synopsis: once every month, your boyfriend disappears for a week. radio silence, no calls, no texts. where does he go? and why is he so adamant on not letting you find out?
word count: 5.5k
warnings: fem!reader, swearing, some werewolf lore, smut, nsfw, unprotected sex, lots of mentions of bodily fluids, multiple orgasms, ruts and knotting, this is lowkey omegaverse don’t come for me, there are things happening here that are anatomically not possible, reader is horny and it makes her stupid
a/n: hello i am back again. this is kinda crack fic-ey in some places LMFAOOOOO but ykw who cares fanfiction isn’t supposed to be realistic anyway
kinktober 2025 masterlist
“I think you need to confront him.”
“With what? I have no evidence except my crazy, paranoid brain.”
An eyebrow raise, an incredulous look from your friend.
“I’m sure being gone for a week every month counts as evidence.”
You don’t answer, only pursing your lips in reply. You stare at your glass, still almost completely full as compared to Seungkwan’s, who has already downed one and is on his second. He isn’t drunk, of course. Not off one beer. So you can’t say his suggestion is coming from a place of intoxication. In any case, he’s right. Going off the radar monthly for a week is suspicious. Especially when it’s every month like clockwork, and especially because it’s your boyfriend doing it.
“Maybe his period is really bad.” Seungkwan jokes. You roll your eyes and finally take a sip of your drink. Seungkwan appraises you for a few moments, observing the troubled look on your face before sighing.
“You can’t keep going like this, Y/N.” His voice is more gentle now. “You’ve been seeing him for nearly half a year now. You deserve to know what he’s hiding from you.”
You shake your head. “I know him. He’s not a liar. He’s not a bad person.”
Seungkwan reaches across the table and squeezes your arm in reassurance. “I know that. I’m not saying he is. But this isn’t something that you can sweep under the rug. Wouldn’t it be better to find out now instead of continuing a relationship that makes you doubt?”
Seungkwan is right. Of course he is. Even if it isn’t something bad, you know you still have to ask Seungcheol about it. You have been putting it off under the guise that the relationship is still “new” and you don’t want to intrude into his space too soon and potentially jeopardize what you two have. Because you really care about him, maybe you’re in love with him too, and you don’t want to mess it up.
Seungcheol came into your life after a patch of bad dates. With every guy that acted like a complete asshole to you, you became more and more disillusioned with the idea of dating. But then you met him at a convenience store on a random Wednesday afternoon, where he showed up straight from the gym, looking for a bottle of water. You felt like an idiot with your soda and four sugary snacks, watching this absolute hunk buy just water and chug it down. But he noticed you, and he liked you enough to strike up a conversation. He walked you to your car, and you didn't hesitate for a second before giving him your number. He was handsome, kind and funny. There’s no way you could say no.
That was six months ago, and Seungcheol has proven to be an excellent boyfriend. He loves to dote on you and take care of you. He enjoys the little things, like lying in bed together to watch movies on a rainy day, or going for an evening jog and buying excess amounts of food on the way back. He loves showing you off to his friends, a tight knit group that often go out for barbecue and karaoke, insisting you join them. It always turns out to be a very fun night, and you look forward to it every time. He drives you home afterward, spends the night, and ends up taking you to heights you previously haven’t experienced in your relationships. When he kisses you, it feels like flowers blooming in your chest. You truly feel like you’re falling in love with him. He’s perfect in every way.
Except this one little thing.
Every month, for six days, Seungcheol disappears. And by that you mean truly disappears.
When it happened the first time, you called and texted, all of which remained unanswered. That was very unlike him. He always replies fairly quickly, or at least lets you know that he is busy. But not this time. Worry clawed at you. By day four, you had showed up at his apartment, and the door was answered by his roommate Mingyu, who was evasive about where Seungcheol was, and only promised that he would get back to you in a few days. He didn’t even let you in, which was so far and away from the kind Mingyu you knew. You had left confused and slightly irritated.
When Seungcheol came back, he was endlessly apologetic, saying something urgent needed his attention and he left town. He sat you down and explained to you that he needed to be absent once every month on some personal business, and at the time, you two had freshly started dating, so you just agreed. He was the best boyfriend you had had in years. You didn’t want to be difficult and drive him away. You already cared for him so much that it didn’t register how strange his request was, how much of a red flag it should have set off in your brain. You couldn’t imagine someone as wonderful as Seungcheol being involved in anything bad. And maybe that was naïve of you, but you convinced yourself that maybe it was something temporary.
But months passed, and it kept happening. You are more comfortable with him now, and now you want to know the reason because if you don’t then your mind will keep making up crazy explanations that will make you spiral. Is he cheating? Does he have a secret family out of town that he needs to see once a month? Is it drugs? God, you can’t take it anymore.
You and Seungkwan call it a night fairly early, since you both have work the next morning. It’s barely past nine when you get home, and you wonder if you should call Seungcheol over. He usually crashes at your place after wrapping up with work and the gym. But your eyes fall on the date, and you realise Seungcheol is due to ‘disappear’ tomorrow. So he likely won’t show up for the night and instead stay at his own place. Or go out of town. Or whatever the fuck he usually does in this one elusive week.
You feel irritation creep up on your brain. Fuck this. You open his chat and text him.
[me]: SOS. URGENT.
Then you wait. You sit on the couch and don’t answer the phone when he inevitably starts calling. You know it’s a shitty thing to do, but you don’t think you can wait for a week to confront him and stew more and more in your thoughts. And this isn’t something you can talk about over the phone. Whatever he needs to do can wait for one night of conversation. You know he will show up, so you just wait for the doorbell to ring.
And it does, followed by a series of heavy bangs, a call of your name, some cursing, before a key fits into the lock as he uses the one you gave him about a month ago.
Seungcheol comes barrelling into the room, out of breath and eyes darting around frantically. You feel a bit bad, but you can’t focus on that too much when something that smells earthy and grassy hits your nose. It’s not a bad smell, it’s actually quite pleasant. Like how grass smells after the rain. But it’s overwhelming and it clings to him. It’s nowhere near projected to rain, you know the forecast. So why does he smell like that?
You frown, staring at him. He looks unreasonably disheveled. His hair is sticking up all over the place and he’s sweating like crazy. His gym isn’t far. He shouldn’t be this winded over a two block run, especially considering how good of a shape he is in.
“What-” he looks confused. “What happened?”
“I need to talk to you.”
He blinks a few times, straightening up and looking around. “What is the emergency?”
You sigh. “There’s no emergency, Cheol. But I really need to talk to you before you take off again for a week.”
That makes him pause, the sharpness in your tone. He takes a deep breath, shifting in his place. He brushes his hair off his forehead, and you realise how flushed his normally pale skin is. His neck, his ears, up to his jaw and the apples of his cheeks.
“Were you in the middle of a workout?” You ask.
He blinks again, like he’s processing your words. You notice his eyes, hazy, unfocused. Worry starts to creep up on you.
“Cheol, are you okay?”
He nods a bit too harshly, rubbing over his eyes as if to clear them. You watch, incredulous.
“I thought you were-” He huffs, as if irritated. “Can we do this after I get back?” His voice sounds strained. He shuffles back a bit more, away from you, and you feel the same irritation again, bordering on anger.
“No.” You stand up. “We’re doing this now. I’m tired of the lies.”
Seungcheol looks indignant. “I never lied to you.”
“You never told me the whole truth either.” You shoot back. When you take a step towards him, Seungcheol jerks back. You freeze. What the hell is wrong with him?
“Are you okay? Are you sick?” You feel more worried now, looking at the state of him. He shakes his head, still breathing hard. He’s standing still now, why is his breathing not regulating? Why is he still panting like he ran two miles?
“I’m fine. I just need to leave.”
You scowl. “What is this, Cheol? What is so secretive that you can never talk about it?”
He groans, almost frustrated, before stepping towards the door. You immediately take hurried steps forward to block his path. He glares at you.
“Don’t be childish.” He grits. “Let me leave.”
You hesitate for a second. Seungcheol has never acted this way with you before. He’s rough around the edges, but he’s always gentle with you. You wonder again, if you should stick to your guns here. But you’ve come too far to back off now.
“Tell me where you’re going and I will let you go right now.”
Seungcheol laughs, but it’s not amused at all. It’s choppy, almost like a scoff. His shoulders slump.
“Fine.” He sighs. “Fine. I guess it was too good to be true that you wouldn’t question this at all.”
Your heart pounds. What is he about to tell you?
“I’m a werewolf.”
You stare at him. He stares back. Everything is silent in the apartment. You don’t move, as if waiting for him to say ‘sike’ and start laughing.
“What?”
“I’m a werewolf.”
“No, I heard you-” You gape at him. Then you feel irritated again.
“Is this a joke? Because all it’s doing is making me more angry-”
Seungcheol shakes his head, trudging to the couch and dropping on it with a heavy sigh. He pushes his hair off his forehead again, and he’s so sweaty that it slicks back instead of flopping into place again. The smell of rain and earth hit you once more.
“You ever notice that I disappear around the full moon?” He mumbles. He looks spaced out again, like he isn’t really in his senses.
“I-” You don’t know what to say. You know the rumors. The conspiracy theories online. The so-called ‘werewolf sighting’ videos that look a little too fake. Every once in a while, someone would pop up talking about their experience with werewolves. There are pages and pages of so-called wolf ‘lore’ online, and the usual stereotypes about them, but you always thought it was some fantasy-obsessed nuts. Your mind reels. Somehow the first question you blurt out is-
“Does anyone else know?”
He shakes his head. You remember when you had shown up at his apartment five months ago.
“Does Mingyu know?”
Seungcheol nods. “He’s a werewolf too. Part of my pack.”
Your jaw drops. “There’s a pack?”
Seungcheol stares at you and nods slowly. “Yeah. Me, Mingyu, Chan, Joshua, Soonyoung, Jihoon….” He trails off, eyebrows furrowing.
“I’m not gonna lie, I didn’t think you would be more interested in other members of my pack and not the fact that I'm a werewolf.”
“Right.” You feel lightheaded. “Sorry. A lot to process.”
He finally smiles at you, but it’s painful, almost like a wince, and it makes your heart lurch a bit. You sway slightly, realise you are still standing, and move to the couch. When you sit down, Seungcheol scoots away from you. You watch him.
“Does the fact that you’re acting weird have anything to do with you being a werewolf?”
Seungcheol fidgets, looking nervous for the first time. Is there more? What else could he possibly tell you that would be crazier than this?
“This is- uh,” he groans, burying his head in his hands. “How the hell do I tell you this?”
“It can’t be worse than what you’ve already said.” You respond. Your own voice sounds like it’s far away from you, like you’re watching all of this unfold instead of being there yourself. Seungcheol snorts.
“It absolutely can be.”
You don’t reply, waiting. This time, Seungcheol doesn’t look at you. His cheeks still dusted pink, sweat lining his forehead.
“Once a month, every male werewolf goes into a rut.” He mumbles. “It’s just a natural thing. Starts after puberty.”
You frown, remembering what Seungkwan said. “What happens? Is it like a period?”
He manages to laugh at that, shaking his head. “No, it’s like- like a mating thing.”
He’s already flushed, but he manages to turn even redder, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. He groans, expression pinched as if in pain. “This is so embarrassing.”
“Just say it.” You encourage. You’re very curious now, and the metaphorical edging isn't helping. You try to rack your brain on any passing thing you had read on the internet about werewolves, but you’re drawing a blank.
“I told you, it’s a mating thing. The werewolf part in me wants to- wants to breed.”
You freeze, trying to keep a straight face as you process his words.
“So you get horny?”
Seungcheol nearly doubles over, burying his head between his knees. If you weren’t reeling so hard at this revelation, you would be more amused.
“So you disappear once a month because you get horny?” You lean back on the couch. Realisation of the incredulity of this situation hits you, and you try not to laugh. “I gotta hand it to you, Cheol. That’s one hell of an excuse.”
That makes him look up, confused. “What do you mean?”
You stand up then, walking to the kitchen. Seungcheol follows you with his eyes. You pour yourself a glass of water, leaning against the counter to look at him, peering over the back of the couch at you. You down the glass in two gulps, gathering your thoughts.
“You expect me to believe that you disappear once a month because you’re a werewolf and you have some biological urge to mate and make werewolf babies?” You scoff, voice tinged with sarcasm. “You know there’s better ways to lie? But I have to admit, of all the guys that have lied to me in the past, yours is the most creative.”
“You think I’m lying to you?” He stands up, walking around the couch and closer to you. There’s that scent again. Rain and earth. “You think I’m making all this up?”
You roll your eyes, even if your heart squeezes at how hurt he sounds. Deep down, you’re very confused. He sounds so earnest and sincere, but it is just too fantastical to believe. Werewolves are real? Who the hell in their right mind would believe that?
You remembered hearing about werewolves from old, scary stories told around campfires when you were a kid. Then, with the internet becoming popular, those same stories got transferred to forums and YouTube video essays. While people did talk about werewolves, you don’t know anyone personally who actually saw or knew one. They are the same as ghosts, or demons, or vampires. They are mythological creatures.
“Even your excuse is half baked.” You manage to say, not looking at his eyes, the hurt in them. “You leave because you’re horny? You realise I’m your girlfriend right? You realise we have sex?”
Seungcheol grits his teeth. “It’s not the same. A rut is- it’s intense. I lose control over all my senses. If I’m not careful, I could hurt you.”
You roll your eyes. “But you can go fuck someone else. Got it.”
Seungcheol steps closer, crowding you against the counter. He looks noticeably ticked off now, and something about it makes your core stir just a bit. “I don’t fuck anyone. I lock myself in my room and ride it out. I would never do that to you. I love you.”
You tense, staring wide eyed at him, shocked. This is the first time he has said that to you. Your heart squeezes, and despite the clouds in his eyes, there’s a bright sincerity in them as you look at him.
“You mean that?”
He smiles, and it looks almost pained. “Of course I do. I’ve been in love with you for months. And I wish I could tell you this in a better setting, but I don’t want you to ever think that I would do something like that.”
You let out a shaky sigh. “I don’t know what to believe anymore.”
Seungcheol nods slowly. “I know. It’s too much to take in. Once my rut is over, I promise I will take you out and show you everything. I’ll introduce you to the pack properly, this time as a pack. Every question you have, I promise I will answer. But right now….”
He steps back from you, head turning up to the ceiling with eyes squeezed shut like he’s in pain.
“Right now I can feel my rut coming, so I have to leave.”
You watch him trudge out of the kitchen and towards the door. You panic at the thought of him leaving. So you make up your mind in that split second, even if you think it might be a stupid decision.
“You could stay.”
Seungcheol smiles and shakes his head. “I can’t, baby.”
“I could help you. With your rut.”
He blinks. Frowns. “I told you. I lose all senses.”
“And what?” You step closer to him. “You get a little rough? I can handle rough.”
The air between you shifts, electrifies. Seungcheol stares at you, like he’s trying to figure you out.
“Ruts aren’t like normal sex.” His voice is low, breathy. He’s speaking more deliberately now, as if trying to make you understand. You feel something zip down your spine. “I never go down. I’m constantly hard. I need to cum over and over.”
“Sounds hot as hell to me.” You’re only partially teasing. Your heart is beating so fast, and a small voice in your head questions you. Are you insane? But there’s a curiosity in you, and a fire sizzling deep inside the pit of your stomach. And something about the way he smells up close is making you heady, like sitting in a cloud of marijuana smoke.
And also, deep down, a small part of you still doesn’t believe this ridiculous story. And you want to see where this goes.
When you lay your palm on your boyfriend’s chest, he tenses. His hands are clenched so tight that you can see his knuckles turn white. His breathing is heavy, shaky. His pupils are blown, and you can’t help but clench at how wrecked he looks. And nothing has happened yet. You try not to imagine what he will look like when you’re under him. You want to see that so badly.
“I can take it.”
He shakes his head. “You can’t.”
“Why don’t we find out?” You challenge him. One step closer puts you right in his space, and you lean up on your tiptoes to run your lips over his jaw. Seungcheol nearly shakes, trembles with restraint. You can see he is battling with himself, and you wonder what you can do to give him one last push.
“Imagine how much better your ruts could be if you had me to fuck through them, instead of suffering every month.” You mouth at his skin right below the ear. “You underestimate how bad I want you to manhandle me, Cheol.”
He groans, and you feel his hands finally touch you, gripping hard at your hips before sliding up your sides. He kneads the plush of your waist, fingers almost greedy as they run over you. It sends a thrill through you. He all but pants into your neck and you almost gasp when you hear a growl reverberate deep in his chest, almost animalistic. Your veins turn a bit cold. You wonder what you have gotten yourself into.
“You’re sure?” He asks one last time.
You swallow hard, making up your mind. “Please fuck me. I want it.”
Something in the air breaks.
His lips are on yours, needy, desperate, suffocating, teeth nipping sharply at your mouth until you’re moaning, feeling his tongue slide in almost instantly. He bends just enough to grip the backs of your thighs, lifting you up and making you wrap your legs around his waist. He walks to your bedroom, lips not leaving yours for a single second.
Sex with Seungcheol is always passionate, but this seems charged by a fire you have not yet felt. It feels like he wants to devour you, and you keen at how good it feels to have him want you this much. You dig your fingers into his shoulders, holding on to him tight until he’s dropping you onto the bed, your body bouncing on the mattress for a fraction of a second before he’s on you again. This time, he’s licking and nipping over your jaw, traveling back until he meets the shell of your ear, then down to your neck. All the while, he whispers to you.
“You have no idea how good you smell to me, baby.” He says. “That first day I met you, I could smell you across the store. The most delicious thing I ever scented. And you were so beautiful. I knew I had to have you.”
You can’t help your moan, hearing him talk about you like that. There’s something animalistic and primal about it that you didn’t know could turn you on so much. He parts your legs to settle between them, and his tongue presses insistently into the junction between your shoulder and neck. It’s his favorite place to give you hickies. You never knew why until right now.
“This,” he nips at the skin, “is where it’s the strongest. This is where I want to mark you the most. So you can always smell a little bit like me. So everyone knows you’re mine.”
You clench hard. Your head spins. Your hips buck up, brushing over the front of his jeans. He’s already rock hard, and somehow straining through the many layers so you can feel his erection. He groans, still sucking a hickey into you. You already feel delirious, trying to string your thoughts into sentences.
“Why don’t you bite me? Isn’t that a werewolf thing?”
He growls, growls, and the sound is filled with primal desperation. He digs his teeth just a bit more into the skin. Not enough to break it, but enough to bruise. It feels like a warning, one that you don’t want to heed.
“Don’t say that shit to me, darling.” He rasps. “You don’t know how little self control I have right now.”
That’s what you’re working on. You want him to give in completely. And it might be a completely stupid risk on your part, but you can’t help wanting to see him succumb to whatever animal is inside him, calling the shots. You buck your hips up again, and he chases after them, grinding hard into your heat. You sigh at the friction, and he does it again. He laves your neck with his tongue and teeth, humping into you over and over until you’re so wet and desperate that you can’t take any more. You whine and tug at his clothes.
“Cheol.” you gasp. “Off.”
He complies, and clothes fly off, one article after another, until you’re naked under his unusually heated torso. You’ve always loved how physically massive your boyfriend is, and you wonder if that has to do with his species or just who he is as a person. Is he even a person?
His skin is slick with sweat, and when you meet his eyes, you nearly gasp at how the color of his irises have changed. Streaks of golden branch outwards from his dilated pupils. His lips are swollen from being kissed and bitten, and he runs his tongue over them as if he wants to taste the remnants of your skin. His hair feels like it’s standing on its end, giving him a rougher, more rugged look.
He looks…… wild. That’s the only word you can think of.
When he finally shucks his pants and underwear, leaving him bare, your eyes nearly bulge out from your head. You’ve seen his dick before, taken it countless times, but he looks bigger, curvier. The vein that runs on the underside is throbbing desperately, and you almost get dizzy when you see that the base of his cock is broader, almost like it swelled up.
“Still think you can take me?” He says.
He looks too gone to be able to speak even, but it seems some part of his mental faculties is still intact. You however, feel like you’ve dunked your head underwater. Your pussy weeps, clenches, horribly empty, and some filthy part of you wants to take all of him, even if it might not be possible.
“I want to.” You breathe out, tearing your eyes away from his leaking cock to look up into his golden eyes. “Wanna take all of you so bad. Even if I can’t. I wanna try.”
Seungcheol takes his sweet time opening you up, going from one finger, to two, to three, and even squeezing his pinky in there when he thinks you’re ready. He whispers encouragement in your ear, saying he needs to do this before common sense leaves him and all he can think of is cumming inside you over and over. He praises you, sucking more bruises into your skin until you feel like every part of your neck is completely marred. He fucks his fingers into you until you cum once, twice, until your throat is hoarse from singing his praises, moaning over and over, begging for his cock. Until your pussy is wrecked and sore without even tasting his cock yet. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he pulls his fingers out, completely drenched, and uses your juices to slick up his shaft.
“I can’t hold back anymore.” He sounds like a wounded animal, needy, begging, and his voice is torn and choppy. “I need to fuck you-”
When his cock finally breaches your cunt, your mouth drops open in a silent cry, hands fisting into the sheets under you, toes curling. You’re already delirious, beyond logic from your two orgasms, and it feels like you’re already spent. But you want more because you’re greedy and Seungcheol always spoils you. Every time you feel like he’s all the way inside, he keeps going farther, until you think you can feel him in your stomach, even if that’s not physically possible. You feel the rim of your hole bump up against something even bigger, and he finally stops.
“Don’t think you’re ready for my knot yet.” He grunts out.
Your sex addled, horny brain wants to insist that you are, but you already feel so damn full, so you take his word for it. You try to regulate your breaths, try to make them slower so your chest doesn’t feel like it’s on fire, but then Seungcheol starts moving, pulling out slowly before pushing back in, and for the first time since you started, you actually think you won’t survive this.
He picks up the pace fairly quickly, fucking hard and fast into you while he groans and pants in your ear, telling you how good you feel. His words quickly devolve into depravity. You feel his nails digging into your thighs more sharply now, and the scent of rain and earth gets more potent. You think you can see the little hair on his arms stand on end, his thrusts get more frantic. Your eyes are wide, you almost can’t believe them, when you see the muscles shift under his skin, like they are rearranging themselves. Something fundamentally alters in his appearance at that moment, and you wonder if he’s really, truly gone now. He grunts again, rough and gritty, and you’re reminded acutely of an animal.
“I’m gonna cum in you. Gonna fill you up. You want that?”
Your body jolts with each thrust, your breaths coming in staccato, your poor pussy taking the beating of a lifetime, but it feels so good, like he’s fucking depths in you previously unreachable, stoking a fire so primal you had no idea it existed inside you. Your brain seems to be slipping further and further away from reality, almost like you’re the one in rut, like you’re the one who badly wants to fuck and get fucked, and you nod your head desperately at his question.
Seungcheol pulls your legs up by the backs of your knees until he is bending you in half, using his weight to pin you down hard on the mattress. It presses into your stomach, your chest, and your breaths get shorter, your brain more muddled as oxygen enters your lungs less and less. It only amplifies the pleasure, making you lightheaded. Seungcheol is still talking, making only little sense.
“Gonna breed you. Gonna get you pregnant. You want that? Getting filled up with my pups?”
“Yes.” You sob, caught up in the fantasy of it. “Cum in me, Cheolie. Need to be filled up until it’s leaking out of me.”
He snarls, eyes screwing shut, and then you feel warmth flood your insides. It’s enough to push you over the edge too, and you weep as a fire lights up in you in the wake of your orgasm, burning and sizzling in your nerves as you jerk and twitch, riding it out. Seungcheol groans and gasps, short, quick thrusts carrying him through his high. He’s still cumming. There’s so much of it that it runs down your ass and onto the sheets, but you don’t care. Your body goes slack.
You whine when he pulls out abruptly, your body jolting as he grabs your hips to flip you over, tugging at them until you’re on your knees. He uses his right hand to push down on your back until you’re arching. He hums in approval at the position you take.
His cock enters you again, and you gasp at how hard he is. He was right. He didn’t lose his erection at all. He immediately sets a brutal pace, hitting a whole new angle in this position that has you scrambling for purchase, your walls fluttering around him. It’s almost too much, almost, but it feels so good that you’re high on it, like someone took out your brain and threw it away, leaving you as this debased mess.
You can barely gasp, can barely feel the drool that runs from your open mouth and onto the mattress, eyes rolled up. But Seungcheol sees it when he bends over you, pace not faltering for a second, and he groans at the sight.
“Nasty slut.” He spits out, voice unsteady because of the force of his thrusts. “You were right. I did underestimate you. You were made to take a werewolf’s cock. Made to help in a rut. The perfect little fuck toy.”
You whine, clenching around him at his words. He curses, hand reaching around to toy with your clit, and aided by the remnants of your last orgasm, you cum again after a few tight rubs, trembling in his hold and nearly unable to suck in air. Tears escape the corners of your eyes, running down to drip onto the bedsheets. This one feels more like a gentle wave in the wake of your previous highs, like something cold and sizzling traveling through your nerves. Seungcheol moans, teeth sinking into the back of your neck, before he’s grinding into you and reaching his own high. He throbs inside you, spurting ropes of white, and more of it leaks out of you, running through your slit before falling in thick globs onto the bed. It’s filthy, wet and sticky, but your mouth waters at the thought of tasting it.
It takes three more rounds, on the bed, on the floor, and against the wall, before Seungcheol’s cock finally, finally, goes flaccid. He fucks you for hours, alternating between deep, slow strokes to frantically rutting into you until he is cumming again. He whispers filthy, downright scandalous things in your ear, like you’re an object made for his pleasure, and all these words coming from kind, respectful Seungcheol just send you spiraling into lust.
He manhandles you so easily, arranging your limbs exactly how he wants them like you really are his little fuck doll. At this point, you have cum running down your thighs in thick streaks, oozing out every time your abused cunt clenches. You’ve lost count of how many times you came on him. You’re sweaty and aching all over, no sensation in your legs. You can’t move, can’t speak, and black spots dance in your vision. You vaguely feel him carrying you, hands securely holding your thighs.
It’s ten minutes later that you feel like you can see and hear again, and you find yourself in your bathtub, back against Seungcheol’s chest, warm from his touch and the water around you. It soothes your sore muscles, and your eyelids droop, basking in the silence. You feel gentle lips on your shoulder, on the rare unmarked patch of skin, and you sigh at the feeling.
“You doing okay?”
You hum, turning your head so you can nuzzle into his neck. He kneads at your legs, and the pressure feels amazing.
“Think you can do three or four more days of this?”
You blink blearily up at him. He still looks a bit….. wild. Wolf-like. Hair standing up, bristling, like it has a life of its own. The golden tinge of his irises.
“I thought it was six days.”
“They’re shorter when you have someone helping you through them.”
You nod. “There’s really so much I don’t know.”
Seungcheol chuckles a bit, wrapping his arms tightly around you. His tongue laps at your neck again, licking over your skin in thick stripes, and you realise you really like it when he does that.
“How long before we have to go again?” You ask.
He squeezes you, and you feel his lips tug up in a grin. “You want me that bad?”
You heat up at the deep timbre in his voice, shrugging. “What can I say, I think it’s hot when you go all wolf on me.”
That makes him laugh, loud and deep from his chest. He kisses your temple, then the shell of your ear and water splashes around you as you squirm at the feeling, giggling. He keeps licking at your skin as the water settles again.
“Maybe one day, I can take your knot too.”
You can see the exact moment your words hit him, making him suck in a sharp breath, pupils dilating. He grins, slow and sexy, and you feel his cock twitch against your back.
“You keep takin’ me like a champ and that day might come earlier than you think.”
TAGS: Friends to Lovers, Angst, Fluff, Slight Slowburn, An Attempt at Comedy
WARNINGS: Explicit Language, Smut (18+, MDNI, it starts unserious before it gets insane so please click out ASAP if it’s not your cup of tea tysm), Self-Worth Issues, Insecurities, Body Image Issues, Mature/Suggestive Themes, Mingyu is a flirt and an absolute menace, Author doesn’t drink or go clubbing but writes about it anyway (Apologies in advance for any inaccuracies), Arguing (The very heated kind)
WC: 20k
SUMMARY: Nearly 30 with no romantic experience, you figure that it’s time to work on yourself and finally get yourself a boyfriend. Your master plan? Get Mingyu, heartthrob of the century and your best friend since diapers, to help you with your glow-up and teach you how to score a date. What a shame that Mingyu’s been in love with you since the dawn of time and plans on doing the exact opposite of what you’re asking him to.
A/N: It was meant to be pure smut but I got guilty so I slapped some plot onto it to ease my conscience. Heed all the warnings please, thank you 🥹
“I’m going to die alone.”
Jihyo can only pat you on the back with a grimace as you continue stuffing your mouth with chicken. What was meant to be a decompression session over chicken and beer after a long week of work had become a drunken crying session after Jihyo raised the topic of relationships.
You think she’s starting to regret mentioning it now.
“Girl, you’re not,” Jihyo stares at you incredulously before attempting to placate you by sliding another plate of chicken in your direction. “You just haven’t met the right guy—“
“Jihyo, I’ve met plenty of decent guys, but none of them want me,” You complain through tears, taking another chicken. “I’m the problem.”
“They’re all just intimidated by you!” Jihyo is quick to come to your defense. “You’re smart, pretty, accomplished, and that automatically filters around 75% of the male population.”
“The 25% doesn’t seem to want me either, Jihyo-ah,” You cry out. “I’m going to die without having ever kissed a guy all cause I’m ugly and boring.”
Jihyo seems to understand that contradicting you only makes you cry harder, so she tries a different approach. “Well, you could always date Mingyu? You’ve known him for so long—“
“Mingyu?!” Your eyes nearly pop out of their sockets at the suggestion. “He’s ridiculously out of my league! He’s literally the last person on Earth who would date me.”
“Ok, scratch that,” Jihyo appeases you. While she could argue that your chances were high considering how close you and Mingyu were, she doesn’t think you’re in the mood to listen. “Ask Mingyu for help instead.”
You think about it. Mingyu’s been your friend even before either of you could walk or speak full sentences. He’s seen you at your highest and your lowest, and if anyone can give contextualized advice to help you finally score a boyfriend, it’s him. Not only that, but Mingyu’s got an eye for fashion, is a gym rat, and happens to co-own a gym with Seungcheol. The man could give you advice, a glow-up, and maybe he can even set you up with his friends.
Genius!
Your crying stops, lips now stretched wide in a smile as you start going through your options. “I think you’re onto something…”
“Exactly!” Jihyo’s glad she’s finally getting to you. “Go get hot as fuck and maybe find some hotties there too, problem solved.”
“And I could even ask Mingyu for advice!” You sit straight up. Drunken hope fills you as you start strategizing. “He’s a man so he knows how men’s brains work. Jihyo, you’re a genius!”
“I get it from you,” Jihyo winks, clearly just as drunk as you. “Cheers to not dying alone!”
“Cheers!”
Tomorrow, you would start on your journey to become a whole new person, and the world won’t be ready for it.
-
“No,” is the only thing that comes from Mingyu’s mouth, and the entire foundation of your plan comes crashing down.
Without sparing another second, Mingyu goes back to slurping the Chapagetti you cooked for him–that was totally not meant to bribe him–and watching some stupid variety show playing on your TV. You had invited him over to your apartment and detailed your master plan of getting a boyfriend with his help. Hell, you even had an entire PowerPoint slide open on your laptop just so Mingyu had a visual aid for your pitch, and the only thing he says after humoring you for the past 15 minutes is… No?
You’re almost tempted to grab his chopsticks and eat the Chapagetti, but you don’t. You had to be strategic about this.
“Yah, are you not going to help this damsel in distress?” You mute the television, which forces Mingyu to look at you, clearly annoyed. “Wasn’t that your entire image in college?”
Mingyu sport a mischievous grin as he replies, “Yeah, but you’re hardly a damsel–”
At the speed of light, your sofa pillow goes flying towards Mingyu’s face, but the man only laughs, unfazed by the force (or the lack of it) of your throw.
“Yah! Kim Mingyu, don’t come to me for a consultation when you get sick.” You huff out, plopping down beside him on the floor and stealing his chopsticks before taking the bowl of Chapagetti. “I wouldn’t be asking you for help if I wasn’t desperate.”
“Hey, that’s mine!” Mingyu whines as he watches you eat the bowl, eyes trained on the Chapagetti that was slowly disappearing with each slurp from you.
You only stick your tongue out in reply. If he was going to dismiss you so quickly, you had every right to be petty.
Mingyu, realizing that you were indeed serious about your entire pitch, starts scanning through the slides on your laptop. You can see the way the furrow in his brows gets deeper and deeper the closer he gets to the end of the presentation. Once he reaches the references slide (Mingyu thinks you’re insane for that), he leans back on the couch and says, “It’s a stupid plan.”
Irritated, you send a glare his way. “It’s literally backed by multiple credible sources and everything’s in APA7, and you’re calling it stupid—“
“You’re fine the way you are,” Mingyu says it like it’s a matter of fact, and you curse yourself internally for the way it has your heart skipping. “I don’t see why you need to get a ‘glow-up’ just because you want to go out and date.”
You stay silent, fiddling with your chopsticks. Mingyu doesn’t understand you, you think. He doesn’t understand that not everyone grew up winning the lotteries for both genetics and puberty. Kim Mingyu was born a handsome boy before puberty hit him like a truck and turned him into a handsome young man. It’s no surprise that he has such a relaxed outlook when it comes to dating or other affairs of the heart.
Attention and adoration were his closest friends, second only to you. Getting a girl’s interest was as easy as breathing for him, and not even you were safe from falling for Mingyu’s handsome looks and boyish charm. Your crush (is it even still a crush, at this point?) on the man was on its way to celebrating its 20th anniversary, and it’s honestly getting pathetic. You would be lying if you said that the stupid crush wasn’t part of the reason you wanted to get a boyfriend and settle down.
Fuck him and his pretty face, honestly.
“Plus, you’ve never been this interested in dating, so why start now?” Mingyu raises a brow, taking the chopsticks and the bowl of Chapagetti before scarfing it all down.
You think it’s a little unfair how he can eat so much and still have such defined muscles. Sure, you weren’t a 187 cm male that’s composed of pure muscle and sunshine, but did the gap in your basal metabolic rates really have to be that huge?
“Gyu, we’re nearly 30,” You start out with a heavy sigh. “I am going to die old, lonely, and bitter all because I can’t seem to get people to like me.”
“Old and bitter is possible, but lonely?” Mingyu scoffs like it's the dumbest thing he’s heard. “You’re not gonna be lonely when I’m literally right here.”
“That’s different, though!” You complain, leaning your head down on the coffee table before banging your forehead on it repeatedly. “You’re my best friend. That’s different from having someone who’ll be with me through everything.”
Mingyu was too idealistic, you think. He’s only saying that because he doesn’t have a girlfriend who’s hogging all his attention and time the same way his ex from 3 years ago did. You still remember her clearly: an aspiring model with the body of a goddess and the face of an angel. However, her attitude was the exact opposite. That woman absolutely hated you despite the fact that you were already avoiding Mingyu like the plague then.
When Mingyu finally settles down with a woman and starts a family of his own like he’s always imagined himself doing, you’re going to be cast aside the same way you were cast aside before. It’s only natural for Mingyu to focus on his future wife and the family they’re building. There was no room in that picture for Mingyu’s spinster of a best friend who’s been in love with him for nearly two decades. Unfortunately for you, acknowledging the truth in all of that doesn’t make it hurt any less.
You hear Mingyu mutter something inaudible underneath his breath, making you sit up and glare at him. You swear if he’s mocking you again… “Yah, what did you say?”
Mingyu looks startled for a second before he composes himself and says, “I said I’d help you.”
The angels sing and the gates of heaven open. You stare at Mingyu with wide eyes and an even wider grin, “Are you serious?”
Mingyu looks like he’s doing this against his will, but you don’t really care, too happy at the fact that he was actually going to help you. “Yeah, but don’t expect me to set you up with any of the guys. You’re too good for them–”
You lunge at Mingyu, tackling him to the floor with your arms around his neck as you repeatedly thank him. “Thank you, thank you, thank you–”
You pause when you realize that you’re quite literally on top of Mingyu, body to body, chest to chest—
Holy shit, you weren’t wearing a bra, and judging by the flush on Mingyu’s cheeks, you think he’s realized it too.
Immediately, you’re scrambling off him. Your heart is beating violently and you can feel your face burning. The only ideal outcome for this situation would be if the ground opened up and swallowed you whole, taking you far away from Mingyu who was slowly getting up from the floor.
The grin on Mingyu’s face tells you that he’s about to say something diabolical. “If you’re trying to seduce me, it’s working~”
“Fuck you!” You hiss out, grabbing a pillow and hugging it to your chest as you avoid Mingyu’s teasing gaze.
Mingyu’s grin only widens. “Don’t threaten me with a good time–”
“If you don’t shut up, I am going to poison your Chapagetti the next time you come over.” You spit out, now more annoyed than embarrassed. You don’t know how you’ve tolerated Kim Mingyu’s incessant flirting over the years, but one thing for sure is that you still aren’t immune to it.
“Wow, that’s insane,” Mingyu remarks, eyeing you up and done with his eyes lingering on the pillow stuck to your chest. “It’s a good thing I like my women crazy.”
Mingyu seals his statement with a wink that sends your heart reeling. It’s a short-lived victory on his end before you start hitting him with the pillow you were hugging. Screw him for being so flirtatious. Screw him for having such a pretty face. Screw him for having such a profound effect on you.
The man only laughs as you continue hitting him, clearly unbothered. You curse the heavens for giving this man such a strong build. “I’m kidding, I’m sorry!”
You stop, satisfied, and maybe a little tired from all the effort it took to hit Mingyu. The pillow is back in your embrace, covering your chest as you unmute the TV.
“Go to the gym tomorrow after your shift.” Mingyu suddenly says, distracting you from the TV show. “Bring workout clothes too.”
“Obviously, dipshit, do you expect me to wear scrubs there?” You roll your eyes, still annoyed.
“First piece of advice, maybe tone down the swearing–”
“Fuck you–”
“Already failing, I see. We have a lot of work ahead of us.”
–
By the time you finish your rounds and give out your final instructions, the sky is already dark. Immediately, you pack up your bag and say goodbye to Jihyo who was still wrapping up her cases.
“Fighting!” Jihyo cheers you on with a smile as you leave the hospital.
Without wasting a second, you get into your car and drive a few kilometers down the road to where Mingyu and Seungcheol’s gym is located. It’s a very well-known gym located in the heart of the city which makes it convenient given that your workplace was only a few minutes away. It would be easier to integrate the gym into your daily routine given the proximity.
Once you arrive at the gym, you’re greeted by the large sign that reads ‘C&K Fitness Center’. It’s a little intimidating, you think. The place is huge, and the people coming in and out all look like they’re on their way to a modeling shoot. You haven’t even been inside, but you already know that you’re punching above your weight just by being there. You’re almost tempted to abandon it all and just settle for living alone with only thirteen cats to accompany you until you inevitably leave this plane of existence.
Before you can spiral further, you’re grabbing your bag and locking your car. You fuel yourself with the thought of dying alone, with the thought of Mingyu’s drop dead gorgeous exes, and with the thought of how unhappy you’ve been with yourself for the past how many years of your life. It distracts you enough that the next thing you know, you’ve already opened the door to the gym and come face to face with the gym’s receptionist.
“Welcome to Choi and Kim’s Fitness Center!” The pretty woman, whose name is Youngmi based on her ID, greets with a smile. “How may I help you?”
You realize that you don’t actually know what to say. Mingyu just told you to come to the gym and bring workout clothes. He completely forgot to mention the logistics of it all. Quickly, you think. Would she believe you if you said you knew the owner when you looked like you crawled out of hell and barely survived–
“You’re late,” comes the voice of the man you were looking for. Mingyu strolls in casually like he owns the place (you need to remind yourself that he does), donning a black tank top that clung onto him like a second skin and gray sweatpants that hung loosely on his hips.
What a whore, you think to yourself as you roll your eyes internally. You think that this would be the male equivalent of you strolling into the gym in nothing but a tiny sports bra and shorts.
“Had a long shift, your highness. Sorry for making you wait.” You roll your eyes, but this time, you make sure Mingyu sees.
“Youngmi, this is Y/N. Y/N this is Youngmi.” Mingyu ignores the attitude you were giving and chooses to introduce you to the receptionist who seemingly lights up upon hearing your name.
“Ah, so this is the Y/N we’ve been hearing about,” Youngmi has a grin on her face, and Mingyu suddenly looks like he’s pleading to her with his eyes. “I’m looking forward to seeing you here more often!”
“I hope he isn’t saying bad things about me,” You joke, but internally you’re ready to strangle Mingyu.
“No, not at all!” Youngmi is quick to wave off your assumptions. “All nice things, I swear. In fact, he always–”
“Okay, that’s enough. We’ll be here until midnight if we don’t start soon,” Mingyu quickly cuts Youngmi off and starts dragging you towards the changing rooms. “Go change then meet me there.”
You nod in reply, looking at where Mingyu is pointing before shooing him off so that you can change. Quickly, you change into a loose shirt and jogging pants. It wasn’t the best of outfits if you were going to use those Instagram models as an example, but it was presentable enough… You guess.
When you reach the gym itself, you’re hit with the scent of rubber and the sight of Mingyu’s muscles flexing as he pulls down the handles of some gym equipment. It’s criminal: the way the muscles on his back tense and relax while his perspiration makes his warm skin glow underneath the harsh lights. It didn’t help that he’s puffing out grunts of effort that had your brain entering a territory you refused to acknowledge. The worst part of it all is that you’re not the only one looking. There are other people eyeing your best friend, some out of envy and some out of something that looks like it should be accompanied with a restraining order.
You can already tell that you’re going to have a hard time concentrating with Mingyu around.
When Mingyu sees your reflection in the mirror, he quickly lowers the weights down and walks over to where you are. You think it’s a little embarrassing how some of the women present suddenly narrowed their eyes when they realized that Mingyu was walking towards you.
“Okay, we’ll start with some stretches then I’ll introduce you to each of the equipment,” Mingyu informs you, grabbing your arm to drag you to a wider space of the gym. “After that we’ll go over the workout plan and how to do the exercises…”
Mingyu continues to speak and demonstrate while still giving you enough space to ask questions. It jars you a little, unused to your best friend being so serious. He’s always been one to goof around like a puppy that had been set free into the world for the very first time, so seeing him so concentrated has you honestly impressed. You can’t help the warmth that blooms in your chest at the idea that he was actually taking the time and putting in the effort to help you.
It was a little… Sweet.
However, that warm, grateful feeling in your chest is fleeting, and the next thing you know, you’re dripping, breathless, and absolutely sore in all the unsexy ways.
The AC is on full blast, but it does nothing to keep your shirt from sticking to your back. The bench underneath you is soft, but it does nothing to ease the soreness of your muscles. Your best friend is cheering you on, but it does absolutely nothing to change the fact that you were one set away from queuing to the afterlife on the express lane.
It was absolutely horrible.
“One last set, and we can go for the cooldown,” Mingyu says as he squats down to your level on the bench. It was unfair how he still looked composed while you were sprawled out like a sopping towel that had been carelessly thrown onto the nearest surface. “Are you okay?”
“Do I look okay?” You breathe out, eyes trained on the ceiling of the gym as you try to steady your racing heart. You’re not sure if this workout thing was going to lessen your risk for a CVD or send you straight into an infarction.
“Nope, but you’re the one who wanted this. Remember?” Mingyu’s grin is smug. “No harm in quitting, really.”
In all honesty, you were considering quitting after that horrendous workout, but Mingyu just had to open his mouth and taunt you. Quickly, you shoot up straight, eyes narrowed in challenge as you look at Mingyu and get the dumbbells from the floor. There was no way you were going to let Mingyu be all smug in that stupid ‘I-told-you-so’ tone of his. You were going to bench press these dumbbells like an absolute machine and maybe even send them flying his way if you still had the strength after the set.
“Who said I was quitting?” You huff out before leaning back on the bench, getting in the position for a bench press.
Mingyu grins at you from the mirror and cheers, “Okay, last set!”
With fingers barely brushing your elbows, Mingyu spots you for the last time that evening. Eyes locked, knees bent, body leaning forward, the man is attuned to each and every one of your moves in the event that your arms give out.
With a final huff, you push the dumbbells away one last time before dropping them onto the ground. At the loud thud, Mingyu cheers, hand stretching out in front of you for a high five that you weakly return.
“Good job,” Mingyu says as he grabs both of your wrists and pulls you up from the bench. “Come on. The sooner we finish the cooldown, the sooner you can go home.”
At the mention of home, your mind is immediately flooded by the images of a cool shower, a fresh set of clothes, and a soft bed. It’s amazing, you think, how a single gym session straight from hell had you savoring the most mundane of things that you once overlooked.
After the cooldown, Mingyu walks you to where your car is parked. “Are you sure you don’t want me to drive you home?”
“Gyu, it’s fine, really,” You wave off Mingyu’s concern with a swipe of your hand. “Plus, how are you going to get back here if we’re using my car?”
Mingyu shrugs, “I can take the train back here.”
“That’s too inconvenient,” You reply as you open the door of your car. “I’m fine, I swear.”
Banter and bickering aside, Mingyu’s always been like this. He’s always been the type of person to go through any lengths for the people he holds close to his heart, even when they didn’t deserve it. He could easily wave off any inconvenience if it meant that the people he loved would be happy and taken care of. You honestly think it’s part of the reason why you can’t move on from him so easily.
“Fine,” Mingyu knows you’re stubborn so he doesn’t push. “But text me when you get home, okay?”
“Wow, are you my mother?” You joke as you get into the driver’s seat.
“No, but she trusts me to take care of you, so don’t make me look bad by dying,” Mingyu replies.
“Yeah, whatever, bye!” You wave before shutting your door.
Mingyu only rolls his eyes with a smile as he waves back, “Text me when you get home!”
The drive home is uneventful, and before you even realize it, you’ve already parked and your keys are already jangling as you open your door.
When the door swings open, you take a deep breath, savoring the scent of your apartment that’s free from the smell of rubber, sweat, and self-deprecation. The door shuts behind you with an audible thud at the kick of your foot, and the beep that follows assures you that it’s locked.
Quickly, you pull out your phone and type away.
[Y/N]: Got home safely
The Seen at the bottom of the message appears quickly, almost as if the receiver had been waiting. The nickname on the screen has the corners of your lips tugging into a small smile, mind suddenly flooded by memories of Mingyu stealing your phone and constantly changing his name on it until you just gave up and left it as is.
[Gyu <3]: Good to hear
[Gyu <3]: Make sure to eat properly and get rest
[Gyu <3]: For the gains
What a gymrat, you think. You’re not even surprised anymore. This is the same guy that brings a huge backpack that congains gym clothes, low-sodium chicken breast, protein, and a jar of peanut butter. A little atrocious, but hey, if it works then it works.
[Y/N]: I will
[Y/N]: Are you home already?
The three dots on your screen linger for a second longer than it usually does.
[Gyu <3]: sent a photo
Absolutely diabolical is the only way you can describe the photo Mingyu sends, and for a second, you wonder if he’s drunk. His head is thrown back against the blue couch you’ve seen multiple times whenever you visited his apartment. His neck is bared, and you can see the silver chain peak from underneath his black shirt. Your best friend was not beating the playboy allegations with this one despite how respectful he actually is because that photo genuinely looked like it would come with an obnoxious ‘wyd?’ text at 1 AM sharp.
[Y/N]: Put a jumpscare warning next time <3
It’s the same old routine you’ve been going through since high school. Get flustered, play it off, and pretend like you didn’t want Mingyu’s teasing to be real.
Damn, you really needed to move on and get a boyfriend soon.
[Gyu <3]: People would literally pay for a selca from me
[Gyu <3]: I hope you know that :(((
You can already imagine the pout on Mingyu’s and hear the whine of his voice.
[Y/N]: I did not, but thanks for the heads up
[Y/N]: Business opportunity for me
The texting continues for a while until your eyes catch sight of the clock on your wall. The time was looking dangerously close to ‘if I don’t sleep now I will regret it tomorrow’ territory, so immediately, you type out a quick goodbye, head into the shower, and get ready for bed.
[Gyu <3]: Already leaving me?
[Gyu <3]: Jk go rest, you’ll need it for tomorrow
[Gyu <3]: Good night :)
—
The morning following your workout yesterday is an experience straight from hell.
Every movement has you wincing and each of your steps feels like a losing battle against gravity. Your morning shower does nothing to ease the ache or lessen the exhaustion, and breakfast is nothing more than a grim reminder of the fact that you had to keep track of your macros. It’s absolutely miserable, and you’re already dreading having to go back, but Mingyu’s words keep echoing through your head like a broken record.
Consistency is key.
With that, you suck it up, finish your breakfast that had an atrocious amount of eggs, and head out to work. For a moment, you consider grabbing your keys to drive. While driving would be convenient in helping you avoid the morning crowd in the station, using the subway would let you get in a few more steps than you usually did. So without looking back, you shut your apartment door behind you and head to the station.
Your shift, much like your early commute, is uneventful. The only thing that gave it a bit of thrill was the fact that your body was aching terribly, and every single one of your interactions was a challenge to hide that fact. Thankfully, only Jihyo seems to notice your odd gait and the occasional wince.
“Damn, was the workout that bad?” Jihyo asks as she hands you a can of fruit tea. “It’s low-calorie, in case you’re tracking.”
You thank Jihyo, grateful at the fact that she’s a gym enthusiast too. You don’t think the process would be easy if you had someone constantly inviting you to eat out and get wasted. Jihyo, thankfully, only does that in moderation.
“Mingyu is insane,” You reply, the can hissing as you pull the tab back. You take a sip before continuing, “At this point, I think he’s just sadistic.”
Jihyo snorts, “What workout plan did he give you anyway?”
The grim look on your face is the only warning Jihyo gets before you start explaining the routine that Mingyu had given you. Each sentence that leaves your mouth has Jihyo’s grin slowly faltering until she’s staring at you with palpable concern. You don’t know if you’re proud that you survived or concerned that even Jihyo looks like she’s one blink away from sobbing for you.
“Honestly? Good luck,” Jihyo is shaking her head in disbelief. “I think Mingyu's trying to kill you.”
“He won’t be succeeding,” You say, determined to overcome whatever bullshit workout Mingyu had in store for you today. “I honestly think he was just trying to scare me off, but it isn’t going to work.”
–
Your suspicions of Mingyu giving you an absolutely diabolical workout routine on your first day in an attempt to scare you off were proven correct when he gives you an easier workout for today. Unlike the eight workouts he gave you yesterday, he only gave you four and a quick comment of, “Guess I didn’t succeed in making you leave, huh.”
Asshole, you think.
“So was the entire workout plan fake?” You ask, pushing the plate through on the barbell with a thud as you narrow your eyes at Mingyu who's on the other side of the barbell.
“Yes,” Mingyu snickers, not even trying to deny it. “I just had to see just how serious you were.”
You roll your eyes, stepping back from the barbell. “I am serious about this, Gyu. I’m not getting any younger. Some of the people from our year already are already engaged, married, or raising kids.”
“Life’s not a race,” Mingyu shrugs before pointing to a spot on the floor. “Stand here. We’re doing RDLs.”
“You’re a man. It’s easier for you to say that…” You whisper underneath your breath. Mingyu didn’t understand the struggle of living in a society where women were valued more for their beauty than their capabilities. Men had more freedom when it came to age, looks, and other unrealistic standards. In this unequal world, men aged like fine wine while women could only age like grapes. You hope Mingyu doesn’t hear you though. The gym didn’t exactly seem like the place to be talking about glass ceilings and patriarchal constructs. “How many?”
“3 sets, 12 reps, no progressive overload for today.” Mingyu says as he reaches out to flatten his palm on the small of your back. “Straighten your back. Unless you want a spine injury.”
The rest of your workout continues smoothly despite the aches you had to overcome. Mingyu no longer seemed like he was trying to use the gym equipment to kill you or chase you off. In fact, he was scarily supportive, with his usual teasing replaced by more genuine encouragement that had you braving through your sets with more determination. Once the workout ends, you’re quick to change into a fresh shirt and pack up the rest of your things.
Mingyu approaches you, drinking from his bottle before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He eyes you zipping up your bag for a while before he speaks, “Are you driving home?”
“No, I’m taking the subway.” You reply, stringing the bag over your shoulder. “Helps me get more steps in.”
Mingyu whistles at that, “Damn, that’s dedication.”
“Yeah, well, I’m starting to regret it,” You sigh. “I can’t even feel my legs anymore.”
“Don’t take the subway then. I’ll drive you home,” Mingyu offers, but it seems more like a command.
“Gyu, our apartments are literally in the opposite direction of each other,” You remind him, hand on your hip.
“You say that like it’s a problem,” Mingyu scoffs as he gets his own bag. “I’m driving you, and you can’t say no.”
Your eyes narrow at that. While you definitely did not want to walk 500 meters to the nearest station, you also did not like being told what you can or cannot do. “Actually, I can–”
“We can go eat jjajangmyeon at our usual spot,” Mingyu grins as he slings an arm around your shoulders and begins leading you out of the gym.
“Fuck you for knowing me so well.” You grumble. Despite your initial hesitance, your feet follow Mingyu towards his car.
“Love you too,” Mingyu laughs as he opens the passenger door for you before going to the driver’s side of the car.
You hate the way your heart flutters at that.
–
It’s a month into your gym journey that you actually start to notice changes.
The physical changes were mild, a few cm off your waist and a little bit of toning around some areas were all easy to overlook if you didn’t look hard enough. However, the feeling… That was what changed completely. You felt lighter and stronger all at once. You could go on longer walks without getting immediately winded, and you could lift heavier objects without the fear that it would crush you underneath its weight. You had been so caught up with wanting aesthetic changes that you completely overlooked the lifestyle benefits of getting the CDC recommended 150-minutes of moderate physical activity per week.
You think that’s what has you messaging Jihyo on a Saturday morning for a shopping trip.
[Y/N]: Do you want to go shopping?
[Y/N]: I’m thinking of getting new gym clothes…
[babes]: GIRL ADFGHJKJHGFDSDFGH
[babes]: I HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS
[babes]: GET YOUR WALKING SHOES READY FOR THIS IM NOT GOING EASY ON YOU
The moment Jihyo’s fingers find their way around your wrist, it was game over. Not a single store selling gym apparel was left unvisited, and by the end of it all, you had multiple sets of gym clothes that would put you on par with those fitness influencers. Was it necessary to have that many sets? No. Were they in such a cute color that you and Jihyo just had to get matching sets? Yes.
Which led to the present, with you and Jihyo sitting next to your numerous shopping bags as you waited for your food to come out. The shopping session had somehow transitioned into another girl’s day where you yapped about anything and everything under the sun.
“You should try dating apps,” Jihyo suddenly suggests when you inform her that Mingyu refuses to set you up with any of his friends from the gym. “We don’t really have time for anything else unless you’re willing to go bar hopping or clubbing after your shift.”
“Pass,” Your nose scrunches at the idea. Those were two of the last things you’d ever find yourself doing after an exhausting shift. “But aren’t dating apps full of creeps?”
“Yes, but that’s where I met my boyfriend,” Jihyo smiles at the thought of the man. “Took me a while to find him though, and there were definitely a lot of creeps on there.”
You turn it over in your head for a while, unable to come to a decision. The idea of putting yourself out there like a product for everyone else to judge has your stomach turning, in all honesty, but some part of you is also curious. “I’ll think about it.”
“No pressure at all, girl,” Jihyo replies. “I heard the online dating scene is bad nowadays, so it might just be a waste of time.”
The first thing you do is download the first dating app you see and set up your profile. Despite the fact that the process only takes a few steps, it takes you two hours of typing and erasing on your phone before you’re satisfied with your profile. You were, as Mingyu likes to say it, an overachiever, and while you hated the idea of having to appeal to men, you also hated the idea of failing your first attempt at online dating.
It’s 10 left swipes in that you realize that Jihyo wasn’t lying when she said the online dating scene was bad. Their bios were absolutely atrocious, and you could easily tell that some of these were performative males or just straight up fuckboys despite their big age. Some of them refused to put clear pictures, some of them wore shades in every picture, and some of them used nothing but group pictures. You’re so caught up in judging their profiles that you don’t notice your door opening.
“Swipe left, he looks like a rat.”
The sound of Mingyu’s voice close to your ear has you jumping out of your couch, and immediately, your first instinct is to drop your phone and swat at him. “Why are you here?!”
Mingyu stands in front of you sporting his usual lazy day attire: a cap, loose joggers, and jacket that’s half-zipped to partially reveal a tight fitting tee. In response to your question, he raises his left hand to reveal two boxes of chicken and some beer, “Can’t I visit my favorite chimaek buddy?”
“Maybe warn me next time instead of sneaking up on me like a creep?” You huff out, following Mingyu into your kitchen as he rummages through your pantry. “Yah, you’re acting like you live here. Have some respect or I’m going to kick you out.”
Mingyu snorts at your threat as he pulls out packets of ramyeon. He knows your complaints are half-hearted. After all, you’ve spent nearly your entire lives together, so showing up unannounced at each other’s residences and acting like you own the place wasn’t unfamiliar to either of you. “Since when were you on dating apps?”
“Since a while ago,” You sigh out heavily, watching Mingyu turn your stovetop on before placing a pot full of water over the heat. “Jihyo suggested it.”
Mingyu scoffs, arms crossing as he waits for the water to boil. “You’re too good for that.”
“Well, it’s the only feasible option right now,” You reply, hands fiddling with your phone. “My job combined with the gym doesn’t exactly give me a lot of free time, you know.”
Mingyu doesn’t reply, too caught up in throwing the packets of ramyeon and the powder that comes with it into the pot. While you appreciate his concern, it was definitely getting old. You can’t stay in your comfort zone forever. That is how you got here after all, nearly 30, unmarried, and lacking prospects.
Once the ramyeon is cooked, Mingyu places a wooden trivet on your table before setting the pot down. Then, he opens up the boxes of chicken and slides a beer to you. Once he finishes setting up, he’s sitting beside you, giving you a pointed stare as he reaches his hand out. “Give.”
“Give what?” You ask, hand freezing in its descent towards the chopsticks.
Mingyu gestures to your phone, “Give it. I’ll swipe.”
“Enjoy,” You reply with a roll of your eyes as you hand him your phone.
If you thought your standards were highs, Mingyu’s was just downright unreachable. He doesn’t even linger on the men’s profile before he’s quickly swiping left with a rude comment that would surely lead to a fistfight if Mingyu had said it to the man’s face. In his words, the men either looked too ugly, looked funny, or looked like a player. Every once in a while, he’d pause to read through the bio. Not because he considers them good enough, no. He reads through their bio just to dissect it like he was in a literature class.
“Rating myself a 9 out of 10 because you’re the 1 I need to complete it.” Mingyu almost looks offended as he reads one of the bios. “A nine is very generous for a face like that, really.”
Left swipe.
“If you can’t handle me at my worst, you don’t deserve me at my best,” Mingyu snorts after reading the sentence. “Is this supposed to be his best?”
Left swipe.
“Looking for open-minded girls—“ Mingyu looks absolutely disgusted at this point. “What the fuck?”
Immediate left swipe.
The only thing you can do is laugh as Mingyu progressively gets more frustrated with the profiles. It’s funny, watching him alternate between stuffing his face with chicken and swiping through your phone like a critic. This wasn’t how you envisioned spending your Saturday evening, but you find that you don’t mind.
“Wait, pause on that one,” You quickly grab Mingyu’s hand before he can swipe. This was the first decent profile you’ve seen in the app, and you refuse to let Mingyu accidentally swipe away and crush your hopes and dreams.
Based on the profile, the man’s name was Eunwoo, and he was just as old as you and Mingyu. He had the kind of face that looked too good to be real: symmetrical, polished, and flawless. His features were so finely-sculpted that it was almost jarring. Not only that, but the guy had personality too! He was the only one—so far—who had a bio that didn’t make you want to chuck your phone across the room. You think it wouldn’t be bad to make him your first swipe—
Left.
Swipe.
“Yah!” Immediately, you’re turning to Mingyu with a frown. “He had a decent profile. Why did you swipe left?!”
Mingyu looks at you with that judgmental stare of his. “Pretty boys like that are up to no good.”
You almost want to argue that Mingyu himself is a pretty boy who looks like he’s up to no good, so he had no right to be calling out other men with the exact same format, but you didn’t really want to give him an unintentional ego boost. Defeated, you rip into your chicken and chew angrily, the sodium and flavoring somewhat easing your frustration. “Yah, just set it down if you’re not going to be helpful.”
Mingyu only pouts at you, shutting your phone off and placing it on the table with a light thud. “Not my fault all the men there are trash.”
“Yeah, whatever, just eat your chicken,” You grumble. Well, there goes your plan of online dating.
Another fail.
By the time the two of you finish eating, drinking, and cleaning up, Mingyu is already sprawled out on your couch and flipping through the channels on your TV. If someone were to walk in right now, it would be easy to assume that Mingyu was the one who lived in the apartment and that you were just a guest.
“Are you staying over?” You asked, moving to grab your towel as you walked towards the bathroom. It wasn’t uncommon for Mingyu to find himself crashing over at your place, after all. It’s like you had a huge, clingy dog with abandonment issues, really.
“I’m too drunk to drive home,” Mingyu answers as he follows you, leaning against the doorframe to lock eyes with you through the mirror of your bathroom as you brush your teeth. “Do you have plans tomorrow?”
“Other than sleeping in and scrolling through my phone all day?” You move to rinse your mouth. “No, not really.”
“Let’s run then,” Mingyu suggests, but it doesn’t really feel like he’s going to take no for an answer.
“No,” You quickly reply, before pushing Mingyu out of the bathroom. “Now go, I need to bathe.”
“Can I j—“
“Why are you like this?!”
The slam of your bathroom door muffles Mingyu’s obnoxious laughter.
—
Sometimes, Mingyu wonders how a person as smart as you could be so dense.
He’s literally in pajamas in your kitchen, waiting for the water in your electric kettle to boil so that he can prepare your tea just the way you like it, and somehow you still think he’s being the best fucking bestie on Earth. Part of him thinks he can kiss you right on the mouth with tongue, and you’ll still find a way to play it off as platonic.
There was nothing platonic about the way he wanted to wake up to the sight of your face every morning, and there was definitely nothing platonic about the way he wanted to bend you over your couch whenever you wore those stupidly short shorts you liked so much because sleeping in them was more comfortable. Every single day with you for the past 20-something years has been a test of self-control, a challenge to shut up in fear of ruining your friendship. It’s not that hard of a challenge, Mingyu thinks. Especially when you were hellbent on ignoring every signal he’s sent your way.
Frustrated, Mingyu narrows his eyes at the teabag in the cup as he pours the boiled water, staring (glaring) at it like its entire existence offended him.
“Gyu, what are you doing?” Your voice is soft as you call out to Mingyu, frame slightly wobbly from the synergistic effects of liquor and sleep as you walk out of the bedroom towards him. The oversized tee you’re wearing does nothing to hide the fact that you’re wearing the shorts, and Mingyu has to physically restrain himself from crashing out in your kitchen.
“Making tea, want some?” Mingyu offers it like he wasn’t making it for you, like he didn’t know your habits like the back of his hand.
“Since when did you drink tea?” Your brows are narrowed and your cheeks are puffed up, and Mingyu has to ignore every single voice in his head that’s pushing him to pinch your cheek.
He needed to get a grip.
“Since now,” Mingyu shrugs and pours himself a cup, too lazy to think of an excuse. The flavor—or the lack of it, rather—hits his tongue, and he’s unable to stop himself from pulling a face. “How do you drink that?”
It’s your turn to shrug, taking a few sips until the tiny cup is empty. “It’s got numerous health benefits.”
“Okay, doc, whatever you say,” Mingyu replies, grabbing your empty cup to wash it alongside his.
When he finishes up with the dishes, Mingyu is quick to drag you back to your bedroom and plop on the bed beside you. He wonders why you let him do this, wonders why you let him sleep in your bed, reorganize your kitchen, and basically just insert himself into numerous aspects of your everyday life.
Did friends do that?
Sure, he’s cuddled with the homies before, smacked their asses even, but those were his bros. You, on the other hand, were not one of his bros. You’re the girl he’s been in love with since he knew what falling in love was, and he’s sharing a bed with you like it’s the most normal, non-romantic thing ever. Mingyu doesn’t know how you look so peaceful while he’s a few centimeters away from you and fighting the demons telling him to cuddle you.
Fuck, he feels like he’s taking advantage of you just by lying there. It makes him feel like he’s betraying your trust by being secretly in love with you while you remain clueless. In his defense, you offered your bed the one time he was over, and like a spoiled dog that had a taste of his owner’s bed, Mingyu refused to sleep anywhere else after that whenever he visited. So really, the two of you were to blame: you for offering and him for getting used to it.
“Night, Gyu.” Your voice is soft, the sheets ruffling slightly as you tuck it under your chin.
Mingyu steels himself, the pillow shrinking in his hold as he replies, “Good night.”
—
You were definitely feeling a little more confident today.
The sports bra you’re wearing is a huge change from the usual loose shirt you wore, and the shorts clinging to your thighs were just as foreign. The you from a month ago would not have been caught dead wearing this out in public in fear of scrutiny, but you find that the you from the present was comfortable enough to start showing more skin.
Contrary to your initial belief, people in the gym didn’t really care about other people’s business. In fact, most of them were actively supportive, with some cheering other gym goers every once in a while when they’re doing a particularly difficult set. It was easier to push your limits when the people around you were judgment-free. Kudos to Mingyu and Seungcheol, you think. They were the ones responsible for building this community after all.
After one final look, you quickly leave the changing room before your insecurities take over and you change your mind. You weren’t going to give your self-deprecating thoughts the time or space to keep you from trying out things that you wanted to do.
That resolve of yours is further strengthened when you pass by Youngmi who’s quick to whistle and compliment you, “Looking good, Y/N!”
Her words instantly put a smile on your face and a burn in your cheeks, but you’re quick to reply, “I get it from you!”
Youngmi only waves you off with a laugh.
Feeling more confident than before, you open the doors and prepare yourself to face another brutal session of whole body workouts with Mingyu. Some part of you thinks that it’s a little sadistic on Mingyu’s end to have you destroying all your muscles on a Monday, but if it works, then it works.
Speaking of the man, the first thing you see upon entering the gym is Mingyu seated on a workout bench absolutely engrossed with his phone, chuckles leaving his chest every once in a while. Curious, you keep your footsteps light as you approach, sneaking up behind him to get a quick look at his phone. Once you’re a few centimeters away from him, you lean over his shoulder to look at what had him laughing so hard.
Instagram reels.
The man, at his big age, was laughing at Instagram reels.
“Dude, are you 12?” You ask with a scoff, the sudden disruption making Mingyu jump in his seat.
“Yah! Don’t sneak up on me like that–” Mingyu’s words are cut short when he catches sight of you, eyes wide and mouth agape. “What are you wearing?”
“Workout clothes, duh,” You hope your reply comes out as casual as you intended it to. The initial confidence you had was slowly dwindling at Mingyu’s reaction. Why did he look so shocked? Was the outfit ugly? Was it ugly on you? While you didn’t really expect a specific reaction from Mingyu, him staring intently and asking that question wasn’t something you expected either. Feeling a little more vulnerable, you’re quick to ask. “Is it ugly?”
The initial shock on Mingyu’s face is suddenly replaced by panic, “What? No!”
“Yah, don’t lie to me,” You reply, mood a little more sour. “Be honest.”
“It looks good!” Mingyu quickly replies, a little too loudly, and you hear Seungcheol guffawing somewhere in the background which has Mingyu frowning and you nearly dying from embarrassment. “It’s different, but good. I just got used to the shirt and joggers combo.”
Seungcheol, no longer satisfied in being a bystander in your godawfully embarrassing conversation, walks up to Mingyu and slings a buff arm around his friend’s shoulder. “Nice outfit.”
The comment followed by Seungcheol giving you a once-over has your face burning.
“Thanks, Cheol.” You smile at the man, mood slowly lifting. Well, at least Seungcheol appreciated your new look.
You definitely didn’t mind the attention. Seungcheol, with his strong brows, handsome face, and sturdy frame, had been someone you considered asking Mingyu to set you up with. However, you had quickly given up on that idea when Mingyu had declared his friends strictly off-limits.
Well, a girl could dream.
“No need to thank me for telling the truth,” Seungcheol gives you a wink that has Mingyu’s mouth falling open in disbelief.
“Hyung, are you seriously flirting with her right now?” Mingyu looks absolutely offended.
Seungcheol only shrugs and replies, “Can’t blame a man for having eyes–”
“Do you want them gone–”
“Yah, Kim Mingyu since when did you learn to fight back–”
You tune out the rest of their conversation, choosing to focus on your routine instead.
–
Kim Mingyu was having the worst fucking time of his life.
He’s gone back and forth from the bathroom to the gym around five times now, with each visit to the bathroom spent thinking of puppies, sunshine, and anything else that would get rid of his fucking hard-on. While he could just rub one out and call it a day, he thinks it’s a whole new low to be doing it in a public space where anyone could walk in. Not only that, but it felt a little disrespectful to you.
It’s just clothes, Mingyu thinks. Clothes that were meant to make you more comfortable when your body sweats and overheats. Clothes that were meant to give you a wider range of movement. Clothes that looked a little too good on you. Clothes that had Mingyu questioning his sanity for a second when he first saw you.
Mingyu has seen that set many times before on many different women, and he never bat an eye. At one point, Mingyu thought himself a paragon of the male species for being so desensitized to it. Among mere mortals that set a bad example for his kind, Mingyu was at the top. At least, he was until you decided to stroll into the gym wearing the set, and suddenly, Mingyu finds himself at the bottom of the hierarchy.
With a loud clink, Mingyu loads another heavy plate onto the barbell he’s about to bench press. The more he had to struggle with this, the less he could think about you and those stupid yoga shorts hugging your thighs and your sculpted as–
“Shit!” Mingyu hisses when he drops one of the plates onto his toe, and he thanks his lucky stars that it’s one of the lighter plates.
Immediately, Mingyu’s sitting down on the bench and pulling off his shoes to take a look at the damage. All was going well until you’re suddenly heading (bouncing) his way.
“Are you okay?” is the only thing you ask before you drop onto your knees to check on Mingyu’s foot.
Mingyu nearly fucking combusts at the sight. You’re only checking his foot like a good person, you work instincts taking over, and Mingyu knows that. He knows that it’s part of your job to be concerned about other people, knows that it’s always been your trademark to excessively worry about everyone but yourself, knows that you’re just being a good friend. Mingyu knows all of that, so why the fuck was all his blood rushing down south?
Before he can stop himself, Mingyu’s mind is flooded by images of you knelt between his legs, away from prying eyes. He wonders if you’d do it slowly or quickly, wonders how much pressure your grip would have, wonders how many times you’d have to practice before you could get it all down your throat–
At Mingyu’s shaky sigh, you’re quick to look up at him, eyes round and glassy under the gym lights. “Does it hurt?”
“A little,” Mingyu lies, his blood pumping vigorously through his veins. The pain was the last thing he was worried about. He was doing everything he could to keep his little–he supposes it’s not that little–friend from rising and traumatizing you. “I’m okay, don’t worry about me.”
“If you say so,” You relent, putting Mingyu’s sock and shoe back on carefully. “Ice that as soon as possible, then keep it raised.”
The moment you stand up from the floor, all the tension leaves Mingyu’s body, and it’s like he can finally breathe again.
Fuck, you would be the death of him.
Thankfully, after that incident, the universe seems to take mercy on Mingyu. The rest of the gym session continues without a hitch, and before Mingyu knew it, you were in his car and he was driving you home. It had become a habit ever since you started going to the gym, a change that Mingyu finds himself absolutely happy with.
The loud ringtone of Mingyu’s phone disturbs the comfortable silence that had already settled in the car.
“Who is it?” Mingyu asks as you reach out to check his phone.
“Your mom,” You replied, gaze moving to look at him. “Should I answer it?”
“Yeah,” Mingyu replies as he signals to the left. “Put it on loudspeaker.”
“How is my lovely son doing?”
“Eomeoni, it’s Y/N.” The smile on your face is bright, and your tone is even brighter. “Mingyu’s busy driving.”
“Oh, even better!” Mingyu doesn’t know if he should be offended or overjoyed that his mother sounded happier when she realized that she was talking to you. “I missed you sweetie, how have you been?”
The fond smile on your face has Mingyu’s heart warming up weirdly. “I’m doing good, eomeoni. Work’s been tiring, but I’m getting by. How about you? Are you taking all your vitamins?”
“Aigoo, always such a sweet girl,” Mingyu’s mom replies, voice soft. “You ask about me more often than my own son. He’s useless, I tell you!”
Mingyu takes the red light as a chance to insert himself into the conversation, grabbing your wrist to pull the phone closer to his mouth. “Eomma, I can hear you!”
You cackle from the side, absolutely smug at the idea that Mingyu’s own mother preferred you over her own son.
(Mingyu doesn’t mind. He prefers you more, too)
“Good, maybe you’ll call me more often!”
Mingyu sighs, “Eomma, I’m just really busy with the gym right now—“
“Yes, yes, I understand.” His mother dismisses his excuses, clearly not in the mood to argue with him. “Put Y/N back on the phone, I need to ask her something.”
Mingyu gapes at the phone, absolutely offended at how quickly his mother brushed him off. She was out here calling you sweetie while she dismissed him like an obnoxious fly? She wasn’t even trying to hide her favoritism anymore!
“I’m here, eomeoni,” You bring the phone closer to you, sticking a tongue out at Mingyu childishly to add insult to injury. “What did you need to ask?”
“What are your plans for Chuseok?” Mingyu’s mother asks, and Mingyu immediately straightens in his seat. “Are you going home? I heard your parents are going on a trip.”
Despite having his eyes on the road, Mingyu finds that his ears are more attuned to this conversation than the commotion outside. He secretly hopes you don’t have plans just so you could spend it with him and his family.
“Ah, yes they are,” You reply. “I don’t really have other plans so I’ll probably just rest the whole day.”
“Aigoo, that’s a waste of time. You should come over for the holidays!” Mingyu internally cheers at his mother’s proposition. She could be overbearing at times, but this was one of the few times he was actually thankful for it.
Like the daughter-in-law of his mother’s dreams, you’re quick to modestly refuse. “Oh, I don’t want to impose—“
“Nonsense! Come over, I’ll be very upset if you don’t.” Mingyu grins as his mother starts going down the emotional blackmail route. “And make sure to drag Mingyu with you. He hasn’t gone home in a while.”
Mingyu’s grin falls. and you laugh at that. “I will, eomeoni.”
“I’ll be waiting for the two of you, okay? I’ll be ending the call now. I don’t want to be the uncool old lady that gets in the way of your couple time. I love you both~”
Mingyu snorts at his mother’s suggestive tone, already used to it. If there was anyone in this world that wanted you to be with Mingyu more than Mingyu himself, it would be his mother, his sister, then his father. His whole family adored you, and every visit to his hometown was spent with questions of whether or not the two of you were already together. Unfortunately, each visit of his leaves them disappointed.
You, however, did not seem accustomed to this. “We’re not dating—“
“Love you too. Please end the call so I can spend more time with Y/N,” Mingyu cuts you off before you can finish your sentence.
“What an ungrateful son, but okay, I will~”
The call is dropped, and immediately, you’re glaring at Mingyu.
“Great, now your mom thinks we’re dating,” You grumble out, arms crossing in a way that has Mingyu wanting to squeeze you in his arms and keep you away from the rest of the world.
“Is it that bad if she does?” Mingyu asks thoughtlessly.
For a few seconds, only the hum of the engine and the chaos of the city is heard. Mingyu wonders if that was the wrong thing to say. He was genuinely just curious.
Mingyu knows you like the back of his hand, and you know him just as well. You’ve spent your entire lives together, and that didn’t seem like it was going to change soon. He spends his mornings thinking of what to text you, his afternoons sending you stupid posts he thinks you’ll find funny, his evenings working out with you, and his nights dreaming of you. There was not a single hour of Mingyu’s day that wasn’t spent on you in some way, somehow. So really, would it be so bad if the two of you were dating?
“I guess not, but you’re technically lying to her,” You shrug, and you don’t know it, but Mingyu’s heart skips a beat at the implication of your words.
‘Let’s make it real then,’ Mingyu mentally replies, and it takes every single ounce of whatever willpower he has to not voice it out for you to hear.
You’re not ready, he thinks. If he caved and spilled two decades worth of feelings to you, you’d probably stare at him like he had gone insane before running away. Mingyu would never be able to handle that, so instead, he plays it off, “Don’t overthink it. She knows I’ll tell her if we’re actually dating.”
He’s a coward, he knows. However, he’s not that disappointed this time. Because for the first time in a very long time, Mingyu sees hope.
Maybe he had a shot, after all.
—
Mingyu was acting… Weird.
To be fair, it’s not like he was ever normal, a trait he and his other friends seem to share, but his behavior these past few weeks were a different sort of weird that had you wondering if someone had abducted your Mingyu and replaced it with a fake one that was eerily nice, accommodating, and gentlemanly.
At 9 AM sharp you would get a good morning text, and you’re starting to realize that this may be around the time Mingyu wakes up. This is followed by a quick call around lunchtime where he asks whether you’ve eaten or not and if you’re going to the gym later. After that, you’d go straight to the gym, and Mingyu would be at the doors, waiting for you and accompanying you inside. While you didn’t mind the attention, you’re sure that Mingyu’s refusal to leave the area within a 2-meter radius of you was scaring any potential suitor that may be interested in you. After all, who the hell would want to go up against a man like that?
Somehow, it only got worse today.
You had been minding your own business, fingers clacking repeatedly on the keyboard as you sent out prescription after prescription and answered email after email. Having been so absorbed in sorting out the non-medical aspects of your job, you were deaf to the buzzing of your phone against your desk. A mistake on your end, really. You underestimate Mingyu’s persistence.
It’s an hour past lunch when you shut your laptop off, a heavy sigh leaving you as you grab your bag and head out of your room to start walking towards the hospital cafeteria. The first thing that greets you upon rounding the corner to the elevator is the sight of your co-workers huddled up and gossiping as they look at someone from a distance.
Curious, you join the crowd.
“What’s going on?” You ask Jiwoo who’s situated closest to you.
“Oh, Dr. L/N!” Jiwoo and your other colleagues are quick to bow and greet you, the gossiping halted for a second before Jiwoo answers you, “There’s a really handsome guy over there. Apparently, he’s waiting for someone.”
“Oh, really?” Intrigued, you crane your neck over the crowd to look at the man seated on one of the chairs. On his side was a plastic bag with the logo of your favorite chicken place, and for a second, your stomach grumbles at the sight. While you can’t see the man’s face, given the cap obscuring it, you could at least see the rest of his body, and boy did he look like he had the build of a Calvin Klein model. It would be a shame if his face didn’t match, you think.
“Yeah!” Jia, your other coworker, answers. “We’re betting that he’s probably Hana’s boyfriend. She did say that her boyfriend was really handsome.”
Internally, you die a little. Well, there goes your shot with this mystery man. Hana was one of the prettiest nurses in this hospital, and the patients loved her for that. Not only that, but she was also one of the sweetest girls you’ve met. She was a hard worker too! Good for her, you think. She deserved nothing less.
“I hope he isn’t though,” Mina sighs out sadly, “It’s not often that we get to see someone that handsome.”
“I know right,” Jiwoo affirms. “Do you think he’s a model?”
“He’d be more famous if he was, and we’d know him right away.” Jia answers. “Should we go ask him?”
However, the moment the man looks up, you realize that everything everyone assumed had been wrong. Dead wrong.
Kim Mingyu’s eyes meet yours, and immediately, he’s standing up and walking your way.
“Y/N!” He calls out to you with a grin, holding up the chicken.
The reaction is instant. Multiple heads turn to you at the speed of light, and something akin to shock and betrayal fill their eyes as they realize that it was you that the handsome man was waiting for. In your defense, you didn’t know it was Mingyu! Which brings you to the next concern: why the fuck was Kim Mingyu at your workplace with food from your favorite chicken restaurant?
Your coworkers part like the Red Sea the moment Mingyu is within your vicinity. Like the dense motherfucker he is, he pulls you in for a tight hug, unaware of the consequences that would surely follow this.
Y/N L/N, resident nun of the hospital, celibate by choice (by whose choice?) found displaying public affection with Mr. Sex-On-Legs. The hushed whispers in the halls of the hospital would soon be filled with nothing but your name on repeat.
Yeah, fuck your life, really.
Immediately, you’re pushing Mingyu off discreetly and excusing yourself from your coworkers who can only wave you goodbye as they gape at the man that you’re dragging away. Kim Mingyu, like the oblivious idiot he is, only follows you, letting you drag him to wherever your heart desires like a puppy that would tail its beloved owner to the ends of the Earth.
The moment the two of you are at the hospital’s cafeteria, you’re plopping across Mingyu and giving him a questioning glare, “Why are you here?”
“You weren’t answering your phone,” Mingyu slides over the chicken to your side of the table. “Knowing you, you probably haven’t eaten.”
As if on cue, an audible grumble from your stomach is heard, and Mingyu is quick to laugh and starts pulling out two boxes. “Eat up.”
You could let your pride win, but you’re honestly too hungry for that. So with a dramatic sigh, you grab the box from Mingyu and break your chopsticks into two. “Thanks.”
Mingyu only waves you off with his hand, mouth too full of chicken and kimchi to reply.
Despite your initial annoyance, you can’t deny the way your heart is fluttering in your chest. It’s a little unfair, you think. Actually, no, it’s extremely unfair. It’s extremely unfair that Kim Mingyu was quite literally the perfect guy for you, and you couldn’t have him because he was your best friend. It was extremely unfair that he knew you so well, but he couldn’t seem to figure out that you were in love with him. Most of all, it was extremely unfair that he loved you so well through his actions, but he didn’t love you in the way you wanted him to, in the way you were so in love with him.
It’s in that hospital cafeteria, watching Mingyu eat the chicken like it was his last meal, that you realize that you were still hopelessly in love with Kim Mingyu despite your efforts these past few months to forget him. Maybe asking the man you’re in love with to help you move on from him wasn’t the best idea, but did you ever really think straight when it came to Kim Mingyu?
For a second, you allow yourself to pretend. You allow yourself to imagine that Kim Mingyu is your loving boyfriend who has decided to drop by your workplace after realizing that you probably haven’t eaten lunch. You imagine he’s in love with you just as much as you are with him, and you imagine that that is the reason why he finds himself here. Not because he was a good friend, not because your mother and his mother would kill him for not looking after you, not because he feels obligated to, but because he’s absolutely, undoubtedly, recklessly, unconditionally in love with you.
For a second, you allow yourself to believe that maybe that isn’t too far from the truth.
–
Choi Seungcheol wishes he had never gone to the gym today.
It had started out okay, really. His body felt strong, his lifts were all successful, and his knee wasn’t acting up, for once. The day ahead of him was looking bright with nothing but sunshine and perfect lifts awaiting for him. That notion of his, however, quickly comes crashing down when a familiar woman walks in: Song Haneul.
Why is she a problem, you ask? Simple.
Choi Seungcheol is an observant man. He knows that Mingyu’s stupidly in love with you. He’s had to endure watching the man pine after you like an idiot since high school. Seungcheol also knows that you’re somewhat into Mingyu as well, but he couldn’t be too sure because you didn’t wear your heart on your sleeve the same way his idiot of a friend did. Lastly, Seungcheol knows Song Haneul, and he knows about the stupid crush she’s had on Mingyu since she joined the gym two years ago.
Seungcheol had to watch Haneul constantly hit on Mingyu (it was borderline harassment, really), and he had to watch Mingyu constantly reject her. She had disappeared after a particularly harsh refusal from Mingyu–not harsh enough Seungcheol thinks–and went to pursue modeling for a while. Seungcheol thought that was the end of her story, but the way she’s sashaying her way into the gym with that arrogant look on her face has Seungcheol concluding that it was not.
It was going to be hell the moment you, Mingyu, and this woman were in the same room.
(Seungcheol wonders if he should leave early for his own peace of mind or stay behind to have more gossip material that he can share with Jeonghan.)
“Hi Cheol,” is the first thing that leaves Haneul’s mouth, and Seungcheol is already thinking of what he can say to quickly leave the conversation. “How have you been?”
Seungcheol prays that he isn’t this woman’s next object of obsession. He doesn’t think he can be as courteous as Mingyu, and he doesn’t really want his inability to fake social grace to negatively impact the gym’s reputation, “Good, you?”
Somehow, Haneul takes his curt response as an opportunity to give Seungcheol a lengthy recap of what she’s been doing for the past year. Briefly, Seungcheol wonders what sin he committed in his past life to be subjected to this. He was almost tempted to just drop his dumbbells on the ground and walk out of the gym, at this point.
Fortunately for Seungcheol, Mingyu walks into the gym like a knight in shining armor, and Seungcheol is quickly tossed aside like a trend that has gone out of fashion.
Predictable.
Mingyu’s horrified eyes meet Seungcheol’s pitying gaze. The taller man’s lips soundlessly morph into a cry for help as the woman approaches, but Seungcheol can only salute his fallen comrade. Mingyu was on his own for this one, and he just had to survive it. Plus, it’s not like Seungcheol could do anything to help Mingyu without sacrificing his own peace.
However, things get truly interesting the moment you walk in, and the first thing your eyes lock onto is the sight of Haneul slapping Mingyu’s bicep as her obnoxious laughter filled the gym. Seungcheol doesn’t miss the way your eyes narrow as you pause in your steps. He also doesn’t miss the way your lips pull into a frown when Haneul starts batting her lash extensions at Mingyu and asks him to help her with her workout for the day. Mingyu, unfortunately, didn’t have a choice but to agree since there were no other trainers—aside from Seungcheol—present to help.
“What’s your split today?” Seungcheol nearly jumps out of his skin at the sound of your voice behind him. He had been so focused on watching Mingyu dig his own grave that he didn’t notice you appearing beside him.
Seungcheol pretends he doesn’t see the way Mingyu sends a questioning glance his way.
“Lower body,” Seungcheol watches you from the mirror as you do your usual stretches. For a second, he considers destroying the bro code. It’s no wonder Mingyu hung around you like a feral, overtly territorial golden retriever. If Mingyu hadn’t declared you completely off-limits that one drunken night, Seungcheol would have long made moves on you. “Wanna join?”
However, that bro code doesn’t stop Seungcheol from occasionally flirting with you just to fuck with Mingyu like he’s doing now. He’s just doing Mingyu a favor by making the taller man realize that if he doesn’t man up and confess, someone else will be taking his spot.
Seungcheol’s just being a good friend, really.
“Sure, what are we starting with?”
Seungcheol ignores the daggers that Mingyu’s eyes were mentally flinging at him.
—
You had no reason to be jealous. Absolutely. None.
First of all, Mingyu was your best friend, not your boyfriend. He wasn’t betraying you by entertaining the advances of a woman who was actually on his level. You couldn’t fault him for that.
Second of all, this isn’t the first time you’ve had to watch him interact with pretty girls while you remain discarded on the side like a toy that had lost its shine. After all, a good chunk of your college experience was spent interacting with pretty women who only ever got close to you to get closer to Mingyu. You had watched what seemed like genuine female friends ditch you the moment you introduced them to Mingyu, and you watched as Mingyu set you aside just as quickly to interact with a new bombshell you once called your friend.
Third, it’s not like you were ever in the competition.
It’s a little stupid, you think. You had spent months on improving yourself, working tirelessly to look better and hopefully feel better, and for a while, you genuinely believed that things were going to go well. That, coupled with Mingyu’s weirdly affectionate behavior, had you believing for a second that maybe, just maybe, you had a shot. Clearly, you did not.
Seeing the girl freely touching Mingyu like that had you feeling like college you again: unwanted, unimportant, undesired. It’s like all your progress from the past few months all went down the drain, and you’re back to feeling like the girl that was never anyone’s option.
At your age, you think it shouldn’t be affecting you anymore. Insecurities rooted in teenage angst and college drama shouldn’t be affecting you this much, but for some reason, it still did. You thought that maybe once you fixed yourself to fit, people would finally realize that you, too, were worth noticing, that maybe, they just couldn’t see your potential the way they seemed to do for everyone else but you. The stupid part of you hopes that maybe Mingyu will realize it too.
You didn’t bother saying goodbye to Mingyu once you finished. The moment you and Seungcheol finished the workout, you bid your goodbye to the man and left to go change without even doing your cooldown. You think that no ache in your body could ever outdo the ache in your heart.
The rest of your night follows the monotonous routine it usually does when Mingyu isn’t around. You board the train, get off the train, enter your apartment, eat your dinner, shower, curl up in your bed, and scroll through your phone.
ck.fitness_seoul added to their story.
There’s a feeling in your gut that’s telling you not to click it, but before you can listen to it, your finger has already pressed onto the notification on your screen.
It’s a repost of an Instagram story from a verified account, @sng_haneul.
Like a cruel joke from the universe, a mirror selfie of the girl from earlier with Mingyu stares at you in the darkness of your room. Mingyu’s sitting on a bench with a wide smile, and a few centimeters behind him is Haneul, you assume that’s her name, who has one hand holding up her phone and the other hand clasped on Mingyu’s shoulder in a possessive manner.
With my favorite trainer (he’s off limits, by the way 😜)
Game fucking over, you guess.
Your phone falls onto the bed with a soft thud as jealousy and self-doubt swims in your veins like a brutal concoction formulated by your insecurities. You can’t help the way a tear escapes from your eye before your body eventually breaks into full blown sobs.
A hundred questions flood your mind like a river that had broken through a poorly-built dam. It rushes in with no mercy, no thought. What if you had been born beautiful? What if you didn’t have to work twice as hard just to look half as good? Would life be easier? Surely, it would be in a society like this where looks seemed to matter more than your own credentials. Would anyone take the time to finally look your way? Would Mingyu?
You wish you were her, really. You wish you had been like every other pretty girl that Mingyu had dated. You wish you were the kind of pretty that turned heads in a room, the kind of pretty where you never had to worry about anything else because your looks alone would get you through the problems of everyday life. What a fucking dream, you think.
What a shame you’ll never be that.
Something dies in you that night, you think. You’ve done your part, you’ve put in the work, and you’ve realized that even that was not enough. The only option you had now was to accept it, to accept that no amount of hard work would change the fact that destiny has placed you on the path of endless solitude.
You win, you almost want to scream it to the sky like maybe if you had cried hard enough, the universe would finally take pity on you and do something right.
That never happens.
It’s two weeks into your plan of avoiding Mingyu for the rest of your life that you realize just how much space he takes up in your life.
His good morning texts remain unanswered which means your short break periods in the morning are left unoccupied. The food deliveries he sends to your workplace is immediately given to the other staff upon your request. The most jarring change of it all was that you no longer went to C&K Fitness Center, choosing to work out with Jihyo in a gym that was located a greater distance from your apartment. You enjoyed Jihyo’s company, you really did, but she wasn’t Mingyu.
It’s during a particularly tiring leg day session fueled by self-deprecation and bitterness that Jihyo decides that enough was enough and that you need to move on soon.
“Ok, this isn’t working,” Jihyo motions for you to drop the barbell onto the floor. “You’re going to injure yourself with how hard you’re going.”
She’s right, but you were too numb to really feel anything. “I know, sorry.”
“Do you want to trash his car like a crazy ex?” Jihyo offers jokingly, but you can tell that if you said yes, she actually would pull through with it, zero hesitation.
“We were never even together,” You clarify, plopping down beside Jihyo on the bench. “We were just friends.”
“And somehow, it’s still worse than actual break-up,” comes Jihyo’s reply, her eyes practically staring into your soul through the mirror. “Do you want to go get wasted?”
“Tempting,” You snort. “Are we going to dress up pretty while getting wasted?”
“Hell yes,” Jihyo grins at you. “Who knows, maybe you’ll find a hottie there.”
You sigh at that, “If it happens, then it happens, but I’m not looking for anything right now.”
“Don’t worry girl, they’ll be coming to you with how hot you look. Plus, the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.” Jihyo winks. “This Friday, okay? No backing out.”
“I’ll give you permission to drag me out if I do.”
“Yes!” Jihyo cheers, arms wrapping around you as she practically buzzes on her seat. “I’m so excited already. Do you want me to do your make-up? I can if you want me to. Ooh, I can come over then we can prepare together…”
A fond smile creeps onto your face as you listen to Jihyo ramble excitedly about the sudden plans for Friday. It’s not too bad, you think. Despite not being in a romantic relationship, you still had people like Jihyo who loved you in their own way, and not many people could say that they had a ride-or-die akin to the girl beside you.
That night, you sleep a little lighter. Unlike the other days that felt like an endless routine of getting up, going to work, working out, and sleeping, you finally had something to look forward to.
Baby steps, you think.
Nothing lasted forever, after all, not even the pain you were feeling.
—
Mingyu chose to give you the benefit of the doubt, but Jihyo’s Instagram story is quick to make him take it back.
It’s a harmless mirror selfie, Jihyo’s standing dead center and posing to flex her muscles, but that’s not what catches Mingyu’s eye. What catches Mingyu’s eye is the sight of your side profile that he’s memorized by heart in the background of that mirror selfie.
You had texted him two weeks ago that you wouldn’t be able to come to the gym as often because you were swamped with work. Mingyu didn’t know it then, but “not being able to come to the gym as often” was just another way of you saying that you weren’t coming at all.
At first, Mingyu let it go. Maybe you really were just busy. He knows your job can get hectic every once in a while. For a while, Mingyu had let himself believe that, but once you stopped replying to—hell, even just checking—his messages, he came to the conclusion that you were actually avoiding him. The sight of you in the gym that Jihyo goes to quickly cements that conclusion as a fact.
What Mingyu doesn’t know, however, is why you’re avoiding him. You’ve fought before, over stupid things and major things, but none of them ever happened like this. None of them started out with a sudden radio silence that Mingyu thinks is wholly unwarranted. He had done nothing to you, why would you avoid him?
“Yah, you’re thinking too much,” Seungcheol says with a kick to Mingyu’s foot. “Maybe she’s just busy.”
The phone in Mingyu’s hand is held up for Seungcheol to see, and the older man quickly pulls a face. “Well, nevermind. Maybe just go apologize, dude.”
“I don’t even know why she’s suddenly avoiding me!” Mingyu breathes out, a little frustrated. “How am I going to apologize when I don’t even know what I did wrong.”
Seungcheol almost looks like he wants to say something, but Mingyu ignores it to continue rambling. “We were doing so well, I thought I had a shot for once, and now, this happens. What the fuck am I supposed to do?”
“Mingyu, chill,” Seungcheol clasps a firm hand on Mingyu’s shoulder. “Maybe you just need a drink.”
Mingyu gives Seungcheol an incredulous look. “Getting shitfaced isn’t going to make her stop avoiding me, hyung.”
“It won’t, but it’ll help you relax,” Seungcheol suggests. “And after that, you can talk to her when you’re not as tense.”
Mingyu is silent for a while. Was he trying to lay off the alcohol? Yes. Was Choi Seungcheol’s offer starting to sound a little reasonable? Also yes. Maybe a bit of unwinding would give his brain the space to reflect.
“Fine.” Mingyu relents. Screw Choi Seungcheol for making the idea of a liver-destroying session look tempting.
“Nice, let’s drink on Friday,” Seungcheol grins.
“Can’t we drink now?” Mingyu asks.
“I’m busy until Thursday,” Seungcheol replies as he grabs one of the dumbbells from the rack. “This business doesn’t run itself after all.”
Despite Mingyu’s impatience, Friday night comes quicker than he expected it to, and the next thing he knows, he’s in a night club a few blocks away from his apartment.
Fuck Choi Seungcheol, honestly.
When Seungcheol said that they were going out drinking, Mingyu had imagined himself in a quiet bar throwing back the strongest concoctions of alcohol that the establishment was legally allowed to serve. He had imagined himself babbling out his heartaches after a few rounds of drinking shitty beer. What he didn’t imagine was that Seungcheol would drag him to a fucking a night club of all places.
Usually, he would enjoy this. Mingyu, being the absolute extrovert he is, would’ve made sure that he was the life of the party and put all those amateur fuckboys on the dance floor to shame with his good looks and even better dance moves. He’d flirt with a girl or two, just for the fun of it, then quickly backtrack when he suddenly finds himself calling them by your name like a fucking idiot. He’s done that, once or twice, and each landed with a slap that had his face stinging for the rest of the night.
Mingyu was not in the mood for any of that, and he doesn’t think he will be anytime soon.
“Hyung, you don’t even like clubbing, why are we here?” Mingyu’s a little snippy, but could anyone really blame him? The music was shit, the lights were blinding, and the atmosphere was chaotic. On top of that, Mingyu has had to fend off the advances of multiple women who seemed hellbent on getting him to come home with them. Whatever patience he had was quickly thinning out.
“I thought you liked clubbing?” Seungcheol asks, taking a sip from his drink.
“Not when I’m at my lowest—” Mingyu has to stop himself from cursing when another person ‘accidentally’ bumps his side.
The woman is quick to bat her lashes and apologize, “Sorry, I didn’t see you there. Maybe I could get you a drink to make up for it—“
“I have a girlfriend,” is the only thing Mingyu says before dragging Seungcheol to a less crowded area of the club. “Hyung, let’s just go eat jokbal and drink some beer—“
“Mingyu, don’t do anything stupid,” Seungcheol cuts Mingyu off, eyes wide as he points somewhere behind Mingyu. “But isn’t that Y/N?”
The speed at which Mingyu’s head whips around to find you is almost comical, and when Mingyu finally sees you, his breath hitches.
The only thing Mingyu can see is red. From the brick of your high heels, to the scarlet of your silk dress to the rose of your lips, to the quickly decreasing distance between you and some man that Mingu has never met—
—Mingyu sees red.
“Mingyu—“ Seungcheol’s attempt to keep Mingyu rooted is futile as his hand swipes uselessly through the air.
Mingyu storms over to your seated form, arms pushing through the crowd to reach you as soon as possible. There’s nothing going through his head, his movements fueled by an inexplicable anger that has him wanting to paint the countertop crimson with the man’s face.
The moment your eyes lock onto Mingyu’s frame, all his restraint flies out the window.
Before Mingyu can stop himself, his hand has already pulled you to him by the back of your neck, his lips crashing against yours in a way that cannot be described as anything other than ravenous. Like the piece of shit he knew he was being, Mingyu completely commits to his recklessness and dips his tongue into your mouth.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this, he thinks. Mingyu envisioned your first kiss to be tender, sweet, something you’ll initiate after he impresses you with the best date of your life, but it isn’t like that. Instead, it’s all teeth, tongue, and a desperation to claim. He knows what he’s doing is wrong, but mix a bit of alcohol, a whole lot of anger, and 20 years of pining, and this is what you get.
When he pulls away, the first thing he does is to look at the man beside you who looked absolutely livid and disgusted all at once. Mingyu only says one word, but the other man is quick to scramble away at the dark look in Mingyu’s eye, “Move.”
“Fuck you!” Comes out of the man’s mouth as a last resort to save his ego as he stomps away angrily, but Mingyu only flips him off with a glare as he starts dragging you out of the night club with a tight grip on your arm.
“Mingyu, what is wrong with you?!” Mingyu can feel you struggling against him, heels digging into the ground in an attempt to root yourself as Mingyu pushes through sweaty bodies and cages you in his arms, refusing to let anyone crash into you. “Let me go!”
The cool air of the night washes over Mingyu like a bucket of water as the two of you stand in the empty street, his grip around you finally loosening. With the threat immediately gone, the gravity of his actions suddenly weighs him down. He had fucked up, immensely.
“Are we just going to stand here?” Your voice is steady, but Mingyu can hear the storm brewing underneath it. With eyes narrowed and lips pursed, you continue speaking, “You dragged me out against my will, aren’t you at least going to explain yourself?”
“I’m sorry,” is the only thing Mingyu can say, shrinking underneath your gaze. He wouldn’t blame you if you completely cut ties with him after the stunt he pulled.
“Sorry?” The laugh you let out is humorless. “Mingyu, I was having such a nice time with him, and you just had to meddle!”
“He doesn’t deserve you,” Mingyu spits out, the anger that had once subsided slowly rekindling itself at the mention of the man who had been all over you just a few moments ago. “That asshole doesn’t deserve to even be around–”
“Mingyu, you don’t get to decide what I deserve!” comes your exasperated reply, eyes glistening under the streetlights. “I’m capable of making my own choices–”
“And of all the fucking people in this world you chose that?!” Mingyu can’t help the way his voice raises as he leans down to get his point across. “You avoid me for two weeks, and for what? To go on a date with that piece of shit?”
“Why does it matter to you?!” Your own voice raises, refusing to back down as you glare up at him. “You’ve literally dated so many women. Did you ever see me kiss you out of nowhere and flip your fucking date off?!”
“Well, maybe you should have!” Mingyu shouts back before he can think through his words.
The silence is louder than any other shout that has left either of your mouths that night. It weighs heavily in the air, and the two of you remain in a standstill where nothing is exchanged but the heat of your gazes.
Mingyu sees the way your shoulders sink, the way your brows soften from anger into confusion. “Mingyu, what are you saying?”
“I’m saying that you should’ve kissed me then,” Mingyu knows there’s no turning back. This isn’t how he expected his confession to go, didn’t expect that he’d be emptying his heart out and filling this desolate street with 20 years of everything he had left bottled and unspoken. “You should’ve fucking kissed me then, and maybe you wouldn’t have to complain about being lonely and settle for people who don’t deserve you–”
For the second time that night, Mingyu feels your lips on his, and this time, he makes sure to commit every bit of it to memory as he pulls you in by your waist. Your hands grip tightly on the collar of his shirt as you kiss him, your lips moving against his in a clumsy way that gives your inexperience away. Mingyu’s eyes nearly roll back at the thought, his lips morphing into a grin on your lips.
For a second, you pull away, and Mingyu finds himself chasing your lips with his own, only to be stopped by the words that leave your mouth, “Take me home, Gyu.”
Without wasting a second, Mingyu obliges.
–
You’ve been on this bed before, but not like this.
“Gyu!” You cry out at the feeling of Mingyu practically making out with your cunt, hands grabbing lightly at his hair to ground yourself. He licks and sucks all the right places, fingers digging into the sides of your thighs as he pushes them closer to his head. “Too much!”
Mingyu doesn’t pull away, hellbent on getting you to cum in his mouth. Your feeble attempts of squirming away from the overwhelming feeling that floods your veins are nothing compared to Mingyu’s iron grip on you. He continues mercilessly like a man that had been denied far too long, his lips wrapping around your clit to suck it as two of his fingers pump in and out of your core. “Gyu, stop, I’m gonna cum!”
“Then cum,” is the only thing Mingyu says to you, dark eyes boring into yours like a command as he fucks his fingers in and out of you in a way that has your toes curling. “Be good for me and cum–”
With a cry that breaks into a soundless scream, you cum, head thrown back in pleasure as you squirm and convulse under Mingyu’s hold and ministrations. It’s nothing like the nights you spent with your fingers stuffed up your cunt, the image of Mingyu burned into your head as you rode your high with shame. This? This was something not even your own imagination could create. Kim Mingyu has ruined you, you think. There’s no way you’re going to cum without his touch without being disappointed.
“What a good girl,” Mingyu whispers against your skin, eyes half-lidded as he licks on the wetness on your thighs. “You’re even prettier when you cum.”
You mewl at the words, the feeling, head in a haze as Mingyu trails kisses from your thighs, to your stomach, to your chest, and finally, to your lips. Mingyu kisses you sensually, hands running up and down your bare skin as he gropes and feels whatever softness his fingers can touch. Mingyu pulls away, nosing at your neck as his hands go to squeeze the globes of your chest. “Can you cum for me again, baby?”
Despite just coming from an orgasm, you’re quick to nod, fingers tugging at Mingyu’s boxers to tell him that you want all of it off.
“That’s my girl,” Mingyu grins, hands parting from your chest to pull off his boxers.
Rest in peace, you think to yourself as you eye the absolute monster in front of you. Who the fuck would have known that Kim Mingyu was hiding a third leg between his legs?
“What the fuck?” It comes out of your mouth faster than you can stop it. Oh my god, you were going to die. “Mingyu, where the actual fuck is all of that going to go?”
The serious expression on Mingyu’s face is completely wiped off as he cackles at your words. Good on him for finding it funny, but you did not! You’re not completely naive. You know that dicks get big when they’re hard, you knew that they could–theoretically–get this big, but you didn’t think you’d be the one taking it.
“Mingyu, I’m serious,” You look at the way it stands tall, twitching against Mingyu’s abdomen every once in a while as liquid oozes from its tip. The sight of it has you scooching back on the bed, but Mingyu is quick to pull you back under him by your ankle. “Where are we going to put all that?”
With a soft thud, your back hits the bed, Mingyu’s form looming over you like a wolf getting ready to sink its fangs into its prey, which is–in this case–you. Despite the laughing session he had earlier, Mingyu’s gaze is back to the dark, half-lidded gaze he was sporting when he was eating you out like a starved man. “You’re free to choose where I put my dick, baby.”
Mingyu brushes a finger across your lips, “Do you want it here?”
Your breath hitches as his finger slowly traces from your lips down to the curve of your throat. “Here?”
If you weren’t so turned on, you’d be horrified at the idea of Mingyu stuffing the entirety of his cock down your throat, but fuck, you were so unbelievably gone that the idea of gagging on it like a whore only had you getting wetter.
“Or here?” Mingyu grins devilishly when you let out a long whine, two of his fingers plunging into your pussy to rub at your walls. He leans down until his lips are brushing against your ear. “Oh? I think you want it here.”
Reason has eluded you, lust flooding your brain at the sensation of Mingyu’s fingers rubbing the rough patch in your core. “Yes, please!”
“I thought you were scared though?” Mingyu doesn’t stop the ministrations within your walls as he taunts you, lips brushing against your jaw.
“I’m not,” You sigh out, eyes shut tight as you focus on the feeling of Mingyu’s rough fingers. “I can take it!”
“If you say so,” Mingyu grins against your cheek before he presses a quick kiss on it. For a second, he pulls away. Quickly, he opens the drawer beside his bed and pulls out a condom to roll on.
“Wow, you take girls here often?” You joke, but Mingyu only narrows his eyes at you as he rolls the condom onto his cock.
“Stop that,” Mingyu chides, hand guiding his shaft to rub through the puffy lips of your pussy. “You’re the only girl who’s been here in years.”
For a second, that alarms you. “Years? Dude, are you sure those aren’t expired?”
“Are you–” Mingyu gapes at you. “My dick is literally about to enter you and you’re still calling me dude?”
“Sorry, force of habit,” You smile at him sheepishly before going back to your initial concern. “No, but seriously, go check the packaging.”
Mingyu groans in annoyance before opening his drawer to pull out the box. “October. There’s two weeks left.”
“Oh, good to hear.” You sigh out in relief, laying back. “Have at it, then.”
Mingyu gives you an exasperated look before he throws the box of condoms to the side. “Fuck, you’re lucky I love you, or I would’ve gone soft already.”
You laugh at that, Mingyu pouting as he positions the tip of his cock at your entrance. “Yeah, let’s see if you still have the energy to laugh when I’m fucking you.”
With absolutely zero warning, Mingyu’s cock slams into you, the girth of it stretching you out in a way that has your mouth falling open into a silent scream.
At the sight of your lewd expression, Mingyu grins, hips slowly pulling back and forth as he grabs at your waist. “Not so mouthy now, no?”
“Fuck, Gyu!” You whine out, back arching as the tip of Mingyu’s cock hits the deepest part of your pussy. “Shit wait, too big!”
Your words do nothing to deter Mingyu. It only feeds his ego as he continues his slow pace, “You said you could take it though?”
Mingyu gives a particularly rough thrust that has your back arching. You’re not going to survive this, you think. Despite Mingyu’s teasing words, you can tell that he’s holding back, keeping his pace slow to let you adjust. He hasn’t even entered you to the hilt, hasn’t fucked you at a faster pace.
“I can,” You breathe out shakily, fingers reaching out to pull Mingyu closer to you by the neck. “So stop stalling and fuck me like you mean it.”
Mingyu’s hips stutter as he groans against your neck. “Don’t say that unless you want me to fucking ruin you. I’m not kidding.”
“Who said I was?” You whisper sensually against Mingyu’s ear, pressing a soft kiss against his jaw as you wrap your arms around his neck. “Come on, Gyu. Be a good boy and fuck me like you want to.”
The whine that leaves Mingyu’s throat is downright sinful, and it’s the only warning you get before he starts pistoning his dick in and out of you at a bruising pace.
“Fuck, you little minx–” Mingyu lets out a moan at the squeeze of your cunt. “You shouldn’t have said that, fuck—“
Mingyu pulls away from your neck to crash his lips against yours, tongue violating your mouth the way his cock was violating your pussy. The way he fucks you is rough, desperate. He fucks you like he’s been wanting to do it for years, fucks you like it’s the only thing that’s been on his mind for the longest time. The sound of his hips colliding against yours is obscene, your wet cunt squelching at the way Mingyu drills himself into you like he’s trying to carve himself into you.
Fuck, you were going to cum again.
“Gyu,” You whine as Mingyu presses his forehead against yours, dark eyes trained on the way your face is scrunching up in pleasure. “Gyu, I’m gonna cum!”
“Fucking cum then,” Mingyu hisses out as your nails scratch down his back. “That’s it, mark me up. Let everyone know who I belong to.”
Your body seizes at the words that leave his mouth, your high crashing over you as Mingyu’s name leaves your mouth over and over like a mantra. “Cumming!”
At your cry, Mingyu pulls you tighter to him, face buried into your neck as he chases his own high. “Fuck, I love you, I love you, I love you–”
Mingyu repeats the words against your neck as if he wasn’t fucking you like a fleshlight, body pliant against his hold with no other choice but to take the harsh fucking he was giving you. It’s too much, you think, but somehow it’s not enough. You want this, want Mingyu to ruin you for everyone else, want Mingyu to turn you into a brainless mess whose head is filled with nothing but dick–
“Fuck, I’m cumming, take it!” Mingyu moans obscenely against your neck as his hips stutter, cock burying itself to the hilt as he wraps his arms around your head.
For a second, neither of you speak, your ragged breaths being the only sound to fill the room as Mingyu lays his head on your chest. The atmosphere of the room coupled with the way Mingyu’s pressing kisses on your chest and running his hands running up and down your body has you floating, the scent of sweat and sex making your head hazy.
“Did you mean it?” You ask softly, hand coming up to brush through Mingyu’s hair. You needed to know if the words truly came from Mingyu’s heart or if it was just the sex talking.
“I do,” Mingyu sits up, looking at you with the softest look on his eyes. He looks even better like this, you think. Hair messy, cheeks flushed, lips wet, and body lined with marks from you. “I love you. I always have.”
Mingyu carries your body from the bed before he lies back against the headboard of his bed, sitting you on his lap as he pulls you into his embrace. “I love you so much, and my greatest mistake was not telling you sooner.”
Warmth blooms through your chest at that, tears pricking at your eyes as you stare into his eyes, “I love you too, Gyu.”
The corner of Mingyu’s lips lift up in a smile as he reaches out to brush the strands of hair away from your face. “Not as much as I love you.”
“Is this seriously about to be a competition?” You joke, fingers tracing Mingyu’s features adoringly with your finger. “Cause you’re going to lose, by the way.”
“Highly doubt that,” Mingyu grins as he bites your finger lightly, a frown making its way to your face as you pull back with a small ‘ouch’. “Fuck wait, I think I’m getting hard again.”
Ah, so that’s what was poking at your ass.
You laugh a little at that, “You pervert, what are you even getting hard for?”
“The woman I love is literally naked on my lap and telling me she loves me,” Mingyu pouts, hands splaying across your hips as he presses your core closer to his hardening cock. “Sorry, for being horny and in love, I guess.”
A giggle–shit, you were absolutely gone–leaves your lips as you grind back and forth on his cock. Your lips curl into a seductive smile, fingernails dragging down Mingyu’s pec as you whisper against his ear, “Round 2?”
Mingyu throws his head back with a groan at your suggestion, goosebumps rising on his skin as his fingers dig deeper into your hips. “Fuck, I though you wouldn’t ask.”
The world tilts on its axis and you find yourself on all fours. You hear the sound of Mingyu ripping another condom open, and it’s the only thing you register before Mingyu slams his cock back into your pussy.
The new position has your eyes crossing and tongue lolling out, fingers digging into the sheets that your cheek was planted into as your pussy takes Mingyu’s rough pounding. The sensation is mind-numbing, your nerves tingling at every end as Mingyu brands himself into your walls. You could already tell, you were going to get addicted to this, addicted to the sensation of Mingyu roughing you up and taking you as he pleases.
“Shit, I can go so much deeper like this,” Mingyu hisses as he tangles his fingers into your hair and digs the others into your ass. “You don’t know how long I’ve been imagining this, fuck–”
A ringing sound rips through the air, and despite being in a mindless haze your eyes are quick to narrow at the phone buzzing on Mingyu’s bedside table. “Gyu, your phone.”
“Fuck, I don’t care, ignore it.” Mingyu drops more of his weight onto you, hands bracing himself on either side of you as he fucks you prone bone. Unlike you, he’s undeterred, hips continuing in their onslaught against your pussy.
Mingyu’s lips capture yours from behind, tongue dipping into your mouth as breathy moans escape the man’s throat. He was kissing you so sensually that you could almost ignore the obnoxious ringing of his phone.
Almost.
Annoyed at the disturbance, you grab the phone to look at the caller ID.
Song Haneul (Seoul Branch Client)
Immediately, ice floods your veins.
“Who is it?” Mingyu asks as he slows his thrusts to a gentle pace.
“Mingyu, why is Haneul calling you this late?” You ask, and Mingyu’s thrusts pause.
Mingyu curses as he rests his forehead on your back. “Don’t answer it, she’s insane.”
“Are you guys…” You don’t finish your sentence, too afraid of the answer.
Immediately, Mingyu is straightening up and pulling out of you, looking at you like you’ve gone mad. “Whatever you’re thinking, it’s not that.”
You narrow your eyes at Mingyu, holding the phone up to drive your point across. “Then why is she calling you?”
“She likes me, okay? But I don’t know why she’s calling me this late.” Mingyu runs a hand down his face, frustration bleeding into his words. “Baby, just end the call. Don’t let her ruin this night for us.”
Mingyu pulls you into his arms, pressing kisses against your face as he runs his hands up and down your waist to appease you. “Come on, you’re literally the one in my bed right now.”
You’re still unconvinced, so with a blank look on your face, you hold the phone up to him. “Answer it then.”
Mingyu frowns at you for a second before his face morphs into something darker. He grabs the phone and throws it beside the pillow before pushing you onto your back, the tip of his cock positioned at your entrance as his finger approaches the screen of his phone.
“You want me to answer it?” Mingyu’s voice is low against your ear, and you’re starting to have a very bad feeling about the entire situation.
Something tells you that this isn’t going to end well for you, your heart pounding violently in your chest as Mingyu slips his cock back inside you. The feeling quickly has your breath hitching, pleasured sighs falling from your lips as Mingyu presses a kiss against your ear.
Mingyu’s next words have you freezing, “How about you answer for me?”
“Mingyu, you finally answered my call!” A high-pitched voice with a drunken drawl erupts from the phone.
Shit.
–
Mingyu doesn’t know if he’s a genius or insane.
It’s a stupidly fine line, he thinks.
He’s dragging his cock in and out of you, slowly, torturously, watching on with a grin as you struggle to form coherent sentences.
“Mingyu’s–” Mingyu pushes himself deeply into you–as much as your tiny little pussy would allow. The way you choke on your words has him floating on a different high. “Mingyu’s asleep right now.”
“Oh! Sorry, who is this?” If it weren’t for the tight grip that your dripping cunt had on him, Mingyu would’ve gone soft at the sound of that pesky, obnoxious voice. “Are you his sister?”
Mingyu scoffs at that, leaning down to whisper against your other ear as he gives you a deep thrust. “Go on, answer her. Are you?”
The way your eyes roll back at Mingyu’s voice strokes his ego in a way that’s almost criminal. Only the universe knows how much he was holding back from fucking you boneless on his mattress, but he doesn’t think you’d be able to stay quiet.
Honestly, he didn’t mind. He couldn’t care less if Haneul heard him fuck you like an animal. Maybe she’ll finally take the hint when she hears you and realizes that she could never be you. She would never be on Mingyu’s bed taking his cock like a champ. She would never be in Mingyu’s heart the way you have been for the past two decades. It’s genius, Mingyu thinks. You could stake your claim on him, and that annoying woman would finally leave him alone. It’s a win-win for the two of you, and the only thing actually stopping him is the fact that you’d never forgive him if he did pull through with that idea.
So Mingyu sticks to his shallow thrusts and soft kisses despite that dark desire in the pit of his stomach that wants to fuck you dumb on his cock until the only thing you can do is babble his name.
“I’m a friend–” Mingyu gives you a particularly rough thrust to communicate his disagreement with your words.
“I’m balls deep in you, and I’m still your friend?” Mingyu pouts against your ear. “I’m hurt.”
You’re trying to glare at him, you really are, and Mingyu almost wants to coddle you and praise you for trying so hard, but he’s enjoying the situation too much. For a second, you pull the phone far away and cover the mic to hide the way you hiss at Mingyu, “Gyu, shut up–”
“Hello? Is anyone still there?”
“Yes, sorry!” You manage to breathe out. “I’ll tell him to call you back, bye!”
The moment you end the call, Mingyu fucks you with no mercy.
“Fuck, Mingyu!” You cry out, nails digging into his shoulders as he slams in and out of you.
“Good girl,” Mingyu purrs in your ear. “Let me reward you.”
Round 2 that night becomes Round 3, and it’s all a blur after that.
Mingyu remembers taking you in whatever position he could manhandle you in: mating press, doggy, against his window, on the floor, in front of his mirror–Mingyu swears at one point you were riding him, tits bouncing in his mouth as you rode his cock like he was nothing more than a toy for your pleasure. Mingyu remembers being so angry then, so upset at the idea that the two of you could have been doing this much sooner. You could’ve been riding him until he was shooting blanks, could’ve been kissing him until he forgot how to breathe without your sighs in his mouth. Fuck, he wishes he could turn back time.
It doesn’t matter though, Mingyu thinks. He had the rest of his life to love you right and fuck you hard.
By the end of it all, the box in Mingyu’s drawer is empty, and you’re curled up on his side like a cat seeking warmth as you sleep. With a stupid grin on his face, Mingyu pulls you closer to him, lips pressing softly against your forehead.
“I love you,” He whispers against your hair, hoping that the proximity of lips to your head would allow the words to penetrate your dream. It probably doesn’t work that way, but it won’t stop him from trying.
Fuck, he was stupidly in love with you.
–
The morning after the debauchery that took place in Mingyu’s bed was a nightmare.
The sun filtering through Mingyu’s curtains falls on your eyes, pulling you away from the clutches of slumber. When you move to stretch, the first thing you feel is the inexplicable ache spread throughout your body. There was no other way to describe it other than horrible. Not even a particularly tiring day at the gym could bang you up this much. What the fuck had you been doing–
Memories of last night flash through your mind like a compilation of absolutely unhinged pornos, and suddenly, you remember exactly why you were aching like you had just been hit by a truck, a 187-cm truck with no concept of restraint, to be exact.
A burn settles in your cheeks as you catch sight of yourself in the mirror. You looked like a wreck, a really hot wreck. Your hair was messy, your body was littered with marks, but fuck, you looked like you were glowing. Who needed skincare when you could just get Mingyu to fuck you?
Speaking of Mingyu, you look around the room, looking for the man. When you realize he isn’t with you, you move to pick up his shirt from the floor and wear it, your body aching in protest at every movement you make.
You were going to kill Mingyu, you swear.
Slowly, you pad out of Mingyu’s room, following the sounds of clanking pots and boiling water. Each of your movements are slow, your legs struggling to carry your own weight after the brutal pounding you took last night. You were never going to do that again. Kim Mingyu could use his hand for the rest of his goddamned life.
However, you’re quick to take your words back the moment you step foot onto the kitchen.
Sunlight streams through the kitchen windows and bathes Mingyu’s skin golden. His dark brows are furrowed in concentration as he plates the pancakes in front of him, fingers carefully placing the strawberry on top of the whipped cream. The smile that forms on his face is bright as he realizes that the strawberry was successfully placed on the pancake. The look on his face was so pure that you could almost ignore the way his pajama pants hung loosely underneath the soft outline of his abs.
This was every woman’s wet dream, what the fuck?
You’d let him fuck a basketball team into you if he wanted to.
“Good morning,” It's the first time you speak since last night, and your cheeks burn when you realize that your voice is hoarse. “What are you doing?”
“Making you breakfast–” The pure smile on Mingyu’s face falls when his eyes lock onto your form. He straightens up with a groan, hands coming up to cover his face. “You seriously can’t be doing this to me right now.”
You give him a weird look as you walk to stand beside him, eyes locking onto the heart-shaped pancakes on the counter. “Aw, Gyu, this is so cute!”
“Why are you wearing my shirt?” Mingyu whines as he wraps his arms around you from behind, chin falling onto your shoulder as he watches you coo at the pancake.
“Couldn’t find my clothes,” You reply before going back to the pancakes in front of you, pressing a quick kiss to Mingyu's cheek. “Thank you for breakfast.”
Mingyu only gives you a tight smile, grip around you tightening as he whispers in a deceptively sweet tone. “Eat up. You’ll need it~”
The next thing you know, your plate is empty and your cunt is full, Mingyu roughly hitting it from the back as he bends you over on his kitchen counter.
“You pervert!” You mewl out, tits pressed against the cool marble surface as Mingyu’s cock slides in and out of you.
Mingyu only moans shamelessly, hands groping at the flesh of your ass as he watches his cock batter your poor pussy. You had it coming, really. You sealed your fate the moment you walked into the kitchen in nothing but his shirt.
“Only for you, baby.” Mingyu grins before his mouth falls open at the sudden clench of your walls. “Fuck, shit–”
“Cumming!” You whine out, stars exploding beneath your lids as you cum around his cock. “Gyu, pull out–”
With a swear, Mingyu gets a few more thrusts in to let you ride your high before he pulls out, hand pumping his cock furiously until he releases all over your bare back.
Mingyu breathes heavily for a second, basking in the afterglow and the sight of you covered in his cum before he drops to his knees.
“Thank you for breakfast,” is the only thing you hear from Mingyu before you feel his lips press a loud smack onto your cunt that has your back arching from overstimulation.
Then, like a gentleman, Mingyu pulls out tissues from his cupboard and wipes the cum off your back before he’s pressing a sweet kiss onto your lips. Fuck him for fucking you like an animal and acting so sweet after. He makes it so easy for you to forget how brutally he takes you when he acts like such a sweetheart after.
With a boyishly handsome grin, Mingyu whispers, “I love you.”
“I love you too,” You whisper, arms wrapping around his neck to pull him closer to you. “But maybe keep it in your pants for a while, I don’t think I can take more today.”
“No promises.” Mingyu chuckles as he presses a kiss onto your forehead. “You wanna go out later?”
“Are you asking me on a date?” You tease, fingers playing with the tips of his hair.
“Yes,” Mingyu replies. “I know I did it backwards, but can I take you out on a date?”
“Only if we get chicken and beer after.” You reply.
“You could ask me to buy you a farm and a brewery, and I would.”
“You’re insane.”
“Can’t help it, you drive me crazy.” Mingyu says before he captures your lips in another heated kiss.
It’s like nothing and everything has changed all at once. The two of you still bicker childishly the same way you’ve been doing for a long time, but unlike before, you’re no longer hiding the fact that you’re in love with Mingyu behind quips and teasing. Now, you’re free to kiss him the way you wanted, free to love him the way you’ve always dreamed of doing. It’s a nice change, you think.
It took a while, but you’re exactly where you wanted to be. The two of you still needed to sort things out, to clarify exactly what both of you wanted from it, but for now, you think that being wrapped in Mingyu’s arms is more than enough.
It looks like you didn’t lie to his mom after all. Chuseok was definitely going to be interesting this year when the two of you walk hand-in-hand while entering Mingyu’s childhood home.
A/N: Here’s your daily reminder to eat well and exercise when you can!! Please know that good health looks different on everyone, and anyone who gives you a hard time for not fitting their shallow standard of ‘healthy’ is being stupid. Anyone who knows what they're doing will make sure to have a comprehensive understanding of your history and lifestyle before giving out advice. Don’t let folks on the internet or real life bully you out of doing what’s best for your health!! Thank you for reading this far, I hope you all have a nice day <3
A/N (PT.2): If you guys already miss this couple, here’s more of them in Damn Right.
⊹ overview - pairing: professor!seungcheol x student!reader
genre: college au · SMUT
themes: power dynamics, secrecy, obsessive attention, quiet yearning, subtle domination
cw: sexual content (MDNI), fingering, dirty talk, unprotected sex, breeding kink (?), cum on body, suggestive language, emotional tension, professor-student dynamics (fictional and, most importantly, consensual)
minors do not interact!
summary: you were just a student with curiosity but he noticed more. every glance and touch pulls you into something forbidden.
from kai: i think i spent the last 10 hours trying to write this. that hugo boss pic of him destroyed whatever sanity i had left.
now playing: wRoNg - zayn malik
it’s late on a wednesday night when you find yourself still on campus. the rain had started while you were tucked away in the library, headphones in, half-reading, half-dozing. by the time you looked up, the halls were nearly empty, shadows stretching long under the fluorescent lights.
you clutch your notebook against your chest, deciding to wait it out, maybe wander until the storm softens. that’s when you notice it. his lecture hall door open, a faint yellow glow spilling into the hallway.
professor choi seungcheol.
the name alone is enough to make every head in the room snap up. there’s something about him that doesn’t feel real. the easy way he shrugs his coat off, the crisp shirts rolled up just enough to reveal strong forearms, the watch that glints when he writes across the board. he speaks clearly, measured. when he leans against the desk, arms crossed, voice low and smooth, even the air seems to still.
girls whisper about him in every corner of campus. they trade stories: how someone tried to slip their number into his briefcase, how another lingered after class just a little too long. the endings are always the same: he rejects them politely, without a crack in his smile. sorry, that’s inappropriate. please focus on your studies. he makes it sound final, untouchable.
and that's exactly what makes his kindness a torment. because with you it's different. one day, you dare to raise your hand to answer a complex question, your trembling voice echoing in the silent room. and he doesn't just agree, but his eyes light up with genuine interest.
"excellent point," he says, your name coming out as a soft note from his mouth. "a truly sharp insight." it's always like this: precise praise for an answer, a slight nod of approval when you debate a colleague, a smile that seems reserved just for you.
these fragments of recognition are like crumbs you avidly collect even knowing they keep you hungry. he rewards you for being exactly what he asks: a brilliant and dedicated student. and the thin line between being the best student and being just another girl who desires him dissolves more and more.
so you learn to admire from a distance. you don’t linger. you don’t dare. you sit in the middle rows and watch him command a room with ease, pretending your pulse doesn’t spike when his gaze sweeps briefly over yours.
it should stay like that.
you hesitate. you could just walk past.
instead, your knuckles tap against the frame.
“come in,” his voice calls, smooth as ever.
he’s there behind his desk, tie loosened, hair a little mussed like he’s been running his hand through it. glasses balanced low on his nose. it’s enough to steal your breath.
“still on campus?” he asks, glancing up.
“yeah,” you murmur, stepping inside. “i was studying. waiting for the rain to stop.”
he hums, leaning back in his chair. “dedicated. most students would’ve left hours ago.”
you laugh nervously, lifting your notebook. “actually, i… uh… had a question about the reading. thought maybe you’d…”
his mouth quirks. “always so studious.”
his gaze lingers as you flip open your notes, and suddenly you’re hyperaware of every move. how you tuck your hair behind your ear, how your pen wobbles in your grip.
you stumble through your question, words tumbling out too fast. but he listens patiently, chin propped against his hand. when you trail off, he leans forward, voice softer now.
“you’ve got the right idea,” he says, eyes scanning over the notes angled between you. “but you’re overcomplicating it. it’s a simple cause-and-effect.”
you nod quickly, chewing your lip, scribbling down his words even though you’ll probably remember them. it’s easier to focus on the page than the steady weight of his gaze.
“do you… want me to show you?” he asks after a pause.
your head snaps up. “show me?”
he smiles, small and reassuring, like he’s done a thousand times in class when students hesitate. “the maps. i’ve got a few in my office that make this period easier to understand. visual context.” he gestures vaguely, as if what he really means lies somewhere deeper. “unless you’d rather figure it out on your own.”
“no… i mean, yes, i’d like to see.” you sound a little too eager, but he only nods, pushing himself to his feet.
you follow him out, footsteps echoing against the empty hallway. the storm outside thrums against the windows, a steady drumbeat that makes the silence between you sharper.
he unlocks his office door and nudges it open with his shoulder. the room is smaller than you imagined, lined with books and folders. he flicks on the lamp at his desk, the light warm against the dark night outside.
“make yourself comfortable,” he says, moving toward a cabinet in the corner. he pulls open a drawer, flipping through rolled maps until he finds the one he wants.
you hover near the desk, fingers brushing over the polished wood, over the stacks of neatly arranged essays. it feels too intimate, standing here where he spends his nights.
“here,” he says, unrolling a large sheet across the desk. his sleeve brushes your arm as he smooths the edges. “see? the borders shift here. people forget how quickly things changed.”
you lean closer, the scent of his cologne wrapping around you. he traces a line on the map with one finger, his voice low, calm, explaining.
you try to follow the geography, the dates, but it’s hard when your focus keeps slipping to the way his hand dwarfs the paper. the way his profile looks under the lamplight, strong and impossibly close.
he glances at you, catching you staring. not in a way that scolds. more curious, almost amused.
“does that make more sense?”
you nod, too quickly. “yeah. it… does.”
“good.” he says, but he doesn’t move back. instead, he stays angled toward you, leaning one hand on the desk, effectively caging you between his body and the edge of the map. his tone is still easy, still warm, but there’s something else threading beneath it now.
“you’re quieter than usual,” he observes. “am i making you nervous?”
your throat tightens. “no… i mean…”
his mouth curves slightly, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. “don’t worry. i don’t mind. you focus better when you’re quiet.”
his hand lingers near yours, fingers drumming softly against the desk. a casual rhythm, like he isn’t aware of how close he is.
“you’ve been keeping up with the material better than most,” he says, almost to himself. “sometimes i think you’re the only one actually listening in there.”
you laugh quietly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “maybe i’m just better at pretending.”
his eyes flick to you, sharp, amused. “hm. i don’t think so.” he leans a little closer, voice dropping in volume though the room is empty. “you don’t pretend well. i’d notice.”
your pulse skips, the words threading too fine a line between casual observation and something heavier. you focus on the map again, nodding like you’re still following his explanation.
“right here,” he continues, fingertip tracing another line across the faded paper. “this is where everything shifts. it’s subtle, but once you see it, you can’t unsee it.”
your eyes follow the curve of his finger, but your awareness is elsewhere. how close he’s standing now, the heat radiating off his body, the low timbre of his voice.
you swallow. “do you… stay this late often?”
he huffs a small laugh, rolling his sleeves higher on his forearms. “more than i should. grading, prep, answering questions like this.” his gaze slides to you again. “not that i mind.”
the way he says it... it shouldn’t mean anything. it probably doesn’t. still, your stomach twists, tight and restless.
“students don’t usually come by after hours,” he adds, tone thoughtful. “you’re the first this semester.”
“really?”
he nods once. “most prefer to email. less… personal.”
your breath catches at that word. personal.
for a moment, the only sound is the rain hammering against the window, the distant growl of thunder.
then he moves. not away, closer. he shifts behind you, reaching across the desk as if to adjust the edge of the map. the motion is innocent, practical, but his chest nearly brushes your back, his arm stretching over your shoulder. you stiffen at the proximity, every nerve alive.
“see here?” his voice is right at your ear now, lower than before, smooth as velvet.
you nod, unable to find words.
his hand rests flat on the desk beside yours, and suddenly you’re boxed in, his body a wall of warmth at your back. you can feel the rise and fall of his breathing but his closeness is anything but casual.
“most people overlook things like this,” he says, tracing a line on the map with deliberate care. “but you… you notice.”
you bite your lip. “i just… pay attention.”
"you have a different kind of focus," he says, stopping beside you again. "the kind most people lack. it's rare."
you laugh softly, hiding the tension in your throat. “maybe that makes me… weird?”
he watches you for a moment, as if weighing something invisible. his gaze isn’t harsh or imposing, just methodical.
you fiddle with your pen, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear again and he notices.
“not weird,” he corrects smoothly. “different. interesting. the kind of student who sticks in your mind.”
he moves around the desk, reaching into a neat stack of papers. “here,” he says, pulling out a folded copy of the map and holding it toward you. “thought you might like your own.”
you blink, surprised, and take it carefully. “oh… thank you, professor.” your fingers brush his briefly and you immediately pull back, heart hammering.
“don’t mention it.” he replies smoothly, a small smile tugging at his lips. his eyes linger on you just a second longer than necessary.
you fold the map again and tuck it into your notebook. suddenly aware of how quiet the office feels, how the storm outside presses against the windows. he leans back slightly against the edge of the desk, arms crossed loosely, watching you as if he’s taking note of every subtle movement. “sometimes staying a little longer… pays off,.” he says, voice low, almost teasing.
you feel it then, that subtle shift in the air. the warmth closer, the way his gaze seems to weigh you, to test the space between you. it’s still polite but… something has changed. there’s a spark in his eyes now, something that hints at curiosity beyond the map, beyond the lesson.
he tilts his head slightly, as if giving you the chance to respond. “i like seeing students who go the extra mile,” he continues, tone casual. “ones who don’t leave just because it’s late. shows… determination.”
you flush, unsure if it’s pride or the way he’s studying you. noting the flush on your cheeks, the way your hands grip the notebook. “i just… wanted to understand better,” you murmur.
“of course.” he says softly, stepping a little closer under the guise of adjusting a paper on the desk.
you open your mouth to thank him again. to retreat into the safety of student-and-professor formalities, but he speaks first. his voice a low murmur that seems to vibrate right through you.
“you know,” he starts, his eyes dropping to the map between you before returning to your face, “i saw you in the library. before you came here.”
your breath hitches. “you… you did?”
he gives a single nod, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. “headphones on, completely lost in your own world. you were biting the end of your pen.” he mimics the gesture subtly with his own thumb. “it’s a habit of yours, i’ve noticed. you do it in class when you’re concentrating hard.”
the admission is so intimate, so observant. he hasn’t moved an inch but he’s somehow closer than ever.
you feel the need to break the tension, to laugh it off and say something about the reading. but the words die in your throat as he straightens up.
all traces of the reassuring professor vanish. his posture changes, becomes more dominant, more… real. the casual lean is gone, replaced by a straight-backed confidence that makes the small office feel even smaller.
he lets out a soft sigh and runs a hand through his hair again, making it even more deliciously mussed. when he looks at you, his smile is different. more knowing and utterly breathtaking.
“let’s stop this.” he says, his voice losing its academic polish and gaining an honest edge.
your eyes widen. “stop… what, professor?”
“this,” he gestures between the two of you and the forgotten map. “the pretense. you’re a bright woman. you didn’t come to me just for a history lesson on a wednesday night in a storm.” he takes a purposeful step forward. “and i didn’t bring you in here just to be a good professor.”
“i brought you in here,” professor choi continues, his gaze dropping to your lips for a heartbeat before returning to your eyes, “because from the moment you tapped on that door, looking all flushed and hesitant... i knew i wouldn’t be able to focus on another damn thing until i found out if the curiosity i see in your eyes in class is just for my subject…” he pauses, his voice dropping to a low, visceral rumble, “…or if it’s for me.”
the air vanishes completely from your lungs. every piece of gossip, every campus whisper, every story of polite rejection. all of it incinerated by the sight of him. not professor choi. just seungcheol.
your heart is pounding so hard you're sure he can hear it. you open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. what are you even supposed to say? 'no, of course not'?
he sees the hesitation and pure want in your eyes. it's all the answer he needs.
“that's what i thought.” he whispers, his voice dropping lower. then, he closes the distance between you.
it's not a jerky or violent movement. it's inevitable. his hand comes up and for a second you think he'll cup your cheek. but he doesn't. his fingers just trace the shape of your jaw in the air, a hair's breadth from your skin. the heat coming off his hand is a phantom touch, a promise of something more.
“the other girls...” he says, his voice low with the gravity of a historian examining a primary source, “they didn't come for the history. they came for the story they could tell about themselves. the professor they conquered.” he takes a step that closes the distance between your worlds. “but you... i see in the margins of your essays. the questions you ask that the textbooks don't answer. you don't want to conquer anything. you want to understand.”
his hand comes down, not on you but on the one white-knuckling the notebook against your chest. his fingers wrap around yours and the hardcover feels suddenly flimsy and insignificant.
he gently pries the notebook from your grip and lets it fall to the desk, forgotten amongst the parchment and papers. your personal space is gone. you are enveloped by him, by his essence. coffee, old paper and that woody cologne that now just smells like man.
he tilts his head, his lips dangerously close to your ear. and the next words aren't a whisper, they're a rough confession.
“i spent the last thirty minutes in that lecture hall staring at that door, hoping you'd be brave enough to knock.”
your body shudders. his arm locks around your waist, pulling you flush against him. no more doubt. the desk hits your back and he steps into the space between your legs. his body a warm, solid wall.
the bridge of his nose brushes your temple. his breath is hot against your skin.
“so show me,” professor choi demands. his voice a mix of an order and a plea, as his free hand finally tangles in your hair. not with force but with possession. “show me all that curiosity was worth it.”
that raw need in his eyes breaks you. the fear of crossing the line burns away under his touch. he’s laid himself bare and you’re not about to let him regret it.
a new courage hits your blood. you don’t just let him hold you. you lean in.
your hands come up. one presses flat against his shirt, right over his racing heart. it’s just as wild as yours. the other slides into the hair at the back of his neck. he shudders hard against you, a low groan tearing from his throat.
“this what you wanted, professor?” you whisper, your mouth a breath from his. you’re not a student anymore. you’re his equal.
hunger drowns the shock in his eyes.
so you close the last bit of space.
you kiss him.
it’s not a questioning kiss. it’s an answer. it’s a confession. it’s every stolen moment of admiration, every whispered fantasy given form. your mouth moves against his with a certainty that leaves no room for doubt. showing him with every shift of your lips that yes, the curiosity was always for him. only him.
his mouth crashes into yours like he’s been starving for this. tongue sliding against yours, tasting every breath you give him. you can’t keep from moaning into it, from letting him devour you until you’re dizzy.
his hands are anything but idle. one grips the edge of the desk behind you, anchoring himself as his other drags down your side, rough through the fabric of your shirt until he finds the curve of your hip. he squeezes hard, like he needs proof you’re real under his hands.
when you gasp against his lips, he doesn’t slow. he takes the opportunity, deepening the kiss, swallowing every sound you make until you’re left trembling against him.
the sharp edge of the desk digs into the back of your thighs when he nudges you up onto it. the movement is decisive, the kind that tells you he’s not asking. your notebook and the scattered papers crumple beneath you.
“fuck…” he mutters against your mouth, almost like it slips out before he can control it. his lips trail hot down your jaw, nipping at the tender skin of your neck. “you know how many times i’ve imagined you right here? spread out on my desk?” his teeth graze over your pulse point before he sucks lightly, leaving heat in his wake.
your hands clutch at his shoulders, desperate for balance. he’s everywhere. his breath, his weight, his words filling every corner of your body.
his fingers slip under the hem of your shirt, dragging upward slowly, knuckles brushing over the sensitive skin of your stomach. “i shoudn’t be doing this. tell me to stop,” he says, voice low, but it doesn’t sound like a question. it sounds like a challenge.
you don’t. you can’t.
your silence is all the permission he needs.
he pulls your shirt over your head in one swift movement, discarding it carelessly onto the floor. his eyes darken at the sight of your bra, his hand immediately cupping you over the fabric, thumb circling until your back arches into him.
“fuck, look at you,” he groans, kissing across the top of your chest. his teeth catch the strap of your bra, tugging it down with his mouth, slow and filthy.
your breath hitches when he finally takes one nipple between his lips, tongue flicking and sucking until you’re gasping, grinding helplessly against his thigh pressed between your legs.
he pulls back just enough to smirk up at you, lips wet, eyes dark. his hand skims lower, dragging down your stomach, teasing the waistband of your skirt. he pauses, thumb dipping just under it, not moving further. “what you want from me?” he murmurs, eyes locked on yours, the weight of his stare making your skin burn.
your chest heaves, words tumbling out on a shaky breath. “i want you. please, professor c—”
“seungcheol.” he interrupts. “call me by my name here.”
his mouth leaves your chest reluctantly, lips dragging up until he’s at your ear again. his breath is hot, controlled, but you can feel the restraint in it.
“keep quiet,” he murmurs, barely more than a breath against your skin. “someone could still be around.”
you nod quickly but the sound that escapes you when his hand finally pops the button of your skirt betrays you. his palm presses down over the damp heat of your panties through the fabric and you clamp your teeth on your lip to keep from moaning too loud.
he notices. of course he does. his mouth brushes your jaw, voice low and rough. “that’s it. keep it in for me.”
the zipper comes down slow, torturous, and then his fingers are inside, brushing over your soaked panties. he exhales sharply, a quiet curse under his breath. “already this wet?”
you shift helplessly on the desk, thighs parting wider as he hikes your skirt up, exposing you. his knuckles trace the thin line of lace, teasing, before he curls two fingers under the fabric and pushes it aside.
the first touch of his fingers on your bare cunt makes your whole body jolt. you grab his arm on instinct, nails pressing into his sleeve as his thumb finds your clit and circles deliberately, steady pressure that has you trembling almost immediately.
“so sensitive,” he whispers against your temple, his lips ghosting your skin with every word. “been holding this in for a while, haven’t you?”
you bite down harder on your lip, a muffled whimper escaping despite yourself. he doesn’t give you relief. if anything, he slows down. drawing lazy circles over your clit until your hips lift off the desk in search of more.
he chuckles low, breathy, but it’s gone in an instant when he pushes a finger inside you. your jaw falls open, no sound coming out, just a sharp gasp of air as your walls clench tight around him.
he watches your face, completely focused. his thumb never leaving your clit while his finger curls inside you. “that’s it. just like that,” he mutters, voice still low, more to himself than to you.
when he adds a second finger, stretching you, the wet sound of it fills the office, obscene against the storm hammering outside. you slap a hand over your mouth, muffling the cry that wants to break free, your other hand fisting his shirt so tight you’re sure you’ll wrinkle it beyond saving.
he leans down, lips brushing your ear again, and whispers, “good girl.”
your body shudders at the quiet praise, at the rhythm of his fingers thrusting deep, curling just right. his pace builds with a precision that makes your thighs tremble, his thumb rubbing tight circles until your stomach knots, your whole body teetering on the edge.
he feels it. he must, because his pace grows more insistent, fingers moving harder, faster, the wet slap of it filling the small space. he murmurs against your skin, almost inaudible, “come for me. let me feel you.”
your walls flutter around his fingers, your body begging for release, but you force yourself to push his wrist back, breath ragged against his neck.
“wait,” your voice is barely a whisper, shaky but clear. “i don’t want to just… i want to feel you.”
he freezes for a moment, chest rising hard against yours. his eyes search your face before his jaw tightens.
he pulls his fingers from you slow. your body clenches at the loss, your slick dripping over his knuckles. he wipes it against your thigh, rough, as if to mark you.
then his hand are on your shoulder, turning you around before pressing you forward. your chest meets the cool wood of his desk. papers scatter beneath you, some sliding to the floor but you don’t care.
his body crowds behind yours, the heat of him burning through your back. he grips your hip firmly, dragging you toward the edge of the desk, until you’re arched just the way he wants.
“stay down.” he murmurs, voice rough but low, just for you. his palm presses gently between your shoulder blades, holding you there.
you whimper into the crook of your arm, muffling the sound when you feel the blunt press of his cock through his trousers against your ass. the friction is enough to make your eyes roll back.
he exhales harshly through his nose, grinding once, slow and heavy, like he’s savoring the tension. “you have no idea how long i’ve thought about this.” his hand squeezes your ass, thumb dragging down to spread you open just enough for him to see the mess between your thighs.
the sharp sound of his zipper being pulled down makes your whole body tense in anticipation.
you tilt your head just enough to catch his gaze over your shoulder, your voice wrecked but firm. “please. i need you, seungcheol.”
his expression breaks into something almost feral, restraint hanging by a thread. he strokes himself once, the wet tip of his cock dragging deliberately over your folds, coating himself in you.
“so wet i don’t even need to prep you more,” he whispers, pushing just the head in before pulling back. your body jerks with the tease, nails digging into the wood of the desk.
“don’t tease,” you hiss, barely audible, and he smirks against the nape of your neck.
then, with one steady thrust, he pushes inside. slow but unrelenting, every inch stretching you until he bottoms out. your mouth falls open in a strangled cry, muffled quickly into the crook of your arm.
“fuck,” he growls low, his forehead pressing briefly between your shoulders as if to ground himself. “so tight.”
he draws back almost all the way, then slams forward again, the desk creaking under the force. one hand stays locked on your hip, the other dragging up your spine, fingers tangling in your hair to pull your head back just enough.
“keep quiet,” he breathes harshly against your ear, punctuating his words with another sharp thrust. “or someone’s gonna hear who you really belong to right now.”
his thrusts start deep, each one driving the desk forward a fraction across the floor. you bite into your forearm to muffle the sounds spilling from your throat, but the way he hits that spot inside you makes it nearly impossible to stay quiet.
his grip on your hip is bruising, dragging you back into him with every snap of his hips. the wet slap of skin against skin fills the office, obscene and loud enough that your heart stutters in fear someone might hear.
his hand leaves your hair and slips over your mouth, palm covering you, his chest heavy against your back. “shhh,” he mutters, breathless, almost broken himself. “be good for me. just take it.”
your eyes flutter shut as he fucks you harder, deeper, angling his hips until you’re seeing stars. every time he pulls out, you clench around nothing, desperate. and then he’s slamming back inside, making you whimper into his hand.
the pace builds. rough, relentless. his teeth graze the curve of your shoulder, biting down just enough to make you jolt, a strangled moan caught under his palm.
“fuck, you feel unreal,” he grits out, voice cracked with the effort of holding back. “so tight around me...” his words cut off into a groan when you clench down, walls fluttering desperately around his cock.
your body trembles, slick dripping down your thighs, the messy sounds filling the room as he drives into you from behind. you can’t hold it anymore. the pressure spirals tight, unbearable.
you arch against him, nails raking over the wood of the desk. “i’m...” you try to speak, but it comes out broken, muffled under his hand. your body is screaming for release.
he feels it, the way you’re pulsing around him. and his thrusts only get rougher, harder, fucking you into the desk like he wants to tear you apart and put you back together.
the coil inside you snaps. your orgasm crashes through you in violent waves, your whole body shaking under his weight. you moan into his hand, muffled, desperate, as your walls clamp down on him so tight it nearly drags him over the edge too.
“that’s it,” he growls low against your ear, hips stuttering but never slowing. “cum for me. soak my cock.”
you collapse against the desk, body trembling, thighs shaking as the aftershocks roll through you. he keeps moving, chasing his own release, pounding into you even as you whimper from the overstimulation.
his hips slam forward once more, deep. and you can feel the way he’s trembling against you, his chest flush to your back, every muscle in his body tight with the effort of holding on.
you’re still shaking, your body sensitive from your orgasm, but you can feel it. he’s close, so close, his cock twitching inside you, his thrusts erratic.
“inside,” you whisper, voice broken and muffled into your arm. “please, inside me.”
his breath stutters, a sharp groan ripping from his chest, like your words just shattered whatever control he had left. his grip on your hip tightens almost painfully, and for a moment you think he’ll give in.
but then he pulls out, rough and sudden. fisting his cock in his hand as he spills across your lower back and the desk in hot, messy streaks.
“fuck—” he gasps, chest heaving, forehead pressed to your shoulder as his release shakes through him.
you whimper at the emptiness, at how desperately you wanted to feel him stay inside.
he laughs, breathless, brushing his lips against your ear. “you know i can’t do that,” he murmurs, voice wrecked but teasing, “not here, not now.”
his hand slides down your side, soothing, grounding after the roughness. “you’d ruin me if i did.”
the air between you is hot and heavy, the scent of sex clinging to the room. he leans back just enough to look at you, still bent over the desk, your skin marked with his fingerprints, your body trembling.
“don’t look at me like that,” he says softly, playful despite the rasp in his voice. “i barely managed to pull out as it is.”
he exhales slow, shaky, like he’s coming back to himself and the first thing he does is grab a handful of tissues from the corner of his desk. gently, almost reverent, he wipes over your skin, cleaning the mess he left behind. his touch is careful, different now. soothing where minutes ago he was all rough edges and urgency.
“sorry,” he murmurs, voice low, thumb brushing lightly over your hipbone. “shouldn’t have lost it like that.”
you shake your head, still catching your breath and he gives you a small smile before helping tug your skirt back down, smoothing the fabric as if it might erase the evidence.
he straightens his shirt next, tucking it back into his trousers, then turns to fix your hair with his fingers, tucking a loose strand behind your ear. it’s almost absurd. how soft he is now, compared to the way he just fucked you into the desk.
you’re both nearly done recomposing yourselves when
knock knock.
“professor? you still in there?”
your heart drops to your stomach. you freeze, wide-eyed, while he instantly schools his expression into calm.
“yeah,” he calls back, steady, like nothing’s wrong. “just finishing up.”
there’s a pause outside the door, then footsteps recede down the hall.
he lets out a quiet laugh, though his hand is still resting firm at your waist, grounding you. “close call.”
once everything looks presentable, he hesitates at the door, glancing back at you. his voice dips, softer. “wait a few minutes before you leave. don’t want anyone to start guessing.”
you nod, still catching your breath and he leans in to press a lingering kiss to your lips. it’s nothing like the frantic heat from before, this one is sweet.
when he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours. “i don’t want this to just… stay here,” he admits, voice low, honest. “let me take you out. somewhere that isn’t… a desk.”
the corner of his mouth quirks, eyes crinkling as he steals another kiss, softer this time. “deal?”
you can’t help but smile, warmth curling in your chest.
“deal.”
the handle clicks, the world rushing back in as he steps out, leaving you alone in the heavy silence of the office. heart racing, lips tingling, the promise of something dangerous and thrilling lingering in the air, like the start of a secret you’re suddenly desperate to keep.
you supported seungcheol through years of being an aspiring athlete, and all you got to show for it was your undergraduate degree and an awkward, stuttered apology when he dumped you to go semi-pro. now he’s back after an injury derailed his career, and there’s only one problem: you’re the only one available to tutor him. you - 0; the universe - 1. talk about no return on investment.
⚽ pairing: choi seungcheol x f. reader
⚽ genre: exes to (lite) enemies to lovers; university au; angst, fluff
⚽ rating: while there is nothing explicit in this fic, there are two brief references to smut. while i can't stop anyone from reading this, i would prefer minors do not interact with this or any of my work.
⚽ warnings: cheol is some degree of famous, reader is a grad student/TA, mentions of an injury and coping with the aftermath of it, lots of economics talk that even i do not understand, swearing, one mention of alcohol, some misplaced jealousy, rom-com tropes, dino is kind of a loser but we love him anyway. probably a lot of other things i missed, but this is actually pretty tame for a fic of this length.
⚽ word count: 13.4k
⚽ thank you: a lot of people looked this over for me in the process and i'm sure i will forget some of them so if i do i'm sorry: @the-boy-meets-evil, @hot-soop, @highvern, and @haologram, who also gave me some wonderful ideas for the vlogs. thank you to MIT for opencourseware existing. i took microeconomics and dropped it, so i couldn't have done this without you. everyone in the discord server for helping me along the way and keeping me motivated.
⚽ author's note: i haven't posted a fic in nearly seven months, so i think it goes without saying that there are parts of this i like and a lot more i'm not 100% happy with. i'd love if this was more fleshed out and 10k longer, but i was able to write anything at all so it's good enough.
this was written for the back to school with seventeen collab, hosted by @camandemstudios. thank you both for letting me participate! please make sure to check out the rest of the stories! everyone worked so hard and this collab was a ton of fun to participate in. <3
You look down at the paper. Back up at who handed it to you. Down at the paper again.
“You’ve got to be joking.”
The poor freshman kid laughs, all nerves, and even though the sound is grating, you remember what it’s like to be forced into work study. How far away graduate school seemed; how large your professors loomed over you with all their power and knowledge and credentials; how you constantly felt like the dumbest person in nearly every room you walked into for four straight years.
“Um—”
You sigh, just barely resisting the urge to slam your head onto your desk. “I—it’s fine, don’t worry about it.” Your words do little to ease Freshman’s nerves. He’s still hunched over in the doorway of your office, wringing his hands as he shifts his weight back and forth, in for a lifetime of body pain with the way he’s squaring his shoulders. “You’re sure about this, though? Like, I’m really not being set up?”
“I don’t think so?” he offers, slowly starting to turn green right before your eyes. “Dr. Lee ga-gave me the paperwork himself, I don’t think he would’ve messed it up? Oh no, did I mess it up? Should I go back to Student Services and conf—”
Good god, this kid’s anxiety is gonna stink up your office for weeks. “No need!” you interject. “I’ll just…” Sign it, you want to say, but the longer you stare at the sheet of paper the quicker you’re losing your resolve.
TUTORING REQUEST FORM
Student Name: Choi Seungcheol
Degree: Undergraduate
Major: Business
Course: ECON04101 Introduction to Microeconomics
Instructor: Lee Yeonseok, PhD.
Recommended Tutoring: High (3-4 hours per week)
You curse under your breath. Of the two names on the paper, Dr. Lee’s does not come as a surprise. He’s a notorious hard-ass with an infamous attrition rate—most students don’t last more than a week in any of his classes—but he’s also the sole reason you were able to pay for someof your grad school tuition out of pocket with all the tutoring money you made.
That, however, was two years ago.
“Does he know I don’t tutor anymore?” Stupid question. The kid stares blankly back at you, as if to say I don’t know any more than the people in Student Services, let alone Dr. Lee. It is literally my first year here. “I’m Dr. Ahn’s TA this year. I’ve got my hands full with her bullsh… stuff—”
Immediately, you know you’ve said something wrong, because the kid’s eyes light up, all that previous anxiety disappearing like smoke. “Wait, the same Dr. Ahn that teaches the crypto course?”
“No, that one died,” you say quickly. Kid deflates. “Anyway, I don’t really tutor anymore, especially for econ. As you can see”—you gesture vaguely around the cramped four walls of your office—“they’ve upgraded me. They even put my name on a little placard by the door! Go look! They spelled it wrong! If that doesn’t sum up this university I don’t know what does.”
You heave another sigh. Try to school your face and tone into something that exudes professionalism and finality. “Look, I’m sorry I can’t help you. I tutored Dr. Lee’s students for, like, three years in undergrad so I’m sure they just… forgot that wasn’t my actual job here. Who’s in charge of tutoring these days? I’ll shoot them an email and explain all this.”
Freshman gives you a name, and it takes less than a second to find them in the employee directory. You expect that to be the end of it, but he’s still taking up space in your doorway. You quirk an eyebrow. “Yes?”
The hand-wringing returns, along with an embarrassed flush that disappears beneath the neckline of his school-branded sweatshirt. “I just—um. Maybe you could, uh. Send that now? Before I get back there?”
You blink. “Don’t you have to go all the way back across campus? How slow do you think I type?” He shrugs, and you give up on the idea of getting rid of him. “Fine. What’s your name, anyway?”
“Lee Chan. I’m a sophomore. Do you know that guy?”
“Oh. I thought for sure you were a freshman, but you’re gonna need to be more specific, Lee Chan, Sophomore.”
“The guy they want you to tutor.” You freeze. The guy they want you to tutor is—“Choi Seungcheol,” Chan tacks on, and, yeah, you know—knew, you correct yourself—someone with that name, once upon a time.
But there are a lot of Chois and a lot of Seungcheols. It’s been years since you’ve spoken to the Seungcheol you knew, and that was when he’d broken up with you to—“I heard he’s a football player? Well, used to be, I guess. The girls in the office were freaking out so I guess he’s pretty famous, but I don’t know anything about sports, do you? They said they have photocards of him. I thought they only did that for idols.”
You think about being kids together in Daegu. Think about the exasperated looks you’d share when your parents would drag the two of you to festivals: Palgongsan in the autumn, Biseulsan in the spring; transformation and rebirth. Think about being eight years old and watching your father cram into the small space of the Chois’ living room, standing around the TV with Seungcheol’s dad, shouting at Park Jonghwan. Daegu FC made the FA Cup quarterfinals that year, and you think, of everything, that’s what you’ll remember for the rest of your life.
You think about falling in love slowly. Sixteen and clueless, the pair of you were. Didn’t really know any different, just that you’d look at him and feel butterflies. That you’d hold hands in secret. Text beneath the dinner table. That you’d watch him on the football pitch and be consumed by pride. That the future felt impossibly far away, that life would never catch up to the two of you.
You think about all the football jargon you didn’t understand—the academies, the teams, the implications. You think about, I’m thinking about trying out for the FC Seoul U-18, I just don’t think there’s much more I can do here in Daegu. You think about replying, Oh, I applied to university there.
You remember thinking it must’ve been fate, how easy that had worked out. How easy that first hurdle had been overcome.
You think about how fast everything happened. The try-out, the acceptance, the explosion. Remember being unable to go anywhere those first few months without seeing Seungcheol’s face, touted as the next big thing. Think about applying for scholarships when he was applying for international visas. Think about studying for midterms when Seungcheol was studying English for interviews.
You think about the last few weeks of your relationship, when it felt like you were desperately trying to cling to ghosts. Think about how Seoul had once felt endlessly big, both in opportunity and size, and how it now felt suffocating. You think about, So you’re just giving up? Is that what you’re saying? Think about, I don’t know what else to do. It doesn’t feel fair to you.
You think about all the places you’ve watched him. On countless football pitches; shy glances in school hallways; in the passenger seat, wracked with nerves on the drive to Seoul; poised above you in bed, hairline dotted with sweat as he rolled his hips, telling you how much he loved you.
You think about watching him walk out the door, and how you never watched him again.
So you fire off your email, concise and to the point about why you can’t tutor Choi Seungcheol in Introduction to Microeconomics, and turn to Lee Chan, Sophomore.
“No,” you finally answer. “Never heard of him.”
For all intents and purposes, your rejection should’ve been the end of it.
A few days go by. You hold office hours, attend lectures, work on your thesis when you have both the time and the energy. Try to ignore the feeling of bees beneath your skin, anxiety needling each time you check your email. You were well within your right to decline the tutoring request, but you can’t help but feel like you’ve done something wrong. That someone somehow knows who Seungcheol was to you and will pull you up on it. That those girls who’d gushed about him to Chan are somewhere laughing at your expense.
But you don’t hear anything at all about it… until you do.
Sunday evening. You haven’t moved from your couch in hours, some variety show playing in the background, barely audible over your keyboard clacking. Much to your detriment, you don’t write many papers these days, so you’re out of practice. Feels like you haven’t done anything besides formulas in years, all of your academic knowledge reduced to fucking math, so you’re about ready to toss your laptop out the window long before the email even comes through.
You see, From: Lee Yeonseok. You see, Subject: Choi Seungcheol - Tutoring.
Your stomach plummets to the floor.
You scan the body quickly. You see the words personal favor… friend of his father… urgent matter… and your hands start shaking. Whether it’s from the sheer audacity of this man or anxiety, you aren’t sure, but it’s not like it matters. There aren’t a whole lot of people on campus brave or dumb enough to go up against him twice.
“Motherfucker,” you spit, bitter the only taste in your mouth.
Where did you go wrong to wind up here? You’d followed the script: got the grades, passed the exams, received half of the required education for the Respectable Career, helped a few others along the way chase dreams that may or may not have been their own. You’d fallen in love. Only had a broken heart to show for it, but that’d been in the script, too: The First Love, followed by The First Heartbreak.
The split from Seungcheol was supposed to have been the end of that chapter. You’d planned on never seeing him again, and you never would have, had it been up to you. Apparently the universe has other plans, participation required.
“Did you spill onion dip on the rug again?” You startle, sending your laptop flying. Kaori, your roommate, is perched halfway in between the living room and the kitchen like a cryptid, clearly not expecting your reaction. “Oh. Were you watching porn?”
Face burning, you fetch your laptop from the floor. “In a common area? Kaori, please, I have far more decorum than that.”
She snorts, resuming her trek to the fridge. “See, that’s what I thought, but then I walked out here and you threw your laptop so fast it was like watching my ex get caught watching furry porn all over again.” She pries the lid off a large container of yogurt. “You think this is still good?”
“Dunno. What’s it smell like?”
She sniffs it and pulls it back to check the label. “Vanilla, I think, which is concerning because it’s supposed to be strawberry.”
You shrug. “What’s the worst that can happen, you get extra”—you pause, trying to remember the correct order of things, before giving up entirely—“...biotics?”
“Mm, so close. Care if I just eat this with a spoon?”
Nose scrunched, you wave her off. “Couldn’t pay me to eat yogurt on a good day, let alone if it’s expired. All yours, babe.”
Spoon in hand and a pleased smile on her face, Kaori collapses onto the couch beside you. You try to return your attention to your paper, try to find your momentum again, and it works for all of ten minutes before you’re groaning and slamming the top closed.
You don’t even need to look over to know Kaori’s staring. “What’s up with you?” she asks. Before she can answer: “Wait, is this serious? Because I can’t have a serious conversation in this t-shirt.” You steal a glance sideways. Ask Me About My Hemorrhoid! it says, and you exhale loudly. “Don’t breathe at me, I lost a bet.”
“And continued wearing it?”
She jokingly rolls her eyes. “God forbid a girl has hobbies.” Nudges you with her foot. “C’mon, spill.”
Kaori doesn’t know about you and Seungcheol. Most people don’t, aside from a few old classmates from Daegu who found you on social media and tried befriending you once he started making a name for himself in Seoul. After that, it was just easier to keep things private while you were together. New friends knew you were seeing someone but not their name or how long you’d been together. Any curiosity surrounding why the Choi Seungcheol was following you on Insta had been waved away easily. Our parents are friends, we grew up together. Then you broke up, and there wasn’t any evidence to delete, and he wasn’t following you on Instagram anymore, and it was easier that way.
So, yeah—even though you hadn’t met her until years later, Kaori knows you have an ex. She knows you’ve had a few flings and situationships in the time since, too, and it’s why she’s none the wiser when you ask, “It’s nothing, really. Just—do you follow football at all?”
“Nah, not really. The new guy’s pretty into it and keeps trying to get me to watch the games with him, but it’s so fucking boring? I dunno, I can’t get into it. Not in real life, anyway—I binged all of Captain Tsubasa in an embarrassingly short amount of time, though. Why?”
“Student Services asked me to tutor someone the other day and I had to turn it down. I just don’t have the time, you know? This semester’s already killer, and Dr. Ahn’s been riding my ass nonstop about grades. Turns out it’s some football player, so Dr. Lee emailed me asking me to do it as a personal favor, which means, on top of all the other shit I have to do, I’m now tutoring some football player four hours a week in Microeconomics.”
Her face distorts. “God, that guy’s such a prick. Like wow, you’re good at the economy! Good for you! Who cares! Why don’t you go balance the national debt or something instead of torturing university freshmen!”
You also wrongly assume that’s the last you’ll hear of it from Kaori.
Two days later, after Student Services replies to your email with the days and times you’ll be tutoring Seungcheol, she materializes in the living room to harass you.
“You didn’t tell me your football player was Choi Seungcheol.”
The panic is instant. You know how she means it, but it’s not how your body interprets it. All of a sudden it feels like an interrogation, an accusation, and a whopping serving of guilt takes up residence in the middle of your chest for not being entirely honest.
“Explains this weird text Ken sent me.”
She slides her phone over to you, open to her text thread with her current flavor of the week. Beneath an article about Seungcheol enrolling in classes at your school:
doesn’t ur roomie TA there
Why are you calling her “ur roomie” like you don’t know her name?? Rude. Also yes.
ask her to get me an autograph
No
babe pls he was my fav player before he got injured
No
🙄 fine. can i come over later?
Starting to think you’re using me for my roommate. Get your own job 🙄
You hand her phone back. “I didn’t think you’d know who Choi Seungcheol even is.” It’s the best you can do, even though it just digs you a deeper grave. “You said you’re not into football.”
“I’m not, but unfortunately I am into that stupid man.” She sighs, wistful and longing. “Babe, you have to understand. His dick is so big.”
You hadn’t wanted to stay in Seoul for your graduate degree, let alone the same university you’d gone to for undergrad.
You’d applied to schools all over—Japan, Europe, even a few in the States. Romanticized the hell out of NYU, went window shopping for an overpriced apartment, picked a favorite pizzeria based on nothing but vibes and online reviews. In those few months after graduation, there wasn’t a whole lot tying you to Seoul. Your and Seungcheol’s relationship had been old history by then, your parents split. Your dad stayed in your childhood home and your mother moved a few hours closer to her sister. They’d waited until your brother was old enough to be out of the house.
And it’d just been… a lot. Overwhelming. Some days you could barely shower or feed yourself, let alone move halfway across the world, so you’d stayed in the familiar and tried not to let it feel like failure.
But the good thing about familiarity is you learn its tricks, figure out the hiding spots. Early on, your first or second week of grad school, you laid claim to a study room on a floor of the library everyone else ignored. You write notes on the whiteboard with faded blue markers that are still there days later. The chair on the opposite side of the table is always exactly where you left it, the space between it and the table enough to only accommodate you. Sometimes you leave books—old paperbacks littered with notes in your writing—or papers, just to see if they move.
They never do.
And all of this is why it feels like a punch to the gut when that sanctity is tainted. When you’re halfway through a stack of Dr. Ahn’s exams and the doorknob rattles behind you. When you don’t even need to turn around to know who it is, because he still sounds the same, still has that overwhelming presence. You’ve always sensed him before you felt him.
“There you are,” Dr. Lee says, ambling into the room before you can protest. He, too, is overwhelming, just in different ways. Immaculate posture that anchors his slight frame that’s always dressed impeccably and expensively. Wears a watch that’s triple your tuition. Shoes polished so bright they’re nearly blinding. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”
This time it is an accusation.
Well, you found me, you want to say, but just knowing Seungcheol is behind him, lingering in that half-study room, half-hallway space, is enough to keep you quiet. Like if you speak you’ll summon him closer and you’ll no longer be able to pretend this is nothing more than a nightmare.
You plaster on a polite smile. Say, “Ah, here I am, kyosu-nim,” and put all your energy into trying to glue Seungcheol to the floor with your mind.
Which is fruitless, because Dr. Lee moves further into the room. Gestures for Seungcheol to follow him with an impatient huff, and the study room is small, sure, and with three people it feels cramped, but that’s not the reason it feels like all the air’s been sucked out of the room.
Seungcheol looks… different. He looks as anxious as you feel, and he sticks close to the wall like he’s trying to disappear. Dr. Lee introduces him with grave importance, unaware of your history, and the forced smile he offers you almost looks embarrassed.
You know Dr. Lee is still hammering away, probably giving you a stern talking-to for rejecting his request the first time, but you can’t tear your eyes away from Seungcheol. Feels like the world around you has reduced to a pinhead, all hyperfocus; feels like your lungs are sucking in stale air one at a time.
“...his father is a very good friend of mine, so I expect…”
You expected to feel nothing. Seungcheol had left to chase his dream—one you’d always been so supportive of that it sometimes felt like your dream, too—and, perhaps naively, you thought the distance and the years would’ve been enough. You expected your heart to have hardened. You expected all those nights you spent crying to hit you at full force. You expected anger, hurt—indifference, at the very least.
“...as many hours per week as you both can manage…”
But you should’ve known better. Should’ve expected the butterflies, the way your palms grow clammy, the way your heart rate spikes. Should’ve expected everything to feel upside-down. You should’ve expected to look at Seungcheol and feel sixteen and in love all over again.
“...you are responsible for his academic progress…”
And that simply will not do. You’ve spent the last few years pulling yourself out of that hole, clawing your way back to something resembling normal. You’ve purged the thought of him from your mind—let his scent fade from your sheets, an old sweatshirt he’d left behind; forgot the way his lips felt against every inch of your skin; forgot the way his entire being lit up when he laughed; forgot the safety he encompassed, the way he whispered all those sweet nothings.
You cannot go there again.
So you roll your shoulders back, smile politely. Say, “Ah, kyosu-nim, Choi Seungcheol-ssi seems very intelligent, I’m sure he is capable of being responsible for his own academic standing, don’t you think?”
Dr. Lee cannot disagree without all but calling Seungcheol an idiot, so he hovers before you in shocked silence. Makes a show of huffing and checking his watch, like he’s all of a sudden remembered he’s late for something and being inconvenienced by this conversation he started, and then he’s halfway out of the library with a terse, “Discuss and figure this out amongst yourselves,” thrown over his shoulder.
You have an entire dramatic exit planned in your head. Gather your things, fake a phone call that makes you sound authoritative and important, and brush past Seungcheol wearing your nicest perfume as if all of this is so far beneath you you can’t even bring yourself to care about it.
Of course, you actually have to brush by him for any of that to happen, and since you’ve already decided you will not go there again, you quickly scribble your email address onto a piece of paper and slide it across the table at Seungcheol, who has steadfastly remained planted just outside the door. “Here’s my email. I don’t have time to discuss this right now.” Seungcheol cocks an eyebrow. You start throwing things into your bag haphazardly. You know you look frantic and affected, but there’s not much you can do about that. “What? Send me a copy of your syllabus and what you want to prioritize. It’ll be easier to get through this if we have a plan instead of winging it.”
He seems to catch on to your distaste because he mirrors it. Scoffs as he rolls his eyes and says, “Yeah, no use spending more time together than we have to,” and if you hadn’t gone years without speaking, you would’ve seen right through it.
But you did, so it stings all the same.
As it typically does, the planet keeps spinning after your run-in with Seungcheol.
You grade Dr. Ahn’s coursework. Try running off your anxiety at the gym, even though it’s pretty good at keeping pace with you these days. You meet Kaori’s maybe-boyfriend sneaking out of your apartment early in the morning and he has the good sense not to mention your ex, but you chalk that up to the mess of hickeys covering his neck and not any sense of social decorum.
Other people’s embarrassment saves you a ton of your own, you’ve come to learn.
Throughout all of this, Seungcheol only emails you once to send you his course syllabus. Doesn’t mention tutoring or provide you with his schedule or ask for yours, so when you’re sitting in a bar with your friends, three or four drinks deep and feeling a little petty, you forward him the original tutoring request and make sure to bold, underline, and highlight the “Recommended Tutoring: High” part for good measure.
He doesn’t take your bait—electronically, at least—but he does show up to your office hours the following Tuesday.
Bag tossed onto the floor, he flops unceremoniously into the chair across from you and says, in lieu of a greeting, “They spelled your name wrong. On the door thing.”
“I know,” you reply, your smile polite and terse. Incredible how he has the ability to raise your blood pressure in milliseconds. “What can I help you with?”
“Depends. How long do you have?”
“Well, considering you’ve shown up to my office hours on time, I’m assuming you already know I’m here every Tuesday and Thursday from four to six. So”—you glance at the clock above the door—“assuming no one comes by who needs my help more than you do, you have approximately one hour and fifty-eight minutes.”
Seungcheol is quiet for a moment as he takes you in. His stare is weighted; it makes you feel a little green around the edges. Clinical and sharp, so far removed from the way he used to look at you. You clear your throat. “I looked over your syllabus. The good news is there’s only a midterm and a final and the rest is problem sets. The bad news is there’s only a midterm and a final so they’re weighted quite heavily. You really need to know this stuff inside-out to have any hope of passing.”
“That’s why you’re here, right? Dr. Lee specifically requested you.”
You huff a breath through your nose. “I’m here as supplemental help. I can’t take your exams or do your readings for you. What else are you taking this semester?”
He sighs, sinking further into the chair, very much playing the part of the heir who has no interest in any of this. Which… is unlike him, you think, if you’re even allowed to. The Seungcheol you knew years ago took everything so seriously. Never clipped corners or took shortcuts. Anyone else would think him a spoiled, petulant child. “Business Accounting and International Trade.”
“Could be worse,” you note. “At least those three courses are tangentially related.”
Seungcheol rolls his eyes. “Easy for you to say. I haven’t taken a fucking math class in years.”
You return it. “You remember how to add and subtract, don’t you?”
“I ruptured my ACL, not my…” He trails off, looking a little embarrassed that he can’t name a part of the—“Brain.”
Whatever you were going to quip back with dies on your tongue. It's the first time Seungcheol has broached the topic of his injury—the first you’re hearing of it at all, actually—and he says it like it’s a joke, like it’s not a thing at all, but the pain is all over his face. The bitterness of the situation he’s found himself in. The unfairness of it all.
And there are so many questions you want to ask that aren’t your place: if it’s fixable, if he’ll ever play again, how he’s coping. But you don’t really need to—you can’t imagine how you’d feel if someone suddenly pulled the rug out from under you. If everything contained within the four walls of your office suddenly disappeared.
Not that the man sitting across from you hadn’t already done that, but.
“Right,” you continue, as if he hadn’t said anything at all. You know Seungcheol—know he wouldn’t want you prodding, sticking your fingers in that particular wound. “I want you to take a look at this,” you say, handing over a printout you have saved from your undergrad tutoring days. “Tell me what looks familiar, what doesn’t; what does and doesn’t make sense.”
He looks down at the paper. Back up at you. Down at the paper again. “What the fuck is this?”
“I—what? Cheol, it’s my old notes on recitation. Surely you’ve already covered this—the syllabus says this is week one stuff.” He looks down at the paper again, and it’s so familiar, watching the life drain entirely from someone’s eyes.
You barely resist the urge to slam your face onto your desk a second time.
You meet Seungcheol at the sports center for your next tutoring session.
He likes the humidity and the smell of the chlorine by the pool. He also likes that it’s not the football pitch, so the two of you sit in the bleachers there and go over his lecture notes. Much to your surprise, Seungcheol talks a mile a minute. Has stars in his eyes when he says he finally understands elastic demand curves, supply shock; tells you he spent a whole hour making flashcards.
It’s the first time you’ve seen him so excited since your tutoring began—the first glimmer of hope you’ve felt since Dr. Lee cornered you in your library hideaway. None of this surprises you. Seungcheol has always been smart, even when football was his primary (and sometimes only) focus. He has more determination and grit than anyone you’ve ever met, so you’re not surprised he’s doing well, excelling, but you are surprised—
“Can I ask you something?” Seungcheol shrugs, shoves half a protein bar in his mouth and swallows without chewing. “Why are you… uh. Here?”
“At this university?”
“Not exactly. I mean, I am wondering about that, but I guess… why business?”
Seungcheol hums. Tucks his good knee to his chest and stares down at the pool. No one’s using it, and truthfully the two of you probably aren’t even allowed to be here, but you understand why he likes it. It’s nowhere near as secluded as the library and definitely not as air conditioned, but it is peaceful. Calm. The water laps against the coping in quiet, small waves.
“Ah, I don’t know. You know how it goes.”
You quirk an eyebrow. Never, in all the years you’ve known him, has Seungcheol done anything he didn’t want to do. All that grit and determination. “What about your father, then? Dr. Lee mentioned this was a favor to him. He’s a pretty important person to have in your Rolodex of favors.”
Doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see what this is: Seungcheol’s father has new money; worked from the bottom up, made some smart investment decisions that finally panned out after Seungcheol left for Seoul. Started doing his own thing, made a name for himself. Last you’d heard from your mother, Seungcheol’s brother was second-in-command. Hell, even your own brother did an internship there.
So you know what this is: a father helping his son after his dream was shattered, life turned upside-down. You can’t blame him, even if you’ve heard the whispers from all the way across campus. That Seungcheol is washed up now, trying to nepo his way into his father’s company because of it; that all he knows is sports and he should’ve stuck to that, what does he know about business, why is he the one Dr. Lee went out of his way to help.
Doesn’t stop any of them from smiling at him, though; doesn’t stop them from asking for autographs or selfies.
But you also know this isn’t something Seungcheol seems willing to discuss, so you crack a joke—“I mean, business. God, who’d wanna go into that?”—and go back to what he was willing to talk about.
You’ve never hated elastic demand curves so much in your life.
Deep in the throes of tutoring—when you can’t tell if it’s week two or week twelve—you make it back to your apartment just before ten, head pounding.
The door flies open just as you’re about to punch in the code, and there stands Ken, looking far more put-off than you’ve ever seen him. Looks defeated, if you’re being honest, like someone mopped up all his emotions and wrung them out like dirty dishwater.
“Oh, hi,” you say hesitantly. The man in front of you seems too much like a caged animal to let your guard down. “Everything okay?”
He aborts a nod halfway. Mutters an apology as he brushes by you and stalks down the hall, disappearing around the corner to the elevators. Usually he’s a talker—you haven’t been able to avoid a Seungcheol-related conversation in weeks—so you’re a little stunned. Stand there stupidly for a while, and that’s where Kaori finds you a moment later.
“You gonna stand out here all night, or…?”
“Oh—yeah, right.”
You follow her inside. Toe off your shoes and put them in the rack. Focus on the sound of the kettle whistling instead of the overbearing tension in the room. Drop your bag off in your room, throw on a sweatshirt three sizes too big and a comfy pair of socks. Rummage through the fridge for leftovers, contemplate what mindless show you’ll watch as you eat, and you do not, under any circumstances, ask Kaori what happened.
You don’t have to. You knew what this was going to be the first time Ken spent the night—the way he looked mortified to be meeting you in the shared kitchen at seven a.m., wearing a look that begged you not to tell your roommate he was sneaking out.
I, uh, have an early class, he’d said. You know how it is.
Maybe you should’ve called him on it then. Issued a warning-but-not-really. She’ll get attached if you don’t tell her. She should know it’s different for you, if it is.
But you’d convinced yourself it wasn’t your place. Kaori wouldn’t want you in her business like that, so you stayed quiet, just nodded before watching him slip his shoes on and close the door behind him so quietly you wouldn’t have known he left at all if you hadn’t been looking. Gone, just like a ghost.
So, yeah, you know exactly why your roommate looks haunted.
“I’m a few episodes behind on this if you want to watch with me,” you offer, pointing at the television with the remote. It’s a lie—you’ve never watched this show a day in your life, which Kaori seems to know—but she contemplates it nonetheless. “Also, my mom mailed us some cookies. I think they’re in the fridge.”
“Why are there cookies in the fridge?”
You huff a laugh. “They were outside the door this morning before I left for campus. I don’t know—just saw who the package was from and was like, oh, this must go in the fridge.”
She nods. Grabs the container and joins you on the couch. Sticks her feet beneath your butt and doesn’t mention a thing.
The closest she comes is a few days later. Catches you right before you head out to campus and asks how tutoring is going.
“Not bad, actually.”
Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes when she says, “That’s good. I’m glad things are going well for you two.”
Lee Chan, Sophomore makes his unexpected return at your office hours on an unsuspecting Tuesday.
“Can I help you?”
He doesn’t answer right away, just helps himself to the seat across from you. “Maybe,” comes his cryptic retort. “I was thinking about signing up for that crypto course next semester.”
You narrow your eyes. “No, you weren’t.”
He sighs. Looks a little panicked, like he can’t believe that didn’t work. “You’re right, you’re right. I, um—I wanted to come say thank you.” He pauses. “You know, for that… email you sent.”
You blink. “No, you didn’t.”
Lee Chan, Sophomore cracks immediately. Thunks his head on your desk and lets loose a pained sound. It nearly sounds like he’s wailing when he says, “I’m sorry! They put me up to it!”
What you’re able to piece together is this: Lee Chan, Sophomore has become a bit of a celebrity in the Student Services department ever since he met you, Choi Seungcheol’s tutor. And, like any smart, previously unpopular university student would do, he took advantage of it. Might’ve stretched the truth a little to make it sound like he knew more than he did, so now here he is, angling for information the girls with the photocards may or may not have paid him to get.
“They want to know about his girlfriend.”
“His what?”
What you’re able to piece together is also this: the Photocard Girls are certain Seungcheol is dating someone, based on little more than vibes. You suspect these vibes are their three degrees of separation, considering there was an abnormal amount of Change of Major files formed after his enrollment, but you tell Lee Chan that you don’t know anything and, even if you did, you wouldn’t put his business out there like that.
But some part of you still has this inexplicable urge to protect Seungcheol, so you match their offer with interest and tell him to say there’s nothing to report—not that you didn’t know, not that he couldn’t get anything out of you. Seungcheol isn’t dating anyone.
You don’t know if it’s true, but you figure that if it isn’t, he still deserves privacy.
Which is a notion you have trouble explaining a few hours later, when Seungcheol strolls into your office with a grease-stained paper bag full of cheese coin bread, offering one to you with a proud smile that drops slowly when you just stare in return.
“What’s wrong?”
Your mouth opens, closes, opens again. Nothing comes out, even though it should be simple. Some sophomore kid was just in here angling for information or the Student Services department is taking bets on whether or not you have a girlfriend would both suffice, but you cannot bring yourself to say the words.
What you settle on is, “Sorry, I just… had an interesting meeting before you got here.”
“Oh. Are you okay?”
You sigh. Tilt your head back to stare up at the ceiling. “It was about you, actually.”
Seungcheol chokes, starts stuttering over words you can’t make sense of. Says, “Me? Why? I passed my last exam—I mean, barely, but I still passed. And that wasn’t your fault! I didn’t study enough! I’ve been losing my mind over my International Trade class, that shit sucks—”
“It wasn’t about your grades, Cheol.”
“Oh.” Then, slowly, a lopsided, pleased smile overtakes his face. “Haven’t heard you call me Cheol in a while.”
“Seungcheol,” you correct.
He seems to forget all about the meeting. Tries again to offer you a coin bread before he threatens to eat them all himself, so you acquiesce mostly to shut him up, say you’ll bring the extras to Kaori. For some reason, you tell him about how much she’d loved the cookies your mom sent, and the nostalgia sets him off, gets him talking again, asking if they were the yakgwa she used to make when you two were kids.
They were, but you can’t seem to tell him that, either.
Seungcheol: sorry it’s last minute - running late. can you meet me at my place instead?
Seungcheol shared a location with you
You’re halfway to replying—I don’t think that’s appropriate—before you sigh and delete it. Midterms are only a few days away and you don’t have time to argue over where your tutoring sessions will be, so if Seungcheol wants to meet at his apartment that’s where you’ll meet him.
You read over the midterm notes on the train. Once, twice, and then a hundred more times until they’re nearly memorized, all so you can ignore the voice in the back of your head saying what a bad idea this is. That you have no business being on your way to your ex’s swanky part of town or integrating yourself into his life beyond tutoring at all. You shouldn’t know where he lives. Maybe you shouldn’t even have his phone number or answer his texts.
Not that there’s much you can do about it now, two stops away.
Seungcheol greets you warmly, if not a little rushed. Apologizes for the mess once you step inside, although it’s less “mess” and more “haven’t finished unpacking,” but there’s enough clear space to study at the dining table, so that’s where you set up, determined to keep things professional.
“Sorry again about this,” Seungcheol says, placing a can of cola in front of you as he takes the seat across. “I had to meet with my father and lost track of time, I guess.”
“Oh. How’s he doing?”
Seungcheol sighs, leans further back in the chair as runs a hand through his hair. A light brown, now. “Same as he always was, I guess. Talked about the business, about my brother. Can’t get him to shut up about that stuff most of the time.”
“The business is doing good, though.” You cough, clear your throat. “My, uh. My brother interned there during undergrad. I don’t know if your father told you that.”
You don’t know why you say it, because it’s clear from the brief flicker of pain on Seungcheol’s face that he hadn’t known, that no one had told him. And it hurts you too that they felt the need to keep it a secret, to protect Seungcheol from you even in tangential ways.
“He didn’t,” he admits, “but I’m sure he was happy to see him. He was, uh—he was glad to hear you’re my tutor. Said you were always smarter than all of us boys combined.”
You laugh. Hope it sounds casual instead of strained. “Well, no need to prove him right. Come on,” you say, tossing a study guide in his direction, “let’s get to work.”
Everything is alright for a while—nearly an hour at least. He has the formulas memorized and attributed to the correct equations. He can explain supply and demand, preference and utility, but things start to fall apart around budget constraints and constrained choice.
The formulas get mixed up. He grows frustrated when he doesn’t know the answers to your questions right away. Rolls his eyes and gets a little snappy when you correct him, try to explain things differently in a way he understands. At first he’s able to temper it, collect himself before things truly start spiraling out of control, but the longer the two of you sit there the more it all unravels.
He snaps, you snap back, and you can’t figure out why. You’ve survived this long in Seungcheol’s orbit even though you never thought you’d be around him again, and perhaps it was bound to explode eventually, but…
It’s the familiarity, you realize.
You and Seungcheol aren’t friends, though you’ve been playing at it for weeks now: meeting outside of the library or your office, the personal conversations bordering on reminiscing, being in his personal space. You don’t belong here. You don’t want to be his friend—you can’t be, not for real or pretend.
“That’s not what I’m say—”
“Then explain it better,” Seungcheol fires at you, eyebrows creasing. “You’re the tutor here.”
You roll your eyes. “I’m trying, okay? All I meant was—your answer isn’t wrong, but I know Dr. Lee and he’s going to want more than that in a response.”
“Right—not good enough, like I said.”
“I’m just asking you to expand on your answer—”
“And I’m telling you that’s all I’ve got. I’m not like you, all right? I don’t have all this shit just floating around in my head all the time. I’m not smart, I barely have any idea what’s going on half the time, and you sitting here being condescending about it is doing fuck-all to help.”
You inhale sharply, taken aback at the hostility in his voice. Suggest calling it for the night, say neither of you will be productive if you keep going like this, and neither of you bother to apologize.
So much of your relationship with Seungcheol was marred by clichés.
The two of you passing notes back and forth during class. You in the bleachers of all his games, screaming along to the team chants, waving a sign around with his name on it. Not realizing you had a crush on him at all until he liked someone else and it made your stomach hurt. Childhood friends turned lovers.
Another cliché: that it’s starting to feel like that all over again.
Seungcheol sits across from you in the library, econ textbook cracked in half in front of him as he pays no attention. Keeps grabbing his phone each time it vibrates across the table. Can’t fight the smile that forces its way onto his face when he reads whatever’s there.
Stupid, you think—both to do this and to think it’d play out any other way. Seungcheol left years ago. Probably lived ten lifetimes while he was away while you were here in this exact spot doing this exact thing. Barely lived half a life, just stuck your nose in textbooks and forced your way through.
“Cheol,” you say, trying to drag his attention back to the study guide. No use. He’s typing away, presses his tongue into the fat of his cheek as he responds. “Seungcheol,” you try again.
Also fruitless.
You have no claim here, you remind yourself—not to his time, not to him. He’s only here because someone else mandated it. You’re only here because someone else mandated it, but it stings all the same. Another reminder of what used to be, of what ended regardless of what you wanted. Another reminder that the role you used to play in his life is not the role you play now. That the space you used to take up created a vacancy, and eventually it was going to be filled.
And if this was anyone other than Seungcheol, if you were more emotionally evolved when it came to him, it wouldn’t gnaw at you as much. All of this would roll off your shoulders.
But it isn’t, and you’re not.
“If you’re not going to listen, then—”
“I am listening,” he interjects, but he’s not looking at you. Not looking at his textbook or his study guide. Keeps laughing and smiling at his phone, and it’s sick how bothered you are by it. That it feels like your stomach’s been turned inside-out with jealousy; with annoyance, because you don’t want to be here anyway, don’t want to do this anymore, and you’re wasting your time on someone who doesn’t appreciate it.
Perhaps he never did.
“What are we discussing, then?”
Still not looking up: “Consumer theory.”
You laugh—more a huff of air than anything, grin sardonically out of one corner of your mouth. Seungcheol sees none of it. “Wrong,” you answer, already expecting the way he shrugs it off. “I’m gonna skip ahead a few chapters, though. Consider it a freebie for your business class.”
It must be your tone that finally grabs his attention. Cutting, precise, purposeful. Seungcheol lowers his phone, quirks an eyebrow, wonders where this is going to go. It’s clear he’s pissed you off, that you’re itching for a fight. It’s clear the years of silence are finally coming to a head.
“Let’s talk about ROI. You know what that is?” You barely give him a second. “Return on investment. A performance measure used to evaluate the efficiency of an investment or compare the efficiency of several investments. So, let’s say I make one-hundred-thousand won on a ten-thousand won investment: my ROI is 90%. Are you following?”
He nods.
“Great, now let’s try something a bit more hypothetical.” You suck in a breath. “Let’s say I invest years of my adolescence into someone. A friend at first and then something more. Let’s say I played cheerleader, supported every hope and dream he had—went to every game, cheered him on, helped him practice his English. Held his hand and talked him down when the pressure felt overwhelming, when the only thing that felt inevitable was failure. Now, let’s say all I got in return was a stuttered, awkward apology as he dumped me and walked out the door. Let’s say that guy showed up again after years of silence just to once again waste my fucking time.”
The thing about pain is it’s not linear. What hurt five, ten years ago might not hurt today, but it might tomorrow; what hurt yesterday may never hurt again. The thing about pain is it lets you stick your head in the sand until it can’t anymore, and that’s where you are now: that window of time between Seungcheol walking out the door on the assumption you’d never see him again before he bulldozed his way back into your life has been slammed closed, locked up tight.
So you don’t even notice you’re crying until the room goes deathly silent and you can hear the drip drip drip of tears on paper. Until you watch Seungcheol’s hands flex and unflex in mid-air, stuck in that liminal space, wanting to reach out but knowing he has no right to. Until your chest aches so bad you’re sure you’re either about to break into stardust or cease to exist.
Until you say, “What, Choi Seungcheol, would you say my fucking return on investment was?” and he has nothing to say at all.
Kaori invites you to a party.
Just something small to celebrate the end of midterms and a classmate’s birthday. Nothing out of control or raucous, not even the kind of thing that’d earn a second glance from campus security. I won’t even make fun of you if you leave before eleven, is how she sold it to you, in addition to a small amount of begging and bargaining and a powerful set of puppy-dog eyes.
After everything the two of you have been through, you find it hard to say no.
So here you are, nearly eleven o’clock on a Friday, a cup of cheap beer in hand. A friend of a friend of a friend is wailing into a karaoke machine and although your ears are bleeding, it does feel nice for that to be your greatest worry. You aren’t thinking about your classes or how you’ve been prioritizing everyone else’s academic success. You aren’t thinking about whatever’s going on between Kaori and Ken. You aren’t thinking about Seungcheol.
At least you aren’t, until he walks through the door.
You’re going to continue not thinking about him at all—not about the fact he’s alone or how good he looks in a simple black T-shirt that’s a little taut in the shoulders. You’re not going to think about the way the air shifts, like the universe knows he’s important and is willing to accommodate. You’re not going to think about how Kaori catches your eye across the room, recognizes him from all her internet searches, and the way she mouths oh my god he’s so beefy at you.
You’re not going to think about how guilty you feel that she doesn’t know, because if you do you’re certain it’ll take over.
You watch Seungcheol work the room; watch as he floats between conversations, as strangers fall over themselves at the sight of him. How eager everyone is to give him something and how reluctant he is to take them. You watch as he winds up in the same circle as Kaori and how she must mention you, oh, your tutor is my roommate, because there’s a question in return before he turns and meets your gaze.
You wonder why the distance between you feels more insurmountable now than ever before.
Seungcheol finds you in your office.
It’s not a Tuesday or a Thursday, far later than four to six in the evening, but he doesn’t even bother knocking before he’s barreling in, stifling your space with his bad energy.
You haven’t seen him in nearly two weeks. Not since the party, if that even counts. Hasn’t bothered to reply to any of your texts or emails, and that was just fine by you, if that’s how he wanted to act, but it isn’t until he’s brooding on the other side of your desk that you realize you’re still aggrieved, too. Feels a little too familiar, him leaving you behind and in the dark.
So you don’t mean to—typically have much more professionalism than this—but when he tosses a stapled stack of papers with a barely-passing grade on your desk and says, “This is your fault,” the words come automatically and without forethought.
“Fuck off, Seungcheol.” It’s not your words that take him by surprise; more so the roll of your eyes, the accompanying huff. The impression that all of this is beneath you and nothing more than a mere annoyance. That however affected you were two weeks ago is not how affected you are anymore. “That’s what happens when you blow off your tutoring for two weeks because you’re a coward.”
He laughs, incredulous; unable to help the sound the tumbles out of his mouth. “I’m a—I’m a coward?”
“Yes,” you reply, tone giving away nothing. All he sees is feigned nonchalance despite the hurricane you feel brewing beneath the surface. “This,” you continue, pinching the corner of the paper between your fingertips and disposing of it in the trashcan beneath your desk, “is all on you, but do please let me know if there’s anything else you’d like to blame me for. I’m all ears.”
You don’t miss it: the way Seungcheol’s eyes grow wide at your ‘I’m all.’ The way he thinks you’re going to punctuate that sentence with yours, and it nearly has bile rising in your throat. Makes you want to scream, rip at your hair. If the last few months have taught you anything, it’s that you are still hopelessly in love with the man across from you—the man that continues to leave before he’s left, always at your expense.
So, yeah—Seungcheol is a coward, but only when it comes to you.
But he doesn’t look much like one now, gripping so hard at the edge of your desk that his knuckles have gone white, baseball cap pulled down low enough his eyes are barely visible. He’s always been overwhelming, always carried himself with an exaggerated arrogance even when it wasn’t warranted, always took everything so seriously, and maybe that’s why you’d thought he’d treat you the same way. Take you seriously. Wouldn’t just throw it all away on a maybe thing, and that’s why it's been years and you still aren’t over it.
Maybe Seungcheol is a coward, and maybe so are you.
Because not once since he’s been back have you been able to say what you mean. Can’t seem to tell him about the anger, the hurt, the heartbreak. Played it all off as petty nonchalance because you foolishly thought that would hurt him, that you’ve been reduced to simmering ash, no hope left for a fire.
“I could never blame you for a goddamn thing,” he says, voice so deep you could drown in it.
You so desperately want to know. You don’t want to know anything at all. You want Seungcheol to explain everything to you in detail and spoil the ending, but only if it’s guaranteed to be happy. Enduring another loss like the first time—you’re not sure you can take it. Not after you two have crossed paths like this, because you’ve never quite believed in fate but you think that has to mean something. That so much time and life had transpired and you two came back together.
Today, though, it doesn’t look like you’re going to get any answers.
Seungcheol straightens, looms at full height. Digs into the pocket of his sweatpants and pulls out a thumb drive. Wordlessly, he hands it over, and then he’s gone just as abruptly as he’d arrived.
Again.
Kaori wants to spend the weekend moping, and you can’t come up with a good reason not to join her.
She doesn’t mention Ken once. Not when she’s sobbing over A Silent Voice and Toradora! after that. Not when she keeps glancing at her phone every couple minutes to see if she has any texts. Not when you—only halfway paying attention between grading and your own assignments—suggest ordering something for delivery, maybe that new burger place down the street you heard was good, and Kaori shuts it down so vehemently you can only assume it was Ken’s favorite place.
Kaori just cries over the man with the big dick she never expected to take so seriously, and not even your stonewalling makes her feel ashamed of it.
And there’s respectability in that kind of openness and vulnerability. At least whatever she’s feeling is honest; at least she can admit she’s sad. You think watching Kaori process her breakup might help you process yours too, years too late, so you suck in a breath and ask, “Can I tell you something or is now not a good time?”
Kaori looks over at you. Dabs a soggy tissue at her eyes. “Well, I guess it depends,” is her answer, and she doesn’t shy away from how waterlogged her voice sounds. “If you’re going to tell me you’re a Takasu and Kawashima shipper, maybe, but if it’s anything worse I’m not sure I could take it.”
“I—what? Who even are they?” She gives you a half-hearted thumbs up. You sigh in response, sink further into the couch. “It’s, uh.” Clear your throat. “Do you remember when we met sophomore year? At that party? And I told you I wasn’t looking for anything and you said, and I quote, why not, I have a sixth sense for this kind of thing and I know that guy will have a huge—”
She hides her face behind her hands. “Ew, god, yes I remember that. My dick whisperer era. How embarrassing.”
“Right. And I told you I wasn’t looking for anything because I’d just gotten out of something.”
“Not really by choice, if I remember correctly. I told you if it was quiet it should’ve been loud, and then you never talked about it again.”
You nod. “I—yeah, that sounds like something I would’ve said.” You suck in a deep breath. “Listen, this is probably gonna sound bad considering I did never talk about it again, but—”
“Hey,” Kaori says, nudging you with her foot. Meant to be comforting, somehow. “It’s okay. There’s a lot you don’t know about me, too… most of which I’m not sure you should, actually.”
A laugh forces its way out, gives you a nice reprieve from the anxiety of the conversation you’re about to have. The need to explain it all, the need for advice. Maybe it’s not her—or anyone else’s—business, but you think you’ve kept this to yourself long enough. You and Seungcheol loved each other, once, and it seems foolish that no one knows.
Maybe Kaori had been right. Maybe love should be shouted from the rooftops; exist out in the open. Maybe something hidden in the shadows can never thrive in the light, and you knew it back then, deep down, but now it seems so obvious.
You think back to a few days before the library. Think about how things didn’t feel good but they felt okay. Think about the frustrated crease between Seungcheol’s eyebrows as he stared down at his textbook and how all you’d wanted to do was smooth it. Think about how you’d rolled your lips and tried not to laugh; how you thought it’d take a miracle to help Seungcheol pass this class.
Think about: What is the difference between the short-run and the long-run from the perspective of production theory?
Think about the short-run of your and Seungcheol’s relationship—that you’d burned bright and fast, even though it’d felt like a million years. Hadn’t dared to consider the long-run because anything beyond that bubble felt impossible.
Think about: Which of the following is not a property of isoquants?
Think about the way Seungcheol’s eyes lit up when he knew the answer. That they’re always linear, he said, and you smiled at his enthusiasm, raised your hand to high-five him and dropped it when he hadn’t noticed.
You think about the explanation—isoquants can be linear when inputs are perfectly substitutable—and what those graphs look like. Downward sloping, left to right. Think about how the graphs change when the isoquants are perfect complements.
L-shaped. Less straight as the inputs become poorer substitutes.
You know what your and Seungcheol’s graph would’ve looked like back then.
So it’s easy, almost, to tell Kaori everything. You tell her about growing up in Daegu, about the smell of the azaleas at Biseulsan in the spring. You tell her about how your parents had befriended the neighbors, how they had a kid your age, that that kid was Seungcheol—yes, that Seungcheol.
She’s able to anticipate the rest from there, but you fill in the blanks of what she can’t: being sixteen and falling in love, holding hands, the clandestine notes. All those football matches and how your throat would be hoarse from cheering. How nauseous you’d felt applying to university in Seoul, how excited you were when Seungcheol said he was coming with you. That, after you arrived, it felt like you were living in fast-forward. Barely any time to breathe or adjust; no time to just be you and Seungcheol. You had to be a student, someone responsible; Seungcheol had to be a phenom.
“Could you feel it was going to happen?” Kaori asks, now sat ramrod straight, all her attention on you. “Like, did you know?”
“I don’t know,” you admit. “Maybe I did? It’s hard to say now, all this time later. I know things definitely felt different, like life was pulling us in opposite directions.” You laugh, bitterness coloring the edges. “You couldn’t go two blocks without seeing him on some billboard, and I was just… normal, you know? I wasn’t some rising star athlete like he was, I just went to my classes. How was I supposed to compete with something like that?”
Your roommate hums, leans back into the pillows as she stares up at the ceiling. “I don’t think you were. Maybe that’s why Seungcheol was worried—maybe he felt like you were losing your own identity feeling like you had to keep up.”
You want to push back, argue that you weren’t, that you didn’t, but the truth is that it’s possible. That the shadows created by Seungcheol’s dreams were so massive you wouldn’t be surprised if they unintentionally swallowed you up. “It still wasn’t his choice to make,” you say, voice barely above a whisper.
And Kaori already knows all about your hurt, listened as you explained it all and laid everything bare. So when she says, “Sometimes that’s just how it goes, though, babe,” it doesn’t feel condescending. “We do the best we can with what we’ve got at the time. You can say now it wasn’t Seungcheol’s choice to make, because it’s been almost five years and you’ve made a life for yourself separate from him. But the—god, this is gonna sound so patronizing, I am so sorry—but you guys were so young. No one has it all figured out at that age.”
She snorts, runs a hand through her messy hair. “Shit, I’m nearly halfway to thirty and I still don’t know anything.” Adopts a frown. “What do you want now? Do you want closure? Want to try to fix things and become friends?”
“I don’t know,” you admit, biting at a hangnail. “He actually, um. The other day when he stopped by my office, he left me a USB drive? And before you ask, no I did not already look at it.”
“A USB drive? Who does this guy think he is, James Bond?” A pause. “Are you gonna look at it, though?”
You do.
Not until the silver, midnight light creeps in through your bedroom curtains and you’ve stared at the ceiling long enough; waited long enough for texts that never came, for divine intervention to, well, intervene. It never did—fair enough—so you decide to take fate by the reins. Grab your laptop, instant headache from the screen, stick the drive into the port.
It takes a second for it to load, but when it does: dozens of videos, organized by date. Vlogs, by the look of them—some from before your breakup but the majority of them from after.
You’re not sure what you expected, but it wasn’t this.
You click on the first one: a month and a half before both of you moved to Seoul. A fresh-faced Seungcheol appears on your screen, cheeks still round with adolescence. He’s in his room back in Daegu, can’t get the camera angle right. Nostalgia hits you like a ton of bricks as it pans to the side, to the wall behind his bed, and you see all his old posters. Mostly football players you couldn’t name, some girl group he used to love, a few movies. Just below them are some of the notes you’d written him in school, and they’re all you can focus on as he talks about how excited he is for the move.
The next: a few weeks after you’d started classes. By then, Seungcheol was well into the swing of things with Seoul FC. Already a big fish in a small pond, tryout offers from European teams starting to roll in. You can hear yourself in the background stressing over your first exam, wishing a generational curse upon your calculus professor. In the video, Seungcheol laughs, whispers like he’s telling the camera a secret as he talks about how nervous he is for his future. I don’t know why, he says, but it just feels like everything is about to change.
There’s a long pause between that one and the next. You understand why when you look at the date: three months after your breakup. Your hands hover uselessly above your keyboard. Whatever answers you’ve been looking for the last few years are probably in this video, but you can’t bring yourself to open it. Not right away, at least.
You click on a different one at random. Seungcheol’s somewhere in Europe, judging from the language on the signs behind him. Snow falls quietly—whenever he filmed this, it must’ve been early. No one else is around, and he cracks a joke that it’s a good thing, people would probably think he was crazy if they saw him. He doesn’t tell you where he’s going but he narrates the entire walk: points out a cafe he’s grown to love. The way to get to his practice stadium from where he’s standing. Pauses near a restaurant and laughs ruefully, shakes his head, says, I don’t know why I’m telling you this, but one of my teammates set me up on a blind date here and I got stood up. You’d probably think that was funny.
(You do. It also makes your chest ache.)
One from two years ago: Seungcheol in a hotel room, clearly nervous. He raises his hand to wave at the camera and you can see the corners of his nails bitten raw. Dark circles beneath his eyes; cheekbones more pronounced than you’ve ever seen them. On the screen, Seungcheol sighs, rakes a hand through freshly-bleached hair. Sucks in a deep breath as he says, I’m so nervous. I’m so—so fucking nervous and I don’t. Fuck, I don’t know what to do. I want to call you because you always knew what to say but that’s so fucking selfish. God, we haven’t spoken in years, and it’s my—that’s my fault, I know, so I brought this all on myself. I just want to hear your voice.
Another from a week after that: the color’s returned to his face, and he’s recording from what looks like a penthouse apartment. Sleek, modern; a small white dog napping on the bed beside him. He smiles, looks like he got his teeth fixed, looks like he’s no longer carrying around the weight of the world. Talks endlessly and excitedly about some tournament. Talks so fast you can barely keep up. Talks around words tinged with languages you don’t understand.
Seungcheol wins a championship. Records a drunk vlog from the same night, hair soaked through with god-knows-what—water, champagne, you don’t know. But he looks radiant. Looks like the culmination of two decades of dreaming. He looks happy, free, at peace. He looks like the reason he let you go, why he had to go away.
You scroll to the bottom of the files. Pause at the last video, dated seven months before the term started.
“Hi,” he says, and you can immediately tell everything is all wrong. Seungcheol’s in the dark, face only visible enough to see the tears tracking on his cheeks. “This is going to be the last one of these I make. I don’t know if you, uh—I’m sure you aren’t paying attention to me—my career—anymore, but. I, um. I got hurt. Ruptured my ACL. They’re not sure I’ll…” A sob escapes him. Has you wanting to climb through the screen to hold him, thumb away his tears, tell him everything is going to be okay. “They don’t know if I’ll ever play again.”
Seungcheol no longer looks happy, free, at peace. “Maybe you’ll be happy to hear that,” he continues. “Maybe it’ll help you to know I threw away our relationship for nothing.”
Cut to black.
The sudden silence is deafening. Has you desperately clicking back to the video you’d skipped, the one from just after your breakup. Seungcheol looks the same in that one, too, like the life has been drained out of him.
I don’t know why I’m doing this. It’s not like I’ll ever show these to you now, since I…
I’m sure I owe you an explanation. To be honest, I don’t know what I’m doing, I just—things have been so hard, and I’m still trying to make sense of it all. I feel like my life went from zero to a hundred before I could even blink and now I’m scrambling. I didn’t think it was fair to—to drag you through that. Me being away, moving to an entirely different continent. I have faith we could do it, I just. I don’t know, baby, I don’t…
You deserve to have your own life. Be your own person. I’m so scared that the world will never see you for who you are—so beautiful and intelligent and kind. You don’t deserve to be reduced to my partner. And if you ever see this, I know you’re gonna roll your eyes. Probably call me a mean name because I took the choice away from you, because you think I’m trying to be selfless and heroic, and you’d be right. It’s not fair, and I wish I could tell you I’m sorry.
I wish I could just… pluck out my brain and give it to you, because even if it killed me to do it, at least it makes sense to me. And I don’t—I don’t want you to think I’m not hurting. I’ve been sick to my stomach since I left. I know I’m making a mistake, I know I am, I just—how do I do what I think is right in the long-run when it’s not what I want right now, or ever?
I don’t want to get over you. I don’t want you to get over me, and that’s how you know I’m not acting selflessly, because you should. I want you to always be happy, I just… wish it was with me.
So, I’m going to keep making these. I’m going to take you along for the ride, wherever it takes us, because you should be here but I can only hope you can one day understand why you’re not. I’m so—I’m so sorry, I don’t…
I’m sorry.
I love you.
You fall asleep and dream that you were the one meant to meet him at that restaurant.
The first thing you do is make a call to your mother.
“Could you send another container of yakgwa?”
On the other end of the line, your mother tuts, motherly intuition audibly kicking into overdrive. Is probably wearing that all-knowing, sly grin she always does when you try to be coy and evasive. “What happened to the last container I sent?”
“Ah, you know Kaori loves those. They barely lasted an hour after I told her what was in there.”
She hums an acknowledgement. Sounds like she takes a sip of tea. “I remember someone else being quite fond of those cookies, too.”
“Well, they are the most popular cookies in the country, so.”
After haranguing you into admitting they’re for Seungcheol and not your roommate, your mother promises to send them quickly. A few days at most, which buys you enough time to figure out how you’re going to approach the man in question.
The vlogs have turned your entire world upside-down. Answered questions you hadn’t even known you had. Took all that anger and resentment you’d been holding onto and set it free, and now you’re just left with… a void. Want to mend things, and it makes you wonder if such a thing is even possible, if it’s too late, but you don’t let those thoughts get very far.
Instead, you let them spur you into action. Have you sitting in front of your laptop at your desk, office hours long since over, silence creeping in the more the department empties. The thrum of the airconditioning and the tick-tick-tick of the clock are all the only company you have.
You worry if it’ll show on camera, how out of sorts you feel: sweating from the nerves, dabbing at your hairline; cheeks warm to the touch. But you suck in a breath anyway, steel yourself. Look at your webcam and the daunting red circle…
And start recording.
He hadn’t gotten it at first. Not really.
There’d been a container of yakgwa outside his door with his USB drive taped to the top of it. No note—not that he needed one to know who it was from, but he wasn’t sure what it was. A goodbye? A please fuck off forever and never contact me again?
He’d just taken them inside. Ate too many of the cookies while feeling sorry for himself. Maybe had a glass or two of wine to compound the issue, and never, ever considered contacting you. Didn’t think he could bear it if you never wanted to see him again, but he just…
Well, he was drunk and alone and he missed you, and he’d rewatched all those videos he recorded a million times before when he was like this, so what was a million and one?
It’d been the same as every time before: he smiled at the happy parts, cried at all his old wounds. Wanted to reach through the screen and strangle his past self for including that part about the blind date, because he never wanted to date anyone who wasn’t you, why would he say that, felt mortified at the thought of you watching that—
And then there it was.
All the way at the bottom. A new video. One that hadn’t been recorded by him—
Hi, Cheol, you say, and that’s all it takes to reduce him to a sobbing, yearning mess. I’m not sure what to say here. I don’t really record much—sometimes for lectures when the professors are too busy, but never anything personal like this, but I watched every single one you made for me and I thought I should return the favor.
I wanted to tell you everything I’ve been up to since you left, but it hasn’t been much. I got my degree. Tutored a lot in undergrad—the same thing I’m tutoring you in now, actually. I was good at it and it felt good to have something that was mine, you know? I almost moved for grad school. Thought for a while I was going to wind up in New York, but then my parents divorced and it felt like too much, too scary, so I stayed. Kaori also stayed, so we got an apartment together. It’s not much, definitely not as nice as your place, but it’s good enough.
I don’t think I ever told you, but she was seeing a guy for a bit and he was… obsessed with you, to say the least. Thought you were the coolest person in the world. They aren’t seeing each other anymore. Ended pretty badly, but—speaking of which, maybe steer clear of Student Services for a while, too.
Sometimes it felt like failure that I wound up staying here. That I had scholarships from all these far-away, prestigious places and didn’t take advantage of them. That I gave into my fear. And now… I don’t know. Maybe there’s a reason I stayed behind. Maybe there’s a reason you ended up back here, too.
Whatever happens—I don’t want you to think I still blame you. Kaori says we do the best we can with what we’ve got at the time, and I understand now that’s what you did. Even though it hurt me, you were trying to protect me. I get it now. And I’m sorry you had to go through all of that alone. I can’t imagine how hard it must’ve been to go to all these places you didn’t know. To have to deal with your injury, the loss of a dream.
You said in one of your videos that you just want me to be happy, and that’s all I want for you, too, whatever that looks like.
Here’s my address if you ever want to come by to talk.
I love you, too.
—and then he’d been up and out the door, feeling stone cold sober, running to the front of his building to wait for his ride.
Felt like the drive took hours. Must’ve hit every red light between his apartment and yours. Took the steps two at a time just to get to your door faster.
There’s a man already standing outside your door when he gets there. One that looks shocked to see him, stars in his eyes, and when Seungcheol says, “Oh, you must be Kaori’s ex,” he looks more like he wants the earth to swallow him whole. Embarrassed in front of his idol.
He knocks on your door and gets no response. Knocks again, harder this time, and he has to try really hard to stifle his laughter when your voice yells from the inside, “Fuck off, Kenji, I already told you she’s not here!”
“It’s me,” Seungcheol yells back.
There’s quiet again. Just enough time for it to feel like his heart is going to beat right out of his chest and follow Kaori’s ex down the hall.
Then you’re yanking the door open—slowly, so slowly, like you’re scared it’s not actually him. Your eyes are brimming with tears when they meet his own, and he doesn’t let himself think, just goes on instinct, when he grabs for you, hands on your cheeks, and presses his lips to yours.
Somehow you taste the same.
Somehow you taste like redemption.
You taste like home.
Seungcheol kisses you until the tears slow. Kisses you until the universe realigns, until he could map your mouth in the dark. Kisses you until all you’re all he knows again.
When he pulls away, you’re gripping at his sweatshirt, don’t want to let him go. He presses his forehead to yours, offers up a million more apologies, starts talking nonsense. Says he’s going to drop microeconomics, what the hell does he know, he barely has a passing grade anyway, what does it matter, he’s such an idiot—
And then you say, “You came back,” and nothing else matters.
“I always will.”
(Later on, as you’re trying to steady your breathing, slick with sweat, your thigh thrown over Seungcheol’s hip as he stares down at you, dopey smile on his face, you say, “Choi Seungcheol, don’t you dare drop that class. I have worked my ass off to get you to barely-passing.”)
if you’ve made it this far thank you so much for reading! i am still very new at writing for seventeen, so i hope this was acceptable. i'm now going to throw myself into the warped tour vernon fic and will hopefully not go another 7+ months without posting anything. 😭
summary; agreeing to join vernon spectate an underground boxing match wasn't how you'd expect to spend your friday night. you also didn't expect to see seungcheol, someone you've lost contact with for years, become a part of the ring.
modern! au • boxer! au • hhu focused • multiple kinds of tropes • fluff, angst, smut
chapter contains: clingy cheol, touchy cheol, open mic, joshua and woozi make an appearance, private but secret (but at the same time kind of not-so-secret) relationship trope
mature/trigger warnings: dom! cheol, sub! reader, making out, piv, brief mentions of reader being on birth control, brief mentions of STD scanning, fingering, oral (m receiving), dirty talk, corruption kink, marking kink, brief discussion on doing it raw, unprotected sex (pls wrap it before you tap it), lots of cussing, Seungcheol doesn’t hesitate to put reader in a mating press for their first time, doggystyle, multiple creampies, squirting, aftercare etc
petnames: his (cheol, cheollie, daddy) hers (pup, puppy, darling)
a/n; brace yourselves bcs not only is this filthy, it’s also hella lengthy + not proofread
i’ve also opened up a ko-fi where you can tip me for my works !! (no pressure if you can’t due to financial restraints etc, you can also support me by reblogging my works <3)
This moment was one you’ve been dreaming of – Seungcheol reciprocating your feelings, his lips crashing against yours with an intensity you had no idea was even possible. His kiss was an equal mix of desperation and tenderness, as though he’d been holding back for far too long, and now that he’s had a taste, he couldn’t get enough.
Seungcheol pressed you firmly against the wall, the cool surface a stark contrast to the warmth that’s radiating between you. His hands wasted no time in pinning your wrists on either side of your head, fingers sliding against your palm before interlocking them with yours. His grip was firm, as if to anchor himself to you.
“Cheollie~” You moaned breathlessly against his lips without a thought.
That seemed to spur him on.
A low grumble rumbled in Seungcheol’s throat as his lips trailed away from yours, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses down your jawline to the sensitive skin of your neck. He nibbled on the skin, testing the waters and smirks when a soft moan escapes your lips. He began to suck on the skin with just the right amount of pressure to leave a mark.
“Cheol…”
Pulling away from your neck slowly, Seungcheol’s lips were glistening and slightly swollen; his warm breath fanning against your skin. He releases one hand and gently cups your jaw, thumb brushing over cheek before he tilts your head upward to meet his gaze. A combination of lust and love in his eyes sent another wave of arousal rushing through you.
His gaze drops to the faint red mark blooming on your neck where he had sucked earlier, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. A proud, almost wolfish grin spreads across his face, and he tilts your head slightly to the side to expose more of your neck.
“You okay if I leave more hickeys on you, puppy?” His voice is low and sultry, that childhood nickname rolling off his tongue sounding a lot hotter than usual.
You nod shyly, lips parting to whisper, “Y-Yeah… As long as it’s you, I’ll always be okay with it.”
“That’s a good pup,” he murmurs, leaning back down. Gods, he both loves and hates it whenever you wore camisoles or those strap dresses out to classes. He knew it was part of your style, and of course, he would never dictate whatever it is you wore. Your clothes were meant to represent you, not him.
But, fuck, did he hate it when boys would stare at you like a bunch of dogs in rut.
It does work one (or more) way in his favour, though.
For example, the current situation he was in. Thanks to the camisole, his lips could brush over your collarbone. The touch of his lips against your skin was featherlight, teasing even. When you least expected it, Seungcheol sunk his teeth back into your skin, lips and tongue working together to leave another red mark.
He doesn’t just stop at one, no. He started littering any exposed skin with hickeys; alternating between kisses, gentle nips, and suction that had you gasping and whining for more. Once he was done, pulls away and cradles the back of your head with the hand holding your jaw earlier/ He cushions your head, something he figured he should’ve done moments earlier as he made out with you in his doorway, before tangling his fingers in your hair and yanking it to expose more skin.
“Fuck, puppy,” he groans, his voice sending shivers down your spine, “Look so fucking good like this. All marked up and all mine.”
You rubbed your thighs together. Seungcheol took notice and slots a leg between yours, pushing his clothed thigh up against your clothed pussy. “Cheol!” you moaned, freeing your hands to grip at his shoulders. “Remember, puppy. I don’t share, yeah? Once you’re mine, you’re mine.”
“Always been yours, Cheollie!”
“Yeah? Heard from Aki and Hansol you had some exes before this… Why’d you let them touch you if you’ve always been mine?”
Seungcheol's voice was low and possessive, dripping with dominance that had your pussy dripping. You were sure by now if he pulled away, there’d be a wet patch on the area you were grinding against. You shift slightly when his hands trailed up your sides, pulling you closer against his muscular thigh; but it only added to the jolts of pleasure you were already experiencing.
“Cheollie, please,” you whined, grinding down more against him as the heat between your legs grew unbearable.
"Answer me, puppy," he mutters against your skin after sucking another red patch into your skin. "Why’d you let them touch what’s always been mine? Trying to learn for me? Or were you whoring yourself around like a slut until I’d show up to claim you properly?”
You gasp at his words, “Cheol!” Your cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and arousal. His words shouldn’t even be turning you on; yet here you were, reduced to a whimpering, moaning mess as you hump his thigh like a bitch in heat. He leaned back slightly, his dark eyes locking onto your as a wicked smirk tugs at his lips.
“Why do you look so shocked, puppy?” Seungcheol purrs, “Is that not true? Acting out like a needy whore when all you needed was someone to put you in your place.”
Your hands tightened their grip on his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as heat pooled in your lower belly. You were sure by now the panties you wore were ruined, drenched in your arousal. His thigh pressed up harder, bumping into your clit and making you whimper. “I didn’t– I wasn’t– Cheollie, I–”
“Shhh,” he cut you off, head ducking back down to attack the other side of your neck. He leaves searing kisses along the sensitive skin, his teeth grazing it, “No need to say anything else, pup. What matters now is that you’re here now, right?”
“Y-Yeah,” you breathed, tilting your head to give him more access. “‘M here with you…”
“Good girl,” he growls out, sucking hard on your skin, “Never gonna let you go after this, puppy. Gonna keep you by my side, yeah? Once we’re done with this whole uni thing, ‘M gonna wife you up.”
Your body shuddered at his words, grinding harder against his thigh as his promise sent waves of warmth through your chest – and heat straight to your core. Seungcheol chuckled, the sound low and rough, clearly enjoying your reaction. “You like that, darling?”
“Cheol,” you whimpered, your voice shaky, “you can’t just say stuff like that.”
His grip on your hips tightens as he helps you grind against his thigh. “Why not?” he rasped, tongue darting out to lick a stripe up your neck that has the coil in your stomach close to snapping. “It’s the truth, puppy. You think I’m just saying it to mess with you? To get in your pants? To get you in bed with me? I may have slept around with other girls before, but trust me when I say I mean every word. I’d never lie to you.”
Your hands gripped his shoulders for support, your body trembling from the friction he was providing. “But… W-what if–”
You’re cut off when he nudges his thigh up against your now soaked panties. “None of those ‘what ifs’, puppy. I’ve never been more sure of wanting someone in my life. You’ve always been mine, and you always will be.”
“C-Cheollie..! ‘M… ‘M close!”
“You’re so sensitive, puppy,” he chuckles, clearly enjoying your reaction. “Just a little bit of grinding and you’re already cumming. Who knew my little pup was such a slut? Or did those ex-boyfriends of yours never made you cum?”
Your body shuddered at his words, a whine leaving your throat. “No? Is that why you’re squirming like a bitch in heat?”
“Cheollie~”
“Fuck, I didn’t take you to be into degradation, darling. Always took you as the type of girl to get off of being praised, but it seems you’re into both, hmm?”
“C-Cheol, I-I’m–”
Pulling away from your neck, Seungcheol slides a hand up to your jaw, the other coming to cradle the back of your head. He holds your gaze as he brushes a thumb over your parted lips. “Cum for me, puppy,” he coos, “Be a good little puppy and cum all over my thigh.”
Your breath hitched as his words, the lust in his eyes and commanding tone sending shockwaves through your body. He pressed his thumb gently against your lips, and without thinking, you parted them further; allowing him to push his thumb into your mouth and your tongue grazing the pad of his thumb in submission.
“That’s it,” he groans, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “So perfect for me, aren’t you? C’mon, puppy, give it to me. I wanna see and feel you cum. Be my good little girl and give it to me.”
With one final nudge of his thigh, your head tilts back as a cry escapes your lips, the words slipping out before you can even process it. “D-Daddy!” Your body continues to shudder against him as you continue to cum against his thigh, the older male groaning when he feels your wetness seep through his boxing pants.
Seungcheol grows harder at the name, a wolfish grin on his lips as his eyes darkened even further. You let out a small whimper when his grip on your jaw tightens, still coming down from your high. His tone was low and teasing, “Look at me, puppy. What did you just call me?”
Your cheeks flushed a brighter shade of red, the realisation dawning upon you, but your mind was still hazy from pleasure. “I… I…” you stammered, trying to look away, but his hand on your jaw kept you in place.
“Uh-uh, puppy,” he tsks, leaning closer until his lips are just inches away from yours, “Don’t get all shy on me now. Be a good girl and say it again.”
Another nudge of his thigh had you whimpering, “Daddy…” Your voice was trembling, but Gods you sounded so obedient that Seungcheol swore he’d cum in his pants then and there (which, let’s be honest, he probably would’ve).
“That’s my good girl,” Seungcheol praised, his thumb brushing over your swollen lips again, his eyes softening ever so slightly when he leaned down to press a gentle kiss to them. He pulls away seconds later, thumb stroking your cheek, “You doing okay?”
You nodded, a smile tugging at your lips, “I-I’ve never been better, Cheollie…”
He chuckles, a glint of mischief in his eyes, “So, ‘daddy’, huh? Never took you for the kind to have a daddy kink, puppy.”
Your face burns at his teasing remark, burying it in his chest in an attempt to hide your embarrassment. His low chuckle rumbled through his chest as the hand on your jaw moved to wrap the arm around your waist, pulling you closer. “You needed someone to dominate you and those ex-boyfriends of yours couldn’t do the job, is that right, puppy? Couldn’t make you feel safe while they fuck you? Bet they couldn’t make you cum, too. Is that why you’re so sensitive for me?”
You chewed on your lower lip, trying to fight the surge of emotions his words provoked, but his touch, his presence; hell, even the smell of him, made it almost impossible to think clearly. “Daddy…” you whimpered, your voice shaky.
“I know, puppy,” Seungcheol cooed, “You just needed someone who knows how to make you cum. Someone who knows and can take control. Someone who wouldn’t hesitate.” He playfully nibbles on the shell of your ear, “I can give you that, puppy.”
Your heart raced, the combination of his dominance and raw honesty in his voice making it hard to breathe. “You… You really mean that? I don’t want you doing it because you feel obgli–”
He cut you off with a firm kiss, pressing his lips against yours with an unspoken promise. “Trust me, puppy,” he murmured against your lips, his voice low and almost possessive. “I’ve got you yeah? From here on out, it’s just me and you. You won’t even remember those boys and their pathetic attempts at pleasuring you.”
You let out a soft whimper, your body responding to the commanding way he held you.
Both hands slid under your skirt, giving your ass a good squeeze. The squeak you let out had him groaning as you pressed yourself closer against him, your chest pressed against each other and Seungcheol can’t help but to lick his lips when his gaze falls down to your cleavage. He taps the underside of your ass, “C’mon, puppy, jump.”
You do as you’re told, wrapping your legs around his torso, giggling as he continues to pepper kisses along your collarbone and chest. “Gonna take real good care of my pretty little puppy,” he mutters, carrying you deeper into the apartment and towards his bedroom.
You weren’t exactly talented in giving head.
Your ex would complain about you being shit at sucking dick, but when you asked for him to teach you, he’d make some excuse of how “it was your job to learn how to please your boyfriend”.
Hence, your anxiety was apparent as you kneeled between Seungcheol’s legs. He holds your chin between his fingers, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. “Puppy, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”
You frantically shake your head, “No! I wanna do this!” You move closer and wrap a hand around his dick, your middle finger and thumb barely touching with how thick he was. “I just… I just don’t know if I can make you feel good…”
The older male hums and presses two fingers against your lips. You open your mouth, letting him insert his calloused fingers inside. He starts by pressing them down on your tongue, his dick twitching when he sees drool dripping out the corners of your lips. “How am I gonna fit in here, puppy?” he asks, stretching it open just a little bit wider by pushing his middle finger up against the roof of your mouth. You whimper, closing your eyes as you let him prep your mouth.
“I don’t know if you can even fit half of me in there, puppy,” he comments, pulling out his drool-coated fingers. “But, you’ll be a good girl and try to take it all, won’t you?”
A mix of embarrassment and arousal rushes through your body. “Yes, daddy,” you whimpered, leaning into his touch when he cups the side of your face with the same hand. Using his free hand to grab the base of his cock, he taps his leaking tip against your lips. “C’mon, puppy,” he orders, “Let me see how much you can fit inside your mouth.”
You’d managed to fit almost half of his girthy length in your mouth, looking up at him through your wet lashes and feeling more arousal drip out of you when you see that Seungcheol had his head thrown back. “Fuck, pup…”he groans, one hand coming up to the back of your head, attempting you to take more of him in your mouth. “C’mon, darling… Relax your throat for me.”
You do as you’re told. Well, at least you tried to. Who could blame you, though? Neither of your previous boyfriends could come close to Cheol’s girth. As for his length, you guessed that you’d need to at least stack up three of your fists to measure him fully.
“Atta girl, puppy,” Seungcheol groans as he pushes your head lower, growing harder when you start to gag around his length. “Should see just how fucking pretty you look right now, puppy. Look so gorgeous on your knees for me. Pretty pink lips wrapped around my cock and sucking on it like it’s your favourite treat, hmm?”
He lets you pull away from his cock, one hand coming to wipe the spit drooling out the corners of your mouth. “Fuck those boys that said you didn’t know how to give head,” he mutters, pulling you up by the hand that’s fisted in your hair, coo-ing when you whine about the slight pain. “They just can’t appreciate you like I do, puppy.”
“But, I couldn’t make you cum–”
Seungcheol’s low chuckle cuts you off, “Oh, believe me, puppy. I was close to cumming, but the only place I wanna cum in right now…” He leans in close to your ear as he settles you to lay down on the bed, “Is inside your cunt that I know is dripping wet for me. Can I see it, darling? Can I see that little wet pussy of yours?”
“Fuck, Cheollie…” you moan out, “You can’t just say stuff like that..”
His lips curl up into a smirk, his eyes darkening as he enjoys your reaction. “Oh, but I can, pup,” he licks his lips, his voice a low, velvety drawl that sends a shiver straight to your core. “And I will.”
His calloused hands trail down your sides, tongue darting out to lick his lips at the sight of you squirming under his touch. He hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties, his eyes flickered up to meet yours, searching for even the faintest hesitation. But the way you’re breathing – ragged and looking up at him with those needy eyes, it tells him all he needs to know.
He’s quick to remove your panties, a deep, primal sound rumbling from his chest when he sees your glistening folds. “Shit,” he groans, pushing in his middle fingers to test the waters. Seungcheol’s fingers were always thick, you knew that; but to have them inside you was a different story. You let out a sharp hiss, laying it out in the open that it’s been a while.
“So small…” he mumbled, more to himself than to you. His fingers curl experimentally, his eyes glowing with mischief when your eyes shoot open, hips bucking into his hand. “Oh? Is that the spot, puppy?”
His finger curls again, slow and deliberate, pressing into your g-spot that has your breath hitching and thighs trembling. “Those exes really did a shit job at pleasuring you, huh? I can tell from your squirming that nobody’s found this spot.”
“Daddy~” you moaned when he pushed in another finger, the stretch no longer painful. His free hand presses against your lower stomach, keeping you in place as he starts to thrust them, as if he’s testing how much you can take before he pushes you further.
"Look at you," he murmurs, leaning down to your tits that were free from your camisole. His breath was warm against your skin, "So eager, so desperate. Do you even realize how pretty you look like this, puppy?"
Your brain was practically turning into mush, only snapping back to life when you feel Seungcheol attach his lips to one of your soft breasts, his tongue lapping at the stiff nipple. He groans when he feels you dripping and rutting against his hand, making him suck on your tits harder. He pulls away just for a moment before he gives your other breast the same attention. You whine when he rolls the bud between his teeth, hips bucking up only to be pushed back down by the hand that was pressed against your lower stomach.
He groans against your skin, teeth grazing your nipple before he pulls away with a too lewd pop. His darkened eyes rake over your trembling form, his fingers working deeper into your sopping cunt. “Look at you dripping over my sheets,” he rasps, ego inflating at the way your pussy clenches around his fingers like you never want to let go, “You love it when daddy uses you like his own sex toy, puppy?”
He lets out a chuckle when he feels you tightening around his two fingers, groaning when your pretty little hole opens up as he starts scissoring you open. A broken moan spills from your lips as he presses the heel of his palm against your clit, grinding it against the swollen bundle of nerves. Your back arches off the bed, desperate for more.
“So tight, so small… How am I gonna fit inside, pup?”
“I-I can take it,” you whimper, goosebumps rising when the hand on your lower stomach trails up higher, gliding over your breasts before settling on your throat. He doesn’t squeeze, only resting his hand there while his eyes bore into yours.
“Yeah? You can take fucking I’m about to give your pretty pussy?” he murmurs, tilting his head as he studies your expression. A dark chuckle leaves his lips as he leans in, lips grazing your ear, “I could ruin you, puppy. Make it so no other guy can fuck or make you feel the way I do.”
“Please,” you beg, “‘M all yours, daddy. Please, please, I can take it!”
Seungcheol starts thrusting his fingers at a punishing pace, his grip on your throat tightening just a little to have your breath hitch. He laughs in his throat, enjoying just how easy it is to get you all putty under his touch. The sound of your arousal gets louder with every passing moment, his cock twitching and aching to be inside you.
With one last curl of his fingers, a strangled moan rips from your throat as white-hot pleasure crashes over you. Your thighs clamp shut around his wrist, your body jerking violently as liquid gushes out from your pussy, drenching his fingers and the sheets beneath you. A low groan rumbles from his chest, his eyes darkening with a mixture of pride and raw desire at the sight of you squirting onto him.
“Shit, didn’t think you’d be the type to squirt, pup,” he breathes, pulling out his fingers to rub at your cunt before lifting them to his lips. He starts licking at his digits, letting out an appreciative hum at your taste, “So tasty. Gotta have you sit on my face next time.”
His drops the dominant demeanor for a smooth chuckle, his gaze softening just a fraction as he watches your body tremble. Seungcheol releases the hold he has on your throat and positions it next to your head, the other lazily tracing circles over your hip to help ground you as you catch your breath. “You still with me?”
You nod, mumbling something about never experiencing something like that before. He chuckles, “That’s because the boys you’ve dated don’t know how to pleasure a woman, puppy.” He leans down to press a kiss to your forehead, “Me? Yeah, I can get rough and use you like my fuck toy, but I’m also about giving you exactly what you need.”
You give him a dazed but appreciative smile. Seungcheol chuckles, brushing a strand of hair away from your face as he takes in your blissed-out expression. “You okay to keep going?”
You nod, still catching your breath, but the heat in your eyes tells him everything he needs to know. "Good," he murmurs, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “Do… Do you want it raw or should I grab a condom?”
You shift a little, “Which one do you prefer..?”
Seungcheol's gaze softens for a brief moment, his both hands finding purchase on your hips as he pulls you closer. “You’re asking me for my preference?” He shakes his head, looking down at his aching cock that’s now resting on your belly; the tip reaching just below your belly button. “I’m a man that likes it raw, puppy. Wanna feel every inch of you and wanna fill you up ‘til you’re dripping with my cum for days.”
He raises his head to look into your eyes, “But, if you need me to, I’ll wrap it up.”
You swallow hard, the sheer filthiness of his confession having you clench around nothing. The weight of his dick against your stomach, the heat radiating off his body was almost too much – but you forced yourself to stay focused. Your voice was soft, but you managed to ask, “You’re clean, right?”
Seungcheol’s expression shifts slightly, surprise flickering in his dark eyes before getting replaced by amusement. “Just because I prefer it raw means I fuck just anyone raw, puppy,” he answers, giving your hips a firm squeeze, “Especially when it comes to you. I’d never put you at risk of an STD, darling.”
His reassurance sends a strange warmth through you, not just from arousal, but something deeper. His words may be filthy, his touch ruthless, but there’s an underlying care in the way he speaks, in the way he holds you. “I get tested regularly and I’m clean.”
You nod, brain turning into mush once again as he starts to drag his length across your soaking folds. Your boyfriend watches your reaction with a smirk, teasing you with the rolls of his hips. The leaking tip nudges your sensitive clit, making you jolt and loves how easy it is to have you writhing under his touch. “What about you, puppy? Are you clean?”
You nod, voice barely above a whisper. "Y-Yeah… I… I’m also on the pill…”
“The pill?” He sounded surprised, but there was a hint of possessiveness in them. “I… My periods were kinda irregular in high school. S-So, mom and dad put me on it to… y’know…”
The moment the words leave your lips, his smirk widens. “So…” He moves a hand to wrap around the base of his cock, pressing the tip right against your clenching hole, “Nothing’s gonna stop me from filling you up.”
Seungcheol’s tongue darts out to lick his lips, pushing his hips forward to slide his throbbing length past your swollen lips. You both groan, feeling the stretch of his cock splitting you open. You whine, the pain slowly creeping up and Seungcheol coos, thumb coming down to rub at your clit; growling when he feels you loosen up just a little so he can push his dick further inside you.
When he finally bottoms out, Seungcheol hunches over you, fingers gripping your hips so tight that you were sure your flesh would be bruised by the end of this session. He lets out an animalistic growl, burying his face into your neck, sucking on the skin to stop himself from fucking you senselessly with how tight your pussy was gripping his dick.
“Fuck,” he moans, pressing his forehead against yours. “Squeezing me so damn good, puppy. Feels so much better than I imagined.” He settles with having you cockwarm his dick first, rubbing your sensitive clit.
Seungcheol groans, his body shuddering as he forces himself to stay still inside you. Your pulsing walls are desperately clenching around his dick, his self-control hanging by a thread. “God, you’re so fucking tight,” he rasps, his breath heavy against your lips. “But, look at that, pup. You managed to fit half my cock inside that tiny pussy of yours.”
You whimper, shifting a little as the sensation of him buried so deep inside you, the tip pressing against your g-spot and his thumb rubbing at your clit had you feeling dizzy. You try to grind against him, desperate to feel more of the overwhelming pleasure he was giving you. But, Seungcheol clicks his tongue, delivering a harsh slap to your clit.
Your thighs jerk, “Daddy!”
“Stay still,” he orders, voice thick with dominance, but the slight tremor in it betrays how much he’s struggling too. “Daddy needs to warm up this sweet pussy else it’ll break with how hard he’s gonna fuck you.”
The mixture of pain and pleasure had you tightening around his hard cock, Seungcheol chuckling darkly as he realised you may be a masochist. “You like that, puppy?” he chuckles, “Didn’t take you for a pain slut. Look at you, getting all messy from daddy being rough to your pussy.”
“Daddy…” you whimper, pure desperation dripping from your voice. He presses his thumb harder against your clit, rubbing the sensitive nub faster. “Shit,” he groans, “Feel that? How fucking soaked you are just from having my cock inside you?”
You whine, nodding frantically as your body twitched beneath him. The coil in your belly grew tighter, his fingers sending jolts of pleasure through you. Your thighs tremble, hips involuntarily trying to grind against him, only for him to deliver another slap to your clit.
“I said stay still,” Seungcheol growls, his voice thick with restraint. You squirm, tears welling up in your eyes, “Daddy, please! Need to cum, need you to fuck me!”
Seungcheol’s jaw clenches, his restraint crumbling. “Yeah?” he breathes, pulling his dick out until just the tip remains inside you. “You ready to take all of me, puppy?”
Before you can respond, he pushes up your thighs, pressing them against your chest before slamming his hips forward, bottoming out in one deep, punishing thrust. You cry out as you cum violently, thighs trembling against your chest, pinned beneath his strong grip.
“Fuck, look at you,” his voice thick with lust, “Cumming from being stuffed full. You really are a slut.”
His hips start to snap relentlessly, fucking you into his mattress as though he was trying to coat it in your scent. The force of each thrust knocks the breath from your lungs, pleasure so overwhelming that your mind feels hazy, your body completely at his mercy.
“Pussy so fucking tight,” Seungcheol groans, his hands dragging down your legs before gripping the backs of your knees and pressing them further into your chest. The new angle has his cock hitting deeper, sending a fresh wave of pleasure through your body that has you crying out. “Cunt gripping me so tight like it doesn’t wanna let go. Is that right? My slutty puppy just wants to be stuffed full every day?
Your only response was a broken moan, your fingers clawing at his arms, desperate for something to hold onto as he pounds into you. “Pussy was made for me, fuck, taking me so perfectly,” he growls out, pushing your thighs further against your chest, folding practically folding you in half as his leaking tip bullies even deeper into your wet cunt.
Your arousal coats his pelvis and thighs, some even dripping down to the sheets beneath you, a filthy testament to how good he’s ruining you. Seungcheol groans at the sight, his dark eyes fixated on where your bodies are joined, where his cock disappears into your soaked, stretched pussy over and over again.
“Fuck, puppy,” he growls, his grip on your thighs trembling, keeping you folded beneath him. “You’re dripping everywhere – such a messy little thing. Is this what you wanted?”
Your only response is a broken moan, fingers clawing at his arms, desperate for something to hold onto as he pounds into you. His leaking tip bullies even deeper, pressing against your cervix in a way that makes you cry out, pleasure and pain blurring together. The squelching sounds of your wet pussy echo through the room, mixing with your broken whimpers and his ragged breaths.
“Daddy–”
You gasp, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes as Seungcheol slows his thrust for deep grinds, making sure you feel every inch of his dick. He smirks, “Daddy what, puppy?”
His cock throbs inside you, stretching you deliciously that leaves you trembling. “Taking me so damn well, fuck, you feel so much better than I imagined. So fucking tight too, ‘s like you never had a cock this big stretch you out.”
“Y-You’re the biggest, daddy…”
Seungcheol chuckles darkly, his hips snapping forward again, forcing another strangled cry from your lips. He’s quick to cover your mouth with his, the kiss hot and demanding as though he wants to consume you whole. His tongue parts your lips, deepening the kiss as he swallows every desperate moan, every gasp, every shaky breath.
He’s relentless as he fucks you, his his grip on your thighs tightening as he keeps them pressed against your chest, making sure you take every inch of him. His fat cock stretches you wide, dragging against your walls in a way that has your body arching beneath him, trembling from the overwhelming pleasure.
Seungcheol breaks the kiss, muttering about how tight your pussy feels wrapped around his dick. He grunts when he feels your wet hole clench around his length, a desperate moan slipping past your lips as your walls clamp down around him. “Oh? You like it when daddy praises you? My little slut likes being degraded and praised, hmm?”
Your body betrays you, clenching and soaking his cock like you’re claiming him as your own. He grins wolfishly, sitting back up on his knees. His gaze flickers to where your bodies are joined, watching the way your slick coats his cock, a white ring of cream forming around his base and how your pussy greedily clings to him like you never want to let go.
“You’re fucking dripping,” he growls, hand slipping between your bodies to collect your cream on his fingers, tongue darting out to lick them clean when he brings it his digits to his lips. “Sweet fucking pussy.”
You moan at the filthy sight, “Daddy~”
His thumb finds your clit again, rubbing tight, fast circles that has your body jolting beneath him. The sensitivity is almost too much, but the pleasure is too addicting, each stroke of his thumb sending electric pulses straight to your needy pussy. “Soaking me soo good and making such a mess. You really are daddy's perfect little whore, aren’t you?”
You nod frantically, reduced to a mess of whimpers and moans. Seungcheol’s dark eyes watch your trembling form, smirking at how he’s got you completely wrecked beneath him. He grabs your jaw, forcing your dazed eyes to meet his, “Oh, if only you could see yourself right now, puppy. So fucked out, so desperate for daddy’s cock.”
The smell of sex starts to fill the air, thick and intoxicating as it mixes with the fidelity squelch of your pussy coating his cock with every relentless thrust. “You gonna cum again for me?” he taunts, voice thick with amusement. “Gonna cream daddy’s cock like the little cockslut you are?”
Your body tightens around him in response, his smirk widening. “Go on, puppy,” he coos, thumb pressing harder against the sensitive bundle of nerves while his pace grows rougher. “Be a good girl and cum for me.”
Your body obeys, a strangled cry leaving your lips as your nails drag down his arms, desperate for something to hold onto as your orgasm crashes over you. Your pussy spasms around his cock, gripping him in a vice so tight that his thrusts falter for just a moment. “Fuck, yes. Just like that,” Seungcheol groans, his movements growing sloppy as your tight heat has him nearing his own orgasm.
He watches as your body trembles beneath him, your lips parting in a silent scream and eyes rolling back. He feels your pussy milking him for everything he has, "That’s it, puppy. So fucking good for daddy.”
His hand releases your jaw, sliding down to grip your throat, not squeezing; just holding to ground you. "Such a perfect little slut, milking my cock so well."
He leans down, capturing your lips in another heated kiss, swallowing every sound that escapes you. His thrusts turn erratic, slamming his cock against your cervix repeatedly. A guttural groan rumbles from his chest as he pumps you full with his first load of hot cum.
“Fuck,” he growls, burying himself deep, his cock twitching before he spills inside you, filling you to the brim with his cum. “Tight pussy is all mine. Gonna fucking creampie you every chance I get.”
He stays buried inside you, hips lazily grinding into you as he savours the way his cum drips from your fluttering walls. He removes his hands from your body, releasing your legs from the mating press he had you in and you moan as the slight shift makes you more aware of how deep he is, you could practically feel him in your guts.
Your legs tremble as they fall open, completely spent from being held up for so long, but Seungcheol doesn’t let you rest just yet. His eyes are dark and full of pride as he watches the creamy mess leaking from your swollen pussy, his dick plugging most of it inside. “Look at that…” he murmurs, trailing down a hand to your belly and pressing down on it. You mewl at the action, feeling incredibly full from just one load.
“Feel that, pup?” He starts pressing soft kisses along your jaw, “So fucking full of me, yeah? This pussy was made for me, made to take my cum.”
You whimper, still reeling from your climax, but Seungcheol’s cock is hardening once again as he pictures you taking him from behind. Licking his lips, he snakes his hand down to your clit, rubbing slow, teasing circles that has your body jolting from the overstimulation.
“D-Daddy–” you gasp, trying to squirm away, but his grip tightens around your waist, keeping you in place. “Shh, you can take it,” he coaxes, watching your fucked-out expression as he starts to slowly thrust into your overstimulated pussy.
Before you can protest, he pulls out, leaving you empty and clenching around nothing for a brief moment before he’s flipping you onto your stomach with an effortless strength. You squeak as your cheek presses against the mattress. His hands find your hips and pulls them up so your ass is up in the air, arching your back perfectly for him.
“Shit, ___,” he growls, dragging his cock along your soaked folds, eyes darkening at the way his cum drips out your cunt and onto the sheets underneath you. “Already dripping for me again.”
You whimper, hands fisting the sheets as you wiggle your hips, desperate for him to fill you up again. He chuckles at your neediness, rubbing his weeping cockhead against your swollen clit, making your whole body jolt.
“I knew it. You’re just a greedy little slut who wants her pussy filled with a cock,” he mutters, positioning his tip at your fluttering hole and slowly pushing in; wanting to feel every inch of your gummy walls get stretched open by his dick.
A broken moan escapes your lips as he bottoms out, his cock stretching you open all over again. He groans at how tight you still are, his fingers digging into your hips that were sure to leave bruises. He stills for a moment, savouring the way your pussy clamps down on him. “But, this pussy is only for me to fill up, isn’t that right, puppy?”
He starts moving before you can respond, his pace starting slow but it quickly builds, each deep thrust pushing his cum further inside you as his cockhead abuses your sweet spot. “Daddy!” You moan, bouncing back against him for more. “S-So deep!”
Seungcheol chuckles darkly, fucking into you harder, balls slapping against your clit with each rough thrust. “God, you’re so fucking tight.” He palms your ass, kneading the soft flesh before landing a sharp slap that has you gasping and clamping down on him, hard. He grunts, gripping your hips tighter as he pounds into you mercilessly. “Oh fuck, just like that, puppy. Squeezing me so damn good,” he groans, feeling your walls flutter around his thick cock.
“My puppy’s such a pretty cumslut,” he coos adoringly, “You love this, don’t you? Love being fucked stupid, pussy full of my cum.”
You let out a broken moan, body arching at the pleasure that overwhelms your senses. Your knuckles turn white as your nails dig into the sheets. His cock drags against your sensitive walls, hitting deep; the obscene sounds of your slick mixing with the rough slap of his thrusts filling the room.
“Y-Yes, daddy!” you babble, tears pricking the corner of your eyes from how good you feel. “Love it so much! Feel s’good!”
“Fucking hell,” Seungcheol hisses, grabbing a fistful of your hair and yanks you up, tilting you head backwards to give you a sloppy kiss. His hips snapping harder against yours.
You chant his name, or rather title, as his cock pistons in and out of your juicy cunt, cockhead ramming against your g-spot repeatedly that your eyes roll back. Your head is empty, only caring about the white-hot pleasure that consumes you while you moan in Seungcheol’s arms.
“Gonna.. Gonna cum!” you slur out, drool dripping out the corner of your lips and your boyfriend groans at your words, cock throbbing inside you as he picks up the pace, rutting into you like he wants – needs to breed you. “Yeah? Gonna cum on my dick again, puppy? Cream my dick like it’s yours?”
“Daddy~”
He slips a hand under your belly, rubbing your overstimulated clit as he fucks into your sloppy cunt just a little harder. “Cum for me again, puppy. Milk daddy’s cock so he can creampie this sweet pussy.”
Your body obeys his command instantly, the coil in your belly snapping as your orgasm knocks the wind out of your lungs. Liquid gushes out of your tight pussy, almost pushing your boyfriend's thick dick out of your hole as slick soaks his dick, abdomen and thighs; dripping down his balls and onto the sheets.
Seungcheol curses, his grip bruising as he slams into you a final time, burying himself as deep as he can go before spilling another hot, thick load of cum inside you. His body trembles as he groans through his release, pressing his chest flush against your back, panting heavily against your ear as his second load of cum fills you to the brim.
“Oh, puppy…” He stays buried inside you, keeping you plugged up to make sure every drip of his cum stays inside you. He moves so your cheeks are pressed back into the mattress, hips grinding into your stuffed cunt to fuck his cum deeper. Leaning forward, his lips ghosts over your shoulder, placing slow lingering kisses down your spine.
His large hands spread your ass cheeks apart, deciding that your stuffed cunt wrapped around his dick is his new favourite view. Your pretty pussy clenches, trying to suck his half-hard cock back inside when he pulls out. He hums in approval when his seed spills from your wrecked hole, dragging two fingers through the creamy mess before pushing it right back in, making you whimper from the overstimulation.
“Still so greedy,” he muses, smirking as he cups your sensitive, dripping pussy. You mewl, feet kicking weakly at his actions, too overstimulated to handle even the slightest touch. You’re barely able to keep your eyes open, body spent and Seungcheol only chuckles. Rolling you onto your back, he leans down to peck your lips and you feel yourself slowly losing consciousness.
The only thing you remember before your vision blacks out is Seungcheol’s soft voice. “Rest well, puppy. I got you.”
When you come to, you’re sitting in between Seungcheol’s legs in his bathtub. The warm water laps gently against your skin, soothing the lingering ache in your muscles. His arms are wrapped securely around your waist as he presses lazy, open-mouthed kisses against the side of your neck. His hands soon start to roam your body, tracing soft patterns over your thighs, your stomach, like he just can’t get enough of touching you.
Feeling you shift, he pulls away from your neck and presses a kiss to the top of your head. “You back with me, puppy?” his voice was much softer now, a complete 180 from how he’d been earlier. You hum, leaning back into him, the exhaustion in your body making it near impossible to do anything but melt into his arms.
Seungcheol lets out a quiet chuckle, squeezing your hip affectionately. “I knew I said I’d fuck you dumb, but I didn’t think you’d pass out on me,” he muses, though there’s a hint of pride in his voice. “Thought I broke for a moment.”
Heat rises to your cheeks, “Fuck you, Cheollie…”
He grins mischievously, “You already did, but I don’t mind another round.”
You groan, weakly swatting at his arm, but Seungcheol just laughs, clearly pleased with himself. His grip on you tightens slightly, pulling you impossibly closer as his lips press against the side of your head.
“Relax, pup. I’m just messing with you.” His hands start to absentmindedly roam your body again, the warmth of his touch lulling you further into a dreamy haze. “Feeling alright?”
You nod, sinking further into his embrace, “Yeah… Just a lil tired… And sore…”
He hums in acknowledgement, pressing a lingering kiss to your bare shoulder. “Then rest, darling,” hu murmurs, lips barely leaving your skin, “I’ve got you.”
The steam from the bath makes the room hazy, but everything feels peaceful, safe. Seungcheol’s once demanding and possessive touch is now gentle, like he’s trying to bring you back. A comfortable silence falls over you both, the only sounds filling the bathroom are the faint slosh of water and the steady rhythm of his breathing.
His voice, low and tender, breaks it moments later. “I know I’m a guy that’s into rough sex, but I need you to tell me if it ever gets too much, alright?”
Your heart leaps at his words, at the quiet care beneath all that dominance. “I never wanna push you to the point of discomfort. I want you to feel safe with me.”
You turn just enough to meet his gaze, meeting his dark eyes that search yours. For once, there’s no teasing smirk, no cocky grin. It was just pure sincerity.
You give him a tired smile, “I always feel safe around you, Cheol.”
His dark eyes search yours, and for once, there’s no teasing smirk, no cocky grin—just sincerity.
Then, Seungcheol exhales, nuzzling into your neck. “Y’know,” he muses, voice lighter now, “I should bathe you like this more often. You look real pretty in my arms, puppy.”
You roll your eyes but can’t fight the fond smile tugging at your lips. “You just like having me submissive and pliant in your arms.”
He chuckles, “Maybe,” he admits.
“But mostly, I just like having you.”
It’s a known fact that Seungcheol’s primary love language was Acts of Service. It’s been obvious even from when you were younger – how he went and gotten your teddy bear back, standing up for you when the mean girls were picking up on you. It was also known that his second love language was Physical Touch – how he’d casually just have an arm around your shoulder or a hand on your waist when you both walked back home from school.
But what you didn’t know was just how touchy he can be until you were both officially dating. He really just can’t keep his hands to himself, not when the girl he’s been crushing on and was in denial of for quite a while finally his girlfriend.
You both decided to give the relationship at least a month’s “trial period”, not wanting it to be something that was decided upon in the heat of the moment that night. Seungcheol was… reluctant, repeatedly telling you he was as sure as the springs that follow winters he wanted this. Wanted you.
But you wanted to be cautious, not because it was just a relationship at stake – it was years of friendship, shared memories, unspoken understandings. You needed to be sure, not just of him, but of yourself and everything else. To your surprise, Seungcheol respected your decision to keep things low key for now, even if he’d grumble about it every now and then.
His hands on the other hand? They tell a different story.
Outside of campus, his hands would always be somewhere. When you walk side by side, it's tucked into the curve of your waist. Fingers laced with yours and he’d only let go if you were to use the bathroom.
In private, they’d be tracing lazy patterns on your thigh when watching movies together. It’d trail closer to your crotch, actually warming his not-so-cold hands in between your plush thighs.
It was like he’s grounding himself, as though it was a constant reminder to him that this was real, that you were real.
And honestly? You didn’t mind it as much as you thought you would. There was just something about his touch that brought you a sense of comfort and familiarity. It made your heart flutter and your stomach twist with something warm. It felt like something new, yet it wasn’t.
It was Seungcheol.
The same boy who used to push on the swingset, used to protect you against any kind of bullying; now the man who looked at you like you hung the sparkling stars in his sky.
“You guys gonna come to my Open Mic?” Vernon asked, his mouth full of half-chewed food. You poked at the kimbap that had a kind of expired smell to it, feeling nauseous at the sight. “Is this the same Open Mic you told me about a few months back?”
The smile that spread on his face answers your question. “I got to know this guy called Joshua through a messaging board for our uni and he was looking for a partner to perform a duo!”
“Is this Joshua guy also called Hong Jisoo?” Seungcheol asks, setting down a take-out container before you, “Figured you’d want something better than the cafeteria food. Got you your favourite bibimbap while I was out.”
Your stomach growled at the mention of bibimbap, grateful for Seungcheol's thoughtfulness. You shoved the questionable kimbap aside and pulled the container closer, the warm, savory scent already doing wonders for your mood. “You’re a fucking lifesaver ”
"Yeah," Vernon nodded enthusiastically, finally swallowing his bite. "I mean, I’m not sure if there’s more than one Hong Jisoo. But if he’s from Marketing, then yea, that’s him. You know him?"
Seungcheol shrugged, cracking open a can of soda with a satisfying hiss. “Kinda? He was in my economics class. Real quiet guy, but according to Jihoon, he’s got a hell of a voice.”
“Jihoon? You mean the guy from your course who’s also one hell of a producer?”
“Yeah, that Jihoon,” Seungcheol confirmed, taking a sip of his drink. “Jihoon isn’t the type to just accept partnerships or collabs unless the person he’s working with is up to standards. Compliments by the guy are scarce so if he say Shua’s got a hell of a voice, he definitely does.”
“Holy shit,” Vernon gasps, “No wonder he agreed when Shua asked him to help produce a song for the event!” His response had Seungcheol raising an eyebrow, “You guys got Jihoon to produce a song? Voluntarily?”
Vernon nodded eagerly, “I was shocked too! Shua said he wanted to do something original instead of just covers so we met up with the guy. He just asked and Jihoon was like, ‘Yeah, I’ll see what I can do’.”
Seungcheol snorted at the mimicking of Jihoon’s usual deadpan tone. He knew Jihoon wasn’t the type to be easily impressed so agreeing to a project that involves a newcomer or partner meant he saw something in Vernon.
“Wait, can I know who Jihoon is exactly?” you questioned, looking between the two men, “Like, I know he’s in charge of some music stuff that goes on around campus, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen the guy.”
Seungcheol chuckles, shaking his head, “Don’t worry, pup. You don’t see him around us or hanging around campus a lot since he’s only ever for classes. Once his final class is over, he’s outta here.”
Vernon nods in agreement, the grin he gives you almost conspiratorial. “Jihoon’s also producing for Big Stars under the pseudonym ‘Woozi’. So, his schedule is alway packed so the fact that he agreed to spare us some time?”
He whistles, “I defo lucked out.”
“Well,” Seungcheol said, sneaking a quick bite of your bibimbap, “Now I really wanna see this.”
You nod in agreement, a spark of excitement in your eyes as your body does a little bounce to reflect the emotion. “Same. No way I’m missing this.”
The night of Vernon’s Open Mic arrived and while you were looking forward to seeing the other performances, Seungcheol had other plans.
“C-Cheollie..!” you whimpered, feeling his long, thick fingers push past the tight muscles of your dripping pussy. “W-We could get hah c-caught..!”
You’re bent over a sink in one of the bathrooms located somewhere on the third floor of the West Wing of campus, Seungcheol’s large frame standing behind you as his fingers curled inside you. His lips brush over the shell of your ear, his breath hot and heavy, “Then you best be quiet, puppy…”
Gods, his voice was low and rough that it had you dripping down his fingers even more. The way the pads of his fingers brushed against your g-spot has your knees buckling, eyes squeezing shut as you see stars. The muffled sound of music and chatter from the event going on outside was a distant hum compared to the pounding of your heart in your ears.
You tried to protest again, but the protest dissolved into a moan as his thumb found your clit, circling it with just enough pressure to make your thighs shake. “Cheol~”
The hand that was resting on your hips slid up to wrap itself around your throat, a low growl rumbled from Seungcheol’s chest as he squeezed just enough to make your breath hitch. “My pretty puppy’s been tempting me since we left the house.”
“But, I… Hngh! I didn’t do anything..!” You bit down on your lips to muffle the moan that threatened to slip when his fingers thrust deeper, spreading you open and stretching you in a way that made your head spin. “Oh, I know you didn’t do anything, puppy.” A shiver goes down your spine when he teasingly bites the shell of your ear, “But, this short little skirt makes it so hard to not touch you...”
Your breath hitches when he presses his body against yours, the rough fabric of his jeans brushing against the bare skin of your ass, the mini skirt you wore bunched around your waist. “Daddy…” you mindlessly mumble, head tilting back to lay against his broad shoulders. Seungcheol chuckles darkly, “So pretty… So needy…”
“You’re so fucking wet. You like this, don’t you?” He loosened his grip just enough to let you take in a sharp breath before squeezing again, making your head spin. “You like getting frisky in public just as much as I do.”
A broken moan slipped past your lips before you could stop it, and Seungcheol was quick to shove two of his fingers into your mouth. He feels his erection grow harder when feels your drool slip past his digits, “Ah-ah, wouldn’t want someone walking by and hearing you being a little slut now, do we, puppy?”
“H-Hah..!” He plunged his fingers deeper, increasing the pace of his fingers inside you. You could barely think straight, the risk of getting caught only adding fuel to the fire building inside you. “Fuck… You’re dripping, darling.. Can you hear how wet you are?”
You definitely do – it’s hard to not miss the erotic squelching noises of your wet cunt bouncing off the walls. Seungcheol’s eyes darkened, watching you struggle to keep quiet, his thick fingers pushing deeper into your small mouth, feeling the way your tongue trembled under his fingers.
“Atta girl,” he coos, “My perfect little puppy, so eager, so fucking desperate.”
You vaguely hear an applause from the event that was going on outside, but the way his fingers were working between your thighs had your brain turning to mush. “Think you can cum for me like this?” he whispered against your ear, voice laced with amusement and something darker. “Soaking my hand while sucking on my fingers… Didn’t know the sweet puppy I knew turned out to be such a slut.”
“Y-Your fault..!” You managed to mumble, though with the way his fingers pressed against your tongue, it was barely audible. Seungcheol licks a stripe up your neck, “What’s that, pup? My fault?”
His fingers curl against your g-spot again, eyes rolling back to the back of your head as you feel the coil in your belly growing tighter. “Gonna cum for me, puppy?” he rasps, “Gonna soak my fingers like the needy little thing you are?” Your body answered before you could, your legs shaking as your cunt clenched tightly around his fingers. The fingers in your mouth did a semi-good job at muffling your moans because if they weren’t there, anyone passing by definitely got a gist of what just went down.
Seungcheol worked you through your orgasm, his fingers slowly thrusting in and out of you to help you ride out every last bit of aftershock until you’re whining from overstimulation. Slowly, he pulls out his fingers that were buried knuckle deep in your drenched cunt. Bringing them up to his lips, he gives you a show in the reflection of the bathroom mirror as he licks them clean, never breaking eye contact.
“So fucking sweet,” he mutters, smirking at the way your body shuddered in response.
He tightens the grip he has on your jaw just a little before he finally pulls his fingers free, a thin string of saliva connecting them to your lips. “Messy…” he murmurs, pressing a chaste kiss to your temple, “But so damn pretty like this.”
A switch in him flips and he no longer was the dominant, exhibitionist boyfriend. Instead, he pulls back your panties in its place and helps you smooth out the wrinkles of your mini skirt. Your body was still buzzing from your orgasm and he knew it’d be a while until you calmed down.
“You good, pup?” he asks, voice gentle and lacking the edge it held just moments ago. You nodded dazedly, allowing him to turn you around so you’d be facing him. He grabs a tissue from the dispenser and tilts your head up, dabbing at the smudged lip tint at the corner of your mouth.
He brushes a thumb over your lips, his gaze flickering down to the sight of how swollen they looked from sucking on his fingers. “Such a cute little thing when you’re wrecked…” The way he muttered it sounded like he was saying it more to himself than to you.
But before you could melt into his touch, the buzz you felt finally subsided and you’re snapped back into focus.
Your eyes widened, “Shit, Vernon’s performance–”
“I know, pup,” Seungcheol cuts in smoothly, looking up at the mirror and fixing his own appearance. He runs his hand through his hair a few times and adjusts his shirt before turning back to you, a knowing smirk on his lips. “Legs doing alright or do I needa carry you out?”
You shot him a glare, even as your legs wobbled slightly when you shifted your weight. “Shut up.”
“Love you too, pup.”
“Oh my God, there you guys are! Thought y’all ditched me, too,” Vernon gives Seungcheol’s shoulder a playful punch. “You missed the first few acts, but you made it just in time for mine!”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” you chuckled, scanning the crowd for two familiar giants. He waved his hand dismissively, “Ah, don’t bother looking for them. They’re… dealing with some stuff right now.”
You raise an eyebrow and he shrugs, “Girl problems, I guess?”
You can’t help the curiosity that builds up inside you at Vernon’s cryptic words. The casual mention of ‘girl problems’ clearly meant that they weren’t just dealing with some day-to-day issues. There was definitely something more.
You glanced at Seungcheol who nodded, as though he understood what was going on.
“Am I the only one being kept out of the loop?”
Both men chuckled, the younger one glancing over his shoulder as if checking if anyone was listening. "Eh, it’s pretty complicated and a little difficult to explain without being too explicit. They’re both just being super... distracted tonight and well, relationship issues so…" he shrugs again. "But hey, you didn’t hear that from me. It’s their story or… mess? I dunno, but that’s their right to tell you. Not mine."
“Hansol, we need you back here!” a shorter blonde male calls out.
“Got it, hyung!”
Vernon grins at you, Seungcheol giving his shoulder a squeeze before the male runs off backstage. You were left with more questions than answers. You turned your attention to your boyfriend, frowning slightly, “Do you have any idea what he’s talking about? Since when did Gyu and Woo have ‘girl problems’?”
He chuckles, his hand finding purchase on the small of your back as he leads you to a spot in the field he deems has the best view. “I might have an idea, but like he said, it’s not really our business and it’s up to them to tell us. As for when, I’d say before our Japan trip?”
Your frown deepened as you settled onto the mat Seungcheol had chosen, the somewhat soft material doing little to ease the weight of curiosity nagging at you. “Before our Japan trip? That was a while ago. Neither of them said anything?”
He shrugs, stretching his legs out in front of him as he leaned back on his hands. “Well, you can kinda tell they weren’t really with us. Like, they were there, but distracted.” He reaches for your hand, interlocking his fingers with yours. “Gyu isn’t the best at hiding his feelings, but his lips are tightly sealed to personal things that aren’t his sex life. And, you know how Wonwoo is, he’s basically another version of you; keeping things close to your chest.”
“And… this girl?”
“They’re known to share sex partners, kinda their ‘thing’,” he answers, thumb tracing small circles on the back of your hand, “But, I guess there’s something special about this particular gal that has them starstrucked. They’ll come tell us when they’re ready so until then, don’t go prying, alright?”
You sighed, knowing he was right, but the secrecy definitely had you itching to dig into what this girl problem is. However, knowing boundaries and how much it meant to both giants, you decided to let time do its thing.
“Hello, everyone,” the speakers crackled as the blondie from earlier spoke into the mic, his voice filling the open-air venue. “I’m Jihoon, taking over Seungkwan’s role for a bit. I know it’s been a long night, but I hope you all enjoyed this event. Now, for this next performance, I had the pleasure of producing for two talented souls so without a further ado…”
Jihoon retreats backstage as the duo steps out. Vernon’s voice rang out first, “What’s two minus one?”
Operation Cupid 💘
alien-non: i hope yall talked things out with your girl
alien-non: shua and i got crowd’s favourite
tallgyu: omg congratssss
tallgyu: yea we kinda talked things out with her
gameboi: i wouldn’t say talked
gameboi: but some mouth actions were definitely done
gameboi: and also congrats
alien-non: ew
alien-non: i don’t need to hear abt your sex life
alien-non: jfc
tallgyu: 😔
tallgyu: how are our otps tho?
gameboi: im assuming theyre still push n pull
alien-non: oh yea no
alien-non: they’re tryna be secretive or subtle abt it
gameboi: understandable
alien-non: but they’re 100% tgt
its reader x jeonghan, theyre bestfreinds and he realizes that he has crush on her and i think he confesses. theres a part that was like "oh no.. he likes you" or smth like that. i only read a bit before it refreshed😭😭
everyone thinks you married your husband fo the money, but you really bagged him for his perfectly plump ass
pairing: seungcheol x f. reader
genre: smut
wordcount: 3k
a/n: hi, this has been siting in my drafts for literally so long. scoups is hot, so here ya go. as always, ty to @hannieween for putting up with hearing about this fic for like, at least a year. uwu ily x (also this isn't proofread, if you see anhy typos/grammar mistakes no you didn'ttttt)
You love when rich people throw charity balls.
You're not a fan of the crowd in the upper echelon. Nor are you a fan of feigning interest in their elitest small talk.
No, what you're a massive fan of is how your husabnd Seungcheol's ass looks in his perfectly tailored black pants. His reflection in the mirrored wall of the elevator is something you can't take your eyes off of. The way his pants hug the curvature of his—
"Baby, are you staring at my butt?"
Your eyes tear away from his reflection and up into his eyes. Dark brown, like an intoxicating whiskey. A knowing smile plays on his lips.
"I don't know what you're talking about," you say, raising an eyebrow.
Seungcheol responds by leaning in to leave a soft kiss on your lips, chuckling when you whine, eyes closed, chasing after his lips for more. "We're almost there baby." He snakes an arm around your waist and rubs up and down your side, hands skating of the soft silk of your dress. A dress he bought for you, just so he could have the satisfaction of ripping it off of you later tonight.
The elevator dings, doors sliding open to the penthouse suite. After every gala, every ball, any event in the city, Seungcheol always books the same room for the two of you to stay the night.
"See, come on baby," Seungcheol smacks a wet kiss on your cheek then bends down to slip his arm under your legs, picking you up bridal style.
You shriek, throwing your arms around his neck, "Seungcheol!" Laughter rumbles through his chest as you snuggle into him, a feeling of content, and home, settling in your chest. He carries you to the bed with ease, tossing you gently into the piles of rose petals he has the staff lay out while you two were at the gala.
Your hands smooth over the soft red petals and you turn on your side to admire your husband as he opened up a bottle of champagne. Forearms flex as he twists the cork out, a gold watch glinting on his wrist. Somewhere between tossing you into bed and the champagne, he'd lost his suit jacket, clad now in just his form fitting, pressed black shirt. His sleeves are rolled up, top few buttons undone, and an untied bowtie hangs around his collar. Your eyes rake down the expanse of his back, pausing once you get to his tight, round, ass.
"Baby," sang Seungcheol. Without even turning around, he asks, "Are you staring at my butt again?"
Even though he couldn't see you, you lift your chin at him in defience, whining, "It's my ass, I'll stare if I want to."
Seungcheol swivels around, gripping the bottle neck tightly, and eyebrow raised. "Oh, it's yours is it?" He takes a swig straight from the bottle, wiping at his lips with the back of his hand, leaving a wet streak across his cheek. His eyes travel up and down your body, drinking in the sight of you.
Your tightly twisted bun had slowly unraveled through the night, ringlets of curls now framing your face. The faded pink of your lips. The delicate gold chain around your neck. The strap of your silk dress slipping off your shoulder. And lastly, your big, wide eyes, looking up at him like you were ready for him to eat your up in one big bite, and by god did he want to.
If you thought Seungcheol looked good, Seungcheol thought you look ethereal.
He sets the champagne down on a table and makes his way to you. When he's at the foot of your bed, you prop yourself up on your elbows, biting your bottom lip, and staring up at him through your lashes.
It takes everything in Seungcheol not to groan. He knows the look you give him all too well.
It’s the “have-your-way-with-me” look. The “i’ll-let-you-do-absolutely-anything to-me” look. The “if-i-can-walk-tomorrow-you-didn’t-fuck-me-hard-enough” look.
You were gonna be the death of him.
Seungcheol kneels by the edge of the bed, and you swallow in anticipation as he takes your feet in his hands, one by one removing your heels and setting them on the floor. He pads his thumb over the soles of your feet, applying pressue where he feels you'll need it most. You nearly throw your head back in moan from the relief.
"That feel good baby?” Seungcheol'd hands don't stop massaging.
"Yeah," your voice is breathier than before. You think you can become undone from this alone.
Seungcheol's hands pause, "Do you want to feel even better?"
You feel your breath hitch, and your voice comes out barely as a whisper, "Yes."
Seungcheol stands up, dragging his hands up your legs and gently pushing them apart so he can get on the bed, nestling himself between your thighs while on his knees.
“Lean back baby,” he says, and you let yourself fall back onto the fluffed pillows.
What Seungcheol doesn't expect is for you to grab at his belt, pulling him down with you. He falls into your chest with an oof, your heads almost knocking against each other.
"Baby," Seungcheol lets out a deep whine, from the back of his throat, as he sits back up. You make grabby hands at his waist. "Baby wait," he laughs, grabbing you by the wrists and pinning your arms down on either side of you, "what's gotten into you today?"
You're looking anywhere but into his eyes as you mumble something incoherent.
Seungcheol's still trying to catch your eyes though, "Hm? What was that hun?" You don't have to be looking at him to know he's probably got that stupid grin on his face. Seungcheol finds this side of you cute.
You grumble something again and Seungcheol can't help but let out a laugh, "Baby, you gotta speak up."
"I've been waiting all night!" You finally snap, eyes doing the same to look at him, only to the shrink back from the intent way he's gazing back at you.
"Well, you'll have to wait just a little bit longer," Seungcheol moves your arms above your head as you try to squirm out of his hold. He tuts at you, shifting to hold both your wrists with one hand, taking your face in his other. Heat radiates off his hand as he cups your cheek, rubbing it with his thumb, "Can you do that? For me?"
Your voice catches in your throat, and you nod dumbly in response.
Seungcheol leans in, pressing his forehead against yours, his hot breath fanning across your face as you close your eyes. “You look beauitful tonight baby,” he says softly, placing a feathery kiss on one cheek. Then your nose. Then the corner of your mouth. “Let me show you, yeah?”
You nod, eyes closed, still unable to speak, holding your breath in anticipation. Despite being married for years, your husband still made you feel like the shy, blushing bride you used to be.
You feel Seungcheol’s lips against yours, warm and plush. You sigh into the kiss, body melting into the mattress as you relax. You were putty under Seungcheol. He grips tighter at your jaw, tilting your head up so he can deepen the kiss, nipping at your lower lip as he does so. Your lips part, giving entry to Seungcheol’s tongue, and he licks into your mouth, swallowing the moans coming out of you.
Heat pools in your gut and you can feel yourself needing more of Seungcheol than just his lips.
As if on cue, Seungcheol gives your wrists a soft squeeze before releasing them. His lips leave yours for just a moment as he shifts, now straddling one of your legs.
Both his hands are then back on your face, gripping your cheeks firmly as he kisses you again, sucking on your lower lip. He places a wet kiss on your chin, then moves down your neck, placing kisses as he goes.
Seungcheol sucks softly on the sensitive hollow of your neck at the same time that your feel his thigh brush against your clothed cunt. Your hand fly to his hair, fingers tangling in his soft strands, “Seungcheol.” You let out a breathy gasp as he moves his thigh against your soaked panties, eyes rolling back as Seungcheol continues to pepper kisses down your neck, back to your jawline, to the tops of your shoulders.
Seungcheol's teeth graze where your neck meets your shoulder and your breath hitches, letting out another choked gasp. He bites down, sucking harshly at the spot and your fingers tug at his hair, making him groan into your skin. Your hips involuntarily buck against his thigh again, and he clenches his thigh muscles, a light whimper leaving your mouth.
You slip your hands down to clutch his shoulders as you start to roll your hips against his thigh, chasing the pleasure from the friction.
Seungcheol is relentless though as he attacks your neck and chest with his mouth, placing kisses and sucking bruises into every expanse of skin he can.
"Seung-seungcheol, Cheol, please, I need mor—ohh,” you cry out. By now, you were rutting against his thigh, your arousal undeniably having soaked through your thin lace panties, leaving a wet spot on his pants.
Seungcheol keeps his thigh firmly against your cunt, letting you grind, knowing it'd never be enough to fully satisfy you anyhow. Besides, he loves the feeling of your wetness seeping through his pants, loves the way your own thighs wind tighter around his as you chase your high, and absolutely adores the way your hips jolt every time he sucks an extra sensitive part of your skin.
Seungcheol pulls the straps of yiur dress off your shoulder, pulling the dress further down, trying to get access to your breasts, but getting increasingly more frusterated at the excess cloth now bunching up around your waist. Grabbing the silky fabric with both his hands, he tears it in two like it's tissue, tossing it over the side of the bed.
"Been wanting to do that all night," Seungcheol growls before grappling with the next beast, your bra hooks. "Arch your back for me baby," and you're quick to do as he says, arching your back so he can unclasp your bra, taking it off and tossing it away like the dress, leaving you in just your panties.
Seungcheol pauses, taking you in. Wanting to commit every bit of you in this moment to his memory. How swollen your lips are. The crazy mane of hair haloed around your head, splayed against the pillows. The red lovebites scattered all over your neck and chest that are blooming into a deep purple. He watches as your chest rises with the little huffs of your breath, nipples perked in excitement, when your blissed out face slowly morphs into a frown.
Seungcheol tilts his head in concern, "What is it, baby? What's wrong?"
“You're still wearing your clothes,” you pout and Seungcheol lets out a laugh. He brings his hands up to your jaw, holding your head in place as you try to shy away, capturing your lips in a languid kiss.
Seungcheol replaces his lips with his thumb, gently prodding, "Open up sweetheart."
You obey almost instantaneously. You always do.
Seungcheol, presses his thumb into your mouth, tilting your head up by your chin. “Suck,” and you do without hesitation, hungrily sucking at his thumb before he pulls it out with a pop.
He brings his hand down to one of your breasts, brushing his wet thumb tentatively over your nipple.
You let out a shuddering gasp, turned moan, as Seungcheol moves his other hand down as well, fondling your breasts and rubbing circles over your areolas. You can't help but pant as he dips down to capture one of your tits in his mouth, swirling his tongune around your nipple, pinching and twisting the other nub with his fingers.
“Oh god, Cheol,” your voice quivers as you arch your back from the sensations, hands flying up to clutch at his shoulders, moving up them to pull at the little hairs on the nap of his neck.
You wanted more though; you wanted feel more. You wanted to feel him.
First things first though, Seungcheol is far too clothed. As Seungcheol comes up from your breasts, you claw at his belt. He straightens out, leaning so you can reach better. Hands fumbling, you unclip his belt, pulling it out and throwing it aside. Metal clinks aagainst wood as it hits a table leg, but you pay it no mind. Yanking his shirt out from underneath his waistband, Seungcheol silently watches as your fingers finish unbuttoning it. He unrolls his sleeves and undoes his cuffs so he can take it off.
It's slow. It's all to slow. You want it off him now. A whine slips out of you and Seungcheol's eyes crinkle as he smiles, undoing the last cuff. "You're so impatient today, baby." He pulls his shirt off.
You don't even bother responding, instead too busy drooling over the sight of your husband. Broad chest, big shoulders, strong laterals.
Seungcheol starts to unclasp the gold watch on his wrist when you stutter out a “W-wait, don’t.” He pauses, hand still on his watch, and lifts an eyebrow.
“You don’t want me to take it off?” You nod shyly and it takes everything in him not to coo at you. He bites down on his lip, nodding and trying not to smile as he reclips the watch, making sure it’s snug and doesn’t jostle.
Seungcheol climbs off the bed, unbuttoning his suit pants and bending over to pull them down and off. You turn on your side, propping yourself up on one elbow to watch him, eyes roaming down the smooth expanse of his back, all the way down to his phat dump truck of an ass. Tight black boxer briefs stretch across cheeks so round you could bounce a coin off them.
Not that you’d ever admit it, but, if you’re being honest, that ass is half the reason you married Seungcheol.
“Baby, if you keep staring at my ass like that, I'm gonna come before I even make back to bed,” he sends you a cheeky grin before coming to pounce on you, attacking your lips with a hungry kiss. Gone is your soft, patient, cheeky husband from before. This one was insatiable. He kisses you like a man in a drought and you’re the only source of water left on the planet.
You let your hands ghost across Seungcheol's chest as he kisses you. He shivers at the touch of your fingers mapping out every muscle of his abdominals.
He settles back between your legs and you feel the bulge of his cock against your soaked panties, moaning against his mouth as he bucks his hips into yours.
You can't wait any longer. Already, this night has gone on longer than you wanted.
"Seungcheol," you gasp as his bulge grazes deliciously across your clit. You pull at the waistband of his underwear and it snaps against his skin, making him yelp, nipping at your jaw.
"What, baby?" Seungcheol voice is haggard. He's panting just as hard as you, and his pupils are blown full of lust, and love.
You let your hand trail under his waistband, fingers circling around his fully erect cock.
You give him the firmest of strokes.
Seungcheol almost keels over. "Baby," he hisses, "what do you want?"
"You."
There was nothing else you wanted tonight, except to feel him. All of him.
Seungcheol closes his eyes as you thumb over his slit, entire body jerking forward.
"Baby, you always have me, every part of me," Seungcheol grits through his teeth, "But if you keep going like that, I don't think I'm gonna last much longer.
You slip your hand back out, holding them up to Seungcheol, as if to show, look, I'm being a good girl. Now fuck me already. Seungcheol swallows hard.
Next thing you know, he’s tearing your panties off. “Seungcheol!” you squawk. You liked that pair, they’d matched your favourite black bra.
“Baby,” Seungcheol croons as he gently pries your legs further apart. He pulls his cock out, rubbing it against your entrance, letting it coat in all your juices. “I'll buy you a hundred more of those if you want." He pushes just the tip in, "Is that what your want?"
"More," you keened, "Cheol I need more." You drag your lower lip up with your teeth, the stretch of Seungcheol feeling so good.
"More?" Seungcheol pushes further in, slowly letting you adjust to his size, "I'll buy you a thousand more. A million more. Just say the word, baby." You gasp as Seungcheol pushes all the way in to the hilt. He swoops down to kiss you as you tear up a little from the stretch. The sting of his cock fades into a different feeling, one that has pleasure coursing through your veins.
"Can I move, baby?" Seungcheol's voice is sounding a little breathless.
"Please," you beg. Seungcheol begins to move, thrusting at a laborious pace. He has his hands braced on either side of your head and he watches your face, every scrunch of your eyebrows, every bite of your lips, the little gasps that leave your mouth as he picks up the pace.
"Oh, Cheol, right there—"
"God, you feel so good baby—"
"Faster Cheol, please, that feels so good."
Seungcheol brings a hand down to rubs circles on your clit and he almost sees white when you clench around him in reaction. Sounds of your moans laced over Seungcheol's fill the air, mixed with the sound of skin slapping skin.
"Cheol, I'm gonna—"
"Let go for me, baby, come on." And as always, you obey.
You let out a cry as your orgasm ripples through you. Seungcheol does the same as he feels you clench around him, grunting as he thrusts and fills you up with his cum.
Seungcheol waits for you to come down from your high before rolling over and collapsing next to you on the bed. You can feel his cum trickle out of you and down your thigh.
He brings an arm around your waist and pulls you into his chest, snuggling his face into the crook of your neck. "I'll clean you up in a bit baby. Lets just lay like this for a little while."
Summary: As a writer with a mildly cynical take on love, you’ve always believed people have a “type”—a pattern they never stray from when it comes to dating. And Kim Mingyu? He’s the textbook definition of someone who wouldn’t go for someone like you, nor would you go for him. But you test your theory when a fateful run-in with your charming neighbour sparks an unexpected attraction.
The plan? Go on dates with him and count how many it takes before your heart gets involved—if it ever does. But Mingyu is unpredictable, effortlessly breaking down your carefully constructed walls with every smile, every late-night conversation, every moment that feels too easy to be just an experiment.
The real problem? Secrets never stay secrets for long. And when Mingyu finds out the truth behind your so-called theory, will it prove you right, or that love doesn’t follow the rules you thought it did?
☆ 18+ minors dni |☀︎fluff | ☁︎ angst | ♕smut
Word Count: 7782
Pairings: Neighbor! Mingyu x Journalist! Female Reader
Genre/Trope(s)/AU(s): Neighbours AU! Fake Dating AU! (but only one is fake dating. It’ll make sense when you read it, lol). Non-Idol AU!.
Content Warnings: lots of emotions yn being a sad sap but its very much warranted, its soft actually lots of growing up. yn’s parents are the best and wonu is being a snappy little shit, bonsai’s ig are some sort of hazardous plant in this story, very wholesome and soft moments between the two. tension between wonwoo and yn and not the good kind but it heals over time.
Smut Warnings: mingyu being a horndog but who can blame him, they both are horndogs, unprotected sex, very longing and deep sex idk? praise, and big dick! mingyu because ofc. slight edging, soft aftercare, cumming inside, oral sex (female recieving) cum licking. fingering.
Author's Note 1: I'd be remiss if I didn't thank the lovely people who helped beta this monster of a story. thank you @lovetaroandtaemin @nebulousbrainsoup @strxwberry-skiess for your patience time and love thank you guys so much!!
Author's Note 2: welp and with that! this series is done, thank you all so much to those who read, and gave me feedback, or yelled all of it was so appreciated, what a beautiful way to end my time here on tumblr, thank you all so much 🩷 🩷 🩷 🩷 🩷 🩷 (don't worry I'll still come here time to time maybe reblog gifs or something, but as for writing, I'm closing that book for now--see what i did there? HAHAH)
Series Masterlist
The following morning, you wake up tangled in your sheets, the weight of everything sitting heavy in your chest. The apartment is too quiet, but your thoughts are louder than ever. Last night plays in loops—every word, every silence, every look that said too much and not enough.
You sit up slowly, rubbing your face. Your eyes sting. The air feels too still.
Without thinking too hard, you start packing a small overnight bag. Just a few essentials. A charger. Your journal. Something that smells like home.
It’s not an escape. It’s a pause.
You lock the door behind you and exhale, hoping it’s the first breath of many that finally feels clear.
When you finally emerged from your room, Joshua and Wonwoo were at the kitchen table, finishing breakfast. Joshua looked surprised to see you up and about. “Hey. Where are you going?”
You hesitated, shifting the duffle bag on your shoulder. “Home. To my parents’ place.”
Joshua’s brows knitted together. “Wait, for good?”
You shook your head. “Just for a while. I need some space... to think.”
Wonwoo glanced at you, his expression unreadable. “Running away from your problems? Smart,” he muttered.
Joshua shot him a warning glare. “Wonwoo.”
You took a deep breath. “I’m not running away. I just... I miss them. I think I need a break from the city. From... everything.”
Joshua’s face softened. “How long will you be gone?”
You shrugged. “A couple of weeks, maybe. I have some annual leave saved up. I’ll figure it out.”
Joshua looked like he wanted to offer you a ride, but you shook your head. “It’s fine. I’ll take a cab to the station.”
As you reached the door, Joshua suddenly pulled you into a tight hug. “Text us when you get there?”
You nodded against his shoulder. “Yeah, I will.”
Wonwoo remained in his seat, his jaw clenched. “Not me. I couldn’t care less.”
The sting of his words made you wince, but you just nodded and slipped out the door before your emotions could betray you.
~~
As you waited in the lobby for your cab, tapping aimlessly on your phone screen, you heard someone behind you.
“Y/N?”
You turned—and of course, Mingyu. Tall, messy-haired, slightly out of breath like he’d rushed to catch you.
Why was everyone awake and functioning on a Sunday morning?
“Where are you going?” He asked, eyes narrowing at your bag.
“Uh… home.” You gave a small shrug.
“Wait—for good?”
You shook your head. “No. Just for a while.”
He looked at you for a long beat. “Why?”
You hesitated. “I think… I just need to get out of everyone’s way for a bit. I’ve been making a mess of things.”
Mingyu frowned. “Did something happen with the guys?”
“No. It’s not them. It’s me.” You pressed your lips together. “I’ve been a bit of a baby. I just… keep screwing things up and then wondering why no one’s patient.”
“That’s not true,” Mingyu said quietly. “You just... have a habit of realising things when it’s already too late.”
You nodded, eyes stinging.
“How are you?” You asked, just to change the subject.
“I’ve been better.” He smiled faintly. “But I’ve also been worse.”
“Can’t get a cab,” you said, staring at your phone.
“I’ll drop you.”
“Mingyu, you don’t have to—”
“Let me. It’d make me feel better knowing you got to the station okay.”
You bit the inside of your cheek, hesitating. “Can I blackmail you with the fact that you’ve broken my heart twice now?”
He let out a breathy laugh. “Yeah. That’s fair.”
You didn’t say anything else as he drove, except for the occasional sniffle that betrayed you.
“Is it cold?” He asked gently.
You shook your head.
“When’s your train?”
“1:30.”
“Perfect.” He pulled over and turned to look at you. “Y/N. Look at me.”
You didn’t.
“I know you’re crying.”
You finally glanced his way.
“You look like Rudolph,” he said, reaching up to wipe at your cheek. “You really want your parents thinking I’m the one who made you cry?”
You cracked the smallest smile. “They’d believe it.”
“Y/N,” he said again, voice quieter now. “You don’t have to apologise for everything.”
“But I should,” you whispered. “The bonsai, the article, the whole ‘I love you—wait, never mind’ thing.”
“I’m not mad,” Mingyu said, squeezing your hand. “A little hurt? Yeah. But it’ll pass.”
You didn’t trust yourself to answer, so you just nodded.
He parked the car and got out before you could argue, grabbing your bag and walking ahead like it was just the natural next step. You followed silently, letting him lead you to the platform.
“Lovely couple,” an old lady said as she passed, her voice kind and lilting.
“Thank you,” Mingyu answered automatically.
You blinked at him. “Why didn’t you correct her?”
He shrugged. “She seemed happy thinking that. Why ruin it?”
You were quiet for a moment. “You know she’s right, though. I will see you again.”
“Then stop crying so much.”
You smiled, even through the new wave of tears. “I’m glad I’m crying here. It’s poetic.”
He laughed, hand slipping into yours.
“I’ll pick you up from here when you’re ready,” he said. “Just let me know.”
You bit your lip. “Can I ask you for something selfish?”
“Anything.”
“Can you stay with me? Just until the train comes?”
“I wasn’t going to leave.”
You leaned into his side, letting his arm curl around you. The silence was warm this time.
“You’re not running again, right?” He murmured.
You tilted your head. “Wouldn’t it be easier?”
“Maybe.” His thumb stroked your shoulder gently. “But it would suck.”
“Do I make you miserable?”
He didn’t answer, just held you closer. That was enough.
When the train pulled in, you stood, and he helped you with your bag. Before you could climb on, he peeled off his hoodie and placed it in your hands.
“You’ll freeze,” you said.
“My car’s right there. I have extras.”
“Why give me this one?”
“So you’ll come back.”
“I would’ve come back anyway.”
“I needed the insurance.”
You grinned.
“Sir, we need passengers who aren’t travelling to disembark in the next two minutes.”
Mingyu lingered.
“Text me when you get there,” he said. “I can pick you up. Or bring you back. Or both.”
You nodded.
“Y/N?” He said again, quieter this time.
“Yeah?”
He pulled you in for a quick kiss. “Take care, okay?”
Another kiss. One more.
Then he was gone, walking back to the platform with his hands in his pockets and a look on his face like he was holding it all together with string.
You boarded the train.
His hoodie smelled like laundry detergent and cedarwood. You wrapped yourself in it, closed your eyes, and let the city roll away behind you.
You were going home, for now. But it didn’t feel like running this time. Just a breather.
And maybe that was enough.
~~
You didn’t even realise how badly you needed to be home until you were wrapped in your mother’s arms. The second she opened the door, all the strength you had been trying to muster crumbled into a flood of tears. Your mother held you tightly, whispering reassurances even though she had no idea why you were crying.
You buried your face into her shoulder, inhaling the familiar scent of lavender from her cardigan. “I missed you,” you choked out, voice muffled.
“Oh, sweetheart, it’s okay. Come inside. You’ll feel better once you’re settled,” she cooed, guiding you through the threshold.
As you made your way to your room, you caught sight of your dad, hunched over the dining table, scribbling into his crossword book. “Hi, stranger,” you called out, voice strained but attempting cheerfulness.
Your father looked up, eyes widening. “Y/N!” He jumped to his feet, wrapping you in a bear hug. “Who do I need to beat up for making my daughter cry?”
You couldn’t help but laugh through the tears. “No one, Dad. I just... I missed you guys.”
Your parents exchanged a look — one of those silent conversations that couples seemed to master after years together. Your mother nodded knowingly. “Go freshen up, honey. We’ll have some food and something to drink ready for you when you’re done.”
You nodded, grateful for the space to collect yourself. As you headed down the hall to your old room, the memories hit you like a tidal wave — the posters you never took down, the bookshelf crammed with your favorite stories, and the cozy quilt your grandmother made. You sat on the edge of your bed, breathing in the nostalgia, letting it ground you.
After a long, hot shower, you felt marginally better. Your phone buzzed on the nightstand, and you saw Mingyu’s name on the screen. You hesitated for a moment before answering.
“Hey,” you greeted softly, towelling off your hair.
“Uh, hi. You never said if you got there okay,” Mingyu’s voice was cautious, unsure.
You closed your eyes, trying to keep your voice steady. “Sorry. I got here fine. Just... cried a lot when I saw them. I guess I didn’t realise how much I needed to see my parents.”
“Yeah. That makes sense,” Mingyu murmured. There was a pause, and you could almost hear him trying to figure out what to say next. “Cool. Um, I should go. Just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
Before you could respond, the line went dead. You stared at the phone, fighting the ache in your chest.
Later that evening, after dinner, your parents sat with you in the living room, sipping on glasses of wine. Your father nudged the bottle closer to you, raising an eyebrow. “You look like you could use this.”
You gave a weak smile, pouring yourself a glass. You took a sip, savouring the comforting burn. “It’s my fault. I messed up. I acted like an idiot,” you admitted.
Your dad shook his head. “I didn’t raise an idiot. Stop calling yourself that.”
You couldn’t help but laugh. “You don’t even know what happened yet.”
“Doesn’t matter. Everyone makes mistakes. Doesn’t mean you’re an idiot. Just means you’re human.”
You couldn’t argue with that.
You ended up telling them everything — from the article experiment to the fallout with Mingyu, and how your insecurities had led you to pull back when he said he was ready to love you. You left out the more intimate details, of course, but you could see the concern etched into your parents’ faces as you talked.
Your mom gave you a pointed look. “So why did you say you didn’t love him?”
You hesitated, swirling the wine in your glass. “Because I don’t. I mean... I’m not sure.”
She rolled her eyes. “Sweetie, you love him. You may not know it yet, but you do. If you didn’t care, you wouldn’t have worked so hard to make it happen. You wouldn’t be sitting here, crying over him.”
Your father chimed in, his tone gentler than before. “Love doesn’t always hit you like a train, kiddo. Sometimes it creeps up on you. Just because you don’t have all the answers right now doesn’t mean you’re wrong to feel what you feel.”
You sniffed, wiping at your eyes. “Wonwoo said I’m someone who can’t take accountability. He said it’s hard to be my friend sometimes.”
Your dad’s expression softened. “It’s not easy, learning how to face your own mistakes. But the fact that you’re here, reflecting on it, means you’re trying. You’ve always been sincere when it comes to fixing what you break.”
You took a shaky breath, finally admitting, “I’m just scared. Of ruining things even more. Of hurting him. I don’t know how to fix this.”
Your mother placed a gentle hand on yours. “Take your time. Don’t rush it. Sometimes the best way to make amends is to give each other space to breathe. He cares about you — that much is obvious. But you can’t force him to forgive you. You can only be honest with him when the time comes.”
You stayed with your parents for a little over a week, letting the comfort of home wrap around you like a warm blanket. You started writing again, not an article to impress anyone, but one that was true to your own story — one that was raw and honest. You didn’t hide behind metaphors or clever phrasing. You just wrote how you felt — about Mingyu, about your mistakes, and about what it meant to be vulnerable enough to love someone.
Your dad caught you writing at the dining table one morning and smiled. “Looks like my writer’s back.”
You gave him a small smile. “Yeah. I think I’m ready to face everything now.”
~~
The suitcase clicked shut with a finality that felt heavier than it should have. You stood still for a second, your fingers wrapped tightly around the handle, just listening to the quiet hum of the house.
“You packed the snacks I gave you, right?” Your mom called from the kitchen.
“Yes, Mom,” you said, smiling softly as you stepped into the doorway.
Your father looked up from the newspaper. “Train’s in an hour. You want me to drive you?”
You shook your head. “I’ll cab it. I think I need the ride to... breathe a little.”
They both came to the door to hug you goodbye. Warm, lingering squeezes that told you without words that you were always welcome to run back, no matter how old you got.
“Text us when you reach,” your mom whispered against your cheek.
You nodded, throat too tight to answer.
By the time you were standing at the platform, duffel slung over your shoulder and your coat pulled tight around you, the weight in your chest hadn’t lifted—but your spine had straightened.
Tucked under your arm, nestled carefully beside your bag, was a tiny bonsai you’d picked up from a roadside nursery near your parents’ place. You figured if you were going to start over with Mingyu, it might as well be with a little on-the-nose symbolism.
You were going back. To Seoul. To the mess. To the people you loved and sometimes hated and often didn’t understand.
You didn’t know what you’d say when you saw Mingyu.
But you were done running.
You just had to show up.
~~
When you arrived at Seoul station, you barely had time to take a breath before someone startled you from behind.
“Boo!”
You jumped, dropping the plant in your hand, and watched in horror as it landed directly on Mingyu’s foot.
He yelped, hopping on one leg. “Seriously? Bonsai assault, part two?”
You couldn’t help but laugh, tears pricking your eyes. “Sorry, sorry!”
Mingyu leaned down, picking up the poor, slightly cracked plant. “You have a knack for using these as weapons.”
You smiled, wiping at your eyes. “Maybe it’s a sign.”
“Of what? That you want to break my toes?”
“No,” you murmured, stepping closer. “That I’m always going to find a way back to you.”
Mingyu’s eyes softened, his hand gently brushing yours. “Yeah? I could live with that.”
“Wanna grab something to eat?” Mingyu asked, falling into step beside you as you both emerged from the station.
You shook your head, tugging your cardigan tighter around you. “Actually… I was thinking of just heading home. Kinda exhausted.”
He nodded, matching your pace. “Home-home or apartment-home?”
You looked up at him. “The latter.”
Mingyu grinned. “Cool. Mind if I tag along? I’m in the mood for comfort films and questionable snack choices.”
You smirked. “I was literally about to say Disney and popcorn.”
“Well then,” he said, mock-bowing as he opened the car door, “a perfect gentleman shall escort you.”
~~
“Shua?” you called as you stepped inside the apartment, slipping your shoes off. Mingyu trailed behind you, grocery bag in hand.
He glanced around. “No one’s home?”
You poked your head into the hallway. “Double date night for them. Joshua left a note.”
Mingyu’s answering grin was all teeth. “Thank fuck.”
Before you could respond, his arms were around your thighs, lifting you off the ground with ease.
“Mingyu!” you squealed, half-laughing as he carried you toward your bedroom.
“Don’t act surprised,” he said, nudging the door shut behind him with his foot. “You know I’ve been thinking about this since the train.”
He sat down on the bed with you in his lap, one hand on your waist, the other already cradling the back of your neck as he kissed you, slow, deep, like he had all the time in the world to unravel you.
You kissed him back, melting into his hold as his hands slipped under the hoodie you were still wearing. His breath caught.
“Wait—” His fingers brushed over bare skin. “You’re not wearing anything underneath?”
You smirked. “Laundry day.”
“And no bra either?” he groaned, leaning in again, voice raspy now. “You’re trying to kill me.”
You let him kiss you once more before gently pulling back, crawling off his lap with a sheepish smile. “Gyu… wait.”
His brows lifted, but he didn’t press. “Yeah?”
“Just—can we slow down a little?”
Mingyu gave a small nod, lips still curved in a crooked grin. “Sure. I’ll behave. But I’m keeping the hoodie as emotional compensation.”
You rolled your eyes, heart thudding in that too-familiar rhythm he always managed to stir.
The room felt heavy with unsaid words and fragile hope, the kind of tension that kept your heart suspended between fear and longing. Mingyu’s hand on your thigh was warm, grounding, but the space between you was still filled with everything left unsaid. You took a breath, gathering the courage to break the silence.
“Mingyu,” you whispered, voice trembling despite your efforts to sound steady. “I know I hurt you. I know I made you feel like you couldn’t trust me, like my words didn’t mean anything. And I hate that I did that to you.”
Mingyu’s eyes softened, but his gaze remained cautious. “You can’t just say you love me after saying you don’t. You have no idea how that messed with me. One minute, I’m ready to let go and just... fall for you, and the next, it’s like you pulled the rug out from under me. You can’t do that to someone.”
You nodded, your hands trembling as you rubbed your thumb against his. “I know, and I never wanted to hurt you like that. I was just... terrified. Terrified of how much you mean to me. I didn’t think I could fall for you, not like this. We were supposed to be casual—no—strings, just fun. But then it wasn’t just fun anymore. It became real. You became real. And that scared the hell out of me.”
Mingyu’s lips pressed into a thin line, his fingers squeezing yours gently, as if testing whether he could still hold on. “You always said you didn’t believe in love — that it wasn’t something you wanted. Then, out of nowhere, you just... say it and take it back. I didn’t know how to handle that.”
You swallowed the lump in your throat, blinking back tears. “When I went home, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. About us. I kept wondering what would happen if I never told you how I really felt — if I kept letting fear stop me from saying the one thing that’s been true for a while now. I love you, Mingyu. I love you so much that it hurts, and that’s why I was scared. Because loving you means I have something to lose. And the thought of losing you terrifies me more than anything.”
Mingyu’s eyes shimmered with unspoken emotion, his lips parting as if to say something, but he remained quiet, letting you continue.
“I went back home because I needed to figure myself out — to understand why I couldn’t just say it when I felt it. And I realised that I didn’t want to keep running from this, from you. I’ve been falling for you since the beginning, and it’s terrifying because it’s the most real thing I’ve ever felt. But I’m done being afraid. I just needed you to know that.”
Mingyu looked down at your intertwined hands, his thumb brushing over your knuckles as he took a shaky breath. “You really love me?” He whispered, almost as if he didn’t dare believe it.
You nodded, eyes watering as you squeezed his hand tighter. “Yes. I love you. And I’m so sorry for making you doubt that.”
He pulled you into his arms, pressing his forehead to yours. “I wanted to believe you so badly, even when I was angry. I kept telling myself that maybe you just didn’t realise it at first. I was ready to say it back that night — I was so ready, but then you just... took it back.”
You could feel the pain in his voice, and it broke your heart all over again. “I was a coward. I know that. I was scared that saying it would make it real, and that real meant risking getting hurt. But being without you was worse. I’d rather risk everything than lose you.”
Mingyu closed his eyes, pulling you closer, his lips pressing against your temple. “You really don’t know how much you mean to me. Even when I tried to be angry, all I could think about was holding you. I missed you so much.”
Your hands moved to his face, cupping his cheeks as your thumbs brushed away the stray tear that slipped down. “You don’t have to forgive me right away. You don’t have to say it back if you’re not ready. Just... let me show you that I mean it.”
Mingyu let out a soft, trembling laugh, his fingers threading through your hair. “You’re so damn stubborn, you know that?”
You managed a teary smile. “You love that about me.”
He pulled you closer, his lips brushing yours in a soft, lingering kiss that spoke of everything he was still too scared to say. When he pulled back, his eyes met yours, filled with something like hope. “We’ll take it slow, okay? I’m not ready to just jump back in and pretend everything’s okay. But... I want to try. I want us to be okay.”
You nodded, your heart swelling with a cautious joy. “That’s all I want. I’ll do whatever it takes to make this work.”
He pressed another kiss to your forehead, then your nose, and finally your lips, slow and tender. “Let’s just... be here. Together. No pressure.”
You let out a soft laugh, snuggling closer to him. “That sounds perfect.”
Mingyu pulled you into his arms, his fingers gently tracing circles on your back. You felt his chest rise and fall, steady and comforting, and for the first time in a long while, you allowed yourself to just be — wrapped in his warmth, feeling his heartbeat against yours.
“I’ll never get tired of this,” he whispered into your hair, and you closed your eyes, savouring the moment.
As sleep tugged at you, you couldn’t help but think that this—right here, tangled up with Mingyu in the quiet of your room—was the kind of love you’d been scared of finding. And you were done running from it.
Mingyu’s fingers traced soothing patterns on your back, his lips brushing your forehead every few minutes, as if reassuring himself that you were still there. You breathed in his familiar scent, and for the first time in a long while, you felt safe — safe enough to believe that maybe love didn’t always have to end in heartbreak.
Maybe, just maybe, this time you could get it right.
~~
“Can you stop fidgeting?” Mingyu groaned later that night. He was curled up in your bed with you, his voice heavy with sleep as you wiggled around in his arms.
“I’m trying to get comfy,” you whispered, your cheeks warm from the proximity.
Mingyu pulled you closer, his arm curling protectively around your waist. “You’ve been moving for like five minutes. What’s wrong?”
You huffed, squirming a little more. “It’s the shirt. I can’t sleep with it on. I just… need to wear something else.”
Mingyu made a noise somewhere between a groan and a chuckle. “Sit up,” he mumbled sleepily.
“What?” you asked, but he didn’t bother replying. Instead, his hands found the hem of the shirt, tugging it up and over your head before tossing it to the floor. You shivered as the cool air hit your bare skin.
“There,” Mingyu muttered, tugging you back against his chest. “Better?”
“Yeah,” you whispered, feeling his warm breath on your shoulder as he pressed a soft kiss there. You couldn’t help but smile, though sleep still eluded you, especially now that your naked body was pressed against him. You could feel his heartbeat through your back, the steady rise and fall of his chest.
But you couldn’t ignore the way his half-hard cock was pressing into your lower back, especially as his arm shifted, his hand resting low on your stomach, fingers brushing the sensitive skin there. You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to stay still, but it was no use.
“What are you doing?” Mingyu grumbled, clearly aware of your struggle.
“I can’t sleep,” you admitted, your voice small.
He sighed dramatically. “Count sheep.”
You smacked his forearm lightly. “That’s not helping.”
“Ow!” He protested, his pout evident even without seeing his face. “It does work, you know. Smacking me definitely isn’t the solution.”
You didn’t answer, just turned in his arms and pressed your lips to his, catching him off guard. He hummed against your mouth, a low sound of surprise that melted into a soft groan when you rolled on top of him, straddling his thighs.
“Either we fuck, or I make myself cum,” you whispered, your nails tracing the outline of his cock through his boxers.
Mingyu’s breath hitched, but he shook his head. “No.”
You shot him a glare. “Then I’m using a toy.”
“Oh, no, you’re not,” Mingyu muttered, and before you knew it, his fingers were on your clit, circling with just enough pressure to make you gasp.
“Gyu—”
He pressed a soft kiss to your temple, his hand sliding down to grip your thigh. “You don’t need toys when I can take care of you so much better.”
You opened your mouth to argue, but he moved faster, his hands guiding your hips to line up with his. He pushed his boxers down enough to free himself, and you shivered when his cock brushed against your wet folds.
“I need you,” you whispered, shifting your hips to let him slide inside. He moaned low and rough, his grip on your hips tightening.
“Fuck, it’s been too long,” he groaned, his breath shaky as he sank deeper. “You’re so fucking tight.”
You moved his hand from your breast to your neck, meeting his eyes. His brow furrowed, concern briefly flashing across his face. “You sure?”
You nodded, your lips brushing his. “Yes. Please.”
He gave a slow, tentative thrust, his hand lightly holding your throat. The pressure was just enough to make your head spin, your pulse racing. You whimpered, arching against him as he moved again—deeper this time, harder.
His hand loosened, his lips brushing yours. “God, you feel so good,” he whispered, kissing you softly as his hips kept moving.
You moaned, your hands finding his shoulders for support as you moved with him, each thrust pushing you closer to the edge. His breath was ragged against your neck, his voice low and rough as he whispered, “So good, baby. I’m not gonna last.”
You barely managed to murmur his name before you felt him tense, his grip on your waist bruising as he came, his warmth filling you.
Mingyu’s body relaxed, and he kissed your forehead, his hands gentle as he cupped your face. “You okay?”
You nodded, catching your breath. “Yeah. More than okay.”
He shifted, moving down between your legs. “Still feel like sleeping?”
You laughed softly, but the sound turned into a gasp as his mouth found your clit, his tongue moving in slow, precise circles. You whimpered, your fingers threading through his hair as his arms wrapped around your thighs, holding you still.
“Gyu—”
“Just relax, baby,” he whispered against your skin, the vibration making you shiver. He sucked lightly on your clit, and you couldn’t hold back the cry that escaped, your back arching as he brought you to the edge and over, his hands steadying you as you came.
He kissed his way up your body, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before lying beside you, pulling you into his chest.
“Mingyu?” You whispered.
“Yeah?” he replied, tracing shapes on your shoulder with his fingertips.
You hesitated, biting your lip. You wanted to say it—the words were right there. But fear kept your mouth shut.
“Shower,” you mumbled instead, pouting.
Mingyu chuckled softly and kissed your nose. “Come here.”
He scooped you up in his arms, carrying you to the bathroom, his lips brushing your temple as he murmured. “Whatever you need.”
~~
The morning sun streamed through the windows, casting a soft glow across the room. You sat on the couch, pulling your knees to your chest, trying to gather your thoughts. Mingyu appeared from the bedroom, rubbing his eyes sleepily, his hair messy from sleep.
“Morning,” he mumbled, giving you a lopsided smile as he sat down next to you.
“Hi,” you replied softly, handing him a cup of coffee. Mingyu took it gratefully, breathing in the comforting aroma before taking a sip.
“God, I missed your coffee,” he murmured. You smiled at his familiar habit — the way he always inhaled the scent first. But he noticed your hesitation, your smile not quite reaching your eyes. “You seem... a little off,” he said, nudging your thigh with his knee. “Do you regret last night?”
Your heart clenched at the question, and you immediately shook your head, reaching for his hand. “No, not at all. I regret nothing.” You squeezed his fingers gently, offering him a reassuring smile. “Actually... I’m really glad we talked.”
Mingyu let out a soft breath, relief evident on his face. “Me too. I was worried I might’ve rushed things, you know? I don’t want to mess this up.”
You scooted closer, resting your head on his shoulder. “You didn’t. I needed to hear it, too. I needed to know that you still wanted to try.”
Mingyu kissed the top of your head, his voice a murmur against your hair. “I’ll always want to try for us.”
The comfort of his presence made you feel lighter, like the weight that had been pressing on your chest was finally easing up. You spent the next few moments in silence, just savouring the warmth of him next to you, the familiar way his thumb traced circles on your knuckles.
After a while, Mingyu shifted, his playful smile returning. “So... do you want to go out today? I thought maybe we could do something fun—something that doesn’t involve heavy conversations.”
You nodded eagerly. “That sounds perfect. What did you have in mind?”
Mingyu grinned, his eyes brightening. “You’ll see. Just dress cute. I’m taking you on a date.”
~~
You didn’t know what to expect, but as you strolled through the bustling park with Mingyu’s hand firmly clasped in yours, you couldn’t help but feel your heart swell. Mingyu had brought his camera, and he kept stopping every few steps to snap a photo of you.
“Seriously, Gyu? I probably look weird in half of those,” you protested, shielding your face from his lens.
He chuckled, lowering the camera just enough to see your pout. “You look beautiful. Besides, it’s just for me. I want to remember how happy you look today.”
Your cheeks warmed, and you gave in, letting him take a few more photos. Mingyu’s face lit up every time he captured your smile, and it made your heart race in the best way. After a while, he led you toward a row of food trucks, insisting on buying you your favourite snack.
As you sat on a park bench sharing the food, Mingyu turned his camera on himself, pulling you into the shot. “Smile,” he whispered, his face close enough that his breath tickled your cheek. You couldn’t help but laugh, and he snapped the picture.
When he showed you the shot, you couldn’t deny how happy you looked. Mingyu looked at it for a long moment, his expression softening. “I missed seeing you like this.”
You leaned your head against his shoulder. “I missed feeling like this.”
Mingyu placed a soft kiss on your temple. “You know... I’ve been carrying my camera around more since you left. It reminded me of all the little moments I never want to forget. Like this one.”
You intertwined your fingers with his. “I want to be part of more of your moments.”
He gave your hand a gentle squeeze. “Then don’t leave again. Stay.”
You bit your lip, the vulnerability in his voice pulling at your heartstrings. “I’m not leaving. I promise.”
The rest of the afternoon was filled with easy laughter and more spontaneous photos, Mingyu capturing every playful moment — from you accidentally tripping over a crack in the pavement to your exaggerated eye roll when he insisted on taking yet another picture of you with ice cream on your nose.
By the time the sun began to set, you found yourselves sitting on a blanket by the riverbank, watching the sky turn shades of pink and orange. Mingyu’s camera rested beside him, forgotten for the moment as he pulled you into his side.
“Thank you for today,” you whispered, tracing the veins on the back of his hand. “I needed this.”
Mingyu leaned down, pressing a kiss to your hair. “Me too. I’m really happy right now. Just... being with you.”
You tilted your head up to meet his eyes, and he smiled before leaning in to kiss you. It was soft, unhurried, and full of every unspoken word you hadn’t found the courage to say yet. When he pulled back, he brushed his thumb over your cheek.
“I’ll take it slow. However long it takes for you to feel safe with me again,” he whispered.
You cupped his cheek, pulling him in for another kiss, this one deeper, more certain. “I already feel safe. I just... I’m learning how to not run from that.”
Mingyu chuckled softly. “I’ll chase after you every time. You’re worth it.”
You smiled, letting your fingers tangle in his hair. “I guess I’m stuck with you then.”
His laughter filled the evening air, and you knew that no matter how long it took, you were ready to keep trying — to let yourself fall completely and trust that he’d catch you.
~~
After the date with Mingyu, your heart was still fluttering as you walked back to your apartment. The evening had been unexpectedly sweet — Mingyu taking candid photos of you, insisting that every angle was your “best one,” and laughing when you tried to hide behind your scarf. You couldn’t remember the last time you had felt so carefree.
When you reached the door, Mingyu pulled you into a soft, lingering kiss, his hands cupping your face as if he wanted to savour every second. “Take care of yourself tonight, okay?” he whispered against your lips, brushing his thumb over your cheek. You nodded, your heart swelling with warmth as he finally let you go, his eyes trailing after you as you stepped inside.
The apartment was quiet, but as you hung up your coat, you heard the faint hum of music coming from the living room. You tiptoed towards the sound and found Joshua sprawled on the couch, headphones on, humming to himself. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight, but before you could sneak past him, he looked up and spotted you.
“Hey! You’re back!” Joshua’s face lit up as he jumped to his feet and rushed over to give you a bone-crushing hug.
You squeaked in surprise, your laughter muffled by his shoulder. “Joshua, can’t breathe!”
He pulled back sheepishly, his hands resting on your shoulders as he took a good look at you. “Sorry, just missed you. You look... happy. Wait, where’s Mingyu?”
You smiled softly, shaking your head. “He just walked me home. We had a really nice date.”
Joshua smirked knowingly. “Yeah, I figured. I wanted to say hi last night, but I saw Mingyu’s boots by the door and thought... yeah, better not interrupt.”
Rolling your eyes, you shoved his shoulder playfully. “Nothing happened. We just talked.”
Joshua raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Talked? You mean the kind of talking where I could hear muffled giggles through the wall? Sure, Y/N, just talking.”
You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “Okay, maybe some kissing. But really, we just talked. We needed it.”
Joshua’s expression softened, and he guided you to sit with him on the couch. “So... how was home? Did it help?”
You sighed, the tension in your shoulders finally easing as you curled up next to him. “Yeah, it did. I needed some distance to think. I finally told Mingyu I loved him. First, I wrote it, and then I actually said it out loud.”
Joshua’s eyes widened, and a smile spread across his face. “Seriously? You finally said it?”
You nodded, chewing on your bottom lip. “Yeah. I was terrified, but I couldn’t keep pretending I didn’t feel that way. He... he didn’t exactly say it back, though. He just said he needed some time. And that’s okay. I know I put him through a lot.”
Joshua wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer. “Hey, that’s progress. You told him how you feel. That’s a big step, and honestly, it’s good that he’s taking his time. If he didn’t care, he wouldn’t still be here.”
You leaned into his side, grateful for his reassurance. “Yeah, I know. I just... I really hope he believes me this time.”
Joshua nodded. “He will. He’s just cautious now. But trust me, he’s been way too mopey when you’re not around for him to just give up on you.”
Before you could respond, the front door creaked open, and Wonwoo walked in holding a grocery bag. “Joshua, they only had vanilla and pistachio,” he announced, making a beeline for the kitchen.
“Cool, thanks!” Joshua called after him before turning to you. “Seriously? Ice cream for breakfast?”
You snickered, but Joshua just shrugged. “It’s a Sunday. Anything goes.”
Wonwoo’s footsteps grew louder as he returned to the living room, and as soon as he saw you, his eyes softened. Before you could say anything, he crossed the room and pulled you into a tight embrace, nearly lifting you off the floor.
“Oof,” you mumbled, your face pressed against his shoulder. “Wonwoo?”
He didn’t let go, just squeezed you tighter. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice low and remorseful. “I was way too harsh before. I shouldn’t have lashed out at you like that.”
You closed your eyes, sinking into the hug. “Wonwoo... It’s okay. You were right, you know. I wasn’t taking accountability, and I needed a wake-up call. I just... didn’t expect it to hurt so much.”
Wonwoo sighed, finally pulling back enough to look at you. “I know. I was angry because I didn’t want to see you mess things up with Mingyu again. He’s my friend, but so are you, and it felt like I was stuck in the middle.”
You smiled faintly, your hands still on his shoulders. “I get it. I shouldn’t have said those things about you and Mia. I was being petty and defensive.”
Wonwoo gave a slight nod. “Yeah, but I still shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. Joshua and Mingyu chewed me out for being too harsh. I didn’t realise how much it would hurt you.”
You reached up to ruffle his hair playfully. “Hey, it’s okay. I kind of deserved it. I’m just glad we’re okay now.”
Wonwoo chuckled, pulling you back into another quick hug. “We’re okay. Just... stop being so reckless with your feelings, okay?”
You laughed against his chest. “I’ll try. Thanks for not giving up on me.”
Wonwoo ruffled your hair in return. “It’s a full-time job, but someone’s gotta keep you in line.”
Joshua’s voice suddenly cut through the moment. “Oh, so we’re all making up now? Does this mean I can finally break out the wine?”
Wonwoo groaned, rolling his eyes, but you couldn’t help but laugh. “Fine. But you’re not finishing the bottle this time,” you warned.
Joshua raised his hands in surrender. “Scout’s honour.”
The three of you ended up in the living room, sharing stories from your trip and poking fun at each other like nothing had changed. You knew things were still complicated with Mingyu, but right now, surrounded by your friends, you let yourself feel grateful for their support and the way they always found a way to put you back together.
As the night went on, laughter filled the apartment, and you realised that no matter how messy things got, you weren’t facing it alone. You had people who cared — and that was enough to keep you going.
The aroma of fresh flowers filled the cosy living room as you adjusted the string lights around the window. Mingyu’s apartment had changed a bit since those chaotic days — it felt more like home now, your home. Mingyu’s camera sat on the coffee table, surrounded by stacks of developed photos from his latest project, and you couldn’t help but smile at the candid shots he had taken of you: cooking, laughing, half-asleep on the couch.
You were putting the final touches on the makeshift photo wall when you heard keys jingle at the door. The familiar sound of Mingyu’s laughter drifted in as he walked in, carrying takeout and wearing that impossibly charming smile.
“Smells amazing in here,” he said, kicking the door shut and dropping his bag by the entrance. He shot you a lopsided grin, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at how effortlessly handsome he looked.
“It’s just coffee and air freshener,” you teased, walking over to help with the bags. Mingyu pulled you into his arms instead, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.
“I’ll take it. Any excuse to have you smell nice,” he murmured against your hair, his fingers tracing patterns along your back.
You hummed contentedly and let him pull you closer, resting your head against his chest. After a few peaceful seconds, you whispered, “You’re home early.”
Mingyu kissed the top of your head. “Finished the shoot early. Figured I’d come back to you instead of hanging around the studio. Plus, I missed you.”
You pulled back just enough to look up at him. “It’s been six hours.”
Mingyu smirked. “Too long.”
You laughed, shaking your head. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Only for you,” he shot back, leaning down to kiss you again.
Once you were both settled on the couch, digging into the takeout, you noticed the glint of something on Mingyu’s wrist. A new bracelet. You squinted at it, reaching over to get a better look.
“Is that... my handwriting?” you asked, squinting at the little engraved plate on the bracelet.
Mingyu looked at it proudly. “Yeah. Had it made from that one note you left me before my last shoot — the one that said, ‘You’re enough.’ I loved your handwriting, so I thought... why not make it permanent?”
You felt your heart squeeze in your chest. “You’re unbelievable,” you whispered.
“I know. But it’s true, you know? You’re enough. More than enough.”
You leaned in and kissed him softly, your hands cupping his face. “So are you, Gyu.”
Before you could say more, a loud knock interrupted you. The door burst open, and Joshua and Wonwoo walked in, each holding grocery bags.
“Guys, you still don’t knock?” You joked, getting up to help them.
“Why bother? This place is practically ours,” Joshua replied with a mischievous grin, setting his bags on the counter. Wonwoo rolled his eyes but gave you a quick hug before following Joshua’s lead.
Mingyu chuckled, stretching out on the couch. “What’s the occasion? You two brought food voluntarily.”
Wonwoo shrugged. “We figured you guys would forget to cook with all the lovey-dovey crap going on.”
Joshua snorted. “I still can’t believe you managed to get them to agree to that couple’s photoshoot for your exhibition, Gyu. They looked like two lovesick puppies.”
Mingyu’s cheeks flushed a little, but he tried to cover it up by busying himself with the takeout. You just laughed, remembering how awkward you had felt at first — until Mingyu made you laugh mid-shot, and the rest just felt natural.
As you all settled down to eat together, conversations flowing freely and laughter filling the room, you couldn’t help but glance at Mingyu. He caught your gaze and gave you a soft smile, his hand slipping into yours under the table.
Later that night, after the guys left, and the apartment was quiet again, you lay in bed with Mingyu’s arms wrapped around you. His fingers traced lazy circles on your shoulder as he spoke softly.
“Hey,” he whispered.
“Hmm?”
“I’ve been thinking... I know we’ve been doing this for a while now, and... well, what would you think about making it more... official?”
You turned to face him, your heart skipping a beat. “Are you proposing, Kim Mingyu?”
He grinned, his nose brushing yours. “Not quite... yet. But I want to keep coming home to you. Forever. I want to take photos of you laughing at my bad jokes and fighting with me over the last dumpling. I want this — you, me, our chaotic friends, and all of it. Officially.”
You couldn’t hold back the grin spreading across your face. “You mean... moving in together?”
“Yeah,” he said softly. “And then... maybe someday, more than that. But let’s start there.”
You didn’t hesitate. “Yes. I want that too.”
Mingyu’s smile was so bright it could have lit up the whole city. He kissed you, slow and sweet, like a promise.
As you curled up into his side, sleep tugging at your eyelids, you thought about how far you had come — from messy, unpredictable encounters to this: comfort, laughter, and love. You had found your way to each other, despite the obstacles, and you knew that wherever life took you next, you would face it together.
glad reader finally came to terms w her feelings. from heartbreak to their cute dates the way you capture readers emotions is so incredible. love this series soo muchh🩷
Summary: As a writer with a mildly cynical take on love, you’ve always believed people have a “type”—a pattern they never stray from when it comes to dating. And Kim Mingyu? He’s the textbook definition of someone who wouldn’t go for someone like you, nor would you go for him. But you test your theory when a fateful run-in with your charming neighbour sparks an unexpected attraction.
The plan? Go on dates with him and count how many it takes before your heart gets involved—if it ever does. But Mingyu is unpredictable, effortlessly breaking down your carefully constructed walls with every smile, every late-night conversation, every moment that feels too easy to be just an experiment.
The real problem? Secrets never stay secrets for long. And when Mingyu finds out the truth behind your so-called theory, will it prove you right, or that love doesn’t follow the rules you thought it did?
☆ 18+ minors dni |☀︎fluff | ☁︎ angst | ♕smut
Word Count: 15,457
Pairings: Neighbor! Mingyu x Journalist! Female Reader
Genre/Trope(s)/AU(s): Neighbours AU! Fake Dating AU! (but only one is fake dating. It’ll make sense when you read it, lol). Non-Idol AU!.
Content Warnings: yelling, swearing, LOTS OF ANGST HOLY COW shit really hit the fan here. Mingyu is very sad and angry (rightfully so) cheol is very very mean, but its warranted, hoshi is mean but not as bad more bitchy than mean. seokmin is snippy but sunshine cant ever be truly cruel.
Smut Warnings: no smut actually, suggestive sure, but no sex mentions of anal sex its more jokey but none of it. lots of kissing, fingering (but its not y/n) dun dun.
Author's Note 1: I'd be remiss if I didn't thank the lovely people who helped beta this monster of a story. thank you @lovetaroandtaemin @nebulousbrainsoup @strxwberry-skiess for your patience time and love thank you guys so much!!
Author's Note 2: welp here it is guys my last fic, ever, but good news, this is only chapter 2, and the rate at which i keep increasing my word count, it'll be a while before this is all over.
Series Masterlist
That evening, your bedroom was a mess of indecision.
Three dresses lay crumpled on the bed, all rejected for reasons that now felt trivial. Too safe. Too bold. Too pink. Too much like the last time you tried too hard.
You stared at yourself in the mirror, bare-faced and half-dressed, clutching a blouse by the hanger like it might whisper the answer to your dilemma.
“Why am I like this?” You muttered under your breath, heart already fluttering with a mix of anticipation and dread.
Tonight was a date. A real one. With Mingyu.
And you wanted it to be perfect. You needed it to be.
Your fingers fumbled with the delicate clasp of your necklace, the one Mingyu once complimented offhandedly—the one you hadn’t worn in months.
He made you feel... like maybe things could be different.
But even as you spritzed perfume along your collarbone and fluffed your freshly styled hair, the undercurrent of guilt pulsed just beneath the surface.
He didn’t know. Not yet.
About the article. About how much you’d withheld. About everything that came before the version of you he was finally getting to know.
You’d planned to tell him. You would tell him.
Just... not yet. Not tonight.
You needed this evening. One moment where things felt light again. Where the flutter in your chest was excitement and not fear. Where his gaze stayed soft and adoring and not clouded by betrayal.
You just needed one more night.
With trembling hands, you smoothed down the front of your dress and gave yourself a once-over in the mirror.
“You’ve got this,” you whispered.
And maybe, for just a few hours, you could believe it.
“Wow,” Joshua said, eyes widening as you stepped into the living room. “You clean up… shockingly well.”
You smirked, smoothing down the front of your satin dress. “I’m taking that as a compliment.”
“I mean it,” he said, placing a hand on his chest dramatically. “I’ve never seen you look so—wait, is that contour?”
“Shua,” you warned, grabbing your purse.
He grinned. “Okay, okay. You look gorgeous. Just—please tell him tonight.”
Your smile faltered. “What about tomorrow? I just want to bask in tonight, it might be the last time he wants to be around me. I promise, just give me tonight and I’ll tell him.”
“You keep saying that,” he replied gently. “And the longer you wait, the worse it’s going to feel.”
You glanced down at your heels, then at the tiny clutch in your hands, where the journal—a condensed version of your article draft—was tucked beneath your lipstick and phone. “Just… let me have this night. One last perfect date.”
Joshua didn’t say anything else. He just stood up and kissed your forehead. “Then go get your perfect date, bub.”
When the knock came at the door, you inhaled sharply before opening it.
Mingyu stood there in a crisp, charcoal suit, holding a single sunflower. “Hi.”
You blinked. “You wore a suit.”
“You said fancy,” he replied, extending the flower with a sheepish smile. “And you look… beautiful.”
You took the flower and gave him a bashful smile. “You clean up alright too.”
“Alright?” He scoffed. “I wore cologne for this.”
You laughed, letting him lead you down the hallway. His fingers found yours the moment you stepped into the elevator, and the silence that followed wasn’t awkward. It was comfortable, and warm.
Still, the journal in your clutch weighed heavier than ever.
“Okay, no hints?” You asked as you slipped into his car.
“None,” he said, grinning as he pulled out of the parking lot. “But I will say this—you’ve never been to this place.”
Mingyu’s car smelled like him — something warm and clean and distinctly comforting. He played music as he drove, humming along quietly.
“This song’s cute,” you said, smiling as the melody filled the space between you.
“I thought you'd like it,” he replied, sneaking a glance at you. “Do you want me to sing it to you someday?”
You grinned. “You sing?”
“Only in the shower. Or when I’m drunk. Or when I think you won’t hear.”
“Maybe I’ll catch you one day,” you teased. Then, softer, “I’d like that.”
The rest of the drive was warm and easy, and you found yourself leaning toward him even without meaning to. Everything felt so natural — his jokes, the way he opened your door, the way he pulled you close when you walked toward the restaurant.
And then you saw where he’d brought you.
“Wait. This place is—Mingyu, it’s fancy-fancy.”
He smiled sheepishly. “I said dress fancy, didn’t I?”
“You also said you weren’t trying to impress me.”
“I lied.” He held the door open with a dramatic bow. “I’m trying to impress the hell out of you.”
Your heart swelled. And cracked.
Over candlelight and wine, you let yourself enjoy the night. Mingyu was in his element — charming, attentive, funny. You kept catching yourself staring, forgetting the food in front of you entirely.
“So,” he said between bites of risotto, “on a scale of one to ten… how good of a date am I?”
You choked a little, caught off guard. “What?”
Mingyu smirked. “Come on. You’re a journalist. I’m sure you rate everything.”
You forced a laugh. “Please, I only rate movies and bad exes.”
He leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. “What if I want to be rated?”
You tilted your head. “Dangerous request.”
“Hit me with it.”
You looked at him for a long moment. Everything in you wanted to say ten. But your throat tightened and the number stuck in your chest like a stone.
“Solid… nine,” you managed, lifting your wine glass to cover your mouth.
He gasped. “Nine? What the hell do I have to do for a ten?”
You laughed. “You’ll figure it out. You’re annoyingly good at that.”
Mingyu grinned and leaned over the table. “I’ll earn it. Just wait.”
You smiled back, but the weight of your secret pulled a little heavier.
~~
You spent the weekend scribbling in your journal like it was a secret lab notebook. Bullet points. Observations. Emotional barometers. You even rated the dates, which—when said out loud—sounded ridiculous. But somehow, it helped. Date one: a six. Sweet, funny, respectful. He kissed you. You left out the part where his hands were on your hips for half the movie and your thigh was slotted between his.
You were trying to be scientific about it. But there was no method for what was happening to your heart.
And the worst part? He still didn’t know.
“How’s the story going?” Keira peeked over your shoulder, her iced coffee in hand and her voice low.
“Is that a hickey?”
You slammed your laptop shut with a yelp. “Keira.”
She grinned. “Relax. I’m just saying, if you’re going over to his place today, maybe wear a scarf. Or concealer. Or both.”
You rolled your eyes. “It’s fine.”
“He gave you that hickey?”
You didn’t answer. Keira smirked. “His lips do look soft.”
You laughed nervously. “They are.”
She wiggled her eyebrows. “Use protection, Hemingway.”
~~
Later that evening, you flung your arms around Mingyu’s neck as he lifted you off the ground with a grunt.
“Koala mode activated,” he teased, carrying you inside.
“Mingyu what time do you need me at the gallery tomorrow? You said you needed help moving some stuff right around right for your showcase?”
Mingyu pondered for a second, “maybe around 4?”
“Cool, anyway, you lovebirds, keep it PG,” Seungcheol muttered as he passed by, smirking over his bowl of pasta.
You giggled and buried your face in Mingyu’s shoulder. The scent of him, faintly earthy and warm, made your stomach flip. Mingyu carried you straight to his room, and neither of you seemed particularly interested in leaving it.
The door to Mingyu’s room barely clicked shut before you were on each other.
His hands cupped your jaw as he pulled you into a kiss—hot, urgent, toe-curling. You barely had time to catch your breath before his mouth was on yours again, one hand already sliding beneath the hem of your dress.
“You’re sure?” he asked against your lips, his voice already thick with want.
You nodded, tugging his shirt up in answer. “Off. Now.”
He chuckled softly, but obeyed, yanking the shirt over his head and tossing it aside. His chest was warm against your palms, all firm lines and soft skin, and you couldn’t stop your hands from roaming.
“God, you’re unreal,” you muttered.
“Right back at you,” he said, already working on the zipper of your dress.
Clothes came off in between kisses and breathless laughter, piece by piece—your dress hitting the floor, his jeans half-kicked off before he stepped out of them entirely. By the time you tumbled onto his bed, you were down to just your bra and panties, and he was in nothing but his boxers, hovering over you with flushed cheeks and heavy-lidded eyes.
And still kissing you like he couldn’t get enough.
“You never told me you had a showcase,” you murmured later as you lay on his chest, slightly breathless from the makeout session your fingers absentmindedly tracing the curve of his biceps.
He shrugged. “Didn’t know if you’d want to come.”
You looked up at him. “I’d love to. You know I’d love to.”
His ears pinked at your earnestness. “It’s not much. Just a small gallery set-up. Some portraits, mostly candid stuff. I’ve been working on this series of people mid-laugh.”
“That’s adorable,” you whispered and meant it.
Mingyu ran his hand down your back, fingertips grazing the base of your spine. “You have a very nice butt,” he said, dropping a kiss on your shoulder.
You turned, smirking. “Do you plan to fuck it?”
His face went crimson. “Hey! That’s unfair.”
“Why? I’m merely asking questions.”
“You’re mean.”
You rolled onto your back, stretching. “Do you remember that night in the shower? After the party, when you touched me there…it felt so fucking good.”
Mingyu groaned and immediately rolled away from you. “Nope. No. We’re not doing this.”
You blinked. “Excuse me?”
He stood, pulling on his sweatpants like it was armour. “I already broke the rule once. We said no sex until we’re ready, and I want to do this right.”
You narrowed your eyes. “You realise all I’m wearing is my bra and panties?”
He winced. “You’re killing me.”
You sat up. “So what? You just want me to deal with it? Touch myself and journal about it later?”
The words spilled out before you could stop them, and Mingyu’s head jerked toward you.
Oh no. You hated the way it sounded. You could feel it—the guilt slowly bubbling under your ribs like carbonated dread.
“I didn’t mean—”
“I know,” he interrupted. “I’m sorry for snapping. I just… I really like you, okay?”
You softened. “Let’s make a new rule: no more dates at anyone’s house until we’re ready to break all the rules.”
He smiled and tugged you back to bed. “Deal.”
You curled into his chest, his heartbeat steady beneath your ear. And yet, your mind was elsewhere. On your laptop, your notes, the dates you were documenting. You wondered if he would’ve ever agreed to be part of your “research” if he had known.
You were halfway to falling for him. And he didn’t even know he was being measured.
~~
“Have you told him yet?” Joshua asked you the next morning, watching you poke at your cereal like it had personally wronged you.
You didn’t look up. “No.”
“How many dates has it been?”
You mumbled, “Ten.”
“Y/N.”
“I know. I know, okay?” You sighed, “I’m telling him. Just… not tonight. He is preparing for his showcase. I don’t want to mess with his head.”
Joshua narrowed his eyes but let it go—for now.
~~
The gallery was empty, but you could see Mingyu inside preparing for his showcase at the end of the week. Minimalist lighting, deep charcoal walls, the soft hum of polite conversation. You stood in front of one of Mingyu’s photographs, a candid of an older couple laughing over a chessboard. It made your chest ache.
“I’m almost done here, just ensuring the lights and all are set for the showcase, at the end of the week.”
You turned to smile at him, but his tie was crooked and his hair was slightly damp—like he’d been nervously running his fingers through it all evening.
“You look like someone’s proud boyfriend,” you teased.
He blinked. “Am I?”
Your breath caught. You didn’t answer.
You were walking home, your heels in your hand, when Mingyu tugged you under a streetlamp.
“I didn’t want to ask you like this,” he said, his voice unsteady, “but I’ve known for a while now… I like you, and we’ve been through so much, but I like you. A lot. You make me nervous in the best way. You make me want to be better. So—” he swallowed, “—will you be my girlfriend?”
You stared at him. You should’ve said it right then. About the article. The dates. The reason you were writing everything down.
But you didn’t.
You just said yes. And kissed him so he couldn’t hear your guilt screaming in your throat.
“You said yes,” Mingyu whispered into your hair, almost in disbelief. You could feel the grin on his face as his hands slid around your waist and pulled you into a deeper hug. His voice was low, warm, and giddy. “I have a girlfriend.”
You laughed softly into his chest, but guilt bloomed like ink in water.
“I was going to ask you another day, actually on the day of my showcase, well after it,” he said, pulling back just enough to look at you. “I had this whole plan. Photos of you projected behind me, a cheesy slideshow. But tonight felt… right.”
Your stomach twisted. Photos of you?
“You’re serious?” You asked, half smiling. Mingyu nodded, almost shyly. “I’ve been taking candids whenever you weren’t looking,” he admitted. “I know, creepy boyfriend behaviour. But they’re… they’re beautiful. You’re beautiful. I wanted to capture how you make me feel when I look at you.”
You didn’t know what to say. A part of you wanted to cry — from the sweetness, and the shame.
“That’s really… thoughtful,” you said, trying not to choke on the words. Your smile faltered. “I can’t wait to see it.”
But you could barely look him in the eye.
That night, after Mingyu walked you home and kissed you with all the sweetness in the world, you sat on your bed with your journal open on your lap. You hadn’t written anything since the first few dates. The number six still stared back at you, innocent and clinical. You hadn’t added the last four dates. You didn’t know how to write about the way he made you laugh when you were angry. Or how he told you he dreamed of printing photos in black and white because that’s how he saw the world when you weren’t in it. Or how his lips felt against your forehead after he sang on stage like he was made of stardust.
You crossed out the six and wrote nine.
Then stared at it for a long time.
You closed the notebook and shoved it into your work bag.
You’d tell him. You had to. But not tonight. Not when he was smiling so brightly. Not when he called you his girlfriend like he’d been waiting his whole life to say it.
You curled into bed, burying your face into your pillow, guilt prickling at the edges of your happiness.
Soon, you told yourself. You’d tell him soon.
~~
The next few days blurred into a montage of camera flashes, coffee dates, and late-night phone calls where Mingyu would talk about lighting setups and lens choices like he was describing magic.
“I’m thinking of opening with black and whites,” he said over the phone one night, his voice sleepy. “The ones I took of you. You know, that photo from the coffee shop? You were laughing at something dumb I said.”
You clutched the phone tighter. “You took a photo of that?”
“I take photos of everything,” he said. “But that one… that one’s my favourite.”
You didn’t know whether to melt or cry. “I can’t believe I’m going to be in a gallery,” you said, your voice lighter than you felt.
“You’re not just in the gallery,” he chuckled. “You’re the inspiration.”
You could hear the grin in his voice. And you wished you could deserve it.
By Thursday, Mingyu was knee-deep in final edits. You stopped by his place with snacks and coffee, trying not to let your nerves get the better of you.
Seungcheol glanced up from the couch. “Hey, muse,” he teased. “He hasn’t stopped pacing for two hours.”
You smiled awkwardly. “I brought croissants.”
Mingyu looked up from his laptop like he hadn’t noticed you come in. “You’re here,” he breathed, and suddenly all the tension in his body melted. “Come see.”
He beckoned you over, pulling you gently into his chair as he stood behind you. Dozens of thumbnails filled the screen — shots of city streets, shadows cast on faces, hands mid-gesture — and scattered among them were photos of you.
One of you reading in the park. One with your hair messy and your lips parted in laughter. One where you were looking directly at the camera, unaware he’d even lifted it.
“Gyu,” you said softly. “These are…”
He rested his chin on your shoulder. “You always say you don’t know how you look when you’re not trying,” he murmured. “I do.”
You didn’t trust your voice. You turned toward him, and he kissed your cheek gently.
And all you could think about was the notebook in your work bag and the words “latest article” scribbled across the first page.
Later that night, curled up together on his couch as he scrolled through playlists for the showcase.
“You okay? You’ve been quiet.”
He hesitated. The words perched on his lips like a bird on a wire.
“I’m just nervous,” he said instead. “Big night coming up.”
You squeezed his hand. “You’ll be amazing.”
You almost laughed at the irony. Instead, you smiled and leaned into him, hoping he wouldn’t notice the way your heart had started to race.
~~
You stood outside the gallery, trying to convince yourself your knees weren’t trembling. The venue was elegant — all high ceilings, exposed brick, and warm ambient lighting. Mingyu’s name was printed in glossy serif font across the entrance: Kim Mingyu: Through My Lens.
You took a breath. Then another.
“Are you going to walk in?” Joshua whispered behind you, “or just stare at the door until the exhibit’s over?”
You shot him a glare but let him loop his arm through yours.
“I can’t tell if I’m nervous for him,” you muttered, “or just a horrible person.”
“You’re not a horrible person,” Joshua replied easily. “Just… an occasionally dumb one.”
“Thanks,” you grumbled.
“You look beautiful, by the way,” he added as you stepped through the door.
The second you entered, it was as if the air changed. Soft music played overhead, the scent of white wine and something citrusy floating in the space. People lingered over photographs mounted on pristine white walls, murmuring appreciatively. You spotted Seokmin and Keira by the drinks table, and Wonwoo near the back corner with Mia.
And then your eyes landed on him.
Mingyu was in black slacks, a crisp button-down, sleeves rolled up, the camera still slung around his neck even though tonight wasn’t about taking photos — it was about showing them.
When he saw you, his smile was so instant and so sincere it nearly shattered you.
“Y/N,” he said, slipping his hand into yours as you approached. “You came.”
“You asked me to,” you said softly, “I wouldn’t miss this.”
His hand lingered at your waist as he leaned down. “You look breathtaking,” he whispered.
You smiled, kissed him quickly before you lost your nerve. “So do you, artist boy.”
Mingyu turned you toward the display. “Come on. I want to show you something.”
You followed him through the crowd, weaving past strangers and small talk until you reached the far wall — a quiet corner lit by a single spotlight.
There were three frames there.
The first was a cityscape at sunrise. The second was a candid of Seungcheol asleep on the couch with a book covering his face. And the third was you.
The photo was simple: you, sitting at a window, eyes closed, sunlight brushing against your cheeks like a secret. It looked like peace. Like love.
Your breath caught.
“I call it Falling,” Mingyu said softly.
You swallowed. “That’s…”
He smiled down at you. “I took it three weeks after we met, when we were hanging out in the park, that’s when I realized I was in trouble.”
You opened your mouth, but no words came.
“I’m serious,” he added, his voice barely audible over the soft clinks of wine glasses and distant chatter. “I knew you were going to wreck me, and I didn’t care.”
You could feel your heart cave in on itself.
“Gyu,” you whispered, and he turned to you, expectant.
But you couldn’t do it.
You couldn’t ruin this night.
So instead you leaned up and kissed him, slow and soft. “It’s beautiful,” you whispered. “You’re beautiful.”
He wrapped his arms around you and pressed a kiss to your temple. “Let’s celebrate later. After this, it’s just you and me.”
You nodded, your smile shaky. “I’d like that.”
But the words stayed trapped in your throat like a secret begging to be released.
~~
The showcase wrapped up to rounds of applause, handshakes, and endless praise. You watched from the sidelines as Mingyu basked in the limelight — cheeks flushed with pride, hair slightly tousled, still laughing from something Seungcheol said. He looked like he belonged in a painting, and for a moment, you felt like the luckiest person in the room.
But also, the most deceitful.
He found you again before you could spiral too far. “Come on,” he whispered, curling his fingers around yours. “My place. Just us.”
You nodded, letting him lead you out of the crowd, out of the venue, out of the guilt temporarily.
Mingyu's apartment smelled like him. Warm, slightly musky, with a hint of cologne and something sweet — the remnants of a scented candle from weeks ago. You curled up on his sofa while he kicked off his shoes and brought over two glasses of wine.
“To you,” he said, raising his glass.
You blinked. “Me?”
“For showing up. For holding my hand through all this. For being the reason I made half those pieces.”
You stared at him, heart in your throat. “Mingyu…”
He leaned closer. “Can I say something stupid?”
You nodded.
“I think you’re it for me.”
Your heart stopped. You couldn’t breathe. The wine turned to acid in your stomach.
“I mean, we haven’t even been together properly that long, but every time I see you, it feels like everything falls into place.” He laughed softly, bashfully. “Sorry. That was probably too much.”
“No,” you choked, voice barely holding steady. “It’s not. I just…”
You paused, fingers tightening around your wine glass.
Say it. Tell him. Just say it.
“I’m really lucky,” you said instead, forcing the words out like poison disguised as honey. “Lucky to have you.”
Mingyu smiled at you like you’d handed him the world. He reached for you and pulled you into his lap. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured. “You know that?”
You nodded against his chest, burying your face in his shirt. You couldn’t look at him. You didn’t deserve to.
His fingers stroked lazily up your spine. “I’m happy,” he said, like it was the simplest thing in the world.
You swallowed the truth. You kissed him instead.
The guilt didn’t disappear. It just burrowed deeper.
And as his lips brushed against your collarbone, his arms wrapping tighter around you like you were everything he’d ever wanted—you promised yourself, next time. Next time, you'd tell him.
You had to.
~~
“Y/N, do you have a hair tie? I’m trying to see how I’ll look with a ponytail,” Mingyu called out to you one evening later from the living room, his voice light.
You smiled, “yeah, in my bag!” You called back, tugging your blanket tighter around you. You didn’t think twice—Mingyu had gone through your bag a dozen times before, always fishing for snacks or stealing your lip balm. You only grew concerned when the silence stretched a little too long.
“Gyu?” You asked, walking out of the bedroom.
And then your heart stopped.
Mingyu stood completely still in the middle of your living room, your journal clutched in his hands like it had scalded him. His brows were furrowed, lips parted in disbelief, and you could tell he had been flipping through it for a while. You followed his gaze to the open page. Your handwriting. His name.
Your stomach dropped.
“What the fuck is this?” Mingyu’s voice was quiet. Too quiet.
You blinked. “Mingyu—”
“Are you seriously rating me?” He said, louder now, shaking the journal for emphasis. “Is this what this was to you? A fucking science experiment?”
You took a step toward him, arms up as if approaching a wild animal. “Gyu, I can explain—”
“No. Don’t. Because right now my brain is running in circles trying to understand how the hell I could be so fucking stupid.” He threw the journal on the couch like it physically burned him. “I thought I was in something real with you, Y/N. I thought this meant something.”
“It does,” you whispered.
“Does it?” He snapped. “Because you sure as hell didn’t act like it. You wrote down bullet points like I was some test subject. You kept track of our dates like I was a fucking checklist.”
You flinched, guilt crushing your chest. “I was going to tell you.”
“When?” His laugh was sharp, humourless. “After you published it? After you hit ten dates and figured out whether I made the cut or not?”
“No! God, no. I just… I didn’t expect to actually fall for you.”
Mingyu’s jaw tightened. “That doesn’t make this better.”
“I didn’t think it’d go this far,” you continued, helpless now. “It started as an idea, a pitch for a column. But then we kept going out, and it stopped feeling like research. I started liking you. A lot. I still do.”
He stared at you, breathing hard. And then he said, so quietly it was almost a whisper, “So the night you said yes to being my girlfriend… you still wrote about me?”
Your silence was answer enough.
Mingyu let out a strangled laugh, blinking rapidly. “Cool. So the moment I thought I’d finally found someone who actually gave a shit about me, I was just another subject in your notebook.”
“No, Mingyu, please don’t say that—”
“Why not? It’s true, isn’t it?” He shouted. “You let me fall for you while you kept notes behind my back. You smiled at me, kissed me, touched me—and you were always thinking about your next paragraph.”
You took a shaky breath, reaching for him, but he recoiled like you’d burned him. “Don’t,” he said, voice low and dangerous. “Don’t touch me.”
You felt your throat tighten. “Gyu, please. I know I should have told you, I just—I was scared. Scared it would ruin what we had.”
“Well, it’s ruined now,” he said coldly. “So congratulations.”
“Mingyu—”
He brushed past you, but paused at the door. “You know what hurts the most? I told you things I’ve never said out loud. I let you in.” His voice cracked then, just a little. “And all the while, you were writing me down like I was disposable.”
And then he left.
You sank onto the floor, the weight of everything collapsing on top of you. The journal sat on the couch, open and damning. You couldn’t even look at it.
You had wanted to fall for him.
Now you weren’t sure you’d ever stop.
~~
You woke up the following morning to silence. No hum of Mingyu’s heater, no soft snores beside you, no faint scent of his cologne in the air. Just your own bedroom, dim and cold.
Your eyes blinked open slowly, heavy, as if even they didn’t want to face the light. The moment you tried to sit up, a dull ache pulsed behind your eyes, the aftermath of hours spent crying into your pillow.
You reached for your phone automatically, more out of habit than hope. No new messages. You hadn’t expected one… but some small part of you still wanted it. Still wanted him.
You groaned softly, dragging your blanket over your head like it might shield you from your own thoughts. But it couldn’t. Not from the way he’d looked at you. Like he didn’t recognize you. Like something in him had cracked—and you had no idea if it would ever be whole again.
You got up eventually, padding into the bathroom. Your reflection startled you: eyes puffy and red, lips chapped, skin blotchy from salt and regret. You splashed your face with cold water, trying to erase the damage, but the guilt clung stubbornly beneath your skin.
The kitchen was too quiet, too neat. You set a pot of water to boil, more for the comfort of routine than any real desire to eat.
As you leaned against the counter, your phone buzzed again.
Still no messages from Mingyu.
Just a calendar reminder.
Dinner with Gyu — 7PM ❤️
You deleted it. And still, your chest ached like you'd just done something irreversible.
You whispered into the silence, “I’m sorry.”
But no one was there to hear it. It was just you sat in the living room, feeling awful.
The front door creaked open sometime late afternoon, followed by the shuffle of sneakers and the low hum of conversation.
“Should we pick up more oat milk next time?” Joshua’s voice drifted down the hall.
“I’m not the one finishing it in two days,” Wonwoo replied, a teasing lilt in his voice.
You didn’t move from where you sat, curled into the far corner of the couch with your knees pulled to your chest, your oversized hoodie practically swallowing you whole. The television was on, playing a random episode of a show you weren’t watching. A forgotten cup of tea sat cold on the coffee table.
Joshua was the first to see you. “Y/N?” His voice softened instantly. “Hey... what’s wrong?”
Wonwoo paused behind him, his eyes immediately taking in the puffiness around your eyes, the slumped shoulders, the blank stare.
“Y/N?” Joshua’s voice shifted instantly. You hadn’t even realized your face had crumpled until you saw the way both their heads snapped up. “What happened?” He asked again, this time standing up, eyes narrowing as he caught sight of the way your shoulders shook.
“He knows, he found out.”
Joshua was beside you in a second, arms wrapping around you as you sank into him. You didn’t even bother holding it together anymore. You let yourself sob, the ugly kind, the kind that made your throat burn and your chest ache. Joshua whispered something softly—comforting, aimless sounds—and rubbed your back.
Wonwoo stood silently, his jaw tight as he looked down at the journal, then back up at you.
“I didn’t mean to hurt him,” you finally whispered after a while. “I really didn’t.”
Joshua pulled back just enough to see your face. “What happened?”
You wiped your face with the sleeve of your hoodie. “He found it. The journal. The whole damn thing. I think he was looking for a hair tie or something, and it just… fell out.”
Wonwoo closed his eyes and let out a long breath.
“He thought it’d be cute or romantic or something,” you said, your voice hollow. “You know, me scribbling little lovestruck notes. But instead, he found ratings. Fucking ratings. Breakdown charts. He read them all. And then he looked at me like I was the worst person he’d ever met.”
“What did you say?” Joshua asked gently.
“That it was for an article. That I had this stupid idea—this dumb, terrible idea—and that I didn’t mean for it to go that far.” You looked down at your hands. “But it did. I fell for him, and I never told him the truth, and now he thinks everything I said was a lie.”
Neither of them said anything.
“He stormed out. Thinks I’m a liar. Asked if I had to force myself on dates with him just to see how long it would take to fall for someone like him. Like he wasn’t enough on his own.”
Joshua sighed and sat back down, rubbing his temple.
“I begged him to listen. Told him I didn’t mean to hurt him. That I’d planned to tell him. But he just—he didn’t believe a word of it.”
“And now?” Wonwoo finally asked, voice flat.
“I don’t know,” you said quietly. “I don’t think there is a now.”
~~
You hadn’t planned on coming by. Honestly, you weren’t even sure what you were doing until your knuckles rapped twice against the door to Mingyu’s apartment. There was a half-second where you considered turning around, pretending like you’d never shown up. But the door swung open before you could.
“Y/N?” Seokmin blinked at you in surprise. “Hey, wow. Uh—Mingyu didn’t say you were coming by?”
You offered him a small, nervous smile. “I just... wanted to talk to him. Is he in?”
Seokmin hesitated. “Yeah, he's around... sure, come in.” He stepped aside, gesturing for you to walk through. You did, clutching your bag a little tighter to your side. You didn’t know what you were hoping for. A moment. A conversation. A sliver of the version of Mingyu who used to laugh when you messed up the coffee order.
The apartment was quiet. Too quiet.
Then, Mingyu stepped out of the hallway, stopping dead when he saw you.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” His voice wasn’t raised yet, but it landed like a slap.
Cold.
Sharp.
You flinched. “I just wanted to talk.”
“Oh, you want to talk now?” He scoffed, running a hand through his hair. “That’s rich, coming from someone who spent weeks documenting me like a lab rat.”
“Mingyu, please—”
“No. Don’t ‘please’ me.” He was walking toward you now, slow and deliberate. “Do you think I’m stupid? That I wouldn’t find out eventually? You thought you could just scribble notes behind my back, rate my kisses out of ten, and I’d what—fall even harder for you?”
You opened your mouth, but Mingyu was already shaking his head.
“Seokmin, why the hell did you let her in?” Mingyu snapped.
Seokmin looked between the two of you, piecing together what he had clearly walked into the middle of. “I didn’t know... I didn’t know she—”
“Yeah, well, now you do.” Mingyu’s gaze flicked back to you, burning. “Did you come back to take more notes? See what heartbreak looks like up close?”
“Gyu, I just needed to explain,” you said, voice cracking. “It wasn’t supposed to go like this. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“Then why did you?” He asked bitterly. “You chose to keep lying. You chose to keep writing.”
“I was going to stop,” you said quietly.
“But you didn’t,” he bit back. “You kept going. Even after I told you how I felt. Even after I asked you to be mine. You rated the date that same night, didn’t you? What was it—an eight? A nine? Was it good content at least?”
Your throat closed up.
“I was falling for you,” you whispered. “I still am.”
He laughed—a harsh, humorless sound. “Too late. You already wrote the ending.”
You took a step forward, and he took one back.
“Don’t. Don’t look at me like that. Like you’re the one who’s heartbroken. You wrote this story, Y/N. You chose the arc. And now you get to live with the ending,” Mingyu’s voice cracked, and for a second, just a second, you saw it. The pain. The betrayal buried under all that rage. The way his eyes shone—not with hate, but heartbreak.
With all the noise you noticed that Seungcheol had stepped out of his bedroom to see what the commotion was about.
You wanted to reach for him.
But you didn’t.
You couldn’t.
You saw how they all looked at you–their expressions cold, unreadable, like they didn’t even recognize you anymore. You bent down slowly, the weight of the moment pressing on your spine, and collected your scattered things.
“Mingyu…” you whispered, one last attempt.
But it was Seungcheol who answered, you didn’t even know when he left his room to join the commotion he heard outside. his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. “Leave. For your own good, leave.”
You nodded. Numb. Ashamed. You turned without another word and closed the door behind you.
The second it clicked shut, the tears came fast and merciless. You barely made it down the hallway before they overwhelmed you, hot and humiliating. By the time you stumbled into your own apartment, your face was blotchy, your breaths short and uneven.
You didn’t laugh. You couldn’t.
“Well?” Joshua asked softly.
“He’s done with me,” you choked, “and please, if you can spare me the I told you so lecture—” But the rest of the sentence never made it out. It dissolved into broken sobs as you crumpled into Joshua’s chest. His arms wrapped tightly around you without hesitation, while Wonwoo just let out a sigh of disappointment.
They didn’t say much that night. There wasn’t much to say.
You were silent through dinner. Silent through the movie Joshua tried to put on to distract you. Silent even when you crawled into bed hours later, the covers pulled over your head like they could shield you from the reality you’d created.
It had only been a day since it happened, but already the weight of it sat on your chest like a brick.
~~
The next afternoon, as you walked home from work — eyes bleary and head pounding — you spotted Seokmin across the street. He didn’t wave. Just kept walking. You jogged across to meet him.
“Seokmin,” you called, a little breathless. “Please, I didn’t mean to hurt him.”
Seokmin turned, slow and stiff. His face was unreadable at first, then slowly twisted into something sharper. “Just go back to pretending you never knew us, yeah?” he muttered. “You’ve done enough damage.”
You swallowed hard, heart lurching. “Will he ever forgive me?”
Seokmin’s jaw tightened. “Who knows. You don’t deserve it. But if you’re lucky… he’ll forget you.”
You blinked back the sting in your eyes. But Seokmin didn’t wait for your response. He shook his head in disgust, walked up the steps to their apartment, and slammed the door in your face.
You stood there for a long time. Just breathing. Just trying not to fall apart again.
~~
You hadn’t expected anyone at your door that afternoon, so when you opened it and were met with a stranger, you were already bracing to explain you weren’t in the mood for conversation. But then she smiled politely and said. “Hi, oh shit you’re not Mingyu, I must have the wrong apartment. ”
You blinked, as a beautiful woman with soft curls, glossy lips, familiar doe-eyed charm greeted you outside your door.
“You’re looking for Mingyu?” You asked, your voice flatter than intended.
“Yup!” She said, eyes lighting up.
You nodded slowly, lips pressed tight. “Yeah. The doors look the same.”
Before she could respond, the door across the hall swung open. “Hey, baby,” Mingyu’s voice floated out, smooth and warm like nothing had happened. “Sorry, I disturbed your neighbor. All the doors look the same.”
The girl giggled and practically leapt into his arms.
“Missed me?” She asked.
Mingyu smirked at her, eyes flicking up to meet yours for a second. That smile you once thought was just for you felt like a blade this time. “Let me show you how much,” he said, pulling her into his apartment.
“Mingyu, I’m sorry,” you said quietly, not knowing why you did. Reflex, maybe. Hope, maybe.
He rolled his eyes and let out a scoff, the door slamming shut before you could get another word out.
You closed your own door gently, like the sound might shatter you if it echoed too loud.
“Y/N?” You turned to find Wonwoo entering the living room. You hadn’t even heard him come up behind you.
“He has a girl over. He’s moving on. And I...” Your voice cracked before you could finish. The lump in your throat grew too big, too fast.
Wonwoo stepped closer, placing the groceries down and wrapping his arms around you. You leaned in, too exhausted to pretend you weren’t breaking anymore.
“I need to fix this,” you whispered into his sweater.
Wonwoo let out a slow sigh as he pulled back. “Or you could just let it go,” he said gently. “Mia wasn’t impressed by it either.”
You stepped away from him, frustration bubbling up beneath your grief. “Who told you to tell her?”
“I didn’t,” Wonwoo replied, his tone calm but stern. “She asked. And you think she wouldn’t have heard it from the others? I told her what happened, and yeah—she got mad. Not just at you. At me too. She’s upset you hurt someone like him.”
You closed your eyes. “I didn’t mean to. I just—I wanted to fall for him. I wanted to try. And I did.”
“Then let him heal,” Wonwoo said quietly. “Maybe he’ll come back to you.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
“Then maybe it means he’s not supposed to.”
You nodded slowly, the ache in your chest pulsing harder.
~~
You had been chased out of your apartment by Joshua, something about you moping and crying killed aura, and plus he said you needed to get out. So while you where in the grocery store, you didn’t expect to see Mingyu. You certainly didn’t expect him to catch you staring at a magazine with the poster from the movie How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days.
Because that was you. You were Andie Anderson, and you’d lost him. Not in ten days, but close enough. You reached out for the magazine, maybe just to laugh at the irony.
“That’s rich.” The familiar voice hit you like a slap. You turned to find Mingyu standing a few feet away, arms crossed, a smirk that didn’t quite meet his eyes.
“Looking for more inspiration to screw someone over?” His voice was sharp, slicing through the aisle like a whip.
You turned slowly, heart already sinking. “No. I wasn’t.”
He glanced pointedly at the magazine. “Actually, the funny thing is—you didn’t even need ten days.”
You didn’t answer, just grabbed a basket and kept moving. Mingyu stayed behind for a moment, then stepped up beside you. “You tried to see how long it’d take for you to like me. You lost me instead. Ironic, huh?”
You flinched, but didn’t stop. You just grabbed your milk, turned toward the cashier.
By the time you paid, rain had started pouring outside like some kind of melodramatic movie set. Your umbrella was sitting back at your apartment. Of course.
“Fuck,” you muttered, arms full of groceries, glaring at the downpour like you could will it away.
“Need a ride?”
You turned around slowly. Mingyu. Hands in pockets, shoulders tense.
You shook your head. “I’ll wait.”
“It’s going to pour for hours. Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I don’t want to inconvenience you.”
Mingyu grabbed the bags from your arms anyway. “This is not an inconvenience, you dating me for an article and breaking my heart? That was an inconvenience.”
You followed him out in silence, too tired to fight.
The drive was quiet, tense. The rain drummed on the roof like it was keeping time with your heartbeat.
“I’m not writing the article anymore,” you said softly, breaking the silence.
Mingyu didn’t look at you. “Because you didn’t get enough content?”
You looked down at your hands. “Because it doesn’t matter anymore.”
“I don’t care if you write it or not,” he muttered. “I don’t care about anything that involves you anymore.”
You nodded, throat burning.
“I didn’t mean to let it go that far,” you whispered.
“Don’t,” Mingyu said, his voice suddenly small. “Just don’t.”
You shrank into your seat.
“She’s pretty,” you said after a moment. “That girl. She seems light. Happy, and pretty.”
Mingyu said nothing, eyes fixed on the road. But he tightened his grip on the wheel.
You glanced down, feeling foolish, and reached out to rest a hand over his. He flinched.
You pulled away instantly.
“I can carry my bags,” you said.
“I know,” Mingyu replied. But he still walked you all the way to your apartment and didn’t say another word.
~~The elevator ride was agonizingly silent, save for the soft hum of movement and the rhythmic buzz of the floor numbers lighting up. You didn’t dare look at Mingyu, not when your reflection in the metallic doors already looked wrecked enough. His jaw was tight, eyes fixed on a spot just above your head like if he made eye contact, he’d combust.
The ding of your floor felt more like a punch to the gut. You stepped out, expecting him to turn around and go, but he didn’t. He followed you.
“Mingyu?” You asked softly, turning to look at him as you unlocked your door. His arms were full of your groceries, but it wasn’t the gesture that threw you. It was the fact that he looked more exhausted than angry now—like he'd screamed himself hoarse in silence, and only ashes were left.
He didn’t answer. Just walked past you once the door opened and placed the bags gently on the kitchen counter. You watched him, unsure what to do. Unsure how much space to give someone who already felt galaxies away.
“Oh uh you-,” you said after a beat, trying to sound firm but it came out smaller than intended.
“Save it, I’m just dropping this off,” Mingyu replied without looking at you. “I’m just dropping this off.”
He lingered by the door, hands in his jacket pockets now, as if grounding himself. “Do you… want anything?” You asked, and it felt like asking a stranger if they needed water before they left your home forever.
He looked up at you then, and for a second, you saw something. Sadness? Regret? Longing? You weren’t sure. It flickered across his face and disappeared before you could name it.
“I wanted to hate you, you know?” He said, voice low. “That night, I really thought I could. But then I remembered everything else. The way you’d smile at me when you thought I wasn’t looking. The way you’d write things down when you were nervous. The way your voice always cracked just a little when you were excited. You didn’t make it easy.”
You swallowed hard, tears already welling again. “So you don’t hate me?”
Mingyu shook his head. “No. I think that’s what makes this worse.”
Your breath hitched. “Then what now?”
“I don’t know,” he said honestly. “I still can’t look at you without remembering that I was just another chapter in a story you were writing. Whether or not it became real for you, I’ll never stop wondering if it ever started that way.”
You didn’t respond. You couldn’t. Every word felt like another nail into your chest, and you weren’t sure if it was guilt or grief that made your throat ache more.
“I should go,” he said quietly, already stepping backward toward the door. “But for what it’s worth, I hope the story was worth it.”
“Mingyu, wait—” you called out as he turned the doorknob, but he shook his head.
“Don’t,” he said, not unkindly. “Don’t make this harder than it already is.”
Determined to show how much you cared for him, you still continued to speak. “I really hope that she makes you happy; you deserve it. I’m so sorry.”
Mingyu looked at you then—really looked. But there was no softness in his gaze, no flicker of the man who once spooned you in his sleep just to be closer.
He stepped away from your reach, disgust curling on his face like it physically hurt him to see you cry.
“I hope that you never find love, Y/N.”
He said it low, like a curse.
“Because you don’t deserve it.”
The door clicked shut with all the finality of a goodbye you weren’t ready to accept.
You stood in your kitchen, surrounded by your groceries, heart pounding in your ears and chest aching. You didn’t even realize you’d started crying until the sound of your own sob cracked through the silence.
Then he was gone. The door slammed shut before you could blink, and you stood there, a hand still reaching out for him like some pathetic remnant of a memory. The sob left your throat before you could stop it, and this time you didn’t bother to wipe it away.
You didn’t deserve to.
~~
The next morning, your eyes were puffy, your voice hoarse, and your heart too hollow to carry the weight of your body properly. You dragged yourself into the office anyway, needing the distraction, needing something to hold onto.
Keira spotted you before you could slip past her.
“Y/N, can I speak to you?”
You stopped, wincing. God, you weren’t ready for another confrontation.
“Hey,” you muttered as you stepped into her office.
“Can you shut the door behind you?” She asked gently.
Your stomach dropped.
“Please don’t fire me,” you said with a half-laugh, though it came out far more desperate than funny.
Keira softened.
“Honey, I’m not going to fire you. I’m calling you in because I’m concerned. You look like you haven’t slept in days. And you scrapped the article?”
You sank into the chair across from her, shoulders folding inward like you were bracing for impact.
“It’s a long story.”
Keira studied you for a moment, then reached for her purse.
“Okay, how’s this? We skip the desks and head to the bar across the street. You tell me everything over a very strong drink. My treat.”
You blinked at her. That small gesture—kindness without demand—was enough to make your throat tighten.
“Yeah,” you whispered. “I’d really like that.”
And for the first time in days, you felt a flicker of something that almost resembled relief.
~~
“So,” Keira said, finishing off her drink and eyeing your fourth glass like it personally offended her. “Do you like him?”
You didn’t even hesitate. You nodded, your fingers curled tightly around the rim of your glass as though the condensation might cool down the burn behind your eyes. “Yeah,” you said quietly, “I do.”
Keira leaned her chin into her palm, her eyes narrowing as she watched you. “Then go get him.”
You laughed. It wasn’t a pretty sound. “He told me I don’t deserve love.” You stared down into your drink. “And maybe he’s not wrong. I hurt him.”
“Sweetheart,” Keira said, straightening her spine, “you did a stupid thing. A spectacularly dumb thing. But that boy likes you, and he’s bleeding all over you because he’s hurt, not because he doesn’t care.” She reached out and gave your hand a gentle squeeze. “Don’t give up on him just because he’s angry.”
But her words barely reached you. Your mind was elsewhere—caught in the sound of his laughter, in the way he used to absentmindedly brush your hair behind your ear, the warmth in his voice when he called you by your name like it meant something.
You blinked, and suddenly you were crying.
“Hey, no tears tonight,” Keira said quickly, passing you a tissue from her purse. “Drinks first, tears later.”
It was a promise you failed to keep.
Two more drinks in, and you were barely standing. Keira kissed your cheek and called you a cab, but you insisted on taking the bus. Said something about needing to “feel things.” You weren’t sure what that meant now. By the time you reached your apartment building, you were too drunk to even recognize your floor. You stumbled into the elevator and prayed to whatever higher power existed that your key would match the door.
You cursed under your breath as your keys jangled uselessly in the lock. “Why won’t you open?” you muttered, knees buckling as you reached forward again—and missed. Your balance tipped, your body about to crash into the floor when strong arms caught you mid-fall.
Your head lolled against a familiar chest.
“Y/N,” Mingyu said, sighing. “You’re trying to break into my apartment.”
You blinked up at him, all wide eyes and bright smile. “This isn’t mine?”
“No it’s not,” he said, dragging a hand down his face. “Come on. You’re drunk.”
“I’m allowed to be drunk,” you mumbled stubbornly.
“It’s literally seven p.m.”
You beamed. “Then I’m very early.”
Mingyu didn’t laugh. He groaned, lifting you with ease and carrying you into his apartment. “You’re lucky Seokmin and Seungcheol aren’t home,” he muttered. “They’d kill you for this.”
You let your head fall against his shoulder. “They’d have to catch me first.”
He sat you down on his bed and fetched a glass of water. “Drink. Please.”
You did as told, the cold water clearing your throat but not your thoughts. The alcohol had cracked your walls open, and guilt was spilling out in waves. “I shouldn’t be here,” you whispered.
“No kidding,” he replied, but his voice was gentler than his words.
“I don’t deserve you, or your kindness, or your stupid soft hoodies.”
Mingyu knelt in front of you, jaw tightening as he watched your face crumble.
“Your eyes are really sparkly,” you said, reaching out to touch his cheek. He flinched—just slightly—and the movement sliced right through you.
“I should go,” you whispered, making a shaky attempt to stand. You wobbled, and his hands shot out instinctively to steady you.
“Okay, let’s just get you lying down before you face-plant.”
You groaned. “I need to shower. I’ll just sleep naked. It’s fine.”
“You are absolutely not sleeping naked in my apartment,” he muttered, ears turning red.
You grinned, delighted by his discomfort. “You used to love when I was naked.”
“And now I just want you clothed and far away from my fragile self-respect.”
Eventually, he helped you to the bathroom. You showered—sloppily, messily, shampoo probably still in your hair. But you got through it. You managed to step out, towel clutched around you, and found him waiting exactly where he said he’d be—on the edge of your bed.
“See?” You mumbled. “Didn’t die.”
But the joke didn’t land. Not when you looked at him and remembered everything. The notebook. His shattered expression. The sound of his voice when he told you to leave.
“Mingyu?” You whispered, voice suddenly small.
He didn’t look at you. “Yeah?”
“I’m sorry.”
There it was. The truth. Raw and exposed and echoing through the air like an apology too late to be heard.
He turned slowly, his expression unreadable. “Seokmin said you’d never earn my forgiveness. But maybe, with enough luck, I’d forget you.”
You swallowed thickly. “Can you?”
“No,” he admitted, voice cracking. “I’ll never forget you. But forgive you?” He shook his head. “That’s something I don’t think I have in me.”
You nodded, and even as he stood and walked to the door, even as he didn’t look back, you whispered a soft. “I get it.”
Mingyu didn’t see the tears that fell the second the door closed behind him. But he heard the sound of your sob breaking the silence, and it tore him apart to keep walking.
~~“Oh, Y/N,” Keira sighed, tapping her mug against yours as the two of you sat in the quiet corner booth of your favorite café on a dreary Monday morning. “You’ve got it bad for him.”
You gave her a wry smile as you swirled your tea. “Yeah, well… that makes two of us, apparently.”
Keira raised an eyebrow, already sensing the storm brewing in your voice. “I have some news that’s probably going to ruin your morning.” You glanced up sharply. “Do not freak out,” she warned, glancing toward the main entrance of your office.
“What?” You asked, heartbeat stuttering. You turned—and froze.
Mingyu.
He walked in like he belonged there, tall and calm in his oversized hoodie, camera bag slung over his shoulder. Your stomach twisted into a knot.
“What the fuck,” you whispered under your breath.
Keira quickly stood and put on her most professional smile. “Mingyu, welcome! This is my main feature writer; I believe you’ve read her work?”
He nodded, eyes on you. “Yeah. Sandy Beaches.” His lips twitched at the name, and you wanted to murder Joshua for convincing you to use a beach pun as your pen name.
Mingyu turned to you, his voice clipped. “So, neighbor. You ready to do the artist spotlight on up-and-coming photographers?”
Keira let out a nervous laugh, clearly sensing the tension. “Okay, I’ll leave you two to it.” She bolted.
You led Mingyu to your office, conscious of every footstep behind you. The second the door closed, you rounded on him.
“What the hell is this?” you hissed.
He leaned casually against the wall. “Before you get mad, I was contacted the day of my showcase about doing a feature. I thought it’d be... ironic, you know? My girlfriend writing about me.”
“You know I can reassign this—”
“I don’t care,” he cut in coldly. “You write well. It’s just a profile. I figured I could survive your presence for an hour.”
You swallowed hard, voice softening. “I’ll need to see your work.”
He gave a humorless chuckle. “You already have. Remember the night you agreed to be my girlfriend? That was me, in my element.”
You said nothing. Guilt chewed away at your insides.
“Anyway,” Mingyu continued, “you know more about me than anyone else on staff. Do a decent job. Unless you’re planning to spin this into a tragic tale of the stupid boy who thought he was worth something.”
“Mingyu,” you sighed. “I didn’t lie.”
“No?” he snapped, pushing off the wall. “Then what do you call it?”
You didn’t answer.
“I came in as a formality for your boss,” he continued. “Not for you. You know enough—write your fluff piece, send it off, and we’ll both pretend it’s the end.”
He didn’t wait for a response as he walked out, slamming the door behind him.
~~
You were exhausted from the day’s emotional whiplash and stayed late at the office to avoid running into anyone. By the time you arrived home, it was well past midnight.
The elevator doors creaked open and you stepped out, only to be met with the sound of moaning echoing down the hallway. You frowned, pausing mid-step.
“Harder,” someone panted.
Your stomach dropped.
Your eyes followed the sound—and there she was. That same girl from who knocked on your door by mistake, the girl Mingyu was moving on with, pressed against the hallway wall, legs wrapped around Mingyu’s waist. His back was to you, hands gripping her thighs. Her head lolled back in bliss.
“Gyu, stop. Someone’s here,” she giggled.
“It’s okay,” he muttered. “She’s nobody.”
You blinked. And then you ran—into your apartment, slamming the door shut before the tears could fall.
“Oh hi guys,” you greeted Joshua and Jihoon once you entered your apartment, and Jihoon simply stared at–correction–through you.
Joshua looked up from his laptop. “You okay?”
You tried to smile. It cracked at the corners. “I guess being forgotten feels worse than being hated.”
Jihoon sat up straighter, jaw tightening. “So that’s why you’re mad? Because you hurt someone and now you have to watch them move on?”
“Jihoon,” Joshua warned quietly.
“No, I’m serious,” Jihoon snapped. “You don’t get to stomp on someone and then cry when they refuse to crawl back to you.”
You clenched your jaw, the shame burning under your skin. “I didn’t ask for a lecture.”
“Well, you’re getting one,” Jihoon stood. “Mingyu is like a little brother to me. I didn’t say anything because Joshua begged me not to. Said you were a good person. But I don’t see it.”
That was enough.
You turned without another word and left your apartment, ignoring Joshua’s calls. The hallway was empty—thank god. You slipped out the building and found the nearest bar.
By your second glass of wine, the edges had dulled just enough to stop shaking.
“Y/N?” A familiar voice called out.
You turned. Soonyoung, another one of Mingyu’s friend.
The only time you’d spoken was at the party months ago.
“Or should I say... heartless?” He said with a crooked grin.
You exhaled. “Hi, Soonyoung.”
He slid into the booth across from you. “Sorry, I just needed to get that out of the way. You don’t look great.”
“I’m not.”
He eyed your wine glass. “You drinking alone?”
“Apparently, that’s all I’m good for.”
Soonyoung watched you, head tilting. “Why did you do it? Why write about love like it’s a science experiment?”
You shrugged. “I guess I was scared. Falling for someone the normal way felt… too easy. Too vulnerable.”
He nodded slowly. “Yeah, well. You broke the rules. And now you’re stuck trying to rewrite an ending that was already perfect.”
You blinked down at your glass, throat tight.
“I didn’t mean to hurt him,” you said quietly.
“Okay, and why didn’t you tell him that? Like say something like hey I think I sort of have some feelings for you, but I want to go on a few dates to solidify them?”
You sighed, dragging your finger around the rim of your empty glass. “Hindsight is clearly not my friend.”
Soonyoung nodded slowly. “So why are you here?”
You shrugged. “Well, I saw Mingyu with his fingers deep inside another girl, and he acted like I wasn’t even there. Then Jihoon, I guess, said what he wanted to.”
Soonyoung winced. “Yikes.”
“Why are you here?” You asked, frowning slightly.
“Just wanted to use their restrooms, and I saw you, so I decided to come by and grill you,” he replied, lips quirking. “Look, before I go—what you did was really fucked. But did you like him?”
You nodded wordlessly.
“I still do.”
Soonyoung sighed and leaned forward. “Then tell him. Be creative. Tell him until he acknowledges it. I’m not saying he’ll forgive you, but he’ll feel less like an idiot.”
You stared at the condensation slipping down your glass. “Why are you helping me?”
“I’m not,” he said. “I’m trying to help my buddy find some comfort in knowing that he’s someone worth loving, and not just a catchy headline.”
Soonyoung sighed and then spoke again. “Y/N, just don’t wait too long if you really do like him. Before someone else writes the ending for you. Anyways, I think the staff here can tell I’m not a patron, so I’ll see you around, I guess. Take care!”
You watched him go, and when the door shut behind him, you realized just how quiet the bar had gotten. And how late it was. You’d lost track of time—again.
The chill in the air greeted you the moment you stepped outside, and it sank in just how far from home you really were. You turned a corner, tried to retrace your steps, but your stomach dropped when none of the streets looked familiar.
“Fuck,” you muttered.
You fumbled for your phone and called the one person you shouldn’t.
“Hello?”
“Mingyu.” Your voice was small, unsure. “Hi, I know you hate me, but I… I’m lost.”
A groan crackled through the speaker. “You—”
“No, never mind. I’m sorry for bothering you,” you blurted, ending the call before he could say anything else.
Your screen dimmed before the app you opened for a taxi could even load. Your phone powered off completely in your hands.
“Fucking wonderful.”
You sat down on a nearby bench, staring into the dark, unsure if you should wait it out until morning or hope that someone—anyone—might pass by.
Just as your thoughts started spiraling and panic bloomed in your chest, a voice cut through the silence.
“Hey.”
You turned with a jolt, nearly jumping to your feet. But there they were—Mingyu’s familiar doe eyes, breath visible in the cold air. “So you hung up, and it was a real struggle to find you and I…” Mingyu trailed off, startled when you suddenly wrapped your arms around him, holding him tight.
“You okay?” He asked softly. His arms didn’t move to return the hug.
You stepped back, cheeks flushing. “How did you find me?”
“I assumed you’d gone drinking,” Mingyu said, his voice low, careful. “Soonyoung-hyung texted me, said he saw you at that bar. I just traced my steps.”
You nodded, brushing the back of your hand across your eyes.
“Come on, let’s go back,” he murmured, guiding you toward his car. The silence between you was heavy, but not hostile.
When you reached the car, he hesitated before opening the passenger door for you.
“Hey, um… nothing happened, right? Like, no one tried to hurt you?” He asked as he slid into the driver’s seat.
You shook your head. “I’m okay.”
Mingyu nodded. “I’m sorry for what you saw earlier.”
You bit your lip. “No… I mean. We aren’t together. And I hurt you. So, it’s only fair.”
“No, it’s not.” His tone turned sharp. “That’s fucking toxic, and I’m sorry. We were just caught up in the moment. I didn’t even realise until I saw your face.”
You looked out the window. “Do you like her?”
He shrugged. “Don’t think I’ve been on enough dates yet.”
You winced.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” he repeated. “I just meant… it’s too soon to tell with her.”
You took a breath. “I knew. With you.”
Mingyu froze. His hands tightened around the wheel as he pulled over.
“What?”
You turned to him, your heart thudding. “I knew I felt something for you. I knew it when I saw Mia and I got jealous. I got jealous of the rock climbing receptionist and then that girl you’re dating now. No one gets jealous unless they care.”
Mingyu’s jaw ticked. “Why are you telling me this now?”
You sighed. “Because I should’ve said it when it mattered. Because I miss you. And I hate that I ruined it.”
He didn’t say anything, but the crack in his silence was louder than any words.
~~
The ride back to the apartment was silent, heavy with everything left unsaid. When Mingyu pulled into the lot, the car barely came to a full stop before you unbuckled and got out. You didn’t wait for him, didn’t speak—just walked briskly toward the front of the building, your heels clicking against the pavement like punctuation to every aching beat of your heart.
You didn’t expect him to follow. But when you reached the elevator and hit the button, you caught a brief glance over your shoulder—and there he was. Mingyu, leaning slightly against the railing, his hands shoved into his pockets, his face unreadable. For a second, your eyes locked. No words were exchanged, but something passed between you—an unspoken permission, a quiet nudge.
You took it as a sign and stepped into the elevator. When he joined you seconds later, the air between you thickened, pressing against your chest like gravity.
The elevator ride was short, but the silence felt infinite.
Neither of you said a word as you reached the hallway. Mingyu unlocked his door, then paused—just for a breath—before stepping inside. He left it open. You followed.
His apartment looked the same, but everything felt different.
Mingyu didn’t look at you when he spoke. “I need you to know that every single emotion I felt with you was real,” he said softly, his back still to you. “Every time you kissed me, it felt like fireworks. Every time you hugged me, I felt safe. And every time we—” He paused, his voice catching. “It wasn’t just sex. It felt like a journey. You made me feel special every time I was with you.”
You swallowed. “Mingyu, I made a stupid mistake. But I wanted to fall for you… because I knew there was something there. I just—I went about it the wrong way. I was scared. But you? You’re someone worth loving. Not just… someone worth writing about.”
He turned around at that, slowly. His eyes scanned your face like he was searching for the lie.
“Are you just pushing me into forgiving you?” He asked, but there was more pain than malice in his voice.
You shook your head. “No. I just don’t want what I did to affect how you see yourself. What I did was on me, not on you.”
For a flicker of a second, you saw something shift in him—like your words hit somewhere tender. But then he stepped forward, and the moment shattered.
“Oh, really?” Mingyu scoffed. “Me? Affected? I’m the one getting laid. Not you.” His words came out harsher than intended, bitterness rising. “Fuck, has anyone ever even wanted you? Approached you? Your ex cheated on you, even Wonwoo Hyung avoided you—he warned me, you know? He knew you were a ticking time bomb.”
You flinched. Your stomach twisted.
“And I still fucking fell for you,” Mingyu said, voice rising. “Ten dates. Don’t worry I’m over i, clearly, I don’t care, because not too long ago, my fingers were inside another girl.” He said it like a weapon, wielded cruelly, “She was tight. Fuck. Her body was—”
“Enough,” you said, barely a whisper, but Mingyu stopped. Like he finally heard himself.
You turned away and made a move to leave his apartment.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Mingyu asked, eyes wide.
You didn’t answer, just tried to get out of his apartment.
“Y/N! Fucking stop.”
You froze as Mingyu walked up behind. “Y/N,” he said again, softer now, “look at me.”
You didn’t move.
“Y/N. Look at me.”
You slowly turned your face toward him. His expression was crumbling.
“I know I crossed a line. What I just said… it was cruel, and I didn’t mean it. As toxic as it is, I just wanted to hurt you, the way you hurt me, but I went too far.”
You held your hand out to stop him. “I fucked up, Mingyu. I know that what I did is unforgivable. I want to thank you for tonight. I don’t deserve your kindness. I’ll have your artist profile written and sent to you for your kind perusal in a week.”
“Y/N—”
You smiled, and Mingyu could see the tears threatening to fall. “Goodnight, Mingyu,” you whispered, leaving his apartment, walking across the hall and entering your own apartment, and closing the door behind you.
He stood there long after the door closed, your words hanging in the air like smoke.
~~
“Y/N? You’ve got a visitor,” Joshua called out, poking his head into your bedroom the next morning. You were freshly showered, curled up in your robe, sipping on kombucha when you caught sight of a familiar figure hovering behind him.
“Oh.” You blinked. Mingyu.
“Can he stay, or do we not like him today?” Joshua asked, squinting at Mingyu like he was trying to summon a glare.
“He can stay,” you replied, quietly.
Joshua nodded. “Alright. But if I hear her cry, I’m calling Wonwoo Hyung to hurt you.”
“Why not you?” Mingyu asked, brow lifting.
Joshua shrugged. “Your stupid golden retriever face makes it hard to stay mad. I can’t hit a puppy.”
You rolled your eyes. “Shua.”
“I’m going. Holler if you need me.” He winked, disappearing into the hallway.
You gestured toward the bed. “You can sit. I won’t bite.”
“You seem better,” Mingyu said, stepping inside and cautiously sitting down beside you. His eyes scanned your face, your posture—like he was trying to read how much of your recovery was real.
“Getting there,” you lied, sipping your drink. “You gave me closure last night, so I guess now I just… learn and heal.”
That lie tasted bitter. You weren’t over him. You weren’t even close.
“Really?” Mingyu asked, his expression tightening. “You got over me so quickly?”
You shook your head, voice soft. “No. I just… I’m leaving you alone.”
He looked down, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “Look I’m so fucking sorry for what I said, I was being spiteful. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything I said about her. Or… you.”
You gave him a small nod. You didn’t know what to say to that.
Silence stretched between you until Mingyu glanced around the room and started to get up. “Okay. I guess I should go?”
But he didn’t leave. Instead, he took a hesitant step toward you and knelt on the edge of your bed. His hand brushed your cheek—light as a whisper—and you froze.
“You’re beautiful,” he said. “Truly.”
Then, just like that, he was gone. His hand pulled away. His body retreated. And he rushed out of your room like a man on fire, leaving you stunned, confused, and just a little less miserable.
~~
The following evening, you were sprawled on the couch in your favorite hoodie, arms crossed stubbornly as House Hunters played in the background at low volume. The sunlight had long since dipped behind the skyline, casting a moody blue over the apartment. You hadn’t moved in hours — not since Mia’s party invite had come through the group chat.
“You’re going,” Wonwoo said, nudging your foot with his knee as he walked past holding a bowl of popcorn.
You didn’t even look up. “Absolutely not.”
He sat down on the edge of the coffee table, facing you. “Come on.”
“I’d rather attend my own funeral,” you muttered.
“Dramatic,” he said, popping a kernel into his mouth. “It’s not her wedding, it’s a party. Mingyu will be there. Your friends will be there.”
“Only you and Shua, no one else wants me there.”
Wonwoo tilted his head. “You can’t avoid everything that makes you uncomfortable.”
“Mia does,” Wonwoo tried to lie.
You rolled your eyes at him “that’s because she’s dating you and she cares about you.”
“I’m not avoiding,” you snapped. “I’m choosing peace.”
“That’s funny, because you look like a woman actively losing her mind in a hoodie cocoon.”
You finally sat up, scowling. “I’m just not ready to go to a party where everyone knows I screwed up.”
Wonwoo gave you a pointed look. “Everyone screws up. But only some people decide to marinate in guilt like a mopey rotisserie chicken.”
“That’s a terrible metaphor,” you muttered.
“Still worked.”
You rolled your eyes and reached for a throw pillow to hug. “Wonwoo, what if he’s there and just—ignores me? What if Mia says something? What if I cry into someone’s jungle juice?”
“Then you cry. But at least you’re not crying alone on a couch watching reruns of sad real estate couples.” He leaned forward, voice softer. “You’re allowed to show up for yourself. Even if it’s awkward. Especially when it’s awkward.”
You stared at him, torn. “Ugh. Why are you good at pep talks?”
“Because I know you,” he said with a small smile. “And you hate feeling left out more than you hate confrontation.”
“God, I hate when you’re right.”
“And yet you listen every time.”
You took his hand. “I’m blaming you if this ends in disaster.”
Wonwoo smirked. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”
~~
Later that evening you were in full panic mode.
“Wonwoo, I can’t do this. Everyone there hates me,” you groaned as he paced around your living room.
“Oh also, plans changed, Mia needs help so you need to go yourself,” Wonwoo said sheepishly
“What the hell, no I’ll be walking into a lions den!”
He shrugged. “Jihoon and Joshua are already there setting up. Mia’s with me. So yeah, it’s just you. Good luck.” And with that, he ducked out the door before you could protest.
You knew you’d have to face the crowd, you decided to suck it up and get dressed.
You chose your silk blue dress—short, elegant, and dangerous. The kind that hugged all the right curves. You were slipping on your heels when someone knocked on the door.
“It’s open,” you called out.
“Hey. Oh—wow,” Mingyu muttered, stepping inside. The words slipped out before he could stop them, and you instantly felt your cheeks warm under the weight of his gaze.
You cleared your throat. “Uh hi?”
He smiled faintly. “Mia’s party. Seokmin and Cheol are already there setting up. I figured… maybe we could share a ride?”
You hesitated. “Isn’t your date going with you?”
He shook his head. “Yeah… she’s not really relevant anymore. Turns out I was just the decoy to make her ex jealous. She got him back.”
He let out a short laugh. “Guess I’ve got that ‘easy to fuck over’ vibe.”
You didn’t say anything, but your silence was loud.
Mingyu glanced at you. “Anyway. I called us a cab. You ready?”
You nodded.
~~
The cab ride to the party was quieter than expected. Not awkward, not tense—just quiet. Mingyu sat beside you, elbow on the window, tapping a soft rhythm against the glass. You stared ahead, feeling the buzz of anticipation, dread, and god-knows-what else coiling in your stomach like a tightened spring.
“You look amazing, by the way,” Mingyu said suddenly, breaking the silence.
You glanced at him, caught off guard. “Thank you.”
He smiled at the floor of the car, like he didn’t quite know what to do with your voice.
When you both arrived, the apartment was already buzzing. The bass of the music thumped low through the walls, and there was a faint glow from the string lights Seokmin had insisted on. You could hear laughter, someone singing off-key, and the gentle hum of people who weren’t thinking about you at all.
“Ready?” Mingyu asked, already stepping out and circling to open your door.
You paused. “Not even a little.”
He chuckled. “Same.”
The second you stepped in, all heads turned. Not because of you—no, definitely not just you—but because of you and Mingyu, together. He was in all black, stupidly tall and maddeningly handsome, and you were in a dress that had already gotten three glances and a whisper before you’d made it past the entryway.
You felt the pressure of every gaze crawling up your spine. Your hand brushed Mingyu’s by accident. He didn’t flinch, but he didn’t reach back either.
“Hey!” Seokmin grinned, running over, arms already halfway to a hug before he remembered. “Right, hi.”
“Hi,” you replied awkwardly.
“Come on Mingyu, party’s started,” Seokmin said guiding Mingyu, and reluctantly you to the bar.
Mingyu gave him a nod before grabbing a drink from the bar and handing you one without asking.
“I thought you might need this.”
You took it gratefully, muttering, “God, yes.”
The night unfolded in slow motion.
Joshua and Jihoon were manning the playlist and playing hype-men near the drinks table. Mia was radiant, bouncing around in a sequin dress, glowing like a mirrorball. Wonwoo hovered at her side like a quiet shadow, until he caught your eye and gave you a small nod.
You raised your glass in a silent toast.
Mingyu disappeared midway through the night, and you let him. You weren’t sure if you were meant to follow, but you didn’t want to look like you were chasing him. You ended up nursing your drink on the balcony, alone with the music and the pulse of memories.
“You okay?”
You turned to see Joshua step out beside you, two drinks in hand.
“Not sure,” you admitted.
He handed you one of the glasses and stared ahead into the city lights. “You’re handling this better than I thought.”
“Only mildly crumbling.”
“Progress.”
You both sipped quietly.
Back inside, you caught sight of Mingyu again—laughing at something Seungcheol said, his head thrown back. That laugh used to belong to you. That laugh used to be something you could earn, like a reward. And now it was just… public domain.
You turned away, heart thudding like a warning.
You hadn’t even noticed someone approaching until you heard the voice.
“Hey, pretty thing. You’re that girl, right? The one Mingyu dated?”
You turned to face a stranger, his breath laced with tequila and whatever cologne he’d bathed in.
“Excuse me?” You asked flatly.
He leaned closer. “I’m just saying, he clearly upgraded. You should see the new one.”
Before you could reply, you felt someone step between you and the guy.
“Walk away,” Mingyu said, low and lethal.
The guy held up his hands. “Alright, alright. Touchy.”
He slinked off, and for a moment it was just you and Mingyu. Again.
“Thanks,” you said, barely above a whisper.
Mingyu’s jaw was tight. “You shouldn’t have to deal with that.”
“I’m getting used to it,” you admitted. “Not being liked very much.”
Mingyu looked at you, really looked at you. “Don’t say that. Don’t even think that.”
You didn’t know what possessed you in that moment—maybe the warmth from the drink, or the weight of his words—but you reached for his hand and found he didn’t pull away.
Instead, he gave it the smallest squeeze.
Just once.
Mingyu didn’t let go of your hand.
He hadn’t meant to hold it in the first place, but when you slipped beside him in that quiet moment by the balcony doors, your fingers brushed his—and he didn’t move. And neither did you.
From inside, the party carried on. Someone shouted about food. The lights shifted warmer. The bassline of an old familiar track pulsed through the floor. But here, in this sliver of quiet between the hallway and the chaos, everything stood still.
Your hand was still in his.
And he was still staring straight ahead, jaw tight, like if he looked at you now, he wouldn’t be able to look away.
“I should go and get some food,” you said finally, barely above a whisper.
But he still didn’t let go.
“I miss you.” The words dropped like a weight between you. Unprepared. Raw.
You turned your head sharply, breath catching in your throat.
“Mingyu—”
“I shouldn’t,” he cut in, eyes still fixed ahead. “I shouldn’t say that. But I do. I fucking miss you.”
Silence.
You looked down at your joined hands, his thumb just barely brushing your knuckle. It felt like fire.
“I never stopped missing you,” you murmured.
He exhaled through his nose, eyes flickering down to the floor. “That makes it worse.”
“I know.”
“I see you, Y/N. At the café, in the elevator, even when you don’t look at me. I still feel like I’m watching the version of you I used to have… and I don’t know how to unsee her.”
You blinked fast, swallowing around the lump rising in your throat. “I’m still her. Just... more broken.”
“I don’t know if I can trust you again,” he said, softer this time. “And I don’t know what it says about me that part of me still wants to.”
That hurt.
But you nodded. “I wouldn’t expect you to. I just needed you to know... that none of it was fake. Not a single second.”
Mingyu finally turned his head to look at you. And when he did, the full weight of the ache between you crashed like a wave. The room behind you could’ve gone silent or exploded into flames—you wouldn’t have noticed.
“You made me feel like I was everything,” he whispered, eyes locked on yours. “And then you made me feel like I was nothing.”
You didn’t even realize your hands had tightened together until he pulled away.
“I need air,” he muttered. “There’s food inside.”
And just like that, the warmth of his touch vanished.
You stood still, heart racing, fingers burning in the space where his had just been.
Inside, Mia was mid-toast, giggling through champagne bubbles and surrounded by friends. “To a great group of friends, lets have a great night and make regrettable choices!” She shouted, and the crowd cheered.
You laughed weakly, even as your eyes found him again—across the room now, leaning against the kitchen counter, beer in hand, nodding along to something Wonwoo was saying. He wasn’t looking at you anymore.
But his foot tapped restlessly on the floor.
And you knew he felt it too—the storm, the crack, the pull that hadn’t gone away, no matter how much damage you’d done.
You took a step forward.
Then stopped.
Somewhere between the beat of the music and the hum of the laughter, you realized: this wasn’t the moment. Not yet. He wasn’t ready.
And you… you weren’t sure if your heart could take another hit just yet.
So you turned, smiled at Mia, and raised your glass instead.
But still, in every reflective surface—windows, wine glasses, the shine of the fridge—you kept catching glimpses of him.
And you knew he saw you, too.
~~
You had found a quiet corner near the bar, nestled just far enough from the dance floor to avoid being dragged into conversation, but close enough to still look like you were trying. You sipped your drink slowly, hoping that the low lighting and loud music would blur you into the background.
That hope lasted all of ten minutes.
“Well, well,” a familiar voice drawled behind you. “Look who showed up like she was invited.”
You didn’t even have to turn to know it was Seungcheol. You tensed, your hand tightening around your glass.
“I was invited,” you replied coolly. “Mia said—”
“Mia invited you because Wonwoo wouldn’t stop pushing for it,” Seungcheol cut in, stepping in front of you. “And even then, we all said it was a bad idea.”
You glanced over his shoulder and caught Seokmin standing a few feet away, arms crossed, jaw tight. His expression wasn’t hostile—just cold. Closed off in a way that hurt more than yelling ever could.
“You think just showing up fixes what you did?” Seungcheol asked, voice low enough that no one else around you could hear, but sharp enough to slice. “You think looking pretty and keeping your head down makes it all okay?”
“I didn’t come here to start anything,” you said, eyes flicking down to your drink. “I just wanted to show up for Mia. That’s all.”
“Then show up somewhere else,” Seokmin said finally, stepping forward. “Anywhere but here.”
You blinked, trying to keep your composure, but it was getting harder with every second they kept looking at you like you were a stain on the floor.
“Look, I’m trying to be nice,” Seungcheol added, not quite as kind as his words claimed. “Mostly for Gyu’s sake. But if you’re still here in the next hour, I’m not going to hold back. Got it?”
You gave a small nod, lips pressed together so tightly you could taste the metallic bite of blood from how hard you were biting the inside of your cheek. You didn’t wait for them to say anything else.
You turned on your heel, pushing your way through the crowd, each step heavier than the last.
And then you were outside—air crisp, music muffled behind the walls, and your breath fogging out in short, shallow bursts. You rubbed your hands along your arms, trying to breathe, trying to forget the way Seokmin wouldn’t even look you in the eye.
That’s when you felt it—a hand around your wrist.
You yelped, startled, only to find yourself face-to-face with Mingyu.
“Y/N?” He said, his brows furrowed in concern. “Why did you leave?”
You exhaled shakily. “I wasn’t exactly made to feel welcome,” you muttered, pulling your wrist gently from his hold.
Mingyu blinked. “What happened?”
“It doesn’t matter,” you whispered, suddenly so tired your bones ached. “I shouldn’t have come in the first place.”
Mingyu stepped closer, voice gentler now. “Wait—Y/N, it’s freezing. You didn’t bring a coat?”
You shook your head. “I’ll get a cab.”
Mingyu frowned, glancing around. “There’s a diner around the corner. Let’s get food? I’ll make sure you get home safe after, I promise.”
You hesitated. “Gyu, you don’t have to—”
“I know I don’t have to,” he said. “But I want to.”
~~
The fluorescent lights of the diner buzzed quietly above you, a stark contrast to the bass-heavy chaos of the club. The booths were faded vinyl, the menus laminated and slightly sticky, and the warmth inside made you realize just how cold your skin had gone. You were still clutching your arms like a shield, and Mingyu noticed.
“Sit here,” he said, gesturing to a booth in the corner. “It’s quieter.”
You slid into the seat without argument. Mingyu sat across from you, tapping his fingers nervously against the salt shaker before picking up a menu he didn’t bother reading.
The hostess from earlier walked over with a soft smile. “What can I get you two? Drinks to start?”
You opened your mouth, but Mingyu beat you to it. “Hot chocolate. Extra whipped cream, if you’ve got it.”
Your eyes flicked to him, startled.
He offered a small shrug. “You always get hot chocolate when you’re sad.”
You blinked, the lump forming in your throat again. “And for you?” the hostess asked, turning toward him. “Coffee. Black.” He paused, glancing at you. “Unless you want to split something.”
“I’m not really hungry,” you mumbled, looking down at the menu without seeing any of it.
“We’ll share the fries,” he told the waitress softly. “Thanks.”
When she walked away, the silence pressed in between you again, dense and tight. You stared at the table, tracing the ring of condensation left by a glass long since cleared.
“You want to tell me what happened in there?” Mingyu asked eventually.
You hesitated, your voice low. “Seungcheol and Seokmin. They cornered me. Said I wasn’t welcome. That they were being nice for your sake, but if I stayed… it’d get ugly.”
Mingyu leaned back in his seat, jaw tense. “They had no right.”
“They were defending you,” you murmured. “You were hurt. I get it.”
“I can fight my own battles.”
You looked up at him slowly. “Can you?”
That made him pause. He looked tired suddenly, like the weight of everything was finally catching up to him. “I didn’t know they said that to you.”
“I wasn’t going to tell you,” you admitted. “Because I already knew. I knew I didn’t belong there. Not anymore.”
The waitress returned with the hot chocolate and coffee. You wrapped your fingers around the mug, letting the heat seep into your hands.
“You know,” Mingyu said, eyes on his cup, “for a long time, I hated myself for still caring.”
Your heart squeezed.
“I’d see you around and I’d want to yell, or kiss you, or run in the opposite direction. Sometimes all three in the same minute.”
You smiled faintly. “That’s... fair.”
“But tonight, when I saw you outside?” His voice dipped. “You looked so lost. And I didn’t think. I just ran.”
You stared down at your mug, unsure what to say. So instead, you took a sip. Whipped cream clung to your lip, and Mingyu leaned forward, gently swiping it away with his thumb. Your eyes locked for a breath too long.
“You shouldn’t be this nice to me,” you whispered.
“I know.”
“So why are you?”
He gave you a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Because I don’t think I’ve ever stopped hoping you’d surprise me.”
You swallowed hard, heart thudding.
“Are you still angry?” you asked.
“Yeah,” he said honestly. “But less than I was yesterday.”
Your lips curved upward slightly. “Progress.”
He nodded, then signaled the waitress for the check. “I’ll get this. And I’ll put you in a cab, like I promised.”
You stood together, walking toward the door in silence. But just before you stepped out into the cold again, Mingyu turned toward you.
“Don’t listen to Seungcheol,” he said. “You weren’t unwanted.”
With that, he opened the door, walked you up to your apartment like a gentleman, and bid you goodnight.
You could only hope that tonight was the start of healing for you both.
cherry on top 🍒 mafia boss!seungcheol x reader. (3)
being in a situationship is already pretty hard. being in a situationship with a petty mafia boss who has never dated before? much, much harder. previous chapter + masterlist.
💰 Expense report filed by mafia financial officer, Lee Seokmin
SUBJECT: Personal Expenditures – S.Coups re: Civilian Target
CATEGORY: GIFTS / SURPRISES
Custom Silk Scarf (Monogrammed with "S.C.") – $1,350.00
└ Ordered from Paris boutique. Civilian target wore it once, commented: "It's soft, but why is his name on it?"
Limited Edition Vinyl Record (Frank Ocean – Blonde) – $880.00
└ Gifted after argument #7. Civilian target was seen smiling while playing track 14.
Midnight Ice Cream Delivery – From Rome, Italy – $4,700.00 (incl. private courier)
└ Civilian target said: "You could've just gotten Häagen-Dazs." Boss replied: "This has basil. It’s romantic."
CATEGORY: DAMAGE CONTROL / APOLOGIES
Floral Arrangements (x12) from 12 Different Florists – $2,160.00
└ Delivered over 48 hours post-miscommunication re: "flirting waiter" incident. One bouquet was left untouched in the hallway. The rest were used as Instagram story props.
Therapist Retainer (Anonymous Booking, Civilian Target) – $3,000.00
└ Civilian target has not claimed these sessions. Boss insists it's "just in case she realizes she needs help processing me."
Reimbursement for Civilian Target’s Broken Mug (accidentally knocked over during jealous argument) – $25.00
└ Mug was shaped like a cat. Boss replaced it with an expensive glass tumbler. Civilian target was not amused.
CATEGORY: SMALL & QUESTIONABLE EXPENSES
Custom Engraved Bullet Pendant ("So You Think I’m Scary, Huh?") – $300.00
└ Intended as ironic gift. Civilian target laughed, wore it once to annoy him. Boss framed photo.
Spotify Premium (Family Plan – Only One Member) – $15.99/mo
└ Boss created 17hr playlist titled "if i die it’s her fault but i’d still thank her." Civilian target unknowingly listens to it often.
Gluten-Free Baking Class (Online, Gifted to Civilian Target’s Aunt) – $220.00
└ She mentioned her aunt wanted it. He took notes. Civilian target unaware of mafia-funded culinary education in progress.
Donation to Shelter Where Civilian Target Volunteers – $5,000.00
└ Made anonymously. Boss requested they name a puppy after her. They did. Civilian target unsure why a rottweiler named "Beloved" exists.
CATEGORY: UNAUTHORIZED PERSONAL SPENDING
Rental of Entire Rooftop Restaurant for "Casual Talk" – $12,000.00
└ Civilian target refused to show up. Ate ramen alone at home. Boss sat through three-course meal with two phones: one for business, one specifically for her texts and calls.
Suit Tailoring (New Lapels for Better Hug Experience) – $900.00
└ Boss: "She said my suits were stiff. I made them hug-friendly."
Jet Fuel Surcharge – Roundtrip to Seoul, 3 hours total visit – $15,700.00
└ Purpose: "To see her smile."
TOTAL EXPENSES TO DATE: $49,250.99
RECOMMENDATION/S: Immediate financial intervention or a mandatory sit-down with Boss regarding boundaries, budgets, and basic human dating behavior.
👂 Surveillance transcript filed by mafia soldier, Chwe Hansol
DATE RANGE: ███████████-███████████
LOCATION: Civilian Target's Apartment, Unit 13S
BUG #7: Living Room Lamp (Active)
TRANSCRIPT 001 – 23:43 HRS
S.COUPS: Why is there a toothbrush that’s not mine in your bathroom?
YOU: Because I live here. And sometimes people visit me. It’s called having a life.
S.COUPS: Who visits you? Give me names. Socials. Blood types.
YOU: You are so exhausting.
[SOUND: Footsteps. Fridge opens.]
S.COUPS: Don’t change the subject. That toothbrush has a blue handle. Blue is a masculine color.
YOU: Oh my god, are you jealous of a toothbrush now?
[SOUND: Prolonged silence. Soft muttering.]
S.COUPS: ...It’s suspiciously ergonomic.
TRANSCRIPT 004 – 07:12 HRS
YOU: Why are you folding my laundry?
S.COUPS: Because you do it wrong.
YOU: What does that even mean?
S.COUPS: You mix textures. Cotton with wool. It’s chaos. This is what chaos feels like.
YOU: You literally blow up cars for a living.
S.COUPS: Yeah, but strategically.
TRANSCRIPT 008 – 14:09 HRS
YOU: Why is there a bag of gummy bears on my pillow?
S.COUPS: You said you liked them.
YOU: Once. In passing.
S.COUPS: I take notes. On everything. You also like your coffee with oat milk and you talk in your sleep about octopus documentaries.
YOU: That’s creepy.
S.COUPS: It’s called “caring.”
YOU: It’s called surveillance.
[SOUND: Muffled laughing, presumably from YOU.]
TRANSCRIPT 015 – 00:03 HRS
YOU: Did you pick a fight with your own underboss because he liked one of my photos?
S.COUPS: He put a heart and a fire emoji. That’s a double reaction. It’s aggressive.
YOU: You are so—so emotionally constipated.
S.COUPS: You say that like it’s a bad thing.
YOU: It is a bad thing!
[SOUND: Struggle noises, unclear. Presumed YOU threw a pillow at S.COUPS and he retaliated by tackling YOU on to the couch.]
NOTE: Possible physical altercation turns to intimacy. Redacted for discretion.
TRANSCRIPT 017 – 01:26 HRS
YOU: Stop staring at me.
S.COUPS: I’m memorizing your face. Don’t make this harder than it is.
[SILENCE FOR 13 SECONDS.]
YOU: ...Why is there a tiny blinking light in my lamp?
S.COUPS: Oh no.
YOU: Did you seriously bug my apartment?!
S.COUPS: Okay, first of all, you’re being very judgmental right now.
YOU: Because you’re a lunatic.
S.COUPS: I'll give you one guess as to whose fault is that.
YOU: Take the damn bug out of my lamp, you psycho!
NOTE: S.COUPS neglected to turn bug off. Argument ensued; redacted for discretion. Intimacy ensued. Also redacted.
END OF AVAILABLE TRANSCRIPT. ADDT'L NOTE: REQUESTING TO BE MOVED OUT OF SURVEILLANCE DIVISON ASAP.
📓 Therapy session notes filed by Dr. Boo Seungkwan, licensed psychiatrist affiliated with ████████ Syndicate
SESSION: 3rd of prescribed 10-week cycle
INITIAL OBSERVATIONS: Patient arrived precisely on time, wearing a tailored black suit, slightly wrinkled as though he'd been pacing before arrival. Hair unkempt, hands clenched for most of the session. Eyes noticeably tired. Declined water. Brought a half-eaten bag of gummy bears, claiming "They calm me down. She likes them too."
Presented with guarded posture, alternating between overconfidence and sudden emotional vulnerability. Exhibits hallmark signs of high-functioning control dependence, paired with emotional suppression and limited interpersonal processing tools.
SESSION THEMES
1. Obsession with Control: Patient admits to bugging the civilian target’s apartment ("It was for her safety") and maintaining a detailed log of her daily habits. Claims these measures are a form of care. When asked what he fears would happen without this control, he replied, "She might stop needing me."
Expressed frustration when civilian target expressed autonomy: "She does things without telling me. Like she has a life or something." Tone was sarcastic but undercut with genuine confusion.
2. Difficulty Processing Emotions
Patient struggles to name his emotions beyond anger and protectiveness. When prompted to describe how he feels when civilian target smiles at him, he paused for 47 seconds before muttering: "Like I'm about to combust, but in a good way?"
Displays discomfort with perceived emotional weakness. Used humor and territorial possessiveness to deflect.
Quote: "She called me emotionally constipated. That's unfair. I feel things. I just don't show them. I'm not a chihuahua in a sweater." (Analogy unclear.)
3. Devotion to Civilian Target
His attachment is intense and deeply internalized. He referenced at least eight specific events he organized to make her life easier, ranging from "tailoring suit lapels for better hugs" to "funding her aunt’s gluten-free hobby."
Refers to her as "the only thing that makes me think twice before pulling a trigger."
Appears to be undergoing identity shift: from feared mafia boss to a man attempting—often poorly—to be emotionally available. Indicates willingness to grow, albeit via unconventional and often unhinged methods.
Notable Quote: "I don't know what being a boyfriend means. But if it means checking all her windows are locked and ordering her ice cream from Italy when she's sad, then I'm already trying."
TREATMENT PLAN
Begin cognitive restructuring around concepts of emotional intimacy vs. surveillance.
Introduce grounding techniques for obsessive behaviors.
Assign weekly "emotional vocabulary" journaling.
Strongly recommend cessation of all illegal tracking devices.
PROGNOSIS: Patient displays exceptional loyalty, obsessive commitment, and a deep desire to improve for the sake of the civilian target. Progress will be slow, as foundational emotional processing tools are underdeveloped. However, signs of potential are present.
Patient left session saying, "Don't tell her I cried. But also, maybe do. I don't know. What would make her like me more?" Then insisted that I forward these notes to her, threatening to cease sessions otherwise. Will have to consult with mafia leadership.
DIAGNOSIS: High-functioning attachment disorder with control dependency and romantic maladjustment. Currently treating with compassion, sarcasm, and an iron will.
NEXT SESSION SCHEDULED: ████████
› scroll through all my work ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ my masterlist | @xinganhao
🤍 warnings, non-idol au, fluff, implied childhood friends to lovers, mutual pining, mingyu is kind of a flirt, kissing, confession, long-haired mingyu (we moved on too quickly from him), reader sits on mingyu's lap, reader calls mingyu 'gyu'
🤍 summary, you and mingyu realize you aren't just "friends".
🤍 author's note, saw these mingyu pics that screamed 80's college student and had to write something about it cause long-haired mingyu is literally my roman empire🧍consider this to be a LATE mingyu birthday gift cause i planned to do something for his bday the day OF and couldn't think of anything ☹ anyways enjoy!!
🤍 now playing, show me how (men i trust)
🤍 word count, 984 | for @kstrucknet, @maestro-net
"oh, come on. a few kisses will not ruin our friendship." mingyu has a whine to his voice you can't help but laugh at, cheeks heating up nevertheless as you side-eye him.
"mingyu, do you hear yourself right now? are you sure you aren't drunk?" you ask, and mingyu grabs your hands, dark eyes serious as he holds your gaze. his hands are warm, and his body radiates heat, the blush on his cheeks matching yours as he shakes his head.
the two of you had settled in on a quiet friday night to binge-watch your favorite childhood movies, and the two of you had just finished watching flipped, laughing and cringing at the bonus clips of the kissing scenes.
if you thought hard about it, you would have noticed that mingyu was acting differently tonight. he had been really touchy with you lately, hands always somewhere on you as he carried on conversations.
you didn't think about it much at first, but you had started to get distracted by it, body warming up as soon as mingyu had attempted to put his arm around you. it was awkward, seeing mingyu trying to flirt with you, but it made your heart skip nevertheless.
it seems that the little childhood crush you swore you had successfully hidden wasn't truly hidden at all.
"you're seriously asking to kiss me right now? friends....friends don't kiss each other on the daily, gyu." you laugh, trying to shrug off the feeling of thousands of butterflies in your stomach.
mingyu stares at you with puppy-like dark brown eyes hidden behind wire-framed glasses, lips parting to reveal sharp canines as he thinks better of his sentence and closes his mouth. he shifts a little bit, broad shoulders blocking any way of escape from the couch as he nods slightly.
"i know that. i know that friends don't want to kiss each other. they shouldn't want to, anyways." mingyu exhales again, pretty eyes downcast to the cushion under him before he looks back up at you again.
"we're not just friends are we?" mingyu asks quietly, eyes piercing as he holds your gaze. you choke on your words, eyes widening slightly as you lock eyes on his frame, fingertips twitching with the urge to push his neck-length hair back.
you were already dancing the fine line between 'friends enjoying a cute movie' and 'friends two seconds away from kissing each other', and you had a feeling that tucking mingyu's hair back for him would be the amount the two of you would need to cross the line into the latter.
"do you want to kiss me?" you ask softly, and mingyu's eyes jump up to meet yours. he's staring down at you, obviously too tall for you to look him straight in the eye.
you had no clue where the confidence to ask that question came from, but you found yourself praying that more would come.
"...maybe." mingyu has the gall to smirk at you, soft lips even more taunting as you heave a sigh, shaking your head slightly.
"i can't believe i'm doing this." something between a sigh and a laugh spills from your lips, and mingyu watches you relapse in judgment, taking your chin in his hand as he pulls you to him.
"don't you dare back out now." mingyu's voice is low, delicate as if he's scared that the moment will pass. you search his eyes, heart slowing down as he traces your jawline with his finger. "i want this. ....o-only if you want it, though."
the nervousness seems to leave your body with mingyu's slight stutter at the end of his sentence, showing that he's just as nervous as you are.
you let your shoulders drop slightly, relaxing your body as mingyu notices the way you lean into his touch. "i want it, gyu."
the words seem like a dream to you as they come out of your mouth, but your heart and mind finally agree on something for once: you want this kiss like your life depends on it.
"good. let me show you what i've been wanting to do to you for ages." mingyu's voice lowers to a whisper as he leans in. his lips lock with yours a few seconds later, massive tanned hands cupping your face as he molds his lips to yours.
your hands are flying to mingyu's tousled hair in an instant, fingers combing through his dark locks as he presses into you. you always knew mingyu's lips were soft, but you never expected they'd be this soft—and on your lips, for god sake.
after a few seconds of silence, the two of you pull away from each other, still in a dazed state of mind. mingyu's glasses had been discarded somewhere, and he sits in front of you now, eyes piercing as he studies your microexpressions.
"you know i've liked you for the longest time, right?" you decide to state the obvious, now that you just kissed your childhood friend.
"yeah," mingyu shrugs nonchalantly, and you take hold of mingyu's broad shoulders quickly, shaking him as he laughs happily.
"seriously? why didn't you do anything about it!?" you pout, and mingyu smiles, finger running across your cheek as he shrugs. "i wanted to see how long you could wait."
"kim mingyu!" you whack mingyu lightly, a smile cracking across your face as mingyu falls back against the couch. you find the confidence to climb up upon mingyu's lap, his hands taking place on your hips as he smiles up at you.
"i love you." the words fall from his lips before you can beat him to it, and your heart flutters, finally hearing mingyu utter the words you had only heard him say in dreams.
"i love you too, mingyu." you smile softly, leaning down to get what's owed to you: mingyu's searing kiss that tastes of a long-waited confession.
Paring: chef!mingyu x f!reader. Genre | tags: smau, oneshot, strangers to lovers, fluff. Warnings: Suggestive, mentions of food (it's basically the plot). Requested: yes/NO.
Summary: When you—a renowned food critic—discover a hidden gem called Kim’s Table, you don't expect to fall for the chef behind it.
A/N: In case you’re already wondering: no, I don’t plan on doing a second part of this. However, I do have something else in mind (keeping it a secret for now 👀), but I think it’s gonna be even better than a part two!
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