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Mika's fic rec side-blog ★
= tags = ot13 masterlist = fave fics = fluff recs = smut recs = smau recs
(icons by @joshuaahong from her pinterest)
SWEET DREAMS ✧.*
PAIRING — mingyu x fem!reader
TAGS — pwp, just somno + sleepy sex w mingyu <3
WORD COUNT — 1.3k
first time posting something that’s genuinely just porn without plot. i keep thinking about gyu and needed to get this out of my system so. it’s rather short, not my best work but enjoy this while i work on my other fics <3
MINGYU WAKES UP WITH COLD BEADS OF SWEAT ON HIS FOREHEAD. the same way he has been for the past weeks.
he’s not sure what it is. it’s not nightmares, not insomnia — it’s like he’s craving something.
usually, a fresh, cold glass of water does the job. he’s already had two tonight, but to no avail. every time he closes his eyes, he feels his eyes burning behind his lids.
your body's a temple - choi seungcheol
SUMMARY -> everyone knows choi seungcheol, captain of the football team, has been trying to get into your (the head cheerleader's) pants for the entire semester. you make him wait, and wait, and wait. until he doesn't.
WORDS -> approx. 15k
WARNINGS -> choi seungcheol x female reader, university au, football player choi seungcheol, cheerleader reader, top seungcheol, wet & messy, rough sex, unprotected sex, face slapping, spanking, multiple orgasms, light drug use, reader gets wrecked while wearing a skirt, crying, size kink
- requested [no]
seungcheol is more than aware that he's a little bit of a cliche. star quarterback of the football team, frat boy, a little bit of a playboy. add in the fact that he's spent the entire semester pining over the head cheerleader into the mix and he's basically the embodiment of a romcom trope.
but he doesn't mind much: life is good. the only real issue is that he's been trying (and failing. desperately failing) to get in said head cheerleader's pants for the better part of the last four months and he's just about ready to crawl out of his skin.
but it's fine. he's fine.
he's three or five drinks deep already at one of the last house parties of the year. the semester is winding down to prepare for spring break, as most students are already done with their finals and just sticking around for the last football game coming up next week. seungcheol has been stretched so thin between studying and practice for the past few weeks that he's not in much of a partying mood, so rather than being at the center of the room like he usually is, he's kicked back on the couch by the back door nursing a drink, mingyu sitting on the arm next to him as they quietly chat below the music pounding through the room.
"staring at the door won't make her come any faster," mingyu says, elbowing seungcheol in the ribs. he pushes the little marble-swirled pipe pinched between his fingers under seungcheol's nose, twisting it. "relax. smoke with me."
"who said i'm waiting for her?" seungcheol says into his red solo cup, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. he knows mingyu isn't buying it. "i don't care if she comes or not."
"so you're saying if y/n were to walk through that door right now you wouldn't be over there in ten seconds flat pushing a drink into her hand and trying to take her up to your room?" mingyu rolls his eyes, fishing a lighter out of his pocket. "yeah, i'll believe that when i see it."
A Trip to the Toy Store
Genre: fluff, est. relationship, wonwoo as a dad. wc: 1.8k a/n: i so love dad! svt :) divider credits to @pixopix
the door to the toy store opens with a bell, and the sound of tiny foot steps running fast echoes through the silence. behind the counter, the staff smiles when they see the little fluff ball running towards the racks.
"hello hyunwoo." the old lady says, walking up towards the little boy, dressed in a dinosaur hoodie. wonwoo walks in not far behind, carrying his two year old daughter, byul. she is wearing a glittery coat, and her braids are visible from under the furry cap she's been forced to wear.
what comes after…
pairing — choi seungcheol x f!reader x kim mingyu
summary — what happens after you’ve slept with your boyfriend and your ex-boyfriend?
wc — 1.5k
warnings — nsfw. minors dni. smut, pure filth, threesome, double vaginal penetration, size kink, creampie, polyamory, a little surprise at the end ;)
author’s note — this is so short and i’m sorry but i just wanted u guys to have this while i work on the next gyucheol wip which will be a little longer! i think i’m going to make this its own little universe hehe
this is set in the same universe as ‘byob (bring your own boyfriend)’. it is recommended that you read that first as this fic is a continuation of the plot :)
You, Mingyu, and Seungcheol can’t keep your hands off each other.
After that night where they had both ended up in your bed, there were no doubts in you or Mingyu’s minds that you didn’t just want Seungcheol to be an occasional guest; that you wanted him to be part of things forever. There was no denying the chemistry between all three of you anyway, let alone the love that you had for both of them. Choosing one or the other was not an option.
A few days later, you and Mingyu had invited Seungcheol over to talk— to lay everything out on the table. He took some time to think about it, which was understandable. Three-person relationships weren’t something you could jump into. The fact of the matter, however, was that he still loved you too, and he liked Mingyu, and so he showed up again two days later, and two became three.
Since then, the three of you have been going at it like rabbits.
— Synopsis: Where you “unfortunately” caught your best friend's roomate—your unsaid enemy—masturbating in their shared apartment. — WC: 4.6k — WARNINGS: smut, monster cock!seungcheol, explicit language and content, overstimulation, dry fucking, oral as a tongue massage (f. receiving)—a reward <3, body fluids (cum), dry humping, cock riding, dumbfication, degradation, aftercare, exhaustion, and DIRTY TALK.
here’s how it always goes with seungcheol:
you walk into a room, he immediately finds something to scoff at. maybe it’s the way you dress, maybe it’s the way you talk, maybe it’s just the fact that you exist in his general vicinity. but it doesn’t matter what you do—he hates you. or, at the very least, that’s what he insists on showing you.
joshua, your best friend and possibly the only person in the world who can tolerate both of you without losing his mind, always tells you to be the bigger person. “he’s not that bad,” he says, as if seungcheol didn’t practically hiss at you last week for sitting on his side of the couch.
but whatever. you don’t go out of your way to piss him off, and he doesn’t go out of his way to be nice. that’s just the way it is.
which is why you hesitate when joshua calls you:
“i swear, i wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important. i left my keys at your place before i flew out, remember?”
“okay, but i literally don’t want to step foot in his apartment,” you stress, cringing at the thought.
“it’s my apartment, too,” joshua deadpans.
you groan, already feeling a headache coming on.
“just go in, grab the folder on my desk, and leave,” he insists. “cheol probably won’t even be home.”
which is how you find yourself standing outside their apartment door, holding joshua’s keys and hyping yourself up like you’re about to enter enemy territory. which, in a way, you are.
he’s a cheater (at games) [ yoon jeonghan ]
jeonghan is a cheater when it comes to mario kart, and you’re rightfully a sore loser
❛ content | yoon jeonghan x female reader | fluff, gamerbf!jeonghan, banter, video games
you plopped yourself onto the couch, cross-legged with your wheel gripped tightly in your hands. as far away from him as you could possibly be, because you weren’t falling for it this time. not after the last four weekends.
jeonghan was the biggest cheater you knew, especially when it came to mario kart. every game was full of not-so-subtle nudges at your arm so your character would get knocked off the track, and him snaking one of his hands down your side to send you into a tickling fit that always ended up with him crossing the finish line, and you squirming uncontrollably on the couch as your character came in eighth place.
“hey,” you would whine when jeonghan smacks at the controller in your hand.
he’s the absolute worst at games - both in his ability to play them and his ability to play them fairly - like all the time. like hand over your eyes, loud distracting exclamations, pressing your buttons kind of cheating. he’s a child, really, and a rotten one at that.
“stop it!” you watch as your character, adorable yoshi, brakes hard on the screen and then you sadly watch him scoot across the finish line. a split second behind jeonghan’s princess peach kart. “that’s not fair.”
you stand up, letting your controller fall to the floor and planting your hands angrily on your hips.
“you said you wouldn’t cheat again. i should have won first place or at least came in seventh.”
jeonghan lets his controller drop to his lap, leaning back on the sofa, and smugly throws his hands behind his head. “sorry darling,” he drawls arrogantly, “it’s all apart of the game.”
the irritatingly cheerful victory music played tauntingly in the background.
“tickling is not part of the game,” you huff, shifting from one foot to another, “and putting your annoying bony hands up to blind me is not fair.”
he makes show of examining his hands quizzically, and really it’s adorable, but you’re too fed up to bother with his antics. you continue to level with him with an unamused glare until he looks up at you. he’s annoyingly unbothered by your complaints, instead looks even more satisfied with himself the longer you refuse to break.
you figure you’re both staring at each other silently for nearly a minute before his face splits into a giant grin, the kind where it’s slightly gummy and his eyes crinkle into a gentle crescent shape.
“you’re a child,” you grumble, turning on your heel to march out of the room with your arms crossed defiantly across your chest. but not before you’re being pulled back by your elbow, falling into jeonghan’s lap. you’re overwhelmed by his scent as he tucks his chin over your shoulder and nudge his face into your neck.
“you’re cute,” his arms wrap fully around your waist, holding you tightly in place, “i’ll let you win next round.”
“i don’t need you to let me win,” you argue as he pressed distractingly sloppy kisses against your neck, “just need you to play fair.”
“never.”
“why are you like this? really, you’re such an insufferable, sore, path-”
you’re interrupted when his fingers find your sides, sending your body into a spasm as you try to wiggle away. he’s laughing gleefully and as annoyed as you are, you can’t help the giggle threatening to leave your lips.
“come on, don’t hold back,” he goads, relentless in his attacks.
“stop trying to make me laugh, jeonghan,” you suppressed, “i’m seriously mad at you.”
at this point, you’re both on the floor. he’s got you beneath him, and he’s fighting off your arms with one hand, his other hand still poking at your ribs.
“say you’re not mad.” jeonghan demands.
“i am mad.”
he manages to pin both of your hands, now nipping at your jaw, your neck, shoulder, and suddenly you’re quite defenseless to his touch. after that, it only takes a minute until you surrender.
“fine! fine!” he stops and sits back so his weight is around your waist. “i’m not mad. but you’re still a cheater.”
“i’m not.”
“you are.”
jeonghan raises a threatening hand.
“okay! you’re not, you ass.”
he seems satisfied with that and finally pulls you up but keeps you between his legs, your back resting against his chest.
“re-match?” he hands your controller to you and you agree, determined. he starts the game again, his lips finding your neck once more as you nudge your shoulder into his chest to push him away.
his unbelievable charm and ability to worm himself out of any situation was always enough for you to forgive him. other times, even, never being able to say no to his pouting, big captivating eyes, and awful excuses about how he just wants to touch and be close to you at all times.
as frustrating as it was, the old beat up wii he’d bought on ebay had been a staple of your date nights, allowing you both to bask in the nostalgia and down bottles of wine that were far too expensive to be carelessly sipped in between races. you’d order take out, that he’d often ask for you to spoon-feed him as you took a break, and he continued to play.
© @ggukive
push up on me and sweat, darling || choi seungcheol
Pairing: Scoups x f.reader
Synopsis: you love watching your boyfriend workout and this time, you try something new.
Warnings: suggestive, kissing, fluff
wc: 915 words.
a/n: okayyy, so this is my first fic? drabble? it's just a little something i wrote when i was simping over my man. hope yall like reading it!
credits: @choco-scoups @livmarauder @mellowgyu @caratchronicles thank you my lovesss for reading it and giving me the confidence to post it.
"I'm home!!", you sing out as you close the door to your apartment but don't receive a reply. Turning around, you expect to see your boyfriend lounging on the sofa as usual, except he's not. Confused, you look at the clock and realise that you've come home early today. He must be working out in the gym room with his headphones on. Shaking your head, you decide to freshen up first.
monday morning... [ kwon soonyoung ]
...the one where morning breath can't stop you and hoshi from being in love
❛ content | kwon soonyoung x female reader | domestic fluff, morning breath, established relationship, latte
for someone who was easily disgusted by the idea of morning breath, you find all your mornings spent in kissing your boyfriend, soonyoung, senseless.
you’re not even sure how it started. one minute you were blinking the sleep from your eyes, and the next, soonyoung had you under him, palms on either side of your head, lips moving lazily against yours like you were some kind of morning prayer.
"we should really brush our teeth," you mumble between kisses, except your hands are already threading into his messy hair and you’re not exactly keen on stopping him anytime soon.
"mmm," soonyoung hums, not disagreeing, not stopping either. "too far."
"the bathroom?"
"yeah."
"it’s literally what—" you tilt your head to look, "like five steps away."
"too many steps," he says, nipping at your bottom lip before pulling back just enough to smirk softly. "besides, you taste fine, honey."
"that is objectively false," you mumble, even as your thumb brushes his cheek and he nuzzles his face into your palm. he looks like the morning. and you're so grateful he is your morning.
"maybe i’m just in love, then. love makes people stupid."
"you were stupid before you met me, kwon."
"ouch.” he grins. “but fair."
you giggle and he swoops in again, kissing you until you’re breathless. it’s slow and lazy. like you’ve got all the time in the world. your upper leg shifts to wrap around his waist lazily as he shifts and lies beside you. soonyoung sighs like he’s never been more content.
"what’s the plan for today?" you ask, voice muffled against his shoulder. he’s moved down now, pressing soft kisses to your collarbone.
"this," he says. "you. me. this bed. repeat."
"you do know we’ve got laundry, yeah?"
"ignore it. the laundry can do itself."
"that’s not how laundry works."
"we’ll manifest it. or we'll have latte help."
you snort. "alright, mystic soonyoung. tell me what the cards say."
he lifts his head, eyes squinting at his open palm like he’s pretending to focus. "they say… stay in bed, kiss the pretty thing on your bed senseless, avoid responsibilities at all costs."
"very convenient."
"very wise."
you both giggle. soonyoung’s little squeaks in between laughs and 10:10 eyes on full display have you falling in love with him all over again.
there’s a moment of silence after that. comfortable. you look at him, and he’s already looking at you. you reach out to trace the curve of his jaw, and he leans into it like a cat seeking warmth.
"you’re kind of gross, you know," you whisper.
"you kissed me first."
"i’ll do it again."
"threats don’t work on me, babe," he murmurs, brushing his nose against yours. “especially not when they’re promises."
you pull him in, kiss him again, longer this time. one hand in his hair, the other resting on his bare shoulder, fingers idly tracing nonsense. he tastes like sleep and the soonyoung you've always known.
he whispers your name between kisses, ever so tenderly.
"you make monday mornings so much better," he mumbles into your skin.
and you think, yeah. you could do this every day.
© @ggukive
pairing: idol!jihoon x reader
summary: After not being able to sleep, you spend the night in the studio with your boyfriend, Jihoon.
word count: 1,966
AU: idol au [established relationship with jihoon]
genre: fluff
fic tags: romance, fluff, sleepless nights, producer, idol, established relationship
back to friends 𐙚 lee seokmin
PAIRING — lee seokmin x reader
GENRE + TAGS — non-idol au, fluff, friends to lovers, seokmin is SO in love, jealous seokmin, confession, kissing, skinship, reader pretends to be clueless, soft seokmin gets a little desperate (he begs)
LYR SPEAKS! — been going through a rough patch w writer's block but i'm returning for a little if only to write @deekaykaykay's birthday present! happy birthday anna i love you 💗
NOW PLAYING — back to friends (sombr)
WORD COUNT + NETWORKS — 893 // @kstrucknet & @k-records
you walk into your bedroom and instantly smile. the lights are almost off, the dimmer to the minimum; soft songs playing in the background, matching the cozy mood. junhui's tall figure is spread all over the bed, right arm hanging on the edge as he rests his face on the book you previously recommended to him. his parted lips make cute noises, and you have to hold back a laugh when he snorts and a page flies to his face.
for a few seconds, you try to decide whether you should wake him up or let him rest. the lazy night you two planned to have together was long gone - you just had to work late, there wasn't any other option. you're lucky enough to have such a great boyfriend who understood that and swore he would wait up for you.
well, he didn't. but you don't blame him, though.
walking silently to the bed, you press a light kiss on his cheek and caress his soft brown hair. he doesn't even move.
"sleepy cat", you whisper and chuckle.
SK8TER BOI
ᯓwho☆: 𝒿eonghan x reader (fluff, lil angsty x fic) ᯓwhat☆: jeonghan’s always been in love with you, even when the world insisted you didn’t make sense together — until you decide you don’t care, and prove that the ballet girl and the skater boy were never wrong at all. inspired by sk8er boy by avril lavigne, but not completely! ᯓwc☆: 3k (3616) ᯓa/n☆: ...i love punk jeonghan <3 also i just realized it's SK8ER BOY, not SK8TER BOY.... ignore that mistake on the banner.
jeonghan wakes up late. again.
the alarm on his phone has been screaming for a good five minutes before his hand finally slaps around the bedside table, fingers clumsy, knocking over an empty water bottle before he finds the screen and silences it. the room falls quiet except for the distant hum of traffic outside his window and the soft whir of the old ceiling fan that never quite works right. sunlight leaks through the blinds in thin, uneven stripes, cutting across his unmade bed, his discarded hoodie on the floor, the guitar case leaning against the wall like it’s been waiting for him all night.
“shit,” he mutters, voice rough with sleep.
he rolls onto his back and stares at the ceiling for half a second longer than he should. he does this every morning. gives himself a tiny moment of denial, like if he lies still enough, time might slow down for him just this once.
it never does.
jeonghan swings his legs over the edge of the bed and stands, stretching his arms above his head until his spine cracks pleasantly. he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror opposite his bed. messy hair falling into his eyes, dark circles he never bothers to hide, a face that looks permanently caught between bored and tired. his uniform shirt is crumpled where he tossed it last night. the school logo is peeling a little at the edge.
he looks like trouble. or at least, like what people think trouble looks like.
the shower is quick and too cold because he forgot to turn the heater on again. water drums against the tiles as he runs his fingers through his hair, pushing it back, then letting it fall forward again because it never stays put anyway. steam fogs up the mirror when he steps out, towel slung low around his waist, hair dripping onto his shoulders.
he doesn’t rush. not really. he never does.
by the time he’s dressed, the clock on his phone reads 7:46. school started at 7:30.
he pulls on whatever’s clean enough. a faded band tee with the print cracking at the edges. baggy black jeans that hang low on his hips, frayed at the hems from being stepped on too many times. a hoodie two sizes too big, sleeves swallowing his hands. the fabric smells faintly like laundry detergent and something metallic, like guitar strings.
his mother used to sigh every morning when she saw him dressed like this. you could at least try, she’d say. jeonghan does try. just not in the way people want him to.
he grabs his guitar case, checks his phone, ignores the three missed calls from his homeroom teacher, and slips his feet into worn sneakers by the door. as he leaves, he catches his reflection in the hallway mirror. guitar on his back. hoodie zipped halfway. expression unreadable. punk, they call him, as if it’s a diagnosis.
the walk to school is familiar. cracked sidewalks, the convenience store on the corner where he sometimes stops for coffee he doesn’t need, the shortcut behind the basketball courts that saves him a few minutes. by the time he reaches the front gate, the morning bell has already rung. students are streaming into the building in neat uniforms, laughter echoing off concrete walls.
jeonghan slips through like he always does, head slightly down, guitar case bumping lightly against his leg.
he can already feel the looks.
teachers frown when they see him. security guards sigh. girls whisper. boys nudge each other. it’s always the same.
there he is again.
"what a loser!"
"why does he bring that stupid guitar everywhere?" "stupid fucking punk."
he pretends not to notice, but he does. he always does.
his first class is history. he opens the door quietly and slips into the back row, dropping into his usual seat just as the teacher pauses mid-sentence. there’s a beat of silence. “yoon jeonghan,” the teacher says, tired rather than angry. “you’re late.”
“traffic,” jeonghan replies easily, not meeting his eyes.
a few students snort. the teacher shakes his head and continues the lesson. jeonghan leans back in his chair, gaze drifting to the window. sunlight catches dust motes in the air, turning them gold. and then, he sees you.
you’re two rows ahead, posture perfect, probably because of ballet. your notebook is already open, pen moving smoothly across the page. there’s something about the way you focus that always gets him. like the rest of the room fades away for you when you’re paying attention.
he’s been wanting you for two years.
two full years of stolen glances, of sitting just close enough to hear you laugh but never close enough to touch you. two years of watching you from across classrooms, hallways, the courtyard during lunch. two years of knowing exactly how you take your coffee, the way you tuck your hair behind your ear when you’re nervous, the way your lips press together when you’re trying not to smile.
you don’t look like someone who would ever notice someone like him.
perfect girl, they call you. not always kindly, but always accurately. you’re grace and discipline and clean lines. you move like everything you do has purpose. even walking down the hallway, you look like you belong somewhere else. somewhere softer. brighter. he’s all rough edges and late mornings and noise.
he knows what your friends think of him. he’s seen the way they wrinkle their noses when he walks past, how their eyes flick to his clothes, his guitar, his piercings. he’s heard the whispers—bad influence, trouble, don’t get involved with someone like that. but nobody has ever seen the real him.
your friends sit with you now, one of them leaning over to whisper something in your ear. you smile faintly, but your eyes flick back for just a second. they meet his.
it’s brief. barely a moment. but it’s enough. his chest tightens in that familiar, stupid way. he looks away first, jaw clenching as he taps his pen against the desk. he wants you.
he’s wanted you for so long it feels like a constant ache, something he’s learned to live with. he’s imagined a thousand versions of you and him—skipping class together, sharing earphones, you sitting on his bed while he plays guitar just for you. versions where you don’t look so careful all the time. versions where you laugh freely, where your friends don’t watch you like hawks.
but he’s never said anything. neither have you. because wanting someone quietly is safer than wanting them out loud.
the bell rings and the class dissolves into noise. jeonghan slings his bag over his shoulder and stands, guitar case following the movement like an extension of him. as he steps into the hallway, he nearly bumps into your friends.
one of them clicks her tongue. “watch it,” she says, eyes flicking pointedly to his clothes.
jeonghan lifts his hands in mock surrender. “my bad.” they move past him, whispering, gossiping about him. when you pass, you hesitate for half a second. just long enough for him to notice.
“hey,” he says quietly.
you give him a small smile, blush creeping up your cheeks. “hey.”
but your friends tug you along before anything else can happen. you glance back once, apologetic, conflicted. jeonghan watches you go, fingers tightening around the strap of his guitar case. he knows your friends have a problem with him. they always have.
what he doesn't know is that you wanted him too. but sometimes, in moments like that—when your eyes meet his, when your voice softens just for him—he wonders if maybe, secretly, you do. and maybe that’s enough to keep him coming back late every morning, guitar on his back, heart a little too hopeful for his own good.
the next morning, jeonghan wakes up before his alarm.
it’s unfamiliar enough that he lies there for a moment, blinking at the ceiling, waiting for the panic to kick in. it doesn’t. instead, there’s a strange calm settling in his chest, the kind that makes him feel like maybe today won’t trip him up the way most days do. his phone reads 6:12. plenty of time. too much time, even.
he exhales softly and sits up, running a hand through his hair. the room looks the same as always — guitar case against the wall, hoodie slung over the chair, yesterday’s clothes still on the floor — but something feels different. lighter. like the weight he usually carries hasn’t quite settled onto his shoulders yet.
his routine doesn’t change much. shower, cold water biting into his skin as steam curls around the small bathroom. he dresses the same way he always does, baggy jeans, and a vintage jacket on top of a black shirt. the only difference is the skateboard he grabs from beside the door instead of just slinging his guitar over his back. the deck is scuffed, wheels worn down from years of use, grip tape peeling at the edges where his shoes have rubbed it raw.
outside, the morning air is cool and quiet, the streets barely awake. jeonghan pushes off once, twice, then lets the board glide beneath him, familiar and steady. the sound of the wheels against concrete is grounding, rhythmic. this is the version of him that feels the most real — moving fast enough that he doesn’t have to think, doesn’t have to worry about what people expect from him.
by the time he reaches the school gates, students are only just beginning to arrive. jeonghan checks the time again, lips quirking upward when he realizes he’s early. actually early. he slows as he rolls onto campus, hopping off his board and tucking it under his arm, scanning the courtyard without meaning to.
and then he sees you.
you’re walking with your friends, bag slung neatly over your shoulder, hair catching the light as you laugh at something someone says. he feels it instantly, that familiar pull, like his attention has no choice but to lock onto you. before he can stop himself, his gaze meets yours.
your smile changes when you notice him.
“you’re early,” you say, surprise clear in your voice as you slow down.
“don’t get used to it,” jeonghan replies easily, lifting the skateboard slightly. “thought i’d try something new.”
your eyes flick down to the board, then back up to him, bright with interest. “you skate to school?”
“sometimes,” he shrugs. “beats walking.”
you fall into step beside him without really thinking about it, your friends lingering just a pace behind, watching. jeonghan feels the shift immediately — the way the air between you feels warmer, lighter. conversation comes easily, like it’s been waiting for this moment all along. you tease him about actually making it on time, he jokes about you being way too awake for this hour, and before he realizes it, you’re laughing, head tipped back slightly, eyes crinkling at the corners.
it’s stupid how much he likes the sound of it.
for a few minutes, the world feels small in the best way. no teachers. no whispers. no judgment. just the two of you trading jokes, brushing shoulders as you walk. jeonghan almost forgets himself enough to believe this is normal. that this is allowed.
until someone calls your name.
you pause, turning toward the voice, and jeonghan watches the moment slip away as quickly as it came. your friends close in around you again, expressions unreadable but firm. you look back at him, lips curving into a soft smile that feels like it’s meant just for him.
“see you later, boy,” you say lightly, like it’s nothing at all.
he watches you walk away, skateboard tucked under his arm, heart doing something unsteady in his chest. he knows what it sounds like. dismissal. distance. a line drawn neatly between where he stands and where you’re allowed to be. he knows people would say he isn’t good enough for you, that you’re too polished, too careful, head a little too high in the clouds to see someone like him clearly.
but the way you smiled when you said it tells him otherwise.
and as he heads to class early for once, wheels echoing faintly behind him, jeonghan can’t help but think that maybe one day, you’ll come back down to earth — and maybe, just maybe, you’ll come looking for him when you do.
the next few days blur together in a way jeonghan doesn’t like.
he still wakes up early, still skates to school with the morning air biting at his cheeks, still brings his guitar like it’s part of his spine. but something shifts after that morning with you, something fragile he hadn’t realized he was holding onto until it started to crack. you don’t walk beside him anymore. you still notice him — he sees it in the way your eyes flick to him across classrooms, in the way your shoulders stiffen when your friends go quiet around him — but there’s distance now, careful and deliberate.
it makes his chest ache in a way he doesn’t know how to fix.
in the hallways, you smile at him like you’re afraid to smile too much. in class, you don’t turn around anymore. at lunch, you sit a little farther from where he usually lingers, laughter softer, eyes elsewhere. it’s subtle enough that no one else would notice, but jeonghan notices everything when it comes to you.
he tells himself it’s nothing. that he imagined the closeness, the easy laughter, the warmth of walking side by side. maybe he read into it too much. maybe see you later really was goodbye dressed up as kindness.
he starts skipping class again.
not because he doesn’t care, but because being in the same rooms as you and pretending it doesn’t hurt feels worse than detention ever could. instead, he ends up behind the gym, sitting on the concrete steps with his guitar balanced across his knees, fingers pressing into the strings until they bite. the notes that come out are messy and unfinished, breaking off halfway like he doesn’t trust himself to finish a thought.
he plays quietly, but the sound carries anyway.
sometimes, he imagines you hearing it from somewhere inside the building, recognizing the melody even though he never plays the same thing twice. he imagines you pausing mid-step, heart tugging in a direction you don’t want to admit. it’s a stupid fantasy, but it’s the only one he has.
one afternoon, he sees you with someone else.
it’s nothing dramatic. no touching, no laughter too loud. just you standing by the lockers with a boy from your class, his uniform neat, hair perfectly in place. he’s leaning in, listening intently as you talk, nodding along like every word you say matters. it shouldn’t mean anything. it doesn’t have to.
but jeonghan’s stomach drops anyway.
your friends are there too, watching approvingly, smiles sharp with satisfaction. when your gaze lifts and finds jeonghan down the hallway, your expression falters. for a second, it looks like you might say something. then one of your friends steps in front of you, blocking the view, and the moment is gone.
he doesn’t wait to see what happens next.
that night, he stays out later than usual, skating until his legs burn, until the streets blur and the noise in his head quiets enough to breathe. when he finally gets home, he drops his bag by the door and collapses onto his bed, staring at the ceiling like it might give him answers. he thinks about how you laughed with him so easily. how you’d said his name like it belonged in your mouth. how you’d looked at him like he wasn’t a mistake waiting to happen. he wonders if you ever think about him the same way.
the next day at school, he doesn’t look for you.
when you pass him in the hallway, you hesitate, clearly torn, but he keeps his eyes forward, jaw tight, pretending he doesn’t feel the weight of your gaze on his back. it’s easier that way. if he doesn’t look, he doesn’t have to see the question in your eyes. he doesn’t have to wonder if you’re hurting too.
because wanting someone who’s afraid to choose you hurts worse than wanting someone who never noticed you at all.
by the end of the day, the rumors start.
nothing concrete. just whispers. about jeonghan being bad news. about you needing to be careful. about how people like him don’t fit into futures like yours. he hears it all without meaning to, words sinking into his skin like bruises.
and for the first time in two years, he wonders if maybe everyone else is right. maybe he really isn’t good enough for you. and maybe that’s why you said see you later instead of stay.
it happens on a random evening, the kind that doesn’t announce itself as important.
the sky is already bruising into twilight when you reach the skate park, the air warm and heavy with the smell of concrete and grass. wheels scrape against ramps, laughter echoes, music hums faintly from someone’s phone. jeonghan is there like he always is, hoodie loose on his shoulders, skateboard moving under him like it’s second nature. he looks freer here than anywhere else, like the noise in his head finally quiets when he’s in motion.
he notices you only when you step closer, slowing, hopping off his board when he realizes you’re really there. surprise flickers across his face, followed by something cautious and gentle. he walks toward you, board tucked under his arm, eyes searching yours.
“hey,” he says.
your chest tightens. suddenly, every thought you practiced on the way here tangles together. you nod, fingers curling into your sleeves. “can we… talk?” he doesn’t hesitate. “yeah. of course.”
you sit on the edge of the concrete, shoulders close but not touching. the park feels louder and quieter at the same time, every sound blurring into the background as you stare at your hands. it takes a moment to find your voice. when you do, it shakes. “i know,” you say softly. “i know how you feel about me.” jeonghan stills beside you.
“i’ve known for a long time,” you continue, forcing yourself to look at him. “and i’m sorry. i never said anything. i should’ve. i was scared, and i let other people’s opinions get in the way, and i didn’t mean to hurt you—but i think i did anyway.” for a long moment, he says nothing. his gaze drops to the skateboard, fingers tightening around the edge. then he exhales, slow and shaky, and lets out a quiet laugh that sounds more tired than amused.
“i thought i imagined it,” he admits. “thought i just wanted it so bad i convinced myself it was real.” you shake your head immediately. “it was real.” that gets his attention. he looks at you fully now, eyes wide, unguarded. “then why—”
“because i didn’t know how to choose myself,” you interrupt gently. “and i didn’t know how to choose you without disappointing everyone else.” the words hang between you, heavy but honest. jeonghan swallows, jaw tight, like he’s steadying himself. “i like you,” he says finally. not dramatic. not loud. just the truth. “i’ve liked you for a long time.”
your heart stutters painfully. “i know.” you hesitate, then add, “and i like you too.”
the silence that follows is electric. not relief exactly. not resolution. just the shared understanding of something fragile and unfinished. jeonghan looks at you like he’s afraid to move, afraid this moment might shatter if he reaches too far. he doesn’t ask you out.
instead, he says quietly, “i don’t want to rush you.” you shake your head, smiling faintly through the ache in your chest. “i don’t want to hide anymore.”
that seems to be enough for now, for both you and him.
when it’s time to leave, you stand and, without thinking, reach for his skateboard. he blinks, surprised.
“hey—”
“i’ll bring it back,” you say, already pushing off, laughter slipping out despite everything.
he watches you skate away, heart full and unsettled all at once, smiling so fondly it hurts, shaking his head. when you disappear down the street, he picks up his boardless walk home, hands in his pockets, replaying your voice over and over like it’s proof this wasn’t just another almost.
the next morning, you skate to school.
the board hums under your feet, confidence unfamiliar but steady in your chest. heads turn immediately. whispers ripple outward. “wow, she’s hot—” someone murmurs. another voice cuts in, louder. “WAIT. is that YOON JEONGHAN'S skateboard?”
you don’t answer. you don’t slow down.
jeonghan is standing in the school garden, guitar bag slung over his shoulder, fingers fiddling with the straps as he waits for the bell. the sound reaches him before you do — the unmistakable scrape of wheels on pavement. he looks up just in time to see you glide past, sunlight catching your face, skateboard unmistakable.
without thinking, he reaches out.
his hand closes gently around your wrist, stepping softly on the skateboard, stopping you just enough so you don’t lose balance. you look at him, startled, heart racing. he steps closer, thumb warm against your skin.
“careful,” he murmurs. you smile. “you caught me.” he doesn’t say anything else. he just leans in and kisses you.
it’s brief, soft, steady. not a promise, not a declaration — just truth, shared openly, right there where everyone can see. gasps ripple through the garden. whispers explode. neither of you pull away quickly.
and that was how the sk8er boy got the ballet girl.
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🌡️if you’ll have me. lee jihoon
it's just you both tonight, but when he brings you some tea and presses his lips against your forehead, you don't want this feeling to go away. you've been sick for days, but it’s the little things—like jihoon’s soft kisses—that make you feel like you can survive this. even when you're gross and sniffling, he won't leave your side.
ⓒ ! prompt from my how do you fake it series ♡
🍵 GENRE :: non-idol au, celebrity au, contemporary / modern au, fake relationship/dating
🍵 PAIRING/WC :: lee jihoon × fem!reader ⋅ 1,597 words
🍵 CONTENTS :: soft boy jihoon, forehead kisses, mutual pining, taking care of a sick partner, domestic moments, co-actors in a fake relationship for public image. jihoon actually opening up a little
⚠️ WARNINGS :: mentions of fever/sickness, light physical weakness, a lot of touches (forehead kisses, hand holding). no explicit content. no heavy angst. not beta-ed. tahts all i think! but still lmk.
🍵 A/N :: happiest, happiest birthday to our uji 🥹🤍 the tiniest, cutest, most hard-working genius ever. i hope today you actually let yourself rest for once and let people spoil you because you deserve it more than anyone. pls come back to me jihoon, i’m literally on my knees. you military ppl, im watching you. spoil him today. anyway, lol. i actually finished writing this on 7th february this year and kept it on hold thinking it wasn’t good enough, and honestly i just procrastinated asking for second opinions. so this is still a second draft as i went over it yesterday and did some slight tweakings. couldn’t do much because i was cringing but i hope you guys will still like it. compared to what i wrote back in feb, this is wayyy better. i waited almost a year to post this, so pls give this lots of love heheh ς(>‿<.) tagging: #1 jihoon enthusiast @shinysobi
It’s just you both tonight.
Your shared apartment is quieter today as you pull the blanket tighter around yourself. Your nose is stuffed, your throat sore, and your head feels like it’s being squeezed in a vice. You’ve been sick for days and barely able to get out of bed, but the worst part isn’t the congestion or the fever, it’s the loneliness that settled the moment Jihoon stepped out earlier to run errands. It surprised you how empty the place felt without him. It has only been a week since he started staying over regularly, and you already feel strange whenever he’s not around.
You don’t know when things changed. You both agreed to a fake relationship with nothing more than a convenient solution to help with the pressure from the public, the fans, and even your families. Everyone loved the idea. Everything about it should’ve been simple. But somewhere along the way, it stopped feeling simple.
Between Words | KIM MINGYU
kim mingyu x foreign reader content: fluff, established relationship - synopsis: trying to keep up with mingyu’s fast talking. A/N: i had SO much fun writing this. I love the way he speaks smmm😭😭
in the beginning, you thought your korean was good.
you’d been studying for a while, could hold conversations, order food, joke a little. you were confident enough to call yourself almost fluent. and then you met mingyu.
because mingyu doesn’t talk. he fires sentences.
the first few weeks of dating were full of moments where he’d get excited, lean closer to you, and suddenly unleash a whole paragraph in one breath. no pauses. hands moving, voice getting faster and faster it’s almost like his thoughts couldn’t wait for his mouth to catch up.
you’d just blink at him.
“what?” you’d ask gently, half embarrassed, half amused.
he’d freeze. eyes widening. “wait was that too fast?”
then immediately launch into an apology just as fast, which somehow made it worse.
sometimes you’d nod along even when you only caught every third word. sometimes you’d laugh and admit you were lost. sometimes he’d realize halfway through and stop himself, switching to slower korean, careful and soft, checking your face every few seconds like, are you with me?
it became a thing.
mingyu rambling. you stopping him with a smile.
“kim mingyu. breathe.”
now, it’s different.
now you understand him. not just the words, but the way he talks. the rhythm. the way he speeds up when he’s excited, when he’s nervous, when he’s trying to explain something he really cares about. you don’t need him to slow down anymore.
sometimes you even finish his sentences.
and when he realizes that he’s mid ramble and you respond perfectly, catching every word he just stops and stares at you like he’s a little in love all over again.
“you understood that?” he asks, amazed.
you grin. “every word.”
he laughs, soft and fond, reaching for your hand.
color me like you || l.jh
pairing: lee jihoon x f reader
summary: you put your heart into every piece of jewelry you make, so why does it only hurt when they're for him?
warnings: swearing, some jealousy, smidgen of religious imagery, smut (18+ ; mdni)
smut warnings: oral (f receiving), protected sex
word count: 5.3k
author’s note(s): for @sluttywoozi's birthday <33 ilyyy
this was the hardest fic i've ever written ;-; idk why but it just kept fighting me the whole time // also did not mean to be so heavy-handed with the rubies it just sort of happened
TASTE IT!
PAIRING — kim mingyu x fem!reader
WORD COUNT — 13k
SYNOPSIS — lusting after his best friend’s daughter is disaster waiting to happen; mingyu tells himself he should just wait it out. but as time progresses, his crush on you only gets increasingly worse, to the point he can no longer keep it hidden from you.
TAGS — dilf!mingyu, explicit sexual content, age gap (mc is in her early 20s, gyu is in his early 40s), gyu acts a bit like a father figure on occasion but in a sexy way, not proofread, author lowkey is not happy with the way this fic turned out but spent too long on it not to post it <3
NOTE — listen. i do not fuck with the twilight movies but there’s this scene in the first one (i think) where the main girl gets stitched up by her boyfriend’s dad and. well. those are the vibes. enjoy :D
♫ — cola by lana del rey / daddy issues by the nbhd / wicked games by the weeknd
𝓜INGYU MAKES IT TO THE AGE OF FORTY-ONE BEFORE HE STARTS BELIEVING IN LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT.
he doesn’t know what that spark feels like until he lays eyes on you. perhaps it’s because of you that the spring day feels warmer, the colours more intense, the smell of fresh roses in the air.