headline. gojo gets nominated for his fifth grammy. you being his plus one, he takes you—yet right before he’s prompted to go on stage, instead of getting an award though, he gets a…boner.
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“and the award for best solo pop artist goes to...” there’s a long abrupt pause as the female emcee gently peels open the red-encased envelope. the audience grew quiet. you could hear a pen drop at the sudden anticipation for who would win. “satoru gojo—toru!”
gojo lets off a dramatic gasp. the cameras pan towards him and he tugs on his tie. everyone starts to clap inside the filled up arena before he turns towards you. holding out his hand for you to take, he mutters out a, “oh please. i’m not going up there alone, c’mon girl.”
you didn’t expect for him to drag you along too, the press were already speculating things about you two—yet you still placed your hand in his, feeling the warmth of his palm as he flashed you his cheesy popstar signature grin before ushering up towards the stage with him. bright lights throughout the scenery nearly blinded you as the both of you walked. amid the background played one of gojo’s most recent blown-up pop songs that topped the charts for seven consecutive weeks straight.
“heh. wow. uh. this is actually crazy,” gojo starts off, taking the small awkward, cupping it in his hand before leaning into the mic. “fifth award of the night. for once, i’m speechless,” and then he pauses to snicker. “….that’s a joke. you guys are supposed to laugh...”
the crowd goes into sudden forced laughter and you sigh, meeting eye contact with various a-list celebrities. you tug on your dress before feeling gojo bring you close to him, wrapping an arm around your waist.
“eh. but anyway, i just wanna start by thanking her,” and there’s sudden confusion. you glance at gojo before he grins straight at the audience, dimples poking near the corners of his mouth. “yeah. her pussy. it’s gotten me this far, and most celebs thank their fans or parents, but why not thank the most important thing?”
that….was hours later.
everyone was buzzing about how gojo ended up getting canceled for his famous, ‘thankful for my assistant’s pussy! speech.’
it made various article headlines—yet as of now, hours before that scene happened, you were currently in his dressing room with gojo for reasons you don’t even remember why.
“this is fucked,” he whines, pacing back and forth. you sat in one of his chairs. watching the pop star have his sixth outburst of the night, here he is complaining why he can’t go on stage. this was a regular thing, and by now you started to become used to it. “…i’m supposed to be on in five but i— i can’t do that.”
“any reason why?” you muttered, tracing a nail over your thighs, brushing against the fabric that ran against your skirt. “is it your stage freight again, ‘toru?”
“pft. that’s not funny,” he glares. “and no, it’s something more serious.” he trods his feet towards you, a few white strands racing down the sides of his eyes — it’s a cute unintentional look that makes you smile at him, seeing him up close. in this cute panicky state, gojo’s bright blue eyes remained on yours before his lip quivered. “it’s embarrassing.”
right before you were gonna speak, you glanced down at your phone, the text from one of gojo’s managers signaling how he should be preparing to be walk on stage in a few more minutes.
“uh huh,” you nodded, eyes fully darted away at your phone and not him. he frowns, glancing down himself before bringing two hands towards your shoulders for you to fully look at him.
the popstar had a long designer suit on, eye-catching in the least with various rhinestones pressed against specific spots. you picked out his outfits, a thing he doesn’t mind you doing.
“look at meee…it’s serious,” he pants, and you stare into his eyes, and it takes you a moment before you finally realize. “is this…what you call a uh.. wardrobe malfunction?”
“oh,” you mumble, not realizing how quickly your pupils averted toward his bulge. you prayed gojo didn’t notice, mainly due to how embarrassing not to mention unprofessional that’d be…staring between your clients’ legs.
“oh….” you repeated, watching gojo’s face flush entirely. a smile tugs against your lips before you furrow your brows, his hands still gripped onto your shoulders before you query, “satoru, do you have a boner?”
“ . . . ”
you giggle at his silence, and he only gets more abashed and flushed. your eyes continue to linger on the pop star. he removes his hands away from your shoulders as you stand up to face him. “is that why you can’t go on stage? because you’re hard?”
“don’t…say it like that,” he grumbles, a cute pout curling against his lips. you watch as he digs his hands into the holes of his pockets, having a staring contest with the marble ground before clearing his throat. “and yeah. it’s your fault so you need to help me uh.. you know.”
“how’s it my fault?” you play along, tilting your head.
“look at your outfit,” he whines, and he says that purposely just to take a second to check you out, which he does.
gojo’s eyes roam towards your body, the pretty long dress you wore — the color matched gojo’s outfit, it wasn’t anything too revealing but it was enough to make gojo suck his teeth. the structure of it made your curves, the physique of you entirely show off, and it made him bite his lip in such want.
“ever since you came in here, i felt all hot and um.. hard. just wanted an excuse to rip your dress off instead of attending this stupid awards ceremony.”
“well,” you whisper, bringing two fingers towards his tie, giving it a kittenish pull. gojo looks down at you, and he’s so flustered you could visibly see. the way the tips of his ears perked, he was panting a bit from feeling so tense. “what are you waiting for then?”
“you’re a really bad assistant,” he murmurs, his hands starting to trail up your waist, quickly unraveling the ribbon look that went against your back. “and a really fuckin’ bad influence.”
he snickers at the concluding part of his words before you feel the popstar’s warm lips press against yours.
you kiss back, and a finger of his lifts your chin upward. he tasted sweet, honeyed even.
gojo’s hands gingerly meander all over every inch of your body, he presses into you. so close to where you feel his bulge prod and prod. he moans into your mouth, strands of his hair tickling against your forehead. you run your tongue over his, tasting the sweet tang of what appears to be wine.
he was so needy, you could tell practically from his breathing patterns. a small grunt leaves his mouth once he leads you towards the sofa. gojo’s hands roamed all over your body, his touch made you flutter in response.
gojo strokes a tress of your hair before a smile tugs against the corners of your mouth. you ran a hand down to give his slacks a playful pull, his boxers were just about hanging out.
he moans into your mouth, and it’s shaky. your touch made both tips of his ears grow to a feverish hot. as your nose brushed against his, he then suddenly pulled away — gasping for air before his lip trembles.
“f-fuck, i can’t wait anymore. i need to feel your mouth,” he pants, bringing a hand to his face to cover his embarrassed state. the pop star was so impatient, that his body language showed entirely. he was the embodiment of the saying, ‘is it hot in here or is it just me?’
you giving him that cute doe-eyed expression only made things ten times worse — the bulge forever growing and throbbing achingly in his pants made his bite down on his lip.
“don’t be so loud,” you tease, and he’s still recollecting short breaths as he watches you make your way down on your knees.
gojo’s eyes linger down toward you, and he is already envisioning your mouth. just sinking straight down on his length, drool running down your chin — he couldn’t lie to himself.. ever since you started working with him, he’s had quite the imagination.
the thought of his pretty little assistant with her mouth all full, he’s gone down on you at least twice, but the image of you returning the favor made his mouth water.
“princess, i don’t wanna…rush you or anything, but make it quick, yeah? i do have a g-grammy to win after all,”
he swallows, watching you slowly start to unzip the fly of his pants. your stare did things to him that he simply couldn’t formulate into words. gojo brings a hand on top of your head, stroking a few strands of your hair before breathing. “if i’m late, ‘m gonna blame it on you.”
“you’ve gotta be the most unprofessional person i’ve ever worked with,” you roll your eyes with a sass.
a cold sweat runs down gojo’s neck once he watches you tug his black slacks down, leaning in to kiss the white print of his boxers.
once your eyes met with his bulge, you giggle, gradually lolling out your tongue to lick the hardness that was tucked underneath the fabric.
“f-fuckkk,” he breathes, keeping his eyes on you for the entire duration. he was so pent up, gojo’s boner made you lick your lips, purely from the intact sight.
as you traced your tongue all over his bulge, tasting the blandness of the fabric—you part your lips, slowly starting to peel his boxers off with your teeth. “dirty girl. you’ve been thinkin’ about this too, huh?”
you shake your head and he lets off a pouty frown. “don’t lie.”
a smile spreads amongst your lips again, and once his boxers were finally peeled off with the help of your teeth. you meet eye contact with gojo’s lengthy cock. just a quick second glance and your tongue was already salivating from pure zeal.
gojo was long, of course, he was well-trimmed.
yet, he had a few specks of white hair scattered near his base — it was sexy. your eyes stared at his body, the way his undershirt from his tuxedo was slightly lifted.
you could see his abs clenching, his happy trail that ran down…
“l-look what you did to me” he huffs, and his tone sounded entirely whiny. he had somewhat of an upward curve. you lean in to give the soft plump tip of his a chaste kiss.
a few remnants of pre-cum smother against your spit-glossed lips. gojo’s jaw tightens, watching you roll out your tongue unsteadily, swiping it against his frenulum. “just…just like that.”
a sharp breath gets caught in his throat, you looked so pretty like this — slowly lapping your tongue against his smooth cockhead.
his pre-cum barely had a taste to it. despite that, you’d still describe it as purely sweet. lashes of yours fluttered as you continued to taste him before starting to leisurely sink your mouth lower and lower.
“…damn,” he grunts, feeling his own eyes start to flutter. your mouth was so warm, it made gojo tighten the grip he had on your hair just a bit more. he tickled against your scalp with a ring that was thrown on his finger.
the pop star quickly started to grow obsessed with that tongue of yours, the way you playfully swirled it around the inner part of his tip—you knew the exact spots to reach. he shivers, feeling both temples of his cheeks burn with such intensity.
“keep lookin’ at me,” he murmurs sheepishly, raising a thumb against the side of your face to stroke your cheek lovingly. “stare at me while you’re gettin’ a good m-meal, yeah.”
your eyes flicker towards gojo, and he says that yet could barely hold eye contact. your gaze made him so flustered that he looks away. you simper, further inches going down your right throat.
he felt you roll your lips around your teeth, strands of spit already starting to seep near the corners of your mouth. gojo’s just groaning and whining in the distance—you were so good with your technique, it had him at a loss of words.
“spit on it,” he suddenly says, pulling your head up to look at him again. “i— i wanna make you a messy assistant for me. can you do that?”
you nod, skimming your tongue around his tip before breaking away, gathering a reasonable wad before spitting on his shaft, going back towards it to lap it up with such filthy ease.
“nasty girl,” he starts to pant, his right thigh bounces before within moments later…you go back to your original place. gojo’s got a bit of thickness to him, so you gag about two times before he’s fully reached down your throat. he whines, feeling his eager tip prod against your uvula — and that’s when you start to bobble your head. “with a throat like this, you’d be such a good fuckin’ singer, y’know.”
gojo starts mumbling seductive words at you left and right whilst your mouth’s being occupied. it starts to make you throb from underneath…
so much so that you can’t help but reach between your thighs, past your fishnets, and touch yourself.
“…this could be a good vocal training reflex actually,” he adds, and your lips remain enclosed over your teeth. he finds it hot especially how you don’t even use your hands, just your mouth—you had him swallowing imaginary lumps in his throat.
while you’re still abiding inches up and down your throat, his abdomen curls. he lifts a part of his shirt that’s tucked underneath his tux just so you can get a brief view. his biceps were forevermore swollen. you moaned, feeling him keep such a gripping hold on the crown of your head.
“s-shit,” he cursed, starting to chase his breath as if it was some kind of race. he was in love with how sloppy you were.
strings, an entire glistening cobweb of spit slithered down the corners of your mouth—all down your chin. “how’s it taste? ‘s good for you?”
again, your response was a nod, and for a concise moment you sink yourself all the way down.
breathing through your nose, gojo grunts, stroking underneath your chin that was smeared with nothing but your saliva before he pulls you back up again.
“goddamn,” he throws his head back, and he’s starting to stutter. each time your tongue swiped across his sensitive tip, near the entrance of his frenulum, he whined. he leers before that’s when you feel him starting to thrust right into your mouth. he couldn’t help himself. “pretty mouth was just askin’ to get fucked a l-little.”
your jaw opened a bit as you happily took him into your mouth, your eyelids were half-lidded and you stared right up at gojo.
he returns the stare, flashing you a cute abashed grin, uttering a, “h-hey princess.”
your nails dug into the thin layers of his pulled-down pants, feeling him thwack and thwack against the very back of your throat. gojo’s hips were so erratic, thoroughly sloppy that you just craved for more.
“keep suckin’ me l-like that, ‘n i’m gonna make such a mess down that nasty throat of yours.” he whimpered, feeling the way his abs tightened. all from a few kitten licks of your tongue running against him, taking him fully with that most intense eye contact imaginable.
he shifts his feet a bit, and that’s when his phone starts to buzz. gojo grunts, reaching into his pocket before taking out his phone.
with stubby fingers, he uses his same passcode of ‘sexymansexyspraycan69’ and his eyes widen, murmuring out, “aw man,” you briefly look up at him — confused as to what happened before he scrolls, still having another hand gripped on your head. “my nudes got leaked again?”
…again?
with your mouth full, you kept up a pace, and whilst keeping his attention focused towards the bright blue-lit screen, he makes you suck him off just a bit harder. with a groan, he lets off a snicker. “oh well. at least i look good. i wonder if sugupoo saw..”
he was so unserious, probably the most unserious man you’ve ever met — let alone had to work with for a living.
gojo notices your cold stare and he nervously chuckles, “what? i didn’t say anything,” and then he fakes a moan, moving your head back and forth, an obnoxious grunt. “sorry…i mean uh. fuckkkk. right there, ‘m gonna cum.”
you give the pop star a deadpan before he meekly smiles at you, yet that’s when he moans for real once your tongue cursorily brushes against the scar tissue that resided near the underside of his tip.
“f-fuck. ‘m sensitive there,” he heavily pants, and the nerves throughout his body. his cock that was shoved deep down your throat, you felt your breaths leave through your nose. gojo’s head goes back before he groans, his orgasm feeling like a wave. an abrupt riptide.
once he came, it was so much — it trickled right into your mouth, thick velvety strings of ropes that coated all over your tongue. to halt your gagging, you squeezed your left thumb into a fist, still holding onto his thighs.
gojo’s lip quavered, and his face flushed. with swollen, varicose veins that briefly popped out displaying on his body, he sighs.
“s-so much to give to you, princess,” he slurs, completely out of breath. he was taken aback, watching your cheeks become cutely hollow. gojo’s dick remained in your mouth before he tapped your left temple, whining out a, “say ah. i wanna see.”
immensely, you loll out your tongue, showing him the paint of his cum that stuck in your tongue, how it sprayed all inside.
he groans. gojo rubs his sensitive achey tip near the flatness of your tongue, it turns into short slaps on your tongue and you moan.
“mmh. i read somewhere that if you swallow cum it strengthens your overall vocal performance,” he cheeses, and a droplet of sweat races down the side of his forehead. you sat on your knees, already taking his warm cum down your throat.
gojo was obviously joking…or he wasn’t. you could never tell with this guy.
as he’s calming himself down, catching his breath, the top part of his teeth gnaws down on his lip — he’s too eager because within seconds, he’s got you pinned down on the spare sofa.
“i- i need to be inside you again…” he whispers in a needy tone, and you’re already laid flat on your back. he didn’t even have the decency to take your dress off.
with a single hand, he pulled it up, taking a glimpse at your laced panties. he runs a finger against the thin strap of it, making you shudder before sprawling your legs open.
“you’re supposed to be on stage,” you giggle, watching his lips curl into a pout. he’s so handsy, gojo starts to peel your panties off slowly, licking his lips before a pant exits his mouth. “you’re not gonna hear the end of it from nanami.”
“don’t care,” he whines, grabbing ahold of his length. gojo swallows, such a hungry gaze was presented at you—it made you start to pulse a bit between your thighs.
“couldn’t go onstage like this,” and his voice briefly cracks, it’s cute. gojo brings his fat swollen tip towards your slick entrances and grows quiet once your cunt hums out a squelch. “they can wait. i c-cant.”
the pop star’s eyebrows come together, and once he starts to gradually go inside you—you moan, feeling the immediate sensation of him stretching you out.
“of course y-you can’t,” you roll your eyes teasingly, wrapping your arms around his collar. gojo stares at you and for a split second, his gaze seems romantic.
full of nothing but lust.
he looked like he was about to say something, but he turned away, disregarding it. it was cute, you pulled him in for a kiss and he only moaned right into your mouth.
his fingers traced all over your jaw as your tongue ran against his. his breath was heavy against yours, and the feeling of his body pressed on you made you whine. gojo’s thick cock continued to make its way inside, you were a bit drenched earlier, soaked practically.
gojo couldn’t pinpoint his feelings towards you.
he didn’t know what this thing was. he adored you, he’s always rambled to you about how you were his favorite assistant, whilst being his only assistant ever.
you wanted to ask him if this thing was just a fling or something more.
but…you were far too shy to ask, you figured he was just having fun. which you didn’t mind entirely, yet—you couldn’t help but be curious.
as your lips parted, you felt your legs start to wrap and lock securely around his waist. strands of gojo’s hair pokes against your forehead, and he feels a strong wave of tingles race down his back.
“fuck…i need y-you,” he murmured between kisses, and he was such a perfect fit. the moment he was fully inside, you moaned, giving his bottom lip a sudden bite.
once he started to move, just a single thrust was enough to make your head spin. gojo delivered such a sloppy thrust, that your legs tightly hugged him—and your breathing started to hitch.
he always had such a sweet taste to him, whether it was candied or a rich tang of alcohol to it, you craved it every time.
gojo brings a hand down towards your tummy to lightly press on it, curving his thumb against your bare skin before breaking away for a split second. his nose rubbed against yours before he gives you a cunning sly smile.
“you always have this look on your face,” he whispered in a teasing tone — gojo traces a finger by your lips, pulling your bottom lip down before sliding a finger into your mouth. you willingly suck on it, and he stares intently. “pretty girl. you drive me insane, y’know that?”
his fingers were always made with such length. so slender…
gojo starts up a pace, and the way his hips start to snap against you—you moan a muffled moan. the way your thighs recoil from a single slam against you, it had your mind going in circles.
“always grippin' on me,” he huffs, leaning into the inner part of your neck to lightly sink his teeth. “f-fuck, fuck the grammys. i just want you.”
you wondered if he really meant that.
it was no secret with gojo’s problematic love life, he often gets around… but he’s never had an actual decent relationship. well, he’s had one.
he often doesn’t like to mention it, but it was all over the press.
you wanted to ask him about it, it was far before he became famous — some other a-list celebrity, but he’s always avoided that particular topic.
gojo probably doesn’t even know the true meaning of love.
but you’ve had thoughts that perhaps, just perhaps. maybe you could change that. as unprofessional as it was, the industry was always strict with gojo.
and ever since he stumbled upon you, he’s always felt a bit better. you never treated him any different, and he’s forever liked that about you.
whilst you’re deep in thought, you get brought back to reality once gojo’s covering your neck with visible marks. he’s moaning all into your neck, and he sounds so sweet. melodic moans.
“f-fuck,” he huffs out, kneeling a bit between you. this was the perfect position for him to stare deeply into your eyes. you moan, feeling his lips ghost against the inner part of your neck. his tongue softly dragged against your neck, and the way he rocked his body amongst you made you bite your lip. “look at me.”
your eyes meet his, and he notices a pretty glint in your eye. embarrassment washes over his face as not even two seconds pass, and your stare gets him flustered immediately.
“dunno what i’d do without you,” he huffs out, and he genuinely had such neediness in his tone. you felt a strange string at your heart.
gojo’s always been somewhat protective of you. being so close to him like this, his body weight just barely hovering over you…
his dick reached you deep, you felt the perfectly angled stretch…
the curve as your legs trapped his weight tightly. gojo was gentle, yet a bit rough to make your eyes just about go back. he leans in to sneak kisses near the corners of your lips before murmuring. “fuck, ‘m gonna cum soon.”
he was so warm, you got chills from his body let alone — his rhythm, it was so slow.
simply perfect and precise. for a moment, you drowned everything out, being entrapped into your own thoughts.
you started to wonder if you got together with gojo, maybe he’d finally be happy.
not having to worry about faking a dumb smile for the industry. perhaps you were a bit delusional, but you genuinely pondered about it.
the two of you always did have chemistry.
was it love … or just a game?
the moment gojo cums for a second time, then a third time, then a fourth… it made him moan against your neck. his moans were high-pitched, droplets of sweat racing down the edges of his forehead.
you took his breath away every single time. the way your pussy clung onto him, through and through—each time he’d dump such a thick load into you.
he’s panting heavily, huffing and puffing while leaving you full of nothing but his cum.
it stuck against your thighs, and he became so obsessed that he just kept fucking you—you whined, the back of your ankle, the pretty anklet that wrapped around your foot brushing back against his skin.
gojo never fails to leave kisses all over your body, he nips at the corners of your neck before letting off a low sigh.
“s-satoru,” you’d mumble after a while, feeling his hips come to a certain slow pause. it’s been various positions…and even for him, his legs were just about to give out.
the tips of his ears heat up before he grunts, feeling you continue to clamp down on him. you were now on his back—facing the opposite way, grinding against him and he was pulling you closer. “gonna cum too, ‘m gonna cum.”
“bet you are,” he whispers against your neck. you’re moving back against him in such a slow way it makes him groan—you’re being held with him having a hand playfully wrapped around your throat. his middle finger tickles the middle part of your neck whilst you squeeze his relaxed knee. “give it to me, pretty.”
your eyes meet the very depths of your head, and then you feel yourself start to dramatically spasm.
his cock prodded right amongst your g-spot, not once but a few times…and you let off a whimper once he kept hitting there again and again…
such bundles of nerves continue to build up and up.
your breath gets caught in your throat to where it’s almost like whiplash. gojo tugs on the fabric of your dress, sucking the tender skin of your neck.
“let go for me,” he utters in a soft tone, his tongue deducting trailing up your neck. he knew just how to make you squirm on his lap. “thaaaat’s it, relax.”
his words warmed their way straight down between your legs, he started to guide your hips with his hands, peppering a kiss near the corner of your ear. “make a mess on me ‘n i’ll clean you right up.”
you moaned, feeling that familiar coil in yours snap before you came, by now, you can’t even remember how many orgasms he’s coaxed out of you. “f-fuckkk.” you spat, slumping your head back against him.
“so good for me,” he pants, bringing a hand towards your tummy. he toys with the string of your panties that was lazily moved to the side before he nervously cheeses, realization washing over his face. “o-oh shit. the awards...”
and yet here you were, currently standing alongside gojo as he was accepting his fifth award.
the minute he announced to probably millions of people across the words that he was thankful for your pussy, the entire arena went dead silent.
all you could hear in the background was some lady screeching out, “you need to leave!”
“…satoru, you can’t just say that on live television.” you leaned in, whispering to him with clenched teeth.
“oh yeahhh…you’re right,” he sheepishly said, turning back towards the mic. he cleared his throat before grinning, holding up his award with the most unserious expression. “uh. i mean, i wanna thank my team, my uh…”
he goes mute for a moment before concluding his speech, finishing with a, “thank you a lot though! i am tooootally grateful. and also, don’t forget to pre-order my new single, ‘it guy.’ only $69.69. if you ask me, that’s not that bad of a deal, hehe. seriously, stream it. please?”
you spot nanami in the distance shaking his head in utter disappointment. he could already predict the current headlines about to roll out.
gojo brings you towards his limo after the awards, quickly rushing you so the both of you can avoid the paparazzi.
they were probably just itching for a reaction. once the two of you made it inside, he was saying something to you before he leaned in for a kiss.
you kiss him back, teasingly pulling his tie closer towards you, and he goes up between your legs, eager to finish what he started earlier. prints of your lipstick were all over his collar, and gojo even autographed your ass with his signature. only to smack it, making it smear all over.
you moaned, squeezing his hand before pulling away, panting—out of breath before you smiled, only to pause. you and him make direct eye contact, and he’s so close to your lips, so close to kiss you again but he waits for you to speak, do something.
he figured you were gonna kiss him again, but instead without even thinking, you whispered out a, “i- i think i love you.”
When Gojo strolled into the kitchen to find you baking one of your signature cream filled pies he hummed. Pressing up against you with his arms around your waist while placing soft kisses to your neck.
“That smells delicious baby, who’s it for?” He had seen the text from your coworker asking you to bake one for him.
“Oh thanks baby! It’s just for some coworker at work. Been begging me for one of my pies for a while now.” You shrugged. “Hmm.. and would that co worker happen to be the same one who’s been flirting with you for ages?” He whispered when his lips reached your ear, hot breath fanning against your skin as you swallowed hard.
—
“Don’t fucking run from it baby, take it all like a good girl.” Gojo growled out, a grin spread across his face as his cock drilled meanly into your cunt. His hand in your hair yanking your head back to look up at him. Blue eyes seemingly darker when he groaned.
“My little slut’s so fucking pretty.” Grinding hard against your ass, a loud mewl escaping your lips when his tip grazed roughly into your gummy spot. “You feel that?” He rolled his hips again, his eyes never leaving yours as his hand pressed against the bottom of your stomach. “Feel me deep in you baby?”
You let out a shaky cry, your body being jerked back and forth with each of the man’s harsh thrusts. His hand pointing out the bulge of his tip against your skin. “Nngh— Satoru.”
“Open that pretty little mouth for me.” Gojo breathed, your back arching deeply as you sniffled. Doing as told and opening your mouth with a whimper, allowing Gojo’s spit to fall onto your tongue with a hum. Two of his slender fingers finding their way into your mouth, resting on the back of your tongue before he was lightly thrusting them down your throat.
“That’s it. That’s the good slut i know.” he smirked, your lips enclosing around the digits as your eyes closed with the shiver of your body.
Your loud moans were muffled as Gojo bullied his fat cock deep into your tightness. Eyes pooling with tears as your stomach burned with heat. Gojo’s hand finding its way to grope at your tits, pinching at your hard nipples making you let out a choked whine.
You yelped when your boyfriend’s large hand landed softly on your breast, mewling messily around his fingers when it landed harder on the other one. Your body trembled as Gojo’s finger trailed down your stomach, stopping at your clit to rub on the sensitive nub. Pulling out a string of moans followed by a cry when he slapped down at your clit.
“Gonna show you a real cream pie baby. Gonna stuff that pussy full of me.” Gojo grunted, one hand remaining on clit while he removed the one in your mouth with a string of salvia still attached. Using it to knead the flesh of your ass, red from the constant slamming of his hips onto it.
“S-satoruu, you’re so mean— ahh,” you mewled when you felt a harsh smack stinging through your skin. Your boyfriend’s hand reaching to your neck as he pulled you close, increasing the speed of his thrusts with a chuckle.
“Hmm, am i? Could’ve decided to leave this pussy wet and needy if i wanted to.” Pressing his chest flush against your back, his breath hot on your ear. “Could’ve left you to go bring you that stupid pie to that stupid boy, baby.” He scoffed in faux offense. “I’m hurt, i’d say i’m quite nice don’t ya think?”
You could only whimper as you felt yourself getting close, pussy clenching around Gojo’s cock when his grip on your neck tightened.
“O-oh, Satoru— ‘m close,” you cried, your eyes rolling back and your legs shaking.
“Thought i was mean huh? Why’re you coming on a mean man’s cock?” he teased, his finger’s movements on your clit speeding up to drive you over the edge.
Cumming hard with the scream of his name, your sopping pussy gushing onto his cock. Gojo groaned deeply, his thrusts noisy as heavy balls slapped against your folds. Basking in the feeling of your perfect pussy before he was bottoming out in you.
“Gonna stuff this pussy nice ‘n full with my cum.” His movements stilling as he pumped ropes after ropes onto your walls. Painting them from red to white with a smile. “Look at that, greedy pussy’s swallowing it all.” Pulling out of you ever so slowly and watching as his cum spilled in tiny spurts as your hole spasmed.
You let out a breath, allowing your body to fall limp into the sheets as you panted. You should have seen that coming.
could you please please pleaseeee do a fic where instead of the gojo winning, hes way too needy and the reader wins while fight fucking in missionary like your previous fic….my ego took a hit with that one 🙏🏽
❤︎ ໋𓈒 making gojo eat his words and he becomes a whiney embarrassed mess + first part
“still…won’t shut up, huh. figures,” he grumbles, sliding a hand down your tummy to drag out a whine from you. he was reaching you deep—your legs dangled and jerked from each thrust he’s presenting you. you put a hand in his face as an attempt to shut him up but he grabs it with quick reflexes, chuckling before playful long nibbling on your finger. “don’t try to shut me up. that’s rude.”
you let off a moan, his thickness forever buried into you and it nearly took your breath away. you glare before grumbling a, “you shut up. don’t tell me what to do.”
“i just did,” he whispers, his hips thwack and thwack against you to where your ears ring, lips parting slightly and he leans up close to your ear before slowly sucking on your finger. “i can do this alllll day, princess. you’re just gonna tire yourself o—”
he halts, his breath getting abruptly caught in his throat before you feel gojo twitch, and he lets off a whine before you feel him start to pour a few ropes of cum inside of you. you feel warm, and he completely forgets what he’s about to say.
“you were saying?” you raise your brows, and he’s taken aback once you make your way on top of him, and gojo’s back thrashes against the pillow.
“got some nerve…pinning me down,” he pants, staring at you. you observe his body, droplets of sweat racing down his v-line. gojo’s swollen cock remained deep inside you as you sat upright, playfully creating a few grind movements with your hips. “f-fuck, just ‘cause ‘m sensitive doesn’t mean you won.”
you lean up close to gojo, kissing near the corner of his glossed lips before grinning — slowly and teasingly spreading his arms apart.
he moans from the simplicity of your touch before you whisper, “yes it does. you just don’t wanna admit,” and then you realign yourself, staring down at a panting, out of breath, ruffled hair gojo before simpering. “i know how to make you admit it though.”
“hmpf. how.” he grumbles, contorting his eyebrows before hesitatingly, he brings a hand towards your waist. the smallest pout spreads against his lips before he gawks into your eyes, and oh how flustered he was.
“remember what you told me last time?” you giggle, sneaking a kiss near his chin. “don’t worry about it.”
gojo groans from your soft lips making contact against his skin each time. you drove him crazy, however…
the very moment you started to move your hips against him, riding him he completely loses it. more and more breaths get caught in his throat, and he gives your left hip a tight squeeze and his head throws back. “r-riding me after i cum, fuckin’ brat. you’re so—”
you roll your eyes, leaning in to silence your boyfriend with a kiss. gojo’s muffled moans slither its way into your mouth, and he’s stuck in a ecstasy filled trance the sheer second your pussy grips down against him so firmly.
he was still heavily sensitive, such deep rushes getting to him. you ran your tongue against his in a smooth fashion before you feel gojo whine, sucking against your tongue and he doesn’t even realize it. he trails a hand from your waist to your ass, greeting it with a mean smack to make you moan into his mouth.
still some sorts of brat in him, he found his own eyes starting to roll back into the very depths. he’s chasing his breath as if it was some sort of race, some sort of competition.
he couldn’t get enough of your syrupy sweet taste, gliding his tongue against your upper lip, then your tongue — even the corner of your mouth. whenever gojo was like this, straight after cumming his brains out, by all means was he a messy kisser. momentarily, you pull away and slow your hips down.
“why are you—why are you stopping?” he stammers, and he genuinely sounds needy. no attitude in sight. your cunt was stuffed with a few ropes of his cum, and you felt the mess it created.
his dick twitched inside you from each time you moved against him. “you want me to finish? just admit it, baby.”
“…god, i hate you,” he whines, his bottom lip quavering. the sting, the sugared sting of overstim made him swallow his pride for a brief moment before he huffs out a breath. gojo gives you a glare before lowly sighing. “…finish fucking me.”
“sorry?”
“finish… fucking me.” he mumbles, darting his eyes away.
“can’t understand you when you mumble,” you jokingly tease, bringing a hand down to touch yourself…just a little more teasing. gojo’s eyebrows press in together and seeing him pout out of frustration was the cutest thing. seeing him not get his way.
ironically enough, it’s his turn. after all the teasing he’s put you through.
gojo moans, starting to impatiently bounce his thigh and you intake a sharp breath from feeling him pump his way inside of you just enough for you to feel. “fuck me, f-fuck me. just hurry up. finish riding me,” and then his cerulean blue eyes reach contact towards you — following with a cunning grin. “if you can handle m—”
“you’re such a brat,” you roll your eyes, instantly making him eat his words once you start to roll your hips against him. gojo’s eyes glaze over before he bites his lip to suppress his pathetic whimpers. “but a good boy.”
“……”
he grows dead quiet, soundless before he lets off a moan once you inch closer towards his neck. peppering a soft kiss near the inner part. “can you…can you say that again?”
“say what?” you hum in a soft voice, gingerly wriggling your hips against him, you study his expressions and his jaw tightens. “brat?”
“f-fuck, no, baby the other thing.” he pants, and you giggle — slowing catching on. oh. you always forgot how gojo loved whenever you praised him. it made him feel a feeling he doesn’t even know how to explain.
you softly reply, “good boy. that’s what you wanna hear?”
“y-yeah, yeah,” he swallows, and you continued to grip and clamp down his hefty cock. the weight of his base slams back and forth against you to where he purposely grows silent just to hear the filthy noises your cunt makes. “you—you win, i don’t care anymore jus— keep, keep fucking me, please.”
Missionary w satoru to keep arguing while fucking <3 I saw a twt like this days ago and it's imprinted on my mind.
❤︎ ໋𓈒 gojo doing missionary with you while arguing to see who gets the last say. second part
warnings. fem! reader, unprotected, dirty talk, pillow talk, size kink, you and gojo are both brats
“all you do is talk,” he grunts, and you’re laid on your back, legs sprawled and trying to suppress your moans with a brief lip bite. despite that, you and gojo, your loving doting boyfriend exchanged glares, returning the same amount of energy. he watched as you bounced underneath him. just trying to conceal your moans, gojo’s burying himself into you, balls deep. “fuckin’ blabbermouth. think ya argue just to argue.”
“s-shut up,” you moaned, and he reached so deep that you didn’t even realize how your legs started to idly wrap around his waist — trapping him, you were needy despite your little attitude.
darting your eyes away for a brief moment, gojo leans in to grip your chin, “you shut up,” and then he chuckles, finding it amusing how you could barely hold eye contact. his dick, his sheer girth expanded in every part of your walls voluntarily. “aw. what’s the matter? can’t keep up the act huh? ‘coz ya know i’m right, baby? hmmmm?”
“you…wish.” you uttered, and gojo rolls his eyes, the sloppy hits he’s creating with his hips goes a bit more at a quickened pace and you let off a whine.
“fuckin’ brat,” he rasps, the lowness of his voice dropping a few octaves and it makes you pulse. as lewd enough as it was, you couldn’t help yourself. the tips of your nails dug into his pale bulky arms.
his frame hovers over you, and you moan loudly once he tilts his hips to deepen his movements even further. “if it wasn’t for how soaked you were right now..”
“then what?” you pout, your pussy squelched so much that it was all you could make out in the spacey room.
gojo groans, parting your legs with two thick fingers just to spread for him a bit more.
“don’t worry ‘bout it,” he huffs out, and you heard how irregular his breathing was. shaky, quavery arms wrapped around his broad shoulders, pulling him closer and he gives the inner part of your collarbone a good suck. “someone needs to make up their damn mind.”
“f-fuck you, ‘toru.” you spat out. he simpers, feeling your body twitch underneath his — the way his warmth kept you warm, it felt so good.
“fuck me?” he teases, purposely slowing his hips down to see that cute frown curl against your lips.
gojo’s perfectly structured hips gradually rocked against you, back and forth. back and forth…
he slides a hand up your leg just to watch you shudder from his touch and he chuckles. “all that attitude ‘n you still get drenched just from a little touch. pathetic.”
“at least- at least i don't-” and he shuts you up easily with a rough passionate kiss. a staggered gasp gets snatched from your throat as he grinds his hips deeper into you.
gojo's warm tongue danced against yours, soft hitched breath colliding amongst each other wholeheartedly until the fat rounded head of his dick prods against that sweet forbidden spot.
you found yourself dreadfully clinging onto him, his hotness all over his body radiated on you before you move away, catching your breath. “i hate you. you're s-so annoying.”
“have you met you?” he cheekily simpers.
he playfully runs a thumb down your throat, as if he was about to choke you but hesitated. gojo’s voice grows a bit more raspy and gruff before he hums. “you hate me enough to keep letting me make you cum, huh.”
you … didn’t have a response, and he snickers, driving his hips into you at full speed, full throttle.
your nails continued to drag and race all down his chiseled back, creating the prettiest marks for only him and you to see.
“ohhhh, don’t pout at me like that, baby. i’d never wanna see my girl so upset,” he sticks his bottom lip out and he’s so unserious. taunting you while being deep inside your insides. and oh how his pace was frantic, melding his timing and girth together.
you jerk back against the bed for a bit once he deliberately starts hitting his cock against your g-spot, you’re spasming. “my oh my, such a cute little weak spot ya got there.”
you felt yourself coming close, the exact building up within you. your body underneath him continued to jolt and fidget in the upmost pleasure. the way your legs hugged his slim waist tightly, it was his favorite feeling in the world. “just say… ‘toru, you were right and i was wrong.”
“fuck you.”
“quite a vocabulary ya got there,” he rolls his eyes, and you gasp once you feel the ridges of his dick wander all throughout your pussy. you could never get enough of his size, if anything — gojo could split you in half. “i gotta kiss it out of you?”
“…”
he grunts, feeling you start to stick against him, your glistening slick running a lubricious trail down his base. gojo brings a hand towards your chin and grips it before staring right at you.
“look at me.” he utters as his dick idly engorged inside of you.
your body continued to writhe and thrash back in pleasure, ears ringing from the multiple ounces of stimulation before you whimper, meeting his striking gaze.
“hey girl,” he teases, pitching his voice. bright blue eyes glancing down at you, and you pulse. right between your legs, how embarrassing. he chuckles at your body’s response, pulling out fleetingly before plugging his way back in, and you pout. “want more of me, don’t you? you know what you gotta say, princess?”
your bottom lip was a coward, hiding behind the top as it quivered.
the more you stared at him, the more cocky he grew. gojo’s scent was sweet, an almost spice of a musk type smell. intoxicatingly rich.
“aw boooo. that’s rude,” he raises a brow humorously the moment you turn your eyes away. “ignore me ‘n you’ll just have to make yourself cum, brat.”
he slyly grins, pulling your lip down with a thumb before planting a kiss near your mouth. your pussy twitched each second he spent with his hardened shaft penetrating deep, your legs wobbled and wobbled.
never in your life did you want to eye roll at him so bad in this particular moment....
but you gave in finally, running a finger down his undercut to hear him let off a soft purr before slowly spitting out the words of, “f-fine, you win.”
“heheh like always..” he hums, and you forgot what the two of you were arguing about.
mainly because once gojo makes you cum for about the dozenth time, your body feels somewhat electric, shockwaves racing down your skin entirely.
and of course, he gets the last word. you’re too dumb to speak from being drunk from his dick to where you’re just stupidly hugging him.
gojo presses his soft glossed lips against your ear before murmuring, still propped up inside of you.
The relationship between you and your boss gets more complicated every single day, and you can’t ignore the sudden feelings that are starting to develop, but maybe you won’t have to.
⋆ pairing: model!minghao x assistant!f!reader
⋆ word count: 7.2K
⋆ tags: exhibitionism, unprotected sex, marking, punishment, masturbation (f&m), handjob, cum play, sex backstage, morning sex, shower sex, face slapping, choking, some cute moments tho, fluff? dates, walks past the river, reader is starting to feel some things, hao can be nice, bickering, arguments
⋆ warnings: smut, cursing, depictions of a toxic relationship
⋆ a/n: this took sooo (too) long to write but im happy with how it came out! let me know ur thoughts :3
(previous ; index ; next)
You try to rationalize what you're doing while Minghao pushes you against the now closed door, immediately shushing you with his lips before you can try to open your mouth to speak.
His hands find your waist, keeping you locked against the cold door in the dark closet while you messily make out with him.
Somewhere you know it's wrong what you're doing with Minghao, letting him seduce you into a storage room with loads of staff nearby just minutes before walking a show. It seems like ever since last night logical thinking doesn't seem to be your thing anymore, knowing damn well you shouldn't have let it happen in the first place.
Minghao likes your change in behavior towards him. You seem even more shy since last night, stumbling over your words at the simplest things. He likes it this way, having you so submissive, so dumb. Like you're a silly girl who makes a fool of herself in front of her crush. It's the whole reason he's dragged you in here in the first place, loving how you can't even look him in the eyes anymore.
"Y're such a cute slut." Minghao purrs against your lips, his fingers finding the button of your jeans. You break the kiss when he opens the clasp, biting your lip at the feeling of Minghao's mouth immediately moving to your neck. "Did such a good job covering that mark," he chuckles before sucking another spot into your skin, making you groan at how harsh he's being biting at your throbbing sensitive skin.
"You have to go back." your remind Minghao, putting your hands on his shoulders to push him away. "I have like ten minutes," he pushes your pants down hastily, not moving away from you. Your face grows hot knowing there's another obvious mark in your neck. You tried so hard to successfully cover the one from last night, using some makeup Minghao had lying around in his bathroom.
You whine when he moves to a spot on your throat, his teeth scratching your skin while he sucks down. "Minghao don't..." you tell him, pushing your head back against the door. Minghao pulls down your panties, his finger softly teasing your clit. You hiss at the impact. "You should listen to your boss y/n." his free hand grips your hip, and you feel another sharp sting when he leaves another hickey right next to the last one. How were you even going to hide this?
Minghao surprises you by turning you around, your chest pressed against the hard door. "Don't you want everyone to know what a good whore you are for me?" he says with a smile, the sound of his belt clanking catching your attention. "Minghao... people will hear." you swallow a lump in your throat, tensing at the thought of others walking by on the other side of the door.
"And?" he replies, rolling his eyes. You gasp when you suddenly feel his tip pressing against your wet hole, Minghao's hand coming up to fist your hair, tugging your head back against his shoulder. You moan when he pushes his length into you slowly, his lips going back to prep kisses in your neck while he starts thrusting, savoring how tight you feel without any foreplay.
Surely people were looking for him now, his role as the opening model earning him some kind of special treatment, the designer barely leaving his side for the past few hours of getting ready.
Minghao hooks his arm hand around the front of your body, pulling you up to stand on your toes so he can fuck you quicker, the drag of his cock slightly burning. Your eyes are closed, quiet whines leaving your mouth trying to get used to him.
You keep your hands against the wall for some kind of support, biting your lip when you can't help clenching around his dick, your body already craving release when his tip hits an extra sensitive spot inside of you from the change of angle. Minghao groans feeling your body respond to him, his fingers pressing into your side while holding you.
"Touch your clit for me." Minghao whispers against your skin, his hot tongue swiping your throbbing marks. He tightens his grip on your hair when you don't obey immediately, and you respond with a high pitched moan. Your hand shakes while guiding it down between you and the wall, rubbing yourself at a decent pace. "Fuck..." you exhale, feeling how close you are now.
"Gonna-" you mumble, not able to finish your sentence. "Me too." Minghao interrupts. The perfect drag of his cock thrusting into you takes you over the edge, trying not to moan out loud when you cum around him.
Minghao groans loudly, fucking his warm cum into you right after your release, and taking his time slowing his pace. The overstimulation has you biting down on your lip harshly, gasping when his cock falls out of you.
He gives your cheek a loving kiss before letting go of you, staring at you when you turn to face him. "Not inside," you furrow your eyebrows at him, having a whole day of long shows left with little to no breaks to freshen up.
Minghao fixes his clothes before pulling your panties back up, smiling seeing the wet stain of his cum appearing. "You better keep my cum there the whole day." he looks at you while you button your jeans, your gaze meeting his when you're done.
You open your mouth to speak, but close it again when you hear arguing on the other side of the door. You're able to understand what they're talking about, trying to find Minghao who's nowhere to be seen.
The man chuckles, fixing his hair for a moment before opening the door. You wonder how despite just fucking you he can look so perfect, like these past minutes didn't even happen.
"Good luck." you tell him, watching how he gives you a small smile before walking out of the room, leaving you behind.
You manage to hide the hickeys in your neck by awkwardly covering it with your hair till you get to one of the vanities, unnoticeably taking a concealer. You try your best to cover the marks in the bathroom, noticing Minghao's faint lip tint decorated on your skin.
Thankfully Minghao will be busy for the next hour, and beside taking care of some last scheduling tasks you're able to take your time washing up.
The rest of the day is chaotic, rushing from show to show while the city's traffic seems worse than ever. It's night by the time Minghao's schedules are done, and thankfully tomorrow he only has two shows in the afternoon with one social event, meaning you could wind down for a moment. At least, thats what you were planning to do: take a hot bath as soon as you got home, make yourself some dinner and end up in bed attending to your socials which you've been neglecting since yesterday.
It was almost laughable, so easily giving into some lingering touches and dirty words. Despite your plans you end up right back where you've been since yesterday, laying naked on Minghao's bed with him sitting on top of you. You wonder if you’re really that desperate or just plain stupid.
"You didn't listen." Minghao says almost bored, his finger coated with your slick when he expected to find remains of his cum there.
You chew your lip, only looking back at him while you lean back on the bed, supporting your weight with your elbows. Minghao sighs, rubbing your wetness into the pad of his finger with his thumb.
"Sit up." he tells you, and you immediately obey, hearing him chuckle while you push yourself to sit upright. Minghao stands up, unbuckling his belt while he watches you, pressing his lips into a smile. You can't tell if it's genuine or if there's more to that smile, scared it might be the latter.
You watch as he fully undresses before getting back on the bed, his knees pressing down into the mattress and caging your thighs. He's already hard, just as eager as you are. He grabs your cheeks in his hand, your lips squeezing together. "Now be a good girl and get me off." Minghao tells you, putting pressure on your jaw to open your mouth a little. He brings his mouth to yours, giving you a tender kiss. Then he surprises you by opening your mouth wider with the grip he has on you, spitting in your mouth before letting go of your face all together.
"What the fuck are you waiting for?" he looks at your wide eyed face, putting his hand on the back of your neck and pressing your lips together again. You hum into the kiss, already feeling hot.
A shaky hand quickly goes down, grabbing the base of his hard cock successfully without being able to look. Your thumb swipes against his head in synch with your tongue, mimicking the rhythm of the steamy kiss. You're so turned on only by his mouth on yours, his lips perfectly working against yours.
You never considered kissing as something that could actually turn you on, seeing it as an obligation rather as something you actually enjoyed. But you get it now, for the first time noticing how well you work together, your stomach burning from the simple action.
When the kiss turns faster and messy so follows your hand, spreading his pre-cum over his length and pumping your hand with a tight grip on his cock. Minghao groans in your mouth, and when you decide to tease him a little by biting his bottom lip he squeezes the back of your neck softly.
Minghao pulls away to catch his breath, your mouth moving to his neck hungrily. You've never wanted to please someone as much as you want to please him, at the same time craving to get off too. "Please let me suck your dick." you whisper against his neck, grabbing his arm to pull yourself up a little so you can grind your hips against him. Minghao pulls you back by your hair, breathing while he looks at you with a dark look in his eyes.
"It's cute that you think you deserve to get what you want, baby." Minghao rolls his eyes, pushing you back so you fall back down on your elbows. "Was kind enough to let you touch me and you're still greedy for more." you can tell by his tone he's getting annoyed now, his eyebrows furrowed while he talks to you.
"'M sorry," you say softly, looking up at him while he leans down. He has one arm supporting his weight while his other hand wraps around his hard cock, starting to tug at his length while he looks at you. "Are you baby?" Minghao asks mockingly, swiping his tongue over his bottom lip. You nod silently, body impatiently squirming against the bed.
"C-can I at least touch myself?" you dare to ask, biting your lip at the sight in front of you. He's so close to you, his dick so close to your aching core. You're so wet you're sure he can tell by just one look, breath strained from the sexual tension.
Minghao grins, sucking in a breath when he picks up the pace touching himself. "You can. After I'm done," he says, his eyes squeezing shut for a second.
You bite the inside of your lip, getting more turned on while you watch him getting closer to his release. Minghao gets even closer to you when he gets down on his elbow, his fingers grazing the skin of your stomach every time he reaches his cock head.
When he starts moaning more frequently you can tell he's getting close, his hand moving quickly while he slowly moves his hips too. A few more moments and you feel his hot cum spurting all over your tummy, watching as he empties himself on top of you.
His sticky semen slowly starts pooling to your sides, wanting to slide down to collect on the mattress.
"Careful, y/n. Better keep my cum safe this time." his words make you snap your eyes up at him, watching as he sits back on his knees, this time slotted between your thighs. You gulp, nodding at him. You understand what he wants you to do, embarrassed as you catch the streaks of cum dripping down to your waist on your fingers.
“Very good. Now put it where it belongs.”
Minghao watches you push the two wet fingers inside of you, quickly going back to collect more of his come. You feel him carefully eyeing you when you repeat the action, trying to collect as much of his slick on your fingers and repeating until there’s nothing left.
His cum is threatening to seep out of your pussy with the amount inside of you, your fingers pushing the wetness right back in, your face hot with embarrassment as Minghao watches everything.
"Please Minghao..." you say shyly, looking at him while you start to move your fingers slowly. "Need you so bad... p-please just fuck me," you moan, feeling so full with his cum and your fingers slotted inside of you.
Minghao laughs at you, watching you touch yourself with an amused look on his face. "Tell me baby, do you deserve it though?" he asks you, not making a single effort to touch you. You add another finger, biting your lip painfully hard.
You shake your head. "Don't... Don't deserve your dick." you breathe out a long breath, rocking your hips into your touch. Minghao hums.
You feel like you might go crazy if he just keeps watching. You know if would feel so much better if he’s the one taking care of you. "Kiss me again Hao, n-need your touch... need something."
You hear him chuckle, but he doesn't reply, just watching you fuck his cum inside of you with your digits.
“Minghao…” you moan lowly, looking at him. You must look pathetic to him but you can’t care less, only thinking about him touching you.
Your body twitches when you press your thumb against your clit, hissing from the contact.
"Please hit me." you then say.
Now that gets him curious, cocking up his eyebrow. "I-I deserve it. Please H-Hao. Need it." you moan, feeling yourself getting closer to your high.
Minghao laughs in disbelief. “Fucking hell. You need me that bad?” he shakes his head a little. You nod. “Please.” you moan, your mouth agape when your stomach tightens.
Even though you begged him for it, the sharp sting of his palm hitting your cheek catches you off guard, making you gasp. The corner of your lip quivers up, making Minghao grab your throat tightly. “Fuck,” you whisper, squeezing your eyes shut and feeling how close you are now, moans spilling past your lips like a mantra.
“You’re moaning like a fucking whore in heat just because I hit you a little?” Minghao chuckles, tightening his grip on your neck.
With that you orgasm loudly, the lack of air making your head spin. Your hips stutter into your touch, riding out your high with soft whines filling the air.
When you open your eyes Minghao lets go of your throat, just looking at you when you try to catch your breath.
“Take a shower and buy some of those peach iced tea’s at the convenience store that I like.” he tells you, laying down next to you and scrolling on his phone like nothing happened.
You turn your head to watch him, your eyebrows scrunching together to reveal your confusion to his behavior. He’s acting vastly different to last night.
You clear your throat awkwardly before speaking. “You know I’m not working, right?” you ask him, caging your bottom lip between your teeth. He glances at you, a deep sigh following.
This whole situation is odd, leaving you feeling confused. He’s your boss, your nagging, annoying boss who doesn’t give two shits about you. Yet yesterday he was so gentle, drawing you a bath and even helping you wash up. There was good energy between the two of you, it was undeniable.
The tone in his voice stirs something inside of you, reminding you once again that what you’re doing, is wrong.
“Oh?” he asks, putting down his phone to shift his attention back to you. “Need me to pay you for your precious time outside of work too?” he snaps, pushing himself upright.
You give him a look. “That’s not what I mean.” your jaw tightens.
“You don’t even want to do one single thing for me?” his voice is softer now, like he’s actually confused why you won’t want to do something nice for him when he’s the one switching up on you so fast.
“You can’t boss me around when I’m not even working.” you tell him, sighing. “At least say please… be nice about it.”
Minghao rolls his eyes. “If I pay you double today will you shut up and get me my iced tea?”
“No.” you grunt at him, scurrying to collect your clothes angrily. You hear him sigh in annoyance when you get dressed, ignoring how dirty you feel from your little play session.
“See you tomorrow, asshole.” you mumble the last part when you walk out of his room, sure he will hear you anyway.
xu minghao: are you on your way yet?
You read the new message standing in front of Minghao's apartment. After shoving your phone in your pocket you enter the familiar code of his front door, the lock opening with a loud melody echoing through the empty hallway of his apartment building.
There's an odd feeling lining your stomach, a feeling you've been having a lot these days when you're with Minghao. It worsens when you see him sitting on his leather couch, watching as you take off your shoes and approach him.
A fleeting thought flies by, one that convinces you that maybe you shouldn't have agreed to hang out with him outside of work like this. It was one thing to hook up with him when you were supposed to be busy attending to his schedules, and even worse to literally do it at a gig. But, it's hard to say no to him, especially when you know you enjoy it.
You spot the paint tubes in front of him on the table, thinking back to a few days before when you found out the two of you have something in common, despite how odd that seemed to you.
There's a smile on your face while observing the dark painting in front of you, your eyes finding new details the longer you look.
"I didn't take you for an art lover." you tense hearing Minghao talking, turning to watch him sip on his champagne. You smile awkwardly, not having spoken much since last night apart from work related topics.
"I am." you say, turning your head to look back at the big frame.
There's chatter in the background, the gallery busy with people socializing.
Minghao is invited by one of his friends in the industry to promote his fashion brand, looking dazzling in a well fitted dark suit. Anyone who's anyone roams around making their presence known, promoting some expensive clothing or jewelry brand for the paparazzi outside.
Inside the mood's good, people happily chatting with the one's they're familiar with or want to become familiar with.
"Interesting." he says lowly, looking up to scan the painting you've shown interest in. "I am too, actually." he glances at you quickly. "You have good taste." you see him nod, barely perceptible.
You haven't painted in years, having neglected the hobby once your career became somewhat busy. Your interest in art never left, though, and Minghao seemed to have picked up on that, asking you to come over the day after the end of fashion week.
He'd told you through text he wanted to paint with you, much to your surprise. Sure, it was odd he wanted to hang out in the first place, when if he just wanted to hook up he could do so after work when it was most convenient for him.
But maybe he doesn't only want to have sex...? However, you force away the thought immediately, not even being able to imagine Minghao would just want to hang out with you.
There's got to be more to it, right?
You'd rejected the offer at first, not only because you wanted to spend time catching up with family and friends, but also because there was some part in you telling you to keep having him at a distance. He was persuasive of course, and you agreed to come over only for a little while. Just so he could prove that unrealistic thought wrong.
"Got some new black and white today, those always seem to run out too quickly, hm?" Minghao grabs the paint when he gets up, shoving the tubes in the front pocket of his navy sweater before taking your hand in his. You nod, letting him lead the two of you in a room you've never entered before.
There's heaps of paintings leaning against the wall, few rows stacked over one another as a result of the many completed paintings. The thick carpet tickles the bottom of your feet when you go to admire all the pretty paintings, your eyes wide with admiration.
"You're so good." you finally say after a moment, turning your head to Minghao who's setting up two blank canvases on separate easels.
He smiles sweetly before thanking you, putting the new tubes of paint in the middle together with all the different kinds of paint already scattered around.
"Are you familiar with acrylic?" he squeezes some white, yellow, blue and black paint down on his clean palette, starting to mix some of them while you're still busy scanning the room.
"Um, not really. Only watercolor..." once you see the empty spot next to Minghao you decide to take a seat next to him on the floor, looking at how he confidently starts covering the white canvas a yellow-ish, beige color. "Don't think, just do what feels good." he tells you, dabbing his brush in the black paint.
There's a small smile on your face when you start mixing your colors, taking Minghao's advice and just going for it. You paint the canvas a grey and greenish background, then going over it with white to create makeshift flower petals until you add more definition.
There's a near comfortable silence when the two of you keep painting for a near hour, Minghao humming along to the calm playlist he put on.
He finishes before you, standing up to admire his work for a few good minutes before he seems content. You're working on adding some last pinks in the center of the flower for definition, impressed at yourself when you look at your work.
You've always loved bold and chaotic art, seeing the emotion translated through every brush stroke. Minghao did just that, painting like he was telling a story, yet looking like he was in a blissful state of no-mind.
Even though you loved the idea of letting go and just doing, something always held you back. The urge to create something carefully put together and perfect always seemed to control you, but still you were never quite satisfied.
This time is different, occasionally glancing at the model next to you to remind yourself of his words. Just do what feels good. So you did, and you're left feeling happy at the result in front of you.
"Are you sure it's been years since you've done this?" Minghao chuckles. You look up at where he's standing, closing your eyes for a moment when he tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear.
You make eye contact with him, and you freeze momentarily when you realize the sudden scorching burn in your heart.
"I have to go.”
Minghao’s lips push together when he unknowingly pouts, watching you get up from the floor and chaotically search your pocket for your phone. “Already?” he straightens his posture. You fumble with your phone awkwardly, pretending to be busy even though you yourself don’t even know what you’re doing.
“Yea, I’m sorry… I had fun though!” you reassure him before storming out of his apartment in a hurry.
You have plans to meet your family two hours later, but decide to just drive around with your volume loud to kill time until then, not in the mood to sit at home with the chance of a single thought occurring.
However, the music still manages to drown out in the background, having a long conversation with yourself in your head to make sense of everything until you realize.
You’re starting to like Minghao.
Fashion week was a great success, and you're happy the chaos of show after show combined with multiple events was finally over. It's your last day off after a week of not working, Minghao thus you having some time off before starting his busy schedule again.
He didn't contact you again until late today, asking to meet up, but not specifying for what reason. Even though you spend the days following your little painting (date?) trying not to think about him you couldn't help yourself, feeling giddy fantasizing about your boss touching and kissing you again like an idiot.
That's why you can't help but be happy seeing him again, his tall frame leaning against his apartment building while he watches you approach. There's a smile on his lips when you stand in front of him a little awkwardly, you yourself trying not to smile too obviously.
"Are we not going inside?" you ask while looking around, people sure to recognize him if it wasn't for the night sky and the bucket hat covering half his face.
Minghao shakes his head, grabbing your hand in his and linking your fingers. "I want to walk past the river with you." he says, initiating for you to walk to the cross road near.
"Oh, fun." you say softly, ignoring how the mere act of him holding your hand leaves you feeling crazy.
Minghao quietly chats with you while you walk a short route till you get to the river, not letting go of you when you slowly tour past the peaceful water.
"I like watching from here," Minghao stops walking, letting go of you to lean his elbows on top of the iron fence separating the water from the path.
You watch him for a second, smiling a little seeing him scanning the view in front of him. There's tall buildings on the other side of the river, the bleak lights reflecting in the water. Then suddenly there's some gasps around you, and you watch the bridge in the distance start spraying water from its sides like a fountain, the stream moving up and down while the water lights up in pretty, vivid rainbow colors.
You gawk at the fountain show fondly, not able to take your eyes off it. Minghao can't help pinching your cheek at the sight of you, putting his arm around your frame and pulling you close to him with his giggles making you smile even wider. He grabs your chin between his fingers, turning your head to make you look at him before he presses a firm kiss on your lips.
"Mm..." he sighs, cradling your face. You both stay silent for a moment, just looking at each other. There's so much you want to say but you're still confused what it is you're feeling, and you can't bring yourself to say anything at all.
"What are you doing to me, y/n?" Minghao whispers, bringing you even closer to him. "...me?" you ask. "I think all those paint fumes are getting to you..." you tell him, watching as he laughs.
Then he shakes his head. "I like you." he strokes your bottom lip with his thumb, his eyes moving to your mouth before making eye contact with you again.
You still don't know what to say, gulping anxiously before looking away shyly. That seems to only please him. He has a grin on his face before he kisses you again, this time longer.
"Stay the night?" he mumbles against your lips, putting one hand in your neck to keep you close. You nod. "Good." he smiles, playing with your hair.
The next morning you wake up with Minghao's arm loosely draped around you, the bright sun rays shining directly in his face having him frown in his sleep.
"Hao." you whisper, blocking the light from his face with your hand. Minghao groans, slowly opening one eye to look at you. You chuckle at his sleepy state.
"You have to slowly get ready now." you tell him, dropping your hand to watch him squint to adjust to the bright light. "Mm.." he sighs. "Don't want to." he rolls on top of your body, pressing lazy kisses on your throat.
"Hao..." you smile, putting your hands on his pecs. His hands slip under your shirt, fingers softly pinching your nipples. “Open your legs.” he instructs, squeezing the swell of your breast while his other hand goes to tug your panties to the side. You want to tell him he should hurry up but like he has you under a spell you comply quickly.
You’re left in nothing but your panties when Minghao pulls your shirt off your frame, wasting no time getting rid of his boxers and pressing his hard tip against your entrance. “Ready?” he asks, but it’s more of a warning when he tugs his length a few times before pushing in with no prep, your pussy struggling to accommodate to him like this. The burning feeling has you hissing out loud, biting on your bottom lip.
Minghao groans feeling you so snug around him, pressing his face in the crook of your neck while he pushes his cock inside to the hilt. He’s impatient, his rough fingers gripping your hip while he starts thrusting inside of you quickly, the two of you immediately moaning.
“Perfect cunt. Would go crazy without it.” Minghao groans against your neck before kissing the sensitive skin sloppily.
Something about him fucking you like this right after waking up has you feeling feral, clawing at his back like an animal. The snap of his hips and the sound of skin slapping only adds to your desire, wrapping your legs around him to get him as close as possible. Minghao rolls his hips between deep thrusts, hitting your sweet spot with every move and having you nearly yell out loud.
“‘M gonna cum, H-hao.” you tell him, your breathing fast. You feel him nod, fucking you even faster than he already was.
Just like that you cum loudly, your arms keeping him close. Minghao comes shortly after you, riding out his high while you feel his warm seed deep inside of you.
“Maybe you should stop cumming in me Hao, ‘s not smart…” you whisper once he stills on top of you, panting against your face. He looks at you.
“Why would I? Theres nothing better than having you full of my cum.” he grins, pushing himself upright and standing up from the bed.
He grabs your arm. “Let’s go shower.” he says, and you let yourself get pulled to his bathroom.
The warm water pours on both of you generously, and you make a mental note to buy a rain shower just as nice as Minghao’s.
You quietly wash yourself next to Minghao, suddenly thinking of all those movies where the lovers giggle sweetly while washing each other, and you wonder if you will ever find someone who will treat you so delicately.
“What are you thinking about?” the voice of the man next to you takes you out of your thoughts, making you chuckle shyly.
“Nothing really… you?” you ask him, watching the water pour down his lean body.
Minghao slowly pushes you against the glass wall of his shower, his lips finding your cheek. He pecks your hot skin a few times before speaking. “Thinking of how bad I want to fuck you again.” his hands grip your hips before one snakes down to find your clit, his thumb slowly circling around the nub.
You bite the inside of your cheek, one simple touch already turning you on again.
“We’re gonna be late…” you tell him, shutting your eyes automatically.
“I’m famous. I can be late.” Minghao surprises you by pushing one finger inside of you, making you gasp.
“J-just a little then.” you whisper, grabbing his shoulders for support. You lean back against the glass, feeling the coldness of the material mixed with the hot water pouring down you.
He adds another finger, and his thumb starts taunting you faster while his digits move inside of you deeply.
“You get wet so fast baby.” Minghao tells you, watching you lose more of yourself every second.
Just when you feel your stomach muscles starting to tighten he pulls out of you, leaving you empty again.
“Put your leg around my waist.” he instructs you, putting one of his hands on your ass while the other one grabs his hard cock. You do as he says, hooking your leg around him to give him access to you.
Minghao coats his tip in your juices, the feeling of his cock head making contact with your clit having you way too eager.
He’s more gentle this time, slowly pushing inside of you and letting you get used to him. One of your hands grabs onto his mullet for support while the other has a hold of the back of his shoulder. “More,” you tell him, giving his lips a peck. Minghao does what you tell him to do, bottoming out with a deep grunt.
The feeling of him inside of you again is one you don’t want to forget, and you think you could let him fuck you the entire day if it isn’t for all the schedules today.
He looks at you when he starts to rut against your hips slowly, licking his bottom lip with an amused look on his face. “Love this little whore, all for me, hm?” His gaze leaves you flustered, pushing your face against his chest and making him chuckle.
“Look at me, now.” he grabs your chin, and you grip his hair tighter when he picks up the pace. “Tell me. Who’s body is this?” he has a tight grip, his heavy eyes sending a tingle to your stomach.
“Yours…” you whisper in embarrassment, eyes already searching for anything else to look at. Minghao presses his forehead against yours, forcing you as close to him as possible. “Can’t hear you.” he sounds stern with it, forcing a harsh thrust inside of you. You can’t help moaning, your nails digging into his shoulder by now.
“All yours Minghao.” you whisper shakily, forcing yourself to look at him.
Minghao chuckles, and you know he’s doing this on purpose, making you so flustered every time.
He presses you closer to him by your bottom, moving his hips so sinfully it has you in a trance. He knows just how to move, just how to hit that spot inside of you that has the muscles in your stomach and thighs burn with heat.
“P-please touch me Hao.” you moan, biting the inside of your cheek. Minghao gives you a kiss before his fingers find your clit, rubbing you quickly. The sound of his pelvis smacking yours echoes loudly through the bathroom, even louder than before surrounded by the glass.
His fingers toying with you almost has you cumming right on the spot, pushing your face against his neck again. “Cum with me, baby.” Minghao tells you, rubbing you even faster.
You moan loudly, the burn of your hole clenching around his girth making you suck down on the skin of his neck. Minghao thrusts hard a few more times, and once you feel him fucking his cum inside of you again you come undone as well, your moaning mixing together.
Minghao pulls out of you slowly, helping you settle back on both your legs carefully on the wet floor.
“At least we can quickly get clean again.” he chuckles, squeezing some of his way too expensive body wash on his hands.
Once again you’re wearing Minghao’s clothes, which he very obviously is way too happy about. You wear one of his shirts and a hoodie, rewearing your own jeans from yesterday.
“See I told you we won’t be late, now we’re gonna be too early.” Minghao checks himself out in the large mirror in his apartment, making sure he likes the outfit he picked out.
“Might as well get there early, interviews usually run late…”
Minghao sighs in annoyance, and you turn to look at him from where you’re sitting on his couch.
“You always do this,” he clicks his tongue, fixing his hair obsessively. “I’m not coming early, those idiots just need to do their fucking job right for once.” he rolls his eyes.
You stay silent for a moment, the energy in the room different.
“Everyone’s doing their best. ‘M sure they’d appreciate it, Hao. The production manager himself told me after setting everything up they usually have to wait for a long time before the person arrives,”
Minghao is getting annoyed, having this certain look in his eyes while he looks at you. “I really don’t give a shit.” he says, raising his eyebrows. He’s back to looking at himself in the mirror, his eyebrows pressed together.
“If they want me to come earlier they should’ve scheduled me earlier. Aren’t you in charge of that anyway?” he huffs out air, shaking his head.
“Not exactly… You’re not the only busy one.” you tell him, seeing his face change.
“What the fuck is this.” Minghao says angrily, his eyes nearing yours. He turns to walk towards you, his finger pointing to his neck.
You notice the red mark in his neck, a result of your nearing orgasm in the shower.
Your mouth opens a little, not sure what to say while you keep looking at the very obvious hickey. How haven’t you seen it until now when it’s this obvious?
“y/n I have a fucking interview and a shoot today, and you decide to give me a fucking hickey? Are you fucking dumb?” Minghao clenches his jaw, straightening his posture to look down at your sitting figure.
You quickly stand up, getting a better view of the red mark, and oh it’s dark in contrast to his skin tone.
“Fuck, I’m sorry Minghao…” you tell him, slouching your shoulders. “I-I’m sure they can edit it away- right?” you look up at him, seeing his angry eyes peering at you.
“This is GQ, they’re not gonna fucking retouch a hickey for a video, y/n.” Minghao hisses. “And a show later, makeup can’t cover this shit, not with all those bright ass fucking lights.” he raises his voice, making you gulp anxiously.
You’re reminded of the night in his office, how he lost his cool in a similar way.
“And I can’t fucking cancel either,” he sighs loudly, briefly turning away from you, almost like he can’t even look at you.
He turns back. “y/n?” he asks. You feel so bad, waiting for his next words.
“Can you do anything? You always fuck up every single thing you know that?” he raises his eyebrows at you, getting closer to your body.
You swallow. “Why do you always treat me like shit?” you almost whisper, finding it difficult to look at him.
Sure it was a dumb mistake, but surely this shouldn’t be this big of a situation as he makes it out to be. Besides, it was only a mistake. You were too caught up in the moment. And even then, Minghao himself had no remorse himself when he marked up your entire neck for any staff to see, only enjoying it.
“Are you ignoring me or are you really this stupid? I just told you. Maybe if you can do your fucking job right for once you’d get praised for a change.”
You cross your hands, your face showing your obvious anger now.
“Am I not? Do you even know how much shit I do for you?” you tell him, shaking your head.
Minghao chuckles. “Sure you do.” he says boredly, rolling his eyes at you.
“You don’t even take me seriously.” you clench your jaw, your breathing getting louder.
“How can I? When you’re the perfect little servant who does anything I say. You’re barely your own person.” he chuckles, a sudden smile on his face. You pause again, not believing what he’s saying to you.
“This was all a bad idea, Minghao.” you shake your head. You can’t believe you’ve come to like Minghao this much when he’s still the insufferable asshole from before. How could your heart sabotage you like this? When you already knew how he is?
“You let me get too close. Let’s just go back to how things were and we can ignore each other again.” you tell him, sighing.
Minghao gives you a look.
“I don’t want that.” he tells you, making you even more conflicted. “You know how stressful this job is? I fucking need you.”
You can’t help the laugh slipping past your lips, feeling tears threatening to build up.
“You’re unbelievable.” you mumble, not letting yourself cry in front of him. “You just fucked me because I’m around you so much?”
You watch him chuckle in amusement, licking his lips. “What did you think? You’re so close, so easy.” he gets close to you, his body almost pressing against yours.
“Don’t talk to me like that.” you hiss at him, pushing him away.
“Fine.” he says. “Now act like a good fucking assistant and shut the fuck up already.”
“No.” you tell him, stepping away.
“I quit.” you walk away from him, walking towards the front door before Minghao grabs your wrist.
“You can’t quit.” he frowns, trying to pull you back to him. You yank your wrist from his grip.
“You think you’ll ever get another job as good as this one? Huh?” he raises his voice, following you to the door.
“Sure I will.” you tell him calmly, grabbing your work bag from the floor.
“You’re dumber than you look if you think you’ll ever find another job in this industry again, y/n. I’ll make fucking sure you won’t.” he says through gritted teeth, pushing you flat against the door and getting close to you.
“So don’t you dare leave.” he tells you, grabbing your shoulders.
You push him away again, this time hard.
“I hope I won’t ever see you again. I hope you get fucking cancelled.” you give him an enraged look before storming out of the apartment, leaving Minghao and your job behind.
SYNOPSIS — even though you and mingyu share the same friends, there’s a clear distance between you. when you make a drunken mistake, he suddenly becomes increasingly aware of your lack of a relationship with him, and he takes on the challenge of changing it — not expecting to fall for the ice princess who turns out to be less cold than he thought.
TAGS — college au, slice of life, strangers to fwb to lovers, angst, fem!reader, slowburn-ish, rollercoaster of somewhat unrealistic events, minor use of the fake dating trope, not proofread, explicit sexual content, inexpressive!reader, fear of intimacy, once again a fic that seemed better in my head than the finished product but idc!
♪ — pearly drops - bloom for me,, kid cudi - kitchen,, the fugees & ms lauryn hill - killing me softly with his song
NOTE — sooo this fic is pure self-indulgence because i wrote mc as a character very similar to myself! :D my personality type is intj which i incorporated a lot here, do with that what you will x
you and kim mingyu just don't work.
to be honest, you don’t think you’ve ever met anyone who didn’t like him or get along with him. most people on campus either wanna be him or be with him — which makes sense, ‘cause he seems to have it all. he’s smart, talented, and awfully good-looking.
and in hindsight, you have no clue as to how or why you landed in his little clique a few months ago, which is composed of a bunch of guys who appear to have very little in common.
all you remember is how joshua, a pre-med student with a soft voice and a passion for playing guitar, introduced himself to you as you were both assigned to help out with student orientation week at the start of the new academic year, and the rest became history.
you’re not sure how he managed to wiggle his way into your personal life, or why he seems so goddamn keen to be there for that matter. the same goes for his friends — chan, seungcheol, soonyoung, minghao, seokmin and mingyu. you’re closest to joshua and seokmin, though you get along well with most of the group.
soonyoung is pursuing performing arts, and he’s loud — extremely loud. you like his sense of humor though. chan does theatre and has mentioned he wants to have his own dance studio later in life. seokmin also does theatre and is arguably the biggest ray of sunshine you’ve ever met. cheol is a business administration major, a great debater, has quite the fire in him, and he looks great in a suit. minghao is more reserved — a psychology major. very sweet and polite, likes to meditate and is surprisingly good at martial arts as well.
and then there’s mingyu.
he studies finance, though he’s considerably less obnoxious than most of the students who pursue said degree. from what you’ve gathered, he has quite the range of talents, which, in all fairness, is pretty impressive.
the guy might as well be the complete opposite of you. he’s popular, loud, outgoing, smiles a lot, known to have a real heart of gold. an entertainer.
you find yourself at the other end of the spectrum. much more on the quiet side, usually only speaking up if you deem it necessary with a sarcastic quip, more often skipping social gatherings than actually attending them.
yet in spite of your closed-off nature, the majority of people closest to you are extroverted, always trying to pull you with them in their adventures, though remaining respectful and understanding when you don’t come with — because that’s just the way you are.
perhaps that’s the sole reason why your relationship with mingyu can easily be described in a single word.
non-existent.
neither of you have anything against each other — it’s just that, out of the group, you seem to have the least of a connection with him. you certainly never do anything together or talk to one another when you’re not with the rest of the guys, and even during the moments you are, saying you’ve had a proper conversation with him would be an overstatement.
for the most part, aside from saying one-worded greetings and goodbyes, you pretty much just disregard the other’s existence.
or, well — that used to be the case.
because there’s this dirty secret the friend group doesn’t know about — and that’s that you and mingyu slept together.
it happened only a few weeks ago. it was supposed to be a simple, fun night dancing and letting loose at soonyoung’s party, which he hosted right after midterms were over. everyone got drunk, including you — way more drunk than usual, it was terrible — and the only thing you remember is waking up in a room you’d never seen before, a bed that definitely didn’t feel like the one you wake up in every morning, your clothes discarded on the floor, and his warm body next to yours.
had you been even the slightest bit sober back then, you absolutely wouldn’t have gotten into bed with him.
it’s not that you don’t find him attractive. on the contrary. he’s sex on a stick, with his strong arms, small waist, sharp jawline and beautiful tan skin — it’s no surprise he’s done several modeling jobs for some extra cash.
but despite all of that, casual hook-ups with people in your circle are not your thing. they’re not his either.
neither of you remember much of that night. you two are rarely ever alone together, so it’s practically been impossible to talk to you about it, and you’ve never been close enough with one another to even text or meet up.
after the incident, you just continued living your life like everything was the same as before. honestly, for the most part, it was.
but mingyu likes to take risks in life. that, and being open about his feelings is just who he is. so he wants to talk to you, privately.
when he finally does manage to catch you alone, which happens to be right after you’ve walked out of your criminal law class, you’re not exactly welcoming to him.
“what are you doing at the other side of campus?” is all you greet him with.
“i’m good, thank you for asking.” he jokes in an attempt to make things more light-hearted, but you don’t pull a single muscle, face remaining the exact same, so he swallows and clutches the strap of his shoulder bag a little tighter. “i, uh... i felt like we should talk about what happened the other night. soonyoung’s party.”
“what’s there to talk about?”
“what we did. together.”
“we fucked. so what?”
oh. that’s a much more blunt response than he expected, even if he is used to those kind of remarks from you.
“well—” he cuts himself off, really cursing himself for not properly thinking of what to say to you before showing up outside of your lecture hall all of a sudden, “don’t you think it’s something we gotta discuss?”
“you want a professional analysis about how much i enjoyed it or something?” you ask with a furrowed brow. “not that i’d be able to give you one, considering it was all just a blur.”
“yeah, i can’t exactly remember much of it either. look, i... i don’t usually hook up with people i’m friends with—”
“except we’re not friends. i don’t think you’ve ever said as much to me as you have in this conversation.”
even though it’s true, it does feel like a slap across the face for a reason he can’t pinpoint. he’s aware you can be blunt sometimes, but this is more than people usually get out of you.
“fine. we’re just acquaintances. but we do share the same friends.” he says after a moment of awkward silence, his tone sounding a little colder than before, subconsciously trying to compensate for your unwelcoming attitude. “doesn’t that matter to you?”
sucking at the inside of your cheek, you sigh. “did your roommate notice me?”
his roommate being jeon wonwoo, the cute computer science major who likes to spend his free time working out and playing video games, always walking around campus with headphones stuck in his ears and a pair of glasses up on his nose. he and mingyu are both on the football team, you’re pretty sure.
“no. he didn’t see a thing. not as far as i know, anyway.”
“good. so that means we can both just pretend it never happened, yeah?” the smile you put on your face is so painfully fake that it makes him clench his jaw.
“yeah.” he mumbles bitterly, and you move away from him, going down the stairs, and mingyu rests his head against the wall, huffing in annoyance and embarrassment.
to be completely honest, he’s not sure why the whole ordeal bothers him so much. what you said was all true, even if you could’ve worded it differently.
many, many questions pop up in his mind. do you have something against him? do you not like him? if that’s the case, why? has he ever said something that caused you to get a bad impression of him? what do his friends have that he doesn’t, aside from considerably shorter legs?
he’s not sure what it is about you he finds so weirdly intriguing, but whatever it is, he’s discovered a fresh determination in him to find out.
mingyu is unsure of how to handle the situation with you. every time you look at him, all he sees is utter disinterest, though there’s very little he can make out of your facial expressions in the first place.
he finds himself seated at a table in the library with minghao, seungcheol and chan, pondering over the exam he’s got coming up at the end of the week, said thoughts coming to a halt once he spots you at the other side of the hall.
his gaze involuntarily follows you as you appear to be scanning a few bookshelves.
if he’s being honest, he’d already noticed you before the drunk-sex incident. he always thought you were pretty, and based on your your vocabulary and the way you spoke, he figured you were intelligent as well, so he silently admired you from afar.
and now, those feelings have only increased.
his eyes linger on your figure. it’s such a fucking shame he doesn’t remember his hands on your skin, the touch of your lips — he could actually cry just imagining it.
then he feels he’s getting too far in the sexual innuendos in his head, so he tells himself to stop right the hell now before his excitement starts to show in his pants.
god, he’s never like this. why is it irking him so much?
it’s chan — the youngest of the group — who grabs your attention, beckoning for you to come over to the table.
when you move to sit down on the empty chair between him and seungcheol, they begin to talk about how the shitty assignments they’re working on are so not worth their time, how one of cheol’s professors didn’t bother showing up for his lecture yesterday morning, and minghao mentions something about a new group project of his—
—and the whole fucking time, you feel mingyu’s gaze burning on you.
it both confuses and intrigues you. what the hell does he want now?
then when two of the boys get into a discussion, you stare right back at him, almost as if to tell him you’re aware of him watching you and you’re watching him as well, and a very thick yet silent tension rises between you.
he swears he catches the smallest glimpse of amusement in your features before you get up and tell them you’ve got to go to your lecture.
cheol raises his thick brow at his friend. “you’re uncharacteristically quiet.”
mingyu shrugs as he watches you walk out of the hall. “yeah, sorry. been a little preoccupied.”
“i can tell, ‘cause aren’t you supposed to be starting football practice right now?”
that snaps him out of it. he checks the silver watch sitting on his wrist, cursing to himself before grabbing his things and hastily throwing them into his bag before sprinting to his dorm.
the following day, as he’s working on his assignment, he decides to take out his phone, typing your username into the search bar on instagram.
your social media profile is as mysterious as you are. zero posts, some pretty aesthetic pictures found in your highlights as well as one or two with you on it, though blurry or with your face partially hidden.
it’s usually much easier for him to get close to people, yet with this, with you — it feels like the way is blocked, and he doesn’t know where to start.
tapping his finger on the table, he tells himself to make some kind of conversation with you the next time he sees you.
which is several days later, when the friend group is meeting up at a restaurant for dinner and drinks.
by the time he arrives — later than planned due to a study session running behind — everyone is already seated, including you. he’d hoped to secure a spot next to you for once, but you’re seated between joshua and seungcheol instead. the only vacant spot is at the other side of the table.
well, shit.
the worst thing is that you don’t seem to spare him a single glance. every time he looks your way, you’re either zoned out or intently listening to the boys around you as they tell their stories, with you throwing in a sarcastic little quip every now and then, making them laugh.
what he doesn’t notice is that you do look at him — he’d be surprised by the amount of times your eyes wander back to him, subtly observing him from a distance when he rambles about something his professor did during class or what went down during football practice.
he’s so handsome that it almost gets annoying to look at him.
it’s an hour before midnight when you decide to get going — you have an unnecessarily early class tomorrow and still gotta get back to your dorm. so you grab your coat and bag, announcing you’re leaving, after which they say they don’t like the idea of you going back on your own, but you refute it and tell them you’ll be fine like always.
“i can take you. i just remembered i gotta catch up with some things anyways before class tomorrow.”
mingyu’s sudden statement makes you blink at him a few times.
it’s not that he’s never offered to take you home before, ever the gentleman, but the situation always ends up with you either going home on your own with them keeping an eye on your location or one of the other guys taking you back, so his sudden eagerness to escort you to your dorm catches you by surprise.
it’s mainly joshua and minghao who catch onto your slight change in demeanor, but their puzzled looks are gone as soon as they came. they’ve had quite a few drinks, after all, and you’re pretty sure soonyoung is so drunk he’s on the verge of tears at the other side of the table, distracting them.
both you and mingyu say your goodbyes to the rest of the group before exiting the restaurant, embracing the fresh air outside.
it’s early october, your favorite time of year. you’re fond of the cloudy skies, the temperature right between warm and cold, and the leaves changing colors.
mingyu walks next to you on the sidewalk, his hands shoved into the pockets of his dark denim jacket.
“i’m sorry for being rude the other day,” you speak up, breaking the silence, “i have a habit of being too straightforward for my own good.”
oh.
he didn’t expect this from you, but it’s a pleasant surprise, even if you’re not looking him in the eye at all.
so he shrugs. “it’s okay. looking back, i didn’t really know where i wanted the conversation to go, anyways.”
“i assumed you were just gonna ask me to keep it between us.”
“i didn’t even think about that, to be honest. i just don’t do stuff like that with friends, so... i guess i was just curious about your thoughts or something.”
you bare your teeth in a bitter smile, still refraining from looking in his direction when he’s clearly looking at your face. “you called me your friend again.”
the comment doesn’t sit right with him. “do you mind me asking why that bothers you?”
“it bothers me ‘cause it’s not the truth.”
god, you certainly do not sugarcoat things.
“do you... is there anything i did to make you dislike me?”
mingyu watches the way you clench your jaw at his question. it intrigues him. “i never said i disliked you, mingyu. i’m just picky about who i consider close to me and i don’t want anyone to get the wrong impression. sharing friends doesn’t make us friends.”
“not even a little bit?”
you chuckle again. he wonders what he’d have to do to elicit a real, genuine laugh from you. “name one of my hobbies. something i like to do in my spare time. the basics don’t count.”
he eagerly starts his sentence. “well, you like to... y’know... hang out with us.”
“i said no basics.”
“okay. fine. you got me. but, to be fair, you also gotta admit you don’t exactly share much.”
“you know who i do share things with? my friends.” you tease him, after which he laughs. you like the sound of his laugh.
“you’re evil.”
“thank you.”
he turns around, walking backwards in front of you so he can face you, finally getting the eye contact he’s been waiting to get. “i wanna be friends.”
“congratulations.”
“oh, c’mon. work with me here.”
“i would if it wasn’t so much fun to see you acting like this.”
mingyu feels a certain excitement rushing through his body when he sees how you look at him. “let’s get to know each other better. how about twenty questions?”
“oh, you mean like a conversation?”
he chooses to ignore your sarcasm for now. “i’ll go first. what’s a hobby of yours?”
“such depth,” you snicker, “i like to ice skate.”
“really? that’s cool.” he smiles, tilting his head. “okay. you gotta ask me a question now.”
“which of your friends is closest to you?”
yeah, he should’ve seen something like that coming. of course you wouldn’t go for small talk.
he ponders over the question before giving his answer. “minghao.”
“hm. interesting.” you just hum, clearly having no intention of explaining it, so you gesture for him to come up with another question.
“do you think you’ll ever be close with me?”
“no.”
“why?”
“not your turn.” you tell him, simultaneously trying to find out how far you can take this. “how many girls have you slept with?”
“four. why do you think we won’t ever be close friends?”
“because we’re too different. you can’t stand the fact that i give nothing away, i can sense it a mile from here.”
“it’s not that.”
“what is it then?”
“i’m… i don’t know, a people person. i want to get along with everyone, want everyone i like to like me. maybe that’s selfish, but… yeah. i like you and i wanna be your friend. it bothers me that you don’t.” he feels the words suddenly tumbling out of his mouth are taking the conversation elsewhere, so he tries his best to not come across as too intense. “i’m sorry for pestering you about it, i’ll just... walk you to your dorm and leave you be.”
he wants to increase the distance between you, but you don’t let him. your hand moves to his upper arm, touching him, but it’s gone before he can even look at it.
physical touch has never been one of your strong points, despite craving it at the same time. “i’m gonna say it one more time and that’s it — i don’t dislike you. maybe… i don’t know, maybe we could have a strong friendship, who knows. if you wanna prove me wrong, be my guest. i won’t stop you.”
“okay. anything i should know?”
you pout your lips as you think of things to mention. “i’m not a huge fan of texting. i prefer calling or meeting up in person. i’m more of a listener than a talker. i’m also a bit of a control freak so i’m not big on surprises. that’s all you’re getting for now.”
he thinks over your words and smiles. “i can work with that.”
not much later, you arrive at the university campus, and you use your card to enter your building, walking out front.
mingyu clearly feels it’s mandatory to follow you all the way to your door.
once you’ve arrived at your dorm, you lean against the doorpost. “thanks for taking me home.”
“you’re welcome. see you tomorrow.” he says. normally he’d give his friends something like a hug when saying goodbye like this, but he has a gut feeling you’re not very fond of physical contact with people who aren’t close to you, so he lets that go for now.
“bye.” the playful smile is audible in your voice before you close your door, and mingyu leaves your building with a sickeningly nice feeling in his stomach.
and he remains on your mind, especially once you watch him walk towards his own dorm from behind the window, unaware of your gaze.
it makes you scoff to yourself. you’ll give it to him — he’s sparked your interest.
“hey. mingyu.”
he’s roughly pulled from observing you in his secure spot in the university library by jeonghan, his partner for a project he’s working on. “what?”
“what’s going on? you’re awfully distracted.”
“it’s—nothing.” he responds, voice an octave higher. maybe he should quit this habit of looking at you every time he comes here.
“has anyone ever told you you’re a shitty liar?”
“many times, actually.”
“good. ‘cause you are.”
jeonghan is shorter than he is, with more of a lanky physique and slightly longer hair. he’s also the most annoying little shit mingyu knows — despite the guy being older than him — because he somehow. knows. everything. all the time. he knows things about mingyu before he knows them himself. if anything, it’s a talent.
“so who’s the girl?” jeonghan then asks in a more hushed tone, using his pencil to point at the girl in question.
mingyu looks in your direction again, taking notice of how nice you look today, and he just gives in to his friend, not even bothering to try and act stupid. “friend of a friend.”
“what does she do?”
“law.”
“she nice?”
“to a specific group of people, yeah.”
“oh, she’s a little mean to you, huh?”
“not mean. just distant. very distant.”
“that’s new.”
“what is?”
“you going for girls like that. it’s refreshing.”
“yeah, well—she doesn’t go for guys like me.”
“what do you mean?”
“i’m pretty sure she doesn’t like me at all. she’s wildly unimpressed by my presence, anyway.”
“how do you know?”
mingyu sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “she’s very close with joshua and seokmin, likes the rest of the guys too, but me… i don’t know. we’ve been in the same friend group for a year, and it’s like i’m the only one she doesn’t feel comfortable with. bothers me.”
“you’ve known her for a whole year and it’s only bothering you now?” jeonghan senses there’s more going on. “what led up to this? got into an argument?”
the younger of the two scoffs. “not at all. the contrary, actually.”
jeonghan jokingly throws in the first thing he can think of. “what, did you accidentally kiss her when you were drunk or something?”
“not entirely. we were both drunk, for starters.” mingyu comments, the next sentence muttered much more quietly. “and we had sex.”
a scoff of surprise leaves jeonghan’s mouth. “you slept together? when?”
“soonyoung’s party.”
“that was weeks ago. haven’t you talked about it? at all?” he asks, clearly invested in the story now.
“i brought it up, she brushed it off and said it meant nothing. told her i wanted to be friends with her a couple days later, but she said she doesn’t think we’ll ever be good friends ‘cause we’re too different, and it’s fucking killing me for some reason. she still said she was… open to friendship though.”
“ah, you like her.”
“yeah, obviously. problem is that she hates me.”
“no, i mean, you like her. you don’t just want to be her friend.”
mingyu is somewhat taken aback by his words. “i don’t have a crush.”
“don’t fool yourself. you’d never get this worked up over someone not wanting to be friends with you — you’re worked up because you wanna get to know her better and she doesn’t seem like she wants to get to know you at all.”
“i can’t be in love with someone i hardly know.”
“debatable. you still have a crush on her.”
“fine. whatever. say that were the case — purely hypothetical of course — what should i do to get her attention?”
jeonghan has that knowing smile on his face, the one that makes him look like he’s up to no good. “you gotta get a little selfish.”
“could you be a little less vague for once in your life?”
“create a circumstance where she spends time with you without it being planned.” he shrugs, as if that answers it. “something like getting stuck in an elevator for a few hours. you know what i mean.”
“well, unless you were planning on hijacking the elevator somehow, i don’t think i have all that many options.”
right there and then, the two recognize another student from their statistics class sitting a few tables further. she’s giggling to her friends about something, hesitantly looking their way, pointing at them.
“speaking of crushes, she’s got one on you.” jeonghan mentions, raising his brow.
it doesn’t interest mingyu all that much. “yeah, she asked me out a while back. i told her i was busy. didn’t have the heart to flat-out reject her. in hindsight, maybe i should’ve, ‘cause she acts like that every time i see her around.”
jeonghan can’t help but take advantage of the opportunity currently presenting itself like a fucking birthday cake. “are you thinking what i’m thinking?”
“probably not, since i have no idea what you’re getting at.”
he leans a bit closer to his taller friend, speaking in a more hushed tone this time. “you could reject her — subtly.”
mingyu frowns at that. “how?”
and jeonghan smirks a little to himself before he’s about to tell him his plan. “you’ve heard of fake dating before, right?”
the following day, you find yourself in the library of the law faculty, reviewing the slides of the lecture you didn’t feel like attending this morning.
someone drops their bag ever-so-subtly on the table at the empty spot next to you, and when you look up from your notes, you recognize your dearest acquaintance.
you huff, removing one of your earbuds to engage in the conversation you didn’t ask for. “what do you want?”
“you have got to stop saying that when you see me.”
“no, i like it this way.”
“of course you do.” mingyu merely scoffs at your words, sitting down next to you. “you look busy.”
“gee. it’s almost as if i am busy.”
“what’re you working on?”
“undoubtedly nothing you have any knowledge of.”
he rolls his eyes when you grin at him, clearly ready to dodge his questions with more of your sarcastic comments.
“are you always this much on edge?”
“mhm. i hope you are too — otherwise you’re taking up too much space.”
the comment has him frowning at first, and then he gets it, making him let out a vaguely impressed scoff. “you’re cute.”
“not exactly the word i would use.”
“really?” he says, taking the cap off his water bottle, “i think it suits you.”
you squint your eyes at him, finally taking the bait. “what do you want? seriously.”
he shifts in his seat, clearly happy you’re finally going along with him here. “you know the senior gala on thursday, right?”
“yeah. i’m not attending.”
“okay. here’s the thing — i kind of have this girl in one of my classes who won’t stop bothering me about going out on a date with her and stuff.”
“gosh, poor you.”
“i’m serious. it sucks.”
“what does this have to do with you bothering me?”
“well, i figured if she finally saw me with someone else, she’d back off.” he explains, leaning a bit closer to you. “meaning i need a plus-one who’s willing to play my girlfriend for the night.”
“so?”
“so, i’d like you to be my plus-one.” he grins.
“why?”
“why not?”
“you’re saying you wanna pretend to be dating?” you ask, and when he nods, you shake your head. “no one’s gonna believe that.”
“yeah, they will. it’s perfect. same friend group, completely different majors so she probably doesn’t know you — c’mon, consider it.”
he’s surprisingly convincing, as if he already knows how to crack your demeanor. you remain stubborn, though. “out of all the girls you’ve got in your contacts, you’re asking me?”
“you’ve made it clear we’re only acquaintances — i wanna change that. become friends. just like i told you.”
you finally lock eyes with him again, taking your pen away from the paper, refusing to back down once you notice how close he is. “i don’t know what you’re expecting, but you’d get nothing out of a friendship with me.”
he keeps his eyes on yours. “i’ll be the judge of that.”
when you roll your eyes at him, he can tell you’re considering it. “when does it start?”
“ten.”
“dress code?”
“go for a cocktail dress.”
twisting your lips, you push your tongue against the inside of your cheek, and even you are a little weak for those big, brown eyes of his. and you said you’d give him a chance, after all. “fine.”
“great!” he nearly jumps in excitement. “text me when you’re ready and i’ll come and pick you up.”
“yeah, yeah. now go. i got shit to do.”
and once you’ve watched him cheerfully skip out of your sight, the tiniest smile rises to your face, after which you chuckle to yourself.
mere days later, on thursday, mingyu finds himself at your doorstep. it’s not like him to feel nervous — so why the hell is he this time?
you open the door hastily. “hey. you can come on in, i’m all ready except for the pair of earrings i can’t seem to find.”
he watches as you search through small drawers in the cupboard by the wall. maybe he should be glad you’ve got your back faced to him, because he’s subconsciously staring at you, checking you out.
the velvet red one-shoulder dress hugs your features just right, and he’s stunned in his place before you notice he still hasn’t closed the door behind him. “mingyu. the door.”
“uh—yeah. sorry.” he stumbles, stepping inside, doing as he’s told before his eyes wander around your room. “don’t you have a roommate?”
“i used to have one, in my first year. got a single room after.”
“must get quiet after a while.”
“i like it that way.”
your words remind you of his roommate, wonwoo. he figures you’re someone who prefers solitude after a day of being around others, which he keeps in mind.
once you’ve found your earrings, you’re putting them in, and you notice him stepping closer to you. he actually looks criminally good in the black suit he’s wearing, his half-long hair sitting just right. the fucker might as well be a real-life prince charming.
you’re glad you went with smokey eyes. your look compliments his.
as you subtly watch him in the mirror, he comes to stand behind you, holding out the modest bouquet of red roses he’s been holding behind his back. “these are for you. i appreciate that you wanted to come with me tonight.”
the gesture makes your eyes soften. “thank you. oh, they smell nice.”
mingyu feels a little giddy inside when you give him a little smile before putting the flowers in a vase with water. it might be the first time he’s seen you give one that is genuine.
the gala is taking place at a fancy hotel close to university. the walk there only takes a few minutes. once you're nearing the entrance to the party, dimly lit chandeliers catching your eye, he gently puts his hand on your back, just underneath your shoulder blades. you raise a brow, looking over at him, and he shrugs. “i’m your fake boyfriend for the night, remember?”
which has you chortling for a second. “that’s not where to put your hands if you wanna make this believable.”
before he can change the position of his hand, you’re already doing it for him, pushing his hand lower with yours, watching the way his face drops when you allow him to go lower than your hips, breath hitching in his throat.
“that’s better. you can hold me and kiss me on the cheek if you have to. not too much, it’s not the right time and place for it anyways.”
“noted.”
once you’ve arrived inside and given your coats away, you notice most people here are strangers to you, anxiety kicking in, internally wishing you’d consumed some alcohol before coming.
and your companion takes notice of this from the way you’re suddenly squeezing his hand, which you’re undoubtedly not doing on purpose.
“you okay?”
“sure, i’m fine.” you faintly smile back at him.
he’s honestly considering saying fuck it, ready to ask you to just get out of here with him and go anywhere else instead — that is until one of your friends comes up to you.
“am i imagining things—”
“we’re fake dating, josh.” you answer him, increasing the distance between you and mingyu as if to emphasize your point. “his idea, not mine.”
joshua appears all kinds of confused. “okay. um… just—why?”
mingyu presses his lips together. what he said about the girl bothering him was all true. could he handle it on his own? probably. is fake dating slightly unnecessary and a little dramatic of a solution? undoubtedly.
but he just wanted you as his plus-one so bad. he saw it as an opportunity he couldn’t miss out on.
what can he say? jeonghan is weirdly persuasive.
“there’s this classmate of mine who won’t get off my back about dating, so i figured she’d quit if i showed up with a girlfriend. girlfriend being her.”
in spite of the explanation, joshua still looks at the two of you with a frown. “right.”
“i’m gonna go get us a drink. be right back.” mingyu says, almost regretting doing so when he realizes he has to take his hand off your back.
you watch him walk off to the bar, suddenly hearing your best friend chuckle softly next to you. “can’t believe i never considered you two before.”
“what are you talking about?”
“you and him. you’d be a nice match.”
“what, me and mingyu? we’d be a disaster.”
“why?”
“we’re too different, josh. and don’t even try to give me that opposites attract crap.”
his soft facial features melt into a smile that gives off the impression he knows something you don’t. “i think you’d be surprised. that’s all.”
whatever the fuck that means.
your fake boyfriend returns not much later with a drink for the two of you. despite your clear disagreement with joshua’s words, you just can’t help but think about what he said, especially when mingyu’s arm remains looped around your waist for quite a while as the three of you discuss the whereabouts of your friends.
the worst thing is that you don’t even mind him touching you. you’ve always been picky when it comes to the people who are allowed to as much as stand close to you, and mingyu was not one of those people until you grabbed his wrist after he took you home from dinner, which was only last week.
and that’s not the only thing you’re becoming increasingly aware of.
mingyu’s popularity is a bigger thing than you thought. either that, or half the people here are from his faculty. which is highly unlikely.
being as observant as you are, you’ve noticed several girls as well as guys pointing your way, making you feel uneasy.
so your hold on him tightens as you stare back at them, as if to silently tell them to fuck off and focus on someone other than your fake boyfriend.
you’re not actually jealous. no, that’d be ridiculous. you can’t be jealous of others wanting something you don’t even have in the first place.
chan and seokmin arrive half an hour later, having pretty much the same reaction to the situation as shua. but they play along.
though not without noticing how comfortable the two of you are together.
after several hours of drinking, dancing and socializing, you feel in need of a break. “hey, i’m just gonna get some fresh air outside, okay?”
mingyu’s lashes flutter as he nods. “would you mind if i came with?”
you gesture that you’re okay with it, so he takes your hand to guide you through the mass of people without losing you, the littlest of touches sparking an indescribable feeling in your stomach.
the air feels much colder now that you’ve been inside the warm hotel for several hours. you sigh, leaning back against the brick wall behind you, the surface feeling slightly uncomfortable on your one uncovered shoulderblade.
mingyu takes fake dating very seriously, as it seems. he’s practically been unable to keep his hands off you, and you’re going to indulge in it for however long it lasts.
as you’re standing outside together, you notice he’s loosened up more around you, not hesitant to get close either. he’s certainly not afraid to put his hand on your thigh, and you make zero effort to push him away.
his lips ghost by the skin of your neck, alcohol clouding his thoughts. “it’s nice to have you here. i wasn’t all that excited about going at first.”
“yeah, yeah. i made your night ten times better.”
he snickers. “you hear that often?”
“every now and then. don’t sound so surprised.”
“it doesn’t surprise me. i was just hoping i was special compared to the others.”
“doesn’t everyone?”
“you’re a little cryptic, anyone ever told you that?”
“maybe.” you respond, chuckling, allowing his lips to touch your bare skin.
mingyu bites his lower lip, not afraid to look you in the eye to match your playful gaze with a similar one. “do you not remember a single thing from the night of soonyoung’s party?”
he almost smacks himself for asking the question, seeing your expression falter a little. “no. neither do you, as you’ve told me.”
“no, i don’t,” he says firmly, mentally trying to slap himself for consuming so much alcohol that it makes him say things he usually wouldn’t, “but i kinda wish i did.”
“why?”
when he remains quiet, still trying to figure out the best way to respond, you gently take a hold of his chin to lift it up, making sure he keeps his eyes on yours. playing with him is fun.
“i...” he tries to utter the words, but god, he might as well be hypnotized.
before he can give his answer, seokmin loudly stumbles out of the building, catching your attention. he’s clearly had a bit too much to drink, his boisterous laughter echoing through the courtyard. seungcheol follows closely behind, a hand on his shoulder.
whatever moment you and mingyu were having is gone in an instant. cheol spots you, keeping his friend somewhat upright in the process.
“i’m gonna go take him home, couldn’t find the other guys. i think soonyoung might be next, though.” he says, doing his best to keep seokmin upright in the process.
so mingyu nods. “okay. i’ll go check.”
they say their goodbyes, after which he proceeds to looks at you again. you let your head rest against the wall again. “you go ahead. i’ll meet you back inside in a few.”
he silently agrees, returning to the people inside. you appreciate the silence, mentally drowning out the sound of people talking and cars driving into the background.
it’s then that some girl you’ve never seen before walks up to you. “hey. you’re mingyu’s new girlfriend, right?”
the crease between your brows becomes apparent. “have we met?”
“no, no. i’m in the same faculty as him. i was just curious. didn’t know he was dating anyone.”
she’s clearly had a bit to drink, though not enough for her speech to be incoherent. you’re not sure what to give her other than an awkward smile that looks anything but genuine.
but either she’s too far gone to catch the hint or she simply doesn’t want to. “was kinda surprised to see him end up with a girl like you.”
and since she’s probably not gonna remember this conversation tomorrow, you decide to engage in it for once. “what’s that supposed to mean?”
“i don’t know, ‘s just... you seem a little distant. just different. he’s never really gone for someone like you. no offense or anything.”
you keep your composure despite a certain emotion brewing hot inside you, whatever the hell it may be. the sheer audacity of some people to stick their nose in business that’s not their own. “gee. hard to fathom i landed a guy like that, huh?”
the sarcasm dripping from your tongue finally seems to get it through to her that her opinion is anything but wanted, so she mumbles something about going back inside, after which you lean back against the wall, closing your eyes for a moment.
worst thing is that she’s probably right.
you and mingyu just don’t work.
and you don’t even have feelings for the guy, so why does it bother you?
the whole thing upsets you enough for you to go back inside, rushing to find him to tell him that you don’t feel like staying.
when you return to him, he’s so used to his role that his hand finds your waist and his lips touch your cheek, but you smoothly back away this time. “i’m gonna go back to my dorm. you guys have fun.”
even over the noisy music and chatter in the background, he notices the change in your tone and behavior, which gives him the hint that something has upset you. “why? is everything okay?”
“i’m fine.”
“i’ll take you back.”
“i’d appreciate it if you didn’t.” you tell him, sounding harsher than intended. again. god, you keep messing up. you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose for a moment. “i’m sorry.”
mingyu is still processing your words as you’re leaving him behind.
then when you’re walking towards the exit, a girl accidentally bumps into you, spilling her drink over your dress.
goddamn. you wonder what the fuck you did to the universe for it to give you a night as shitty as this.
she begins to profusely apologize, very obviously sincere, but you just curtly tell her it’s fine, annoyance rising.
mingyu notices the situation from afar, deciding to go after you when he sees you walk to the bathroom instead of the exit.
the bathroom is awfully fancy, but it seems only fair for a hotel like this. clenching your jaw, you grumble while getting some paper towels, hiking the dress just a bit upwards.
god, you’re never agreeing to do that fake dating shit ever again. what a joke.
you huff as you keep trying to get the now barely visible stain out of your dress. you’re rubbing over the fabric on your thigh when someone walks in.
of course it’s him.
“any luck getting it out?” he asks, and you clench your jaw, throwing the wet paper towels into the trashcan beside the sink. your hands hold onto the cold surface, knuckles growing white as you focus on them instead of him.
“why am i here?”
“what do you mean?”
you turn your gaze to him, abandoning your quest of getting the stain out of your dress, annoyed that he’s acting like he doesn’t know what you’re talking about. “why did you invite me here? out of everyone you could’ve gone with, why did you wanna go with me?”
“are you angry at me?”
“answer the question.”
“i just…” he trails off, trying to think of the right words. “i just figured it was a way to become friends.”
you’re actually going to lose your shit if he as much as utters the word ‘friend’ to you one more time. “oh, jesus. cut the bullshit. why do you wanna be friends with me so badly?”
“i don’t know, because… because it occurred to me — y’know, after the party, after what we did — that we have little to no relationship and i wanted to change that.”
“oh, right. you just had to sleep with me before thinking of that.”
“no, i didn’t. i just haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since that night, and i—”
what the hell is he even supposed to say? he’s not even sure what exactly it is he wants from you. sure, he wants to be friends — but god, he spends so much time wishing he remembered what it was like to touch you that night, what you looked like underneath your pretty little dress, what you sounded like.
you’re quiet for a second before your whole demeanor changes, agitation shifting to intrigue. “so that’s what this is about.”
“well—what?”
“if you wanted to fuck, you should’ve just said that. instead of dragging me to this shit.”
“i—” he suddenly feels suffocated by the small size of the room and your body getting closer to his, backing him up against the door. “that’s not why i—”
“does it matter?” you ask, and he tries to hide his ragged breathing now that you’ve pressed your front against him, clenching his jaw.
it doesn’t help that you’re watching him like a hawk.
“not to repeat myself all the time, but i—i normally don’t do this with friends. i don’t want you to have the wrong idea of me.” he exclaims, cursing himself for looking down at the way your red dress is accentuating your curves so well.
so you begin to unbutton his shirt, and he breathes heavily because of it. “well, i guess you’re in luck. ‘cause we’re not friends.”
he’s about to tell you that he genuinely wants to be when you finally kiss him. it’s fast and intense and hungry.
whatever he expected, it wasn’t this — but he can’t find it in him to not give in.
his hand moves to the back of your head, pulling you closer, then proceeding to help you with unbuttoning his shirt, all without breaking the kiss.
mingyu shivers when your cold hands finally touch his bare chest, the faintest hint of your sharp nails nearly making him beg for you to dig them into his skin until he bleeds.
there’s a shift in control when his feet no longer feel locked in with the tiled floor, his hands trailing up your legs, fingers gripping the skin of your thighs. he lifts you up, allowing you to wrap your legs around his waist, only to have him pushing you up against the door, pressing his body against yours.
you’re rubbing your front against him, taking notice of the hard bulge in his pants, nearly crying out from his sheer size.
holy shit. no wonder you were sore after you slept with him — he’s fucking huge.
“gyu,” you break the kiss, “can i suck you off?”
the way you breathily call him by his nickname for the first time is nearly enough for him to bust in his pants. “wanna taste you instead. please?”
with your back resting against the surface behind you, you watch him as he sinks to his knees, kissing the inside of your legs, goosebumps erupting on your skin.
“are you sure?”
“yeah. please let me.”
“okay. just make it quick.”
in hindsight, maybe that wasn’t the best thing to say.
because he’s diving in faster than you can comprehend, lace panties pulled down in less than a second, making you gasp in surprise. your fingers grab onto a few strands of his hair, accidentally tugging on them, only to have him moaning in response, which is most likely the best thing you’ve ever heard.
your teeth sink into your lower lip as a way to suppress your moans, only deeps hums and groans escaping you, much to mingyu’s annoyance, because he wants to hear you.
his fingers slide into your dripping wetness, your muscles tightening up from the sudden intrusion. he looks up at you while kissing the inside of your leg, a sight that’s so fucking hot that you have to tell yourself not to get lost in it.
another surge of adrenaline rushes through you when he spreads your legs even wider, causing you to let out a broken moan, much to his satisfaction.
“you can pull on my hair. i like that.” he breathes out with a genuine smile and lust-blown eyes, refusing to wait for your reaction and getting right back to what he was doing.
it doesn’t take him long before he’s got you squirming above him. tugging his hair really does get him going, but you’re nearly at your limit, feeling the familiar feeling building up in your lower belly.
“gyu—fuck, ‘s too much, too much—” you try to push his wrist away and make him look up at you again.
you swear you might lose it when you see he’s actually pouting over the fact that you’re pulling him away from something he clearly enjoys doing.
“but, baby, i wanna make you cum.”
the pet name turns you on even more. “you can. i just want you inside of me, right now.”
he’s rising to his feet, towering over you with his tall frame as you push him back against the door, kissing his jaw, neck and collarbone while undoing the buttons of his white shirt.
mingyu is surprisingly vocal, which you thoroughly enjoy. his lips find yours again, relishing in the remaining taste of you on his tongue.
“god—want me to fuck you?”
pulling your dress over your head, you’re left in your matching set of lingerie that you just so conveniently put on tonight. “are you seriously asking me that right now?”
“fine. bend over the sink, then.”
the difference in his tone and words makes you shiver with excitement. once you do as he says, a new shot of adrenaline courses through your body — because you completely forgot about the mirror that’s now right in front of you.
so you’re able to watch him push his pants down, positioning himself behind you. his big hands are warm on your skin, the silver ring on his finger making you shiver.
his shirt is half unbuttoned, his hair a mess, trousers down to his ankles — but none of that matters now that he’s got you bent over in front of him, fingers trembling in excitement as he takes the condom from his pocket to slip it on.
all he can do is hiss and groan when he feels your heat wrap around him so nicely as he pushes into you. “you’re so tight, jesus—”
you huff. “not my fault you’re so big.”
it makes him laugh and simultaneously turns him on. “you’re all bite, even when i’m trying to fuck you.”
“don’t act like you don’t like it.”
he then finally bottoms out, both of you moaning, and he chuckles. “never said i didn’t.”
god, he’s so fucking attractive. he bites his lower lip as he throws his head back, his strokes slow but hard.
his girth feels so good inside you — and his touches are electric on your skin. his hands go from your ass to your hips, your stomach, everywhere.
and he’s certainly not afraid to get loud. especially when he feels you’re pushing your hips back against his. he’s convinced this is what heaven feels like.
“gyu, a little harder, please.” you plead, slightly beginning to struggle with holding yourself up by the edge of the sink.
“how hard d’you want it?”
“as hard as you want. i can take it.”
he gestures for you to turn over, lifting you up and pushing you up against the wall, burying himself inside you again before you can even comprehend it.
his fingers feel almost painful on your thighs with the way he’s digging into your skin. he’s sucking and biting right above your collarbone, leaving some pretty marks that will definitely be visible tomorrow.
you push his jaw upward so you can kiss him, and he sighs into it, tilting his head to get better access.
it’s like he’s trying to match his thrusts with your heartbeat at this point. pressure builds in your stomach when you whine his name. “oh my god—gyu—”
“i love it when you call me that,” he breathes out, so into it that he’s confessing everything on his mind, “you don’t know how much i’ve thought about this — been fantasizing about this for ages.”
you hold onto his shoulder blades, nails digging into them. “then you better make it worth my while.”
“such a brat.” he teases, a moan slipping out right after when you use your legs wrapped around his waist to push him deeper into you.
mingyu’s stamina is admirable — but he’s a simple man. you’re so hot and you just feel so good around him, and he knows he’s getting close to his release already.
you notice his pace becoming slightly uneven, his breaths erratic, a layer of cold sweat forming on his back.
he’s doing his best to hold out for you, to make you hit your peak first, but you actually need to see him come undone first.
“are you gonna cum, gyu?”
you have to refrain from biting your lip when he’s stuttering out a response. “n—no, not yet—”
“i want you to.”
“jesus, don’t say that—”
oh, he’s cute. he’s responding so well to your words, so you indulge in it a little bit more.
“wanna fuck me again later? without a condom? you can cum inside me. i’ll let you do anything you want.” you tease — your words being the complete truth, because if he’d want to fuck you again, you’d sure as shit let him.
his brows scrunch upwards while he lets out another whine. “anything?”
“mhm,” you nod, “anything.”
his fantasies about you, the way you’re looking at him, the things you’re saying, the way you suddenly clench around him — it’s all too much. his release spills into the condom, his muscles flexing from the sudden rush of adrenaline shooting through him.
it’s enough to make your legs tremble, and you reach the climax you’ve been aching for.
he’s still coming down from his high, face buried in the crook of your neck when he hears you chuckle. “so much for being friends, huh?”
he then smiles as well. “are we close enough for you to consider me as your friend now?”
“you’re quite literally inside me.”
“knowing you, that doesn’t really have to change anything.”
“oh, is that so?” you retort at his cheekiness. “sure. you’ve made it to friend level 1. congrats.”
“great. level 2 is next, then.”
“god, forget i said anything.”
“no going back now. you’re stuck with me.”
something’s very clearly changed between you since that night. mingyu has, in a certain way, changed your relationship.
because you’ve successfully upgraded from strangers to fuck buddies.
and truth be told, he wants to rip his fucking hair out.
the sex is great. there’s something thrilling and exciting about your secret relationship, both of you skipping lectures and sneaking away after classes with no one around you having a single clue.
and yet he’s come to the conclusion that this isn’t what he wants.
he wants you. all of you, completely. but every time he tries to get even remotely close to you, you somehow manage to dodge it and change the topic.
it bothers him. but he’s scared to just put all his feelings on a platter — because he doesn’t want to lose whatever he has with you.
something he’s also discovered is how utterly weak he is for even the slightest bit of your attention, the smallest of touches.
so when he’s typing away at his laptop in the study hall, noticing the screen of his phone light up as a message from you comes in, he can’t bring himself to ignore it.
20:23: you look cute when you’re focused
the message makes him frown, and he looks around, trying to figure out where you are, since you’ve clearly got your eyes on him.
so he texts back.
20:24: i always look cute ;)
tapping his fingers on the table, he waits for your response. the three buttons that indicate you’re typing suddenly go away, and he pouts, only to then be greeted by your voice close to his ear. “bit of an exaggeration, don’t you think?”
“fuckin’—” it almost makes him jump and screech out of shock. “christ, don’t sneak up on me like that.”
you chuckle at his high-pitched reaction. “bad conscience?”
“no. you’re just scary.”
“thank you.” you grin with pride, moving to sit on the table, right beside his laptop. “you busy?”
“just going over some older lecture notes to prep for an exam.”
“wanna come over to my dorm?”
“fourth time this week. what’s gotten into you? well, aside from me, obviously.”
“hilarious. really.” you remark, watching him laugh at his own joke, unable to help the smile rising to your cheeks. “what can i say? it’s a great stress reliever.”
“i know. give me a sec and i’ll pack my things.”
as he closes up his laptop and textbooks, you look around the other tables — which are mostly empty, except for the one by the window, which is where you notice a girl shooting you a bit of a weird look once you make eye contact with her.
“mingyu.”
“hm?”
“the chick by the window with the shitty earrings. you know her?”
he subtly looks into the direction of said window, recognizing the girl from his advanced statistics class. “yeah, i have a class with her. can’t really remember her name though. why?”
“she likes you.”
“oh.” he just shrugs, continuing to zip up his bag, standing up from his seat. “i didn’t notice.”
“sure.” you chuckle sarcastically.
that makes him raise a brow. he feigns shock, causing you to look at him.
“what?”
“you’re jealous.”
“excuse me?” you monotonously ask, brows furrowing in disdain.
“it’s actually kinda hot.”
“oh, please. i have nothing to be jealous of.”
“and yet you are.”
“either you shut your ass up or i’ll find someone else to relieve my stress, kim.”
he laughs and you roll your eyes. then he slings his bag over his shoulder, his hands in his pockets as he follows you out of the study hall.
as soon as you’ve entered your dorm room, he’s got you pressed against the wall, nipping at your skin. he makes you feel sickeningly good, putting your former boyfriends to shame — you’re certainly not complaining.
once he’s done with you and you’re completely worn out, you lay with your head on his chest, his fingers softly stroking your naked back.
you seem more on edge than usual today. less playful. tired, even. his voice sounds hesitant when he speaks up. “is everything okay? you look stressed.”
“i’m fine.”
he figures you either don’t want to open up or you simply don’t feel comfortable doing so with him, so he chooses not to pry, opting to let you know he’s there for you. “okay. well, if you need anything, someone to talk to, you can always come to me.”
you frown a little. refusing to act impulsively, you swallow your words, not saying a thing.
mingyu takes your silence as his cue to leave you be. a feeling of unease creeps into his body, and the room suddenly feels smaller than before.
so he gently moves away from you, sitting up to put his clothes back on. “i should probably go. wonwoo will be pissed off if i don’t have the kitchen cleaned up once he gets back.”
he’s buttoning his jeans when you speak up behind him, admitting your reasons for feeling more stressed than usual. “i’ve got two exams next week. they’re extremely important, i have to pass them, i just… i can’t focus for some reason.”
when he turns around, you’re not facing him. he leans against the tabletop, looking at you. “anything in particular that’s bothering you?”
“i don’t know. it’s just…” you shrug your shoulders a little, unsure of how to explain it, “i guess i haven’t been feeling great in my own skin lately, even though i don’t actually have a reason for it.”
“maybe i can help you study. could work as a nice motivator.”
“gyu—” you chuckle a little to reject him politely, but he sees it coming at this point, persisting.
“why don’t we just try it? if you don’t feel like doing it again, then, fine. we can always just restrict our activities to solely physical stuff again.”
“do you even have the time to help me?”
he’s smiling, able to tell you’re thinking about it. “are you kidding? i can do anything.”
“always so humble.”
“yeah, that’s why you like me so much.” he laughs. “that’s why i’m your friend.”
“whatever makes you sleep at night.”
mingyu wasn’t kidding when he said he wanted to help you, nor when he mentioned he wanted you two to be closer.
he’s putting in effort to make you like him, that’s for sure. buying you coffees and snacks, offering to study with you whenever you mention difficult topics you have to cram for exams — he’s certainly establishing his presence in your daily life.
and you hate how easily you get used to it.
for whatever reason, you haven’t had sex since that day either. you’re pretty sure he wants to prove that he likes you for you and not just your body.
which is sweet. but you also have needs, and they’re worse now, knowing he can fulfill them extremely well, as he’s proved many times at this point.
so you text him to ask if he wants to come over later.
as he’s seated at a picnic table on the campus square, he notices your text, grabbing his phone to respond to you.
“your girlfriend texting you again?”
mingyu looks up at joshua, who’s sitting across from him with a pen in hand. he shakes his head. “not my girlfriend.”
“she might as well be.”
“she doesn’t like me enough to be.”
shua wouldn’t call himself nosy, but he’s determined to get a better idea of what exactly is going on between you. “what’s up with you and her?”
“it’s complicated.” his friend responds, eyes narrowing from the rays of sunlight. “i’m not even sure, honestly.”
joshua has this ability to pry people’s hearts open and let their feelings pour out without breaking a sweat — how easily he does it should be studied.
“are you friends with benefits or something? situationship?”
ironically, those words are the complete opposite of what you and him are. mingyu huffs out of frustration, voicing his thoughts. “she doesn’t like it when i call her my friend, she appears to have an exceedingly low daily quota of emotions, i’m busting my ass off to get my own assignments done and spend as much time with her as i can and i’m pretty sure she doesn’t even like me. at all. worst part being that i like her, shua. i like her.”
“have you told her you like her?”
“sort of. in a friendly way. she just glared at me.”
joshua finds mingyu’s inner torment a little amusing, but he feels for him. “maybe she’ll warm up to you. give it a while, she’s a tough nut to crack.”
“is she open with you?”
“sort of. i don’t think there’s a single soul out there she’s completely open with.” he sucks on the inside of his cheek for a second. “she has mentioned in the past that she’s actually very sensitive but just doesn’t, like, really express it. and you gotta keep in mind that people show love and affection differently. give it time.”
mingyu takes a breath as he thinks over the words.
give it time.
which he does. he notices you’re gradually getting closer to him over the course of time, still not showing too much — but it feels different. you choose to sit with him more often than not when you meet up with the other guys, you’re spending a lot of time with him, and you’re showing initiative to make time for him. every time he lands in your bed, it feels more intimate than ever.
you’re starting to make him feel like he matters to you. his crush on you is getting out of hand to the point he needs to stop himself from gazing at you every time you look him in the eye.
just like right now. you’re smiling at him over something he can’t remember — it’s a genuine smile, he cherishes those every time you flash him one as they’re rare — and you just look so pretty.
a text message from one of the guys on the football team pulls him out of it. which sparks an idea in him.
“hey, i have a football game coming up this saturday. do you wanna come? you could finally see me in action.” he asks. when he notices the puzzled look on your face, he tilts his head. “oh, come on. friendship works both ways, you know that, right? team effort and all that jazz.”
his wording makes you chuckle. “fine. i’ll be there.”
“you won’t regret it. our team is great.”
“really? then you better prove it. can’t be cheering for the losing team.”
with a raised brow, he points at you. “wanna bet?”
“what do you have in mind?”
he considers his options for a moment. “if my team wins, i get to choose what we do in bed next time. as long as you’re into it too, obviously. if the opposite team wins, you get to choose.”
now that’s an offer you’re certainly not gonna reject. taking on the challenge, you nod. “alright. deal.”
he shakes your hand ever so professionally, gathering his books since he needs to get to class. “oh, and, just so you know — my team’s won regional championships for the past two years in a row. i’m just saying.”
you tilt your head. he winks at you before walking away from the table, and you smile to yourself.
damn that asshole for making you like him this much.
saturday arrives, and you find yourself walking by the green football fields, surprised by the amount of people who showed up.
mingyu mentioned he was heading here earlier so you just told him you’d be there, sitting with the crowd.
it seems like it’s going to be a cold-weather match today. it’s already dark out, and the rain just started coming down from the sky. you’re glad the bleachers come with shade canopies so at least you won’t be soaked by the time the game is over.
your eyes are fixed on mingyu’s back as he stands by the sidelines with the rest of his team, enthusiastically discussing what’s most likely gonna be their strategy for the game.
then he turns around, still very engaged in the conversation, the wet strands of his hair framing his facial features. gosh, he’s incredibly handsome.
before running out onto the field, he looks back at the bleachers, scanning the masses before his eyes lock with yours.
he ever so dramatically makes a little heart with his fingers, teasingly motioning it towards you, and you put your middle finger up, making him laugh.
mingyu’s a real sweetheart, you have to admit. he’s growing on you.
watching the game is more fun than you anticipated. despite not being into football all that much, it’s great to watch the boys work together as well as they do.
you’re certainly not complaining when mingyu throws his vest on the bench halfway through the match, leaving him in a black compression shirt, emphasizing his strong figure.
shit. maybe you should watch him play more often.
it’s his team that seems to be on the winning side tonight — until the opposing team scores ten minutes before the end. both teams have the same score now, which is bad. ending with a draw would suck.
you’re now completely sucked into the game like the rest of the audience, desperate for mingyu’s team to score another goal.
the universe must be on their side today, because they do. three minutes left on the clock and none other than jeon wonwoo himself is able to kick the ball into the net, escaping the hands of the keeper.
it’s all yells of happiness on the field.
the referee blows his whistle to call the end of the game. everyone at your side of the bleachers stands up from their seats, yourself included, to cheer and clap for the boys, happy that they won the game.
you watch them congratulate eachother, some of their friends walking onto the field to do the same.
following the masses, you also leave your seat in the bleachers, walking down the stairs.
mingyu notices you coming his way and runs over to you, surprising you by lifting you up, giving you arguably the best hug you’ve ever had in your whole damn life. he holds onto you so tightly, his big arms and tall frame caging you in — in the best way possible.
when he gently puts you back down, his one hand briefly finds your cheek, which catches you off guard, but you don’t shy away from it.
he’s so tempted to just say fuck it and kiss you right now. you look so pretty, and your eyes — your eyes. he could stare into them forever and love every second of it.
but there’s too much at stake to get impulsive. “thanks for coming.”
“you’re welcome.” you blankly respond, making him smile a little.
“how did i do? good enough for your standards?”
you shrug at him, taking a brief look at his teammates celebrating in the distance behind him. “i was mostly focused on wonwoo, actually, but you were doing a good job too.”
he rolls his eyes before making a sarcastic comment. “you’re hilarious.”
“something i’m very aware of.”
he fake smiles at you, and you reciprocate the gesture, patting him on the shoulder.
“wanna go catch a drink with me?”
“don’t you wanna celebrate with the rest of the team?”
“not tonight.” he shakes his head. “i just gotta go get my bag. come with me?”
he intertwines his fingers with yours and you hardly notice it. which is bizarre if you consider how you had no relationship with him to begin with several months ago. “okay, yeah.”
you head to the men’s locker room with him, which is dark and empty. all the other guys are still out on the field, as you noticed when you were walking over here.
“the lights haven’t been working since yesterday, so watch your step.” mingyu tells you. the rays of moonlight coming through the high windows are enough to at least light up the room enough for you to see where you’re going.
you suddenly get an idea. “do you think the guys are gonna be out there for long?”
“they usually do. ten minutes, give or take.” he answers absentmindedly while taking his black duffel bag out of the locker with his name on it.
once he turns around, you push him back against the locker, taking him by the surprise, your finger pulling at the elastic waistband of his pants and boxers.
“i give credit where it’s due, you know.”
oh. oh. he only then understands what you’re getting at.
you always manage to make him a little nervous somehow — he lives for it. “in public? here? we could go back to your—oh, shit—”
you make him stutter the moment your hand moves underneath his clothes to take a hold of his dick. “but you’re already hard, gyu.”
christ. you’ve got some nerve, putting up that soft and sweet voice as if you’re not fucking responsible for getting him hard in the first place.
he doesn’t protest when you sink to your knees in front of him, pulling his boxers down his thick thighs, his cock springing free.
you grin a little to yourself before taking him in your mouth. he’s so hot like this, all hard and panting and begging.
“h—holy shit, that feels good.” he gasps, the warm sensation of your mouth making him go dizzy.
his hand moves to the back of your head. you take him as much as you can, using your hands for the part you can’t take. he slowly becomes a mess, his head resting against the locker.
you look up at him when he’s shamelessly moaning at the feeling of your tongue swirling around him, his hands subconsciously pushing your head just a little bit forward, making you take just that little bit more of his cock.
arousal begins to pool between your legs, and you suddenly curse yourself for choosing to wear jeans instead of a skirt tonight.
“fuck, fuck, baby—”
you release him with a pop, a mix of spit and his arousal coating your lips. “wanna taste everything. can’t make a mess here.”
it’s such a shame he’s still wearing his clothes. his stomach caves in so nicely whenever you’re sucking him off — like he can’t catch his breath. it’s the best thing you’ve ever seen.
his legs are trembling, and he’s embarrasingly close to his release already. “you don’t—ah—have to do this here if you don’t want to—”
“‘m not leaving ‘til you cum down my throat, gyu. you can do that, though, right?”
he nods, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows, his voice all soft and submissive. he can’t help it. “yeah, yeah, i’ll do whatever you want, baby.”
“good boy.” you tell him, entirely unaware of the effect it has on him.
the moment you hollow your cheeks, it’s over for him. the salty taste of his release sits in your mouth before you swallow it, and his chest heaves while he pulls himself together.
both your eyes widen when you suddenly hear the voices outside getting closer, and mingyu knows it’s time to get the fuck out of here. he quickly pulls his pants back up, his bag in his one hand and your hand in the other as he drags you with him to take the back exit before anyone can notice either of you.
you both take a breather outside as you lean against the wall of the building before you burst into laughter together. he feels on top of fucking cloud nine, if he’s being truthful.
“you’re insane.” he laughs, looking to the side to find you laughing and blushing at the same time. “you’re blushing? after doing that? wow. who are you and what have you done with my friend?”
“you’re getting special treatment, you know. i don’t suck off my other friends.” you tease, shrugging your shoulders.
maybe he should consider pursuing a theatre career with the way he dramatically puts his hand over his heart. “does this mean i made it to friend level 2?”
“you did. now you’ve been downgraded back to level 1, though. what’re you gonna do about it?”
he plays along with you. “well, shit. can’t have that. we can go get a burger with fries at that place near campus. my treat?”
“sounds good.” the words have left your mouth and that big smile is right on his face again. you playfully push his shoulder, cheeks hurting from the smile on yours.
he’s getting closer to you than you anticipated, and that’s not a good thing, but for now, you tell yourself it’ll be fine. how much closer could he possibly get?
another month passes by when, for the first time in a while, mingyu doesn’t drop by your dorm. he doesn’t text, doesn’t call — and you find yourself worried about him.
it’s been nothing but complete radio silence from his end, which isn’t a good sign.
you’ve already left him several voicemails when chan lets you know he’s been having a terrible fever for the past two days. it leaves you with the urge to go and check up on him, so once you’ve had all your classes for the day, you find yourself knocking on his door.
it takes a moment for him to answer it, wonwoo seemingly not present in the dorm.
when mingyu opens the door, surprise is painted across his face, the heavy bags under his eyes making him seem awfully tired. shit, you hope you didn’t wake him. he’s wearing a plain white shirt with thin black pyjama pants, his hair an utter mess.
the surprise on his face is gone once you open your mouth. “you look like shit.”
he snorts at your words. “would you say that to me if i were on my deathbed, too?”
“absolutely.”
he smiles at your attitude, finding it strangely refreshing. “wanna come in? i promise i’ll stay at a distance so you won’t get it.”
you didn’t think he was going to invite you in, but you accept the offer nonetheless. “i was wondering why you didn’t call. then chan told me you were sick.”
he shuts the door behind you. “yeah, i’ve been sleeping, mostly. watched some netflix too but it quickly gives headaches. i’m sorry for not letting you know — didn’t think you were worried.”
you pause for a moment. “well. you thought wrong. friends worry, don’t they?”
the words make him smile. he didn’t think you cared all that much about him for some reason — this changes that. “fair. what’s in the bowl?”
he’s referring to the black bowl covered in foil you have clutched between your arms. you shrug. “soup. i don’t know if you already had some, but it worked wonders for me when i was sick a while back, so… yeah. i figured you could use it.”
his face lights up when he realizes you went out your way to make this for him. with gratitude, he accepts the bowl. “thank you, i appreciate it. looks really good. you can sit by my desk if you want to, by the way.”
as he’s walking across the room, you notice the mishap in his steps, like he’s about to lose his balance. “are you okay?”
“yeah, ‘s just—i’m a little dizzy.”
your hands find his shoulders — a touch that feels heavy compared to the usual skin-to-skin contact you share with him — to put him down on his bed. “don’t force it. if you’re about to faint, you might as well be lying down.”
his lids hang low, eyes nearly closed when you pull the covers over his body. you touch his cheeks and forehead with the back of your hand to get an indication of his temperature.
as soon as you’re about to tell him he probably has a light fever, it seems he’s already half asleep. you pull the covers up to his chest to ensure he’s comfortable.
you gaze at him for a moment as he snores softly, biting your lip as you curse yourself for giving him a treatment he doesn’t deserve.
maybe mingyu likes to think he doesn’t wear his heart on his sleeve, but that’s far from the truth. even you have noticed he’s been looking at you a certain way recently, and that’s saying something.
one look at him and you’re already feeling like a big softie. it’s ridiculous.
you’re scared of what you feel for him, but as long as you can keep your relationship like this, it’ll be fine.
now that he’s asleep, you wander around his room. you know wonwoo must be at football practice, since mingyu is normally there with him at this time of the week.
you usually take him to your dorm, so you’re not in his all that often. your eyes rake across the framed pictures of his friends, family, loved ones, memories he’s made.
they stop, though, when recognizing yourself in one of the pictures. he promised you he’d frame one up as a way of ‘solidifying your friendship’ as he so politely put it.
still, you didn’t think he’d actually do it.
smiling to yourself, you proceed to notice his laptop screen is still on. he must’ve been working on something when you knocked on his door.
out of curiosity, you check the screen, figuring he was working on the essay he’s been postponing for two weeks because he had difficulty getting started.
you take a look at the assignment and decide you’re gonna try to do it for him. luckily, the necessary paragraphs that ought to be studied beforehand and referenced in the essay itself came with the mail, so that makes everything a lot easier.
when mingyu wakes up hours later, he finds himself alone in his room. you’re gone, though he notices the glass of water on his nightstand has been refilled, his laptop is flipped open, and there’s a sticky note attached to it.
slowly, he rubs his eyes and moves toward the desk to grab the laptop before sitting back against the pillows.
you must’ve written something on the note, he figures.
‘hopefully the essay is up to the standards of your class. i did it in a separate document so you can just get rid of the whole thing if it’s not what you want it to be. let me know if you need anything else. x’
he frowns, turning the device on to see what you worked on — and the screen lights up, only for him to realize you wrote the essay due for tomorrow. and with a few of his own additions here and there, it’s good enough to submit, which is impressive for someone who’s not actually taking the class.
and right now, all he can do is smile at his screen like an idiot.
you’re at the university skating rink when you hear someone calling your name from the bleachers.
looking up with a frown, you suddenly notice a tall man sprinting your way, so you skate towards him. “mingyu, what the hell are you doing here?”
“i got 87/100 for the essay. for the one class i always hate. you’re a genius.” he exclaims, absolutely beaming at you.
you suddenly remember doing the essay for him, snorting at his reaction. “so i’ve heard. good to see you’re doing better.”
“is there anything i can do in return?”
“don’t worry. i like writing essays. besides, you already helped me out plenty of times. it was the least i could do.”
the words coming out of your mouth hardly match your facial expression, but he finds he’s gotten used to it now. he understands you better than ever before. “you know how you said i’d get nothing out of a friendship with you?” he recalls, biting his lip for a moment, “you were wrong.”
a mere chuckle escapes you. “right. you get top-notch essays and bowls of chicken soup.”
your comment was sarcastic, but he remains serious. “you’re wonderful, you know that?”
it’s not often people use a word like that to describe you. it feels weird hearing it, but your attitude remains the same. “am i?”
“yeah, you are,” he nods, pushing out more compliments, “and i’m glad to have you in my life.”
the playful expression on your face falters — like a glitch occurring in your system. mingyu is starting to break through your hard exterior remarkably easily, and that’s beginning to scare you a little.
he leaves without saying another word, but the look on his face is enough to tell that he’s feeling the tension too. whatever relationship you have is becoming more intimate by day, most definitely passing the friendship it was supposed to be, and to you, that is very alarming.
and you suddenly refuse to let it go any further.
whenever he texts you, you either tell him you don’t have the time to come over or nothing at all. you avoid him like the plague, ensure not to go to social gatherings if he’s going be there and stay well away from all the places you and him studied together. it hurts, because you do miss him, yet you manage to keep it up.
but you can only do so much. unfortunately, mingyu is smarter than you hoped.
after two weeks of you avoiding him, he decides he’s had enough.
when you’re almost about to leave the dorm for your lecture, you hear someone knocking on your door. you open it to find him standing there, and he walks right by you, not bothering to ask whether he can come in.
“why have you been avoiding me?”
“i gotta leave for my lecture, i don’t have time for this.”
“so make the time.” he says sternly, jaw clenched. “answer the question.”
“i haven’t been avoiding you.”
“sure. so it’s a coincidence you suddenly stopped talking to me?”
you huff in frustration and close the door, leaning with your back against it. “no, it isn’t.”
he raises his hands in defeat. “so, why?”
“it’s been fun. i don’t know. but you’ve proved what you wanted to prove, so… good for you. we can both move on now.” you shrug, hardly sounding convinced of your own words.
“you’re lying.” he breathes out, scoffing to himself. he’s baffled that you think he’d consider it believable at all. “four months ago, i would’ve bought that. but not now.”
“believe what you wanna believe. i don’t really care.” you give him the cold shoulder, attempting to open the door so you can leave, but he immediately shuts it to stop you from doing so.
“don’t bullshit me. you care. i don’t know why the fuck you’re so hellbent on not admitting that, but it’s the truth.”
he’s beginning to get on your nerves. “what fucking answers are you even here for? since you claim to know everything that’s going on inside my head already.”
it’s then that he starts to show how genuinely upset he is at you pushing him away. “what makes me so different from the other guys? joshua, seokmin, chan—all of them. why is it so easy for you to be close with them but not with me?”
“because you keep trying to get closer to me! from day one, you’ve been saying you wanna be friends with me like the rest of them, but your actions don’t line up with that.”
“so what? i like you and i’m pretty damn sure you like me too.” his voice is softer, face closer to yours, those brown eyes of his working their way straight to your heart. “what are you so afraid of?”
either you’re imagining things or he’s leaning in to kiss you. his lips are so close before you feel them on yours, a sensation you missed like nothing else.
your fingers touch the back of his neck. it’s hard not to get lost in the feeling of his mouth on yours, the smell of his cologne making it even harder.
kissing mingyu is the closest you’ll ever get to heaven, but right now, all it’s making you feel is guilt and shame.
so you pull yourself away from him, breaking the kiss, hands feeling heavy on his chest. “close the door on your way out.” you whisper, leaving him alone in your dorm.
he stands perplexed in his place for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose, processing what just happened.
“fuck.”
it’s been a week, and he hasn’t called nor texted you since that conversation. you assume that he’s decided to move on.
which is understandable. if you were him, you’d be done with it too.
it feels strange to be going about your day without him dropping by or talking to you. like he left a void you’re unable to fill. and it hurts — you miss him.
you’re having lunch with seokmin and minghao in the cafeteria when he’s suddenly standing in front of you by the table. “i just got a call from the gallery manager — we’ve got it to ourselves this friday evening!”
minghao smiles widely, the sweet sound of his excited laughter intriguing the rest of you. he turns his head to explain. “me and mingyu have been trying to rent the gallery so we could finally be able to put our work on display. apparently, it was just confirmed we managed to pull it off.”
hao is a passionate painter — mingyu a photographer. their love for art is one of the things that binds them together, and they’ve mentioned wanting to have their own exhibit for a few months now. despite the things that have happened, you’re happy for them.
“that’s great! we can come, right?” seokmin asks, already grabbing his phone to put it in his agenda.
“yeah, you guys better.” minghao answers, his gaze shifting to you. “you have to come too. you’re free, right?”
he’s aware of things between you and mingyu being tense right now — though he doesn’t know why — but he still thinks it’d be good for you and him to see each other.
your eyes meet mingyu’s for the first time since your last conversation a week ago, and hao follows your actions, looking at him as well.
mingyu subtly looks away, hoping his friend didn't catch him staring at you. before he can utter the words he wants to say, you tilt your head, already speaking up. “sure. i'll be there.”
he unintentionally gives you a puzzled look, and you pop a piece of gum in your mouth, looking at your wrist as if there’s a watch there.
there isn’t. “won’t you look at the time. i’ll see you guys later.”
they briefly say bye to you, very much used to the way you dismiss yourself, and mingyu watches the interaction as if it’s the first time witnessing it — as if he hasn’t known you to be like this for several months.
he watches you walk out of the cafeteria, confronted by his two friends staring at him. “what?”
“you’re deep in it.” minghao remarks. “when are you guys finally gonna admit that you wanna be together?”
“it’s not that easy.”
seokmin frowns, connecting the dots before gasping. “wait. you and her are a thing? since when? why didn’t anyone tell me this?”
the other two just deadpan a stare at him.
on friday night, you attend the art exhibit. you know he’s been working hard on the collection, and you certainly figured you were gonna be confronted with mingyu as well, but this is one gathering you couldn’t afford to miss. so you choose to try and forget the drama for one night.
you’re wearing a little black dress with lacy tights and sleek ankle boots, an outfit you feel nice in.
the gallery is buzzing with friends of the artists as well as people who frequent the place whenever a new exhibit is up. perhaps some pieces will be sold tonight.
as you’re passing some of mingyu’s framed photos, you hear his familiar voice behind you.
“i was surprised when you agreed to come.”
when you turn your head, he’s standing there with his hands in the pockets of his fitted black pants, the deep cut of his white blouse exposing just a bit more of his upper chest than usual, a silver chain sitting all pretty on his neck and collarbones.
personally, you find it’s relatively rare to find men with good taste in fashion, but he’s definitely got it. he looks good. really good.
biting your lip, you give him nothing but a cool response. “came to see if you were any good.”
“and? what’s your judgement?”
“haven’t made up my mind yet.” your tone turns into a more teasing one, seeing as he appears considerably less hostile than you. “does my judgement really matter that much, though?”
he nods so quickly, almost as if he were hypnotized by you. “more than you know.”
him showing you affection actually makes your heart shatter. he’s so genuine in it too — and you just don’t know what to do with all that love he so easily gives you.
people pass you left and right, completely unaware of the heavy feeling currently bubbling inside your chest. you’re crumbling under his gaze and he fucking feels it.
and this situation is precisely the one thing you were so afraid of. you know he knows how to poke into your heart, he knows when you’re lying to him, he knows when you’re upset or hurt — and the idea that there’s someone out there who can see all of that just by looking at you utterly terrifies you.
in moments like these, your expression doesn’t gradually change. it falls hard and quick, sometimes very visibly, just like right now. the blank stare is gone, your lips parting, eyes blinking erratically — it’s like you received a slap to the face.
“your photography is beautiful, mingyu. you’re talented, but you didn’t need me to tell you that.” your voice breaks in the middle of your sentence and you leave him behind, heading into the ladies’ room, hoping he won’t follow you.
you exhale when he doesn’t.
knowing it’s way too early to leave, you pull yourself together, and once you get out of the bathroom, you make it your mission to avoid him for the rest of the night. if that means talking to god knows how many new people, so be it.
minghao’s paintings are beautiful. you’re in awe of his talent as you walk past his artworks, admiring each of them.
as the evening nears its end, the artist himself comes up to you with that gentle smile he often wears. “so, what do you think? do i have potential?”
“are you kidding? you’ve got more than just potential. these are gorgeous. you should be proud of them.”
he thanks you, his hands sitting in the pockets of his trousers. “what’d you do to mingyu?”
you cross your arms over your chest. “why’re you assuming i did something?”
“because he’s been looking like a kicked puppy for the past few weeks. and i heard you and him suddenly stopped hanging out, so...”
taking a deep breath, you shake your head to yourself. “honestly, i’m not even sure what happened between us. it came out of nowhere.”
minghao keeps his eyes on you even when you look away. “he came out of nowhere and you started liking him.”
the comment makes your eyes widen, but you don’t bother hiding the truth from him. he might be the most trustworthy guy you know. “yeah. so i pushed him away.”
he’s aware of your fear of letting people in beyond a certain extent. “what did he do?”
you could cry, honestly. your face is blank — your voice trembles. “he said he was happy to have me in his life. god, i’m so fucking insecure.”
hao softly rubs over your shoulder blade for a second, a gesture you appreciate. he shrugs. “you’re not obligated to do something you don’t wanna do. but talking about it is better than leaving it unsaid. gyu’s a good guy. he’ll understand it, but only if you give him the chance to.”
with that sentiment, he leaves you be, and you rub your arms, staring at the painting that’s currently in front of you, only to realize it’s about two lovers.
there’s a thin line between laughing and crying. you feel like you’re somewhere in the middle right now.
“christ, i need a fucking drink.” you mutter to yourself, running a hand through your hair.
“mind if i join you?”
of course. why are you even surprised?
without looking him in the eye, you respond to his question with one of your own. “sure you want my company?”
“beats going drinking alone.” mingyu shrugs next to you.
you let out a sarcastic chuckle at that. “whatever you say.”
luckily for you, the nearest bar is around the block. the walk there is quiet. you’re not sure what to say to him, and you feel him subtly looking your way.
he holds the door open for you to go in first. the place is not all that crowded yet, only a few tables occupied, probably because it’s still relatively early in the evening.
since no one else is seated by the bar top, you choose to head to one of the high stools there, ordering two shots of vodka before even sitting down.
the bartender puts two shot glasses in front of you and pours the liquid in both until they’re completely filled. mingyu looks at you as he picks up the small glass, and you just lightly tilt your head as a toast.
his facial expression is as bitter as the alcohol burning in his throat. he hates the way you look at him — like you don’t give a fuck about him.
you look down at your glass. you still haven’t exchanged a single word since leaving the gallery. what the hell are you even supposed to say? you didn’t want to be here with him in the first place.
liar. the little voice in your head creeps in.
the silence feels as painful as trailing your nails down a chalkboard. surprisingly, it’s you who ends up speaking first.
“if you’re trying to make the situation more awkward, you’re succeeding.”
“i’m just trying to find the words. don’t know where to start.”
your voice is hostile and sharp as a blade. “then don’t.”
of course you’re aware you’re being mean. but it’s to serve a purpose. every time you show this side of you, people always leave. better sooner than later, right?
mingyu, instead of feeling insulted by your attitude, looks at you as if he’s deciphering a puzzle. “i will. because i care.”
that makes you remain quiet. you just scoff instead, not knowing what to say next. he shifts in his seat to be able to look at him better — you do the exact opposite, turning your face away from him.
“can i ask you something?”
you don’t actually respond, save for the blank stare you give him. which he takes as a yes.
“you not showing much… is it a front you put up or something you just do?”
an interesting question — one you actually have to think about. “the latter. having a resting bitch face doesn’t really help my case, i guess. but i also enjoy keeping people in the dark a bit. can’t have everyone showing everything.”
“why not?”
blinking at him for a moment, you gently smile at him. it’s not a genuine one. “do you wanna know why you feel at a disadvantage right now?”
“because your alcohol tolerance is better than mine?”
“because you can’t tell what i’m thinking.”
he then puts his chin up to look at you better. you tilt your head a little, as if you were following his gaze, and he feels like he’s on the right track here.
“maybe i kinda like that disadvantage.” he suggests, but you shake your head knowingly.
“no, you don’t.”
“how would you know?”
you suck at the inside of your cheek for a moment, taking a breath. “my mom once said to me that it bothered her she couldn’t tell what i was thinking.” you pout your lips as if you’re thinking about it. “i told her i liked that. being an open book is my worst nightmare.”
“why?”
“putting your thoughts and feelings on display make you vulnerable. being vulnerable makes you weak.”
“so you think it’s better to isolate your feelings completely — discuss them with no one? ever?”
“unless it’s necessary, yes. besides, feelings aren’t black and white. do you know how difficult it is to convey them through words, let alone getting the person at the other end of the line to actually understand them?”
mingyu looks—no, gazes at you. “how will you know if you don’t try?”
“how do you know i haven’t? you think you’re the first person who’s tried to get close to me like this?” you ask, tilting your head. “speaking of which, i’ve been having a real hard time trying to figure out what it is you want from me. i’m not buying the whole ‘i-just-wanna-be-friends’ façade. never did. i thought it was the sex, but i initiated it more often than you did.”
“it wasn’t for the sex.” he shrugs his shoulders. “i like you.”
“so you’ve mentioned. since when?”
“since… always.”
“we never even talked before soonyoung’s party.”
“no, but i liked you.”
“bullshit.” you fire back at him, scoffing sarcastically. “i’m hardly likeable — nothing i’m insecure about. just a plain fact.”
“and yet i like you a lot. must be shocking.” he jests, the vaguest hint of a rising smirk on his face. “do you like me?”
“i can’t stand you,” you reach out to push his chin upwards so he looks up at you, only realizing how physically comfortable you’ve become with him after doing so, “but at least you’ve got a pretty face to make up for it.”
it’s unbelievable, mingyu thinks to himself. the way you keep teasing him, keep being a little mean to him, and he just eats it all up.
every moment he spends with you has him wondering what on earth it is about you that draws him in so much.
but, fuck, he just can’t get enough.
another shot is poured into your glasses, which you take between your thumb and index finger, nodding at him so he’ll take his.
the liquid burns in his throat, making him feel hot, and you get awfully turned on when you notice the way he wipes off the drops that accidentally ran down his chin.
“i think i’ve got you all figured out.”
his bold statement and matching attitude has you raising your shoulders. “oh yeah? go on. try me, i’m curious.”
the words tumble from his lips as if they’re part of a monologue he’s been rehearsing for weeks. “you feel so much, express so little. i bet it must be hard to keep up with your own mind sometimes. i think you often feel judged and misunderstood because of your attitude, but you don’t mind that much, since you prefer a smaller circle anyways. you simply don’t like wearing your heart on your sleeve, but it’d be a big mistake to think you don’t have one — and honestly, i’d do anything to be close to it.”
it’s not often you’re speechless.
he describes you almost perfectly, and your body language subconsciously changes, confident and playful demeanor gone — the cold and distant side of your personality coming out again.
“good job,” you tell him softly, moving to grab a few bucks from your wallet to pay for the drinks, “i guess i should say congratulations. you know what makes me tick. that means we’re done here, right?”
he finally spots the shift in your behavior. “wait—”
“have a good night, gyu.”
you curse yourself for accidentally using the nickname as you walk out of the bar, putting your coat on, feeling raindrops on your hair and skin once you get outside.
as you’re trying to make yourself remember where the nearest metro stop is, you hear him utter your name behind you. “what did i do? was it something i said?”
letting impulsivity get to you for once, you scoff, muttering a response. “it was everything you said.”
“why?” he asks, the tension running thicker. “why won’t you just let me in, for once? just this time?”
you hate how desperate he sounds — you hate how much it’s tugging at your heartstrings.
“why do you even want me to?”
“‘cause i like you.”
“no, you don’t. you just like whatever chase this is, just a little fun to keep things interesting for you.”
“has it ever crossed your mind that maybe i like you for you?”
“i’ve given you no reason to like me.”
“what, you think that no one out there will like you unless you act differently?”
his words feel like a growing tear in your heart. your self-esteem is so ridiculously low that it makes you believe no one would love you if you were to be unapologetically yourself — and hearing someone say it out loud hurts.
mingyu watches as the emotion flashes through your eyes, one of the few glimpses of what you feel underneath that cold exterior.
“it’s not true,” he says before you attempt to answer, “because you… being around you makes me happy. when i’m not with you, i think of when i’ll see you next. you matter to me.”
you’re not sure what’s worse — the fact that you reciprocate his feelings or the words that are coming out of your mouth.
“you’d do best to try and get rid of that feeling.”
but he knows there’s more lingering behind your words. “tell me you don’t feel the same way.”
“what i feel means nothing.” you state, voice laced with hurt, though not from his words. “let it go.”
“why don’t you wanna try?”
“because it’d be a disaster. for both of us.”
“c’mon,” he pleads, gently touching your fingers, “please don’t push me away.”
“god—i have my reasons, mingyu.”
“then explain them to me!”
“i can’t give you what you want!” you cry out, needing him to understand you. “someone like you just doesn’t work with someone like me. it might sound stupid, but it’s the truth. i wouldn’t tell you i love you, i’m fucking—bitter and cynical, if not misanthropic, i like my own peace and quiet, i fucking hate talking about what i feel — and you are the complete opposite. i’d make you miserable. you’d grow to hate me.”
“no, i wouldn’t.”
“you would. you... i do like you. i don't know what the hell you did, like—it’s bizarre how much i’ve grown to like you. but at the end of the day, we’d never work, because i cannot give you the love that you deserve. i know you. you want someone spontaneous, easygoing, sociable — those are all traits that i don’t have. i wish i did, but that’s just how i’m engineered. we wouldn’t work.”
“how do you even know that?”
“i’ve had two boyfriends before this. both broke things off with me ‘cause i didn't show love the way they were used to, and even when they called it quits, i didn’t show a thing. because i don’t do that. no matter how often i say it, no one ever appears to understand what they’re getting themselves into when they get close to me, so i’m telling you now. this? you and me?” you ask, finger pointing between the two of you. “we’d be idiots to try.”
“fine. then consider me an idiot.” he breathes out, just barely registering how close he’s standing to you. “i’m willing to try. please.”
the crease between your brows is the sign of your inner conflict. “i’m sick of getting hurt. sick of people making me feel like my feelings aren’t valid solely because i don’t like expressing them.”
“i’m not gonna hurt you. we can take things slow.”
“gyu—” you plead, almost like you’re begging him to stop tearing your walls down despite knowing he won’t.
and perhaps the other part of you does want to let him in. it’s so scary, so tempting.
“i don’t wanna lose you.”
he adores you so much — it’s ridiculous. “you won’t lose me. please…” he touches your fingers so gently, getting closer to you as you barely make an effort to push him away, “please let me in.”
his heartbeat rises when you look him in the eye — he wonders how the hell a person so strong can look so afraid. but he’s determined to show that you have no reason to be anymore.
it’s raining even harder now. instead of backing you up against the wall, he takes a few steps away from you as if he’s leaving, only for him to turn around and gesture for you to come with him.
mingyu’s smile shines even in the heavy downpour — a bright light that balances out your dull one.
he extends his hand, and you finally get over the edge of your fear, finally able to take control of your own body and slide your hand in his.
you and kim mingyu shouldn’t work — perhaps that’s exactly the reason why you do.
thank you for reading. let me know if you enjoyed it x
® CASS-FICS — do not repost, remake or copy my work in any way whatsoever. translations are not allowed.
Pairing: neighbor male nanny!seungcheol x afab maid!reader
Genre: smut, fluff towards the end
Word count: 3.8k
tags: working class au, mentions kids, big dick!Seungcheol, reader wears skirt and thong and panty hose, dom!seungcheol, brat!reader, rough sex, rough hair pulling and head movement, spitting and swallowing, heavy degradation kink, window sex, overstimulation, name calling (brat, slut, mr. choi), choking unprotected sex, breeding kink, cream pies
Summary: Seungcheol and you have never crossed paths for long, but boy have you imagined it. Too preoccupied with your jobs working for some of the richest families in the city, you've sacrificed your grueling hours when you could've been fucked your brains out all this time. However, big risks come with big rewards when the holidays arrive. Then there's nobody home to stop you.
author note: horny, horny, horny, that was the entire process writing all of this. i feel like i pulled this out one of my deepest most darkest horny moments bc why am i so into writing every part of this and thats so rare?? i enjoyed this alot, please enjoy guys and happy new year! its almost 2024 thats insane!!!!
You haven’t worked for this family all that long. Only long enough to realize the cute male nanny living in the house next door.
You've caught glimpses of him a handful of times on the lawn, overseeing the kids as they bask in the fresh air. His eyes sparkle like stars that lit the night sky and his smile outshines the opulence of this entire block of one-percenters. Witnessing that radiant smile aimed in your direction brightens your day each time. Without fail, you exchange polite greetings, accompanied by smiles and pleasant small talk, forming a delightful routine in your interactions.
As the housekeeper, you’ve had plenty of encounters while getting groceries, lawn or backyard parties, and windows. Lots of windows. You’d peer through when you’re cleaning, see him glance back at you, maybe sending you a wave as he’s mid-feeding the kid veggie tots. Your interactions with him were typically very brief and fleeting.
Now, there were no excuses. The holiday season is around the corner, and families in the neighborhood will soon be heading to the Alps, tropical destinations, or somewhere along those lines. That meant you’d be all alone in their mansion, much like someone else in the neighborhood.
You learn about it by seeing him at the grocery store. Trying not to get distracted by the loose-fitting dress shirt tucked in the waist of his trousers, you notice the little one he cares for rolls through the aisles full of toddler swagger in the shopping cart. You would gush at their delightful giggles if you didn’t find their caretaker so mind-numbingly distracting.
With his broad shoulders, sturdy arms, and consistently solid build, you too would trust him with something so delicate and needy of attention. It was such a natural choice. However, the nearest option you had was, well, yourself.
He mentions that his employers preferred to keep their vacation exclusive to family, providing him with paid time off to use as he pleased. In turn, you mention being offered the same form of compensation, and am eternally grateful for such leniency. His expression sparks in piqued interest, briefly glancing at you before storing the hot chocolate package away in the cart.
“Does that mean you’ll be away for the holidays?”
You muse at his question, fingers taking over your basket handle as he ponders on your response. A glimmer of optimism in his eyes beams in your direction, with a dimple etched deep in his cheek as he splays a hopeful smile. To which you answer jesterly, "Well, I hadn't implied that."
He softly chuckles, nudging you at the elbow, obviously trying to banger a proper answer. “Then tell me, what’s a pretty thing like you doing in a big house all alone during the holidays?”
His compliments delight you and warmth festers in your chest, greedy for more. "I suppose we'll find out, won't we?"
Seungcheol doesn’t have a moment to react as the child in the cart regains their energy. He shifts his gaze away momentarily and soon you escape his line of vision, seamlessly blending in amidst the bustling crowd of grocers.
Returning to the residence, you linger by the largest window, offering a perfect view of Seungcheol dining during supper. It's a familiar scene, replaying like clockwork at the same hours each time. His silhouette in the warm glow of the neighbor's dining room becomes a sight with more to be desired, and you imagine a world where the divide doesn't exist. Staring in his eyes, you picture your entanglement. The heat of your bodies weaving together like threads in a tapestry, each bonded tightly, with only the power of shears to tear you apart.
His eyes reflect the same intensity, mentally undressing you down to the skin, making you his perfect canvas. He ponders the texture of your skin, your hair, and the sound you make when he tenderizes your flesh with his teeth. He wonders how full you feel between his fingers, or how sweet your nectar tastes. He can only envision the favor, the sensation, the warmth; holding the fantasy close to him like a secret taken to the grave.
That day would come soon enough.
Anticipating each passing hour of every day, you are elated by the promise of bidding farewell to your employers at the airport. You assure them of returning to a pristine home, meticulously cleaned from every nook and cranny. A grin, so expansive it borders on pain, graces your face, and there's a noticeable spring in your step as they fade into the depths behind the security checkpoints.
Without a moment's hesitation, you rush home, eager to connect with a kindred spirit just a few cobblestones away from your work residence. Judging by the expression in his eyes, it's clear he has fulfilled his responsibilities and bid farewell to his employers as well, eagerly awaiting your arrival. He grins at you, pleased to see you approach him.
“I see it that they made it to their flight safe?”
You hum in confirmation. “You would be seeing correctly. How did your family make it?”
"Quite smoothly," he answers nonchalantly, the dimple on his cheek sinking into a subtle but contented expression.
A palpable wave of relief releases from the depths of your lungs, and a chuckle escapes as you observe Seungcheol displaying a similar reaction. Even in the subzero temperatures, you sensed the fire of his gaze, unraveling your logical resolve and liquefying you into a puddle of your own arousal. In the depth of your gaze, he discerns your hopeful anticipation, one that matches his. “So, what are the plans for the rest of their absence?”
The corner of your lips can’t help the way lifts, smiling slyly back at him. “I’m sure you have some ideas.”
You thank the heavens every day they never reinstalled those security cameras. Utilize their vulnerability, you invite the neighbor’s nanny into their home, and the automatic door locks behind him. No use in holding back, he claims the lips swiftly, tasting need and rebellion on your tongue in a rough liplock.
His lips full and plush, they part to speak, but not with words. His tongue aligns with yours, only to tangle in incoherent mumbles that escape in between, yet communicate with you in perfect fluency. Much like the intimate gazes you share from the windows multiple times a day, the fervent kiss unfolding spoke more than the audible language ever could.
His hands work around your body, shoving off your coat and cardigan, abandoning them on the hardwood to slip his fingers beneath your shirt. A shallow breath leaves your lips and you rush him against you, planting yourselves against their pristinely white wall. The texture of the plaster digs into your backside, abrasive against your flesh and Seungcheol locks you in place by holding your thigh against his side.
“You don’t know how fucking bad I wanted to do this to you,” he growls into your kiss.
You let out a sultry chuckle, fiddling with his earlobe between the pads of your fingers. “You can say it out loud. Nobody’s home.”
He scoffs. “I said, I wanted to—“ he slams his hips against you, his cock bursting at the seams against your torso, “—fuck the living shit—“ he does so again, digging your sobbing clothed cunt with his solid thigh, “—out of this stupid, pretty cunt. That loud enough for you?”
You moan through your firm pressed lips, grinding against his steel hard thighs. “Just the perfect amount.”
In admiration, your hands roam over his body, and shamelessly rips off his dress shirt, hearing the buttons skip against the cool tile. He grunts at the sensation of the frigid air enveloping his broad stature as it pebbles goosebumps on his upper arms. Returning your savage gesture, his hand fingers through your hair and dragging it back to pin your head on the wall behind you, fisting handfuls of your locks. “That wasn’t very nice of you. Could’ve asked for permission at least first,” he snarls, baring his front teeth.
“Can’t help it,” you grin, “you just look so good without it on. I bet you look without anything on.”
His chest presses flat against your body without even space to breathe and his unyielding gaze bore into you. He aligns his conceited grin against your lips to smash it brusquely—as if thanking you—pulling at your bottom lip between his perfect teeth. “I’m sure it’s all you think about when you see me.”
Quickly, he maneuvers you; twisting your heel and guiding with a hand on your waist, he forces you against the unyielding surface of the wall and trails that same hand over your chilled spine.
You softly gasp at his touch, feeling the flood of your clenched walls seep through your underwear and layering your inner thighs. His chilling, velvet voice beckons, coating the inside of your ears. “But I’ve dealt with brats, you know that. Let me show exactly what happens when you test the limits of my discipline.”
Seungcheol lifts the flap of your skirt, barring the shape of your cheeks protected under a layer of pantyhose and caressing its plush cushion. Then came the flat palm of his hand coming against you at full force. You jolt upon contact, clinging to the foundation of this house to recover, yet mewl at the arousal erupting inside you. A sound emerges from the depths of your throat, vaguely sounding of his name as well as plead.
“You like that, don’t you? A naughty little brat you are,” he chuckles sinisterly.
You push your back against his hips, finding the mold of his cock readily and fitting between the rounds of your ass. His soft groan follows, his erection rubbing against the pantyhose. “God, you really like that.”
“I want it,” you whine impatiently, backing your hips on him, and crushing his length, “give it to me.”
“What kind of authority figure would I be if I gave into one of my brat’s demands?” He strikes your cheek again, stinging lingering dully as your flesh had barely recovered from the last hit, and drool leaking out of the corner of your lips. “Not a very good one,” he answers.
“Please, Seungcheol...”
He does do again, if not harder, and each strike collides with both cheeks. “You’ll be referring to me as Mr. Choi now, brat.”
You never knew his surname, but upon discovery, you notice how smooth it rolls off the tongue. How delicious it sounds out of your swollen lips.
“Mr. Choi…” You breathe out, your cunt vibrating at the notion of his power.
He hums pleased, rewarding the back of your neck with a gentle peck. “Good job. What is it you want?”
“Please, Me Choi, I want your cock inside me…”
He clicks his tongue. “Do you, now?” He chides, “Are you going to behave from now on?”
You nod gingerly. “Yes, just give it to me, please…all of it…”
“Mmh, since you’re being so polite. I guess positive reinforcement is in order.” Seungcheol’s hand caresses your hips, reaching for the curves of your ass in confident determination. The soft caress of his rich voice proceeds, “Let’s just get these out of the way.”
He ruthlessly tears the sheer material of your pantyhose, exposing your skin and the red lacy thong that hardly holds you up. You erupt in a startled gasp, welcoming the cool embrace of the air ventilation on your blistered skin. His voice drops to a lower octave and his groaning dissolves, melding into a soft sigh. “What a pretty little holiday gift for me. Only took me a moment to realize I have to unwrap it.”
“I thought of you when I decided the color,” you admit in feigned innocence, “you seem to like the holiday colors.”
“I do. Darling of you for noticing,” he praises with a hint of tease, “and my, does it suit you. Maybe there is hope for a brat like you.”
You hear the draw of his zipper, following the heavy drop of fabric to the ground. Slightly turning your head, you see he kicks the clothes aside and grins upon inspection of his full-length lining up between your legs. Your knees began to wobble, parting your feet for a more stable stance, and you swoon with your head against the wall. “You look so big…”
The head of his cock rubs against the lace, precum leaking from the tip and creating a small mess on your already ruined panties. You hear a smile in his scoff and feel the snap of your underwear before his tip breaches your molten warmth. He whispers, “Wait until you feel how big it is pushing in and out of that pretty wet cunt of yours…”
“Mmh, Mr. Choi…” Your breath halts as his girth parts your entrance, stretching your walls until it is Seungcheol and your lubricating arousal. He seethes in relief, letting your welcoming embrace around him soothe his intensifying erection and he bucks his hips, having you adjust to his size.
You rest your forehead on the wall, feeling him bury himself inside you. “Shit…yes, Mr Choi…”
“Such bratty pussy.” He spanks both cheeks once more, watching the recoil of your flesh. “My perfect bratty little pussy…bet you’re so used to misbehaving. It won’t be like that around me.”
He took one deep, languid thrust, automatically groaning, “Fuck,” then released his hips.
You immerse in his plunder of your voice, letting it ache in need as you repeat his name. Meanwhile, your internal temperature rises with the collision of his lap and your ass growing harsh and unforgiving. Pinning your wrist together single-handedly, he lets his other grip reclaim your hair, dragging your body to him for his own use. “You feel so fucking good around me.”
He tenses his torso to take sharper strikes, pulsing deeper and quicker. Your hand slides on the solid surface in front of you, pushing yourself against him as you take every inch. Your jaw drops low, echoing a hollow whine, devoid of incoherent thoughts and instinctive response.
Seungcheol lets go of your wrists and instead sandwiches them between your back and his chest. He finds the front panels of your shirt and tears it apart similarly you did with his, echoing that familiar sound of buttons being abandoned on the ground.
“Because you deserve the same thing to happen to you,” he softly mutters, only to cup your cladded breast hungrily, squeezing your flesh to the point it spills out of the material as his teeth kiss your neck, “and because I couldn’t stop looking at these when you’re walking around that see-through blouse by that window we share.”
Thinking about the fact that you share something made his intention all the more intimate, and you cling to his body like saran wrap due to the simple fact. You melt as he marks your body with bites, the stinging resonating on your goosebumped skin. “I wear that because of you,” you manage to squeak, “only because you wear that t-shirt that clings to your body during the summer. How it got damp from sweat fixing that broken bookcase. God, is it satisfying to rip your shirt off.”
“That window was always the culprit, hmm?”
He pries you from where you stand and drags you to the referred structure with you giggling after him. There he bends you over the dining table placed strategically in front of it, while your ass points towards the glass screen. His spanks come flying, tenderizing the already raw and blistered skin, “This damn window you always linger by.”
His nails dig into your kneaded flesh and he fits his cock right where it belongs, plunging back inside you as he secures your head against the table. “The way I wanted to fuck you on this exact table, spank this cute fucking ass,” he roughly tugs your head up, watching your tits bounce as he ruts in you like a damn dog, and meets your warm wide-eyed gaze, “Spit in that slutty, brat mouth.”
Your lips part without delay, death gripping the edge of the mahogany, and your tongue slings out enthusiastically. He breaks out in an amused grin before it melts back into a smolder, gripping you closer until he hocks a hot load of salvia in your mouth, forcibly closing your jaw with his hands.
“Hold it,” he commands, seeing the subtle frown on your face as you obey. He smiles sinisterly, hands on your hips as he slams you towards him, watching your head bob at the harsh rhythm. He places his palm over the column of your throat, teeth clawing your cheek. “Now swallow, you slut.”
He feels the shift in your throat as it goes down, relishing that light gasp of breath leaving your lips, “Good slut. You’re finally learning.”
His power, his strength, his cadence were inexplicably captivating and you succumb to his every whim. It only intensifies as you drink in his delectable lips, so soft in contrast to the abrasive snap of his hips, hitting in a spot so sensitive you don’t even predict it coming.
Your moan resonates through the entire first floor, palming the dinner table as you ride out your high in teary anguish as Seungcheol’s pace doesn’t seem to falter, in fact, it seems to have grown angrier. Furious.
“You fucking slut,” he spits, rubbing your overstimulated clit in the thick of your climax, squeezing the tears out of your eyes. You clutch his forearm in desperation, writhing uncontrollably. “S-Seungcheol—“
“Misbehaving again, I see.” He pulls out of you to flip you on your back. He watches at your hot cheeks expel heavy pants, sweat filming your entire torso, and eyes rolling to the back of your head. “You’re still conscious; you haven’t had enough just yet.”
Dragging by the arm, he takes you against the tempered glass, chilling your bare spine. He lifts your legs off the ground and holds them on either his side, stuffing himself back into you. Your heat drips around his cock, and he catches it in his thrusts, pressuring you to feel every inch of his cock rammed inside.
Your ass and the pads of your fingers press against the glass, smudging its once-pristine sheen. “Mr.Choi…”
He strokes your cheek, fondness in his eyes before it lowers to your throat and closes around it. Then his eyes penetrate through you, eying you in a dark allure as he robs you of breath, and catching the daze in your eyes as he ponders in thought.
“What are you thinking dirtying up the thing you took so long cleaning with your fingerprints and cum, hmm? Marking your claim on the house you've spent all day and night on looking perfect? A house far from being yours? How does it make you feel?”
“…Exhilarating,” you sigh shallowly, staring back at him with a smile. Your arms loop around his neck, finding security and embracing his vigorous nature. “Like it’s all worth the painstaking labor to make a complete mess of it.”
He groans at your answer, reconnecting your lips in what feels like an eternity, and cradles the side of your face endearingly with one hand still around your neck. His lips devour yours, swallowing your moans, jerking his hips, and savoring the velvet of your walls clench around him so deliciously.
“You were just as worth the wait. Made my job so damn hard thinking your pussy wrapped around my cock, made me fucking blank out most of my day. Not a good move for me, but–really–I blame you,” he slams you against the window before quickly returning to his rhythm pace.
“You and your perfect body—” He grinds up into you, relocating your sensitivity and you whimper, “—Your sexy fucking voice when you greet me,” and he finally, makes notice of your face, using that hand that crushed around throat now gripping your chin, “—or this beautiful face that I couldn’t wait to see contort when I push my fucking cum inside.”
Usually, you know better than to let that kind of thing happen, but after the long duration of having only distant contact, his offer becomes tempting—alluring even—that you knew someone had to physically pry you off of him until you were filled with his seed. “Well, you’re so good with kids, wanna make some of your own?”
Seungcheol beckons closer, grinning mischievously, “Should I? You want me to put my babies in you? Fill you up with cum?”
You mewl at the thought, bringing his warmth closer, “I’d be so full…taking your fat cock and all your hot cum inside me…it’d be a dream, especially knowing how good you’re taking care of us, especially me.”
“You’d want that, hmm,” driving himself into you until you're lost in your own world again—losing the grasp on reality—and he persists. “You want my cum making a mess of you and this house just so I could put some babies in this pretty cunt? Hmm? That what you want?”
You nod mindlessly, anchoring yourself to him until he finally lets up. When he does, you feel the power surges through you as if you’re fresh new battery, the electrical current being the cum he shoots up into you. You let yourself ride this high, rocking into his hips, and soon your weight takes over, deducing you to a puddle. He takes his final pumps, cooing softly at your lips as you share a kiss, then drops you back on the dining table, letting you catch your breath as the cum spills slowly out of you and stains the floor under your feet.
He stands between your legs, tracing over the texture of your thighs, and his other hand claims your waist, meeting your face with a tired but tender smile. “Hi.”
You softly chuckle, resting a palm on the back of his neck. “Hi,” you repeat back.
“So dinner?”
You playfully roll your eyes, bordering his hips with your legs. “Are you offering to cook?”
“My job requires me to, so yes,” he traces over your jaw, drawing in closer, “Wouldn’t want to feed my clients burnt Mac and cheese with their frozen Dino nuggies.”
“True,” your arms lock at the elbows around his neck, “But what else can you make besides Mac and cheese with Dino nuggies?”
“That is the question, isn’t it?” He answers vaguely.
You finger through his hair and notice how his perspiration has left him mouthwateringly disheveled, quietly contemplating how to stretch out this vacation time. Your solution: never leave each other’s side.
“I’ll tell you what. We can think about what to eat…after a shower. “
You retrieve his hand, tugging him in your desired direction and he follows graciously with a knowing grin. “We can do that, but we both know that shower will end up more dirty than clean.”
“Good thing I’m an expert in keeping a clean home, now it’s your turn to clean my home.”
His dimple graced his cheek, visibly interested. “My pleasure.”
summary: you’re a hostess that’s drowning in debt, and jisoo is a man with too many secrets to keep. making a clean break for it isn’t as easy as you’d hoped.
word count: 18.6k words
tags: mafia!shua, strangers to lovers, angst, smut
warnings: shua smokes cigarettes & has tatts...i think that should be a warning LOL, mentions of shady mafia business but nothing detailed, graphic sexual content (minors dni!!)
notes: psa that this is a fic i originally wrote for another fandom, but decided to repurpose for svt! in case you find the narration familiar, it's posted on ao3 as a genshin fic, i just did some tweaks to the story to make it fit shua better hehe ++ i loved writing this so much, but it didn't get as much love as i expected back so i've decided to share this w caratblr as well :')
smut tags: dub con in one of the earlier scenes, protected & unprotected sex, shua & reader are both whipped as fuck
Your current patron groans with contempt at the manager’s announcement. He was a salaryman that’s probably in his thirties, and has been visiting the bar for about two weeks now. It didn’t take long for him to become one of your regular guests.
“Rei, you’ll be here tomorrow, right?” he asks.
“Of course.” You flash him an apologetic smile as you untangle the arm that circles your waist. “I promise we’ll continue where we left off when you get back~”
This is how you normally appeared to your customers – the bubbliest escort in the entire red light district. It’s easy to lull men into a false sense of connection when you act so sweet and lovely; when you smile like the sun is in your eyes even in the middle of the night. In just six months of working in this place, the manager has considerably taken a liking to you, and you intend to keep up that track record just a few weeks more.
Then, you’d be free.
But no matter how much you doll yourself up for the evening; no matter how much money is signed on your paycheck, you can’t help but feel that something’s amiss.
It’s a lingering thought that tickles the back of your head every now and again. Your fellow hostesses once told you that feeling the way you do was all part of the job. So once you start feeling uncomfortable in your own skin – under the gazes of your own lecherous patrons – you pour yourself a drink and throw your head back with a ditzy smile. Despite that steadily growing void in her heart, their beloved Rei will continue to grin and bear it.
“They’re here again.”
You flash the manager a puzzled look once you make it back to the counter. “Who are we talking about?”
She presses her lips into a thin line, gesturing vaguely somewhere behind you. You manage to follow her line of sight discreetly, but when you see a pair of men in rugged suits seated near the entrance, your heart plummets to the pit of your stomach.
“I know you said you’ll deal with them, but they’re starting to unnerve the other girls,” the manager explains quietly. “Is it okay if you take care of this ASAP? I don’t want the bar to get mixed up in something bad.”
Dread sinks its claws into your skin as you mull over a response. The manager has been considerably patient with your dealings involving those loan sharks. But part of you knows that she’s only being this lenient because you were good at your job.
“Yeah, sorry. I’ll go talk to them now,” you mumble.
Each stride you took feels like a step closer to your own grave. It’s always these same, two men keeping tabs on you – both with full sleeves of tattoos and a missing finger or two. It would make sense that the other girls didn’t like them lingering around the property. After all, your first instinct is always to steer clear every time you see them.
“How can I help you?” you ask sweetly the moment you arrive at their table.
The first one glares at you through his tinted sunglasses, taking a drag of his cigarette none-too-discreetly. “Cut the crap. You know what we’re here for.”
He says your real name in a way that sounds like two sheets of styrofoam gnashing in your ears. You look around warily, hoping no one heard him.
“I go by Rei in my workplace, so I’d appreciate it if you addressed me as such,” you speak sternly, refusing to take a seat in their company. “What do you want this time? Didn’t we agree that I’ll be paying for the last installment this month?”
The second man snorts before bringing out an envelope from the lapel of his coat. “You sure about that? You got some nerve actin’ all feisty with the people kind enough to loan ya some cash.”
You accept the envelope with trembling hands – brows cinched as you take out the document inside. But the longer you take to scan its contents, the wider your eyes become.
It’s an approval notice for a loan of five million won, signed under your father’s name.
“W-What is this?” you stammer. “We didn’t submit any more loan requests.”
The first man shrugs – wholly unconcerned with your plight. And as he kills his cigarette on a crystalline ashtray, you feel your entire world crumbling before your eyes.
“Your old man specifically told us,” he began, words sounding more and more like a threat with each syllable. “That you’d take care of it all.”
You don’t know how you end up running barefoot in the streets after that. Your heels have long been ditched in an alley when you realized you can’t exactly get that far in them. And now, you’re mindlessly shouldering your way through the late night crowd – tuning out the people yelling your name in harsh voices. Those men came prepared; they even stationed a couple of their goons around the area. You can only evade them now because the streets were so packed, but you know better than push your luck.
Goddammit, you think to yourself – cringing a little when you step on a wet patch of something underfoot. I was almost free…
“Don’t let that bitch get away!”
Your body seizes up when you hear the loan shark’s voice closer than you anticipated. Fuck. They have you surrounded.
In the midst of your momentary distraction though, you fail to see another person who’s also on the run. The same as you. While you did excellently in evading all the other passers-by, you ended up crashing into him in the middle of the busy street anyways – the impact making you stumble to the ground.
“Shit, sorry!”
You look up with misty eyes – staring at the perpetrator with the intent to glare at him, but his doe-like gaze takes you by surprise. He’s adorned with a neatly-pressed suit, dark hair slicked back to perfection as he holds out a hand for you to take; the one not gripping a heavy-looking suitcase.
“I’m okay…” you mumble, getting back to your feet without accepting his help. “If anything, I should be the one who’s –”
“There she is!”
The two of you bristle at the loan shark’s voice, and you’re rooted to the spot – frozen with fear. You don’t notice the way the stranger you just ran into flickers his gaze between your trembling form and the lackeys coming from every direction. And you’re ignorant of how he manages to put two and two together before seizing your wrist.
“Come with me,” he murmurs, tugging you along before you can protest.
You know you should be skeptical of him. The district you work in is the perfect environment for scheming assholes like the men who are after you to use as a stronghold. For all you know, this person is the same breed. But there’s something in his firm yet gentle grip that tells you he means no harm. Even as he makes you run faster, farther, you feel none of the dread that slowly crept on you the moment those loan sharks cornered you at the bar.
Your lungs are burning by the time you make it out of the busy streets – nothing but the chirp of cicadas ringing in your ears. Mystery man makes you sit on a bench just outside a small temple, and you’re not exactly in the position to refuse.
“Ow…” You wince, glancing down only to see that your toes have cuts all over; blood and grime mixing with the wounds.
“Hmm. Wonder what a pretty thing like you got herself into,” the man sighs, raking a gloved hand through his messy black hair. “You sure you’re going to be okay?”
You don’t respond. You barely have the energy. The silence only deepens as you train your eyes on the ground. Your throat was parched from all that running, and you belatedly realize that you still haven’t eaten.
What’s worse is that the cuts on your feet sting like a bitch. Mystery man heaves a deep sigh, and you clearly hear the sound of leaves crunching beneath his shoes as he walks away. You try not to feel disappointed.
You didn’t expect him to stay and comfort you or anything like that. He was kind enough to go out of his way and take you somewhere those goons won’t be able to catch up. It would be stupid to ask for more. But still, you feel that hole in your heart rupture itself even wider – leaving you so hollow that you can’t even hope to fill the void anymore.
Your makeup is running. Your pedicure is a mess. These are some of the things that you always cared to pay attention to before timing in for work. But now, with nowhere else to go, none of them seem to matter anymore. Even if you spent a significant amount of time getting ready for tonight, you can’t be assed to give a damn.
This is so fucking pathetic.
You don’t want to live like this – working at a goddamn cabaret club just to pay off the debts your father always keeps racking up. All he ever does these days is drink himself dead before dragging his ass to the nearest pachinko machine. You hate it. You hate him. What did you ever do to deserve all the shit that’s being thrown your way?
Why do you have to deal with all of it alone?
“Here.”
You startle at the sound of your savior’s voice – surprised to see him as he tosses something on the ground in front of you. He came back? But what did he…
Are those sandals?
“I picked out a pair that matches your outfit best. Women are always particular about that kind of stuff, right?” he says nonchalantly, kneeling to the ground as he brings out a pack of wipes from a plastic bag. At that moment, you realize that he’s changed out of his stuffy gray suit in exchange for a pair of jeans and a ratty t-shirt.
Even his hair seems different now, like he'd washed out the wax keeping it in place. Now, it looks just a bit damp as the tips curl at the edges. How he managed to do all that so quickly, you have no clue.
“Hold still. I’m going to clean you up.”
You wince a little when the cool, wet tissue comes into contact with your skin. He doesn’t speak as he wipes off the blood and dirt from your feet, and you’re more mortified than grateful for his kind but uncalled for gesture. Is he trying to get you indebted to him? Are you going to have to pay this back, too?
A few moments later, you spot a general store a few blocks away and the pieces start to fit in your head. That must’ve been where he bought all this stuff. You look around as he continues cleaning you up, and notice that his suitcase is nowhere to be found either. Instead, he has a black knapsack hoisted across one shoulder – a red baseball cap hanging from one of the straps.
How did he manage to buy all this and get changed so quickly? Or were you just sulking about your stupid predicament for that long?
“There we go,” he says, tossing the soiled tissues into a nearby trash can before covering your wounds with…cute band-aids? “I’m not really one to stick my nose into other people’s business, but my mom would never let me hear the end of it if she found out I left a poor woman for dead.”
Mom? “Okay, but you didn’t have to do all of…this.”
Mystery man glances up at you with a lopsided smile – the light of the street lamps somehow accentuating the color of his eyes. He looks so much younger like this; dressed down like a college student in his first semester. Once he’s put all the bandages in place, he even goes the extra mile and slides the newly bought sandals on your now-clean feet.
“You’re right, pretty girl. I don’t have to.” He beams. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to.”
Your breath catches in your throat. Your heart skips a beat. Everything about him is still rightfully suspicious, but you find yourself oddly happy with the care he’s given. This is the first time someone’s been so nice to you in a long while.
“Now that you’re good to go, I best be on my way.”
All of a sudden, that fleeting bliss dissipates in a puff of smoke. “...Wait, what? W-Where are you going?”
The man rises back to his feet, and it occurs to you just how tall he is. You swallow the lump in your throat, instinctively backing away from him on the bench. He’s still wearing that endearing look he showed you earlier, but when he speaks again, his voice holds none of his initial warmth.
“Somewhere that has nothing to do with you.”
The words lance through your heart the moment they leave his lips, and you ask yourself, why do you feel so…sad about parting ways with a complete stranger? You don’t even know his name. It shouldn’t be a big deal, right?
You don’t say anything as he takes his baseball cap and eases it atop his messy hair. You don’t utter a word when he starts walking away for real. But the moment you recall the fate that awaits you back at the red light district, the ridiculous debt your father had foolishly signed, and the pathetic life you’ve been wanting to escape from for so long…
Your new sandals crunch against the fallen leaves as you run after him. Your heart nearly leaps into your throat from the adrenaline, and before he can go any farther, you catch the mystery man by the hem of his shirt. He doesn’t even flinch. As if he expected you to follow him right from the start. That makes you wonder if he thinks you’re being a nuisance, but at this point, you can’t bring yourself to care.
“Take me with you. Please.”
He stares along with an unreadable look – his doe eyes shining in the dark as he watches you clutch onto the fabric of his shirt.
“If you come with me, you’ll never be able to go back,” he tells you up front. “You okay with that?”
In hindsight, maybe running away with a complete stranger isn’t far up in the best decisions you’ve made in life – god knows you’ve only made a few of those. Just because he showed you an ounce of kindness, doesn’t mean he’s a good person.
Still, the answer comes to you quite easily.
“Yeah,” you say, more confident than you’ve ever been. “Anywhere is better than a dump like this…”
He considers your answer for a moment before letting out a soft laugh. “This town must’ve fucked you up pretty badly, huh? Poor thing.” Mystery man holds out his hand again, and you’re a bit too glad that he’s speaking to you nicely again. “The name’s Joshua.”
“Joshua…?”
Well, that was obviously an alias. You consider telling him the one you go by at the bar as well, but when your eyes rivet to the floral sandals he bought for you on a whim, you immediately assume that you should tell him the truth. Even if he was doing the exact opposite.
You give him your real name with little hesitation, face warming at the intensity of his gaze. But at that moment, you don’t really care what happens anymore. All you want is to escape reality without looking back.
If you have to cling to a complete stranger to achieve that, then so be it.
...
“You were just about to ditch me, weren’t you?”
Joshua jolts like a cat dumped with ice-cold water – hand shying away from the doorknob of your hotel room with a sheepish look. “Me? Ditching you? You’re dreaming, princess!”
You let out an irritated noise, but your shoulders relax once you catch him plopping his bag on the mattress either way. He’s the one who told you that you can’t go back once you tagged along. You wanted to say that you’re going to make it his responsibility to take care of you, but your mother brought you up better than that.
Still…this all feels a bit surreal.
All your life, you’ve lived in the small town of Andong. You could never afford to make the trip to Seoul even if you wanted – given that a majority of your salary is dedicated to paying off those shitty loans. Yet now, you’re checked in one of the most beautiful hotels you’ve ever seen, courtesy of your stranger-than-life companion.
Now that you’re in a clearer state of mind, you start to consider the possibility of Joshua being a foreigner; if his name wasn't already a dead giveaway in and of itself.
Another thing you’re left thinking about is how well-off he really is. Not everyone can just book a fancy room at a fancy hotel. But when the two of you showed up at the front desk earlier tonight, he was surprisingly received with warm hospitality. Although, you suppose that all guests are treated the same way in high-end hotels. Not that you would know.
“Well, since we’re stuck together anyways, I’ll be showering first,” he grumbles, tossing his cap on the nightstand as he musses his own hair. “Ahh, I can’t wait to crash into bed.”
“Wait a minute. I thought we agreed I was going to shower first –”
Joshua shuts the door to the en-suite, clicking the lock before you can even finish.
That jerk…!
You angrily sprawl yourself across the mattress as a petty means of getting back at him. Let’s see if he can crash into bed comfortably now! But the abrupt movement makes the bag that Joshua left rustle in place. You shift around until you’re seated on the bed, taking a quick peek at the opened zipper. Somehow, it doesn’t surprise you to see thick wads of cash inside. You knew that you were right on the money to think there’s more to him than meets the eye.
The more rational part of you insists that you get out of here while you still can. That man is probably more dangerous than you think, and even if he’s acting all cheeky with you now, there’s no telling when he’ll decide to cut you off. You remember how quickly Joshua's mirthful countenance morphed into something…scarier when you asked where he was going earlier. Long story short, you do not want to mess with that.
“Hey, princess. It’s your turn.”
You scramble on the bed at the sound of his voice as you compose yourself in a way that doesn’t suggest that you’ve been going through his stuff. Joshua emerges from the bathroom with steam billowing from the doorway – a fluffy towel hanging low on his hips. But now that he was liberated from the confines of his clothes, you realize that his body was actually inked.
Twin koi fish curled around both of his pecs – accentuating the contours of his chest better than you’d expect. And when he turns around, there’s a massive caricature of a dragon splayed across his muscular back. You don’t know whether he’s oblivious of your observant stare or he’s just letting you enjoy the show. But either way, Joshua grants you an eyeful of his tattoos for a good amount of time.
He walks over to the table near the windows – grabbing a pack of cigarettes and a lighter you didn’t know he was carrying around. Joshua takes a stick between his teeth, and you can’t peel your eyes away from the way he takes a drag after he lights it. But when his deep brown gaze finally flickers to yours, you’re not quick enough to disengage.
“So how long are you going to stare at me for?” He asks, amused.
Eye twitching with annoyance, you grab one of the pillows on the bed before throwing it right at his face. Joshua manages to catch it before that happens though, much to your dismay.
“None of your business!”
It’s only when you get under the spill of a hot shower that the gravity of your situation finally hits you. You absentmindedly scrub away the grime off your body as you think that you might’ve followed someone you shouldn’t have. Now that your prior amazement from seeing his tattoos had come and went, you realize that he didn’t have them inked on a whim. They were a symbol of status and power.
Working as a hostess means that you get to know a lot more shady guys than you’d otherwise meet under normal circumstances. But apart from those nasty debt collectors, you’ve done a great job at avoiding a lot of them. But now, you willingly waltzed into the den of someone that’s probably ten times worse.
Great.
You put on a bathrobe before heading out of the en-suite, peaking your head out of the door to make sure Joshua isn’t doing anything weird. But all you see is a tall man dozing softly on the bed – his still-wet hair dampening the pillows slightly. You sigh before padding back inside the room. Didn’t he ever learn that sleeping with damp hair is going to make him catch a cold in the morning?
For some reason, you end up grabbing a small, dry towel he left on the table – intent on patting down some of the moisture. Joshua lays still on his side, undisturbed in his slumber. You make sure you’re careful with how you dab the towel across his head; not really wanting him to wake up in the middle of it. But now that you’re close enough to study his face, you can feel yourself growing embarrassed. Joshua's thick lashes lay softly across the skin beneath his eyes, and when you look closer, you can almost see the tiny spots that dot his cheekbones.
You don’t like to admit, but he’s actually pretty…handsome.
A while later, you come to terms that you won’t be able to pat down his hair thoroughly if he’s asleep. That’s when you decide to towel dry your own hair for ten or-so minutes before climbing into bed with him.
The sheets feel smooth against your skin, but that does little to keep your mind off the fact that a gangster (at least, you assumed he was a gangster) is sleeping right next to you. You tell yourself not to sneak any glances, but you end up doing just that anyway – admiring each detail of his tattoos without really meaning to.
Is this really okay? Should I really let my guard down around someone like him?
All these thoughts drift in and out of your head, but in the end, you succumb to the day’s fatigue. Joshua bought dinner for the both of you once you got off the train on the way here, so your hunger was already abated. But you figure that a good night’s sleep is what your body needs to completely recuperate.
…But if he’s kind enough to patch up your wounds and buy you dinner, then gangster or not, maybe he isn’t such a bad person.
Joshua, however, makes you regret even thinking that literally the next second later.
The moment you’ve found a comfortable spot on the bed, the man beside you suddenly pounces – caging you in his strong arms before you can even draw a breath. His lips twitch into a lazy smile that borders on devilish, and you immediately figure out that you’re fucked.
“You’re a sweet little thing, aren’t you?” he laughs, tracing the swell of your lower lip with his finger. “Drying my hair ‘cause you’re worried about me? Princess, I’d be more careful if I were you. After all…”
When Joshua leans closer, you feel his breath fan against your ear – making you hate the way your body shudders from the feel of it.
“I’m not a good man.”
You should push him away – you know you should. But from the hypnotizing strokes of his tattoos to the endless honey brown of his eyes, you find Joshua whittling down your defenses alarmingly fast. When his mouth descends onto yours, you welcome him despite your voice of reason screaming for you to stop – to get away while you still can.
But that’s the thing, you can’t get away. Not when you willingly followed him in the first place.
His body is impossibly warm against yours, and you can’t help but respond to his touch whenever his dexterous fingers graze your skin. But as you let him deepen his tongue-filled kiss, you suddenly recall why you’re even here.
Persistent loan sharks. A never-ending debt.
And you have the gall to be doing all this?
“Joshua,” you plead, mustering the strength to push against his chest. “Please, stop.”
He doesn’t listen. Instead, Joshua nudges the folds of your bathrobe apart, exposing your chest to the cold air of your hotel room. A large hand moves to grope your breast, languidly massaging the supple flesh. But the sensation of his heated palm on your cold skin is enough to snap you back to your senses, and finally, you manage to retaliate.
“I told you to stop!” you shout, folding your knee high enough to kick him in the chest. Joshua obviously doesn’t expect this, and grunts in pain as he stumbles backwards on the mattress. He stares at you with a puzzled look, as if he didn’t try to take advantage of you only a few seconds prior.
“I didn’t come with you to be your fuckdoll, asshole,” you growled, tears stinging your eyes despite the anger in your voice. “Just because I’m a hostess, doesn’t mean I’m easy. Who the hell do you think you are?”
You expect him to lose his temper – to ‘remind you of your place’. Because that’s how gangsters usually operate. Going for the things they want without considering the repercussions on the other people involved. When he reaches out to you, you brace yourself for the oncoming impact. But instead of a hard slap to the face, Joshua caresses the side of your cheek almost apologetically. You startle at his touch – flashing him a perturbed look.
“Sorry, my mom’s always told me that I can be a bit too into the things I do,” he chuckles, thumb grazing the high of your cheekbone. “And that I can be a bit selfish and presumptive. When I did all those nice things for you today, I expected you’ll return the favor by whatever means~”
You don’t even have the time to think about how this man just brought up his mother in a serious conversation. Instead, you scowl at Joshua like he’s just lost his mind. “Doesn’t that just make you a scumbag?”
“When did I ever say I wasn’t?” He laughs. “Didn’t you find it the least bit suspicious that I was being kind to you without asking for anything in return? I’ll have you know that everyone has ulterior motives these days, princess.”
“I did,” you snap. “And I’m glad I didn’t trust you right off the bat.”
“Oh? But you trust me enough to share this room with me?”
You open your mouth, close it, open it again, but alas, no wise retort comes out. He’s right. You knew that Joshua was suspicious from the start, but you still threw everything to the wind and ran away with him. It’s not like you can go back now that everything has gone to shit, though. And you can’t say with confidence that you can find a place for yourself here in the city with no connections nor cash either.
All you have is Joshua, as much as it pains you to admit.
“Come here.”
Joshua eases himself back to his side of the bed and holds out his arms – as if inviting you into his space. You respond with a bizarre look that makes him snort. “You think I’ll come anywhere near you after that stunt you pulled?”
“Hey, you don’t want to have sex. That’s cool. I’m not so much of a scumbag that I’ll force you to do it,” he tells you nonchalantly. “But can we at least cuddle? It’s been quite a while since I’ve felt the warmth of a woman.”
“...You’re really, really strange. You know that?”
“Mhmm. So I've been told.”
Gods, you’re tired. Downright exhausted. You just want to knock yourself out and forget about the misfortune of having landed someone like Joshua as a companion. You appreciate that he isn’t the type to coerce women into sex, but…ugh! This guy’s impossible to figure out.
…Still, you inch closer to his welcoming touch, biting down a sharp retort when you hear him chuckling softly at your surrender. Joshua wraps his strong arms around your frame, and you close your eyes – catching a whiff of a salty breeze in the air. You wonder if the scent is coming from the sheets or his wild, wild hair.
“This isn’t so bad, now is it?” he teases.
“Shut up and go to sleep.”
“Aww, you’re making an awful lot of demands to the person who saved you! I think I liked you better when you were bashful and on the brink of tears, princess.”
You scoff. “So not only are you a scumbag, but you’re also a sadist.”
“Mmm, I don’t have any objections about that, really.”
God, just what have you gotten yourself into?
...
If you thought your first night as Joshua’s unwitting travel companion was a big hassle, you’re certainly in for the ride for the next few days.
He’s always out during the daytime – feeding you excuses like he has to meet up with a couple of friends before leaving you alone and bored in the hotel room. It’s a good thing that the cable service here covered your favorite noontime soap operas, so you could kill time for at least a few hours. Joshua always returns before dinner, and orders room service while engaging you in small talk. He doesn’t tell you about his daytime escapades, nor do you ask.
But when the daily cycle repeats itself for the third time, you decide to put your foot down.
“Are you trying to get me to die of boredom or something?” you ask him once the bellboy takes away your food trays for the night. “I know you’re doing some super shady stuff somewhere out there, but would it kill you to show me around? First time I’ve ever been to Seoul and I’m confined in a hotel room.”
Joshua stares at you dubiously. “Princess, you’re not some inmate I’m keeping locked up in a cell. I never said you weren’t allowed to go sightseeing or whatever.”
You pause. Right, he never did say that explicitly… But you can’t really tell him you were too afraid to go out wandering on your own.
“Have you been behaving like I kidnapped you or something?” Joshua snorts, walking over to the windows to light a cigarette. Your face scrunches up at that. The room’s going to reek of tobacco smoke now. “How about this: let’s walk around the shopping district tomorrow morning. Besides, the spare clothes provided by the hotel are just going to rack up on the checkout bill. Might as well get you some better outfits instead.”
Looking down at your current attire, you can’t help but think he’s right. You couldn’t exactly bring any of your clothes with you on this very impromptu trip, and you refused when Joshua offered to lend you a bunch of his own. For some reason, a whole duffel bag full of men’s clothes arrived a day after you checked in, and when you asked Joshua about it, he simply said that he prides his men for always delivering the necessities for a trip.
His men. Meaning, this asshole is definitely a big shot kingpin of some sketchy organization and he’s just keeping his mouth shut about it. It’s a good thing that the staff offered to give you some hotel-issued clothes for a certain price, though. Like hell you’re going to prance around in a mafia boss’ clothes.
But…did you hear him right? Did Joshua just offer to take you shopping?
“Don’t you dare think you can buy my trust with material things,” you warn him, bringing your knees closer to your chest on the bed. “I’m still on to you.”
“So scary,” your companion chuckles, tilting his chin up before puffing out a cloud of smoke. He looks like he’s just about to follow that up with another jab to get on your nerves, but something seems to catch his gaze.
Then, you realize that Joshua is staring at your feet.
Before you can blurt out some offhand remark about a foot fetish, though, he asks, “You won’t be needing band-aids anymore, right? I can always run to the drugstore and get you some.”
“Yeah, you don’t have to do that. My feet are fine,” you insist before following it up with a softer, “But I might need a new pedicure, though…”
“What was that?”
“Nothing. What time are we going out again?”
The next morning, Joshua jostles you out of bed at seven A.M. sharp – much to your utter dismay. Judging by how never stays out too late despite his questionable business ventures in the city, it probably makes sense for him to be a morning person. He tells you that the shopping district doesn’t even open until nine, but the bastard insists that the early morning sun is good for your skin!
As he shows you around the main avenue, though, your initial unwillingness to go out so early in the goddamn morning slowly ebbs – having been replaced with pure, unadulterated awe because wow. The big city really is a sight to see. It’s so different from your hometown that you kind of regret not visiting sooner.
Thankfully, there are some places just outside the shopping district that open much earlier. Joshua escorts you to a nearby restaurant – insisting that you can order to your heart’s content. You receive the offer with equal parts bewilderment and concern, but cooping yourself up in that damn hotel room gives you little time to think about courtesy. If he’s willing to pay for your expenses, who are you to refuse?
Breakfast goes the same way all the other meals you shared with Joshua have gone so far. You try to probe his reasons for visiting Seoul as subtle as you can, but he always skirts around the topic with a face as smooth as butter. It’s obvious that he isn’t going to start talking about whatever undercover mission he’s on, so instead, you ask about his family.
“My family?” he repeats.
You nod. “Yeah. You brought up your mom like...twice already. Kinda made me wonder if a lunatic like you is actually a family man.”
“Hey! While you’re not wrong about me being a lunatic, I’ve yet to show you that side of me. That’s a pretty mean assumption.” Joshua pouts, scooping a spoonful of rice into his mouth.
You’re not even going to ask him to elaborate.
“Hmm… But I guess you could say I’m a family man,” he hums right after swallowing his food. “I’m an only child, but I've always wanted a family of my own, you know? Old suburban home, white picket fence, six kids, and a dog –”
“Six?” you echo. “Were you that lonely growing up?”
Joshua snorts. “Where I'm from, it's completely normal to have a ton of kids.”
“Where are you from anyway?”
“The U.S. Los Angeles, specifically.”
Los Angeles… Well, at least he's honest about that. His answer also proves your hunch about him being a foreigner.
“What are you doing so far away from home then?” you ask. “Won’t your parents miss you or something? Don’t you miss them?”
An emotion you can’t quite identify passes over Joshua's face – something grim and untouchable. You’re about to insist that he doesn’t need to answer or anything, but the look disappears faster than it surfaced and he’s back to flashing you a shit-eating grin like usual.
“Hmm, why are you talking about family when we’re out on a date?” he sulks. “You’re so unromantic. How about you teach me how to use chopsticks instead?”
You stare at him, puzzled. “You…don’t know how to use chopsticks? But your Korean is so fluent.”
He rolls his eyes. “Hasty generalization. Just because I can speak the language, doesn't mean I'm good at the other cultural customs, you know.”
Just like that, Joshua expertly makes you forget about all that talk about his family. He distracts you well enough until you finally arrive at the shopping district, and the first thing he does is drag you to a beauty salon.
“Uh, I thought we were buying clothes,” you tell him dryly.
He hums, already signing the clipboard that the lady behind the reception counter hands to him. “Didn’t you say you wanted to get a pedicure first?”
“...I was joking.”
“Well, I’m not.” He grins before pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll come get you in half an hour. That sound good?”
You can’t even let yourself feel the heat rushing to your face because Joshua is already sliding a black credit card onto the counter – the limitless variant that you can only dream of getting for yourself. What on earth is he doing with that bag of cash back in the hotel room when he had one of those the whole time?
“That’s a gorgeous boyfriend you have, miss.” Your beautician sighs as she massages your feet with moisturizer. “I wonder when I’ll get lucky to land a guy that hot.”
You’re compelled to tell her, no. That potential criminal mastermind is most certainly not your boyfriend. But the way this woman’s gentle hands press down on your toes reminds you of the night you met Joshua. How he went out of his way to clean the dirt off your feet without uttering a single word in complaint. How his eyes appeared so disarmingly brown that you can’t forget their color even if you wanted to.
And not to mention that innocent kiss he gave you before making his leave earlier…
Nope. Get it together, you chide yourself. That is the same douchebag that tried to have sex with you the other night. And are you forgetting the fact that he’s hinted at his own criminal activity several times now?!
But in spite of yourself, you respond to your beautician’s words with a gentle smile.
“I’m sure you’ll meet him soon.”
…
“Joshua, this is way too much.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, thank you for spoiling me rotten, but what the fuck? Who buys a hundred thousand won's worth of clothes for a woman he barely knows?”
“Does it matter? Not to brag, but I’ve got lots of cash to burn, princess.”
“...That’s – That’s not the point!”
It’s not even lunch time but you’re already arguing with Joshua over his irresponsible expenses. Like, sure, this all totally works in your favor, but you still have a shred of decency at least! He’s already bought you three expensive dresses, a nice pair of designer jeans, and some chic-looking heels. He got you the last one from the store the moment Joshua noticed your stare lingering too long on the display window.
You used to joke around with your old college friends about getting a sugar daddy in the past but… Is this really the right way to go about it? Why does it feel like you’re doing something illegal?!
“Don’t you like them?” he asks, lower lip swelling into a pout. “We can always pick out something else. Oh, I forgot to make you choose a swimsuit.”
“...What do I need a swimsuit for?”
He spares you another conniving smile, taking something out from inside his jacket before showing it to you.
“Are those…” You gape at him. “Plane tickets?”
Joshua nods like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Yep. We’re going on vacation to Jeju Island. Doesn’t that sound exciting?”
No, it doesn’t! Not in the slightest!! Okay, maybe you’re a bit curious to see what Jeju's famous coastlines have to offer, but… That doesn’t explain why Joshua is so willing to spend unspeakable amounts of money at the drop of a hat. You wonder what’s so damn special about you for him to keep spoiling you like this, but then again, maybe he’s never been frugal to begin with. Unlike yourself – who’s always had to work for every penny just to make ends meet.
The realization dawns on you like a sucker punch to the gut. Sure he’s kind enough (more like, crazy enough) to let you tag along with him, but the fact that the two of you live in completely different worlds only starts to sink in at that moment.
Right now, Joshua is donned with a maroon shirt with the buttons done only up to the middle – giving you a glimpse of those tattoos you’ve never grown tired of looking at. He matched it with a black leather jacket and a nice pair of trousers, looking like a million dollars in every single way. Even if you managed to change into a more stylish fit compared to your hotel clothes, you still feel grossly inferior – not that the two of you were on equal footing in the first place.
This isn’t all that different from that sinking sensation you always felt in the bar – a feeling like you’re somewhere you’re not supposed to be. Somewhere you don’t belong.
Joshua is a goddamn big shot, and you? You’re just a parasite. You don’t deserve all of this finery. You don’t even deserve his company at all.
If he notices how you’ve gone noticeably silent as he leads you to an athletics store, Joshua doesn’t bring it up. He merely holds up all the bags of unnecessary purchases in one hand, and your own hand in the other. You don’t fault the lady at the salon for thinking this guy was your boyfriend. To an outsider, the two of you must’ve looked like a couple in their mid-twenties.
But even if he practically jumped you last time, you know better than to expect more than what he’s already giving you. Besides, you didn’t run away with Joshua just to get together with him…
Right?
“Does this look okay?”
You come out of the dressing room to show Joshua the swimsuit he picked out for you. He glances up from his phone, and you try not to let the mesmerized look on his face get to your head.
“You’re looking real sexy right now, princess,” he admits – pocketing his phone as he walks to the front of your stall. “I knew it. Blue really suits you.”
“Quit saying weird things,” you mumble, shyly draping your arms over your chest. “Do you want me to get it or not?”
“More importantly, do you want to get it?”
“H-Huh?”
All of a sudden, Joshua pushes you back inside the stall – locking the door behind him before you can utter a protest. There’s a serious look on his face that you don’t get to see a lot, but you don’t get to ponder on it much. He’s quick to place both of his large hands on your shoulders, making you face the full-body mirror inside without any delay.
“Do you not like receiving gifts, gorgeous?” he whispers, and you hate how your skin prickles at the new pet name. “You’ve been so against everything I bought for you all day, even though you’re the one who picked them out yourself.”
“Joshua –”
One of his hands starts to descend, brushing across your arm and onto the curve of your waist. His other hand teases the straps of your bikini top, sending involuntary shivers running down your spine. To make things worse, your breath hitches as you meet Joshua’s gaze in the mirror – piercing doe eyes holding you hostage with a single glance.
“Or maybe you don’t like receiving gifts from me,” he considers. “Well, I am a bad guy. If you want me to cut it out, you can tell me up front. I just hate seeing that look on your face.”
“...What look?” you whisper – trying your best to distract yourself from the heat of his touch.
Joshua sighs as he rubs your exposed skin tenderly. “The look you make when you’re sad. You’ve always been making that look ever since we left for the city. Honestly, I’ve even considered sending you back home a couple of times -”
“No,” you cut him off sharply. “D-Don’t send me back. Please. Anywhere but there.”
You don’t even notice that your own hands moved on their own accord – palms placed on top of his much larger ones from where they now rest on your hips. Joshua stares at your reflection with wide eyes before he sighs, burying his face in the hollow of your neck.
This is a dangerous position to be in. He easily covers your body with his own, and you can only do so much to hold back the noises threatening to spill from your lips as Joshua massages your sensitive skin.
“Then why do you keep refusing me?” he murmurs, teeth grazing the column of your throat. “From what I recall, you’re the one who came to me, princess. I thought you’d be more thick-skinned than that. Other women would kill to be in your place, you know.”
“That’s because I don’t get you, Joshua,” you argue, biting your lip when he starts to suck on your skin. “Y-You can be an ass at times, but you still do all these nice things for me anyway. You’re even splurging a shit-ton of money for no good reason. I get that you’re loaded but…why? Why are you being so kind to me?”
He lets out a soft laugh that reverberates sweetly across his chest – you feel the vibrations from where he presses himself behind you, and you have to clench your thighs together to stem your pooling desire. “You’re not used to being treated well by the people around you, huh?”
You scoff – the accusation stinging more than it should. “You think?”
Joshua doesn’t respond immediately – letting himself get a feel of your pliant body for as long as you allowed it first. He tries to familiarize himself with how your skin feels against his fingers; where your erogenous zones are, and the other spots that make you blush like a schoolgirl. It’s a bit selfish of him to delay such an important answer, but Joshua is nothing if he’s not selfish.
“When I was assigned to go to Korea, my…employer gave me an ultimatum – one that involves my family back home,” he tells you quietly. “If I don’t go back to L.A. with substantial results, they’ll be the one to suffer the punishment.”
Suddenly, you could see through the sensual haze that hung between the both of you seconds prior. Shock paints itself raw on your face as you blurt out, “You were blackmailed?” God, no wonder he didn’t want to talk about his family.
“Heh. I’m used to being blackmailed, pretty girl. It’s part of my job,” Joshua speaks nonchalantly. “But…that doesn’t mean I didn’t drag my ass here, nearly overwhelmed with anxiety. I’d kill a man if I was ordered to do it, but if my family’s lives are at stake? Anyone would be terrified.”
You feel your heart sink at the way his expression shifts into something more melancholic. Joshua exchanges his suggestive caresses for a proper embrace. He hugs you from behind, breathing in the scent of cheap shampoo still lingering in your hair.
“What does that have to do with me?” you whisper. “I don’t understand…”
“When you bumped into me at Andong that night, you kind of snapped me out of it,” he chuckles. “I couldn’t think of anything else but my job and my parents, but then you came along. Honestly, I was only supposed to help you get away from the assholes chasing you but…”
“I ran after you…” you continue, feeling more embarrassed than you should.
Oh. You don’t even have the right to feel like shit for being with Joshua because you chose to be here, dammit! Why do you keep forgetting that?
“Exactly.” Joshua hums as he snakes an arm in front of your stomach, pushing your body against his chest. “I’m not always this territorial, you know, but you practically offered yourself up. Do you know what that does to a guy like me?”
You shouldn’t find it so fucking hot when his other hand trails up from your navel, your chest, all the way to your neck – thick fingers pressing down your throat with ample pressure. Your gazes meet in the mirror, and you don’t miss the near-manic glint in his eyes as Joshua holds onto you possessively.
“Now tell me, princess. Do you want the swimsuit or not?”
You can’t help the shuddering sigh that escapes your lips. At this point, you have no choice but to let him buy you the damn thing. You’re pretty sure Joshua’s aggressive display is enough to make you soak through your bottoms, and it’s not like he’s going to take no for an answer either.
“I’m sorry,” you whisper as he eases his hand away from your neck. “I’m just…not used to wearing all of this. It’s like I’m not meant to. I’ve always just settled with clothes that go on sale, you know.”
“...Well, how do you feel about the stuff I give you?”
“Um. They’re all pretty, I guess?”
“Do you wanna wear them?”
“O-Of course.”
Finally, Joshua peels himself away – only to twirl you around to face him directly. His tousled black hair is sticking out every which way, but all you can focus on are his rich brown irises, nearly drowning you in those endless pools of honey.
“Then you better wear them unapologetically,” he tells you, tucking a tuft of your hair behind your ear. “A princess needs only the finest garbs. Why do you think I call you that all the time, huh?”
“To get a rise out of me?”
Joshua barks out a laugh. “I guess I can’t say no to that. But anyways, the point still stands: I’ll give you anything and everything in the world. All you have to do is ask.”
After what seems like an eternity inside that damn dressing room, you manage to kick him out of the stall before putting your clothes back on. You end up replaying everything he just told you like a broken record. Anything and everything? This man is a different kind of delusional.
But you can’t really afford to think about it much. Just as you thought, the evidence of your rather…risqué encounter with Joshua is lathered across the inseam of your bottoms, and you shamefully wipe it off with a napkin you nabbed from the restaurant.
When the two of you head back to the cashier to make your nth purchase of the day, you’re vaguely aware of the other sales persons stealing glances at you and Joshua. Well, if you were in their shoes, you’d certainly find it odd why it took almost thirty minutes for you to try on a damn swimsuit. But fortunately, Joshua's reputation precedes him even at a shopping center all the way in Seoul. None of them dare to speak to him, much more raise any complaints.
“Couldn’t you have waited to sit down and have the talk with me back in our hotel room?” you groan once you make it out of the store. “I’m sure those guys think you fucked me in the stall or something.”
“Would you like that?” Joshua teases, and you’re sure he would’ve pulled you close to him if only his hands weren't full of shopping bags. “Does my princess get off on the idea of being fucked silly in a dressing room?”
“Don’t push it, asshole.”
You meant to punctuate the words with a borderline scowl, but all that makes itself known on your face is a sheepish smile that you can’t quite bite down. Joshua notices this, of course, but instead of making you flustered about it like usual, he offers to flag down a taxi on the way back to the hotel instead of walking.
The last thing he needs is to ruin your new pedicure, after all.
...
A week later, you and Joshua arrive at Jeju Island.
You didn’t even consider the possibility of this place having an airport. All this time, you assumed that sea travel was the way to go for them. But you were surprisingly greeted by the sight of a modern-looking terminal as you and Joshua waited for your luggage. He’s been quiet for the whole ride, and you’d be lying if you said that doesn’t concern you even a little. Joshua not running his mouth just to piss you off means something was up.
But when the two of you finally make it outside, he’s back to his usual self.
“So, do you want to sample Jeju's finest mandarin orchards, or do you want to settle down at the hotel first?” he asks with a chipper smile. “Though you do look like you want to take a nap.”
“I do,” you reply, yawning as you lean against his shoulder. “Can’t we just cuddle today?”
“Oh? You’re offering cuddles for free? Who are you and what did you do my princess?”
“...Cringe.”
“Wha – Did you just say I’m cringe?!”
Your banter is interrupted by a man in a suit clearing his throat. You stare at him with thinly veiled confusion, wondering what he needed.
“Sir Joshua. We’ve been anticipating your arrival.”
…Sir Joshua?
“Oh, Chan. I didn’t think you’d be the one stationed here,” your companion greets the man with a smile – plucking your duffel bag from your grasp before handing it to the newcomer. “Tell the driver to bring us to the hotel first.”
Chan nods swiftly. “Understood, sir.”
That’s how you find yourself in the backseat of a high-end limousine – speeding through the scenic roads of Jeju as you and Joshua bask in the silence. He’s busy talking to someone on the phone, but you can’t bring yourself to eavesdrop on their conversation. It feels wrong to do so.
Instead, you let yourself wonder what he has planned. After he fulfills his mission, what then? Is he going to take you back to L.A.? You’re not so deluded to think that he’ll stay here with you when he has a family waiting for him. But the idea of traveling all the way to his homeland makes you a little queasy. You’ve just gotten used to visiting far-away places in Korea. You think you’re going to need a bit more momentum before packing up to the other side of the world.
…Does he work well in the cold? You barely see him sweat even in the humid air of the summer. Maybe Joshua is the type of person who can easily adapt to the current climate. When that train of curiosity starts to pick up, though, you realize that it’s a little hard to stop.
You want to know more about him. About his habits, his quirks, his family, and his work. He obviously likes you enough to keep showering you with gifts. Of course, you’ve tried asking a few questions about those in the past, and Joshua merely brushed them off with a laugh.
But things are different now. Ever since that…fateful encounter in the dressing room, he’s been more open with you. More up front about the things going on inside his head. If you push the right buttons, then you might be able to understand him a bit better.
Joshua pockets his phone about five minutes later, leaning against you before circling his arms around your waist. “Hmph. Can’t believe I’m still forced to think about work.”
“You can always just switch off your phone,” you suggest jokingly.
He only sighs in response, and you pat his head gingerly as a means of comfort. “By the way, I planned on scheduling a trip for Sunrise Peak, but turns out, it's closed to tourists for the weekend.” Joshua looks up at you, pouting. “Sorry, princess. I can only take you to the beach.”
He was planning a visit to Sunrise Peak? Well, you haven’t seen it with your own eyes yet, but the fact that Joshua is intuitive enough to hazard guesses about what you might and might not like…
You want to familiarize yourself with him, the same way he so effortlessly does with you.
Not giving him any leeway to pull back, you grab his face and mesh your lips on top of his. Joshua doesn’t respond for a few seconds – and you can almost imagine him staring at you with wide, brown eyes. But eventually, he laughs into the kiss before pressing his mouth firmly against yours.
“That’s fine by me,” you murmur.
As long as I’m with you.
...
Your hotel room back at Seoul was one of the best you’ve seen, but the one here on Jeju just set the bar even higher.
Once the two of you have settled down in your suite, you gaze around in awe at the interior. Everything is mostly made out of wood, which further adds to the appeal of it all. Seashell curtains, exotic carpets, hand-made wind chimes – they have it all. Not to mention, this room in particular comes with a private pool just by the balcony, along with a view that overlooks the sea. Joshua teases you about how excited you are – just like a kid on a school trip – but you decide to let his impudence slide.
“Aren’t you going to swim with me?”
You gaze at him sulkily by the edge of the pool, watching as Joshua smokes a cigarette on top of a folding chair. He’s already changed into his swimming trunks – having removed his shirt and other accessories. Yet he still refuses to get in the pool with you. Still, Joshua gets up from his chair with a soft laugh, padding closer as he crouches over the edge.
“You should know about the delicate art of having a smoke while watching your girl have fun,” he tells you, taking a drag as if to prove a point.
Your eye twitches. “You’re the one who picked out my swimsuit, so you better have fun with me!”
Despite all his bravado, you don’t miss the look on Joshua's face when you yank on his leg – the forward momentum easily making him topple into the swimming pool. You let out an unflattering laugh as he flounders in the water for a few seconds before Joshua rises back to the surface with an annoyed look on his face.
“Hey, I don’t remember you being this much of a brat, princess,” he grumbles, picking off the doused cigarette floating in the pool before tossing it back on the concrete.
“That’s my way of telling you to quit,” you say, snickering to yourself. “Seriously, it always smells like cigarettes in our old hotel room. The smoke detector must’ve been busted or something… Joshua?”
While you prattled on about the fact that you disliked a habit that he probably formed years before he even met you, Joshua waded through the water and cornered you by the side of the pool. You gulp, observing how the water glistens across his skin as his tattooed chest stands proud for you to see.
“You know, I noticed a little something over the past few days,” he whispers – mouth twitching into a no-good smile as he reaches a hand to cup your jaw. “You really like staring at my chest, don’t you?”
“Wrong. I like staring at your ink.”
“But it’s still staring, isn’t it?” Joshua breathes out an airy laugh before planting a kiss on your forehead – the same way he did that time at the beauty salon. The patch of skin that’s grazed by his lips burns when he pulls away, and you hate how the sensation spreads across the rest of your face.
“How about we get you inked someday?” he offers.
“Me? Getting a tattoo?” You blink. “Uh, I used to think about getting one when I was still in college, but…?!”
All of a sudden, this bastard places his hands on your waist before hoisting you out of the water like you weigh nothing more than a bag of rice. You scowl at him, thrashing around and splashing water everywhere. But Joshua doesn’t seem to be bothered by all your flailing. He even seems to be observing your lower body like he’s trying to figure out how to chop up each part for later.
“Hmm… I think one on your thigh would suit you,” he says, lowering you onto the edge of the pool. “Navel tattoos are pretty hot, too.”
“But what’s the point if no one can see?” you huff.
“Hey, my tatts are always covered,” Joshua reminds you. “That’s because only a select few are deserving to see them.”
His words ignite a surge of heat inside your chest. If you weren’t blushing before, you certainly are now. “...You think I’m deserving, then?”
Your companion spreads your legs wider, easing himself into the space between as he holds your thighs firmly in his hands. Joshua stares into your eyes with a gaze that’s meant to devour. You’ve always found it odd how much self-control he can actually exercise. Apart from the first night he tried to pounce on you, and that little escapade in the dressing room, he never once tried to make any moves on you again. For someone who talks big about how possessive and territorial he can be, Joshua is being awfully ascetic.
“Of course you are,” he murmurs. “Once we’re done here, I’ll bring you to the best tattoo artist in L.A. He’s the one who did both of my pieces.”
Something about the promise in his words makes your heart leap with delight. He’s…going to bring you to Los Angeles?
“Are you going to let me meet your parents, too?” you half-joke, shying away from his intense gaze.
“Why not?” he asks. “My mom loves independent girls. You’ve only been relying on yourself before you met me, right? That’s pretty awesome.”
You shrink away from the compliment, unused to being praised about that segment of your life. “I’m not sure how she’s going to react about me being a hostess, though.”
Joshua shakes his head. “Believe it or not, you’re one of the few people who can put me in my place, sweet girl. I’m convinced that she automatically takes to someone like that.”
“So you’re a problem child, then?”
“Ehh, can’t say I’m not.”
Just when you thought he’ll finally let his self-restraint snap, you and Joshua end up talking about his life in America by the poolside. He tells you about how his father taught him how to fish in the lake the next county over, how to hunt and survive out in the wilderness. He tells you about his mother, and how he’d do anything just to guarantee her safety; even if it comes at the expense of his own. He willingly divulges all his fond memories of his hometown, but not once does Joshua allude to anything involving his work.
You try not to take it so personally. After all, in spite of the drastic development in your…friendship? Relationship? Either way, it doesn’t change the fact that you’re someone he hasn’t really known all that long.
But as the two of you marvel at the twilight sun sinking on the faraway horizon, it seems that Joshua managed to read your mind.
“Can you believe it’s only been two weeks since we met?” he chuckles, hand inching closer to rest on top of yours.
“Nope,” you sigh. “I feel like I’ve known you far longer than that.”
“Heh. Time really flies when you’re having fun, does it?”
You couldn’t have said it better yourself. Honestly, you can’t even recall the last time you had fun. During the past few months, each day passed by painfully slowly. Despite being adored as Rei the hostess, you never had fun back at the bar; nor did you have fun coming home to your alcoholic of a father.
As you glance over at Joshua – whose face is generously lit up by the soft orange light – you wonder if it’s really okay to turn your back on your life and just live the rest of your days by his side. It’s only been two weeks, but there was never a dull moment with him. But can you even afford to be more selfish than you already are?
“You really have a staring problem, you know that?”
“...Do you have a sixth sense or something?”
“I’m a trained fighter, princess. I’m supposed to know when I’m being watched.”
There it is – his first casual mention of his line of work.
You can’t exactly narrow down the possibilities of what exactly it is that Joshua does for a living. You’re pretty sure that he’s in the same type of business as those loan sharks, but on a much larger scale. What’s more is that he’s trained to fight – as if his purpose lies more on confrontation than diplomatic relations. Him being stationed all the way here in Korea gives you a slight clue that he might be trying to settle the score with someone on behalf of his employer, though you can’t really say for sure.
But…you purposely shove all these thoughts in the back of your head as you lace your fingers around his neck – bringing his forehead against yours. Joshua doesn’t resist your advances. He even gazes at you with the prettiest eyes you’ve ever seen, a hint of fondness shining in his vibrant irises.
Before meeting the man in front of you, you’ve always assumed that love takes time. You can’t call it love if you don’t even know the person that well! This is the very same thing you used to tell patrons who wanted to start a serious relationship with you back at the bar. But Joshua?
You don’t know how, but he managed to fill that void that’s long been tearing your heart to shreds. That seemingly ephemeral emptiness; the hollow space resting deep inside your chest – he filled it all up in the span of two weeks. Whether it be with all those expensive gifts and trinkets, or his worthwhile company alone, you don’t feel empty anymore. You feel so blissfully whole that you’d gladly lose yourself in him if it meant you never had to feel alone ever again.
“Shua, can I ask for something?”
“Heh. This is new. You never ask for anything,” he comments, and you still smell traces of tobacco in his breath. “What is it? Anything my princess wants, I’ll give to her in a heartbeat.”
On any other day, you would’ve chided him for saying something so cheesy – as if you haven’t gotten used to the way he speaks to you. But now, with the early evening breeze blowing all around, and the man who reminded you how it feels to be alive sitting so, so close to you…
“Can you make me yours?” you whisper.
Joshua stares at you, a low laugh rumbling in his bare chest. “You were already mine the moment you asked to come with me. Or are you forgetting that?”
Hot. His hands are hot against your hips – going lower and lower as he teases the ridge of your bottoms. God, you just want him to get it over with. You want him to grab your ass and take you by the poolside right here, right now. But you know, all too well, that Joshua isn’t going to let himself fall into the depths of his own depravity like that. Not until you give him a clearer sign.
“No…” you murmur, hoisting your thigh over his hips until you’re straddling his lap. “I want you –” You press your breasts against his lean chest. “To make me –” Your fingers trail up his neck, tangling them in his wild black hair.
“Yours.”
You expect him to tease you like he always does – with that irritatingly handsome smile of his. But Joshua's eyes grow half-lidded as you press yourself closer to him, and you could’ve sworn his grip on your hips only became tighter.
“You’re playing a dangerous game, pretty girl,” he warns you huskily. “I don’t want you to end up being the sore loser after I’m done with you.”
You chuckle, lips grazing his forehead, his eyelids, his nose. When you reach the spot just over his lips, you let your own hover for just a few seconds longer.
“I know,” you tell him. “I know, and I’m ready to lose.”
If it’s you, I won’t ever mind.
Joshua lets out a strangled noise, like he’s barely holding on to what’s left of his own sanity. You’re slightly elated at the information. That just means he’s about to let himself go. To ravage you like you deserved.
You’re not sure if it’s because of his own urgency or he’s just showing off. But Joshua makes a quick display of strength by picking you up while you’re still on his lap and getting back on his feet at the same time. He wastes no time mending your lips together – carnal and hungry and all sorts of impatient. Your legs immediately circle around his hips, and you bemoan all the days you wasted not getting kissed stupid by him.
But you console yourself with the idea that right now, you have all the time in the world.
...
The floorboards are damp with pool water, and so are the sheets. But you hardly notice it as Joshua strips you of the swimsuit he so carefully picked out for you. He tosses the spandex somewhere on the floor, and you even hear the wet plop as it hits.
You feel like you should be cold – fresh out of the swimming pool and all – but the heat of Joshua’s body steadily permeates into yours, and can’t help but lean closer, closer, as close as you can –
“I love you,” you whisper in-between kisses, feeling the evidence of his own arousal grinding against your own. You think the words don’t have as much weight when you’re doing something so openly intimate, but you don’t care.
He laughs, the sound sending tingles straight to your toes. “You sure you’re not just getting caught up in the moment, princess?”
You still have it in you to flash him a sulky pout, bringing his face right in front of yours as you spare him all the adoration you have in a single look. You desperately want him to know just how much you love him. You want him to carve this moment into memory and think of it even when the two of you are apart.
You want to anchor yourself so deep into Joshua that he can’t forget you even if he tries.
“Do you think I’m lying?” you whisper.
He sighs. “No.”
When he mouths the words I love you back in his own lust-fueled kisses, your heart soars; your body heats up – becoming more and more receptive to his lingering touch. Joshua’s lips never stray too far, even as he lathers the slick that’s collected between your thighs. His long fingers tease your entrance with the intention of seeing you squirm, and you hate how much you love it.
“Been waiting for you to come to me…for so long,” he growls, sliding two fingers inside you with embarrassing ease. “Do you know how hard it is to control myself around you? Especially after that time in the dressing room?”
Huh, so even he still thinks about that day. You giggle at the ferociousness of his words, but the wanton look in his eyes softens when you caress the side of his face.
“Two weeks isn’t a long time, Shua,” you tell him.
“It’s long enough if you’re as pent up as I am.”
As he works his fingers between your thighs, you can’t help but sneak a glance at the hard length straining against his abdomen. It’s been a while, so your mouth practically waters at the thought of Joshua sinking his thick cock inside you – fast and hard and everything you’ve ever dreamed.
But your attention is promptly ripped away when he curls his fingers just right, catching on a patch of spongy flesh that has you writhing underneath him. Joshua smirks at that, uncoiling his thick digits as he continues slowly pumping them inside. Your juices are starting to drip on his hand – a testament to just how badly you want him.
When he makes you come, all you see are the vibrant brown of his eyes – like honey in the spring. Joshua looks at you with so much love and longing at the same time, you nearly sob in his embrace.
Despite the implication that he’s no longer going to be patient, Joshua lets you reel your own consciousness back from the throes of pleasure – kissing your forehead tenderly as he caresses your sides.
“Do you want to go all the way?” he asks, but you already see him stroking his own cock from where he lays beside you. “Remember, I won’t force you into anything you don’t like, princess.”
You shake your head, still lightheaded from your orgasm. But still, the clarity of your desire shines through. “I…want you, Shua. Want you inside me.”
He sighs in a way like he just doesn’t know what to do with you. At your request, Joshua reluctantly peels himself away – earning a mewl in protest from you that he appeases with a kiss.
“Stay put, pretty girl,” he murmurs. “I’ll make you feel good in a minute.”
Joshua climbs out of bed and walks over to the dresser buck naked. But you can’t even bring yourself to tease because he’s got such a shapely ass. Not to mention, you get to see the dragon tattoo on his back again. Even if you’ve developed a fondness for the twin koi fish on his chest, there’s just something about this piece in particular that’s always left an impression on you.
True to his word, Joshua comes back to bed with you as he tears a condom open with his teeth. You have half the mind to tell him that opening it like that isn’t very safe, but when he rolls the rubber on top of his throbbing length, you’re suddenly too bashful to speak up.
He spreads your thighs apart, making himself at home in the space in between. You just know he’s getting a kick out of the way your body trembles as he rubs the head of his cock along your glistening seam.
“Shua,” you whine.
“You want this inside you?” Joshua teases, dipping himself into your entrance only to pull away before you can even feel an ounce of satisfaction. “C’mon, talk to me, princess. You know I like it when you’re being honest about the things you want.”
“Please…”
“Hm? What was that?”
You hate him. You hate him so much that the feeling gradually bleeds into love. And if you aren’t already whipped for this jerk, you don’t know what this obsessive feeling inside you is anymore.
“Please fuck me,” you whimper. “Make me come on your cock.”
Joshua breathes sharply through his nose as he leans forward, grabbing both of your wrists as he pins them above your head with one hand. He uses the other to guide his length to where you want him most, and the moment before he finally, finally breaches your entrance, he whispers:
“What the princess wants, the princess gets.”
He muffles the broken moan that catches in your throat with his own lips – his lean arm going around your waist as he presses his hips flush against yours. You’re dripping enough arousal onto the sheets that Joshua doesn’t even have to take it as slow as he expected. You instinctively clench around the hard length inside you, memorizing the way he stretches out your walls, and Joshua responds in earnest with an impertinent groan.
There’s no room for words anymore. All you know is the sound of skin against skin and your mouth almost never parting from his. Joshua fills you until the void you feared might swallow you whole becomes nothing but a tiny speck in your soul. You wonder if it’s enough to be two separate people, and not just one. His touches, his kisses – they aren’t enough. And even when he pushes himself so impossibly deep, you still find yourself wanting, craving, yearning for more.
You’re insatiable. You love Joshua so much that your heart overflows with it. Maybe you’re simply deluded because he’s the first person who’s treated you like you were important; and not just some forgettable girl he met at a bar. But that doesn’t change the fact that you want him to hold you, and touch you, and love you until you forget everything else but the syllables of his name.
He practically folds you into the bed a few moments later as he mouths his professions of love along the curve of your neck. You lock your legs around his waist to keep him as close as possible – not wanting to be apart for even a millisecond. And Joshua seems to share the same sentiments as he embraces so you’d never leave his grasp.
I need you, you wish to tell him. He’s already giving you so much and more, but you still need him. It’s the kind of hankering that nearly scares you because how can you ever live without him now? But the flames of your own, all-consuming desire quickly recede once he captures your lips in a soft, almost sensual kiss.
“I love you,” Joshua tells you aloud.
You know it should be impossible because your lovers from the past have never even tried to get you to orgasm once they were done with you. But the moment he utters those words, and shifts his hips at such a delicious angle, he promptly pushes you over the edge – making you thrash and shudder underneath his weight as you mutter his name like a string of prayers.
You just hope that the gods are generous enough to let you have him forever.
…
The beaches in Seoul and Andong pale in comparison to Jeju's – you promptly realize this when Joshua brings you out to the shore a few days later.
“I’ve never really enjoyed going to beaches until now,” you admit, laughing a bit as Joshua reaches for your hand and twines his fingers with yours. “I’m surprised you even have the time to come all the way here despite being on the job.”
He shrugs casually, and at the same time you care to admire how he looks in a tropical-printed button up that’s completely undone at the front. “Well, my deadline isn’t all that strict, pretty girl. I’m sure I can afford a quick getaway with you.”
You smile at him sweetly while the both of you stroll along the beachfront. Sometimes, the waves reach out to the shore far enough for the water to reach your toes, and you squeal in delight every time you do. You’d be lying if you say you didn’t expect Joshua to tease, but when you look at him, he merely looks back like you’re the most precious thing in the world.
Like all lovers spending their morning on the beach, the two of you agreed to collect the prettiest seashells you can find. Though it was a bit hard, since there are a couple of signs indicating which ones you’re allowed to bring home, and which ones you should leave alone. Something about maintaining the ecosystem around the shore.
But about half an hour before lunch time, Joshua calls out to you at the edge of the property.
The sundress he made you wear today flutters around your thighs as you make your way to his side. He’s crouched down on the sand as he picks up a peculiar brown shard.
“Wait,” you start, taking a closer look. “Is that a seashell? A broken seashell?”
“Seems like it,” he replies, retrieving the other pieces he can still salvage from the sand. “This doesn’t look like all the others we’ve seen though”
Joshua takes your hand and pressing the fragments into your palm. When you take a look at them, you realize the pieces are the same color as his eyes.
“Do you…” you begin shyly, “want to make matching necklaces out of them? They’re a bit jagged now, but I know a jeweler back in Andong who –”
“Oh? So you do want to go back,” he jokes.
“Fine, never mind then.”
Joshua’s laughter is slightly muted by the oncoming waves. Once your momentary annoyance fades, the two of you sit on the sand with your legs sprawled – letting the water tickle your toes.
“I know I made a pretty bad joke just now, but can I ask you something?” he wonders.
“What is it?”
“It’s about the loan your dad supposedly took without your knowledge.” Joshua starts tracing idle shapes in the sand as he speaks. “You seemed in deep shit the night I met you, and I just wanted to know if there’s anything I can do to help.”
With his money and influence, you’re sure that Joshua could pull a few strings to get those debt collectors to lay off you. But it won’t really matter if you never go back to Andong, right? Still, you tell him about the five million won that your father suddenly loaned. How those loan sharks told you that he said that you’re going to pay for it all – on top of your remaining balance for the month. Just recalling it was already enough to piss you off all over again.
At the end of your story, though, Joshua ends up snorting with amusement.
“Sounds to me like you’re being tricked, princess,” he chuckles. “No one can rack up a debt that high unless you’re a trusted confidant. I’m sure the Korean mafia has limits to how much they’re willing to loan other people at a certain given time. Those loan sharks probably tricked you and forged the document because you were paying out the previous debt properly.”
Your jaw practically drops to the ground. “They tricked me?”
“Seems like it. And now, you have grounds for a lawsuit! Maybe. I’m not sure, but I can help you pay for a lawyer if it all gets down to it.” Joshua shrugs. “Anyway, now that you know that the loan was probably a scam, why don’t you go back and talk to your old man? Isn’t he the only family you have?”
Your dad… Well, now you feel a bit bad for judging him so harshly. It doesn’t change the fact that he’s an alcoholic and a gambler, but you do see him trying to be better from time to time.
“Yeah. My mom died when I was in high school, and it’s just been us ever since.” You tell him all this without meeting his eyes, unsure of how to react if he gazes at you with pity. But Joshua doesn’t offer his condolences, nor does he try to cheer you up. Instead, he suggests something that you probably should do.
“You should go back to your father,” he whispers. “I’m sure he’s worried sick.”
The waves wash upon the shore again, and this time, you actually turn around to look at him. Is he serious? Is this the same, so-called territorial man you met two weeks ago? If any of the things he’s told you were true, that’s the last thing you expected for Joshua to say to your face.
“If your father isn’t behind that loan fiasco, then you should at least let him know you’re okay, princess,” he tells you sincerely, rubbing your hand with comforting circles. “You’re the last family he has left, and I’m sure you know what loss does to a person.”
You sit there in the silence, letting Joshua’s words simmer inside your mind. You suppose that he’s right about everything. Those assumptions you made about your father are unfair, and you shouldn’t just abandon him now that Joshua helped clear up the misunderstanding. You know all these things, and you recognize them as what’s truthful and right.
But…why does Joshua sound like he’s saying goodbye?
“Okay, I’ll do that,” you say, forcing your voice not to tremble. “But once you finish your mission, promise that you’ll take me to L.A.?”
He stares at you with equal parts surprise and disbelief – his handsome face twisting with a grin so lovely, you wonder why he never smiled at you like this before. Joshua shakes his head before rising back to his feet, hoisting you up by your waist as he spins you around.
You shriek in bewilderment, telling him to put you back down. He doesn’t relent right away, but once Joshua finally heeds your desperate request he sets you down on the sand – placing a chaste kiss on your forehead.
“Alright, princess. What do you want to do there?”
You puff out your cheeks, not liking how it sounds as if he’s teasing you. Nonetheless, you give him the straightest answer you can manage.
“I want to meet your family. Your parents. Your friends. Everyone,” you tell him. “I want to go fishing because you love it so much, and it helps you meditate.”
Joshua hums. “America is leagues different from Korea, though. You sure about that?”
“Hmph. You’ll make a nice tour guide, won't you?”
“Heh.” He moves closer to wrap his arms around your frame, embracing you so firmly that you can’t help but melt into his touch. “Of course I will, pretty girl. But what do you want to do after we do all that?”
You flash him a puzzled look. “What?”
“Since we’re planning so far ahead, we might as well plan until the end, right?” He chuckles, one hand going to the side of your face as he touches you tenderly. “What else does my demanding princess wish for?”
For a moment, you consider his question seriously. What happens after? Well…
“I want to travel,” you say. “I took up an international relations course when I was in college ‘cause I always wanted to see the world.”
Joshua nods. “And?”
You gulp – unsure if what you’re about to say is a bit selfish or not. “Well, getting to see some places around Korea with you was the best time of my life. And I’m sure it’ll be just as fun if we see the world together.”
It sounds like such a juvenile dream, now that you think about it. But sometimes, even the most childish desires can lead to the most unforgettable experiences. You only decided to tag along with Joshua on a whim, and it turned out to be one of the best choices you’ve ever made.
You just hope he feels the same way, too.
He nods again, a pesky smile rooting itself on his face. When Joshua kisses the hand that isn’t clutching shards of broken brown seashells, you can’t help but blush.
“What the princess wants, the princess gets.”
It’s already high noon by the time the two of you conclude your seashell hunting session, and Joshua is already complaining about breakfast not being heavy enough. You let your gaze linger around the beautiful beachfront just a bit longer, wondering if you can visit this place again with him in the future.
“Joshua?”
He pauses mid-way in his rant, gazing at you with curious, brown eyes. “Yeah?”
You crack him a warm smile. “Can you tell me your real name?”
The ocean’s waves reach your ears again in the silence, as Joshua stands in front of you like you’d just unraveled all the secrets of the universe. You don’t miss the way his emotions seemingly conflict in his eyes, but in the end, he spares you the truth anyway.
“Jisoo.”
“Do you love me, Jisoo?”
He crosses the distance between you before you can even breathe, kissing you so deeply that you’re a little concerned that some of the hotel staff might be watching and judging you on the sidelines. But you know better than to give a damn about what others think when you’re with Joshua – no, Jisoo.
When he pulls away, you can almost see the ocean glimmering in your lover’s eyes.
“More than anything in the world.”
...
Despite that romantic morning, you can’t help but feel like something bad’s about to happen. Your mother used to tell you that you should always trust your gut. And right now, your gut is telling you that everything that’s making you unbelievably happy right now is going to disappear right before your eyes.
The anxiousness that comes with all that foreboding does little to help you keep up appearances, too. During dinner, Joshua – because he asked you to keep calling him that in public for your own safety – was telling you about the time he almost got run over as a kid, and you completely spaced out in the middle of it.
Of course, your sharp-eyed lover is keen enough to notice just how distracted you were. You attempted to make excuses for your lack of focus, but one thing led to another, and you ended up spilling wine all over your new sundress.
And now here you are, sulking in your bedroom as Joshua makes the arrangements to have your dress dry-cleaned on the intercom before you have to leave.
“Is something wrong?”
His voice comes out so softly, you nearly miss it. He sits with you at the edge of the bed, reaching out to clasp your hand in his much larger ones. The gesture is comforting, but your unease doesn’t fade away.
Should you tell him about this weird gut feeling? But you don’t want him to worry about you when this is probably just something trivial. Yet, you’ve always been weak to your own emotions. Before you can even cook up another half-baked excuse, the tears have already started streaming down your face.
“Everything’s going so well,” you sniffle, turning to him with misty eyes. “Y-You’re right in front of me but… Why do I feel like you’re already slipping away?”
Joshua's face doesn’t betray any sort of emotion. His honeyed eyes merely flicker down to where your hands are intertwined, and you don’t know if you should take that as a good sign or not.
“I’ll always be with you, you know,” he whispers, letting one of his hands trail up to the new necklace sitting on your throat before the other moves to wipe away your tears. “Always.”
A traveling jeweler offered to fashion a necklace out of the seashell fragments you found once you got back from the beachfront. And while this isn’t the work of your acquaintance from Andong, they managed to carve out the shell to resemble a heart. They even charged you for the labor only, and gave the chain for free. At first, you wanted to refuse, but these pesky feelings were already bothering you at the beach.
Is it so bad for you to want a tangible representation of Joshua’s promises?
The fact that he wears a similar necklace eases your troubles a bit. It makes you think that maybe it’s really all just in your head. Though you know better than to think you’re out of the woods.
That night, he undresses you with unspoken apologies imbued in each kiss. You wonder if he’s sorry for unintentionally making you feel this way or something else. You don’t know. You don’t care. Because when you’re on the verge of collapsing from all these unpleasant feelings, it’s Joshua who holds you together before you can shatter into a thousand pieces at his feet.
That’s right… Joshua – rather, Jisoo always fills you to the brim. He fills you with so much love that you can almost forget what it feels to be void; what it feels to be empty.
But in the midst of it, he pulls away with a regretful sigh. “We already used up the condoms I have, princess. This is as far as we can go.”
“It’s – It’s alright.”
He snaps his head in your direction, beautiful brown eyes rigid with shock. But you don’t give him any leeway to feel guilt nor hesitation. When you pull him down with you to the bed, he doesn’t strain against your touch.
Jisoo is the reason why the life you thought was so dull suddenly has more color to it now. He taught you to have a little more hope for the future. To reevaluate the past for what it actually is. And most of all, he’s the one who taught you how to treasure yourself as you are in the present.
If this is the last night you’ll ever share with him, then you’re going to make the most out of it.
...
“So we hop on a plane to Incheon, a train to Andong, and talk to my dad.” You list down the day’s itinerary before glancing at Joshua for confirmation. “Sounds like a plan, right?”
“I dunno, princess. Meeting the parents always makes me nervous,” he chuckles.
“...So you have met the parents of other girls.”
“Hey, that was only one time!”
You and Joshua managed to head over to the airport fairly quickly the next day – with a lot of time to kill before your plane actually leaves the island. The two of you decide to hang out in the waiting lounge, but this reminds you to not be too early for your flights next time. Apart from those weird negative feelings you had last night, boredom is your greatest enemy.
About thirty minutes before boarding time, you carelessly let slip that you’re craving some coffee right now. Joshua is quick to get on his feet and get you one from a nearby vending machine, of course. But just when he’s about to take a seat right beside you, he blurts out:
“I’m really glad I met you, princess.” He smiles, handing you your drink. “Even if you’re growing more and more bratty as the days go by.”
“You’re the one who made me like this, so deal with it.” You huff, before following it up with a much nicer: “But…I’m glad I met you, too, Jisoo.”
You half-expect him to clamp a hand around your mouth for calling him by his real name, but Joshua simply lets his head rest against your shoulder, holding your hand as tenderly as he always does.
“Hey, I’m just going to go out for a real quick smoke.”
Joshua informs you of his unnecessary need for a cancer stick just when you’ve settled into your seat on the plane. You scowl at him as he places that knapsack full of cash into your arms.
“We’re about to take off, you idiot!” you whisper. “Can’t that wait until we land in Seoul?”
“Nope.” He beams at you. “I won’t be long, don’t worry~”
And then he’s off.
“Goddamn chainsmokers,” you mutter, angrily plopping the damn backpack to the vacant seat right next to you.
As you watch the scenery in the airport unfold from the window to your left, you catch sight of your own reflection despite the bright light outside. Your hands trail up to the modified seashell around your neck, twirling it fondly between your fingers. This is the first solid proof of the time you spent with Joshua. You’re sure that he’s going to spoil you with even more gifts when you get to L.A., but this one is probably going to be your favorite for a long, long time.
After all, this seashell is the same color as his eyes.
Suddenly, you hear a clicking sound coming from above, and when you glance around, you see that the seatbelt sign is lit up. A soft voice flits through the speakers, informing all passengers that the aircraft is ready for takeoff. Frowning deeply, you call the attention of a nearby attendant.
“Excuse me, my boyfriend isn’t here yet.”
She stares at you, puzzled. “I’m sorry, miss. But we confirmed that all paid passengers are already in their seats.”
At that second, your world crumbles. The void begins to rip itself back into your heart. The attendant asks if there’s anything wrong, but you dismiss her with a shake of your head.
Why do I feel like you’re slipping away from my fingers?
As you sit all alone in that plane, you realize that your mother was right all along.
You should’ve trusted your goddamn gut.
...
Joshua smokes through half his pack of cigarettes when he makes it outside the airport – lingering by the parking lot as he watches each plane soar into the sky. He has no idea which one you’re on, or if you’re even still here on Jeju Island. But with each painful drag he forces into his lungs, he finds himself praying.
Praying that you’ll forgive him for what he just did. Praying that you’ll be able to find happiness even without him.
His phone rings before his guilt gets the better of his emotions. The name S.Coups flashes on the encrypted caller ID.
“Took you long enough to pick up,” the informant sighs. “For someone who’s in dire need of intelligence, you’re acting awfully lax, Shua. Let’s see… You’re looking for Jeonghan. Is that right?”
He kills his last cigarette under his heel – all those feelings you effortlessly stirred up inside him dying along with the waning flame.
“Bullseye,” he replies, voice tinged with his usual mirth despite feeling like he’s just lost everything good in his life. “You got anything for me?”
Yeah, that’s right.
You don’t need someone like him to be happy.
…
The hotel room you booked for the night is small and quiet.
When you shut the door behind you, the sound rings in your ears – loud enough to emphasize that you’re all alone. You decide not to pay it any mind before dragging the rest of your luggage further inside.
When you arrived at Incheon Airport a few hours earlier, you couldn’t even muster up the tears. All you felt was that familiar emptiness that never seemed to leave you alone until Joshua came into your life. A dreadful void that was twice as massive now that you got a taste of how it feels like to be whole.
Once you’ve claimed your baggage, you wasted no time ushering yourself out of the terminal. You’ve long decided to stay in Incheon for a while, given that you couldn’t exactly meet your father in such a state. But before making your way to the nearest hotel you could find, you made it a point to stop by a convenience store to buy a lighter and pack of cigarettes.
For someone who’s more loaded than you could ever hope to be, Joshua liked smoking cheap brands. He told you it’s because those things could easily be bought anywhere. But his reasons for the odd preference were the last thing on your mind as you light up the first stick – taking a long drag that ends up making you cough out smoke and brings tears in your eyes.
You fucking hate cigarettes. This is going to be one of the cold hard truths in your life. You hated them when you still worked as a hostess, and you hated them every time Joshua had the gall to smoke one in front of you.
…But this is the only piece of him that you have left to cling to. You like to think that each stick can help fill the void, even if it’s just smoke and ashes and false hopes. You always wondered why Joshua couldn’t bring himself to forego the habit. But maybe – just maybe – there’s also a void inside him. One that can’t easily be filled, the same one you’ve always struggled with.
Before that train of thought can fester any longer, you kill it along with the fifth cancer stick you’ve had for the day. The ashtray is full of cigarettes you could barely smoke past the filter, but you’re not about to give a shit.
In the solitude of your room, you wonder if you can ever forget those sunsets in Jeju. How your toes sank into the sand. How the salty ocean breeze tossed your hair around. If you close your eyes, you can still feel it on your skin.
But most of all, you ask yourself – can you ever forget Jisoo?
His eyes. His hair. His stupid tattoos. You abhorred how he always smelled like cigarettes, yet you’ve locked yourself up in some fancy hotel room to smoke a few just because you’re left with a ridiculous amount of laundered cash. Along with the bags full of those pretentious gifts he gave you, you selfishly kept the money because you deserve the goddamn means to take a real break from it all.
You don’t pay attention to the rest of your luggage – eyes solely focused on the knapsack lying idly on the mattress. Against your better judgment, you force yourself back to your feet, padding towards the bed as you open the zipper.
Cash, cash, another wad of cash. You scoop every single piece out of the bag for no real reason. Is this solving any of your problems? No. Does it help you vent out your feelings? Yes.
Stupid Jisoo, and his stupid fucking promises. Well, he never explicitly promised you anything, but still! What kind of evil maniac lets a hapless maiden fall in love with them, only to leave them hanging? Not all unfortunate ladies who’ve been pathetically led on by a handsome man were left with hundreds of thousands of won as some sort of compensation, sure. But that didn’t change the fact that you were fucking grieving.
You wanted to shout. To break something. To curse Jisoo Whatever-his-last-name-is so he can never find another woman like you. But once you reach the bottom of the knapsack, your anger is quick to go up in smoke.
There’s a red baseball cap inside – the same one Jisoo was wearing the night you met him.
You didn’t cry when you realized the love of your life had left you without saying goodbye. You didn’t cry as you carried your luggage alone in the airport. You didn’t cry either when you marched into this lonely, lonely hotel room.
But somehow, seeing that bright red cap made everything crash over you like a tidal wave.
“I thought you loved me more than anything in the world,” you murmur to yourself, holding that silly hat to your chest like a goddamn lifeline.
“Was that a hoax all along...Jisoo?”
...
The small village near Silverwood Lake is remote yet accessible at the same time. It’s the heart of tourism in the lesser known counties in California, so it comes as no surprise to see a dozen people bustling in and out of the borders.
In that same town, a young boy with big brown eyes wanders around the market – dark tufts peeking from beneath a tattered baseball cap. Though he seems like any other local his age, he doesn't actually know the language. His English is still a bit lacking, but he swears half of the time that his mother teaches him bits and pieces when she has time.
Right now, she’s somewhere by the lakeside, talking with an important political figure in the town as his entourage shows her around the area. The boy wasn’t a fan of all those pleasantries, so he asked her if he could look around in the market instead. Like all mothers, her initial reaction was to tell him no, but eventually, the puppy eyes he’s practiced on her for years made good on their purpose.
Fine. Just don’t wander too far, Shuji. Promise?
As much as he dislikes breaking promises with his mother – he knows how sensitive she is about those, despite her age – the young boy figures that what she doesn’t know won’t kill her. He’s fifteen now. Even if he’s in a foreign country, he’s smart enough not to get lost in unfamiliar places.
So, when he finds nothing interesting in the market, the boy follows a merchant’s route that bypasses a huge forest. This is the road that he and his mother took on the way to the town, so he’s slightly familiar with the terrain. But still, the perspectives are warped when one traverses it on foot.
He follows the route just like he initially planned – admiring the looming pine trees rising everywhere he looked. His mother has taken him to all sorts of places because of her job, but America might make it to the top of his list at this rate. Though, his eyes are quick to spot a fork in the road – one barely visible unless you know what you’re looking for.
The boy glances around, but no one else is in sight.
Ravens caw overhead as he traverses the stray path. Dead leaves and crunch underfoot as the trees seem to grow thicker around him. Anyone else would feel terrified of being in such a place, but the boy has always had a knack for braving the unknown.
His courage is rewarded once he arrives at the end of the road, revealing a magnificent lake that he could never hope to see if he’d stuck to the main route. This one's different from Silverwood Lake. It's much smaller, and less polluted by civilization.
He stares at the scenery with wide eyes, taking out his phone from the pocket of his jacket before snapping a few pictures to show his mother for later.
“Hey, kid. What are you doing here?”
The boy startles at the sound of another voice, and he realizes that there’s another person sharing this view with him. A man, much older than he is, sits on a foldable chair by the edge of the lake – fishing rod in hand as he tosses the reel into the water.
“Just…looking around.” He only replies with broken English because he doesn’t think the stranger is someone sketchy. The boy even notices the sturdy looking crutch propped against his seat. “What are you doing?”
For a moment, the man simply looks at him before surprising the boy with very fluent Korean.
“Fishing. What else do you think it looks like, kid?” the man says a-matter-of-factly as he rakes his fingers through his dark yet graying hair.
He gulps before switching to his mother tongue. “There’s fish underneath?”
“Of course there's fish underneath.” The fisherman rolls his eyes. “You’re not from around here, are you? You lost?”
The boy shakes his head. “I told you, I was just looking around.”
“Okay. Tell your parents to come get you then,” the man tells him – growing slightly annoyed at his peaceful fishing session having been interrupted.
“My mother’s busy. My father’s a scumbag who left her alone.” The young boy shrugs. “I’m pretty much free to do whatever I want, mister.”
A few moments pass by in silence, and he wonders if he said something strange. But either way, the man’s irritation morphs into amusement. “Shitty dad, huh?” he chuckles. “That’s right. Don’t ever forgive the people who’d hurt your mom. What’s your name, kid?”
The stranger jolts his fishing rod before the boy can give an answer, hauling a fish out of the water right before his eyes before dumping his latest catch in a wicker basket.
“Jisoo,” the boy tells him. “But my mom calls me Shuji”
To his surprise, the man simply nods. “Cool name.”
“Aren’t you going to say it’s weird or something?”
“Now you’re just asking too many questions.”
“My mom said it’s common courtesy to exchange names on the first meeting,” the boy huffs. “So are you going to tell me or not?”
The man sighs. “You’re really demanding for a kid. Kinda reminds me of someone I used to know.”
“...I’m leaving.”
“Ah! Wait a sec, lemme just pack up and I’ll head back to the harbor with you. If you wander around, you might just get mauled by the wolves,” the man tuts, already putting away his reel before folding his chair back up. That’s when the boy notices a glint of brown attached to a cord around his neck. He squints.
Has he seen that necklace before?
But there isn’t exactly much room to ponder about that. The man is struggling to tidy up on both feet – clearly unfit to protect anyone from woodland predators. The boy wonders if he’s injured himself so badly before that the aftermath still lingers. But still, he finds it a bit awkward to just stand around, so he walks over to him with a defeated sigh, offering to carry the fish basket and chair in his stead.
“What happened to your leg?” he wonders.
The man brushes the hair out of his face, looking forward as he leans on his crutch. “Got fucked up by a bunch of…gangsters a few years back. Haven’t been the same since.”
“...My mom knows a lot of doctors all over the world,” the boy says. “I’m sure she can find someone who can help you walk normally again.”
“Hm? Aren’t you being too generous to someone you just met, kid?”
He frowns. “I was taught by mom to treat everyone with basic decency.”
“Heh. You really love your mom, don’t you? Does she travel a lot?”
“For work, yeah. She’s a diplomat.”
The boy wonders if this is really okay. His mother might just be mortified at the thought of her only son talking to a stranger like they’ve known each other for years. But there’s just something about this man that he can’t quite pin down. Something that makes it easy to talk to him, even if they only met literally ten minutes earlier.
Well, his mother was looking for fresh catches to have for dinner anyways. Maybe she’ll let his penchant for making friends in unlikely places slide once he introduces her to this strange fisherman with fucked up legs.
⟢ end notes: if you made it this far, congrats UEYRUEF I KNOWWWW i have a shit ton of wips waiting in line, but i've been contemplating abt repurposing this fic for joshua for SOOOOO LONG. after hearing some advice from a few friends, i decided to just go for it and viola! 18k words shua angst was born out of nowhere. i felt so EMPTY the first time i finished writing it, so i hope you feel the same way too :3c
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