the door shut behind you, catching your noise of surprise in his mouth.

Your arms came around him, and he walked you back to his couch, following you down onto it and laying himself out over you. The weight of him made you shiver again, the heaviness of all that muscle anchoring you down.

Shouto kissed you absolutely boneless into the cushions of his couch, hands wandering everywhere, skimming under your shirt, calluses catching on the fabric of your leggings. Everywhere he touched felt like it was on fire, your nerves singing with pleasure. Shouto seemed to be trying to take his time with you, but you could sense something underneath that, his usual layers of patience eroded.

Feeling brave, you let your hands wander to the buttons of his pants, working them open. Shouto’s breath left him in a hiss as you wrapped your hand around him, feeling him hard and hot and velvet smooth in your palm.

“Ah… fffuck, love,” he muttered into your neck. He chased it with the soft scrape of his teeth, groaning when it made your grip tighten on him reflexively.

His hips flexed, sliding him through your fingers, flush and full. Butterflies fluttered to life in your stomach, and a hot streak of arousal licked up your spine. Your own hips shifted, lifting up into him, and you realized with a sudden desperation that you wanted him inside you, didn’t want to wait another second.

“Shouto please, please, please,” you found yourself babbling, stroking firmly down the shaft of him.

Shouto’s eyes were dark when they found yours again. “Anything, I would give you anything,” he said, his voice tight.

“I want you inside of me, please,” you said, your face burning with the admission.

The sheer elation flashing across his handsome face quelled any more embarrassment. In what felt like barely a breath, Shouto had you bare to him once more, flinging your leggings and shirt somewhere towards his kitchen. He covered you again, fitting himself between your thighs with another appreciative groan before pressing in.

You were so wild with want that he slid home easily, despite his impressive size. His skin burned hot against yours, and he felt so perfectly right over you, inside of you, that you had to fight down something like a sob.

Shouto looked equally as overwhelmed, staring at your face rapturously. “I have loved you my whole life,” he said, his tone wondering. “You are finally mine.”

Your entire body went hot with his declaration. You had not realized until today that you loved him too. But now that you did, it felt like everything made sense, that all was finally right.

You managed to gasp out as much between Shouto’s thrusts, as his hips bucked into yours, slowly at first, and then faster, more sure. He kissed you everywhere—your face, your neck, your shoulders, layering in soft bites like he could not help himself.

“Say it,” he groaned, mouthing at the underside of your jaw. “Please say it.”

“I love you,” you said. A yelp escaped you when Shouto suddenly seized you around the waist, rolling you on top of him and holding you to him as he levered the two of you upright. The position in his lap only made him sink deeper inside of you, and you hissed with the feeling, your fingernails digging into his back.

“Ah, fuck—Shouto!” you cried.

Shouto’s hands on your waist guided you with an easy strength—your head spun with the reminder of his power, the reminder that you had an alpha—your alpha—inside of you.

“Going to take good care of you,” he panted into your hair, pausing to kiss the shell of your ear even as the snap of his hips undid you. “Going to take such good care of you.”

Your fingers flexed on him, and you could feel your toes curl. You did not know what to do with all of the emotion welling up inside you, the well of your pleasure almost overflowing. He ground up into you, making your eyes nearly roll back in your head, and you fought down a scream when the pad of his thumb pressed to your clit, heightening every sensation.

“Oh Shouto, please—” was all you could manage.

Shouto looked enraptured, drinking in every change in your expression. As you squirmed and writhed under his touch, you felt him start to swell inside of you.

Both apprehension and arousal swirled inside of you, a beta’s body a little less adapted to knotting than an omega’s. But the firm circle Shouto’s thumb was drawing on your clit, and the low murmur of his voice in your ear, began to drown out any other thought.

“I have you, love,” Shouto said. His mouth dragged across your throat, leaving a sucking bruise along the column. Your nails scrabbled at his back as he swelled even further inside of you, starting to catch on your walls and make it harder to press back down on him.

“I have you,” Shouto said again, his voice rough with pleasure. The reassurance that he did, and the knowledge that he was barely managing his own pleasure struck you like a bolt of lightning. Something inside you unraveled and came loose, and you muffled a cry into Shouto’s broad shoulder as your orgasm slammed into you like a tidal wave.

A low swear escaped Shouto, and his knot swelled even further. His hands suddenly seized tight on either side of your waist, holding you down on him as he thrust up into you. You felt a sort of pressure you’d never anticipated, so overwhelming it was nearly painful—but then Shouto’s knot slid into you.

Shouto groaned into your neck, biting down hard. You writhed over him, your pleasure wringing you out until finally you slumped against him, shivering. Shouto eased back, propping himself up on the arm of the couch, you stuck to his chest like a sweat-slicked barnacle.

“That was—so much more intense than I ever imagined,” you said, when you’d recovered your faculty for human language.

You could feel the curve of Shouto’s smile against your neck. “For I, as well,” he said. “Though I had imagined it a great many times—we still have many other fantasies I intend to live out.”

You were embarrassed to feel yourself tighten around him. Shouto hissed, leaning back to pin you with a look—then looked more smug than you’d ever seen him.

“Like that, do you, love?” he asked.

The pet name made your ears heat, and you couldn’t help but pinch him. “You used to be so sweet, when did you get this fresh?” you demanded.

“Fresh is the least of what I intend to get with you,” Shouto informed you seriously. “I take my duties as a child bride very seriously.”

Your jaw dropped open, and you pressed back from him, gasping when it shifted him inside you. “You—! You heard—?”

Shouto’s smile was far too handsome and self-satisfied to be allowed. “That is when I knew I stood a chance.”

Your face burned. You couldn’t believe him. “You’re a menace.”

Shouto leaned into a press a kiss over where he’d sunk his teeth into you, butterfly-light. The touch of his mouth was warm and his campfire scent washed over you, fuzzing your thoughts. His mouth moved up to catch yours, and you let him kiss you until you realized you’d started to squirm in his lap again.

Several minutes later he had you coming on his knot again, locked against him and muffling the sounds of your pleasure into his neck.

He looked, if possible, even more satisfied, and you lifted a hand to thread through the strands of his hair, silky and damp.

“I can’t believe this is real,” you said, several orgasms having made you loose-tongued. You rubbed a strand of his hair between the pads of your fingers.

Shouto turned his head to drop a kiss to the base of your palm. “We have time enough to make you believe it, love.”

Another butterfly took wing in your stomach at the pet name. You wondered if you’d ever get used to hearing him say it.

“I’ll have to figure out my work—I don’t know if they’d let me work remotely all the way from here?” you said, thoughts suddenly shifting. You sort of doubted your company would make the exception for you, and a pang shot through your heart at the idea that you might have to leave Shouto to work in the city on weekdays. At least until you found another job, which might take months to arrange.

You did not want to be separated from him, now that you’d let yourself have him.

A hand caught your chin, thumb smoothing along your jaw. “I do not think you will have enough time,” Shouto said, a slim brow raising slightly. “What with the bookstore opening.”

You stared at him, wondering if you’d just had some sort of auditory hallucination.

“The—what?” you asked.

“The bookstore opening,” Shouto said. His mouth made the shape of the words exactly, and so it could not be that you’d hallucinated. But—

“What bookstore?” you asked.

Shouto’s mouth pressed into a deliberately flat line like he was trying not to smile.

“Yours. Downstairs,” he clarified—which did not clarify at all.

Your mouth dropped open against his fingers, your eyebrows shooting for the moon. “My—? Downstairs—?”

Your mind scanned back over the events of the last twenty-four hours, the first time you’d caught sight of the shop downstairs again as you’d followed Shouto home. The way it seemed so well-maintained, the windows glinting crystal-clear in the soft evening light. Your eyes reflexively dipped to the blonde wood of Shouto’s floor, the very same that had been installed across the floor of the shop, and an understanding suddenly dawned on you.

“I remember everything you have ever told me,” Shouto had said when you mentioned you’d been in love with the shop downstairs.

“No way,” was what left your mouth as you glanced back up at Shouto, disbelief rising.

Shouto was watching you carefully, his handsome face serious. “Your name is on the deed.”

A wellspring of emotion rose up inside you like a geyser, and you slammed yourself back into Shouto, throwing your arms around his shoulders. “Shouto—I. You didn’t need to—there’s no way I can accept—this is incredible, you’re incredible—but I’d be taking advantage—I can’t—”

A warm, long-fingered hand slid up your spine to rest on the back of your head, holding you against him. “I have always been yours,” Shouto murmured. “Everything I have has always been yours. If it is too much now, we can wait. But I, and everything I have, will always be yours.”

You blinked, embarrassed to realize you’d started dripping tears into Shouto’s shoulder. Shouto didn’t say anything, fingers petting through your hair as you tried to fight the emotion down.

“I promised to take good care of you, and I intend to,” he said. Pressed against him, you could feel the way the words rumbled in his chest.

You closed your eyes and shoved your face in his neck, letting him hold you to him. Everything about today felt too good to be true, but you knew with absolute certainty that Shouto had always been too good to be true, himself. And yet you’d told him you trusted it, when he said he’d take care of you.

And you did—you realized you would always trust it, trust the beautiful boy you’d known all your life.

“I’ll need to pay you back on your investment,” you said some minutes later, when you finally found your voice again. You leaned back to look Shouto in the face, trying not to be embarrassed about the drying tear tracks.

“There is no need,” he said, eyes finding yours.

You realized you were still in his lap, though his knot had softened, and you thought you might be able to separate now.

But now you had other plans—and an investment you wanted to enthusiastically return.

“I insist,” you said, leaning forward to mouth at Shouto’s neck.

You caught the flash of his eyes widening, and his head fell back as a sharp breath left him. “I—see,” he said, his voice growing rough as you sucked a careful mark into the skin of his shoulder.

You smiled against his skin. “You will,” you promised, feeling bolder than ever. It felt like you were daring to believe it, that you’d found your life mate, that you really got to have him, that he’d loved you as long as he’d lived.

You wanted to return all those years of love, now that you loved him too.

“I’m going to take good care of you too,” you informed Shouto, hips already flexing over his.

You felt him start to grow hard inside of you again, and he turned his head to catch your mouth. You could feel his smile against your lips.

“I trust it,” he said, his voice dropping low.

You smiled too, grinning against your lifemate’s mouth, intent on proving yourself worthy of that trust.

Though perhaps that could wait until you’d delivered some of the many fantasies it sounded like he’d stored up. There was no reason to rush.

You had the rest of your life together, after all.

#todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki x reader #shouto x reader #shouto x you #shouto x y/n #todoroki x you #shouto todoroki x reader #bnha x reader #andie's writing #character: todoroki shouto

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bbangtans · 2 months

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daybreak | jjk | oneshot

Summary: One of your favorite things to do when you were in your early 20s was stay up late where reflective conversations eventually blurred into nonsense as the sun rose alongside someone you thought you would spend the rest of your days with… Now you’re stuck in New York City for one night due to a delayed flight with that very person standing there in his leather jacket and guitar case in hand across from you at the airport gate. See, fate is a funny thing and Jeon Jungkook could always find the humor in anything.

pairing: rockstar!ex!jk x f!reader genre/tropes: angst, fluff, exes to ???, right person wrong time/second chances, jungkook is so romance film lead coded – charismatic and well-spoken and genuine and ughhhhh i be fawning frrrr, this takes place where both jk and reader are 28ish, jk is a lead singer in a band with tae-jimin-yoongi, and y/n is a working professional rating/warnings: M | alcohol consumption, lots of swearing, semi-public sex, unprotected sex (don’t be all willy nilly with this tho!!!), dig bick jk lmfao, oral (f receiving), heavy petting, multiple orgasms. a/n: inspired by my faaaaaave movie before sunrise bc if there’s anything namjoon and i have in common, it’s that we are yearners 🤝 and SURPRISE! she's here a lil earlier than promised <3 word count: ~10.1k

The longest string of curses you ever muttered in your life escaped your lips as your tense eyes focused on the words CANCELED obnoxiously displayed on the monitor indicating the status of your flight, which was supposed to take you back to the comfort of your home in Seoul. This is ignoring the fact that you also had a big presentation to prepare for a client but you got pulled into this conference last minute by your boss – lucky you.

“Ma’am, I’m so sorry. Unfortunately, all flights have been temporarily suspended due to emergency maintenance as a result of the aircraft recall. The most I can offer is to book you on the next available flight scheduled…” The poor airline employee offered with an apologetic smile. You stepped back as you realized this very employee had to face the brunt of the crowd who also suffered the same fate as you.

You swallowed your anger, empathetic to this person who was merely a messenger. “Okay, when is the next flight?”

“It will be tomorrow at 10:15AM. That’s the earliest we can do, unfortunately. I can have you booked on that flight and you’ll have the details emailed to you shortly.”

Sighing, you nodded your head. “Cool, thank you… but will the airline be able to provide a place to stay since –”

You were cut off by an angry – and entitled – middle-aged woman. “Excuse me but what is the airline going to do about this? I’m supposed to be in Seoul by 10PM on the 24th. How is this airline going to ensure that? Do you know how much I paid for this?”

You were at your wits end as you watched other passengers try to come down on the woman as you walked away. At least you were in “The City that Never Sleeps” so finding something to do won’t be that difficult. You jerked your carry-on bag along as you tried to exit from the commotion of your gate however you did not get far as you were stopped by someone who stood before you amongst another fleet of passengers dealing with the same issue as your flight. You recognized that signature, worn leather jacket and stickered guitar case from miles away.

“Jungkook?”

The call of his name pulled him back into reality as it appeared as though he himself was checking if this was actually happening. Your mind started racing as you couldn’t help the shock that washed over you. So many questions flashed by as his surprised gaze met yours.

“Hey…” He cleared his throat and ran a hand through his already tousled hair. “...Having flight issues too?”

Sitting at a coffee shop in the terminal across from each other, it was… awkward, you both could not deny.

Jungkook cradled his iced americano while your now empty vanilla latte cup rested there. A funny representation of both of your approaches to life. It was also a point of teasing that Jungkook previously used to his advantage during the days of shared kisses and intimate dates. Times when you and Jungkook would lie shoulder to shoulder on a bed of grass in open fields and wish upon shooting stars.

“This sucks, doesn’t it?” You tried to break the ice, seeing Jungkook’s uncharacteristic silence. Perhaps these years have changed you both.

“The flight thing or us sitting across from each other like this?” Jungkook cracked and you let out a breath of laugh.

Toying with your empty cup, you nodded at nothing in particular. “Definitely the flight thing, and regarding right now… not sure. But I can’t lie that it’s nice to see a familiar face amid this chaos.”

His shoulders slacked as if tension melted away and Jungkook sat up more confidently in his seat. “Yeah, I bet. And wait…” He paused before leaning towards you in surprise. “Are you here in NYC alone? What brings you here?”

You waved off his worry, knowing exactly what he was referring to. “I came here for a 2-day work conference so I was strictly here on business.” Funny to think that reaction was almost impulse despite the passage of time between you both.

“Have you been to New York before? Did you at least get a chance to explore the city after your conference?”

“No, and no, honestly. It took a lot out of me and the company is pinching pennies by only giving me a short window here outside of the conference. What about you, what brings you here? Is this your first time stuck here?” You rested your head on your hand that was propped up on the table.

Jungkook’s unforgettable grin made its appearance as he noticed your growing ease at the situation. “The band’s here on tour. We’re about to start our Europe leg but of course… shit had to hit the fan with the airplane scandals. And nope, this is our third time in New York. We were first here on tour a couple of years ago.”

You smiled at this. “That’s right. I’m sure you’re a seasoned professional being on the road and all with the SNAFUs that come up… Congrats though, I hear the band has really taken off. You guys deserve all the success.”

“You don’t know how much that means to me,” Jungkook started, grinning wide as ever. “No seriously, it means a lot coming from you.”

“You’re messing with me.” You frowned in jest.

“No, not at all. You were that push to get my head on straight, y’know? Even before we … ended things… you were one of the few people who genuinely believed in us. And I can’t thank you enough for that.”

Feeling your face get warm, you shook your head in a humble gesture. “I only saw and believed in the obvious. I mean look at you guys now, touring the US and now even Europe? This success was all in the making.”

“But enough about the band! How’re you? Being all professional going abroad on conferences and stuff. What are you up to?” Jungkook took a sip from his Americano where the ice had become significantly smaller.

“I’m a product manager, and so that keeps me busy 9-5 on the weekdays.” You joked. “But other than that, just floating along. Hanging out with friends, taking life a day at a time, y’know? I’m nowhere as interesting as you, Mr. Rock Star… Living in LA and all.”

Jungkook laughed as he slipped off his leather jacket and revealed an entire sleeve of tattoos on his right arm. You eyed them curiously as he had always talked about wanting tattoos in your younger days. It was good to see that he was able to have that aspiration come to fruition. Another reminder of the passage of time between you both.

“Don’t say that, I think you’re one of the coolest people ever. No one approaches life the way you do, Taehyung-hyung might be a close second… but he doesn’t have the flare that you do.” He started then his smile turned slightly void as he followed up. “Would it be awkward to ask how things are with…”

“...Who? Oh, Seokjin?” You casually asked, truthfully you had not said that name since your eventual breakup almost a year ago. TL;DR you both weren’t compatible because you weren’t ready to settle down for whatever reason despite him being ready to take you both to city hall at the drop of a hat. “Uh… we ended things a while ago actually.”

“Right, yeah,” Jungkook responded vaguely. “Sorry if that was weird, it’s just that he and Yoongi-hyung are friends and you haven’t come up in a while whenever Hyung mentions him but sorry if I’m prying and sorry if I am especially making this awkward but –” He was rambling. Cute.

“Jungkook,” You rested a hand on his forearm, ignoring the surge of electricity that unknowingly jolted you both. “I get it, no worries.”

You both couldn’t help the smile that broke out on your faces.

“So what about you? Seeing anyone?”

He looked almost offended by the question but brushed it off. “Me? Nope, life’s been too hectic with the band these past two years to be seriously involved with someone.”

“Uh huh,” you mused before Jungkook cocked his brow in confusion at your response.

“What?”

“‘Seriously involved’? So you have been dabbling in some rockstar tendencies.” You wiggled your eyebrows teasingly. The 21-year-old in you aches, but today you are 28 and not exactly that same old person as before.

Jungkook rolled his eyes. “Shut up. I don’t want to discuss that with you of all people. And besides, we haven’t made it to the big leagues yet. We’re just tadpoles in a lake, we still gotta work our way to bigger waters.”

You only laughed, and Jungkook let you with his arms folded over his chest – basking in this moment he never thought would happen.

However, it was interrupted as an aproned barista approached you both, being the only patrons left as the coffee shop was getting ready to close for the day. The freckled teen awkwardly cleared his throat with a broom in hand. You then observed the fact that the chairs were already perched upon tables – a clear sign that the establishment was closed for business. You both hadn’t realized how much time had passed in chatting. “Hello, I’m sorry but we’re closing for the day. You are welcome to take your drinks with you to the gates though.”

“Sorry about that.”

“No worries, my bad.”

You and Jungkook apologized at the same time while hurriedly gathering your belongings.

Walking out, Jungkook sighed as he held the handle of his guitar case in his tattooed hand. “I can’t believe a place in the airport closes at fucking 5PM.”

“Jungkook, it’s a coffee shop. Closing at 5PM is considered late for that industry already and besides, this isn’t Seoul.” You laughed.

“True… but…” Jungkook cast you a sideways glance. “What are you going to do until your flight tomorrow morning?”

You could only shrug. “Not sure, I was just going to camp out here at JFK.”

A moment of silence passed as you both walked on in no particular direction, only the sound of the wheels of your carry-on suitcase and the heavy footsteps from Jungkook’s combat boots. Despite the 7 years that passed, you could still tell Jungkook was mulling over something. This fact honestly surprised you.

“Penny for your thoughts?” You offered gingerly.

“Now, this is going to sound crazy,” he spoke, his mind clearly running miles a minute and barely able to keep his once stable walking pace. “Hear me out all the way through, okay?”

“Sure.” You shrugged.

“So, my manager got each of us a hotel room not too far from the airport –”

“Jungkook.” You interrupted him incredulously, on the verge of seeing red. Offense, disrespect, anger… it all pulsed through you at once. By this point, you both had stopped in the middle of the wide airport corridor between gates. “Are you fucking serious –”

He held his hands up in defense. “You said you would hear me out!”

“...fine.” Arms crossed over your chest defensively, and you took a step back.

“Like I said, I have this hotel room so what if we kept our stuff there and we explore NYC tonight? Then when morning comes, you could grab your things and head back to Seoul and get back to your routine.” Jungkook now positioned himself where he stood directly before you, eyes connected to yours. “You said it yourself you didn’t get to see NYC. And I’ve been here before, so it all works out.”

You obviously still looked unconvinced with arms crossed over your chest defensively.

“Okay, how about this: there’s a Smart Carte baggage drop-off in Terminal 4 of JFK. Forget stopping by my hotel room, you can drop off your things here so by morning we can both be here for our flights. I’ll be on my way to Vienna and you’ll be headed back to Seoul. How does that sound?” Jungkook negotiated. “Listen, Y/N. It’s just been so nice to hang out with you and I don’t know but there’s something in me that can’t pass up this opportunity to at least help you see the magic of NYC… and to spend a few more hours with you.”

“I…”

Jungkook stepped forward with a pleading stare. “Please, I promise it’ll be worth your while. I feel like you would regret this not happening as much as I would. And if it convinces you, I promise that we can forget that this night ever happened after the fact. I swear…”

A smirk broke out on your face after a tense beat of silence and mulling over his words. “Okay.”

“Okay.” Jungkook could not fight the smile that reached his eyes as he breathed a sigh of relief and then turned, gesturing for you to start off what would be your journey of the evening together.

By the time you both made it into Manhattan proper, it was prime dinner time. You felt the grumble of your stomach as you and Jungkook sat in the back seat of an iconic yellow taxi. Embarrassedly, you put your hand over your stomach in a feeble attempt to keep it quiet.

“So, y’all are headed to Katz’s?” The taxi driver asked as he glanced at the two of you through the rearview mirror. He was an elderly man wearing a newsboy cap and the taxi itself smelled of the endless cups of coffee he consumed during his day on the clock.

“Yup, we’re hoping the dinner rush isn’t as bad,” Jungkook responded in a friendly manner. “It may be a Tuesday but it’s Katz’s after all.”

The driver chuckled as the traffic was beginning to chip away and the taxi started to speed up on the Robert F. Kennedy Bridge. You couldn’t help the gasp that escaped you as you watched the city sky begin its transition into an orangey-pink sunset. “I’m assuming this fella over here has been to the City before, but is this your first time, Miss?”

You nodded your head. “Yes, actually I came for a conference but have limited time here.”

“Oh? When do you head back to…” he trailed off, not sure how to continue the sentence.

Jungkook took the chance to chime in. “Seoul… in Korea. She heads back tomorrow actually.”

The driver let out a low whistle. “That’s a crazy turnaround time. But listen, New York is a magical place – despite whatever those bozos not even from the city have to say. It has character, and so much can happen in the City that Never Sleeps. It is a land of possibility. And here, thirty years ago, is actually where I met the woman who became my wife. It’s a special place, for sure.”

“I bet.” Jungkook grinned as he looked out the drawn window, taking in the newly warm springtime breeze.

Jungkook let you take the ride in silence, unsure of what was going through your head about this whole situation and in all honestly cursing himself for possibly pressuring you into doing something you weren't comfortable with in the first place. He kept casting cautious glances your way when you weren’t looking.

Eventually, the taxi came to a halt.

“Alrighty, here we are!” The driver pulled up on the busy intersection and you were in awe by the throngs of people despite it being one of the earlier weekdays and the very end of rush hour. Jungkook paid for the ride and ushered you both out of the taxi respectfully.

“Thank you for the ride!” You called out as you exited the vehicle.

“Enjoy New York and all she has to offer!” the driver bid you two before driving off to find his next patron of the evening.

Jungkook almost choked mid-bite of the huge signature pastrami sandwich you both decided to split as you continued to share about that one time your mutual friend back in Seoul, Hoseok, had accidentally cussed out an innocent employee at a haunted house.

“No way.” He barely managed to get out between his mix of coughs and laughs, grabbing the attention of worried customers inside the establishment. He grabbed his cup of water to ease his throat.

“Yes, way! Afterward, he kept bowing in apology. I felt so bad but Namjoon and I were too busy laughing to step in to help.” You put your spoon down, making a good decision to not have a bite of the shared chicken noodle soup as you giggled at the memory.

Once Jungkook calmed down and took a sip of his water, he looked at you in amusement. “Classic Hobi.”

“I know right? But regardless, he’ll always be an angel. Despite that, he doesn’t have a single bad bone in his body.”

Jungkook nodded in agreement. “I miss that guy a lot, man.”

You smiled up at him. “He misses you, too – I’m sure.”

He rested his sandwich on the plate. “Let me know if I’m being weird… but I missed this.”

Your smile faltered as it grew slightly wary. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged, genuine. “I just feel like you’ve always been someone I easily get along with and y’know… considering our past and how things aren’t super awkward now. In all honestly, I thought you were just going to ignore me and keep walking away at the airport due to the possibility that you might’ve hated me… I wouldn’t have blamed you, though. I was a bit of an asshole when we ended things. And I am sorry about that. Genuinely.”

You could easily recall that night.

You looked at him, confused. “What?”

“I said I don’t think we should continue seeing each other.” Jungkook stood his ground despite the internal turmoil. “I… just feel like I’m holding you back.”

“You can’t be the only one to decide that, Jungkook.” His words finally started to settle in your bones and it felt like a thousand cuts.

“Listen, you deserve a lot more… and we both know that.”

“Jungkook, you aren’t listening. You can’t just pre-emptively end things like this over something like that – not without discussing it with me too.”

You tried to reason with him by resting a hand on his arm. He finally looked at you with tears in his eyes. You knew at that point, there was no talking him out of it. He firmly believed this was the right choice for you, no matter how inherently selfish he didn’t realize he was being. Being kind to a fault in true Jeon Jungkook fashion.

He was breaking up with you.

You smiled bittersweetly at the memory. “Yeah… that is a fair thought. But you know, we were young. Barely 21 years old. And while that was only 7 years ago, we were different people. I can’t imagine making the same decisions we did back then now.”

“I guess we were.” Jungkook offered, understanding that this was your way of accepting his apology.

“And!” You picked up your spoon again to scoop yourself a spoonful of some chicken noodle soup. “That was before we had developed prefrontal cortexes. And besides, I could never hate you now… I finished with that when I turned 23.” You joked but he froze slightly at your words.

Jungkook made sure to make direct eye contact with you filled with something that could move mountains. “I never intended to hurt you, I really didn’t.”

Your tone also went serious yet understanding. “I know, I know now. And I appreciate you for telling me.”

Despite the bustle of that tiny deli in the middle of the dinner rush, all you could see was Jungkook and all he could see was you. The understanding weighing upon you both now.

“Thank you for also trusting me with taking you out tonight, that means a lot to me.”

“Me too.” You nodded up at him. “I doubt there’s anyone else who would be able to get me out here like this either. I can’t even remember the last time I pulled an all-nighter… it was probably when we were still in undergrad.” The two of you shared a laugh that was abruptly interrupted.

“FINAL CALL! Final call for order number 72!” The person working the counter exclaimed with the order bill in his hands. No one went up to the counter so the employee shook his head to himself in disapproval before proceeding to keep it pushing.

The scene had finally calmed so you turned to Jungkook expectantly. “Alright, we had dinner. So where are we headed now?”

Jungkook wiped the crumbs off his mouth with a napkin as he said, “One of my favorite bars in the city! The vibes are so nice and they often have open mic nights so you get to see some local talent”

“Sounds amazing.”

“Oh, it will be,” Jungkook promised.

“I have to go to the bathroom real quick before we head out, though.” You said as you got up.

He nodded his head as he motioned for you to go. “Do what you gotta do.”

Inside, you looked at yourself in the mirror in the bathroom, unable to grasp how this whole thing could have happened. One second you are about to cry from how cruel the universe was to sitting at a historic deli with Jeon-freaking-Jungkook.

Once you returned, you saw him writing on a napkin which he then folded up and placed in the pocket of his jeans at the sight of you approaching.

“What’s that?”

“Just some thoughts for a possible song that came to me.” Jungkook got up and left some cash for the tip on the table. “C’mon. Let’s head to our next destination!”

Sitting on the subway, thigh to thigh with Jungkook taking the aisle seat and you on the window seat, he told you that he doesn’t remember the name of this favorite bar but just how to get there. He said that, apparently, was all that mattered as you sat on the A Line train. Trying your best to ignore the close proximity due to the seat and Jungkook’s broad frame, you both took turns taking shy stolen glances at each other – hoping each other would notice just as much as you both wish you wouldn’t. The warm and slightly stagnant air made you both run a little hot, your cardigan resting in your lap and Jungkook’s leather jacket in his.

However, the car of the train started to get packed to the point where people had to step into the aisle right next to Jungkook. The sudden stops causing people to bump into the shaggy-haired singer. You scooted to be more flush against the wall of the car, motioning for Jungkook to get closer to avoid more hits from the rough ride and sudden backpack attack. He looked at you sheepishly as he accepted the invitation, where his arm went around the top of your seat and shoulders to make room for his wide build.

“I hope this is okay.” He gave as he rested against you.

“Yeah, no worries.” You had a smile of reassurance that he mirrored.

It was hard to avoid each other eyes at this point.

You wondered how long it had been since you were last nested against him and why you didn’t feel as uncomfortable as you thought you’d be despite all those years. However, this was no surprise as Jungkook always had that weird effect on you.

“Pardon me, is it cool if I stand here next to you?” A tall, handsome figure appeared from your left side. You peered over your shoulder at the sudden question. It was about an hour before Epik High was supposed to be on stage but you entered the venue early since you wanted a good place to stand on the floor. There were pockets of people but surely not enough where someone had to approach you and ask like that.

Promptly, you had to bring yourself back to reality as you cleared your throat. “Yeah, sure… no worries.”

A bunny-toothed dazzling smile appeared and you watched as his eyes curiously traveled down to the long-sleeved tour shirt you held. A purchase to remember this concert. “Thanks. And oh! I was tempted to get that shirt too. It’s pretty sick.”

Feeling a little self-conscious you avoided his fixed gaze, “Yeah. Their designer for this tour’s merch did an awesome job…”

Jungkook nodded mostly to himself, believing that he was making you uncomfortable. “Listen, sorry if I’m making this awkward but my name’s Jungkook, and I think you seem really cool. But if I’m bothering you, totally let me know and I can give you your space! No hard feelings or anything.”

You smiled at his frankness and shook your head at this. “No, no. Sorry, I think you seem cool too, and I don’t mind at all.” You said before giving your name as well.

“That’s a pretty name,” he responded. “It suits you.”

You politely laughed off the subtle compliment. “Thank you, and I hope so.”

Steadily, you and Jungkook became deeply immersed in conversation – talking about how long you both had been fans of the artist, why you both ended up attending this concert alone, and getting to know each other generally. Most significantly, you found out that you both attended the same university and were the same age among the many things discussed. The conversation flowed comfortably after that initial interaction. That hour before showtime had passed so quickly that you hadn’t noticed how much the venue had filled up and gradually forced you and Jungkook to be shoulder to shoulder from how packed it had become. By the time the venue fell dark and signaling that Epik High was about to set foot on stage, the crowd had slightly pushed forward, forcing you to be closer than ever to Jungkook.

“Sorry, I hope this is okay.” He spoke sheepishly at the proximity.

“No worries.” You smiled at him and at that moment the pyrotechnics of the stage went off, as the concert began – strangely calm despite having only met the man not too long before and cheers erupting from the crowd that surrounded you. There was just something about him.

There was always something so human (as cliche as it was) about open mic nights. People stand on stage and recite poems where they bare their souls or sing original songs written about the throes of life. A little appreciation for the small things that you and Jungkook shared. You both enjoyed the local buskers back in Seoul during undergrad, especially around springtime when things overall seemed brighter and full of life.

You sat with your pineapple tequila as Jungkook went for his whiskey on the rocks, occasionally shaking the ice cubes around in the glass between sips. You both sat at a booth off to the side of the stage where you could get a decent view of the performers.

“So…” Jungkook started.

You tore your gaze away from the current performer, a girl singing a cover of a Laufey song, to find Jungkook staring at you with a glint in his eye. “...So?”

“I’m honestly surprised you took my offer to spend time with me tonight – with some negotiating, of course but surprised nevertheless.” Jungkook chuckled as he took another sip of his drink. “What was it that convinced you?”

You toyed with a loose strand of hair in contemplation of his words.

What did convince you? Was it the frustration from the flight fiasco? The fact that you were in New York for the first time? This was a question you only recently started to ponder because saying yes felt so right but you couldn’t explain why.

“I just trust you. And it’s been so long since we’ve been in the same place at the same time.” You began, noting how his eyes have softened at your words. “I honestly didn’t know what to think when you first stood there in front of me, y’know? I kind of thought I was hallucinating. I thought that maybe the stress from all the flight mess was getting to me.

“I honestly never thought I would cross paths with you ever again, considering how the trajectory of our lives headed. You live in LA, working full-time on your music and touring. I live back in Seoul, where there’s always a deadline looming over me and I have to set off to meet some client. And besides…” You held his stare where there was a gentle smile on his face. “I knew I wanted to spend more time to catch up with you the second we sat back in that coffee shop at the airport.”

Relief and something else that you couldn’t place washed over his face. Was it regret? Was it longing? You didn’t know exactly but you felt his free hand reach for yours from across the booth. The calloused fingers of his hand from hours of playing guitar caressed yours as he stared at the way they connected. Still a perfect fit. Your first real bit of physical connection since that fateful day when you were both 21 and young and dumb and lost.

“Yeah, me too.” Jungkook started. “But for me, it was the moment before you even saw me. When my eyes found you at the gate, I seriously couldn’t believe it.”

You laughed at this. “Well, I hope that time has done me well since you last saw me.”

Jungkook chuckled as well as he cocked his head to the side. “Are you kidding? You look phenomenal. I’m convinced you always will.”

“Oh, shut up. You’re trying to butter me up.” You joked but deep down, the intensity of the intimacy scared you. It was like a fireplace left dormant for so long had finally lit up. It surged through your whole body and you weren’t sure how to deal with it. You withdrew your hand back slowly and instantly regretted the coldness from the loss of contact. However, it frightened you with all things considered. “You’ve always been such a charmer.”

Jungkook’s expression faltered when you fully pulled back your hand but he tried his best to hide it. Holding your hand just felt so right, like it was the divine providence of the universe – written in the stars and made to fit. No other body could bring the warmth he felt from when he was around you. He was convinced that with your every step, flowers bloomed and skies cleared. He was always a goner for you, and that still stands true to this day.

How funny the universe was, Jungkook thought to himself, that it could create someone so wonderful but have them exist on a different path from his.

“Alright, alright! That was a fantastic cover from Gina. Let’s give her a round of applause, everyone!” The MC and presumed owner of the bar stepped on stage and spoke into the mic, grabbing everyone’s attention. “Now, we have a guest singer that I saw sign up, his name is JK Jeon. Let’s give him a warm welcome!”

You whipped your head to face a sheepish Jungkook finishing the last bits of his whiskey before he patted you on the head and headed towards the stage. “When did he…”

The leather-jacketed, confident lead singer Jeon Jungkook of Bring the Soul appeared before you as he adjusted the mic stand and introduced himself in perfect, unaccented English. “Hi everyone, my name is JK. I signed up because this is one of my favorite places in New York so I thought I’d sing something for you, especially because there’s also someone important here with me today.”

His eyes locked with yours in that moment and you forgot to breathe for a second. He looked so otherworldly in that bar, he had the aura to make the dingiest stage look like some elaborate arena. He was born to perform.

Your second pineapple tequila arrived and it was a much heavier pour from the bartender. However, you were grateful as the surge of emotions overcame you. Everything was feeling surreal again and you definitely needed this drink despite being a little bit of a lightweight.

“So, this song is titled ‘seasons’ by a band called wave to earth. Hope you enjoy it.”

With that, he signaled for the song to start and the first keys of a piano filled the dim bar. Not once did Jungkook’s eyes leave yours as he sang. You were absolutely bewitched as the song progressed, and so was the rest of the bar. A couple across the room embraced each other, two friends shared a toast of their drinks with a lively clank, and the bartender even paused to take in Jungkook’s singing… all these people were brought together by his undeniable talent. Your heart was so full and you were so proud, and distracted until you really started to listen to the lyrics of the song.

But I'll pray for you all the time

If I could be by your side

I'll give you all my life, my seasons

By your side, I'll be your seasons

My love

A thunderous applause surged through the bar as Jungkook thanked the audience and stepped off the stage fluidly before heading straight for the booth where you still sat. However, instead of sitting across from you, he slid into the bench where you were and settled right next to you.

“How was that?” Jungkook’s arm naturally went around your shoulders and you swore you were soaring.

You rested your head on his bicep as you gazed up at him, and Jungkook was swooning at how adorable you looked then. The dim, soft lights make you look ethereal to him. “It was amazing, as always.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool.” Jungkook stroked your hair as you continued to rest your head on his arm. He could tell you were beginning to feel your drinks in your system since you had long finished your two pineapple tequilas and were now babysitting a pint of beer.

“Hey, Jungkook.” He barely caught it as you basically whispered it out. “Y’know, I’m going to be really sad about everything once morning comes.”

His eyes widened as he shared the same sentiments. “Yeah… me, too.”

“But!” You suddenly shot upright in posture and surprised him as you grabbed your drink by its handle. “None of that dramatic ‘goodbye’ shit in the morning!” You tipsily pointed at Jungkook with your beer who only laughed at your theatrics as some foam spilled.

Between chuckles, Jungkook was barely able to let out at the sudden shift in mood. “Okay, then what do we say at the end? When it’s morning time?”

“What people always say at that time – ‘good morning’ and not goodbye. Let’s make it a nice ending for us, I feel like that would do us both justice.” Your gaze was too hazy to see the seriousness that lined his face but he shook it off and plastered his signature smile despite the storm in his heart. “I know it’s a little cheesy, but I don’t want to be sad in those last minutes with you.”

“Okay, we’ll bid each other ‘good morning’ when dawn comes then we go on with the rest of our lives. No sad stuff.” You missed how tight-lipped his grin was.

“Promise?”

“Yeah, I promise.”

“Alright, follow me!” Jungkook called from over his shoulder as he jogged to catch the door to the rooftop of some swanky highrise apartment complex that you two managed to sneak into.

He held the door open for you, with his free hand exaggeratedly ushering you to go first like a medieval knight. “After you, m’lady.”

By this time, the alcohol had flushed out of your system on the twenty-minute walk Jungkook had brought you on after hearing about how much you wanted to see the skyline but didn’t want to pay a ridiculous amount for a view. And this is where it led you: on the lounge rooftop of a luxury apartment building. The twinkling lights of the city sparked beneath you. The haphazard spacing of the lights from nearby buildings were windows into the lives of the people who occupied the space. Then, you had the great Empire State Building literally blocks away, its spire brightly illuminating the night. To your right, there was a patch of darkness that was Central Park.

You were breathless at the sight before you. Suddenly, you felt connected with every fiber of your being. The light midnight breeze that swam between your loose strands of hair felt like a glass of fresh water as it revitalized you. There you were, in New York City – looking at it from a bird’s eye point of view. Nothing could have ever prepared you for this.

You then felt Jungkook stand close next to you as he bumped his shoulder with yours playfully. “How is it?”

“It’s so beautiful.” It took everything in you to tear your gaze away from the view to look at Jungkook. “How did you know about this place?”

He snickered mischievously. “One of the label’s former execs used to live in this building. He used to talk about it all the time and I couldn’t help but remember it. Glad it lived up to all the talk though, it is gorgeous up here.”

And with that, he began to walk over to the outdoor couch hidden behind the privacy of a cabana in front of a fire pit. He turned it on effortlessly before plopping down on the couch right beside the glass-protected edge of the building for what you assumed to be a maximum viewing experience. You followed and sat down, his arm naturally finding its way wrapped behind your shoulders.

“I never thought I would be able to experience something like this,” you marveled at the night skyline with an at-ease smile on your face, letting your body fit into a nook created by Jungkook’s. “Never would I think feeling so small like this would be so comforting. I don’t regret this at all.”

Absentmindedly, Jungkook’s hand began to play with one of the strands of your hair. “Yeah, same. I regret a lot of things, but this definitely wouldn’t be one – not by a long shot.”

“Oh? Like what kind of regrets?” You asked him, scared to look into his eyes at that moment.

“Letting my insecurities and tendencies for perfectionism get the best of me. There were so many times when it got in the way of being present. Whether it be with the band, my life… and you.” His hand froze as he cleared his throat. “I regret letting you go. And I feel like the biggest idiot on the face of the earth, y’know? I thought that I had to be successful to be worthy of your love. To be worthy of someone so utterly beautiful inside and out. You were truly my morning light. And I hurt you. I hurt you because I was insecure and so lost in my head.” He blew out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “And Y/N, I can’t even begin to explain how much it kills me to sit here with you knowing I did that. And I think that’s because my heart will always be yours, y’know. And I know I’m rambling but I’ve been meditating on this for the past few years because it always bothered me to hear how great and peachy things were for you with that Seokjin guy from Yoongi-hyung, I… don’t know…”

You sat up and finally made eye contact with Jungkook at his confession, resting a comforting hand on his chest. “Jungkook, can I tell you something?”

“Of course.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about…” You whispered as Seokjin stood before you under a streetlight at the park not too far from his apartment.

“My love, I just can’t do this anymore. I love you so much but it’s time we both be honest.” Seokjin reached for your gloved hand. It was the tail end of autumn and the first signs of winter were beginning to make its appearance. “I don’t think we should meet anymore.”

Tears lined your eyes but the rush of the emotion present was so foreign to you. You knew you should have been sadder and while you were sad... However, at that point, you realized that you were more sorrowful about losing Seokjin as a person in your life than your actual romantic relationship ending. That’s when it hit you, the tears falling. “How did you…”

“My love, you're one of the most intelligent people I know but I don’t think you even realized it yourself. But your heart isn’t in it with me. And that’s okay, I’ll always have a soft spot for you and I’m sure you know that.” Seokjin sighed as he respectfully let go of your hand and took a definitive step back, still handsome and composed. “I’m afraid I just can’t keep fighting like this for a love that was never meant to be mine in the first place.”

“I think that it will always be you.” You whispered, at this point your lips just mere centimeters from Jungkook’s.

“It’ll always be you, too,” Jungkook responded, too drunk in your perfume and the feeling of your being so close to his. “Y/N, can I tell you something now?”

“Of course.”

“Would it be okay if I kissed you right now?”

Wordlessly, you closed the gap between you two. The second your lips connected, it felt a lot like a warm summer day. Electricity turned static force kept you connected like that. Soon, lips moved in sync like rolling ocean waves during low tide. Hands lost in hair and tracing all the valleys of each other’s bodies, leaving goosebumps at they traversed every familiar inch. Jungkook’s plush lips felt so homey and so right. Your hand went right back to resting on his chest, feeling the intense beating of his heart. A pace set for you only.

It hurt so much to have to disconnect so you both could catch your breath.

“Wow…” Jungkook licked the last taste of you off his lips, savoring the moment with his eyes closed and forehead rested upon yours. “I missed this so fucking much. I missed you so much.”

“Please kiss me again...” Your eyes gazed into his and he obliged happily.

And your lips found each other again just like that.

Hands grew more adventurous as the kiss grew more heated. Jungkook’s calloused and cold hands made their way under your shirt, cupping your tender breasts through your bra. At this, you gently pushed him to sit back further on the couch so you could climb on top. The second you straddled his hips, you began to grind down onto his clothed dick, earning you a grunt of satisfaction. His hands grew impatient as he then pushed your shirt and bra up to reveal perky nipples, the chill of the night making them more erect.

“You look a little cold, baby. But don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.” He said before taking one nipple into his mouth and his free hand making sure the other wasn’t left unattended. You couldn’t help the moan that escaped you as he was living up to his words.

You reached down between your bodies and slipped them into his denim jeans, feeling his hot and heavy dick in the palm of your hands. This got you another grunt from Jungkook, suddenly you were on your back lying down on the couch and Jungkook flashed you his charismatic smile. “Getting a little handsy, I see.” He leaned down and began kissing your neck, remembering your sweet spot despite your time apart. It was his turn for his hand to slip into your pants, gathering your slick between his fingers to play with your clit. “Baby, let me eat you out, okay?”

You could have easily come right then and there.

You barely managed a nod as you felt him pull down your jeans and panties in tow after kicking off your sneakers. Once off, Jungkook sat back as he in the sight of your sprawled like that before him. Snapping out of his daze, he crouched down and just lost all sense of shame the second his mouth tasted you. Sucking rhythmically on your clit, rubbing circles on your inner thigh, it was all too much. The sloppy sounds of his saliva mixing in with your wetness were all you could focus on as you felt your walls tighten on nothing.

“Jungkook, baby, your fingers…”

He didn’t need to be told twice as he continued his string of slurps on your pussy and inserted one finger, beginning to stretch you out. The loudest moan escaped you embarrassingly considering you both were in a public place. However Jungkook didn’t care, he was making up for lost time after all. And then another long digit went inside you, pumping wildly and that was it.

The threads of the rope in your stomach were wound so tight that the fine fibers were beginning to give. Jungkook knew your undoing was near so he continued his onslaught of your pussy with his mouth and fingers. Soon enough, the rope snapped, your eyes sealed shut as you saw white and your jaw went slack while you continued to leak out. Your body felt utterly buoyant, among the clouds, and your mind far ahead of your physical being. How long had it been since you came like that?

Jungkook happily lapped up your cum like a man who had gone without water. “You look so fucking beautiful, so beautiful.”

“Need you… inside…” You finally said as you came to and began to remove Jungkook’s leather jacket and his white tee. “More, I want more of you…”

His smile shined as the bottom half of his face was proudly covered in your slick. That dazed smile stayed plastered as he undid the bucket of his belt, the jingle of his pants and boxers hitting his ankles had you in anticipation.

“Your wish is my command, baby. All yours… I’m all yours” He continued to toy with your already sensitive clit as he began to gently push himself inside your tight core. Both your eyes went wide with how good the tight fit was. It took everything in Jungkook to not come at that moment. His eyes only got a glimpse of the delectable scene of where he entered you before he had to screw them shut in concentration. “You feel so good as always, could die like this.”

You began to move around him, wanting friction and he took that as his sign to start moving as well. What started as slow and steady, became desperate and erratic. He hovered over you, his lips on the valley of your neck and hand gripping onto your breast as you felt every single velvet inch of him fuck you. Your arms wrapped around his neck, trying to pull him closer if that was even possible. It was all-consuming, it was otherworldly. He hit you in all the right places and it was so good that you didn’t know what to do with yourself.

“Jungkook, just like that, baby. Let’s come together, okay?” You spoke into his ears which kicked him into overdrive. You were so full of him. His hand fondling your painfully erect nipple, his mouth right on the spot he knew would have you, and Jungkook groaned as you clenched him so tight, having him reach his own undoing. A sheen of sweat lined Jungkook’s forehead as he cocked a focused brow. He drank in the fucked out image of you, encouraging him to thrust into you even more sporadically despite how sensitive you both were.

It felt so right to be filled up with his cum, with his dick, with him.

The two of you sat there in that fucked out state for a couple more minutes to catch your breath again.

Eventually, Jungkook got up with that dopey smile still on his face as he began to dress you despite still lying on the couch and straighten your clothes. He punctuated each movement with a peck on your swollen lips. His movements were more delicate and tender compared to the heated desperation from moments ago. Once he was dressed as well, he collapsed with you on the couch with his arm slung around you.

“You’re so beautiful.” He made eye contact again, however his airy smile faltered at seeing your bittersweet expression make another appearance. “Hey, baby… what’s wrong?”

“Where do we go from here, Jungkook?” You asked as you reached for his face, caressing a cheek with your thumb. “Because now I’m going to be even more sad when morning comes…”

Fuck. Jungkook had been so caught up in that moment that he didn’t realize what the consequences would be after the fact. While he sure as hell didn’t regret what happened, he didn’t want to hurt you any more than he already has.

“It doesn’t have to be like that… we can work something out. I can figure something out. I just – I just don’t want you to regret this, regret us… Just give me some time to think and I can –”

You quietly stopped him with a shake of your head, letting him know that it was okay. “It’s okay, you belong in LA, where your life is now. And I belong in Seoul, where my life is now – I know that much. I can’t ask you to uproot your life and give up the band, nor could I leave Seoul given everything happening at home. Just know that I don’t regret this, not at all. However, it’ll be quite sad when morning comes.”

Jungkook could only nod at the heaviness of your words. While they were a hard pill to swallow, they were correct. Both those things rang true in his head. He ached for you so much now he had another taste of life with you, but you both knew there was nowhere to go from here. By late noon, you’ll already be on a flight back to Seoul and he’ll be headed to Vienna to start the European leg of Bring the Soul’s tour.

“I’ll be sad when morning comes, too. Irrevocably sad.” Jungkook knew that would be the extent of all he could say then.

Silently, he sat upright where he led you to rest your head in his lap. He looked down at you fondly, a matching bittersweet expression on his face as he began to stroke your hair. A quiet promise was exchanged between you both to enjoy these last moments of intimacy before the sun rose.

You both had fallen asleep on that rooftop lounge. Then you woke up around 6AM to Jungkook trying to get you up, talking about taking you to one more place before the night was officially over. Eventually, you both were jogging out of the luxury apartment building, hand in hand, as the two of you entered the subway station to head southwest to the piers to catch the sunrise.

It was a solemn train ride, to say the least. Both of you avoided each other’s eyes on the ride, like anxious teenage lovers who experienced their first quarrel. It was hell, and the time when you both got off at your correct stop couldn’t have come sooner. His hands still intertwined with yours as you walked off into the morning world, the sun beginning to make its appearance known. The morning’s dew still coated the patches of grass as you both traveled to the edge of the pier which overlooked the water.

At this point, the blue hour had long passed as the bright star that is our sun began to peek through the horizon. The sky turned from midnight blue to a vibrant yellow with hints of orange. That’s it. This is it…

The morning had officially come.

You cursed every cliched metaphor referencing the elusiveness of time… the grains of sand slipping through fingertips, the ticking of clock hands that echo in the back of your head, the passage of breezes, and the eventual rising of the morning sun.

Jungkook smiled gently, wiping away a tear with his thumb which you didn’t even feel form as it fell down your cheek. “Don’t worry.”

“I just want you to know that I loved being in this moment. Sharing this night with you, that tonight it felt like New York was all ours. I could have never seen its beauty and experienced its magic the way I did with you.” Barely managing through your cries, you gasped for a breath as you tried to make out the next words. “But why did things have to turn out this way?”

The loud caws of the seagulls as they flew over the pier and the cold morning air fell onto forgotten senses as the only thing you could feel was the intensity of Jungkook’s stare on you. From your forehead that he placed a tender kiss upon, to your eyes that mirrored that silent longing his contained, the nose that he nuzzled against his, and chin that he held softly in his rough hand… It was like he was taking a picture of you at that moment. A moment where he was not rockstar Jeon Jungkook, but the Jungkook who always found a way to make you laugh and the Jungkook you dreamed of sharing matching rings with. And you were not the person living too fast for anyone to keep up with, but a person who could find the beauty in anything and the person that Jungkook could write a million and one songs about.

“Shh,” he comforted you as his arms wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you into his chest. “I really can’t thank you enough for tonight… I’ve never hated to see morning as much as I do now.” He chuckled dryly at the irony of all.

You pulled back, surprising the man who towered over you. You held his confused face in your hands and smiled. “Me, too. I hope you know that.”

“I do now…” He whispered as though louder words could break the moment before placing a chaste kiss on one of the hands that cupped his face.

“Now what?” Your hands fell from his face and rested on his chest.

Jungkook sighed in contemplation as he peered past you into the blossoming orange horizon before recentering his eyes on you and grin losing its warmth, being replaced with sadness. “Good morning, I guess.”

The gravity of the situation settled upon you both silently.

“None of that dramatic ‘goodbye’ shit in the morning!” You tipsily pointed at Jungkook with your beer who only laughed at your theatrics as some foam spilled.

Between chuckles, Jungkook was barely able to let out. “Okay, then what do we say at the end? When it’s morning?”

“Okay, we’ll bid each other ‘good morning’ when dawn comes then we go on with the rest of our lives. No sad stuff.”

“Promise?”

“Yeah, I promise.”

“Good morning, Jungkook.” No matter how dazzling your smile was, Jungkook could never be distracted from the tears that lined your gorgeous eyes.

No physical closeness could ever combat the weight of what daybreak meant for you both.

“For JK?” The driver of the Uber called out of the window as he pulled up.

You and Jungkook stood before each other again, hand in hand for the final time. You squeezed his rough hand, a wordless command of it’s time to let go. And just like that, his hand – despite its hesitation – followed and released its grip on yours. No matter how disheveled you both may have looked from the sleepless night of journeying, it all felt surreal.

“Good morning, Y/N.”

“Good morning, Jungkook.”

Then one more quick kiss before you had gotten into the car he ordered for you and began the journey back to your life. A life without Jeon Jungkook. You rode with the window down, taking the sight of New York in a new day’s light. It felt so foreign and so different from the New York you experienced in the last fifteen hours with Jungkook. That taxi driver was right, you were convinced, that New York was a magical place and had so much more to offer.

You abruptly felt something wrinkle in the pocket of your jeans as you adjusted yourself in the backseat of the car. Reaching in, you fished out a Katz’s Deli napkin and remembered how Jungkook was writing on it when you had excused yourself to go to the bathroom. You carefully unfolded the napkin and read what was written on it: I’m sure by the time you’ll see this, you would’ve given me the most memorable night I could never forget even if someone were to beat it out of me. I’m dreading sunrise as I write this right now. Though, I’ll hold close what tonight has in store for us. I don’t know if our paths will ever cross again, but I’m sure that this was the most beautiful sunrise I could ever experience because it was with you.

You pondered the possibilities as the heartache fully set in from reading his note. What if you told this Uber to turn around right now? What if you stayed longer? What if you took Jungkook’s offer to figure something out? What if you didn’t have to say goodbye on that forsakenly beautiful pier? What if?

However, it no longer mattered.

This was the reality you both lived in.

You had the connection, felt it again, and let it take its course.

That was what mattered. No what ifs, maybes, or perhapses. What matters is only what happened and that it, in fact, did happen.

Jungkook watched your car disappear into the morning traffic commute, gone was the warmth that you both shared on that chilly spring morning. He began to laugh at himself, at how cruel the universe was. It could have been perfect. It could have been the ultimate love story. It all could’ve.

Jungkook kicked a random pebble in his path as he finally looked at his phone log after putting his phone on Do Not Disturb for the whole duration with you.

Min Yoongi | 2 Missed Calls

FROM: Min Yoongi | Where the fuck did you run off to?

Park Jimin | 6 Missed Calls

FROM: Park Jimin | Yah, where’d you go??

FROM: Park Jimin | Please tell me you didn’t do anything stupid I swear to god Jeon Jungkook

Kim Taehyung | 5 Missed Calls

FROM: Kim Taehyung | You bastard, don’t tell me you went off to explore New York on your own

FROM: Kim Taehyung | Broooo, you didn’t even check in to your hotel room? You should’ve told meeeeeee

FROM: Kim Taehyung | You’re so foul for leaving me just to be bored while you went on a night adventure of the city that never sleeps smfh

Manager Sejin | 13 Missed calls

FROM: Manager Sejin | Kid, where the HELL did you go? Call me back asap

FROM: Manager Sejin | Jungkook this isn’t funny

Jungkook laughed at the missed notifications from the group and his manager before giving Yoongi a call back, reasoning that he would be the most level-headed given all the missed notifications after sending a quick message.

TO GROUP: Bring the Soul | Hey, I’m ok lol. I’m at the pier

The caller's ring sounded twice before Yoongi picked up groggily, but still picked up nonetheless. “Where the hell did you go last night?”

“Just hanging around. New York is a magical place, hyung.” Jungkook responded vaguely but Yoongi caught the hint of bittersweetness in the younger’s tone.

“Alright… We’re about to get breakfast at a restaurant close to you. I’ll text you the address. Meet us there by 9AM.”

“Sounds good, hyung.”

“Okay. And uh… are you alright?”

Damn Yoongi’s intuition, Jungkook thought to himself and sighed into the receiver of his cell phone.

“Yeah… it’s a damn good morning after all.”

#bbangtans ff #jungkook #bts fanfic #bbangtans jk ff #bts #jungkook x y/n #bts x reader #bts fanfiction #jeon jungkook #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #jungkook bts #jungkook fluff #jungkook scenarios #jungkook imagine #jungkook x you #jungkook fic

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imagine-knowing-a-name · 10 months

Text

Spies and Secrets

Summary: Natasha has never met her handler, she couldn’t give you their name or identify their face because she doesn’t know it. When she rants about this to you, her wife, you have to laugh... because you are her handler.

Word Count: 2048

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x F!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, lying in the relationship (not in a bad way, just in a spy way), but otherwise it’s just fluff!

A/N: I went back and wrote this idea since it seemed semi-popular. Hope you enjoy :)

»»————-　★　————-««

"Will you finally tell me who they are?"

"This again, Romanoff?"

"Just a first name?"

Fury sighs to make his vexation clear, but that's not enough to dissuade Natasha; she remains determined as ever in her mission and smirks boldly in the face of her exasperated boss.

"Just an initial will get me off your back," the spy continues through his silence.

Fury scoffs and Natasha knows she needs a different approach.

"If it's you, you can just say, Sir."

"Me? You must be losing your touch if you think I have the time for that, Romanoff. Should Hill be taking your next mission?"

Natasha stops and stares with faux hurt while Fury continues on, grinning to his own amusement. He wasn't going to let her keep the upper hand for long.

"If you want to know, ask them yourself!" Fury calls over his shoulder, "Mission debrief. C12-2. 10 minutes. They won't tell you though; above your clearance!"

Natasha groans. As much as she hadn't expected a substantial answer from Fury – she'd been asking him the same question for years – she thought she might be getting somewhere, but no matter which trick she tries, Fury doesn't budge.

On top of that, he'd reminded her that it wasn't home time yet, her mission isn't over until she's briefed her mysterious handler. So Natasha sighs and makes her way to the conference room, still wondering why only her handler chose to shroud themself in mystery. All the other agents meet theirs directly, while Natasha sits in a room alone, waiting for a shadowy silhouette to call in.

The first few years went by without a comment – it wasn't her place to ask – but as she rose the ranks and found her role, her handler, too, remained just above her clearance. Even now, as one of the highest ranking agents, her handler was higher still. Curiosity built like a dripping tap; manageable and menial to start, only to provoke greater displeasure the longer it went on.

"Hi Agent!" the disembodied voice crackles through the speakers. That's the other thing driving Natasha towards irritation, her handler's tone. It's nothing like Fury's commanding orations. No, her handler speaks with an eagerness and informality reminiscent of a junior agent meeting their hero, rather than the commanding officer that they are, and have been, since Natasha first joined SHIELD almost a decade ago.

"Officer." Natasha replies. She had never been told her handler's surname, or even a title she could use to address them. Any attempts she made to learn had been properly shut down, forcing her to stick with the appellation of Case Officer.

"Always so formal," her handler laughs. "As far as I'm aware, the mission was successful, so what's got you so grumpy today?" they continue, noticing an uncharacteristic clarity to Natasha's mood that day.

"If you told me your name, I wouldn't have to be so formal, would I?" the spy snaps back. "And I'm not grumpy."

"Natasha, we've worked together for nearly 10 years now. I know when you're grumpy, and I can throw in an educated guess that my identity is the cause?"

"I've spent my life working in secret," Natasha shrugs, then pauses in search of the right words. "I'm well accustomed to dubious legalities and taking orders from the shadows. I'm also well aware that I would be a risk to security from the moment I joined until I gained the trust of this organisation, so I understood your secrecy."

Natasha stops again, noticing the silhouette begin to fidget; whether out of boredom or discomfort, the assassin can tell the time is right to make her final argument.

"We've worked together on hundreds of missions over this past decade, enough for you to know every detail of my life and mind, while I still know nothing about you. Have you thought about how that might hurt, officer? because it does! to believe I still haven't gained your trust after all this time. That hurts."

The room stills to a silence as fragile as Natasha felt. Her handler's reaction would dictate the situation; any information given could redefine the relationship between the two spies, just as another brush off would leave Natasha spiralling further into this curiosity.

A sigh finally echoes through the speakers; its long pause circling the sole inhabitant of the room. "It's above your clearance," the voice admits. Natasha slumps; she should have known better. "But-" The speed at which Natasha perks up draws out a small chuckle from her handler, before they continue with an audible smile, "I'll talk to Fury. See what I can reveal."

Natasha settles in her seat, unable to keep the broad smile from her face. "I do trust you, Romanoff, I hope you know that… I just don't think I'll be who you expect."

As a trained spy, Natasha wouldn't let that last line slide, immediately thinking of its hidden meaning. But before she can ask further questions, her handler clears their throat. "I think it's time we actually start the mission debrief."

»»————-　★　————-««

Natasha can't wait for the meeting to end. She understands the need – giving her side of the story, answering questions, sharing the intelligence she'd gained – but it drags on without incident and without any further comments on her handler's identity, so she'd much rather be at home.

What reason was there for her not to do this from home? Her handler calls in from wherever they are, so realistically, Natasha could also pick up from wherever she is. Ideally at home, after a relaxing shower and a little time with her wife. Natasha supposes that's where the issue may lie: you, her wife, who has been led to believe Natasha is a security guard and nothing more. If you overheard a debrief, not only would SHIELD's confidentiality be compromised, but you might never forgive her lies. Natasha's home office was soundproofed though and, because of that, the assassin would take the risk if it means extra time with you.

Throughout Natasha's homeward journey and all through the mission debrief, you are the only thing to occupy her mind. Her mission finished in late afternoon, so she had planned how she would surprise you and spend the evening together upon her return, but then the debrief cropped up, and by the time her key is in the door, the sun has long since set, leaving her to wonder if you're even still awake.

You are. Just about. Your pyjama clad figure appears in Natasha's sight and you rush down the stairs to meet her by the door.

"You're home!" You beam as you wrap your arms over her shoulders and take her cue for a kiss.

"I am."

"How was your mission?" you tease. You know how seriously she takes each assignment, always doing prep work in her office ahead of the trips; she treated them akin to a secret mission and you never missed your chance to rag her for it.

One of your favourite methods of teasing is to liken her to James Bond, which only gets more realistic when you catch her mouthing along to the movie lines.

"Top secret. Can't tell you," your wife jokes back, her smile threatening to burst off her face.

"No injuries this time?"

"None at all."

"Good girl." She preens. "Have you had dinner?"

"Not yet, I came home as soon as I was done. Couldn't wait to see you."

"Sweet talker," you laugh and kiss her again, then take her by the hand, "I put some leftovers in the fridge, you clean up, then you can eat and share your 'top secret' thoughts."

The evening's plan formed just like that; you reheat the noodle dish while Natasha takes a shower, before the two of you come back together to sit at the dinner table.

"So, how was it really?" you ask her.

"The job itself was alright, no problem." Natasha replies, but by the way she's stabbing the noodles with her fork, you can tell something else is coming. "But my bosses…they just won't tell me all the information. Say it's 'above my clearance'."

"The cheek of them."

"Don't mock me."

"I'm not, I'm not! I promise, love," you say, though you can't hide your barely contained laughter thanks to the prominent pout on your wife's face. You school your face back into an expression of neutrality before you talk again, "that sounds annoying. Do you need this information?"

"No," she sighs, "it's just a matter of trust."

"Well, you must be working with idiots for them not to trust you after all this time."

"Mm, you reckon I should tell that to them?"

"You definitely should."

The smile comes back to Natasha's face as she shakes her head, "you're going to get me fired, sweetheart."

"You're too good for them to do that. Just keep it up, you're going to be leading them one day, I'm sure of it. Then all the secrets are yours."

»»————-　★　————-««

Another week, another mission. And with another mission comes another mission debrief. Natasha asked for her handler's identity three weeks ago and still knows nothing more. With how poorly her recent mission went, she doesn't even feel like asking the question again.

"What went wrong, Romanoff?" that same anonymous figure asks her, and Natasha can only groan: what didn't go wrong?

"We were ambushed to start with; whoever gave us the heads up got their information wrong, or someone sold us out. Either way, the plan went to shit the moment we arrived and the team went to shit by throwing mole accusations around. Splitting up only made it worse; nobody trusted their teammates to do their parts and it resulted in a mad scramble. My orders were ignored, but my team members were injured and I take full responsibility."

"That won't be necessary, Agent," the voice hums, "as leader, the responsibility falls on you, yes, but it is each agent's responsibility to trust in you and follow your plan, and you will not be faulted for working with idiots who don't trust you."

Natasha starts to defend her team, before the familiarity of the phrase has her searching through her mind for a recollection. What she does remember is a long shot, but she'll lose nothing by asking.

"Do you have a wife, Officer?"

"I do," they reply.

"Is she a redhead?"

"She is."

"Works for SHIELD?"

"Why, it's almost like you know her," the handler goades. If one had an illustrated list of all of SHIELD's employees, they would know that the short game of 'guess who' still left a couple dozen potential employees in the running, but the teasing and testing tone is the final clue Natasha needs to make her assumption.

"Y/N/N?"

"Hey love," you reply, with as much adoration as you can muster, glad to finally be rid of the voice modulator while you talked to your wife.

In front of Natasha, the screen flickers before the silhouette that had become so familiar to her is replaced by another familiar sight in another familiar location: the smiling face of her wife…in her office.

Natasha's face falls at once, striking you with panic that this wouldn't be the gleeful revelation that you'd expected; that is, until the assassin speaks again. "Is that my desk?"

"It's your whole office, my love. I'm not taking these calls from our bedroom."

"Is that why it's sound proofed?"

"I gave the approval for that, if you remember, and it's certainly not because you're taking SHIELD calls at home; you haven't even had one while we've lived together!"

"That's because you organise it straight after the mission so I don't have time to go home!"

"Because that's where I am! you'd be suspicious otherwise."

Natasha falls silent for a moment. You know her well enough to leave her to her thoughts, only twiddling your thumbs as you watch her through the screen.

"So can I do debriefs at home now?"

"I don't see why not," you shrug, "remember I still have to take notes though, so I get the desk and no cuddling until after."

"No chance of that."

"Come back now, Romanoff, and we can put it to the test," you challenge.

She accepts. "I'll be there in 30."

"I know."

»»————-　★　————-««

Tagging: @supercorpdanbeau (since you mentioned you’d like to read it on the original post!)

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha romanoff x you #black widow #black widow x reader #black widow x y/n #black widow x you #marvel #mcu #fanfiction #ikan writes

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oddballwriter · 3 months

Text

Calling Them your Husband

Warnings: nothing really

Author’s Snip: I just wanted to make some tooth-rotting fluff so enjoy

I’ll shut up now. Enjoy! And don’t be afraid to request.

Steven Grant

When you call him your husband, it was originally a joke, sort of

Your friend called you while you were out doing errands with Steven and they asked what you were doing, to which you said "I'm out with my husband getting stuff done."

Steven just blushes and does that goofy little smile he does because he's never heard you say that but now he wants to hear it all the time now

You guys are in a long committed relationship together and you two have been living together for some time now but he's been too anxious to ask about possibly getting married some day. Not knowing if that's something you want or if you just want to cohabitate as a couple instead

But now that he heard you refer to him as your husband (even if it was a little joke) he wants to marry you in a heartbeat so that you can actually call him your husband and he can call you his wife/husband/spouse

He just thinks about it the whole day but doesn't say anything to see if you will call him that again in case pointing it out will cause you to stop. He is a bit more affectionate though, sneaking in a pick on the cheek or something and secretly making goo-goo eyes at you

When you get home and you aren't in range of seeing it Steven starts looking up engagement rings and prices to see which one would look nice on you and try and save up money

Steven also starts to subtly, at least as subtle as he can be, ask you about if you want to get married someday

He's such a dork though, bless his soul, in his brain he's just kicking his feet and giggling. He's looking at prices for venues and planners already.

Marc Spector

Marc has it in him to get married, we know that

But in his mind he doesn't really see himself as "husband material". He thinks that he's got too much baggage that you'd have to deal with if you were married

He acts like you two haven't been living together and splitting the bills and stuff, which is sometimes what marriage is, in the most domestic way possible

To him, he can't really see himself being able to do the whole marriage thing all over again

That was until some drunk creep was hitting on you while you and him were on a date and you told the guy "I'm with my husband" which warded that guy off

For some reason you calling him your husband while you locked your arm with his just washed those feelings of doubt out. Something about it just made him feel so confident

Like "Yeah I'm their husband! Back off!"

After that Marc was more open with himself about the idea of letting that title back into his life and getting to call you his spouse too

He more so likes the ability to call you his spouse. Possessiveness is in him and by god does getting to call you his spouse feed it

Marc will ask about the idea of marriage sometime after that just to see if you like it

If you want to get married then he's on board. But if you think cohabitating suits you better then he's fine with that too

So long as you're there together and you love him then he's content and happy

Jake Lockley

Damn right he's your husband

Honestly ever since you two got serious with your relationship, became committed to each other, and moved in he's just been like "We are married now" in his head

He's never said that out loud but he knows that the feeling is there with you too

It wasn't until you semi-jokingly called him your husband when some girls were checking him out and you huffed and puffed about it

"What's the matter? I wasn't flirting back." "Well, excuse me for not wanting some giggling college girls to be eyeing up my husband."

And that just... made him feel something, in his heart and in his pants

No but seriously. After that night cohabitating and acting like a married couple wasn't enough. He needs to put a ring on you and vice versa

He will go down to town hall and get those damn papers and buy the rings right now

Jake was originally just going to wait until you said that you wanted to get officially married, but he just can't anymore

In the morning you guys are going to buy rings, get the papers filled out, and planning the wedding

He's got the wedding planner on speed dial and a house with a picket fence in the nice part of town ready to go, just say "I do" please

Honestly at this point he never wants to hear his name come out of your mouth ever again. To you, it's either "hun" "hunny" "dear" or "sweetheart"

Light of his life, air in his lungs, fire in his loins

Taglist: @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction

#moon knight #moonknight #moon knight x reader #moonknight x reader #jake lockley #steven grant #marc spector #marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader #jake lockley x reader

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babygirl-riley · 8 months

Note

i need jealous / possessive / protective ghost plssss :)

Only Mine

Simon watches as a new recruit takes interest in you. Even though you both are married (secretly of course) He still needs to let you know who you belong to.

A/N: omg we LOVE possessive jealous Simon. 🤭 Might write one that doesn’t have smut but listennnn it’s a good.

“Are you really here to cast me off? Or maybe just to turn me on.”

Warnings: jealous!simon, husband!simon, wife!reader, smut, rough sex, semi-public sex, just a little choking, basically a quickie, fluff, squint for the angst, swearing

simon x reader guide

simon x reader smut list

God the way your body started to ache in such a numbing good way, as you gripped the bars of Simon’s bed. You didn’t really expect your day to turn out like this. Simon, your secret husband, dragged you to his room without any explanation. Demanding your pants down and pussy out.

Confused yet totally turned on you did what he said. Now it’s just growls and slapping of skin. You are trying to recall the day, what could have possessed the all might Lieutenant Riley to be so riled up.

The last thing you were doing was teaching a recruit how to clean his gun properly. Nice kid, young possibly just joined that’s how young he looked. He made stupid snide jokes to get you laughing but it didn’t peak your interest. You are used to having all the young recruits flirt with you and stare. Until one day they make sure not to even cross paths with you.

Little did you know Simon fucking Riley would be watching from afar. Narrowing in on any recruit who decided to play that game. Make sure he scratches their name down so he could give them heavy drills. Watching them get more and more tired until the end to come up and whisper to them. “Get near my Sargent again and this will be the easiest thing ya ever have to do.”

However there was one time you knew that he did it to one recruit. You were hounding the little asshole about how he almost killed his group during a mission. Simon was to be in the same room due to having a back up if things got out of hand. Simon not once stepped in as voices got raised.

The recruit scoffed as he was being told that he is off the next assignment. Due to not only his previous act but also how the respect was not there for you. The recruit turned to Simon. “Control your bitch.”

Before you could even say anything Simon stood up. “Drills now.” He said lowly as he walked up to him. The recruit didn’t move for a moment staring at Simon dead in the eye. Simon leaned to his face. “Ya do not get to call your Sargent that. Now go before I make ya.”

The recruit looked over at you, which you had your arms folded. “That was an order private.” You said as he stormed out.

Simon had you come and watch and give the orders out to him. Basically like whipping a wild horse to become domesticated. In which this case the private did, he was one of your favorites to have in the field. Made sure everyone listened close and trusted you with his life.

Simon later on that day made sure that you were never going to be talked to like that again. That the next muppet that does would be thrown against the wall, you did have to remind him that your marriage is hidden. Which meant to be careful when to start throwing people around. However you loved the fact that he was protective like that. Making sure you were respected. Cared for.

Even when it was outside of the base, when the team is off on leave. Only Price truly knew that you both are married. So whenever you went on leave Simon went on leave and vise versa. When one of your little leaves you and Simon went to a bar, have some drinks and go home. When Simon went to the bathroom another man came up to flirt with you.

No matter how hard you would give him the no time of day, he kept going. The man would causally try to touch your hand, even when showing him the small ring on your finger he would say, “I don’t see him here.”

You would just smile as Simon stood behind him. “Hello babe.” You would say. At first the man had a smirk ready to face whatever man he was going to face, to only frown realizing that Simon was much larger in size.

Simon glared down at him his mask only showing his eyes. The eyes of warning towards the man. “Betta get going mate. She is here with me. And me only.”

The man scoffed and rolled his eyes as he left. Simon taking his space, you rubbed his back and whispered to him of how you were his. And how he was yours. Possessive was always on Simon, you loved it. You made sure that he felt the same, you even both agreed that you both had that. Wrong look from anyone Simon would give the death glare. Smile at you. Dead to him. Even look at you wrong. Gone.

You seen everything when he got that way. Him saying something to giving them his death looks…This however. Was something you haven’t seen. Simon’s cocked dragged against your walls at such a high speed that you didn’t know what to do. Your mouth dripping with salvia as you gasped and whined as he hit the spot over and over, releasing your second orgasm. “Havin’ him near ya like that,” Simon growled as he reached for your neck, pulling you up to his chest. “You laughing at his jokes, fuck, you think I wouldn’t see that.”

It finally hit you once he said those words. “Si,” You whimpered as you felt his hand squeeze your neck. “Fuck, you know I only belong to you.” You knew that is what he needed to hear, to let him know that you belong only to him.

Simon chuckled. “Is that so,” He questioned snapping his hips harder into you, slowing his pace as he placed his lips next to your ear. “I want you to scream my name as I fuck my cum so deep in ya, that no fucking man in this base will get near you.”

You moaned as he bite your ear. “Show me and the rest of this fuckin’ base who you belong to.”

He pushed you back down pinning your chest to the bed as he slammed his cock into you once more. You screamed as you clenched around his cock feeling the knot start to form. Simon went back to his brutal pace, tears brimmed your eyes as it felt so good yet the overstimulating was becoming too much. You wanted more as he drove harder and harder. You moaned loudly as he started to grip your hips.

“Fuck Simon.” You mumbled looking behind your shoulder. He still had basically everything on, he tore your clothes off once you laid down on this bed.

“Louder.” He demanded combing through your hair. Not stopping his pace.

The noises that filled his room should be illegal. The tiny bed that squeaked, as the metal bar hitting the wall, skin to skin slapping against one another, the wet sound that came from his cock and your pussy, and the moaning god the moaning.

“Simon.” You said louder a whine coming out. Panting started to become faster. “It feels so fucking good!”

He gripped your hair. “Louder!” Simon growled.

Your orgasm was right there and you knew he was right there too, his hips stuttering as he panted. Your body shook as Simon’s fingers went underneath you to play with you clit. “Yesyesyesyesyesyss! Simon! Oh god!” You yelled as your orgasm hit you hard enough to see stars.

You could feel your cum lathering his cock as he growled lowly. “That’s it doll, let them hear you. You belong to me only. fucking. me.” He grunted as his cum filled your hole.

You collapsed against the mattress as Simon moaned as he leaned into you more. Shoving his cock further up into you. It was quiet for a moment, the sound of your breaths steaming. Simon sighed kissing your back, rubbing your sides. He noticed that he gripped your hips hard enough that he knew it would leave marks. It wasn’t his first time, you told him you loved when he would do it occasionally.

You sighed pushing yourself more into him. “You know that I only belong to you. That no one else can have me.” You whispered, moaning with content.

Simon nodded as he kissed the back of your neck. “I know, just gets me riled up to see men touching you. Especially when you laugh at their jokes.”

You chuckled slowly getting up having him take his cock out. You both hissed for a moment before you laid on your back. He hovered over you as you grabbed his cheeks. “Your jokes are the only ones that are truly funny.”

“Including the goldfish in the tanks?” He asked smirking, knowing damn well you hated that one.

You rolled your eyes. “Yes even that one.” You both stare at each for a moment. You inhaled deeply. “You should get jealous more often, it looks good on you Lieutenant.”

Simon scoffed getting up before pulling his pants and boxers on. “Shut it,” You giggled as he handed you your clothes. “Get dressed I have a private to run drills, you should watch.”

Oh, now how you were going to get him more jealous. You just loved the way your body ached for more than what you just got.

#simon ghost riley #call of duty modern warfare #simon riley #simon ‘ghost’ riley #call of duty #call of duty mw2 #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x f!reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley smut #simon riley smut #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x female reader #simon ghost riley x wife!reader #simon ghost #simon ghost x you

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kamiversee · 3 months

Text

➶-͙˚ ༘✶ 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁*𝘾𝙆 𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏

✧.* CHAPTER 46 || The Drama (part 1)

[ { SYPNOSIS } ] ➤ A tale in which Gojo Satoru blackmails you into seducing a list of people to clear his debt. Sounds easy enough, right?

[ { CHAPTER CONTENT } ] ➤ language, semi-smut, fluff, & angst (according to ☃️anon…)

[ { WORD COUNT } ] ➤ 5k

[ { PAIRINGS } ] ➤ jjk men x f!reader. gojo x f!reader. geto x f!reader. toji x f!reader. choso x f!reader. sukuna x f!reader. nanami x f!reader.

[ [ chapters mlist } ]

——“OH FUCK-, S-SATORU WAIT,” You moaned into the air as Gojo got carried away in kissing you. Your back was against his apartment door by this point and he had one of his legs in between yours, his hands on your hips and his lips all over your neck.

Gojo sucked, licked, and even nibbled all over you, his hands feeling all parts of your body as he did so. You felt him knead your ass in his grasp as his focus went just under your jaw, soft smacks of his tongue and lips against you filling the air.

“You said I could kiss you,” Gojo hums. His voice was so low, lower than you’d heard it in a while.

One of his hands slides up and you sigh when you feel his fingers run over your chest, gently groping you as his kisses trail back up. His eyes meet yours for less than a second before he steals your breath by crashing his lips into yours again.

“M-Mmh,” You hum, feeling as his tongue works the insides of your mouth and his leg rubs against your clothed sex, “T-This… This isn't just k-kissing,” You mumble against him.

Gojo moves to clasp your lower lip in between his teeth and as he gives your skin a slight tug, his eyes open and both of you make contact through a low-lidded gaze. “Should I stop?” He asks huskily.

His eyes were drowning in lust, his leg yet to stop the constant rub over your cunt. You were getting all too worked up over this and your breathing grew unstable, “Ha-ah… Y-Yeah, maybe…” You hum.

He tilts his head, “Maybe? You sound unsure, sweetheart.” His thigh suddenly angles a bit differently and presses up against your clit.

Your jaw drops, “S-Shit,” You whine.

“If you want me to stop then tell me to stop-”

“Don’t s-stop,” You breathe out, confused by what you want at this point, rolling your hips forward against his leg.

Gojo bites his lip, “We shouldn’t be doing this, y’know.”

“Then you stop,” Your voice was so light and airy already, simply over some kisses and the slightest touches.

“I won’t if you don’t tell me to.” He tells you.

You shake your head, “I s-should be… mmgh,” You fold over a bit as his leg rubs over you just right, “Should’ be leaving…” You manage out.

Gojo snickers, “Then leave, sweets.”

You squeeze your eyes shut and move to grab onto his arm, “Then s-stop… haah… stop-, mmh… moving your leg,” You moan.

He’s trying his best to control himself but… He hasn’t seen you like this in months. Gojo forgot how whiney and fidgety you get when you’re flustered and turned on. The sight aroused him like crazy.

“You’re so fuckin’ cute,” Gojo teases, “I might cum in my pants if you seriously get off on my leg right now.”

Your head flips up to him with a glare, “We shouldn’t be doing this. I-It was supposed to be one little k-kiss… mmmh…”

“When is it ever one little kiss, love?” He asks softly.

“I can’t stand you,” You breathe out.

“Mhm,” Gojo nods, “I know. But you know the second option for you if that’s the case.” You furrow your brows and he makes up for his lack of explanation, “You can pick my face or my lap, either way, if you can’t stand me then sit on me.”

You roll your eyes at him and move to straighten yourself up. Abruptly, his leg kneads up into your pussy and you release a very light moan, your eyes flickering for a moment, “O-Okay… fuck, s-stop.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. His leg freezes in place and Gojo removes his hands from your body, instead bringing them to cup your face in his palms once more, “Sorry,” He apologizes.

You nod weakly, “Uhuh, whatever.”

He chuckles at the clear rush of heat to your face, “You didn’t cum, did you?”

“What? No,” You scoff, finding it funny he thought you’d get off that quickly, “It takes more than that to make me cum…”

“You were about to though,” He suggests, raising a brow, “Weren’t you?”

You look off to the side and roll your eyes, “Fuck off.”

Gojo hums, smiling a bit at the way you simply avoided his question, “Sorry I got carried away.”

“I need to go now,” You sigh, moving carefully to collect yourself and calm down the arousal that was stirring within you.

“Alreadyyyy? Gojo whines with a pout.

Damn him for going from normal, to this obsessive freak, and now to this cute persona within a matter of minutes. It’s getting difficult to keep up with his constant switch-ups. One minute you think he loves you, the next you think he’s using you, and another you figure he’s just crazy.

“Yes, Satoru,” You huff, your hands going to his chest as you lightly push him away. Gojo takes a step back and you feel like you can breathe again, “We’ll see each other again sooner or later.”

He simply gazes at you, his heart throbbing for some reason. The list was truly over? Just like that? You’d completed it already… and in the process, you went and fell for someone… That thought stings Gojo’s heart.

He knows he just wants you to be happy and he thought he’d shed enough tears on the matter but damnit now that it was all over, things really started to hit him hard. For example, that was probably his last time kissing you, the real last time kissing you. By the time you see him again, nine times out of ten you’ll be in a relationship.

He hated that. Gojo hated that he was happily letting you run off with someone else. For only a moment, his thoughts went somewhere darker than ever, yet another scheme, another form of blackmail…

Gojo genuinely debated on blackmailing you into a relationship with him.

Just as quickly as the thought came, he shook it away, repulsed by himself for a moment. What the hell was coming over him? He’s done enough to you already and more than anything, the whole point of this was for you to be-

Gojo takes a deep breath as he centers his thoughts, “Right…” He finally murmurs to you, “Sooner or later…”

You frown, “Oh c’mon, don’t make me feel bad for leaving-”

“I know I’m an asshole but,” Gojo unintentionally cuts you off, his feelings getting the better of him, “I really do love you.”

You swallow. His confession feels weird now that you know he may be fusing love and obsession together into one singular emotion, “I’m sure you do…”

“I’m serious,” He says, “I love you so much that it pains me.”

You begin to roll your eyes, not exactly in the right head space to hear yet another confession, “Satoru-”

“And no, I’m not confused or mixing anything together,” Gojo claims, “I mean it. If there’s one thing I’ve never lied about or said to manipulate you, it’s those three words; I love you.”

There’s not much you can say to that by this point. So, you simply nod, “Thanks, I guess.”

He chuckles, “Thanks?”

“Thanks for loving me, Satoru.” You tell him, “If I had one wish, it’d be that you did that from the beginning.”

Gojo opens his mouth to say something but then he swallows his words down. He nearly fucked up.

“All you had to do was talk to me,” Your shoulders raise into a shrug as you move a hand to the doorknob, “Things could’ve been different if you did.”

“Even if I’ve been obsessed with you since the beginning?” He questions and he’s stepping closer to you again. He can’t possibly wrap his head around that possibility-

You laugh a bit, “Especially if you were obsessed from the beginning,” You didn’t know it but that statement right there made the man feel as though his world was falling apart, loads of regret tumbling over him as he stares at you with wide eyes, “Satoru I think you forgot but, before all this started, aside from Shoko… I was lonely.”

Gojo’s throat goes dry and he fails to form a response to that, “I…”

“If you had just talked to me one time, and more than a hey or how are you,” The way your eyes soften, a slim sheer gloss of tears coating your gaze as you speak to him, “I would’ve fallen for you.”

He grits his teeth, “Don’t tell me that.”

“But it’s true.” You say.

And just like that, Gojo was crumbling all over again. If only you knew how much he regretted everything after hearing you say that.

He has to grit his teeth and hold his emotions in due to your words, “I’m sorry-,” He whispers, voice cracking ever so slightly, “S-Sorry I didn’t do that.”

You smile slightly, “It’s okay ‘Toru, maybe in some alternate world… maybe you and I work out.”

Gojo nods, his eyes glossing over, “Yeah…”

You have to turn to the door to stop yourself from falling victim to his saddened state, “I’m uh… I’m gonna’ go now.”

Gojo whispers your name and you turn back to him once more, “Please, no matter what happens, promise me you’ll be happy?”

A smile spreads across your face, “I promise.”

Then, he steps closer once more and you turn your body to face his. Gojo places an arm up against the door and leans down to you. He shouldn’t be doing it and you shouldn’t be leaning into it but, his other hand goes to tip your chin up and both of you move for just one more kiss.

Your heart is thumping in your chest as you kiss Gojo one last time, this moment feeling like the final action between the two of you for real this time. You couldn’t help the way your lips molded against his so perfectly or how your hand moved to touch his chest ever so slightly.

As you do so, you feel how his skin tenses up and the way he whines against your lips makes you smile. Pulling away, just barely, you open your eyes, “Satoru,”

“Y-Yes?” He squeaks out.

“I’m gonna leave now,” You murmur.

He smiles a bit and nods, “Mhm..”

“But, before I do,” The way your words leave you so slowly has him on edge but the next phrase is leaving you before you even think about it, “I’ve been thinking about it for a while and…”

Gojo tilts his head and his pupils are all dilated, palms sweaty just from kissing you, and his heart pounding, “What is it, sweetheart?”

“I loved the way you confessed to me,” You tell him.

His expression sours into something sad, “Why do you tell me such things just as you’re about to leave?”

“Because,” You shrug, “I don’t want to leave with you thinking the only thing I’ve ever loved about you was the way you kiss me.”

“But why tell me this now?” He asks, his brows pushing together in distraught, “Do you understand how difficult it is for me to allow you to walk out of this door?”

You snicker, “What’re you gonna do, kidnap me?”

“I might,” Gojo whispers in full seriousness.

You swallow, “Satoru…”

“It’s so hard to let you go,” He tells you, his voice ridiculously low and dark for yet a second time, “And I hate myself for it.”

“You’re crazy, y’know that?” You hum, halfway joking with him.

He shrugs, “For you, yes, yes I am.”

You chuckle a bit uneasily, “Right well… I’m uh, I’m going to leave for real this time.”

“You need to,” Gojo warns.

“Mhm,” You hum, staring up into his eyes in a way that says you kind of don’t want to leave, “Bye, Satoru.”

He shakes his head, “Say something else, not that. This isn’t bye.”

You scoff, “Fine, like what then, cya later?”

“Y-Yeah,” He mumbles.

God, he’s so cute. You roll your eyes, “Fine, cya later Satoru.”

“Mhm,” He hums, smiling at the way you corrected yourself, “I love you.”

“I…” You almost said it back.

Gojo smiles, “Careful now.”

With a heavy sigh, you tear your eyes off him and finally turn around, twisting the doorknob and moving to open it, “Okay, okay, see you later,” You rush out.

Gojo steps back away from the door and his hands are quickly shoved down into his pockets, “Cya, sweets.”

And with that, you finally leave his apartment, unknowingly leaving him with a boner and a heartache. He got hard from making out with you and was surprised you didn’t notice…

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

As for you, you’re taking quick steps down the hallway, trying to get your mind together.

Okay, you managed to stay calm but truth be told, you were panicking the entire time from the moment that man told you he was obsessed with you. In love is one thing but fucking obsessed?

What the hell do you do with that information?? How is he obsessed with you? Why? What the hell? What does that even mean for you?

How does a man both in love and obsessed with you blackmail you into completing a list to clear a debt that’s not even real? Like always, it doesn’t make sense. With Gojo, nothing ever makes sense.

So why do you continue to waste your time trying to figure it out and why are your feelings for him so damn strong? Deep down inside you think you knew.

You knew that somewhere inside you’d fallen for that man. But, in no way would you allow such an emotion to grow and blossom into the unavoidable toxic flower of corrupted love and obsession.

You didn’t need that. The list was over so all the stress in your life should be too. Allow Gojo Satoru to fade into the dark parts of your past and focus on the future and what’s important-

Your phone suddenly starts buzzing in your pocket. You scramble for the device and when you get it out, you see Sukuna’s name plastered over your screen.

Batting your eyelashes at it for a moment, you hesitantly answer the call and stop in the middle of the hallway, bringing your cell to your ear.

“Hello?” You greet timidly.

“Wait, who the hell-,” Sukuna’s voice fades a bit and then you hear him scoff, “Shit, called the wrong whore.”

And just like that, you were appalled, “Excuse me?”

“What?” Sukuna hums. You swear his stupidly sexy voice is the only thing saving him right now, “You liked it when I called you that before-“

“That was different.” You interrupt.

You hear his voice fade away yet again but you could still make out what he was saying, “Did this damn woman just cut me off?”

His annoyed tone makes you laugh and you can practically picture the frustrated and very faint pout on his face, “Yes, Sukuna, yes I did just cut you off.”

He brings his phone back to his ear, “Apologize.”

You giggle, “Apologize? Oh please-“

“I’ll have you kidnapped if you don’t.” He threatens, which is funny considering the fact that you remember him being like this that morning after you had sex with him.

Often would he make the wildest threats, like how he told you if you didn’t stop moving your feet as he put your shoes on, he’d have your toes cut off. He was quite the dramatic man but that oddly made him entertaining for you.

“Shiver me timbers,” You uttered sarcastically. Were you smiling? Was this accidental interaction with Sukuna making you smile??

You hear Sukuna groan and again, you can picture his annoyed expression, “You have ten seconds.” He tells you. You roll your eyes and open your mouth to speak but he cuts you off, “And if you roll your eyes at me again, I’ll have you in my bed again and fuck you until they’re stuck in the back of your head.”

You blink and look around the hallway. For some reason, the way he knew what you did kinda scared you. Maybe Gojo’s little confession of being obsessed really had you on edge…

“Whatever,” You hum, disregarding his threat, “Sorry Sukuna.”

“Say it like you mean it, whore.” He scowls.

You frown, “Stop calling me a whore.”

Sukuna chuckles and raises a brow, “Or what?”

You don’t say anything.

“That’s what I thought, now do as I said.”

You groan and put on this fake dramatic tone, “Please accept my humblest apologies, lord Sukuna, for I have-“

“Okay you can stop now,” He says. You could hear him laughing and you knew he was smiling from ear to ear, “Lord Sukuna, hmm, that has a nice ring to it. Call me that from now on.”

You scoff, “In your dreams.”

He frowns, “Oh don’t be like that, sweetheart.”

Why are you even talking to this man right now? “How do you go from calling me a whore to sweetheart?” You ask the man.

“Well, whore is a generic term I use for all the women I sleep with. And sweetheart…” Sukuna starts chuckling lowly, “That nickname just has a little ring to it, don’t you think?”

“No.” You say, in your head, only one person is allowed to call you such a thing.

“Tch, you’re no fun,” Sukuna tells you, “Anyway, let me go call the correct whore this time.”

You blink, “I-“

He hangs up on you.

You stare at your phone for a moment, processing that short yet entertaining phone call. Then, after your moment you simply brush it off.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

You should’ve gotten off the phone with Sukuna sooner if anything, you were supposed to be calling Choso.

Which is precisely what you go to do. Your fingers tap against your screen and you steadily pick your feet up to walk toward the elevator once more and soon dial up Choso’s number.

Once you do, the phone rings only one time before the man is answering and by that time, you’re pressing the button to go down on the elevator.

“Choso?” You murmured into the phone as you held it to your ear.

“Hey baby, what’s up?” He greets simply.

And just like that, you think your world is finally rotating on its axis again. It’s kinda scary how this man’s voice centers you so quickly. You forget that you just made out with Gojo a few minutes ago, found out he’s obsessed with you, and just got off the phone with Sukuna all too quickly.

Who cares about any of that when you have Choso on the phone?

“I thought you were taking a break from me…” Choso adds on.

You laugh, “I was buuut, that’s over now.”

He smiles, “How so-“

In the background, you suddenly hear someone speak. “Cho, who’re you on the phone with all of a sudden?” It’s… It’s a woman’s voice.

Your heart sinks a bit at the sound and you fall quiet as Choso responds to her, “My girl,” He claims, “Give me sec, please?”

“Oh?” The woman snickers, “Your girl? Choso you didn’t tell me you had a girlfriend!”

You can hear the shift in Choso’s voice, he sounds annoyed, “She’s not exactly-,” He sighs and decides not to correct her, “I think we both know why I didn’t say anything.”

The sound of the woman laughing a bit louder can be heard and your heart is just sinking and sinking and sinking. “If that’s the case then she must be cute, let me talk to her!”

“What the fuck?” Choso spits out, his face scrunching up in frustration, “No, piss off.”

“Why’re you so grouchy all of a sudden?” She asks, giggling at the man. You can’t tell if she’s flirting or if this is the kind of behavior she’s used to, “I just wanna ask her something!”

“The same bullshit question you ask everyone?” Choso quizzes in a dull tone, “Yeah, no.”

She pouts, “Whyyy-“

“Choso…” You suddenly call out, interrupting it all as you make your way out of Gojo’s apartment complex and to your car.

The way Choso’s every ounce of attention goes to you and how his voice lights back up doesn’t go unnoticed, “Sorry about that, yes princess?”

The woman’s voice is heard yet again, “Ohhh? Princess? You never called me that-“

“Shut the fuck up, oh my god,” Choso groans out to her. He sends her a glare too but you don’t see this since you’re on the phone. Then, he returns to you, “Ignore her, what were you saying?” He asks you.

You swallow, “Who uh…” Your hand is working to open your car door and you’re trying not to feel displeased right now, “Who is that?”

“Huh? Oh, a friend, why?” Choso says simply.

You grit your teeth a bit, attempting to chill the burn in your heart, “Choso, I asked who not what.” You tell him, your voice firm and clearly pissed off despite the way you tried to control it.

“I-,” Choso sighs and although you can’t see it, this slow and sexy smile spreads across his face, “Baby… Are you jealous?”

Your brows furrow, “W-What? No, I-“

“It’s okay if you are.” He purrs almost excitedly.

“I-I’m not, I was just curious.” You lie, “Do you want me to be jealous or something?”

Choso shrugs, “It’s kinda hot if you are.”

“I-, wait seriously?” Your eyelashes bat in disbelief, “So you do want me to be jealous?”

He gets quiet for a second and then hums, “I was gonna’ say yes but actually, no it’s better if you’re not.”

Now you’re confused. Furrowing your brows, “Huh, why?” You ask.

“Cause’ uhhh…” Choso shifts around a bit, “Hold on,” He tells you. Then you feel your phone buzz and you receive a text from him.

Remaining confused, you move to look at the message he sent you. Then, your eyes widen, “Oh?”

“Yeahh…” Choso sighs.

“Sooo,” You smirk, “You don’t want me to be jealous because it makes your dick hard?”

His face goes red and he drops his head into the palm of his hand, “Shit… Y’know, the whole point of me texting it to you was so that it wasn’t said out loud.”

You giggle, “Choso, that's one toxic kink to have.”

“Shut up,” He teases, “It’s not a kink.”

“Me being jealous turns you on, sounds like a kink to me.” You argue with a shrug.

“It’s not, I swear. I just thought it was hot.”

Your voice dips into something sultry for just a moment, “Hot enough for your cock to spring up-“

“Jesus,” Choso choked, “Baby you’re killing me over here.”

The sound of him struggling is cute and you can only imagine how red his face was, “Am I?”

“Yes, enough with the dirty talk.” He pleads.

You chuckle, “Fine, fine. Now answer my question.”

“Huh? Oh yeah, I’m with Yuki.” Choso finally tells you.

Well, you weren’t exactly jealous before but now…

Yuki? As in, the woman he was fooling around with when you first met him? Why is he with her now?

You swallow, “Where are you guys?”

Choso bites his lip, “Why?”

You frown and your voice gets serious, “I’m not playing with you, Cho.”

“You’re also not my girlfriend so you can’t exactly ask those questions.” He responds sassily.

You wanted to be pissed off but he made a very valid point. “I was thinking about changing that but y’know what, since you wanna be like that, never mind.” You say sweetly, a faux smile on your face.

“Wait, wait, baby I was just joking, we’re at a cafe,” Choso says quickly, “Holy shit, you’re really fuckin’ sexy when you’re mad.”

You roll your eyes, “I wasn’t mad…”

“Liar,” He chuckles, “Anyway, I’ll send you my location.”

“Mhm, as you should,” You comment.

Choso smiles, “You’re such a shit talker over the phone but every time I see you, you know not to say things like that.”

You laugh as you move to start your vehicle, “Is that so?”

“Yeah-” His voice is cut off by something that you don’t see which is a small piece of bread being thrown at him. Choso is pissed off with his company all over again, “Yuki, fuck off for a second, please?”

She chuckles, “I gave you a few minutes but listening to you flirt is so annoying.”

Choso’s brows push together, “Excuse me-”

“I mean, you’re not very good at it after all. I wonder how the hell you managed to get a girlf-” There’s a shuffle over the phone and you hear a shriek, “Hey! C’mon, this is my favorite shirtttt!”

“Cry about it,” Choso snickers, then he returns to you once more, “Anyway, are you on your way here?”

“I dunno, it sounds like you’re having a great time.” You comment, “I wouldn’t wanna interrupt anything-”

“Baby,” Choso hums, “You’re not interrupting shit, trust me. I’d actually prefer it if you were here.”

Although you’re currently backing out of the parking lot and have in your head that you’re definitely showing up after hearing another woman, you roll your eyes, “Uhuh…”

He sighs and he doesn’t exactly like how you sound upset anymore, “Are you coming or not?”

“Yeah,” You tell him.

“Good.” He nods.

“So that means I can meet her!” Yuki chimes in, her voice so loud in the background that you honestly thought she may be sitting right next to Choso.

The dark-haired man sends the woman another glare, “I want you gone by the time she gets here.”

“Whaaat, whyyyyy?” She whines.

He groans, “Because you’re annoying as shit and she’ll never like you.”

She pouts at him, “You’re so mean to me when you’re on the phone…”

“Yuki, you’re pissing me off,” Choso says, his voice revealing just how agitated he is.

“Awww, am I?” Yuki coos.

Choso rolls his eyes, “Please leave me alone.”

“But-”

“Fuck off,” Choso cuts her off, then, you don’t see it but he stands from where he is and simply walks away, “I’ll see you soon, then?”

The sound of him talking to you again has you feeling weird. You hated that you could hear the obvious banter between Choso and Yuki so clearly and it made you feel almost forgotten over the phone.

“Sure,” You voice out plainly.

He stops walking and his brows furrow, “Are you upset?”

Kinda, but you don’t want to express or entertain that emotion, “No.”

“You sound like it.” Choso points out, seeing through you as he always does.

You’ve run out of things to say so you simply hum, “Oh.”

“C’mon princess what’s with the one-word responses?” He asks, his voice filling with concern. It’s like he doesn’t see anything wrong with what just happened, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, Cho.” You murmur.

He sighs frustratedly, “You’re lying.”

You don't know why but there was just this ill feeling in your chest. Whether it was jealousy or something else goes unknown. “I’m gonna hang up now, see you when I get there.” You tell him.

Choso’s completely confused and he doesn’t know if he likes this demeanor of yours as much as he said he did earlier, “Wait-”

You hang up anyway. Were you actually upset? Not really but you did feel some type of way. You didn’t know what to make of Yuki based on what you heard over the phone.

Maybe you were being dramatic or even a hypocrite given the fact that you literally just left Gojo but you didn’t really care. Something about Yuki and Choso being together just threw you off. Why would he be with her now? Is it because you were unavailable? Were they on some kinda date?

You felt like you were going crazy trying to figure it out and your assumptions weren’t making it any better. Why was this bothering you so much? Since when do you care that Choso’s with someone else, it’s not like he never told you about Yuki before.

But, maybe that was why. Maybe it was because you knew they had something going on before and given how clingy of a person Choso is, maybe he’d run back to her while you took your break from him.

Fuck, you hate how much you’re thinking about this. You knew you were being a hypocrite about it and yet it still bothered you. Even though Choso spent that whole call cursing the woman out, with the way she responded to it just seemed like that’s how he always treats her…

You hate that. You hate that it feels like there’s someone else-, fuck, is this karma? Is this what you get for falling for the man you once hated and Choso at the same time?

Shit, so lost in your thoughts, you nearly missed how fast you were driving and got lucky you snapped back into reality. Slowing yourself to the speed limit, you tried to refocus your mind on where you were going.

Choso had sent you the address and you noticed that this cafe was roughly a few streets away from that one nightclub… The way everything in this city keeps connecting to one another kind of frightens you. What would happen if you were to run into someone else from the list while you were with Choso?

You chuckle, the chances of that happening are slim to none, right?

Funny. You were actually so wrong to assume such a thing because as soon as you entered that damn cafe, things decided to take an interesting turn.

GOJO SATORU ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

GETO SUGURU ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

TOJI FUSHIGURO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙈𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙪𝙢

KAMO CHOSO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙎𝙚𝙢𝙞-𝙈𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙪𝙢 / 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

ZEN'IN NAOYA ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙭𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

ITADORI SUKUNA ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙎𝙚𝙢𝙞-𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮???

NANAMI KENTO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙃𝙖𝙧𝙙

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leclsrc · 1 year

Text

you know it ✴︎ cl16

genre: porn WITH plot (for once?! everyone cheered), humor, bit of fluff... oh inaccurate depictions of the 2022 season sorry

word count: 7k

Charles is a bit disappointed the pretty girl he harbors a crush on doesn’t have him listed as a Formula 1 crush. He is a lot disappointed that you two can’t fuck.

nsfw warnings under the cut!

18+ because... degradation, praise, charles is a bit switchy here lol, penetrative sex, a bit of ass play sorry...., oral (m receiving), semi public sex, yeah

title from this. i love u guys im so sleepy

Joris insists there’s some big present waiting for Charles in his car, to celebrate the middle of the season that has, and will no doubt continue to stretch into a period of conflict and strategy woes. He yanks off the beanie sitting on his head, listens to small talk drifting between Joris and Carlos as they all walk toward their cars to alleviate the bubble of nerves in the low of his stomach.

Sure enough, there’s an unassuming box lying on the driver’s seat. Joris slides into the passenger seat after Carlos drives away with his girlfriend, his grin shit-eating and mischievous. The door is half open when Charles takes the box to inspect it. White, with the Ferrari logo printed neatly on the centre (very classy touch), the sides are signed by different members of his team. He scratches through the seal and pulls the flap open.

He’s been given a quasi-official Ferrari box of condoms.

Thirty-six condoms, at that, small squares neatly lined up next to each other. Talk about a welcoming present. Not a camera, not racing memorabilia, not a new pair of shoes. Just condoms. Thirty-six of them.

“A mid-season pick-me-up,” presses his friend, giddily. The shorter male lounges comfortably on the seat, a blissful look of pride on his face. Laughing with exasperation, Charles wedges the box shut and tosses it carelessly into the backseat, preparing to drive. This isn’t his first rodeo with weird gifts—he’s half-sure he got adoption papers from an especially excited fan once before.

“You are such an asshole.”

“It’s also a congratulations on winning literally every race so far present,” Joris adds. It’s hyperbole but has a ring of truth to it. As the season closes, Charles’ chances of holding up the trophy this year increase.

Despite himself, Charles has a better outlook on his chances for the remainder of the season, driving-wise. He’s given it his all so far, and the rest looks promising enough. He only hopes he’s right. Netflix also increased the amount of people getting into the sport, so he’s dealing with tons more fans and nosey DMs, but it’s not too much of an impediment to a hopefully stellar season.

Charles makes a right. “Do you plan to use them?” Joris asks then, a teasing tone taking on his voice as he scrolls through his phone.

“No, not really,” Charles says, lying straight through his teeth.

“You’re a fucking liar, you are.” He whips his head toward Charles, observing his stoic side profile. “You’re single, haven’t gotten laid in months—”

“—weeks.” Corrects Charles with a cough, the defense coming at an embarrassing speed.

“…Case in point. And sports gets everyone horny. And if you didn’t know, Mattia actually OK-ed the condoms, so you’ve basically been greenlit by your boss to fuck half the world. Thank me later. I’m proud of myself.”

“Sports gets everyone competitive. Because it’s sports. Which, you’re conveniently forgetting, is my life profession.”

“Loosen up,” Joris whistles lowly. “You think Lewis got seven titles by being a closed-off celibate? It’s practically tradition to fuck around if you’re single in sports. And, for others, being in a relationship is barely an obstacle, anyway.”

Charles hates to admit that Joris is right—because he is. Racing isn’t racing without the extravagant parties that follow, and the girls and guys brought back to hotels for reasons known to everyone. People from everywhere come to the paddock and the clubs—models, influencers, actors. The pent-up energy has to go somewhere, he supposes.

But even if the little shit is right, Charles still maintains a level of dignity. Ergo, he’s steadfast in his belief that he will not be sleeping around or putting this godforsaken box of condoms to any semblance of use while the rest of the season progresses. He just hopes he won’t eat his words.

—

Monza kicks off with a 1-2 and secures Charles with a comfortable lead ahead Max.

He is high on adrenaline all night, toasting and chugging to the win, snapping pictures with Carlos, proud out of his mind. It’s everything he’s wanted and more, a quench to the thirst he’d developed over the season, a slap in the face to his doubters, a kiss on his. He texts his family, friends who aren’t present, some other people who he feels are deserving of a personal announcement, and pockets his phone.

“Now would be a great time to put that gift to use,” Carlos says at some point, when everyone in the garage is kicking back alcohol and slowly preparing to move the celebrations someplace else.

Charles cringes visibly, having almost forgotten about the dreaded gift, and totally forgotten Carlos’ knowledge of it. Even with the recent win, he’s already thinking of the next, the promise of a two-peat, another podium, hell, another 1-2. The condoms were honest to God the last thing on his mind.

They break apart an hour later, when Charles is heading to the hotel and Carlos is headed somewhere else. He’s almost to the exit when someone calls his attention in a curt English voice.He turns and finds Lewis jogging toward him, outside of his race suit and back in the fashionable apparel Charles merely wishes he could pull off.

“Lewis,” he waves, pacing toward him to save the extra few seconds of waiting.

“Amazing, amazing race, man,” the elder compliments. “You’ve got the best chance at the title here.”

Warmth melts into Charles’ body and he offers praise back, which—praising Lewis is just about the easiest thing in the world. Nerves bleed out of him as the conversation continues, the atmosphere of a finished race a welcome accompaniment to their strategic talk.

“Headed to a party, yeah?” Lewis asks when they’ve both exhausted the topic. Charles gives a half-hearted shrug, already energized enough from such a momentous win, and he nods in response. “Nah, I get it. Sometimes you just gotta sleep. But hey, if you’re ever free, we should go get dinner sometime.”

—

The “dinner sometime” happens in Singapore. Having gotten P1 beside Lewis and therefore once again high off the adrenaline, Charles claps Andrea on the back and retrieves his phone to view two texts. One reads Put the condoms to use yet, champ? from Joris, and the other Can I take you up on the dinner? from Lewis. One goes answered and the other goes muted on his iMessage.

A little something he failed to remember was Lewis’ plant-based diet, a fact that hurtles back toward him when he can’t find steak on the menu of this classy, hole-in-the-wall type of restaurant. Of course Lewis would know these types of places, he thinks. He’s a millennial semi-hipster with a separate Instagram account for his dog.

Charles ends up ordering pasta, and Lewis beside him orders a cacophony of very vegan, hippy sounding meals, the quantity of which could feed the two of them. “I hope you don’t mind,” Lewis says when the waiter departs, “but a friend is actually joining us tonight.”

“Sure,” Charles says honestly. As long as it’s not some deranged hyperfan, he does well in social situations. Right then, Lewis calls someone over. Charles looks up, squints through the dim mood lighting to try and make out the nearing figure. And then you’re sitting down across them, smiling softly, exchanging hellos with Lewis.

A little something Lewis fails to remember is his “friends” can just as well be called “celebrities,” because he is, after all, a sporting legend. So if Lewis says “friend,” Charles will assume it’s a “friend,” and not a world-famous model whose face is plastered everywhere on and offline.

“Charles Leclerc,” he says blankly.

You introduce yourself, sliding easily into a bout of questions, apologies for missing the race, you’re impossibly jetlagged, it’s crazy. Lewis chips in with something about how he’s already ordered food for the both of you, and this and that, and Charles is hopeless, staring at your face the entire time. He hopes he looks more sexy than aloof or, worse, starstruck, because it’s turning out to be the kind of situation where he looks like the deranged hyperfan, and not the other way around for once.

To be clear, Charles isn’t a fan of you. He just knows of you, because honestly, who doesn’t at this point? You’re talking on and on about how your latest shoot with Jacquemus was a pain because you shot in a tank top in sub-zero weather, but you express it like it’s the most profound topic on Earth.

Lewis turns to him and, in an (eventually successful) effort to include more of Charles in the conversation, goes, “She’s a big Formula One fan, Charles.”

Okay. Common ground. Charles lifts both brows smugly, his eyes flickering back over to you. “Really?”

You meet his eyes and smile, looking downward and blinking owlishly. You’re so pretty, long lashes fluttering as you blink and try to find an answer. Christ, you’re so painfully his type.

Lewis chimes in again—“Really. And not just because she and I are friends. I mean she was into racing before we got acquainted. Honestly. Quiz her and everything”—then excuses himself to “take a call.” (His phone wasn’t even ringing—total bullshit—but Charles is ultimately grateful for it.)

You make a face of shut up toward the departing Lewis, and Charles exhales a quiet laugh at your defiance. You clear your throat and come up with an answer.

“I’m not a big fan,” you say. “I’m more of a casual, ‘every once in a while’ type of fan.”

“That’s what every big fan of sports says,” Charles says smoothly.

“Is it?” You ask, cocking your head to the side, making a tch noise. You chuckle before going, “Well, if you insist, I’ll be honest. I didn’t want it to come to this, but okay. I am a fan… of Red Bull.”

Charles fakes extreme offense, his jaw dropping as if totally scandalized. You laugh, throwing two hands up in faux surrender. “Not Red Bull,” he says, his tone making him sound even more devastated. “You’re telling me you—don’t tell me you think Max Verstappen is attractive.”

“I mean, a bit!”

Charles makes sarcastic sounds of disapproval, and you laugh. Charles leans forward, and you do, too, both of you smiling. “So you’re into the angry drivers?”

“I’m not into a specific kind of driver,” you say casually, your tongue peeking out to lick over your bottom lip. Your voice is as soft as it is firm, slow and demure, matching the way your eyes glint. You’re impossibly pretty. He almost can’t handle it.

“So who’s making the cut?” He prompts, interested.

“Well, for starters, drivers who are my age,” you say slowly. “I turned twenty-four this year, so anyone within that bracket.”

“Oh?” Charles pretends to delve into deep thought, teasing. “Maybe Stroll? He’s very funny, speaks good English. You can never really say no to a Canadian.”

Your face warms, and you hope your flustered state isn’t too obvious as you shake your head. “He seems fun, but I prefer somebody a bit… a bit older.”

“Older…” he hums. “Pierre, perhaps? Tad bit older, real charming, great driver. I can introduce you. We’re good friends, you know.”

You click your tongue, smiling shyly. You bite your lip and it takes everything in Charles to not turn on his horny gears when he sees you, big eyes and lip bite, look so pretty. “You tease me,” you say meekly. Charles covers a cough with a chuckle and adjusts his position on the seat.

Later, after Lewis comes back in (“Long call, eh? It was about Roscoe.” Bullshit again) and you all get to order drinks, and you’ve departed in your private car, pressing an air kiss to Lewis and waving goodbye to Charles, he turns to the Mercedes driver and hums.

“Next time you have one of these”—he points to the restaurant, gestures to the front door—“dinners, let me know, okay?”

“Ah.” Lewis winks, smirking. “I’ll be sure to.”

—

Understandably, your schedules never seem to mesh well together. Lewis ends up giving Charles your number as compensation.

He stares at the contact longer than he’d like to admit, when he’s marinating in the sweltering heat of Austin. He’s finished much of his work for this half of the day so he’s mostly watching the engineers work on the last bits of modification for Sunday; he cherishest the free time and drafts, reads, and rereads texts, scours Google and Instagram for pictures of, and anything related to, you.

There’s a few new articles about buying a new car (a Benz, much to Charles’ chagrin) and new photoshoots intermittently scattered across Europe, with all sorts of brands. He sees a picture you’ve posted of yourself smiling at the camera and thinks of how pretty it would look as his lockscreen.

Am I seeing you soon? He texts finally. He hopes it’s enough to let you know who he is.

Hopefully is the reply. He smiles the whole day.

—

You’ve been texting and calling almost everyday, conversations stretching continents. He only sees you next in Mexico, Friday night, at a club Lewis has rented out for a crazy price that will no doubt be replenished in days anyway. He’s dropped to second here, but the thrill riding in him makes up for his disappointment. The place is so crowded—everyone and their mums seem to have been invited here—room blinking purple and blue, each step vibrating with the heavy bass of EDM. He catches you right as you exit the washroom area, and you look pleasantly surprised to see him.

He saw you earlier, when you were doing shots of tequila and chatting with with Bella and Lewis, but just as quickly as he spotted you, you’d dipped back into the sea of people. Now is better, he thinks. You two are alone.

“Charles, hi,” you say casually. You’re wearing a tight top and a short skirt that, despite Charles’ best efforts, always cast his gaze downward. He wonders what’s underneath, hungers to get his hands there. But he’s nothing if he’s not patient, willing to play the long game.

He takes a step forward, his gaze steady on you. Charles isn’t the tallest driver, but he’s got a big presence. You swallow, taking a step back to accommodate him. He smirks. “You look pretty.”

“You flatter me,” you say thickly, smiling, inviting him closer. The air is hot around the both of you—when your eyes flit around, they see nobody. You’re alone together. His eyes pierce into yours so deep you feel like breaking eye contact, exhaling as you take another step back—evidently, you’re distracted, because you stumble.

His arm circles around your waist, and once you steady, the hand moves down to your hip. It stays, a reminder of what you might be getting soon. You smile curtly, wondering what this might look like to a bystander, a stranger. Somebody might want to piss and walk in to see the strongest world champion contender’s hand on Chanel’s poster girl’s waist.

“Is this okay?” He asks softly against your ear.

“More than.” You say, breath shaky. “It’s more than okay.”

He chuckles. “Good. I’d hate if we couldn’t fuck before Abu Dhabi.”

Your finger traces down and wraps around the belt loop of his jeans. “Who said anything about fucking?”

Charles exhales a laugh, his lips curling upward into an amused smile. “Ah? I can’t fuck you, then?”

“I’ll let you fuck me when you’re holding up the world champion trophy,” you say sweetly, tugging him closer. “That’s okay, right?” You stare up at him, blinking, pouty. He wonders, is this how you might look with your lips wrapped around his—

“That’s about a month away.” His composure barely wavers, his hand traveling lower, blunt nails digging into your ass. Your breath hitches.

“I’m aware,” you say lowly. So be it, Charles thinks—he’s got thirty-six condoms for a reason.

“Define fuck,” he says, voice rough.

“Penetration.” You’re quick with it, cocking your head to the side. You lean back confidently, testin him, eyes batting flirtatiously.

It’s time he get a little creative.

—

Daytime weather is hot and the paddock is swarming with people, but Charles has his sights set on somebody sitting in the Mercedes hospitality. He manages to get out of morning meetings earlier, wedging himself out of the room and passing by a mirror to fix his hair with admirable concentration. He’s in the middle of combing through it when a force tugs at the hem of his polo, causing him to stumble backwards.

“Uh—Carlos? What the hell?” He asks, brow raised defensively. Facing him are Carlos, Joris, and Pierre, arms crossed over their torsos and amused expressions on their faces.

“What are you doing?” Asks Pierre, cocking his head to the side.

“Fixing my hair.”

“Pussy appointment?” Joris interjects; the vulgarity of his statement earns him a poke on the side from Carlos, who clicks his tongue.

“Wh—I don’t—”

“You are shit at lying, mate,” says Pierre, his lips curled into a devious smile. “Who is it?”

“It’s nobody,” he lies.

“Charles,” says Lewis suddenly from behind them, waving his arms to get the former’s attention, “are you going to go over and say hi?”

Hook, line, and sinker. He’s been caught. “Well, well, well,” Carlos starts, mischievous.

“Guys—” Charles says, attempting to make an excuse.

“Looks like your vow of celibacy isn’t so far off after all,” Pierre adds. “That one over at Mercedes is going to break it, eh?”

“Yeah.” Joris says, smirking. “Lucky George, huh.”

The three face him, incredulous. “I was kidding,” he fibs, once he realizes his epiphany is wrong. “Kidding.”

Charles walks off, and ends up seeing you right where he expected you, sitting beside Lewis in a tiny dress with your hair pinned up into a bun. Almost naturally, your words fall into the flirtatious back-and-forth you’d started at the dinner, hyperaware of the cameras snapping your pictures. At some point, the Brit excuses himself to “take a call” (again, bullshit) and leaves the two of you alone.

“See anything nice on the paddock?”

“Nothing I haven’t seen before,” you say with a teasing smile, head cocking to the side to gauge his reaction. He chuckles.

“Did you get a picture with Max?”

“Only a ton.” You pause. “And Daniel, too.”

“Ah, you’re just crushing on the whole paddock, now are you?” He pokes his tongue into his cheek, leans forward.” Uh, Checo?”

“Pass,” you say with a nose scrunch. You’re so fucking pretty.

“Lewis.”

“God, pass. He’s not ugly, but he’s my brother at this point.”

“Pierre.”

“Horribly French, but… smash.”

“Are you not into the French?” He smiles. “Good to know. Hmm—Carlos.”

“I’d be stupid to say anything other than smash.” You narrow your eyes, licking over your lips. “I’m into the Ferrari guys, is the thing.” His gaze travels to your crossed legs, long and disappearing into the hem of your dress.

He smirks. “Are you?”

“I really am,” you hum.

“Are you staying long? All weekend?”

“Yeah, I’m free from work for now,” you say casually. “Any recommendations on what fun things I can do here?”

“I can think of…” he says, smirking a little. “A few.”

—

Stupid places to have sex, number one: a motorhome.

Still, Charles is crowding you up against the wall of the room, swallowing the whimper that leaves your mouth with his own. And still, this isn’t sex. At least not the kind he wants the most. He mentally praises Carlos for being able to decipher the typo-laden text he’d sent out on the way here, one hand around your waist, the other barely capable of typing with how fast his brain ran. Clesr the fuckng room npw now npw it read. Thank God.

Your mouth tastes like champagne, and everywhere else smells divine. Your hands roam impatiently over his shoulders and you make muted noises of frustration at your inability to pull his shirt off. You settle for letting your hands crawl underneath it, stroking over his abs.

“D’you remember what I told you,” you pant, his lips insistent on your neck, “at the club?”

“Yeah,” he says, grunting at the memory.

“Okay.” You breathe. “Let me suck you off.”

“Fuck,” he groans. “Jesus. Okay. Fuck.”

You giggle, and he watches intently as you drop onto your knees, looking up at him through thick lashes. You’re insistent, pulling the zip of his jeans down and tugging his cock out. It’s pretty, thick like the rest of him, already hard.

He’s at his limit, having you here like this, on you knees and stretching your lips around the tip of his dick. Your eyes barely leave his, fluttering as they tear up when you take him in your throat.

He throws his head back, squeezes his eyes shut, lets a hand unpin your bun and thread itself into the untangled hair. If he looks at you, he’ll see your head bobbing up and down on his cock, and he genuinely needs to hold off the orgasm first.

He rocks forward into your mouth and feels your throat close up around him. That’s enough to weaken his resolve, send grunts out of his throat that he can’t keep quiet.

“Oh, shit,” he says, feeling every part of your mouth and throat around him, warm and tense. He can’t help but thrust harder, steady but not too rough, growing more aroused with every sound of you choking on him.

His gaze flickers toward you. You’re teary-eyed, lips dotted with spit, choking yourself on his cock. Just for him, here in public. You pull off, blinking tears away from your face and looking up at him smilingly.

He laughs, guiding his cock back into your mouth, watching the way your brows knit together, pleading, almost. You're at his mercy, he thinks, thrusting harder, listening to your coughs. He loves seeing you like this, innocent face messy and slick with spit and precum, eyes big and needy.

“You like that?” He grunts. “Look at me.”

You nod the best you can. Yes, you want to say. Give me more, I love it.

“Yeaaah, fuck. I know you do,” he says through his teeth, staving off his orgasm the best he can before he releases all over you. The image alone of streaking you with his cum, claiming you all over-eyelashes, tits, cheeks splashed with cum-is enough to send him closer to the edge. “Gonna cum,” he grunts.

You moan around him, the vibrations causing his eyelids to flutter. You shake your head, pulling off and wrapping your hand around his dick, stroking slower. “Not yet,” you say sweetly, watching him throw his head back in pleasure and frustration. He runs a hand through his sweaty hair, exhales shakily.

“Shit.” He whines. “Come on, baby. Make me cum.” He cups your jaw, stares down at you.

You stroke him faster, lip between your teeth. “Okay,” you say with a smile. “Cum for me, Charles.”

He stops staving himself off, falls into the pleasure and relief of your hand around his cock until he’s tense all over, knitting his hand into your hair and pushing you backwards so he can press his tip on the flat expanse of your tongue and let his cum shoot there. It drips from your tongue and lips onto your chin and you giggle, swallowing it, scooping up the rest to push into your mouth.

You stand, licking your lips slowly. “I owe you,” he pants, zipping himself up. Already he’s thinking about what he can do to you in return. Tease you, like you did him, bend you over his lap or sit you on it and make you whine and writhe and wait and cum.

“I’ll hold you to that, champion,” you murmur, kissing his cheek and slipping back outside.

—

Ferrari’s advice is shit and despite his good mood and quick-witted driving, Charles finishes in fifth—not too shabby, but disastrous for his overall standings.

He suffers through a horrible debrief where attempts to defend his honor go unheard, his mood wilting and wilting until he’s at the media pen and ushered in front of some network he hasn’t heard of. They’ve probably paid to get a good seat here.

He’s in a shit mood, he hasn’t seen Joris or Pierre or you in hours, and has only faced red-faced frustrated superiors and now, wide-eyed journalists with loose mouths. The media’s done the mandatory speculation between the two of you, so he already expects questions of that variety, but it’s still hot and angry when he does.

Are you banging the Marc Jacobs model? The Irish reporter asks with a wink, so very unprofessional and not at all belonging to reputable media. The hot leggy one who has fuck me eyes?

Charles clenches his jaw, rolls his eyes, says fuck off mate and shoves him backward a little, then walks away and readjusts his cap. The clip makes Twitter and he feels even worse with the amount of troll accounts telling him to Jeez, take a joke.

After the ordeal, in your hotel room, you sigh softly and run your hands through his still shampoo-smelling hair. “You didn’t need to do that,” you say, a bit strictly. He knows you’re grateful, though, and a bit proud.

“I wanted to,” he insists softly. He forgets to leave before morning; when he does, he forgets his official Ferrari shirt hanging on the seat, leaving in a spare one instead. It’s got his number across the back. You don’t tell him.

—

In between Mexico and Sao Paulo, he manages to catch a flight to New York to peek into one of your photoshoots. It’s for Chanel and he’s half-sure he’s taken more pictures of you than the official photographer did. At this point your vague relationship status has caught onto headlines everywhere, and he doesn’t miss the curious murmurs from paparazzo that follow him as he enters your apartment later to greet you.

You’re in a pair of shorts and a tank top when you open the door, greeting him with a tight hug and leading him inside with a loose grip.

“Wine?”

“Please.” He eyes the wide area, the big floor-to-ceiling windows and the art on the walls. “Hungry?”

“Mmm.” You hum, sliding a glass toward him. “Starving.”

“Pizza?”

“Something else.” You smile. He tears his eyes away from your tits, poking out of the thin cotton, and coughs.

The both of you end up on the couch, your legs draped over his as you talk about racing.

He’s ranting about how he’s neck to neck with Max now, and the final verdict will likely be decided at Abu Dhabi, a fact that sends nerves all through him. You’re listening, you really are, but it’s difficult to keep listening because his hand, big and rough, is stroking your bare calf as he talks absentmindedly.

You offer the occasional mmm-hmm and uh-huh and even the oh really to sell it, but he doesn’t seem to be conscious of how many sparks are coursing through you because of his hand on your leg. He just talks and talks, accent curving into curse words elicited by the competition.

And his voice, rough and deeper when he slides into Italian phrases, gets in your head, reminds you of the way he’d moaned when you had his dick in your mouth. You like that? he’d said, panting, heavy, hot. His hand remained in your hair, controlling you the same way you did him. Fuck.

When you blink, he’s stopped talking, and has likely noticed your wandering imagination if his teasing smile is anything to go by. You cough, clear your throat, adjust your thighs. You’re thinking—you can’t stop thinking—about what happened in Mexico, not just in the motorhome but in the club where he’d let his hand sprawl over your ass and stay there, possessive.

The tension rises. I owe you. He really does. You reach over and grab your phone from the coffee table, snap a few pictures of him. “—Hey!” He protests, scrabbling to grab it from you while balancing his half-full glass. “I look god awful.”

You stand up, review the picture. He looks so impossibly handsome. “You’re right, you do,” you say, pouting.

He reaches over again, chuckling, and you avoid him. “Foul play!”

“Tch. At least show it to me,” he says defeatedly, so you do: presenting your screen to him.

Quickly, he makes a grab for it, but you just escape his grip, ending up right in front of him and leaning over. You’re losing your balance, digging your toes into your carpet to maintain stance. He spares a glance at your shorts, riding low on your hips, showing a bit of thin lace.

Charles tugs you forward by the hem of your top and then takes your wrist into his grip—the force of his grab makes your tits shake underneath your flimsy tank top. It’s dragged down so far your tits are spilling out. His eyes flicker down to them, dark, and a pretty smile spreads across his face.

“Come on, give it,” he challenges, eyes narrowing a little. You bite your lip, inwardly liking this a little too much—being at his mercy, trapped in his strong grip. You’re flustered and it shows.

He wrestles you onto his lap with ease, his arms steady around you. You stare downwards, dark eyes meeting his, hand on his broad shoulder for leverage. He’s so pretty, you think, so hot and handsome and you need him right now. Through his jeans you can feel how thick he is, his dick growing, getting hard and huge under you. It feels big even through a few layers—you can’t help but imagine how it might feel inside you.

Your phone clatters to the carpet behind the couch. “I win,” you say breathlessly.

He grabs your hips and jerks his upward, letting his stiff dick press up even more against your shorts.

“I think I’m the winner here,” he says gruffly, hands feeling you up all over. He thumbs at your chest, rubbing over your tits. You shiver—it feels good having him on you like this, your mind turning to mush.

“Shut up,” you laugh, shakily. A hand wanders in between your thighs, another coming to squeeze your barely-covered ass. You can’t focus on much, just his hands roaming everywhere and his hard dick pressing against your core. He shoves your hips downward again, his cock hard and perfectly against your pussy.

“You feel that?” He asks; it leaves him in one low breath.

“Yeah,” you say, whimpering. “I want it.”

He grinds up against you again, his thumb teasing the hem of your shorts. Closer to where you want it. “Don’t think you could even take it, baby.”

“I hate you,” you say. “You know I can.”

He laughs. “We’ll see, yeah?” You find a rhythm of grinding down against his cock, nestled right against your ass. He’s everywhere and you can’t handle it anymore, finding yourself craving him more and more.

You moan against his neck—and then come to your senses. “No.”

He smirks when you pull away. “Tempted, were you?”

“Not…” You pause. You’re sweaty, flushed all over, and your panties are sticking to you from how wet you’ve grown. “Not very.”

—

Abu Dhabi is a son of a bitch.

It comes with meetings, meetings, debriefs, calls, meetings. Everything is riding on the night’s race, the flurry of social media a welcome source of anxiety for him as he watches the hours whiz by. You’d missed seeing him, understood he was busy; you send a selfie to compensate and it gets him calm enough to last the pre-race buzz.

Time speeds by with lunch, coaching, drills, talks with Carlos and Mattia and even Max, who displays support as strongly as competitiveness. Before he even realizes it, he blinks and he’s in his suit, adjusting his balaclava, inhaling, exhaling. Everything is just the way he likes—needs—it to be.

He drives himself to P2 behind Max, eyes shut.

All else seeps into him, natural method, natural routine. He flexes his thumbs. Through the team radio his engineer goes good luck, and Charles’ practice bleeds into his subconscious. The air is heavy, with tension and excitement, the division of blue and red. Everyone’s eager to see who claims the title.

The lights go off and everything is left to skill, blurring into noise and turns and expletives yelled into the team radio. He can’t even feel himself think, turning with dexterity and overtaking with the kind of vengeance he hasn’t let out in a while.

For all his trying, Max keeps up just the same, keeping a neck and neck level for the relative entirety of the race. They’re milking out the last few laps together, and Charles feels every fibre of his being work toward this, just this, nothing but this right now. Nothing but the finish line.

You got this, Charles, says the engineer, voice heightening. Maiden world championship.

He nods to himself, trusts his instincts and when he catches sight of the finish line, he thinks: he’s the best driver on the grid.

So he revs faster, and the rest descends into—

Absolute fucking chaos.

—

He’s smiling when he approaches the reporter, who’s already holding the mic with wonder. He asks for a message in Italian, then reminds him—and the crowd—that, in case he forgot, he’s world champion. Charles thinks he genuinely can’t ever.

“What are you doing to celebrate?” He asks then, smiling.

Sweaty, with damp hair and shiny skin, he smirks and leans closer. “Someone, I hope.”

—

“Hey there, champ.”

You’re already leaning against his hotel room door when he gets there, after the chore of wrestling himself free from the rest of the team pressuring him to get drinks. Carlos helps out, babbles something or other about Charles being “busy with something else”—which isn't wrong, not at all. He offers a smooth wink, bending down to kiss you.

Your mouths meet, softly first then increasingly messy as he pins you against the door. You push away, breathing heavy. “I don’t know what you’re into, but I don't want the top floor of this hotel seeing us fucking.”

“I wasn’t into that, but now that you brought it up…” You swat his arm and he laughs, unlocking the door and pulling you inside. You’re clinging onto him—his arms, his chest, anything, kissing up his neck and jaw. He groans at how needy you are. All for him, he thinks. Probably soaked through your panties and it’s all because of him.

“C’mon, pretty girl,” he says gently, voice low as he leads you to the bed. He catches sight of your shirt and a brow raises. “Did you buy that?”

“Hmm?” You look down, following his gaze and blinking. The shirt you’re wearing is loose, hanging off your shoulders and hastily tucked into your miniskirt so it looks like you actually have trousers on. “Oh. No, this is yours.”

“Mine.” He smiles a little. “You look so good in it, princess.” His hands mindlessly grope at you, hungry, sneaking underneath your skirt to feel at the lace there.

In retaliation, you lean forward, unbutton his jeans and tug at it.

“You left it at one of my”—you gasp, feeling his finger sneak its way beneath your panties—“my hotel rooms.”

“Pretty girl, pretty shirt, pretty lace, yeah?” He tugs, lets the garter of the skirt loosen and fall off your hips on its own. “Red.”

“You take too long,” you groan.

“You’re just eager,” he laughs, thumbing at your clothed cunt.

You’re so wet, evident even in the lazy circles he rubs over your entrance. You’re aching, desperate, begging almost. So he gives you what you want, maneuvers you onto his lap and pushes your (his) shirt up to stuff your mouth with it.

It won’t work for long, but it’s enough. He pushes your panties to the side and pulls his hard dick out. You’re sitting against it now, leaking slick onto it, at his mercy, branding his name and his number across your back. It’s hot.

He stares at the way you rock softly against him, hungry eyes meeting yours. “You’re so pretty, baby. Ruined.”

“Fuck me already,” you say, voice throaty, innocent.

“Can you take it?” He asks, teasing you, slapping his dick against your clit softly. You whine.

“Please,” you insist. “I want it. Make it fit.”

He’s a massive tease with it, his breath fanning against your skin, hands sticky on where they’ve hiked your shirt up. He lowers you, slower, against the tip of his dick and he watches your eyes flutter when you sink onto it. After ages of waiting. Your grip’s like iron on his shoulders, moans leaving you in quiet bursts of pleasure.

You’re far away, dumb from the feeling, you barely register the way he shoves the shirt back into your mouth to keep you quiet. “So fucking tight, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say. It’s muffled, barely intelligible. “For you.”

You’re only able to take it because you’re so wet, so turned on, face and brain filled with nothing but pleasure. He can’t take it.

“Mmmfh,” you say, muffled by the bite of cotton in your mouth. You’re sweaty, flushed, overstimulated—you don’t know where to focus. On his lips against your jaw, his hand on your neck, the way your pussy swallows his aching dick. “It’s so big, I—”

“You okay?” He asks, breathily. Smiling. He’s in control, but still he sounds whiny—almost, if not as desperate as you. “You’ll take it all for me, won’t you?”

“Oh god,” is all you muster, letting him stretch you out even more, gushing all over his cock. “I, I—”

He moans, his grip tight against your waist, watching his dick bury itself in you. “You’re getting me so full,” you whine. “So deep, I feel it—” you taper off into a moan again when he presses hs thumb to your clit, distracting you from the stretch as he finally, finally bottoms out.

“Good?”

You nod. So good, give me more.

You grind against him, let the shirt fall out of your mouth. “You’re getting my dick so wet,” he comments, breathless. “So pretty for me, too.”

Growing antsy, he attempts to move, but you whine. Your turn to tease, you think, after he was a dick to you just now. “Not yet,” you say, lip caught between your teeth. His hands are tight around your waist. Desperate.

You squeeze around him, watch his brows knit together, a grunt leave him in a frustrated exhale. “You wanna fuck me?” You tease against his neck, blinking innocently.

“Yes,” he replies, not missing a beat. You pout, like you’re empathizing with the problem you’re causing; you grind slowly against him and he lets out a guttural fuuuuck. He’s so big, so hard—you can feel every inch of him inside you.

“Tell me again, Charles,” you say with a giggle. You’re so hot like this, face flushed and timid, hips moving slowly. He could cum just from the way you bite your lip, the way a whimper slips out of you when he hits the right spot.

“—Yeah,” he says, sweetly. “I want to—please, let me fuck you. C’mon, baby, can I?”

“Aww,” you tease.

“Can I?” He asks again, voice deep and thin with the need to fuck you, thrust up into you and make you the dumb one. His face is flushed and desperate. “Can I move, baby? Let me, please.”

You’re not stupid. You know—if his flushed, pleading face and big green puppy eyes are anything to go by—that he’s going crazy, growing antsy. But you’re not complaining.

“Hmm,” you say, feigning genuine thought. “I don’t know, Charles. Feels good just like this. And you want to make me feel good, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says.

“Yeah.” You repeat, staring into his dark eyes. He’s frustrated, desperate, flushed all over and sweaty. His fingers dig into your hips. “I’ll make you feel really good, baby, if you let me.”

“Go ahead,” you say softly, “fuck me, please.” And he’s thrusting upwards to meet you halfway. It’s knocking you out, almost, the pleasure of it, the dizzy onslaught of euphoria. He’s stretching you out so well, whining softly into your neck and yeah, you two have waited far too long to have this. You

“Fuck,” he grunts, lids squeezed shut and head rolled onto your shoulder. “Go on, baby, ride it, make me cum.” He cups your jaw, reaches his thumb into your mouth. It’s too much, all of it. He makes you suck on it while thrusting up, dizzying you with his cock.

He grabs handfuls of your ass, teases his thumb at your tighter asshole just to watch your eyes flutter, feel your cunt grow wetter. “I’ll fuck you even fuller next time,” he says; the implication gets you hot.

You bounce harder, chasing release as his thumb teases over your ass, the tip of it just thrusting in enough to elicit strings of moans out of you. “Come on, ride me,” he goads. “So good for me.”

“Fuck,” you pant, “cum in me, please.”

You cum first, writhing around him and riding your orgasm out in lazy grinds over his hard cock. You want to see him cum, see his eyebrows knit and his mouth release pretty whines, feel him claim you inside, hands hot and heavy on your ass. He does, with a guttural fuuuuck, shoving his dick up in you to the base and spurting all his cum in you.

He thrusts, watches his cum leak out of you, fucks it back in, in a vicious cycle. You shiver, blinking coquettishly and watching along—and then you’re both crumpling over each other on the bed behind you. You pant heavily against his chest.

“Hey.” He muses out loud, drumming against your skin.

“Yeah?”

“I have thirty-six condoms we need to go through. Wanna go on a date?”

#f1 #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc drabble #charles leclerc smut #f1 x reader

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thatgirlstrawberry · 1 year

Text

How to Lie to a Behavior Analyst

Feb. Requests-4

In which Spencer and Y/N are dating and it’s great but the only problem is… she’s Rossi’s daughter

Warnings: semi-smutty scenes, dirty talkin… fluff, lying, horny!Spencer, spence being reckless and reader being scared 💀

Spencer Reid x fem!rossi!reader

All parts of this are up on my pinned masterlist!

“Ohmygod, Spencer!” Y/N giggled as she inspected his face. She sat on his lap, touching his skin where she had noticed a bruise.

“I know…” He groaned.

Y/N eyes flickered up to his. “And you didn’t think to tell me that the guy beat your ass before you knocked him out?” She said, talking about the unsub from the last case Spencer was on.

Spencer rolled his eyes. “Okay baby, first of all, he did not beat my ass. He punched me once before I hit him with a crowbar. And second, can we stop talking about creepy psychopaths so I can fuck you?” He asked watching her face turn red.

Y/N kissed his lips and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. His hands found her hips naturally and he kissed her back, rubbing his thumbs over the hip bones. Now, this process would have moved a lot slower had she still had pants on but the moment Spencer got to her apartment he took them off of her. Now she was just left in a pair of her underwear and a loose t-shirt.

She moaned as one hand slid from her hip and between her legs, rubbing softly. She pulled away from his lips and hid her face in his shoulder, breathing heavily.

His lips found her neck as he kept rubbing, chuckling at how wet she was and he had just started touching her. “You miss me while I was gone, baby?” He asked into her skin.

She nodded, a whine leaving her lips. “I missed you and those hands of yours.”

Spencer smirked and helped her sit back up so he could look at her face. “What about my di-“

His words were cut off by the sound of one of their phones ringing. He groaned and held onto her ass, not wanting to stop trying to make her feel good. Y/N kissed his lips and crawled off of him, smiling at the fact that his hand stayed on her ass as long as it could before she was out of reach.

She looked on her bedside table and groaned when she realized that her father was calling her. “It’s mine.”

Y/N cleared her throat and picked it up. “Hey, dad!” She smiled, glancing back at Spencer who pressed his lips together and widened his eyes.

“Good morning, Y/N/N my beautiful.” He spoke. He sounded extra cheery this morning.

Spencer climbed up next to her and placed his hand on her thigh. She glared at him with her eyes but smiled with her lips. “What’s up, dad?”

Somehow, Spencer ended up laying between her legs pressing soft kisses on the insides of her thighs. Y/N dropped her mouth open wanting to moan so badly.

“I’m having a dinner on Saturday night and I want you to be there.” Rossi said. “Uncle Hotch wants to see you. So does the rest of the team.”

Spencer looked up at her, smirking and nodding as he continued to tease her. She grabbed his hair and pulled it harshly trying to get him to stop with a smile on her face.

He did not stop. In fact, his lips turned into his tongue, licking and biting the insides of her thighs. His hands grabbed the outsides, squeezing roughly.

“Y-yeah! I would love to come.” She replied, her mouth falling open when his lips got closer.

Closer… closer… closer—

“Sweetie?”

Y/N snapped out of her thoughts. “Sorry, dad. Got a little uh… distracted. What did you say?”

Rossi chuckled on the other end. “Uh I know you’ve got this… crush on Reid but…”

“Sorry— what? You’re breaking up.” Y/N furrowed her brows.

“I said I don’t want you to have a crush on—“

“Whoa— sorry dad. I can’t hear you. I have something in the oven that’s gonna burn— gotta go. Bye, love you!”

She hung up the phone, tossed it somewhere and shut her eyes. Spencer propped himself up on his elbows and smiled at her. “You have a crush on me?”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “I’m gonna kill you.”

Spencer chuckled and swiftly flipped them over so she was hovering over his face. “By sitting on my face?” He quirked an eyebrow. “I’m okay with that.”

.•.•.•.•.•.•.

It was Thursday morning and Y/N though she would stop by her dad’s office and bring everyone donuts.

She walked through with the box and smiled at the people who greeted her. She walked into the bullpen, Derek spotting her first.

“Hey, Rossi Junior!” He called out. “Good to see you, girl.” He smiled as he hugged her. “Even better to see you with food.” He kissed her cheek as the other started walking over to them. Derek took the box from her and set it down on one of the desks.

Rossi and Hotch walked up side by side and Spencer behind them with JJ and Garcia. “Hi, sweetie.”

“Hi, daddy.” She smiled as he kissed both of her cheeks.

Hotch gave her a hug and greeted her swiftly. Garcia squealed as she hugged Y/N and rocked her back and forth. “Ugh! I haven’t seen this beautiful baby face in so long!” She said squeezing the woman.

“Pen— can’t… breathe.” Penelope apologized and let her go, pinching her cheek and going to see what kind of donuts she brought.

JJ and Emily hugged her next and then it got to Spencer. She glanced at his sexy face before nodding at him, knowing that he doesn’t really like physical contact.

It was crazy because she was sitting on his face not too long ago.

“So what brings you by, Y/N/N?” Derek asked, chewing on a glazed donut.

Y/N walked over leaning against a desk next to her dad who wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “Oh, I was just on my way to work and I realized how much I missed you all so I brought you donuts and myself.” She smiled, motioning to both things.

She could swear she felt Spencer’s eyes on her. They usually were.

“Aw that’s sweet.” Emily smiled.

Y/N nodded. “I should really get going now.” She kicked off of the desk. “But I’m gonna go use the bathroom first.” She added.

Rossi rubbed her arm. “We’ll be in the round table room briefing so we’ll see you Saturday.”

Y/N smiled, kissing her father’s cheek. “See you all Saturday.”

They all said their goodbyes and she walked towards the bathroom.

When she got in there she smiled and waited by the door. A few moments later there were three knocks and she opened the door, quickly pulling her boyfriend in.

Desperate lips met hers and she reached behind him to lock the door as she kissed him. “I missed you.” She said in between kisses.

Spencer chuckled. “You saw me yesterday.” He smiled as her kisses grew deeper.

She hummed. “I wanna see you all day, every day.” She spoke, pulling away from him with a small pout on her lips. “How’d you get away from them?” She asked.

“I told them my mom called.” He whispered, pecking her lips. He gasped in shock when she hit his shoulder.

“Don’t use your mom to lie, Spencer that’s not nice!” She shook her head.

Spencer tilted his head to the side. “Would you rather me have told them that I was coming to make out with you or…” Y/N rolled her eyes.

“Whatever, get back out there. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She giggled, pushing him away gently.

Spencer shook his head. “No, you’ll see me tonight.”

She gave him a sweet smile. “Yours or mine?”

The man caressed her cheek gently. “Mine. I’m gonna cook you dinner with all of the fun kitchen gadgets you made me buy.”

Y/N scoffed. “Spence, you didn’t even have a can opener!” She patted his chest and laughed.

He chuckled and kissed her once, twice, three times before she pushed him away. “Go before they get suspicious.” She whispered.

Spencer reluctantly pulled away and unlocked the bathroom door, slipping out discreetly and leaving Y/N to stand there with a warm smile on her face.

.•.•.•.•.•.

It was Saturday night and Spencer watched Y/N try on four different dresses from his spot in his bed.

They would leave from the same place but take different cars so it wasn’t suspicious. Spencer would take the longer way there and Y/N wold take the short cut.

“I don’t know, I think I like the blue one.” She said, turning so she could see the back in the mirror. She had on a blue satin dress that had a little bow on the back.

Spencer bit his lip. “Yeah… I definitely like the blue one too.” He said, looking at where the neckline swooped down.

“Stop looking at my boobs and come zip me up, please.” He rolled his eye with a smile and slid off the bed, walking up behind her and slowly lifting the zipper, stopping right before it was at the end.

“Are you sure I can’t unzip you?” He asked. “We’ve got thirty minutes and with the way you look, I only need five.” He dipped his head down, kissing her neck.

Y/N’s shoulders raised and she hummed. “You can take the dress off me when we get back here after dinner.” She said, planting her hand in his hair. “I can’t get all messed up. The they’ll know we’re together.”

Spencer groaned and wrapped an arm around the front of her, swiping his thumb across her red lips. “I can’t wait to see this pretty little makeup all smudged.” He said lowly into her ear. Her mouth dropped open and her chest heaved.

She wrapped her lips around his thumb and shut her eyes, her tongue swirling around it. He groaned. “I honestly don’t think I could ever get it up for anyone else.”

Y/N smirked and popped his thumb out of her mouth. “Change your tie. It’s the same color as my dress. We’re gonna look like we’re going to freakin’ prom together.”

Spencer rolled his eyes and stalked over to his closet.

.•.•.•.•.•.

Spencer arrived at Rossi’s 20 minutes after Y/N. She was chatting with Garcia and JJ over a glass of wine. She looked so pretty laughing and smiling.

“Hey, kid!” Rossi greeted, snapping him out of his trance. He smiled at the man. “There’s wine in the dining room, dinner will be done soon.”

“Great.” He smiled.

He was about to make his way to the dining room but Garcia called his name. “Boy Wonder! Over here!”

He stopped and sighed before turning to them with a smile. Y/N smiled at him, crossing her arms and sipping her wine.

“Soooooo, what are you doing for your birthday this year?” The blonde asked, grinning.

Hopefully getting my dick sucked. “Uh…” He shrugged. “I think I’m just gonna take my mom out to dinner and go buy some more books.” He nodded.

Derek came up behind him, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “Uh, no.” He shook his head. “You can do the mom thing just no books, you nerd.” He spoke. “I’m taking you to a strip club.”

Y/N’s breath hitched and she slid her tongue across her teeth. Spencer glanced at Garcia before looking at his girlfriend. Hotch and Rossi joined their circle.

“Uh… I’m okay, actually. I’d rather just stay home.” He nodded, sticking his hands in his pockets.

Derek scoffed. “Why? You got a girl or something?” Spencer tired and successfully avoided glancing at Y/N and shook his head shrugging.

“No, I just… don’t really wanna go see a bunch of naked girls.” I only wanna see one naked girl.

Emily snorted. “What planet are you from? What man doesn’t want to see a bunch of naked girls dancing around, swinging their hoo-has in your face?”

“Swinging?” Y/N grimaced. “What strip clubs have you been to?” She laughed.

Emily scoffed. “The good kind.”

Garcia shook her head. “Okay— anyway, I think Reid has a girlfriend, who’s with me?” She raised her hand.

Everyone including Y/N raised their hands. She pressed her tongue to the bottom of her mouth to keep from laughing.

Spencer rolled his eyes. “Guys I don’t have a girlfriend.” He said, pulling his hand out of his pocket.

“Why is your thumb red?” JJ asked, nodding at his hand.

Y/N pressed her lips together and looked at the ground.

Spencer opened his mouth but shut it again. “I was making Kool-Aid earlier and that stuff stains like a bitch.”

Y/N sighed and shook her head slightly. Literally everyone on this room knows I live off of Kool-Aid. Literally had a Kool-Aid man themed birthday part, I am so obsessed.

She looked back up to meet her father’s stare. Y/N/N, Can you help me with the Carbonara?” He asked, nodding his head to the kitchen.

She swallowed and nodded, putting a smile on her face. She glanced at Spencer before following her father into the kitchen.

“Ooh, It smells good, dad.” She hummed, hoping that he wouldn’t try and talk to her about what all the awkwardness with Spencer was about.

“I remember when you were a little girl and you first learned how to make it with me.” He smiled, leaning against the counter on his palms.

Her phone buzzed in her bag and she took it out quickly.

Dick Dealer💘

How to lie to a behavior analyst: Don’t maintain excessive eye contact, keep your voice even, say my name if you refer to me, don’t fidget— I love you

She inhaled deeply and slid her phone back in her bag, setting it on the counter. “I love cooking with you, dad.” She smiled.

Rossi nodded towards his spice organizer and she walked over grabbing the black pepper and garlic powder.

“Can you be honest with me for a moment, sweetie?” He asked as she sprinkled the seasonings in. She glanced at him.

“Yeah, always.” She shrugged, smiling.

He walked around the kitchen island and sighed. “Are you… involved with Spencer Reid?”

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows and looked at him, her lips quirking up. “What? No, of course not.”

Rossi nodded. “I just… I just noticed some weird stuff back in there. The way you got… jealous when Derek mentioned taking Spencer to a— his birthday plans.” He grimaced.

Y/N laughed a little, trying to keep her voice even. She looked at her dad, making eye contact with him. “Well, like you said you did figure out that I have a crush on Spencer. I was just jealous about that.” She shrugged.

Rossi nodded. “A-and I’ve noticed how weird it is that you seemingly ignore him when we’re all together. What’s up with that?”

Y/N scoffed. “God, dad. Do I need a lawyer or something? Why are you grilling me?”

The father sighed. “You’re right. I’m sorry, I’m just a little protective.”

His daughter smiled and looked back down at the pot she was stirring. “No, it’s okay. I get it but there’s nothing going on between Spencer and I.”

He smiled and kissed her head. “I’ve got it from here if you wanna go back out with your friends.”

Y/N bit her lip. “I think I’ll stay here with you. We need to catch up. How’s Crystal?”

.•.•.•.•.•.

At dinner, Spencer sat across the way from his girlfriend. He was sitting beside Rossi so there was no way he could see the looks that he was giving Y/N.

He was mostly giving her worried looks because she wasn’t making eye contact with him at all.

Once dinner was done, she stuck around to help clean up. Spencer bit his lip as he left the Rossi household, glancing at Y/N through the window before getting in his car and driving home where he would meet Y/N.

.•.•.•.

“Fuck!” Y/N panted and rolled off of him. Spencer gripped her hips even as she collapsed on the bed beside him, squeezing his eyes shut.

She shut her eyes and bit her lip, scooting forward to wrap her legs around his waist and laying her head on his chest. “M’sleepy, Spence.” She mumbled.

“So what did you and your dad talk about?” He asked, rubbing her skin.

Y/N popped her eyes back open. “Are you really asking me about my dad not even thirty seconds after I rode your dick?” She grimaced.

Spencer chuckled. “M’sorry, baby.” He kissed her head. “I just— you got all weird during dinner. You weren’t even looking at me.”

Y/N sighed. “He just asked me if I was ‘involved’ with you. I denied it, of course but I’m still not sure that he fully believes me.” She shrugged. “Did he say something to you?”

Spencer shook her head. “Nope.”

Y/N bit her lip. “Good.” She pressed her forehead into Spencer’s chest again and kissed it. “I’m going to sleep unless you wanna go again?” She smirked.

“You horn dog. Go to sleep.” He chuckled. “I love you.”

Y/N hummed and giggled sleepily. “I love you.”

An hour later Spencer was still awake, running his fingertips across the bare skin of Y/N’s back gently as she slept. His phone buzzed on the bedside table and he sighed, pausing his movements and reached over to grab it.

Rossi

I know she thinks you two are hiding it well. I’ll let you get away with it for now. You hurt my daughter, I shoot you in the face.

Spencer’s eyes widened and he almost groaned loudly had Y/N not been asleep on his chest.

He gulped and put his phone down deciding that he wouldn’t tell Y/N that her dad knew about them until it was a problem.

Which even when it was, he would still do everything to make sure she never got hurt.

.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.

I ABSOLUTELY LOVED WRITING THIS OMGGG

AND I LOVE YOU READER (WHO ASKED NOT TO BE TAGGED) If it’s not how you’d hoped, I will happily rewrite it:)

Spence and Y/N really we’re just horny this entire time💀 also Derek is an asshole 😭

#spencer reid #spencer fluff #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x original female character #criminal minds #spencer x oc #spencer x reader #crimimal minds #spencer x you #Rossi!fem!reader

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hanjisunglover · 3 months

Text

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐈𝐌𝐎𝐍 𝐒𝐀𝐘𝐒

𐙚 pairing: volleyball player!han jisung x nerdy fem!reader

𐙚 genre: smut, high school au, strangers to ??, angst, fluff

𐙚 word count: 6.7k

𐙚 warnings: reader is a virgin, jisung it's kinda an asshole, he's also lowkey manipulative, dirty talks, dom! jisung, sub! reader, jisung it's kinda needy at the end, fingering (f!recieving), oral recieving ( m! and f! receiving ), eating cum, penetration, unprotect sex ( stay safe y'all), semi-public sex (people walking down the hall) spank kink ( f! receiving), breeding kink. Jisung's friends bullies reader, ji it's pretty jealous.

𐙚 summary: y/n has the best grade in history, jisung is just a volleyball player that can't keep himself out of challenges, so why not seducing the pretty y/n?

𐙚 members mentioned: minho, bang chan, hyunjin

[ jisung 02:34 am ] what are you asking me to?

[ minho 02:38 am ] you want the money? fuck her then :)

[ jisung 02:39 am ] why her? com'on you can think someone else

[ minho 02:40 am ] because her brother is in the team that we need to piss off for the next game, we need to win this time, that's why

You love History, you like the feeling of knowing things more than the others. You always been intelligent and smart, above the people. Never been out with a guy, never really trusted yourself enough for a relationship with anyone more than your own brother. Chan always been the extrovert in the family: you loves books, he loves volleyball and parties. You never complained to see him jumping around as the captain of the Lokeys and as setter.

That's how jisung started to ask you some help with history. You were so surprised when he stopped you from going out the class after the long and super interesting lesson from Mrs. Yang, that woman showed you the best way to love the Roman Empire. His cheeky smile and his strong cologne made your mind spin, but you tried to keep it cool to refuse. Until he talked about paying the extra sessions, and then.. how can you refuse it?

Extra money, talking about your favorite subject, that's the jackpot for a nerdy like you. You still don't trust him to make him come to your house to study, that's how you end up in the car of your big brother.

"Why you didn't refuse to help him?" Chan pinch his bridge of the nose, sigh lightly, he doesn't like the idea of her little sister with Jisung. He doesn't really know him, he doesn't know that much to let her sister go with a guy like him. For Chan you're still his baby sister, to protect from the world.

"it's gonna be fine, I'll keep my location on in case, don't worry okay? it's just study at the library." just study at the library, that's your thoughts. But you have the feeling of something else happens in your head, the drive to the school it's quiet enough to let you think.

Jisung, Han Jisung, the best setter that your school ever had before. He's good, he practice so hard everyday, he loves volleyball more than everything and you unfortunately knows. You know because Chan is the captain of the Lokeys, team that wins against them every single time. The difference now?

Jisung is in the team. And he talks with his members without even explain anything, he can read people in the best way possible, he can gets the opponents' moves even before they make them. It's just a genius in his game

Your brother drops you off and as you walk out he stops you holding your wrist a little, "hey, call me if he's being an ass, kay? I still can wait in the parking lot until you're done."

"hey, I got it." You smile softly at him as he waves at you from the window of the car as he speed right in front of you, just to make you laugh. You look at the doors of the school with a big breath.

The people around there are just some professors, some crazy kids that loves the book at the school and the sport clubs with the training hours, you never understood why put so much effort on your body. You hates sweating. And moving, in general it's not your favorite thing in the world, that would be diaries from the 40' about the WW1.

You try to find a quiet spot in the library, with your bag on your shoulder and the books against your chest, you need to find the perfect table to not have too many people around. Perfect to low talk and not being caught by the hateful librarian, who frankly - hates you. The reason? You may or not have held about ten books from the school on the industrial revolution.

I mean, who would blame you? they are good books, at least for you, and some other nerds. That you don't know, you don't talk to many people, you're voice it's so quiet that everytime people ask you to repeat yourself, at least three times.

As your turn the corner you notice a little table, not bigger than one seat each side, perfect. You fix your clothes as you sitting, putting the books and the conceptual maps that you like to make, your handwriting is delicate, neat and everything is divided down in color due to your visual memory. You are envied for your notes, which are going around to your classmates every time for classwork.

You waited for two hours there. Any reasonable person would have already picked up their things and gone. Not for you. You, you stayed there, studying anyway. You tried not to waste time and clear your thoughts as you finished your notes from the last lesson. When suddenly your phone rings.

[ Channie 18:21 ] are you guys almost done? :D

[ y/n 18:21 ] he never show- As you type the text Jisung gets inside the library, a grin in his face that makes every girl turn her head to look at him, he's wearing his classic uniform to training for volleyball. His movements are full of confidence as he looks around for you, as he stands up in front of the table he start to chuckles.

"Hey beautiful."

[ y/n 18:24 ] nope, but I text you when we are ♡

"my name is Y/n," muffled words gets out your mouth as you look over him, his tonic body gets right in front of you and your side of the table.

You bow a little as you press your lips together in an awkward smile, he chuckles as he cross his tonic arms against his chest. "I know, but names are not my favorite. I like nicknames, so.. you took this thing serious I see," he murmurs.

Jisung take his seat right next to you, his sweaty body makes you feel almost dizzy for how hot he looks, shiny tears of sweats driving down his neck, going inside his shirt. You're trying to not stare, but it's really hard when you have a good looking guy next to you. "So where you lack the most?" You says clearing your throat with a light cough, moving your hair behind your ear as you look at the chapters in the book in front of you. His eyes are on your lips are you talk.

"Right, of course." he nods once and gives you a charming smile as he looks down, trying to focus on the book. Jisung smirks as he watches you blush.

"Now, now… why should I be focused when I have you next to me, looking all cute and gorgeous?" He chuckles in amusement and leans closer toward you, his arms crossing over his chest. "Would be hard to concentrate on anything else, really." he winks at you and runs a hand through his hair.

You blush hardly to find him so close to your face, try to muffles some words but everything that comes out from your mouth a some gasps, he's being clearly flirty and that makes you flustered already, "book, study, please?"

He chuckles as he presses his index finger against your cheek, the sudden contact makes you confused but you manage to control it, "why don't we play a game mh? Simon says. one each."

You sigh, because you think it's the best way to make him focus. "okay, who's start?"

"Ladies first," he moves his hand over you almost brushing his fingers over your arm and you shiver at the light touch, Jisung can read your face and your thoughts as if your internal dialogue is speaking to him.

"Simon says open your book and take notes," your light order make him chuckles, but he listen and he grab his own book opening at the same page as you.

You breathe a sigh of relief as you begin to highlight important points about the book, his focus lasts for about half an hour before he places both hands on the table and looks at you intently with a smirk.

"Simon says, let me kiss you," you almost choke yourself with his words, you shake lightly your head, "no com'on.. please.. it's-it's enough."

Jisung smirks when you turns your head a bit, getting closer again and nudging your jaw with the tip of his thumb. "I think you don't know the game, sugar. You have to do whatever Simon says. Otherwise your turn is lost." Jisung chuckles softly and raises a brow again, his other hand drifting to your thigh, right under your skirt. He keeps teasing you and playing with your mind.

You squeeze your thighs together as she whine a little, looking at him lightly as she glance at his lips, sighing deeply, "Are we gonna back to study after?"

"Yes, promise." Jisung chuckles softly and raises a hand to your face, stroking your cheek softly and tilting your head back toward him. "Can I have your answer now, sweet thing? Or do you need me to make this harder for you?" The hand on your thigh squeezes your leg gently, making you squeal, and he leans in to breathe in your scent. Jisung's lips are just inches away from yours now, his breath hot on your skin. The tension is thick as he lean on you.

He kisses you softly, biting your bottom lip with determination, he's running too fast for you; it's your first kiss. Your eyes are closed as he keep kissing you with transportation. The moment breaks as you get breathless, your cheeks red like cherries and your eyes locked in his. "it was your first kiss, isn't it?"

As you nod he chuckle like a kid, This is gonna be easier than I thought, jisung is thinking about. You cover your face with your hands he moves his hand on your thigh again, "oh don't worry angel, I'll be gentle next time, but I can't promise anything."

Next time? oh you're totally losing it. He talks about a second kiss? you only saw those kinda of things in movies or tv series that you cry yourself on during the night when you feel that you need to 'suffer' about a relationship - that frankly, you never had. But that's not a problem for you, you never expected someone to loves you like the movies, or loves you like the songs that you always listen and fills your playlists.

Between the lessons in the days after, Jisung started to talk to you, to even say hi between the periods, also doing small chats between you two.

"hey y/n!" "can you help me with the study after?" "let me buy you some coffee," "we should hang out soon."

the kiss, the kiss, the kiss. That is the only thing that run through your mind, every time he is around. You can't stop think about it! it's all over your head, as soon as you close your eyes you can feel his lips against yours again, and just the thought makes your panties extremely wet. For God sake, you're lucky that he didn't touched you in the library, you're not sure that you are capable enough to shut your mouth. He's so attractive, walking around with his confidence that build just insecurities to the people in the hallways, so hard to get it for you. But hey, you're not in the same level as him.

He's a 10, you're a 6. Your brother would say a minus 8, but it's your older brother, so his vote doesn't count. Because he would say anything to make you genuinely happy, he loves you unconditionally it's impossible for him to not give you a right number. But still, you don't believe him.

During the middle school, your class listed the girls from the prettiest, to the ugliest. Just a funny game, but you hated it, all of the competition that shouldn't be in a bunch of 16 years old girls made you feel more and more uncomfortable. With your body, your extreme intelligence, made you ended up in one of the last positions.

You started to believe it, because if everyone agree, why it shouldn't be the truth? So you started to act like one, eating alone during lunch, your assignments with a group of people you decided to made your part by your own, your friends started to hang out with other people so; why force something that already is done.

Walking down the hall, by yourself and your eyes focus on the floor, Jisung is sneaking from behind, putting his arm around your shoulder, "hey beautiful."

"uh! hi, hi jisung," You mumble as you almost drop everything that you're holding in your arms, his eyes are traveling from your eyes to your lips, the tension building up inside you. "how are you doin? still too busy to hang out with me?"

He never asked you, "you never asked me."

Your sudden change of tone makes him giggle, holding you tightly against himself, your face get dangerously close to his, "so you would've say yes? Look at you y/n, all confident to talk back to me."

Cheeks getting red, makes him just more giggly and happy, because he knows that his friends are looking right at the end of the hall, where they can see how much he has you under his power. The deal with them is simple: fucks her, bring a proof and the proof can only be her underwear, dirty of his sperm.

In his head he already created the perfect occasion for that, how to make you beg for him, to gets on your knees just because of him. Just the thought of taking your virginity makes him hard, he clear his throat, "so wanted to ask you for, another lesson. maybe somewhere else, you know.. not in the library."

You feel your body slightly tensing up, feeling your legs almost numb for his words, "where? I'm just.. see my schedule and see if I can make it."

"my house. today, after my practice." Your eyes goes wide open, your surprise make him giggle as he nods,"yes angel, my house."

"I said I need to check my schedule, don't.. don't hope too much."

"Oh but I know you're coming princess, you can't say no to me."

You know jisung's house like one of the most beautiful - also richest - spot in the city, his father is a really important manager for one of the biggest volleyball team in town. His parties are always big and always loud, nothing in compare to what you do on Saturday.

But you also know, that he never invites girls over, that something that a lot of girls - specially the female volleyball team - complains all the time in front of you instead of listening to the history lessons. The talk, and talk and talk about him, and the only occasions when girls can get in his house.. is to hook up.

And that's how you ended up in his room, waiting for him to finish his shower, a book in front of your eyes but your head fill with thoughts.

"Simon says, tell me your dirtiest fantasy," he says clicking the pen in a almost rhythmic way, his eyes on your blushing. Because even if you're just a virgin, your head always fantasized about so many things. You guys are been studying for two hours now, he's overworked to let you talk for that long, when his only thought has been bending you over and take you right there. right now.

He try to push your to the limit until you spill it out, "okay, fine. fine I'll tell you," you mumble as he chuckle happily, his hand finish on your thigh, making you blush even more, "I think.. I think I like it rough. I mean, it's just an assumption, because I'm still a virgin."

"you know what I like?"

His question doesn't sounds like one, but you let him finish talk, his hand travels up and down from your knee to your inner thigh. Your skirt moves with his touch, "I like to make happy pretty girls like you."

Your cheeks get red as cherries just making him smirk like a cheeky kid that just had the answer that he wanted, "I think I.. could make you happy, angel, if you just.. let me." You can feel your heart bouncing in your chest when he starts to kiss your neck, his hand finds his way on your panties, feeling the wetness against the thin fabric.

"So fucking wet already."

You can't actually tell how you ended up on his bed, your thighs spread open and his face right between them. "jisung.. jisung please.."

Jisung chuckles softly, the sound vibrating against your sensitive flesh. He takes a moment to tease you, licking and kissing your inner thighs before finally placing a hot, open-mouthed kiss on your swollen pussy lips. His tongue darts out to taste you, his lips parting yours with one swift motion. He starts by licking you labia before sucking on your clit gently, groaning in approval at the taste of you. "So sweet.. just for me."

"Oh my fucking god," You says breathless, your back arching just at the gentle touch of his lips against your cunt, it's incredibly good to feel.

Chuckling again, Jisung complies. He slides his hands up to your hips, holding you in place as he slowly pushes his tongue into your tight entrance. He groans as he feels how wet you are, his eyes nearly rolling back in pleasure. "Fuck.. you taste amazing - want more, give me more."

He breath heavily against your skin as he continues to pleasure you. He adds a finger to her tight pussy, stretching her slowly while sucking on her clit. "You like that?”

Every single movement gives you a wave of pleasure that makes you moan so loud that his brother down the hall probably heard you. You moves your hips against his face, needy for more of his wet and warm licks, “o-oh fuck i love it! m-more!”

Jisung groans as he takes in you desperate cries. He pushes your boundaries further, adding another finger in your tight slit. His tongue works overtime on your sensitive spots, driving you wild. He has no intention of stopping until she begs for his cock. “imma gonna make you cum so hard.”

He can feel you, feel your excitement growing. He moves his fingers faster inside of her, hitting your g-spot, rubbing his fingers against it to let her reach the highest pleasure possible while still sucking on your clit. Your juices taste so sweet and he just wants more. “Fuck, your pussy is so wet, you're my good girl aren't you? so good for me.”

Jisung moves from your pussy just to change position, letting you sits on his face, your blush is heavy. He grunts as you rides his face, your pussy juices dripping down onto his tongue. He reaches up to grab your ass cheeks, spreading them apart as he continues to lap at your sensitive spots. “Fuck, you’re such a slut.”

You whine loudly as you try to keep it quiet, your hips are moving faster and faster trying to find the best friction possible. “i can’t wait to fuck you,” his muffled voice makes you clench around his fingers, he roll his eyes for pleasure.

“i want your cock in my mouth first.”

Jisung chuckles darkly, his eyes gleaming with lust. He moves from under you, sitting right in front of your sore but still shaky body. His fingers moves quick on his jeans to unzip them down and to let his hard length free. He grabs you by the hair and pulls your head towards his cock. "You're such a dirty girl," he murmurs before pushing inside your mouth roughly.

You moan deep throating his cock as you look at him, you has tears on the sides of your eyes for the sudden moves and your saliva dropping down your chin. You never had a sensation like this, so filled. so big.

Jisung fucks your mouth roughly, his hips slamming against your face. He reaches down and starts to finger your wet pussy, adding another layer of pleasure to your already overwhelmed senses. "You're going to cum for me, aren't you?"

You nods on his cock, closing your eyes to feel every inch of his dick deep down your throat, you clench lightly around his fingers but you starts to bounce in them desperately.

Jisung pulls out of your mouth and watches as you bounces on his fingers, eyes filled with lust. He slaps your ass hard, "You like this dirty stuff, don't you?” You find yourself squirming under his touch, almost purring like a cat for more attentions.

Feeling your walls clenching around his fingers, Jisung growls low in his throat. He pulls his cock out of your mouth roughly, leaving your gasping for air. "wanna get fucked angel?"

"yes jisung, please."

Jisung chuckles as he spreads your legs wide, positioning himself at your entrance. He teases you by rubbing his tip against her slick folds before pushing inside. "You're so wet for me, just for me right baby? so wet.. just for my cock."

You nods gasping for air, your head moves backward as you moan louder, "f-fuck it's too big," you whine loudly when you clench around him, trying to adjust as quick as possible, his hands goes on your waist to lift you and let you stay on his lap, your faces are so close are you stare in each other's eyes.

Jisung's hands move to grip your hips more firmly, guiding your movements on his cock. He can't get enough of the sight of you bouncing on him, your breasts jiggling with each thrust. He watches you with hooded eyes, drinking in the sight of you writhing on top of him. "you’re taking it so good for me.”

"jisung.. oh j-jisung I wanna cum.."

Jisung tightens his grip on your hips, pushing himself deeper inside you. He groans in pleasure as he feels your walls clenching around him. "Oh fuck, baby. That's it. Keep riding me like that."

“a-ah! ‘m so close!” You says breathing heavily, your eyes half closed as your legs’s muscles are burning for tiredness but you are too desperate for an orgasm to stop. Jisung's thrusts become more forceful, matching her desperation. His hands move to cup her chubby cheeks, slapping them gently in time with their rhythm.

"God you're... you're so big.."

Jisung groans softly, his hips jerking forward as he tries to thrust deeper into you. He pulls away from your neck and kiss you passionately - almost desperately, your tongues dueling. "You make me so fucking hard." He holds onto your throat, pulling you onto his mouth to kiss you again.

"More jisung.. please more.." Jisung smirks, his thrusts becoming even rougher as he grabs you legs and lifts them up, holding them against the wall of your abdomen. He starts to bite down on your neck, his hips bucking wildly. "I love hearing you beg."

Feeling your orgasm, Jisung picks up the pace even more, he reaches down to rub his cockhead against your clit, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body.

Jisung grunts, his hips bucking against you once more. He pulls out of you slowly and watches as a trickle of semen drips down your thigh. He smirks, his eyes fixed on yours. "Is that what you wanted, my pretty?"

Your blush makes him chuckle, nodding lightly as your squeeze your thighs again, breathing heavily and your expression of totally fucked. Tilting your head aside, hearing someone walking down the hall and your panicking expression just makes him more and more amused.

Jisung chuckles softly again as he looks at you still laying there. Then he tries to pull himself together and stand back up, only to moan softly as his legs are a bit shaky after everything that happened. “I know, right? It felt so good to know that someone could be right outside the door and could hear me making you beg like the little slut you are."

You hits playfully his chest as he lay right next to you, your body is incredibly sore, his arms slowly moves around your waist, pulling you against his chest. "Oh shut up."

"make me," he whispers teasingly in your ear, making you chuckle as he massage your hips with his hands, his head rest on your shoulder as you close your eyes, feeling your body slowly resting against the mattress. "are you sore?"

"yeah, I'm not even sure how I am managing to talk."

"get used to it," Jisung murmurs as he buries his face on your shoulder, "I'll do this, again.. and again.. and again." closing his eyes as you feels his breath getting more steady. Your eyes gets even heavier as you feel the warmth of his body curling behind you.

Something is sure though, he never lets the girl that he fucks in his bed after, not even for sleep.

He had the perfect plan, exactly knows how and when to expose you and your no-more-virginity. He knows what he would say, even what he wanted to say.

So why now, that he's with his friends during the last practice of the week, he feels like a shit to talk about it? the balls are bouncing on the floor of the gym and his mind is just full of thoughts, mostly about you. That afternoon wasn't the only one, after that you guys started to be even closer, hanging out creating excuses with studying, procrastinating homework, a lot of love making sessions. His friends keep provoke him, asking for pictures of you after sex, every single sign of you two together. But he always respected you with this, because it's too much, he starts to like to feel you with him. Letting you sleep with him after, even cuddle and he's not a cuddler, it's just.. he feels and act different with you. It hurts, because he knows that soon or later he needs to talk with you about the challenge and the deal.

"So, did you fuck her?" His friend asked as he jumps for spiking the ball that he just sett in the perfect spot for him, Jisung groan nervously, he doesn't want to talk about it.

He doesn't want to because it felt too good to spill every single part of it, his focus are on the ball and how to serve on the other side of the court, getting ready for the match against y/n's brother. "oh, is someone too into her now?"

Another teammate tease him playfully, the spank on the ball gets louder, every time that it hits the ground jisung feels his blood burning in his veins, "shut up."

"did you fell for her?"

"love at first sight!"

"oh she probably do good blowjobs."

"should I try her now?"

"you took the deal too seriously now?"

Jisung serve the ball, hitting the floor with a loud sound that makes everyone stops whatever they are doing, because that wasn't just a serve. That was almost a punishment serve, "I said shut up, I did it for the deal, for the money. stop talking about it."

The thing that jisung didn't expect it was you, right on the corner of the gym, you were ready to talk to him and tell him how much you liked it, how much you loved slept in to his arms and waking up with him right beside you. How his kisses and his caresses made you feel alive, loved, desired, accepted. The way that the same morning you needed to sneak out from his house because he didn't wanted to let you talk with his father and his brother; "precaution." Yeah, precaution. Now you know, know you know why he didn't wanted it, why he didn't came to you this morning as he did for the last three months, he didn't smiled, he didn't waved. he didn't hugged you, he didn't try to steal a kiss from you. It was.. nothing. Like nothing happened.

The steps of your shoes echos in the hallway, jisung turn at the sound, he was sure that you heard, he knows it was you. His mind gets blurry and he let his volleyball, his team. Right now he doesn't care if he lose the practice, he doesn't care if he needs to train hard to beat your brother, he teased him enough.

You're crying, walking fast and almost not standing in your own feet, it was all a deal; all for money. You stop walking when you feel that your lungs are not functioning anymore, you feel your mind spinning. Your sobs are echoing in the hall as you sits against the cabinets, why he would do that?

Then the reality hits you hard, like a bullet in your chest.

"You."

You hiss when jisung enter in your sight, he stops his walking almost feel shaking, he knows that you're judging him now, "please let me explain-"

"you did it all because of a stupid deal! you did.. you did it to piss off my brother, because.. because you're gonna play against him next month. You.. You used me." The truth starts to pass in front of his eyes, because it's damn true.

"That was before," you can't even let him finish before stepping up from your spot, stomping a little to face him, your eyes are still tearing up and he can stop the urge to wipe your tears away. "before what? before what jisung?"

Your tone it's hard, and he feels like a kid that gets scolded, "before I started to like you." his hand try to reach your cheek but you spank it first. He's shocked by your gesture, it's not in you, is not something that you would do.

Not to him, not to anyone.

People starts to get out the classes, you are still in the middle of the hall as students stops to listen and more to watch the fight, "like me? you.. Han Jisung. like me, now this is another one of your tricks."

"y/n please calm down," his warm voice makes you almost trip in your thoughts, his hands finish on your shoulders and for a second you're back of the night before, when you went over at his place, when he was touching you so firmly for the first time.

"do not tell me to calm down! I don't wanna see you ever again." Jisung's heart almost breaks, people start to whispers and he see only you walking away from him, too distant. He doesn't like it, he doesn't want you distant anymore.

Jisung doesn't stop though, he knows that if he lets you walk out of his life now, you are never gonna be back to him. "angel, let *me* talk, let me explain."

"You had enough power over me."

You moved.

Moved school, changed your way to be, you decided to cut everything that could remind you him. Jisung was and always be someone that took something to you, something that you wanted to keep safe and always for someone special. He was special, that's for sure, but you knew something like this would happen. So when you changed school to go in your brother's high school, you're not surprised of the amount of popularity that you started to have all of a sudden, because Chan never hide your sibling ship. He never lied to anyone about you. You started to officially be the little sister that he keeps close and tight.

Jisung broke you but you decide to grab the pieces that he left and create a new shape of you, getting out more, making friends and even hang out with boys.

Like now, that you're hand by hand with Hwang Hyunjin, walking inside on a party. Never expected about celebrating after Chan's team won the volleyball game against your old school, but going to an after party? That's wasn't in your plan.

"Com'on don't be so tense," Hyunjin whispers in your ear as he walks behind you, one hand in yours and the other placed on your hip, guiding you though the crowd of people from both of the schools. You don't pay that much attention of the house, but it's okay. You're there to have fun, just that. "I'm not tense!"

"Y/n, babe, I can see your shoulders moving up every single time you talk, don't close yourself I'll be with you the whole time."

"all the time?" you murmurs trying to search for a confirm, your eyes lands on his and his smile makes you feel less anxious. You don't want anyone see you like this, specially from Jisung's team, you're freezing scared just to think about them. To see his eyes again on you. "Let me get you a drink."

"She doesn't drink." His voice reach you fast, but the grab on your wrist it's tight enough to make you turn to his direction, seeing his mad face toward your best friend.

"Are you sure?" Hyunjin bark back, almost ready to pick up a fight with him just to defend you, your eyes run from one guy to the other, stepping back and clearing your throat enough to make both of them turn in your direction. "I don't need someone to talk for me, and I don't need someone to tell me what to do, I'm fine like this." They both back off from each other, walking in different directions.

You follow your friend, and as soon as you guys step inside the kitchen he burst into laugh, his hand over his mouth, "Oh my god! he was so mad!"

"you guys won today right?" You scoff chuckling and getting yourself a sip of water from the fridge, his eyes on you as he nods, your eyes travel down his chest lightly seeing the little open of his shirt. Some buttons are undone and that makes your cheeks grow red, "where are you staring angel?"

You take a longer sip that you expect as you shrug your shoulders, moving down the dress on your thighs with a shy behavior, it's clear that you're not usual to wear dresses, they are not exactly your type of dress code - in any way. The nickname that he gives to you makes a run of chills down your spine, sighing lightly, "nothing.. your.. your shirt. it's unbuttoned." He nods as he glance down his own black shirt, he chuckle lightly, "why don't you do it for me? I'm too lazy."

You roll your eyes as you leave the glass of water in the already full sink of glasses and plates, walking close to him enough for do this favor to him, "come closer, I don't bite." The tension between you two is building up quicker than you expect but his hands that travel from your waist to your hips, pushes you against his chest, your eyes are on his and you're that close to feel his breath against your face. His eyes are slowly closing, leaning for a kiss that you're to exactly refusing.

His eyes were cold on you. "y/n, with me." His voice kills the mood of the room, making you jump lightly backward with your cheeks red like cherries, "man, she can choose." his grip on your waist get tighter, you know he's not gonna let you go, but your instinct it's running away from both of them. Your eyes are on Jisung, his presence it's charming as usual.

"Not with you holding her that tight, let her go, she needs to talk to me." Hyunjin let you go with a grunt, he's not happy about it but you walk quietly toward jisung, his body shift and he turn towards the stairs. You follow him silently as your hand it's intertwine with yours, his touch it's still delicate with you. He lead the way to a specific room and then you recognize everything, every single second of it. His house.

You're back in Jisung's house.

"sorry I, I don't have that much time I'm with my brother and his friends so-"

"why did you left?" His voice it's not hard on you, it's almost hurt, if this topic it's hurting you more than you could expect, his head is down and you can totally smell the alcohol that leave his body, making you step forward to see if he needs some help with anything, anything. "needed to."

Jisung chuckle under breath, turning and facing you, he's close to tears as he moves one hand over his cheek bushing lightly his fingers over his chubby skin, "needed to? y/n, I feel.. I feel like breaking down every second that you're not near me, I cannot breath because you left. I wanted to run, run after you. Maybe chasing you is not the best idea but I.. I wanted you to stay. Please can.. can I touch you?"

His voice is a whisper the whole time, making your legs shakes, almost melting for his sweet talks - but you're too hurt for that. "You broke me, you took something from me, don't be the victim here." Your voice it's steady but inside you your heart is shaking as much as his hands are.

"I wanna touch you wherever he touched you just to prove you that I'm better," Jisung steps closer, his hands grabs gently your waist and his touch it's 100% better than Hyunjin's, you cannot lie. You're melting under his fingertips, he's massaging your hips so lightly that makes your breath die in your throat. "Jisung we can't."

He mumble something, but his mind it's too blurry for elaborate, he lean on your shoulder as he's eyes slowly close, he takes a deep breath of your sent. "if you.. just let me.. need you so badly baby."

Jisung's lips trace his face long the nape of your neck, his hands slowly moves on your ass grabbing your cheeks in a gentle squeeze, your hands goes between his hair as you start to breath heavily, "ji we are your party."

"Simon says, let me take the dress off." His whispers makes you shivers long your spine, biting lightly your bottom lip as you let his hands grab the hem of the dress, lifting it up easily in one smooth movement - he saw you naked before but his eyes on you always make you blush like a kid. "Simon says take off your pants."

Jisung's eyes light up when he see that you are okay with that, and his hands gets busy unzipping his pants and moving down enough to let your hard length free, "com'here angel."

His hands grabs the back of your thighs, lifting you up from the floor and pushing you against the wall, you kiss him with pure passion and needs, his cockhead rubbing against the fabric of your panties.

"please fuck me Jisung," you mumble as his hand reach your panties, pulling them aside enough for him to penetrate you without a warning. Your breath catch your throat as you moan in silent, covering your mouth and laying your back against the wall, his hands grabs your thighs tightly as he moan deeply with his face buries against your neck, "fuck, so tight, thank you.. thank you baby.."

You moan shakily and his thrusts gets even more desperate, pounding in you roughly and fast, he groans and starts to pound into you, his hips slapping against yours. He holds onto you legs tightly, not wanting to lose contact with this feeling. His mouth finds yours again in a fierce kiss, his tongue invading you mouth as he takes what he wants. His pace quickens, his thrusts harder and deeper. Jisung's eyes are full of lust and desire for you.

"I love you."

𐙚 tag list: @lyramundana

#stray kids #han jisung skz #han jisung imagines #han jisung x you #han jisung x reader #han jisung x y/n #han jisung stray kids #han jisung headcanons #han jisung smut #han jisung #jixauro #han smut #jisung smut #skz smut #Han Jisung skz smut #stray kids smut #skz hard thoughts #stray kids x you

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bitbugbites-re · 8 months

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𝙵𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝙺𝚒𝚜𝚜 | 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔠𝔞𝔫𝔬𝔫𝔰

Headcanons on how your first kiss would go with different RE men

tumblr exclusive!

characters: Carlos Oliveira, Chris Redfield, Leon S. Kennedy

gender: gn! reader

cw: FLUFF // first kiss :3 // ktober

a/n: guys this is my first non-nsfw post can you believe it

𝕮𝖆𝖗𝖑𝖔𝖘 𝕺𝖑𝖎𝖛𝖊𝖎𝖗𝖆 (re3r)

Who initiates?

Either one of you. Although, in most scenarios, it's probably going to be Carlos who initiates your first kiss -- he's a very forward guy

Taste?

His breath isn't awful, although it's not minty either. Very neutral?

I feel like if it was planned beforehand, and he knew he was going to kiss you, he might have chewed some gum? Or at the very least used mouthwash, flossed, scraped his tongue, etc.

He also strikes me as very spur-of-the-moment though, so I feel like in most situations there would be no planning and he'd just go for it. (fuck it, we ball!)

Is there tongue?

...maybe.

No, yeah, this dude would try using tongue on the first kiss LMAO

He'd ease into it though! It wouldn't be straight away.

I don't think it'd be bad if he did, either??? I feel like he'd know what he was doing and it wouldn't be like. AWFUL.

Are they touchy?

YEAAAAAAH !!!!!

You got boobs? They're gonna get squeezed. You got an ass? It's being rubbed. You got arms? They're getting grabbed. You got legs? Already around his hips--

ahem. Conclusion? Yes.

Is it good?

I'd say a first kiss with Carlos, or any kiss with the man at all, would be like an 8 or 9/10. He'd give you the best first kiss out of the other RE men on this list (although, if Ethan Winters were included, he'd easily take that spot. bro's got that supernatural mold-man rizz, or something?)

𝕮𝖍𝖗𝖎𝖘 𝕽𝖊𝖉𝖋𝖎𝖊𝖑𝖉 (re: death island)

Who initiates?

Probably you, if it's the movie renditions of Chris. I feel like he'd be waaay more reluctant to suck face as compared to his given re5/re6 personality. Although if there were a bit of teasing and build-up, I could see him getting frustrated and kissing you first.

Taste?

Most likely pretty average breath. I don't think he would really prepare for the kiss if he did know it was coming, though

Not because he doesn't care, but because it just isn't on his mind. I don't think he would think things that far out tbh

He might realize afterward though that his breath could've been STANK. I feel like he would ask and be briefly apologetic over the matter before moving on, and that'd be that

Is there tongue?

No. In fact, I think that if you were to use tongue, he'd probably be shocked and say something about it afterward

Chris probably wouldn't really know how to use his tongue well, either. I feel like he'd just get confused and overwhelmed and go back to kissing you in a regular fashion

Are they touchy?

Semi. I don't think he'd be grabby or overly passionate, but I can see him placing his hands somewhere, like on your hips or arms

Is it good?

Yeah, it'd be a good kiss. Maybe like a 7 or 8/10. Not anything to write home about, but it'd be nice. Just a very regular, low-key interaction

𝕷𝖊𝖔𝖓 𝕾. 𝕶𝖊𝖓𝖓𝖊𝖉𝖞 (re2r)

Who initiates?

Either one of you, honestly. If he's the one to initiate the kiss, I can see him planning it beforehand -- it wouldn't be a spur-of-the-moment type deal

I'd also like to note, that he'd probably study up on how to kiss you, LOL. Maybe through Google searches or by watching action movies with romance in them?

Taste?

If he's the initiator and it's been planned -- he's probably going to have a slightly minty taste. Bro is gonna come prepared

HOWEVER. If you're the initiator, you're getting what you get, pal. I feel like he's the type of dude to eat really pungent meals too, like onion-y, garlic-y stuff. Therefore, if this is the case -- good luck, brother

Is there tongue?

No tongue. He'd prefer to share a more gentle, slow kiss for your first.

Again, if you slipped him some tongue, I think he'd be a little taken aback. I don't think he'd say anything, though -- he'd probably just try his best to follow along (although I don't think he'd be very good at it -- I'M SO SORRY FELLOW LEON STANS PLS DON'T COME FOR ME)

Are they touchy?

Not unless you got touchy with him first. And even then, I think he'd be a little hesitant and/or clumsy about it.

You'd probably send him into a mini-panic, tbh. He'd pull through, though.

Is it good?

Depends. On. The. Breath.

If you caught him off guard and he ate some kinda garlic-y pasta or chicken recipe earlier in the day, well...I'm praying for you, buddy. Hard 5/10.

If he's got good breath, then I'd say a solid 7/10. I feel like your first few kisses would be pretty normal, and then as time goes on, he'd work his way up to like an 8 or 9/10 on average -- he'd learn quickly what you like and don't like :P

For the official and original Kinktober 23 prompts, check here. Credits to @kinktober2023 for the ideas!

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goldyeokki · 1 year

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𝟏𝟎 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐈 𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ¹⁸⁺

꒰ ♡ ꒱ 𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐓: lee donghyuck, huang renjun, mark lee, osaki shotaro, jung sungchan, uchinaga eri (giselle), ning yi zhuo (ningning)

꒰ ♡ ꒱ 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄𝐒: pure crack, a pinch of angst, fluff, smut ꒰ ♡ ꒱ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: you and lee donghyuck both get along like oil and water. if it were up to you, you would be going about your days without even breathing in his direction. unfortunately you're in the same friend group and you have to tolerate each other. as handsome or attractive as people claim him to be, you hate his guts. there's so many reasons why you hate him, so why do you get butterflies in your stomach when he's near?

꒰ ♡ ꒱ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 35.5k (i'm so sorry) ꒰ ♡ ꒱ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: [NOT 100% PROOFREAD] social media elements; uni au; enemies to lovers; lots of plot before the porn; semi-slow burn; lots of flashbacks in first half; reader is in denial half the damn time; hyuck is a self-sacrificial idiot; love triangle (?); renhyuck crumbs; sungtaro forever neos; mc is emotionally constipated; mc wears a skirt and makeup; mc is canon attracted to both men and women; bad ex!song mingi; consumption of alcohol; mentions of weed and vapes / unprotected sex; big dick!hyuck; brief mean dom!hyuck; praise; possessiveness; choking; edging; overstimulation; clit spanking; multiple orgasms; mating press; if i missed out any i apologise

꒰ 💬 ꒱ 𝐇𝐔𝐀'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: the first installation of before the last flower blooms is finally out! happy belated birthday to our fullsun hyuck, and i hope everyone enjoys this fic as much as i did when i wrote it (♡ˊ͈ ꒳ ˋ͈) a lot of blood, sweat and tears were put into this i think i lost a bit of my sanity ngl

have you ever taken a look at someone and been filled with a compelling urge to shove their smug face into a hot, steaming pile of crap?

that’s how you feel whenever lee donghyuck breathes in your direction.

you would think that being in a big friend group would discourage any feelings of animosity between one another. unfortunately, that is not the case for you and someone whom you want to call your mortal enemy. but it would be a stretch to say that. you have a rather complex relationship with donghyuck.

for the longest time, you’ve both hated each other’s guts yet due to your shared friend group, you’ve learned to tolerate each other and be civil when the time calls for it. sometimes you’re both as thick as thieves, being the culprits for harmless little pranks that your friends often become the unwilling victims of. he is a notorious flirt who can and will flirt with anything that breathes. your friend group (especially renjun and mark) are victims too but when it comes to you, he knows exactly what to say to make your heart skip a beat or render you speechless. you’re convinced that he’s doing it to toy around with you because you’ve never seen him in a relationship, be it casual or serious, for as long as you’ve known him.

but when it’s just the both of you, there are moments when he’ll strip away that obnoxious—dare you say, façade—and you can simply exist. he won’t pick on you like he usually would. sometimes even in the presence of other people, he’ll still actively look out for you. if you could describe his behaviour around you in one word, it’ll be confusing. he edges you and drags you around with a ribbon you don’t recall him ever tying on you and it gets so frustrating when he gets the last laugh.

he’s a massive pain in the ass for sure but there is one thing that you can admit: he doesn’t strike you to be the kind of person who would be malicious to others without reason. you just hate personalities like him.

he’s always strutting around like a proud peacock, acting like he knows something nobody else in the room does. he always finds a way to get under your skin—be it sidling up to you and telling you stupid things with your friend group around or teasing you when it’s just the both of you—but you’d rather be buried six feet under than admit your life would be less entertaining without him around.

you don’t know why lee donghyuck hates you, but of all the reasons that you hate him, you have a hot ten list that he routinely reminds you of every waking second of your life.

#10: EVEN WHEN HE’S QUIET, HE’S STILL THE LOUDEST PERSON IN THE ROOM

there was a party at his fraternity just a couple of months ago. you were the first to arrive along with giselle since class ended early and you weren’t exactly in the mood to study. mark was the one who bribed you both with the promise of bubble tea so of course you didn’t want to disappoint. you came to the conclusion that he didn’t want the first few strings of people to come in and see a party full of testosterone. he had always been thoughtful like that and you’ve admired him for it. it’s no surprise that he’s so well-liked everywhere he goes.

when you arrived, donghyuck was nowhere to be found. it was only mark, renjun, and some others you don’t fully recognise lugging the beer kegs around. both you and giselle offered to help and they gave you towers of plastic cups to plant at every corner of the fraternity possible.

“it feels weirdly quiet without him. i don’t like it.” giselle mumbled just loud enough for you to hear. she was stacking a few more cups on the foldable table that leaned up against the stairs with fruit punch and rows of canned drinks for anyone who didn’t want to drink alcohol. of all the frat houses that you’ve been to, the one that cared most about their partygoers was the alpha neo frat.

you didn’t want to admit it, but she was right. even when there’s music playing through the speakers at a volume loud enough for you to feel the bass in your bones, it’s eerily quiet without his presence. it felt like you were in a horror movie waiting for the killer to surprise you.

“don’t summon the devil, babe.” you chuckled through your nose. you heard her giggle quietly from where she stood and then there was silence.

an uneasy feeling settled in the pit of your stomach, like the calm before the storm.

from where you were in the kitchen, you had the perfect view of the entrance to the door. you nursed your bubble tea and chewed on the paper straw. it was beginning to get soggy and you were starting to get annoyed. how the hell were you going to chew on the tapioca balls now?

something told you that he was going to appear in a couple of seconds. you kept your eyes on the door, biding your time as you patiently waited for the man of the hour to arrive. at least he had never been tardy.

the front door suddenly threw open. the corners of your lips crack a soft smile. right when you had predicted.

“I’M HERE, PARTY PEO– ah? it’s just you guys . . .”

lee donghyuck came barrelling in with sungchan and shotaro in tow, all carrying more cheap beer. he first spotted giselle and immediately grinned before he made his way over to greet her with bear hugs. “giselle, our pretty girl!” he practically yelled for the whole house to hear. you’re almost sure that the walls were trembling from his voice.

“hi, y/n!” shotaro and sungchan were the first to spot you as you emerged from the kitchen to help them with the beer cans. you waved back at the duo. when you reached for the pack in sungchan’s hands, he raised them above both your heads and you raised an eyebrow. “this one isn’t for the party, it’s for us to start the party.”

“yeah, we figured the frat already got more than enough for half the campus and then some,” shotaro mused. well, they’re not wrong. with an amused laugh, you gestured to the kitchen.

“alright, let’s keep them cool in the fridge first while we wait for the rest of the gang to come in.”

shortly after the remainder of your friend group had arrived, everyone gathered in a circle in the living room with a beer can in hand. some force in the universe had placed you in between donghyuck and renjun—two best friends with absolutely opposite personalities. damn, your luck was shit.

everyone took their time (see: a quick five seconds) to get ready to shotgun their beer before the party started. you weren’t exactly the best at it but you weren’t going to ask the loser on your right to help out. when you struggled to punch a hole, donghyuck quietly took your can and passed you his freshly punched one with a sigh of faux annoyance.

“c’mon, y/n. we shotgun beers every time we party!” he complained out loud which naturally gathered a few pairs of eyes to land on you both. you wanted to be embarrassed but you’re too occupied processing the fact that he had performed a selfless act . . . of sorts. you rolled your eyes and glared at him when he attempted to give you a tutorial on how to punch a hole in a beer can. “this is how you do it, babe. if you can’t do it, you can always ask for the handsome and charming hyuckie to help you out!” ooh, you really want to sock his stupidly handsome face that very moment.

wait. handsome? no. he’s not handsome. he’s attractive, yeah, but not to you.

fuck. keep it together, dude.

“shut up, it’s not like i do this every other day unlike you, dumbass!” your brows creased and you were tempted to smack the back of his head but you held yourself back. instead, you simply scoffed and attempted to look away.

“just take my can, since i’m your greatest friend in the whole wide world and you looooove me.” donghyuck made it a point to quite literally push his face close to yours. in the dim multi-coloured lighting of the common space you’ve all gathered at, the glint of his lip ring caught your eye. ever since he had gotten that lip ring a few months ago, you’ve been guilty of staring at it every once in a while. but it’s not like you wanted to! it’s right there. it was right in your face, how could you not stare?!

you sharply turned your head and shoved him away to put some distance between your bodies. he’s such a sneaky brat.

“no you’re not, suck my dick.” you rolled your shoulders back and looked at giselle who stood across you in the circle. she only gave you a pointed look and winked flirtatiously, which very quickly made an amused smile appear on your face.

“okay, okay, are we gonna start or are you two going to keep bickering?” renjun voiced out what everyone else was most likely thinking. you assumed that donghyuck was batting his eyelashes at him or probably doing something weird with his face. “don’t give me that look, donghyuck.”

“it’s my lucky handsome look on my lucky handsome face.” he countered. his best friend sighed quietly through his nose.

“anyway.” you pressed, side-eyeing the smug bastard and forcing the shotgun session to begin.

“this is our final year, kinda started a while back but, whatever.” you began, then looked at sungchan, mark, and ningning who were conveniently lined up next to each other. you smiled softly at the trio. “except for you three. mark started grad school already and our babies ning and channie are still in junior year.”

the fond nicknames rolled off your tongue easily for the two younger members of the friend group. hushed giggles and chuckles lingered in the air, almost with a bittersweet note. everyone knew what it meant for you and the rest of the group. as much as it pained for you to say it, you really don’t want this little ragtag team of weirdos to disband when the bulk of you graduate. renjun is still pursuing grad school afterwards so at least he and mark will still have each other but it’s so up in the air for everyone else. despite it all, you know that your love and bond with one another are strong enough to lead you all back to each other.

“we’ll catch up. just wait for us.” sungchan raised his beer can to you. before you can continue, you were interrupted by none other than—

“(nickname) this is too sad, i’m taking over.” donghyuck cleared his throat obnoxiously and bumped his hip against yours as if telling you to move aside. you exhaled through your nose, hearing renjun quietly snicker to your left as you shifted your position accordingly. “first party of the alpha neo frat, let’s have tons of fun and get shitfaced drunk!”

when everyone was about to cheer in agreement, shotaro cleared his throat so obnoxiously that you feared he was going to cough up his larynx. donghyuck blinked and looked at the male.

“. . . within reason because we have classes tomorrow?” he attempted once again, unsure and obviously not a big fan of the responsible idea. shotaro nodded with a bright, satisfied smile, eyes forming half-crescents as he did. donghyuck whined out loud and began his little complaining rant. “taro, you’re no fun. the uni experience is to walk into 9ams with a hangover and–”

“can’t hear you, we’re shotgunning!” ningning announced and raised her can to her lips. laughter echoed throughout, filling up the space of the common room and also your heart. mark followed suit, cheering before he did, and some of the golden liquid dripped past his lips as he downed his drink.

everyone was putting their beer cans up to follow and you felt compelled to face your side. you looked to your right to meet donghyuck’s gaze. had he been waiting for you? almost always you end up right next to each other during pre-party shotguns and almost always he would offer to shotgun together. you don’t understand why but you couldn’t care enough to want to figure out why.

he raised his can slightly. he didn’t say a single word but you could hear him asking if you wanted to shotgun your beers together. the corners of his lips curled upwards into a hopeful yet cheeky grin, but not before swathing his tongue across his bottom lip. your eye caught the saliva-stained gleam on his lip ring once again and you had to force yourself to drag your gaze back up to his eyes. you really needed to give renjun an earful for dragging him along to the piercing studio.

you nodded and gave him back a sincere smile. the both of you raised your beer cans, bodies facing each other. his eyes were fixed on you and you could feel some form of disturbance in your stomach. why did you feel a little nervous? you met his gaze and lifted your can to your lips, him mirroring your actions. in shared silence, while everyone cheered and celebrated in the background, you shotgunned your drinks together as your eyes were locked on each other.

you’re brought back to the present thanks to a rather violent sneeze that came from your left. you turn to look at giselle who’s wrapped up in a thick blanket. her cheeks and nose are a bright scarlet, eyes watery as she glares at her laptop while furiously typing away.

it’s a busy period for the entire student body. just like everyone, you’re swamped with deadlines and projects. you have a milestone check with your professors for three of your classes in the upcoming week, an exam in two, and a group project to consolidate before its submission that same week.

what you’re looking forward to is the four-week semester break that comes right after. you’re not too big on parties but some cheap beer, messy making out with a hot stranger with alcohol and music buzzing through your veins sounds like the perfect celebration after the stressful weeks that came before.

as a journalism student, you doubt giselle is able to catch that much of a break. you remember her complaining to you about her workload a couple of nights ago. her head was on your lap as you stroked her hair while listening to her. apparently, on top of writing an article, she has a group assignment worth 70% of her grade that requires the entire group to produce a video news story. although she was assigned to a team with no freeloaders, everyone’s ideas keep clashing which is causing a lot of stress and pressure on her as the designated team leader.

“gigi, are you sure you want to continue studying?” shotaro quietly whispers, very clearly concerned. he’s only wearing a t-shirt since he had already given her his hoodie, but anyone can tell he’s ready to run back to his dorm to grab another layer for her if she needs it.

“yeah gi, you look really sick.” you echo his sentiments, tucking locks of your hair behind your ears to get a better look at her. there’s a seat between you two, occupied by your bags and unused books. you lean closer to her over the seat and press the back of your index and middle finger against her neck. she doesn’t feel hot, but she does feel a bit warm. unsatisfied with the results you’d gotten, you press the same fingers against her temple. only then do you feel her temperature rise. “giselle babe, you should rest. you’re burning up a little.”

“don’t worry about me, guys,” she manages a weak smile. she sounds so nasally and you resist the urge to sigh but shotaro doesn’t. “i promise i’m okay. it’s just a bit of a sinus.”

“are you sure?” you cock an eyebrow upward, withdrawing yourself back from her.

“i am, i promise.”

everyone leaves it at that. you’re back to dedicating your attention to your laptop to focus on studying but you very quickly find that you’re unable to.

you feel a prickling sensation—like somebody is staring intently at you, watching your every move like a hawk—and it sends goosebumps rippling all over your arms and the back of your neck. you peel your attention from your screen and let your eyes glaze over the table.

sungchan is buried nose-deep in his arsenal of open textbooks surrounding his laptop, preparing for his mock bar exam that’s coming up in a couple of weeks. the poor law student has the toughest professors and you really feel bad for him. shotaro sits next to him, calmly reading through a biology textbook as he highlights and annotates the text. you’ve always noticed how colourful his learning materials are, flagged with multicoloured tabs at the sides. mark has his eyes glued to his laptop as he types away, headphones blocking out any noise that could tamper with his concentration. ningning is sifting through sheets of notes that look like they came straight from those aesthetic study youtubers you’ve come across online, most likely questioning why on earth she decided to major in psychology.

your gaze finally lands on lee donghyuck.

he has his laptop in front of him, and a notebook on his right. he has notes scribbled down and taking up half the page but his pen is nowhere to be found. you drag your eyes to his face where he’s already looking back at you with that stupid grin of his. the shine of his lip ring underneath the library’s fluorescent lights almost winks at you at the same time he does.

frankly, you don’t understand it at all. you cannot wrap your head around how even in a place where quietude is sacred, he’s the loudest man in the room without even opening that damn mouth of his.

he picks up his phone and begins to type furiously into it. your phone vibrates violently on the desk. should you be curious about what he just sent you? you grab your phone and eye him suspiciously.

of course. of course he would send that.

#9: THE WORST OF HIS INAPPROPRIATE COMMENTS ARE ALWAYS DIRECTED AT YOU

you would do anything to figure out why you’re his victim. he does throw inappropriate comments at others, especially the males in your friend group, but he seems to refuse to err on the side of caution with you. does he forget that you’re both at each other’s throats? you’re sure he doesn’t since you constantly threaten him (albeit, emptily most of the time) in response to his behaviour.

whenever you walk in medium-to-large-sized groups, you find yourself—no—you find donghyuck always gravitating towards wherever you are. you’re often found in the back to make sure nobody gets left behind and sometimes it works out when he ends up on the tail with you. since he has a megaphone for a throat, you’re able to utilise him if there are any issues if he hasn’t already alerted the group.

the problem lies wherein he tends to forget where he is when immersed in a conversation.

countless times there had to be someone to grab him and yank him back into the group because he was straying a little too far or he was somehow caught in a conversation with the person across the street.

“aww, my pancake is so thoughtful!” that is his go-to line when it’s renjun who fishes him back in, followed by a harassment of kisses all over the poor boy’s neck and face, and back hugs.

“is this the part where i call you hyung?” due to mark having a more westernised outlook when it comes to formalities, nobody in the group really calls for him with honorifics. donghyuck likes to abuse that and seize the opportunity in moments like that to make the poor grad student flustered.

“taro, i love you! i know you love me too, what you did is evidence of your undying love for me!” his victim shotaro tends to get tackled, thankfully not to the ground, and you remember having to be the one to pull them both in because a car was coming from the rear.

but you? oh, you’re getting it way worse than any of those combined.

there was once when he was walking backwards while talking your ear off about one of his professors who keeps ignoring his contributions while he’s in class. sungchan and giselle were walking ahead on the walking path, discussing schoolwork since she had some questions to ask him. dear donghyuck on the other hand was on the road, taking advantage of the fact that it was nighttime and there were no vehicles nearby. you tried really hard not to pay attention to him but his voice was too loud to drain out. you really wonder how renjun does it.

a motorcycle sped past. and then another. both of the vehicles maintained a safe distance from him but you weren’t sure about the one further back. the car was coming in close at an almost dangerous speed.

“hyuck.” you warned him sternly, reaching out for him but he’s moving his arms around too wildly and too absorbed in his conversation to notice.

“–and then he just ignored me! like, hello? i have–“

“hyuck.” the car’s getting closer. you’d really hate for this one to get into a car crash. as much as it would most likely be reimbursed since you’re nearby campus grounds, your friend group kinda needs him.

“–i’m a good student! i don’t know why he does it! is it out of spite? does he hate me? does he–“

“god fucking damn it, donghyuck!” pissed off and scared beyond your wits, you quickly grabbed him and violently yanked him onto the walking path. everything happened a little too quickly for your own liking. you don’t know how his reaction time struck faster with you than the damn car.

when he almost tripped over the slight elevation from the road onto the walking path, his weight sent you both crashing down. he wrapped his arms around your waist and quickly flipped your position to cushion your fall and you ended up on top of him instead of the other way round.

the car zoomed past and you heard the echoes of giselle and sungchan running back to catch up to you both. they sounded so distant, though.

you’re hovering above donghyuck, shellshocked as your brain tried to process what the fuck just happened but you’re more focused on the equally stunned expression on his face. his deep onyx eyes searched yours for any semblance of hurt.

you felt his hands gently massage your waist in an attempt to calm you down and you were thankful because it was working but you’re not going to admit that to him. you swear your heart stopped at that moment. it felt impossible to tear your gaze away from him—soft brown hair dishevelled, fear and panic in his eyes, tongue nervously swathing over his bottom lip to coat his lip ring in a thin coat of saliva—he looked . . . vulnerable. unlike how you’d always see him, all cocky and strutting around like he owned the place.

“y/n?” your name came from his mouth in the ghost of a whisper, almost melodic, but you barely registered it until you felt another pair of hands on your arm to pull you up.

“oh my god, y/n, are you okay?!” giselle helped you onto your feet while sungchan helped him out. her soft fingers cupped your face and your gaze was redirected to her. “that driver is so stupid, do they want to die?! ah, seriously . . .”

“yeah, i’m okay. just . . . just a bit shocked.” you nodded, not wanting to worry her at all. her brows creased in concern and you had to give her the best smile you could muster. your fingers wrapped around her wrists and squeezed them gently. “i’ll be okay, i promise. we should check in on hyuck, though.”

you both turn to look at sungchan who was being dramatically hugged by donghyuck. the taller of the two looked at you, silently asking if you were okay and you confirmed it with a nod. you didn’t think it was a situation that was too life-endangering but it was enough to leave you terrified for a while.

when you’ve all finally calmed down, you continue your journey back to the dorms on campus. donghyuck fell into stride with you but he made sure to walk on the path this time, protecting you from the road. he gently bumped his hip against yours to get your attention. giselle and sungchan were back to talking about defamation and lawsuits a few steps ahead of you so you just tuned them out. you’d probably fall asleep if you heard any more.

“you okay?” he mumbled just loud enough for you to hear.

“mhm. you?” you wanted to say that he’s uncharacteristically quiet but you couldn’t exactly blame him.

“i am.” he left it at that for a heartbeat before he draped his arm over your shoulder. and so it began. he sidled up close to you with that annoying grin on his face you wished you could wipe off. “y/n, i didn’t think you were so passionate about me!” his free hand raised to ruffle your hair and god, you really wanted to push him down face-first onto the pavement.

“shut up, dumbass.” you groan when he quite literally pressed your cheeks together, squeezing your shoulders in an exaggerated form of affection.

“ah, y/n, i know i’m super handsome and my charm is sooo irresistible but you can’t fall in love with me! it’s not your brand, y’know.” he continued his onslaught of . . . whatever the fuck he was doing. giselle and sungchan turned to look over their shoulders to make sure that you were both okay. you met their eyes and they chuckled in amusement before they resumed their conversation.

“i think you shouldn’t worry about them too much.” sungchan teased but donghyuck simply pretended that he didn’t hear him.

“you wanna die, is that it?” you scoffed through your nose in disbelief. how the hell was he so quick with such comments? you shoved his arm off of your shoulders and took the opportunity to elbow him in the side. you didn’t even hit him that hard but the dramatic actor in him keeled over while crying to the heavens how you’re being so brash and brutal to him. “you got a death wish, you bastard? why the hell would i want to be with someone as annoying as you?”

“i have my redeeming qualities! i’m the best cook out of all of us! mark can’t even fry eggs!”

“don’t bring mark into this! i swear, i will push you into a river right now.” you’re not mad. why would you be mad? you were just a little ticked off. why would he insinuate that you were going to have feelings for him? he’s such a fucking rascal. you have standards, for fuck’s sake.

donghyuck was back to walking properly and he crossed his arms across his chest, licking his lips and cocking an eyebrow upward as if challenging you.

“oh yeah? if you want to see me all wet, y/n, i can definitely arrange a private show for you.”

an image of him soaked from head to toe, grinning childishly at you as he stood in the rain flashed in your brain. his cotton shirt stuck to his body like a second skin, hair was flat as he walked up to you with that stupid look on his face. you’d never really noticed how sharp his jawline was until you watched the raindrops easily slide down to his chin and onto the ground. nor had you ever really noticed that even though he wasn’t as built as that guy jeno in your class, he still had a decent physique with his toned biceps, chest, and stomach.

your cheeks burned when you realised you had been staring at him all along when that memory made itself present in your mind. defeated and very obviously at a loss for words, you flipped him off.

sometimes you wonder if he just says these kinds of things just to watch you get ticked off. ever since you first met, it has been non-stop terrorising. it doesn’t even matter if you’re alone or in the presence of other people.

you quickly type your response and send it but before you can put your phone down, he’s replying with more to piss you off. you silently scoff through your nose and lift your gaze to him only to find him—yet again—staring back at you.

your heart stopped for a brief second when your brain finally processed his text. he’s always throwing such things your way without warning and you don’t even get a second to answer before he’s moving on.

you would do anything to be able to chuck your phone at his head right now. but given the circumstances, you would all get banned from the library for causing a huge ruckus.

this isn’t the first nor will it be the last time he’s going to say shit like this to you.

immediately you’re yet again reminded of a similar incident that happened a few days earlier.

it’s not like you were dressed up more than usual. you were just trying a different style than usual and it involved more revealing clothing. said clothing was just a strapped black lace bustier top. everything else that you wore matched the top and was relatively normal.

giselle and ningning were obviously supportive of you trying something new, even going the extra mile to go to thrift stores with you after class and hunting shopping spaces online for the right piece. naturally, you modelled for them through facetime before you headed for class and their encouragement gave you more than enough confidence to leave your dorm.

you held your head a little higher than usual, and your steps more confident as you went about your day. your classes ended around noon, and usually, you would meet up with sungchan and giselle to have lunch before studying a bit. you weren’t waiting for compliments from anyone nor did you need any but of course, lee donghyuck had to put himself out there and get underneath your skin.

he was most likely on his way to his frat house. sometimes you’d bump into him if you were unlucky. he knew better than anyone not to sneak up on you from behind (especially after halloween in freshman year) but you’d rather have him do that than yell your name for the entire campus to hear. he’s like a malevolent spirit in the guise of an attractive man-child who thinks fart jokes are funny.

“y/n, are you ignoring me?” he whined out loud and it gained the attention of some passersby who looked towards your direction in brief curiosity or annoyance. he called your name again as he caught up with you before he threw his arm over your shoulders. you have never known if it’s a habit or if he had been doing it on purpose to get under your skin.

“what do you want, hyuck?” you deadpanned, turning your head slightly to look at him while walking. he easily fell into stride with you—as if it’s an action as natural as breathing—and surveys you from head to toe. his silence speaks a thousand words at maximum volume and now you’re suddenly self-conscious.

he walked a couple of steps ahead of you while facing you. his hand gently grabbed onto your forearm, as if he was guiding you somewhere. your brows creased in visible confusion.

“y/n.” he called out your name so sweetly that it almost threw you off-guard. you nodded at him to tell him to continue. for a moment, he didn’t. his dark eyes glazed all over your figure from head to toe, tongue swiping over his lips. the sun’s rays got caught on his silver lip ring and it shone brightly enough to capture your attention for a split second.

he was wearing a maroon button-up shirt with the buttons undone halfway down to reveal the silver cross necklace that always hung loosely around his chest. you would be lying if you said he didn’t look good. he’s attractive and he knows how to highlight his best features.

his eyes finally met yours and truthfully, nothing could have prepared you for what he said next.

“you look really fucking good.” the corners of his lips tugged upwards into a playful, cocky smirk. he winked at you and blew an air kiss before turning his back onto you and walking off. you were frozen in place as he continued his journey to wherever the fuck he was supposed to be. he raised his arm to wave at you but not once did he look back. “see ya for movie night tonight, babe!”

remembering that particular incident had your cheeks burning against your will. forcing yourself back to the present, you rake a hand through your hair and look down at your phone to find new texts from him.

you don’t know if you want to crawl onto the table and choke him or just leave him on read. although the first option sounds great, you know that he would probably pin you down faster than you’d like.

as much as you would hate to admit that he is right, you’ve all been holed up in the library for quite some time. giselle isn’t getting any healthier nor are any of you going to get any more productive. you lick your lips and sigh through your nose. there’s no way around it—everyone needs to stop studying.

#8: LEE DONGHYUCK GETS HIS WAY MORE OFTEN THAN YOU CARE TO ADMIT

you’re not going to lose this fight. there has been one too many times where he gets his way. half the time, he’s whining and using what he calls his ‘undying charm’ against the entire group to get them to bend to his will. that ‘undying charm’ is him using aegyo of all things.

renjun would do anything to get him to stop doing it and it often means giving in against his wishes. sungchan simply enjoys watching donghyuck humiliate himself. shotaro is often torn between liking it and hating it but you don’t blame the guy one bit. mark loves it because he finds it cute for some reason. giselle doesn’t really care for it. ningning films it all for blackmail, but given how he pretty much enjoys doing it, she now vows to convert the footage into meme packs for the group’s perusal.

you’re on the same boat as renjun except you’re not willing to bend and break so the hellspawn can reign supreme.

donghyuck is staring at you yet again, batting his eyelashes and pouting as he shimmies his shoulders slightly. you stare back in mild disgust. he points his chin to the rest of the group, pouting yet again at you and you can hear him whine and beg for you to be the one to suggest stopping.

then, you hear some faint thudding of sneakers against the carpeted library floors. is he stomping his feet?!

when you pretend to drop a pen so that you can see his feet, he’s unabashedly stomping them like a child being refused a new toy. picking up your pen, you rise back into your proper seated position. you’re convinced he’s a man on a mission to get you to break. so far, out of everyone else, you’re the one with the highest success rate of not letting him get his way.

renjun isn’t part of your study session for the day since he had to work with his team members so you’re the only person standing against lee donghyuck’s constant need to be pampered.

you’re not that easily bribed but you’re not sure if you want to count this as a win, either.

donghyuck looks at you with his face aghast as though he just saw a ghost walk right behind you. you simply shrug lamely. if he wants to eat and stop the group study since it’s barely productive for anyone anymore, then he’s the one who says it. you have a feeling that he doesn’t want to be the one to put a halt to the session since sungchan was the one who suggested it. as soft and gentle-looking as the towering man is, he’s dead serious when it comes to studying.

you hear a creak of the wooden study chair before a pen clattering onto a thick book, followed by a soft groan of defeat. your gaze quickly flits over to ningning who is leaning back and balancing her chair on its two hind legs.

“i don’t wanna study anymooooore!” she complains loud enough for the table to hear.

“ning!” shotaro hushes her with a whisper but there’s a wave of relief that washes over him when he realised he’s not the only one done with studying. he gently taps mark’s shoulder and you half-expected the grad student to not notice. mark immediately removes his headphones and blinks, looking at the table like a deer caught in the headlights. “you okay to stop? we’re all kinda brain dead and giselle’s about halfway to becoming one of the zombies from train to busan.”

“am not.” giselle gruffly protests before blowing her nose as quietly as she possibly can.

“yeah, i’ve been vibing to my music since an hour ago.” mark bashfully admits as he hooks his headphones around his neck.

“traitor.” donghyuck huffs.

“let’s pack up and send gigi back to her dorm.” you suggest, already closing your textbooks and laptop. some of the gang (namely giselle, ningning and sungchan) still need to return the library books they used so you took your time. “her dorm room is the biggest out of all of ours so we can just order food and stay with her til she gets knocked out from the cough syrup.”

“that sounds like an amazing idea, y/n.” you gingerly look over at the man who was begging for you to speak first minutes ago. he’s grinning widely at you and wiggling his eyebrows. of course, he got saved by ningning. or was it you who got saved by her?

you pick up your phone and quickly text him.

when you pocket your phone, you don’t even attempt to be subtle as you flipped him off openly. in a childlike fashion, he reciprocates the action.

you help giselle with the books she borrowed and make sure she didn’t get any of her gunk on the poor pages. she looks like a kicked puppy as she cleans up her side of the study desk, tying up the plastic bag that ningning gave her to throw all of her used tissues. you can always count on the psychology student to be ready with the weirdest shit. if you need a hairdryer at that very moment, you’re 70% sure she can provide you with one immediately.

after the large study desk has been cleaned and sanitised, you make your way to leave the library in complete silence. sungchan and shotaro are up ahead while ningning walks closely behind with giselle. that leaves you in the back with mark and your oh-so-beloved donghyuck.

your eyes take some time to adjust to seeing the night sky. you entered the library around two in the blazing afternoon and it’s now seven in the evening with the sun nowhere in sight. everyone is finally out of the suffocating building and you’re able to get a breath of fresh air.

“i want fried chicken!” donghyuck suddenly screams into the night. since you’re right next to him, the sudden announcement startled you to the point you nearly tripped over your own two feet. his voice echoes in the distance for the rest of the universe to hear. maybe aliens will hear his call and abduct him.

“jesus christ, dude.” mark punches his shoulder at the same time ningning whips around to kick him for scaring her.

“you idiot, don’t go around yelling without warning them!” she starts to smack him for a good minute while he whines about the ‘pain’, knowing full well she has the combined strength of two doughnuts.

“i just wanted fried chicken!”

“eat my fists instead, jackass!”

so the both of them continue for a little while longer until ningning finally gets exhausted from exerting the last of her energy. instead of doing anything to stop her, everyone just watches with smiles on their faces. sungchan cheers her on, and shotaro has his phone out filming the whole thing.

you catch his eye and raise an eyebrow.

“for the memories,” he smiles sweetly, eyes forming half-crescents. you want to believe him but you know damn well he can be as big of a troublemaker as donghyuck.

“okay, yeah, now i’m down for some fried chicken.” ningning casually announces after her attempt at beating donghyuck up into a pulp. he stands up straight, stroking his ‘sore’ arm after spending the last couple of minutes bent over. “no fried chicken for gi, though. only warm soup.”

“ugh, you suck.” giselle groans and creates a bigger distance between the both of them by walking sideways but ningning drags her back. the younger girl wraps her arm around giselle’s and sidles up to her lovingly. “i still hate you, ning.”

“you love me.” she dreamily sighs.

everyone falls back in step to make your shared journey to giselle’s dorm before getting dinner.

you’re not sure what had come over donghyuck but he mirrored ningning’s affection with both you and mark, sandwiching himself between both your bodies.

“dude if you scream again without warning–“ mark begins but he immediately gets interrupted.

“i won’t, i promise!” he childishly tries to win the other’s favour. you know that it's a battle that was lost before it even started because the grad student is weirdly weak to donghyuck’s aegyo. “i’ll be a good boy, markie.”

you turn to look at him with an expression of very obvious disgust. when he takes notice, he turns to you and gently bumps his hip against yours.

“is y/n feeling a little neglected? does widdle (nickname) want some lovin’?” he tries to lean in to snuggle into your neck.

“stop it, you’re so gross!” you try your best to push him away but the hold he has on you is firm. you don’t even notice that he had unlinked his arm from mark’s and he’s tickling you to try and get a reaction. you’re not that ticklish but you’re sure that you’re laughing out loud at the absurdity of the situation.

“oh my god, it’s been years since i’ve heard y/n laugh like this.” you hear sungchan exaggerate in the distance. giselle sneezes out loud (enough for her to jump in her spot) and you assume it’s her way of agreeing.

when donghyuck is finally satisfied with his aggression, he breaks away from you with a wide grin. you take a second to catch your breath, huffing as you glare at him.

he’s bathed in the moonlight and fluorescent lights from the street lamps as he walks smugly. you want to be mad at him but you can’t. or maybe you’re not. it feels good to be able to release pent-up energy within you but you’re not exactly happy that it’s him of all people that’s making you laugh. his eyes glint mischievously and so does the silver ring that perches near the corner of his plump lips.

“you’re still gross.” you deadpan.

“say what you waaant,” he drags the last syllable in a sing-song voice. god, you really hate it when he says it like that. you want to choke him for it but you’re sure he’s going to enjoy it. “still made you laugh.” he shrugs, the smug grin not once leaving his face.

you shove him away and stick close to mark instead, who welcomes you with a hearty laugh and a head pat.

all of you arrive safely at her dorm ten minutes later and place your belongings by her study desk. she makes a beeline for her bed before flopping into it, sliding out of her furry indoor slides and burrowing herself underneath the covers. ningning makes herself at home and lies down next to giselle whose incoherent grumbling barely reaches the other girl’s ears. nobody is a stranger to her spacious dorm—it’s the go-to place for hangouts when you’re all too lazy or tired to spend time outdoors.

while everyone settles down in the open space between her bed and study desk, you make your way to the small kitchen to make her some warm honey lemon tea. you don’t remember where you got it from but you’ve always drank honey lemon tea whenever you fell sick. at times when you take care of your sick friends, you always make the drink, even for the worst of them all. there’s a buzz from your phone in your back pocket.

“since when did we order the food already?” you say out loud, free hand grabbing a mug from the dish rack.

“mark texted him while we were walking.” sungchan pops in to grab a canned drink from the fridge. he notices you and the mug you’ve taken and immediately picks up on what’s happening. he grabs something from inside and passes you a half-lemon protected by a beeswax wrap before leaving without another word.

you think nothing of it, sliding your phone into your back pocket so you can continue making the drink. you grab the jar of honey that she keeps in the wall cabinet and upon placing it down on the counter in front of you, you stare at it. one of the reasons why you hate it when any of them are sick is the honey. you will almost always have trouble opening up the jar and closing it properly because half the time, you’re making the tea after a shift at work or some heavy studying.

doesn’t hurt to try, though.

you brace as much strength as possible from your exhausted body and do your best to unscrew the airtight lid. you’re too lazy to boil some water and let the jar sit for like, ten minutes, so using sheer brute force is all that you have left in you.

“tsk, c’mere.” someone’s voice rumbles gently in their chest from behind you. they grab the jar from you and you turn to find donghyuck. within the blink of an eye, the lid pops open and you barely miss the way his biceps bulge under his loose-fitting shirt and the veins that run along his forearms making an appearance. “you could’ve asked someone for help.”

“yeah, yeah.” you wave him off dismissively. he’s the second person to reach into the fridge to grab a drink before he disappears back into the living room, where the main party and one sick person is.

by the time you’re done preparing giselle’s tea, renjun had also arrived with everyone’s dinner. you bring both her tea and samgyetang to her so she can eat with the rest of the group. ningning has since moved to the floor to join everyone so you decide to accompany the ill.

“thanks for the food, ren-jeon!” donghyuck calls out while the chicken gets distributed. shotaro had disappeared into the kitchen to grab the paper plates so chaos reigned for a short while underneath giselle’s roof.

“just for that, you owe me ten dollars for service and delivery fees.” the duo-toned male flips him off.

“what?!” he cries incredulously.

“i take both cash and bank transfers,” renjun states flatly as he makes himself comfortable in the circle. shotaro returns with a stack of paper plates and paper cups to a scene of donghyuck throwing yet another tantrum.

“i wonder when hyuck will ever beat the bratty bottom allegations.” sungchan quietly (not really) comments and it’s more than enough to send the entire dorm into flames.

everyone is shouting and donghyuck is, well, whining, which doesn’t really do anything to help him. not positively, at least. you sit down next to giselle and find sungchan smiling to himself amid the noise.

“guys!” shotaro is torn between laughing and taming everyone down. mark is taking everything in with a huge smile on his face while smacking a very unbothered but smug renjun. “oh my god. sungchan, what have you done?” he mumbles in pure terror.

“everyone shut up before her RA comes in to complain! you know her RA is the worst.” you feel a little bad but you’re laughing too, so you help shotaro with the damage control. your words are more than enough to get the rowdy bunch to quiet down and you puff your chest slightly in pride.

whenever you hang out at giselle’s dorm as a huge group like this, it tends to be risky but since more than half of you are in your graduating year, you don’t really care.

“y/n my saviour!” donghyuck springs from his spot and prances over to you, pulling you into a crushing hug and burying his face into your neck. your heart immediately starts racing a mile a minute. your ears suddenly burn and your throat runs a tad bit too dry at the sudden action. this stupidly natural reaction to skin contact with him always has you barely feeling dizzy at the end of it. you don’t know why, but you hate it. it doesn’t happen with anyone else.

“okay, stop, you know i’m allergic to you.” you gently form some distance between both of your bodies. he huffs in protest but releases you regardless.

you find yourself a seat next to mark with your back against the leg of giselle’s study desk. shotaro and renjun are sitting close to the foot of her bed, while donghyuck sits in front of her bedside table. sungchan sits on the other side of mark, which leaves ningning space between giselle’s thighs since she’s sitting upright on the edge of her mattress.

the last thing you expect is having complaints about exams and assignments as the conversation topic.

almost everyone is studying in different disciplines. ningning studies psychology, giselle studies journalism, sungchan is a law student, renjun and shotaro both study biomedical science, mark studies music, and donghyuck is a computer science student. the boys are all in the same fraternity—alpha neo—and you met the girls through freshman orientation. ningning and giselle came from the same high school so they had already been friends when you first met.

you’re lost in the bubbles of conversation that break away from the main topic, indulging whenever someone asks you something (“y/n, you have prof. moon, right?”) or needs your confirmation (“that ta jaehyun is hot. am i right or am i right?”) on something.

“sungchan, after your mock bar exam, let’s host the biggest party ever.” donghyuck suddenly announces for the whole room to hear. there are some hums and nods of agreement but you’re frowning slightly, mulling it over. he seems to have noticed and quickly adds: “channie’s mock bar is the final exam and nobody else has anything due after the date, right?”

you think long and hard for an answer when it’s already in front of you—no.

“i don’t see why not.” renjun is the first to pipe up and agree. “it’s the end of exam season, we’re letting the summer pass, and then we’re graduating. a pre-celebration of celebrations, if you wanna look at it like that.”

“you’re not wrong,” you twist your lips to the side, nodding. it’s not like you’re going to have to worry about a lot of things after sungchan’s mock bar exam. your summer internship has been contracted so you wouldn’t be entirely jobless the whole time. there’s a couple of weeks’ worth of a window between the day after his mock bar exam and the day your internship begins.

“how big are we talking? if you’re talking cheap beer, you gotta up your game.” ningning takes a sip of her coke.

“we’ll get soju! vodka! we have a running tradition in the alpha neo frat where seniors every year will put money in a safe spot for the incoming seniors to use.” you aren’t at all too impressed or reassured with the explanation that donghyuck had just given you. you cock an unimpressed eyebrow upward at him to make sure he knows it. he catches your eyes and purses his lips in a thin line, glaring at you. “i know we have a lot because i’ve lifted the box before and it’s heavy. no sound of coins, either.”

“oh yeah, i make sure to put in a portion every time i get my paycheque from work.” mark chimes in as a matter of factly. “i don’t think i’ve contributed the most, but i’ve definitely contributed.”

the whole room erupts into a cacophony of “aww!”s and “that’s so sweet!”s, praising the grad student for his selfless deed. it’s obvious that he’s not used to all of the attention so he’s just shyly grinning and hiding his face behind his hands. even you can’t help but coo at how adorable he is when he becomes bashful like this.

“we’re gonna be able to have the best party ever thanks to mark!” shotaro claps his hands in joy.

“i mean, it’s not because of me—” mark begins, only to be interrupted by a very excited donghyuck.

“let’s make sure it’s the biggest party we’ve ever thrown!”

a loud, violent sneeze rips through the room and everyone turns to look at giselle. ningning slowly and gingerly moves towards sungchan and renjun instead.

“how about we make sure that gigi doesn’t die first?”

⠀⠀ ⠀⌒⠀ִ ✧ ﾟ 𓆩 ♡ 𓆪

a few days after that, you find yourself in the campus library yet again. this time, you’re alone in a small cubicle to focus on studying. the last time you studied there, it was pure chaos and of course, it’s all thanks to donghyuck.

a thick book full of material related to your course of study is open right next to your laptop. translucent sticky notes are all over its pages, highlighting important keywords and scribbled-down annotations that would help you recall concepts better. your shoulders are straining after subconsciously curving your spine and turning yourself into a shrimp for the entire forty-five minutes that you were studying. you’ve decided to take a quick fifteen-minute break since you’ve been studying for about three hours in total already.

you roll your shoulders back and get up from your seat to do some quick stretches and relax your body. you’re thankful that you are lucky enough to be able to get this secluded corner in your campus’ busy library. while you’re cornered in and hidden by rows of clean, white bookshelves, you have the perfect view of everyone and anyone who’s on the level beneath you. unfortunately, that also means you’re able to see people doing anything other than studying.

like the girl that’s trying to trap a helpless jeno against a bookshelf. it feels rude to look but sometimes you do enjoy just watching humans be in their natural element. you spot someone else coming in and interrupting the girl from whatever she’s trying to do. curious, you stop stretching and lean in to get a better look.

jeno instinctively reaches out to this person and immediately pulls them flush to his side, even going the extra mile to press a kiss to the person’s temple. a few words are being exchanged, the girl appears to be apologetic and then she walks away. jeno and this mysterious person hug it out but there’s no mistaking the hearts in his eyes as they talk in hushed whispers. when they’re leaving, you notice that they’re practically attached to the hip that it’s a little difficult to see if they’re holding hands or not.

you smile quietly to yourself. jeno’s in the same frat as donghyuck so you know that donghyuck would most likely be up-to-date with all of the happenings with all the frat members. you don’t have a say in it but there are times when he will suddenly blow up your phone with the latest gossip that he’s heard of. you hate it when he does it because not only does it distract you from whatever you’re doing but you end up wanting to hear more because your friend group is too wholesome and full of healthy relationships for any drama.

#7: HE LOVES GOSSIP WAY TOO MUCH

you’re about to return to your station and study when there’s a violent series of buzzes in your back pocket. there’s only one person on this godforsaken planet who wouldn’t be afraid of spam-texting you and it’s none other than lee donghyuck.

you watch your message go from ‘delivered’ to ‘read’, but there’s not a single sign of life from him. did he suddenly fall off the face of earth and die? did aliens appear out of thin air and abduct him? you frown at your text messages with him, scrolling up to your past texts then scrolling back down, half-expecting to see the three dots pop up but there’s none. whatever, he’s probably crossing the road or something.

you return to your seat in your little study corner, ready to continue your productive streak when your phone starts buzzing again. the screen lights up and you see donghyuck’s caller id appear on your screen. you know better than to reject his call so you slide the answer button across and bring your phone to your ear. as soon as your line connects, he’s whisper-yelling your name into your ear.

“you’re not in the library with me, you don’t have to say my name like that, jackass.” you balance your phone between your shoulder and your ear as you reorganise your notes aimlessly, hands itching for something to do as you talk to him.

“how else do you want me to say your name?” he scoffs in disbelief that you had chosen to start the conversation with that. “would you rather i say your name like this?” it’s followed by him lowering his voice as he calls your name, rasp evident and a quiet, teasing chuckle punctuating it. shivers rush down your spine in a quick, teasing flash and your stomach flutters nervously as you blink at your laptop screen, the words swimming aimlessly in your vision.

“don’t do that ever again.” you do your best to deadpan him but your breath hitched just before you had spoken. your voice had definitely betrayed you back there and you’re just glad he didn’t relish in that opportunity to openly embarrass you.

“or what? you’re gonna fall for me?” you can hear him smirk through the line with the light huff at the end. ticked off from his provocation you glare at your laptop screen as if it’s him. you grab your phone and change its position to your other ear as your free hand digs through your bed for your airpods.

“not even for a million dollars.” the words taste bitter on your tongue. why do they? you finally find it at the bottom of the bag and fish it out, quickly plugging your ears. they ding at the successful connection and his voice quickly comes through.

“i didn’t think i’d be worth at least a million to you, babe.” he purrs which unleashes another set of flutters in your stomach and uneasy throbs of your heart. he better be glad you’re not within arm’s length because you’d be throwing hands immediately.

“god, just shut up already. you said you had the juiciest news or something?” you grumble, urging him to change the subject. you prop your phone up against your half-empty water bottle just in case he chooses to switch to video out of nowhere. there are one too many times of that happening while you’re in the middle of a call with him.

“oh, fuck. yes, right! okay, so, remember that really hot TA, jung jaehyun?” he begins with a tremble of excitement lacing his words. you mumble a quiet, “uhuh,” in return as you take a look at your notes to see where you’d last left off. “he made out with a freshman and apparently they got pretty deep into third base.”

“if making out is first base, isn’t third base pretty much fucking?” your question slips from your lips before you can even help yourself and you can hear him scoff incredulously at you on the other side of the line.

“no, my dear y/n. the first base is light kissing. the second base is when you start making out. third base is making out with over-the-clothes action, maybe a little bit of dry-humping . . .” he starts explaining as if you’re someone who’s just entering the world of physical intimacy with another person. “do you need me to teach you or something? i’m free right now if you catch my drift.” you don’t need to see him to know that he’s obnoxiously winking and licking his lips at you.

“suck my dick, hyuck.” you sigh, rolling your eyes. where did you stop again? you swear you noted something down somewhere in the book. regardless, you urge him to continue. “the story? what’s wrong with him making out with a freshman? it’s practically a rite of passage, i made out with this guy who went by ten and another senior then. i can’t remember their name, though.”

“wait, ten? he’s the guy that’s an apprentice at the piercing and tattoo store renjun always goes to!” he gasps. “hold on.” you hear donghyuck struggling on the phone, hands probably busy as he focuses on whatever obstacle he’s facing. your eyes return to your since-abandoned study session. you’ve studied for a little over four hours and you deserve at least a couple hours’ break before you continue. right? yeah. yeah, that sounds good. “i’m home! renjunnie, are we gonna order food?” he most likely has his airpods in too because boy, is he fucking loud. you had to lower your volume so your eardrums wouldn’t rupture.

“do you have fucking trumpets for lungs?” you hiss in slight pain while you start packing up. he giggles out an apology that you know he doesn’t mean at all.

“okay, get ready for the shock factor. ready?” his footsteps are heavy as he races up the carpeted stairs to get to the room that he shares with renjun in the frat house. you made a non-committal noise that tells him to continue while you peel off the translucent sticky notes you’ve used on the pages of the library book. you’d be damned if the library staff found your notes and countless question marks and ‘what the fuck’s written next to paragraphs. you absent-mindedly reach for your bottle, pocketing your phone and taking a sip of water. “the freshman is the prof’s niece.”

why did your brain choose to make you do that at that very moment?

his words take you by complete surprise and you’re choking on the water as it runs down the wrong pipe. your eyes search your laptop and the library books you’ve used for the day and you heave a sigh of relief when nothing is damaged. you want to berate him for not warning you. who the hell says ‘shock factor’ anymore and why did you take a sip of your water?

“oh my god, are you okay?!” you can tell he’s torn between laughing and being concerned for you but he ends up choosing to do the former. your fingers close into a fist and you repeatedly thump it firmly against your chest, coughing and clearing your throat until it doesn’t feel like you just got waterboarded. “y/n, you good?” it’s his turn to cough too but from laughing too hard.

you really ought to get him for this one but it was kind of your fault that you decided to drink water right then and there. whatever—you can blame him still. he doesn’t have to know.

“lee donghyuck, what the fuck?” you want to be mad at him, you genuinely do, but you can’t.

every time he drags you in to gossip about something he’s heard of because a friend of a friend of a friend told them some juicy rumour, you end up getting immersed because of his weirdly captivating storytelling skills. you hate to admit it but even he can spin paint drying into something thrilling and interesting. sometimes he reminds you of the aunties and grandmothers in your family coming together to talk in hushed whispers about things that are happening with their children. you’re confident he’ll fit right in with them.

you’ll always get distracted from whatever you’re doing. you’d be lying straight through your teeth if you said he didn’t have a nice voice. he has a lovely one and you know he’s got some good lungs when you have karaoke nights. you remember everyone being surprised when donghyuck and renjun first sang properly for everyone.

wait, why are you thinking about his voice?

“i’m serious! it’s the niece! i even stalked that professor’s facebook!” you stare at the glass wall in front of you, deadpan at his confession. he sounds so proud of it, too.

“why on earth would you do that?”

“in my digital literacy class, i learned to always fact-check before disseminating information because fake news easily goes rampant–”

“my god, just shut up. forget i asked.”

“now, why on earth would i do that?” he’s smirking to himself—this one you’re sure of—and he’s probably puffing his chest out, too. suddenly you hear a voice in the background that sounds distinctly like renjun’s. “huh? i’m talking to y/n. wait, you have a shift today? can you bring back the chocolate croissant for me pleaaaaase? please, junie, pleaaase?”

“you’re so annoying, help the business out and buy it instead of taking the leftovers!” renjun scolds him but you know that he will be bringing back that croissant for donghyuck if there’s any.

“tell renjun to have a good shift at work,” you quickly pipe up with a quiet grunt as you lug the heavy book to return it where you found it.

“don’t tell me what to do!” he retorts childishly. in a sweeter voice, he goes, “have a good shift at work renjunnie!” you roll your eyes in annoyance.

“thanks, y/n. hope your study session was productive.” renjun’s voice is right in your ears and you hum positively in reply. you find the nearest book return cart first before the right bookshelf so you carefully put it in there.

in the background, you hear some back-and-forth bickering and you hear jeno’s name perk up in the conversation. you don’t really know him that well since he tends to keep to himself and he has his own friend group.

finally, the phone is back in its owner’s possession.

“okay, hi, i’m back. did you miss me?” he coos into your ears and you have to physically resist the urge to punch something as a substitute for his stupid face.

“i didn’t even notice that you’d left.” you close your laptop and slide it into its sleeve before packing it into your bag.

“ugh,” he groans. “i have an exam tomorrow and i lost my calculator.” as you leave the library, you frown slightly at his statement. this is going to build up to something. he’s going to ask to borrow your calculator, you’re sure of it. you have one lying around because your field of study doesn’t exactly require frequent usage of it and your upcoming exams and assignments don’t need it.

“then get a new one,” you lamely suggest. if the word ‘borrow’ even leaves your lips, he’s going to ask you for the calculator. you already know he’s going to ask anyway but you’re just trying to minimise the chances of him doing so. if possible.

“for an exam? it’s not cost-effective!” donghyuck whines in your ears and you roll your eyes. the automatic doors slide open and you walk past jeno and the same person who had saved him earlier.

“neither is losing your calculator a day before your exam.” you retort with a scoff through your nose. although they were ahead of you until you took over, you managed to catch a glimpse of their fingers brushing against each other, itching to hold the other’s hand. right before you sped up, they intertwined their fingers and you can’t help but smile to yourself. that’s cute.

“c’mon, just lend me yours! i know you have one!”

#6: HE BORROWS THINGS AND NEVER RETURNS THEM

you’re not the only victim of never getting your things returned to you. he’s borrowed a lot of things from a lot of people and you doubt he’s returned over half of the items.

back in freshman year when some of you hung out in your dorm, he asked what made your room smell so good. you wanted to say that you were acquaintances back then but given how comfortable he was with riling you up, you figured you were past that already.

your dorm wasn’t the biggest nor was it the smallest but it was enough to host renjun, mark, donghyuck, giselle, and yourself for the time being. you don’t even remember why the hell this particular combination of people was in your dorm.

what you do remember was mark ripping the nastiest fart by accident since he had been skipping meals and finally had proper food earlier that day after everyone had literally dragged him to the nearest kfc to eat something with everyone else.

you had to open the windows and your door to let the air circulate. honestly, you half-hoped that someone would walk past the dorm and smell the toxins that had been unleashed. mark was, of course, extremely embarrassed to the point where he was laughing his ass off while donghyuck and renjun made fun of him. you grabbed a dainty glass bottle that can be easily mistaken for perfume and quickly spritzed every single corner of your dorm until it smelled like apricots, tangerine and vanilla.

“whoa, that smells so good!” donghyuck was the first to make a comment on the scent of your air freshener. “may i?” gone are the days when he used to ask politely for things. now, he just whines, begs, and acts cute until he gets his way. you handed him the bottle and he read the labels and everything in curiosity, surveying it like it was the finest item that had ever graced his hands.

you had let him be and checked in on mark to make sure that his soul wasn’t going to ascend into the heavens out of embarrassment. within minutes, donghyuck was asking if he could borrow it to test for his own room. out of the goodness of your own heart, of course, you said yes. it’s safe to say that you had to buy a new bottle a couple of weeks after that because the one you let him borrow never saw the light of the next day.

in hindsight, you probably should have taken that as a precautionary tale or even a lesson. even though he isn’t the best at returning the things he borrows, at least he pays back what he owes when it comes to money. maybe that’s why you lent him that vintage corduroy jacket that you thrifted and made the excuse that he looked good in it and that it was too big for you.

“so can i?” donghyuck’s voice pulls you back to the present. you don’t have any upcoming exams or assessments that require you to use the calculator so it’s practically just collecting dust. if it were someone else asking you, you’d give in with no hesitation. since it’s the one person on this godforsaken earth who likes to mess with your head, you need to seize the opportunity and ask for something in return. “pretty pleaaasseee? my bestest friend in the whole wide world?”

“ouch, imagine if renjun heard that.”

“he’ll live.” you hear a soft thump from his end and you assume that he had fallen back on his pillow dramatically. “c’mon, y/n, please? i’ll do anything!” then he begins to start chanting ‘please’ quickly enough to make you cringe.

every time you think that he cannot possibly get even more annoying, he proves you wrong when you least expect it. at times like this is when his brain truly astounds you.

you start to tune out his incessant mantra that turns into white noise. since it’s two in the afternoon, you’re headed to the canteen to have a slightly late lunch before you head back to your dorm. the entire campus seems oddly empty but you know you can attribute it to a majority of the students mugging in the library or off-campus for their field projects.

“y/n! are you listening to me?” you snap your attention back to him and blink distractedly like it’ll help you focus on him.

“what? i stopped when you started being extra annoying.” the kiosk for purchasing your meal ticket appears and you make your way over with a light spring in your step.

“i said i’ll buy you a meal in exchange after your exam tomorrow . . .” your brows furrow slightly when he sounds pouty. this is where the tricky part comes in—there are some very special cases when he’ll tug at your heartstrings and get you to break when he sounds desperate and pathetic enough. as your finger hovers over the purchase button, you start to find difficulty in moving on.

“i want that curry katsu rice from hongdae.” the corners of your lips upturn in a proud smile as you finally buy your meal ticket and grab the small slip of paper.

“what?! i don’t have a car, we can’t drive there!”

“there’s a car rental service and it costs like, eight bucks per hour. hongdae’s a half-hour drive with good traffic. you can rent a car for two hours, three hours maximum and make it back in time. my exam ends at 11 am and yours at 10:45 am so i don’t see the problem. you’re still paying less by buying me food than buying a brand new calculator.”

silence falls on his side of the line and you know you’ve hit the jackpot. you grab a tray and start picking out the side dishes that you want with your rice as you wait for his response. you quickly thank the canteen staff and find a seat amongst the sea of empty tables. it’s so eerily empty that you feel like you’re in a ghost town illuminated by fluorescent lights.

“fine, you win. i’ll let you know if i can rent a car.” he grumbles.

even as you eat lunch, you’re both talking about anything that you possibly can as if you’re a pair of friends who haven’t spoken to each other in five years. you wonder if it’s the stress of exams and assignments wearing you down because you find yourself letting yourself go around him. you’re able to laugh freely, throw insults at him, and forget about how taxing university can be for the graduating cohorts.

after you’re done eating and returning your tray to its designated area, you’re still talking to donghyuck. you don’t want to admit it out loud to him but he does have a nice voice. soothing, even. you prefer to listen to him when he’s not whining or making annoying sounds with his mouth. he is most definitely a guy with great humour, and he’s thoughtful and polite when he wants to be.

he accompanies you through the phone as you make your way back to your dorm, talking about how renjun keeps getting distracted by some guitarist in a store while he works. the few times he visited his best friend at work, apparently he kept staring out the floor-to-ceiling glass walls as if waiting for someone to appear. then he’s complaining about how jeno refuses to admit to this person that he’s known since freshman year that he’s in love with them. so that’s who the mystery person is. you don’t personally know them nor have you met them but you’re sure that he has good taste.

finally, you’re back in the sweet confines of your dorm and it’s the same second that your airpods begin to breathe its last few breaths. thanks to donghyuck, you’ve been given some time to shut your brain off before you spend the rest of your day mugging and doing last-minute revisions for tomorrow’s exam. if you’re going to look at the brighter side of things, it’s your final exam and everything else is just submissions in the following week.

“okay, i gotta go. my airpods are dying and i need to continue studying.” you announce, sliding out of your shoes and into the furry dorm slippers that giselle had gotten for you.

“boo, you nerd.” although he says that, you know that he doesn’t want to end the two-hour call just yet. the weird thing is, neither do you. “study well. you’ll crush your exam tomorrow.”

you frown at the sudden affirmation.

“thanks,” you mumble. “you too.”

“at least say it like you mean it!” he complains loudly and you resist the urge to strangle him through the phone.

“what do you mean by that? i didn’t half-ass it! would you rather i go—“ you put on your best customer service smile and voice from when you used to work in retail—“‘oh, hyuckie, thank you so much! you’re the greatest, i’m sure you’ll do well tomorrow too!’?”

“yeah, i do! i like it a lot better when you call me hyuckie!” you open your mouth to hit him back with a smartass retort when you realise that you can’t. what he had just blurted out finally registered in your brain after an entire three seconds of silence.

“. . . huh?” that was all that you managed to say.

“everyone calls me hyuckie but not you.” his voice is barely above a whisper, a confession that’s so shy leaving his lips. “it’d be nice if you called me hyuckie every once in a while, you know.” is this his way of saving himself after that? are you reading too much into it? when did you even call him hyuckie?

when you backtrack and realise that you had indeed called him hyuckie by complete accident, your face burns in embarrassment. it’s not like you don’t want to call him that. you do but every time you even want to formulate it in your brain, you fear that it sounds more affectionate than you want it to be.

what the hell do you say now that it’s slipped?

you’re struggling for the right words to say, searching every corner and crevice of your brain for something—anything—but it feels like the seasons have passed and the flowers have bloomed until the final petal is hanging desperately onto the bud for an answer.

“i’ll call you hyuckie whenever i want to.” your voice comes out in a shallow whisper. it doesn’t sound like a proper answer but more like a promise.

“or alternatively, you could always call me yo–”

“can’t hear you, i’m hanging up, bye!” as soon as you anticipate what he is going to say, you talk over him in panic and abuse the red button on your screen until the call ends. with a loud groan of defeat, you drop yourself onto your bed and toss your phone onto the pillows. you cradle your head in your hands and release another groan, this time out of frustration.

it doesn’t make sense why your heart is fluttering and your stomach is twisting from what he said before you interrupted him. you both get along like fire and ice. he flirts with every single thing that breathes. you insult him every chance you get. you hate his guts half the time. he picks on you and gets on your nerves every waking moment of your life.

so why do you feel this compelling urge to kiss him to shut his stupidly handsome face up every time he’s near?

maybe it’s because you’re stressed.

yeah, that sounds right. you’re not thinking straight. the mental exhaustion and fog that comes with mugging for exams and tying loose ends for several projects are finally taking a toll on you. it’s so bad that it’s beginning to cloud your judgement and influence you into thinking otherwise.

yeah.

you’re just stressed. you’re definitely not developing feelings for someone in your friend group. university has been taxing on both your mind and body. this feeling—whatever this is—will eventually pass.

suddenly, your phone buzzes on your pillow. you lean over and grab it to open up a text from none other than the man himself.

another loud groan rips through your throat as you toss it back onto the pillow.

“i hate you, lee donghyuck.”

⠀⠀ ⠀⌒⠀ִ ✧ ﾟ 𓆩 ♡ 𓆪

before you know it, your exams are over and all of your assignments are turned in.

no longer are you staring at a laptop screen amongst an ocean of open books and colourful page tags or holding a pen praying it won’t run out of ink halfway through the exam. for the first time in weeks, you managed to feel relaxed and well-rested after sleeping for ten hours straight. forget having to hole yourself in some secret corner in the library or your room with days-old stains on sweatshirts.

you’re free from the treacherous throes of exams and so are your friends, which is why you’re at the alpha neo fraternity with virtually every single student on campus with a cup of fruit punch in your hand.

like what donghyuck had promised, it’s the biggest party of the frat that you’ve ever attended yet. led lights line the perimeter of every ceiling to set the mood. speakers are found at almost every corner making sure the music fills the space. the entire place reeks of alcohol and sweaty bodies dancing, playing games, making out, and doing anything they can to relieve the stress of university.

speaking of donghyuck, you haven’t seen him in person for quite a while. you’ve texted, sure, but you’ve also been texting the others in your friend group. everyone had arrived at different timings so you couldn’t do your shotgun tradition which is perfectly fine. maybe you even felt a bit of relief if that meant not seeing him for a while longer.

the one who greeted you at the door was a face that you completely did not recognise. you doubt she’s someone from the frat but she did a great job at welcoming you in. she pulled you into a hug before she let you in and she strongly smelled of soju and beer so you figured she was drunk or at least close to that.

now you’re sticking close to the walls, hoping to catch even a glimpse of any one of your friends. texting them is futile especially when you’re sure half of them are drunk already. even if you feel a tad lonely in a frat house full of people, you’re sure your friends are more or less fine. probably.

“y/n!” you hear your name amongst the loud crowd and heavy bass that resonates through every fibre in your bones. you turn to see giselle with one hand already out to grab you. a soft laugh escapes your lips as you make your way over to her and meet her in the middle. “we were looking everywhere for you! everyone’s in the attic.”

“the attic?” for all the time you’ve spent in this house, not once have you ever guessed that there would be an attic. or a basement. “is it a creepy attic like the ones in scary american movies? rundown and all that?”

she cackles out loud and that’s when you know she’s on the verge of being drunk. she begins to lead you to wherever this place may be, snaking through a sea of sticky, sweat-slicked bodies.

“it’s well-kept, don’t worry. it’s not just us, there are others in their own groups too. it’s like . . . like . . . oh! a small party away from the main party.” she reassures you with a slight sway in her steps. if she’s on her way to being drunk, that means sungchan, ningning, and donghyuck are most likely already there. of everyone, renjun and shotaro have the highest alcohol tolerance out of everyone else, but you’re sure they want to take as many shots to get them loopy.

after navigating through the crowd, there’s a flight of stairs at the end of the third-level hallway, hidden behind a foldable shoji screen. that’s kind of a smart way to hide the attic from the lot of them.

the attic is unlike anything you’ve imagined.

fairy lights are strung along the walls, with singular light bulbs and potted plants hanging from the ceiling. there’s a moderately big speaker at the far end, connected to presumably mark’s laptop, playing music that you actually like. it’s not loud enough to be heard by people outside but it’s loud enough to drown the music at the main party.

like what giselle had said, there are people mingling around in their own little groups but sometimes they’ll break away to talk to others. there’s a table for snacks and for some reason, a large plate of roasted chicken. from the way it looks when you survey it, apparently, people are eating it too. there are three plates of baked cookies with one labelled ‘infused with devil’s lettuce’.

above your head, there’s a huge skylight that’s open to reveal the constellation of stars that decorate the dark night sky. moonlight floods generously through the attic and illuminates everything that it delicately touches. at the end, there’s a balcony separated by sliding glass doors that would lead people to the swimming pool below.

you spot what’s left of your group in the distance. donghyuck is the first to notice you and call out your name eagerly. you spot ningning, shotaro, and mark sitting with him in a circle.

“y/n!” one by one they turn their heads and cheer your name enthusiastically. your heart swells at the affection the group has for you and a big beam spreads across your face.

“i’m here too? hello to you too, damn.” giselle sulks and pouts, burying her face in your neck. you laugh and pull her close to your side, squeezing her waist gently before letting go so you can both sit down.

“so how drunk is everyone?” you place your cup down on the wood floor, looking at the group and the various states of drunkenness.

“on my way there,” ningning cutely slurs her words with a cheeky thumbs-up. sungchan is nowhere to be seen and you have to guess that he’s getting drunker than a skunk.

“we just wanted to get our eyes on you first before going to the main party. hyuck’s already four shots in within a little over an hour.” mark points at a somewhat drunk donghyuck, eyelids halfway down and shoulders drooping while he sports a loopy smile of contentment. if you didn’t know any better, he probably had a little bit of the edibles with his drinks. “renjun and sungchan are downstairs playing beer pong with others, we’re looking to join.”

“ning and i found two other girls who are really, really cute and we’re also hoping they’re a little—“ giselle flicks her wrist downwards gently “—so we can get some action. but maybe it’ll just be me if we don’t sober up soon.” she takes another swig of her drink with a toothy grin.

“i’ll go with beer pong. with this one drunk,” you gesture at donghyuck, “i’m sure we can get him to do some weird shit. good luck to you girls, though.” you’re already laughing to yourself thinking about the possibilities that could happen. when he’s sober, he’s already quite competitive and stubborn. these two traits of his seem to shine brighter when he’s drunk.

“sounds like a plan.” shotaro gives the gathered group a thumbs up.

everyone gets up and collects their valued belongings as you prepare to move to the main party. within minutes you’re back to loud, pop music that everyone knows the lyrics to with ridiculously strong bass shaking both the skeleton of the house and yours.

you’re bumping into swaying bodies left and right, either high as a kite or drunk as a skunk until you finally find the corner where renjun and sungchan are playing beer pong. there are a lot of faces that you don’t recognise but you immediately pick out jeno, the hot TA jaehyun, and the hot girl you hooked up with some months ago from them. at least they’re familiar.

it appears that the beer pong is no longer just beer, but a mix with soju and some coke. some drinks contain all of those. that’s surely one way to party.

when a ping pong ball bounces off the table and onto the floor, you realise that sungchan is no longer trying.

actually, he’s no longer sober.

renjun has practically wiped all of his cups while he only has half of renjun’s. the poor law student can barely even stand straight, he’s aiming all the way to his opponent’s general left area. you’re not even sure if he’s able to stand after the game.

“i can do it better,” you hear donghyuck mumble out loud enough for it to reach the ears of alpha neo’s king of beer pong.

“are you sure about that?” renjun scoffs through his nose and the ping-pong ball hits his chest. however, it bounces and lands in one of his cups. he was about to congratulate sungchan but there’s a gentle thud and the next thing you know, the poor boy is on the floor and knocked out cold. “oh my god. okay, someone else please play. i’m taking him to his room.”

“markie! i wanna play with you!” donghyuck has chosen his opponent and you have chosen to help renjun get sungchan up to his room while shotaro babysits the lightweights.

honestly, you didn’t think that taking sungchan back would require maths, physics, the forces of nature, and some divine magic. he’s a very tall person—the tallest in your friend group, too—and that means his limbs can end up in awkward, gangly situations. his arms are flopping over your shoulders as you help him up the stairs but it’s more of you and renjun making a joint effort to drag him up.

when you get into his room, you tuck him into bed while renjun prepares a bottle of water, some pills for the morning, and a plastic bag on the side just in case he needs to hurl. you’re both in and out quickly and then it’s just the both of you alone as you make your way back to the beer pong table.

“so when are you going to act on it?” renjun asks out of the blue. you turn and look at him in visible confusion, gesturing at him to elaborate. “your feelings for donghyuck.”

“huh?!” you almost choked on your spit at his ridiculous assumption based on nothing at all. “i do not have a crush on him.” do you? your tongue is all twisted as you think of a compelling argument to dispel his claims. “have you seen him? he’s . . . him!”

“dude, i’ve seen the way you look at him and the way he looks at you.” he laughs. what the hell does he mean by that?

“i look at him in contempt and disgust. my feelings for him are pure hatred. i tolerate his existence.”

renjun doesn’t seem at all too convinced by that. underneath the dim, coloured lighting, you’re glad he won’t be able to see most of your facial expressions when you turn away from him.

“whatever you say, y/n.” he smiles sweetly at you but you know it’s not sincere. it’s thinly-veiled sarcasm and he always gives that smile when he knows something that you don’t.

you open your mouth to retort when somebody grabs your arm unexpectedly. ready to fight whoever had grabbed you without your consent, your free hand balls into a fist as you turn but you’re quickly met with shotaro and his soft smile. you immediately relax.

“sorry, did i scare you?” he bashfully apologises while dragging you and renjun into the small circle that’s formed around the two beer pong players.

“all good, taro,” you pat his bicep gently.

mark has cleared some of his cups while donghyuck has only cleared a couple. it’s obvious who’s the winner and it’s even more obvious who’s tipping over the edge already.

“how’s the winner feeling?” you muse teasingly, arms folded across your chest as you look at mark.

“it’s not much of a challenge.” he shrugs as his opponent misses yet another cup. “he’s too drunk to even aim properly. i’m tipsy and i still can get some shots in.”

“talk later when i smoke your ass, lee minhyung!” he slurs, wagging his finger at the other. you’ve seen the man in varied states of drunkenness before but this is probably the first time he’s properly let go.

“oh no, the government name.” mark giggles while he grabs a ping pong ball so he can prepare his round. “i’m so scared, hyuckie.” he bounces the ball against the table and it aptly lands in one of donghyuck’s cups. half of the circle cheers while the other half chants for the sore loser to chug.

even in his drunken state, he can find the cup with the ball bobbing sadly. he takes it and carefully places the soiled ball into a bowl of clean water. you’re curious about what he will be drinking this time—will it be coke, beer, soju, or all of it mixed?

the second you see a slight frown on his face as he tastes the drink, you know it’s something he doesn’t want. he got beer.

“markie, winner gets to pick what the loser does!” he announces before downing the carbonated drink. god, you really should’ve seen this coming.

#5: HE WILL DO ANYTHING TO PROVE A POINT

the first time you had witnessed donghyuck go to lengths to prove a point was in freshman year. the boys were playing basketball while you, giselle, and ningning sat with shotaro at the side to listen to music and just vibe. you didn’t know what had started the commotion but there was a lot of shouting that had immediately stolen your attention.

“you’re not tall enough, jackass!” you heard renjun yell, fingers pressed to his temples as if he’s beyond stressed out.

“you should talk, jun.” donghyuck grinned. that man looked death in the eye and winked.

renjun did not hesitate to grab the orange ball from mark’s hands and started to chase him around with it.

“you wanna fucking die, you rat bastard?!” you couldn’t help but laugh at the scene unfolding. giselle practically fell into your lap laughing when the ball bounced off the ground and attacked donghyuck in the ass.

“all i said was i can definitely dunk!” he cried out in agony as he dramatically fell on the court and rolled over on his back in a spread-eagle position. sungchan grabbed the rogue ball and towered over him with a sadistic grin, raised over to his chest and ready to throw it directly where the sun doesn’t shine. “no! no, no, no! channie have mercy please, i’ll buy you ice pops! i’ll buy you anything!”

you were half-expecting sungchan to smash donghyuck’s precious testicles right then and there but he’s not as sadistic as you are . . . probably. he pretended to drop the basketball and the victim screamed bloody murder, immediately curling up and begging for mercy.

“you definitely cannot dunk!” you shouted loud enough for the boys to hear.

“yeah, hyuckie! you’re too tiny!” ningning continued the jeering and everyone was laughing out loud at the blatant affectionate bullying.

“i’m not too tiny?!” not wanting to take any more slander, he jumped onto his feet and immediately bumped into the tree that is sungchan and another round of giggling filled the air. “everyone, wait here. i’m gonna be back and exact my revenge! just wait!”

“we have all day, hyuck.” you raised your eyebrows and he flipped you off in response. and so he walked off with his phone to who knew where.

“should we follow him?” mark asked, hands on his hips as he watched his figure become tinier in the distance.”

“he’ll be fine.” renjun waved dismissively and walked over to where the non-basketball players lounged with the music and food.

“welcome to the oasis,” shotaro welcomed them with a smile, passing their water bottles over to them while they made space for themselves.

minutes later, donghyuck comes back with a ladder and you already had a rough idea of what he wanted to do. everyone fell silent as he walked across the court and planted the ladder directly underneath the hoop. he went back to your little picnic spread to retrieve the ball and by then, ningning had her phone out to film him.

all eyes were on him, basketball tucked under his armpit, strutting back to the metal ladder with a purpose. he climbed the steps and as soon as he was within reach of the hoop, renjun heaved a loud sigh.

everybody knew what he was doing by then. he held the basketball high over his head and dramatically shoved it down the hoop.

“i told you i could dunk!” that was simply the beginning of his countless misadventures just to prove a point.

there are over dozens of memories you would love to reminisce about but the beer pong game appears a tad more interesting.

mark had already gotten more than half of donghyuck’s cups, leaving him with three left to win. his sore loser of an opponent has about ten cups to clear and the winner is standing with one hand on his hip while he leans against shotaro.

“hyuckie, mark kinda won by a landslide.” renjun throws one of his arms over his shoulders to support him but he’s whining nonsense and pouting at his best friend.

“he still has cups! i can still win!” he declares aloud only for his words to get swallowed by the deafening music.

watching him, you have no idea if he’s an idiot or just plain drunk and competitive. but you honestly respect the fact that he’s still so eager to lose.

“okay, and what– guh– what does the loser have to do?” mark is obviously starting to feel the effects of the alcohol. as much as you would like to be a good friend and get him water, you’d hate to miss the shitshow when hyuck loses.

“wear a trash bag and throw himself in the pool.”

out of all the bets that the boys have been involved in, this is considered very tame.

mark’s eyes light up and it looks like he’s sobered up slightly as if he’s gotten a new sense of purpose.

you want to say that the game has gotten tense but everyone’s waiting for the grad student to win so they can play too. a song that you recognise begins playing and it’s that viral tiktok song, cupid. naturally, everyone else knows it too and starts aggressively yelling the lyrics.

weirdly enough, they’re playing the english version instead of the korean version which makes you laugh a little. most of the students at the party are native korean speakers so it was pretty amazing to see them excitedly singing along flawlessly. you spot some randomly mouthing things (see: donghyuck) until they get to a part they recognise.

from the corner of your eye, donghyuck was dancing along and even yanked mark to rope him into joining. the sheer sight of them drunkenly yet passionately dancing makes your heart swell with so much affection for your friends. renjun already has his phone filming it because you know that mark will deny ever doing it.

“i’d give a second chance to cupid!” everyone, including yourself, screams into the air, and bursts of laughter resonate afterwards.

“by the way,” mark turns to donghyuck, gaze heavy and serious. the younger male reciprocates the energy and you suddenly wonder what’s up. “you could never wear a trash bag. you’re too good-looking for that, bro.”

you sigh heavily. you definitely need more drinks for this. you turn to renjun who’s already way ahead of you, returning with three cups of soju mixed with coke.

“what? i could definitely rock a trash bag!” donghyuck protests with his words slurring together a little. you take your cup and take a huge gulp, needing the buzz under your skin.

“nobody’s wearing any trash bags!” shotaro exclaims in exasperation, not wanting to deal with either one of them accidentally flashing the entire campus. it’s not like it’s the first time, but he still wants to save some of their dignity.

“shh, let them be.” you wave dismissively at the two men standing on either side of you. “you two go and get drunk.”

“and let you have all the fun in watching these two dolts?” renjun scoffs but takes a swig of his drink. the last time you had all gotten drunk like this, renjun was the one who had taken care of everyone. you know he needs this release more than anyone since he’s going through some personal things on top of stressful exams.

“go on, jun. we know our y/n will take care of us.” shotaro cheerily swings his arm over your shoulders and takes a generous gulp of his drink. oh, he’s going for it alright. a wide grin spreads across your face as the three of you bump your plastic cups together.

renjun mulls over it for a moment before he quietly sighs. that’s when you know he’s given in. your eyes widen when shotaro stops him from chugging his drink.

“junie, let’s do that thing where we lock arms and drink!” you’re not sure if it’s the sugar in his system (he mentioned eating too much chocolate beforehand in the group chat) or if he had a bit of those weed cookies but shotaro is oddly giggly and loud. you’re not complaining, though.

you take a couple of steps back to give them space as they lock their arms. the two bring their cups to their lips and start to chug together. a laugh is caught at the back of your throat as you shake your head, taking another swig from your own cup.

“time to party!” shotaro and renjun disappear into the crowd, leaving you alone with mark and donghy–

wait.

you whip your head around, squinting to find the drunken sore loser. good god. you don’t know where he could have possibly gone. mark is generally not a problem when he’s drunk—all he does is giggle at everything and shower the nearest object with compliments. right now, the victim of his affection is jeno.

you look at the two and make eye contact with jeno. he probably managed to sense that you’re worried for him so he flashes you a sweet, reassuring smile and throws a thumbs up too. you exhale and smile back in relief, nodding slightly at him. you’re definitely going to have to thank him one of these days.

now, to the matter at hand: where the hell is lee donghyuck?

if it’s up to you, you’d flip the entire frat house upside down, pick him up like a mii character and drag him away from the crowd. since you have various limitations, you’ve resorted to using a high iq method: you have to think like a drunk donghyuck.

the best and the worst thing about him is that he’s unpredictable. but even when he’s unpredictable, he is predictable. so, taking a gulp of your drink, you try to think of the most probable theory that you can based on what had transpired less than fifteen minutes ago.

when the realisation hits you, you sigh and finish the rest of your drink. if you’re going to take care of him, you’ll do it with a slight buzz in your system before you can let go of all your inhibitions. you quickly find the nearest bin to dispose of your cup before setting off on your quest to stop your drunk friend from doing something stupid.

the first location that you went to is the kitchen. it is weirdly empty but you’re glad you didn’t walk in on anyone fucking. you notice the cabinet door underneath the sink is open slightly ajar. you open it up fully to see what’s inside and you’ve revealed your first piece of evidence: the pack of black trash bags being messily thrown aside with bits sticking out of its packaging.

so he already is in possession of the trash bag. he can’t be too far. you reckon he is definitely nearby. you just need to find bits and pieces of trash bags as you wade through heavy, sweaty bodies that you refuse to make any contact with.

donghyuck’s voice finds you faster than you trying to find him. you follow the direction where his laughter and drunken announcements are coming from until you find yourself in the backyard where the pool is, with the man himself dressed in a trash bag that barely covers his ass. wait. he’s not wearing underwear!?

“lee donghyuck!” you try your best to throw your voice over the music and it seems to have worked because he’s slowly turning around as you rush over.

the only problem is that his arms are still up and you can see the head of his dick peeking from the hem of his trash bag dress. you quickly avert your gaze out of respect and disgust (it was mostly the latter) and grab his arms to pull them down so he doesn’t flash himself to anyone else.

“what the hell are you doing?” you grab the cup that he’s holding and shove it into the hands of a passerby. he follows the direction of the cup but you divert his attention back by grabbing his jaw and forcing him to look at you instead. “lee donghyuck, focus up.”

“y/n, you’re so hot when you’re angry at me,” he wistfully lilts, his body swaying towards you and you steady him with your other hand. you simply let his comments be, knowing that he’s just intoxicated with enough drinks to keep him that way throughout the night. he calls out your name again in a sing-song way, arms circling around your waist and pulling you into a tight hug. “it feels so hot and you’re so warm but i’ve always loved your hugs . . .”

“yeah, whatever, let’s get you in bed. you’ve had enough.” you reach into your back pocket for your phone to take a look at the time and he hisses at the bright light from your screen. you mumble a half-assed apology that you probably don’t mean. it’s not even one in the morning. how quickly did he drink? you arrived at the party about two hours ago and the doors opened at nine.

donghyuck starts whining your name and leans in to rest his forehead against the crook of your neck, snuggling into you more when you begin to move.

#4: HE’S THE WORST DRUNK IN THE GROUP

you don’t mind your friends when they get shitfaced drunk. most of them are tolerable. mark starts to be overly affectionate with the nearest object. renjun gets moody and a little bit of a killjoy but get him more drinks and he’ll turn extremely giggly. giselle is weirdly confident and will begin to confess her undying love for her best friends. sungchan turns into a curious five-year-old and will eventually pass out. shotaro is loud, giggly, and will act like a person who’s high as a kite. the opposite is also true when he’s consuming the devil’s lettuce. ningning is also another one who unlocks a hidden volume button and becomes a loudspeaker when she gets drunk, and can and will make out with the nearest girl. donghyuck, on the other hand . . .

“hyuck, c’mon.” you pat his back but he squeezes you tighter and nuzzles his nose where your skin is exposed, needing the contact. another weak whine drawls from his throat. “you’re drunk and you’re gonna regret it in the morning. let’s get you in bed.”

“you’re not my parent.”

“no, i’m not but i have your mom’s number.” you don’t but you know it’s enough to scare a drunk donghyuck into behaving.

just as you predicted, he pulls away from you and his eyes widen in a mix of fear and panic. your faces are impossibly close. your cheeks and neck burn from the sudden proximity. from being mere inches away, you can see the beauty marks on his face, the gentle slopes and the sharp angles that make up his facial features accentuated by the strong shadows of the dim, coloured lighting. he looks good in neutrals and natural lighting but as ruby red filters into view, it’s like you’re looking at an ethereal creature made by the hands of aphrodite herself.

“you wouldn’t.” he dramatically whispers. his breath reeks with a putrid mix of john walker, soju, and coke, which easily brings you out of whatever stupor you were in before he started speaking.

“try me.” you challenge him with an eyebrow cocked upwards. you grab your phone and unlock it, immediately pretending to search for his mom’s number in your contacts. you tap on mark’s number and pretend to start a call.

“no! nonononono, don’t, don’t! i’ll behave, y/n, please!” donghyuck immediately grabs onto your wrist and gives you the best drunken puppy eyes he can possibly muster. you almost feel bad for wanting to laugh but you quickly hide it with a scoff through your nose. it’s not like he’s going to hear it, anyway. “promise me you won’t call my mom!”

“fine, fine,” you shake your head and keep your phone in your back pocket. “are you ready to go to bed?”

“i’m not tired!” he whines and starts to stumble off, in pursuit of what you’re guessing may be another red cup for a drink. you follow him from behind and make sure he doesn’t bump into anybody and get into a fight with one of the weirdly muscled dudes from another frat. lee donghyuck is a lot of things but a winner in physical fights isn’t one of those.

“no, but you’re extremely drunk and you’re gonna get a hangover so bad you’re going to throw up.” when he picks up a cup, he diligently yet clumsily scoops it into the bowl of spiked fruit punch. sure, why not? that works.

“can a drunk person do this?” he turns to you and looks at you like he had just cartwheeled across the room. you give him a non-committal noise and he takes it as a win, triumphantly downing a generous amount of the punch. an excited squeal escapes him and you had almost mistaken him for an idol’s fan. “this tastes so good! it feels like i have the teletubbies dancing in my tele-tummy.” oh god, you barely forgot how much worse his jokes can get when he’s smashed.

he can barely stand still, body swaying as he struggles to keep his feet on the ground. as you stand there and survey him from head to toe, clad in nothing but a black trash bag, the first question that pops into your mind is: where the hell is the rest of his clothes? the deep, saturated red of the coloured lights emphasises some of his best features.

you notice the curves of the toned muscles of his biceps, the dark shadows that cast making them appear more defined. your eyes trail further down and his thick, sturdy thighs come into view. he had once told the group that he went for a lot of dance lessons, spanning from jazz to ballet to tap, and has a natural affinity for it. even though he no longer dances, he’s part of the university ice hockey team with mark, jeno, and sungchan. maybe that’s where he gets those thighs from.

before your mind can start to wander, somebody bumps into you from behind and you’re shoved into his chest. his arms come around to instinctively hug you but he has his cup in hand still. you feel cold water run down your back and you involuntarily shiver.

“lee donghyuck!” your voice comes out a lot more whiny than you intend it to.

“i’m sorryyy!” even his apology is coming in a slight slur. “tissue—hic!—tissues . . .” he mumbles, searching around for something to clean you up with. you sigh as you make some distance between the both of you. you can’t really be mad at him when he’s under the influence of alcohol.

“that’s okay, hyuckie. let’s get you into your room, yeah?” the nickname falls from your lips all too naturally before you can even register it in your brain. you take him by the arm and remove his crushed plastic cup from his hand, hoping he wouldn’t notice.

“m’kay . . .” he grumbles. luckily, he’s too drunk to even realise that you’d called him by his favourite nickname. when you look at him, he looks like a kicked puppy with his shoulders sagging and feet dragging along the floor as he walks with you. cute, you think to yourself.

donghyuck looks down where your fingers wrap around his forearm. he doesn’t say a word but instead chooses to remove your hand by the wrist, then place it where his hand is out waiting for you. he intertwines your fingers together, warmth spreading through your body and your heart is skipping beats every other half-second. you look up at him in surprise but all he does is give you that big, cheeky grin of his.

you clench your jaw and take a deep breath. why are you suddenly feeling nervous underneath his gaze? he’s drunk. he’s intoxicated. he’s anything but sober. he can’t form any coherent thoughts so you can’t start feeling these . . . weird things in your stomach when he does shit like this. all you need to do is get him to your room and change his clothes. you might borrow one of his shirts since your top is ruined, but it’s not your first time doing it.

“c’mon, let’s go.” you chastise him gently and tug him forward so you can continue walking.

it feels like the crowd keeps forcing you two together. wading through the sweaty, dancing bodies, your back is pressed up against donghyuck’s chest. you don’t know if he’s slowly sobering up since his free hand is on your waist, squeezing every now and then as you desperately search for a way out from this suffocating sea of people. everyone is stumbling all around you, barely bumping into each other, slurring apologies or half-assed empty threats that disappear in the thick fog of music in the air.

after what seems like forever, you finally found the flight of stairs that lead to his room in the frat house. by then, donghyuck is practically leaning against you for support and mumbling incoherencies that you can barely make any sense of. you lug him down the hallway and as you get further from the party and music, you find yourself paying attention to the shit he has to say.

“sometimes i wonder why you act as if you hate me so much but then i realise maybe you like me like i like you too but then i think again and it feels like . . . mm . . . it feels like your body is so warm and soft, i can fall asleep on you . . . junie told me to make a move but i don’t know . . . should i make a move?”

what the hell is he talking about? you spot his door and zero in on it, bumping into one of his very sober frat brothers—johnny, was it?—who flashes you an apologetic smile as he makes his way out to rejoin the party. you thought that his eyes were looking a little red-rimmed but you let it go since all that’s on your mind is to get this drunk man out of his trash bag and into a set of pyjamas, tuck him in, then call it a night.

“y/n,” he drags out the last syllable of your name and rubs his face into your shoulder. “feels hot, wanna take m’clothes off.”

“hang in there hyuckie, we’re almost in your room.” you release your intertwined hands and he whines from the loss of contact. you sigh, rolling your eyes as you open the door. it’s not your first time in his room—he has always kept it clean and organised. you flip the light switch and his room is illuminated with a bright white light. he’s one of the fancier ones who has a remote controller to change if he wants warm light, white light, or somewhere in between.

as soon as you sit him down on his bed, the first thing you do is peel your top off. he’s drunk and he definitely won’t remember a single thing, which is why you’re so comfortable with it. you start digging through his drawers for one of his shirts to wear and grab the first one you see, pulling it over your head and immediately being showered by his scent.

his usual cologne consists of smoky, woody scents balanced out with the sweet tones of vanilla. he always smells so familiar to you and it fills you with a certain kind of warmth that spreads throughout all over your body. sometimes you hope his scent embeds itself into you, sinking through your skin and deep into your soul.

when you realise that he’s been awfully quiet, you wonder if he’s fallen asleep, but the rustling of the trash bag tells you otherwise. you whip around to look at him struggling to get himself out of the plastic with his dick out for the whole world to see.

“lee donghyuck, what do you think you’re doing?” you sigh in exasperation, deliberately looking anywhere but waist-down.

“it’s hot, y/n!” he complains out loud and lets his body fall back onto the mattress dramatically. even when he’s drunk he doesn’t resist being a little bitch, huh.

“i know that, chill. let me get you some damn clothes so you don’t have your dick out.”

you turn your back on him and start to dig through his drawers once again. you pull out a pair of basketball shorts and dark navy calvin kleins for him to change into. before you can pass them to him, donghyuck is out of the trash bag and he’s hugging you from behind. his arms are secured around your waist as he rests his forehead on your shoulder while groaning in pain.

“can you make the world stop spinning? m’head hurts . . .”

“lee donghyuck, are you naked?”

“i asked you first.”

you sigh.

“i can’t make the world stop spinning but can you put on some clothes?” with the fistful of his minimal clothing, your peel one of his hands from your waist and place it there.

“i dunno, can i?” ah, he really is cute for trying.

“just put on the clothes.”

he mumbles something to himself, most likely complaining about how ‘mean’ you are but it’s nothing you haven’t heard before, especially when he’s like this.

you hear him stumble and struggle until you hear the elastic band of his boxers snap against his waist. you don’t hear any movement from him and you’re overcome with a strong urge to turn around.

“hyuck?” you softly call out his name.

“can i just wear my boxers to sleep? ‘s too hot . . . m’body feels like ‘s on fire . . .”

for someone who’s drunk, he sure is moving around a lot faster than you would like to admit. before you can even do anything else, he has his arms wrapped around your waist and his forehead is yet again on your shoulder. you’re being engulfed in his scent from standing in his room, wearing his shirt that’s a tad big on you, and him hugging you from the back. maybe engulfed isn’t even the right word— you’re overwhelmed, practically even drowning in it and your mind is reeling from how good he smells and feels, much against your liking.

“i’ll turn the air conditioning on for you, how’s that sound?” he’s an absolute handful to deal with when he’s drunk. it’s like taking care of a sugar-high kid, especially when he crashes and burns and turns into a big baby.

donghyuck makes a small sound of approval and you take that as a yes. you turn around whilst still being trapped within his arms. your hands perch tenderly on his firm shoulders, giving them a gentle squeeze but he pulls you in tighter and you sigh.

“hyuckie, i can’t tuck you in and turn on the AC if you’re going to keep hugging me.”

“but y’feel nice an’ soft,” he mumbles into your shoulder, nuzzling his nose until he makes contact with your skin and sighing happily. “wanna cuddle you.” the sudden confession had your stomach twisting nervously in knots.

he’s drunk, you remind yourself. he hasn’t a single clue what he’s talking about. it’ll pass when he’s tucked in and fast asleep. suddenly you yearn for the loud music and sweating bodies downstairs.

you wordlessly reach behind you to unwrap his arms from your waist. with your fingers wrapped around his wrist, you lead him to his bed and sit him down after you have pushed aside his blanket. you make sure that he’s properly lying down before turning on his air conditioner and setting the timer for an hour.

donghyuck whines your name into his pillow when you tuck him in, refusing to let you go.

“hyuckie,” you gently warn him to behave without an ounce of real anger.

“‘s too bright. wanna cuddle.”

you fall silent at his request. he’s drunk and exhausted and you can tell from the way he’s getting whinier and his fights are becoming weaker. you need to throw his trash bag dress away and toss all of his dirty clothes into his hamper.

“give me five minutes, can you do that for me?” you whisper. you’re going to have to turn the lights off as soon as you’re done with what you have to do. you’ll just let him cuddle you and as soon as he falls asleep, you can return to the party and check in on your other friends.

“fine,” he grumbles after pondering it over. you’re suddenly overcome with the urge to pat his head and give him a kiss on the temple like you would to literally anyone else when you’re taking care of them when they’re drunk off their asses. you hold yourself back and quickly get down to business.

within minutes, you flick the light off once all of your chores have been completed. it only means that you have to return to entertaining the man-baby who had been quietly watching you while you worked.

donghyuck calls out for you again and you sigh loud enough to let him know that you’re still there. if you’re going to get in bed with him, you might as well get comfortable even if it’s for ten minutes.

you quickly shimmy off your jeans before crawling underneath his duvet on the other side of his bed. you hear some shuffling so you guess that it’s him rolling over and your assumption is correct when you feel his arms circle around your waist to pull you flush to his chest. it probably doesn’t matter to him that your back is to him, but god, it’s the only thing that matters to you.

heat rushes from your core straight to your cheeks and chest, goosebumps rippling across your arms as he nuzzles his nose into the crook of your neck. you’re fighting tooth and nail so you wouldn’t feel anything but there’s a whole kaleidoscope of butterflies fluttering in your stomach from the contact.

“y/n?” he calls out, his voice merely the ghost of a whisper. you feel his plush lips move softly against your skin through the cotton of his shirt that you’re wearing and for a brief second, you had wondered what it’s like to feel it directly on your exposed skin. “you won’t leave me, right?”

you’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t know what he’s secretly talking about. just before he met you, he had broken up from a relationship of close to four years. you remember how he was in his healing stage when you were first properly introduced to each other. it appeared like he was a mere shell of the man he used to be.

to him, everything reminded him of her. you maintained a safe distance from him because you knew it wouldn’t be pretty if something happened and the last thing you needed was to cause infighting. your group was still fresh and looking at everything through rose-tinted glasses. you were all new to each other and there were boundaries yet to be set.

you remembered renjun sharing with you that she was her first real relationship—you still remember her name: kwang haein—and they quite literally went through thick and thin together. renjun lamented to you, saying that they didn’t exactly have the healthiest relationship and it didn’t help when they started it in high school at the ripe age of 15. it was a miracle they made it all the way to graduation.

she was someone who would manipulate him into spending time with her and gaslit him every time they got into a fight. she was emotionally unavailable and hyuck had so much love to give. every time she spared mere crumbs, he would number them and keep them to satisfy himself, considering the affection that he deserved. the worst part of it all was the fact that haein broke up with him through text of all things. she called him a narcissist for wanting to spend time with renjun and mark, rekindle what was once lost and rebuild their friendship after he realised the damage he had done to her.

you don’t know what exactly happened, but you know that haein gave this poor man abandonment issues.

tears prick from the corner of your eyes without even realising it when you recall the hurt and the pain he must have experienced during and after his relationship with her.

get a grip, you tell yourself, exhaling quietly through your lips. you quickly wipe away your tears before they fall and turn around so you can look at him. he shifts back when he realises you’re moving around. half-lidded eyes heavy with the beckoning of sleep, he looks at you in confusion.

“i’m not gonna leave you, hyuck,” you promise. before you can even catch yourself, your hand moves up to push locks of his dark brown hair away from his face. you recall his grape hair from a couple of months back. the colour looked really good on him but at the cost of his hair getting damaged since he decided to diy it himself to prove renjun wrong. he did a pretty good job, though. “you’re not getting rid of me that easily. we’re good friends, aren’t we? even if we fight a lot and say that we hate each other and insult each other more than half the time.”

“yeah.” he lets his eyes fall close and you smile. “we’re friends.” your smile quickly turns into a frown. why did he sound so disappointed? you refuse to let your brain wander. there’s no use thinking about it. he’s drunk, you remind yourself. why do you have to keep telling yourself that? why does being so close to him make your heart race a mile a minute?

you choose to spend your energy waiting for him to fall asleep, watching as his chest rises and falls until it moves into a steady, slow rhythm. you quietly call out his name to check if he’s awake. he doesn’t respond. good, he’s asleep.

one good thing about him being drunk is that when he falls asleep, he can easily be mistaken for a dead body. the whole world could be collapsing all around him and he is still sound asleep.as you close his bedroom door behind him, you heard him mutter something in his slumber but you didn’t go back to check on him. you do feel bad for leaving him after you told him that you wouldn’t, but you can’t afford to skip out on the alcohol. you’re not going to leave him in general. after what had just transpired from the time you found him in his trash bag to when he asked you such a vulnerable question, you’re in desperate need to get wasted and maybe get a number to add to your body count.

⠀⠀ ⠀⌒⠀ִ ✧ ﾟ 𓆩 ♡ 𓆪

the first thing you did when you woke up the morning after was rethinking your life choices to drink and party until three in the morning. you’re good with alcohol so you didn’t get as shitfaced as you wanted to but it did enough damage to leave you slightly disoriented when the sun woke you up. after you had cleaned yourself up, you headed back to the frat house in donghyuck’s shirt and a pair of drawstring sweat shorts.

so there you are, standing in the kitchen with a renjun who’s wearing nothing but a pair of sweatpants and an apron with a very tan bodybuilder’s body on it, making pancakes and hangover cures for the gang. honestly, the main reason why you wanted to spend some time with renjun is to ask him for his thoughts on what had happened between you and donghyuck the night before.

“renjun,” you attempt to call his name and it comes out more nervous than it should’ve. “hyuck kind of uh, said some stuff to me . . . last night. when i um, when i was tucking him into bed.” you grab one of the pancake mix boxes and start to make more pancake batter. your eyes sit on his side profile, waiting for an answer from him but all that you get is a hum to signal for you to continue speaking.

you really hope that you won’t regret spilling your guts to him. it’s noon and it’s way too early for you to be awake, especially after partying and babysitting grown men last night. nobody should be awake other than shotaro but he’s up in his room showering after he helped to clean the house up before you arrived.

you spare renjun no detail, even going back to clip bits and pieces from your past interactions together as proof points as to why his behaviour shouldn’t be so strange yet it only serves to circle back to why his behaviour was strange. he listens patiently to every word, nodding and humming to let you know that he’s still there and his mind isn’t wandering off into some faraway land.

“so, uh, yeah.” you conclude lamely, passing him the bowl of pancake batter that you made while pouring your heart out.

renjun makes eye contact with you and there’s an unrecognisable expression on his face when he takes the ceramic bowl from you. is it disappointment? is it confusion? you can’t tell and frankly, you’re too scared to ask.

“dude, we’ve been over this.” oh god, not this again. “i’ve told you so many times that he’s literally in love with you. and if i didn’t know any differently, you–”

“who’s in love with who?”

speak of the goddamn devil.

“nobody.” you quickly snap and turn around to look at donghyuck. “nobody is in love with anyone.” you steal that opportunity to take a good look at him.

his dark hair is a mess with a cowlick sticking out on the side of his head, and luckily for everyone in the room, he’s wearing a pair of grey sweats instead of waltzing into the kitchen in his boxers. unluckily for you, however, he’s not wearing a shirt. you can clearly see the dips and curves of his chest and the structured v-line that disappears past the elastic of his sweatpants along with the stupid happy trail.

“eyes up here, babe,” he winks at you before walking past, exaggerating the swing of his hips before he gives renjun a back hug. you should seriously punch him right then and there but seeing how he’s most likely dealing with a hangover (and hiding it very well), you decide to be merciful. “my pancake is making us pancakes? how sweet of you!” he presses their cheeks together and you can tell that the victim of his affection is stuck between hitting him in the face with the spatula in his hand or letting him be.

there’s no way this casanova over here is in love with you.

he would probably trade you for a $5 steam gift card. he picks on you and gets under your skin every chance he gets. he’s a damn nuisance and a pain in the ass. he’s loud, he’s throwing you inappropriate jokes every time the opportunity presents itself, and he’s such a gossip. he gives you so many reasons not to even look at him romantically so why the fuck did you get butterflies in your stomach last night?

it’s safe to say that it bothers you to the point where you’ve made it your personal mission to distance yourself from him. you’re doing this as a favour for both of you. you won’t have to deal with these confusing emotions that are stirring within you and he doesn’t have to be so fixated on you. honestly, you don’t even know what he sees in you.

donghyuck, on the other hand, sees this news that someone in your shared friend group is in love with you, as an opportunity to fix you two up together. you can be so uptight sometimes that a good fuck should help you loosen up. that’s what he thinks, anyway.

after he has breakfast and cleans himself up, he sits in his room and pulls out one of his notebooks. he flips to a random page and begins to plot out his game plan to get you a partner. if everything goes well, there’s a confession by the end of the week and if he’s lucky, you might even get a good lay. he’s doing this for your own good, and maybe a little bit of his own, because if you’re not going to look at him like he does, he should at least help the other person.

the first clue that he has is ‘he’. that’s the only clue that he has, really, but it narrows down the list of suspects pretty well. renjun and mark are obviously off the hook since they both have their own respective crushes to deal with. or maybe he can’t really say ‘crush’ for mark since he’s going to attempt to ask them out soon.

he stares at the two names that he had scribbled down: osaki shotaro and jung sungchan.

he sets the scene with you and shotaro sitting next to each other on the couch, laughing and giggling with each other. the transfer student has his arm thrown over your shoulder. he leans in for a kiss and you reciprocate. no. he then pictures you and sungchan next, doing the same things. there’s a pierce in his heart as he thinks of the possibility of you ending up with either one of them because the selfish part of him doesn’t want you to.

he wants you to end up with him. lee donghyuck, the one and only person who’s constantly getting under your skin because he likes seeing the frown on your face and the way you scrunch up your nose in annoyance. the only person who’s willing to spend the extra bucks on renting out a nice, clean car to drive you out to hongdae to eat at that japanese restaurant you love so much because he knows you’ve been stressed off your ass. the only person who showed up at your dorm with your favourite food when you got stood up by a supposed ‘ex’ in freshman year because he knows how it feels to be tossed aside for something better.

lee donghyuck wants to be the one and only person that you hold and kiss and love because he finally got a taste of it last night when he pretended to be too drunk so you could take care of him, and he doesn’t want anyone else to take it away from him.

renjun has told him before that his feelings for you will be reciprocated. he doesn’t understand it, though. if he means that you’re going to reciprocate his attempts at spending time with you, sure. that, you definitely do. he knows that you take extra care of him especially when he’s vulnerable but he’s always surmised that it’s your way of showing affection after calling him silly things like ‘shitty’ or ‘stupid’. he knows that you don’t mean a single word that you say, which is why he loves it so much when you’re both caught in this little game of cat and mouse.

if he means that you’re going to return his romantic feelings for you, he’s not going to believe it at all.

swallowing the ugly feelings that threaten to surface, he shoves them deep down and buries them away, never to be opened by anyone ever. even if he can’t be the one who makes you happy, he sure hopes this mysterious suitor can make you half as happy as you make him feel.

the first person donghyuck has to text is none other than his second beloved anime boy, shotaro. the first place, of course, belongs to none other than his frat brother nakamoto yuta. he quickly searches for his contact and begins a conversation.

his heart stops.

you and him?

partners?

he stares at his texts in shock, watching his message go from ‘delivered’ to ‘read’ and a thumbs up appear on its outer corner.

is that what you’ve both looked like to others?

immediately he pictures you on his lap, his chin resting on your shoulder as he wraps one secure arm around your waist. his free hand is yours to fiddle around with, enjoying the sensation of your skin on each other. he immediately recalls the warmth of your body when your back was pressed up against his front last night.

heat spreads from his chest to the rest of his body at the mere thought of being able to have that with you again. if there’s anything he needed last night after weeks of exams and deadline submissions, it’s you. but you arrived late to the party, dressed so simply yet so you manage to look so goddamn attractive in your oversized shirt and jeans.

pause. you were wearing his oversized shirt this morning.

he reels through his mind and scavenges through what he had witnessed in the kitchen when he came down. the first thing he saw was you, standing with your back facing him in his navy blue ncit varsity shirt and his name and number on the back.

donghyuck definitely didn’t feel jealous when you weren’t alone in the kitchen. there was a bitter taste in his mouth when he had eavesdropped enough to know that someone has a crush on you, and it pinched his heart painfully when both you and renjun looked so domestic in the little nook. but it was partly soothed when he saw renjun wearing the abs apron.

right. renjun. he needs to tell him.

it might be the shirt you had stolen from him last night when he had accidentally spilt his drink on you. does his shirt feel that comfortable? does it smell strongly like him?

his heart soars when he realises that you’re walking around campus with his name on you. you’re not his at all—you don’t belong to anybody, in fact—but this little detail has him giggling to himself alone in his room, euphoric bliss filling him up.

now, it’s time for him to figure out who the hell has a crush on you, but he doesn’t know if he wants to sabotage the crush or keep you for himself. he’ll probably decide later on. for now, he just wants to know who.

⠀⠀ ⠀⌒⠀ִ ✧ ﾟ 𓆩 ♡ 𓆪

you don’t know how or why, but you’ve come to this one conclusion: you have strong feelings for lee donghyuck. are they positive? sexual? negative? you have no idea. but every time he pops up into your mind unprompted, you feel a very strong urge to hope you spontaneously combust in the middle of whatever it is that you’re doing.

you’ve made it a point to avoid him for as long as you possibly can and in turn, avoid confronting your feelings, too.

every time he texts you to gossip or just yell in general, you do your best not to get pulled in by his theatrics and bizarre storytelling methods. you don’t want him to think you’re ignoring him even though you are, but you’re not exactly the best actor.

still in the festive spirit of being free from the shackles of painful and mind-numbing exams, a sorority is hosting a party. this time, it’s giselle and ningning’s: alpha chi ræd. even today, you still find it a little weird that giselle managed to hook up with her ex-girlfriend who is also her sorority sister.

red, purple, and black. sounds like the standard ræd party. you know that giselle and ningning are going to dress the best that they can and be sirens for the night. it’s a couple of hours away and you’re chilling in your dorm with some show playing on your monitor that you’re not really paying attention to. your ears are cushioned by your wireless headphones, walking around your room aimlessly.

should you start picking out your outfit now? it’s not like you have anything to do, anyway. your eyes flit to the time on your digital clock. you haven’t had dinner and you know better than anyone to drink on an empty stomach. chewing on your bottom lip, you grab your phone and start texting your favourite dinner buddy. his charming smile always gets you extra free food.

after sealing the promise of dinner, you turn on the lights so your room wouldn’t be drowning in complete darkness. you take off your headphones and turn off the forgotten show playing in the background serving as background noise. there’s a strong urge inside of you to text hyuck and ask him if he wants to join you and sungchan for dinner because you know he’s coming over in a heartbeat with the promise of free food.

but you don’t.

you’re not supposed to like him. you can’t. it’s going to ruin the dynamics of the friend group . . . right? you look at your phone, the screen lighting up to display a group photo you had taken together on a trip to jeju and nami islands to pretend to be tourists.

your eyes immediately find where you and donghyuck are sitting on the ground together. his arm is wrapped around your waist, pulling you close to him with your thigh crossing over his. your hand throws up a peace sign while you laugh, eyes forming half crescents with your hair blocking some of your facial features. his other hand is on your cheeks, thumb and index fingers pressing them together to make you look silly. you can hear his laughter in your ears, beaming ear to ear with a grin rivalling the sun.

behind you both, everyone’s also trying to get someone else to fuck up the photo. renjun was trying to tackle mark onto the ground but he ended up getting piggybacked. ningning has sungchan in a headlock while giselle and shotaro are trying to out-tickle each other, resulting in shotaro almost falling over and tripping on hyuck.

warmth fills you from your core, spreading all over your body as your eyes wander back to you and him.

you can’t fall in love with him. you can’t risk falling for someone like him. not again.

your story isn’t half as sad as donghyuck’s—or at least, you hope it isn’t. you met someone back in freshman year. he’s on the same campus, just a year older but studying at the same level as you are.

it was during your freshman orientation. thinking about it makes you want to barf, really. he’s similar to donghyuck personality-wise and you got along with him extremely well. you could flirt and insult each other within mere seconds and it’ll all be in good heart. over a very fast period of time, he had asked you out on a date.

of course, you said yes. he’s charming, funny, and good-looking—what more could you need or want?

you were too infatuated to realise your so-called relationship was toxic and he was merely using you for a fuck buddy. he didn’t have the emotional availability, the maturity, the seriousness, or everything you needed for a secure and healthy relationship.

luckily you were able to cut ties with him and break everything off before it got any worse. you thought it was your first real relationship while in university but he decided to pull you around and toy with you.

you snap into your senses when your phone buzzes in your hand. your screen lights up with a message from donghyuck.

your fingers move to type an answer out, that there’s no way sungchan of all people would have a crush on you, but there’s a knock on the door with the man himself carrying your food.

#3: HE’S THE WORST AT KEEPING SECRETS

you take a mental note to reply to him later and in that, you’re reminded of the fact that nobody should ever tell him secrets. ever.

there are way too many times when he accidentally spoiled a surprise or ruined something because he gets way too excited. everyone knows how honest he is and sometimes he may slip up in his promise to be honest to everyone around him.

you open the door to reveal sungchan carrying a bag of food in his left hand and another bag that you assume are his party clothes. he’s clad in black slacks and matching dress sneakers, with a fishnet top underneath his oversized white tee. now, you’re kind of excited to see his final look.

“hi y/n, i have secured the munchies!” he greets you with a gentle smile and you invite him in.

“you look excited for the party.” you comment as he sets the food on the low table in the middle of your dorm room. he grins back at you as he begins unpacking while you transfer him however much you owe.

“extremely,” he sighs almost wistfully. “i’ve never been to a ræd party before and i’ve always heard good things. apparently, there’s going to be beer towers and those little shot ferris wheels and an open bar in the backyard.”

you sit down across from him and pull your kimchi fried rice towards you. a soft laugh escapes your lips from his enthusiasm. you don’t blame him. the alpha chi ræd are well-known for their impeccable music, booze, and theatrics. the alpha neos are better known for their vibes and safety.

“well, joohyun’s pretty loaded and so is wendy. it wouldn’t be out of the box for them to throw such fancy parties, especially since joohyun’s graduating top of the class for her master's degree.” you carefully peel open the lid and start to mix your food together as sungchan does the same to his bibimbap.

“speaking of parties, i was thinking that we should throw mark a canada-themed party for his birthday.” he suddenly pipes up, and you cock an eyebrow upward in question at the sudden subject shift. “i mean, obviously we won’t tell hyuck. we nearly fumbled with renjun’s birthday because he got too excited about the project.”

a bright laugh bubbles from the back of your throat at the fond memory. since renjun is an avid movie lover, everyone decided to bring him to a diy drive-in movie. well, less of a drive-in, more of a cinema in the middle of a rugby field.

giselle gave this brilliant idea to surprise him with a short film of their best or favourite moments with him. it’ll of course be concluded with a gift-giving session. in order for it all to be executed flawlessly with no holes, you had to find a way to shut donghyuck up. that meant he couldn’t be left alone with renjun at any given time.

“i still find it hilarious that he almost fucked up the film surprise because he asked renjun to airdrop him videos of the both of them.” you snicker at the memory, remembering how all of you nearly got found out thanks to his slip-up.

“it’s literally so stupid!” sungchan is laughing with you and you can’t forget when mark literally had to throw himself in and save him. “but it’s cute how their dynamic goes. hyuck is the one who lives in the moment and jun is the one who captures the moment. and hyuck is also the one asking jun for said moments when he starts to miss whatever had happened.”

no truer words have been spoken.

“i remember when he thought that mark had a crush on me. he texted it to me while i was hanging out with mark and giselle. we had literally managed to just get more comfortable with each other. god, that was lowkey traumatising.” you shake your head and start to eat your meal before it gets cold. sungchan looks at you with glimmering eyes, obviously intrigued by the idea of you and mark becoming an item (which is never). “why are you looking at me like that?”

“so i wasn’t the only one who thought that way?” he teasingly nudges your knee with his. you groan and roll your eyes at him as he laughs at your reaction. “no, seriously though! i did think that he had a crush on you!”

“for like, the millionth time,” you sigh. “mark made it very clear he was nervous around me because i scared him. i have an aura that’s ‘intimidating’ sometimes, i guess? his words. i don’t know.” you make a non-committal noise and shrug.

sungchan doesn’t say anything, only stuffing his mouth with a spoonful of his food while maintaining eye contact with you. great. another one who looks like he knows something you don’t.

“out with it.” you tiredly beckon with your free hand, eating more of your fried rice.

“speaking of crushes . . .” there he goes again. “. . . what’s up with you and hyuck? he told me that you’ve been kind of avoiding him.”

‘kind of’ is an understatement. you are absolutely, without a doubt, a hundred per cent avoiding him. you just didn’t think that you were that obvious. you didn’t really know what to say so you quietly play with your food, swallowing whatever is in your mouth before speaking.

“i . . . guess i kinda am?” you look at him, obviously unsure. “i don’t know . . . i mean . . . well . . .” you’re racking your brain for some sort of answer but you know that sungchan already knows your answer from the way you’re stammering.

he happily continues eating his food without a care in the world, satisfied with your answer.

“did he do something to piss you off?” he asks but you shake your head. he does a lot of things to try and piss you off but he hasn’t really gone too far just yet. “then what is it? did something happen at our party?” you give him the stink eye when he gets it spot-on.

sungchan straightens his back and leans in closer to you. of course he’s excited when he gets exclusive content. sometimes you can’t help but wonder if hyuck’s love for gossip managed to bleed into the systems of the others. sungchan, mark, giselle and yourself have never been one for gossip but every time hyuck says he knows something and starts sharing, you’d be very much upset if you got cockblocked while he did.

“the only person who knows what happened that night is renjun.” you begin and you do your best to put on a serious tone but with the younger male’s excitement and eager smile, you can’t help but break a small smile, chuckling through your nose. “you can’t tell anyone, okay?”

“lips are sealed, cross my heart and hope to die.” you can tell that sungchan is biting his tongue—he has more to say—but he keeps his silence and your peace, urging you to continue. you eye him suspiciously but continue regardless.

so you tell him. you know you can trust him to keep his mouth shut about it but with donghyuck’s persuasive magic that works on everyone, you try to hold yourself back from going down into the details.

the whole time you’re recounting the events of the night for the second time, you’re feeling butterflies in your stomach yet again when you recall his scent overwhelming you in the best way possible. you recall his slightly calloused hands on yours, fingers intertwined; body pressed up against yours so intimately.

sungchan took it upon himself to take your hand and scoop your rice, bringing it to your mouth wordlessly to get you to eat since you tend to forget about multitasking. you nod at him in thanks when he pulls his hand away to let you take a couple of bites and take a quick break from storytelling.

“so yeah.” you finish it off lamely, angrily taking a bite of your rice and finishing it up. “that’s the whole story.”

“you’re in love with him.”

his comment almost made you choke on your food. you manage to save yourself from dying while sungchan laughs at your misery and misfortune, glaring at him while you do until you’re able to calm down. he pushes his bottle of grape juice to you and you snatch it from him, downing the drink until you’re fine.

“what the hell do you mean ‘you’re in love with him’?” you sputter incredulously. your heart is shaking, drumming wildly against your rib cage as you rake your fingers through your hair. you? in love with him?

“why are you like, the last one to know?” he grins knowingly, leaning back on his hands.

“what the hell do you mean i’m the last one to know?!” this time, your voice increases in an octave as you almost shriek your words out. when you realise how ridiculous you sound, you clear your throat and straighten your posture. you’re suddenly reminded of donghyuck’s texts to you. this man sitting across from you does not have a crush on you.

“everyone can see you’re both like, pining after each other in your weird way.” sungchan’s grin grows wider when he’s connected the dots together.

“there’s no way.”

“oh my god, renjun was so right. you do look super constipated whenever you fight it!” your face burns up down to your neck and up to your ears. you have half the mind to throw your dirty takeout bowl at his head. “we need to get you looking absolutely smoking tonight. like an absolute hottie.”

“i’m not dressing like a stripper.” you deadpan him.

like a scene in a coming-of-age young adult movie, he’s dragging you to your closet and giving you the biggest transformation to step into the party looking ‘absolutely smoking’.

the first thing that he pulls out is the very black bustier top that hyuck had said you look really good in. sungchan continues digging through your closet until he finds a maroon leather mini skirt with a split hem that you haven’t worn in ages and throws it to you.

you look at the two articles of clothing, unsure. you turn to look at him.

“trust the process!” that is his favourite thing to say. maybe you will. for the sake of not getting blacklisted to a ræd party.

after you brush your teeth and get dressed up, he nods in agreement when you let him back into your dorm.

“you look so good, hyuck is gonna be all over you tonight!” your face burns up again, your heart fluttering in your chest and you glare at him.

“that’s not the point of the outfit.” you deadpan.

“yes, it is.” sungchan insists, pointing at what should be a dresser but is more of a station for you to get ready and take photos of your outfit. you shoot him a dirty look but make your way over anyway. “you’re going to look hot and irresistible and all eyes are going to be on you.”

“i’m not in the beauty inside.” you roll your eyes and pick up the tools to properly enhance your facial features. he shrugs and moves over to your monitor to play some music for you both to get ready for the party.

you can hear him giggling and typing away on his phone while yours tries to throw itself off your bed from vibrating too hard. so the group is active. you take a quick glance at the clock and it’s ticking down to the golden hour. outside, the sky has already darkened, coating the entire city in an ocean of navy and black with speckles of twinkling stars.

you don’t do too much with your makeup, merely going as natural as you can but you grunge up your look with dark lipstick and highlights where it’ll enhance your best features. it’s a night full of partying, drinking, dancing, and making out with hot strangers. people will most likely be too drunk to think twice about what someone else looks like.

“‘kay, i’m done.” you announce out loud, packing up all of the things you used and storing them away. sungchan helps you onto your feet before stepping back to look at you from head to toe. you watch him cautiously, slouching a little but immediately snap to attention when he sighs and stares at you, silently telling you to stand properly. honestly, it feels like your mom is making you show off the outfit she got you.

he makes a circle in the air with his index finger, wanting you to spin for him. you exhale a heavy sigh but you do it begrudgingly and give him the best model turn you can.

“okay, okay, i see you!” he cheers you on and it gives you a much-needed confidence booth. “alright, let’s head to the biggest party hosted by ræd and get bitches on our dicks!”

“god, you are so weird.” you laugh as you grab a small shoulder bag that’ll keep your necessities safe.

when you’re walking to the party, you’re able to spot the sorority from a mile away. there are bright lights and projections into the sky, music thundering and filling up the empty night air, and bass shaking the ground with more vigour with every step that you take.

you know how big ræd parties are but for some reason, you feel a little nervous. you shouldn’t, but you are.

as you walk up to the door, there’s already a lot going on. people are making out on the front lawn on the verge of having sex in front of everyone, you spot a freshman dressed up to impress talking to a very disinterested person that you recognise to be sunwoo from one of your classes. the corner of your lips quirked upward into a smile. you’re definitely going to find him to tease him about it.

“y/n! sungchannie!” ningning’s voice manages to dominate the blaring music and catch your attention. you turn and see her with a drink in hand and her cheeks absolutely flushed. is that the blush or the alcohol’s work?

she’s wearing a royal purple silk bandana top wrapped around her chest and black low-rise ripped shorts. her indigo heeled boots click against the hardwood floor as she rushes over, dyed hair bouncing in its high pony.

“ning, hey!” you and sungchan both speed up to meet her halfway, passing the threshold and immediately melting into a crowd of chatterboxes, drunks, people making out, and dancers. they’re playing some song you don’t recognise but it’s along the genres of r&b and indie pop so naturally, everyone is eating up what the trendsetters are feeding them.

“you made it and you both look like absolute sluts!” she squeals excitedly, pulling you into a hug and you all laugh together, squeezing her a little before you let go. “the alpha neos are here already, you’re both always the latest!” she chastises but she pouts when she gives you both another once-over. “but you look so good! fashionably late, and fuck, you both look so sexy, i’d make out with you right now.”

“kinda swaying towards the other team right now, ning. if i’m swaying back to how my parents wanted me, i’ll let you know.” sungchan plays along with her faux flirting, throwing a wink her way and she laughs brightly.

“okay okay, go mingle, find a hottie to make out with, i don’t care—have fun! sooyoung put me in charge of welcoming people til like, ten, so i have to stay sober til then. i’ll catch up with you guys later. drinks are in the backyard!” after speeding through her brief, she disappears to greet more people. sungchan and you exchange looks before chuckling.

“alright, i’m gonna go get myself my fix.” you tell him. so there really is an open bar in the backyard like what he said earlier. such a weird detail, but it sure as hell makes the party a lot more interesting.

“sounds good. i’m going to look around and decide what i want to do. i never know how to act at parties.” he complains to himself. a short sigh later and he looks where the sea of people beckons him. “i’ll catch you whenever. have fun and stay safe, y/n.” he gives you one final hug before you both part ways.

after snaking through crowds of dancing people and slinking through dimly-lit hallways with people pressed up against walls to make out or smoke, you finally find the backyard behind sliding glass doors. there’s literally an open bar with a bartender out of a food truck and a pool right next to it. your eyes search for any indication that you’ll have to pay for your drinks as you approach the vehicle and when there’s none, you lean up against the counter and flash your best smile to her.

she notices you almost immediately and smiles back as she makes her way to you. her name tag shines with moonbyul embedded into the silver metal. that’s such a pretty name.

“hi there,” she greets you warmly while setting down the glass that she was cleaning. “how can i be of service?”

“can i have two sour plum shots, please?” you request politely. she nods and starts your order.

moonbyul turns around to grab a bottle and starts mixing the drink for you. you watch as if caught in a trance, her movements fluid like a dance. from the corner of your eye, you thought you had seen donghyuck. a quick second take later and it was indeed him. suddenly you’re praying to all of the gods that you know so he won’t try and approach you. he catches your eye and you quickly turn back to the bartender, hoping she’ll hurry up with your drinks.

in a four-storey sorority house full of partygoers and people hungry for a quick lay, there’s not going to be a chance of you bumping into him. right? even if there is, it’s going to be a low percentage. you take another peek in his direction and someone you don’t recognise is chatting him up and you exhale through your lips in relief.

she returns with two shot glasses full of honey-coloured poison and a smile that could literally charm your skirt off in an instant. for a second, you had almost forgotten about him. what kind of sorcery does this woman possess?

“how much is it? i hope you take bank transfers.” you awkwardly laugh but she immediately shakes her head.

“don’t worry about it. it’s four bucks since you’re cute.” heat rushes to your cheeks and you smile shyly, mumbling a quiet word of thanks as you make your payment. you down the two shots back to back and disappear back into the house. there’s barely any time for your body to process the alcohol and you hope that it’ll kick in as soon as you hit the living room where people are dancing.

you catch a whiff of the cannabis and peach-stained air when you walk through the dimly lit hallway again, letting it fill your body as you begin to feel the slight buzz of your liquor. the first person that catches your eye on the dance floor is giselle. there are way too many people in the living room dancing—there’s no way he’ll find you here.

“y/n!” she slurs the final syllable of your name with a lazy grin on her face. her cheeks are flushed with alcohol as she stumbles to you, pushing through the crowd to pull you in. you gladly allow yourself to be welcomed by her, laughing as she gives you a tight hug. “come dance with me!”

she immediately turns around to press her back against your chest and you put your hands on her waist, laughing with your head thrown back. you can’t tell if it’s the alcohol or the people you’re surrounded by but you’re immediately getting drawn into this coven of sirens on the dance floor.

the music fills you from your fingertips, bass reverberating in your bones as you let your body follow the groove. giselle grinds into you, surprising you, but you quickly recover and let her do whatever she wants. you quickly recognise the song to be madison beer’s baby, and you’re devoured with a lust to be a little slutty.

someone taps your shoulder and you turn around to find a very attractive woman that you don’t recognise. she offers to dance with you and you quickly agree as her hands find your waist. your hands loop around her neck and you’re pulling each other impossibly closer.

you mouth the lyrics with a charming smile and heavy-lidded eyes, swaying your hips seductively. her dark oculars watch your every move with the corner of her lips curled upwards in a lazy smirk and god, that looks really hot.

in a quest to make her melt, you take advantage of the loosened tie that hangs around her neck. with one hand you pull her towards you until your faces are mere inches away, teasing a kiss before you let her go and turn around instead.

alcohol, power, and confidence surge through your veins with the heavy bass acting as a guide for the intoxication.

“such a tease,” she hums lowly in your ear. a bright laugh escapes your lips, shivering involuntarily as her nose gently glides along your collarbone before pressing a kiss to your shoulder blade. “you smell so good, too.”

before you can reply, your eyes spot donghyuck from across the dance floor. he visibly lights up when you catch his gaze but you’re stiffening up and immediately searching for an exit. you hate it when he gets like this.

#2: HE CAN GET TOO PERSISTENT

you free yourself from giselle and your hot mysterious stranger, eyes scanning the bodies you’re surrounded by until you find an opening where you can flee. he’s about to make his way to you and that’s when you duck your head and snake your way out.

your heart is beating out of your rib cage as you spot a room with no light on with the door left slightly ajar. without a moment of hesitation, your feet are taking you there and closing the door shut behind you. luckily the room isn’t occupied so you can stay in there for a while.

you stagger slightly in your steps, feeling the gentle buzz of the alcohol underneath your fingertips. a soft sigh escapes you.

there is no way that you can avoid him all night while having fun but there’s no harm in trying. he’s an immovable object but you’re an unstoppable force. you can outwit his unrelenting nature. probably.

what are you even going to do if he finally catches up to you, anyway? the break before summer break has been serving you perfectly when it comes to avoiding donghyuck after that party. however, even as you keep running away from him, he comes haunting you in your dreams and you mean it literally.

you had a dream of him with his tongue down your throat and his large hand shoved into your underwear. when you woke up, you were feeling things. you aren’t supposed to feel anything for him!

needing a quick break, you pull out your phone to check your notifications. unfortunately, even there he’s made an appearance and by the looks of it, he’s not going to go away any time soon. you delete all of your notifications from him in fear you may accidentally press on one of them and then you’ll have to read whatever was sent. and then he’ll start hounding you on why you left him on read.

after exactly three minutes have passed, you take a deep breath and dive back into the party. there’s no reason for you to be nervous. he should be far away from you now, in some corner of the sorority searching for you. you’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t feel guilty.

you decide to sneak back to the bar to get yourself another shot or two. the alcohol is good to get you feeling the buzz, but not strong enough to get you drunk. maybe you should have taken four at once earlier.

moonbyul chuckles to herself when she sees you approaching the bar again within the span of an hour. at the very least, you’re glad to see her too. she’s handsomely leaning against the countertop and greets you with a smile.

“welcome back, gorgeous.” she waves before straightening herself and placing her hands on her hips. “i see the sour plum shots barely did anything to you.”

“and if i said i only came back for you?” you flirt brazenly with a grin on your face, watching her features morph as she laughs lightly. it might be the booze but she looks so stunning you’re almost at a loss for words.

“then i’ll get you a free drink on the house because you’re rather eye-catching.” she winks and your plans to be a casanova immediately burn up into flames as your face heats up. “cute.” she mumbles to herself before turning around to make a drink specially for you.

you fiddle with the details on your bag, pinching the fabric as if you’re waiting for donghyuck to literally just show up and you’ll have to face him. you don’t want to. not under any circumstance. you’re not ready for the conversation that comes after, the feelings that may surface after you bottle them up.

your phone starts buzzing in your hand and you see it’s him texting you again. there’s a pinch in your heart and you shove your phone into your bag. you came here to let go; to let loose. you didn’t come here to talk to him about what could possibly be between both of you.

when moonbyul presents you with a pretty glass of a pink drink that is literally glittering, you blow her an air kiss and she winks back at you. you don’t know what’s in it but you hope it’s the right dosage of poison.

you head back into the house and slowly drink it, savouring the taste of the various liquor mixed with fruit juice. it burns smoothly down your throat with a delectable concoction that runs straight to your brain. oh yeah, this is the one.

in the back of your mind, you can hear shotaro and renjun scolding you, telling you to slow down before you fuck yourself over. part of you wants to ignore them but you’d feel too guilty. you love them too much not to listen to them. renjun can get scary when he’s upset, too. a quiet sigh passes your liquor-tinted lips and you ascend to the second level in another feeble attempt to throw donghyuck off your trail.

there’s no direction you’re heading to—you’re just searching for a distraction. you swirl your drink in your hand, letting the music and the alcohol mingle in your veins as your eyes scan the area lazily. one arm extends across your waist, stopping you from pursuing any further and spinning you around to find renjun.

“you’re avoiding hyuck.” that is the first thing that comes out of his lips. his eyes narrow when he sees your pretty glass of poison.

“no i’m not.” you insist with a slight frown. you’re lying straight through your teeth and you both know it.

renjun takes your glass from you and takes a whiff of it and groans at the strong stench of alcohol. is it really that strong? you barely felt anything.

“how much have you had to drink?”

“not enough.” you grumble in annoyance like a kid getting caught stealing cookies from the jar.

“i’m cutting you off.” your eyes widen and you look at him incredulously, ready to protest but his stern gaze makes it clear that it’s not up for debate. your shoulders sink in defeat. he swaps your drink for his and so does his tone for a gentle, kind one. “here, have some water. i heard from ning that you arrived with sungchan almost an hour ago. slow down, please?”

you swallow thickly, bringing the cup to your lips and sipping on the water. you don’t like it but it’s not like you have a choice in the matter.

“fine . . .” you mumble into the cup before taking a generous gulp.

“why are you avoiding him? is this because of what happened at the party?” you’re almost unnerved at how easily he’s able to read you. “you do realise that you are both kind of, i don’t know, you’re both good for each other? in your weird way? nobody understands it but everybody knows it. it’s clear as day, you need to stop fighting it. whatever happened between you and that guy isn’t what’s going to happen between you and hyuck. you know that, right?”

he speaks the truth aloud and it knocks just enough sense into you for you to sober up against your will. you eye him watchfully and he cocks an eyebrow upward.

“god, i hate you so much.” tears threaten to prick the corner of your eyes and renjun chuckles when he realises you’re on the verge of crying. he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small pack of tissues. you let him dab your tears away carefully.

“yeah, yeah,” he chuckles through his nose. “as big of a house this is, it’s still enclosed by four walls. and you look really good tonight. someone as attractive as you shouldn't be crying at a place like this.”

you glare at him as more tears break the dam.

“oi, why the hell are you crying harder?!” he laughs but you know it’s his way of trying to cheer you up. you break a short laugh in between tears. he’s the only one who knows what happened between that guy and yourself. you didn’t really allow yourself to talk to anyone about it.

when you finally manage to calm down, he gives you a tight hug and you take a deep breath. you’re still going to avoid hyuck, though. you’re not ready to face your feelings just yet. even when he’s not here, he’s still so persistent when it comes to you. you wouldn’t be surprised if he manifested this shit.

renjun lets you go with a pat on the head after you finish the cup of water.

you disappear further into the second floor, in search of something to do, perhaps someone to talk to and keep you occupied as you think of your next move. how long are you going to keep avoiding him? that’s a good question. maybe for as long as you possibly can. it’s a tough game to play especially when your opponent is the ever-so-determined lee donghyuck, but you hope for your own victory.

there’s not much on the second floor besides a communal area where people are in a circle smoking joints and a balcony right behind it where you can have a view of the entire campus town. bummed out by the lack of festivities, you head back downstairs to find someone to bother. you haven’t seen mark, giselle, and shotaro. maybe you should try your luck with one of them.

you find yourself lurking along the walls, hoping that you’ll find someone you recognise so you can say hello to them. the dance floor seems a lot less busy than before so you decide to tag in. maybe that mysterious stranger will come back to find you again.

“y/n?” that’s a voice you never want to hear for the rest of your life. you quickly spin around to see the man who led you on and broke your heart with a charming smile on his face.

there he is, standing before you with the same smile like what happened a couple of years back wasn’t a big deal. you’re not the best when it comes to processing your feelings and just shoved them deep down in hopes you’ll forget, but you never did. how could you forget some of the fondest memories you’ve made in your second year of university?

“song mingi.” you exhale through your lips, eyes wide as you take in his appearance. his hair is dark now, compared to the dyed blond he sported then. he’s wearing a shimmery purple button-up with his sleeves rolled to his elbows and the buttons undone halfway, showing off his physique. you swallow thickly. what do you even say to him?

“you look . . . you look really fucking amazing.” he chuckles through his nose. he gestures to the dancing bodies around you but you can’t find it in yourself to move, to tear your gaze away, to breathe. you’re caught in a spell cast by him years ago, reactivated by his mere presence. “can we dance?”

“i . . . mingi–“ you start to protest, but the words are stuck in the back of your throat as you look back at him all doe-eyed and naïve like you did back then.

“just one dance, please? i want to–“

in the blink of an eye, donghyuck’s scent overwhelms your senses. no longer do you see mingi but it’s donghyuck’s broad shoulders blocking most of your view. you don’t know how he managed to wedge himself so quickly between your bodies but he did, and you finally remember to let go of the breath you didn’t even realise you were holding.

“y/n doesn’t want anything to do with you.” his voice is stern and steady, half an octave deeper than how he usually speaks.

“hyuck . . .” your call for him falls on deaf ears.

“who are you–“

“it doesn’t matter. you’ve dealt your damage.” donghyuck takes the opportunity to grab your wrist gently yet firmly to drag you off of the dance floor. your heart starts to beat rapidly against your chest. “y/n, what were you thinking?” he chastises you as he continues leading you far away from the noise.

he’s speaking to you, probably scolding you for freezing up like that, but not a single one of his words registers in your brain. you’re staring—no, admiring—his appearance, the beauty marks on his face, his dishevelled hair, until you both stop at the end of the hallway on the second floor. at least you know you’ll have some privacy.

“y/n.” he sternly calls out your name and you dazedly snap to attention. “y/n, why have you been ignoring me? was it something i did? something i said?”

“no,” you frown, avoiding eye contact entirely. you start to feel antsy, fingers itching to toy with the hem of your leather skirt.

“then what is it? i don’t . . . i don’t want to stop being around you.” he sounds so dejected with his voice dying out, merely whispering the last part but you catch them as soon as the words leave his plump lips.

“it’s not . . . no.” you’re choking up, obviously at a loss for words. where do you even begin? “i . . . hyuck, you’re always on my goddamn mind.” you blurt out angrily, not even meaning to sound pissed off. but at that moment, you are. you’re burning from the neck up and your hands form fists at your sides. but you’re not angry at him—you’re angry at yourself.

“what?” he dumbly asks as he gapes at you.

#1: HE BROKE DOWN YOUR WALLS WITHOUT YOU EVEN REALISING IT

you hate him so fucking much.

you clench your jaw, grounding yourself before you continue. if you’re going to do this whole emotions thing, you’re going to do it your way. all of your feelings are climbing their way to the top, freeing themselves from the once-unbreakable confines as they race to the back of your throat. you look at him with pleading eyes to apologise quietly before you turn away.

“you . . . fuck, lee donghyuck. do you have any idea what you do to me? you . . . you’re so fucking annoying. you get under my skin. you make me wanna chuck a metal ball at your head half the time.” you start pacing back and forth, sometimes pausing to make eye contact with him before you’re back on your rant. “you’re so insufferable with your stupid comments—you always have something to say. always so fucking loud, always so– ugh!” you throw your hands up in the air in frustration.

“i-i’m sorry, i didn’t realise i was–“

“shut the fuck up.” you snap immediately, turning sharply to him with a pointed finger. there’s a pause and you realise just how livid you sound. you apologise to him softly and drop your hands to your sides. one quick glance at him and it literally breaks your heart. you were supposed to harbour your feelings so it wouldn’t put you both in a bad spot.

you sigh and run your fingers through your hair. so now you’ve done it. you’ve told him how irritating he can be, but you still haven’t told him the most crucial part yet. he’s been looking at you this whole time, waiting for you to continue and clinging on to every word you’ve said as if he’ll crash and fall if he doesn’t. you take a deep breath.

“despite all of that shit you somehow make me . . . fuck, you make me feel happy.” your voice cracks as you turn to look at him. your heart is trembling and so are your hands. “you . . . you make me laugh. you fucking– ugh, i feel safe around you. i can’t even be properly fucking mad at you. i don’t– do you know how fucking annoying that is? i hate you so goddamn much because you managed to tear through these walls i built without even me knowing it. you made your own space with me in my sanctuary and holy fucking shit, i hate you so much because i think i’m fucking in love with you.”

you said it.

“y/n.” he chuckles dryly and reaches his hand out to get your attention. you gnaw on your bottom lips, already stressing out over the word vomit. you desperately turn away and refuse to make eye contact with him. “y/n baby, look at me, please?”

every time he says your name, it’s like he’s holding the weight of a god’s name with it. he says it so softly and sweetly you want to break down and cry because nobody has ever said your name like that before. and the pet name? god, you’re melting but you don’t want to let go. you’re holding on to the last bits of control that you have.

donghyuck steps closer to you slowly like you’re a wild animal cornered by something foreign. he’s calm and calculated with his movements, calloused hand reaching to cup your cheek and you melt at the warmth of his touch, eyes fluttering as you let him guide your gaze to meet his.

“y/n, my angel,” he softly whispers. “i didn’t realise you already feel the same. if i’d known earlier, i wouldn’t have waited so long.” your brows furrow slightly, obviously confused.

“what?”

“i wasn’t sure you’d even look my way, i thought you were just indulging me like everyone else does. when renjun told me what happened between you and mingi, i swore to myself to never let any harm come to you, ever.” he takes a deep breath before continuing. “and fuck, i’m so happy that i make you happy like that. i just– fuck, y/n, you deserve to be happy. you deserve to be spoiled, you deserve to be loved, i can’t believe you closed yourself off because of one asshole. so please, please, i fucking beg—let me make you happy for as long as i can. let me love you for as long as i can. let me be your safe haven for as long as i can because i know i’ll fucking regret it if i don’t.”

“hyuck?” you whisper.

“yeah, baby?” god, you want to hear that every second of every single day for the rest of your life if you could. he notices your obvious reaction to it and he laughs quietly. “you like it when i call you baby?”

“fuck yeah, i do,” you nod. “kiss me.”

“thought you’d never ask.” he grins widely, dark eyes glimmering in pure ecstasy.

donghyuck’s left hand snakes down to your hip and pins you down to the nearest wall as soon as your lips meet. his are just as soft as you’d imagine them to be, the cool metal of his lip ring a stark contrast that sends an involuntary shiver up your spine. he’s gentle as he kisses you, savouring the liquor on your lips as you do his, eyes fluttering close as you wrap your hands around his neck to pull him closer to you.

a soft groan leaves his lips when you suckle on his bottom lip and his reaction causes heat to stir in your core. motivated by a hunger to get closer to him, one of your hands reaches down to loop and finger through his belt loop to pull his hips closer to yours. he instantly picks up what you’re putting down, pushing yours closer to his as he decides to crane your cheek to the side.

his lips leave yours and you whine quietly, already missing the mix of hot and cold, but it quickly turns into a sigh of pleasure when he starts searching for your weak spots along the canvas of your neck. within a heartbeat, he finds one of them and he nibbles and suckles on the spot the second he hears you sighing in pleasure again.

“hyuck . . .” you whimper his name and he growls into your hot skin. immediately you feel something poke against your thigh, which sets off fireworks in your rapidly beating heart and a rush of heat straight to your core.

“don’t say my name like that,” donghyuck warns, voice dropping an octave lower. “i won’t be able to control myself if you do, baby.” with the way he’s licking fat stripes and sinking his teeth into your skin to draw out the lewdest sounds from your mouth, you don’t want him to be tame.

you want him to lay his claim on you until the heavens bear both your sins.

your fingers run into his dark tresses, guiding him to the exact spot that’ll make your knees weak. he hums in approval when you roll your hips against his but he grunts when you moan out his name again. the grip he has on your hip tightens as if warning you even more as he continues to discover where to touch, tease, kiss, and bite until you’re putty in his hands.

“hyuck, please,” you whisper in his ear. you’re ready to tease him and push his buttons into getting what you want but he shuts you with a searing kiss, pushing you flat against the wall behind. the mixture of his hot lips and cold piercing sends your head into a tailspin as you moan into his mouth.

“you know exactly what you’re doing when you say my name like that, don’t you?” he brushes his thumb against your cheekbones fondly yet his sweet words betray the tint of condescension that laces his voice. you brazenly grin up at him. of course you know exactly what you’re doing.

donghyuck leads his thumb to your lips this time, tilting your chin up towards his face. he doesn’t hide the fact that his eyes are zeroed in on that feature of yours when you take his thumb past and into your mouth.

his gaze darkens as you generously suck on the digit, tongue swirling around it and pulling it in with every suck. the corners of your lips curl upward into a smirk knowing that he’s doing nothing to hide the boner straining in his pants. you don’t want to wait anymore; not when you can feel heat looking in your underwear until you have to press your thighs together to relieve the ache.

even when he’s entranced by you, he doesn’t let anything slide. the second he notices your plush thighs rubbing against each other, he pushes his knee between and bumps it against your core. you look up at him and he’s smirking lazily at you.

“does my baby need something from me?” you ought to melt right there caged within his arms from the way he purrs the pet name so lovingly into your ear.

“i want you.” to emphasise your statement, you grind yourself down against his knee and a timid moan falls from your lips. “i need you, hyuckie.”

“fuck, y/n,” he groans, dropping his head to your shoulder. both of his hands find purchase on your hips, guiding you as you grind against it, relishing in the friction against his pants. it feels good but it’s not enough—you need all of him. you want him to devour you until he’s coming back for more even after he’s had his fill.

“hyuck, i’m begging you,” you plead in desperation. “fuck me before i find mingi to do it.”

in an instant, you know you’ve pushed the right buttons to get him to act on his desires and throw caution into the wind. he grabs your wrist and immediately finds the nearest open bedroom. you follow dumbfoundedly with your lips parted, entranced with how he switched from being teasing to taking command. it’s kinda hot.

“you’re gonna regret ever saying that, baby.” he warns when he finds an unlocked door, flicking on the light switch. you don’t recognise the room but you’re not given the option to observe when he pulls you in and locks the door as he pins you against the wood, lips finding yours and uniting you both with a hot kiss.

you mewl into his mouth when he takes both your wrists and pins them above your head with one hand, the other pawing at you through your clothes. you had chosen to not wear a bra that night since the top gives enough support and you do not regret your decision at all when he finds your perked nipples to pinch them gently. the contact makes your jaw hang loose with a moan caught in the back of your throat as he slides his tongue in to taste the alcohol that you previously intoxicated yourself with.

your hips find a mind of their own, rolling into his to quietly beg for some friction where your pussy is throbbing for attention.

donghyuck lets go of your wrists so he can make quick work of your clothes, stripping you down until you’re left in nothing but your underwear while he remains fully dressed. his mouth detaches from you and before you can dare to complain, he wraps his lips around a pert bud so he can hear you moan for him. he smiles around your nipple, enjoying the symphony of sweet cries coming from you as he swirls his tongue while one hand takes the other between his thumb and index finger to tug and tease.

“hyuckie . . .” you sigh softly just as your fingers run through his dark tresses to gently pull at them, every little ministration doing nothing to help the ache between your legs. as if he knows that your cunt is feeling neglected, he dives his other hand into your underwear and hums in satisfaction at what he finds. he releases your breast with a wet pop, rising back up to find your lips for a sweet kiss.

“who are you so wet for, hm?” his fingers reach between your lips and you can hear how wet you are, blood rushing to your cheeks at the lewd sound. “is it mingi?” he cocks an eyebrow upward, practically spitting out your ex’s name with venom when he finds your throbbing clit and gently pinches it.

“n-no! fuck, no, never!” you squeal at the jolt of pain and pleasure sending a shockwave straight to your brain. you shake your head to let him know that it’s not mingi, wanting to let him know that it’ll only be him who makes you this wet, but your throat runs dry as soon as he sinks his middle finger in.

“no?” he echoes, slowly sliding his finger in and out of your cunt to watch you scrunch your face up in pleasure. “then who’s it for?”

your eyes flash open when he completely halts his movements. his eyes widen too but in faux surprise to mock you and god, you really want to choke him for that. you’re about to taste heaven but he’s purposely dragging it away from you.

“who’s it for, baby?”

“it’s for you, asshole.” you bite back and this time, he’s truly in shock with his eyebrows raising at your sudden outburst. when it finally registers in your brain what you had just called him, you gasp quietly, ready to apologise but the air gets knocked out of your lungs before you can.

donghyuck’s finger slips from your underwear, hands firm on your hips, and he spins you around to pin you down to the bed. from beneath him, you watch in a mix of trepidation and arousal as he rips the fabric apart with his bare hands. you had expected him to throw it over his shoulders but he pockets it in his pants instead.

“h-hyuck, i-i’m sorry, didn’t mean to–”

a gentle, wet smack against your clit shuts you up instantly. it’s another jolt of pleasure that makes heat rush to your core even more, the sensitive bundle of nerves begging for attention with a soft throb.

“since i’m an asshole,” he begins, licking his lips. your focus immediately zones in on his silver lip ring shining as he gets onto his knees. your gaze flits back to his and his eyes are fully blown with greed and a feral hunger reserved for you. knowing that you have him so worked up like this sends another kaleidoscope of butterflies fluttering in your stomach and they burn into little flames of lust that melt into your body. “you’re not cumming until i say that you can.”

he grabs the back of your thighs and dives into your cunt, thumbs pulling your pussy lips apart as he starts to lap at your juices like a man starved. trickles of electricity run up your spine as your fingers fall to his hair, grabbing onto whatever you can as you throw your head back in pure pleasure.

the heavy, wet muscle sharpens at the tip to flick at your clit while two fingers dip into your heat. your body burns, hips lifting off the bed only to be forcefully restrained again by his arms. he curls his fingers as he sets a steady pace to relish in the way your walls wrap around them, wondering just how good his cock will feel when he finally fucks your brains out. you’re not holding yourself back either, tugging at his hair and moaning his name with bits of apologies caught in between stammers but he pays no attention to you.

“fuck, hyuck, right there!” you gasp, clamping down around him when he hooks his digits and his fingertips brush against the spot that calls for your orgasm. he wraps his lips around your clit, suckling gently, and you can feel him smile when a high-pitched moan of his name falls from you. “shit, oh my god–”

he starts to thrust his fingers in and out of you at a rougher pace, making scissoring motions to stretch you out only for your walls to stubbornly tighten around him. a knot starts to form in your belly without warning and you’re now fearing what he’ll do when you’re going to cum. yet that fear turns you on even more, a high-pitched cry bouncing off the walls when he sucks on your clit stronger.

as much as you try to roll your hips into his face to feel him deeper, he pins you in place, not allowing you any movement and you tug at his hair in annoyance. your eyes fall down to look at him and you could instantly come undone from the view.

donghyuck already has his gaze fixed on you, watching your every expression and you melt underneath his hold with a meek mewl. he cocks an eyebrow upward at the same time he harshly suckles on your bud, drawing out a louder moan of pleasure from you. his lips let go of it, choosing to roll his tongue languidly while his fingers relentlessly tease your g-spot.

“h-hyuck, please, i’m sorry, i’m sorry!” you manage to cry out, the knot tightening and threatening to break free. “i’m gonna cum, please, i need to cum so bad, i’ll be good, i’m sorry!” tears prick the corners of your eyes and he rests the side of his face against the inside of your thigh, pouting in mock pity as he starts fucking his fingers deeper and faster into your cunt.

“aww, you’re gonna cum?” he coos, laughing when you nod desperately and clear drops tumble down your cheeks. he’s such an asshole. you want to take the reins and make him pay for it but all you can think of is how hot he is when he’s mocking you like this. it doesn’t stop your stomach from twisting, your walls from clenching around his digits, and your body aching for sweet release. “i dunno y/n, do you deserve it?”

“yes, fuck, i do, i promise!” your back arches when his fingertips rub directly against your g-spot, fingers slipping from his hair to grab at the sheets beneath you. “please, i’ll be so– i’ll be so good for you, hyuck, i only want you. nobody else, please!”

you’re doing your best to keep your orgasm at bay but he’s pushing you further to your edge to test just how far you can go with a mischievous grin on his face. you hear fabric getting pushed around but you can barely think of anything else when his fingers are toying with your cunt and clit. your orgasm creeps closer and closer, threatening to come apart on his fingers alone but you want to cum around his cock. you gnaw on your bottom lip in an ardent effort to control yourself but donghyuck had other plans for you.

he pulls his fingers from you and immediately shoves his cock into your awaiting cunt.

the stretch burns perfectly as you struggle to accommodate his size, cockhead hot and heavy as it generously kisses your g-spot. that was it. as soon as he sinks himself fully, you’re cumming around his cock with a piercing cry of his name, back arching into the air as your entire body trembles. it hits you like a rippling wave, goosebumps set alight along your arms as you form white rings around him.

“oh fuck, shit, oh my fucking– fuck, y/n, baby you’re so fucking tight.” a slew of profanities tumbles from his lips as he stays completely still, not wanting to hurt you but his thumb taps gently at your clit as he helps you through your orgasm. he waits for you to come down from your high, taking that moment to pull his tie-dye shirt over his head and toss it in a corner to be forgotten.

you pant heavily underneath him, eyes half-lidded as he leans down to pepper soft kisses all over your face. it’s a strange feeling to feel his hot lips against your own burning skin but the coolness of his lip ring manages to give you a small slice of relief. with his clean hand, he pushes away the locks of your hair that block his view of your face, chuckling to himself when you look up at him with pleading doe eyes. you finally have a taste of him and all it does is leave you wanting more.

“did my fingers feel that good, baby?” he hums against your forehead before kissing you. you nod dazedly in reply. your throat feels far too dry to be able to say anything so you do your best by swallowing your saliva. “don’t pass out just yet, pretty. we’ve barely started.”

you whine, throwing your head back from the teasing at the same time your walls clench around his cock from his words. you feel so full with him sheathed fully inside of you, tip kissing the bundle of nerves deep inside of you effortlessly that even the slightest movement can make you squirm beneath him.

“hyuck,” you sigh quietly. your hands reach up to cup his strikingly handsome face, watching closely as he leans into you to kiss you again. god, you’re never going to get tired of his lips on you. you gaze deep into his eyes when he pulls away for air, “make me yours. i want all of you.”

“i’m gonna make sure everyone knows you’re mine, baby.” it’s a promise that you know he intends to keep when his lips meet yours once more, hips slowly rolling up against yours. you moan into his mouth, eyelids fluttering shut and you wrap your legs around his torso to pull him closer. he starts to slowly withdraw his cock from your cunt and begin at a slow and steady pace, being mindful of the fact that you had just come down from your first high of the night. “god, i didn’t think you’d feel this fucking tight. you’re so much better than what i’d imagined.”

“you touched yourself to me?” what leaves your throat is a mix of a gasp and a moan, walls stubbornly clenching around him when he pushes himself back into you.

“how could i not?” donghyuck scoffs through his nose. one of his hands snakes between both your bodies as he languidly thrusts in and out, rolling your clit underneath his thumb so your slick will lubricate his cock as if you’re not already soaking wet for him. “you’re the person of my fucking dreams. remember that shirt of mine you stole recently, baby? yeah? i came so hard when i fucked my fist wishing it was your tight little pussy.”

you whine at his words, images of him touching himself in his room to the thought of you appearing in your mind so clearly that your walls clamp around him. he starts to speed up while he searches for the right angle that’ll make you scream your lungs out for him.

“yeah? y’like that, baby? love the way that i touch myself to you like a damn pervert?” he punctuates the last word with a particularly harsh thrust upwards into your pussy and you gasp for air, eyes rolling back and toes curling in. “right there?”

“fuck, yes!”

he throws one of your knees over his shoulders and steadies himself at a comfortable position. he withdraws his cock from you until his cockhead is barely wrapped by your twitching hole before he starts to fuck into you. his name is ripped from your throat as he sets a brutal pace, hips pistoning in and out mercilessly, tufts of trimmed hair rubbing against your clit. you’re still sensitive from your previous orgasm and you know it’s not going to take too much for you to cum again.

beads of sweat drip down from his hairline, sliding down to his chiselled cheekbone to fall onto the sheets beneath you. you feel every thrust deep in your stomach, getting absolutely drunk on the feeling of his cock filling you up and stretching your walls beyond comprehension. every harsh thrust and drag of his cock in and out of your cunt sends you closer and closer to the edge as tears spring from the corners of your eyes.

“does my cock feel that good, baby?” donghyuck croons sweetly.

“yeah, s’fucking good,” you slur dazedly and hope that it makes even an iota of sense to him.

“mingi won’t ever be able to fuck you like this.” he growls and suddenly his thrusts are getting rougher. you guess that it’s motivating him further to plough into you, bed creaking with every light bounce of your body underneath him. “nah. he’s never gonna make you scream like i do. he’s never gonna treat you half as well as i do, isn’t that right, pretty baby?”

tears flow down your hot cheeks, blurring your vision but you can see how his teeth toy with his lip ring, equally agitated and pissed that you’d been treated badly. you mewl his name weakly to try and snap him out of it but he doesn’t hear it at all. instead, he readjusts your position.

donghyuck presses both your knees to your chest with his hands, mounting the bed and achieving a higher angle. you look up at him, anticipating his next move. all he does is give you a sweet kiss on the forehead and a playful smirk before he’s snapping his hips against yours again. the new position allows him to reach deeper than he previously did as he looms over you with a satisfied grin on his face, watching you writhe underneath him from the pleasure that overwhelms you.

“nobody’s gonna fuck you like i do.” he wraps his fingers around your throat and presses down at the right spots to restrict your airflow. your head falls back as it only emphasises how every touch lights your body on fire, every rough thrust rendering you speechless and all you can do is gasp and moan and whine for him. “yeah? am i fucking my pretty baby so good they can’t even speak?”

you try to say his name but all that comes out is a croak that barely resembles it. when he releases your throat, you almost whine out at the loss but you’re not given the chance. his hand snakes between your connected bodies to roll your clit under his thumb, eager to encourage your orgasm.

“you look so pretty when you’re all fucked out, baby,” he coos sweetly. the combination of his cock drilling into you mercilessly and fingers working to toy with your sensitive bud sends your head into a tailspin. a familiar knot forms in your lower belly once more and you can tell he’s chasing his own orgasm. all that fills your mind is how good his cock feels deep inside of you and how you want him to fill you up til you’re leaking. “so, so damn pretty. an absolute angel looking like this underneath me, i could fuck you all day and all night now that i have you. i’ll make sure everyone knows you’re mine and i’m yours, i’ll make sure any person who even thinks inappropriate things about you, i’ll fuck you right in front of them to make it clear that you’re not up for grabs.”

his words sink into your skin and you melt but your walls flutter around him which makes him laugh dryly.

“fuck, you’re so naughty. you clenched around me when i said i’d fuck you in front of others.” you whine, head tipping back as your orgasm creeps closer. “you’d like that, wouldn’t you? should’ve known you’re a nasty whore but that’s okay—i know you’re only a whore for my cock, angel.”

“‘m gonna cum, hyuckie!” you gasp, back arching as the knot tightens further.

“yeah? i’m close, too.” he pants hotly from above. “go on and cum around my cock, baby. make a mess for me, yeah? prove to me that i’m all yours.” the pet name is all that you need to come undone.

this orgasm hits you harder than the last, hot white spreading all over your body as your shoulders stiffen up. his thrusts are getting sloppier as he chases after his own high, cussing and whispering your name between grunts and groans.

“shit, i’m gonna cum–”

“inside!” you quickly capture his attention. his lips part but you continue before he can speak. “cum inside, i want to feel all of you, hyuckie.” with the gentle rasp in your voice and the pleading look on your face, he curses and a high-pitched moan is caught in the back of his throat as he spills his hot seed inside of you. his hips stammer and come to a still, groaning your name with his lids squeezed shut.

“fuck . . .” he gasps and wraps your legs around his waist so he can lean forward. your trembling hands reach up to cup his face, smiling fondly as you bring him in for a sweet, chaste kiss. “why’d it take us this long?”

“i wanna blame my emotional constipation,” you joke lightly and he laughs through his nose.

“it’s one of my favourite qualities about you.” donghyuck nuzzles his nose against yours, stealing yet another kiss from you. “do you know whose room we just fucked in?”

you blink blearily and look around as you tug him down so you can both cuddle for a bit. he follows your lead and slowly pulls out but quickly panics when his cum starts leaking out.

“oh fuck, i shouldn’t have ripped your undies for souvenir–” your realisation dawns upon you like a bucket of cold water when you finally recognise whose room this is. you start to smack his arm repeatedly while you hurriedly try to get onto your wobbly feet. “baby, what’s the rush?” he quickly catches you when you almost fall, failing to see what’s causing your state of alarm.

“we’re in ning’s room!”

“oh, shit.”

thank you for reading the first installation of the series BEFORE THE LAST FLOWER BLOOMS. if you enjoyed it, i would love to hear your thoughts in reblogs, comments, and / or chat about it in my ask box! check out my other works or the bonus piece while you wait for the next installation, I KINDA WANNA BE YOURS.

#lee donghyuck smut #haechan smut #nct dream smut #nct smut #hua writes #h.dream #h.donghyuck #h.smut #h.fluff #╭ ❝ series ❞ / before the last flower blooms

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bbangtans · 2 months

Text

daybreak | jjk | oneshot teaser

Jungkook smiled gently, wiping away a tear with his thumb which you didn’t even feel form as it fell down your cheek. “Don’t worry.”

You pulled back, surprising the man who towered over you. You held his confused face in your hands and smiled. “Me, too. I hope you know that.”

“I do now…” He whispered as though louder words could break the moment before placing a chaste kiss on one of the hands that cupped his face.

“Now what?” Your hands fell from his face and rested on his chest.

Jungkook sighed in contemplation as he peered past you into the blossoming orange horizon before recentering his eyes on you and grin losing its warmth and being replaced with sadness. “Good morning, I guess.”

The gravity of the situation settled upon you both silently.

“None of that dramatic ‘goodbye’ shit in the morning!” You tipsily pointed at Jungkook with your beer who only laughed at your theatrics as some foam spilled.

Between chuckles, Jungkook was barely able to let out. “Okay, then what do we say at the end? When it’s morning?”

“Okay, we’ll bid each other ‘good morning’ when dawn comes then we go on with the rest of our lives. No sad stuff.”

“Promise?”

“Yeah, I promise.”

“Good morning, Jungkook.” No matter how dazzling your smile was, Jungkook could never be distracted from the tears that lined your gorgeous eyes.

No physical closeness could ever combat the weight of what daybreak meant for you both.

#jungkook #bbangtans ff #bts fanfic #bbangtans jk ff #bts #bts x reader #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #bts x y/n

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koqabear · 6 months

Text

Like Cat and Mouse!

☆ Playlist! ☆

"You seemed to have garnered quite the reputation for you on campus— one that had the word “trouble” following you like a shadow. But when you give Beomgyu an offer he couldn’t possibly turn down in exchange for helping you get your grades back up, how could he refuse? You can’t possibly be that hard to handle, right?"

Beomgyu x fem!reader, ft. Hueningkai

Genre: college au, slowburn (kinda..?), tutor!gyu x rich girl!mc, fluff, angst, smut

Word count: 37.1K

Warnings: mc is a bitch, and maybe a bimbo? gyu wears glasses, and he’s like super super shy, mc gets sick for a scene, she rambles but its part of her character ok!, toxic relationships, pining/unrequited love, Yunjin is so fake here im sorry Yunjin, mentions of alcohol/drinking, the puppy gyu agenda is fucking strong here !!!

Smut warnings: multiple smut scenes first of all, fwb!huening, dom!hyuka, switch!mc, sub!gyu, (the worst case of sub gyu yet), virgin!gyu, breast play, dry humping, biting, pet names (f rec: princess, m rec: puppy, good boy, baby, slut, etc.) mentions of bondage (f. rec.), spanking (f. rec.), degrading, praise, praise kink, finger sucking, oral (f. & m rec.), handjobs, mouth fucking, cum eating (?), explicit, verbal consent is not stated in two scenes but both parties are willing! Semi-public sex, overstimulation, slight thigh riding, marking, hair pulling (m. rec. lol), begging, unprotected sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, cockwarming

notes: i don't even know what to say... there's really no reason for this to be so long, how did we get here. i hide my face in shame.

It all starts as an accident— a very inconvenient accident.

Really, it wasn’t your fault; how were you supposed to keep up with these endless assignments that only seemed to get worse as time went on? You had better things to do with your life— studying is way too much of a headache for you these days.

Instead, your days have been filled along the lines of parties and trips your friends hold, gaining connections with people that always help things go next level; Empty vacation homes, yachts, even a private jet once— you were lucky enough to land a friendship with these type of people, the thought of taking things slow and worrying more about your education not crossing your mind anymore once you got a taste of the fast life.

Which is exactly how you got where you are now.

“There goes your man,” Yunjin’s elbow is sharp against your side as she whispers teasingly, the jab only making your frown deepen as you weakly attempt to shake her off.

“Shut up.” That’s all you can manage as you go to lay your head down on the dining hall table, your appetite long gone as your head swims and your stomach twists with nausea; her single jab is enough to remind your body of its terrible shape, your eyes shutting tightly as you fight through the urge to hurl then and there.

You’re not even sure of what she might mean— you don’t remember telling her about any recent hookups— hell, you don’t even remember gawking at anyone in your vicinity; so for her to be teasing you about this “man” of yours was strange, a pout forming on your lips as you try to focus on the cool feeling of the wood beneath your skin.

“I gotta go,” Yunjin says abruptly, your eyes opening to send her a confused look. All she can do is give you an eager smile, patting your head as she grabs her now empty coffee cup from the table. “Your man is coming this way.”

Before you can ask her what man she could possibly be talking about, she’s off, not bothering to look back as she sends you a little wave over her shoulder, perfectly manicured nails glittering under the sunlight that shines through the windows.

The seat in front of yours is quickly filled.

“You weren’t at our study session yesterday.”

Jesus.

There’s not much you can say to that, clearly guilty as you choose to press your forehead against the cool table in response. Maybe, if you close your eyes, he’ll disappear— if only it were that easy. But instead, you’re stuck with Choi Beomgyu and the warm scent of coffee that follows him— god knows how many cups he drank as a substitution for sleep. Your lashes flutter against the table as you attempt to drown out his whines, surprised that he hasn't taken your unresponsiveness as a hint to go away.

“Have you ever gone to Paris?” You ask, the sentence flying from your mouth and interrupting his rambles. It’s enough to shut him up, sitting up as you plant your hands firmly on the table in a weak attempt to not lay your head back down.

“No, I haven’t.”

His response is typical— you didn’t care whether or not he would say yes, leaning into the table as you stare into his eyes; it’s clear he’s flustered by the action, leaning back in reciprocation as his pupils land everywhere but on you.

“If you had the chance to go to Paris right now, would you?” It takes a moment before Beomgyu nods his head hesitantly, mouth opening as he prepares a new line of questioning for you. But you’re quick to cut him off again, clapping your hands in satisfaction as you stand up— his eyes follow your every movement, face resembling a lost puppy as he watches the way you get ready to leave.

“Exactly; Paris really is beautiful by the way, definitely recommend going. So you can’t blame me for ditching our study session yesterday, can you?” Tilting your head, you watch the puzzles connect in his mind. “We can always make it up or whatever, not that big of a deal.”

Turning around, you don’t bother saying goodbye to Beomgyu; your only thoughts center on your beautiful, comfy bed and how you’ll spend the rest of your day in it. You can hear him calling out to you, the sound of a chair scraping against tile catching your attention as you force yourself to walk faster.

“We have class in fifteen minutes— where are you going?!”

He’s gaining up on you. You don’t care if you have to sprint out of the building, but the last thing you’ll do is get stuck in another of Beomgyu’s self-righteous rambles as you curse wildly under your breath.

“Home— I’m sick!”

Carelessly, the exit door is slammed on Beomgyu’s face— by accident, of course. Glancing back, you’re able to catch a glimpse of his pathetic puppy face, clearly discouraged from trying to continue chasing after you.

Normally, one would be compelled to feel guilty— but the day is simply too nice, the weather so perfect as a spring wind brushes past your skin; the sun that slightly worsens your headache truly doesn’t seem that bad anymore.

A perfect day to drive around and shop, in your humble opinion.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

This new purse would be divine in your collection.

The luxury bag in your hands is sleek and smooth as your fingertips glaze over the details, entranced by its chic beauty as you let your thoughts wander— formal events, birthday dinners, oh, the places you could take it…

The price tag is no joke— it has you counting numbers in your head, pondering just how much of your monthly allowance you have left; if you buy it now, you’ll have to say goodbye to the girls’ trip at Yunjin’s beach house in Cancun…

Treat yourself, a tiny voice whispers in your mind, you can always beg your parents for more money.

The devil on your shoulder is compelling— it warps your vision, a pout forming on your face as it practically forces your eyes to see the item in a heavenly light; the last item in that specific collection, and it’s right at your disposal, only a card swipe away…

“Pretty bag,” your little devil hums, “It would look nice with that little black dress you’re always looking for an excuse to wear.”

His hand is delicate and teasing on your shoulder, his hold on you tight as he pulls you into him protectively. You’re not as surprised as you should be as you look up at Hueningkai, pouting face innocently looking up at him as you shake your head in distress.

“I shouldn’t. I’m supposed to go with Yunjin to Cancun during spring break,” you whine, petulant as always as you refuse his reasoning— yet also refuse to let go of the bag and walk away.

Anyone who knows you knows how you get about accessories— how obsessive you become with collecting them, your closet always filled to the brim as your need to buy becomes a borderline addiction.

Maybe that’s why Hueningkai finds your dilemma so amusing, deft fingers snatching the purse from your hands and walking away wordlessly, leaving you to trot behind him as you continue to rant and stall, lingering by his side as a new item catches your eye; you inspect it curiously while the words uncontrollably fly out of your mouth.

“I mean it’s not like I don’t have enough money, cause I could always ask my parents for more— and they’d gladly give it to me— but I always feel so horrible to ask for more, especially now that I’m supposed to be getting more independent, even though they always talk about spoiling me because I’m their only daughter, but still, I really want it but if I buy it I’ll have to ask them for more money, and it’s not even a big deal but it feels—“

“Oh my god, okay!” It seems you were too distracted by the tweed Chanel bag in your hands to anticipate the shopping bag that Hueningkai thrusts into your hands, exasperated at your ramblings as he swiftly manages to shut you up.

You’re left speechless, sorting through the filling paper dumbly as you’re greeted with the same bag that Hueningkai snatched from you— your sparkly eyes look up at him in awe, unsure of what to say as he simply smiles at your reaction.

“Huening…” you pout, clutching the bag to your chest with one hand as you slap his chest with the other— his very firm, strong chest… “you shouldn’t have.”

He’s quick to wrap an arm around your waist, pulling you into him and guiding you out of the store as he leans into you; you can smell his cologne so perfectly, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers softly into it.

“It’s okay,” he smiles, endeared by the way your eyes shine with anticipation to his words, “I know of a few ways you can make it up to me.”

There’s no need to call your driver— Hueningkai knows the way to your apartment like the back of his hand, one relaxed at the steering wheel while the other plays with the hem of those skirts you always like to wear.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

“You’re such a tease,” Hueningkai’s lips are plump and bitten at as you smile against them, his hands never straying from your ass as he grasps at it, enjoying the way you grind against him expertly.

“Just wanna make you feel good,” you pant, the warm feeling of his hands on your tight-clad thighs making you whine, your pussy slotted perfectly against him as you feel the way he grows harder underneath you.

“You’re always so good to me…” you trail off the moment his lips begin to wander down your neck, attempting to pull off your thin sweater as his hands immediately find themselves on your breasts. He can only let out a breathy laugh at your words, his teeth sinking in the plump flesh softly before his fingers are working your bra off.

“Always buying you your favorite things?” He rasps, groaning softly at the sight of your breasts, fingers playing with your nipples as he looks up at you teasingly, “my princess will do anything for a pretty purse, hmm?”

Frantically, you nod, his hips bucking into you as you feel the way his cock presses against you effortlessly; he’s as eager as you are, warm tongue on your skin making your thoughts run wild as you imagine what it would feel like to have him pressed against your cunt, helpless to your needs as your fingers card through his hair.

“Come on pretty girl, show me how grateful you are,” your thoughts are immediately dispelled as Hueningkai pushes you off, a gentle hand pushing away your hair before he’s guiding you down to your knees; his favorite sight, your doe eyes fluttering at him innocently as your hands make quick work of his belt. He can’t help but groan at the sight before him, lip caught in his teeth as he silently wishes for you to hurry.

Hueningkai takes the belt from your hands, placing it to the side as he smiles down at you coyly— you can feel your stomach flip in anticipation, your mind going back to the many memories of your face pressed into the mattress as your bound hands desperately begged to touch him. Your fingers are delicate as they pull down his zipper— he’s become impatient, lips parting as he gets ready to make a witty comment.

His thoughts are interrupted by a persistent ringing of your doorbell.

He’s devastated as he flops back into your mattress— a loud groan escapes him, brows furrowing as he grows irritated at the ringing that echoes throughout your apartment.

“Jesus, what the fuck is their problem?” He complains, running a hand through his hair before he sits back up; he’s smiling fondly at you as he caresses your cheek, sighing softly as he nods his head towards the door, “go see who it is, won’t you princess? Make it quick.”

The look that you two share is nothing but mischievous, his lips connecting with yours in a chaste kiss as he helps you up; he’s tugging your sweater roughly over your chest, straightening your skirt before he’s sending you off— not without one last feel of you, the stinging sensation that lingers on your ass making you yelp as you send him a playful glare— he can only send you a sly look in return.

This better be important, you can’t help but think, sighing heavily as another three persistent rings of your doorbell echo throughout— you groan, rolling your eyes as you swing the door open wildly.

You can’t say you’re surprised as Beomgyu stares back at you in shock, his wide eyes blinking rapidly as he takes you in.

“What.” Your tone is unwelcoming as you lean against your doorframe, arms crossing to cover your chest as you raise a brow at him in anticipation— he stutters uselessly, pushing up his glasses as his eyes fly about your apartment wildly— refusing to look at you for more than a second.

“You didn’t answer my messages,” or calls, he whispers weakly, tugging at the hem of his sweater as he stares down at his dirtied shoes, his other arm hidden behind his back. He clears his throat, gulping as he looks into your eyes, pushing past the annoyed look that greets him as he continues, “You didn’t look well this morning, so I wanted to check up on you.”

You’re not sure what to say as Beomgyu whips out what was hidden behind his back—you’re leaning back as you stare at the cute, floral lunch bag that Beomgyu thrusts into your face, hesitantly taking it as you look back at Beomgyu in confusion; it feels warm in your arms.

“It’s soup.” He says, his ears reddening as he takes in the bewildered way you’re staring at him, “It’s my mom's recipe, it’s— it’s really good.”

“Yeah? We’ll be the judge of that,” Hueningkai has snuck up behind you as he wraps an arm around your waist, effectively pushing you back against him— you can feel how hard he is against the swell of your ass, eyes widening as you get what he’s hinting at, impatient fingers digging into your skin softly.

Beomgyu seems just as surprised as you are at Hueningkai’s appearance, if not more. It becomes your turn to become embarrassed as you look over your shoulder to meet Hueningkai’s smug smile, his eyes glistening with curiosity as he looks back at Beomgyu, tilting his head as he frowns.

“Who are you anyway?”

Beomgyu seems quite offended by his statement, looking at you in shock. You’re scrambling to cut Hueningkai off, letting out a soft laugh as you place a firm hand on his chest— the last thing you need is for Hueningkai to drive away one of the few people that would be willing to tutor you.

“He’s just helping me out in some classes, that’s all,” you say, placing the lunch bag in his hands before you’re shooing him away, “Put this on the kitchen counter— I’ll see you in a bit.”

Beomgyu doesn’t miss the look the two of you share— if anything, it makes his stomach twist in embarrassment, wanting to do nothing more than turn around and pretend as though he hadn’t interrupted you while you were— whatever it was. Hueningkai is cheery as he walks back into your apartment, not bothering to spare Beomgyu another glance as he disappears from your sight; your clearing throat is what gets Beomgyu’s mind back on track.

“Right. Well,” you say, smiling awkwardly as you reach out for the door, “I’m feeling better. Thanks though!”

Beomgyu is unable to get out another word as you’re closing the door on him, sneaking in a last comment as you cheerily yell “tell your mom I said thank you!” Uncaring of his reaction as the door shuts in his face; he suddenly thinks back to this morning, shuddering at the memory of him having to walk back to the other exit of the dining hall, towards the building his classes were in— your shared class, specifically— forced to ignore the strange looks everyone gave him as he stared straight at the ground.

“Isn’t he younger than us? Why was he talking to me like that,” he quietly pouts, his protests left unheard as he’s forced to walk back home, eyes glued to the sidewalk in dismay— the feeling is dreadfully familiar.

“Well that’s sad,” Hueningkai remarks, peeking through your blinds as he watches Beomgyu’s figure grow smaller, “Are you actually gonna eat that?”

His eyes flick back to the lunch bag that sits innocently at your counter—you simply shrug, feeling oddly protective of the item as you tuck it behind you, leaning against the counter as you sigh softly.

“His mom made it, I’d feel bad if I didn’t,” you say, biting at your lips as you watch the way Hueningkai laughs in disbelief. You feel a bit bad as you think back to the way you turned him away, his expression pitiful and sad as you slammed the door on his face for the second time today. Yet you don’t get much time to think about it as Hueningkai begins to approach you, hands effortlessly finding themselves on your waist as your head tilts to meet his lips in a sweet, slow kiss.

“Can’t believe he interrupted us for so long,” you feel him smile against your lips as he presses you back against the counter, ready to hike your skirt up as his other hand is eagerly wrapping your leg around his waist, “will you make it up to me?”

Beomgyu disappears from your mind like smoke— the smile against your lips is contagious, your hand gently pressing against his chest as you roll your hips teasingly into his, a broken moan falling from both your lips.

“Of course.“

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

The rest of the day is quite underwhelming.

You’ve been left with a good fuck and a nice purse, but as you lay in your bed, you can’t help but notice the way your headache never really left— it’s been nothing but a dull ache until now, the pain persistent and growing as you sigh in exasperation; none of your usual remedies have worked for you so far.

Your body feels hot and weak, yet you’re left shivering as the blankets keep endlessly stacking on top of you. Not even your weighted blanket can lull you to sleep, your figure restless as you toss and turn in your bed, your phone buried in your puzzle of fabric. You’re in nothing but pain— you hate feeling like this, and the sudden grumbling of your stomach truly isn’t helping either.

Left with no other options, you trudge to the kitchen, opening your fridge as you mentally brace yourself— it’s been a while since you’ve shopped for groceries; there’s not much in there that you could eat quickly, and you can’t find any energy within you to cook.

The cool fridge door is welcoming against your skin— yet it’s also bothersome as you begin to shiver at the cold, closing the fridge quickly as you frown to yourself; whatever your body has come down with, it sure is annoying. Taking a moment to think, you suddenly find your eyes gravitating to a certain item; ergo, the floral lunch bag that remains untouched on your counter.

It hasn’t been that long— an hour or two, at most. Whatever Beomgyu gave you couldn’t have spoiled by now, right?

It’s soup, you recall him saying, biting your lip as you take the lunch bag to your small table, my mom's recipe.

Unpacking the contents, you hum in surprise— yeah, this looks like a mothers cooking. The Tupperware he’s provided you with is filled to the brim with a nice broth that is still warm to the touch, a side of rice and vegetables also packed inside for you; you’re unable to stop a small awe from escaping you as you take out a small container of tea that has been stored inside for you as well, surprised at how much Beomgyu’s mother packed for you.

Does she think we’re friends? Is this her way of making me stick with him? You wonder, biting at your lip as you hold back a laugh at the thought— a poor momma’s boy, struggling to make friends as his mother attempts to subtly help him.

It’s no secret that Beomgyu was a bit of a loner— that’s why you reached out to him in the first place. You knew he wouldn’t be able to refuse you, because he couldn’t even give you the excuse that he had no time; that, and the hefty sum you gave him in exchange for tutoring someone as difficult as you.

To a degree, you were self-aware— but it only came after the fifth person rejected your offer, saying that you probably wouldn’t even commit once you started. No matter how pissed you were when you were first told that, you were unable to disagree; unfortunately, it also sparked a deep spiraling of self-reflection as your new self-awareness brought you to Beomgyu; by then you were so desperate and ashamed that Beomgyu probably only accepted because he felt bad.

Tutoring with Beomgyu had its benefits; he was nice, and quite the pushover as well. He never protested too much when you canceled on him, and the most you ever got from being annoying was a long scolding or an exasperated sigh from him— plus, now it seems that free food has been thrown into the mix.

Settling down at the table, you found yourself oddly restless as you went to fetch a small blanket from your bed— it was only then that you were able to find your phone, gasping as it landed roughly on the floor. Going back to the kitchen, you were now able to make yourself comfortable, sitting at your table as you took off the lids of everything that was packed for you— even the tea was still nice and warm in its thermos, everything packed with such care and attention to detail that you couldn’t help but take a picture of it.

It was delicious as well; the soup was comforting and not too overwhelming on your senses as you mixed in bites of the white rice, fluffy and cooked to perfection as you melted in your seat with every spoonful. The vegetables were steamed and well seasoned; you practically squealed from happiness as you ate, not used to having such a big meal cooked by someone else these days.

It filled you up quickly— the ginger tea was soothing against your throat, the taste of honey and lime mixed in leaving you warm and fuzzy as you tiredly trudged to bed; you’d have to beg Beomgyu to invite you to his mother’s house later.

Maybe it did work, you briefly think to yourself, your mind quickly emptying as you make yourself comfortable in your bed, that only made me want to talk to Beomgyu more— maybe it wouldn’t be too bad being his friend.

A soft laugh escapes you at the thought— your eyelids feel heavy as you struggle to stay awake, eager to sleep through this brief sickness that threatens to overtake you. After this, you’re sure it’ll be an easy recovery.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

You think you’re dying.

You’re hot and sweaty as you kick away your blankets for the umpteenth time, irritated as your body quickly begins to shiver instead. You’re only able to sleep for a few hours at a time, on the verge of tears as the clock on your bedside table reads nine pm— you’re unsure of what to do, already taking medication a few hours ago that seemed to do nothing. Your body is burning up as you toss and turn a bit more, dreading the new train of thought that enters your mind.

Maybe you should call someone.

Maybe they’ll know what to do, you think, holding back nausea that threatens to knock you out as you slowly sit up; scrolling through your contacts, you hesitantly press call to the first person you could think of.

It rings once— then again, then a few times more before it goes straight to voicemail.

“Hey, you’ve reached Yunjin’s voicemail. Please leave a messa—“ you sigh as you hang up, attempting to call a few times more before you give up entirely.

She’s probably at a party. Or with some boy.

Scrolling through your contacts, you choose your next person carefully— you’re sure they’re not busy right now, they’ve never been one to go to parties as often—

Ning Ning’s phone goes straight to voicemail as well.

Groaning, you lay back as you feel your head pounding, your mind racing as you attempt to go through a mental checklist of who you could call— but all you can conclude is that they’re busy, wouldn’t want to help, or you’re simply not that close to them.

“What the hell,” you mumble, pressing your face against your pillow as you sniffle softly— your headache has become unbearable, and you’ve always been a big crybaby whenever you got sick.

“Do I not have any friends?” You ponder, your stomach sinking at the thought— there’s no way! If anything, your phone was always on silent from the number of notifications you got in a day; you always knew at least ten people when you walked in a room, the elite definition of a social butterfly— the last thing you would consider yourself is friendless.

Maybe it’s just an unlucky time, you think, playing Russian roulette with your contacts as your finger presses on a random one; Hueningkai <;3 glares back at you in bright letters, your eyes narrowing as you consider calling— he’s always been one to spoil you, so it wouldn’t be too far-fetched for him to help you this once, right?

You’re nervous as the phone rings out into your room, your fingers tapping on your bed impatiently as you wait for him to pick up— just when you think he won’t, his voice greets your ears like a miracle.

“Hey baby, what’s up?” His voice is a bit rough as he speaks, his speech slow and relaxed as your eyes narrow at the sound; he’s probably high again.

“Hueningkai,” you cry out softly, unable to help the way you become emotional in your state— your voice is muffled, your face buried in your pillow as the pain becomes far too overwhelming.

“Are you okay? What’s wrong?” His voice has become more alert at the sound of your sniffling, the sounds of rustling from his side making you wince, your hand going to lower the volume of your phone.

“Dunno. I’m sick,” you say, flipping over onto your back as you stare up at the ceiling— you feel tired, yet you’re unable to get comfortable enough to sleep. You hear more rustling on the other side of the phone— Hueningkai sighs, mumbling something to himself before he clears his throat.

“Why don’t you go to the doctor, hmm?” You frown at his words, shaking your head at the thought— you weren’t really expecting this outcome.

“I— I can’t really get up, I feel dizzy…” you confess sheepishly, the realization that you truly don’t have enough energy to even stand for too long weighing down on you, “I was wondering if you could come over?”

“Come over?” Hueningkai echoes, humming softly at the thought— it’s silent, the tension leaving you biting at your lips as you wait for him to respond.

“Listen, uhm,” you sigh softly at his words, closing your eyes as you attempt to ignore the way your stomach dips with disappointment, “I’m kinda busy right now. But if you want, you can call me tomorrow and I can take you to the doctor, ‘kay?”

Attempting to swallow down your disappointment, you nod, a moment of silence passing before you realize that he can’t even see you.

“Yeah. Okay.” There’s a lump in your throat as you speak, and you can’t help but feel the way your body heats up as the line falls silent; from embarrassment, this time. It’s awkward, but you can’t bring yourself to care as Hueningkai mumbles a soft “okay then. Goodnight,” the sound of him hanging up the last thing you hear before you’re shrouded in complete silence, the darkness of your room threatening to swallow you whole.

The sound of your stomach growling angrily is the only thing that breaks the silence.

A frustrated groan tears through you— you’re oddly emotional as you force yourself to sit up, pausing as you attempt to maintain balance; your head is spinning, and you’re beginning to realize how long it’s been since you last ate. The floor is cold under your feet as you trudge to the kitchen; you can’t bring yourself to turn on the lights, your slippers lost somewhere in your room as you feel a shiver wrack through your body.

What will you do? Your fridge is practically empty and takeout doesn’t sound too appealing to you; you can feel tears well up in your eyes once more, a pout forming on your face as you slump down on a chair in defeat. Sighing, you think back to earlier— the homemade food Beomgyu brought to you, so soothing and filling it almost reminded you of the meals your cook back at home would make for you— maybe you could call your driver to take you home for a bit.

It’s hours away and he’s probably off right now, you frown, checking the time on your phone just in case— 9:45— yeah, he’s definitely home by now. Of course, nothing is stopping you from calling him and telling him it’s an emergency, but then you’d feel far too guilty about ripping him away from his family just for you.

He spends enough time at our home as it is, you think, placing your phone on the table as you go to massage your temples weakly. You need to eat something— maybe you’ll get some energy from it. But, picky as always, you can’t seem to find anything that sounds appealing to you; even the restaurant you frequently eat at doesn't seem to be doing anything for you, your mind inevitably going back to the one thing you were avoiding.

Hesitantly, you pick up your phone— you can’t believe you’re actually going to try this, you think, biting at your lip before you finally press call; then again, this isn’t entirely out of character for you.

A lonely college student that doesn’t have many friends— if anything, he’s probably up studying right now, you think, frowning as you press your phone firmly to your ear, and if he was willing to check up on me, he should be willing to do this small thing for me too.

“Hello?” The relief that floods through you is surprising; you’re becoming lax against your seat as the sound of Beomgyu’s uncertain voice meets your ears— his voice is gruff and soft as he speaks, unsure of whether or not you called him on purpose.

“Choi Beomgyu,” you whine, already feeling yourself becoming unnecessarily emotional as you allow yourself to rant to him, “I’m sick. Can you do me a small favor?”

On his end, Beomgyu is oddly surprised— why would you go to him of all people? He’s a bit weary as he listens to you carefully, thinking back to the way you were able to shut him out effortlessly; if anything, he must’ve been your last resort.

“What is it?”

You’re unable to hold back the sigh of relief that escapes you— a smile graces your lips, and for the first time during this miserable experience, you don’t feel helpless.

“Okay, hear me out please,” you start, sitting up as you clear your throat; unbeknownst to Beomgyu, you’re about to begin one of your infamous ramblings.

“I know you might be busy studying or whatever, but I promise I’ll be quick. So, you remember the food you gave me earlier? I actually ate it, and it was really good! Your mom is a good cook, but then again, I’m pretty sure all moms are pretty good cooks. But like, I’m gonna be honest with you, I forgot to get groceries earlier this week, so I don’t really have much to eat— I could go order takeout or something but the thought of eating something greasy right now makes me wanna puke. I was thinking that since you probably don’t go out that much your mom might have given you extra servings of that soup, and I know it sounds really entitled and a bit bitchy but do you think you could please please please drop some off?

“I promise I’ll pay you whatever and you seriously only need to drop it off at my door, it’s just that her cooking was really good and I almost started crying when I ate it— I get really emotional when I’m sick so I also think it’d be best for you to leave as quickly as you can; please please please please I promise I won’t ditch our study sessions for a good week at least, I’ll be good and study! I just think I’m gonna pass out right now and your mom’s food is the only thing I can think of right now… please?”

You feel out of breath as you finally finish your seemingly endless ramble— on the other side of the line, Beomgyu lets out an exasperated laugh.

“Yeah. Okay. I’ll be there.” You’re not sure when you began to get emotional over nothing, but you’re surprised to feel hot tears streaming down your face at Beomgyu’s words, a few hiccups escaping you as you let out a soft really? “Yeah, I’ll just leave it at your doorstep.”

Standing up, you stumble a bit as you wipe your tears away. If you hadn’t scared Beomgyu away before, you surely did now.

“Drop it off inside. My door’s gonna be unlocked.”

There’s an odd pause after you say that; you’re about to question what happened before you hear rustling on his side of the phone, Beomgyu’s soft hum the last thing you hear before he lets out a soft “okay. I’ll be there.” You’re unable to thank him as he’s quick to hang up— and the exhaustion that has been building up inside you all day is suddenly released, the promise of food making your brain at ease as you slowly make your way over to the couch.

You’re so tired— a small nap wouldn’t hurt, right? It would be nice to wake up to the sight of food at my doorstep, you think, a small smile easing onto your face as you find yourself curling up at the end of your couch; oh, you really can’t help yourself— your eyelids are becoming excruciatingly heavy.

For the umpteenth time today, you allow yourself to sleep— even if it’ll only last twenty minutes at most.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

Beomgyu is a little off-put as he peeks inside your apartment.

He feels odd, extremely guilty, and a bit shameful as he pops his head inside, all of his calls have gone to voicemail as he chose the next best option— you did say your door was unlocked, after all.

He expected you to be scolding him for taking so long after forty minutes had passed, but he found himself pleasantly surprised (and somewhat worried) when his phone remained entirely unbothered; so now here he stands, multiple heavy bags filled with ingredients in his hands as he kicks off his shoes clumsily.

He finds you fast asleep on the couch; he’s extremely concerned at how trusting you are, but he decides to chalk it up to the fact that your skin is burning hot to the touch and you’re probably not thinking straight— Beomgyu is quick to pull his palm away from your forehead the moment you stir even slightly, jolting into action as he flees into your kitchen instead.

Placing the bags on your table, he looks back at you in worry— all he can do for now is wet a few paper towels, wringing out as much water as he can before he’s making his way to you cautiously; you’re burning up and sweaty as he dabs the towel on your skin, tutting softly as he finally places the towel on your forehead.

“I knew you weren’t feeling well,” he scolds you softly, pulling the blanket that has fallen off your shoulders back on you carefully before he’s pulling away, rolling his eyes at the sight, “you’re lucky you practically pay my bills.”

Quietly, Beomgyu gets to work— he feels a bit bad for rummaging through your kitchen so boldly, but he’s sure you wouldn’t really mind if you woke up; you’re the one who invited him in the first place.

At some point, Beomgyu finds himself quite comfortable in your kitchen— it’s quite spacious and allows him to get lost deep in his thoughts; he gets so comfortable, in fact, that he’s unable to pick up on the fact that you’re wide awake and slowly trudging your way to him.

“Choi Beomgyu,” the sound of your voice is enough for him to practically jump out of his skin, narrowly missing his finger as he hurriedly drops the knife in his hands, spinning around wildly as he presses himself tightly against the counter— your tired and puffy face is eerily close to his as your lidded eyes stare up at him, still heavy with sleep as you frown softly.

“What,” you mumble softly, taking in his flustered expression before your eyes are wandering to the mess behind him— the cutting board of vegetables, the stovetop that is busy with two pots simmering away, a familiar aroma filling your apartment; your eyes flick back to the way he seems both guilty and embarrassed, your head tilting as he watches you slowly piece everything together, “what is all this? Where’s your mom's food?”

Well, maybe not.

Beomgyu sighs— the sight of him shaking his head in dismay is enough to have your eyes widening with surprise, watching as he slowly turns his back to you; the constant rhythm of him cutting vegetables is the only sound that fills the room, and it seems that Beomgyu won’t be answering your question any time soon; you’re ready to protest and annoy him until he talks, but it seems he’s quick to beat you to it.

“My mom wasn’t the one who made it,” he sighs, putting his knife down as he quickly goes to the pot of soup to give it a mix; your eyes are fluttering shut at the smell, a small smile gracing your lips as you fight the urge to have a taste then and there; but you’re snapped back to reality from his words, stammering as you look at him in confusion.

“But— you said it was—“

“My mother's recipe,” he draws out, dropping the seasoned vegetables into a third pot as you watch them get steamed, “I’m the one who made the food.”

You think back to the floral lunch bag he handed to you hours earlier; how he seemed so hesitant to give it to you, oddly pouty as he watched the way you were quick to hand it to someone else— you feel yourself become embarrassed by your behavior, oddly defensive as you remember how much you begged for him to give you another taste.

“Oh. Okay,” you say, clearing your throat as you slump back down on a chair— you found it entirely too exhausting to be standing for that long, “it was the next best thing for me anyway— my driver is off right now so I have no one to take me anywhere.”

“I see you’re feeling better,” Beomgyu mumbles, rolling his eyes at your actions as your usual bratty self resurfaces; he almost found your delirious, emotional self from earlier more welcoming than this, forced to listen to more of your ramblings as you watch him cook.

“No. Not at all actually,” you complain, the ache in your body suddenly much more noticeable than it was a few minutes ago as you cross your legs on the chair; you’re huddled up in your blanket again, staring at his back as you practically take out your pain on him, “my head feels like its gonna explode— my body’s so fucking hot but I can’t take this blanket off or else I’ll feel like I’m freezing my ass off. I don’t know what to do because I never get sick like this; if anything, I should’ve called our family doctor instead of you.”

You feel a bit bad as the words come out sharper than you intended— Beomgyu is easy to read as he flinches at your statement, head ducked down and an awkward silence permeating the room as he says nothing in response.

“…you’re lucky your mom taught you how to cook,” you backtrack, your voice oddly soft as you press your lips together; you refuse to say anything more as you curl up tightly on the chair, laying your head down on the table as you attempt to let your blanket shield you from the world— you’re back to your unpredictable, emotional self as you feel a lump forming in your throat, a feeling of longing forming inside you as you wish you were home instead of here, pestering your poor tutor in exchange for a hefty sum of money.

“Hey,” his voice is much closer than you expected it to be as you peek up from your small fortress, raising a brow as you stare at the glass of water and pills in his hand, “take this. I’m guessing you haven’t taken any medication for your fever in a while.”

A soft ‘hmph’ is all that leaves you as you reluctantly accept the medicine (because the truth was that he was right). It isn’t until he shows you what he’s giving you as you take the pills begrudgingly; you hate that he can see through you so easily. Chugging down the glass of water, you fail to notice how he waits beside you patiently, sending him a petulant look as you wait for him to say something— instead, he raises a small thermometer to your forehead, taking your temperature as he lets out a soft tsk.

“Your temperature is way too high. Eat, then go back to sleep,” he says, only leaving your side to get you a proper serving of soup; it’s the same meal you had earlier, but you’re oddly excited as you notice the hefty amount of rice he gave you, a new side of him peeking through as he watches you carefully— it’s only when you send him a questioning look that he becomes red in the face, clearing his throat awkwardly as he points back to the mess behind him.

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll take care of it,” he mumbles, not bothering to look you in the eyes as he quietly begins to take care of the dishes.

“I wasn’t going to,” you remark, your mouth still full of rice as you scoff softly at his excuse— you find yourself oddly annoyed with him as you take in just how much he’s doing for you, unable to fathom anyone else doing all this for you, unprovoked.

He must really need the money, you reason with yourself, unsure of why else he would do such a thing— you roll your eyes at the thought, any intimacy that might have come from all this dissolving into thin air as you become oddly irritated with him.

But you will admit, this soup really hits the spot.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

You’re out like a light moments after.

If Beomgyu said he was surprised, it would definitely be a lie; you were barely awake on your couch for more than five minutes, and by the time Beomgyu finishes cleaning up and putting away the leftover ingredients in your fridge (which was criminally empty for someone who had so much money) you’re already curled back up in your corner of the couch, your temperature only having gone down slightly as you begin to toss and turn in your sleep.

The wet paper towels that Beomgyu had placed on you earlier are folded neatly on your coffee table— Beomgyu huffs softly as he discards it, wetting some more before he’s placing it carefully on your forehead; he’s unsure of what else to do now, standing back awkwardly as he considers staying to watch over you— your condition seemed pretty serious from how high your temperature was, and it certainly didn’t help that you straight up rammed into the kitchen table and injured your shin from how unstable you were.

And that’s when you became a crybaby once more.

He can still see the lingering tears that cling to your lashes, a soft pout forming on your lips as you shiver slightly at the touch of the cool towel. What to do, he ponders, sitting on the couch opposite to you as he watches over you carefully, he’s not sure if there’s anyone else that could take care of you.

Hell, the fact that he’s here of all people is enough to prove that to him; but also, he should really be studying for that upcoming physics exam that has been concerning him a bit. He glances back at you— calm, undisturbed, only shifting every once in a while as you tuck yourself deeper into the blanket you wrapped tightly around yourself— and he sighs, finding himself oddly torn as he wonders whether he should leave you or not.

He could go back home and study, but he knows that he wouldn’t get very far, thoughts of you and your condition plaguing his mind as he desperately tried to focus. His thoughts are disrupted as you groan softly in discomfort, shifting restlessly on the couch before your eyes are fluttering open, locking with his instantly.

“You’re still here,” you murmur, squinting at him as you cough softly, “thought you’d be gone by now.”

Beomgyu doesn’t like the way you’re looking at him; it’s oddly condescending as he finds himself standing up instantly, clearing his throat as he looks away from you and your searing gaze.

“Yeah,” he says, feeling strangely flustered as he makes his way to the front door; your eyes follow him the whole way there, and he feels so small under your gaze as he goes to slip his coat on. “I was just leaving.”

“Oh. ‘kay,” you shrug, shifting restlessly on the couch before you’re turning your back to him, curled into a ball as you wave at him weakly, “I’ll Venmo you later.”

He can’t help but feel bristled at your careless attitude, still not used to the way you’re always ready to spend money at the drop of a hat despite tutoring you for weeks now. Tying his shoes, he can’t help but glance at you one last time; it pains him to admit he’s slightly worried for you, but the rational part of him tells him it’s just because he doesn’t want you calling him to come back the moment you’re feeling nauseous again.

Yet you remain still, resembling a rock as your figure is hidden under countless piles of blankets— judging by the steady rise and fall of it, he figures you already fell back asleep.

It takes Beomgyu an embarrassingly long time to leave— but only because he wanted to make sure you wouldn’t wake up spontaneously and start whining, of course— you remain dead to the world the whole time he watches over you.

By the time Beomgyu finally makes it out of your doorway, he feels more frustrated than anything. Because even once he gets home to study, he can’t help but keep his phone close-by, worried that you’ll call out of the blue asking for help.

His phone remains silent all night.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

The next time Beomgyu sees you, he’s reminded as to why you had so many difficulties getting a tutor.

You’re flashy and perfect as always as you stand in the doorway of his apartment, arms crossed and eyes no-doubt narrowed behind your expensive designer shades. Your foot is tapping impatiently at the concrete outside as you tilt your head in annoyance— Beomgyu had made the mistake to ignore the first few rings of his doorbell, much too distracted by his game to remember that it would be you waiting for him.

“So? You gonna let me in, or do you need to tidy up first?” Beeomgyu’s mantra consists of how short your lesson will be today and the paycheck he’ll get out of it— one of the perks of you being desperate was that Beomgyu got to raise his rates shamelessly— and it takes Beomgyu a second to push past your intimidating and prickly demeanor to nod his head and step aside, watching as you push your shades up and secure them on your head.

It takes you a second to slip out of your shoes as you daintily put them aside, and Beomgyu can feel his ears become hot as he watches the way you wince slightly at the pair of guest slippers he hands you— though he tries to tell himself you don’t mean to be like this, a soothing lie that lets him lead you to his living room as he ignores his insecurity.

“Wait, can’t we just go to your room? I don’t feel like studying on the couch right now,” the yawn that rips through you is uncontrollable as you face away and cover your mouth politely— Beomgyu tries to not let his jaw drop to the floor in response. For someone who had never been to his apartment, you sure were demanding. He shouldn’t feel too surprised though, given how blunt you’ve proved to be the entire time he’s known you.

He’s unable to say no as he gathers the textbook and notebooks on the table and leads the way; he can feel his heart pounding against his chest in fear that you’ll judge him, heart pounding slightly as he goes to lead you to where his room is. (He just hopes you’ll judge him internally, at the very least.)

Meanwhile, you’ve been biting back a smile this whole time; you know you’ve been quite bitchy to him this whole time, but you’d like to think it’s karma for making you study first thing at nine in the morning— his excuse had been the long shift he’d have to cover straight after the tutoring session.

You’re quite surprised at the size and state of his apartment, expecting something much… cheaper, as you kept in mind how quick Beomgyu was to do something whenever you offered him money. Yet as you walk to his room, you’re left quiet as you take in the way everything in his home practically shines; his coffee table, the couch that lacks any crumbs or trash, and his carpet that seems to be recently vacuumed.

You find yourself so caught up in the appearance of his apartment that you fail to notice another presence in the living room; specifically, one that lets out a loud chirp, your body jumping back from the startle and eyes growing wide as you search for the source of the sound— your eyes land on a cage tucked in the corner of the room, a bright green bird with big eyes staring at you curiously from within.

“What the fuck is that?” you say softly— much louder than you intended, really— and Beomgyu is turning back around to see what you’re talking about, eyes widening as he realizes you’re currently staring down his bird with a slight wonder.

“Oh— that’s Toto,” Beomgyu says, rushing to put everything in his arms down and scurrying after when he notices you beginning to get closer; he’s hovering over you, taking in your expression of curiosity carefully before he continues. “He’s my parrot.”

You let out a soft oh. You seem rooted to your spot as you watch the bird continue to climb around the cage, clearly much more active now that Beomgyu is nearby; the said man notes your obvious curiosity, and before he can stop and have any second thoughts, he’s reaching over you to open the cage.

“Wait wait, what’re you—” a yelp escapes you and you’re jumping back the moment Beomgyu is reaching inside, hiding behind him and peeking over his shoulder to watch the way he extends a finger out to the bird— Toto— your mouth falling open dumbly as you take in the way the bird immediately climbs onto his hand.

Beomgyu is careful to take him out; you’re still peeking from behind him as you stare down his bird with wide eyes, body tensed as though it could fly away any given moment— you’re flinching in surprise when he’s turning to face you, hands coming up in defense as the bright green bird swings along, not a thought in its beady eyes as it’s suddenly thrust into your face— you step back again, the movement sudden and startling the bird as its wings flap slightly, which in turn startles you again— Beomgyu merely watches in amusement, and he tries his best to contain his laugh in fear of facing your prickly attitude.

“What the hell,” you breathe out softly, brows twitching and knitting together as you stare at Toto as though it were a foreign creature you’ve never seen, “It’s so… weird looking.”

Beomgyu can only gawk at your comment.

“He’s— he’s not,” is all Beomgyu can say in rebuttal, offended as he looks over at Toto, examining him in reassurance before he pulls his pet closer to his chest.

“He’s a handsome little bird,” Beomgyu mutters, and you’re sure you definitely weren’t supposed to hear that, watching in amazement as Beomgyu strokes Toto’s head fondly, the said bird bowing its head so he can get better access, “you’re such a cool guy, don’t listen to her Toto.”

Glancing back at you, Beomgyu seems to realize what he’s just said, and blushes a soft pink— though you’re not sure why he’s acting so shy, you’ve literally been standing there the whole time— and he clears his throat awkwardly, casting his gaze back to his pet and running his finger along the bird gently before he’s speaking again.

“Do you wanna hold him?”

“I— what?!” you say indignantly, eyes growing the size of saucers as you stare at him, acting as though he’s just told you something extremely offensive, “I don’t want that thing near me, what if it— it…”

You’re trailing off slowly— Beomgyu looks absolutely dejected. You can tell he’s trying not to show his hurt, avoiding your gaze and staring down at Toto instead, but he simply reminds you too much of a kicked puppy to let you continue your baffled ramblings; a moment passes where the two of you don’t say anything, but you finally break the second Beomgyu looks like he’s about to put Toto back in.

“Fine.”

He looks back at you immediately; his eyes look like they’ve been filled with stars.

“Give— give me the bird,” you mumble offhandedly, outstretching your hand awkwardly and finding yourself unable to look at him for once; you can feel the heat of embarrassment threatening to creep onto your skin, but you will it away and bite your cheek as you wait for Beomgyu to do something.

After a second, you feel it; the pressure on your finger, the weird texture and the claws that dig into your skin as the bird’s little feet wrap around you, unable to contain the way you shudder at the feeling; your arm has gone rigid and you’re reluctant to look at the pet that is now perched on your hand, afraid that it might attack you or something— but after a deep breath and some mental encouragement, you do it anyway.

This thing is so fucking creepy, you find yourself thinking, face screwing into one of disdain as you take in the way it simply remains still, freaking you out even further when it suddenly tilts its head in curiosity.

It begins to climb up your arm.

“What the fuck, what the fuck,” you breathe out in a panic, extending your arm away from you as steadily and quickly as you can, the thing now perched on your forearm as you bite back a squeal of fear— you’re looking over at Beomgyu in a haste, expression blatantly screaming help me!— and he quickly springs into action the moment your eyes meet.

“Toto,” Beomgyu coos, clicking his tongue and reaching out to place his hand at Toto’s feet; but the bird only continues to climb up and runs away from Beomgyu, a long, slightly terrified, groan leaving your lips as you can only watch it in horror, much too afraid to jerk your arm and send Toto flying; the moment it’s talons find its way onto your shoulder, you find yourself looking away and praying.

“Toto,” Beomgyu tries again, a little stressed now as he watches his bird perch peacefully on your shoulder— you, on the other hand, are in utter distress, shoulders tense and eyes screwed shut as you mentally pray for the thing to not peck at you— you think you’ve started to hold your breath now.

Through your eyes that peek slightly in fear, you’re able to see Beomgyu reach down at the storage unit beneath the cage and grab something; Toto seems to shift on your shoulder from the sight, and you grow tense as you wonder what the hell the man could be up to— with another call of Toto’s name, the bird finally jumps off your shoulder and over to Beomgyu.

Your body practically slumps in relief.

Beomgyu is back to holding Toto in his hand; your brows furrow at the sight of it eating something strange, your obvious confusion making Beomgyu smile slightly.

“It’s millet,” he explains, slowly moving to put Toto back in the cage before he places the said millet inside as well; with one last gentle scratch at Toto’s head, Beomgyu closes the cage. “It’s like a treat for him.”

“Whatever,” you say dismissively, glancing at Toto one last time before you shudder and turn away, “I don’t wanna see him again.”

Beomgyu isn’t too offended by your comment; if anything, he smiles in amusement, muttering softly that Toto seems to like you— you make a point to blatantly ignore his comment.

Any confidence Beomgyu had built up from before disappears the moment you finally arrive before the door that leads to the room; he’s found himself nervous once more, shifting the materials in his arms and reach out to open his door cautiously; he hopes you didn’t take notice of the way his hand shook slightly.

His room is no different than the rest of the apartment as you stand in the doorway, curiously surveying it all; your brow raises in amusement as you take in the way his personality is scattered throughout the small room. His bed is neatly made and the sheets are pressed to perfection, and the nightstand contains a stack of books that are both thick and annotated.

In front of you, you watch Beomgyu awkwardly place the books in his arms down on the bed, pushing up his glasses as you allow your eyes to continue drifting around— they instantly land on the desk setup in the corner of the room, your eyes widening as you’re able to recognize how expensive the setup is; two monitors display a random game you seem to recognize, and you let your curiosity get the best of you as you approach it slowly.

The keyboard is lighting up before you and a headset is hung on one of the monitors, and you let out a soft tsk as you take in the empty coffee cups beside the mouse, the only messy thing about his whole room; you wouldn’t be surprised if he’s spilled the liquid over the setup before.

What surprised you the most however, are the countless picture frames and cute figurines that are scattered all over the room— a lucky cat is perched right at his windowsill, waving at you repeatedly as you’re unable to hold back your laugh of bewilderment; everything seems to be dusted and well taken care of, you’re surprised Beomgyu can ever find the energy to do such things.

“You play League of Legends?” Is all you say, turning around as you meet Beomgyu’s flustered face; Beomgyu had been on the verge of melting into a puddle of embarrassment the entire time you looked around his room, unsure of what to say or do the moment you approached his gaming setup. He was sure you’d make fun of him, but instead he’s pleasantly surprised as he silently hopes his face isn’t a raging red at the moment. (It definitely is, but you’re kind enough to give him a break and not tease him about it.)

“Oh— yeah. You play?” It’s oddly adorable to watch the way his eyes light up and his whole body perks up excitedly, but you find it even more adorable to watch the way he deflates as you bark out a laugh of surprise, your whole face lighting up as you cover your mouth in apology, feeling a slight pity for managing to make him look like a kicked puppy again.

“Fuck no!” You say in amusement, unable to imagine yourself doing such a thing, “Huening used to be obsessed with it though.”

You roll your eyes at the memory, recalling all the nights back in high school where he’d leave you alone in his bed, staying up late gaming with his friends while you hid in his room during social gatherings— but now he “outgrew that childish game,” according to him. If anything, you think he outgrew gaming all together, especially after you expressed how ridiculous the whole thing seemed to you.

“Huening, the guy from your apartment?” Beomgyu says meekly, eyes downcast as he flips through his notes mindlessly; you scoff, flopping on the bed next to him as you cross your legs daintily.

“Yeah, the guy from my apartment,” you say, leaning in to try and catch his gaze, “what, you jealous?”

Your comment is enough to have Beomgyu a sputtering mess; you don’t think he could get any redder than he is now as he shoves his notebook into your lap, clearing his throat weakly as he scoots away from you, leaving an offending amount of space as he squeaks out a defensive no.

“Wouldn’t blame you if you were,” you tease, staring down at the notes as you try to decipher what the hell it could all mean— it’s embarrassing when you’re left on your own for a good minute, unable to say anything about the material before Beomgyu is finally jumping to your aide and explaining things to you; slowly, you settle down and allow him to begin the session.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

You’d like to pat yourself on the back for lasting so long. Lasting so long without being difficult, that is, because the hour of peace Beomgyu got was short lived before you became a short-tempered brat before him—the only thing that surprises him at this point is the confidence you get to be like this all the time.

“I seriously don’t get this stuff,” you whine, kicking Beomgyu softly as you hold back a smile— it was clearly done to tease him— laying back on his bed as you cross your arms childishly, “I think I should just change my major.”

Beomgyu isn’t surprised that you find that so easy to say— for a moment, he dreams of being able to do the same when times get tough, but he was quick to come back to reality as he watched you kick at him petulantly; you managed to lay on his bed and make yourself comfortable, splayed over his pillows as you continued to mess around with him.

“Can’t we take a break? I’ve been good,” you pout, tapping your fingers on your bicep as you look at him sweetly— Beomgyu has to look away in order to say no, tapping his pencil on his notebook as he quietly prays for you to settle down and focus again.

“Come on, you’re lucky I showed up in the first place,” Beomgyu’s gaze is glued to his notebook as you roughly sit up, your denim shorts riding up your thighs as you kneel close to him; taking a deep breath to calm himself proves to be a mistake as he gets a good smell of your expensive perfume, biting his lip as he watches you try to get his attention by getting closer to him.

“You only showed up because I did you a favor,” it’s odd that you find the way his voice trembles and his ears turn red adorable, but then again, you’d be a little sad if a man didn’t react that way to you.

You have him wrapped around your finger— it’s a fact that dawns on you as you watch the way he doesn’t shut you down and forces you to study. Scooting closer to him, you lean down, pressing your cheek against his bicep as you stare down at the countless notes that lay before him.

“Well, that and because you’re kinda cute,” you admit, holding back a smile at the way he flinches at the sudden contact, “But seriously, I’m so bored.”

Beomgyu thinks you might have gone insane as he watches the way you take the materials in his lap away from him, setting it to the side before you’re stringing yourself across his lap, stretching cutely as you stare up at him with wide doe eyes— he’s quickly looking back up as he fails to find the strength to push you off.

“I can’t believe I actually came here this early,” you say, adjusting yourself on his thighs before you’re grabbing his hand, playing with his sleeve coyly as you wonder how far you can take this, “How’d you afford this place all by yourself? It’s in a good area too.”

“I didn’t,” Beomgyu stutters out, clearing his throat as he pulls his hand away from your grasp shyly, “I have a roommate— Yeonjun.”

“Choi Yeonjun? Captain of the baseball team?” You say, eyes widening as you watch Beomgyu nod softly; you’re sitting up, ignoring the way Beomgyu visibly relaxes at the action, “Is he here right now?”

“No, he’s out,” Beomgyu frowns, watching as the gears turn in your head, your pout obvious as you take in his response, “he won’t be home for another three hours.”

How in the hell did he and Beomgyu become roommates? It’s a question you’re quite literally fighting the urge to ask, but knowing that one of the most attractive guys you’ve had your eye on currently lives in the same house as the man before you makes you want to stick around longer— though you think you might be too obvious about it, judging by the way Beomgyu’s frowning at you.

“That’s nice,” you hum, feeling a bit bad for the way Beomgyu looks away in defeat, “but that means we’re all alone here?”

Your question is enough to have Beomgyu sitting up straight— your tone is so dangerous, the way you slowly crawl to him even more so.

He quickly finds himself scooting back, eyes flying around wildly as he almost falls off the bed— you’re quick to catch him, pulling him by the collar of his sweater as his adam’s apple bobs visibly. His long hair falls back and his face is left exposed to you, your body finding comfort on top of his as you straddle his thighs comfortably. His glasses are left on the tip of his nose as his ears quickly turn red, cheeks dusted with the same color as he uselessly props himself up on his elbows; you’re practically nose to nose as you tower over him, your cute blouse hanging and exposing your breasts in a way that has Beomgyu staring straight above your head— in return, the reflection of your sunglasses is all that meets him.

“Do you ever take a break?” You ask, letting go of his collar before you’re gently smoothing it out; he’s shivering at your touch, eyes fluttering shut nervously as he exhales at the feeling of your warm hand— he knows you can see the way he tenses as you begin to trail your palm down his chest, pressing teasingly where his heart resides as you tilt your head cutely.

“Ever stop studying and just…. Take care of yourself?” The implications of your words couldn’t be more obvious with the way your voice drops, your thighs clenching around his body as you watch his breath hitch at the action; your fingers delicately drum against his chest as you wait for him to say something, to push you off and tell you to never speak to him again— instead, he shakes his head, his shyness intensifying as his eyes remain shut.

“Will you let me take care of you?” You breathe out, entranced with the way his eyes finally open to meet yours— within them, he sees no malice or mockery, just an intense fire and need that has his stomach twisting and his hands grabbing at his neatly pressed sheets in anticipation.

Softly, he nods.

You’ve never experienced this before; you’ve never had a man pliant and weak under you, ready to take whatever you give him with adoring eyes that sparkle under the lights. You’re so used to being the one in that position, of allowing yourself to be used and molded how they’d like— so to say you’re quite surprised at the thrill you feel is an understatement.

“You’re like a little puppy,” you mumble sweetly, reaching up to caress his heated cheeks— the whine that escapes him is involuntary, your eyes clouding with lust as you take in the way he reacts to your nickname; leaning up, you grab the collar of his sweater as you guide him to sit up with you— you’re in awe of how obedient he is as he follows your command, hands hovering politely as he waits for your next move.

“Do you like it when I call you that?” You tilt your head, laying your hands by Beomgyu’s collar bones before they’re sliding up, intertwining lazily behind his nape as you’re leaning in teasingly; you’re so close to him, you can feel his breath fan on your face as you tease the corner of his lips with your own— you’re pulling away the moment he tries to chase you, giving him an expectant look as you wait for him to answer your question. “Puppy?”

“Y—yes, I…” he’s unable to finish his sentence the moment he feels your chest press against his, soft breasts teasing him as he squeezes his eyes shut; you’re everywhere, your lips planting feather-like kisses on his cheeks as you begin to overwhelm his senses. Your warm thighs that encase him, your hands that play with the nape of his hair, your perfume that he gets to inhale as you tilt your neck closer to him— hell, as you reach his jaw, he’s able to smell your shampoo, the scent addicting and no doubt expensive as you press yourself firmly against him.

This is insane. There should be no universe where Beomgyu should have one of the richest girls in his university pressed against him and on his lap, and there’s no way he’s the one submitting himself so pathetically in it. Yet here he is, practically leaning into your touch and chasing after you the moment you pull away, feeling a whine escape from his throat as he finally finds the courage to place a hand on your hip; keeping you in place, fingertips splayed over the swell of your ass as you try and fail to hide the smile that breaks out on your face.

“Stupid puppy wants me to kiss him?” You pout mockingly, and instead of feeling the usual shame bubbling within him from your condescending tone, Beomgyu can only feel himself melt pathetically, pouty face and shining doe eyes begging you to give in as you brush away a strand of hair that fell in his eye; Beomgyu’s eyes flutter shut at the gentle touch, lips parting before he finally feels you swoop in and take him by surprise.

Your lip gloss is sweet and sticky as you ravish the boy below you, able to feel his inexperience and eagerness with the way he’s practically ready to push you back into the mattress— but he holds himself back, allowing you to swipe your tongue along his lip and tease him before you’re venturing further.

It’s all so lewd and desperate, and Beomgyu feels dazed by the time you’re finally pulling away, a Cheshire grin on your face as you swipe his bottom lip that’s shining with lip gloss and saliva; like instinct, his lips part and close around your thumb, eyes never straying from yours as you feel his tongue swipe over the finger teasingly— your gaze darkens at the sight, mind racing with all the things you could do to him as you watch the way his plush lips circle around the digit.

The pop that sounds throughout the room when you pull away is enough to make you let out a soft groan, your eyes tracing along his body until you finally find the very thing you’re curious about— smiling, you’re not as surprised to find his dick straining against the neat fabric of his trousers.

“Can I touch you, pup?” You ask, your voice breathy and deep as you wait patiently for his answer; once again, he gulps, shining eyes just as dazed as you are before he finally lets out a soft yes; slowly, your perfectly manicured hand makes its way down to his khaki trousers, playing with the button before you’re finally undoing it— the sigh that Beomgyu lets out once you undo his zipper is practically lethal, your lips twitching in delight at the sound.

It’s cute to see the way his hips buck up into the air as you reveal his boxers, helping you pull down his pants until you’re face to face with the very thing you’ve been wanting the most. It’s odd, but it seems as though Beomgyu brings out a side you didn’t think existed, a teasing smile creeping its way onto your face as you plant your core firmly on him; he’s letting out a strangled gasp at the sudden pressure and warmth, his eyes screwing shut as his lips are falling open, the sight tempting as you resist the urge to kiss him again.

Beomgyu is like an instrument under your touch, and you’re eager to learn how to play as you slowly begin to rock your hips back and forth; the reaction is instant for him as he bucks up into you, whimpering cutely as his eyes remain shut the whole time. Your thighs feel so soft against his own, and he’s sure he won’t last long if he’s forced to inhale your intoxicating scent the whole way through.

It isn’t until you’re climbing off his lap that Beomgyu’s eyes are finally flying open, meeting yours in a confused haze as he allows you to push him back and tower over him as he lays; he looks so enticing and pretty with his hair splayed out around the sheets, lidded eyes and fucked out expression oddly addicting to you as you go to straddle one of his thighs.

“You’re so cute,” you coo, pushing his sweater up as you run your nails teasingly over his stomach— you laugh softly as he flinches at the feeling. Slowly, you’re pulling the waistband of his boxers down until his cock is finally springing out and smacking against his stomach; his tip is red and sticky as a line of precum is left connected to his stomach, his eyes shutting in embarrassment once more as he turns his head to the side in an effort to turn away. He’s so long as you take him in, appreciating the vein that runs along the curve of his shaft with a soft hum.

“Please,” he whines, covering his face with his hands as his body grows hotter the longer you stare at him; you can only laugh fondly at the sight, watching the way his hips buck up uselessly at the sound.

“My puppy, you’re so pretty,” you sigh, spitting in your hand before you’re finally reaching down to grab ahold of him; the feeling is unexpected as Beomgyu lets out a soft yelp under you, his cries dying out the moment you’re beginning to stroke him teasingly.

“How long has it been since you let out some steam?” You tease, running your thumb across his tip and spreading the precum along as he simply moans in response; he’s so whiny and breathy as none of your words seem to register in his head, enamored by the pretty girl that’s sitting on his thigh and stroking his cock so well.

You can’t help yourself when you readjust to kneel between his legs, his face still covered by his hands as he doesn’t anticipate your next move— Beomgyu swears he almost came the moment he felt your mouth wrap around his tip. Your mouth is practically watering around Beomgyu’s cock as you slowly take him in, surprised by his length yet determined to hear more of his pathetic gasps and whines as you slowly take him in.

“Oh god, oh god, you’re so— y-you’re so warm, oh,” Beomgyu is a babbling mess as his hands land helplessly on your head, unsure of what to do with them as he feels the tip of your nose press against his navel; his eyes are practically rolling back as he feels the mess you’re making on his cock, your mouth so hot and wet he can’t help the way he subtly thrusts into it.

“I’m sorry, I— I didn’t mean to…” his words are dying on his tongue the moment he feels you reach for his hand and pull back, guiding him to set the pace as you run your tongue over his tip— that’s enough to have Beomgyu whining and out of breath, but he’s able to pull himself together as he slowly begins to fuck your mouth.

“Shit, you’re so pretty, I can’t believe you’re doing this to me,” Beomgyu breathes out, fascinated with the way you remain completely cool even as he begins thrusting his cock into your throat, “so good.”

The sudden confession doesn’t process in Beomgyu’s mind, but it has your mind reeling as you close your eyes, determined to make this man fall apart under you as you ignore the flutter of butterflies in your stomach.

It takes Beomgyu a second to find his pace as he’s gently stroking your hair, face warm and shining with embarrassment as he tries to ignore how inexperienced he may seem— contrary to what he might think, you don’t really care; the only thing you care for is how melodic he sounds as his hips begin stuttering into your mouth, the feeling of your tongue running along his shaft too much for him as his breath hitches pathetically.

“Wait wait wait— oh my god, I’m so— Ah, please don’t stop,” he’s whimpering and babbling at your touch, his hand attempting to pull you off as he nears his release; you only sink further in retaliation, the loud moan that Beomgyu lets out giving you satisfaction as you feel his cum spurting against the back of your throat— your eyes are barely able to catch his expression as he throws his head back, hips stilling entirely as he rides out his orgasm.

Beomgyu is still trying to catch his breath when he feels his hips bucking subconsciously, the feeling of you pulling away making him whine softly from the sensitivity. Slowly, his eyes flutter open, his glasses skewed and his vision a haze as his gaze meets yours— he’s able to catch the way you swallow, your mouth empty as a teasing grin sneaks onto your face.

His stomach flips at the sight.

He’s unsure of what to do as you sit up, your hair mused and your clothes in disarray as you take him in with an intense stare— he feels oddly shy as he tugs down his sweater to cover himself, gulping nervously as he begins to wonder if this was all a twisted joke— some sort of childish dare, anything that was meant to humiliate him.

Instead, he feels you reach forward to fix his glasses, brushing away the hair that was stuck to his forehead as you smiled sweetly; Beomgyu thinks he forgot how to breathe as he takes in your proximity, left frozen as you leave a slow, chaste kiss on his lips.

“I should go— you have work, right?” The question is enough to snap Beomgyu back to reality, nodding softly as you finally get up from his bed; turning to his mirror, you fix your appearance, brows raising in curiosity as you notice the guitar that’s propped up beside it— you briefly wonder if he’s good at playing it, and find yourself wanting to ask if he can sing; you refrain. “I’ll let you get ready then.”

There’s not much Beomgyu can say as he watches you go to his door like nothing happened; he flinches in surprise as you turn back to him one last time, a grin on your face as you send him one final goodbye.

“This was fun.”

Beomgyu is left to decipher your words and intentions as you walk away.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

Why did you do that.

“Oh god, why did I do that?”

You’re a puddle of embarrassment as you roll around in the back of your driver’s car, your hands plastered on your face as you try to melt away from this reality— instead, the memory of Beomgyu’s flustered and fucked out face is the only thing that meets your eyelids.

You’re not sure what took over you— what in the world possessed you to fuck your tutor? You knew that if you told your friends you’d never hear the end of it, but you think you might be at risk of losing the only thing that was helping you get your grades up after this.

It was already difficult to get Beomgyu to agree to be in a room alone with you— and now you had to absolutely fuck up and push the boundaries to a place where you’d never return.

Out of all the men, it just had to be Choi Beomgyu. It’s a fact that makes your face heat up and your head hit the back of the car seat in defeat as you stare out the window in dismay; instead of going for someone who was in your league, you chose to go after a nobody.

You didn’t even get anything out of it! The thought is humiliating as you shut your eyes and groan, ignoring the way your driver glances back at you in concern; you sucked his dick and dipped— that is so unlike you.

Everything about the situation is unlike you— you would never go after someone like Beomgyu, he didn’t align with your type at all! The feeling of dread in your stomach is only worsened as you mentally go through the people you’ve been with in the past, cringing the more you realize how much of an outlier Beomgyu is.

“Mr. Kim,” you call out, pulling down your shades as you avoid the rays of sunlight that are hitting your face. He’s perking up in response immediately, glancing at you through his mirror before he nods his head to indicate he’s listening.

“Take me to Hueningkai’s house please,” you say, taking your phone out of your purse as you absentmindedly text Huening that you’re on your way— Mr. Kim’s yes ma’am is left unanswered as you watch Hueningkai respond within seconds— all you can do is sink further in your seat at his eagerness to see you, the implications of his message more than clear to you.

The drive to his home is long and silent, and you’re forced to reflect on yourself the whole way through— the more you do, the more flustered and confused you feel, forcing yourself to set those thoughts to the side as Mr. Kim pulls up to Huening’s driveway.

Yet even as you’re walking to his doorstep, an eager smile forced on your face as you wait for Huening to answer, you can’t help the way your thoughts stray. It all seems to linger on the same subject, gulping nervously at the way Beomgyu’s small whines still ring out in your head.

“Hey,” Hueningkai smiles, leaning against the doorway as he takes you in; you try to ignore the way his hungry eyes take you in, greeting him softly before you’re pushing past him and going inside, kicking your shoes off at the doorway.

“What’s up?” Hueningkai immediately asks, noticing the way you don’t indulge in any of his games or teasing, your face blank as you plop down on the couch. “You need something?”

“No,” you say, oddly defensive as you lay along his couch, crossing your legs as you proceed to do the same with your arms, “Can’t I just chill at your place without needing anything?”

Hueningkai raises a brow at your huffy comment. Tilting his head, he smiles, a gesture sly and teasing as he watches the way you stand your ground.

“Well, whenever you come over it’s usually not to just chill,” he says, repeating your words with clear amusement, “so forgive me for thinking something was off.”

You’re in a bad mood today; Hueningkai is quick to pick up on it as you scoff at his words, looking away from him and pouting as you remain silent. Slowly, he makes his way to you, testing out the waters before he’s sitting down at your feet.

“What’s wrong baby?” He asks, slowly beginning to hover over you until you can’t help but look at him; he’s everywhere, a holding himself up with a hand by your head while the other finds its way to your hip— playing with the hem of your shirt, slowly teasing you until he’s pushing past and caressing your skin— you flinch at the feeling of his cold hand.

“Come on, we can talk,” he says, but you know he doesn’t really mean it with the way his leg is trying to pry your thighs open, pressing up against your core as he feels something unexpected— his eyes are lighting up as he smiles down at you, raising a brow as he takes in the small change of your expression.

“Or maybe you don’t wanna talk?” He says, the surprising heat that meets his thigh is more than welcome as he watches you become flustered under him.

“Fuck off Huening,” you groan, pressing a hand against his chest as you turn away from him— all you get in return is a dark laugh, his lips ghosting along your jawline as he presses a firm kiss under your ear, his hand pushing your shirt up as it wanders towards your breasts.

“Hmm, are you sure?” He huffs, adjusting his position so that he’s able to place a hand on your hip, grinding your hips against his thighs as he bites his lip at the sight, “won’t you put those pretty lips to use at least?”

The irritation that had been brewing inside you is far too much to handle as you scoff at his words, your head snapping back to glare at him as you push against his chest firmly, catching him off guard as you knock him off his balance entirely; he’s knocked out of his lusty reverie as he stares at you with wide eyes from the other end of the couch, lips parting as he attempts to say something, only to be cut off by you.

“Seriously Huening, I’m not in the fucking mood!” You snap, pulling your top back down harshly before you’re standing up— he’s left to watch in confusion as you readjust yourself, your brows furrowed in a mean frown as you glare at him once more— and to think you thought you’d be able to spend more than five minutes with Hueningkai without him wanting to fuck you.

“Come on baby, you know I didn’t mean it like that—“

“Do you ever think without your dick when you’re around me?” It’s annoying to see how nonchalant Hueningkai is as he laughs off your words, crossing his arms defensively as he tries to play off what just happened.

“You didn’t even think to check up on me when I was sick!” You thought you were over the bitter moment, but the memory still seems to sting as you remind him of a time where you needed him the most, “ever since we started this whole… stupid friends with benefits thing, you’ve been acting like such a prick!”

“Don’t be like this,” Hueningkai groans, throwing his head back as he runs a hand through his hair, “you’re being dramatic.”

“Oh my god!” You bark, left in disbelief as you pace around his apartment, “like seriously, are you listening to yourself right now?!”

You’re more than fed up as you make your way back to the entrance, gathering your things and slipping on your shoes as you hear Hueningkai following close behind, spouting excuses and other nonsense to try and make you stay.

You’ve opened the door when Hueningkai grabs onto you desperately, tugging you back into his chest and asking you to listen to him as he sets firm hands on your hips; you’re looking at everything but him as you remain silent, your hands pressed defensively against his chest as you give him on last chance to redeem himself.

“Come on baby, you know I don’t wanna lose you,” he says, his voice soft and vulnerable as he leans in, watching as you tilt your head away from him and continue to refuse to meet his eyes. Feeling him press you harder against him, your jaw clenches as he places a sweet kiss on your cheek.

“Lemme make it up to you. Please?”

You know perfectly well what his words entail as you push him away from you once more, swinging your purse and smacking him harshly as you let your anger out on him. He has the audacity to laugh and cower away from you as he apologizes, telling you that it was just a joke as you continue to hit him relentlessly.

“Fuck you!” You say, out of energy and left a huffing mess as you swing the door open behind you, “asshole!”

You don’t stay around to see his reaction as you slam the door shut, storming away and walking along the sidewalk as you pull your phone out.

Pick me up please.

Huening’s being an asshole, I’m waiting outside.

It’s moments like these where you regret being irresponsible with your car, left with nothing but your driver as you still wait for your precious baby to come out of the repair shop; to this day your parents still scold you for an accident that happened over a month ago, the words “bad driver” tacked on along with the rest that curate your reputation.

In a perfect world, Hueningkai would’ve come out by now; he would’ve gone after you, apologizing and hanging his head in shame in regards to his behavior— in a perfect world, he wouldn’t have turned into the person he is now, forgoing your friendship entirely to satiate his needs— you hadn’t given much thought to what the consequences to this “friends with benefits” thing would be, but if you could go back in time to the moment where he drunkenly proposed it to you, you would’ve been quick to shut him down with an incredulous laugh.

It was your fault for having a soft spot for him. Your fault for wondering what his lips would feel like one too many times, for being caught staring at him back when you were just kids and you were forced to attend dinner parties together, trying and failing to conceal the way he could fluster you with just a single smile.

Now that his desires have been satiated, you doubt he has any use for you now— which is why you find yourself waiting pathetically outside his apartment, not used to this feeling that festers in your stomach as you wait patiently— whether it’s simply for your driver or for the glimmering hope that Hueningkai will own up to his actions and take you back, you’re not sure.

But what you do know is that you’ve never felt so small.

Moments later, your driver arrives; you swear you try to hold back, but you can’t help yourself from turning around and taking one last peek at Huening’s quiet, dull apartment— gritting your teeth, you flop inside, groaning obnoxiously as you rub your temples in annoyance; your driver is unfazed by your behavior— meeting his eyes, you sigh.

“I need to go shopping.”

Wordlessly, he nods— you don’t bother to stare out the window once you finally feel the car moving, in fear that your mind may begin to imagine scenarios that simply won’t happen.

The car ride is silent, and you realize with a frown that you may have left with a mood worse than before.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

This department store is useless.

Geez, did you piss off some god above or something? Because as you stand in your tenth store in the past hour, nose scrunched and brows furrowed unpleasantly, you feel as though you may be getting karma for something— though what it may be exactly, you’re unsure.

Everything around you is either already in your closet or simply outdated. Your fingertips tap rhythmically against your crossed arms, eyes narrowed as you take slow strides around the aisles of the stores— a part-time employee follows closely behind you, hands folded neatly and a pleasant smile glued to face as she comments on every item your eyes fall on, even if it’s just for a second; your jaw ticks at her cheap tactics to sell to you.

There’s only one thing that would make your mood at this time— a limited edition purse you have had your eyes on, trying your best to catch your usual stores at the right times in hopes of getting your hands on it. Yet, with every failed attempt, your frustrations and efforts only grow, and you’ve found yourself visiting these stores more often than you’d like, always leaving with an item or two despite telling yourself not to do so.

“Excuse me,” you say sternly, your steps coming to a halt as you slowly turn to the employee. She’s meek and her voice is airy as she speaks to you, eyebrows raised as though she seems genuinely interested in what you might say next— her act only displeases you more.

“I’m trying to shop in peace, please leave me alone.” you say, watching as the woman simply flinches at your comment, smile stiffening on her lips before she’s swiftly apologizing seconds after— if you weren’t careful, you could’ve missed the way her lips turned up with irritation as she turned, muttering quietly to herself as though you weren’t two steps away to hear it.

Rich snob, you pick up, blinking in surprise as you watch her steps becoming hasty with her retreat. You don’t allow yourself to be fazed by it, a smile tugging at your lips from amusement before you turn back around; scanning the store, you glance at the mannequins on display, taking in the outfits briefly before you catch onto something else— and before you can control yourself, you’re walking again.

Don’t be stupid, your brain tells you, yelling at you as you exit the store with haste, pushing past the people standing around as you make your way to the store across, Don’t do this, this is a bad idea, don’t—

Do it, your heart tells you, pounding against your chest as you adjust the purse strap on your shoulder, gulping slightly as you swing open the door, you’re not here for him, you’re here for the very thing you’ve worked so hard for.

And if it so happens to be in his hands right now, then is it really your fault that you find yourself standing before the very man that hurt you mere moments ago?

“Cute purse,” you breathe out, eyes glued to the way it shines beautifully under the lights of the store, “Though I don’t really think it’s your style.”

Hueningkai doesn’t bother looking up. He’s too busy handling the limited edition purse that you’ve so desperately been searching for, nimble fingers running over the details as though he were actually taking his time to inspect it; instead, he hums softly at your words, pretending to ponder for a second before he’s frowning.

“You really think so?” he asks, tsking softly to himself before he’s shaking his head, straightening up before he runs a hand against the surface; you watch the way his fingers slide across the material, teeth tugging at your lip as you fight the twitch of your brows, wanting nothing more than to take the item from his hands and walk away.

You stand there in silence, for a moment; you wonder slightly if Hueningkai is simply ignoring you, and the idea is enough to have you bristling with anger, your jaw clenching as you decide that it’s better to leave now than to look helpless before him— but he’s looking up at you, lidded eyes catching you in a daze as he tilts his head, sending you his signature charming smile.

“It wasn’t for me,” he says, looking down at the purse in his hands and holding it close to him, as though gauging its weight, “It was going to be a gift.”

“A gift? Quite the gesture on your part,” you scoff, looking at the display area in exasperation— fuck, the only purse in this awful store is in his hands, you realize— leaving you with no other choice but to hope that he’ll stop playing games and leave the purse he clearly never had any intentions of buying, “But I don’t think those other girls you talk to would be very interested in such a specific item like this— I’d suggest appealing to their own interests a bit more.”

With gritted teeth, you reach out to take the bag; an impulsive move on your part, not exactly surprised with the way Hueningkai immediately backs up and holds the bag close to him. You can practically feel your blood boil from the sheer anger that’s taking over from his antics, unamused entirely at the way he merely sends you an innocent smile.

“Don’t be rude,” he smiles, taking yet another step back, making more distance between you two, “Who are you to say what they would or wouldn’t like? Plus, I saw this first, and I had full intentions of buying it.”

You remain silent— whether you’re too baffled to speak or are simply trying to not explode and yell at him in the middle of the store, you’re not entirely sure— but, as you watch him raise a brow challengingly, you can only find yourself thinking one thing.

Fuck this. You’ll just order it online.

The idea takes away the very joy of being able to find it by chance, but you’d rather die right now than grovel to Hueningkai— like he very clearly wants— in hopes that he’ll take pity on you and give you the purse; spinning on your heels, you make your way out with brisk steps.

You don’t get very far before you hear him calling out your name— but you ignore it, a baffled scoff escaping you in response to his sheer audacity to act so shameless after belittling you a few hours prior; you’re a few steps away from the exit when you feel a tug on your wrist, jolting you back and preventing you from leaving.

“What, Hueningkai?” you say, huffing exasperatedly as you shake off his grip on you, “Can’t you just leave me alone for once? I’m not in the mood to play your stupid games.”

“Well then why don’t you talk to me instead of running away childishly?” he says sharply, and you have to bite your tongue in order to not point out his hilariously hypocritical statement, “you’re acting so weird, what the hell happened?”

You think you might just do something that’ll get you banned from the store— but something catches your eye before you can act out on your impulses, and you’re ripping your wrist from Hueningkai’s hold with one last harsh tug. Your gaze is no longer on him; he tries to follow your line of sight, but fails to catch onto what you’re looking at.

“Get out or leave me alone,” you say, giving him one last cold look before you’re brushing past him, “I’m not interested in talking to you.”

You’re weaving through the displays and getting out of his sight quickly— and Hueningkai is left with a purse he had no interest in buying, looking down at the item before he scoffs; he throws it off at a random shelf and exits promptly after.

Your footsteps are haste and your heels click rhythmically on the tiled floor; you’re making your way to the cash register, watching his meek stance and the way he flinches under your gaze, a flush running up the back of his neck and coloring his ears red— but you don’t dare to look away from him, placing a rough hand on the counter and leaning close as you inspect him.

“You didn’t tell me you worked here.”

Beomgyu is attempting to stutter out a weak response; his cheeks are colored and his hair is tied back neatly, and you can see the way his hands twitch, undoubtedly resisting the urge to run a hand through the neat style.

“Why— why would I tell you? It’s not something you’d need to know. Or– is it…?”

You’ve confused him, that much you’re sure of. His brows have knitted together and he remains flustered beyond belief— you’re sure you can guess what’s running through his mind right now, and you fight the twitch of your lips at the mere thought.

“I thought you worked as a server.”

“I– I do?” he’s tilting his head in confusion, glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose slightly, “I have two jobs.”

“Three,” you quip, drumming your nails against the counter rhythmically, “you tutor.”

“I… guess…?” Beomgyu says, fighting back the urge to correct you that he really doesn’t— you’re the only one he’s ever tutored before.

“Why would you need to work three jobs? How do you get the time for this?” you don’t really know why you’re pestering Beomgyu about this so much— but you’re also fascinated by it, now beginning to understand where Beomgyu’s lack of social life stems from.

He’s unsure of how to answer your question again; you don’t seem to be particularly patient today, (but then again, when are you?) so you’re waving him off with a dismissive swat of your hand, shaking your head and clicking your tongue before you’re changing the subject; Beomgyu is left to watch as you pull your phone out, scrolling on it for a bit before you’re placing it on the counter and spinning it around for him to see— his eyes are narrowing in concentration as he takes in the picture.

“This purse,” you say slowly, tapping your nail on your phone screen, as though Beomgyu wasn’t currently looking at it, “do you have it in stock? This guy already got one, but I need to know if you have others— I’ve got to have it.”

The urgency in your voice is a bit surprising to Beomgyu— he takes in your expression, solemn and a bit scary, and gulps— then he watches the way you melt in relief the moment he nods hesitantly.

“I’m sure we just got a shipment in today— we, haven’t really, uhm, stocked up properly yet,” he stutters, wincing slightly at the sound while you remain unfazed; your brows lift expectantly, and he’s snapping out his daze and sending you a shaky smile, “I’ll go check.”

He scurries out of your sight and into the employee door quicker than you can process— and when he turns around to take a peek at the small window, he finds you leaning on the counter and on your phone— probably texting, judging by the way your thumbs fly by on the screen— and he feels another heat of shame wash over him, his head spinning and his legs turning into jello.

How can you act so casually? He wonders, glasses slipping down just a bit farther down his nose, nimble fingers pushing it back up with ease, like you weren’t just in his bedroom a few hours prior… like he wasn’t under you…

Beomgyu practically jumps the moment your eyes flicker up and meet his; you simply smile, glossed lips stretching slowly before you give him a wink.

In response, he spins around and begins to actually look— his heart hammers in his chest.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

So pretty.

So perfect and smooth to the touch, cool under your fingertips— you take your time to feel, to trace over every detail, intricate and crafted by the gods as you let out a shaky sigh— your eyes meet Beomgyu’s, and you have half the mind to feel a bit sheepish, retracting your hand quickly and returning to a socially acceptable state of mind.

“Sorry,” you say, beaming at him before you’re reaching into your current bag and handing him your card; his eyes widen comically at the smooth black plastic you place in his hold carelessly, “It’s just… all I could ever ask for. I can’t believe I finally have my hands on this…”

Meanwhile, Beomgyu rings up your inexplicably expensive item, swiping your card and watching the way you don’t even flinch at the sum that shows up; he feels a bit jealous at your nonchalance.

You’re carrying the purse like it were a baby; it isn’t until Beomgyu offers to bag it for you that you finally let it go, placing it gently on the counter and smiling fondly as you watch Beomgyu place it carefully in the equally luxurious gift bag, placing filler paper on top and handing it back to you, his movement practiced and calculated as he says his usual lines— his mind is running on autopilot once more, but you’re particularly eager to break him out of it as you reach out to take the bag from him, warm hand wrapping around his and tugging him slightly towards you.

“Thank you for all your help today,” you purr, shining lips stretching into a coy smile, leaning against the counter and watching as he gulps, adam's apple bobbing, “I think I’ll do well on our upcoming quiz— you’re such a good tutor.”

You don’t bother to stick around after that; your steps are brisk and you’re hugging the purchase close to your body, as though someone were after it and ready to take it, confidence in your step as you exit the store— Beomgyu, on the other hand, practically crumbles the moment you’re out of sight, fingers turning white from how hard he grips onto the edge of the counter; his heart pounds and the sound of blood rushing fills his ears, mind inevitably going back to your teasing action before he’s flustering again.

You’re laughing to yourself the whole ride home— his reaction plays on your mind like a loop, beyond amused by the sight as you pat yourself on the back for being able to come up with something so clever on the spot.

What you don’t realize, however, is that there are consequences to your actions— consequences that are far beyond your control.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

“Are you for real?”

“Uh-huh,” you grin, placing a fond hand on your cheek and batting your eyes at Yunjin, “totally aced it.”

“That’s something I never thought I’d hear from you,” your friend says, poking her fork at her salad before taking a bite; she furrows her brows as she takes in your expression, mouth agape and eyes wide, as though you were offended. “What? It’s true.”

“Okay, first off— I’m not stupid, just lazy,” you clarify, pointing an accusing finger at your friend as you pout, “and second of all, you should really believe in your friend a little more.”

“I mean, it was a little hard to when all you would do was skip classes and go shopping instead,” Yunjin says, raising a challenging brow when you open your mouth to refute her claims— then proceed to promptly close it again, finding that you really can’t deny that— and a small smile tugs at her lips, the kind that lets you know that she’s about to say something really annoying, “but I guess your study sessions with your little boy toy really did work.”

“Boy—?!” you’re in the middle of taking a sip from your iced coffee when she says that, the straw slipping from your mouth and a bit of the liquid escaping from the sheer surprise of her comment— you wipe at your mouth with the back of your hand, feeling a slight heat rush to your face as you stare at her incredulously, “boy toy?”

“I mean, am I wrong?” Yunjin challenges, tilting her head in curiosity while you simply try to deny her claims, “you were literally just telling me about the way you had him wrapped around your finger a while ago—”

“Not like that though!” you huff, feeling worked up from the mere idea of Yunjin finding out the complete and utterly stupid slip up you had a while ago, “god, he’s literally such a fucking loser, don’t try to pair me up with him— other people might get the wrong idea. It’s already bad enough that I had to get a tutor, because it’s not like I was doing bad in my classes until recently. I mean, it’s still my fault and I did let myself go, but I didn’t think I’d have to stoop so low! And now I have to take so much time out of my day to spend my time studying with him and even worse, you’re trying to insinuate something that definitely isn’t true—!”

“Yes! Okay! Enough of that please!” Yunjin says exasperatedly, glancing over your shoulder briefly before she’s taking another bite of her salad, muttering something about you having a motor mouth, “god, it’s just that… people have seen you two together a lot, you know? And with the way he’s looking over at you right now, anyone would think that he’s like… in love with you, or something.”

You’re sitting up straight and whirling around at that; following Yunjin’s previous line of sight, you’re able to pinpoint the said boy immediately— sitting a few tables away, catching him staring at you over his laptop, clearly distracted from his work— the moment your eyes meet, he flinches, hunching down so the screen hides him; it doesn’t work very well, and you’re able to see his downcast eyes and reddening face with ease.

Oh my god, you think with horror, a cold wave washing over you as you stare at him longer— and after a few seconds, he’s peeking back up from his screen, meeting your eyes once more and scrambling to hide unsuccessfully yet again. You decide to turn back around before anyone else around you catches on to this interaction.

“Oh my god,” you breathe out, meeting Yunjin’s gaze as she simply nods at you, her face screaming I told you so, “how long has he been there?”

“Like… basically this whole time,” Yunjin says casually, not fazed in the slightest by your horrified expression, “been staring at you for a while too.”

“Ugh, gross,” you groan, throwing your head back in defeat and staring up at the ceiling with a frown, “I think I might’ve gotten his hopes up too much.”

“C’mon, go easy on him,” Yunjin teases— your head is straightening up to look at her again, but a single glance is enough to tell you she merely finds this situation amusing, “it’s probably his first time properly interacting with a woman.”

“That’s even worse,” you mourn, slumping down and placing your head in your hands; a sudden reminder of your schedule is popping back into your head, and your peeking through your fingers in dismay as you relay the information to your friend, “and I have a study session with him today too.”

“Aww!” she coos, clearly having a blast as she grins, glancing behind you and undoubtedly at Beomgyu once more, “I’m sure he just can’t wait to see you again.”

“God, please shut up,” you whine petulantly, but your friend brushes off your pleas with a mischievous smile, “you’re making me wanna throw up.”

“What, you gonna cancel then?”

Silence. Any other day, you would’ve immediately jumped to say yes, pulling out your phone to text him and bailing like it was nothing. But today, you find yourself oddly reluctant to say this three letter word, unsure of why the answer is difficult to voice before you finally give in to the truth— your head slumps with defeat and you’re too ashamed to look Yunjin in the eyes.

“No.”

“Oh wow,” you hear her say, still blatantly teasing you as she laughs giddily— you don’t bother to react at this point, choosing to ignore the unspoken question of why you’re not ditching him this time.

“Hope you have fun,” she muses, taking one last glance behind you before she’s giggling to herself, “try to go easy on him, m’kay?”

Fuck, this was so embarrassing.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

Today, you’ve changed up your meeting spot quite a bit; Beomgyu was thoroughly surprised when you asked him to study later on in the day, in a more secluded area on the upper levels of the library, telling him to pick a table and wait for you to get there after— usually, you tried to make your meetups as convenient for you as possible, choosing places that you could easily flee from.

When you finally come into his line of sight, Beomgyu frowns. You carry your bag with you, along with a troubled expression and tense posture, glancing around you continuously even if there was no one around, even if the table was hidden behind bookshelves— as though you were afraid of getting caught for something.

You’re dumping your things onto the table unceremoniously— and instead of taking your spot across from Beomgyu like always, you’re sitting next to him, catching him off guard and missing the way he tenses at the action— you’re scooting your chair closer to him and filling his senses with your scent, making him gulp thickly as he tries to not let his mind wander off; he realizes with dread that it’s really not working.

Beomgyu is a stuttering mess today; you pick up on it with ease, frowning at the way he continues to blunder through his explanations and having to repeat things to you multiple times, hands shakier than usual as he points out certain things in the text before he’s relating it back to the assignment.

“That— that’s one of the things the… the uhm, the professor said would be important to remember,” Beomgyu stutters, feeling his body heat up at the way you raise your brows at the sound of his cracking and meek voice. With one glimpse at your (clearly) judgemental and demeaning expression that you didn’t even bother to hide, Beomgyu is scrambling to get his act together.

It works, for a while; the two of you are left in silence as you work on the homework your professor assigned to you, and you remain unfazed at the feeling of Beomgyu catching glimpses at you from time to time; whether that be to look at what you had written down or simply to look at you, you couldn’t really bring yourself to care.

You’re snapped out of zone of concentration at the sound of rustling; a peek from your peripheral vision allows you to watch as Beomgyu has now begun to dig through his bag, wondering what he could be up to; with a roll of your eyes, you’re focusing back to the question you were working on, not bothering to glance back again even once the rustling has ceased.

Without warning, something is placed gingerly on the open surface of your textbook; you’re blinking in surprise before you’re registering what it is that has been put before you, brows knitting together as you wonder how you should react.

It’s a… mini paper flower bouquet.

You’re staring at the item for a solid few seconds before you slowly turn to look at the culprit. Beomgyu meets your intense gaze the best he can, putting up a confident front and fighting back the heat that threatens to engulf his face.

“Y–You— I heard you did well on your test.” He says, glasses slipping down his nose and bangs falling into his eyes, gaze flickering away for a split second before he wills himself to look at you again. Your stare is dead and unreadable.

“I never told you that.”

Beomgyu is losing this battle, his confidence visibly wilting away as his cheeks begin to get dusted with pink. His eyes are wide like a deer caught in headlights, unsure of what to respond as you give him a look that is expecting an explanation— his cheeks are now a bright red.

Even without his explanation, you both know how he got a hold of this news— and you’re thinking back to Yunjin’s teasing, the fear of being seen with him during today’s study session, and the flustered boy in front of you— and your mouth is running faster than you can stop it.

“Choi Beomgyu, do you like me?”

If the floor around you was already quiet before, it’s dead silent now; you’re even able to pick up on the stuttered breath Beomgyu lets out, his eyes growing comically wide as he simply stares at you; almost as though he couldn’t believe what you just asked of him.

“Actually, don’t even answer that,” you wave him off, choosing to ignore the way this seems to spring him into action, stuttering and failing to put together a proper sentence to tell you that no, he definitely doesn’t— you just caught him off guard!

But it’s not like you would believe him anyway, with the way he remains flustered long after you asked the question, unable to even look your way for the rest of the session, staring straight at the textbook and nowhere else whenever you would ask him a question— after a while, you begin to tire of his behavior.

“Choi Beomgyu,” you call out again, soft and dangerous as you turn to face him— he was attempting to explain a question to you, words dying on his tongue as he took in your sudden proximity— leaning in toward him, you tilt your head as you observe his reaction, watching the way his lips press together and his adam's apple bobs as he gulps softly; his puppy-like eyes shine as he waits for you to say something.

“Are you okay?” you ask him, your voice beginning to dip into that coy lilt that you’ve used on him only one other time— and that’s enough to have Beomgyu’s mind spinning, the poor boy thinking thoughts that he’s tried to suppress this whole time— your affect on him is beginning to show once more.

“You look a little…” your eyes flicker down beneath the table, a smile tugging at your lips before you’re looking back into the boy's eyes; catching where you were looking, Beomgyu can’t help but tug his sweater over his lap in embarrassment.

You’re leaning even closer now— your breath is fanning against the shell of his ear, the boy’s face practically on fire as his hands remain clenched and tense on his lap— he’s practically a statue due to your proximity.

“Distracted.”

Your hands are mischievous; curious, setting your pencil down carefully before they begin to wander, sliding across the table before it falls off the edge, nails scratching at the wool material of Beomgyu’s sweater before it lands on top of his hand that covers his lap— you grin at the choked breath of surprise he lets out from the simple touch.

“What— what, what are y–you—?” Beomgyu is about to bite through his lip at this rate, eyes wide and panicked as he watches your hand push his away, taking in the bulge in his pants as a flush of shame rises up his neck; you’ve caught him, but you don’t seem to be fazed in the slightest as you’re cupping him gently, looking up at him with doe eyes and lashes that flutter innocently— he thinks his heart might just explode from how quickly it’s pounding.

“Wait, wait wait— we’re in— other people might—” he’s tripping over his words, saying so much yet nothing at all, but the way his eyes skirt over the perimeter is enough to tell you what he’s thinking— yet all you see are bookshelves that surround and hide you well— beneath the warmth of your hand that has yet to move, you can feel Beomgyu hardening within seconds.

“It’s late. There’s no one else here right now,” you say sweetly, too sweet, a bit patronizing as you lean in close and coo the words directly into his ear— you’re brushing back his long hair with a gentle hand, tucking it behind his ears that he always seems to hide; they’re a pitiful bright red and decorated with silver piercings, absentmindedly caressing along his jaw with the back of your hand; his eyes flutter shut at the tender action, along with the feeling of your hand finally beginning to rock against his cock gently— and he melts into the chair, like putty in your hands as you watch his shoulders slump and cave into himself, his head hang at the stimulation; you’ve barely done anything, yet he’s already a mess— the sight surprises you.

“Go ahead,” you continue softly, hand cupping his jaw and cradling it carefully, attempting to get him to look at you again— and he follows your commands effortlessly, pretty eyes fluttering open and his head turning at the gentle push of your hand— and he’s looking at you with glassy, wide eyes, cheeks flushed pink and mouth parted as his eyes begin to flutter shut again— and your thumb is rubbing soothing circles along his cheekbone teasingly, leaning in slightly to whisper again, close enough that he can feel your breath fanning against the tip of his nose, “Puppy, look at me.”

He follows your command in a heartbeat; he’s met with another of your sickeningly sweet smiles, deceiving and comforting all at the same time.

“Go ahead now puppy,” you murmur, any movements of your hand ceasing entirely as you watch him with eager eyes, watching the way he seems to sober up at the loss of your touch, “take my hand off— c’mon, take it off if you really want to.”

A moment passes— he really should be taking your hand off, shouldn’t he? But his mind is clouded now and you look so pretty under the warm library lights, pristine and perfect as always, glossy lips and lidded eyes encouraging him with a deceivingly fond look— but Beomgyu loves it, and he loves the way you laugh mockingly at him, unable to control the way he whines petulantly and shakes his head, giving you your answer by thrusting his aching cock into your hand desperately.

“Good boy,” you utter absentmindedly, a compliment that makes Beomgyu’s hips stutter as you finally begin to inch up his bulge, careful fingers making quick work to undo his pants— and with one last glance at the deserted area around you, you’re slipping your hand inside and past the tight waistband of his boxers.

“Haah—!” Beomgyu is slapping a hand over his mouth and beating you to it, eyes wide and face even more flushed than before as he stares down at the way your hand disappears beneath the material of his boxers, expertly wrapping around his length and slowly beginning to jerk him off underneath the table.

You don’t seem to be worked up by any of this at all; your eyes are lidded with a slight boredom, a tiredness he’s seen at every one of your study sessions, watching the way you turn back to your homework and begin reading the instructions, hand still working expertly at his length as you do; Beomgyu has to press another hand firmly against his mouth the moment your thumb is swiping over his tip, collecting the constant arousal that collects there and using it as lube— you don’t even bat an eye at him during all this.

After a few minutes, you’re able to hear the slick sounds of your hand working against his cock effortlessly; the poor boy is aroused and leaking beyond belief, now sporting a wet patch against his pants that you seem to be dead-set on worsening— your pace is picking up and you don’t bother to glance at Beomgyu to check up on him, though you also don’t bother to hide the way your lips quirk in amusement at the sight of him trying (and failing) to keep his composure.

“M–mmh, agh— close, s’close…” Beomgyu stutters out pathetically, bucking his hips up messily and turning back into that desperate and rambly mess from the first time you sucked him off; his voice is deep and breathy as he whispers out these pleas to you, begs to not stop, to go faster, to—

“Beomgyu,” you whisper coyly, using this chance to finally put your plan into action, “Beomgyu baby, d’you wanna cum? Hmm? Want me to make you feel good?”

He’s nodding thoughtlessly; of course he’s nodding, his mind has gone blank and there’s nothing else in there that seems to make sense except for the way your warm hand wraps around his cock so perfectly, unable to stop the choked whines he lets out every time he feels you squeeze him teasingly.

“Then you gotta do something for me, okay pup?” you coo out, making sure to use the nickname you know he loves so much— he lets out a choked whimper at the sound, brows knit tightly together and hair falling in front of his face with the way he hangs his head— and you’re leaning in close to him again, breath fanning on his skin and your palm slapping his cheek softly, tapping at it to get his attention; it works like a charm, and his glassy eyes are meeting yours once more. “Puppy, are you listening?”

“I’m—” his words get cut off by a weak whine, feeling your hand tighten teasingly around him, “I’m listening— I’m listening.”

“Good,” you coo out, feeling the way his hips buck and he starts becoming restless, “now if you wanna cum, you gotta promise me something, okay?”

Anything, anything for you, he breathes out absentmindedly, and you’re sure he has no idea what he’s even agreeing to at this point.

“Don’t act like you know me when we’re in public,” you say sweetly, muddling his mind by increasing your pace, by doing exactly what you’ve noted makes him squirm and cry the most, “I don’t know you, you don’t know me— we’re strangers.”

You notice the way his face is twisting up in confusion; his mouth is parting and he’s fighting to say something, to ask why— but you’re not giving him a chance to, brushing his hair back and cupping his face, turning him to look at you and digging your nails into his cheeks to get him to meet your eyes; through the intense pleasure you give him, you can still see the hurt that swims within. You let out a soft coo at the pathetic sight.

“Come on, promise me, okay?” you pout, “you’re a good boy, right? You’ll keep your promise?”

His hips are stuttering and fucking into your fist again; you’ve got him pinned down precisely. Any coherent thought is fading out of Beomgyu’s mind and the only thing he’s concerned himself with is his impending orgasm, the feeling of pleasure that is only heightened with every string of praise you say to him.

“Be a good little puppy and say you’ll promise me,” you say, thumb swiping over his bottom lip before you’re pulling at it, dark eyes observing the way he melts before your touch and finally gives in— he’s nodding, you’ve got him right where you want him, and all you needed was a little bit of mindless praise. “c’mon, say it, say it and you can cum.”

“I promise,” he breathes out, whiny and high pitched and strained, as though speaking was a challenge for him, “I’ll do anything, please— pleasepleaseplease, let me cum, I’ll— I promise.”

“There we go baby,” you hum in approval, pressing a peck to his pouting lips and taking in the way his waterline is filled with tears that hang precariously, “such a good boy— my good boy.”

His hips stutter, rising off the seat, and you’re feeling warm spurts of cum land on your skin. His mouth is falling open and you’re sure he might just let out a loud noise, so before you can think twice, you’re pulling his face close to you and smashing your lips against his; he whines weakly into mouth, and you’re swallowing it greedily, kissing him languidly and guiding him through his high with praise that makes his breath stutter and his knees weak.

You’ve got him wrapped around your finger, and good.

It takes a while before Beomgyu is finally coming to his senses. He’s panting softly against your mouth, lips swollen and bitten at, his cock sensitive as the feeling of you continuing to pump him slowly suddenly becomes too much; with a shaky hand, he presses against your shoulder and attempts to signal you to stop. You’re pulling away immediately.

Beomgyu looks, for lack of a better term, absolutely destroyed. His face is flushed and his eyes are droopy with exhaustion, hair mussed and messy and his clothes in complete disarray; you look down, and you’re wincing in half amusement and half pity at the sight of the wet spot against Beomgyu’s jeans. He’s following your gaze, and if he could turn any redder, you’re sure he definitely would’ve; his ears burn.

Your hand is messy; his cum is still coated on your skin, sticky and incriminating as it sticks to your fingers and pools in between, a grimace twisting your face into a look of dismay as you stare down at the mess— before you can even think of what to do about it, Beomgyu is handing you a tissue.

His hand is shaky as he extends it out to you; your gaze is snapping up to meet his, only you’ve found that he can’t look at you at all— it seems as though the fog in his mind has already subsided and he’s realized what you’ve asked of him, lips pressed together and face still flushed as you finally take it from him. He turns away from you immediately, pulling his sweater over his lap and staring down at the disarray of textbooks and notebooks before him.

The silence is suddenly unbearable. You feel awkward as you wipe at your skin, even more so when you’re stuck with nothing but a soiled tissue and a hand that’s still undeniably dirty, the tension between you two now growing tenfold by the second as you finally decide that you should probably just go— it’s not like he’d be surprised by it anyway.

You’re opening your mouth to excuse yourself— to ignore the elephant in the room, to simply run away with a coy smile like you always do— but Beomgyu is beating you to the punch, and you can’t even hide the startled flinch your body does as he stands and begins to pack up hastily, shoving his materials into his book bag without a second glance to see if everything is perfectly aligned and neat.

You can only sit there and watch; it’s clear that your words seem to have gotten to him, and though you were expecting the awkwardness that would stem from it, you didn’t expect Beomgyu to be upset; your mind races to find reasons why, to try and wrap your head around why he would be feeling this way.

“I asked the professor how you were doing in the class, since you never seem to want to tell me,” Beomgyu finally says, breaking the tension and adjusting the materials in his bag to be just the way he likes it; he zips his bag shut in one aggressive swoop, and you can’t help the surprise on your face when he sends you a harsh glare.

“He says you’ve been improving greatly; said you were a good student from the very start, that you only needed to catch up on the materials.” he’s slinging his bag over his shoulder, pushing the chair in and taking a step back from your dumbfounded figure, “so it looks to me that you achieved your goal with our sessions.”

A moment passes— and your eyes widen slightly, catching on to what he’s trying to tell you, finding that you really want to deny the professor’s claims, even if they are true. But your pride impedes you from uttering a single word, knowing that it would kill you to try and coax Beomgyu to stay with you, to keep these study sessions going— and through this sudden urge, you catch yourself wondering why you would even want this to continue.

“I’m glad my help seemed to work— but it seems that you don’t even need it anymore,” Beomgyu finalizes what he needed to say, and you can see the way his shoulders practically sag from the relief of getting his thoughts across; his hand goes to tug his oversized sweater down, completely covering his lap and the mess you left— he grimaces softly.

“What? So that’s it?” is all you can say, watching his face harden at your words, “Just like that? What about me?”

His face twists up in anger— your words have struck a nerve, and suddenly, he’s remembering why no one wanted to tutor you in the first place.

“I’m sure you’ll do fine,” is all he says, taking another step back and increasing the distance between you two, “anyone would be willing to tutor you with the rate you like to offer.”

You both know what he really wants to say— just use your money on someone else to get what you want, like you always do. You find that you can’t really say anything to that. You remain silent.

Beomgyu turns around, and leaves; he doesn’t bother to say goodbye, and you’re left to watch his retreating figure, the hastiness of his pace and the way he continuously tugs his oversized sweater down over and over, even if it doesn’t move an inch.

That’s it, you tell yourself, leaning back against your chair, staring down at the display before you, at the notes you were actually taking, the work you were finally doing, you finally got what you wanted.

After a moment, the seat next to you is feeling a lot emptier than it did seconds ago; the room feels endless, as though you were left alone in this lonely labyrinth. Beomgyu’s words echo in your head, and you frown.

Is this what you wanted?

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

Beomgyu has kept his promise well; you haven’t seen him in weeks.

Not around campus, not around the dining halls, not even in the library, a place you’ve found yourself actually attending regularly— not even in the only class you shared— and it seems as though he’s vanished off the face of the Earth.

You’ve found yourself thinking about him more often than you’d like; wondering if he’s okay, if he’s off at one of his many jobs again, if he’s resting— it makes you shiver with disgust every time you catch yourself, grimacing at the idea that you would even find yourself worried about him— and while you tell yourself that you’ve finally gotten rid of one of your biggest burdens, you can still feel the nagging feeling to talk to him every time you see his contact in your phone.

“Did you finally get him off your trail?” Yunjin asks you one day, when you’re busy checking the due dates for this week’s assignments online, making a mental schedule of what to work on first as you leave your food untouched; her words are snapping you out of your trance, looking up at her with a gaze that screams I wasn’t listening, what?

“Your little plaything— the loser guy?” she drawls, watching your face carefully, taking your small reaction as a sign that you’ve caught on, “did you finally shake him off?”

“I— yeah, I did,” you say apathetically, letting out a soft tsk as you’re looking back at your laptop, “finally.”

“Wow, look at you,” Yunjin awes, seeing the way your brows furrowed in concentration and you have yet to eat, too immersed in your course load to roll your eyes at her clear, mocking tone, “looks like he really did a number on you— I didn’t know you used your laptop for anything other than shopping.”

“Yunjin, come on,” you sigh, jaw clenching as you suddenly don’t find yourself in the mood for her teasing, “I mean, I know I’ve been slacking really bad recently, but you know that’s not true.”

She doesn’t seem to take you seriously— then again, no one ever really does, a constant in your life that makes you jaw tick and your eyes mentally roll— and she laughs, shaking her head and pouting as though you were a thing to be pitied. You wonder how much of this is supposed to be friendly teasing.

“Yeah sure,” she sighs, leaning her chin on the palm of her hand and leaning over to look at your screen, “Don’t work too hard though, it might hurt your brain.”

You ignore her comment; Yunjin doesn’t seem to care about your silence, doesn’t bother to gauge your reaction as she continues to poke at yet another of her salads, pushing the contents around with her fork in boredom as she speaks up again.

“You know, hopefully he has the same effect on me.”

This gets your attention immediately. Yunjin is looking at you with surprised eyes that feign innocence, raising a confused brow at your narrowed eyes.

“What do you mean by that,” you ask slowly, attempting to keep your tone indifferent as you speak.

Yunjin shrugs, as though what she was about to tell you next wasn’t of any importance— and it really shouldn’t be, but you still can’t ignore the way it makes your body feel like you’ve been shocked with a wave of electricity.

“I mean, your little tutor seemed to be such a good influence so…” she stabs at her salad lazily, bringing up the fork to her lips before she’s sending you a small smile. “I thought I’d give him a try.”

You bristle quite visibly at that; your mind is running a million miles an hour, wondering where this sudden idea is coming from, being friends with Yunjin for longer than you can remember as your mouth begins to run before you can stop it.

“You said your parents have tried to set you up with multiple tutors— the best in the country,” you say, brows knitted together as Yunjin simply shrugs her shoulders, raising her brows as if to say and? “You said you’d rather die than to get tutored— you said it was a waste of time.”

“Yeah… but…” Yunjin shrugs again, and you wonder how much of this is just an impulse from her as she continues, “I don’t know, my parents are on my ass again about giving me a tutor, and I don’t wanna deal with all those stuck up pricks they send to me.”

She admits her true motives with her next words.

“And I don’t know… he’s kinda cute?” she says, laughing like a schoolgirl who was embarrassed to admit a crush, “In like, a pathetic kinda way— and now that he’s done tutoring you, I’m sure he has a slot that opened up.”

Your mind is spiraling with things to say to her; you want to tell her to stay away from Beomgyu, to not try to mess with him— tell her that he’s a loser that isn’t worth her time, a nerd with an obsession with a lame game and the owner of a creepy bird— but you catch yourself, biting your tongue and taking in the way Yunjin simply looks at you expectantly; as though waiting for your embarrassing outburst, you realize.

With a scoff, you’re slamming your laptop shut— Yunjin flinches in surprise.

“I’m sure one did— I’m leaving,” is all you say, knowing that nothing would change, even if you tried anything. Yunjin scrambles to try to get you to stay, but all attempts fall short— you tell her there’s an exam you need to study for, and she sighs in defeat.

“You’re coming to the party this Saturday, at least?” she says, clearly annoyed at your sudden sensitivity, at your sudden change in attitude, “you promised you would.”

Your mind is attempting to remember what she could be talking about— then you’re finally remembering the event she spontaneously planned a few weeks back, telling you that she hasn’t seen everyone together in one place in so long— and while you found yourself agreeing excitedly back then, you don’t have much energy to do so now. But Yunjin is staring at you expectantly, raising a brow at your silence, and you find that there’s really not much of a choice for you. (There is, but you know there’d be consequences if you chose wrong.)

“Yeah. I’ll be there.”

“Perfect!” she beams, eyes crinkling and her hands clasping together happily, as though there was no previous tension between you at all mere moments before, “I’ll see you then.”

You merely nod, turning around and taking your food to the nearest trash can— you weren’t really hungry, anyway.

You can feel Yunjin’s eyes pinpointed on you the whole way out.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

You’ve always loved parties.

You loved to dress up, make yourself look pretty and catch the eyes of everyone with your pretty dresses and makeup done to perfection; loved the attention that came with it, the way you could let loose for once and not worry about your image, drinking and feeling your body become loose, mind finally being allowed to forget about any worries you had.

You were known to be a social butterfly; the pretty airhead that couldn’t stop talking once you got her started— always the life of the party, never one to cling to the wall and stare at the dance floor wistfully.

Standing before the beach house of Yunjin’s parents, one they didn’t use as much as they once did when Yunjin was only a little girl with an affinity to the sea, you begin to wonder where that part of you has gone.

You feel dreadfully out of place. You haven’t even gone inside yet.

Music is blasting and the windows are dark, save for the bright neon lights that come from an unknown source; Yunjin has always been a sucker for that club vibe, anyway. You want to go in, want to walk inside and pretend like it’s nothing, but this time, you can only stand at the bottom of the steps and tug your dress down a little more. You feel like a prude.

Deep breaths, you tell yourself— one in, one out, your chest rising and falling slowly as you try calm your racing pulse— and with a silent okay of reassurance to yourself, you will your body to begin its trek up the steps.

The door is unlocked; it’s not like you needed to knock to get in, anyway— only those with an invite even knew this party was happening. The place isn’t packed— nor is it meant to be— but it’s a bit crowded at least, filled with familiar faces for the most part; all people you grew up with or around, sons and daughters of influential families that grew to be nothing but partiers and troublemakers. In other words, your usual crowd.

There are some exceptions to these guests, however. People you’ve seen around campus, student athletes with a scholarship and business majors that have already found themselves internships to the companies others in the room are a part of— and it seems that no matter how much everyone here tries to pretend and deny, they can never really separate their personal lives from the responsibilities passed down to them at birth.

Your first instinct is to beeline it to the kitchen; in other words, to the makeshift bar Yunjin always sets up, an impressive display of alcohol and even a hired bartender making drinks left and right— you immediately ask for two jello shots, something Yunjin always made for herself and in extension, you, not in the mood for anything stronger as you opt to get this nervous energy out of you instead; you proceed to get two more a second after, just out of habit.

You should find Yunjin; let her know you’re here, make sure she doesn’t try to scold and bitch at you for promising to go to her party only to end up ditching— you’re sure she’d never believe you unless she saw you with her own eyes.

The kitchen is empty. The makeshift dance floor seems to be empty as well, spending a few minutes scouring the place and shrugging off any passing advances; with a heavy sigh, you decide that you should check upstairs, just in case, ready to make your way up before a rough hand is grabbing at your elbow and tugging you back; the smell of alcohol greets you before Yunjin can.

“You actually came!” Yunjin yells over the music, her face flushed from the alcohol and her balance off as she stumbles slightly; you make a quick move to catch her, eyes drifting down before you’re catching sight of the uncomfortable heels she dons— meeting her gaze once more, she pouts.

“I don’t even know why I wore these,” she groans, running a hand through her auburn hair, watching the way it falls back into place perfectly— she then proceeds to scan over your own outfit, letting out a sound of awe as she smiles, “you look great! Pretty as always.”

She’s muttering something else, but you can’t really hear it over the sound of the music; eventually, you find your eyes drifting away to the dancefloor, wondering if there’s anyone else you could recognize— your eyes lock with a particular, infamous athlete’s, one that you’ve been dying to get with since the beginning of the semester— and you’re suddenly thankful for the buzz the jello shots provided you, Yunjin eventually following your gaze and cheering at the realization of what you were planning.

She’s pushing you forward before you can even think things through; the man with dark hair simply smiles at you, coy eyes beckoning you closer— and with a deep breath, you decide to let go of any worries you had and go back to being your airheaded, carefree self— even if just for a moment.

“Hey,” he says simply, a hand going to rest on your waist; the music is much too loud for you to converse properly, but you don’t really seem to mind as you allow yourself to get lost in the rhythm instead— that, and because your tipsy brain has forgotten his name, and the low lights that obscure his face aren’t exactly helping either.

But it seems as though he was thinking the exact thing; he’s leaning down to ask the exact question you were wondering into your ear, deep voice and pouty lips that brush against the shell of your ear making you shiver— you’re muttering your name into his ear, tilting your head toward him to allow him to do the same.

Yeonjun. Your head seems to clear for the moment.

“Looks like we finally meet,” he grins, still close to your face in order for you to be able to hear him; your face twists up in confusion, and he laughs softly before continuing. “You’re just as pretty as I’ve been told— my friend talks a lot about you. You’re trouble, hmm?”

“Your friend?” is all you can say in response, placing a hand against his chest and leaning in closer, the music muddling his words slightly; his hand continues to hold you steady, and the two of you continue to sway to the rhythm.

“Yeah,” he laughs, staring at your face that’s twisted up in obvious confusion, “My roommate, Beomgyu? I heard he tutored you for a bit.”

His name is enough to clear your head entirely, as though a bucket of ice water has been poured over your body and drenched your figure.

“He— he told you about me?” you ask, mentally slapping yourself for sounding so pathetic, for feeling so curious as you stare at Yeonjun with undeniably hopeful eyes; instead, all you get is another amused laugh from him.

“Are you kidding? You practically traumatized him!” he jokes, though you don’t find yourself laughing along to that, lips twitching and a frown threatening to take over your features, “You’d think he was scared of you from the way he talked about you.”

You don’t respond to that; you’re not sure how you would respond to that anyway, letting out a weak laugh and falling silent as you look over his shoulder and fall back into the beat of the song— but it seems as though Yeonjun is too drunk, and frankly, unaware to take in your reaction, because he’s leaning into your ear and murmuring words that strike the final blow into your heart.

“He’s here, actually— Yunjin and him really seem to be hitting it off. Didn’t think he had it in him”

You chose to bite your tongue, biting back a bitter comment about how he really doesn’t have it in him to woo someone like Yunjin. But Yeonjun is too amused by his own comment to pick up on the sudden sourness of your mood, mouthing the lyrics to whatever’s playing and guiding your hips with a hand, a smile tugging at his lips as he sends you a wink. But you’re too shaken by this sudden news that you no longer feel the need to play along, much less try to hook up with him tonight. Now that you think about it, the once superficially important goal of chasing after the athlete before you had been pushed down the list of your priorities long, long ago.

“‘M gonna get a drink,” you mutter miserably, pushing against Yeonjun’s chest and ignoring the way he immediately begins to complain, untangling yourself from his grip as you leave with one final, half-hearted sorry!

Screw jello-shots, you think to yourself, stumbling back to the kitchen with sore feet, I need something stronger.

Something stronger comes in the form of a mysterious drink you let the bartender make for you; you didn’t exactly keep track of the ingredients he listed off to you, simply nodding instead when he asked if that’s what you wanted— if you think it’s strong enough, you replied with a smile, choosing to ignore the hesitant nod he gave you in return.

The speed at which you downed the drink was enough to have the bartender at your side with a water and a warning look— you ignored it, of course, drinking the water with a slight pout, only bothering to drink half before you were back to the dancefloor; maybe you could distract yourself with Yeonjun for a while, you think.

But any plans to track down the said man come to a glaring halt the moment you’re stepping out the kitchen; your eyes widen, surprised expression mirroring Hueningkai’s as he stands before you— his eyes scan over your figure, running back up and stopping at your hazed eyes and flushed face, the slight sway in your movement helping everything click in his mind; you’re a few drinks away from getting utterly wasted, and it seems as though that’s the path you’re getting ready to take.

“Didn’t think you’d be here,” Hueningkai says, watching your face scrunch in confusion, taking a step forward to hear him better, “Thought you’d be too busy doing another study date to come.”

“Shut up,” you sneer, rolling your eyes and scoffing at the implications of his words, “And why do you care? I’m surprised you’re not fucking a random girl in Yunjin’s bathroom right now.”

“I tried,” Hueningkai rolls his eyes, smiling in that obnoxiously smug way as he watches you frown. He leans in, placing a hand on the doorway and above your head as he reaches out to grab your waist; tugging you close to him, lips ghosting the shell of your ear as he mumbles quietly, “but she wasn’t anywhere as good as you.”

“You’re gross,” you glare, leaning back as you let your lips upturn in disgust, already knowing what he’s implying— asking of you— with a simple look at his face. “Leave me alone, I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Are you still mad?” Hueningkai asks, beginning his chase even after you’ve successfully escaped his clutches, ignoring him with a roll of your eyes as you cross your arms and make your way out to the living room, “you never even told me what was wrong, you just ran away and kept bitching at me.”

You huff; it doesn’t seem like Hueningkai will give up anytime soon, so you’re whirling around and sending him a pointed glare as you finally give him the closure he so desperately keeps asking for.

“I did tell you what was wrong,” you start, clenching your jaw at the way he immediately opens his mouth to refute that, “you treat me like nothing more than a fuck buddy, acting as though we weren’t actually friends before that! All you do is make me feel worthless, then you have the audacity to turn around and play the victim?! Like seriously, Hueningkai, is this all you see me as? A body to fuck?”

Hueningkai began asking you to keep it down the moment you felt yourself get riled up; volume rising, face heating up, you ignored him, ignored the odd looks you got from others, deciding that since the man before you wanted to hear your thoughts so badly, you’d let it all out.

“We used to be friends. We grew up together!” you say, feeling ridiculous for continuing to grieve the past, the days where things weren’t so complicated and all you felt for Hueningkai was a harmless crush. “I can’t believe I let you use me like this, just because I thought I liked— god, I’m so stupid.”

You don’t give him a chance to retaliate; you’re turning around and ready to weave your way through the faceless people and go outside, only making it halfway before Hueningkai is grabbing at your elbow and asking you to wait. His persistence garners yet another roll of your eyes.

“You what? Hang on, what was that last part?” he asks, trailing behind you and desperately asking for an answer— because of course he would hone in on that part. You continue to ignore him, tugging your arm out his hold and beginning to push through the crowd at the dancefloor— seriously, how many people did Yunjin invite? You seem to have severely underestimated the capacity of this place.

“You— did you like me? Do you like me?” Hueningkai’s last attempts to get something, anything from you are childish and do nothing but make your stomach churn, “Come on, we can talk this out, be mature about it— I can fix things, I can make it up to, yeah? Hey, don’t bail on me now—”

“Enough!” you yell, getting yet another round of side glances and strange looks from others; listening in like always, pretending horribly to be ignorant to it all.

You’re right before the doorway; so close, yet you know that if you leave now, Hueningkai will continue to follow and pester you— so as horrible as the timing is, you realize with a heavy feeling that now is your chance to do what you’ve been debating on for so long.

“Please, I don’t want to do this anymore,” you say, your words weak as you look right into his eyes— and everything surfaces into your mind once more, the innocent hope you once had of stealing his heart one day, “Let’s just end this— everything.”

The words feel familiar on your tongue, only this time, you realize that this is the person you should’ve directed this message to in the first place.

“We don’t know each other,” you say, jaw clenched at the way it takes Hueningkai a second to process things due to the music that tries to drown you out— you still catch onto the exact moment where it all registers in his head, eyes widening and mouth opening to protest— but you beat him to it, not giving him another opportunity to try and haphazardly fix thing, albeit momentarily. Your eyes meet his, and your heart wrenches upon seeing that he’s more annoyed than hurt.

“Don’t talk to me— we’re strangers now.”

The final blow is like a weight that is immediately taken off your shoulders; you reach to open the door and slip out. This time, Hueningkai doesn’t follow.

The air is cool on your face and a nice contrast to the stuffy air inside the house. Slowly, you make your way to the corner of the porch fence, stumbling over due to the soreness of your feet and the alcohol that still runs through your system. So many emotions course through you, seemingly wanting to bring about a wave of nostalgia and sadness, lingering feelings for the man you’ve just let behind— but you won’t allow yourself to cry over him, scoffing instead at the way you allowed yourself to foolishly bend over backwards for him for so long.

“Wow,” you hear a voice say, not bothering to look back as you immediately recognize who it is; Yunjin joins you, leaning against the fence and craning her head forward to properly survey you— you don’t bother looking at her, even more so when she finally continues,“That was harsh back there.”

You sigh. Because of course Yunjin heard that, and of course she’s the one to bring it up immediately after.

“Didn’t think you’d actually cut him off— I thought you’d always be like, head over heels, hopelessly in love with him— like a little girl, you know? You never seemed to grow out of him.” You glare at her, but continue to remain silent; she laughs, throwing her head back at the sight, only to wobble back slightly from the sudden motion.

“Oh come onnnnn, you know it’s true!” she coos, proceeding to poke at you teasingly and twist her voice to sound like you, “Huening called me pretty. Huening bought me the purse I really wanted. Huening wants me to go with him to dinner with his parents. Huening Huening Huening—!”

Her laugh is obnoxious, even after you’ve hissed at her to be quiet; she continues to mock you under her breath, drunkenly quoting things she overheard from your outburst, and you realize with a disappointed sigh that she definitely won’t be stopping soon.

“Heyyy, don’t get all sensitive on me now!” she whines, grabbing your hand and tugging you back when you attempt to leave; it doesn’t work, and you merely tug yourself out her grip, not even bothering to respond to her cries to stay.

Yunjin pauses her dramatics the moment you’re turning and leaving, scoffing at the way she offhandedly apologizes, words slurring together as she says that she’s sorry if you feel offended! You’re shaking your head at that, making your way back to where the stairs are, glancing back at the home one last time— and you’re freezing for a second when you meet Beomgyu’s gaze, the boy wide eyed and awkward as he stands at the doorway. Behind you, Yunjin cheers drunkenly.

“Beomie! Hey, could you tell her to stop being so dramatic? Like come on, I’m just trying to have fun,” Yunjin’s rambles are left unacknowledged by you both, and you finally find strength within you to walk away after a second; it’s not like you and Beomgyu had anything to talk about, anyway.

Behind you, Yunjin calls for Beomgyu to go to her and give her attention; her pleas fade from your ears and you’ve finally made it onto the beach, pulling out your phone and fumbling through your contacts before you’re finally ordering an Uber to pick you up instead— it was too late in the night for you to bother your driver.

The closest driver will be here in fifteen minutes; you’ll spend those fifteen minutes sitting before the ocean, clothes riddled with sand and body still sobering up slowly, your shoes placed to the side as you dip your legs into the water— fifteen minutes of silence, allowing you to ponder if these people are really the ones you’ve chosen to affiliate with for half your life.

You’ve become so entranced with the white noise of the waves that you couldn’t pick up on the approaching footsteps of another; it isn’t until the said person is sitting at your side that you’re finally snapping out of your trance.

Beomgyu settles down beside you without a word. You watch him for a second, taking in his appearance— he must’ve been dragged here, if anything, his attire not straying from the usual sweaters and jeans— and you look away, staring back out into the horizon as silence continues to drag down between the two of you.

“You’re not sensitive,” Beomgyu suddenly says, his voice so quiet and hesitant you almost missed it, “Or dramatic.”

You laugh humorlessly.

“I know.”

“You deserve to feel wanted,” Beomgyu adds, glancing at you from the corner of his eye, taking in your troubled expression and distant gaze, “...And, your friends are all assholes.”

“...I know.”

It’s quiet. You’re staring down at your feet, at the waves that slowly make their way up your shins before they retreat. Tonight made everything clearer than ever— why did you ever bother to associate with those people? Family and social status was the answer, but as you sit on the beach and away from the rowdy, ruthless crowd, you realize that you feel much more comfortable where you are.

“No one ever takes me seriously,” you say suddenly, staring at the ground and tracing shapes into the sand, “I mean, I never really gave them reason to; it was all just fun and games at first— since I was a girl, I mean. Everyone thought that because I was so obsessed with superficial things that I just didn’t have anything going on in my head, and I guess that was enough to let me become a joke to everyone. A pretty airhead who just thinks about makeup and clothes and purses.”

“I mean, I worked hard to get to where I’m at, y’know? There’s more to me than just that. I won’t deny that my parents and their wealth helped get me a lot, and I certainly won’t deny that I seriously slacked this semester, but I— I don’t know, I just wish people wouldn’t take the shit I say and do like an absolute cosmic joke sometimes; that everyone I know and surrounded myself with wasn’t so superficial and fake.”

Your mouth just began running without you realizing it, forcing you to spill everything that’s been weighing on your mind; you don’t even bother stopping yourself, refusing to glance at the boy beside you as you continue.

“And you wanna know what the worst part is? For a while, I started to believe what they thought of me, started to play into it if it meant them… liking me more. Ugh, that sounds so pathetic, seriously. I need to get it together.” You roll your eyes, tossing your head back as you scold yourself midway through your rambling, “I thought that if I acted all cute and stupid, if I just molded myself into what they liked, they… he would choose me. Would decide to keep me around for more than just a fuck. Would reciprocate years and years of pining and pretending to be cool with him fucking around with other people— all while he got all sulky if I even mentioned other guys.”

Silence. You go quiet for a moment, hand stilling for a moment, brows knitting together as you stare at the mess you’ve made in the sand; Beomgyu opens his mouth to say something, but is swiftly cut off by the sight of you sitting up straight abruptly.

“But I’m worth more than that, y’know? I deserve to have someone take it slow with me, to like me for who I am, to really take me seriously. Even if I act ridiculous sometimes.” You sigh, your lips twitching in a soft smile as you finally look up from the mess in the sand and at Beomgyu; his eyes meet yours, doe-like and wide as always. You laugh at his expression, and his face heats up at the sight.

“God, I’ve been really insufferable, huh?” you laugh, looking away from him the moment you felt your heart beating a bit faster, “I just never shut up, I’ve been told it’s really annoying— I didn’t mean to dump that all on you like that.”

“It’s alright,” Beomgyu says hastily, biting at his lip and averting your gaze as he continues, “I like listening to you talk.”

Your eyes widen and his words echo through your mind, bouncing off the walls and repeating the message over and over. I like listening to you talk.

Your mind seems to have entirely blanked out at that; how do you even respond? All you know is that your body seems to heat up entirely after a second, shivers running through your spine as you attempt miserably to find something to say, something that’ll probably shatter the mood entirely— but you can’t, and you’re stuck in a silence that grows tense as minutes pass.

The ding of a notification sounds from your phone; the two of you are looking down at the screen that lights up, and you immediately scramble to leave the moment you read that your car is here.

“I— I have to go,” you say lamely, wincing at your accidental stutter; you don’t give Beomgyu a chance to say anything more, wiping the sand off your clothes and giving him a half-hearted wave goodbye. “See ya.”

If anyone accused you of running away like a coward, you wouldn’t even bother to deny such claims— because it’s true, and you all but sprint away in order to get out of Beomgyu’s sight, eyes frantically sweeping over the street until you finally spot your Uber, sending a small wave and getting inside quickly.

“Sorry about the mess,” you say sheepishly, glancing down at your shoes that tracked in remnants of sand; slowly, the car begins to move, and you’re staring out the window and watching Yunjin’s beach house pass by— in the very distance, your eyes catch onto Beomgyu, who remains sitting still by the shore.

Your mind echoes his words to you, and you’re failing miserably to push down the way your stomach seems to be filled with a flurry of butterflies, the way your face heats up and a smile threatens to break through your face.

Fuck, you think to yourself, realizing with dread that you’ve only felt something this intense one other instance, many years ago.

Fuck.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

It’s been a few weeks since Yunjin’s party; a few weeks since you stopped talking to her, a few weeks since you dropped all your snobby friends you only made for connections, a few weeks since you finally broke things off with Hueningkai.

A few weeks since you realized that you might see Beomgyu as more than just a nerdy, pathetic loser.

You’ve found that you have a lot more free time these days; now that you’re no longer worried about attending worthless cocktail parties or going golfing to help Yunjin impress a CEO’s son who she’s had her eye on for days, you’ve found that your life has become a lot more peaceful— or rather, boring.

Your social life is nonexistent; what else did you expect, after cutting off practically everyone you knew? You’ve become a homebody, much more focused on your work and finding more mundane hobbies— your grades have never looked better.

Avoiding Yunjin and anyone associated with her was simple; it was nothing, passing by her and pretending like you two never knew each other, like the two of you weren’t once attached by the hip. It never phased you to be in the same room as her, not even batting an eye when she found herself sitting a table away from you in the dining halls.

You just wish you could say the same about Beomgyu.

God, what the hell has gotten into you? You’ve become a fumbling, ridiculous mess, not even able to look him in the eye when you spot him in the halls, in the library, in cafes; your body heats up and words get stuck in your throat whenever he’s so much as close in proximity, always finding a way to flee as soon as possible— you don’t even bother being inconspicuous anymore.

It was apparent to anyone who knew you that this behavior was a complete switch from your usual self— cocky, flirty, bold— and Beomgyu, who had to spend hours on end with you, knew that better than anyone.

He’s able to spot your odd behavior immediately. Though unfortunately for him, he’s unable to come to a proper conclusion as to why you may be acting like that, and simply decides that you must be holding up your promise still; the promise to act like complete strangers, that is.

Beomgyu frowns, staring at your back as you stand in line at the cafe across the campus library; you’re rigid, as though turning around and acknowledging the man behind you could kill you. Did you really hate him that much? He thought he made progress back at Yunjin’s party, your moment of vulnerability allowing him to see you in a completely new light— because after a moment of thought, after you fled the scene with an awkward wave and an empty smile, Beomgyu began to think; he really didn’t know anything about you. He didn’t even know your major.

All he knew about you were superficial things— and Beomgyu found himself oddly irritated by the thought, wondering if he was any better than the very people you were complaining about; it weighed his mind, finding himself prattling off to Yeonjun about it one day, laying on the couch and petting Toto absentmindedly as he stared up at the ceiling.

“She’s an architecture major,” Yeonjun said from the kitchen, looking up from the stove and meeting Beomgyu’s surprised gaze, “Yunjin told me once that she’s been working to try and get an internship at her father’s company— starting from the bottom up and everything. Heard it’s super competitive over there.”

You were a lot more hardworking and studious than Beomgyu— or anyone, really— gave you credit for. And as he watched you recite your order to the cashier, something so convoluted that the boy wondered if it was even good, he found himself wanting to learn more about you. You stood off to the side, staring down at your phone with a concentrated pout, and he wondered if he should bite the bullet and finally attempt talking to you.

Just as Beomgyu was mustering up the courage to say something, just as he was about to open his mouth, your name was called and you picked up your drink with a swiftness he’s never seen before, making your way out and passing Beomgyu in the blink of an eye. He’s left waiting for his drink long after, snapped out of his reverie by a text notification.

Huh Yunjin:

im at the library rn r u coming ??

dont keep me waiting :(

Beomgyu sighs, and trudges his way to the library with a pout; the feeling is reminiscent, but he can’t help but find himself thinking that it was you he was studying with instead. He spots Yunjin’s bright head of orange hair instantly, eyes glued to her phone and brows knitted together in a soft frown— and though Beomgyu apologized for being late and asked her to start without him, she didn’t seem to bother to even get her materials out.

Internally, Beomgyu finds himself rolling his eyes— But he’s masking that with a soft clear of his throat, his calm voice asking Yunjin to get her textbook out so they can start their session— and she finally looks up from her phone, bright eyes filled with confusion before she smiles sheepishly.

“Oh right, the textbooks,” she murmurs, looking over at the seat next to her where she’s placed her bag, then across where Beomgyu sits; his eyes widen at the sight of her collecting her things, standing up and rounding the table before she sits next to him— before he can question what he’s doing, she scoots her chair closer to him, shoulders touching as she sends him an innocent smile. “I… forgot mine… you don’t mind if we share, right? You said you took this class last semester.”

Beomgyu can’t contain the way he lets out an exasperated breath; he pulls out his laptop, pulling up his digital copy as he mentally complains about how unprepared and demanding Yunjin always seemed to be— he can’t remember the last time she actually brought her own supplies; if anything, Beomgyu was sure she hadn’t even bought her required texts.

And as he scrolls through the index in search of the needed chapter, he feels Yunjin leaning in closer; all under the guise of seeing the screen better, but Beomgyu knows better than to believe that her intentions are all innocent. And despite Beomgyu’s multiple attempts to scoot away from her, he quickly finds himself trapped by the girl again, frowning at the way she laughs at everything little thing he says and tugs at his sleeve when she’s confused about something.

For a moment, Beomgyu wonders if she might actually be hitting on him— but he soon catches onto the way she peeks over his screen after each attempt to be touchy, how she glances in the same direction after every soft coo of that same nickname that makes him wince— and he follows the path of her gaze eventually, not entirely surprised at what he sees; if anything, it helps everything click together.

Beomgyu spots you sitting two tables away, face twisted up in concentration and headphones obstructing your ears, head bobbing rhythmically as you scribble things on your notebook, glancing back at your laptop’s screen ever so often; he catches sight of numbers and equations, and he realizes that you must be working on math homework.

Without realizing, he’s found himself staring at you; this side of you that he never saw much, private and calm and hardworking, the image you said you wished others saw in you— and, as though you could feel it, you’re looking up from your work, meeting Beomgyu’s eyes instantly and watching as he flusters and looks away; your eyes then fall onto the girl who has him backed into the corner of the table, who leans into him and glances over you with a slight quirk of her lips— she sends you a small wave, then turns back to Beomgyu, calling out his name softly.

Undeniably curious, you lower the volume of your music slightly— you didn’t expect Yunjin to actually go through with her plans of getting Beomgyu to tutor her, and much less her lasting this long— you’re bringing up a hand to your head as subtly as you can, moving the right side of your headphone away from your ear slightly and allowing yourself to listen in to whatever it is they talk about.

While Beomgyu attempts multiple times to tutor her and teach her materials, Yunjin can’t seem to stop steering away in a completely different direction; asking him entirely unrelated questions, blatantly flirting and acting coy as she pulls at his sweater everytime he seems hesitant to answer— the sight is slightly amusing, but you can’t deny the way it makes you wince with annoyance.

“Today’s your day off, right?” Yunjin asks eventually, smiling widely when he nods, albeit hesitantly, “Great! You know how you said you’d take me to dinner if I got a good score on my test?”

You hear the sound of Yunjin’s nails clicking against a screen; undoubtedly searching for something, the soft mutters of Beomgyu’s you were the one who struck up the deal, making you bite your tongue in a desperate attempt to remain inconspicuous; from the corner of your eye, you’re able to catch the way the said boy glances over at you.

“Well… ta-da!” Yunjin squeals happily as she shoves the phone into Beomgyu’s face, allowing him to see her results for the said test. Beomgyu hums absentmindedly at the sight.

“Your place at seven?” Yunjin grins, poking his shoulder teasingly; Beomgyu doesn’t answer, but she chooses to take that silence as a yes. “Great! I have to go actually; promised my girls I’d have brunch with them— you understand, right?”

Instead of fumbling with his words and asking her to not leave so abruptly, Beomgyu simply nods and hums a soft uh-huh. The sight is enough to have Yunjin scoffing, slinging her purse on her shoulder and reaching over to grab Beomgyu’s chin— she tugs it and makes him face her, the action so sudden that his eyes widen drastically— and she smiles, squishing his cheeks teasingly and pouting at his distant behavior.

“Don’t get all pouty with me— I’ll see you soon ‘kay?” before Beomgyu can even process anything, Yunjin leans down to press a kiss to his cheek, feeling her lipstick transfer onto his skin— he’s slightly dazed, reaching up immediately to place a hand over the spot, staring at Yunjin with furrowed brows; she simply laughs and waves at him one final time, practically skipping out from how giddy she seemed.

From a distance, you watch Beomgyu quietly reach for his bag, his expression blank as he pulls out a tissue and his phone; you watch him use his front camera as a mirror, wiping at the lipstick with a soft frown.

From a distance, you laugh to yourself— the distaste that appears on his face is obvious to you, and you can’t help but shake your head at Yunjin’s ridiculous behavior; god, was that what you looked like whenever you would bail on him mid-session? The very thought was terribly humbling to you.

Yunjin’s attempts to get back at you by using Beomgyu were more than obvious; you think back to her actions, the way she blatantly flirted with him, the plans she suddenly tacked on him— on his day off, not to mention— and you roll your eyes, deciding that you might as well put an end to all these dramatics; not just for your sake, but for Beomgyu’s as well.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

Beomgyu is groaning to himself the moment he hears a sharp knock on his door— the last thing he wanted to do on his day off was spend his time entertaining a girl who was clearly using him for some odd, petty reasons— but he got ready nonetheless, texted Yunjin his address hours prior after being told that her driver would come pick him up, (he hadn’t gotten a response in relation to that message, but she’ll probably see it soon) and waited patiently on the couch, albeit much earlier than the proposed plans.

Another sharp knock— Beomgyu wishes he had some proper excuse for her, told her that he already had plans with his roommate, but the said man was off on his shift already— he trudges over to the door, twisting the doorknob with a heavy reluctance, and sighs. He braces himself as he swings open the door to greet Yunjin with a halfhearted smile.

“Hey,” you pant instead, leaning against the doorway and ignoring his confused— and shocked— expression, “I— am I late? I thought I was early, did you get ready early?”

You gulp; since when could Beomgyu clean up so nicely? He’s forgone his usual, comfortable and casual outfits in favor of a perfectly pressed button up and a clean hairstyle— Yunjin must’ve planned to take him to quite the expensive place, you think to yourself.

“Of course you’d be the type to get ready an hour early,” you mutter bitterly to yourself, the comment enough to have the said man glancing at the nearest clock in confusion— and just like you said, a bright six o’clock greeted him on the digital clock.

“You— what’re you doing here?” Beomgyu stutters pathetically, unable to do much but relent to the way you step inside, closing the door behind him and turning around to face you, “I thought you didn’t want to talk to me anymore.”

“Yeah well, I lied.” you simply say, the words confusing the poor man even more, “I came to tell you to cancel your plans with Yunjin.”

“Can— huh?” he searches your expression for the traces of a joke, but finds that you’re dead serious. “Why would I cancel? That’s rude.”

“Jesus, can’t you see?!” You say exasperatedly, reaching out to place your hands on Beomgyu’s shoulders, fingers digging in so he can look at you— it’s only when he finally does that you continue. “She doesn’t want to do this— she’s using you. She’s doing this to get back at me.”

“But why would she…” Beomgyu utters, and you wonder with a roll of your eyes where that boy genius of yours went.

“Beomgyu,” you start, the sound foreign to the said boys ears as he blinks at you owlishly. You bite at your lip, brows furrowing at you think over what to say— you start again, but your words are hesitant and muddled. “She’s using you because she’s petty and because… because…”

He gives you a look encouraging you to continue.

“Because— god, are you really gonna make me say this?!” you break, letting go of his shoulders and taking a step back— your face feels like it’s on fire and your stomach feels like it’s been twisted into knots, your hands clammy as you glance over at Beomgyu again— and he looks at you with the most stupid, oblivious expression known to mankind.

You take a quick, deep breath, and you start again.

“Choi Beomgyu. She’s using you because I…” you say sternly, reaching over suddenly to grab his face, cupping his cheeks and taking in the way he becomes red at your touch. You bring him close to you, pressing your lips in a fine line and hesitating before you observe his face— and god, he looks so pathetic and lost that you don’t even seem to mind the way the next words tumble out of you, fluid and clear and true.

“Because I like you.”

Silence. You’re waiting anxiously in response, looking into Beomgyu’s eyes in anticipation, but all he does is stare. He stares and stares and stares, and for the first time in a while, you’re unsure of what to make of this reaction.

“And I’m not lying either.”

Still nothing. His skin is warming up under your fingertips, and his mouth opens hesitantly to say something, only to close again— he must still doubt you, so you decide to take a leap of faith and reassure him the only way you know how.

“I think you’re cute and kinda pathetic in an endearing way, I think that those glasses really compliment your face and make your eyes look super doll-like, and I don’t really mind Toto. I think he’s still a bit weird to look at but I love that you love him, and it makes total sense to me that out of all the pets you could’ve had you decided to get a big freaky green bird of all things, and I think it’s super cute that you’re attached to him— I think you look kinda hot when you get frustrated on a problem, and I think it’s really hard to hold myself back from kissing you when you start stuttering at me like an idiot— also, it’s really not that bad that you play League of Legends, and I can’t believe I’m gonna admit this, but I started playing it myself and it’s not that bad— but that’s not the point, what I’m saying is that you’re— you’re a nerd and a loser but I don’t mind because I really— fuck, I really like—”

His lips are mashing onto yours before you can process his sudden movement, rough and sloppy and desperate that all you can do is slide your hands into his hair and pull him closer; his hands wrap around you in response, one on the small of your back and the other against the back of your head as he pulls you closer still, close until your bodies are pressed flush together.

The two of you are so rough with your movements that he’s stumbling back, knocking against the wall and groaning softly at the impact; you’re sneaking your tongue into his parted lips, listening to the way he pants and moans against your mouth, slotting a leg between his and feeling as his thigh is quick to retaliate and press against your core.

“Mghh– ugh, fuck,” you moan mindlessly, feeling his hand press against the small of your back, forcing you to arch and push your weight onto his strong muscle, allowing yourself to rock against it desperately; your mind is running a million miles an hour, pulling away from his lips breathlessly and staring at the gloss that has transferred onto him; his eyes look dazed, lips parted and in need for more as he tries to lead your head back to his.

“Can’t believe she tried to use you against me,” you mutter, going back in to press quick, chaste kisses all along his face; he curls in shyly at the gesture, weakly grasping at your clothes as he feels the way you begin to trail them along his jaw, sucking and biting until you’re seeing the beginnings of marks that will bloom there, “shame it didn’t work— cause you’re all mine, right gyu?”

Like clockwork, he nods; his face heats up and he feels a bit ashamed at how quickly he’s melted under your hold, but any embarrassment is washed away the moment he feels your hand begin to fumble with his belt, clumsily undoing it before you’re moving to undo his jeans.

“Wait,” you breathe against his neck, feeling him shiver softly; he’s confused, whining softly at the sudden loss of touch until he’s watching as you pull away, glancing behind your shoulder before you’re meeting his eyes with a blank expression, “take me to your room.”

For a second, he’s confused about the sudden switch of your behavior— but then he’s looking over your shoulder and right at the direction you glanced at, a sudden laugh breaking through him when he spots Toto in the corner; sheepishly, he nods.

“Okay,” he says, smiling shyly at the way you reach out for the hand placed on the small of your back, intertwining your fingers so naturally it’s almost instinct, “yeah, okay. Let’s go.”

He watches you kick off your shoes and allows you to lead him straight to his room— he’s surprised you even remembered where it is— and smiles at the way you tug him closer by the collar the moment you step inside, palms pressing flat on his chest and making him walk backwards until his knees are hitting the edge of the bed— he falls back, hair splaying prettily on his sheets as he looks up at you with expectant, adoring eyes.

You’re straddling him immediately after; planting your core directly on his prominent bulge, taking in the way he lets out a broken whimper at the feeling of your heat pressing against him so well— his hands fly to your waist, fingers weakly digging into the meat of your hips as he attempts to subtly buck up into you; you tsk, shaking your head and leaning down to place a hand firm on his chest.

“Bad pup,” you say softly, hovering above his lips and watching as he desperately chases them, “You need to be patient, okay?”

He nods frantically, eyes fluttering shut the moment you press your lips against him slowly, feeling the way he desperately seeks to taste you— you allow him to, wandering hands beginning to unbutton his pristine white shirt slowly as he remains distracted.

Beomgyu is a lot more fit than you expected; lean muscle greeting you the moment you slip his shirt off his shoulders, leaning up to let him take it off and raking your nails down his skin— his stomach flinches at your nails scratch at it, and you smile childishly at the sight, the action reminiscent to the first time you got your hands on him.

“So pretty…” you mumble to yourself, tracing a path along his chest, down to his navel, watching as he shivers at your touch; a shaky gasp escapes his lips, hands grabbing at his sheets and eyes fluttering shut as he fights back the urge to buck up into you again— your eyes flicker up to study his expression, titling your head curiously as a smile tugs at your lips.

“You’re so pretty, Beomgyu,” you say again, leaning down to plant soft kisses along his neck, beginning to trail down until you’re at his chest— you’re able to watch the way his skin flushes a soft pink at your words, shy gaze averting quickly the moment you’re looking back up at him— and you laugh softly to yourself, hovering over his lap and trailing a hand down as you begin to undo his pants with ease.

“Y’know, I’ve never seen you so dressed up before,” you comment offhandedly, taking a moment to observe his pristine clothes, his styled hair— and your jaw clenches at the thought of Yunjin seeing him like this, an inkling of jealousy beginning to rear its ugly head the longer you think about it; you’re tugging at his pants, watching as his hips lift to help you tug them down more, and scoff at your wandering thoughts.

“Bet you would’ve loved to have her attention on you, hmm?” you say, beginning to roll your hips against his the moment he opens his mouth to protest— a sharp moan leaves Beomgyu instead, mouth falling open at the feeling of your cunt grinding against his, the only thing separating the two of you being your thin panties and his boxers that are quickly becoming ruined; his eyes flicker down to where you continue to roll your hips, the sight of your skirt riding up and bunching up at your thighs enough to have his cock twitch.

“Just can’t control yourself when you’re with a cute girl— just can’t say no,” Beomgyu’s hips jump and he lets out a long whine at a particularly harsh roll of your hips, feeling his cock slot perfectly against your cunt, the material of your panties soaked and sticking to your pussy, able to feel you better the more pressure you add; his hands fly to your hips once more, but instead of trying to guide your pace, they simply remain there, grabbing at your skirt and fisting the material in his hands, flushed face and shining eyes begging silently for more.

“No— can’t, can’t say no— ah!” Beomgyu begins, unable to speak properly with the sight of you on top of him and the feeling of your warm cunt on his aching cock, “can’t say no to you… fuck…”

His words are enough to catch you off guard; your pace is stuttering and your eyes are widening, the brief pause enough to give Beomgyu enough confidence to continue— his eyes are glassy as he stares up at you, thumbs absentmindedly rubbing circles on your hips as he speaks.

“Could never say no to you…” he says softly, face reddening as he continues, “you’re too pretty to say no to.”

He doesn’t quite meet your gaze after that; he’s too shy to, but with the way you immediately begin to undress before him after a moment, he’s sure that he must’ve flipped a switch inside you.

“God, you’re so cute…” you mutter, throwing your shirt off in a random direction before you’re sliding your skirt off— and Beomgyu is growing flustered at the sight again, practically malfunctioning from seeing your body for the first time.

You’re left in only your underwear when you finally decide you’ve had enough of his shyness, grabbing his face with a firm hand and turning it to look back at you; your nails dig into his plush cheeks and his eyes grow wide at the gesture, meeting your eyes as you simply give him a coy smile and a peck to his lips.

“So pathetic too,” you continue, watching his adam’s apple bob at your condescending words, “I love it.”

You lean close to his ear; slowly, you take his hands and begin guiding them along your body, feeling the way his breath hitches and his chest begins to take shallow breaths, shaky fingertips grazing against your skin, up your biceps until you’re leading him to your back, straight to your bra strap.

“Undo it,” you murmur against the shell of his ear, able to listen to the way he gulps softly; nervous hands fiddle with the clasp, the way you place chaste kisses to the spot behind his ear not helping in the slightest— and after a moment, you’re finally able to feel the garment loosening around you, along with a soft sigh the boy lets out.

The straps slip off your shoulders slowly, and with a coy smile, you make a show of discarding your bra, sitting back and watching as Beomgyu’s face turns impossibly red; his eyes are wide and his hands are frozen, unsure of what to do as you simply huff at the sight— and your hands are taking his once more, guiding them slowly until he’s cupping your breasts; he gulps again, and you pout at the sight.

“Don’t you wanna touch me?” you pout, tilting your head and watching as the man underneath you remains reliant on your instructions to do anything; his eyes snap back up to meet yours at your words, shaking his head softly and opening his mouth to stutter protests.

“I– I do, I do,” he says, licking his lips nervously before looking back down at your breasts, thumbs experimentally swiping across your nipples; you shiver at the feeling, the sight of even your smallest reactions making Beomgyu’s cock ache, “I just… I’m not sure what to do….what you’d like.”

“It’s okay,” you immediately say, absentmindedly guiding his hands to touch and caress your breasts just how you like, your back aching slightly at the stimulation, “I can teach you.”

“Please,” Beomgyu whines out, hands finally beginning to move on their own as a smile grows on your face, watching the way looks at you with needy, fucked out eyes, “Please, wanna make you feel good.”

“Do you now?” you tease, titling your head and raising a brow at him questioningly; he nods his head fervently, eyes filled with an undeniably desire that leads him to take your body in hungrily, trailing from your chest down until he stops right at your cunt thats pressed so perfectly against him.

His line of sight is terribly obvious— though you don’t think it was Beomgyu’s intention to hide his desires anyway, not with the way your back is suddenly colliding against his bed, a gasp escaping you the moment you feel warm hands prying your legs open; you’re propping yourself up with your elbows, wide eyes meeting Beomgyu’s; the said man kneels on the floor and is now at eye level with your soaked cunt— his fingertips dig into the soft flesh of your thighs, and with a soft laugh, you realize that Beomgyu is yet again waiting for further instructions.

“Can I taste you?” He asks meekly, eyes shining behind the lenses of his glasses, the sight endearing and a complete switch from the words that leave his mouth, “will you let me?”

Silence— all he gets in response is a slow sigh, the boy peeking through his lashes to get a gauge of your expression; he gulps at the sight of your narrowed eyes and pinched brows, mind undoubtedly thinking of scenarios that sour your mood— but the sight of you like this is much too tempting, and Beomgyu will be damned if he doesn’t get to lose himself in your pussy at least once; his cock pathetically twitches at the mere thought.

“I don’t know puppy,” you murmur, sneering at the way he pouts immediately, strong hands tugging at you and pulling you towards him more, body sliding at the movement— and though you can feel him breathe against your clothed cunt, he still refrains from doing anything, waiting loyally for your okay with pleading eyes.

“Do you think you deserve it?” you ask, throwing a leg over his shoulder, digging the heel of your foot in between his shoulder blades roughly— he practically keens at the feeling, a poorly stifled whimper escaping him, followed by a shaky sigh, “after seeing the way you’ll give anyone who approaches you all your attention like a slut, I don’t think you do.”

You make sure to punctuate your words with another dig of your heel, but Beomgyu remains unaffected— if anything, it manages to spur him on more, and you’re left to pretend as though his next actions don’t leave you terribly weak.

“Please…” he whispers, the sound so soft you barely miss it— he’s pressing a soft kiss to the inside of your knee, lips lingering on the skin before he looks back up to meet your gaze; his eyes are glazed with nothing but need. The single word continues to leave him like a mantra, unable to do anything more than watch as he begins to litter kisses all over your inner thighs, soft begs slowly increasing their intensity the longer you deny him.

I deserve it, I do; please, please let me make you feel good, promise you’re the only one for me— please? Please, please please please…

It’s quiet, save for the sounds of Beomgyu’s broken, repetitive begging— his hair brushes against your sensitive skin that has been peppered with endless kisses, and if it weren’t for the way Beomgyu’s eyes were beginning to become watery from his desperation, you would’ve allowed yourself to enjoy the show a little more.

“You want it that much?” you seethe, a hand going down to tangle itself in his long hair— and, just as expected, he lets out a broken whine, followed with an immediate, breathy “yes” that affects you much more than you let on, “Go on then.”

You’re guiding his head to your cunt without another word, fingers still entangled tightly in the roots of his hair; he begins with a soft kiss to your cunt, the sight making you roll your eyes— for someone so eager, he sure was hesitant.

His tongue is hot and heavy against your clit; he’s running the tip of it along your slit, listening to the hitch of your breath and taking in every miniscule reaction you provide— he’s teasing you, albeit unintentionally, and the realization has you tightening your hold on his roots in warning; you feel the way he lets out a shaky breath at the action, and soon after, his fingers are tugging at the waistband of your panties, making slow work to properly take them off.

Beomgyu’s every movement is feather-like and hesitant; it’s clear he’s testing out the waters, unsure of what to do in order to please you— and while a part of you is endeared at the messy kitten licks of his tongue and the way he circles your clit sloppily, the other part of you seems to be feeling much more unforgiving— you’re tugging his hair and telling him to look at you with a harsh voice.

“What happened to wanting to please me? To deserving this?” you mock, lips quirking to a satisfied smile the moment his face heats up, ears tinting a soft red, “are you too much of a virgin to know how to eat a girl out?”

His face turns a bright red and he remains silent— you can only manage a bewildered laugh at the sight.

Of course, how did you not piece it together before? It seems as though you were much too generous to give him the benefit of the doubt before, because as you stare Beomgyu down with a gaze that’s nothing short of predatory, you’ve realized that his silence tells you more than enough; He’s a total virgin.

“Oh, you don’t know anything, do you?” you coo softly, letting go of Beomgyu’s scalp to caress his face softly, a grin threatening to break through your face from the simple sight of the man melting into your touch, “you need me to guide you through it?”

With a shaky sigh, Beomgyu nods— it barely takes a moment before you’re pushing at the back of his head and guiding him back to your cunt.

He didn’t bother to take off his glasses; you didn’t bother to remind him, smiling cruelly as you murmur soft instructions to him, telling him to suck on your clit or guiding his mouth to lick at your entrance, responding with soft sighs of pleasure whenever he does something particularly well; he’s sloppy, inexperienced, and undeniably nervous, but you suppose he makes up for its with his eagerness to do well as he continues, slowly taking note of what makes your hips buck and your fingers tighten against his hair— and after a few minutes, you’re no longer instructing Beomgyu step by step, but instead throwing your head back and letting your mouth fall open with unabashed moans.

Beomgyu’s eagerness is abundant and blatant. He’s pressing his face against your cunt after having gained confidence, mouth sloppy and hanging open as he allows you to grind against him, feeling his glasses slip down the tall bridge of his nose and fog up with every pant of breath— but he finds that he doesn’t really mind, eyes fluttering shut and lips circling around your clit as he hones in to the sounds you make instead.

You think Beomgyu’s head is completely empty at this point; his fingers dig into your thighs and he continues his attempts to bring you closer against his face, greedy mouth drinking up any arousal that slips from your entrance before he’s fucking you with his tongue— your hips buck unintentionally against him at that, and from the way he only increases his efforts even further, you think he might’ve enjoyed that.

“Beomgyu— puppy, fuck,” you hiss, grinding your hips against his face, feeling the way his nose is now pressed against your clit from how close he’s attempting to get to you. Your chest heaves and you can feel a tight knot forming in your stomach, body beginning to become restless as Beomgyu remains unfazed at your sudden squirming— you’re close, so close, and Beomgyu wants nothing more than to feel you fall apart against his face.

“Shit– right there, just like that— don’t stop, god, fuck—!” Your eyes are screwed shut as a sudden wave of pleasure breaks through you, your hand pulling at Beomgyu’s hair and your heel digging sharply into his back as you cum; the boy only lets out a pathetic whine at the feeling of you rolling your hips smoothly against his face, mouth left ajar and eyes fluttering shut as he lets you use him, riding it out with twitchy legs and soft moans.

Beomgyu only moves after your grip slips from his head entirely; your whole body is falling slack, a deep sigh escaping you as you attempt to catch your breath, eyes bleary and slowly opening after a moment— you’re able to watch as the said boy goes to stand, a weak hand of yours stopping his motion and grabbing at his shoulder— and you’re guiding him to hover over you, smiling coyly at the wrecked sight of him.

His glasses are completely skewed— a slight heat burns at your face from the sight, but it’s all washed away by the lopsided smile Beomgyu gives you, entirely unaware of his flushed and messy appearance; gently, you reach out to slip off his glasses, putting them off to the side as you reach to adjust his mused hair next— he merely watches your face with doe eyes as you brush his hair away gently, tucking it behind his ear before you cup his jaw, tugging him down to kiss you again.

“You’re sure you wanna do this?” you mumble against his lips, hands absentmindedly running along his skin soothingly, lips beginning to wander off as you trail soft pecks against his jawline, smiling at the way he doesn’t hesitate to nod, “you want it?”

“Need it,” Beomgyu whines, letting out a shaky breath as he grabs your hand, guiding it down his chest slowly, adding pressure once you’ve reached the bulge of his boxers— you can feel the way he twitches the moment you touch him, gulping softly before the continues to plead, “need it, need to feel you.”

His voice is sweet and soft in your ears, and you find that you can’t really bring yourself to put up a front and resist; it’s physically impossible to, especially with the way he ruts his cock against your hand, leaking pathetically and twitching at even the slightest stimulation.

Beomgyu’s attempts to remain calm and collected falls apart the moment you relent, face red and eyes wide with anticipation the moment he feels your hand go to pull his cock out; he falters above you for a split second, teeth sinking into his lip to suppress a whine that builds up in his throat. But his attempts are futile as always, a broken whimper leaving him the moment you press the head of his cock against your cunt, tightening around the shaft and proceeding to run it along your slit teasingly.

He’s practically panting above you, fingers gripping onto the sheets as he allows you to toy with him, eyes glassy and meeting yours as you simply coo mockingly at him, teasing him for being nothing but a toy for you to use.

The moment you press his tip against your entrance, the two of you tense; a shaky sigh escapes you at the stretch, looking up at Beomgyu and whispering for him to just put it in already; and he swallows, eyes watering at the feeling of him finally pushing into you— warm, wet walls that flutter around him, stretching and adjusting to his size; your hips that jolt with every inch he slides in, eyes widening and mouth falling open as you try to contain your composure— but his size is no joke, and curses leaves your mouth endlessly at the feeling of him filling you up.

“God— you’re so… so warm, so tight,” Beomgyu cries above you, hips stuttering and making him push himself deeper into you; a yelp escapes you at the feeling, hips pressed flushed against his as you stare up at him with wide eyes, cunt clenching at the anticipation of him fucking you.

But he simply remains still, and you’re just about to complain for him to move when you catch sight of his expression, screwed up into concentration as he lets out a deep breath— probably trying not to cum, you muse to yourself— and he sits up, no longer hovering over you as his hands move to your hips, thumbs rubbing circles on the skin as he looks down where the two of you connect; he looks up at you, puppy eyes begging for one thing.

“You— you can move,” you breathe out, cringing slightly at the weak sound of your voice, the way you trip over your words; Beomgyu nods, sighing shakily again before he finally begins to move, slowly pulling out until the only thing you feel is his tip catching at your entrance— then he thrusts back in, and you don’t bother to swallow down the moan that manifests from that.

Beomgyu isn’t faring any better than you; his brows are knitted together and his fingertips dig into the soft flesh of your hips, voice pitchy and whiny as he attempts to fuck you properly— but his thrusts are sloppy and rough, and it seems as though he’s too concentrated on the feeling of you around him to find a good pace.

You’re opening your mouth to tease him about it, only to get cut off at the feeling of him bumping his cock against your sweet spot; a whine leaves you unexpectedly, the sound accompanied with the feeling of your legs attempting to wrap around his waist to pull him in enough to snap him out of his pussy drunk daze. He’s drinking up your expression, his pace slowing down enough to allow him to search for that spot again— it takes a few attempts, but once he catches onto it, he doesn’t relent.

“Sh–shit, just like that,” you whine, his thrust becoming more calculated as he begins to take note of what makes you feel good once more— though it’s still slightly sloppy and uneven, his weak pants and pitchy whines enough to tell you that his mind is much too hazy to care.

Absentmindedly, your hand snakes down to circle at your clit in search of more stimulation— only to get it knocked away roughly by Beomgyu’s, eyes widening at the action until he’s replacing you hand with his— and though you wish you could make fun of him for being such a desperate bitch, the stimulation has your voice getting caught in your throat.

“Does— does this feel good?” Beomgyu suddenly asks, puppy eyes watering and glazed as he picks up his pace, one hand gripping onto your waist while the other continues to rub your clit, “Am I– ah… am I doing good?”

You almost miss the last part with how softly he says it— but once you process his question, you let out a breathy laugh, biting at your lip in an attempt to suppress the smile that tugs at your face; you fail miserably, but all the patronizing look in your eyes does is make Beomgyu’s cock twitch inside you a bit.

“Does my stupid puppy need something? Need my approval?” you ask, pouting at the way he hesitates to answer, “I won’t know unless you tell me, baby.”

The pet names are enough to have Beomgyu short-circuiting again; his face feels hot and he lets out a petulant whine at the way you continue to tease, ignoring his pleading look as you reach up to cup his jaw, cooing his name so sweetly he’s unable to be ashamed at how easily he breaks.

“Tell me I’m doing good,” he whines, and you simply smile at him, stuttered breaths and soft moans the only thing leaving your lips as you notice the increased sloppiness of his thrusts, his erratic voice and face that slowly nears yours, hovering over you as he speaks.

“I’m— ‘m good, right? Your…” he trails off, punctuating his next word with a harsh, deep thrust that has you yelping, “your good boy— tell me, tell me I’m good, just wanna hear you say it, ah, wanna be good for you.”

He’s a babbling, whining mess, hiding his face in your neck immediately after the words escape him— and with a request so sweet, how could you ever deny him?

“So good for me,” you immediately respond, listening to the muffled whimpers as he buries his head deeper into your neck, wandering lips sucking and biting at the skin, “good little pup— fuck, are you close? Gonna fill me up?”

You feel the way he nods frantically against you, his hand leaving your hip to circle under your back, pulling you flush against him as he continues his rough, haphazard thrusts— and you turn your head to face him, pressing a kiss to his head before you lean in close to his ear, the sounds of your breathy moans and sweet voice enough to bring him over the edge.

“C’mon, cum for me puppy,” you coo, listening to the long whimper he lets out in response, hips stilling and pressing flush against yours as he follows your command, warm cum filling you up as he rides out his orgasm, cock rutting subtly into you all the while, “that’s it— such a good boy, so perfect to me.”

His chest heaves against yours; his other arm comes up to sneak under your body as well, successfully hugging you close against him, bodies pressed together and practically one with how tightly he’s got you in his grip— his cock remains inside you all the while, head nuzzled deeply in the space of your neck as you merely let out an amused huff, giving him a moment to catch his breath before you tease him again.

The moment of peace between the two of you is cut by the abrasive sound of his phone ringing, the two of you looking at the source with furrowed brows; neither of you make a move to get it, watching it continue to vibrate on the bed before it goes silent— you’re both falling back against the bed the moment in bliss the moment the ringtone disappears, and you can feel Beomgyu’s arms tightening around you even more, not expecting him to be so openly clingy—

“You didn’t cum,” Beomgyu suddenly gasps, head popping up from his hiding place as he hovers over you with wide eyes. You simply reassure him that it’s alright, already feeling your body get heavy with exhaustion— but he isn’t having it, shaking his head and standing back up as he looks at you with an unbelievably solemn expression, wincing softly as he pulls out of you, “No, I wanna make you cum— wanna feel you cum on my dick, wanna make you feel good.”

The words sound clumsy coming from him, oddly shy to say what he wants out loud— and it makes you laugh, attempting to tell him that you really don’t mind when you’re getting interrupted by the annoying sound of his phone ringing.

“Seriously, who the hell is…” you’re trailing off as you watch Beomgyu’s eyes widen, leaning over to snatch his phone as he reads the contact name, his horrified expression telling you all you need to know.

“Don’t answer it,” you seethe, ignoring the way he stutters about how he totally forgot to cancel, feeling a hot anger bubble in your stomach as he talks about how bad he feels for not communicating properly, “Beomgyu, don’t answer it!”

“I— what if she’s waiting outside right now—?!”

Your movements are much too sudden and swift for him to process; he can only watch and allow you to snatch the phone away from him, rough hands gripping his shoulders and hissing at him to fucking sit; he’s quick to comply, and you’re even quicker to climb onto his lap and situate yourself just how you like— he cries softly at the feeling of you grabbing at his sensitive cock, stroking it for a moment and aligning it with your entrance before you’re sinking down on him slowly.

“Who cares if she’s outside right now,” you scowl, digging your fingers in his cheeks and forcing him to look at you, swollen lips red and pouty as he merely whines at the feeling of you rocking slowly against him, “it’s the least we could do to get back at her for trying to fucking use you.”

His protests die down once you pick up your pace; oh, his face practically screams, eyes glazing over at the feeling of your warm pussy using his sensitive cock to get yourself off, soft cries leaving him as he merely watches you begin to ride him expertly, already feeling himself get hard inside you, the sight of you on top of him and the sounds of skin against skin riling him much more than expected.

“Hnng, wait, slow down please—!” he whines softly, hands flying to your hips yet making no attempts to control the pace— and you can only laugh at him, the sounds of his soft cries enough to encourage you more.

You’re close— so, so close, and all Beomgyu can do is sit and take it, tears of sensitivity pricking at his eyes and falling along his cheeks the moment he feels your walls clench against him— but he’d rather die than stop you, sp entranced with the sight of your face twisted with pleasure that his body screams at him to do what he can to make you feel good.

Like instinct, your hand tangles itself in Beomgyu’s hair the moment he latches his lips against your nipple, back arching and the tight knot in your stomach falling apart the moment his wandering hand goes to play with your clit; the way your walls spasm and hug him tightly is enough to have Beomgyu cumming inside you again, a pathetic keen sounding from him as he buries his head in your chest, beyond sensitive with the way you continue to ride your orgasm long after.

It’s quiet, save for the sounds of your panting and Beomgyu’s soft whimpers— but it doesn’t last long, a tired groan escaping you at the sound of Beomgyu’s phone ringing again; without much of a thought, you reach for it and finally answer.

“Leave him alone. He’s busy.”

You hang up immediately after— the girl on the other side didn’t get the chance to utter a single word, and you find that you couldn’t care less as you toss his phone to the side and look over at Beomgyu— you’re smiling softly at the way he seems mortified at your action.

“Oh come on, don’t tell me you feel bad,” you sigh, placing your hands on his chest and pushing, gently guiding the two of you to lay down— he remains inside you as he pulls you in close, your limbs heavy and tangling quickly as he mutters a soft no, I don’t; you smile. “Good. Cause I almost got mad again.”

He chuckles softly at that, falling quiet after; you look up at him to gauge his expression, finding that he’s lost in thought. After a few minutes, he meets your eyes meekly and finally speaks.

“Did you really mean what you said earlier?”

A pause. You said a lot of things earlier— but as you retract on every little thing that's come from your mouth, you realize what he’s talking about— and you laugh, reaching to cup his cheeks fondly as you nod.

“Of course I did,” you grin, pecking his lips, your heart fluttering wildly at the way he immediately chases after you for more after you pull away, “I meant all of it— and more.”

Softly, he smiles. His arms that were wrapped around you pull you in close, closing the space between you and bringing you in for a slow, sweet kiss— he pulls away, leaning into your ear to whisper something with a coy smile.

“So do you wanna play League of Legends later?”

You let out an annoyed yell and punch at his chest— you practically fuck his brains out, and this is all he can say?

“You’re such a fucking loser,” you mourn, hiding your face in your hands.

Beomgyu laughs, and places a kiss on the top of your head.

“But I’m your loser,” he says sweetly, nuzzling against your hair with a content sigh, “all yours.”

Under the covers of your hands, you smile.

All yours. You like the sound of that.

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